Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) (18 page)

His bloated features folded into a scowl. “She’s always been a troublemaker.”

“Oh? So how long have you known her?”

“We went through the public school system together.”

“You didn’t say anything last night at the hospital.”

“I let Garr question her when I realized who she was.”

“I see.” Chase studied Underwood’s body language. There was tension in the way he stood, and his eyes kept shifting away. There was a history here Juliet hadn’t shared, other than the bully with a badge comment.

He had seen a little of that in Underwood’s demeanor himself.

“She’s a witness to a murder and two assaults. She’s not a suspect. You don’t have to keep an eye on her.”

“Two assaults?” His eyes widened.

“Samuel Newton’s and her own.”

“Oh.” Underwood gave a brief nod and ambled off to his desk.

What the hell did he think he’d meant? He needed to pump Juliet for info about the connection between her and Underwood.

Was there anyone in high school she hadn’t pissed off?

*     *     *

Sitting in Aubrey’s
modest one-story home, Miranda wondered at how things both changed and stayed the same. A new couch. A beautiful distressed sideboard in the dining room. A new large, round rug in the center of the living room floor. But the atmosphere of peace still flowed through the house like the refreshing coolness of the air conditioning. She and Juliet had spent hours here as teenagers. The small house had been a haven from things neither she nor Juliet wanted to face at home.

Aubrey’s mother, a practicing Wiccan, had introduced them to meditation, taught them to call the quarters, and shown them how their inner strength could protect them. She had been a gentle, loving woman filled with spirit and joy, and had done more to boost her and Juliet’s sense of self-worth than their mother ever had.

If they had discovered how to direct their true power earlier, would they have been able to stop Clay? As it was, they’d interfered with his plans when they learned to read the signs. They’d both had to keep their guard up, because he was wily and manipulative. They’d tried to bind him from harming Juliet and succeeded for a while. Until that last day, when he found his picture wrapped in black binding cord with the spell. She flinched away from that memory.

It seemed wrong to bring trouble to Aubrey’s door without first warning her. But they were already here.

“How’s your dad? Is he doing well?” Miranda asked.

“He’s good. He and Sarah are doing great. He’s learning to be happy again. For a time I worried that he wouldn’t, but she’s so determinedly positive he doesn’t have a choice.” She laughed as she said it.

“I’m glad he’s found someone.”

Miranda’s grief at Sophie McClellan’s death pierced her, like the sudden slice of a blade. Automatically she extended a hand, and Aubrey took it. The sudden rush of shared power between them eased the feeling.

Caleb shifted in his chair, a frown tugging at his brows.

“You’ve discovered what I sensed at the library,” Aubrey said as their hands parted.

“Yes. It’s not something I’ve ever seen before, or ever thought possible.” She removed the copies of the notes and extended them to Aubrey.

Miranda watched her face as she studied them. “Copies wouldn’t have the same power as the originals would they?” The last thing she wanted to do was put Aubrey in danger by bringing something evil and dangerous into her home. She didn’t deserve to have to combat this.

Aubrey shook her head. Bright spots of color flared in her cheeks. Her green eyes looked livid. “No. But whoever wrote this has perverted the Craft by turning it into an intent to harm.”

“Do you have a network of friends you could ask?” Caleb asked. “Maybe someone would recognize the wording or even the handwriting.”

“The handwriting is a traditional calligraphy font anyone can learn to do. But the structure of the spell might stand out.”

“Juliet seemed to think the spells were written in blood,” Miranda said.

Aubrey’s face blanked and she went pale. “We have to figure out who did this, Miranda. There’s a real danger here.”

The urgency in her friend’s tone intensified her own. With every minute that passed dusk crept closer. How dark would it have to be before the creatures appeared? And would they be able to find them without the spell scrolls?

“Believe me, I know. I have the injury to prove it.” She brushed a hand down her arm. The bruise ached every time she moved it. She shifted restlessly. “The thing that came after me wasn’t human, Aubrey. It was gray, had no eyes, yet it was able to sense where I was. It had a mouth, long arms, long hands. It wasn’t of this world. It looked like the demons in a Hieronymus Bosch painting.”

Caleb leaned forward in his chair. “Could someone take the concept of an imaginary creature and turn it into something real?”

“If they’re walking the earth, they are real. And pose a real threat. The spell has the scent of dark magic, and with that, anything is possible. White magic uses blood sometimes as well, but the intent is always without malice.”

“If I hadn’t seen these things… I wouldn’t believe…” He shook his head. “And why can I see them when other people are oblivious to them?”

“I think it’s because you have such a strong tie to Miranda. You always have.”

When Caleb’s gaze fastened on her, Miranda’s throat thickened with emotion, and her eyes stung. She had to do something to protect him. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.

“How can we fight them?” Caleb asked.

“I’d rather wait for Juliet to arrive so we can talk this through together. She’ll play an important part.” Her attention swung to Miranda. “I know it’s been years since you’ve practiced, but you and Juliet will have to bind together to fight them. You were always stronger than you thought, Miranda. And Juliet had the potential to be a master.”

Miranda read the question in Aubrey’s eyes and looked away. She hadn’t harmed anyone with her magic, but she’d wanted to, and the strength of that intent had frightened her. But Aubrey deserved some explanation. “I had to take a step back, Aubrey. My control had become shaky.”

“You used to practice witchcraft?” Caleb asked, eyes wide and voice louder than usual.

“Yes, from middle school through high school.”

“You never told me.” There was an accusation in the way he said the words.

“No one else knew either, Caleb. Only Aubrey’s mother, the three of us and Sherry Connor. We had to keep it quiet. Can you imagine what would have happened if Brian Underwood or the other creeps on the football team found out? Or even worse, the school staff? Things were hard enough without having our beliefs brought into question.”

Aubrey brushed her heavy red hair from her shoulder. “Any religion that travels outside the norm is looked upon as a threat. Had Miranda continued to practice the Craft, the college would never have hired her as head librarian. This is the Bible belt, and people aren’t encouraged to think in terms of anything but God, country, and Kentucky basketball.” She covered Miranda’s hand with her own. “I understood when she and Juliet stopped.”

That hadn’t been the reason she and Juliet had given it up. But she couldn’t divulge her sister’s secrets, or her own. They had continued to be friends with Aubrey, but they had stopped calling the quarters or casting the circle. Their relationship had never been the same.

One of the last times she visited before going to college, Aubrey had told her they’d turned their back on who they were. And in a sense they had. But it hadn’t been because of prejudice. It had been because of Clay Maddox.

Miranda’s gaze wandered to Caleb while Aubrey studied the spells once again. His frown spoke of disappointment instead of anger. She had hidden a part of herself from him, but only out of necessity. But to learn this now, on top of everything else—especially her own skittishness—she could only guess how he was feeling.

She looked back at Aubrey, who nodded. “I’ll make some coffee while we wait for Juliet. “I think some sandwiches would be good, too.”

Miranda murmured a thank you. She had allowed her fear to keep her from reaching for what she wanted, but no more. Whatever else happened, she wanted Caleb to know who she was and how she truly felt.

Juliet was right. She had to either let him in or let him go.

Ending things and encouraging him to move on would be the kindest thing to do.

The thought of never seeing him again, hearing his voice, looking into his eyes and finding that special expression he reserved for her… She couldn’t do it.

She rose from her seat on the couch and paused beside his chair until he looked up. She moved closer and sat down on his thigh. Automatically he slipped an arm around her waist, and she longed to curl up against him and nestle her face under his chin. She ached for him to hold her.

“I love you, Caleb. I’ve always loved you. There’s never been anyone else. But there are things about my life I’ve had to hide. I know it isn’t fair to expect you to accept that.”

Caleb thrust his fingers beneath her hair and brought her mouth to his, the pressure of his kiss firm and demanding. His tongue slipped between her lips to tangle with hers with probing heat, and her body flooded with heat. Her arm hurt like hell, but she ignored it as she melted against him.

He cupped her hip, holding her tight. The heated pressure of his erection pushing against her thigh triggered a needful ache between her legs. She reveled in it, in him, and looped a hand around the back of his neck. His hair curled around her fingers as if to return her tentative caress. He smelled of outdoors, laundry soap and him.

He was home. He was everything.

J
uliet stood at
the open station house door and scanned the street. A humid haze hung over the parking lot. The smell of hot sidewalks blended with the tang of fresh cut grass, and the light had turned soft despite the heat. It was on the cusp of dusk, and they needed to get a move on.

Two men sauntered down the sidewalk across the street. Something about the way one moved struck a chord of familiarity. His shoulders were narrow, his build lanky, his hair a medium brown. He turned the corner, and she caught a glimpse of his profile as a blue Chevy stopped and picked him up. It would come to her later where she’d seen him before.

Though the light had dulled, Chase slipped on his sunglasses and urged her forward. While they descended the stairs to the sidewalk, her eyes darted from one car to the other, searching for movement, for shadows, for danger. The touch of his hand against the small of her back should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t fight these things with a gun.

The setting sun struck a piece of glass beneath one of the vehicles and she jerked her head in that direction. A large spider the size of a tarantula scurried across their path.

“Jesus!” Chase exclaimed. “Did you see the size of that thing?”

Her mouth dry with fear, she quickened her steps. “Yeah, I saw it.”

“It had to be someone’s lost pet. Kentucky doesn’t have indigenous spiders that big.”

“No we don’t.”

She scanned the ground as they approached the car, dreading that it might crawl up her leg. She hated spiders, had always hated them. Their quick, sneaky movements. The way their web imprisoned their prey. Everything about them made her skin crawl. She nearly leapt into the car and held her breath, nearly gasping for air before he finally got behind the wheel.

She trembled with relief when he started the car. “Chase?”

He whipped off his sunglasses and looked up, his pale blue eyes intent.

If something happened to him, it would be her fault. She had tried to convince him of the danger. If only he’d been willing to destroy the notes. She should have asked him to at least allow her to put a binding spell on them. But then he’d know what she was, who she was.

“I need you to drop me on Potter Street instead of Caleb’s. Miranda is waiting for me there.”

He put the car in reverse and backed it out of the parking slot. “What’s the number?”

“Three-three-three.”

“Whose residence?” he asked.

“Aubrey McClellan’s.”

He slammed on the brakes, throwing her forward against her seatbelt. He gave her a long, hard look. “You said you didn’t know anyone who practiced witchcraft.”

“I said I didn’t know any who would want to hurt me. Aubrey is Wiccan. She lives by the code of ‘harm none.’ She believes to use your magic to hurt someone would bring bad karma back to you times three.”

His jaw tensed, and his hands looked like they were gripping the steering wheel hard enough to break it. “I don’t give a shit what she believes. You
lied
to me. You said you didn’t know anyone who practiced witchcraft. You’re obstructing my investigation by withholding information.”

“She’s not involved in this, Chase. I’ve known her my whole life, and she’s the kindest soul alive. If you’re looking for a suspect, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

He put the car into gear and pulled out. “Ninety percent of the time it’s someone close to a victim who’s responsible for the crime against them.”