Halfway Hexed (27 page)

Chapter 26

Back at the main house, I went to the kitchen and mixed a sleeping serum from the spellbook. Valerian, whiskey, cider, and a dash of nutmeg. I whispered the spell over it and poured it into a vial I’d borrowed from Bryn’s potion-making closet.

Then I brewed some tea and filled a basket with patterned teacups and saucers, a large thermos of hot tea, and some scones and small cakes. English people in movies can never resist tea and cakes. With cakes involved, who can blame them?

When I passed the gates at the end of Bryn’s property on my way out, two pairs of headlights blinked on. Cars lying in wait.

“Now what?”

I spotted Jenna and Lucy in one of the cars.

“You again,” I muttered. I didn’t have time to mess around. I wanted to get my burglary over with before the police discovered the dead body. And before the tea in the thermos got cold.

My car jerked as they bumped into it. I blasted my horn to warn them off. A second big bump told me they were doing it on purpose to rattle me. With it too dark for anyone to witness what was happening and with it dark enough for them to claim it was an accident, they were getting bolder.

The other car drew up alongside me. The interior light was on, and I spotted Sue, who was driving. I rolled down my window. Jenna bumped the back of my car again, making me lurch against my seat belt and bite my tongue. I shook my fist out the window, not that they’d be able to see it.

Sue’s car swerved again, but I managed to avoid getting hit by moving all the way to the left and scraping my tires against the curb. This was crazy. What if there had been a parked car? I’d have sideswiped it and felt compelled to leave a note. Could I afford higher insurance premiums? No, I could not.

Sue’s car rolled along beside me, not giving me an inch of room, and I realized it was only a matter of time until a parked car popped up in front of me. Then they’d have me boxed in on all sides.

“I don’t think so.” I pressed my foot down and sped up. My lights flashed on the back of a parked car and I swung my wheel to keep from hitting it.

Unfortunately for Sue, she had sped up with me and I rammed the edge of her car when I’d darted out to avoid the parked one. She careened sideways, jumped the opposite curb, and ran into a tree. Poor tree.

I drove farther to see if Jenna and Lucy would help their friend or stay in pursuit. Jenna didn’t even slow down. I should’ve known. Jenna doesn’t know the meaning of friendship.

I sped up after the stop sign, drawing her forward. Then I hit the brakes, and she banged into me. I threw my car into park, then jumped out and raced back to Jenna’s. I slammed the butt of my gun twice against the driver’s side window. Both she and Lucy shrieked. Lucy with fear. Jenna with fury.

The window shattered, and I socked Jenna in the cheek to stun her. Then I reached in, turned off the car, and yanked out her keys.

“I don’t have time for this. You need to go on home.”

Jenna held her cheek and glared at me.

“Y’all started it,” I said, my knuckles smarting. As I walked away, I opened and closed my fist. I’m not usually violent. For a lot of years, the only thing I whipped was cream. Actually, before I’d come into my powers a couple weeks earlier, I’d never been in a real fight in my whole life. Mostly I got along with people, and any tiffs at school had been minor. Plus, Zach had always been around. Zach and his brothers didn’t put up with bullies. I had a small pang of missing Zach, but pushed him from my mind.

A close look at my crumpled back bumper made me shake my head and frown. I needed to send the Reitgartens a bill. I guess I’d shocked them with my window-smashing, cheek-socking routine, because instead of getting out of their car to come after me, Jenna and Lucy just screamed out their windows at me. It was real unusual hearing the psalms mixed with four-letter words.

“My herbs and oils better be okay,” I grumbled as I got behind the wheel.

I drove to the hotel and circled the parking lot to be sure there were no police cars. Actually, the place looked almost deserted.

I parked on a street a block away from the hotel and hefted my picnic basket. I passed through the wooded lot behind the hotel’s property.

Gwen had been in Room 5. Mrs. Thornton was next to her in Room 6. Room 4 was around the corner, so I thought it was more likely that John Barrett would be next door to Mrs. Thornton in Room 7.

I couldn’t resist trying to look in Gwen’s room, but it was too dark to see the body. Of course, nothing would’ve changed. If the body had been found, there would’ve been crime scene tape and flashing lights.

I went to the front door of Room 7 and noted that the light was on inside. I tapped several times. I was just beginning to wonder whether he’d gone out and left the light on, when he opened the door.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, then he smiled, his eyes twinkling. I had to remind myself that he was a homicidal maniac.

“Well, Tammy, please come in,” he said. “Mrs. Thornton was worried that you and Bryn had absconded. I didn’t think it likely, but when we didn’t find you at home . . .”

I glanced around the room. Fish everywhere! On the wallpaper, bedspread, and the tablecloth on the small round table.

“Yes, Bryn and I went out early this morning. We should’ve called to let you know, but things were kind of hectic. Anyway, I wanted to talk some things over with you. I brought tea and cakes. May I?” I asked, pointing to the table where there were a couple of open files. The file boxes under the table looked exactly like the ones that had been in Gwen’s room.

“Yes, please,” he said, closing the files and setting them on the edge of the bed, which was neatly made. That seemed weird. If the maid had cleaned the rooms, why hadn’t she called the police? If the maid hadn’t been, then Mr. Barrett was really neat for a world leader/psycho killer.

I laid out the cakes and poured tea, putting some of the serum into his tea when his back was turned.

I really wanted to know if Mrs. Thornton was in her room. I would’ve mentioned her and told him to invite her over for tea, too, so I could drug her and search her room as well, but I didn’t trust that I could put anything over on the Winterhawk. She’d probably see right through me. Plus, it was my first poisoning. Starting with one victim seemed more sensible.

I’d made sure that I brought cups with different floral patterns. I took a sip from the yellow rose cup and left the poisoned purple rose cup for Mr. Barrett. I put scones and double chocolate pecan cookies on small plates.

He moved a piece of rolled paper off his chair and set it on the bed. It partway unrolled, and I could see it was a map of Duvall.

‟It’s the town?” I asked, walking over.

‟Indeed,” he said, sitting down and taking a bite of an iced cranberry-orange scone.

I unrolled the map further, cocking my head at the highlighted sections of town. I looked up at the legend, but there wasn’t any explanation of the highlighter colors. I leaned closer and realized that the map hadn’t come that way. Mr. Barrett had done the highlighting himself.

‟What do these colors mean?”

‟Oh, just some planning we’re doing. You said that you wanted to talk to me about some things?”

I went back to the table, gratified that he’d drunk half of his cup of tea and poured some more.

I took a few swallows myself and had a cookie. “Bryn said there are whole towns in England with magical people.”

‟Yes. Revelworth being the most famous,” he said with a smile. “Completely inhabited by witches and wizards, a place of collected wisdom and power. There’s a very long waiting list of people who would dearly like to live there.”

‟Well, Duvall’s a long way from England.”

‟Yes, it is. Revelworth is where your grandmother lives. Did you know? You could stay in the village in your family house. Such an incredible opportunity. Many would envy you.” He yawned, and so did I. In fact, my throat felt strange, kind of prickly. I looked sharply at my cup. Definitely the yellow rose. Definitely not the one I’d poured the serum into.

‟A wise witch would use any advantages she was given in life, especially foretelling that never fails,” he said.

‟What?”

‟Your great-great-grandmother Lenore was a seer whose every prophecy has come true. She left your family instructions that you choose to ignore.”

I paled. “Who says she was never wrong?”

“It’s known. Her chronicles about the wizarding world—all completely accurate. I understand that those about your family have never been inaccurate either.”

“Maybe not yet. There’s always a chance, and fortune favors the brave,” I mumbled, Bryn’s words tumbling out unintentionally.

“Sometimes. At others, fortune finishes the fool.”

“I thought you wanted me to be with Bryn? To be bet—bait—to lure him to Engle—England?” My tongue felt slippery. I smacked it against the roof of my mouth. Something was definitely wrong. Had a drop of the potion dripped into my cup? It shouldn’t have; I hadn’t reached over it with the vial.

“Mmm.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling again. “Yes, there’s a sweet, silly girl. Ignore that which will protect you to win the approval of strangers.” His lids drifted half closed and he forced them back up. “Unimpressive.”

“I’m not trying to win your approval.” My chest tightened. I needed to keep my mouth shut and I wanted to, but suppressing my words was like trickling acid down my throat. It burned until I couldn’t stand it. “Bryn risked everything for me. Plus, he’s ten flavors of amazing and more delicious than wedding cake. So no, I don’t want to believe that Bryn’s bad for me. I won’t until I see some proof.”

“When someone shows you proof, you’ll still refuse to see it.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Blinded by love. A story as old as magic. I know it too well.” Mr. Barrett’s head plunked down on the table.

I took a couple of breaths, shivering at what he’d said. “Sure it’s an old stair well—story. People want love to work out. Why wouldn’t they? What’s better than love? Nothing, that’s what.” I rubbed my throat, not able to keep myself from talking. “Truth serum. You poisoned me, too, didn’t you?” I ran a hand through my hair, my scalp damp with sweat. “It’s wrong for you to look so much like Santa Claus. He’d never poison his elves. Or his reindeer. Or the people who live in the houses he visits.” My head buzzed, and I stumbled from the chair.

The fish on the wallpaper seemed to swish toward the stripes. I picked up the phone and called the front desk. “Hello?”

“Yes, can I help you?”

“I like fish and all, but don’t you think you’ve gone a bit far with it? Wallpaper, plus bedspreads, plus tablecloths? It’s too much.” I hung up. Several catfish flopped off the wall while others swam around the light and then dove toward my head. “Don’t get too rowdy, you fishes. Stop that swimming off the wallpaper. I have a gun, you know.”

I tripped, over my foot I think, and landed hard on the carpet. I stared at the file boxes.

“I came here for you,” I murmured. “That’s why I brought him tea. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. He’s dangerous. Right now he’s sleeping,” I babbled. I pulled out the boxes. They were locked, of course, but I dug through John Barrett’s pockets and found several small keys. “You Conclave types are always underestimating me. That’s your big mistake.” I unlocked the boxes and pulled out the files.

The letters swam before me. “Just you stop that moving. You’re not fish. You don’t have fins. It’s one thing for the wallpaper to dance around, but letters are supposed to stay still.”

I dumped the boxes out and, in the box that had been under two others, I found a small velvet case. I opened it, and there she was.

“Here you are, Nassandra. Cassandra. Bryn’s mom.”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“John?” a voice called.

“Oh no!” I whispered. “Somebody’s here.” I closed the cover on the brooch and clutched it tighter. “Sounds like the winner-hawk.”

“John, open the door.”

‟He can’t. He’s asleep!” I called. ‟Well, he’s drugged asleep.” I giggled. ‟Gotcha,” I said, giving John Barrett a pinch as I stood up. I staggered into the bathroom, slamming the door closed. I locked the door as I heard the front door banging open.

‟Probably picked the lock. Standard spy stuff.” I unlocked the bathroom window and shoved it open. “I’d like to pick locks. Not all locks. Not wanting to be a spy or anything.”

The bathroom door rattled.

I cocked my head. The window was really too small for me unless I could turn myself into a pixie or something. Only I didn’t know how.

‟Shh. Be very quiet.” I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain.

A moment later the door opened. I heard her pass the tub, and I couldn’t stay quiet. I yanked the curtain back.

‟I’m here,” I announced.

She spun very quickly, but not quickly enough for her to stop me from running into her when I tripped on the tub’s lip. We crashed to the floor, my knees slamming the tile and searing with pain.

‟Sorry. Sorry about that.” I got up with throbbing knees and ran from the room, banging into the bed and then the door frame as I fled.