Anna Denning Mystery Series Box Set: Books 1–3 Page 21
Rowan’s mouth hung open. Jazmin, now standing even closer to the store’s back door, folded her arms and hunched her shoulders against the cold, her eyes traveling from Darlene to Rowan, waiting for one of them to speak. Anna knew Darlene would make her move now, one way or the other. Her eyes had flared at the word “Telluride.” The barb had found its mark.
Darlene’s head turned away toward the trees, pivoting like a toy head on a spring. Anna side-stepped to her left. She wanted Darlene to see her, to know that from here on out there was no place she could turn that Anna wouldn’t be.
But Darlene didn’t seem to be looking at anything. It was as though she’d lost her sight and was listening with rapt attention for clues on where to move next. “You’re in my world,” she said at last.
“You mean this parking lot?” Anna said. “Or is everything within a ten-mile radius of wherever you happen to be your world?”
“This is my world, not yours.” Darlene continued to stare ahead, heavy lidded, unfocused.
“I think you should learn to share.”
“This is my system, not yours.”
“What’s your system, Darlene? Sixth-grade bully on the playground?”
“Your system and mine will never reconcile. Your system will die a slow and just death.”
Anna pressed on, emboldened by the response. Darlene was ignoring her questions and issuing statements, reciting a creed. It was how she coped. “I don’t have a system. I don’t need to invent or transcribe.”
“The sun’s going down on Christmas Eve,” Darlene said.
“The sun’s been down for hours.” Anna shoved a tangle of hair behind her ear. “It’s one of the shortest days of the year. That solstice thing.”
“My people of the cunning arts, three centuries past, gather, hidden from the nonbeliever, veil upon veil.”
My God, Anna thought, Darlene’s chanting. She reached for her wedding ring and wondered what Sean would think to see her now. Standing in a parking lot on Christmas Eve, being cursed by a witch. She could see his face, his eyes twinkling, and hear him laugh, wondering what sort of mess she’d gotten herself into. She imagined him watching her and drew strength from that. I stuck my hand where they like to live, Sean. But they’re all rattle and no bite.
“Hec-a-taaay.” Darlene drew out the last syllable of the word, and Anna recognized the voice from the car last night, with the same soft H, the same breathless pleasure. “Hecate, queen of the night, she who works her will. Hecate.”
“Are you casting a spell on me, Darlene? Right here in this parking lot? Where are your manners?” Anna was pushing it, she knew. She was looking for the chink in Darlene’s armor and didn’t care how she found it. “Do you expect some Mycenaean hag to pop out of the woods? Talk about a dead system. Hey, Rowan.” She turned to him and was surprised to see his face pinched in dread. He was foolish and she wanted to knock some sense into him. “How about joining in with that Crom thing you did last night? Nothing goes with Hecate like Crom. Come on, call for the worm.”
From the corner of her eye Anna saw the shocked looked on the faces of the other women. Jazmin was anchored in place, her back against the door, fascination and fear playing on her face. The chanting stopped. Darlene continued to gaze into the trees. She began grinding her hands together so forcefully that Anna heard a knuckle crack.
“I can’t take this anymore, I’m freezing.” A woman near Jazmin rubbed her bare forearms and headed back into the store. Anna was glad—one less witch to worry about—and she wondered if the bond between witches wasn’t as strong as Darlene seemed to believe.
“I need my jacket,” Jazmin said, following the woman inside. The door thudded loudly as it shut behind her.
Rowan breathed a word. It sounded Gaelic or Welsh to Anna’s ears. He said it again when Anna peered over her shoulder at him. “Protection, strength,” he said in English.
“What was that word you said before?” Anna asked.
Rowan repeated it, a sneer forming on his face.
“Is that Welsh for tiny yellow worm?” she asked.
He looked like he wanted to grab her by the throat.
“Rowan, calm,” Darlene said. “She’s trying to rile you. She’ll never understand.”
“I’m only echoing you,” Anna said, looking back at Darlene. “You mock Rowan all the time, and he never quite catches on. You only tolerate Rowan and Jazmin because you can use them. But neither of them are traditional enough for you, are they?”
“What do you know about it?” Darlene raised her voice but continued to face the woods. “Are you mocking my spiritual tradition?”
“You bet,” Anna said. “Normally I wouldn’t find it worthy of comment, but in your case I make an exception.”
“Two thousand years of persecution, two thousand years.” Darlene’s shoulders were tight, her neck stiff.
“Ah, yes,” Anna said. “The only thing handier than victimhood is borrowed victimhood. No work, same payoff. Is that what your grandmother Evelyn Hargrave taught you? Or is it in that book you like to parade around?”
Darlene’s eyes were slits as her head turned slowly toward Anna. She was a snake, ready to strike. “Foul, black-blooded . . .”
Anna clenched her jaw in anticipation. Darlene was six feet tall and more than capable of delivering a nasty punch, but she stayed where she was, feet firmly planted. She tossed back her hair and glanced at the women still standing in the parking lot. “Black-blooded, filth of filth . . .” Her voice trailed off.
It seemed to Anna that Darlene fed off her ability to inspire fear, yet tonight she’d failed, and there was no backup coming in the form of sister witches. She had thrown her best shot and was, at least for now, out of options.
Anna looked over at Rowan. He was seething, his face contorted in malice as he waited for Darlene to speak or move.
“I despise you,” he said to Anna. “People like you think you own the world.” His hands closed into fists. “You don’t give a damn about me or Jazmin, Darlene does. You don’t know the good she does that she never even tells anybody about.” The wisecracking young man of only two days ago was gone. He was the picture of young rage.
Everyone turned as Jazmin exited the door in her jacket, her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Rowan, never mind,” Darlene said.
“No, I won’t.” Rowan moved slowly toward Anna, punctuating his words with a jabbing fist. “You don’t know how good she treats people that don’t even have a place to live. She hired me and Jazmin, she found us places to live, she gives money to charities.” He stopped three feet from Anna. She refused to move. “Darlene’s right. You’ll never get it.”
“Oh I get it, Rowan.”
“Yeah, you bet you’ll get it.” He cackled, glancing as he did from face to face. When no one joined in his laughter, he stopped.
“The devil’s a cool day in summer, a breath of mountain air, the sun aglow on a winter’s day.”
“What?”
“It’s the chorus from a bluegrass song my husband used to play.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s about appearances, Rowan. Evil doesn’t wear a black hat. Sometimes it smiles and gives away money.”
Rowan tried to smile but his upper lip stiffened halfway into its curl, baring his teeth. He looked caught between the desire to retreat and the need to lash out. A cornered fox.
Anna continued. If Rowan wouldn’t listen, maybe Jazmin would. “One thing I can’t figure out, Rowan, is whose car you were driving last night. You don’t own a car, and unless Darlene’s a hypocrite, neither does she.”
“She has friends, you know,” one of the witches said.
“Jazmin, where are you going?” Darlene asked.
They all turned. Jazmin was walking through the parking lot, heading for the alley that led to Summit Avenue. At the sound of Darlene’s voice Jazmin stiffened and hunched her shoulders, as if someone had grabbed her by the back of the ne
ck.
“Jazmin?” Darlene said. “Come back here, damn you.”
“I have to go.” She jerked around and took a few hesitant, backward steps, her eyes on Darlene.
“Jaz?” Rowan moved toward her.
Jazmin stopped and leveled her eyes at Rowan, stopping him in his tracks. She was afraid, but she meant business. “Leave me alone.”
“Come on, Jaz, don’t go.”
“Stay away from me!” She stood rigid, one arm outstretched, her orange hair glowing underneath the floodlight at the corner of the alley. “I trusted you guys!” she shrieked. “You make me sick. How could you do that?”
“Do what?” Rowan again walked toward Jazmin. “We’re friends.”
“We’re not! I’m not like that!” Jazmin turned on her heels and ran, disappearing down the alley.
“Hey!” a voice called out. Everyone halted in place, watching the alley. Gene Westfall emerged and stood where Jazmin had stood moments before. “Is something wrong with her?” he asked, motioning over his shoulder. No one answered.
“Gene,” Anna said. She tried to keep her voice neutral, but she was cold, exhausted, and relieved beyond words to see him. She wanted out of the parking lot, now.
“Sorry to interrupt things,” Gene said, “but we’re going to miss that party if we don’t get going. All the good food will be gone.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“Right.” Anna walked toward him, feeling a tingling at her neck, her overwrought senses telling her that Darlene was gliding toward her, closing in. She was glad Gene was watching her back.
“Sorry,” Gene said as they slipped down the alley. “I know you wanted me to wait, but it’s been almost twenty minutes and I heard shouting.”
“It’s fine.”
“I just don’t want you to think—”
“I was relieved to see you.” They stepped into the light of Summit and Anna reached out and touched his forearm for an instant before letting her hand drop. “It was getting scary back there.”
He looked down at his feet as they crossed the street. “You did it, though. Stared down a coven of witches with a druid on top. Good for you.” He lifted his head and smiled at her.
“I did, didn’t I?”
Gene opened the Jimmy’s doors with the remote and handed Anna the keys. She pulled herself into the driver’s seat and gave Jackson a pat on the head while Gene scooped his mail from the passenger seat and hopped in.
“Who would have thought there’d be so many witches in Elk Park,” she said. “And at least two of them with witch ancestors.” She put the key in the ignition and stopped.
“Anna?”
“I wonder . . .” she began, her thoughts spinning. Why were there so many witches in Elk Park? And why had the name Evelyn Hargrave angered Darlene more than the mention of Telluride, as though the name Hargrave was sacred ground?
“You wonder about what?”
“Can you wait a little longer?” She raised herself in the seat and reached around Gene’s seat, grabbing hold of her laptop. She wriggled it from under the seat then raised it with both hands. “I’m sorry, I have to check this right away.”
“Go for it.” He grinned and made a shoo gesture with his hand. It was an order.
She went to a genealogy website and began typing. Gene leaned toward her. “Marianne W. Kellner, huh?” She nodded, still typing, then stopped to rotate the laptop so it was easier for Gene to see. “Darlene’s mother. Maybe I’ve been focusing on the wrong witch tree.”
She hit Enter, waited, then stuck her index finger on the laptop’s pad and scrolled down. “That’s odd. Here’s a Marianne W. Kellner born in 1930, about the right time. Her father was Dallas C. Kellner, but her mother was someone named Doris Weston, not Evelyn Hargrave.”
Anna sucked in her breath, her hand hovering over the keyboard. “And Marianne Kellner was born in Rockford, Illinois.”
“That means something?”
“It can’t be a coincidence. Oh, Lord, I think . . .” The sound of her cell phone ringing startled her.
“I’ve got it.” Gene reached into his pocket and handed her the cell. “Your battery’s low, by the way.”
Twenty seconds later Anna hung up the phone and handed Gene her laptop. “That was my friend Liz,” she said, pulling from the curb. “She was listening to the scanner. The police were talking about an eighteen-year-old female attacked half a block from here. An ambulance just picked her up.”
22
“I’m looking for Jazmin Morningstar,” Anna told the hospital receptionist. She yanked her sliding purse strap back onto her shoulder. “She was brought here by ambulance. I was told to wait, and I’ve been waiting.”
The receptionist stared at her computer screen, drumming the keyboard’s palm rest with her fingernails. “No Morningstar,” she said. She clicked her tongue. “Is that an Indian name?”
“She must be out of the ER by now,” Anna said. On her insistence, Gene had gone to his father’s hospital room. That had been twenty-five minutes ago, and still no one seemed to know where Jazmin was or how seriously she’d been injured. Jazmin. That was it. Jazmin would be using her real name. She’d have to for insurance.
“Anna.” At the sound of her name, Anna turned to see Gene coming up beside her. “You haven’t found her yet?” he asked.
“They keep telling me to wait, she’s probably still in the ER.” Anna looked back at the receptionist. “Jazmin may be under the name Hayley Todd.”
“Spelling?” the woman asked, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
“Todd, double d, Hayley as in Hayley Mills.”
The receptionist typed, paused, then hit the Enter key. “Hayley Mills the actress?”
“Yes.” Anna impatiently beat a rhythm with her shoe. “Anything?”
“Hayley Todd, head injury.”
Anna winced.
“Is she in emergency?” Gene asked.
“She’s been admitted overnight for observation, third floor, room 14. Visiting hours have been extended for Christmas Eve. Elevators are around the corner to your left.”
“Thank you,” Anna said.
“Overnight for observation,” Gene said. “That’s good news.”
“I hope so. I can’t believe I’ve been asking for someone named Jazmin all this time.”
“She would’ve been in the ER until a few minutes ago, anyway.” Gene gestured with his head and they began walking toward the elevator.
“How’s your dad doing?” Anna asked.
“Well. He’s on this floor. He and my sister are talking bookkeeping right now, so I thought I’d make my escape. Are you driving home after you see Jazmin?”
“Yeah, I just want to see if she’s okay.”
“Do you know anything else about what happened?”
“Someone was driving down Russell Street and saw a man attack her. The driver honked and the man ran off, then the driver called the police. Liz told me ten minutes ago.” She pointed down the hall, in the direction of the elevators, where Liz was sitting on a small bench, typing away on the laptop across her knees. “She runs ElkNews.com, the town’s news website.”
“She must be busy lately. First a murder, then an assault, and all before Christmas.”
“There you are,” Liz said, looking up. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”
“Liz, this is Gene Westfall, Roger’s son.”
Liz closed her laptop and stuck out her hand. “Oh yes, Anna’s mentioned you. I’ve heard you’re taking over Buckhorn’s.”
“Word travels that fast?”
“Small town.”
“Have you heard anything more about what happened?” Anna asked.
“My contact—he’s the same guy who told me about Susan—said someone grabbed Jazmin and she fell when they struggled.” She tucked her laptop under her arm and stood. “They think she slipped on ice and her head hit one of the landscape rocks around Dillon’s Saddle and Tack.”
“It happened soon after she ran down the alley.” Anna punched the elevator’s up button. “After she screamed at Rowan and Darlene.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Gene said. “I wish we’d offered her a ride home.”
“She wouldn’t have taken it,” Anna said.
“I almost forgot.” Gene dug into his coat pocket and handed Anna a spool of cherry red ribbon, the same ribbon she’d admired in Buckhorn’s. “A small Christmas present. For next year’s decorations.”
“Thank you.” Anna could think of nothing else to say. The elevator opened and she stepped inside, followed by Liz and her computer. Her finger poised over the button for the third floor, she said, “Now I know my color for next Christmas.”
Gene smiled. “Just like my sister,” he said as the door closed.
Liz stared wordlessly at Anna, waiting for an explanation. Anna pushed a strand of hair behind her right ear and slipped the ribbon into her jacket pocket. She didn’t intend to say a thing.
“Well, I’ve only seen him with you for three minutes, but I think it’s plain as day that—”
Anna shot Liz a look that stopped her midsentence.
They exited the elevator, Liz pointing the way to room 14. “I’ll wait outside the room, that bench at the end of the hall,” Liz said. “Jazmin doesn’t know me, and I’ve got a story to type.”
Anna heard voices—at least two—then laughter. She slowed as she neared the room and looked at Liz. “Who else knows Jazmin is here?”
“I didn’t see anyone a few minutes ago,” Liz said. “But I left to find you.”
Now Anna heard only one voice. A deep, motherly voice. The voice was saying something about walking a new path. Liz headed for the bench and Anna took the last few steps to Jazmin’s door in long strides.
Jazmin, who sat in the bed nearest the door, looked up in surprise. “Anna, how did you know?”
“You look a little breathless,” Darlene said.
“Not at all.” Anna forced herself to meet Darlene’s eyes. The thick smell of patchouli filled the room. Anna wondered if Darlene wore it more as a form of armor than as something she truly liked. What was she doing here, and why were she and Jazmin grinning? Half an hour ago Jazmin had finally recognized who Darlene and Rowan were and had run from them. Now she was chatting with Darlene as if nothing had happened between them.