Under a Spell uda-5 Read online

  “What do you think?”

  Alex was gesturing to the wood floor. Furniture hugged the walls, but the center of the room was bare. The pentagram that Fallon said was made of chalk had been ground into the lush wood, its luster covered by what looked like years of wear. A smear of red—blood, I supposed—was washed across the center circle. The candles set at the pentagram’s five points were out, and the one closest to the charred wall was still on its side, a little ripple of form in a pool of black melted wax.

  “Anything significant?”

  I snapped a picture and turned around, careful not to step on any of the dust. “I don’t see anything that screams out of the ordinary. Unless, of course, you count this giant pentagram on the floor.”

  Alex let out a whoosh of air that let me know he was annoyed. “I mean, is this real?”

  “It’s real.” I bent down and brushed across a white line with my index finger. “It’s here, isn’t it?” I tugged at my collar. “Did Fallon make this fire? Did she do it before she saw the pentagram?”

  “There’s no way Fallon made that fire.” Will stepped through the broken window and shot the licking flames with an extinguisher.

  “Hey, that’s evidence!”

  “No,” Will corrected. “It’s a fire hazard.”

  I coughed at the ash that kicked up and took a step back, realizing a second too late that I was standing in the center of the pentagram, my feet firmly planted on a smear of blood.

  “Oh, God!” I jumped forward, feeling instantly nauseous.

  I paused when Will turned on the overhead light and the whole room lit up like it was day.

  “That blood looks awfully thin.” I grimaced. “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe I know that.”

  Alex crouched down and pulled a Q-tip from the evidence pack he carried in his windbreaker. He rubbed the cotton tip over the stain and frowned. “It’s definitely not blood. Hey.” He glanced over his shoulder at Will. “Why do you think the girl didn’t make the fire?”

  “You mean how do I know she didn’t make the fire?” He used the poker to push around the debris. “An accelerant was used. You can smell it. It wasn’t on Fallon’s hands or clothes, and there was no soot or residue. The container’s not here either.”

  Alex stiffened. “She threw it away.”

  “Not in any trash can in the house or the ones outside.”

  I saw Alex press his lips together, still unconvinced.

  “When this fire was started, it would have been a near fire ball.” Will pointed to spots on the fireplace façade with seeping black burn marks. “And I know the bird.” He fished something out of the fireplace. “If she was going to burn her clothes, she wouldn’t do it in her family fireplace.”

  I felt my mouth drop open as Will laid out what remained in the ashes of the fire.

  “It’s another Mercy uniform.”

  Alex stepped forward. “Does it belong to the victim?”

  “Fallon, her name is Fallon. And I’m going to find out.”

  The second I walked out of the dining room, the cool night air broke over me and I realized I was sweating.

  “Fallon.”

  She was still sitting on the edge of the tailgate, still wearing the gray blanket. A few people—neighbors, I suspected—were huddled around her, looking on sympathetically. She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and tired looking.

  “Tell me the truth. Did you start the fire?”

  She shrunk back into the blanket and the sympathetic eyes were turned on me—but they were angry now.

  “Leave this girl alone,” someone said, shoving toward Fallon.

  Fallon held the woman off. “It’s okay. Yeah, I told you I started the fire. I knocked over the candle. It was an accident—I was freaked out.”

  “Imagine,” another woman said, “a Satanic cult breaking into this child’s house. Breaking into our neighborhood!”

  “I mean the fire in the fireplace. Did you start that?”

  Fallon frowned. “Of course not.” Her eyes were hardening, the old Fallon showing through now that she had her entourage—albeit a less stylish one. “I don’t even know how you make a fire in there. Isn’t there just some kind of switch? Maybe I did when I was running out, I don’t know.”

  “So was the fire going when you went into the dining room?”

  Fallon’s eyes rolled skyward. “Um, maybe. It was hot. Wait, yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  Now she rolled her eyes. “I was kind of in the middle of a major trauma. Someone broke into my house and made one of those Satan things and there was blood. I wasn’t paying attention to whether or not my potential killer wanted to make the room warm and cozy with a fire. One of my best friends just disappeared, you know.”

  “So you didn’t know that someone was burning a Mercy High School uniform in your fireplace?”

  Her eyes went wide, her surprise seemingly genuine. “What?”

  “One of the firemen found the remains of a school uniform in your fireplace.”

  Fallon clutched at her throat. “Mine?”

  “I don’t know. Is your uniform up in your room? Would you allow us to check?”

  Fallon sucked in a long, dramatic breath. “I suppose so. I mean, if there was a killer pawing through my things—oh my gosh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “What if he’s still there? What if he’s in my closet, lying in wait? Maybe he didn’t even want Alyssa or Kayleigh—maybe he was after me the whole time!” She seemed to crumble as enormous tears rolled over her cheeks. The women closed in on her, soothing and clucking. I stepped away, grateful for a few moments alone.

  I was on the front porch when Alex and Will caught up with me.

  “What’d the girl say?” Alex wanted to know.

  I glanced up. “She didn’t start the fire. She didn’t know anything about the uniform.”

  I could see Will’s chest bolster a tiny bit.

  “But I’m going to check her closet just to be sure.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Both guys said it in unison and both immediately bristled.

  “Grace!” one of the perimeter officers called out to Alex and I could see the annoyance in Alex’s eyes as they cut toward the officer, then to me, and finally narrowed and set on Will.

  “Don’t let anything happen to her.” He turned on his heel and the cold air at his exit—and in his tone—highlighted the blaze of anger in my gut.

  “Hey,” I yelled, pushing past Will. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  I could hear Will snicker behind me. “Anyone,” I said, turning on Will. “There are two girls missing right now and there could have been a third. I need you to stop beating your chests or measuring your balls or whatever it is you think you’re doing and start focusing on this case. Girls are missing. Girls are dead. Alex, go see what the officer wants and see what physical evidence your guys have come up with. Will, come with me.”

  I could see Alex’s nostrils flare, the little muscle in his jaw that let me know he was angry, jumping. Will opened his mouth to say something—smart, I guessed—and I held up a finger. “And you shut your trap.”

  I stomped up Fallon’s stairs, Will in tow, and was too angry to comment or stand in slack-jawed awe when I found Fallon’s bedroom. It was easily the size of my apartment, and likely as big as Will’s and mine combined, with an attached bathroom stuffed with more frilly scents and loofah sponges than an entire Bath and Body Works megastore.

  “Damn.”

  The walls were painted a pretty rose pink and glittery fairy wings hung from the four-poster bed. There were crowns trailing ribbons and silky ballet shoes and a heavy pile snow-white rug.

  “It looks like My Little Pony exploded in here,” I said.

  Will flicked a set of the fairy wings. “My Little Pony and her fairy friends.”

  “Not exactly what I expected from Fallon.”

  “What did you expect?”


  “Something darker. More of a German dungeon type theme.”

  “I hear that sells big at Pottery Barn Kids.”

  I pulled open some dresser drawers and poked at the neat stacks of starched white blouses and a carefully folded navy-blue sweater. The drawers Will sifted through held little bits of neon and leopard-print skirts or tube tops or headbands—it was hard to tell.

  “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s missing any shirts, and there wasn’t a sweater in the fireplace.” I bit my lip and went to the closet, pulling back double doors to expose the second-largest clothing collection (Nina’s being the first) that I had ever seen outside of a retail establishment. One whole section was a sea of blues—four navy jumpers, four regulation plaid skirts, every manner of high school booster wear, and the whole thing repeating in a sea of greys. I groaned.

  “For all we know this could be every uniform she has and the one in the fireplace could be someone else’s, or this is all she has minus one.” I nodded in the general direction of the dining room.

  “The one in the fireplace was a size two. At least the skirt part.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad my snarled lip was hidden amongst the plaid. “Just like mine.”

  “Wait,” Will said, pausing. “Did you say she’s short a sweater?”

  I shrugged. “There was only one in there. So, maybe yes, maybe no.”

  “Didn’t your little stinky friend find—”

  My eyes widened. “A sweater. Someone had tried to flush a sweater down the toilet.” I paused, my previous revelation falling flat. “Why would someone try to flush a sweater down the toilet?”

  Will pursed his lips. “You didn’t think to ask that at the time?”

  “Well, neither did you.”

  He held his hands up in obvious surrender. “Touche.”

  Alex came up the stairs and knocked on the doorframe. I stiffened when I saw him, immediately feeling the annoyance well up inside of me.

  “We’re still working in here,” I said, going into my best CSI stance.

  He crossed the room to me and held out a Ziploc evidence bag. “Do you recognize this?”

  I took the bag, tentatively, somehow certain it was a trap. His fingertips brushed mine and I shuddered—I had never remembered his hands being so cold. When I looked up at him, I realized just how tired he looked—heavy bags under his eyes made the crystal blue of his irises seem washed out and dull. The usually rosy skin over his cheeks seemed papery and sallow. His lips were dry and cracked.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  Alex just shook the bag in my palm. I snapped my attention to it.

  “It’s a Lock and Key pin,” I said. “Where did you get this?”

  “Romero found it. It was attached to the collar of the shirt in the fireplace.”

  Will and I exchanged a glance. “Fallon wasn’t in Lock and Key,” I said. “But Kayleigh was.”

  “Actually . . .” Both Alex and I looked to where Will was standing. A floor-to-ceiling bulletin board was in front of him. He plucked a single photo from the collage and held it out to me. I took it, and everything inside me stopped. “This is Lock and Key Club. From this year.”

  “And Fallon’s in it.” Will squinted at the photo. “Alyssa, Kayleigh—that Miranda bird. And the advisor there, isn’t that the geezer from the principal’s office?”

  “Heddy’s not a geezer. And Miranda told me she wasn’t in the club.” A cold stripe of fear shot down my spine. “The uniform downstairs could be hers. Fallon and she were constantly at each other’s throats.”

  “I’m going to go downstairs to check on the girl.”

  “Ask her where Bud is.”

  Alex’s lips went into a pale straight line. “Lawson . . .”

  “Do it, Alex. I don’t care if he was alibied or not. Fallon is in on this and she’ll know where Bud Hastings is.”

  Alex eyed me. We were face to face, but I had my shoulders thrown back, my fists on hips, and was ready to shut down anyone who tried to placate me.

  “You want us to go after Hastings on a hunch?”

  “You want two girls to die because you were too proud to follow a hunch?”

  I squared off my hips and kept Alex’s gaze. Finally, he broke. “Yeah. Okay.”

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket while Alex left Will and me alone in the bedroom.

  Will’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “So you think Fallon did this? She made the pentagram, got nervous when the candle caught the drapes, then called the police?”

  “She didn’t have to make the fire to toss in Miranda’s uniform.”

  I dialed Miranda’s number and listened as it rang repeatedly. I frowned, hung up, and tried Vlad.

  “Direct to voice mail.”

  Will’s eyes locked mine. For the first time, there was real concern in them. “You can’t find Miranda?”

  “Let me try Nina. I’m sure she’s talked to Vlad.”

  Nina picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, it’s me. Is Vlad there?”

  “I haven’t seen him all night. Your little friend came back though.”

  My heart stopped. “Miranda, really? Is she there? Let me talk to her.”

  “She’s not here anymore. She just forgot a coat or something and took off.”

  “Without Vlad?”

  “She said he peeled off for Poe’s or something. She got in a car downstairs. Some guy was driving, but it wasn’t Vlad. Although the car looked like something from our era.” She gave a small, snorting chuckle at her own joke. “Anyway, I wasn’t completely paying attention because I was on the phone with Scorsese’s assistant.”

  “Wait—Martin Scorsese’s assistant?”

  Because even in the midst of peril, I could be not only horny, but starstruck.

  “No, Neil Scorsese. He runs the soundstage down by the Presidio. Werevamp. Nice guy.”

  “Look, if either Miranda or Vlad come back, keep them there.” I hung up my phone.

  “Miranda took off with some guy who wasn’t Vlad.”

  “Young love burns fast and hot, but fades fast.”

  “Nina said the car was old.” My skin started to prickle. “What if the guy was Janitor Bud?”

  “So, Fallon is working in cahoots with this janitor bloke. She sets fire to her own house so the police are tied up here, so Bud can go out and get Miranda?” Will shook his head. “Something’s not adding up. The police had already cleared Bud.”

  I paced, stringing a piece of hair around my index finger. “Maybe she sent Bud out to get Miranda while she set up the sacrificial altar downstairs. She really did knock over a candle and a neighbor called the police and fire department. She probably heard the sirens and intercepted Bud.”

  “Kind of a stretch. What about Alyssa and Kayleigh? Why would he—or even Fallon—suddenly start collecting the girls rather than killing them? It can’t be easy to hide one teenage girl, let alone three.”

  “Remember what Vlad said? Maybe he just hasn’t found the right girl.”

  “But to deal with three?”

  My stomach was leaded and my saliva bitter. “We don’t know that he hasn’t killed the other girls yet.”

  I took the stairs two at a time, Will following close behind. I pushed the front door open only to see the taillights of the ambulance fading into the darkness, the squad cars falling into line behind that. Alex was leaning into the open window of a squad car, and Fallon was gone.

  “Alex! Alex, where’s Fallon?”

  Alex looked around as if just noticing his surroundings. “We were able to reach her mother. She gave permission for the girl to go with the neighbor.”

  My heart started to thud.

  “Which neighbor?”

  “I’m not sure. Wasn’t my jurisdiction. What’s going on?”

  “She’s the one you’re looking for,” Will spat.

  Alex straightened, his eyes darkening. “Lawson, you need evidence to accuse someone of a crime. Especiall
y of a crime like this.”

  My frustration and anger were reaching boiling points. “I know. Bud Hastings has an alibi, and there is absolutely no reason that you should go after Fallon except for the fact that she is in on this. She and Bud are partners. She lures the girls, he carves them up in an attempt to open some portal or do some kind of witchcraft. And it’s going to happen tonight. No one broke in and made a pentagram on Fallon’s floor. She did it. She did it for him! Look at the moon! It’s the seventh phase. They’re trying to open a portal and they need to do it tonight.”

  Alex leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. “Bud Hastings is some kind of warlock?”

  “Warlock?” Will thumped me on the shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Can you believe this guy?”

  “Bud Hastings is taking these girls and Fallon is involved. And I think I know what this”—I waved my arms, doing my crazy best to indicate—“is all about. I think I know who the next victim is.”

  Alex crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? She’s crazy? She’s the—the bad seed? Why? She just is. You have to get her!”

  “These girls are her classmates. What makes you think Fallon is involved or that she’s after another girl? That’s not this perp’s pattern.”

  I gaped. “Not the pattern? Kayleigh has gone missing, too, Alex. That is not the pattern, but it happened. It’s just a matter of time—a matter of hours—until Alyssa’s body turns up. Her body, Alex. Bud’s gone off half-cocked—or Fallon has. We have to do something!” My whole body was thrumming and I tugged at the collar of my jacket, feeling hot again. I could feel the sweat trickle down my back and I squirmed, fisting my hands so I didn’t grab Alex and force him to go find Fallon.