Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) (15 page)

“Okay, okay. I’m on it.”

I hung up the phone and went back to Blossom. “I need to know how to stop this guy. It was part of the deal.”

Her face went hard again, returning to the wizened crankiness I knew so well. “You’re not listening, white girl. I can’t beat this. I don’t know anyone who can beat this. Even—” she cut herself off, her mouth snapping shut.

“Even who?” I demanded. “Don’t dick around with me, Blossom.”

She scowled, but through clenched teeth she said, “Even Viola. She knew crystals. She taught my brothers and me. When I left the rez, I wanted nothing to do with it.”

Viola was Blossom’s late mother. “And when you couldn’t sew anymore, you had to go back,” I finished for Blossom. She didn’t say anything, just glared at me. “And I bet that’s why you get to keep this job, despite your shitty people skills. You know crystals.”

“And what about you?” she snapped. “You pretend to be another half-crazy vet with a crap job, hanging onto your sanity by family ties. But you’re more than you let on, aren’t you, white girl?” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Tell me. What happens when you touch the stones?”

I stared at her blankly. “I . . . I guess I haven’t touched them,” I said, frowning in puzzlement. Only the amethyst, and I didn’t like handling it for some reason.

“Is that so?” Idly, Blossom picked up the enormous piece of smoky quartz, holding it up to the light to examine it. “There’s a little juice left in this one,” she murmured. With no warning, she tossed the crystal straight at my chest. I automatically fumbled to catch it—

Just over Blossom’s shoulder, a gruesome-looking ghost flickered into view.

It was Sam.

C
hapter 27

This wasn’t Sam as I knew her in life, or the Sam who visited with me in our bedroom while I dreamed. It was Sam as she’d been when she died, ravaged by a werewolf.

Her skin and dress were shredded, fresh and old blood stained her skin, and there were raw, oozing chunks missing from her belly, her arms, and her legs.

With a shout, I threw the stone on the floor as hard as I could, feeling a rush of satisfaction as it snapped in two. The image immediately disappeared, and I stood there staring at where Sam had been, panting as if I’d run ten miles.

“Now look what you did,” Blossom said crossly. There was no indication that she’d seen anything unusual. “Do you have any idea how much that was worth?”

I turned on my heel and bolted from the store. If I didn’t, I was undoubtedly going to hit Blossom, and while she may have deserved it, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.

When the door closed behind me, I took a step sideways and crouched down, pressing my back against the siding. I clenched my hands into fists, squeezed my eyes shut, and curled in on myself, my breath still jagged. I hadn’t reacted this badly since those first few panic attacks when I came home from Iraq. It was Sam who’d calmed me down back then. But Sam was dead, and although I’d known intellectually what a werewolf attack might involve, I’d never let myself imagine . . . I shook my head violently, not caring who might see.
You can’t fall apart right now, Lex
, I told myself, rocking back and forth a little.
Too many people need you to keep it together.
It was easy to say, but a lot harder to do. I kept seeing the image, over and over. The look on her face . . .

After a few minutes I heard the door creak open. A presence sat down next to me, and a distant part of my brain realized that it was Blossom. She folded her legs in a lotus position and didn’t speak, just sat there next to me.

After a few minutes, a couple of tourists came laughing up to the door. The man tugged on the handle. “What’s the matter with you?” Blossom challenged them. “Can’t you read? Closed for lunch. Come back later.”

There was some grumbling and huffing, but the tourists backed off. We sat in silence again for a long time, until finally I began to uncurl.

“You ask me,” Blossom said, her voice rough. She was staring straight ahead. “Some stones are too powerful. That smoky quartz, for example.” She nodded to herself. “Probably better to have it separated into two pieces. Still valuable, but it’s not so dangerous now.”

I felt a faint smile touch my lips. That was as close to an apology as I’d ever get from Blossom Wheaton.

“Who did you see?” she said, and the smile died on my face. “Your sister?”

I nodded.

She let out a little snort. “I should have known.”

“Was it really her?” I whispered. “Was that Sam’s . . . spirit? Trapped in the crystal?”

She gave me a disdainful look. “No, girl, of course not. Her spirit passed over a long time ago. That stone was used for an elaborate cast, like I told you, but there was a trap on the end. They were hoping if you survived the initial attack, you would pick up the stone. So they got an echo of her, a bit of her hair or clothing, something like that, and they used it to build a tiny remnant. But it wasn’t any more real than a snapshot of her.”

That at least gave my rational brain something to chew on. Emil must have broken in, probably while I was at work, or maybe even while I was helping Quinn save Maven. It wasn’t like it would be hard: there were several boxes in my attic labeled Sam’s Things, and he’d already made friends with my animals.

I felt like a fool.

“Whoever did this, he knew your weak spot,” Blossom said into the silence. “Knew how to hurt you.”

“Yeah.”

“Which gives me an idea,” Blossom continued. “There’s nothing that can stop him remotely, but I can give you something to protect yourself from attacks.”

I lifted my head. I had my doubts, given what Simon and Lily had told me about most crystals being incompatible with witch magic. But what was the harm in trying? “Worth a shot.”

She got to her feet. “Come on.”

When we were back inside, Blossom led me straight through the store, past all the rows of crystals on their glass stands, and around the register. “I thought you were going to help me find a protective stone,” I said in confusion.

“Those?” She waved a dismissive hand at the store’s stock. “Most of that is garbage for the tourists. Irradiated, dyed, artificial, unclean. They don’t know the difference.” She pulled back the heavy curtain, motioning for me to follow. “Come with me.”

The curtain led to a typical storeroom with metal shelving filled with unevenly packed storage boxes and random supplies—packing tape, bubble wrap, a label maker. The back corner of the room had been turned into a sort of employee area with a mini fridge and a card table. Under the card table, a large black dog lifted its head to watch us. One of Blossom’s Dobermans. “You never know when some tweaker will show up for the cash register,” Blossom muttered.

Ordinarily I’d try to make friends, but I knew Blossom’s dogs feared or hated everyone who wasn’t Blossom. I kept my eyes lowered as we walked past.

Beyond the employee area was a narrow door painted to match the walls. It had no doorknob, but Blossom just reached out and slid it sideways. A pocket door, hiding in plain sight.

On the other side of this door was another, much smaller storeroom. Unlike the haphazard room before it, this one had simple wooden shelves arranged with carefully laid-out groupings of stones. Everything was precise and neat. I took it in quickly, trying to understand the order of the grouping. They weren’t by color, and I didn’t think they were alphabetical, either—there was amethyst, right toward the middle. Maybe something to do with the stones’ powers?

Just inside the door was a box of white cotton gloves, simple and utilitarian. Blossom picked up a pair and pulled them on. “Gotta take care of crystals,” she said gruffly. “When you handle them, they start working, and like with any battery, the usage drains their power. Crystals gotta be cleansed regularly, not to mention stored and activated properly in order for them to keep working. Part of the reason so many idiot amateurs get no results. They don’t know how to take care of the things.”

I blinked. It was like she was describing the right way to care for an exotic pet.

“Three things to know about crystals,” she went on. “First, different stones are good at different things. You’ve probably figured that out by now.” I nodded. “Second, everything depends on the user’s intent. If I have an amethyst and my intentions are for my focus to experience good fortune, the cast works in that direction. If my intentions are to numb and sedate my focus, that’s how the stone works.”

“Okay.”

“But,” she said, holding up a finger. “People vibrate at different levels just like stones, which means that we respond differently to different stones, and vice versa. There are a dozen stones with protective properties, but your guy chose amethyst. Partly that’s because it’s powerful, but partly that’s the stone that’s attracted to him.”

“So that’s what we’re doing here? Figuring out the stone that works best for me?” I said doubtfully.

“No. Weren’t you listening, white girl? We gotta figure out which stone likes
you
best.”

She made me open and close my hands quickly to get my blood flowing and my energy concentrated in my palms. Then she started to pick up stone after stone, putting each one into my hand and watching me for any reaction. If there was none, she would drop the stone into a bucket, “to be cleansed later.” She mumbled the names of the stones as she went, and soon we’d gone through andalusite, malachite, purple chalcedony, black tourmaline, and amethyst. Nothing happened when I touched any of them.

After a few minutes I started to feel extremely stupid. Nothing was happening, and I had a feeling that Simon was right about crystals not working with magic. The furrow between Blossom’s eyebrows was deepening with every failed attempt. Frowning, she left the section we’d been standing near and returned with one cotton glove filled with black rocks. She placed one in my hand with a murmured, “obsidian.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and I was about to hand this one back like all the others. But then I felt it: the tiniest buzz, like the stone was vibrating.

Blossom, who must have seen the reaction on my face, nodded grimly, as if I’d just confirmed her worst fears. She picked up the obsidian and thrust another dark stone in my hand. “Cassiterite,” Blossom muttered as it started to buzz.

“Yes,” I said softly.

Blossom practically snatched it away and thrust something else in my hand: not just a stone, but a clear, gleaming crystal that had been carved in the shape of a skull. This one buzzed more than the last two combined.

“I thought so,” she snapped. “Death stones. Threshold stone.” Snake-fast, her hand darted out and grabbed my outstretched wrist, pushing up the sleeve before I could make the decision whether to bodily shove her away. She saw the bottom of my griffin tattoo and pushed the sleeve up farther. Her eyes widened, and I heard her suck in breath through her teeth.

Fine. Cards on the table, then.

I let her check my other arm, too, until both tattoos were exposed. Blossom said something under her breath in Arapaho. It sounded like a curse. “Witch magic,” she hissed through her teeth. I was used to Blossom’s surly expressions, but the look she gave me now was equal parts hatred, fear, and mistrust. She backed away from me, moving toward the curtain, and let out a long, low whistle.

And the well-trained Doberman exploded through the doorway, teeth bared and snarling.

C
hapter 28

The storeroom was barely wide enough for the dog to sweep past Blossom and corner me, teeth gleaming in the bright light. It snarled, its paws planted between Blossom and me, but it wouldn’t actually attack until Blossom gave the order. I took a slow, cautious step backward—but that incensed the dog, who flew forward until he was a foot away from my waist, barking in a low, terrible voice. I automatically shifted my weight, ready for a fight, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop him by force.

“Call him off, Blossom,” I said over the sound.

“
Witch
,” she spat. “Necromancer. Don’t know what you’re mixed up in, Luther, but I want no part of it. Get out of my store.”

I didn’t have time to absorb the fact that Blossom knew at least something about the Old World, not when the dog was snarling at me like that. “Not without something to stop the guy,” I said back. “Or the stones. We had a deal.”

“Deal’s off. You think I don’t know what’s happening here? Some poor slob takes a stand against necromancers, and now you want me to help you squash him? Get out of here before I let Raven tear you to bits.”

At the sound of his name, the dog snarled again, the fur on his glossy back standing rigid. I sighed. “You’re not thinking it through, Blossom,” I said. “If I’m as evil as you think, wouldn’t I be able to stop the dog? Please don’t make me hurt him. Call him off.”

“Fat chance, white girl. You’ve got three seconds to get out of here.”

I weighed my options. I really didn’t want to hurt the dog, dammit. I could try the same thing I’d done with the fox, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to de-escalate him without outright killing him. On the other hand, if I walked away empty-handed, how was I going to stop Emil?

I made the decision: I would find another way. “You have to back up so I can get out,” I called over the dog.

Slowly, Blossom moved backward, giving the dog a short command to do the same. I moved forward out of the storeroom, looking around in desperation. There was something in this room that would help me fight Emil, but I had no idea what it was or what to do with it. I also wasn’t going to kill a dog to find out.

In the main storeroom, Blossom and Raven backed up, Blossom’s rigid finger pointing me toward the purple curtain. “Please,” I tried one more time. “If I can’t get this guy out of town, Charlie’s going to be vulnerable.”

That brought her up short for a second. “Vulnerable to what?” she demanded.

Please
, I prayed.
Please let this be the right choice.
“Charlie’s a null. I’m trying to protect her.”

Blossom stared at me in wonderment. The dog, sensing the change in his mistress, turned his head to look at her. There was a breathless moment of suspended time while we both waited for Blossom to make a decision. “Wait there,” Blossom finally said. She edged around me warily, disappearing into the back storeroom. When she returned a moment later, she had a crystal in one gloved hand. “Mahogany obsidian should protect against psychic attacks,” she said gruffly, thrusting a chunk of bronze-and-black-streaked stone into my hand. I felt the little zing of vibration again. “Look up how to care for crystals online,” Blossom barked. “Now get the hell out of my store.”

It was only later, when I was nearly back in Boulder, that I realized that Blossom must have been
really
upset, because she hadn’t even charged me for the stone.

I called Simon and Lily on the way back to town to tell them what Blossom had said about the two casts. They had moved Maven, although I warned Simon not to give me the location over the phone, just in case. The investigation was at a standstill until we could either see the bodies or find Emil. “Maybe he’ll just leave town,” Lily said hopefully. “Cut his losses.”

I shook my head at the phone. “Maven’s still alive . . . ish,” I said. “He’s gonna want to finish what he started. And I think he wants something from me, though I’ll be damned if I know what.”

When I hung up the phone, it was not even one o’clock, but I had no idea what to do between now and sunset, not without Quinn. He let me take the lead in a lot of situations, but investigating was his thing. I was just a soldier with a creepy connection to death. I ran through my mental list of resources, but I wouldn’t be able to speak to Nellie until nightfall, and by then Quinn would be awake. What the hell could I do with the next seven hours?

Then I thought of someone else I could call. I wasn’t sure if he could help me, but I didn’t think asking him would make things any worse. I scrolled through my phone contacts until I found the number for Jesse Cruz, formerly of the Los Angeles police.

Cruz was the detective who’d investigated Sam’s murder, and he and I had a complicated relationship. Although he was a human, he had connections in the LA Old World. Through them, he’d actually helped destroy my sister’s body, ensuring that my parents and John would never have the closure they needed.

On the other hand, he was also the one who’d caught Sam’s killer. And when I flew to LA last fall in search of answers, he was decent to me. He even gave me back Sam’s watch, which I wore every day. My instincts said he was a good guy, and could be trusted—as long as I didn’t ask him to compromise his contacts.

He answered on the third ring. “Hi, Lex,” he said warily. I couldn’t really blame him. The last time we’d spoken I’d just punched his friend in the face. “What’s going on?”

“Hey, Cruz. I’ve got kind of a situation over here. Are you on good terms with any witches?”

He spent a few seconds digesting that before he said slowly, “You could say that. You could also say that my friends don’t like me to talk about things on the phone.”

Right. The LA Old World was bigger and more complicated than it was here, so they kept off cell phones—which are, in all fairness, basically tiny radios—as much as possible. Ordinarily I didn’t like to talk on them, either.

“I’ll get a disposable phone and text you the number,” I promised. “Can you call me back from a pay phone?”

“Uh, yeah. If I can find one in this town. Call you back.”

It took about forty-five minutes for me to get to Target, buy a prepaid cell phone, and get Cruz the number. Within minutes, the new phone buzzed with an LA number. “You found a pay phone,” I said.

“In an IHOP, of all places. This better be good. I swear I’m already sticky.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve got several things going on, and I can’t figure out how they’re connected. I think it has to do with witch magic and gravitational magic.”

“Go ahead.”

As concisely as I could, I told him about the belladonna attacks, the mysterious deaths in Boulder, and the magician using crystals to attack and sedate people. I didn’t mention Maven or my familial connection to Emil. “Can you find out if your witch knows anything about people dying with no apparent injuries, in connection with gravitational magic, or maybe boundary magic? Or if she knows anyone dealing belladonna on this side of the Mississippi?”

“I’ll try,” he said. “I’ll call her now, but she probably won’t be able to talk until after five.”

Which wasn’t until six my time, but the sun wouldn’t set until eight, anyway. “Thanks, Cruz.”

“Call you back at this number.”

I went back to the cabin to take care of the herd and check my yard for any new crystals. It seemed clear, although I had no idea how far out he could cast—would the spell still work if the circle was fifty feet away from the house? A hundred feet? In my experience, magic did have to obey a certain amount of logic, and I was guessing that the bigger the net, the harder it was to control. But I didn’t know for sure.

After I’d fed and watered everyone, I paced back and forth in my living room, racking my brain for something I could do. I felt like shit, and the bruises hadn’t even begun to fade, but I was too restless to be still. I ended up cleaning and loading several firearms, which made me feel a little calmer. Then I finally realized exactly who I wanted to talk to.

He didn’t answer his phone, but I barely had time to feel disappointed before he called back. I answered it. “Sorry, we’re right by this really long line for rides,” he shouted. “I couldn’t hear my phone!”

“That’s okay. How’s Mickey and the gang?”

I knew my dad well enough to picture him rolling his eyes. “Your mother’s fallen under the spell, I’m afraid. She’s buying souvenirs for all the grandkids, and she thinks we should have Mickey ears for our holiday photo. I’m worried she’s going to put them on me while I’m sleeping and take photos.”

I grinned, dropping into a chair. “And Charlie? Is she getting any of it, or is it too overwhelming?”

“A little of both. You want to talk to her? She’s right here. John’s back at the room, taking a nap. He hasn’t been sleeping well, poor guy.”

Longing and sadness burst through my heart. “Yeah, sure.”

So I spent a few minutes chatting with my two-year-old niece. I did most of the talking, but I did manage to learn that she had met Pwincess Anna
and
Pwincess Elsa that morning, which was “awesome.” “Awesome” was one of her favorite words, thanks to my cousin Paul’s influence.

When Charlie discarded the phone in favor of a caramel apple, my dad picked it up again. “And how are you, honey?” he asked. “Work going okay?”

My family had learned through trial and error that using this phrasing was the simplest way to talk to me about my life and my odd job situation. “Yeah, work is fine. I just miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too.” Some of the din behind him quieted, and I figured he’d ducked somewhere quiet. “I’m actually kind of surprised John didn’t invite you on this trip instead of us. I would have paid for it.”

I smiled. Classic Dad: half altruism, half wishing I was the one stuck in line for the Jungle Cruise instead of him. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

He acted like he hadn’t heard me, which maybe he hadn’t. “Is everything okay with you and John, honey? Your mother says you haven’t been babysitting on Fridays.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the tears from leaking out. “Everything’s fine, Daddy,” I lied. “John probably just figured I can go to Disney anytime, whereas you’re so old and decrepit you might not have another chance.”

My father let out a full-throated laugh, but he caught himself and pretended to grumble at me. Still, I could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t ready to drop the subject.

Dammit, I hated to pull this card, but it was the best way to placate him. “No, seriously, I think he just figured all the noise and crowds would be too much for me. You know.”

“Oh, of course, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have realized,” he rushed to say, his voice filled with concern and guilt. I immediately felt like an asshole. I’d just used my alleged PTSD to weasel out of a difficult conversation with my father. “We love you so much, Lex, honey. We just want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

I hung up the phone feeling both better and worse.
At least Charlie’s having fun
, I told myself.
And at least she’s not part of this.

I checked my phone for messages and saw that I’d missed a text. Simon and Lily had finished moving Maven, and they were both going to rest for a bit. Good. They needed it. The control freak in me was tempted to call and demand details, but Jesse’s cell phone paranoia came back to me. I trusted Simon and Lily. I didn’t need to micromanage them.

But where did that leave me? I still had four hours before Cruz would call me back, and six hours before Quinn would wake up and we could figure out a game plan.

I tried to come up with another way to find Emil or my biological father—or both. By now, though, they could be just about anywhere. I wasn’t going to find them by kicking in doors, which was unfortunate, because I was really good at that.

I spent some time contemplating Emil’s next move. If I really was right about our father pulling Emil’s strings, and they still wanted me alive and Maven dead, they would eventually have to come looking for me. Quinn and I had been staying away from all the usual Old World hangouts, including Magic Beans, so Emil wouldn’t be able to track our movements through other vampires like he’d done in Denver. Emil
did
know that Simon was involved, but I’d only introduced him by his first name. Even if he managed to identify Simon, Hazel Pellar’s farmhouse was well warded against intruders.

As long as we kept Maven hidden away, I concluded, Emil only had two possible moves: he could try to draw me out or he could take a shot at me at home.

But a direct attack in broad daylight wouldn’t be Emil’s style. This was a man who’d set up several contingency plans just to
meet
me. He wouldn’t come to the cabin guns blazing, especially because he would have to assume that I’d have my own firearms. He might risk attacking a position of strength if he thought Maven was on the premises, but hopefully he wouldn’t think I was stupid enough to keep her here.

So what was Emil planning? And where was he hiding now?

After a long period of staring at the ceiling, I had to admit that I had no idea. I couldn’t predict his moves . . . but maybe I could counteract his best weapon against me.

After a few minutes of internet research, I grabbed my keys and headed out to the car.