Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery (32 page)

“Are you sure—” I heard Andersen begin before Bianca shushed him.

The nature of the underbrush changed. Less dense, more dry. The ivy and even much
of the kudzu had been beaten back. It appeared someone maintained this part of the
cemetery, at least to a minor degree. The air smelled green, but I could still detect
the burning smell under the lushness.

The ground suddenly collapsed beneath my foot. I gasped, stumbled, and managed to
catch myself on a headstone. It crumbled under my hand as I pushed myself upright.
Heinrich grabbed my other elbow. I leaned on him, extricating my foot from the loamy
earth. I had gone in to my ankle, but my high-top had helped protect the joint.

“You okay?” he asked in a low voice.

I took a tentative step. “I think so. Nothing’s broken or sprained.”

The others gathered around, concern on their faces. “Be careful,” I whispered. “The
ground is uneven, and there are sinkholes.”

Everyone nodded.

We continued on. It took me four more steps to
realize that sinkholes in a cemetery had to be because the plots had been caving toward
the center of the earth for many years. I hid a shudder from Heinrich, who had remained
by my side, and moved on with great care.

The silver light of the moon shone at an angle through the branches of the trees.
I was glad it was past full. A full moon on Samhain would add another factor to the
mix, and there were plenty of things to think about already.

The teasing odor became infinitesimally stronger. We were getting closer; I could
feel it. Did she know we were coming?

Had she enticed me closer on purpose?

Well, that thought certainly slowed my steps. The others rustled behind me. I craned
my neck. There was no sign of Nel. The brilliance of the moonlight shone in the sky,
and the trees and underbrush had become thicker again. Only spots of illumination
fell all the way to the ground now.

I stopped altogether. We all stood perfectly still. Quiet descended, enveloped us.
A bird flapped its wings, breaking the silence. I heard a slither in the bushes and
tensed until the sound grew fainter.

Great: snakes. I
hated
snakes.

I turned in a circle, taking in the bare space around us. How much farther? What direction?
From what I could tell, we were smack-dab in the middle of the cemetery. Bare dirt
ran from my feet to a square stone structure in the middle of the clearing. A building,
really, at least twenty-five feet square. A tapered dome roof reached toward the sky.
Four marble steps led to a landing and a recessed entry. I squinted at the name carved
under the roofline.

DRAYTON.

A hand on my shoulder made me jump. Mimsey leaned close, barely whispering in my ear.
“Aboveground burial for the Drayton family.”

I nodded. Probably the only part of Drayton Hills that was still fully maintained.

A long scraping noise issued from inside the mausoleum. Eleven people stopped breathing.
We tiptoed closer until we could see the faint strip of vertical light that shone
from the partially open door.

We’d found Nel Sandstrom.

Heinrich gestured for everyone to retrace their footsteps. We gathered at the edge
of the clearing for a quick, whispered huddle.

“Where’s the poppet?” Mimsey breathed. Jaida handed it to her. She held it up for
everyone to see. Andersen put out his hand, and she gave it to him. “Okay,” she said.
“First we’ll set the protective circle around the burial chamber as quietly as we
can.”

“And then you maintain it while we go inside,” Andersen said.

“No. The quarters will be too tight for us all to work,” Victor said, peering over
his shoulder at the poppet. “We have to call her out.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mimsey said. “That’s just like a man. ‘Call her out.’ You
don’t have to call her out for a binding spell, boys. Just bind her using the poppet.
It’s not high noon at the OK Corral.”

But it wasn’t far from that. High midnight at the Drayton mausoleum.

“You’re close enough to direct the spell, and you don’t have any doubt it’s Nel in
there, do you?”

We all shook our heads.

I checked my watch. “It’s already eleven thirty. We don’t have time to argue. Cast
the circle.”

Jaida handed Bianca four white candles. She lit one and placed it on top of a nearby
stone pillar. I saw Mimsey mouthing words and knew she was appealing to the element
of air and the archangel of the east, Raphael. Jaida took out a two-pound bag of salt
she must have lifted from the Honeybee kitchen.

“You hauled that all the way in here?” I asked.

“Good thing I did,” she said. “We’ll need it for a space this large.” Cookie and I
stood with the druids, watching as Bianca and Mimsey moved deosil around the clearing
to the south. There they lit another candle and placed it on top of a large rock.
Jaida and Lucy tiptoed behind them with the salt, stopping at each compass point as
they lit another candle.

The salt created a white line on the ground. The four women joined us again at the
eastern edge of the clearing, closing the circle around us all. Mimsey and Jaida finished
by inscribing a protective dome above us—Mimsey with two sweeping gestures of her
arms and Jaida with an honest-to-goddess wand.

The men moved toward the marble steps leading into the mausoleum, on the south side
of the structure. We all made our way to where we could see them. Lucy took hold of
one of my hands and Bianca took the other one. Cookie took Bianca’s hand, then Jaida
and Mimsey linked with her. I felt the power surge among us as Mimsey and Lucy joined
hands to complete the circuit.

The druids had reached the bottom step when Andersen tripped. His cry lashed through
the humid night as the poppet flew out of his hand and he fell sprawling to the ground.
Lucy’s hand gripped mine so
tightly I thought she’d fracture my fingers. Beside me Bianca tensed in fear and readiness.
The sudden silence after Andersen’s outburst was broken by subtle rustling in the
undergrowth around the clearing. A black snake, long and ropy, slid out of the bushes.
It stopped at the line of white salt, watching us.

I licked my lips and willed myself to stop shaking.

It didn’t work.

The partially open door of the mausoleum swung all the way open. Nel strode out onto
the marble landing carrying a small flaming torch. She wore a long black cloak with
a hood—pretty standard witch garb for outdoor work, really. The hood was thrown back
to reveal her long gray hair falling unfettered to her waist. I blinked as the tendrils
seemed to move of their own accord, curling and flexing against the dark fabric. Her
face was and yet was not Nel’s. Easily recognizable, but so…altered. Her wrinkles,
so seemingly friendly before, carved deeply into her flesh now. Her cheekbones and
chin appeared elongated, and her eyes—oh, her eyes! They blazed with hatred—and they
were focused on mine.

“You!” She pointed at me. As if there was a question about who she was talking to.
“You think you can defeat me twice? You cannot. This time I’m ready. I didn’t know
how strong you were before.”

As Andersen scrambled to his feet, Steve lunged for the poppet lying on the ground.
It had fallen just inside the salt circle. Bending, he closed his fingers around it.
He spun on his heel and tossed it to his father.

“But are you ready for them, too?” I asked.

Victor snapped his fingers at Andersen. The younger druid had lost his glasses when
he fell, and now blinked myopically at the other men.

“Cord!” Victor barked.

Andersen nodded vigorously, reached into a pocket, and withdrew a length of fine silver
chain. Victor grabbed it and handed it to Heinrich, who began winding it around the
woolen figurine.

“No!” Nel screamed and sketched a symbol in the air.

“Concentrate, girls,” Mimsey said. The spellbook club bowed our heads. I centered
my attention on protecting ourselves and the druids, silently calling on the elements
all around us. At the periphery of my consciousness I felt a presence join us. Without
ever having met him, I knew it was Lawrence Eastmore, adding a little extra oomph
to the proceedings from the other side of the veil. I had to wonder whether his son
would join us, too. Or if he’d join Nel.

“By air and fire,” the Dragohs chanted in one voice.

I looked up.

“Water and earth: We bind you.”

Heinrich nodded to the spellbook club. “By six, and”—he looked at Steve, hesitated,
then said—“and by five: We bind you.”

Nel continued to draw figures in the air, muttering in a language I didn’t recognize.
Her torch had fallen to the ground. The flame sputtered and went out.

Brandon produced a small iron bowl, and set it on the ground. Heinrich continued to
wind the chain around the poppet. I could hear the ragged breathing of the other ladies,
but then the rustling around the clearing grew louder. Snakes began pouring toward
us. I quelled my panic, throwing as much power as I could to maintaining the protection
of the circle. The serpents slowed, then stopped outside the line of salt as the first
one had.

Motion above alerted me that not all the snakes were
on the ground. They were looping down from the trees above us. But that part of the
circle held as well, and along with my awareness of the creepy crawlies up there I
sensed something else.

Souls. Souls of the dead, come to watch the show.

A whiff of gardenia reached my nose, and despite everything, I smiled.

“By sun and moon,” the druids chanted, “stars and sea: We bind you.”

Nonsense syllables tumbled from Nel’s lips. Her voice grew weaker as Heinrich finished
wrapping the figure in his hand. Her hands went to her head. But still she spoke,
still she glared at me.

I felt my eyes go wide as the candle flames at the compass points winked out: one,
two, three, four. The snakes slithered back and forth along the salt line.

Heinrich put the poppet in the iron bowl. Without my noticing, Victor had removed
the dagger from his ankle sheath. He bent over the bowl, ready to plunge it into the
poppet.

“No!” I shouted. “No killing!”

Victor paused. Steve reached for the long-handled lighter Mimsey used to light the
candles around the circle and held it up for me to see. I nodded. Burning magic I
understood. The intention would be to burn away Nel’s power, not Nel herself. Too
bad the doll was made of wool, though. That was going to smell pretty awful, and frankly
I was ready to smell a whole lot more sugar and spice and a whole lot less burning
hair.

Victor stepped forward with his knife again, and I realized he’d never intended to
impale the figure in the bowl. He cut his finger and allowed a drop of blood to drip
into the bowl.

Beside me, Bianca began to shudder.

“It’s all right,” I whispered, though in truth I was pretty grossed out, too.

Steve stooped to light the figure in the bowl.

“By sky and lava, beyond and within: We bind you.”

The lighter went out. Steve flicked it again. The flame steadied.

“We bind your intent. We bind your darkness.”

Victor lifted his knife again.

“We bind your power,” they chanted. “We bind you. We bind your power. We bind your
darkness.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing with everything I had. In my mind’s eye, I could
see the iron bowl, the poppet, the lighter. The sweet smell of gardenia increased,
made my head swim. Something began to glow in the clearing, but I ignored it, instead
concentrating on the fire burning away Nel’s evil intentions, hoping that anything
I could do as a catalyst would help the others. Then a flash of bright light and a
scream made me open my eyes.

The poppet burned, bright flames licking up from the bowl. Nel slumped on the steps
of the burial chamber, looking disoriented. And everyone was staring at me.

I realized I wasn’t holding Lucy and Jaida’s hands anymore. Steve’s jacket had slipped
to the ground. All the snakes had vanished from the edges of the clearing and the
tree limbs above. And the light, the light in the clearing, was fading.

I looked around. “Nonna?”

Mimsey shook her head, staring at my dress. I looked down. It was glowing.

No. It wasn’t.

I was.

It faded so quickly I wondered if I’d really seen it. Because how could I, you know,
glow
? No, I had to have imagined it, all caught up in the magic of the moment.

Literally.

The poppet suddenly went out, and the clearing became dark except for the moonlight
now streaming from straight overhead. A stunned silence fell over the group; then
Jaida clicked the flashlight on. Heinrich seemed to shake himself. He and Steve went
to Nel and helped her sit up.

“She’s all right, but we were successful in stripping her power,” Steve said. “Katie,
can you bring my jacket?”

Jaida handed me the light. I picked up the jacket from the ground and carried it to
him. Nel looked up at me wearily, and I opened my mouth to speak. But then Steve reached
for his coat, and I saw something in the beam of the flashlight that made my jaw snap
shut again.

On the inside of his upper arm, small and inflamed but recognizable: a new tattoo
of a wreath with six spokes radiating from the center.

He saw me staring and met my eyes. “It’s my place, Katie.”

Clap. Clap.

I spun toward the sound at the edge of the clearing, squinting into the shadows.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The thick undergrowth rustled. Druids and witches alike tensed. Steve and his father
both raised their arms in a warding gesture.

Franklin Taite’s pale round face seemed to float out of the darkness. He walked toward
us, revealing the dark clothing that covered him from head to toe like some kind of
SWAT commando uniform.

He continued to applaud slowly. “Bravo!” He stopped outside the salt circle and raised
one eyebrow.