Night Myst (8 page)

“How much do you know?”

“I know your aunt has vanished. I know the Society is being systematically eradicated.” Anadey frowned. “The energy of the town has changed, people are disappearing, and I have a really bad feeling about what the wind’s blowing our way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just run some last-minute instructions by my staff and then Peyton and I will be right back.”

She excused herself. As soon as she was out of ear-shot, I said, “I’m confused. Why didn’t Marta leave her daughter the business? Or her grandson? They’re both magic-born. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jim spoke up. “Oh, yes it does, Cicely. Marta knew something. We’re not sure what, but she changed her will about two months ago. Anadey was with her and agreed to all the changes. Tyne was pissy about it, but since he’s not her closest of kin, he can’t very well challenge what Marta’s daughter won’t.”

He pulled out a sheath of documents. “Here are all the legalities. Marta left enough money for me to change the ownership and file new papers for you. All you have to do is take possession of the assets and supplies. I’ll put in for a business license for you as soon as you give me your information.”

Pulling out a checkbook from the briefcase, he handed it to me. “Here’s the business checkbook—I’ve made all the necessary changes to move it to your name. I just need you to sign this form for the name change and proof of signature, and I’ll turn it in to the bank today. Then you can take over the business account.” He placed a sheath of papers in front of me and handed me a pen.

As Anadey returned with our meals, I glanced over the documents and was shocked to see a balance of four thousand dollars in the checkbook. Hell, Marta did pretty good for being the town witch. I still felt odd accepting the gift, but everything seemed in order. At least as far as I could tell.

“What next?”

“You sign those papers, give them to me, then get your things from Marta’s house. I’ll file all the pertinent documents.”

Anadey paused. “Jim, I’m going to run over to the house with them and start sorting out things.” She looked at me. “There’s a lot of stuff, it may take you a little while to go through it, but you can get an idea of how much there is today, and take a load home with you.”

She wiped a strand of hair out of her eyes and at that moment, I saw the exhaustion and sorrow hiding behind her smile. It occurred to me that since her mother had recently died, I should say something comforting, but I honestly had no idea what would be right. I didn’t have much practice at cushioning the blows of life for others. Or for myself, either, for that matter.

Anadey seemed to sense my hesitation. “It’s okay, truly. Mother wanted you to have these things. I’m a powerful witch in my own right, but I never had any desire to work with the Society, or to hire myself out. I’ve always been the solitary type when it comes to magic. But if you ever need me, I’m here to help.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I bit my lip. “I’m just sorry . . .”

Placing a hand on my shoulder, she smiled down at me. “Cicely, my mother had faith in you. I’m not sure what she expected you to do, but she was waiting for you to return. Don’t let her down.”

We finished up quietly, then Anadey removed her apron and called to Peyton while Jim paid the bill. Over my protest, he paid for all of us.

Once out on the street, Leo excused himself. “My employers are going to wake up soon for the night. I have work to do before then.”

Rhiannon frowned. “It doesn’t do to keep Geoffrey waiting, does it?”

Leo shook his head. “No. No, it doesn’t. I have to change before I make my daily report. They require more formal clothes than Windbreakers and torn jeans.” He gave Rhiannon a kiss and jogged down the street.

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll get the paperwork started and let you know when things are ready for you to officially open the business. It will probably take about a week or so for everything to go through.” Jim headed toward a silver Beemer.

As Peyton and her mother got in the backseat, and Rhiannon and I climbed in the front of Favonis, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much Marta had known about what we were facing. And if there was any way of contacting her spirit to find out.

Marta’s house had to be a hundred if it was a day. One of those wonderful places with a wide veranda, it included the requisite swing, and if we had warmer summers here in western Washington, I could imagine the parties that porch would have seen. As it was, Marta appeared to have used most of the space to store various bags and boxes—rock salt, sulfur, and potting soil; what looked like a huge box of short, white taper candles; crystals and other odd-looking rocks; pieces of wood that I guessed were for wands and short staves.

A sign was tacked on one of the newel posts. It read: BEWITCHERY GARDENS: FOR ALL YOUR MAGICAL NEEDS. Well, I knew I’d be changing
that
name. Just not my style.

“All of this stuff is yours. Well, maybe not the potting soil, but I won’t begrudge you that if you want it.”

Anadey unlocked the door and we followed her through the foyer into the living room, which totally upset my expectations. The furniture was sleek, not heavy and upholstered. A lot of chrome and glass, a gray leather sofa, bookshelves stained with ebony rather than a dark mahogany. Modern, with a minimalist bent. Not at all what I’d been expecting. A few scattered pictures of Anadey and Peyton ornamented the walls, and there were even fewer doilies and tchotchkes.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable while I find my list here . . .”

She hunted through a desk in the corner as I wandered around the living room. Marta had been tidy, that was obvious. Meticulous, in fact. Everything pointed the same direction, everything was lined up perfectly. As I moved over to the DVD shelf, I noticed all the movies were in alphabetical order by title.

Peyton wandered up beside me. “My grandmother was one of those everything-in-its-place people. I used to drive her nuts when I was little by dragging things off the shelves or out of drawers and putting them back wrong.”

I glanced at her. Peyton was tall, taller than either Rhiannon or me, and she looked part Native American, with long, brown hair and a slightly flat nose, and eyes that were the color of dark chocolate. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but something shone through that gave her a smoldering, sexy feel.

“Do you like working with your mother?”

She shrugged. “She started the diner a few years back and needed me to cook. We’re getting to the point where she’ll be able to hire someone new, soon, and I can do what I really want to do.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to open a shop called
Magical Investigations
. I’d like to work as a psychic investigator. I’m half-Were, but also half-magic-born, and I have a real knack with the cards. I’ve also got martial arts training. I moonlight now, taking a few private clients, but I’d love to do it full-time.”

That gave me an idea. “Hmm. That sounds interesting. And it might be even more fun if you had another witch attached to the business. What do you think about working out of my shop once I get it going? We could team up if needed, especially since I know nothing about running a business. Our first case can be finding out where the hell my aunt is.”

Peyton grinned. “My grandma was right—you’re a go-getter. I’ll think about it. Seriously, it might be a perfect match.”

A moment later, Anadey had spread out several sheets of paper on the old oak dining table. “Come on over. She motioned to Peyton, Rhiannon, and me. “Sit down, please. There’s a room upstairs with my mother’s magical tools, but I’d like to wait on those. There may be something I want—for sentimental value.”

“Of course,” I said, once again not wanting to overstep my bounds.

“Then there are the supplies on the front porch, another room filled with supplies, and the books. On that shelf over there”—she pointed to one of the wide wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves—“the entire middle section is yours. Why don’t you start with them? We’ve got some boxes and can easily pack them up this afternoon.”

Rhiannon and I wandered over to the bookshelves while Peyton ran to get boxes for us. Tome after tome of magical work lined up, all for the taking. I was practically drooling by the time I had scanned two shelves.

Anadey let out a long sigh as she wearily rubbed her feet and leaned back in the rocking chair.

Peyton returned with a half dozen boxes for us, and then dropped by her mother’s side. “Let me rub your feet, you’ve been on them too long today.”

Sighing with relief, Anadey sat back. “So, tell me,” she said after a moment. “Tell me about Heather.”

Rhiannon put down the book she’d been looking at. “Not much to tell. I came home from work and she was gone.” She crossed over to Anadey and held out the necklace. “This was all we found. Well, this and some blood.”

“We think whatever’s . . . in the woods . . . got her,” I said.

Anadey looked at us, holding each of our gazes in turn. When she came to me, she smiled softly. “I don’t think Marta expected everything to snowball so soon. Tell me, Cicely, whatever happened to your mother? I knew her when we were teenagers, before she got pregnant. We drifted apart after that.”

I swallowed. “She couldn’t handle her powers and ran, taking me with her. She died a couple years ago, killed by a vampire.”

Rhiannon jerked her head up, and she turned to me. “You didn’t tell me
that
. All you said was that your mother was dead.”

“Not much to be proud of in her death, is there? Krystal was strung out. A crack addict. That’s how she got the money for her drugs—she was a bloodwhore. Her last trick went apeshit on her and drained her. I found her bathed in her own blood and urine.” I shrugged. “I don’t have a whole lot of love for vampires. Or pushers.”

Rhiannon glanced at me. “Does it bother you that Leo’s a day runner?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t really had time to even think about it. I don’t know how I feel about his job. But I do like
him
.”

Anadey interrupted. “I’m sorry to hear that. Krystal had so much promise. Let’s focus on Heather. Tell me everything. Maybe I can help.”

Rhiannon looked at me and I nodded. We couldn’t keep our secret any longer. We were no longer children, but women, long past our childhood.

I took a deep breath. “Everything started when Rhiannon and I were barely six . . . and first stumbled into the spiders’ wood . . .”

Rhiannon followed me into the wood, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we weren’t followed. The path was shady. It was
always
shady regardless of how much sunlight beamed through the branches. Aunt Heather had warned us time and again to stay out of the copse, but my own mother didn’t care—she was always off at a party or away on some trip. And so I had persuaded Rhiannon to join me in my explorations. And now, we had a precious secret.

At six years old, the trees towered so high they were growing into the heavens. Maybe if we climbed them, we’d find Valhalla. Heather called it the home of the gods. My mother said it didn’t exist. But either way, I wasn’t afraid, and after a few times of sneaking into the wood, neither was Rhiannon. We were magic-born, the daughters of witches, and nothing could hurt us.

Even though my mother isn’t happy about being a witch,
I thought. I’d heard the arguments late at night, when I was supposed to be asleep.

“Krystal, you keep denying your birthright and the power’s going to destroy you. You can’t repress it forever. Not to mention, you have an obligation to the family. To the Thirteen Moons Society. And most of all, you have a responsibility to your daughter to see she gets the training she needs.” Heather’s accusations echoed up the stairs.

“Fuck you and fuck the Society,” my mother would counter. “I don’t give a
crap
about family tradition or magical powers. I never asked to be born with this fucking ability, and I wish somebody would just rip it out of my head. Do you know what it’s like, being able to hear voices all the time? The voices of people who laugh at you? Who think you’re a slut just because you want to have a little fun?
Do you?
”