Slightly Spellbound (31 page)

“How do you feel?” Bryn asked.

“All right, except a little dizzy. And my leg smarts like nobody’s business. Gotta go,” I said, hanging up as Zach returned. He glanced at the phone, but said nothing.

I gulped down the aspirin and orange juice. He sat next to me and opened the thick file. It contained copies of really old papers. Some of the print was smudged and faded. I lifted the top pages close to my eyes.

I read through the police timeline of Edie’s last night. She’d been at a party, gotten drunk on bootleg liquor, and gone home around one thirty in the morning. A man named Tim Pate dropped her off. He walked her to her door to make sure she got inside but said he didn’t go in. He’d been a main suspect, but the clothes he’d worn to the party hadn’t been bloody. They hadn’t found the weapon on him or at his apartment. And friends who’d seen him later that night said he’d acted normally. Also, Pate didn’t have a motive. No one had ever seen Edie argue with him.

According to the report, Pate had been one of the few guys Edie knew that she hadn’t had a volatile affair with. It was pretty clear from the documents that the police thought Edie was a shrewish tart with no respect for her father or any of the men in her life. There was a definite tone to the report that suggested she’d gotten what she deserved. It shocked me to read it. In the pictures from the crime scene she looked so young. Also, I knew she’d had her reasons for rebelling. Her daddy had been mean and abusive. Besides, no matter what Edie was like, no one deserved to get stabbed to death. I wondered how hard the police had worked to solve the case. Maybe not very hard at all.

Zach shuffled through the pages and held one out. “Here.”

The faded handwriting was hard to read. I made out:
Frederick J. Greer. Calls himself “Freddie.” He has aviary—fancy bird coop upstate. Claims he gave the victim a collection of feathers for use as fringe on designer dress. Feathers on bed under her from dress or from him?
At the bottom of the page there was a note that the detective had left a message for Greer’s alibi, another flapper. It never said whether the alibi had checked out.

I flipped to a picture of Freddie Greer, and my breath caught. I’d seen someone who looked a lot like him. “Oh my God. How much do you want to bet that the
J
in
Freddie J. Greer
stands for
Jackson
?”

“Why?”

“Because I believe I’ve met Freddie Greer’s grandson. Or maybe his great- or double-great-grandson.” I looked up. “Vangie’s fiancé, Jackson. Supposedly he doesn’t come from a magical family. But of all the women in New York, Freddie befriends Edie? And of all the women in Dallas, Jackson romances Vangie? Do you think it’s a coincidence that both the Greer men found witches?”

“Hell no.”

“Me neither. Jackson must’ve gone to a lot of trouble to conceal his magic. It’s hard to do. But if your grandfather is a serial killer of witches and you’re his apprentice, you don’t want covens examining your family tree.”

Sweat popped up on my forehead, and I had to lean back to keep from falling over.

“What’s wrong? You’ve looked pale since you got here,” Zach said, putting a hand on my arm.

“I’m all right. I think the aspirin’s breaking my fever.”

“What fever?” Zach asked. “If you’re sick, you should be in bed.”

A knock at the front door made us both look. Zach rose and crossed the room. When he opened the door, Bryn stood on the porch.

33

“SUTTON,” BRYN SAID with a nod.

“You’re kidding, right?” Zach asked, his voice grim.

“You’re supposed to be doing research,” I said with a frown.

“I’m here because she’s ill. For her sake, invite me in,” Bryn said.

Zach glared at Bryn, but Bryn’s expression was so neutral he could’ve been his Swiss friend Andre. Zach took a step back and opened the screen door.

Bryn strode to me and dropped to a knee. He pulled the legs of the sweats up and examined my leg. I peeked at it. The black splotches had grown larger.

“I know who has Vangie,” I said. “She’s got a fiancé whose name—”

“I don’t care about Evangeline Rhodes right now,” Bryn said.

“Well, I do. Plus, she’s the key,” I said, pulling my leg back as Bryn traced one of the black rings. “Ow. Don’t press those. Listen, the undead guy, the lych, he must be a blood-and-bones wizard.”

“You said he used celestial magic,” Bryn said.

“I think he started that way, but he deals in death magic, too.” I shivered, and my stiffening muscles ached. “Cold in here.” I rubbed my arms. “The lych is stealing energy from the ghosts and the vampires. Dominion over the dead and undead, it’s blood-and-bones magic, right?”

“Sometimes.” Bryn closed his hands around mine and grimaced. “You’re chilled.”

“The bastard’s made me sick and tired, too. I have to stop him!”

“Tamara, for God’s sake, stay calm. You need to conserve your strength.” Bryn yanked out his keychain and opened his Swiss Army knife. He made a slice in the sweatpants and tore the fabric in two all the way to my hip.

“Hey,” I complained with a shudder. “I told you I’m cold.”

“Don’t you think I know? Don’t you think I can feel it?” Bryn said, and I heard the concern in his voice. Sure, he could feel it. We were connected.

“Do you feel bad, too?” I asked, worried.

Zach put a blanket around my shoulders and then squatted next to Bryn to examine the snakelike black marks slithering up my thigh.

“Do you need to know the spell that was used to poison her to undo this?” Zach asked.

“I don’t think we have time to track down the killer to find out what spell was used. This is spreading too fast. We have to do something right now.”

“Like what?” Zach said.

“I’m okay,” I said stubbornly. “Being half faery makes me half invincible, right? This had to be witch magic. It can only kill half of me, right?”

Zach looked hopeful, but Bryn looked worried and gripped my arms tight enough to bruise.

“Did you hear him recite a spell? Think back. Anything you tell me could be helpful. Concentrate.”

“Hmm. I can’t remember—”

Spots formed in front of my eyes, and my eyes rolled back.

When I opened my lids again, I lay on the couch. My arms and legs ached and my tongue throbbed and tasted metallic. I swallowed bloody saliva and wrinkled my nose.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice slurred.

“Get the amulet,” Bryn said. “It counters magic. Let’s see if it’ll slow this down.”

Zach sprinted out of the room.

“What happened?”

“You had a seizure.”

“That’s some fast-acting poison,” I mumbled. “You’ve got to hand it to that Skeleton Guy.”

Zach reappeared seconds later. “You better stand clear,” Zach told Bryn.

Bryn ran a hand over the side of my face. “If it hurts, I’m sorry.” He backed away. To Zach, he said, “Go ahead.”

Zach put the amulet over my head and slid it inside my clothes. The second it touched my skin, I howled. That thing burned like an oven set at six hundred degrees.

I clutched my chest and closed my eyes at the blinding light. Zach grabbed my hands and gripped them to keep me from hauling the amulet off.

“Lyons?” Zach called. “Is it helping or making things worse?”

I heard a thumping sound and pain shot down my legs. Bryn staggered backward into the wall, his breathing harsh. He recited a spell and a pulse of cool magic blew over me. I reached up, trying to put my fingers into the cold rush of power . . . anything to escape the pain.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” Bryn said, and then he groaned.

My skull felt like it would split in two.

“Sutton,” Bryn gasped. “How do the black marks look?”

“Better,” Zach said, “but her skin smells like it’s burning.”

“I feel it,” Bryn said. “Take the amulet off. Let me try something.”

Zach removed the necklace and stepped back.

“There are times—” I mumbled, lifting my clothes away from the blistered skin on the top of my left breast and collarbone. “There are some times when the cure is worse than the disease.”

“Back away for a minute,” Bryn said to Zach. “Stand in the kitchen doorway.”

A moment later, I breathed easier. My eyeballs felt scratchy and sore, and opening my lids was like having someone poke them with daggers. I cursed and tears welled, but at least they washed away some of the grit. Bryn’s face swam into view.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Bryn said. “I’ll draw off your witch magic. Then you’ll be more fae. It should help.”

“Go ahead,” I said, puckering my lips.

Bryn whispered a spell in Gaelic and then kissed me. I felt his magic curl down my throat, and then he sucked it back into himself. I didn’t resist. I pushed my tongue into his cool mouth. Moments later, the pain eased. I held tight.

Bryn pulled away and rocked back on his heels.

“How do you feel?” Bryn asked.

“Like I could eat you like a chocolate pastry,” I said with an unsteady chuckle. All the pain from moments before had faded; like sound underwater, it was muted to nearly unnoticeable. Being fae had its advantages.

Bryn exhaled, and I sat up. The skin of my arms glowed like a golden sunrise. By contrast, Bryn’s skin was pale, almost ashen, but he didn’t fall over. That man had a will of iron.
Iron
, I thought, wrinkling my nose.
A will of steel
, I corrected.

My heart thumped, and I gave a little cough as I stretched. The dark marks receded to tight little whorls around the bites, like cinnamon pinwheels.

“I’m better,” I said. “I’d like a weapon. A longbow and a quiver of arrows.” I locked eyes with Bryn. He really was beautiful. Glittering sapphire eyes and hair jet as stones at the bottom of a riverbed. “You’ll get a bow for me, won’t you? From the arsenal in your house?”

Bryn swallowed. “I will. You’ll come with me and pick out what you want.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Your house isn’t friendly when I’m like this.”

“Tamara—”

“No,” I said. “You’ll be tempted to trap me, to keep me safe. I won’t be a prisoner.”

“So you’ll wait here for me?” Bryn asked.

“Sure,” I said, waving a hand. “I’ll be here.” But I already felt the pull of the woods. I needed to be outside, to feel the rush of raw earth, pure and powerful, between my toes. It would do me a lot more good than a blistering amulet. “And bring Merc. We might need his help tracking the wizard.”

“Sutton,” Bryn said. “Fae are mercurial and their consciences aren’t fully formed. When she’s like this, she can be unpredictable.”

“I can handle it.”

“Don’t handle it too well, or our ceasefire will be short-lived,” Bryn said, and without waiting for a response, he left.

I turned my attention to Zach. He was definitely as handsome as any human had a right to be, but the amulet lay dull as lead against his skin, casting a smoky shadow over him, dampening the gold of his skin and curls.

“You should take that off,” I said, nodding toward his chest.

“You started to tell us where you thought we could find Jackson Greer and his grandfather.”

“The younger Greer and the girl were staying at a hotel in Dyson,” I said. “But since the sun’s risen, I can’t see the lych carrying an unconscious and almost-dead girl across a parking lot in broad daylight. If the younger Greer is still at the hotel, we could get him. If the old lych cares about him, he’d be a good bargaining chip to draw the lych out. Then I’ll kill them, and the ghosts will be freed. If there’s still enough life left in her, the shy witch will wake up.” I clapped my hands against each other in a “that’s that” gesture.

Zach stared at me. “You don’t sound like you.”

I ignored his observation. “Once I deal with the lych, I can get on with more important things.” I stood.

“What important things?” Zach asked.

“Catching a fae warrior in a snare and finding out what he wants with me,” I said with narrowed eyes. “And paying him back for thrashing me.” My voice had a fiery note that crackled on the air.

“For thrashing you?” Zach asked.

“Not your worry,” I said, putting out a hand to prevent him from moving toward me and bringing the amulet closer. I went to the back door and opened it. I inhaled deeply. “That’s better. Even from here, I can smell the pine needles. Almost the winter solstice. It belongs to the Unseelie, but all transitions are cause for celebration.” I stared out into the yard, deep between the trees. There was a sliver of yellow, like sunshine. The gilded grass would lead to faraway lands, I decided. Prettier than Duvall. Much prettier. I leaned against the door.

“Tammy Jo, do you remember being in love with me?”

I turned my head and studied Zach. “I remember,” I said, but it felt like that had been lifetimes ago. “If you took off that amulet, I’d probably remember better.”

Zach’s palm covered the amulet. “I’ve become attached to this thing.”

I shrugged. “You’re too human for her anyway. She doesn’t always see it, but it’s true.”

“For her?”

My brows crinkled. “For me. I’m her. I’m Tammy.” I laughed softly and shook my head. “It’s the strangest thing . . . like emotional amnesia. My head remembers, but the rest of me . . .” I shook my head.

“You said Lyons is part fae.”

I smiled. “He’s a little bit fae. One quarter. It’s buried really deep.”

“So he’s more wizard than fae. A lot more. And fae hate wizards . . .” he pointed out.

“Yes, that’s supposed to be true,” I said.

“But you don’t hate him? Not even when most of who you are has been drained away?”

“Oh no,” I said. “It’s like when I was little. One time we went shopping at the mall in Dallas. I saw the prettiest pair of pink patent leather shoes with gold roses studding the heels. I stood staring at those shoes until Momma dragged me away. ‘I just bought you a pair of shoes and two pretty dresses,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, honey, but we can’t afford those.’ ‘Could we take the other ones back?’ I asked. She frowned and said, ‘We can’t return the dresses. You need one for your birthday party. You’ve outgrown your old ones.’ ‘I’d rather have the pink rosebud shoes,’ I told her. She shook her head and said it didn’t make sense. She thought the stuff she’d bought was just as pretty and that three things were better than one. I didn’t think so. It was so sad to leave the mall without the pink shoes.