A Spell to Die For

by Gretchen Galway

  “Do you?” I asked.

  Shrugging, she picked up another rock and rolled it between her fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe. But only in a heartbroken, nobody-can-have-you-but-me kind of way. He treated Bosko like a god.” She hurled the rock into another row of dormant grapevines. “But didn’t he have an alibi?”

  “That’s what Darius said. I haven’t talked to him myself.”

  She gave me a sly look. “Do you have special scanning powers? Is that the ‘gift’ Darius was talking about?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking you so many questions if I could read minds,” I said.

  “I suppose.” She looked up at the sky, mostly gray and hinting at rain. “The Protectorate can get the truth out of him if he’s lying. He’s good at mind spells, but I don’t think he could overcome a team of Emerald mages. But who knows? He did all kinds of sneaky stuff for Bosko, I hear. I was hoping he’d teach me some of it so I could take over someday.”

  “Why would he teach you something that would make him replaceable?”

  “You never know,” she said. “I just met him last week, but he seems like he’s the type of person to be nice even if it’s bad for him. Couldn’t help himself.”

  Percy sounded like a witch with a lot of contradictions. I was eager to scan him. Maybe the ring had exposed his demon print to his master and he’d had to lash out to save himself.

  But from the way he’d been handling the package on Saturday night, it hadn’t seemed to bother him as much as it did me. If Percy shared my demon mark, he should’ve felt a pain in San Francisco when he’d collected the opal ring. He could’ve fled with the ring instead of bringing it to a man known for killing so impulsively and cheerfully.

  But he could have a shielding amulet like I did. There was something about Percy that didn’t feel right.

  We’d walked around a loop path and were now walking uphill, returning to the house. “I’ll let you get back to work,” I said. “Thanks for the unofficial chat.”

  “Sure. We won’t be seeing much of each other after this,” she said. “Where are you going to go?”

  Up on the deck above us, Percy was talking to Darius. The apprentice seemed a decade older, as hunched over and miserable as a bridge troll. “Go?” I asked, not sure she knew about the Protectorate plan.

  “It begins at noon,” she said. “They cast an exodus spell.”

  My stomach lurched. “Already?” Raynor had said it would happen before the solstice, but that was weeks away. He’d enlisted me to investigate Bosko’s death, which would take time. “No. Today? Are you sure?”

  “The nonmagical inhabitants will feel the urge to go first,” she said. “I overheard the agents talking about it.” She used finger quotes to indicate her eavesdropping had involved magic.

  I swore. The confidence I’d felt earlier vanished. They’d already started to bury the town. When the exodus spell turned on the resident witches, too, I’d be driven out as well.

  “When do they hex the witches who live here?” I asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t know,” she said. “Do you feel anything yet?”

  A quick scan told me no. “I need to interview Percy,” I said, hurrying ahead.

  Flor grabbed my elbow and leaned close to speak into my ear. “Watch out for him. His mind skills are stronger than you’d expect.”

  I wrenched my arm free, automatically swept the remains of her touch away, and turned my attention to the miserable man up at the house. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Darius stood on the deck next to Percy as if he’d been keeping him from leaving, but from the look in Percy’s dejected face, he didn’t have the energy to walk ten feet. Heeding Flor’s warning, however, I used my beads as I approached to draw power around myself, focusing on buttressing my brain from outside influence. Even a pleasant smell could work to trick a person.

  I stopped a few feet away without offering my hand. “I’m sorry about Protector Bosko’s death,” I said to Percy.

  The overcast sky made his complexion appear colorless against his dark hair. He looked more dead than his boss had the last time I’d seen him. “You want to talk to me?” he asked.

  I had no idea what Darius had told him. “Nothing official,” I said. “Just helping out, given the crisis, as much as I can.”

  He shrugged without interest. “Do you mind if we go into the house? I have to finish screening the bedrooms.”

  Darius nodded, and I followed Percy inside and down a hallway to a familiar guest room. A few months ago, after Tristan’s death, I’d found a magical storage cabinet inside it, well protected by enchantments. I’d needed to use odd metal objects from home to break through and examine the contents.

  Percy lifted an iron bar out of his pocket and held it in the doorway, frowning at it. Iron was a hearth witch’s metal, common and domestic, often used to create or detect herbal magic. “There’s something here,” he said. “It’s hidden, but I’m picking up a lot of residue. Can we talk while I work? They’ve already begun to secure the region. I owe it to the Protector to find out what happened to him.”

  I wrapped my fingers around my beads and cast out my own senses. They’d removed the cabinet, but there had been other spells. One of them… I squinted… was still there.

  And he was about to throw something.

  “Duck,” I said.

  A flash of light flew past Percy’s head. He cried out and dropped the iron bar to clutch his right ear. “What was that?”

  “The last Protector put an enchanted jade gargoyle in here to guard some property of his,” I said. The small creature was now perched on top of a large computer monitor on a desk near the door, grimacing and pointing at us. “Let’s talk somewhere else before he strikes again.”

  Another flash of green light shot out of the room. Jade was a lovely stone that was also excellent for guarding property. The gargoyle might not have been as effective if made out of granite. This time Percy pivoted with surprising speed, dashing into the hall and avoiding the blast. “Demon’s balls,” he said, breathing hard. “Didn’t the Protectorate clean the place out?”

  “I guess they missed him.” I leaned against the wall next to him, safely out of reach. “Tristan set a lot of traps to protect his stuff. You’ll need to—well, you would’ve needed to do another sweep.”

  Percy leaned his head back and closed his eyes with a long exhale. What energy he’d displayed to jump out of the gargoyle’s attack was now gone. “Just scan me. That’s what you’re here for, right? I did the same thing for Mage Bosko. I’m too tired to put up a block or a dispersion. Do your worst.” He opened his eyes and gave me a sad smile. “Or your best, I suppose. Are you a mind mage like me?”

  I shook my head. “I make wood jewelry. Darius was my ex-partner. I got fired for—”

  “Spare me the official story,” Percy said. “I don’t want to know your secret. Just do whatever you’re going to do so I can get back to work.”

  The hallway was as good a place as any, and his guard was down. Casting a scanning spell, I asked, “Where were you Saturday night and Sunday morning?”

  “Friends of mine invited me to a moon party on the beach in Jenner,” he said, staring straight ahead. It was obvious he’d told the story several times already. “I left at midnight and got back Sunday morning at nine thirty.”

  “Why were you late? You were supposed to be working with Flor and Bosko earlier.”

  “I lost track of time.” He tilted his head and looked me in the eye. “I drank some springwater spiked with borage leaf and dried quail eggs. One of the locals sold a bottle to a friend of mine. I don’t have any tolerance for potions, never have. I woke up on the beach with my face in some kelp and came as fast as I could.”

  His story was comically common. Metal witches scorned the organic magics professionally but then would go to a party and play around with ingredients they didn’t understand and get into trouble.

  I couldn’t de
tect any deception, but he did have a lot of experience tricking people. “Did you ever get tired of working for him? Wasn’t he awfully demanding and critical?”

  He held my gaze. “He was brilliant. A genius. Nobody could see Shadow the way he could.” His aura was steady and unwavering, and I believed he was telling the truth as he saw it. “Yes, he was uncompromising. He saw the world in Bright and Shadow. But that was his job, wasn’t it?”

  Rather than answer his question, I asked, “Why did you tell Flor to find another position?”

  “She already disliked him,” he said. “She thought she could fake it, but I knew he’d see through her within weeks. She would’ve been much worse off than if she’d never worked for him. A down vote from Mage Bosko would end your career.”

  “Why have you stayed so long? You could’ve moved on to something more advanced by now. Something more independent.”

  He leaned back and smiled at the ceiling. “Everyone asks me that. My mother asks me that. I guess I’m just not the ambitious type who’s always looking for the next step on the ladder.” His voice roughened. “All I wanted was to work with him.”

  Again, my scan could find nothing false in his words. I asked him a few more questions, all confirming what I’d already heard about him, and thanked him for his time. But just as I was leaving to look for Darius, Percy stopped me.

  “Pardon me for mentioning it, but it’s such a rare magic, and you haven’t bothered to hide it,” he said, looking down at my arm. “Do you mind if I take a closer look? It’s quite interesting.”

  I followed his gaze to my left wrist, where the inked rings were visible under one of my beaded bracelets. The skin was still red around the tattoo but wasn’t painful anymore.

  I gave him a sharp look and lifted my arm. “You’ve seen this kind of magic before?”

  Eyes widening in alarm, he took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s none of my business. Forgive me. I’ll get back to w—”

  “No, please, you’re not intruding.” I looked around to make sure we were alone and lowered my voice. “The truth is, Percy, I don’t know what it is. It just showed up.”

  He took another step back, swallowing nervously, looking as if I was trying to get him in trouble. “How strange,” he said. “I wonder what it is? It just caught my eye. I’ve always been too observant for my own good. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Don’t worry.”

  “No, I’m serious,” I said. My stomach clenched at the thought it might be some kind of mind magic he knew about, and I’d just left it burning there in my skin without trying to get rid of it. “Please. I’d really appreciate anything you can tell me about it. You said it was a rare magic. What did you mean?”

  He chewed his lips, glancing between my face and my wrist. “You really don’t know?”

  I shook my head. “Not exactly. There was another witch who had it. He’s dead now.”

  “Did you kill him?” he asked. “But no—you can’t kill, can you? That’s what I heard. Incurable Inability.”

  “I was there when he died,” I said. “Let’s just say that.”

  Percy nodded, seeming to relax, and leaned down to look more closely at the dark circles around my arm. “The spell has changed since its first casting,” he said after a moment. “It’s got your fingerprint now.”

  My patience was thinning. “But what is it? Is it dangerous?”

  “Oh no,” he said. “Although you might want to cover it up if you don’t want to talk about it. People will wonder why your life is so dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” I was afraid it was something worse, that it indicated I’d been responsible for death. “Can you be more specific?”

  “May I send out a little probe?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He tapped my arm with a forefinger, and a sizzle of energy leapt into his hand. “Ah,” he said, studying me. “It’s a near-death mark.”

  “Near death?” I asked. “You mean me? It’s not… indicating the death of people who get too close to me?”

  He frowned. “I can see how they might be related, among our kind. Witches can be bloodthirsty monsters.” He cast a dark look toward the room where his master had met a violent death. “I don’t know what the original spell was, but on you, it’s a survival mark. Centuries ago, parents would cast them on babies after they’d passed their first birthday. A new one would appear every year after that.”

  “That’s what it was like on the other witch,” I said.

  “But he didn’t survive,” Percy said, “and you did. So now you’ve got it.”

  “But I’ve gotten three rings in less than three months,” I said.

  Percy’s eyes widened. “Three?” He began to look nervous again. “Sounds like you’ve been busy,” he said, stepping away. “It really isn’t any of my business. Please don’t tell them in San Francisco I offended you by asking. I’m going to need all the help I can get, finding another job after what’s happened here.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I’m not like that,” I said, annoyed to be lumped in with the witches at the Protectorate, although it was understandable he would. “I’m really grateful you told me what you did. Thanks.”

  He forced a smile and got back to work. I was relieved to know I wasn’t carrying a killer’s checklist on my arm. My life had been crazy lately. Now I knew the demon attack at the hardware store had been more dangerous for me than I’d realized. Another brush with death.

  I thanked him again and went looking for Darius. He was in Bosko’s room, scowling at his notebook. I wrapped another focus string and my watch from my right wrist over to my left to cover the tattoo before I went in.

  “It has to be a demon. Nobody else could’ve gotten in here,” he said.

  “Could a witch have apparated in here somehow?” When he gave me a raised eyebrow, I made a face and said, “Other than my father.”

  “We’re pretty sure nobody here can apparate,” he said. “We did the probes.”

  “Percy’s talent is manipulating minds,” I said quietly. “And he does seem the type to be underestimated.”

  Darius crossed his arms over his chest. “I tested him myself. I’d bet my great-grandmother’s diamond tiara on it.”

  From what I knew of the Ironford family, they’d kill him to hear he’d bet such a treasure on a hunch. “OK, not Percy then. Flor?”

  “No way,” he said. “If that witch could apparate, she would’ve put that on her Protectorate application in giant letters. She’s been bugging every mage for an apprenticeship for years.”

  He was right. I looked around the room. “Can I have a few minutes to scan it myself?”

  “It’s been wiped pretty thoroughly,” he said.

  I took a moment to gather my focus, then turned it to the floor, walls, windows, furniture, open space. The only magic I felt was the residue of other scans. “And? Is there demon sign?”

  He licked his lips and glanced at the hallway, where two agents were cleaning up the scanning supplies and talking about how the Warriors were playing that year. He turned back to me and shook his head. “We’re still looking.”

  Yet they’d already officially labeled it a demon attack.

  “Who else benefited from Bosko’s death?” I asked, leaning back to probe the vaulted ceiling. “Is there anyone visiting from New York who might have it in for him?”

  Darius quickly went over and slammed the door. “What are you up to?”

  I looked at him, my ceiling probe only half-finished. “What do you mean? Nothing. I’m just asking questions.”

  “You shouldn’t ask those kinds of questions unless you have something to go on,” he said. “If there are any Freewitches around you want to investigate, that’s fine, but leave the Protectorate out of it.”

  Freewitches were a revolutionary fringe group of witches who opposed Protectorate authority around the world but mostly in the US. They were an easy scapegoat for all kinds of problems.

  “Freewitche
s don’t have the motive or the ability to do what happened here,” I said, gesturing around the room. “No sign of witch activity. A Protector with a broken neck. It doesn’t add up. There’s no evidence.”

  “Agreed. And there’s no evidence of some evil New Yorker popping in and dropping him on his head either,” he said.

  I looked back up at the ceiling. If somebody had dropped him, it would’ve been from up there. Stun him, lift him by his feet, let go. Easy. If I were in my house with my staff, I could’ve done it. I’d trained Birdie by holding her on the ceiling. My father liked to steal things by floating above the ground, leaving less of a trace. All kinds of creatures—fae, witch, and demon—could use magic to defy gravity and move objects for brief periods.

  “What about the trunk?” I asked. Maybe Bosko had owned a levitation amulet or some other tool that had been used against him.

  “We’ve already removed it,” Darius said. “Diamond Street went through it first. Now it’s in New York. So far, the Emeralds haven’t been able to find anything inside with residue of his murder.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, massaging away tension. “Did they find any residue on the outside?” The old leather would hold human prints for longer than metal or plastic. “Had he tried to get into it, maybe in a panic, or somebody else as they came in?”

  Darius paged through his notebook. “A preliminary scan showed it was touched by Percy, Florence, the housekeeper, a vineyard worker, and, at least recently, two Uber drivers, one in New York and one in San Francisco.”

  I gaped at him. Bosko must not have feared anyone or anything, to let his precious trunk be handled by so many people. But the apex predator hadn’t been invincible after all. Even with his most recently acquired tool.

  I lowered my voice. “Was the opal ring inside?”

  Darius wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Not supposed to talk about that.” He gestured at the room. “You done here?”

  “Just give me a yes or a no,” I said.

  “Can’t.”

  With Darius, I didn’t know if that meant magic had sealed his lips or if it was just his ethical code. There wasn’t much difference with him.