CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

“I told Todd,” I said. Zoe and I were back in my apartment. Xander and Monty could tell I was upset and were both cuddled up with me. I wanted to crawl into bed with them and stay there for the foreseeable future, but she didn’t give any indication of leaving. I think she was as shocked as I was about what we’d just heard.

“What do you mean you told him? Told him what?”

I sighed. “I saw him yesterday morning. I asked him why Mazzy was looking into him. I had no idea it was a witch thing,” I said when Zoe turned a shocked look on me. “She was a regular reporter too.”

“You still should’ve kept your mouth shut. You heard Solomon. Now he’s going to tell his disgusting family. I need to tell Mother.”

“No you don’t. Do not,” I said, grabbing her arm. “Promise me. You can’t yet, Zoe. She’ll go off half-cocked and do something.”

Zoe snatched her arm away. “She’s gonna kill me when she finds out,” she muttered.

But I couldn’t get my mind off of Todd and this incredible betrayal. “I’m supposed to go out on a date with him tomorrow night like nothing is wrong, too,” I said. “When he’s been spying on me. When he only dated me because he his family told him to watch me. And Blake? Seriously? All those warnings about that family and he’s one of them?”

“I’m not worried about Blake,” she said. “I completely believe that he’s trustworthy. I’m sure he was warning you about them. He must know them better than anyone. And what they’re capable of. It’s more reason to believe him.”

My head snapped up and I glared at her. “Did you know?”

She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t, Vi. I swear.”

“Does Fiona?”

“That, I don’t know,” she said. “You know Mother. She’s got her own set of rules about life. I would guess there isn’t much she doesn’t know.”

“So she’s been keeping this from me.” The anger gripped my entire body with a ferociousness that surprised me.

“If she has, it’s because she didn’t think it was important, Vi. She wouldn’t have put him in charge of you if she didn’t trust him.”

“Does she know about Todd?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I seriously doubt that,” Zoe said. “She would have removed him a long time ago.”

I had no idea what to doubt and what to believe anymore. “I need you to go,” I said. “I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Vi,” she began, then stopped and stood. “Never mind. I get it. Really, I do. I’ll check in on you later, okay?”

“Fine. Thanks for bringing me to Solomon. At least someone told me the truth. And don’t tell Fiona.”

Zoe stood to go. “As long as you don’t let on to Todd that you know any more about this. Especially his family. Promise me, Vi. Solomon’s right, you don’t want to back him into a corner. If he only thinks you know Mazzy was a mortal reporter, he might think he’s still in the clear.” With those parting words of wisdom, she tugged on her long string of beads and was gone.

After she left, I sat on my bed for a long time thinking about what to do. Part of me wanted to go confront all of them—Blake, Fiona, Todd. But Solomon was right. That could just be disastrous. I had to bide my time.

I sent Syd a text to tell her I wasn’t coming in today, that I had a few things I needed to take care of. She wrote back:

You okay?

I replied:

Fine. Looking forward to tomorrow night.

I added a smiley face so she wouldn’t worry, then put my phone on do-not-disturb.

I went to my grandmother’s book and concentrated on finding something about boundaries or blocking. Meaning that I didn’t want Blake showing up out of the blue. Or Fiona, for that matter. I must’ve been getting more in tune with the book because a page flew open with a short spell on how to “close your cloak.” I shut all the blinds in my apartment, lit some incense, and sat down on my bed, letting the words run through my mind once before I spoke them out loud:

Rays of sun, rays of light

Elements of fire, water, earth, and air

I call upon you to create a cloak of protection from all directions

Cast white light around me like a cloak and keep out all who may mean me harm.

Once that was done, I grabbed my giant selenite sphere. I wasn’t sure it would work the same way my clear quartz had, but one of the first things I’d learned about stones was that it was all about your intention more than anything else. And since selenite was also a clearing stone, it felt like a good choice. I closed my eyes and set the intention that it would give me answers but keep me protected.

Then I opened my eyes and tuned in. I wasn’t sure what I even wanted right now. There were so many emotions flooding my mind and my body that I couldn’t focus. Nicole, Mazzy, Blake, Todd, my mother ... where did I even start? Finally I just closed my eyes and let go, hoping that the right answers would find me.

When I opened them again to focus on the crystal, the sphere was full of images. It seemed to mirror the clutter in my mind—faces of everyone I’d been thinking about collided in the familiar rainbow of colors that I’d come to recognize as Mazzy’s hair. And one other image that I knew I had also seen before.

That building. The one I’d seen last time, with the large, arched windows. Why was I seeing that place again? While I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen it before, I still couldn’t quite place it.

And instead of Mazzy stealing the show, like what usually happened in these visions, today that wasn’t the case. The rainbow colors were fading, and for a moment I started to panic that the shadow being was returning, especially now that I knew there were dark forces working against me.

But it wasn’t the shadow. Instead it was Nicole, and more surprisingly, the face that I now recognized as Chris Strand. Growing more prominent the longer I focused on the crystal, almost like he was gaining in size and strength. I watched, captivated, until I felt a presence around me. Unlike the shadow incident, it didn’t feel ominous, but it still started to freak me out—especially when it felt like a hand grabbed mine.

And then I was catapulted out of my apartment. I may have cried out, but I couldn’t be sure. It finally happened, was all I could think. I was concentrating on something wrong and mistakenly teleported myself somewhere.

When I felt myself land, I was on the floor in a completely unfamiliar place. An apartment. A nice one, actually, I realized, when I looked around. New. And seemingly empty. I paused, listening, but didn’t hear anyone or anything except some noise outside. The room smelled stale, like no one had been in it for a while and had left food behind, in the trash or something.

I got up, making sure I was still in one piece, and looked around. A couch, chair, and small desk in the corner of the living room were the only pieces of furniture. Nothing on the walls but a giant TV. No curtains. The layout was open for the main kitchen and living areas, but there were two doors suggesting a bedroom and bathroom. I crept over and put my ear to one of the doors. Nothing. I pushed it open. A bathroom. Empty. I did the same with the other door. Bedroom. Also empty. Not much in there but a bed and a dresser. One nightstand with a lamp and a couple magazines. I went back to the middle of the living room and looked around again. Another door in the hall revealed itself to be a hall closet. There were a bunch of tools in it, along with workboots and a few jackets.

Where the heck was I?

I spotted some mail on the kitchen counter and went over to sift through it. And my eyes widened when I saw whose name the top envelope was addressed to.

Christopher Strand.

Holy Goddess. Was I in Chris Strand’s apartment? Had he ... brought me here? How could he do that? I flipped through the rest of the mail. All the envelopes had his name on them.

I went to the window and peered out. Across the street, the familiar view of the local North Harbor Marina and the sparkling water beyond. I was a couple of blocks away from my own apartment, in a missing murder suspect’s home.

And I had no freakin’ idea how I’d gotten here.

I debated trying to summon Zoe, but decided against it. I was here for a reason, so I’d better figure out what it was. I hoped the intuition or whatever that had brought me here showed me what to do next.

I headed for the little desk in the corner. It was empty save for an abandoned plug, presumably for a laptop the cops had taken in their search for him, and a couple of pens. I opened the drawers. Odds and ends, old papers, some blueprints and architectural drawings—nothing that looked out of the ordinary for a contractor. I did find a photo buried under a tangle of paper clips and some old business cards. Chris and Nicole smiled at me, arms around each other. She had long hair in the photo, and he looked definitely younger than the pictures I’d seen in the news. They looked happy. And it all went to crap, like most relationships.

Ugh. I didn’t want to think about that. I shut the drawers and looked around. By the looks of this place, this guy was definitely a bachelor. I remembered hearing he’d just moved here. The building was definitely new. Maybe in transition from his relationship with Nicole he’d lost any interest in decorating? He didn’t seem to read books, either. The only reading material I’d seen was a bunch of magazines. I went through those, just for kicks, but they were all about architecture or cars.

So why was I here?

I went back to the mail, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to do at this point, and went through it again. This time I looked at the return addresses instead of the recipient’s name. Electric bill, car payment, junk mail from credit card companies, a catalog from something called Northern Tool.

And on the very bottom, a large envelope from Townsend and Hammerstein.

My heart started to pound. I grabbed it and opened it with shaking fingers, acutely aware I was committing a felony by reading someone else’s mail. But the feeling that I’d just found what I came for was pretty overwhelming.

I got the envelope open somehow and read the cover letter. It was a subpoena for Strand to give a deposition in a potential civil matter against Jackson Bogart, citing that Strand had important information related to the 2005 disappearance of Eddie Mathers, Jr.