EXCERPT:
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Maia asked, scaring the crap out of me.
As my heart tried to resettle in my chest, I grabbed the framed photo from her to look. “Wow, you look like you could be sisters. You have all of her features except maybe the chin. She was a beautiful woman. Elaina, do you know where the leader of your mother’s coven lives?”
She nodded. “I know the address.”
“How much packing will you actually need to do?”
She shrugged and looked around. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
“I have a proposal for you, but I want you to hear me out.” I pulled a chair out for her. “Have a seat.”
She sat, and I reclaimed my chair. “I’m going to go question the witch. At first, I considered leaving you here. But I think you can actually help.”
Elaina’s eyes widened as her head bobbed up and down. “How can I help?”
“Well, how good of an actress are you?”
“I have no idea.”
I shook my head. “Can you lie?”
Her face reddened. “If I have to.”
“Good, I’m going to try to goad that old witch into telling me something about your mom and her death. She likely won’t want to say it around you, or she’ll have others there to try to keep us from seeing her. I need you to be the distraction. Throw a toddler’s tantrum if you have to. But I need to see that old tall lady. The one who was in charge. She has answers.”
Elaina’s face brightened. “Only if you promise to tell me everything. I want to know everything if I have to leave the room or whatever.”
“Deal.” I grinned. “I was also thinking that maybe we can crash here tonight. You know, give you one last night here before you leave. If you want to, that is.”
“I’d like that,” she said quietly.
“Okay then. Let’s go interrogate a witch.”
Elaina gave me the address. I set the GPS on my phone and we drove in silence for a while. We were in the middle of bumfucked nowhere, Indiana. It looked like we were headed to a decent sized town though.
She was practically bouncing in her seat.
“We have to play this right,” I said. “I’m going to be myself. Usually when on the hunt, I’m rather aggressive. You are the poor little orphaned girl.” When she looked incredulous, I held up my hand. “I’m saying you need to play that up. Pull at heart strings. She was a member of their coven. Someone has to have some compassion. If you have to, cry. That should be easy, you’ve been through enough shit this week.”
“The challenge isn’t crying...it’s trying not to cry,” she admitted.
When we pulled up to the house, I hopped out of the truck and slammed the door. I stomped up the sidewalk and pounded on the door. “Open up!” I yelled.
A neighbor lady rounded her house. “Excuse me, Miss?”
“Yeah?” I barked, noticing Elaina standing behind me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“She’s not there. She has meetings Tuesday evenings.” The older woman was using a walker, which made me feel like shit.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
As we climbed back in the truck, Elaina said, “I know where the coven house is. It’s where they meet. A few witchlings live there. It’s where I was kept after she was killed. Go straight.”
Elaina’s voice had changed. She sounded...angry and determined.
I followed her directions until we came to a large Victorian house. Several cars were parked out front. I lifted my chin and concentrated on my inner light. Witches were more dangerous in groups.
Repeating my earlier performance, I bailed from the truck, slamming my door. I took purposeful, heavy steps to the house. When I went to pound my fist on the door, it opened. A witch of about thirty stood there. She had long blond hair that fell in loose curls. “Miss Delacroix, please come in.”
Determined not to let the woman disarm me with her pleasant smile, I moved forward like a raging bull. “Where’s the witch in charge?”
“High Priestess,” the lady corrected, “that’s what we call her. She’s indisposed at the moment.”
She turned to Elaina, “How are you doing, dear?”
“I’m okay, Cindy. Thanks for asking. Can we see Charlene, please?”
Elaina was doing an excellent job looking like the poor little orphan.
Cindy chewed her lip. “Why don’t we go to the sitting room? I will see what I can do.”
When we were ushered into the sitting room, I chose to stand. Cindy poured a cup of tea for herself. “Tea?” she offered.
“Cut the shit, Cindy. I want to see your High Priestess. Now. I didn’t take a twelve-hour drive to be avoided.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, of course.” She left the two of us and went somewhere in the house.
“Ready?” I whispered.
Elaina nodded.
“What’s the bitch’s name again?” I asked.
“Charlene,” she said.
I inhaled a deep lung full of air and yelled, “Charlene!” Then I started storming through the house. I used a bit of magic to amplify my voice with the next bellow. “Oh, Charleeeeene. Come on out, you old witch. I have questions for you.”
Elaina covered her ears. “Holy crap. How do you do that?”
“I know you’re here,” I yelled, amplifying my voice louder. “And I know you can hear me.”
“China can hear you,” the old biddy said as she came from the hall. “Lower your voice. We have witches trying to study.”
I smiled. “Let’s have a chat.”
She shook her head at me. “In the study. How are you, Elaina? Are you eating enough, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elaina sounded sheepish. Perfect.
We entered a room with a large wooden desk, the kind you might see in a professor’s office. It had ornately carved legs and a thick solid top. Shelves lined every wall, filled with books, scrolls, and jars full of herbs. She closed the door behind her.
“Next time you want to visit, please call ahead. We are doing important work here.” The old woman tried to scold me.
“I want to know how, exactly, Elaina’s mother was killed. Your story doesn’t add up, and Elaina wants answers. She deserves them.” I clasped my hands behind my back and began gathering energy. I had a feeling I needed to be on guard.
She pursed her wrinkled old lips. “I told you already. A demon killed her.”
“In order for a demon to have killed her, it had to be a higher demon. A witch simply doesn’t have enough power, all on her lonesome, to call a higher demon. So again, I call bullshit. How did she die?”
The High Priestess, Charlene, sighed. “Elaina, won’t you be a dear and visit with Cindy in the sitting room while your guardian and I have a chat?”
“Okay,” she said softly.
Once the door was closed, I stepped closer. “Start talking.”
“I can’t see why the Authority thinks you, of all people, are a good option for that young girl. You have the manners of a bull, you dress like you’re on the way to some godforsaken rock concert, and your language is abhorrent.” She eased herself in a chair behind the desk. “Elaina’s mother was starting to practice black magic. I’d heard whispers about it a few years ago. Witches can be catty, so I tend not to pay much attention to gossip. But when the others started to distance themselves, I took the rumors more seriously.” She pursed her wrinkled old lips.
“She still could not have summoned a higher demon, even with black magic. And, as I told one of your other witches, there’s no such thing as black magic. It’s all just magic.”
The woman pointed to a shelf behind me. “Third shelf from the bottom. The book with the eye on the spine. Bring it to me.”
I wanted to tell her to get off her decrepit ass and get it herself. In the interest of time, I pulled the book off the shelf and walked it to the desk. I put it down and stepped back.
She slid the book to her and opened it. After flipping through a few pages, she spun the book back to me.
I looked down and was immediately frozen in place. Shit...I couldn’t move. The page was moving, like water. It rippled.
“Foolish mage,” she growled. “You think because you’re a mage that you’re stronger than me? I’ve been around for almost a century. I’ve studied my craft, acquired spells. While you were looking for this book, I cast a binding spell on you. I could slit your throat, take my time doing it, and you couldn’t do a thing to stop me.”
About Kim Mullican:
Kim Mullican is an international woman of mystery and mayhem.
As an ex-CIA operative and former Navy Seal, she’s toured the world slaying the
doers of dastardly deeds. Following her brief time with the government, she
pursued a lucrative career as a full-time stand-up comic and part-time
assassin. Bored with that endeavor she applied to be a ninja but was turned
down due to her overall paleness and lack of athleticism.
This fallacious bio must be forgiven, of course. Because
she’s actually a fictional author with a wild imagination.
In reality, she writes, farms, and ingests copious amounts of
Starbucks...brewed at the home of course. Five bucks for a cup of joe...fucking
not!
Kim pens romance under the name Anita Cox.
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