Phantom Quartz: A Stacy Justice Witch Mystery Book 6 (Stacy Justice Magical Mysteries) (3 page)

Chapter 4

I shooed away a kid who was trying to ride Thor like a pony, and we headed down the street to The Black Opal.

The man in the car had looked an awful lot like Uncle Deck, Cinnamon’s father. He died a few years ago, long after my own dad had passed and my mother had disappeared from my life. The impact of those events left scars on my heart that I had only recently overcome—scars Birdie and the aunts tried to heal through magic, both mine and theirs. I couldn’t face it at the time. Turned my back on it, in fact, until just last year.

Now I wondered, as I approached my cousin’s bar, if it could have been him. See, a couple of months ago, I could have sworn I’d heard his voice in the background as I was Skyping with my mother. Technically, it wasn’t Skype but the scrying mirror I keep in my Seeker’s Den–the room Chance had built onto my tiny cottage that could only be accessed through the closet in my bedroom. It was equipped with security cameras, a couple of laptops, weapons, crystals, and herbs, plus workout equipment and a database of information given to me by the Council. Mom was in Ireland, living with her significant other, Pearce, and that’s who she insisted was speaking.

But I had my doubts.

I had met Pearce on a mission to the Emerald Isle on a mission to free my mother, who had been imprisoned in the Council’s castle for committing a crime. After retrieving a priceless artifact, I was able to trade it for my mother’s freedom.

So I knew Pearce’s voice. And he didn’t have a Midwest accent. He spoke with an Irish brogue.

Why would she lie?

I tried to recall my uncle’s funeral, but it was so hazy in my mind that all I could remember was a lot of tears and trying to comfort Cinnamon.

Of course, there was something else that had had me on high alert these last several weeks—the missing page in the Blessed Book.

The Blessed Book made up the written history of our family’s lineage and theology. It was recorded by my great-grandmother Meagan, who handed it down to Birdie, who then passed it along to me. It contained records of the high kings who once sat on the hill of Tara, warrior women who fought side by side with men in battle, spells, rituals, magical practices and recipes. It was also filled with predictions for future generations. That’s how Birdie had known, from the day I was born, that I would one day become the Seeker of Justice.

It didn’t matter to her that I had simply inherited my father’s full name. She believed in my destiny, and finally I believed it too.

I had just completed the process of uploading the pages of the book to the database in the Seeker’s den, but that missing page—the one even Cinnamon knew about and, I suspected, feared—gnawed at me like an insect boring a hole through my brain.

My cousin had come to me one day, asking if there was anything in the book about her unborn child. This was unusual, because Cin had never taken an interest in the witchy side of the family. The Geraghty gifts are passed down through the mother, and Cin’s connection to the clan stemmed from her dad. But she was feeling vulnerable at the time, and so with the locket in hand, I searched the book for any passages related to children born in the New World.

This was what we found:

The Seeker shall never be alone in the New World, for another child will join her. Together, the pair will battle inner and outer demons, loss, and tragedies great and small. This child, born of two ancient families, will carry a great burden. For the child holds the key to—

That was all.

I still hadn’t deciphered who the text was referring to, but one thing was clear—there was something my family was keeping from me—something no-one wanted me to find, because when we turned the page we discovered that the next page had been extracted with such precision that if the text hadn’t been severed mid-sentence, you wouldn’t have known another page had ever been there.

So where was it? And who cut it out?

This was the answer I didn’t know, and with my mother acting secretive and Birdie never mentioning any reference to Cinnamon in the book, I got the sneaking suspicion that they were trying to keep whatever it was under wraps.

Secrets stretch long and far in my family. I knew that most of what they had hidden from me, from Cin, was to protect us. Except now I knew that secrets could get you killed.

I had tried, to no avail, to use all my powers, all my magic, to discover what had been written on that page. I had even attempted to call forth Meagan, because that was my gift. Birdie was a healer, Lolly could sense thoughts and emotions, and Fiona had a way with love and animals.

My gift was talking to dead people. And let me tell you, there were a whole lot of them roaming around Amethyst.

But you cannot force a ghost to talk if she doesn’t want to. At least, I hadn’t been able to leap that hurdle. Yet. I was still working on it.

Of course, there was always the possibility that someone else had removed that page—someone outside the family, although how they would have been able to access the book I didn’t know. If that was the case, though, it was best for me to keep working on it in the dark. Because despite my role, the women in my family still thought of me as a little girl they had to protect. For all that, they’re decades older and far less skilled in combat than I am. If any of them thought for a second that either Cin, myself, or the baby were in danger, they would surely go after the enemy themselves. And I refused to let them risk their lives.

We reached the door to the bar, and Thor did a quick shake. That looked like a good idea so I mimed the dog, shaking off any negativity. I pasted on a smile and stepped through the door.

When I saw the man sitting at the bar, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, my stomach twisted into such a tight knot that I thought I might lose my breakfast.

I never thought I’d see him again.

Chapter 5

“Ah, Stacy! Come here,
mi bellissimo
,” said Cinnamon’s uncle Mario. Uncle Mario was Angelica’s little brother. And by little, I mean he was younger and squatter than his sister, with a mop of greasy hair and a personality to match.

I said, “Uncle Mario, what a...surprise.” I flicked my eyes around the bar that Angelica had already decorated with pastel pink, yellow, green, and blue streamers, baby carriages, and a big sign that read,
Happy Baby Showering
. Cinnamon wasn’t a fan of pastels, which was why her bar was painted in shades of navy, tan, and dusty purple, with sleek dark wood tables and chairs to match.

But hey, one problem at a time.

Mario slid off his bar stool and slithered over to me like a snake stalking a mouse.

I looked past him to see if I could spot Cinnamon or Tony. No such luck. I was on my own.

“How are you?” Mario shouted into my left boob as if it were a microphone that wasn’t switched on.

I stepped back and stuck my hand out. “I’m just fine. How are you?”

“Bah,” he said. “No hug for Uncle Mario?”

He didn’t wait for my compliance. He just lunged at me and squeezed my ass.

Normally, when a man does that without my permission, he would find himself with a knee firmly planted in his groin, but Mario was Cin’s uncle so I just shoved him away and said, “That’s not how we greet in America, Mario.”

Mario still lived in Italy, which was one reason I’d hoped I’d never have to see him again. He was the sort of man who felt that all the world was a playground and all the women in it his playmates.

I coughed and waved away the cloud of cologne that I was certain he washed his clothes in, the name of which had to be Sleazy No. 7.

He gave me a sheepish grin and I caught a nose full of grappa. I coughed again.

“I just having fun, ah?” He slapped me on the ass and it took every ounce of composure I had not to hog tie him to the jukebox.

Behind me, I heard Thor growl.

Mario peeked around my body and said, “Hey doggie. There’s a good doggie.”

Thor lowered his head and growled again. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at Mario or if there was something else that had his attention. He knew the old Sicilian after all, and he knew that I could take him with one hand.

I trained my gaze to where Thor was staring, head bowed, ears pointed up toward the ceiling. He seemed to be focused on the back room of the bar, but there was no one there. Then the far rear door opened and in sauntered a woman who would have been at home walking down a New York runway.

She had long dark hair sleeked to perfection, olive skin, and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. She was nearly six feet tall, and she wore a black pencil skirt, a silky white blouse, and black and white pumps with little bows on the heels.

Thor growled again, and that’s when I noticed she was carrying a large leather purse, peeking out from which was the head of a fluffy white dog. I wasn’t sure if Thor was growling at the dog, or because he found it offensive to his canine sensibilities that a member of his species was being treated like luggage. He finally sat down and stared at the woman as if to say,
you, madam, are an animal.

“Mario, Bianca make a stinky. Please go pick up, ah?”

“Sure, sure,
mi amore
. Come meet Stacy, Cinnamon’s cousin.” Mario dragged the woman by the arm over to where I was standing.

“Please to meet you,” she said.

“Likewise,” I stuck my hand out and she shook it. Even her nails were perfectly lacquered and I felt myself growing self-conscious about my own squared off unpolished fingertips.

“Stacy, this is
mi amore
, Carmella.”

Carmella put her arm around Mario and kissed the top of his head. He in turn, dove in for a motorboat. She giggled as if...well, as if she enjoyed it.

I was dumbfounded. How Mario could land a woman like that was beyond me. They looked so odd together. Like Boris and Natasha from the Bullwinkle cartoon.

“Well, congratulations,” I said to her, because
my condolences
didn’t seem appropriate.

Carmella placed her bag on the bar and Bianca climbed out and perched right there next to it. Thor decided this was as good a time as any to greet his guest and he sauntered up to the bar to get a good sniff.

Carmella said, “Oh no! Back, beast.” And she grabbed her bag to take a wallop at my boy.

The last woman who did that almost didn’t make it out of town alive.

I had the bag out of her hands in a flash. “I don’t think so.”

The woman blinked at me, shocked. Then her stare turned to ice.

Mario said, “Thor’s a good doggie, Carmella. Don’t worry.”

“He’s so big. He could hurt my Bianca,” she said just as Bianca took a chomp at Thor.

To his credit, Thor didn’t nip back. If he had, he might have choked on her. Instead, he tossed me a hurt look, swung his head back to Bianca, and whinnied. He crouched down into a play bow and wagged his tail.

Bianca snarled in return.

Thor trotted over to me and sat by my side. He looked up, his large amber eyes asking where he’d gone wrong.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Remember what I told you in Ireland when you fell for the Irish Wolfhound? Bitches be crazy.”

He looked at me and grunted in agreement. Then he ambled off into the corner, turned three times, and curled up on a rug.

Mario said, “Come,
amore
, let’s go outside and have a smoke.”

Carmella was still glaring at me, and I realized her purse was in my hands. I passed it over and she picked up Bianca. The two of them huffed off, Mario trailing close behind.

I watched them go out the front door, still trying to figure out the attraction.

Behind me, I heard, “Psst!”

I turned to find Cinnamon peeking out from her office door. She was wearing a tattoo print dress that flowed to her ankles and sheer panic on her face.

“Are Gomez and Morticia gone?” she asked.

I smiled, “Hey, that’s good. I thought Boris and Natasha.”

She gave me a fake smile and said, “Tee, hee, that’s funny. Get in here!” She slammed the door.

I snapped my fingers and Thor jumped up happily and followed me.

Cin was pacing her office frantically. Her chestnut hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing tennis shoes that I recognized as Tony’s.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?”

She waved her arms. “This! The shower, the pregnancy, the whole thing.” She looked at me, deep-seated fear in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can be a mother.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that, Cin. We can’t send her back.”

She chewed her nail, kept pacing. “It’s just so overwhelming. Mama invited everyone here. Aunts, uncles, cousins I didn’t even knew I had, not to mention Tony’s family should be coming into town soon. It’s just.” She stopped and stared at me. “It’s too much.”

I walked over to her. “Okay, we’ll call off the baby shower, all right? We can say you aren’t feeling well and—”

“I’m
not
feeling well. I feel like I’m losing my mind.” More pacing. “I’m having these strange thoughts. Weird dreams, my hormones are on overdrive. I’m crying at the drop of a hat. I’m just not
me
.” She was talking and walking so fast I was getting dizzy.

Thor maneuvered over to her and she grazed her hand along his strong back.

“Cin, that’s all perfectly normal.”

She glared at me. “How do you know?”

I stammered. She had me there. “Well, I don’t but—”

“See, even you, who’s been through more crap than anyone I know, can’t understand what I’m going through.”

“Cinnamon, you’re not the first new mom to freak out. Now calm down and let’s talk about this. What dreams are you having—what strange thoughts?”

Her eyes were filled with tears as she did another lap around me. “Bad things, Stacy. Really bad. Like someone’s going to take her from me.”

I walked over to her and held her shoulders. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. And neither will Tony or Thor or anyone else in your family.” I put my hand on her belly and reached inside my sweater for the locket. Maybe the little one would tell me something. The baby had sent me messages before. Maybe she would again.

Cinnamon jerked away from me. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Cin, I just want to see if she has anything to tell me.”

“No, not like that. Not with that locket.” She was practically hyperventilating.

I put my hands in the air. After finding the first page of the prophecy in the Blessed Book through the locket, but not the complete passage, I understood her apprehension. “Okay. I won’t. But Cinnamon, you have to calm down. You’re getting all worked up and I don’t want you to go into premature labor.”

She chose that moment to cry out and hunch over, her face twisted into a grimace of pain. She clutched her stomach with both hands, breathing harder still.

I rushed to her, put my hand on her back.

Cinnamon lifted her round brown eyes to me. “Too late.”