8 Gone is the Witch
Read 8 Gone is the Witch Online
Authors: Dana E. Donovan
G
ONE IS THE WITCH
Dana E. Donovan
This book is based entirely on fiction and its story line derived solely from the imagination of its author. No characters, places or incidents in this book are real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy or otherwise without the express written permission of the author or author’s agent.
GONE IS THE WITCH © DANA E. DONOVAN 201
3
COVER ART © VICKIE DONOVAN 201
3
Special thanks to
June Nicholson
for
her awesome
contributions in helping me get this book to print
Books in this series include
:
Gone is the Witch
Other books by Dana E. Donovan
:
Death and Other Little Inconveniences
Book 8 in the Detective Marcella Witch’s series finds Tony spearheading a rescue mission to save the kidnapped Leona Diaz. The problem is, to do it, he’ll have to travel to an alternate universe where the laws of physics take a back seat to the unpredictability of a quasi-dimensional reality.
Chapter One
Few things in life surprise me anymore; what with being a witch and all, that and the fact I’ve lived a hundred and seventy five years, give or take.
I will say that f
alling in love with Tony Marcella surprised me. I had never done that before… fall in love. I’ve always felt that love had the capacity to complicate matters unnecessarily. That’s certainly been my experience since meeting Tony. Before him, I delighted in doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I answered to no one, and that’s how I liked it.
After meeting Tony
, I still did whatever, whenever and answered to no one. I just did those things with him in mind. I learned to take into consideration whether or not it would piss him off, or hurt his feelings. Too often the answer was usually yes, which just made it a shame, is all.
Reanimating
Ursula from a box of bones surprised the hell out of me, too. I knew I could do it; thought so anyway. I heard of other witches doing it, mostly with unpleasant consequences. Revivifying humans is the trickiest thing a witch can do.
In Ursula’s case, it worked out fine, though I had to give so much of my
self to her in the process, I fear I may have sacrificed the very essence of my soul to make it happen. Who knows? I suspect I’ll find out when the final chapter of my life’s story has been written.
F
or of all those little surprises that rocked my world, I suppose none knocked me for a bigger loop than when I heard the news of Dr. Lowell’s return from the ES, or the Eighth Sphere.
I
t had been some years, yet the image of Dr. Lowell’s body slicing through the air remains vivid in my mind. I remember watching in awe as the cyclone sucked him up into oblivion, along with his accomplice niece and two other victims of the Surgeon Stalker case.
By Tony’s own admission,
the case was the most difficult and bizarre he had ever worked, and certainly one for
my
book, as well. The despicable atrocities that Dr. Lowell committed, atrocities born of pure evil, earned him his rightful place in the bowels of the Eighth Sphere.
Worse than hell, some say, the ES
is the great equalizer where evil meets evil. Before Dr. Lowell, few souls, if any, had ever found a way out of that place, let alone a way back in.
Regarding that, w
hat I’m about to tell you is true. Incredible and unimaginable, but entirely true.
Events began unfolding
shortly after I decided to drop in to check on Ursula. It had been a month since her miscarriage and I hoped to get her out of the house for a change of scenery.
The boys were still work
ing, and since neither she nor I cook, I suggested we take a ride down to the Justice Center to see if they’d buy us an early dinner.
After flirting with the desk sergeant
for a passkey through security, we headed up to the second floor. While in the elevator, I asked Ursula how she was doing.
“I
fare well,” she said, her voice unusually faint. Though never one for over-exuberance, I can tell you Ursula usually shows more excitement in her tone whenever we’re off to see Dominic and the boys.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You aren’t still
having pains, are you?”
She shook her head. “I have had no pain of late, but
for that in my heart.”
“Oh Urs,” I
took her hand. “You’ll try again. You have to give it some time.”
She looked up
at me with dark, wet eyes. “Aye, `tis not for want of trying. `Tis he who turns a timid cheek when time doth pose a tender bit.”
“Dominic
? He doesn’t want to have sex yet?”
“
Nay.”
“Have you tried
to… you know,” I ran my hand over the front of my jeans, “get him interested?”
“Aye,
with every trick thou hath taught me.”
“Listen.
I’m sure Dominic’s still apprehensive. Losing the baby was bad enough, but he nearly lost you, as well. Give him some time. He’ll come around.”
She was about to
comment on that when the elevator doors opened. We stepped out onto the detectives’ floor and nearly plowed into Dominic. He seemed surprised, if not worried, to see us. He took Ursula’s hands and ushered her aside.
“
Ursula, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
“Relax,” I said. “Your little china doll is fine. We came
here to see if you guys would take us to dinner.”
“That’s it?”
“Sure, unless you’re up to some late night dancing afterwards. What do you say, Casanova?”
“Dancing?” He
touched Ursula’s belly and rubbed it gently. “I don’t think dancing’s such a good idea. We could do dinner though. I suppose that’s okay.”
“You suppose
? Gee, how nice you think she can go out and eat in public.”
“
Excuse me?”
Ursula
touched my arm. “Please. Mayhaps it is too soon for dance. `Tis better we dine by light of candle than dance to thine own cheer.”
“You’re placating him, Ursula.”
Dominic said, “What the hell does that mean?”
“Placating, it means appeasing, mollifying––”
“I know what it means. What do you mean by it?”
“I mean you ain’t gonna break her. It wouldn’
t hurt any if you loosened up some and––”
“
Greetings, Master Tony!” Ursula waved to Tony and quickly changed the subject. “Thou art handsome today.”
“Thank you
,” he said, and he did look great. “You’re beautiful, as always.” He kissed her cheek, then turned to me. “Lilith, what’s going on? Do we have a problem here?”
Dominic
cleared his throat. “Tony, will you please tell your wife that our business is our business? We don’t need her meddling in every aspect––”
“Meddling? You think
I’m meddling?”
“Easy,
now.” Tony took my arm and coaxed me back a step. “Let’s take a deep breath. Shall we?”
I don’t usually do what Tony tells me to do, mostly because I don’t want to set precedents. In this case,
however, I followed his example and took a deep breath to reflect on what a chauvinistic pig Spinelli was being.
If Ursula hadn’t stepped right out of
the seventeenth century, she might have been in a position to see that for herself. It used to be easier defending her when she lived with Tony and me. Unfortunately, since marrying Dominic, she’s allowed my influence in such matters to diminish considerably.
“
That’s better,” said Tony, acting as though he had just brokered détente in the Middle East. “Why are you girls here? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” I
told him. “We came here to see if you guys would take us to dinner. But I have to tell you, in this hostile atmosphere, I’m not so sure we want to go now.”
“Tony!”
Carlos Rodriquez came trotting down the hall, looking distressed. Tony saw it, too. He put his hand to my mouth to shush me without fear whatsoever that I might snap his fingers off and stuff them where the sun don’t shine.
As
Carlos neared, his state of agitation heightened. “Tony! There you are.”
Tony
approached him to shorten the distance. “What is it?”
“
The sergeant downstairs….” He paused to catch his breath. “He’s sending a guy up to see us…. They want us to talk to him.”
“Who is it?”
“A taxi driver.”
“What’s his beef?”
“No beef. He wants to report something suspicious.”
“
Do you know what it’s about?”
“
He said he––”
“Detectives!”
A uniformed officer approached from the other end of the hall, escorting an older man dressed in layered flannel and blue denim. A real cowboy type, rattlesnake boots with pant legs tucked down inside them. His face looked rugged and worn like tanned leather, his gray beard and mustache wiry but trimmed.
“Detective Marcella?”
Dominic stepped towards the officer to head him off. “I’m Detective Spinelli. Can I help you?”
“Really? You’re a detective?”
“Why does everyone say that?”
“This is
Joe Dallas,” the officer said, ignoring Spinelli and addressing Tony.
“
Just call me Dallas,” the man said. “It’s not my real name, just my old rodeo name.”
Tony
shook the man’s hand. “Dallas, Detective Marcella. Pleased to meet you.”
The officer
presented his charge. “He’s all yours, gentleman.”
Tony
thanked the officer. He turned to Dallas. “Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind?”
I
interrupted. “Tony, maybe Ursula and I should leave. Looks like you guys are busy.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Carlos.
“Why?”
He grinned curiously.
“I think you’re going to want to hear this. It concerns Dr. Lowell.”
“What?” I was sure he was kidding.
