Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery (21 page)

“All right, ladies.” Her eyes cut to Steve. “And gentleman. Breathe.” She closed her eyes. “Concentrate.”

I closed mine, too. Lucy took my right hand. Steve took my left. His flesh felt so hot it was almost uncomfortable, and I had to make an effort not to flinch. Gathering my focus, I slowed my inhalations and allowed my center to become calm. The thrumming energy around us brightened. It seemed to increase in volume, though it was nothing I could physically hear.

“Wren,” Mimsey said, “because you have the clearest notion of what we’re looking for, perhaps you should focus our scrying.”

“All right.”

I opened my eyes as Wren took a step forward, camera still around her neck. She stared into the water in the glass. Used to working solitary, she moved her lips silently. Nonetheless, I knew she was invoking the element of water to reveal the location of any maroon bats in the swamp. I reached out mentally to merge my intention with hers.

“Katie!”

I whirled to see Bianca picking her way down the path. She was breathing heavily, the light cloak she wore hung open, and the watered silk skirt she’d chosen to wear on her date with Evanston Rickers had a rip in it. Lucy’s hand flew to her lips, and Mimsey broke contact with Jaida and Cookie on either side of her.

Hundreds of dragonflies exploded from a treetop behind Bianca. Lucy gasped. A feeling of dread settled across my shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Bianca. Urgency rushed my words. “Why are you here?”

She stopped outside the circle we’d defined. “I had to warn you, and no one would answer their phone. I think Evanston came back here.”

“Why? What happened?”

Bianca looked disgusted. “I don’t think he was ever interested in me. He started right off talking about you.”

Me?

“Question after question about where you came from and what you do at the bakery, and then he asked if I knew whether you had any special abilities.”

Lucy put her hand on my arm. “Was he talking about magic?”

“I don’t know, because he changed the subject to Autumn’s murder investigation. I started to tell him about Hunter Normandy, but all of a sudden he excused himself and said he had something he’d forgotten he had to do. The creep ran out of the bar like his hair was on fire
and
stuck me with the check.” She paced back and forth, fuming.

Cookie said, “I told you—”

“We can figure out her love life later,” I interrupted. “Right now I want you to think back to what you were talking about when Dr. Rickers suddenly got itchy feet.”

She stopped pacing, and her eyes moved to the left as she searched her memory. “I think it had something to do with Hunter being an embalmer. About how the police found formaldehyde on the origami.”

A dragonfly drifted past.

“Anyway, I came right out here to let you know. Broke the speed limit the whole way, but I don’t know whether I beat him or not.”

“Ladies,” I said, “I do believe there may be more to Evanston Rickers than meets the eye. We’d better pass on the location spell for now and get the heck out of here. I don’t know how he’d react if he caught us casting.” And I really didn’t like that he’d asked Bianca about my “special abilities.”

“But we might have time to finish,” Wren protested. “I thought I was picking up on something.” She pointed up at a nearby tree. “There.”

“I don’t see anything,” I said.

“We’ll come back, another time, Wren.” Mimsey thanked the water element and poured the contents of the goblet back into the swamp. “This Rickers fellow sounds fishy.”

“He probably knows we’re here already,” Steve protested as Mimsey and Lucy hurried to reverse the circle. “But listen—Rickers only rents the cabin, not the whole swamp. We have every right to be out here. Gart Fagen gave Dawes Corp. permission to come on his land, and I’m giving it to you.”

My mind was racing. “Mimsey’s right. We can come back later,” I said as things began to come together in my mind. “Hunter Normandy is in custody for Autumn’s murder because of formaldehyde and the origami cranes the police found in his apartment.”

“And because he’s a thief,” Jaida said, gathering up her candles.

“That, too. But he doesn’t have any real connection to the bats, and Autumn was holding a folded bat, not a crane. He’d just asked her to marry him, and then turns around and kills her?”

“What if she found out about the ring?” Jaida asked.

“You’re right—that’s a possible motive. But he doesn’t have any connection to Logan Seward—and no reason to steal his car. That’s been bothering me ever since he was arrested. You know who does have a connection to Seward, though? As well as to the bats?”

Wren looked skeptical. Bianca had gone white as she listened.

“Remember when Seward came out here with the eviction for Dr. Rickers? He was driving Steve’s car.”

Steve tipped his head to one side. “And?”

“And I asked him about it. Seward said he’d walked to work and left his vehicle at home, so he’d had to borrow your car to drive out to Fagen Swamp. Rickers had had previous contact with Seward, enough that he probably knew what he drove. I think he stole the BMW and tried to run Wren and me down. All he had to do was find out where Seward lived and take the BMW later that same afternoon.”

“Why?” Mimsey asked.

“I don’t know why, but it must have to do with the bats. I can tell you this though—in his cabin Dr. Evanston Rickers has jars and jars of preserved snakes.”

“So?” Cookie said.

At the same moment Bianca said, “How do you know that?”

“Looked in the window before we came down here,” I said. “So what do you imagine he uses as a preservative?”

Wren’s head jerked up, alarm written on her face. “Formaldehyde.”

A frisson of fear passed through the group. Even Steve seemed convinced that we needed to leave. Together, we moved swiftly toward the path that led back to the road and our waiting car.

“Why would he kill Autumn?” Jaida asked as we fast-walked. “She was helping him.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, stumped. “I don’t know. She was talking about giving up Georgia Wild’s fight for this swamp habitat.”

“From what I’ve heard, Dr. Rickers doesn’t sound like a rabid activist. Would extinct bats be adequate motive for him to commit murder?” Jaida asked.

“What if it wasn’t about the bats?” Steve asked. “What if Dr. Rickers’ main interest in preserving the swamp involves something else?”

I grabbed his arm. “The tree.”

He nodded. “The tree. Maybe he can feel its pull, too.”

“Katie Lightfoot,” a deep male voice called from the direction of the cypress. It sounded far away.

“Speak of the devil,” I whispered, and gestured for Mimsey to hurry.

She fanned her face. “I’m not as young as I used to be, dear.”

“Sorry.” I slowed to her pace. Bianca in the lead, we made our way down the path toward the road, away from Rickers.

“Where are you?” the voice came again. “I know you’re out here someplace.”

In a low voice I asked Steve, “Do you think he’s a druid or some kind of sorcerer?”

“No idea. Though this place would be great for someone like that to live.”

I brushed aside a curtain of Spanish moss and shuddered. The ripe smell of the swamp suddenly seemed more rank than fertile.

The path widened as we approached the road, but Bianca suddenly stopped. Cookie almost ran into her, and the rest of us slowed. Skirting Lucy and Mimsey, I made my way to her side, senses on high alert. My stomach dropped when I saw the horrified look on Bianca’s face. She stared, unmoving, at the ground. I followed her gaze with my own.

Ten feet away a snake lounged smack-dab in the middle of the pathway. It was four feet long, two inches in diameter, and a dark charcoal color. As we watched, it reared its heads to look at us.

Heads. The thing had
two heads
.

Panic froze my body and scrambled my brain. Along with the others, I stared stupidly at the two reptilian heads swaying to and fro. Then Lucy’s sharp intake of breath broke the moment.

Do something.

I tried desperately to focus my attention, which was still scrabbling to hide away so I wouldn’t have to accept the freakish thing that blocked our way. With an effort, I raised my hand and willed the monstrosity to
move
, the same way I’d made Logan Seward back off in the stairwell.

Except nothing seemed to happen. I pushed harder. Steve’s hand gripped my elbow, and I felt a surge of power. The creature began to turn away, then stopped. It began to move.

Toward us.

Bianca took a step back. A white flash darted out of her coat pocket and down to the ground.

“Puck!”
she screamed.

Her new familiar attacked with liquid speed, flowing over and around the snake, biting, dodging, confusing his opponent who always seemed to strike where Puck had just been.

Terrified, Bianca looked on helplessly, her hands fluttering by her sides.

“Go.” Steve pushed me. “Get past it.”

Before I could move, Evanston Rickers stepped onto the path on the other side of the melee. “There you are!” He poked at the warring animals with his walking stick. Puck disengaged and ran back to Bianca, who scooped him up and held him while she still visibly trembled.

Rickers lifted the mutant reptile with the end of his stick and tossed it into the marsh. “And it seems you brought friends.”

I let out a whoosh of air and pasted an innocent smile on my face, hoping he couldn’t tell I suspected him of murder. “Wow. Thanks! That thing was scary.”

He wore rubber boots and jeans along with the same plaid shirt he’d worn the last time I’d seen him
. That’s how you go on a date?
On the other hand, it didn’t sound like he ever intended for his conversation with Bianca to be a real date.

“We thought we’d try one more time to find evidence of maroon bats,” I said brightly.

“Oh, really.” His tone was wry. He pointed to Steve. “And you brought the enemy along to help?”

Mimsey bristled. “He’s not our enemy.”

“And who, pray tell, are you?” he asked.

“We’re . . .” She squared her shoulders. “We’re friends of Georgia Wild.” She put her arm around Wren’s waist. “This is my granddaughter.”

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “I know why you’re really here. You shouldn’t have come.”

“It’s really none of your business,” Steve said.

“Everything in this swamp is my business,” Rickers hissed. “
Everything
. And now that you’re here, you’re my business.”

“Was Autumn Boles your business?” I asked. Lucy pinched me.

“She betrayed me,” he grated.

“Because she was going to give up looking for the bats? You killed her out of revenge for
that
?”

“Of course not,” Rickers scoffed. “I couldn’t care less about the stupid bats. I strangled her and left a clue so the police would blame the investment group that was going to buy this land. I couldn’t let them kill . . .” He trailed off.

The cypress.

“You were . . . really? You were trying to frame the investment group? It didn’t take long for attention to focus on her boyfriend,” I pointed out. “Despite the folded bat you put in Autumn’s hand after you killed her.”

His nostrils flared. “Stupid cops. Stupid press. The paper didn’t even investigate the connection between Georgia Wild and the Dawes Corporation’s investors.”

Steve stepped forward. “You thought you could crucify our investment group on the cross of public opinion?” He snorted.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Rickers held his walking stick up sideways. Something about it snagged my attention—something other than that he was using it to block the pathway.

“Oh, please,” Steve said. “There are eight of us. Unless you plan—”

“Steve,” I interrupted. “The staff.”

“The . . .” He trailed off.

“What?” Bianca asked.

The others looked equally baffled. But I could feel the staff tugging, subtle, weaker than the tree it came from but with the same flavor. “He’s holding a piece of the nexus.”

Rickers’ laugh was a truly unpleasant sound. It ran down my spine, weakened my knees. The women around me looked ill, and even Steve had paled under his tan.

“Well, I’m not surprised you know about the nexus, Katie. Katie Lightfoot.” He sounded a little crazy, and I wondered how living so close to the tree for so long might have affected him. “Because you’re special like me, aren’t you? Do you all know how special she is?”

“Katie?” My aunt sounded terrified.

I stepped to Steve’s side. “Special like you? Because of the tree? I can feel it, sure. But so can everyone here to some degree.” I thrust authority that I didn’t feel into my voice. “The ley lines are highly magnetic. Anyone would feel it. It’s an energetic force.”

Rickers regarded me with assessing eyes before suddenly smirking. “Nice try. But I saw you. I felt
you
, pushing that huge metal vehicle with your mind . . . or something. I saw the flash of light you threw to send me off course.”

I looked around at the others. Only Wren seemed fazed by his words. Everyone else, including Steve, had seen me glow in the dark. No wonder they weren’t overly surprised.

He nodded. “I see your friends know what I’m talking about.”

The sun was low in the sky, and the temperature was dropping. My friends were in danger. Quinn needed to handle this nutcase. If Rickers really killed Autumn, there would be some kind of evidence. At the very least I could testify to seeing the specimen jars through the cabin window.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Rickers. We need to be going now.”

“After I told you I tried to kill you? Fat chance.”

The staff in his hands began to move, writhing like a gnarled brown snake. The atmosphere twanged, the air pressure changing with a sharp, explosive sound. Without warning, Evanston Rickers let drop the veil that had kept his true nature hidden, the veil none of us had known was there. The cloying, rotting stench I associated with the origami figure Autumn had been clutching in death blasted over us, a tangible wave of distorted and debased intent.

Power thrummed through him, growing in intensity—pushing, pushing,
pushing
at us. Steve staggered. My head throbbed. My vision blurred. I clamped my eyes shut and threw a protective mental circle around the group. Channeling the force of the tree, Rickers breached it in seconds. Mimsey cried out.

I redoubled my efforts, reaching for the power of the tree myself. Down through the earth, seeking access through the roots.

There.

The sudden influx of energy drove me to my knees. I held on to it, riding the vigor of the nexus, pure and unadulterated by Rickers’ sickness. Light flared through my closed eyelids. I knew I was the source, or at least the outlet, but it didn’t matter. Wrapping my intention in my passionate, savage desire to protect my friends, I lurched to my feet, lashing out at Rickers.

He countered, surprisingly strong. I gasped, and tried again.

A hand touched mine. Steve’s? I couldn’t look, but instinctively I opened to the help.

Darkness swirled into my light, twisting through it, touching the tree’s power, flinching, then shooting toward our attacker.

I opened my eyes. Cookie grasped my fingers with one hand and sketched figures in the air with the other. A low, guttural sound issued from her throat as she stared at Rickers, her eyes wide and black in the silver illumination of . . . me.