Stone Cold Witch Page 5

  “Oh, I’m not from around here,” she says. “I’m from Hemlock. Just filling in for a friend.”

  “Hey, I know Hemlock!” I say. “I briefly went to The Academy there.” I step closer to the counter, and I get my first good look at her. She’s a larger lady, or at least she was before the whole mummy thing. When I think of mummies, I think Egyptian pharaoh attire—not southern church woman. She’s got on this floral dress with a giant matching hat. It’s cracking me up, but I decide it’s best not to comment. I already hurt the oh-too-sensitive feelings of Buffy the vampire chaser.

  “An excellent school out that way,” she says.

  “Who are you filling in for?” I ask.

  “The pathologist who runs the morgue asked me to watch the front desk because his usual receptionist is now a client.”

  “Oh!” I exclaim. “Do you mean—”

  “Dead, dear,” the mummy woman says. “Laura, the werewolf, she worked here as a receptionist for Dr. Zorton. Zorton and I go back, so he called in a favor. But, between you and me, sweetheart, this old gal has no idea what she’s doing.”

  I laugh. I like her. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Nefertiti,” she says.

  “As in… Queen Nefertiti of Egypt?” I question.

  “In the flesh… well… decay, I suppose is a better term,” she says.

  Whoa. “Seriously?” I ask. “You are Queen Nefertiti of Egypt?”

  “No, I’m just joking,” she says. “My name is Nefertiti though.”

  I laugh again. Old ladies can really be a hoot, no matter what century they’re from. Who knew I would actually enjoy myself today? I hear Snowball clear her throat and I look down. “What?” I ask.

  “Get on with it, would you?” Snowball insists.

  “Oh yeah; sorry,” I say. I had been taken back a bit by the presence of a mummy. “I’m not sure if this is allowed, but I need to see a body.”

  “Which body?”

  “Laura’s,” I say.

  “Oh dear,” Nefertiti says. “Let me see if Dr. Zorton would allow that. What on earth for, dear?”

  “I’m investigating her murder,” I say.

  “Are you with the police?”

  “Um… no.”

  “Good. They’re idiots here,” she says, standing. “Give me one moment.”

  I watch her scurry away. I’m so confused by her. The 1950’s granny outfit coupled with the Ancient Egyptian name has some wires crossed in my brain. What was she—the daughter of some obsessed archeologist who named his daughter after an Egyptian queen and then she had herself mummified? I snort slightly. What an interesting little story I Just made up there. But honestly, what else could it be? I suppose she could actually be an ancient Egyptian or be from some other ancient culture… and she’s just really into mortal old lady fashion?

  “So, don’t ancient Egyptians worship cats?” Snowball asks, pulling me out of my cluster of strange thoughts.

  “I think so,” I say. “But I’m not sure if that woman is actually Egyptian.”

  “Her name’s Nefertiti.”

  “So?” I say. “Your name’s Snowball, and you’re black as coal.”

  “Point made,” she says just as Nefertiti is returning.

  The woman sits down, and although I can’t see her face from under the tight, faded bandages, I think she is smiling at me. She points down the hall to her right. “Dr. Zorton said he will meet you back there.”

  “Thank you so much!” I say, and Snowball and I head off down the hall and through a set of double doors.

  We are met by a tall, slender elf. He smiles. “Suzy Maycomber?” he asks politely.

  “Dr. Zorton,” I say, reaching my hand out to shake.

  “Alice tells me you are requesting permission to view a body we have?” he asks.

  “Alice?”

  “My receptionist,” he says.

  “I am so confused,” Snowball says. “She told us her name was Nefertiti!”

  “Yes. Alice Nefertiti Amari,” he says.

  “Amari? For crying out loud,” Snowball says, walking around me impatiently. “Now she’s Japanese too? I give up.”

  I giggle, amused by Snowball’s frustration. “Be a little more open-minded, Snowball.”

  “No! She’s got a European name, an Egyptian one, and her surname is Japanese! I’m confused!”

  “Is your cat always this… talkative?” Dr. Zorton asks.

  “Pretty much,” I say. “I know this is probably not something you typically do, but I was hoping I could see the body. I’m trying to do a little investigating into Laura’s case.”

  “Aren’t you the Spell Master who’s also the new Librarian?” he asks me.

  “Yeah?” I question, hardly sure why that’s relevant.

  “Well, then of course,” he says. I raise a brow curiously, but he doesn’t offer me much of an explanation as to why this warrants a free hall pass.

  I just go with it for now, and I follow him into the cold room in the back. He explains to me about how, as a forensic pathologist from this side, it’s somewhat of a glamorous profession. I suppose with a bunch of living dead creatures walking around, someone who understands dead bodies would be considered fashionable.

  He rolls Laura out, and I cringe. She looks just awful, but I suppose that’s what happens when a body is drained of blood. “Is she dead dead?” I ask.

  “Werewolves don’t usually stick around once they die,” he says. “So, unless her ghost is walking around that haunted castle and no one has noticed yet, I’d say so.”

  “So, she was completely drained of blood?” I ask.

  “Pretty much,” he says. He points to her arms. “Looks like someone tried taking blood from her arms first with simple needle injections. Then they moved on to her throat, cutting opening an artery... my guess is they flipped her upside down and used some sort of tube to drain the blood as quickly as possible. She was probably passed out by then, so I don’t think she suffered too long.”

  “Wait, needle injections?” I question, glancing down at her forearms where there was a tad bit of bruising. “So… you don’t think an animal did this, am I right?”

  “Doubtful,” he says. “Then again…” he thinks for a moment. “I suppose those marks on her arms could potentially be bite marks from a smaller creature while the one at her throat was something larger. But what animal only has one sharp tooth?” He points at her arms. “And, then its babies would have to have one single sharp tooth as well to make injections like that. My bet is someone used needles and a syringe to extract her blood.”

  Doc’s basilisk theory was seeming less and less likely. But like Doc said, Alfie’s powerful wizard theory was also unlikely. Spell Masters like myself are one in a million, so it’s unlikely there is another Spell Master wandering around, turning people to stone. And Doc said such a spell would be difficult for even a Spell Master to do.

  “Anything else you can show me?” I ask.

  “Yes, there is one thing,” he says and touches Laura’s face after putting on some plastic gloves. He opens up her eyelids.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!” I say, my stomach doing flips. Her eyes are…well… pretty much non-existent.

  “Looks like someone stabbed her in the eyes,” he says. “I believe that was done before the time of death.”

  “Poor Laura!” I say.

  “Yes, this one was difficult for me,” he says. “I was close with Laura—as close as an elf can be with a pack creature. She worked here for me as a receptionist.”

  “Yeah, the mummy told me she was filling in,” I say. “Well, thank you for your help.”

  “Anytime, Spell Master,” he says, leading me out the door.

  I say goodbye to Nefertiti on my way out, Snowball at my heels. Just as I am leaving the morgue, I glance over at the police station. I see Val standing out front with Buffy and Sheriff Dudley. It seems that Val managed to convince the sheriff that Buffy was not responsible, or at
least that he didn’t have enough evidence to hold her. Dudley wanders inside, and I use the opportunity to casually make my way over. “Glad to see they released you from the clink,” I say as perkily as I can.

  Buffy grimaces in my direction. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a bundle of sunshine?” Snowball says, and I shove her with my foot to shut her up.

  Buffy rolls her eyes and then turns to Val with this obnoxiously flirty smile. “Thank you so much, Val. Always good to see you.” She jumps, transforms into a bat, and flutters off. “I’ll be around!” she calls as she disappears.

  Val glances in my direction, and his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Suzy.”

  “You’re sorry?” I question. “I’m the one who acted like a jealous moron.” I step forward, nervously standing within arm-length of him. “I’m really sorry for the way I acted. Honestly? Buffy is gorgeous. I got kind of jealous and weird because I really like you.”

  “I don’t like Buffy,” he says. “Honestly, I never really liked her all that much when we were together, let alone now. She is your… typical vampire. And me? I’m a preacher, for crying out loud! It would never work. When I started talking about God and going into ministry, she laughed at me like I was crazy. That’s really why it never worked out. I don’t care for her the way I do for you, Suzy. But she is a fellow vampire. It’s been centuries since my kind feasted on people, but that reputation follows us. When a body shows up that’s been drained of blood, I was worried the whole town would just go hysterical… maybe even stake one of them! Chase me out of town. It hasn’t happened in Nightshade, but that sort of thing does happen, Suzy. I was worried about her, but not because I have some sort of unresolved feelings about an ex-girlfriend.”

  “I know,” I say. “You have to remember I’m new here. I don’t really know the social norms around here. I didn’t even realize werewolves were pack animals the first time I came here. I don’t know what’s reality and what’s fabrication from stories I heard growing up on the other side. I’m really sorry I embarrassed you and got so… obnoxious and jealous.”

  He smiles at me. “You are, of course, forgiven. But I am sorry too. I snapped at you and stormed out. I should have considered your feelings as well.”

  I step closer to him and kiss his cheeks. He grins at me. “Get a room, you two!” Snowball says, and I can feel her rubbing against my ankles as though her tiny kitty-cat body is enough to push Val and I apart.

  Val laughs slightly at Snowball. “What were you two doing at the morgue anyhow?”

  “We went to look at Laura to see if we could find anything,” I say. “We also went back to the castle.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Just more contradicting information,” I say. “We found more venom at the castle.”

  “So, it probably is a basilisk,” he says.

  “I don’t know about that. A basilisk wouldn’t use needles to drain a body,” I say. “And from the looks of it, that’s exactly what happened to Laura.”

  “But, her throat—”

  “That was done only after our killer realized the blood wasn’t draining fast enough from her arms,” I say.

  Val looks almost sickly. “So we might not be dealing with a basilisk?”

  “Possibly,” I say.

  “You know,” Snowball says. “Who is to say what happened to Ted and what happened to Laura are related? A basilisk could have gotten Ted. And, not to rock the boat here or anything, Val, but a vampire could have gone after Laura. Drained her blood to save it for later instead of eating it all up at the party and making it obvious to everyone else what was going on.”

  Val looks upset by Snowball’s comment, but I can tell he knows it’s worth looking into. “I certainly hope not, Snowball,” he says.

  I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out, Val, I promise.”

  Chapter Seven

  At first, I feel this overwhelming sense of joy when I look into the eyes of this woman I have really only known through dreams. I know immediately, almost sensing, that I must again be dreaming. Her long dark hair and sparkling green eyes are almost like looking in a mirror, but her abundance of freckles I certainly did not inherit. That smile of hers as she lifts me up above her head is almost intoxicating; she brings me back down towards her face and tickles me. I laugh uncontrollably. We’re playing on the floor in a small, cottage-style house. I feel like we did this a lot before she was killed. Me and mom.

  “How are my two favorite ladies?” a friendly tone calls from the next room.

  I suppose I have always remembered my mother’s face more so than my father’s. Even though in this moment, I am two years old again, my current day self takes over for a moment. I’m going to see my father’s face; the thought excites me. “Daddy!” A little squeaky voice erupts from my throat that is hardly recognizable to the way I sound now.

  There he is. He pokes his head in from the other room; his smile is less flattering than my mother’s, but it has its own quirky qualities. It’s crooked. I swear his teeth are a little sharper than your average warlock’s—almost crooked, but it makes him look charming in a way. Cute even. His skin has an orangish tone to it, making him look almost like the physical reincarnation of fall. It’s warm and inviting.

  “Peter,” my mother’s voice sings happily. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

  Peter. I don’t know if I’ve ever bothered to ask my grandmother what my parents’ names were. Maybe subconsciously I remember them? I suppose so if I’m dreaming it. Peter—I like that name. Suddenly he is on the floor with us. He lies down on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at me with the most loving sense of adoration I think I have ever known. “Hey, pretty lady,” he says and leans toward me a bit. I touch his face, and it makes him light up. I make a silly chomping sound, mashing my teeth together. Not sure what that’s about, but it makes him laugh. “You’re so silly,” he says affectionately.

  I love this moment. I wish I could just stay in this moment. Suddenly my father jolts upright. “Peter, what’s wrong?” my mother asks, grabbing me.

  This almost-growl erupts from my father’s throat. “Take Suzy up in the attic. Lock the door,” he says, and the tone frightens me.

  I’ve never experienced this before in my dreams. I can see that my mother is afraid. She scoops me up, and I look over her shoulder toward my father who is now standing, facing our door. It happens so quickly. As soon as my mother turns the corner, I hear a crashing noise. I think our door has been broken down. I hear my father screaming from the other room; he sounds like he’s in pain.

  “Daddy?” I say, and suddenly my mother’s hand goes over my mouth. She casts some sort of spell, and suddenly I cannot speak.

  We dart up the stairs; my mother is panting and crying as she locks us away in the attic. She kisses my forehead. “I love you, Suzy,” she says and throws me behind a clothing rack they had stored up here. “I’m so sorry,” she says and mutters some spell under her breath.

  I feel afraid of her suddenly. I look down at my fingers as they turn gray. I cannot move them. My last memory of my mother, she turns me to stone—to keep me quiet. To keep me, a frightened toddler, from wandering out while a killer is loose in our house. To keep me safe.

  I jolt up in bed, drenched in sweat. The dream is over, and I’m relieved it is. My heart is pounding, and I can hardly catch my breath. I hear Snowball groan, and I look over the side of the bed to see I had knocked her off the bed while I was moving around in my sleep. “You all right?” I ask. “I thought cats always land on their feet.” I’m a bit breathless, so my words come out slowly.

  “I’m fine,” she says, half asleep. She curls up on the floor, and I’m pretty sure she’s already asleep again.

  Well, I’m definitely not getting back to sleep anytime soon, I think to myself. I jump out of bed and head into the living room. Using the runes of my mind, I summon fire into my lit
tle fireplace, and it gives me a decent amount of light. It’s the early hours of the morning, but I’m too restless to just curl back up into bed at this point. I decide to summon my grandmother.

  I pour some water into the chalice that is sitting up on the mantle. Her voice comes through. “My goodness! Get me off this mantle, it’s hot!” she exclaims.

  I laugh and move the chalice to the coffee table in the middle of the room, and then I sit down between the table and the small fire I have started. “Sorry, Granny,” I say.

  “My dear, what has you up so late tonight?” she asks.

  “I had a nightmare,” I say. “I think I was reliving the night my parents died.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she says.

  “I’ve never dreamed about that night before,” I say. “It felt very real. You don’t think… you don’t think Night Shadow is around here anywhere, do you?”

  “I certainly hope not!” my grandmother exclaims. “Although, you did not destroy him. The Eamus Hinc spell you used to defeat him only sent him somewhere else. A disappearing spell doesn’t literally make someone disappear—it just moves them somewhere far off, maybe another realm.”

  “Well, if he was still in this realm, you would think he would have come back by now,” I say. “Hopefully wherever he was sent, he hasn’t found a way back.”

  “I doubt Night Shadow’s presence would cause you to have a nightmare about your parents,” my grandmother says.

  “I saw my father,” I say. “I’ve never dreamt about him before. I’ve never remembered his face. Was he kind of a goofy-looking guy?”

  My grandmother laughs. “Yes, those crooked teeth of his…”

  I snort at the comment, but I do not fail to notice a slight annoyed tone in my grandmother’s voice. “Granny, did you and my dad not get along?”

  “Oh, Suzy, what mother-in-law really gets along with her daughter’s husband?” she says as though I shouldn’t worry about it too much.