Last Grave (9781101593172) (19 page)

The man returned in a moment with the water, and Lance shoved a glass at her.

“Helluva day,” he said.

She stared down at her water glass. That didn't even begin to describe it. She forced herself to pick it up and take a drink.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. “You didn't get hit by anything, shrapnel?”

“I'm fine,” she said, licking her lips. It came out as a gravelly whisper. She kept staring at her water glass, looking for answers where there were none.

“Look, if you need something stronger, I get it, but we have to wait until we're off duty. Then the booze is on me.”

She looked up at him and realized that he was pale. He lifted his own water glass with a hand that shook. He might not have any clue what had really just happened, but it had rattled him nonetheless.

She nodded, and they sat in silence, sipping their water. Finally, other officers arrived and began investigating the parking lot. Samantha wished she could help them out, explain that they were looking for traces of a bomb that didn't exist, but she couldn't. Even if she did tell the truth, who would believe her?

So she sat, sipping water, wondering what it all meant. Now that Winona was alive, what was she supposed to do? How much of the past few days did that unravel? And was there anyone besides her who remembered?

Lance got up at one point and went to talk to the guy from the bomb squad. When he came back, Samantha struggled to pull it together.

“Any luck?” she asked.

He shook his head. “They can't figure out what caused it. No obvious incendiary device. Apparently, it's a mystery.”

She nodded. “What about here? Did you find anything?”

“You remember last night when I said that something didn't feel right about this?”

“Uh-huh,” she lied. Apparently, an aftereffect of remembering the past that had been undone was that she had no knowledge of the current past. She didn't think it possible, but her head started to hurt even more.

“I was right. Get this. The guy who got killed here last night was out here on a business trip from Chicago.”

“If you tell me he had ties to the Mob, I'm leaving,” she threatened.

“Well, then grab your purse on the way out, because bingo! Mob ties.”

Samantha put her head down on the table and wondered if it was too late to feign illness and go home, where she could try to sort this all out. Lance went on to tell her what he'd found out from questioning all the restaurant employees while waiting for her.

She got the not-so-subtle dig but let it pass. If she chose to take offense, she might try to kill him again, and that would be bad for everyone. She thought of the little girl in her mind who was the master of temper tantrums. Was she trying to take over Samantha's body just as number eleven had done at the Boardwalk? The thought chilled her to the bone. When Lance had stopped talking, she asked, “So, are we done here for today?”

“I'm calling it. I think I'm going to head home,” he said.

She was grateful that he had forgotten about buying her a drink. She was in no mood. She dragged herself to her feet. She made it to her car and drove home. Outside, she noticed there were no longer policemen watching the building. Why would there be? Winona was alive, which meant that everything that had led to their presence on her street and watching Jill had been erased too.

Samantha walked up the steps, reached for the door, and froze. It was ajar. Jill never left the door unlocked. Samantha drew her gun and kicked the door open before flattening herself against the outside wall.

Nothing.

She glanced in and saw the kitchen chairs knocked over and Jill's books and papers scattered all over the floor.

“Jill, are you okay?” she shouted.

Silence.

Samantha rushed in, moving swiftly from room to room. There was no one in either bedroom, and at first glance, it didn't look like anything had been disturbed. She returned to the kitchen, holstering her weapon. She looked down at the scattered books and papers.

A smear of blood was on the table.

Samantha put her hand down on the table and closed her eyes. There was a struggle. She could feel Jill's terror, pain, and confusion, the emotions trapped in the air around her.

Jill had been kidnapped.

Samantha took a deep breath. Witches had kidnapped Jill. Why? What did they think she had? Or was it something they thought she knew?

She should call Lance, tell him what was happening. But how could she explain Jill's being kidnapped without telling him everything? She reached up and grabbed the cross necklace and prayed for strength and guidance.

“What do I do?” she whispered.

Her phone rang and she grabbed at it. It was Lance. She didn't want to take the call, but maybe this was an answer to a prayer; maybe she was supposed to get his help. It would have been easier back when they knew of Jill's connection with Winona's killer. She couldn't worry about that, though. The important thing was to get as much manpower on the hunt for Jill as they could. And the fact that she was hunting for her roommate would help people excuse or ignore the fact that she was going to be checking in less and less until this whole thing was finished.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he said. His voice sounded strained.

“Lance, I just got home. I think Jill's been kidnapped.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“The door was ajar. There's stuff knocked over in the kitchen and a smear of blood on the table.”

“Have you tried her cell?”

“Not yet. I just saw it when you called.”

“Okay, I'm on my way over there right now. Don't worry. We'll find her.”

“Okay, great.”

There was a pause. “Samantha?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't be there when I get there.”

“What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat. “I just got a call from the captain. It's why I was calling you, actually. You hear about that thing that happened at the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz last night?”

Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Yeah, there was something about it on the news update right after the earthquake earlier today.”

“Well, they found your fingerprints at the scene.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Listen, it's totally bogus. I don't know what's happening, but the captain asked me to bring you in . . . for questioning.”

“But Jill—”

“I know. I think someone's setting you up. I also think the best person to figure this out is you. So, when I get there, don't be there, okay? I don't want to know where you're going. Got it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Her world was crashing down around her. Lance didn't know that it was her who'd killed that man. If they had her fingerprints in the system, it would be nearly impossible to convince people otherwise, even with a magical assist.

“We're going to get through this. It's going to be okay.”

She hung up and raced to her bedroom. She grabbed her trunk, which contained every bit of her history as a witch. She checked for the book and was shocked to find it still on her nightstand. She threw it in a bag along with some clothes.

She heard a soft mew and looked under the bed to find Freaky and Roxy both staring at her with great, fearful eyes. She couldn't let them be there when Lance arrived, so she passed her hands through both, dispersing the energy. Then she headed for the car.

She managed to throw everything in the backseat and jumped in, grateful that it was still the rental car and it would take them a while to figure out what she was driving.

She slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and was halfway down the street when she saw Lance's car in her rearview mirror.

She hit the highway and made a beeline for Santa Cruz. That was where all of this had started and that was the only place she would find answers. Hopefully, since it was also the scene of her crime, it was the last place they would suspect her of running to.

Even though she felt like time was slipping away from her, she forced herself to keep it under the speed limit. There was a ton of traffic on the roads, and the chances of being able to make it down there without anyone seeing her or any accidents was nil if she tried to speed.

It took forever, but she finally pulled into the parking lot of a small motel not far from Roaring Camp. She put a glamour on the car, changing its color and license plate to the casual observer as a precaution. A quick spell inside the lobby allowed her to get away with paying cash for the room without having to give her name or show any form of identification.

She hauled her stuff inside the room and then sat down at the desk and buried her head in her hands. She should have taken her computer too, but she'd had no time.

Think. You can get through this. You
have
to get through this.

By now cops would be crawling all over her apartment, going through all of her things. Anything personal to her was with her, but it was still an invasion. They'd be going through Jill's things too, and hopefully they'd find something that helped them locate her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she jumped, startled. Like an idiot, she'd forgotten to take out the battery. They could be tracking her right now. She yanked the phone out and saw that the message was from Lance.

Will do what I can to clear you. IA is involved now. U need 2 lay low. They r on a witch hunt.

Samantha stared at the text. Witch hunt. Lance didn't realize how true that was. She yanked the battery out of the phone. This had all started with a witch hunt months before. She had been the hunter, desperate to kill them and save lives. This time was different, though. The witch being hunted was her.

18

Samantha felt sick and dizzy to the bottom of her soul. She couldn't help but feel that this was all her fault. It had been her desire to not use magic that had made her hold back. Although she knew she hadn't been holding back as much as she wanted to, as much as she should if she were truly trying to give it up again. That struggle seemed so pointless at the moment, though. If she hadn't held back at all, if she'd used the magic as much as she could have, then maybe Jill would be here, safe, and the whole thing would be over.

And I'd either be dead or moving on again.

She wanted, needed to talk to someone. She was sure both her adoptive parents and Anthony would encourage her to use her magic, do whatever it took. But she couldn't call them. Even if she could talk to them, none of them understood the danger, how much it took out of her, or just what it would cost her.

“Magic is simple,” she told herself as she stared at her phone.

She put the battery back in. She closed her hand around the phone and could feel energy moving from her hand and spreading to the phone and the air around it. “If someone tries to track this phone they won't be able to; they will only get interference.”

She turned on the phone and called the only person who might understand.

The phone rang, and the sick feeling spread throughout her body. Finally, a female voice answered. “Hello?”

Samantha licked her lips. “Vanessa? It's Samantha.”

“Samantha! How are you? Are you okay?” Vanessa asked.

“Not really. Listen, I need to talk to Ed. Do you think he'll speak with me?”

“He will, if I have anything to say about it,” Vanessa said, her voice hardening. “This is ridiculous—you were partners and friends for three years. I know I told you he'd come around in time, but this is getting ridiculous. I'm sorry he hasn't called you.”

“It's okay. I understand. Really, I do. But right now I need some advice badly, and he's the only one I want to talk to about it.”

“Hold on.”

Samantha waited what seemed like forever. She had just decided that Ed was never going to come on the line, no matter how much his wife threatened him, when she heard his voice.

“Hi, Samantha.”

The cold, distant tone broke her heart. She and Ed had once been very close, great partners. They had worked together and trusted each other for three years before the events of Salem. Before he found out that she was a witch.

What did you expect?
she asked herself fiercely. He hadn't been ready to deal with the realities of the magic world and the things Samantha had had to do, the people she'd had to kill to bring down the coven in Salem.

“Vanessa tells me you need to talk.”

“I do.”

“Is it cop stuff or is it . . . witch . . . stuff?”

“Unfortunately, it's both.”

He swore. There was a pause and then he said, “Go ahead.”

“I went out on a homicide call a few days ago. It turns out the woman was killed by witches. There's lots of crazy stuff happening here. I haven't figured it all out yet, but my roommate was just kidnapped. I'm pretty sure the coven wants her because they think she has something.”

“So, it's about her and not you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. What do you want to ask?”

“I—I don't know what to do. I just got home and found her gone. And things have gotten crazy and I'm having to hide out. There's no one I can trust, and I can't bring my partner in any further than he already is.”

“Because that would mean telling him everything.”

“Yes,” she whispered. It was because Ed knew everything that they were no longer partners and not even friends. He hadn't been able to cope with a dark Samantha who did terrible deeds even if it was to save the world and even if he had encouraged her to do them in the first place. She'd thought he would have her back, but when everything was over and the coven was dead, he had told her that he wasn't okay with the person she was. It had hurt like the devil. He wasn't the only one on the force who had felt that way. It was one of the key factors for her move to San Francisco.

“These witches you've gone up against. Have you done everything in your power to stop them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I guess I do. Last time, you tried to warn me about what it could do to you if you started using your powers again. I didn't listen.”

“You were right then. If I hadn't, so many more people would be dead and evil would be walking the earth.”

“It walks the earth every day wearing a thousand different faces. I've had a lot of time to think about it. I'm not sure we couldn't have found another way.”

“I haven't been able to figure out how,” she admitted.

“Me either. I'm guessing you've exhausted every normal option at this point?”

“Yes.”

“Are lives in danger?”

“Jill's, at the very least. But these witches have already killed and some of the spells they're doing are causing the kind of damage you'd have to see to believe.”

“And you don't want to use your powers?”

“I don't, but I'm afraid. Sometimes I use them accidentally, and then I do use them, but for smaller things, nothing . . . lethal.” She could feel herself starting to babble. She didn't know what she was looking for from Ed. Forgiveness? Permission? She didn't know. She just knew that it had been important to talk to him.

He sighed. “You know I got Jackson for a partner these days?”

“Jackass Jackson?”

“Yeah, can you believe that?”

She smiled. “My partner's worse. He shoots first and asks questions later.”

“God help us all.”

“Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“What should I do?”

“Go and be the badass witch you were born to be.”

He ended the call, and she dropped the phone onto the table and wrapped her arms around herself.

“God, why? Why do I have to do this?” she asked.

A dam somewhere inside of her broke loose and she could feel the tears rushing down her face. “Why?” she screamed, and pounded her fist into the table with all her might.

The table snapped in half and tumbled to the ground. She stared down at her hand. Three bones were broken, but she could already feel them beginning to heal. Power surged up and down her arm. She felt like she was going to be sick. She also felt like she could fly.

She got up, walked over to her trunk, and threw open the lid.

She conjured Freaky, and the kitten looked inquisitively inside.

“Come on, Freaky, we've got work to do,” she whispered.

*  *  *

An hour later, when Trina shoved open the door to the motel room and stalked inside, Samantha was waiting for her.

“What did you—” Trina stopped talking as she looked at the candles arranged on the nightstand. They snuffed themselves out, and she turned to stare at Samantha, arms folded angrily.

Samantha closed the door behind Trina with a wave of her hand and leaned against the wall. “Nice of you to join me,” she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

“Like you gave me any choice. A summoning spell, really? I was in the middle of dinner.”

“Like you gave
me
any choice. I had no other way to contact you.”

“Fine. What do you want?” Trina asked.

“A lot of things. But let's start with answers. Did you know that Winona Lightfoot is back from the dead?”

“I—what? Wait—what?” Trina said, looking baffled.

Samantha nodded. “Alive and kicking. And no memories of the other side because she was never killed in the first place. And for some reason, no one but me remembers her being dead.”

“
I
remember her being dead,” Trina said.

“Great. That makes two of us who are either the only sane ones in town or the only two who have gone batshit crazy.”

“What about her daughter?”

“Either she doesn't remember, or she's too scared to admit that she does. All she'd say was that she had some weird dreams.”

Trina sat down on the bed and drew a ragged breath. “It's true.”

“What's true?” Samantha asked.

Trina looked at her. “It seemed so crazy, I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure. I think I've finally figured out what's so strange about these earthquakes.”

“What?”

“They're not just shifting earth. They're also shifting time. Not uniformly. But what Giselle's trying to do is having, like, a weird ripple effect.”

“Timequakes? That's what you think is going on?”

“Yeah. Essentially. It's affecting timelines, but not evenly. Instead, it's showing up in really random ways.”

Samantha thought about what Anthony had told her about his Wiccan friend who sometimes felt like he was shifting from one reality to another. She had dismissed it at the time as being crazy or impractical or both. Now, though, it looked like it might actually explain everything that was going on. In this reality, Winona hadn't found the book, hadn't gone to the museum that night, and hadn't been killed.

She looked at Trina. “It would explain how many times something has shifted on me in the last few days. Car, roommate's hair color and degree.”

“Exactly! My favorite necklace suddenly changed colors,” Trina said.

“I was talking to someone earlier about multiverse theory, that for every choice we make there's a universe where we made a different choice. It's like a different timeline,” Samantha mused.

“Like one wherein the woman who made my necklace picked the purple stones instead of the green?”

“Exactly,” Samantha said. “Or my roommate decided to bleach her hair instead of being a brunette.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Trina said, nodding. “And, what, only people like us can sense that things are different, changed somehow?”

“Not just people with powers. I think those with a skewed look on the world as well. It would account for why fervently religious people and many of the homeless have been leaving the city in droves. I'm sure they don't know what's wrong, but I think they can sense that something is,” Samantha said.

“Like animals taking off before an earthquake?”

Samantha looked at Trina. Clearly the other woman had heard that theory as well. “But these aren't the intended effects? These are more like, what, bleed through? Aftershocks?”

“That's as near as I can figure.”

“Well, if these things that keep changing are the aftershocks, what is the main quake supposed to be doing?” Samantha asked.

“I don't know yet. I feel like I'm close, though. There's something they want and they can't get at it.”

“I know what they want,” Samantha realized. “And now that I know these are timequakes, I know how they plan on getting it.”

“What?” Trina asked.

“You ever heard of the Hell Hole Cave?”

“Yeah. One of the coven members went down into it a couple months back, told us all about it.”

“Have you ever heard what's down there?”

“I'm guessing you mean besides a bunch of clay faces and a guestbook?”

Samantha nodded.

“No, not a clue.”

“Supposedly, centuries ago a demon was captured and buried down there. The Hell Hole Cave was an access point so that once a year someone could go down and check that it was still there. Over time the earth shifted, cave-ins happened, and it became impossible to go down deep enough.”

“Do you think that's what Giselle could possibly be referencing whenever she says ‘the last grave'? Maybe it's the creature's grave?”

“That makes more sense than anything I've been able to come up with,” Samantha admitted. “If so, she wants to crack that grave open.”

“Are you telling me they're trying to shift time in that cave so it resembles the landscape from centuries ago?”

“That's what I think.”

“So, they can, what, go down and have a peek at this thing?”

Samantha couldn't help it; she started laughing.

“What's so funny?” Trina asked, eyes narrowed.

“How naive you are. You really think they just want to have a peek at it?”

“You don't think they'd actually try to release it, do you?” Trina asked as the color drained from her face.

“I most certainly think they would.”

“Then we have to stop them.”

Samantha nodded. “Time to take down a coven.”

Trina grew even paler. “They're meeting tonight. It's the full moon.”

“I know. And I can't think of a better time to try to pull off what they want to do.”

Trina put her hand over her mouth, and Samantha could see that she was shaking. She waited a moment and then she asked, “Is this your first rodeo?”

Trina shook her head. “My third. But the others, what they were doing was illegal, immoral, but nothing like this. And Randy was with me. He was a senior agent in the group. I'm one of the newcomers. This was my first solo assignment. It was supposed to be an easy one, mostly just keeping tabs. Not all dark covens become a true problem quickly. It can take years for the power to corrupt, new ideas to emerge. There's been an active coven here for decades, dabbling in dark magic, doing things that might be immoral but weren't illegal and certainly weren't seen as a threat by the government. I was just supposed to observe for a couple months, make sure nothing had changed.”

“Well, something changed in a big way.”

“I know. And now there's not even time to get someone else out here to help.”

Samantha stepped forward and put her hand on Trina's shoulder. “You've got me,” she said softly.

Trina grabbed her hand. Samantha could feel the other woman's fear and self-doubt. But beneath all that, she felt the surge of power, real power, raw and untamed. In a flash she saw snatches of Trina's life. She had been raised without others of their kind. She hadn't found anyone like her until she went to college. Right out of college she'd been recruited by Randy for this task force. She was still learning, growing, and she had no idea how far she could go, how much power she could harness. She might be a great agent, good at infiltration and undercover work, but she had no idea just how much power she had and what she could do with it if she unleashed it.