Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Letter to Readers

Other Works by Kate Baray

SPIRELLI PARANORMAL INVESTIGATIONS

Episode: 1

Kate Baray

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Catherine G. Cobb.

Cover by Viola Estrella, estrellart.com

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

Chapter 1

Jack fiddled with the inner workings of his ancient cash register. He needed a newer machine to better track sales, because—shocker—The Junk Shop had a few sales to track. Who knew boxes of garage sale rejects would be so popular? The store hours were erratic, and the stock ranged from recycled trash to bizarre trinkets, yet the store still received stellar online consumer reviews. It didn’t have a website. So how did the yuppies, hipsters—whoever the hell was writing the damn reviews—find it?

“You know, that car outside looks like it needs a little work. I might know a guy, if you’re interested.”

Five foot and a lot, the woman attached to the voice would be hard to miss, with her fiery red hair and startlingly bright green eyes. Jack left his barstool perch behind the counter and had a long look at her. He’d missed her entering the store, and her voice had startled him. Quite a task, considering he had the store warded like mad. And he was hardly an unobservant guy.

“How can I help you?” Jack worked to produce a convincingly relaxed tone.

Face expressionless, the redhead said, “I’m here to apply for the position.”

“We’re not hiring at the moment.” When she didn’t reply and she also didn’t leave, he added, “Look around. We’re a small shop, but maybe something will catch your eye.”

Sure, The Junk Shop was a retail location, but it had begun primarily as a front for Jack’s work with the magic-using community. A discreet physical location was a bonus when meeting with clients who wanted to stay under the radar. He looked around the small store. For a front, it was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably popular.

She looked around. “Uh-huh. I’m not here for…bric-a-brac. I’m sure you’ve got a position open. My sources are excellent.”

Jack hadn’t posted the position. Where would he? He could just imagine how that ad would read. Wanted: paranormal investigator’s assistant. Complete discretion and some ass-kicking required. Part-time help in The Junk Shop mandatory. A high tolerance for the unexplainable preferred. No.

And Jack had only mentioned to a select few that he was looking to hire: his highest-ranking Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative contact, Harrington; the Texas Pack leader, John Braxton; and IPPC’s temporary chief of security for the Prague library, Ewan Campbell.

“Who’s your reference?”

“My stealth entry into the store wasn’t reference enough?” She gave him a toothy smile.

That smile made him incredibly uncomfortable. Green eyes, creepy feeling—alarm bells were ringing. Fuck. His stealthy, green-eyed Amazon was a dragon. He’d bet cash on it. He stared back without answering.

She shrugged. “Lachlan McClellan, but that might not be entirely to my benefit when you check my references.”

“Head of the McClellan clan?”

The guy led a powerful clan of dragons, but he was also a dick with a crap sense of humor. And Jack didn’t see him being particularly enlightened about female employees. Although he was surprised Ewan had mentioned Jack’s staffing needs to his clan leader.

She hesitated before responding. “We’re from the same clan.”

Fuck yeah. Dragon. He knew it. “You want the job?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m here, having this conversation with you.”

Her non-answers were annoying as hell. More importantly, he didn’t see it becoming less annoying with time and proximity.

“Pass.” Jack turned back to the register.

“Wait. Yes, I would like the job.” She continued to speak to his back. “Please. I would very much like this job.”

Slowly Jack turned around. “Then tell me why I should hire you? Besides your stealth entry into a warded store. That only tells me you’re a thief.”

A brief flicker of fiery green flashed in her eyes, but quickly dimmed. “I’m unemployed and unable to return to my previous employer, which makes me highly motivated to be successful here. Also, I understand you’re looking for muscle. My combat skills are excellent.” She blinked. “I can demonstrate.”

She gave him another smile with just a shade too many teeth.

“No thanks. A dragon kicking my very human ass isn’t much of a demonstration. Besides, I’d hate for us to break my bric-a-brac.” Jack sat down behind the counter and picked up a pen. Having a dragon would be a huge tactical advantage in most fights, regardless of technical competence.

“Talk to Lachlan. Whatever else he might say, he’ll tell you I’m honest and hardworking.” She placed a slight emphasis on “honest.” She swallowed, the first sign of nervousness she’d displayed since walking into his store. “Please.”

Apparently he’d hit a nerve when he’d compared her to a thief. A highly motivated, well-connected dragon employee—he’d be an idiot to walk away just because she wasn’t exactly right. Especially since he didn’t know what “exactly right” was. What type of person wouldn’t drive him nuts with continuous contact? The shelf life of most of his relationships, regardless of the type, was pretty short.

“What’s your name?”

“Marin.” She didn’t offer her hand.

Jack knew the right answer, yet still he hesitated. Damn. He had a job coming up day after tomorrow that could use some dragon muscle.

“All right, Marin. Come back tomorrow at ten. If your reference comes through, we’ll discuss employment terms.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t pay well.”

She ducked her chin once in acknowledgment and headed out the door. This time, Jack saw her pass through the ward, and a shower of green sparks, visible only to him, fell in her wake. He felt a corresponding pinch from the ring he wore on his right hand. No way he’d missed the ward triggering when she’d first entered the store. If this whole thing worked out and she joined Spirelli Paranormal Investigations, that was one of his first questions.

Jack picked up his cell and scrolled through his contacts, looking for Ewan’s number. Jack was pretty sure Ewan would put him in touch with Lachlan. After a quick mental calculation, adding seven hours to account for Prague time, Jack decided it wasn’t too late and dialed Ewan’s number.

Ewan answered on the first ring. “Jack. What’s up?”

“Hey, Ewan. Any chance you could put me in touch with Lachlan? I had someone come by the shop asking about that assistant’s job. Remember, I told you I was looking for someone? Lachlan came up as a reference.”

“Sure.” Background noise filtered in. “Heads up—you’re on speaker.”

“Thanks, man. You might actually know her; she’s from your clan. A tall redhead named Marin?”

The background noise abruptly disappeared. Ewan must have turned the speaker function off and picked up his phone. “Yeah.” The word came out so short, it almost sounded like a grunt.

Something about Marin had drastically changed the tone of their conversation. Jack contemplated for a split second whether to ask. He closed his eyes. Had he lost his mind?

After a few seconds of silence, Ewan said, “Marin is my daughter.”

Jack sat on his favorite barstool, the one positioned in front of the shop’s register. Careful to make his tone as neutral as possible, he said, “I didn’t know that.”

“Clearly.”

Jack didn’t get it. Ewan seemed pissed, but the guy hadn’t said a word about not hiring his kid. Since Jack wasn’t eager to get singed or mutilated due to an unfortunate miscommunication, clarification was the wisest course. “So, are you telling me you don’t want me to hire her?”

“Not at all.”

Jesus. Really? Jack rolled his shoulders. “Are you telling me you want me to hire her?”

“What did you want to know?” Ewan’s voice had lost some of its edge.

“Uh, okay.” Jack figured Ewan had enough patience for about two questions, so he erred on the side of caution and limited himself to one. “Would you recommend Marin for the job?”

“Yes. We done?”

Good enough.

“Yeah. Thanks again.” As he pocketed his phone, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Staring at the now empty shop floor, he said, “I know you’re there, little guy. You better be glad I know what rat poison does.” He couldn’t commit to chemical warfare—even in the pursuit of pest control. It was a weird quirk. Whatever. People who used rat poison must not know what that shit did to the insides of an animal. He snorted. Or they just didn’t like living with rats. “Fuzzball, you’re damn lucky I don’t actually live in this pit.”

Jack shook his head. He really needed to stop talking to the rats. It probably made them feel welcome. But he couldn’t resist one last warning. “You better not touch the coffee, Fuzzface.”

Chapter 2

Jack’s ring tightened on his finger, interrupting his morning coffee ritual. He ignored the jingle of the front door bells and the flash of green light in his peripheral vision.

“You’re early.” Jack didn’t raise his voice. He figured dragons had good hearing.

A few seconds later, Marin joined him in his office at the back of the store. “Nice bells.”

Overkill maybe, but after Marin had surprised him yesterday they’d seemed like a good addition. “They were sitting around the store. That happens a lot, actually. I need something, have a look around, and there it is.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

“What? It’s a junk shop. That’s not shocking. It’s not like I keep great records on my stock. I buy most of this crap by the box.” He opened the small fridge under the coffee station and pulled out milk.

“Hmm.” She sat down in one of his client chairs. “And, by the way, I’m only five minutes early.”

“The front door was locked.” Jack tried to be pissed that she’d picked his front door lock, but he couldn’t quite work up to it.

Marin stared back at him without comment.

“And I haven’t had my coffee.”

She glanced at the half-empty pot of coffee.

“I’ve only had one cup of coffee. And quit being such a smartass.” When she didn’t apologize—as if he thought she would—he asked, “Would you like a cup?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He handed her a cup of black coffee. If she wanted milk or sugar, she was on her own. Once he’d sat down behind his desk, he said, “Minimum wage. Forty hours a week, no overtime, no benefits. You work in the shop or on cases, as I decide.”

“Minimum wage?” She looked amused, rather than worried.

If she wasn’t working for the cash, then why? He mentally thumped himself. Didn’t matter and he didn’t care. If it became relevant, then he’d worry about it.

“You came to me,” Jack reminded her.

“Yes.” She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. Closely trimmed nails, no polish—practical.

He waited. He could use her. Needed her, really. But he wasn’t about to start this relationship from a position of weakness.

Marin gave him an odd look he couldn’t interpret, then said, “If that was an employment offer, I accept.”

Jack opened a drawer and pulled out a few forms. He pushed them across the desk and handed her a pen. “You’re hired.” He turned his attention to his computer, trying to figure out the best travel options for the two of them, and whether his travel budget would cover it. When he saw that she hadn’t yet picked up the pen, he said, “You’ve got five minutes to finish that. One of my gigs just got moved up.”

Marin perked up, clearly waiting for details.

Jack pointed to the paperwork. “Five minutes.”

Marin grabbed the pen and started writing.

Five minutes later, Jack figured driving was the only option. No problem—he’d just hired a driver. Sort of. And with Marin behind the wheel, he could get in some work.

Marin handed her paperwork to Jack.

“Any chance you have a go bag?” Jack asked.

She nodded.

“With you?”

“Yes.” Her eyes widened slightly, the only sign that she was dying of curiosity. She had to be. She was the type: one part puzzle geek, one part adventurer, and two parts control freak.

Great, his inner grumpy voice moaned. That meant four parts pain in his ass.

Stuffing her paperwork in his to-be-filed drawer, Jack said, “We’re headed to Louisiana.”

“Now?” She didn’t look ruffled as she asked.

“Now.” Jack left her sitting in his office while he went to the back to fiddle with the air conditioning. He wasn’t leaving the a/c running on high while he was gone.

Heading to the front door, he called over his shoulder, “You coming?”

Before he’d flipped the sign to closed, she was standing behind him. Okay. Mental note: dragons were strong and fast.

As he locked the shop door, he told her, “We’re driving.”

Marin looked skeptical. “Uh, maybe I’m driving?”

“Oh, yeah. I have to work on the way.” He stopped when Marin fell behind. “What?”

She looked at his car parked in the street about ten feet away, blinked, and said, “I meant that we can take my car.”

Why was everyone so distrustful of his Jeep? The thing ran and ran. It was a great car.

“Which one’s yours?” He grinned when she pointed to a Range Rover Sport. “Done. Why am I paying you? Are you sure you don’t want to work as an unpaid intern?”

“Too late. You already hired me.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. “And I am not intern material.”

“Whatever you say.” Jack retrieved his laptop, go bag, and cell charger from the Jeep then slammed the door shut. “SPI doesn’t pay mileage.”

“Spy? Ah, S.P.I. Spirelli Paranormal Investigations. Cute.” Her voice indicated it was anything but. Marin climbed into the driver’s seat. “As for mileage—I figured. But you’re definitely paying for gas. You have an address for me?” Her hand hovered over the GPS.

“Miersburg, Louisiana. I’m not sure where we’re staying yet.” Jack plugged in his cell charger and started charging his phone. Then he set up a hot spot and pulled out his laptop. “We’ll be gone overnight, possibly a few days. No dog at the house, right?”

“No dog, no significant other, no roommate, and no plants.” Marin glanced at Jack. “I don’t suppose you’re planning to murder me, cut me into little pieces, and bury the parts in five states?”

“Only if you really piss me off.” Jack rubbed his neck. “Okay. Only if you really piss me off, I suddenly become fire resistant, and there’s zero chance of being hunted down by a pack of dragons and tortured in retaliation.”

“Uh-huh. It’s a clan of dragons, by the way. Or a flight or a weyr, not a pack. Bad idea to compare dragons to Lycan. It’s a sensitive topic.” As she spoke, Marin was slowly making her way out of East Austin and heading to the highway.

She didn’t look offended.

“Seriously?” Jack couldn’t resist asking. The dragons he’d met didn’t seem all that sensitive.

“Yup.”

Jack turned his attention back to the case file notes on his laptop. “So—SPI was hired to escort Charlotte Sneed, a Louisiana earth witch, on a shopping expedition in Austin.”

“Shopping. In Austin. She needed a bodyguard for that?” Marin tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Never mind. Why are we driving to Miersburg for an Austin babysitting job?”

“Because the job has changed. Calvin Sneed, the client’s husband, contacted me this morning. His wife disappeared yesterday, and he’s refusing to contact local police. He’s asked us to find her. I told him he really needed to call the police, but that just made him more agitated.”

Marin snorted. Quietly, but it was unmistakable.

“I get it—her disappearance is likely related to the magic community or he wouldn’t have SPI looking into it.” Jack tipped his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes. He hated complicated jobs. Bodyguard on a shopping trip in a town where he knew many, if not all, of the players in the magic-using community—that wasn’t complicated. He turned to look at Marin. “Don’t suppose you know anything about the magic-using community in Miersburg?”

Marin glanced at him then pulled her gaze back to the road. He took that to mean: hell no, you idiot.

Eyes back on his computer, he said, “You have a lot of attitude for someone on probation.”

“Or an acceptable amount, considering we’re in my car and left Austin city limits at least ten minutes ago.”

Jack shrugged and went back to his computer, looking at the few notes he’d made over his first cup of coffee—before Marin had arrived. “No pack in Miersburg, but I’m waiting to hear from the Texas Pack leader—John Braxton—about any strays that may be in the area.”

“Any other witches? Is Charlotte part of a coven, for example? Or have any local competition?” Marin asked.

“Not according to the husband. The closest witch lives about two hours away and is a friend of Charlotte’s. What exactly would be competition for a local earth witch? There’s no active Coven of Light branch in the area.” Jack had checked on CoL connections before he’d taken the job. They were, basically, a large institution of whackadoo witch zealots that he didn’t want to come within twenty miles of, if he could help it.

“You know, earth witches are tied to their communities. Special teas for the sick, gardening advice for the neighbors, PTA president. That kind of thing can generate jealousy and a sense of competition, especially in such a small town.” Marin glanced at the GPS screen, tapped the screen to bring up the route map, then said, “This place has to be under twenty or thirty thousand, based on what I’m seeing on the GPS.”

Jack stopped typing and watched her closely as he asked, “You’re from a small town, then?”

Marin’s gaze didn’t waver from the road. “Or maybe I just know witches really well.”

“Whatever. No local Coven of Light, no local witch rivalries. And the husband had no idea about other magic-users.” Jack googled Miersburg. “Around ten thousand. A town that small, I’m betting they’d know if there was a spell caster running around.”

“Maybe.” Marin tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d pay a speeding ticket?”

“No.”

Apparently, she was willing to pick up the ticket herself. That, or riding with him was driving her nuts, because she didn’t reply and sped up to around eighty-five. Fine by him.

Before he got wrapped up in research and forgot, he asked, “How did you get through my ward at the shop?”

Marin pressed her lips together. “What do you know about dragons?”

Jack squinted and adjusted his visor. “Let’s assume not much.”

Marin sighed. “We’re not like Lycan, because we don’t shape-shift. I’m a dragon, and I’m a woman.”

“Right—I got that part.”

Marin huffed in annoyance. “I’m not sure you do. I’m dragon and human—at the same time.”

She glanced at Jack, possibly to gauge his reaction. But he wasn’t even sure what his reaction was. What she described wasn’t possible. “Then why do I see either a dragon or a human whenever I’m around you guys? It seems like you’re picking one.”

She didn’t quite roll her eyes—but it sure felt like she had. “I choose which part of myself you see. Which part interacts on a physical plane with this world, but that doesn’t mean I’m not both dragon and woman at the same time. You’re thinking in terms of humans with magical talents—a human who can use his magic to shift to a wolf, or crocodile, or jaguar. But I’m not a human with some magical ability. It’s not a question of having magic—I am magic.”

What the fuck? Jack asked the first question that came to mind. “Are you supposed to tell people this shit?”

She gave him one of those toothy smiles. “Most are smart enough not to ask.”

She definitely used that creepy smile to intimidate.

“Cut it out with the dragon grin. How does all of this apply to walking through my ward?”

Marin shrugged. “I choose which part of myself exists at any given time in this world, but I can choose, for a very brief moment, to allow neither of my forms to exist in this world.”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t walk through the ward? That you unexisted yourself through it?” Jack shook his head. “That sounds like teleportation to me.”

“Not teleportation. A nonphysical part of myself remains, an anchor in this reality. It’s that anchor which moves and to which my physical body returns. Neat, right?” She gave him a brilliant smile. A genuine one, not her creepy alligator smile.

Jack laughed, her excitement catching. “Yes. That’s a handy skill.”

They both fell silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet. Jack was pleasantly surprised she’d shared so much. He’d keep his mouth shut, and clearly Marin knew that. One small step forward in his first employer-employee relationship. He tried not to cringe. Relationships with people—even professional ones—were always so damned complicated.

Chapter 3

Calvin Sneed ushered Jack and Marin into his study. “Can I offer you a drink?” When they declined, Calvin motioned for them to sit down. Concern was etched across his face and his eyes looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well.

Jack pulled out a notebook. “What can you tell me?”

Calvin dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I didn’t want to say over the phone, but the reason Charlotte hired a bodyguard…I mean, she’s been shopping in Austin by herself for years. She buys—I don’t even know what—things she can’t get locally. But you don’t care about that.” He cleared his throat. “We hired you as a precaution, because I was worried her Aunt Sylvia might try to meet with her in Austin, maybe even recruit her. Sylvia’s with the Coven of Light.”

“And that worried you? That Charlotte might run into her aunt?” Jack asked.

Calvin looked confused. “The Coven of Light? I thought you’d know about them, since you’re an insider.”

“I’m familiar with the Coven, but I don’t know of any Coven activity in Austin. Why now and why Austin?”

“Charlotte’s Aunt Sylvia called a few weeks ago. She was recruited by the Coven at least ten years ago, and Charlotte hadn’t had any contact with her in that time, except an occasional letter. Then she calls out of the blue. Charlotte was polite, but she didn’t encourage further contact. When her trip came up, I was a little nervous about her being so far from home.” Calvin sighed. “We don’t know where Sylvia lives now, but Charlotte’s family is originally from the Austin area. So traveling back to Austin so soon after they’d spoken…it just made Charlotte uncomfortable. Well, me, actually. Charlotte wasn’t afraid of her aunt.”

Calvin stalled—overcome or lost in thought, possibly. Jack prompted him quietly. “So you called SPI.”

“Right. We figured that if you met her and kept an eye on her while she was in town and she headed straight back, there shouldn’t be any problems.” Calvin blinked dazedly. “But then she didn’t come home yesterday, and we already knew about you, so I called.”

“Did Aunt Sylvia make any threats?”

“No, nothing like that. They parted on good terms. But she’s with the Coven.” Calvin looked at Jack like he’d lost a few marbles.

“I understand. I’m just trying to get a full picture.” Jack tried for a reassuring, sympathetic smile. Not his strong suit. “Is there any other reason that you suspect the Coven of Light is involved? Other than the proximity of Aunt Sylvia’s call?”

Calvin rubbed his face hard with both hands. “No. But I don’t know what else could have happened. Everyone loves Charlotte. She’s a genuinely caring person. She’s generous—with her time, her enthusiasm for projects… You don’t understand. She heads up the annual Plants & Fans for Seniors fundraiser, mentors the Junior Geologists at the high school.” He paused, hesitating, and then continued, “She also does important work for the town. Not a job; Charlotte is a stay-at-home mom. But she’s working on a project for Miersburg.”

Marin nudged his foot. More discreet than an I-told-you-so, but equally annoying.

Jack ignored his sidekick and focused his attention on Calvin Sneed. “I understand—she has a lot of friends in town and people who look up to her.” When Calvin seemed appeased that they weren’t doubting his wife’s popularity and lack of enemies, Jack asked, “What can you tell me about your wife’s schedule yesterday?”

Calvin looked at him blankly. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, he looked more purposeful. “Like I told you this morning: I realized she was missing a little before dinner. Yesterday was her night to cook, and we eat around 6:30—my son and Charlotte and I. I called at six but she didn’t answer.”

Jack jotted down the beginning of a timeline.

“Where was Charlotte planning to be before dinner?” Marin asked the question in a voice Jack hadn’t yet heard from her. She sounded…compassionate.

“Looking for plants, herbs, flowers—that kind of thing.” Calvin smiled. “Hunting—that’s what we call it. Our little joke, since—unlike most of Miersburg—we don’t hunt.”

Jack paused, letting Calvin drift back into the here and now at his own speed. Once Calvin made eye contact, he said, “And what about the rest of her day?”

Jack jotted down everything Calvin could remember about Charlotte’s schedule earlier in the day as he recounted it. When Calvin seemed tapped out on details, Jack asked him, “Do you mind if we have a look around?”

“Of course not. Do you want to start with Charlottes’s office? Her calendar will be there.” Calvin stopped and took a breath. The man looked exhausted. “That’s what I used to fill out your form, the one I sent this morning.”

Jack nodded, and Calvin immediately stood up, ushering both his guests out of the study to the back of the house.

Jack shouldn’t have been surprised to find that Charlotte’s “office” was actually a tidy little shed attached to a greenhouse. As he and Marin stood in Charlotte’s office, he couldn’t help but be startled by the sharp contrasts. A rough tin shed on the exterior, but once they stepped inside he found the interior pleasantly clean and comfortably furnished. In fact, the interior was larger than it appeared from outside. Marin and he both fit comfortably with room to spare—enough for a large modern desk, an ergonomic chair, and a love seat. Charlotte spent some time in her office.

Calvin stood awkwardly in the doorway of the well-lit shed.

Jack scanned the room, spotting a large desk calendar blotter, as well as several deep desk drawers with no apparent locking mechanisms. “I think this will keep us busy, Calvin, if you don’t mind giving us a few minutes.” Calvin nodded, looking relieved. As he turned to go, Jack said, “One last thing: your wife’s phone number—the one you provided on the form—that was her cell number?”

“That’s right.” Calvin rattled off the number Jack had scrawled in his notes. With a pained smile, he backed out of the doorway and closed the door carefully.

Immediately, Jack turned to Marin and pulled out his phone. “Have a look at her calendar.” He dialed his tech contact’s number, and turned his back to Marin when Christina answered. “Hey. I have a cell number for you. Can you get a location for it?”

Christina, or Chris as her Pack buddies called her, replied in a distracted tone, “Now?” The sound of an insistent toddler echoed in the background but was quickly drowned out by a little girl’s screech.

Jack felt a hint of the discomfort he always experienced in Chris’s hectic household. Three kids were a lot of kids—especially when they were all moving at once. Apparently, Chris’s brood was overwhelming long-distance, too. “Ah, soon? I’ve got a missing woman.”

“Text the number, and I’ll be back to you in ten with an answer or update.” Then Chris hung up on him.

Jack pocketed his phone after texting her Charlotte’s name and number. Turning back to Marin, he asked, “Whatcha got?”

Marin wrinkled her nose. “A pretty boring life. Basically what the husband said: worked in the shed in the morning, picked up her son, Charlie, and dropped him at home, went ‘hunting.’ Then mysteriously failed to appear for dinner. We need to find out where she went hunting.”

“Yeah. And where her cell is.” Jack flipped through the contents of the top desk drawer. “Don’t suppose you found a map marking all her favorite collection spots?”

“No. But I did find what might be her collection list.” Marin pointed to a list of plants scrawled in the margins of the desk blotter calendar that covered a good portion of the desk’s surface.

Jack pulled out his notepad and wrote down the seven plant names: pine-barren deathcamas (crow poison), redbay, le sureau, swamp willow, black nightshade, cattails, and mayapple. Several of them had lines running through them, as if they’d been ticked off a grocery list. Three remained, and he put an asterisk next to those. And crow poison—or pine-barren deathcamas, what the heck?—was underlined three times.

“Uh…you know you can use your phone for that. For documenting evidence.” Marin waved the phone in her right hand at him. “I already snapped a picture of the list. And the calendar.”

He stuffed the pad back in his jeans pocket and squatted down to sift through a mostly empty wastepaper basket. “What are the chances hubby knows where she collects her ingredients?”

Marin flipped through the previous few months on the calendar. “No idea.”

Done with the trash, Jack stood up and moved back to finish the desk drawers. “I didn’t say a word about your driving, right?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with my driving?”

Jack lifted his eyebrows, but refused to answer. “You can extend me the same courtesy. I like how I record case notes. I have a method. And yes, I do know my phone takes pictures and that I can take notes on it. Thanks, but no.” Geez, she was annoying. Why was he bothering to explain himself? Especially to someone who was barely an adult. Jack stopped rifling through the middle drawer and closed his eyes. He’d forgotten that weird dragon quirk. He opened his eyes to examine Marin. She looked mid-twenties. “How old are you?”

Marin leaned down to start working on the bottom drawers on the opposite side of the desk. Red hair swept down and covered her face. “In human years?”

Whatever the hell that meant. Instead of asking, he said, “Calendar years.”

“A hundred and three.” She attacked the papers in the drawer with renewed vigor, still avoiding his gaze. “That’s kind of like twenty-one for you guys, but my license says twenty-five.”

“Whatever. If you’re 103, I’m not taking tech advice from you.”

Marin snorted and—finally—looked up at him. “Dragons are very…current. It’s a function of exceeding the life span of the culture we’ve chosen to join. Every day a dragon has to choose to live in the now.”

And if a dragon didn’t live in the now? She called it a choice, but it sounded more like a rule. Maybe a law. “If some ancestor decided to join humanity, that means you can choose to leave, right?”

“Not particularly,” Marin muttered, and ducked her head back to the contents of her drawer. “Ha!” She lifted a bundle of letters. “Check it out—letters from Auntie. These might be useful, right?”

“Maybe.” A buzz emanating from his back pocket interrupted him. He snatched the letters out of Marin’s hand, stuffed them in a back pocket, and then yanked his phone out from the other back pocket. He flipped immediately to the text. “Sweet. We’ve got GPS coordinates on Charlotte’s phone.” Jack opened up the door to the greenhouse and quickly catalogued the general layout and contents, and then he swept the shed room, looking for any last pieces of relevant info. “Can you do that bloodhound trick? Where you scent magic?”

A look of distaste crossed Marin’s face. “I can discriminate the individual scent of a person’s magic. Could you not compare me to a dog, though?”

Unapologetically, Jack said, “Right. So—you’ve got Charlotte’s scent?”

“It’s all over the plants in the greenhouse and the one on her desk.” When Jack continued to stand unmoving in front of the shed door, she said, “Yes. I have the signature for Charlotte’s magic.”

Opening the shed front door, he waved Marin through. “All right. Let’s see if Calvin knows where his wife collects her plants.” He carefully untucked his button-down shirt and smoothed the wrinkles as best he could. Sloppy and maybe a little unprofessional, but the thin bundle of letters in his back pocket wouldn’t be visible.

Chapter 4

Calvin looked much more composed, and more present in the moment, as he greeted Jack and Marin at the back door to the house.

“Charlotte has a few favorite spots, but I only know three locations. I marked them on a map, just in case. And you mentioned this morning that an extra key might be helpful.” He handed Jack the map and a car key. “But like I said, I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t lock her car.”

Jack pocketed the key and glanced at the Google map. Red felt lines clearly marked three areas outside of Miersburg city limits. “Thank you. This is helpful, Calvin.” Jack made eye contact and repeated himself. “Really. We’re going to check on a few things, but before we leave—are you sure you don’t want to report Charlotte’s disappearance?”

“Tomorrow morning. If you don’t have any information for me by then, I’ll visit the chief of police after I drop my son at summer school. The chief doesn’t exactly know about Charlotte. And he won’t know what to do, how to handle something like this, if the Coven is involved.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll call with an update as soon as I have any information for you.”

Calvin escorted them to the front door wordlessly. After the door closed behind them, Marin turned to Jack and started to speak.

“Shut up,” Jack said under his breath. “In the car.”

Marin clamped her mouth shut and headed to the car. After she shut the driver’s door with unnecessary force, she said, “Seriously? You’re not going to tell that clearly terrified man that we have a lead?”

Jack ignored her, intent on retrieving his laptop and pulling up Google Maps. If he could plot the phone location, he’d know if it fell in one of the three areas provided by Calvin. Finally, the map he needed downloaded.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

Jack stared at the screen on his laptop. “No. Shut up—I’m working.”

Marin smacked the steering wheel. “You’re a f—”

“Tscht.” Jack located the cell GPS coordinates on the map. He did some rapid topography comparisons. Bingo. On the far southern edge of one the areas. “North. Drive north.” If he bothered to listen, Jack was sure he’d hear the grinding of Marin’s teeth. “You didn’t seem this moody in your interview.”

“You weren’t quite this much of an ass.” Her nose twitched. “And I wanted the job.”

“Huh.” Jack turned back to the computer screen. “The cell is located in one of Charlotte’s favorite collection spots. We’ll hit that one first. Then we’ll move clockwise to catch the remaining two.”

“So if you know exactly where we’re going now, can you at least plug in the location on my GPS? I’d hate for Charlotte to have to sleep out in the woods a second night because we got lost.”

“I think we both know Charlotte didn’t wander off a trail and get lost in the woods.” Jack lifted up his hands defensively when Marin glowered in his direction. “Okay, I’m entering it already.”

Two minutes, three at most, and Marin said, “What’s the plan?”

“Already told you: we look for Charlotte, her car, her phone, or any other sign of her at the coordinates Chris gave me. No luck there, then we check the collection area. No luck there, then we check the next collection area.” Jack pulled Aunt Sylvia’s letters out of his back pocket. He angled his shoulders away from Marin, hoping she’d get the hint. He couldn’t work with her chattering in his ear. Maybe having a driver wasn’t actually worth it.

Fifteen minutes later, they rolled up on a blue Volvo station wagon parked under a tree on the side of the road—just about where the GPS coordinates were pointing. As Marin pulled up behind the Volvo, Jack said, “That’s close enough.”

Jack retrieved the fact sheet Calvin had emailed him as Marin and he had driven to Miersburg. It was a simple form with some standard questions: name, age, basic physical description, description of her car.

Marin grumbled unintelligibly to herself.

“What? Speak up.” Jack compared the license plate of the Volvo they’d found to the number provided by Calvin. “That’s it. That’s Charlotte’s car.” He turned to Marin. Her lips were thin. “What?”

“I can’t believe you’ve had a cheat sheet all day and didn’t mention it.”

“I emailed it to Calvin when he called this morning. You think I was just hanging out and drinking coffee all morning?” Jack moved to open his door, then paused. “You ready to try to catch Charlotte’s scent?”

Marin sighed. “Magical signature—not a bloodhound. But yeah, definitely.”

They exited Marin’s car, and Jack watched as Marin circled the car.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that Charlotte left her cell in her car?” Marin opened the car door. She gave Jack a concerned look. “Her unlocked car.”

Jack circled the car, looking in the windows. “We’re three side roads off the main highway. It’s a small town, and she knows everyone. She’s a trusting person. She likes to work uninterrupted by the outside world. She forgot—”

“Okay. I get it.” Marin leaned in, had a quick look around, and then backed out of the car with a dissatisfied look. “I suppose it makes sense an earth witch wouldn’t do a lot of magic in her car.”

“Not getting anything?” Jack opened the passenger-side door and sat down. He popped open the glove box. “Cell was in the glove box.” He lifted it up to show Marin, but she’d disappeared.

Scanning the roadside, he found her two hundred feet off the road, down what looked like a path. If she didn’t want the dog analogies, she shouldn’t run off like a freaking hound on a trail. He shrugged. He’d catch up if she didn’t check back in within a few minutes. He checked the battery on Charlotte’s phone—no password required—and found it low. He quickly flipped through the recent texts, but nothing jumped out and grabbed him. Phone calls were the same; all came from saved contacts and most were from her son and husband.

He climbed out of the Volvo to find a pissed-off dragon waiting.

“What kind of earth witch doesn’t do some kind of magic out in the middle of all this vegetation?” Marin swatted at a mosquito, then turned to Jack. “Do you have any bug spray?”

Jack tried to hide a smile then decided he didn’t care and grinned. “City dragon, huh?”

“Sure, if that gets me some bug spray.” She scratched at her neck. “I’ve got nothing in this area.”

“That sucks, since it’s still light for at least a few hours. Don’t suppose you can do a flyover of the area in full light?”

“Hm. I can, actually. Seriously, where’s the bug spray?”

Jack rifled through his go bag and pulled out the Ziploc that contained his outdoor stash.

As she picked through the rub-on repellent, sunblock, and high Deet content bug spray, Marin looked like she’d hit gold. “Thank God.” She slathered her neck with the ointment. “Bugs love me.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t you heal fast?”

“Sure. But it’s still annoying as hell. It’s the buzzing and flying in my face, not the bites.” She moved on to the spray and generously doused herself. “I have some ability to camouflage. If you’re looking for me, it doesn’t work—but out here? I don’t see why not.”

Jack searched through what little he knew about dragons, and he definitely couldn’t remember anything about camo.

Marin sighed. “We’re just like you guys; we don’t all have the same talents. My nose for magical signatures isn’t great, so I have to be pretty close. But it’s easier for me to get closer, since I have some chameleon talent.”

Jack blinked at the bright blue summer sky and puffy white clouds. “Chameleon? As in sky-blue dragon?”

“Jesus, Jack. This is why we don’t talk about this shit. For all you know, my dragon form is baby blue.”

Jack turned to Marin’s car and plugged in Charlotte’s cell. “Okay, whatever.” He hated to be caught in what might be perceived as juvenile curiosity. But seriously—baby-blue dragons? He turned back just in time to catch his bag.

“So, I can carry a cell but can’t use it without landing. You’ll have to keep an eye on me for a general direction of travel, and I’ll call in what I find after I land. And you’ll have to attach the phone to my dragon self. If I carry it in my jeans pocket, it won’t work until I land. My phone and clothes stay with my human form.”

Jack blinked. Weird. But that was his superpower. He seemed to have an infinite capacity for the weird, the wondrous, and the unbelievable. “Okay. Where’s the best place? I’ve only ever seen one of you guys, and that wasn’t exactly up close and personal.”

“Forearm, probably.” Marin gave him a probing look. “You’re not going to freak?”

Jack didn’t bother to answer, just dug around in his bag. He had some paracord packed that should work. As he worked on a cradle for the phone, he reviewed the plan. “You change. I attach the phone. You follow a search grid to cover the wooded areas north and east of here.”

Marin nodded. “Got it. The entire area has to be less than a hundred acres. It won’t take me long.”

Holding up Marin’s phone, now cradled in paracord, Jack said, “Land and send me your search info, including your landing point, if you see anything. Then call in and I’ll meet you.”

“All right, already. Let’s get going.”

“You know, something out there might have harmed Charlotte.” Jack paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from Marin. Nothing. He tried his damnedest not to roll his eyes. “I’m saying be careful.”

“I get it. I’ll be fine.” Marin stepped away from the car, and then she was gone.

She was every color and none. Or, rather, the dragon resting on its haunches about ten feet away was. Every hue of the rainbow seemed to glint off a silvery backdrop then fade into a shimmer of…nothing. Giant wings flexed, and Jack could see her outline. Not clearly, but the shape and the impression of movement were there.

I’M MORE CLEARLY VISIBLE IN MOTION.

Jack clutched his head. The voice—Marin’s voice—screamed. Stabbing pain pulsed through his brain. Several seconds later, he blew out a harsh breath. It took him another few seconds before he could speak. “Ow.”

The iridescent dragon shimmered into view, again fully visible. Her long, sinuous neck flexed, displaying a rainbow of colors. It took Jack a moment to realize she was ducking her head.

“Don’t tell me: that was an accident.”

Reptilian eyes blinked and a bony head dipped in a nod.

Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, Marin was smiling—probably. “Any chance you can try for a whisper?”

Another nod.

“And maybe not smile? All those teeth are distracting.”

Dragon teeth immediately disappeared.

Better? The voice in his head was thin, reedy.

“Yeah. Feel free to knock it up a half notch. Not one of your better talents, is it? The dragon mind-meld. Or whatever you call it.”

Giant reptilian eyes narrowed to slits. Mind speech. And I don’t suck; you’re my first human.

“And that’s finally just right, Goldilocks.” Jack lifted up the cell phone. “Am I okay to attach this?”

Dragon Marin lifted her left foreleg and tapped the ground.

“My, Grandma. What big claws you have.” Okay, maybe the dragon was making him a little nervous. That or he’d reached a new level of cheesiness for some other, unknown reason.

As he leaned down to attach the phone, Marin flexed her claws. His breath caught. “Seriously? Charlotte could be injured in the woods and you’re messing with me.”

She leaned down and huffed hot air in his face. Nice.

He smacked her leg. “Done. Let me grab my glasses before you take off.”

Returning with his field glasses and a small handheld GPS unit, he said, “All right. Whenever you’re ready.” He still wasn’t completely comfortable with Marin venturing off alone, given her lack of concern for the inherent risk. But he certainly felt better after he saw her flex her wings and take flight. Witnessing a dragon shove its massive body into the air using muscular haunches, straining wings, and will power was terrifying. He was pretty sure he could admit that without being a wimp.

While her takeoff had been a demonstration of brute force, watching Marin in flight was something else entirely. Graceful. Beautiful, even. Jack took his field glasses out. As soon as she’d taken off, she’d shimmered into what looked like nothingness, but her movement let him pick out her camouflaged form from the blue of the sky. He could even make her out when she was gliding, but just barely.

As Jack watched her circle the search area in a spiral pattern, he had to wonder: how exactly could dragons fly? Yes, her wingspan in mid-flight was truly an amazing sight. But her body must be roughly the size of an elephant. Even as long and strong as her wings clearly were, her flight was a physical impossibility. And yet he watched her skim the treetops. She’d claimed to be a thing of magic, and here was the evidence.

Marin’s abrupt descent interrupted his thoughts. Her head lifted and her rear fell, almost as if she was standing in the air and then she dropped from his sight. Magic. He noted a landmark near where she’d landed, and used that to determine his heading. He saved his current location on his GPS, made a rough estimate of the distance, and entered a destination waypoint.

Jack grabbed a small daypack out of his bag and scrounged around for the essentials. He wasn’t going far and shouldn’t be long…but he also should have received a text and a call from Marin by now. Fuck. He shoved every magical gadget and doodad he’d brought with him into his pack. Except his warded glasses. He replaced his sunglasses with a pair of warded horn-rimmed glasses. With these on, he should be able to see any wards—any magic, actually—that was in the woods. Not nearly as functional in this environment as Marin’s magic signature detector, because the glasses were limited to line of sight. And, unlike the spell caster who’d warded the glasses, he couldn’t interpret what kind of magic he was seeing. Not yet. He was hoping with some practice, he might figure that out.

Still nothing from Marin. He called and her phone rolled immediately to voicemail. Dammit. He stopped and drafted a quick email with a brief sketch of the situation. He paused before he hit send, but he didn’t have much choice. Someone needed to know what the hell was going on in Miersburg, Louisiana if he didn’t manage to make his way out of the woods.

Chapter 5

Fifteen minutes of light hiking in the woods, and Jack remembered with painful clarity how much he hated snakes. Every downed tree he climbed over, every sweep of knee-high grass he waded through, gave him the creeps. It wasn’t like he had an actual phobia, but he wasn’t ashamed to admit that snake gaiters and decent hiking boots took the edge off and made outings in the snake-infested outdoors less nerve-racking. Only, he’d left his freaking gaiters at home.

“What the fuck?” Jack scrambled backward, almost tripping.

The brown snake he’d startled disappeared into the grass.

Jack closed his eyes and counted to ten. He hated fucking snakes. His eyes popped open. What the hell was a brown snake doing out in the middle of the day in the middle of the summer? Just what he needed: suspicious snake behavior in the middle of the woods, where his dragon and his client had disappeared. Jack checked his GPS and then entered a small clearing, trying to push the thought of a freak snake attack out of his mind. His scalp was still crawling when he spotted the crushed grass impression of what must have been Marin’s landing spot.

Jack scanned the clearing for her exit point. He found it, but the crushed grass trail out of the clearing had definitely been made by a very human, two-legged Marin. Why hadn’t she called in when she landed? No signal in the clearing? He checked his phone and found four of five bars visible. He dialed Marin’s number, and again got her voicemail. At least his cell was working.

“You’re getting this message because I’m pissed and can’t yell at you in person. If you get this message before I get to you, call me. Immediately.” Jack pocketed his phone.

Maybe the phone had dislodged mid-flight. Given the spiraling flight path Marin had taken, no way would he be able to rule out that possibility by finding her phone. But she should have had the sense to stay in place at the clearing, once she’d landed and found her phone gone.

If he found her in one piece, he might take her up on that offer of hand-to-hand that she’d made yesterday. As pissed as he was, he might just beat her.

Jack grunted in annoyance and pushed up the warded glasses that had slid down his sweaty nose. And there it was. Not plainly visible, just a faint outline of a shadow that wasn’t quite a shadow. He let the glasses slide down his nose and peered over the top of them: no shadow.

Jack fixed the glasses firmly in place and followed the dark outline. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see where it transected Marin’s path exiting the clearing. She’d passed directly through what might possibly be a ward. Certainly, the shadowy edge was magic. Had she walked through it, unaware? Or had she used her particular dragon skill of avoiding wards and “unexisted” herself to the other side?

As Jack contemplated his options, a scraggly rabbit darted through the clearing and disappeared behind that shadowy line. Jack dipped his head to catch sight of the rabbit with unaltered vision over the top of his warded glasses. But it was gone. Not hidden in tall grass or brush, just gone.

Well, that ruled out one possibility. He couldn’t follow Marin’s path through that smudge of magic, because who knew where he’d end up. Or what happened to whatever—whoever—crossed that line. How the hell had his ward-hopping dragon not seen it?

Keeping a minimum of ten feet away from the shadow line, Jack followed the edge. It didn’t take long for him to notice the curve of the shadow’s edge. He checked his GPS tracks and saw he’d managed to traverse an almost perfect half-circle. It looked like about a half-acre, assuming the circle continued. He tried not to jump to conclusions, but it was looking like this little bubble had trapped Marin, whether she’d stumbled into it or ward-hopped through the barrier.

Jack was less than fifty feet away from where, he suspected, the dark shadow of magic he’d been following completed a circle. The oddly dark shading of the magic, the disappearing rabbit, the circular barrier, and two disappearances. The whole situation reeked of a trap. He had no clue how he was getting inside, and he’d almost completed his sweep of the perimeter. Jack started to run through a list of backup resources—he wouldn’t need them, but just in case—when an object hit him hard on the ass. He quickly scanned the area, looking for a threat. He found sunlight, a few birds, and a bold squirrel who appeared to be scolding him.

Looking at the squirrel, Jack said, “Don’t suppose you just nailed me with a nut?”

The squirrel chittered in response and ran up the tree he’d been clinging to. Jack turned his attention to the ground, looking for whatever it was that had hit him. And there it was. He picked up a phone wrapped in a bright yellow OtterBox case about four feet behind him. Marin’s phone. No way he’d missed that as he’d walked the shadow’s edge. He shoved his glasses up his nose and gave the phone a solid inspection. Determining it magic-free, he squatted down and flipped the thing over so the screen was face up.

A smile slowly spread over Jack’s face. “You clever girl.” He picked up the phone and stood up before he read the message on the screen.

Charlotte found alive & well. Trapped in warded bubble powered by death magic. Do NOT cross ward. Can see & hear you. Need water. Have shelter. No clue how to leave. C & I maybe not alone in bubble. Marin

Water was simple enough. He had a bladder in his pack and a bottle of water. He removed the bladder and chucked it with some force through the shadow barrier. The small bottle he kept for himself for now.

He looked at the barrier. If he could talk to squirrels, he shouldn’t be so uncomfortable talking to someone he couldn’t see. He hesitated then slowly raised his hand and waved. “Ladies.” Yeah, awkward. “I’ve got a stash of water in the car if you need more.” Jack grabbed a protein bar from his pack. Lifting it up, he said, “Coming your way.”

As for them not being alone… Marin seemed to have some common sense. He wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. And she hadn’t mentioned immediate danger. He pulled her phone out and drafted a quick reply. Who’s with you? Can they hear/see me?

Jack lifted the phone up and pointed in the direction he planned to throw it. He waited a few seconds then chucked it. Hopefully ghosts didn’t have a way to interfere with electronics.

It didn’t take long for Marin to reply, and this time the phone arrived with startling accuracy, thrown almost directly into his hands.

Not certain – possibly a spirit. Dead spell caster? Trapped victim? Suspect spirit can see & hear what’s directly outside bubble. Giving me a bad feeling. Ideas on getting us out?

Great—the dragon was worried. Time for reinforcements. He pocketed Marin’s phone. There was only one person Jack knew who had solid spell-caster knowledge and probably knew about ghosts: his English buddy Harrington at the Inter-Pack Policing Cooperative. According to Jack’s sources, the guy had a spirit living in his library.

It wasn’t like they were tight, but Jack had done a little job for him and still had his number. And it had been Harrington’s idea to bring Spirelli Paranormal Investigations into the light, to make the business official. Hell, Jack had a website now that he could almost completely blame on Harrington.

“Grabbing some more water from the car. Be back in thirty minutes, this spot.” Jack hesitated, then went ahead and added, “Be safe.”

He dropped a waypoint on his GPS, verified the direction of the car, and booked it. He needed to get out of earshot—whatever the hell that was for a ghost—and call Harrington.

He arrived at the Range Rover slightly out of breath. Maybe he’d been drinking a few too many beers lately. He retrieved his cell and dialed Harrington. Jack only had a landline for him, so he crossed his fingers and waited.

“Harrington.” Crisp, clear British tones came across the line.

“Jack Spirelli here. I need some information on dispelling wards and some background on ghosts.”

Jack could hear the creak of old leather in the background. He could just see Harrington leaning back in an old-fashioned chair, twirling a moustache, contemplating what he could extort in exchange. Yeah, maybe his imagination was in overdrive after the whole silver dragon thing earlier.

“You’ll owe me a favor.”

And the negotiating had started. Jack sighed quietly. “Local only; that includes Texas and not the surrounding states. And no more than two days’ work.” He kept a steady watch as he spoke, scanning the surrounding woods, the small road, and the two parked cars.

“Three, and you work for anyone, not just me.”

Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut. Then a thought occurred. “Spirelli Paranormal Investigations for three days, local work only, transferable. Deal.”

Harrington made a sound that might have been a laugh. Apparently, his substitution of the business name hadn’t gotten by Harrington. He must not have an aversion to working with dragons, because he said, “Agreed. I assume this relates to the cryptic email you sent earlier. What do you want to know?”

“Yeah. But it’s under control for now. There’s a ward around an area about the size of a suburban lot that looks like a shadow, even in direct light. It allows entry but prevents exit, and acts like a one-way mirror. I can’t see inside, but I have contact with people on the inside who can see out.”

“You’re using those warded glasses I gave you for that last job?” When Jack confirmed that he was, Harrington continued, “First, the physical description sounds like death magic. You’re likely not seeing a shadow, but rather a complete absence of light. If the ward mimics a shadow, it might be fading, which means it’s quite old. That’s in your favor, because wards powered by death magic are strong.” Harrington paused. “Very strong.”

“All right. How do I break the ward? I’ve got an earth witch and dragon on the inside. And outside I’ve got the warded spectacles, a magically powered light source, and a strengthening potion from an earth witch. Jack cringed at using up his entire store of magical objects. He’d been trading whenever possible, trying to gather a stash of goods that might even the playing field on his magical jobs. So far this paltry stash, plus a few items he’d left at the house, were all he’d come up with.

“If you don’t have a spell caster who can deconstruct the ward, the easiest way to defuse one is to exhaust the power source,” Harrington said.

“Are you saying trigger the trap until there’s no more juice?” Jack managed to not throw the phone—just barely.

“Yes. But there’s no way to know if the next cricket who crosses the ward will expend the remaining energy or if the body mass of five hundred dragons would even make a dent. If it were a regular ward, set and abandoned, it likely wouldn’t function for long. But a ward powered by death magic has exponentially more magical reserves.”

John tried to give Harrington’s words some thought. “So you’re telling me my people are screwed.”

“Without a spell caster? Yes, that’s likely.” Harrington’s tone divulged no overt concern for the players in Jack’s little drama. “But a talented spell caster, someone like Lizzie Smith—”

“Or you.” John cringed to think what kind of trade he’d have to negotiate to get Harrington to Louisiana.

“True. I could likely deconstruct it with a little time.” Harrington paused, the absence of an offer temporarily stalling the conversation. “Your dragon—Marin?—she’s already tried to evade the ward?”

“I’m assuming the ward-hopping thing didn’t work or she’d have done it. And even if she could, that would leave our earth witch still stuck in the trap, possibly with a ghost.”

“Possibly?”

Jack started stuffing water bottles into his pack. He was running low on time if he was going to return within thirty minutes, and he had another call to make. “Yeah. Marin’s not sure, but she thinks there’s a ghost in there with them. Is it possible a ghost could be trapped inside the ward?”

“It depends on how the ward is structured. But if your dragon thinks there’s a ghost, then there’s a ghost. Marin’s young, but dragons generally have impeccable magic-detection ability.”

Unless there was a death magic ward in play, apparently. Jack pulled his phone away to check the time. He needed to leave in the next five minutes.

“No other thoughts on breaking this ward down?”

“Get a spell caster.” Again, Harrington refrained from offering his own services.

John definitely planned to pawn off his favor-in-trade on Marin. He swung his pack on his back. “What can you tell me about ghosts?”

“They have limited interaction with the physical world. There exists an assumption that ghosts are tied to their physical remains, or the geographic location where the physical body died if there are no remains, which limits their movement through space. I’m unaware of a reliable method of dispersing a ghost’s energy.” Harrington paused. “Theoretically, if a method was created to disperse the energy of a ghost, there would be ethical questions. Is dispersal of ghost energy akin to the death of physical body? Or perhaps not, since the physical body has already died? Perhaps it’s a death of the soul?”

Who was he talking to? Harrington, waxing philosophical, was simply bizarre.

Jack interrupted him before he went too far afield. “So, what about magic? Can a ghost utilize magic? There’s a decent chance that the ghost inside the ward is the spell caster who laid the trap.”

“Or the victim the spell caster used to power the ward. A more likely scenario for the creation of a ghost.”

Jack started heading back to the meeting point, but he kept to a leisurely pace. “Sure. It could also be a hiker who was trapped and died. Regardless, do we need to be worried about a magic-wielding ghost?”

“No guarantees, but I’d say no. Manipulation of items in the physical world? Yes. Using the ghost’s own magic? I don’t think so.” Background noise filtered through the phone, then Harrington added, “Call a spell caster. Get the ward defused.” And he hung up.

Jack would love to flip the guy the bird. Wasn’t this exactly what IPPC was for? Sure, they were primarily a European and British organization, but IPPC had extended some tentacles into the States. And they were the only policing organization that existed with jurisdiction over the magic-using community. Shit, who even knew about the magic-using community. But no. Jack should just go ahead and take care of this mess, since he happened to be here. Fucking annoying guy.

Jack shrugged off his annoyance and called Chris.

Chris picked up, but this time she was cheery, and no kid noises percolated in the background. “What’s up, Jack?”

“Hey. Just need a little info on the area I’m in. I need you to look into any known deaths around a specific set of coordinates. Murder, suicide, accident—doesn’t matter. I’ll text coordinates when I hang up. Oh, missing persons also. No specific time frame.” Jack paused to verify his route. He grimaced slightly, then said, “And I need it as soon as possible. I’m in a bit of a bind.”

“I have time now. Hubby has the kids out at the playground for the afternoon. You’re intruding on my ‘me’ time, but I forgive you.”

Her kids were mini-hoodlums—lovable little squirts, but always into something and constantly in motion. He muffled a groan. Save him from a herd of small children.

“Thanks. Gotta run.” Jack hung up and texted the coordinates.

Jack picked up the pace and made it back to the meeting point in just under thirty minutes. He pulled out Marin’s phone and typed a quick update.

My source says ghosts can move things but not do magic. Working on the ward issue. Any new info re: ghost or ward?

“Hey, guys. I’m back with more water and protein bars. You there?” And still, Jack felt like a complete ass, talking to the air.

A small branch whizzed by Jack. “Guessing that’s a yes. Incoming,” he called before he chucked Marin’s phone and then three water bottles over the shadow. As he reached for the fourth bottle, he noticed a group of pinkish-purple flowers directly in front of the shadow ward. Quickly, he scanned the surrounding area for markers he’d made note of earlier. He’d be damned if the ward wasn’t shrinking. The flowers hadn’t been visible before, so that meant at least six or eight inches in a half-hour.

Jack lobbed the fourth bottle past the ward and said, “Send your phone back so I know you guys are okay.”

Nothing.

He called again. “Send the phone back, Marin.”

He waited impatiently for at least three minutes, and then a bright flash caught his eye.

“Shit.” Keeping a close eye on the ward, he circled around to the area where he’d spotted with his peripheral vision what must have been dragon flames. The top few branches of a tree smoked, but the branches hadn’t sustained a flame. He ran the rest of the distance.

When he found the tree, he searched the area systematically for any signs of spreading fire. All it took was a stray ember or two and the right type of fuel, and he’d have a fire on his hands. One that could easily bypass the ward. Marin and Charlotte would be trapped inside with an approaching fire they couldn’t escape.

As Jack completed a last sweep of the area, he heard an alarm sound. Scanning the area, he spotted Marin’s bright yellow phone. She must have missed him this time. But at least she’d had a backup plan. He picked it up and read the message.

Def’ly have a ghost. Peeved, thinks we’re target practice. Phone throwing makes it angry. Marin-dragon is protecting me. We’re moving around a lot. Out soon? Thx! Charlotte.

Jack could imagine them running around in circles, trying to stay away from some demon-like spirit as it threw miscellaneous pieces of forest debris at them. If Marin hadn’t felt the need to turn dragon to protect Charlotte, it might almost be entertaining. But he had no real idea what kind of danger they were in, so—not entertaining.

Jack’s phone rang. The sound was unexpected and jarring in the silence of the woods. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Hey, Chris. That was fast.”

“It’s been like twenty minutes. I thought you were in a rush?” Chris huffed out a put-upon sigh. “Listen. There’s not much. A few missing persons, all eventually found. Not a lot of serious crime out in Miersburg over the last half-century, and no notable deaths. But—and this is good—there’s a local legend about a witch living in the woods. It dates back to the turn of the century. I found it in a search of the parish history. What do you think?”

“I think spell caster or witch; it’s the same difference to the non-magical townspeople of turn of the century Miersburg.” Jack saw another flash or orangey-yellow flame. This time angled much higher and clearing any trees. What the hell was going on in there? “So—what’s the story? My timeline’s getting a little tight over here.”

“It looks like an affluent local woman married a philandering ne’er-do-well. They moved into the family home; once the money was gone, he left. She lived in her family’s cottage waiting for him to return, even after everyone saw he wasn’t coming back and her family had died. I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist. I sent you the article. The locals thought she was odd. Eventually the townspeople started calling her a witch.”

“Huh. Where’s the magic? Why do they call her a witch?” Jack scanned the treetops, trying to catch any other flashes of flame in the sky. If Marin set the woods on fire while he was getting a history lesson from Chris…

“She was alone and lived outside the town proper. And her story was a huge scandal, enough to make it into a little old lady’s recollections of the town. That was enough back then to get you labeled a witch. I don’t have a specific location for her house, but—in the woods, north of town, isolated. Could be your gal.”

“Got it. Keep looking. See if you can find her name. And the name of her husband and whatever happened to him.”

“Seriously?” Chris’s voice had turned peeved. “That kind of stuff isn’t easy to find on short notice. Whatever. I’ll see what I can do.” And she ended the call.

Jack had to remember to throw in a word of thanks every once in a while. Chris got prickly when she felt underappreciated. Right. Next time.

No more flames had popped up while Chris had briefed him. Avoiding a massive fire seemed like a good plan, regardless of whatever else he did. So, bonus.

Jack tried yelling a few times to attract Marin’s or Charlotte’s attention, but he got no response. He’d lost contact with both of them. Unfortunately, neither of them knew that the ward was shrinking—probably being drained by containment of two large, mobile bodies. What would happen if the ward collapsed in on them? Or what if they simply stayed near the edge and the ward moved past them, leaving them on the outside of the trap, like the flowers? That could be the solution—an escape for them both. Or maybe not.

Regardless, there were now a few options available and no way to convey them reliably to the women. Jack pulled out his phone and drafted two very short emails: one to Charlotte’s husband and one to Harrington. Then he stepped across the barrier.

Chapter 6

A silver dragon crouched, hissing steam at a—Jack did a double take—floating iron skillet. Marin swatted massive claws at the skillet, and knocked it to the ground. After the odd weapon fell with a solid thud, Jack saw that small wounds sprinkled her body. Each wound oozed blood. And that was when he realized: Marin’s scales had flexed and turned with her body as she’d taken off in flight. They hadn’t been the rigid, overlapping scales he remembered seeing once before.

Jack mentally thumped himself and then jogged toward Marin, keeping half his attention on the prone frying pan. As he approached, something slammed into his side. He stumbled, choking, coughing. He shoved his knuckles into the grass, pushed hard, and lurched upright. And fell again. His shoulders burned. He rolled to the side and a flying branch pounded the grass next to his head.

Get behind me.

Marin’s voice brushed through his mind as he scrambled to dodge another blow.

Now.

Before he could stand, Jack was enveloped in a dragon wing. The silvery hide of her wing shielded him, giving him just enough time to stand.

“I’m good,” he yelled.

As Marin folded her wings close to her body, Jack ran behind her. “You have a plan?”

Charlotte huddled behind Marin, one hand resting on Marin’s silver scales. “The ghost should run out of juice soon. Ghosts can’t—”

A dragon grunt interrupted her.

Jack scanned the area for an improvised weapon. Then realized— “Shit. We can’t hurt it.”

“No.” Charlotte’s brow furrowed and she gave Jack a dark look. “If the dragon—Marin—weren’t still immature, her scales wouldn’t be so soft.”

Hey. I can hear you guys.

“I didn’t send her here to be a pincushion. And she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to end up trapped inside with you.” Jack was interrupted as Marin shifted, maneuvering quickly to the right. Following her as she moved, Jack asked, “Why exactly are we using a soft-scaled dragon as a shield?”

He’d just spotted a tumbledown cabin not far away.

Better than having your tender human skin pummeled. And I heal faster. But this shit is getting old. How much longer can it hold out?

Charlotte said, “Not much longer. I hope.” Turning to Jack, she said, “We were heading to the cabin when you showed up.”

A hiss of steam spewed from Marin’s snout.

Since scales rippled under his hand at the same time, Jack figured those hisses were pain responses. So the few flashes of fire he’d spotted might have been accidents. He edged closer to Marin’s tail until he had a clear view over her back. But all he saw were the objects the ghost was using as projectiles. No ghost, cloud, figure—nothing. Stones flew at high speed and pinged off Marin’s body. And branches darted through the air like arrows. After watching for a moment, Jack realized the missiles came one at a time.

“I think our ghost can only manipulate one object at a time.” As Jack spoke the words, he searched the surrounding area for incoming missiles, but couldn’t spot the next attack.

She’s gone. For now. Dragon Marin blinked out of existence, replaced by her human self. “Mind-speaking with you both is exhausting. Easier this way.” She gave Jack a peeved look. “You have some water in your pack?”

Jack pulled out a bottle and handed it to her. “I lost contact and I needed to pass along important information. And I’m not a complete idiot. We have backup coming if we’re not out of here by the morning.”

“The morning?” Charlotte’s eyes got wide. “Seriously? And my husband must be losing his mind with worry. Please tell me you at least told him where I am.”

“Just that we’d found you and were extracting you.” Jack handed Charlotte a bottle of water. “Do you want him trying to get you out? Getting stuck in here?”

“Of course not.” Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. “I’m just so tired. And I want to go home, see my family.” She groaned. “Sleep in my own bed.”

“We’re almost there.” Marin wrapped a comforting arm around Charlotte. Turning to Jack, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Right?”

Jack sidestepped the question for now. “How much time do we have? Before the psycho ghost comes back?”

“With our luck, she can hear you, Jack.” Marin let go of Charlotte and started toward the cabin.

Charlotte followed right behind her. “I’m not sure, but several minutes. Manipulating objects, interacting in any way with the physical world—I know that takes effort, and there’s a limit to how much a ghost can do in a short period of time.”

Jack hustled to catch up, since it looked like Marin was about to walk through the doorless entry to the small cabin. “Okay. First things first: the ward surrounding us is powered by death magic.”

“We know. We told you that in the text—remember?” Marin answered just a hair before she ducked into the doorway. A few seconds later, she said, “Whoa. And I might have found the sacrifice. Or maybe a victim of the trap? Used the cabin for shelter and didn’t ever leave…” She popped back out. “Don’t suppose you saw bones when you checked out the cabin yesterday?”

Charlotte shook her head frantically. “Truly. I’d have said. I wouldn’t forget to tell you guys something like that. I mean…” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t actually go in. It’s creepy, you know? And there’s a nasty vibe. I just ducked my head through the door to make sure no one was in there.”

“So, how do you feel about skeletal remains?”

Charlotte sighed. “At least I’m not going in alone.” She was about to walk through the door, but she paused to ask, “Uh, just bones, right? No squishy parts?”

Jack bit his lip. It was just too bizarre not to be comical, but he was damn sure Charlotte wouldn’t appreciate him laughing.

“Bones, clothing scraps. That’s all,” Marin replied, disappearing back into the cabin.

Jack stopped Charlotte with a hand on her shoulder and walked in before her. “Any chance either of you noticed that the ward is shrinking?”

The smell of must and decay filled Jack’s nose. No door, and whatever had originally covered the windows was long gone, but much of the roof remained intact. Damp had gotten in, but no direct sunlight meant the interior had moldered.

A gentle push on his back reminded him Charlotte was directly behind him. He took several steps into the room then approached Marin and crouched down next to her as she examined the pile of bones. “The ghost is definitely female, and the remains are female—but I have no idea if these are the ghost’s bones.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You can ID sex from bones?”

“I’m assuming she’s female because of her size, the shoes—” Marin pointed to a sturdy pair of women’s boots that had outlived much of the wearer’s clothing. “And see the small buttons scattered on the ground? Women’s clothing. And from the quality and number of buttons, the style of the shoes, I’m guessing early nineteen hundreds. Not a poor woman.”

Charlotte joined them, but remained standing. “If the ward is collapsing, that may be why our ghost wanted us away from the perimeter.” She shrugged. “Maybe? Because she wasn’t bothering me until Marin arrived and we both started tracking your progress around the perimeter of the ward.”

“I don’t suppose either one of you know what would happen if the ward passed us by, rather than us trying to walk through the ward?” Marin looked at Jack and Charlotte hopefully. “And Jack, before you ask, when you approach the ward, it’s like a strong shove. The closer you get, the more it pushes back. And the more force you use, the greater the rebound. I tried a running start with less than stellar results.”

“No clue. But if it would just shove us away—basically if it still works—why was the ghost so pissy about us lingering near the perimeter?” Charlotte looked thoughtful. “Why does the ghost even care about the ward?”

“I’ve got some local history for you that might help with that.” Jack repeated what Chris had told him: local affluent woman, abandoned by her scumbag husband, isolating herself after her parents passed, labeled a witch by the locals.

“We do have local lore about a witch in the area. But I can tell you with complete certainty, there are no local witches in this area, and haven’t been for a very long time.” Charlotte smiled. “I checked before we moved here. But—you’re thinking the story is about a spell caster?”

“If it is, I’m betting this is her.” Jack motioned to the small pile of bones and shoes on the ground.

Marin shook her head. “But being labeled a witch has nothing to do with magic. She acted oddly, was a woman, and lived alone. That could easily equal witch in nineteen hundreds rural Louisiana.”

“Okay, the fact that they call her a witch is a coincidence,” Jack said. “Crazy woman in the woods, left by her husband. If she’s a spell caster, she kills herself, and as her last dying act sets this ward. Crazier things have happened.”

Marin shook her head. “We’re making a lot of assumptions, the greatest being that the bones belong to the ghost, and the ghost is our spell caster. We have no real proof of that. And if we did? What good does that do us?”

Jack smiled. “I do know that the place of death or the physical remains tie a ghost to a location. That means that our ghost is tied to this place because she died here or because her bones are here, regardless of who she actually is. We want to get rid of the ghost. I say we get rid of—”

A thundering crack sounded and debris dropped on Jack’s head.

~*~

“Jack. Come on. Wake up, Jack.”

A sharp pain pulsed behind his right ear. He tried to speak, but his mouth was full of dirt. The realization of which immediately resulted in a fit of coughing. Searing pain flashed in his eye, his head. Coughing turned to retching.

“Don’t move.” A woman’s voice. Charlotte.

He tried to speak and finally managed a croak on the third try. “Marin?”

“Over here,” Marin replied.

Jack cracked an eye open, and blinding, gut-wrenching pain forced his lid closed. But he didn’t puke. A cold sweat covered him, probably from all the churning his stomach had been doing. Oh, yeah, maybe from the pain. “What happened?” His voice was steadier now, his thoughts less jumbled.

“That bitch cracked the roof’s supporting beams and dumped a bunch of roof on top of us.” That acerbic comment originated, surprisingly, from Charlotte.

“That bitch is gone for now, by the way,” Marin added in a milder tone. “It must have taken a good bit of juice to break the beams. They’re pretty stout.” She cleared her throat. “About that…any chance you might be able to move anytime soon?”

“Head injury. Give me a break,” Jack grumbled with his eyes still closed.

“It’s just that Charlotte is pretty sure you’re not about to croak. And I can’t move until you clear out of the cabin.” Marin’s voice was matter of fact, but there was a tenseness underlying it that was curious.

Jack steeled himself and opened his eyes. The light was getting dimmer as the sun set, which might have helped with the pain. He could see about half of the cabin from where he’d been knocked out. And there was Marin, near the corner, trapped under one of the split beams. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all good. I can get out. But when I shift the beam, the rest of the rubble will move. Not particularly safe for you and Charlotte. So, uh, you gotta time frame on getting up?”

“The wound is already starting to clot, but there’s a good chance you’ll vomit when we move you. And maybe pass out again.” Charlotte sounded apologetic.

“It’s fine. Do you think a strengthening potion might help?” Jack asked Charlotte as she started moving some small pieces of wood and plant matter off him. “I got it from an earth witch. Something to do with increasing endurance and strength.”

“It won’t fix your head, but it’ll make you feel better.” Charlotte pursed her lips. “A lot better if it’s a good recipe and the witch had any skill.” She muttered something about potions under her breath, and then asked Jack, “In your backpack?”

“Yeah. It’s in the blue Platypus—the reusable plastic water bottle thing. I only brought a liter—is that enough?” Jack asked quietly. He’d closed his eyes again. It was just easier. And puking sucked.

“More than enough if it’s done right.” Charlotte dug through his pack and then crowed with delight. “Oh, yes! This is Marceline’s work. You couldn’t ask for better quality.”

Jack managed to prop himself up on an elbow without ralphing.

Charlotte handed him the potion and told him to drink about a third of it. “No need to waste it, and more won’t make a difference for at least a day.”

“Got it.” The first sip made Jack’s stomach turn, but the second settled it. By the time he finished a third of the bladder, standing up seemed like a reasonable option. “Any chance this works on dragons? Maybe you guys can split the rest?”

Charlotte removed the cap and downed her portion. Once she was done, she handed it off to the still prone Marin. “I think it’s worth a try, unless you think it might be harmful.”

Marin took the container, gave it a sniff, then said, “Bottoms up,” before finishing the potion. “Now get your ass out of here before our friendly neighborhood ghost returns and decides to do something worse.”

Jack was already struggling to his feet. “If there’s any chance, can you try to grab—”

“Yeah. But the walls have ears, and all that.”

With a little support from Charlotte, Jack made it out of the cabin in good time. By the time they’d exited, his headache had dulled to a tolerable throb. The sun had fallen below the treetops, making it less startlingly bright, which also helped. He and Charlotte shared a look then turned to stand back to back, on the lookout for the return of the angry spirit.

A loud crash made both of them jump, but Charlotte stopped Jack when he would have returned to the cabin. “Her dragon could shift the debris more easily, so she was going to push her way out in dragon form.”

“Ah. That conversation happened when I was passed out, I’m guessing.”

Marin emerged through the doorway just as human as they’d left her, and in her hand she clutched a pelvic girdle, two long bones, and a skull.

“I’ll scout for the edge of the ward.” Jack took off at a jog in the opposite direction of the cars.

The last thing they needed was that crazy bitch blocking their escape route. When he reached the area he estimated to be near the ward’s edge, he pulled out his glasses, surprisingly only slightly bent but otherwise intact. He searched for the edge and found nothing. Maybe the darkening sky made the edge more difficult to see? He thought about using his special flashlight, but opted against it, since both it and the ward were magic and he had no clue how they’d both appear together through his warded specs.

He lifted his gaze and looked further into the distance. And he saw it: a retreating shadow. It was moving at a good clip. He turned back to Marin and Charlotte, who’d been following behind him. He raised his hand, hoping they’d get the idea. Marin stopped, shooting him an odd look. He turned back, and this time he found the ward’s perimeter more quickly. The stationary ward.

He sprinted back to Marin and Charlotte and relayed his conclusion as fast as he could get the words out: “The ward’s not tied to a physical perimeter. It’s the bones. It’s tied to the bones. That’s why the ward was shrinking and not just fading away in place. It radiates outward from the bones. ”

Jack stopped and caught his breath. His sprint through the woods had aggravated his head injury, even with his super potion, and he was close to puking. “Throw the fucking bones. As far as you can. All of them at once.” He yanked his pack off and dumped the contents.

“Shit. The ghost is coming. I can feel her,” Marin said. But she hesitated. “When the ward passes by us?”

“No idea. Do it.” Jack didn’t want to spend the next twelve hours beating back a psycho ghost with an irrational grudge. He handed her the pack. “Do it.”

Charlotte swallowed. “Do it.”

Marin stuffed the bones in the pack. And the wind began to gust madly. She hefted the pack and threw it like her life depended on it.

A horrible rush of energy gathered. Loomed.

Jack yelled, “Ward hop!”

In an instant, Marin was a dragon and had wrapped her wings around Charlotte and Jack.

Chapter 7

Jack felt cold. No—nothing. A cold nothingness. His limbs were gone; only his core existed, and only in a floating space, as if gravity had faded slowly away. Then his body collapsed in on itself and every particle of his being screamed. He screamed. But there was no sound. There was silence. And again there was a nothingness, a weightlessness to his body. For seconds, minutes. Forever.

“Wake up, Jack.” Marin’s voice, thin and reedy, reached his ears.

“Holy fuck.” For the second time in one day, he was laid out flat with his face in the dirt. “What the holy mother of hell was that?”

Charlotte said, “A dimensional shift.” Her teeth chattered. “I think I might be in shock.”

Marin caught her and lowered her gently to the ground.

“Brilliant idea. Let’s take the humans through a dimensional portal.” Marin fell to the ground next to Charlotte. “I might complain about being called young, but you know—I actually am kinda young. I’m not supposed to do that kinda shit.” She sounded more confused than angry. Tired, certainly. “Didn’t really know I could.”

Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around. “Oh, shit.”

Marin closed her eyes. “What now?”

“Thank you,” Jack said with feeling, because he really liked living. He may sometimes be reckless and take risks that he shouldn’t. But he liked living. And one look at the ground around them told him that nothing—except maybe the plants—had survived that massive magical energy rush. The bodies of insects, birds, a squirrel, were scattered around them. He said it again. “Thank you.”

Marin had wrapped her arm around Charlotte, and the two of them were sitting quietly. She opened her eyes, and Jack tipped his head toward the carcass of a small bird a few feet away.

Marin closed her eyes again. “Oh.”

Jack hated to ask—but if they weren’t out of trouble, they needed to get moving. “Do you feel the ghost? Is she still here?”

The color had returned to Charlotte’s face, and Marin looked more herself. Marin replied, “I don’t know if she’s gone—but she’s not here now.”

Jack checked his face, and amazingly found his specs still propped up on his nose. He stood up, ready to scout for the new location of the ward—so they could avoid it. Before he’d scanned further than the immediate area, his phone rang.

“That’s a good sign,” Charlotte murmured.

Jack checked the number, then quickly answered. “Harrington. You got my email.”

“I’m calling about the massive magical explosion that just reverberated through a tiny little town called Miersburg.” Harrington’s voice was ice cold. “Don’t suppose you can tell me anything about that?”

“Any damage done?” Jack asked.

“Yet to be determined.”

Jack knew that meant no. At least for now. Time to fess up. “There was damage to the local wildlife near the coordinates I gave you. I’m not sure how extensive. I haven’t verified if the ward is still standing, and, if so, the current location of the ward. Also, I’m not sure where the ghost has planted itself.”

“You relocated a ward powered by death magic.” It wasn’t a question. And Harrington spoke so quietly, Jack wasn’t sure if the man was in shock or about to completely lose his shit because he was so mad.

“I’ve got to get everyone home as soon as possible, so…” Jack hoped he could at least get off the phone and do some assessment before the shit completely hit the fan.

“There’s an IPPC subcontractor on the way from New Orleans, estimated arrival in an hour. Get your client home and my guy will call if he has any questions.” Harrington paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was frigid. “You will answer your phone.”

“Will do.” Jack ended the call before any talk of payment, favors, or other unpleasant consequences were mentioned. Once he hung up, he did the math. “That bastard. He called his guy as soon he got off the phone with me earlier today.”

“Sorry?” Charlotte was on her feet and looked ready to go.

“Not important. There’s a cleanup crew on the way to defuse the ward—if there’s still a ward. So we’re good to leave and get you home.”

The walk back to the cars was uneventful, thank God, because all three of them were exhausted. Jack was so tired, even the thought of snakes didn’t faze him as he waded through knee-high grass.

Charlotte asked if Marin could drive her car, and she called her husband on the way home. So when the two vehicles pulled into the Sneeds’ drive, Calvin and his son were both waiting. Effusive hugs and some tears were shared by all three family members. Jack waited just long enough for Calvin to remember he owed them a check. He handed Jack an envelope and pumped his hand enthusiastically.

Just as he and Marin were about to slip away, Charlotte pulled them both aside. “If you’ll head south out of town, you’ll be driving in the right direction to hit a healer I know. When I get into the house, I’ll text you his address.”

Jack drew a breath, intent on protesting.

“No. She’s right, Jack.” Marin peered at him. “It’s either that or we have to stop off at the hospital. You may not be feeling it, but there’s a head injury hiding under the effects of all that witch juice you drank.”

“It’s late—”

Charlotte pulled him into a hug. “It’s fine. He owes me a favor.”

Stepping away, Jack looked a little to the side of Charlotte’s right ear and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Jack didn’t argue when Marin took the keys from him and pulled him toward their car.

Marin waved a farewell to Charlotte, and opened the door for Jack. “In.”

It only took them about forty minutes to reach the healer’s house, but it seemed like forever to Jack. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep—possibly a result of the potion. And he hurt, but in a muted way that he knew wasn’t natural. Hopefully his brain hadn’t been bleeding this entire time. And on that happy thought, Marin pulled into to the healer’s circular drive.

“Hey. How you doing?” Marin poked him in the arm.

“Jesus. Stop already. I’m awake.” Jack opened the door to get out and found that a young man, maybe mid-twenties, with tats and chin-length hair was waiting on his porch for them. He had a beer in one hand.

The kid put his beer on the ground and said, “Hey, I’m Kai. Have a seat on the porch, and I’ll take a look at you.”

It didn’t take long for Kai to establish that: no, Jack’s brain wasn’t bleeding; yes, he had a concussion; and, sure, he’d be fine to skip the doctor’s office after Kai was done with him.

“But you really need to get some rest, man.” Kai lifted his beer in a toast.

Jack reached out a hand. “Thanks. I’ll do that. And we really appreciate your help.”

Giving Jack’s hand a firm shake, Kai said, “No worries.” Shaking Marin’s hand, he added, “I’ve never actually met a dragon. So—cheers. And you guys drive safe.”

Jack wasn’t sure which one of them would crash first from their endurance potion high, but he wanted them both home when it happened. So when Marin drove like a psycho, projectile-hurling ghost was on their tail, he didn’t bitch. He might have actually dozed off for a bit, because when his phone rang it startled the crap out of him.

Jack almost didn’t pick up, but then he remembered Harrington’s borderline threatening command to answer his phone. Not a number he recognized. He leaned his back against the headrest and answered. “Yeah.”

“Harrington here. Put me on speaker; I have information you’ll both want to hear.”

Jack flipped his speaker on. “We’re both here.”

“The cleanup crew found a journal in the debris. It was relatively intact inside an oilskin in the back of a dresser.” Harrington cleared his throat. “The woman who lived in the cabin was insane long before she died. The bones you found belonged to Mary Elizabeth Potter. She was the owner of the home, and a spell caster.”

Marin said, “Any ideas as to why she set the ward?”

Jack made an annoyed sound. “Or why she hung around to haunt the place?”

Harrington let out a long breath. “We can tell from the journal that her husband left, and it wasn’t long after that she discovered she had syphilis. Certainly a possible cause of her insanity. The last few coherent entries demonstrate an obsession with her husband returning and with keeping him near.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “And from there it’s not a leap to assume she used her own death to power one last ward.”

Marin groaned. “You’re saying her dying act was a twisted attempt to keep her cheating husband with her forever? That’s sick.”

“We can’t know for sure, but yes,” Harrington said, “that’s what we’re thinking. The ward was gone when the crew arrived. But they secured the bones.”

“Which secures the ghost, right?” Jack asked.

“Yes.” Harrington didn’t sound nearly certain enough for Jack. But it wasn’t his problem any longer. “Any other good news for us?” Jack asked.

“Be glad IPPC isn’t seeking reimbursement for the cleanup crew.” Harrington ended the call.

Jack struggled to keep his eyes open. Even tales of crazy wives and their creepy eternal love couldn’t keep him awake.

Marin glanced at him. “We’re almost home. You passed out after we left the healer’s house.”

“Ah.”

She sighed. “I’m fine. Whatever Kai did must have offset the side effects of the endurance tea you drank, but that stuff still has me wide awake. Go back to sleep.”

He thought he agreed, but maybe he just fell back asleep.

~*~

Jack’s head rolled forward as the car came to a stop. He cracked his eyes open slowly and saw that they’d pulled up in front of The Junk Shop.

After she put the car in park, Marin sat quietly, unmoving. After several seconds, she said, “Well, that could have gone better.”

Jack gathered his gear and opened the car door. “Yeah. Coulda gone worse.” He stepped out into the street and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “See you tomorrow at ten?”

Marin nodded.

Jack raised his eyebrows in pseudo-excitement. “Tomorrow’s the crash course on using the cash register.”

Marin laughed. “Awesome.”

She sounded like she meant it. Cool. He slammed the door and headed into the shop.

Epilogue

One week later

Jack crouched down and dumped the contents of the tin he held into a tiny porcelain dish.

“Oh my God. Are you feeding your rats?”

Jack jumped to his feet, surprised. Turning, he saw his sister Hannah. “No. I mean, I’m feeding my— How did you even get in the store? I didn’t hear the bells.” Jack cleared his throat.

Hannah peered at the can in his hand. “You’re feeding your cat?”

“Sure.”

“Jack. You cannot feed the rats. And seriously—crabmeat? Do you know what this dump will look like in a month, once you start feeding them? You’re completely insane.”

Jack scowled at his sister. “I’m not nuts. And whatever it is, it isn’t a rat. It’s house trained.”

Hannah waved a dismissive hand. “Like you’d know. You can’t see the rat poop for all the dust, funk, and rubbish piled up.”

“I sweep.” Jack tried not to sound offended, but really… “And I’m telling you: whatever Fuzzball is, he sheds and doesn’t leave any crap on the floors. That’s not a rat.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible, and this place is disgusting, but that’s not why I’m here.” Hannah straightened the cuff of her shirt. “You need to get a real job.”

“I have a real job.”

“Oh, I see that you have a new job. It’s not bad enough that you run a store filled with rubbish, but now this.” Hannah pointed to the shiny new sign that ran along the bottom of the display window. Passersby could now see that The Junk Shop was also home to Spirelli Paranormal Investigations.

That’s right. He was legit. Completely out in the open, listed in the yellow pages, searchable online, with a sign on his store. And now the final step had been achieved: he’d been officially outed to his family. If his sister knew, then so did everyone else in his family. They’d be so proud.

“You’re basically advertising yourself as a fraud—or a fruitcake. And you’re doing it using the family name. What in the world are you thinking, Jack?” Hannah’s brow crinkled with worry.

Let the paranormal investigating begin.

~ THE END ~

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There are a number of outlets for sharing your opinion, including Amazon.com and Goodreads.com. Reviews are one of the most powerful tools available to an Indie author for spreading the word about their books. Take a moment and review your favorite authors’ books, if you haven’t already. Drop me a note if you review this work, so I can thank you!

I’m always excited to hear from readers. If you’d like to say “Hi” or to let me know you’ve written a review, you can find me here:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/katebaray

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Website: www.katebaray.com

Email: kate@katebaray.com

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Kate’s Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/WD6UD

Thank you for investing your time in my world and my characters. My hope is that readers enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.

Happy Reading!

~Kate

Other Works by Kate Baray

LOST LIBRARY NOVELS

Lost Library

Spirited Legacy

Defensive Magic

Lost Library Shorts Collection

Witch’s Diary