Eliza
Getting called into Judge Helena Miller’s wood-paneled chambers felt like getting sent to the principal’s office, but not as much fun. My high school principal, a kindly nun named Sister Margaret, always offered me a cookie and forgiveness. I had a feeling Helena would not give me a cookie. Not today, at least. And forgiveness was probably off the table, too.
“Eliza Dragonsong. I’ve told you this before. I will not permit magic of any kind in my courtroom. Is that understood?”
For a fellow Wiccan, Helena could be remarkably intolerant. “That little boy belongs with his father. His mother left him alone to go out drinking. She’s a dangerously irresponsible person, and all it took was a simple incantation to prove she’s a liar. Where is the harm—”
Holding up a hand, she stopped me, her grey eyes intense. “It gives you an unfair advantage, and you know it.”
Oops. She had me there. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it again, because that would make me a liar, as well. Also, watching that terrible woman wince in pain every time she tried to tell a lie on the stand made this reprimand by Helena so worth it.
Leaning back in her chair, she studied me. “So, tell me. Which spell did you use?”
I grinned at her. “The Rune of Odin.” Pulling out my notepad, I showed her the sketch I’d drawn of an eye with a triangle in the center of the pupil. “The spell was simple. One-eye watches from his seat, fire-eye burns the liar’s cheek. Witchcraft 101. Easy peasy.”
“Well, that explains why the woman thought her mouth was on fire.” Helena shook her head. “Eliza, you’re a terrific lawyer and a remarkable person. A rare combination of brains, beauty, and balls.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s not a compliment. I’m stating facts. You’ve gained a reputation, and I have to admit it’s well-earned.” She looked at me over her glasses. “Do you know how someone described you just a couple of days ago? They called you an Ivy League educated Marilyn Monroe with an axe to grind.”
“How silly. I don’t have an axe to grind.” I smoothed my hands over my skirt. I’d dressed in ivory, hoping to look like some sort of tall, blonde, avenging angel, and it had worked. I’d won my first case of the day. Using magic had just made it a bit easier, even if Helena didn’t see it that way.
“My point is you don’t need to rely on magic to win your cases. You have your Dragon Lady persona down pat. You’re a legend. I’ve had other lawyers settle as soon as they heard you were on the case. I’ve watched you bring grown men to tears. Only last week, someone literally fell to his knees and begged me to make you stop.”
“Good times.” I smiled over the rim of my coffee cup. “Nothing makes my day like a bit of emasculation.”
Helena let out a laugh, as if she couldn’t stop herself. “Everyone in the South Side knows that about you. It’s why you’re the most sought-after divorce attorney in the entire Pittsburgh area. And you’re also the most powerful high priestess our coven has ever had. But you have to learn to keep those two sides of you separate. Magic and the law do not mix. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
We’d known each other for years, and she’d always been a mentor to me as well as a friend. I trusted her, which said a lot. I didn’t trust most people.
She locked her steely gaze on me. “Good, because I’m going to give you one last piece of unsolicited advice. You don’t have to be tough all of the time, Eliza. Sometimes it’s okay to show weakness. Sometimes it’s okay to let others take care of you.” She tilted her head to the side to study me, her heavy salt and pepper braids brushing against the black shoulders of her robe. She wore them like a crown, which fit because Helena was a queen of a woman. “And I know you don’t want to hear this, but sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.”
I cleared my throat. “Funny you should say that, because I need to ask for your help right now.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “With what?”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Did you hear anything about what happened at the Halloween Ball last weekend?”
“Everyone said it was very festive,” she said with a smile. “But any event held at the Hocus Pocus Magic Shop is entertaining. Remember when we went to the druid party there and left after five minutes?”
Shaking my head, I grinned at her. “They never said it was an orgy on the invitation. They really ought to make that clear, don’t you think?”
“I do. It’s only thanks to you that the owner of the shop didn’t get a citation.”
“Madame Lucinda was grateful. She had no idea the druids were planning to go full frontal pagan on her. Not that she would have minded. She’s such a sweet, old lady, and a great tarot card reader, but she has a wild streak.”
Helena chuckled. “She most certainly does. But what happened on Saturday? No orgy, right?”
“No, but it does involve Madame Lucinda. She has a boyfriend now. His name is Constantine Dalca.”
“I’ve met him. He owns the used bookstore, Librarie Antique. The one right next to the Hocus Pocus Magic Shop.”
“Yes. That’s him.” I paused. “While at the party, a man named Ivan Rochat tried to steal something from him. A magical object. They thwarted his attempt, but Mr. Dalca and Madame Lucinda were concerned, so they gave it to me and asked me to keep it under my protection.”
She frowned. “What kind of magical object?”
“They referred to it as the Dragon Rouge. It’s a large natural ruby inside a wooden box, but you may know it by another name.”
“Hold on a second. Are you talking about the Blood Stone of Bathsheba?” Her expression turned grave. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t know it actually existed. You didn’t touch the stone, did you?”
“No, but even with it locked up in its box, I sensed its magic. I put it in a secure location and haven’t gone near it since.”
I didn’t add that the “secure location” was the vault hidden in the basement of our family home. The fewer people who knew about our vault, the better.
“It’s not something to mess around with, but I guess you know that already.”
“I do. Unfortunately, this Ivan guy thinks the Dragon Rouge is part of his inheritance. He’s hunting for it.”
She snorted. “Does he know it’s cursed?”
“I’m not sure. Mr. Dalca said the Dragon Rouge has been in Ivan’s family for generations. It sounds like he’s obsessed with getting it back, and I was warned to be on alert. Rumor has it he’s both ruthless and charming, and good looking as well.”
“Kind of like you?” She opened her laptop and waved me over to her side of the desk. “Let’s look him up. I’m curious. You said his name is Ivan Rochat?”
“His actual name is Ivan Trabuski. He’s Romanian. Rochat is his stepfather’s name.”
She opened her laptop. “Let’s look into this.”
As she typed in Ivan Trabuski, a photo of a blond man with stormy blue eyes and a square jaw popped onto the screen. “Oh, my,” I said, my knees going a bit weak. “He looks like a Viking. Or maybe a Norse god. Or a male stripper.”
She agreed with me. “Maybe this is your karmic payback for using the Rune of Odin in my courtroom this morning. This guy could definitely pass for Thor.”
My attention lingered on his handsome face. It was hard to look away. I leaned closer. “What else does it say about him?”
Frowning, she put on her glasses. “Well, this is interesting. Mr. Ivan Trabuski Rochat has a reputation. Members of several prestigious auction houses accused him of being an art thief. Never proven, though. It seems like he went off the radar in the art world a few years ago. No explanation as to why. Did Mr. Dalca say anything else?”
“With regards to the stone, yes, he did. He told me it only seems to affect people with magic. Mr. Dalca said Ivan has magic, but he’s untrained.”
“That could be a problem. A little magic is a dangerous thing. As is a handsome, charming, unschooled witch.” She paused, considering it. “I see only one solution. You need to train him.”
I blinked at her in surprise. “Wouldn’t that make him more of a threat?”
“No, it would make the threat more contained. Maybe you can use the Dragon Rouge as incentive. Tell him you will let him have it back if and when he becomes powerful enough to control it.”
I considered her words. “And no one could ever be strong enough to control it, so I’d never actually have to give it to him.” I glanced at her. “I think that’s exactly why Mr. Dalca trusted me with it—not because I can control it, but because he believes I’m strong enough not to let it control me.”
“I hope he’s right.” Helena did not look convinced. “Be careful, Eliza. This kind of dark magic is nothing to mess with. Not even for someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“Someone who wins impossible cases.” Her lips twisted, as if she were trying not to smile. “Your incantation worked this morning. I’ve never heard someone on the witness stand tell me the inside of her mouth ignited like the fires of hell, but there is a first time for everything.”
“It was pretty awesome—”
She pointed her finger at me, her expression stern, but with the hint of a twinkle in her eyes. “I didn’t say any such thing. Now get out of my office. It’s Monday morning, and thanks to you, I have piles of paperwork to fill out. Fires of hell, indeed.”
I said goodbye and left the courthouse with a smile on my face. In spite of my worries about Ivan Rochat and the Dragon Rouge, winning a case was always the perfect way to start the week. And since it was a beautiful day for early November, I decided to walk back to my office.
Other than the time I spent in college and in law school at Yale, I’d lived in the South Side of Pittsburgh my whole life. It was a funky area, full of an eclectic assortment of shops, restaurants, and people. Art galleries sat next to stores selling supplies for witches like myself, and interesting coffee shops were located alongside tattoo parlors and a reflexology therapist. A jumble of the old and the new, the ordinary and the bizarre, and I adored every odd bit of it.
Three Franciscan nuns approached from the opposite direction wearing chocolate brown habits and very sensible shoes. I never wore sensible shoes, and I was the furthest thing possible from a nun, but I waved because I knew these ladies well.
“Good morning, Sisters.”
“Good morning, Eliza.” Sister Bernadette, the oldest one in the group, had taught me religious studies in high school. She understood long ago that I was a lost cause, but she never stopped hoping I would change my ways. “I hope you’re being a good girl today.”
“I’m trying, which is really what’s most important, isn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s debatable. How’s your sweet sister? Is she still in California?”
My younger half-sister, Amanda, was like crack for nuns. Unlike me, she was a good Catholic, with a sweet disposition and a pure heart. She also had an incredible singing voice. The sisters adored her. Everyone adored her. Especially me.
“No, she got back last week.”
“Wonderful news indeed,” she beamed. “Tell Amanda we send our love. The church choir hasn’t been the same without her.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Amanda had moved to the West Coast with her mother right after she graduated from high school in order to pursue a singing career. She’d been there over five years and had come home unexpectedly a few days ago. Something was wrong, and whenever something was wrong in Amanda’s life, it could usually be traced back to one source.
Her mother, Celeste. Aka, evil incarnate.
Celeste married my father, George, a year after my mother died in a car accident. She arrived at our house, dark eyes calculating and cold. She now had a wealthy, handsome husband, a life of comfort, a beautiful, historic home, and a sad and traumatized six-year old child.
She hated me on sight.
Fortunately, the marriage didn’t last long. They divorced when Amanda was in preschool, the process speeded along by several youthful incantations on my part and a potion to help open my father’s eyes.
I’d been an early bloomer—a tiny witch with blonde pigtails, a great deal of natural talent, and a library card. I borrowed several books of spells, and soon spent my time mixing up magical elixirs in our kitchen. It made me feel powerful and put me back in control of the situation. I vowed never to give up that feeling again.
Celeste had been enamored with my handsome father, but what she’d really loved was our family fortune. She’d taken one look at Dragonsong Manor, our stately home tucked away in a hidden corner on the far edge of the South Side, and that had sealed the deal.
Our home was pretty impressive. Built in the French provincial style, it had a grand presence, and plenty of dragons everywhere. Giant dragons sat on the peaks of the steep roof, dragon sculptures dotted the expansive garden, and we even had a wrought iron dragon knocker on the front door.
When Celeste and my father divorced, my father had to fight long and hard for visitation rights. He succeeded, and we were able to have Amanda with us on weekends and during summer vacation, but it had taken a toll on all of us. I despised my ex-stepmother and seeing what she’d done to my father was part of the reason I’d become a lawyer.
Although I had my own issues with my dad, he was a good guy and a great father. He didn’t approve of my choice of religions and wished I could be a good Catholic girl like Amanda, but he loved me, and I loved him. I felt confident the rest would work itself out.
As I wrote down Amanda’s cell phone number for Sister Bernadette, a man approached wearing a gold turban, harem pants, and a shirt made of what appeared to be fish netting. He greeted the nuns with a formal bow. “Hello, Sisters.”
Sister Bernadette put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Deandre. Where is your sweater?” she asked. “It’s not summer, you know.”
He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am. You’re right.”
He shot me a look of long suffering, as the nuns insisted he come with them and warm up. He didn’t have a choice. Sister Bernadette was a force of nature.
When my phone rang, I waved goodbye to the nuns and pulled it out of my purse. It was my best friend, Malissa Billiot.
“A crow just shit on my car again, Eliza. This is freaking me out.”
My lips twitched into a smile. “Maybe you need to stop parking in your driveway and put your car in the garage.”
“Hmph. Is that seriously your answer? You know better.”
In addition to being a fellow witch, Malissa was also an outstanding veterinarian, a proud member of the Houma Nation, and a pain in my ass. And she was always right. About everything. It was the most annoying thing about her.
“Fine,” I said. “Considering the other things you’ve been noticing, like the bats—”
“And the weird pig. And the two-headed frog. And the snake that literally sat and stared at me for an entire hour. You can’t forget the snake. It was a whack-a-doodle snake. And it popped out at me right after I said your name.”
Originally from New Orleans, Malissa took her omens seriously. Especially whack-a-doodle snakes. She still had a hint of a Louisiana accent and it came out more when she was tired, upset, scared, or drunk. When she drank, I almost needed an interpreter to understand her.
She wasn’t drunk now, though. She was scared. I heard it in her voice.
I considered her words. “Let me get this straight. Something bad is going to happen, but you have no idea what it is or when it will occur. If so, how can I do anything about it?”
“I’m not being vague on purpose, you know. Just be careful.” I heard barking dogs in the background, which meant she was already at work. She owned a vet clinic in the South Side called Magic Paws.
“I will, Malissa. I promise. I have a full schedule of clients today and I’ve already been to court. With my assistant out on maternity leave, I’m too busy to get into any trouble. Thank goodness Amanda is stepping in to help.”
“Amanda’s a good kid. It was fun seeing her at the Samhain ceremony last weekend. I know it isn’t her thing, but it was nice of her to participate.”
I let out a rueful laugh. “If only my father felt the same way. But thank you. I appreciate the warning about the crows and everything. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Hey, I only wish I could be more specific. As much as I love animals, I’d rather not have to stare down another snake. Those wiggly monsters should be sleeping now. It’s November.” I heard a murmur of voices. Malissa covered her phone with her hand and responded. “Uh, oh. A Labrador came in that ate five corn cobs. It’s emergency surgery time. See you later and stay away from anything reptilian. Trust me on that.”
I hung up the phone and smiled as I imagined Malissa having her face-off with the snake. She was right, though. Something was about to happen, I sensed it in my bones.
A dark shadow passed over me. Tilting my head to look at the sky, I gasped in surprise. Crows flew low above me, circling and circling in a rush of black feathers and wings.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared. No one else seemed to notice the birds, but we were in the South Side. Weird stuff happened here all the time.
I frowned, trying to remember what a group of crows was called. A bunch of frogs was referred to as an army. A group of snakes was known as a knot. When mice gathered, they formed a mischief. But what word described a group of crows?
“A murder,” I said, gazing up at the sky. “A murder of crows.”
As I walked to my office, quickening my pace, the murder of crows followed me. Watching. Waiting. But for what?
I took out my phone and said a prayer to the goddess before sending an emergency text to the other leaders in my coven, asking if we could meet to discuss an urgent matter. Malissa had been right. Something strange was going on here. Something dark and dangerous was coming, and if the omens were all correct, it was heading straight toward me.
I put my hands on my hips and looked up at the birds. There was only one word I could think of to describe the perfect storm of omens, cursed stones, charming thieves, and bird poo.
“This is craptastic.”