Under a Spell uda-5 Page 19

  My lips parted and I winced at the needling pain as the skin at the corners of my mouth slit and tore. Blood trickled past my lips.

  “What do you want?” I heard myself whisper. “What do you want from me?”

  But when I saw the edge of the blade catch on the moonlight, I already knew.

  “Whoa, Sophie!”

  I felt like I had been underwater and suddenly broken the surface. I gasped, and Officer Romero grabbed me by both arms, his eyes the size of dinner plates. “Let me call Grace.”

  “No!” I stumbled backward. “No. I—I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming and you surprised me.”

  Romero’s dark brows went up. “You were daydreaming in the doorway of the police station?”

  “I’m fine, really,” I lied, as my heart hammered like a fire bell. “Fine.” I squeezed by Romero into the safety of the vestibule. “I’ve just got to get—” I forced a smile, relief crashing over me when Romero kindly smiled back. “I’ve just got to get my head on straight.”

  “Yeah,” Romero said, finally grinning. “I can respect that. Have a good night.”

  I stayed rooted in the vestibule until Romero crossed the parking light and disappeared into his squad car. By that time, I could feel little beads of sweat prickling at the back of my neck while I mashed my finger against the elevator’s down button twenty times over.

  The Underworld Detection Agency waiting room was deserted. The rows of blocky chairs and tattered magazines looked benign under the sodium chloride safety lights, but the calm façade did nothing to settle my nerves. I headed directly to my office, shoved the stack of papers and messages on my chair to the floor, and sat down on a sigh, holding my head in my hands. Finally, I steeled myself and picked up the phone.

  “’Lo?”

  “Lorraine? It’s me. It’s Sophie. Can I ask you something?”

  Lorraine sounded like she was chewing on her end of the phone, and she didn’t bother to stop. “If it’s quick. I have six orders to drop off tonight.”

  I licked my lips. “Can a witch—can a witch make someone see—or hear something? I mean, like, could someone like you remotely make someone—”

  “Someone like you?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Yes, someone like me. Can someone like you remotely make someone like me hear someone’s voice?”

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I relayed the details of my police station parking lot experience, cringing with each new word and each new thought that I was finally losing my marbles.

  “Oh, God, Sophie. You’re dealing with someone pretty powerful. This is from the school case, huh?”

  I pinched my bottom lip. “Yeah. Look, Will and I found a couple of spell books—just protection spells. Is this the kind of spell that someone can learn?”

  “From a book?” Lorraine snorted. “No way. There are some spells and incantations that can be learned from a book and some that are only passed down through families and covens. The spell that overtook you? It’s the latter. Its not the kind of thing someone just messes around with.”

  “But why would someone—this mysterious, powerful witch—want to show me something incriminating? Or at least something that could possibly help me find Alyssa?”

  “Could it help you find the girl?”

  I frowned. “No. But there was someone in a robe and a knife. That’s got to be pretty specific to a certain spell, right?”

  “Absolutely. With a robe and a dagger, a witch can bind another being, call dark forces into their servitude, and ensure that a herd of cattle stays fertile. Among other things.”

  “Great. So I’m not even a tiny bit closer to figuring out who—or why—or anything.”

  Lorraine paused for a beat. “I’ll come by tonight. I can run a few clarification spells, do some star mapping—maybe I can shed some light on what’s going on.”

  A little sliver of hope pierced my heart. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

  I rode up the elevator and when the big silver doors opened, I stood there mutely until the door began to slide shut again. Then I took a few tentative steps into the police department.

  It was late enough that the majority of standard business was done there, and the only people left in the office were the nightshift and their newly caught, grumbling against their restraints or wailing that the police “got the wrong dude.” Eventually, I found myself heading directly for Alex’s office and hoping against hope that he was momentarily away while his office door was wide open, all the evidence in the Mercy kidnapping case spread out wide for me to take.

  No such luck.

  I rounded the corner and found myself in a standoff with Alex.

  “What are you doing here?”

  It wasn’t the warm, fuzzy, possibly kissy greeting that I always hoped for, but it was pretty much becoming standard Alex Grace.

  “Can I talk to you in your office, please?”

  I watched Alex suck in a deep breath, his cut-crystal eyes sharp and suspicious.

  He sank into his desk chair and I perched in the visitor’s chair across from him. “So, how are you doing?”

  Alex leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning underneath him. “What do you want, Lawson?”

  I swallowed. “I want you to look up these names. They were students at Mercy with me, and well, suddenly, one day they weren’t. I think they might be part of this.”

  I handed the page across the desk to Alex. He glanced down at it, his eyes giving it a quick glance before he moved it aside. “Thank you.”

  “Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”

  Alex blinked. “Right now? No. I’ll get around to looking at this after we bring Alyssa home.”

  I felt a flicker of anger growing at the pit of my stomach. “But this could help. If we find out what happened to these girls, we might be able to find out who—or what—is responsible. I’m trying to help you, Alex.”

  “Look, Lawson, we’re doing all right, okay? Believe or not, the police department here can function without your help.”

  The sting shot through me and my cheeks burned. “Wait, what?”

  “We have plenty of leads. We know we’re looking at a serial.”

  “But the carving—and the witchcraft!”

  “Probably happened after the fact.” He slid my paper into a manila file folder and laced his fingers on top of it. “There really isn’t any evidence that Cathy Ledwith’s killer and the person who desecrated her corpse are the same people.”

  “You know that they are!”

  Alex shrugged. “There’s no evidence to support that.”

  “Let me just take a look at your files. I can show you mine.” I yanked my notebook from my shoulder bag. “We found spell books and a pentagram. And a carving.” Even as I said it, I knew how weak Will’s and my “evidence” really was. “I didn’t believe it either, but there’s something there, Alex, I’m sure of it. Check the names. Look at this.”

  “Lawson, what do you want me to do? We’re”—he pointed from himself to me—“not working together. And we’re”—this time he circled a finger, indicating the police department—“not interested in finding a group of witches.”

  “A coven.”

  “What was that?”

  “A coven. A group of witches is a coven.” I zeroed in on Alex. “I can’t believe you won’t let me help you. We’re friends, remember? Maybe even more than friends. Somebunny in San Francisco loves me?” I quoted the cheesy words from the plush hat he had given me, doing my best to squelch down an embarrassed burn.

  “You had a concussion.”

  Heat snaked up my spine and I gritted my teeth. “What’s with you? One day, you’re kissing me and saving my life, the next day you’re all fallen, no angel.”

  His expression stayed hard. “I’m sorry I’m not everything you dreamed of.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “That’s supposed to mean that you and I have a working relationsh
ip. Period. You remember what that means, right?” He narrowed his eyes, the tiny muscle at the side of his jaw jumping.

  “Are you—are you accusing me of—”

  “What else can I help you with, Lawson?”

  I was too angry to sputter back at him, to throw his own on-again, off-again behavior back in his face. “What happened to you?”

  “You know what I am, Lawson. You’ve known since the beginning.”

  I stood up, seething. “Yeah, but I didn’t peg you for such an asshole.” I turned on my heel, but not before seeing Alex’s cheeks flash red and something—sorrow, apology—flit through his eyes. He opened his mouth but closed it again, silent.

  I stomped through the police department, livid.

  “Who does he think he is? I mean seriously, who? He just—he just—and cast me aside like—like—”

  Nina pushed a glass into my hand.

  “What is this?” I wanted to know.

  “Booze. It will help stabilize you.”

  I took a giant glug, then winced. “Uh, what kind of booze? Where did you get it?”

  Nina frowned. “From the cabinet. It’s sherry.”

  “It’s cooking sherry!”

  Nina shrugged. “Same thing.” She sashayed past me, the cool breeze that wafted from her marble skin sending goose pimples all over mine. “I think the whole thing is really romantic, actually.”

  I gaped before swiping up ChaCha and flopping on the couch. My little pup did her requisite three circles, then curled up in my lap. “What the hell is romantic about this? Alex acts like an ass after acting like an actual romantic hero?”

  Nina popped up on the coffee table, and sat down hard, Indian style. Her dark eyes glittered. “Don’t you see, Soph? That’s the only way he can react. He can’t be with you because you are the one thing that is keeping him from grace. See?”

  She sat back, awash with candy hearts and hope, her hands clasped against her cheek.

  “So he has to be pissed at me because I’m some sort of supernatural roadblock to where he wants to go. Sorry, but I’m just not seeing the romance.”

  Nina rolled her eyes and kicked her legs out in front of her, resting her bare feet in my lap, pushing her toes under ChaCha’s warm fur. “He can’t have you. And he can’t kill you, because he loves you. And you’ve got Will—the other romantic hero. Oh my God, it’s so amazingly romantic, I think my uterus is going to explode!”

  “I’m still not seeing the slightest romantic element here.” I wrinkled my nose. “And less so should your uterus explode.”

  “Romance?” Vlad thundered through the door. “Fuck romance. You know what I got today?” He shook the thin, flat box he was carrying.

  Nina shriveled. “If that’s another dead bird . . .”

  “It’s a summons,” Vlad spat.

  I raised my eyebrows. “A summons?”

  Nina bit her bottom lip and looked apologetic. “I did tell you if you kept up with those stupid ascots, the fashion police would eventually catch up with you.”

  Vlad snarled and threw the box at my feet. “It’s a summons from Kale. She’s suing me.”

  “For what?”

  Nina leaned forward and grabbed the box, pulling out a thick stack of papers and blinking. “Apparently for everything in the world. You’ve encroached on her right to liberty and happiness. Ooh, you’ve caused her pain and suffering, emotional distress—” She blanched, her marble skin going a sallow shade. “I don’t even want to know where the damage to her soft tissue is.” She held up a silencing finger before Vlad could answer. “Or what part of you may have damaged it.”

  “Who the hell would take the case of an eighteen-year-old jilted witch?”

  Nina dropped a single page in my lap, the fancy heading in an expensive-looking raised font.

  “Steve Elpher, attorney at law.”

  My eye started to do that twitching thing again.

  I startled to giggle. Tiny little waves first that grew to maniacal ones. Vlad whirled and glared at me. The murderous look in his dark eyes should have—usually did—chill me right down to my beating heart, but just served to bring on another gale of unstoppable giggles.

  “You think this is funny?”

  All I could do was nod, point, and laugh harder when I started to snort and tears rolled down my cheeks.

  A hint of a smile played on Nina’s heart-shaped lips. “It’s not that funny, Soph.”

  I shook my head, trying to catch my breath. “I know. I have no idea what’s so funny.”

  “I think she’s lost it.”

  Vlad snarled. “I’m not sure she’s ever had it.”

  I flapped at the air, then used the heel of my hand to swipe at my tears. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But Steve? As an attorney? Twenty-four hours ago he was a janitor. And you’re being sued. Sued! And as usual, I’m in the middle of an investigation and I’ve got diddly-squat.”

  Nina leaned back suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. “And you find that hilarious.”

  I stopped laughing. “No.” I sniffed, scratched ChaCha behind the ears. “I think I just needed to let a little crazy out.”

  “So what are you going to do about the whole Alex/Will thing?”

  Vlad looked desperate enough to self-combust. “Are we on that again?”

  I sat up straight on the couch and ChaCha whimpered, moved from her soft spot. “No, no. I’m fine. I’m dedicating my life to serving the people of this great city.”

  “And your lady bits? Serving the people, too?” Nina asked smugly.

  I rolled my eyes at Nina. “You’re gross.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Vlad’s nostrils flared. “You’re both idiots.”

  “And you’re being sued by a teen witch,” I said with a dagger glare.

  As if on cue, there was a sharp knock on the door, then Lorraine’s voice wafting through. “Sophie? It’s Lorraine and Kale.”

  Vlad’s eyes seemed to swallow his whole face. “Did you do that? Did you make her come here?” he hiss-whispered.

  “Sorry, Vlad,” I said, crossing the living room. “I don’t have that kind of power. You’ve got three seconds to decide what to do with yourself before Kale decides it for you.”

  His nostrils flared and I could see him press his jaws together, the tips of his razor-like fangs slicing in front of his lips. I had my hand on the doorknob and he whirled around, silently disappearing into Nina’s closet-slash-bedroom. She rolled her eyes.

  “Teenagers.”

  I snatched open the door just as Lorraine started to pound again. “Sorry. Thanks so much for coming, though.”

  Lorraine placed a Tupperware sandwich keeper topped with a floppy red bow in my hands and wordlessly pushed through the door, Kale in tow. Both ladies were loaded down with carpetbag-style luggage and serious expressions.

  “I hope you like that,” Lorraine said, edging her chin toward my new sandwich storage. “It’s from the spring line. Now let’s get busy.”

  She set to work clearing everything off the dining room table while Kale stood back, her eyes searching the apartment, finding, landing—and staying—on Nina’s closed bedroom door. Nina popped directly into Kale’s line of sight.

  “Can I get you ladies something? Water, tea, eye of newt?”

  Lorraine shot her a slightly annoyed look. Kale pressed her satchel to her chest and took a step toward Nina. Nina held up a hand, stop-sign style.

  “He’s not here.”

  Kale blinked, her kohled-over eyes suddenly going doe-innocent. “Who?”

  “Okay, okay,” I broke in, taking Kale’s carpetbag in one hand, her arm in the other. “We need to focus on this case. Or, this spell. It’s gotten worse since we last talked. The pentagrams and the spell books, Cathy last year and—” My stomach roiled, thinking of the disembodied hand hanging from my pant leg at the Battery. “And we’re pretty sure there are others.” I looked from Kale to Lorraine and lowered my voice. “And I think someone might be pl
aying with my mind.” Lorraine and I exchanged a look. “Making me see and hear things.”

  Lorraine nodded sympathetically and took my hand, giving it a tight little squeeze. “Like I said, we might be dealing with someone very powerful.”

  Kale turned to face me, arms crossed in front of her chest. “But you’re immune to magic, right? I mean, aren’t you?”

  I worried my bottom lip, looking to Lorraine but receiving no help. “Maybe we’re dealing with someone even more powerful.”

  Lorraine seemed to avoid my questioning glance, and Kale joined her at the table. They began spreading out all manner of maps and curl-edged, ancient-looking scrolls. Kale took her bag from me and upturned it, unloading a series of benign-looking garden rocks, a cache of half-burned candles, and a matchbook from Big Al’s. She must have seen my eyebrows go up because she palmed the matchbook and blushed. “Someone left it at the office.”

  Will chose that moment to stick his head through the front door. He looked from Nina, still soldiering in front of her bedroom door, to Kale and Lorraine, then finally, to me.

  “No one invites me to the party?” He stepped into the apartment and shook an enormous bag of potato chips. “I brought crisps.”

  “This isn’t a party, Will,” I said, pulling him into the apartment and throwing the lock behind him. “Lorraine and Kale are trying to help me—help us—find Alyssa.”

  He cut his eyes to me, the displeasure evident. “Thanks for calling on me.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sorry, it was sort of last minute. Lorraine?”

  She turned to me. “Are you still wearing the talisman that I gave you?”

  I felt the blush crash over my cheeks. “Yes. I mean, right now, no, because I just got out of the shower. But I was.”

  “Put it on. And bring me the bag, too.”

  I went to my room, Will following a half-step behind me. “What’s this all about?” he said, closing the bedroom door softly.

  “I don’t follow. What’s what all about?”

  “You call in the witch brigade on our assignment, but you don’t call me?”