Witching Bones: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 8 Read online

  I kept an eye on the house numbers, finally spotting Moira’s house. Pulling alongside the curb in front of the cottage, I thought it looked like a place Moira would live in. The aging cottage was trimmed with flowerboxes under the windows, and ivy trailed up one side of the house to twine around the chimney. A tidy, well-kept garden had to be Moira’s handiwork. It had her gentle stamp all over it.

  As I got out of the car, a blast of wind shot past me, sending a ripple of shivers from head to toe. I thought I could hear a cry on the wind, but then it was gone, as though it had been sucked away by the gusting currents. I glanced at the sky again as it began to snow, then grabbed my bag of magical goodies and hurried up the sidewalk, trying not to slip on the icy pavement. As I reached the porch, Moira opened the door. She glanced behind me, a worried look on her face.

  “Do be careful. I haven’t been able to get out to shovel the ice and snow off the sidewalk and I don’t want anybody falling.” She ushered me in and quickly shut the door behind me.

  I knew she was worried about liability, and without thinking, I offered, “I can shovel the walk for you after I’m done here.”

  “You’d really do that for me?” The look in her eyes was payment enough.

  I realized I truly enjoyed Moira’s company, and I looked forward to our readings each month. “Of course I can. Now, tell me exactly what happened and where this thing—”

  A gleeful cackle cut me off as a winged creature about the size of a baby flew by. It grabbed my hair and yanked hard, startling me so that I almost fell.

  “What the hell? Is that it?” That was no ghost. That wasn’t any sort of spirit at all.

  “Yes, it’s been making my life hell—pardon my language. I’m just so frustrated. It’s broken four of my good vases, two teacups, and a cherub that my late husband gave me.” She looked like she was about to cry, knotting her apron in her hands. Moira was wearing a cabbage rose print dress, with a pink apron over the top. It made her look like the proverbial grandmother out of some storybook fairytale, and I could almost smell the cookies from her kitchen.

  “First things first. Do you still have the speaking board in your house?” The first matter of business was to get rid of that thing.

  “Yes, it’s in the dining room. This all started about three hours ago.” She led me through the living room, which was so neat and tidy that it made my place look cluttered, into the dining room. On the table sat the speaking board. I glanced around at the heavy oak furniture, and the pictures on her walls that I assumed were her family. There was a gleeful laugh from another room and I heard a crash. Moira gave a little cry.

  “I’m afraid you may lose a few more things before we’re done here, but I’ll try to mitigate as much damage as I can. First things first, we’re getting rid of this.” I held up the speaking board. “Do you know that these are portals to all sorts of dimensions? It’s not just a toy or even a telephone to the dead. It’s an invitation to anything that happens to be passing through. A giant ‘Welcome’ sign that invites them to come and play, and they always play on their own terms.”

  “I didn’t know. I thought it was harmless.” She blushed, looking guilty.

  “Well, they’re not. But not many people understand that, so don’t fret. You’re lucky that you just got an imp. That’s what that creature is. It could have been much worse.” I set my bag of magical tools on the table, then picked up the speaking board, staring at it. I then raised one knee and brought the board down hard across my leg. The board split, and I tossed the pieces back on the table.

  “Oh, my neighbor’s going to be irritated.”

  “Pay her back for it. She doesn’t need to be messing around with this, either.”

  “Don’t you need the board in order to send the imp back where it came from?” Moira asked.

  “No, because it won’t go unless it wants to or until I’m able to drive it out, and the board’s not going to help either one of those things.”

  “Then how are you going to get it to leave?”

  “I’m going to make it so damned uncomfortable that it won’t want to stay. I plan on making certain that the imp wants to leave. It came through the board, but there are many ways to send it back to the astral plane, which is where I think it came from.” I opened my bag, pulling out my war water, some Be Gone powder, and my dagger.

  “Sit over there in that dining chair, please. I need you here, out of the way but safe.” I glanced around the room. There were a number of things that the creature could still throw, but the imp would first have to open the heavy china hutch doors, and I could probably ward it off before it did that.

  Moira hastened to obey. I stripped off my jacket, tossing it on the table, and then fastened my dagger sheath to my belt, making sure that Venom wasn’t peace bound. I poured some of the war water into a small atomizer that I carried with me.

  “Is that the kitchen?” I nodded toward the crashing sounds, which were coming through a swinging door on the other side of the dining room.

  “Yes, that’s the kitchen.” Moira looked at me with wide eyes. “Please be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine. You just stay here.” Grabbing the Be Gone powder in one hand, I picked up the atomizer in the other, and headed through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  The place was a train wreck. The imp had overturned canisters of flour and sugar, which had spilled all over the floor. The refrigerator door was open and it looked like half the contents had been tossed around the kitchen. The counter was covered in squashed tomatoes and milk dribbled over the edge to blend with the flour on the floor, making a nasty paste. What looked to have been a lemon meringue pie had been upended over the burners on the stove. Thank gods the creature hadn’t managed to turn on the burners.

  The imp slowly turned toward me as I entered the room, a carton of eggs in its hands. About eighteen inches tall, the creature looked like a combination of a scrawny baby and a baby velociraptor with bat wings and bright red eyes. Imps were from the astral plane, although I wasn’t sure if they were demonic or not. They weren’t sub-Fae, but they often hung out with goblins and their ilk. It gave me a slow, creepy grin, and laughed.

  “You need to leave this house and scram,” I said. I had no idea whether it understood me — and it didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t listen to me if it did. I lifted the atomizer of war water and sprayed a heavy mist at it.

  The imp shrieked, shooting up toward the ceiling. The damn thing was fast, that was for sure. Before I realized what it was doing, it began pelting me with the eggs, one after another. The first two missed me, but the next three hit square on my face and chest. I ignored the slime running down my face and squirted it with the war water again. The water would weaken it, kind of like a liquid version of punching it in the face. The imp dropped the eggs and headed toward the dining room. Before it could reach the door, I raced in front of it, throwing a handful of Be Gone powder on it, and began to sing.

  By hex and curse, by sun and moon,

  by the singing of this rune,

  I commend thee, leave this place,

  never return to this space.

  I threw another handful of the powder on it, and the imp shrieked, turning to flee the other way. But before it could, a vortex appeared in front of it and it shot through the portal.

  By hex and curse, by sun and moon,

  by the singing of this rune,

  I close this portal forevermore,

  and I seal shut this door.

  I could hear the imp on the other side, cursing as it tried to get back through, but then the portal closed and the seal took effect.

  I slumped against the wall. The imp wouldn’t be able to return to the house now. At least, not unless it was invited back, and Moira wasn’t about to extend another invitation. I’d make sure of that.

  Staring at the mess in the kitchen, I shook my head. There were a few broken dishes scattered around, but the imp hadn’t managed to des
troy most of her good china. Realizing that I had egg running down my cheek, I gingerly made my way over to the sink, found a roll of paper towels, and wiped off as much as I could. Then I peeked back through the door. Moira was still sitting where I had told her to.

  “It’s gone. I got rid of it and it shouldn’t be able to come back. But your kitchen is a wreck. I warn you now.”

  Moira grimaced. “I suppose I’d better get busy cleaning it up. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry I involved you. But thank you so much for helping.”

  “That’s all right. What are friends for, if not to help you evict an imp out of your kitchen?” Taking pity on her, I added, “Come on. I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean for you to have to do anything like that.” Moira blushed, looking chagrined.

  “That’s all right. I’ve made my share of mistakes,” I said, thinking back to my ill-timed attempt to summon Jim Morrison’s ghost. “We all screw up at one time or another.”

  As we cleaned up the kitchen, I finally broached the subject of the speaking board.

  “Moira, I know you wanted to contact your sister, but I’ve told you a number of times that she’s moved on. She’s not there to talk to anymore. She’s reincarnated. Why do you keep trying?”

  Moira set down the sponge she was cleaning the refrigerator with and sat down on one of the kitchenette chairs. She let out a long sigh.

  “Beatrice and I were twins, as you know. We were best friends. I loved her more than I loved even my late husband. There’s something about having a twin… It’s hard to describe.”

  I nodded, though I didn’t fully understand.

  “I was staying with her on a visit. My husband was on a business trip, and my kids were at camp. Her husband was on a trip as well, and she didn’t have any children.” She paused, then shuddered. “I’ve told you that Beatrice died in a house fire, but I’ve never told you the full story. We were up late one night, and we were drinking. We had a bottle of wine and both of us were lightweights. I told her to go to bed, that I would close up and make sure the doors were locked. I was just tipsy enough that I forgot to blow out the candles.”

  I had a horrible feeling I knew what was coming next.

  Moira continued. “The guest room was on the bottom floor, but my sister’s room was on the top floor. At some point during the night, the dog knocked over one of the candles or something. The smoke detectors went off, and I managed to get myself and her dog out. But by the time I realized that Beatrice was still inside, the house was engulfed in flames. I tried to run back in for her, but the firefighters stopped me. They tried to save her, but they couldn’t get through the flames. I saw her standing at her window. We were yelling for her to jump, but she was terrified of heights. She waited too long, and the smoke overwhelmed her. I’m responsible for Beatrice’s death. I can never forgive myself, and I desperately wish I could tell her I’m sorry.”

  “It was an accident. It wasn’t intentional.” I knew that wouldn’t help, but I had to try. And now, I understood her drive to talk to her sister.

  “You know what the horrible thing is? I never told anybody until now. The fire marshal didn’t find any evidence of the candle—it burned up. They thought that the fireplace may have shot out a spark that landed on the rug. The fireplace was still burning when we went to bed. And I never said a word. I’m a horrible person.” She broke down in tears, covering her face with her hands.

  I slowly reached out, gently touching her shoulder. “You don’t know for sure that it was the candle. It could have been the fireplace.” I wanted to make her feel better. I wanted to take away her guilt. There wasn’t any way of ever finding out the truth now, so many years after the fact.

  “I suppose not. But I can’t help but believe that I caused the fire.” She raised her head. Her cheeks were flushed and tears trailed down her face. “Am I an evil person?”

  I shook my head. “No, you’re not. Things happen that are out of our control. Sometimes, we hurt the people we love, never meaning to. It’s been thirty-five years, Moira. You need to set aside the blame. I need you to trust me when I say that your sister has gone on to another life.”

  She sniffled, nodding. “I just can’t stand the thought that she’s blamed me all these years…”

  “If she blamed you, she’d be haunting you. And the only haunting she’s doing is in your dreams and in your memories. I want you to stop trying to contact her. I want you to make peace with yourself. Trust me, I know spirits. If Beatrice wasn’t at rest, if she was still angry at you, she would be here tearing up your house instead of that imp. Will you believe me?”

  Moira slowly nodded. “I’ll try. I’ve spent the past thirty-five years trying to make up for what I did. I’ve tried to help others in whatever way I can. I don’t know if there’s much more I can do.”

  “If you were an evil person, you wouldn’t have told me about this. You would have kept silent. You wouldn’t be trying to contact your sister to ask for forgiveness, because that’s what you’re trying to do. If you were a bad person, you would have gone on your merry way, and just let the entire incident die.”

  She nodded, mulling over my words. We went back to cleaning, and an hour later the kitchen was sparkling, and all the debris had been picked up from her house. She offered me lunch, and I accepted. We sat at the kitchen table over grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, talking about the snow, talking about my neighbors, talking about life in general. When I was ready to leave, she escorted me to the door.

  “I’ll be seeing you next month for my reading, but this time, I’ll have a different question,” she said with a strained smile. “I think…I can finally accept that Beatrice is gone.”

  “Sometimes, silence can be as good as forgiveness. Be grateful she’s been able to move on. She wasn’t trapped in the Aether. That, Moira, is a blessing.”

  As I left the cottage, I tucked my coat closely around me. The snow had picked up. It looked like we weren’t out of the storm yet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I stopped at the Sun & Moon Apothecary before heading home. As I stomped the snow off my boots on the rug inside the door, I could hear laughter from upstairs. Llew waved me over to the counter. He had just finished waiting on one customer and, while there were four or five other people shopping the shelves, there was nobody waiting at the register.

  “This is one hell of a storm,” Llew said. “They say we’re due for more snow over the next week. Climate change in action. How are you today?”

  “I’ve got egg on my face. How do you think I am?” While I had wiped off the egg as best as I could, there was still a sticky residue left in my hair and on my dress.

  “Okay, tell me why you’re covered in raw egg.” Llew put down the catalog he had been holding and leaned his elbows on the counter, waiting.

  “I got a call from Moira today.” I told him the rest of the story, avoiding any discussion of about the house fire or her twin. That was a secret she had invested in me, and it would remain with me until the day she died.

  “When will people learn to take things like speaking boards seriously? They ask for advice, don’t believe us, then we end up going in to clean up their messes.” Llew shook his head. “So I talked to Neil this morning. He’s still up for the great land wight hunt tonight. What about you?”

  “Yeah, though I’m not looking forward to trudging through the snow after it. Especially with as dangerous as that thing is. But at least Neil has the means to destroy it.” I glanced at the calendar on the wall. “Are we in Mercury retrograde? So many glitches have been happening lately that it seems like it.”

  Llew studied the calendar for a moment. “No, but Mars is having a field day and that often equals aggression. So what can I do for you today?”

  “I wanted to know if there’s anything in particular I should have ready for tonight. You said you were going to do some study on land wights. I haven’t had the chance to do much reading on them.”r />
  “They’re nasty buggers. In fact, you’re lucky you didn’t get infected from those barbs. How’s the wrist?”

  I glanced down at the scabs that had formed over the puncture wounds. “Fine. I heal up fast, though. They’re venomous, right?”

  “I suppose you could call it venom. Venom or poison… Whatever the case, when they grab you with those tentacles, they inject a powerful toxin. It’s most dangerous to humans and the magic-born. It can affect the Fae, though usually not quite so virulently as it does humans. Apparently it’s a necrotic toxin, and it breaks down the tissues so the land wight can easily absorb them. So Neil and I will have to be careful. Not that you shouldn’t be, but…”

  “The land wight can kill you two easier than it can kill me. I know what you mean. What should we look for in terms of a nest?” I had no clue what a land wight’s nest would look like.

  “It’s usually dug into the side of a slope or a mountain, or in a barrow of dirt. It will be covered over with a mound of decaying leaves or branches.”

  “Then its nest could be anywhere, and if it’s a mound, there will be snow on top of it, given the weather.” I frowned. UnderLake Park spanned almost six hundred acres. We could search all night and not even be close to the thing.

  “Possibly, but they stay close to their nests. They don’t wander far. And remember—if it has been coming in and out of its nest, the snow will be disturbed. The creature will have left some sort of footprint or trail.”

  I decided I’d better go home and read up on land wights before we went hunting. “What do you suggest I take with me? Neil will have the silver hammer, and that’s the only thing that can destroy it. But I hurt it with fire. Do you know anything else that might keep it at bay?”

  “From what I’ve read, fire is its most potent enemy. So I’d say stack up on the fire spells, and we might want to take a couple torches with us.” Llew laughed. “I wouldn’t normally recommend taking a torch into a heavily wooded park but with all the snow and moisture, I doubt if we’re going to be setting any fires.”