Under Witch Aura (Moon Shadow Series) (24 page)

At the end of the counter,
there were
several cleaned pieces of quartz; probably local. The rocks helped
me finally place the guy. He was the hiker I had studied so
carefully when I was experimenting at Tent Rock a few days ago. If he
collected his own stones for sale, that showed genuine interest and
attention to craft.

Martin’s probable
contributions
were next to the quartz. This was another area in which the
proprietor had excelled. Many of the stones were carved into
pendulums and lined up according to their appropriate astrological
month.

Carefully honed pendulums
retained and
enhanced the properties of the stones. They were usually spelled to
promote healing, hypnotism or to dispel bad spirits. Of course, there
was no way to tell if these pendulums had been properly spelled.

The heliotrope was right
where it
belonged, lined up under March. It was polished and possibly treated
to provide shine and a better color. Not helpful.

“If you need something
specific,
I can get just about anything.”

I shook my head. “Not
really.
Just browsing.”

“Looks like you’ve
protected yourself well.” He came over and stood on the other
side of the counter from me. “That’s nice turquoise on
your bracelet.”

Rather than verify it one
way or the
other, I ignored the statement.

He pressed a switch on the
side of the
counter. Lights brightened the display instantly. “There you
go.”

From his sudden motivation,
it was
obvious he had more at stake at this end of the counter. “You
do these designs yourself?”

He nodded.

“They’re impressive.”
A good jeweler created a balanced shape using the existing edges of
the original stone. From the loosely carved hearts, rounds, and
diamond shapes, he wasn’t completely blind to what the natural
stone had to offer.

I sniffled a bit, fighting
another urge
to sneeze. The sweet smell in the air reminded me of something, but
other than the cinnamon, I couldn’t place the scent. Truly I
hated incense, a disadvantage for a witch. There were powers in
smells.

Ah well, there was no point
in sticking
around. Even if he hadn’t carved the bloodstone, he had
polished it. I wanted my own stone completely unaltered.

“I’m leaning toward a chile
recipe book.” When he started to speak I added, “You
know, something that says New Mexico. These rocks, you can buy them
anywhere.”

He stiffened. “I can design
something specific. Maybe something in the shape of New Mexico?”

I hadn’t meant to insult
the guy;
I was just doing my best tourist impression. “I don’t
need anything that special.”

“Take one of my cards in
case you
change your mind. I’m Jack. You look like you’ve got
great taste in jewelry.”

I accepted the eagerly
proffered card.
Predictably, it was black. “Thanks.” I read the name.
“Jack.” Seeing the middle initial “O” and the
last name I nearly groaned aloud. “Lantern? You’re
kidding, right?”

He shrugged sheepishly.
“Well, my
real name is too long and no one can pronounce it. It's Indian. This
way they remember, and it reminds them of stuff I sell.”

“Uh-huh.” He seemed like a
nice kid, even handsome behind the locks of hair hanging in his face.
The name was over-the-top, but he’d figure that out in good
time. “You’re right, I won’t forget it.” I
stashed the card in my back pocket and scooted around the racks.

Half-blinded from looking
down at the
brightly lit display case, the sunlight outside beckoned me like a
light at the end of a tunnel.

Since untainted and unused
bloodstone
was unavailable, Mat's stone was the next best choice. Her aura would
definitely be on it, but at least she was a trusted entity.

The guy at Charms was
friendly and
eager, but he had dabbler written all over him. No telling what he
might have tried and what residue he had left behind on the stones.

Mat wasn’t expecting me,
but when
I explained that Charms' inventory wasn't up to snuff, she was more
than happy to help.

“Surprised the guy even had
the
shop open. I've been by a couple of times, and it was closed. You
want quality stuff and service, you have to patronize the right
places.” She gave a theatrical sniff.

“He isn’t open regular
hours because he’s in school. Seemed like a nice enough guy.”

“He caters to drunk
students
willing to part with their money on Friday nights, which is why he’s
open until midnight on the weekends and can't be bothered to open
much during the week like a quality shop.” She locked the front
door as she always did when she intended to access her safe. “Come
on back. I actually have a couple of extra bloodstones now because
Martin stopped in.”

“Ah.” I wasn’t
surprised.

“He mentioned they might be
tainted so he gifted them to me. Said he couldn't sell them anymore.
If I gift them to you, it would be double protection, but I know how
you are about taint. I'm surprised you'll even consider using mine.”
She eyed me, her curiosity piqued.

Dragging her into the mess
wasn't fair.

She read the hesitation on
my face. With a shrug, she unlocked the safe and handed me the
heliotrope.

I rubbed my thumb over it.
It smelled
like Matilda and would even after I left her shop. There was no
humming or breeze, but the windows were closed.

“Let me give it to you,”
she offered. “Along with one from Martin. Between the two of
them, you should be able to concoct great magic.”

I grimaced. “I’m not very
good at accepting gifts.”

She giggled. “I know.
You’ll
keep score and plan to pay me back because that’s the way you
are. And that can negate the whole gifting thing.”

“I didn’t have trouble
taking Martin’s,” I lied. I had accepted the gift, but
worried about it constantly since then.

“Martin isn’t your friend,
and the stone wasn’t any good to him.” She frowned and
headed to the front to unlock the shop. “Do you just want
mine?”

“Actually, I think I would
like
one of his.”

She pivoted with a dancer's
grace on
one foot. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, I'm not. There's a
chance
that whatever tainted it will be more attracted to it than to your
stone.”

She put her hands on her
hips and
planted her feet. “Just what is going on? Did you call
something by mistake when you tried the spell I showed you?” Her blue
eyes goggled. “Ohmygosh, are you okay?”

“No, no, I didn't call a
mistake.
Whatever it is was already out there.”

“Adriel!” She rushed over
and peered at me closely.

Before she panicked
further, I provided
enough detail to convince her not to call the wind any time soon.
“Whatever it is, it's dangerous.”

“Why are you worried about
me?
You're the one
about to walk out
of here with the stones!
You're not planning to summon
this
thing?”

“Not unless it shows up.
Even
then, I’d only be calling it away from White Feather. I haven't
figured out any other kind of spell to fight it.”

She chewed her lip, but
released my
shoulders. “Hmm. Opposite of wind. Sand paintings you say?”
She turned in another graceful circle, slowing perusing the shelves
of her shop. “Let me give this some thought.”

“I can use ideas. I'm
planning to
visit Granny Ruth and see if she has any inside knowledge of sand
paintings. Learning about a single sand painting takes days, and that
would only cover one particular painting. You know how spells are.
There are derivatives, techniques, layers and variations. Learning
about sand art properly would take years.”

“Isn't that the way with
all
expertise?”

“I definitely need more
than
Cliff notes. So does whoever tried to use a painting to coerce or
keep White Feather home. Claire was either lazy or plain stupid.”

Mat frowned. “Dealing with
irresponsible idiots who believe in magic can actually be a lot worse
than the ones who don’t believe in magic at all.”

I agreed. “Do you think
Sarah
would have tried performing sand paintings for clients?”

“The spells Sarah sold were
all
about atmosphere and aromatherapy. That type of thing ranges from
quick party fun for cheaper thrills to very expensive healing
potions. Sarah generally went after discerning clients who wanted
something that touched their spirits. She was good at it, and I
never saw her abuse power or seek power she didn’t have.”

“There was a sand painting
at
Sarah’s cabin. And I know Claire gave one to White Feather.” I
described the melted sand around the cabin.

“You think this Claire
person is
using sand paintings to bind a wind witch? If so, she mistook Sarah
for being more powerful than she was.”

I shifted uncomfortably.
“Worse
than that. I don't think she bound Sarah to leech her power. I think
Claire offered Sarah to the spirits from the west in exchange for
some power of her own. ”

Mat gasped. “Binding would
definitely have been necessary to force Sarah to be a part of that
kind of ceremony.”

“Yeah. And if that's what
Claire
was doing, what came through?”

Mat shrugged her shoulders
and shook
her head.

That was the crux of the
problem. No
one had any good answers.

One block outside Mat's
shop my head
started to overheat and itch. The locks of white hair were fine
inside, but outside in the sun their straw-like construction was as
irritating as a wig.

Since removing them in
public would
negate the disguise, I decided to duck back inside her shop, but
before I could reverse my progress, David the Frog waved at me from
across the street.

A scan for exits brought
more bad news. Frog's buddy, Blondie, was already on my side of the
street and
narrowing the distance between us quickly.

“Mayan Curses.” The
disguise was only a prop to throw someone off who didn’t know
me. It wasn't likely to fool Frog and Friend. Hoping whatever spell
Mat now had on her door would stall them, I turned tail and ran,
dodging into the open plaza.

The footsteps behind me
definitely
picked up the pace, but it didn’t matter too much. I crushed
the illusion spell in my pocket. The spell was similar to that of
heat rising in the distance. The shimmer would blur my features,
letting the human eye fill in the gaps. The rose scent was spelled to
encourage people's minds to drift to a pleasant memory rather than
pay attention to my face.

Once around the corner, I
stepped into
the first shop that wasn't blocked by aimless tourists. The Frog or
his buddy might follow me in, but they wouldn't recognize me.

I browsed the t-shirts and
mugs without
touching anything. If I had to run, holding merchandise would slow me
down.

My heart slowed and my
worry eased, but
when the door opened again, the enemy walked in.

It hadn't taken them very
long. I had
been far enough ahead that they couldn’t have seen me enter
this place. Shouldn’t one of them be searching in the next
shop? Or watching the street?

Both of them blocked the
doorway,
scouring the shop.

Nervous, I sidled closer to
another
female shopper. She was plumper and shorter than either of my
disguises.

The two goons conferred
quietly.

There weren’t enough people
in
the shop for my comfort. The clerk was in a middle island, surrounded
by a rectangular jewelry counter. Shelves lined the outside walls. A
teenager picked along the jewelry counter and a middle-aged guy,
probably the teenager’s father, waited close to the doorway.

The entrance was rather
crowded with
three men loitering by the only opening.

David the Frog caught me
looking his
way. He smiled. His attempt at avuncular friendliness was akin to a
lizard drooling. My lip curled with distaste, but he continued to
ogle me. Maybe my glare was like a love call to amphibian-people.

He checked his wristwatch
and then
quickly sought me out again. He couldn’t identify me in my
disguise, so there was no way he was indicating that he had all day
to catch me, but that's the way it felt.

He whispered to Blondie and
strode my
way.

“Mayan and Aztec bloodbath
rituals in a handbasket.” I did not want to end up in the
hospital again, not the front part and not the basement part where
Patrick the vamp could get his…anything in me.

My hands went to my
pockets. I had
choices. Smoke and noise might cause enough confusion to clear the
shop and give me a chance to escape.

Yeah. Maybe.

David the Frog made it
halfway to my
position before I wandered along the other side of the jewelry
counter. I was now sandwiched between the two of them.

I palmed the nettle spell.
Like a
camera flash, after the membrane was broken it would take a few
seconds for the charge to build up. My timing had to be perfect.

The door was two yards
away. I prepared
to hit the door running.

Blondie solved the problem
of timing.
He lunged and swallowed my upper arm with his meaty fingers. “It’s
been ages!” His smug smile pretended we were old friends.

“Oh!” I tripped on purpose
and slapped my hand against his chest, snapping the membrane on the
spell. David the Frog was closing in fast behind me. I stuffed the
packet inside Blondie’s front pocket. The spell crackled as
chemicals reacted.

Fifteen seconds to get away.

I kicked Blondie in the
shins. At the
same time, I pried his thumb away and yanked my arm free.

Had the spell been a camera
flash or
strobe light, there would have been a nice bright light, but there
was only nettle and electricity that finally snapped free right next
to his skin. The magically enhanced herbs exploded, sending sparks
and stinging nettle mixed with habanero pepper juice deep into his
chest.