Spellbound (2 page)

I took another step, careful now, and instinctively started whispering a sensing spell under my breath. Then I stopped.

Do it the old-fashioned way. Look and listen.

I did, but couldn't hear anything. Peering around the corner didn't help. Then gravel crunched overhead.

On the roof. A trick she'd pulled before. I should have been prepared.

I looked around. There had to be a fire escape or trash bins I could climb—

A loud noise sent me spinning, back to the wall, hands lifted for a spell. Tires squealed as a car roared past the motel.

I looked down at my fingers, still outstretched, ready to cast. I inhaled sharply and clenched my fists.

What if she did have a gun? Sure, I knew some martial arts, but I was no black belt. I'd learned grudgingly, knowing my spells were better than any roundhouse kick.

I'd love to bring this kid down on my own, but the important thing was to stop her before she targeted another witch. Time to get backup.

I was two doors from my room when a hand clamped on my shoulder. I spun, fingers flying up in a useless knockback spell.

It was a man, a huge guy, at least three hundred pounds and a few inches taller than me. Beard stubble covered his fleshy face. He smelled like he'd showered in Jack Daniel's.

“You got a dollar?” he said. “I'm hungry.” He pointed at the vending machine. “I don't got a dollar.”

“Neither do I,” I said.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me, his other arm going around my waist as he pulled me against him. I froze. Just froze, my brain stuttering through all the spells I couldn't cast, refusing to offer any alternatives.

“Let her go,” said a familiar voice.

Adam walked over, hands at his sides, fingers glowing faintly, gaze fixed on the man. I snapped to my senses and elbow-jabbed the guy, who fell back, whining, “I just wanted a dollar.”

Adam is my height and well built, but he's no muscle-bound bruiser. Still the guy shrunk, then slithered off to his room.

“Well, that was humiliating,” I said. “Tell you what, I'll buy that new top for your Jeep if you promise never to tell anyone you rescued me from a drunk asking for spare change.”

He didn't smile. Just studied me, then said, “Let's get inside.”

“Can't. My little witch-hunter has returned. She's up on the roof. I was just coming in to get you for backup.”

That gave him pause, but he only nodded, then peered up at the dark rooftop. “I'll go around the rear and climb up. You cover the front.”

I should have warned him that I was spell-free. I really should have. I didn't.

A few minutes later, gravel crunched on the roof again and I tensed, but it was only Adam. He walked to the front, hunkered down, and motioned me over.

“No sign of her,” he whispered. “But I can't see shit. Can you toss up a light ball?”

“Is there a flashlight in the Jeep?” I asked. “That'd be easier.”

“Sure.” He dropped the keys into my hand. “Glove box.”

I
retrieved the flashlight, but it didn't help. The girl was gone.

“Lot of ground to cover,” Adam said after he'd climbed off the roof. “It's all farm fields behind the motel. My guess is she parked on a nearby road. We'll split up. You've got your light ball and I have the flashlight.”

I let him get a few paces away before I said, “I don't have my light ball.”

“Hmm?”

“My spells,” I said. “They're . . . gone.”

“Shit.” He paused. “That damned poison.” I'd been having spell problems for a few days, after being poisoned. “Okay, come on.”

We'd barely set out when the whine of a car engine sounded to the west. It stopped, then started again.

Adam smiled. “Someone doesn't have a four-by-four. Got herself stuck in the mud.”

We broke into a jog, but before we got close the engine roared as the car broke free. A flash of brake lights. Then darkness as the car tore away, headlights off.

“She'll be back,” Adam said.

“I don't want to wait. We need to go after her.”

“And we will, after you've paid another visit to Dr. Lee to find out why the hell that poison isn't out of your system yet.”

I stopped walking. “It's not the poison. My spells were working fine earlier.”

“And you've lost them again because you should still be in the hospital, recuperating.” He put his arm around my shoulders, propelling me forward. “You're going back to—”

“My spells aren't weak. They're gone. I . . . I gave them up.”

“What?”

“Last night, I said I'd give my powers to undo what happened with Kayla. The Fates must have taken me up on it.”

“How? You can't just make a wish and have it come true.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Let's go inside and get some rest, then head over to Dr. Lee—”

I pulled from his grip. “Don't patronize me, Adam.”

Hints of amber sparked in his brown eyes. He got his temper under control before opening his mouth, and when he did, his tone was low, words measured.

“I'm not patronizing you, Savannah. I'm trying to calm you down and get you inside so you can think rationally.”

“Rationally?”

“Yes, rationally. You had spell blackouts because you were poisoned. Now your spells are gone again, and you insist it's not the poison, but a wish you made because you're feeling shitty about what happened in Columbus?”

“I know it sounds crazy—”

“You've got an assassin on your trail, Savannah, and if your spells are on the fritz—”

“They aren't on the fritz. They're gone. I can feel it. My powers—” My voice cracked. “They're gone.”

He reached out, as if he wanted to hug me, but only gripped my upper arms, thumbs rubbing, comforting me at arm's length. The back of my throat ached. I wanted that hug. Needed that hug. Any other time, I'd have gotten it, one friend comforting another. But it was as if something had changed after Columbus, and this was all he could offer.

I stepped back and his hands fell to his sides. Spots of color touched his cheeks as he awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, I think you're wrong. You're still very upset and you're—”

“Overreacting?”

His gaze met mine. “No, I think you have every reason to be upset. You feel responsible for what happened—even if you aren't—and this is your way of punishing yourself.” He lifted his hands against my protest. “But there's an easy way to settle it. You said you offered the bargain to set Paula free. So, let's go back to Columbus and see what's happened.”

 

 

Columbus, Washington, is about an hour over the border from Portland, the city we call home. My bosses—former guardians—Paige Winterbourne and Lucas Cortez were on vacation in Hawaii, and Adam had been away at a conference, so I'd gone to Columbus alone to investigate the murder of three young women, and had left five dead bodies in my wake. None of them died at my hands, but with the exception of Tiffany Radu—a witch killed by the hunter—all would still be alive if I had never set foot in Columbus.

It had been a setup. Leah O'Donnell, a half-demon from my past, had escaped her hell dimension and convinced a necromancer to zap her into the body of a young PI our firm had worked with before. She'd killed the third victim, Claire Kennedy, and staged it to look like the work of the same person who'd murdered Ginny Thompson and Brandi Degas months earlier. Then she'd added occult overtones to bring me to Columbus to investigate.

Leah hadn't even wanted
me
. She'd only wanted to get close enough to lower my defenses, and poison me, then call my mother. My dead mother. Who somehow had the power to keep Leah out of hell. I had no idea how, just as I had no idea how Leah managed to escape. It's like Adam said about my “bargain”—even in our supernatural world, stuff like that doesn't happen. But it had.

 

 

When I'd arrived in Columbus a week ago, I'd written it off as a zombie town—dead but still functioning. With the sawmill closed, it was dying. There was no doubt of that. But it was still a town and the people there had become real to me.

I'd wreaked havoc here. I hadn't meant to. But I hadn't seen through Leah's ploy until she'd killed the others. I hadn't solved the case fast enough to stop her before she could send proof of Paula's guilt to the police. Then Paula was arrested and her granddaughter, Kayla, was shuttled off by social services.

So as Adam drove us into town, I sunk into my seat. The real Savannah Levine seemed to have fled with my powers, leaving a shell as nervous and fretful as any Coven witch. When he tapped the brakes, my arms flew out, as if bracing for a high-speed collision.

“Isn't that Paula?” he said.

“Wh-what?” I twisted to look up and down Main Street.

He backed up the Jeep and pointed. “There.”

I followed his finger to the diner. Through the window, I could see the server, Lorraine, at the counter, filling coffee for two of the regulars. It was as if the past week never happened and I was right back where I'd started, waltzing in, cocky as ever, thinking I'd trick the ignorant locals into sharing a few tips about the murders.

“That is them, isn't it?” Adam said.

My gaze tripped across the diner patrons and stopped on two at a corner table. A tiny nine-year-old girl with a blond ponytail and her forty-year-old doppelganger shared a Belgian waffle dripping with strawberry sauce.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered.

The last time I'd seen Kayla—was it only yesterday?—she'd been getting into a social worker's car, refusing to look at me, being trucked off to a foster home while her grandmother sat in a jail cell.

“This doesn't mean you really cut a deal with the Fates,” Adam said.

“What?” I blinked at him, and it took a moment to realize what he was saying. “Bail,” I whispered.

“No, I don't mean—”

“But that would make sense, wouldn't it?” A lot more sense than giving up my powers so she could be home with her granddaughter.

“I think it's too soon for bail. My guess is that they realized it was an accident and dropped the charges—without any divine intervention.” He parked and swung open the door. “One way to find out.”

I let him get to the diner, then thought of Kayla and Paula glancing out to see me hiding in the Jeep. I owed them an explanation—or the best I could manage under the circumstances.

Adam heard the clunk of my door opening and waited for me. As we walked into the diner together, Lorraine called out a hearty “Hello!” Paula turned first. Her gaze met mine and my heart stopped.

Paula said something to Kayla. The little girl glanced over her shoulder. I braced myself. She saw me and her thin face broke into a grin. She leapt up as if she was going to hug me, catching herself at the last moment, to stand there, staring up at me with her solemn blue eyes.

“I'm sorry I was mean to you yesterday,” she said. “I made a mistake.”

I stared at her, thinking,
It's real. This is real. Paula isn't just out on bail. She's free.

The smile disappeared from Kayla's face and her eyes clouded. Worried that her apology hadn't been accepted.

I quickly bent and gave her a hug. “We all made mistakes,” I whispered. “I'm just happy this one has been fixed.”

Kayla slid into the booth. She looked at the spot next to her, then at me. Any other child would have patted the seat and urged me in. Kayla wasn't any other child.

I smiled and sat beside her. Adam took the spot beside Paula. Lorraine brought over coffee for Adam and me, and promised bacon and eggs to follow.

“Breakfast of champions,” she said. “For our champion detective.”

Paula smiled and reached out, her hands resting on mine. “Thank you, Savannah. I knew you hadn't done what they said. I wouldn't blame you if you had, but I knew you hadn't.”

“So what happened?” I asked.

She glanced at Kayla. “Could you run next door to the drugstore, honey? Get us some toothpaste? I think we're out.”

“We aren't.”

“I'd like—”

“I know all about what happened, Grandma. The social worker lady explained it.”

“Just humor me then, okay?” Paula took a five from her purse. “Get some candy for yourself, too. Just nothing hard or sticky.”

“If I'm getting toothpaste, I don't need to worry about my teeth.”

Paula sighed and waved her off. Once the little girl was gone, Paula gave us the short version of events.

Ginny's lover, Cody Radu, had been blamed for the murders. All of them. The police had received an anonymous tip, searched his house, and found a discarded suicide note confessing to the murders. They'd also found the gun that killed Ginny and Brandi, plus evidence that Cody had been the one who'd accused Paula. The police theory was that he'd planned to confess and kill himself, then realized he might still be able to get out of it by framing Paula. When things went wrong, he'd killed the guard and homeless man to cover his tracks, before realizing suicide was his only option.

Was it a perfect theory? No. But it was reasonable and blamed a dead guy that everyone had hated, while freeing a beloved member of the community. Good enough.

“So they let me go,” Paula said as Kayla returned. “Not only that, but while I was talking to the officer doing my release paperwork, we got to chatting about my days working for Sheriff Bruyn. This officer told me how they'd just lost their cleaning lady. Next thing I know, I've got the position.” She smiled. “I bet I'm the first person to walk in there in handcuffs and leave with a new job.”