Dime Store Magic (29 page)
"This is Paige Winterbourne," I said. "Sorry about that. I've been screening my calls."
"I can well imagine." The voice on the other end was pleasant, sympathetic, like that of a kindly neighbor. "There seems to be a bit of excitement at your place these days."
"You could say that."
A mild chuckle, then she sobered. "I do apologize for adding to what must be a very difficult time for you, Ms. Winterbourne, but we have some concerns about Savannah's well-being. I understand you're undergoing a custody challenge."
"Yes, but—"
"Normally, we don't interfere in such matters unless there is a serious threat of harm to the child. While no one is alleging Savannah has been mistreated, we are concerned about the current climate in which she is living. It must be very confusing for Savannah, having her mother disappear, then once she's settled in with you, this happens."
"I'm trying to keep her out of it as much as possible."
"Is there anyplace Savannah could go? Temporarily? Perhaps a more…
stable environment? I believe there is an aunt in town."
"Her great-aunt. Margaret Levine. I thought of letting Savannah stay there until this is over." Yeah, right.
"Please do. As well, I've been asked to pay you a visit. The board is anxious to assess the situation. A home visit is usually best. Is two o'clock tomorrow afternoon convenient?"
"Absolutely." That gave me less than twenty-four hours to clear the circus outside.
I signed off, then turned to Cortez. "The Department of Social Services is paying a home visit tomorrow afternoon."
"Social Services? That is the last thing—" He stopped, pushed up his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. We should expect they'll take an interest. A minor concern. Tomorrow afternoon, you said?
What time?"
"Two."
He pulled out his DayTimer and made the note, then handed me the card I'd dropped while running for the phone. I looked at it blankly for a second, then saw the unconscious man lying in the hallway and groaned.
"Back to crisis number twenty-one," I said.
"I believe this is twenty-two. The angry mob was twenty-one. Or, given that they show no signs of leaving, I should say they
are
twenty-one."
I moaned and collapsed onto a kitchen chair, then lifted the card. The unlucky B&E artist's name was Ted Morton. If anyone had told me a week ago that I'd be sitting at my table, collaborating with a sorcerer about how best to dispose of a stranger that Savannah had knocked out cold, I'd have… well, I don't know what I would have done. It was too ludicrous. Yet, considering all that had happened in the past week, this really wasn't so bad. It certainly ranked a few rungs below watching a man hurtle to his death or seeing his shattered corpse come to life before his family and friends.
Mr. Morton was a so-called paranormal investigator. I have no patience with these guys. I've never met one who wasn't in serious need of a real life. Maybe I'm being intolerant, but these guys are a bigger nuisance than
cockroaches in a Florida flophouse. They poke around, inventing stories, attracting con artists and, once in a while, stumbling onto a bit of truth.
All through high school I worked at a computer store where my boss was head of the Massachusetts Society for Explaining the Unexplained.
Did she ever explain how I vanished every time she came looking for someone to make a fast-food run? She'd walk into the back office, I'd cast a cover spell, she'd murmur, "Gee, I could have sworn I saw Paige come back here," and go in search of another victim.
"Figures," I said, tossing the card back to Cortez. "How do the Cabals handle these people?"
"Chain saws and large cement blocks."
"Sounds like a plan." I glanced over my shoulder at Morton and sighed.
"Guess we should do something before he wakes up. Any suggestions?"
"Chainsaws tend to be quite noisy. I don't suppose you have a ready supply of quicklime?"
"Tell me you're joking."
"Unfortunately, yes. We require a somewhat more discreet solution.
Our best answer would be one that sees Mr. Morton outside the house, but does not require taking him far, which would risk calling attention to the endeavor. It would also be preferable if he could be made to forget having been inside the house which, again, would risk attention when he retells the story. You wouldn't know hypnosis, would you?"
I shook my head.
"Then we'll have to settle—"
Savannah appeared in the doorway. "I have an idea. How about we dump him in the basement, right beneath the hatch. We can break the lock on the hatch, maybe leave it ajar. Then, when he wakes up, he might think he came in through there, fell, and hit his head."
Cortez nodded. "That might work. Paige?"
"If it means we don't have to go outside again, it works for me."
Cortez got to his feet and headed for the back hall.
"Sorry," Savannah said. "I didn't mean to cause more trouble. He surprised me, that's all."
I squeezed her shoulder. "I know. We'd better give Cortez a—"
Someone rapped at the back door. This, unlike the ringing phone and doorbell, was a first. When I'd looked through the kitchen window earlier, my backyard had been empty, possibly because no one dared be first to climb the fence. Now even that sanctuary had been invaded.
As I listened to the impatient rapping, anger surged through me and I stomped off to confront my newest "visitor." I glanced out the back door window to see Victoria and Therese. Worse yet, they saw me.
The Threat
I BACKED INTO THE LIVING ROOM.
"The Elders," I hissed at Cortez, who was in the bedroom returning Morton's wallet to his pocket. "It's the Coven Elders."
"Don't answer the door."
"They saw me."
He swore under his breath.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It's not you. Hold them off. Count to five, let them in, then stall for a few minutes. Keep them in the hall."
I ran back to the rear door, pulled open the sidelight curtain and motioned that it would take a minute to open the door. Then I undid the lock spell and perimeter spell and spent so much time turning the dead bolt, you'd think I had fifty of them. Then I ushered the Elders inside while blocking their path down the hall.
"You made it through the crowd?" I said. "Geez, it took us—"
"We had to come through the woods," Victoria said. "A most unpleasant experience. Therese has ripped her blouse."
"We had to come," Therese said. "Is it true? What they say? About poor Grantham?"
"We came because you lied to us, Paige. You said there wasn't a sorcerer in town."
"I never said—"
"You implied as much, leaving us all vulnerable to attack. Look what's happened now. This sorcerer brought Mr. Cary back to life."
"No, that was the necromancer. Sorcerers can't raise the dead."
"Which makes us feel so much better," Victoria said, her face contorting into a most unladylike snarl. "We have been invaded, Paige.
Not only by a half-demon, but a sorcerer and a necrophiliac—"
"Necromancer," I said. "A necrophiliac is someone who has sex with dead people. Necromancers don't—or, at least, I hope they don't… On second thought, let's not go there."
"Paige Winterbourne! I have had enough of your—"
Thud
! Something crashed in the stairwell. Then Savannah's whisper floated up, "Shit! I'm sorry, Lucas. I slipped."
He shushed her, but too late. Victoria thrust me aside and strode toward the cellar door. I ran after her and caught up when she was one step from the basement stairs. I lunged to slam the door shut, but I was too late.
"What in God's name—"
"Oh, my lord," Therese said, looking over Victoria's shoulder. "They've killed a man."
"We haven't killed anyone," I snapped. "The guy broke into our house and… and I—"
"There was a struggle," Cortez said, from the bottom of the steps. "I accidentally knocked him unconscious. We're moving him to the basement where he can leave through the hatch. Having been struck on the head, he'll be disoriented and will likely believe he fell in that way. As you can see, we have everything under control."
"Under control?" Victoria wheeled on me. "Is this what you call having things under control, Paige? Dead people wandering around mortuaries?
Mobs of strangers on your lawn? A sorcerer in your house, dragging a half-dead man into your basement? You took a simple situation and with each passing day, no, with each passing
hour
you have made it worse."
"Victoria," Therese said, reaching for her friend's arm.
Victoria shook her off. "No, it has to be said. We asked her to leave things alone—"
"I haven't done anything!" I said.
"You disobeyed us. Blatantly disobeyed us as you have been disobeying us for years. For your mother's sake, Paige, we put up with it.
In accordance with her dying wish, we let you take the child, though God knows I wouldn't trust a parakeet to your care."
"That's enough," Cortez said, starting up the stairs.
I waved him back and turned to Victoria. "Tell me what I've done wrong. Please. I consulted a lawyer, as you advised. I cooperated with the
police when Leah killed that lawyer. I sat in the police station and I answered their questions and I waited for help. For
your
help."