It was sunrise, and I was outside doing magic. Which goes to show that magic isn't the lazy man's way to get stuff done.
Mitch cradled in one arm, I yawned and rocked him gently. Emmie and I walked the path of the magical wards protecting our home. I stopped beside an elm tree, the sky reddening through its barren branches. Between its roots, I'd buried the components of the eastern corner of my protective ward.
I relaxed my gaze. I’d gotten better at seeing the effects of magic. In the past, I’d only been able to see the threads that connected people and things. Now I was able to see my own spells.
But I still couldn’t explain how I’d seen what I’d seen in the hospital. On good days, I hoped it had been a fever dream. Not real. Not magic.
I hadn’t had a lot of good days lately.
I studied a spot in the air. A white column of light appeared where the ward was hidden. A thinner wall of light extended on two sides towards the northern and southern wards.
Emmie tugged my blue slacks. “Mommy. Go.”
“We're checking the wards that protect our house.” My lips compressed. Me and my big mouth. Bad enough she knew magic shack. Emmie didn’t need to learn about wards.
She wrapped her arms around my leg and mashed her face against my thigh. Mitch turned his head from the bottle and made a soft sound.
I visualized another column of light reaching down from the sky and through the top of my head. Another shot up from the earth and through my feet. They met in my heart, and I sent their combined power outward. The wards brightened, and I exhaled in satisfaction.
Emmie stepped onto my foot. “Mommy. Go.”
I tried not to laugh. “It's hard to move with you hanging onto my leg.”
Emmie didn't release me. So, the three of us staggered toward the house, Emmie giggling each time I swung her along with my leg. I was laughing too by the time I reached the front door.
Grinning, Nick met us there and peeled Emmie free. “I feel left out of the fun.”
I followed him into the kitchen. “Trust me, after the last three weeks, I know the feeling.”
He brushed aside a strand of my hair and caressed my cheek. “Are you going to be able to do this?”
“Sure,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Last night, we'd agreed it made sense to use daycare. With two kids and his law practice going so well and my witch work and writing, our hands were full.
I hated the idea.
But it was practical. A friend of mine in Doyle ran a small center. She'd agreed to take Mitch and Emmie on a part-time basis, while I was working.
Amy thought I was in the throes of a red-hot manuscript. I'd let her think that. It was easier than explaining I was researching a dead man who might be connected to a cabal of black magicians who were after a demonically-possessed book in my possession.
That sort of thing just couldn’t go over well.
But daycare… I rolled my shoulders, my stomach butterflying. Mitch was still so small...
“It's only for a few hours,” Nick said. “I'd take them to the office with me, but—”
“You'd never get any work done.” I blew out my breath. “And this is work I have to do.” My stomach tensed. None of us would be safe until the book was destroyed. And if there was a chance Trevor was connected to this mess, we had to know.
Nick helped me load the kids into the SUV. The process involved car seats, diaper carriers, snacks, and finding the mitten Emmie lost between the front door and the car.
Finally, I shut the door and clawed a hand through my hair. “It's like we're setting off for a polar expedition.”
“Shackleton would be proud,” Nick said.
“Didn't he nearly die in the Antarctic?”
“But he didn't die. That's the point.”
I kissed him. “Why did I marry an optimist?”
“For my amazing good looks? Stellar earning power? Excellence with kids?”
“I love you.” I kissed him again, this time longer. His arms came around me. My center heated in response. A car drove past, and I stepped away, suddenly conscious of the neighbors.
“I'll see you and the kids tonight,” he said, a promise in his sea-storm gaze.
I smiled, saying nothing, and got into the SUV. When you're married, you've got to keep some mystery in the relationship.
I watched Nick’s tall form shrink in the rearview mirror, and I turned at the blue Victorian on the corner.
My hands clenched on the wheel. Abandoning my children to daycare. Looking under rocks for intel on a murdered man. A demon book in my shed.
Did being a witch ever get any easier?
We drove to the north-end of Doyle. I parked in front of a cheerful red barn strung with twinkle lights. Children in parkas and woolly mittens played in the playground under the watchful gaze of three older women.
Reluctantly, I unloaded the car, putting Emmie and Mitch in the double-wide stroller. We trundled up the brick walk to the door.
My friend Amy met us at the side door, swagged with pine boughs, and I made the hand-off. Every move felt wrong. I walked stiffly back to my car. It was all I could do not to race back for my children.
But I couldn’t take them with me today. Not while I was on a witch investigation. Not when I was going to see the dead man’s son.
Daniel Mathias managed several nearby senior living facilities. He worked out of a neat, one-story Victorian, two blocks off Main Street.
I climbed the wheelchair ramp and knocked on the door, rattling its wreath. When no one answered, I walked inside.
A worried-looking secretary kept me waiting in the outer office for ten minutes, then showed me into a homey room.
Daniel walked from behind his polished, wooden desk. “Karin, what brings you here?” Handsome, he looked a lot like his mother, with fine, almost feminine features, and straight hair. But his hair was coffee brown like his eyes.
“Condolences.” I clasped his slender hand. “I'm so sorry about your father.”
“He wasn't my father,” he said quickly. He swallowed, his smooth jaw tensing. “Sorry. I meant, he wasn't much of one. But you already knew that. Have a seat.” He motioned toward a pair of pale blue, wing-backed armchairs.
I shrugged out of my jacket and sat. “How are you doing with all this?”
“It feels like it's happening to someone else.” He lowered himself into the matching chair beside mine. “Right now all I can do is wonder where the hell he's been all these years. My mother told me you were the one who found the body.”
“I'm afraid I can't tell you much,” I said. “It happened so fast, and I didn't stick around. I was wet and freezing, and I couldn’t help him.”
Daniel nodded.
“I hiked out and found the sheriff,” I finished.
He grimaced. “This must have been as much a shock for you as it’s been for me.”
“At least it's over for me.”
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Meaning it's not over for me, because of all the unanswered questions? I guess you're right, but his death ends things too. Did you know the old sheriff suspected my mom of doing him in?” He laughed shortly. “Mom thought I didn't know, that she'd kept it from me. But I listened in on the adult conversations when she wasn't looking.”
I winced. That knowledge must have been terrifying for a child. “Why would the sheriff have thought that?”
“Let's just say Trevor left us for a reason. Things weren't great between my parents.”
“Because of your father’s interest in the occult?”
His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”
“Your father was wearing a pentacle around his neck when I found him.”
He laughed shortly. “My dad had this room in the garage—an old photographer's darkroom he'd converted into his own space. The door was sort of hidden, and he usually kept it locked, so that made it irresistible.”
I smiled faintly. “I can imagine. You got inside?”
“Twice.” He gazed at the antler chandelier that hung above his desk. “Candles everywhere and a creepy statue of a goat. And there were these cards with strange symbols on them—”
“Tarot cards?”
“No. They were on black paper with silvery ink. I stole one of them. Trevor caught me the second time I got in. I thought he was going to explode, his face was so red. He left three days later.” He looked to a wall calendar—a scene of a snow-covered forest. “I thought it was my fault he left, because I'd gone into his private room.”
“How long did it take for you to realize it wasn't true?”
He rubbed his hand across his cheek, the bristles making scritching noises. “The thing is, I'm still not sure.” He shook himself. “Wow. Memories. I hope I don't mess up my own kids, if I ever have any. Speaking of which, I should have congratulated you earlier. I hear you have a bouncing baby boy.”
“Mitch.”
“Is that a family name?”
“My father's.” An ache tightened my throat. I’d never known my parents. My mother had died in childbirth, my father in an accident, racing to the hospital to get to her.
“Ah.”
We didn't say anything for a long, awkward moment.
“Parents can be complicated,” he finally said.
“How's your mother dealing with all this?”
“My mom's a rock. Greg's the one having the freak out.” He grinned. “Trevor's amazing return is the one thing my step-dad can't manage.” He plucked at a loose thread on the chair cushion. “God, I’m a jerk. I still call him step-dad. Greg was more of a father to me than Trevor ever was, even if he came late to the picture. My mom—”
The office door shot open. Mory Bigelow, his belly preceding him, stormed into the room. “Trevor's dead? And here? Why did I have to hear this from the sheriff?”
Daniel rose, blocking my view. “Sorry, Mory. I tried calling, but I didn't want to leave a message.”
“You could have tried harder. I can't believe that bastard had the nerve—” The bearlike man stopped short, finally noticing me. “Oh. Hi, Karin.”
“Hi, Mory.” I smiled tightly at the older man.
“Karin was just giving me the details,” Daniel said. “She found the body.”
“You—?” Mory ran his thumb underneath one of his suspenders. “Damn. I'm sorry. That must have been a shock.”
“Less shocking than nearly getting drowned in a flash flood,” Daniel said.
“Are you all right?” Mory asked, his voice laced with concern. “Do you need anything?”
“I'm fine, thanks.”
“Ah. Well. I'll leave you two to it.” He backed from the room and shut the door behind him.
“Sorry about that,” Daniel said. “Mory's been like a father to me too, bringing me into the business. He and Trevor used to be partners, you know. After Trevor disappeared, Mory would let me hang out in Trevor's office. Later, I worked summers here. He never complained about having me underfoot, and trust me, I was a pain in the ass.”
“I doubt that.” I shook my head. “I guess in a way Trevor walked out on Mory too.”
Daniel's brow furrowed. “I don't think that bothered Mory so much as the load of debt Trevor left behind—here and at home. We couldn't get the life insurance money until he was declared dead. And without a body... It was a mess. Mory carried us through. I still have no idea how.”
“You were lucky to have him.” Mory had gone above and beyond the call. Was it because he was such a good guy? Or had there been more to it?
I angled my head. No wonder the last sheriff had been suspicious of Daniel's mother. He'd likely been suspicious of Mory too with all the debt Trevor had left behind. The debt had forced Daniel and his mother to move to a cheap apartment. What sacrifices had Mory had to make? And did any of that matter? Trevor hadn't been killed twenty years ago, he'd been killed four days ago.
And I couldn't fool myself any longer. I wasn't just investigating Trevor. I was investigating his murder.
The door snicked open, and Sheriff McCourt strode inside. “I'm looking for Mory. I heard he was...” She stared at me, her blue eyes narrowing. Her voice hardened. “Ms. Bonheim. I guess I'm looking for you now too.”