Wizard in a Witchy World Page 19

  I thought about the two uses I knew of for a spell circle. The first was to bind a wizard to the earth and provide protection. The wizard would cast the circle while sitting within it. This practice had become something of a routine for me when I wanted to recharge. The other purpose of the circle was to trap something, usually a spirit or demon. The wizard remained outside the circle, like I'd done to Amak.

  "Is that what you did?" I asked the circle's occupant. "You summoned a circle and what…?" I was missing something. There was no reason for someone to die inside a circle. I supposed they could starve to death or run out of water, but nothing physical or magical could touch them while they were inside. I looked at the skeleton and wondered if whoever it had been had perished in the circle for something as mundane as dehydration.

  "You're no help… screw it!" I said and reached down, grabbing the crystal jar from the boney hand.

  Not unexpectedly, a cold breeze blew across my back and one by one the lights along the wall extinguished. I turned and sprinted for the door, but it slammed in front of me. A cold presence passed behind me and the hairs on my neck stood on end in the light breeze. I spun around, not finding anything.

  "Who's there?" I asked as the final sconce on the wall extinguished. Instinctively, I moved back to the fireplace, the only light remaining in the room.

  The sound of metal dragging along the stone floor echoed through the room. I peered into the darkness, trying to identify its origin. An occasional spark traced along the floor, the only hint of its location.

  "Lucem," I shouted as I mentally chastised myself for being so riled up. Light from my left hand ring burst forth and I swept it across the room, looking for what was making the noise. A tall shape darted behind the table, but when my light reached its position, I was unable to find anything.

  "Altum Visu," I cast the planar view.

  "Shit!" I exclaimed to no one. My wizard's site had exposed four indistinct, lumbering shapes closing on my position. The closest was dragging an ethereal sword which it lifted as it approached.

  "Adoloret," I launched a gout of flame across the ten feet that separated us. To my horror, the flame simply dissipated, causing no damage.

  It wasn't as if I didn't know what was happening. It was too obvious of an answer to take safety in the silver circle. Sure, I'd be safe, but I suspected the shades would simply wait me out. I wasn't going down without a fight. I ran toward the door that led into the hall, hoping I could unlock it and escape. I placed my hand on the first table and vaulted over it, my legs knocking the silver cauldron on the ground. I leapt over the second table and placed my hands on the door, looking for the handle that appeared to no longer exist. My wizard's sight clearly showed the lock, but when I attempted to move the tumblers, they lifted and immediately fell back.

  The spirits had reoriented and were once again slowly closing on my position. I could outrun and out maneuver them. But if I couldn't escape the room. Even that small advantage wouldn't help.

  "Scutum," I projected the shield in front of me and pushed it into the closest figure. Too late, I realized the spirit wielded a dagger and my shield hadn't stopped its slashing strike. The skin on my forearm was laid open as if cut by a fillet knife.

  "Damn you!" I cursed, quenching the shield and scuttling away. The spirit cackled in response.

  I ripped a strip from my shirt as I took refuge along the side wall, tying a quick compress around the wound. If I survived, that was sure to be a nasty wound. I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a plan that didn't involve me using the silver circle. I jumped over the desk and pulled the drawers open, spilling their contents on the floor. If only I could find salt or something else that was useful against the undead. Of course, there was nothing helpful.

  I scooted around the desk, avoiding the approaching shades. I wasn’t completely sure what would happen if they reached me. Would they really kill me? The slash to my arm was throbbing and still a good example of what I wanted to avoid. I pulled my phone out and redialed Amak. No dial-tone, no dialing. It wasn't a huge surprise. Spirits, specters, shades, ghosts and just about anything south of the grave had the capacity to interrupt electronics.

  As my ring's light bounced around the room, a glint on the wall caught my eye. An ornamental sword hung on the center pillar supporting a double-arched entry to an alcove I'd yet to inspect. The odd thing was that it reflected the light from my ring even in the mystic plane. Ordinarily, a steel sword would barely even register, much less reflect a wizard's light.

  I vaulted over the lab tables again, throwing miscellaneous and probably impossible to replace equipment to the floor as I did. I wrapped my free hand around the grip of the sword and tugged it from the wall. Initially, it resisted, but I pushed my will into it and broke it free. The sword was lighter than I'd expected and warmed in the palm of my hand.

  The shades were either getting faster or smarter. They’d left me little room to maneuver and I was forced to enter the alcove. I searched for an exit and found nothing. The shelves along the walls were filled with deteriorated spell components and bottles of indeterminate material - nothing I could utilize.

  Unfortunately, I'd backed myself into the proverbial corner. I had no experience with a sword, but it no longer mattered. I focused my being and slashed into the closest spirit. It shrieked as the blade struck home, drawing a darkened stripe along its chest. Its scream echoed off the stone walls and I pushed my advantage, slashing into the next figure. A parry from my attacker deflected the sword, but I spun with a grace that was not my own and blocked its counter attack, forcing the spirit back. I slid down the wall to my left to intercept another that was trying to flank me.

  I was too slow to fully defend against the third specter’s thrust, but managed to deflect its blade so that it only grazed me. The burning of the blade as it dug a furrow across my thigh caused me to fear the damage a successful strike might do. This attacker, however, didn’t get the chance for a second strike. It had overcommitted, obviously expecting to have buried its sword in my flesh. As it careened toward the wall, I brought my sword up, drawing through it with what could only be described as a naval-to-head split. A bright flash of light preceded it blinking from existence.

  "Who's your daddy now?" I asked, turning back to the figure coming at me from the right.

  I dodged a strike and twisted around the pillar, coming face to face with… well… more accurately, face to twisted bundle of glowing skin and bone… My sword was out of position and there was no time to do anything but react. I jammed the pommel up into what – I would stipulate - passed for its face and the shade pulled back, its graceful glide interrupted.

  My neck hairs responded to a chill wind. The image of an enemy about to strike from behind lodged in my consciousness. Instinctively, I plunged the sword back in an underhanded arc. The blade passed inches from my waist as I spun to face it. The sword pierced the center of the specter as it exploded with a bright light. And then, there were two.

  Confidently, I stepped through the arch and into the main room, slashing the blade in front of me in an X pattern, making a very satisfying 'whoosh, whoosh' as the sword sliced the air.

  "En garde, bitches," I said, pointing the blade at them. The spirits backed away and I lunged forward, dispatching them easily.

  The sound of the hall door unlocking was accompanied by the lighting of the wall sconces. Fire and light once again jumped rhythmically around the room.

  "Finis," I said, releasing my wizard's sight and dousing the light from my ring.

  I hastily set the sword down on the nearest table and stepped back. It appeared that the magic of the sword had temporarily imbued me with instincts and fighting skills I really wasn’t sure I wanted. At the moment, I wasn't overly interested in what other party tricks it might want to share.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when my phone rang, not bothering to check the caller id.

  "Hello?" I asked.

  "Slade! You gotta come over
here. I need your help." Joe Lozano sounded panicked.

  "What's going on, Joe?"

  "Just come," he said. "I'm sending you the address."

  "Be there in twenty," I pocketed the crystal jar and left the lab, shutting the door behind me as I ran up the stairs.

  I pulled out my phone and was about to call Angela to see if she was available for a ride when I rounded the corner and saw Aimee Bestmun's car still parked out front. Worried that something bad might have happened to her, I sprinted toward the car, vaulting over the fallen iron fence.

  "Are you okay?" I asked as I slapped my hands on the roof of her car, using it to slow myself down.

  "You're bleeding," she said, pointing to my arm.

  "Probably gonna get tetanus. Hit a nail," I lied. She had tears in her eyes and her mascara had run, leaving dark lines on her cheeks. "What's going on with you?"

  "Damn Phibbly. He had me convinced you weren't coming back. He said something bad was going to happen to you."

  "You mean when I got this?" I asked and showed her the jar I'd retrieved.

  "You found it? We have to go back to the bank right now! You're fully vetted, if that's the right jar," she said.

  "Would you believe I have something else I need to do?"

  "More important than a twenty-eight-million-dollar trust?"

  "Yeah, I think so. Would you mind dropping me at my apartment?"

  GET OUT

  "Thanks for the ride," I said, hopping out of Aimee Bestmun's car.

  She rolled her window down to talk to me. "You really need to come to the bank, Mr. Slade. David will want to test this right away."

  "Will he be less of a jackass?"

  She smiled ironically. "Caught that, huh?"

  "I'll come by tomorrow if I can." I turned to cross the street and noticed a 1950's vintage Chevy pickup truck parked next to the curb, a purple 'Chatty Katty's' logo emblazoned on the celery colored door. I suspected the visit wasn't a coincidence, so I made my way up the gravel driveway. Amak's Jeep was nowhere to be seen.

  A flat of purple flowers sat on Mrs. Willoughby's back porch and I recognized Willow's curvy form in work jeans and colorful smock.

  "I'm afraid I can't afford to buy anything." I heard Mrs. Willoughby explaining as I ran up to intervene.

  "No, dear. I'm not selling them," Willow answered patiently.

  "Oh, hello, Felix," Mrs. Willoughby looked at me. "I was just explaining to this young woman that I can't afford to buy her flowers."

  "My fault, Ms. Willoughby. This is Willow. She’s my friend and I asked her to come over." I gave Willow a smile. I hadn't asked her to come, but recognized the friendly gesture all the same.

  "Oooh. Why didn't you say so?" Mrs. Willoughby said in her overly loud voice. "Come in, come in. And, call me Katherine, please." She shuffled out of the way, leaving the door open.

  I picked up the flat of monkshood and followed Willow into the house.

  "What a lovely home you have here, Katherine," Willow said.

  "It's not much. But, my husband and I had so many fond memories here," she said. "Please sit. Would you care for a cookie?" She shuffled to the freezer and pulled a round tin out, setting it on the table.

  It was close to lunch and I'd given my breakfast to Amak, so I gladly helped open the tin and fished out two cookies. I offered one to Willow, who turned it down and then to Mrs. Willoughby, who also turned it down. It didn't seem polite to put them back into the tin, so I held onto them.

  "Could I look at your hand, Katherine?" I asked as she sat heavily in her chair.

  She'd removed the bandage I'd put on and it looked to be drying out. "It's much better," she said. "That ointment works miracles."

  I pulled the jar over from where we'd left it on the table. I suspected she hadn't been applying it by herself. "I think it needs at least one more go," I said.

  "If you think that's best," she said. "Willow, that's an unusual name." She turned her attention to Willow. "What about these flowers? I'm afraid I didn't understand what you were saying."

  "I run a local nursery and Felix suggested you might be willing to winter a few of my plants," she said. I'd wondered how she was selling the idea. "They like drafty locations, so it’s best if they sit next to a window or door."

  "Oh. I've never heard of that before," Mrs. Willoughby said.

  "They're an unusual plant. But, gorgeous, don't you agree?"

  "They certainly are. I'm surprised to see them blooming in October."

  "I shouldn't have dropped by unannounced, but I was in the area and wanted to talk with Felix on another matter," she said.

  "He's a good boy," she said.

  I finished bandaging her hand. "I'm right here, Katherine."

  "I know you are, dear." She patted my hand. "I'd be more than happy to look after your flowers. I'm afraid I've something of a brown thumb though."

  "That's okay. Felix said he'd be willing to care for them if you are amenable," Willow grinned, knowing I had just stuffed an entire cookie in my mouth and was unable to talk.

  "I'll have to stock up on cookies in that case."

  Willow reached across the table and brushed crumbs from my cheek. "It sounds like a perfect arrangement."

  ***

  "Thanks for coming over," I said after Willow and I extricated ourselves from Mrs. Willoughby's kitchen. "I'm sorry for running out on you last night."

  "I'm the one who should be sorry," Willow said. "I took a liberty that wasn't mine to take."

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. "You were being generous and inclusive. You couldn't know I'd react that way. You and your sisters have been nice to me."

  "I felt your pain and fear, Felix. You were protecting me - I can only assume from yourself. When you're ready to talk about it, I'd like to be there for you." I looked into her face and saw caring and concern, something she hid under her normally sultry mask.

  It wasn’t a compulsion as much as a need when I stepped forward and hugged her. Willow’s gift was compassion and she'd freely shown that to me. I felt the same warmth I had when I’d hugged Judy. Man, I really missed that.

  "When I'm ready to talk, maybe we could take a walk in the garden together," I said.

  "Sounds right," she said. "Although, I also wanted to talk to you about that." She'd shifted gears and her voice took on a more business like tone. "Gabriella suggested you might be looking for work. I would love to have someone of your talents help in the greenhouse."

  I was taken aback. It was one thing to give me a tour, but quite another to invite me to work there. My involvement would reflect on Willow because a witch's garden was often deeply intertwined with their identity. "Are you sure?"

  "Are you interested?" She picked up my hand, turned me toward the driveway and started walking.

  "Of course. I'd be honored," I said.

  "Come by some morning next week and we'll work out hours and all that."

  "Witch morning or mundane?"

  "Eleven is still morning, isn't it?" She winked and her sultry façade slid back into place.

  "I could do that," I said.

  "Sounds grand. And, just so you know. If you don't finish the next meal Belle makes for you, there will be no safe place in Leotown for you to hide," she said and bustled off to her vintage truck.

  I hopped into my own truck and was glad to see Amak had left my keys on the seat. I checked the address Joe had texted me and plugged it into my phone's GPS. I was afraid using the device wasn't an overly wizardly thing to do, but it sure beat cooking up an enchantment.

  It wasn't a long drive to Lozano's house and when I pulled up, things were worse than I could have imagined. Joe and a dirty-blonde werewolf - both in human form - were standing in the yard while a woman tossed clothing out the front door onto an existing pile of miscellaneous home goods. A child cried from inside the house and several neighbors stood in their yards, looking on with concern.

  "Back in your houses. There's nothing to see," Joe said.
<
br />   "I'm calling the cops," a neighbor woman shouted.

  "I am the cops. It's just a misunderstanding," he said.

  "There's no misunderstanding!" The woman I presumed was Joe's wife, Jennifer, yelled from the cement stoop. "You try to bring that slut into my house, I'll rip your nuts off."

  "She doesn't mean it. She wasn't threatening anyone," Joe addressed the curious neighbors. He held his hands in front of him defensively, partially offsetting his reassuring words. "About time you got here." He turned, looking at me. He was even rougher looking than the last time I'd seen him.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  "Jen. She's gone off the deep end and is kicking me out of the house," he said, apparently loud enough for her to hear.

  "You think I'm crazy? You rip up my bed, trash my house and bring that… that… puta home and you're calling me loco?"

  "Got it," I said. "How about you have Daphne there head down to the corner market or something and we try to have a chat with Jen? Maybe we could calm things down a little."

  "You want calm. Tell him to get his crap off my lawn and beat it." Joe’s wife stomped inside and slammed the door.

  "My name's not Daphne." The dirty-blonde lycan said. "It's Susan."

  "Daphne works better with Shaggy," I said. "But have it your way, Sue."

  She lunged at me and Joe caught her at the last moment.

  "What are you doing? Don't we have enough problems without you starting something else?" Lozano asked.

  "What gives? Why isn't she in jail?" I asked.

  "She wasn’t responsible for most of what went down," he said.

  "Bullshit," I said. "She kidnapped Clarita, probably helped kill her mom, too."

  "I didn't do any of that," the girl said. "I turned on the last full moon, just like Joe."

  "You were ready to kill that little girl. I heard you."