Grim Haven (Devilborn Book 1) (14 page)

“It’s not just that. Once you got to stolen souls…” I shrugged. “I feel like you’re telling me a story that has nothing to do with me. Like this is some movie you all saw.”

“So take some time with it,” said Phineas. “And then come to me when you have questions. As I’m sure you will. I’ll make sure you have our number before we go.”

“You can come see us in Charlotte,” Lydia said. “I know Max would like to see you.”

Max
.

He was responsible for warning us, and I’d let everything else push him from my mind. I looked down at the table and swallowed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I… let Max down, once. More than once. I let Max down for years, actually.”

“That’s not how he tells it,” Phineas said. “He says he got you in trouble, when you were a kid.”

“And as for letting him down, join the club,” said Lydia.

“Pretty much this whole town let him down,” Wendy added.

Lydia must have noticed the tears starting to pool in my eyes, because she leaned across the table to squeeze my hand. “I left him there too, once,” she said softly. “In that damn closet. And I was a grown woman. You were just a kid.”

“He’s really not mad at me?” How could that be, when I’d been so mad at myself, for so long?

“Quite the opposite,” said Phineas. “Whatever spell you cast to try to get in touch with him, it worked. He felt it. So he sent his spiders to look for you.”

“That spider was his?”

“He uses spiders a lot,” Phineas said. “Not my favorite habit of his, but he also kisses cats on the mouth, so.”

“Only one cat,” Lydia said.

He uses spiders a lot.

“The spiders in the hotel,” I said. “When I was a kid. I always thought it was because we were so close to the woods.”

“His little spies,” Lydia said with a fond smile. “He can, I don’t know, see through their eyes or something. Or is it hear through them? Something like that. Max has a lot of strange abilities.”

“He’s really okay?” I asked.

“He’s doing great,” said Lydia. “I won’t tell you where he is. Not that I don’t trust you, but with Marjory looking for him, the less people who know, the better. I gather she thinks she can control him the way Madeline could.”

“Meaning if he inherited the hotel, and all that money, she could control that, too,” I said.

“That’s right,” said Cooper.

I frowned at him, wondering what made him such an expert on Marjory Smith, all the sudden.

But he pointed at me, nodding. “If she really understood the magic you were working here today, the hotel is probably exactly what she wants. Most likely even before she met Wick, but definitely now.”

“Sorry, I don’t quite follow,” I said.

“What does this Wick guy want?” Wendy asked.

Cooper shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and looked at me.

“Your call,” I said to him. “But it does involve Bristol now. I think you should give them some kind of short version. Whatever you can tell them without getting into trouble.”

Cooper sighed. “Okay, short version: he wants to use your town like a battery, to power his clan with magical energy.”

“Okay then, lovely,” said Wendy. Lydia and Phineas just stared.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go into a lot of detail,” said Cooper. “But trust me, him allying himself with these Garden Club witches, it’s not good.” He looked back at me. “And a base of operations that could protect its own, that would be handy, don’t you think? This place would be a fortress for them.”

So that was his point. It was a good one. “It certainly came in handy for Madeline Underwood, for a lot of years,” I said. “But it worked differently for her. The hotel may have been her fortress, but she could override its protective energy when it came to other people. She had no problem harming people under this roof.”

“Tell me about it,” Phineas muttered.

“Yeah, we have a little first-hand experience with that,” Lydia said. “But then, it wasn’t just an inn to her. She was a descendant of Colonel Phearson, and this was his home first. Plus he was bound up in the original sanctuary pact with Amias.”

Phineas frowned at his wife. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” said Lydia. “But what this inn can do, it’s a sort of sanctuary in its own way, isn’t it?” She shrugged.

“It is,” I agreed. “And you might be on to something, with Miss Underwood being related to Colonel Phearson. He built this house. There’s place-magic in that, too.”

“I’m not sure how it all fits together, but you showed us today that this whole idea of place-magic is a powerful one,” said Lydia. “And if Marjory Smith didn’t know that already, you can bet she knows it now. I have no doubt she’d love a chance to explore it.”

“More tea?”

I started and almost screamed at the voice behind me, but it was only one of the new servers approaching with a pitcher.

“No,” I told him. “Sorry, I bet you guys want to clean up. Thank you for letting us try everything, it was wonderful.”

“Especially the chips,” Lydia added.

As we walked back to the lobby, I fell into step beside Lydia. “I understand why you want to hide Max from Marjory,” I said in a low voice. “But I can’t accept this inheritance, not when I know he’s alive. The money at least—”

“He doesn’t need it,” Lydia said. “Or want it. He wants no part of any of this anymore.” She stopped and put a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, you have to take it, for Bristol’s sake as much as anything. It seems to me there’s about to be a battle for this town. And the Mount Phearson will be at the heart of it. It needs a general.”

“I am not a general!”

She smiled at me. “I sure as hell saw a general today, barking orders at people twice your age.”

“You are not twice my age,” I said, and hoped I wasn’t blushing.

“Lance looks like he might be close to it.”

I sighed. “I don’t want to be a general.”

Lydia gave me a sympathetic look, but she didn’t mince words. “Too bad,” she said.

Cooper and I had barely seen the others off, and were standing in the lobby talking to Lance and Agatha about the menu at Colonel Phearson’s Pub, when a child’s wail came from a seating area on the far side of the room. It was immediately followed by a shrill cry of “Ian!”

The family Cillian Wick had creeped out was back, and the older of the two boys had just thrown up all over a very expensive loveseat. I grabbed a wastepaper basket from behind the desk and rushed over, Agatha close at my heels.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” The boys’ horrified mother snatched the can from my hand and put it under Ian’s face as he started to retch again. “We went for ice cream, sometimes too much dairy…” She patted her son’s back, and I looked away while he attended to his next round of business.

The younger boy sat nearby, clearly delighted by his brother’s misfortunes, and seemed fine. His father across from him, on the other hand, was pasty and sweaty. Looking at him, I wasn’t sure the problem was too much dairy.

There was green, in the darkness.

I caught Cooper’s eye across the room. He started toward me, while Agatha went to get someone to clean up the mess. I turned back to the mother. “How can I help, Mrs.… ?”

“Foley,” she said. “Andrea Foley. I’m so sorry. I just need to bring him back to the room to rest. I promise no more accidents.” She gestured with the wastepaper basket. “Do you mind if I bring this?”

I took a reflexive step back from it. “It’s all yours.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again.

“Please, don’t apologize. Kids get sick.”

Mrs. Foley turned to her husband with irritation rather than concern, so maybe he looked fine to her. Or maybe she was just too preoccupied to notice. “Jerry, would you please help me! Get Jake.”

Without waiting to see if she would be obeyed, she took Ian’s hand and walked hunched beside him, the emergency can at the ready. Jerry and Jake followed. Ian didn’t throw up again as they made their slow way up the stairs.

Cooper was beside me by then. “What did she say?”

I grabbed his arm and led him away from the mess (and the smell), to a quiet spot by the window. “She says they went for ice cream and he sometimes has a bad reaction to dairy.”

“I don’t think that’s uncommon with kids,” Cooper said. “I wouldn’t assume it’s anything magical.”

“Even if the father didn’t look very good, either?” I asked, then lowered my voice further. “You saw Marjory and Asher try to curse that family upstairs.”

“I did see them try,” Cooper agreed. “But I also saw you fight back. And I
felt
you shut them down.”

I bit my lip, wanting him to be right.

“Besides, you don’t know what they were really trying to do,” Cooper went on. “I’m sure they were more concerned with getting a reaction from us, or threatening us, than they were with actually hurting guests. What do they gain by making some random kid throw up?”

I shrugged, still not liking the coincidence. Or the look on Cooper’s face that suggested
he
didn’t like it either, and was mostly just trying to make me feel better. “I guess,” I said. “But I’m going up to write a spell for them, just in case.”

“Good idea. I’ll come with you.”

He followed me up to the third floor, and I felt a flare of nervousness as I opened the door to my room. He’d never even mentioned the kiss. Would he try to repeat it, once we were alone?

But he just slouched on my couch and watched as I sat at my desk and pulled out my paper and pen. I was still out of ink from safeguarding the hotel, so I also took out a small pocket knife.

Where to cut? Usually I’d have done it on my thigh—people tended to ask questions about cuts in visible places—but I wasn’t keen on pulling my pants down in front of Cooper. I decided noticeable was the lesser evil, and dragged the knife across my palm.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Cooper tense, but he didn’t say anything. I winced at the sting, as I did every time. Ironically enough, I hated the sight of blood, and my own more than anyone’s.

I dipped the pen in the cut, and started to write.

The Foley family got over their illnesses quickly, and enjoyed the remainder of their trip.

“You just dip it directly in like that, huh?” Cooper asked. “Seems kind of unsanitary.”

“Usually I make ink, but I’m waiting on more supplies. Don’t worry, I’ll disinfect it after.” I frowned at my handiwork. I didn’t mind referring to the family in such a general way, in case any of the rest of them got sick, but I was concerned by how unspecific
quickly
was. I dipped my pen again and wrote one more line.

Ian got better within an hour of going back to his room.

Then I worried that might be
too
specific. Magic that imposed my will on others, even to try to help them, was always so tricky.

Assuming there was even anything to help with. Probably I was being overcautious, and it all came down to lactose, after all. Finally I decided it would do fine, and at the least, it couldn’t hurt.

“Come on, we should put this spell somewhere close to their room,” I said.

Cooper and I went down to the second floor, and tucked the spell into a little drawer in an antique side table that stood in the hallway. We were on our way back upstairs when my phone rang.

“Verity? It’s Phineas. From earlier?”

I smiled at that. “I’m not likely to forget a cousin I just met.”

“Right.” In that one clipped word, I caught the tone I hadn’t noticed at first. He was flustered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We had a car accident. On our way back to Charlotte.”

“Oh no! Are you okay?” I looked at Cooper, who was frowning at me, and mouthed
accident
.

“Neither of us was seriously hurt,” said Phineas. “Just a few bumps. The real problem is the reason we crashed. Lydia drove off the road because she was throwing up. She’s in the hospital now. They can’t seem to stop the vomiting.”

Balls. Balls, balls, balls.

“Phineas, I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”

“No, I wasn’t suggesting that. I just—”

“There’s a sick guest here,” I interrupted. “A kid.”

I held up a hand to stave off Cooper’s questions, and asked Phineas to repeat what he’d just said.

“Are the kid’s symptoms like food poisoning?”

“Just vomiting, that I saw,” I said. “But I thought his father looked kind of sweaty and unwell, too.”

By then we were back at my suite. Cooper took my keycard and opened the door for me.

“But you two are okay?” Phineas asked. “You and Cooper?”

“We’re fine. And so were Lance and Agatha, last I saw them.”

“I’ll call Wendy and check on her, too,” Phineas said. “Keep an eye out at the hotel, in case there are any more.”

“But how could this be? How could they hurt anyone under this roof?” I was talking to Phineas, but staring at Cooper. The latter shook his head in confusion as he closed the door behind us.

“Couldn’t tell you,” said Phineas. “Magic in general isn’t really my area. But I am a good healer. If it’s a supernatural cause, I’ll figure it out. I’ll get back to you.”

“Phineas, I’m sorry,” I said again. “I hope—”

“It’s not your fault, and she’ll be fine,” Phineas said, though he sounded worried. “This isn’t her first time going up against a strong magical enemy. Or even some of those particular strong magical enemies. She’s a tough nut.”

“Will you keep me posted, please?”

“Will do.”

I hung up and filled Cooper in. “I think at this point we can rule out too much dairy,” I said when I finished.

“I don’t know, the way Lydia was going after that pimento cheese,” said Cooper, but his face sobered when he saw my scowl. “Sorry. Bad time to joke. Maybe you should call Wendy, too. If she’s not sick herself, she might have some ideas about what went wrong with the spell.”

But Wendy was sick. At least she didn’t seem to have it as bad as Lydia—whatever
it
was, although I no longer had any doubt that we could safely call it a curse. For Wendy that meant only a little vomiting and nausea, and a lot of fatigue. Caleb told me she was sound asleep.

That left Cooper and I more-or-less alone to deal with what was happening. And it started happening fast, after that.

Lance and Agatha might not have been much help on the supernatural side of things, but they were able to provide practical support, at least. It was Agatha who went to check on Ian Foley later that afternoon.

Score one point for me: Ian did indeed get better within an hour of going back to his room. But it seemed the rest of my spell wasn’t strong enough to protect the Foley family.

Little Jake got sick shortly after his brother did, and got steadily worse until finally, worried about dehydration, Andrea Foley called an ambulance. She went with her youngest son to the hospital, while her husband Jerry—who was well and truly sick himself, by then—stayed behind in their room with Ian.

By then we had about a dozen guests, that we knew of, suffering from the same illness. Even Lance was starting to believe in dark magic and ill will.

And yet, the list of people who weren’t sick—myself included—was as confounding as the list of people who were. Cooper and I were in Lance’s office, just starting to put together some notes on who had fallen ill, where they’d gone, what they’d eaten, and anything else we could think of that might reveal a pattern to the curse, when Lance got a call from the front desk: Asher Glass was there.

Cooper insisted on coming with me and Lance to meet him. “I don’t like that guy,” he said. “He seemed especially spiteful.”

“Believe me,” I said as we descended the stairs, “he is that.”

Asher was leaning against the front desk, wearing his uniform and the smirkiest of smirks.

“I’d suggest you close to new guests until we can get this straightened out,” he said. “I’ve called in the health inspectors to investigate.”

“Investigate what?” I asked. “Surely not the hotel. This looks like food poisoning.”

“The Cask & Barrel didn’t open until five today,” Lance added. “Well after the first folks got sick. And they’re the only restaurant we have operational right now.”

“None of the sick people we’ve identified thus far ate at the same place,” said Asher. “The only thing they have in common is being guests here.”

“Wendy Thaggard is sick, and she’s not a guest,” I said.

“But she was here earlier today,” said Asher. “You’re friends, you two?”

“We are,” I said. “But as you can see, I’m fine, and Lance and Cooper here are fine. And so are you, I notice.”

Asher gave me a flirtatious smile that once would have made me melt, and now made me swallow bile. “Why, thank you for noticing,” he said.

Beside me, Cooper tensed and made a warning noise in his throat. I had the satisfaction of seeing Asher’s smile falter, just a tiny bit, before he recovered.

“We also have a couple hundred guests here who
aren’t
sick,” said Lance.

Asher shrugged. “The Mount Phearson is still the only common denominator.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “You know, we lost five people a few years back to some unidentified environmental cause. Scared a lot of people. Sure would be bad news for you if we had a repeat of something like that.”

“And did it have anything to do with the Mount Phearson then?” I asked.

“One of them was a guest here,” Asher said with another shrug. “One was a friend of Madeline Underwood’s, spent a fair amount of time here. But they never did figure out what was causing it.”

No, I’ll just bet they didn’t
.

No doubt it was a magical cause then, and a magical cause now. I wanted to punch Asher, gouge at his eyes, scream and rail and demand to know what he and his evil friends had done. But I knew it would only please him to get a rise out of me, and do me no good.

We spent most of the evening going from room to room, talking to the traveling companions of the sick guests, taking notes. Then Cooper and I went back to my suite and went over what we knew.