Curse It (A Peg Darrow Novel Book 1), page 10
I didn’t hear any movement inside, and I considered ringing the bell again, when the front door opened with a creak, suggesting the hinges needed oil. The door cracked enough to admit a head. That head was covered in curly grayed hair, dyed with a purple tint, its fine texture, reminding me of the fluff on a baby duck. It stood out every which way, distracting me from looking at the actual woman.
Once I met her eyes, I was taken aback. They were a striking gray that seemed to be far away from the here and now.
"Uh, hi, my name's Peg Darrow. I'm here to see Alice."
The woman continued to stare at me, not really focusing for another five seconds before her eyes suddenly cleared and her thin lips opened up into a wide smile. "Oh goody, a visitor." The woman opened the door, exposing her large frame covered in a lime-green patterned mumu. It was a bold choice, but somehow perfect, given the purple rinse in her hair.
"Are you Alice?"
"Of course, of course, come in." She grabbed my shoulder and ushered me in.
The church was even more awe-inspiring on the inside. It was not outfitted as a church, but as a massive library. How any single individual could have collected all these books in a lifetime was beyond me.
"Are all of these yours?"
"Hmm, yes of course. Did you think I would go around stealing another's books?"
I stuttered a bit, "Of course not, it's just a lot."
"I inherited quite a few, my family always were collectors. Now come in, come in." She clucked and shooed me further into the entry and up a grand staircase leading to a landing. The space held a worn brown leather sofa and two pink velvet wingback chairs that were fraying from use. Alice practically pushed me into one of the latter. "Something to drink?"
I didn't usually turn down refreshments, but despite her size this woman was like a hummingbird flitting here and there, and I didn't want her running off to find me a drink. If she had a heart attack, I’d never get my questions answered. "No, I'm fine, please don't trouble yourself."
She looked at me with speculation before seating herself. "If you're sure."
"I am."
"In that case, that means more cinnamon bread for me!" she said jubilantly.
I didn't see any cinnamon bread, but then the scent of cinnamon and butter hit making me regret my choice. Snap out of it, Peg! You’re here to get information, not raise your blood sugar. I smiled. "I spoke too soon."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll give you some to go."
"Kicking me out already?"
"Nope, but you must be in need of some help, if you're willing to turn down refreshments."
"Good point. Pammy sent me."
"How is that pain in the ass?"
I didn't know how to react. Most people worried it would get back to Pammy if they made such a statement to a stranger.
Alice smirked knowingly. "Yes, you can tell that old hag I said that. She calls me batshit all the time. Turnabout is fair play, though to be fair, batshit is a good description for me."
"You seem perfectly sane."
"Honey, you've been here five minutes. I can pretend to be sane for at least twenty. Best if you tell me the information you need, before your time runs out."
Some people you just instantly took a liking to and this zany lady was one of those people for me. "Okay, I need to know what could wipe its aura completely. I ran an aura trace on a piece of evidence, and the auras looked like opaque glass. When I rode them, it was like stepping into nothing, no sound, no noise, and nothing but white."
"Hmm, that’s odd. Could be a powerful spell, but there would have to be a lot of intent behind it. Could be another supernatural evolution, though I haven't heard about that one. It'd be a neat trick though, huh?" Alice's eyes took on an excited sheen.
"I don't know, it felt...wrong."
"Course it felt wrong. To erase your aura is to erase yourself. If you’re not some angst-ridden teenager, it's not something you should want, but to be able to do it on command could come in handy."
"Sure, if you're a criminal."
Alice tsked. "You're a Fortune. You can't say it wouldn't come in handy to be able to leave no trace on a psychic level when you were investigating. Say you needed to break into another witch's home to do a search and didn't want them to find out. It would be quite a nice thing to have."
"I would never do that."
"Must be new then. Being a Fortune means doing the dirty work for the greater good. As you know, for us it's vigilante justice or nothing at all. Stop watching TV crime dramas. A human's brand of justice cannot work for us in our society."
My face heated slightly. I had been watching too many reruns of Law and Order. That mindset was fine for the small-potato cases, but since I was now playing in the big leagues, it was important to remember that breaking the rules could come in handy. "You're right."
"Course I'm right. Now, did you have any suspect you were thinking about? One you want to know if they could pull off not having an aura?"
"Vampires."
Alice gave a delicate shudder, her ample décolletage quivering from the movement. "Those fuckers are capable of anything."
My eyebrows drew together, and I leaned forward. "You mean they're magically capable?"
"Like I said, species magic is ever evolving, but I've never heard of this. Invisible yes, that's frightening enough by itself, completely blank aura, no. Spell work could get you there. They would need a witch, or a specific type of fae, to be able to do it. They aren't spell workers unless they drink it from a witch, and even then, it would be a weak facsimile."
Nodding, I couldn't help my disappointment. She wasn't giving me anything to go on. "What about goblins?" I glanced to the shelves.
"No, they would need a witch's help too. Vampires are the only ones that can steal from us, even in a small way. Again, if a witch is employed by another race, it can certainly be accomplished. You'd be looking for a powerful one though. I can lend you some books for more research. My time is running out."
Since I’d been admiring the shelves of books, her last comment snapped my head around. I don't know what I expected to see. She looked the same, but now her eyes were starting to glass over slightly. "Yes, thank you. Anything would be helpful."
She rose quickly and marched into the stacks, calling out over her shoulder, "Have you considered the missing aura might be the result of a curse and not self-inflicted?" She muttered the last part of her sentence under her breath, but the echo from the cathedral high ceilings brought the words back to me anyway.
She might have a point. The stark wrongness I sensed earlier during the aura spell came back to me. Curses could be pretty tame, but they could also be the ugliest form of magic. A shiver raced down my spine as I followed Alice. She ran through the stacks, light on her feet as her mumu fanned out behind her, and grabbed books at what looked random, turning quickly each time to deposit them in my arms.
She piled on a dozen before she was satisfied, turning on me suddenly. "You must go now, dear. They're back."
"Huh, who's back?"
Alice let out a girlish tinkle of a laugh that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Her eyes were beyond glazed over. They held the opaque sheen of death. I wanted to reach out, touch her arm, to make sure she was okay, but they were filled with books. Instead, I turned and fled from her toward the front door. Her giggle echoed through the building chasing me.
The quick burst of energy left me out of breath by the time I closed the door behind me. The combination of my impromptu sprint and the twenty pounds of books should’ve left me sweating, instead I was suddenly cold. There were goose bumps on my arms, and after manhandling the stack of books to one arm, I saw that my hands were blue from the cold.
It was a chilly sixty degrees by an Arizonans’ standards, but I shouldn't be cold. Shaking my head, I walked off the front porch of the church, feeling more than relieved to leave the glamour behind. The books would need to be returned eventually. Maybe I could get some more answers then. The church felt welcoming when I’d originally entered, but when Alice said run, I ran faster than I had the month before when Lola and I went to a carnival haunted house, and a man dressed as a clown chased me with a chainsaw. A mystery for another day, and I was beginning to find I enjoyed mysteries.
My stomach grumbled as I headed down the street to my parked Jeep. Damn it, she forgot the cinnamon bread. Once in the Jeep, I blasted the heater and obtained instant relief from the chill invading my bones. With the books stacked precariously on my passenger seat, I made U-turn and headed back to Mesa.
A drive-thru burrito stand became dinner. A green chili pork burrito, a churro, and their largest Diet Pepsi added to my bounty. Books and burritos, under normal circumstances I would consider this a pretty kick-ass night.
By the time I got home, it was twilight. The desert sky was painted with reds and oranges. I wished there was time to admire the sunset while I was eating my burrito, but there wasn’t. I went to the living room and set the books Alice had given me on the coffee table, only stopping in the kitchen to drop my purse and grab the paper towels necessary when devouring a burrito the size of my head.
Back in front of the books, I noticed they looked old--and valuable. Proper borrowed book etiquette suggested that I didn’t return the books covered in grease and green chili sauce, so I ended up taking my dinner to the porch to enjoy my supper after all. I only dived into research after my hands had been thoroughly washed.
A few hours later, my stomach was uncomfortably full, and my brain felt like it was leaking out of my ears. The clock read ten, but I hadn’t gotten any closer to the answers I was looking for.
The first book dealt with the Evolution of Vampyrs. It was dry, and whereas it made reference to several vampires’ evolution, they were all highly individualized with a wide range of powers, one of which Alice mentioned, was the power to go invisible. She was right, that was terrifying on its own. I was happy to read that the particular vampire had been killed. But where there was one, there could be others.
The book was scientific in nature and thankfully specific as to what going invisible entailed. Only the vampire’s physical form went invisible. Those around him could still feel, touch, smell, and hear him. Mind you, the book was written at the beginning of the twentieth century, and like the book and Alice mentioned, powers tended to evolve. Had the vampire lived, he might now be capable of total invisibility.
After that, I skimmed over a history of goblins. Alice implied they were off the table, but she threw the book on the pile anyway. It must mean something. After reading the first couple of chapters, I realized it was simply a history. Whereas it was something I definitely wanted to read, I needed to focus on my current case.
The next five books were all on curses and spell work. I started with curses because of Alice’s comments, hoping for a “eureka” moment, a specific curse or spell that would explain the scrubbed aura. All I learned was that anything was possible if you put your mind to it and shoved your morals in the cupboard.
The question became: could the murderer be a cursed victim, who recovered from said curse, only to use another spell to later wipe his or her aura? Or perhaps the scrubbed aura was the result of the curse? It was too much to contemplate tonight. My gut told me the vampires and goblins were a dead end, and I should follow the curse angle. Knowing Violet’s history would be necessary in moving forward.
10
Bright and early the next day, I began my trek to Tucson. Violet’s father might know if she had any enemies. At the very least, he would know who to ask. My experience with curses was limited but the curser and the victim usually had a history. Violet was in her twenties, which meant she didn’t have much history, and the majority of it would be in her hometown of Tucson.
It was odd. I had been raised in the Phoenix area and had moved to Tucson for college when my family did. Violet had been raised in Tucson but had gone to Tempe for college. We were two trains passing in the night.
It took most people about an hour and a half to two hours to drive from Mesa to Tucson. For some reason, it never took me less than two and a half. But my grandma appreciated my driving, so there was that. It wasn’t as if I could afford a speeding ticket.
I called Pammy on my way to find out the facility where Dusty, Violet’s father, was living. She liked that I was driving down to Tucson, rather than calling him. I leveled up from baby witch to respectful young lady, goody.
Around ten thirty I pulled into the Cholla Hospice Center. The hospice center decided to name itself after the cacti I referred to as Satan's plant because it tended to jump at its victims, and its multiple needles were a nightmare to get out. Gods forbid your pet got near one.
At least the facility had an appropriate desert theme name. There were a number of Arizona establishments that preferred the words bay, lake, river, and ocean in their names. Arizona had rivers and lakes, but trying to give the impression of waterfront property in most of the cities was pushing it.
Inside the single-story building, I passed the waiting area, noting the collection of vinyl-covered seats in the appropriate southwest shades of teal and a pink somewhere between salmon and Pepto Bismol, as I headed to the receptionist's desk.
The woman who sat behind the desk had a sweet smile that was not unfriendly, but certainly not joyful. Perfect, considering the fact she worked at a place where people went to die. "Hi, how can I help you?"
"Hello, I'm here to see Dusty Williams."
"Family?"
"Friend of the family," I responded.
"I'm glad someone is here to see him. He got news a couple of days ago about the death of his daughter, very tragic." Her voice dropped a few octaves before she added, "Guess she'll be welcoming him at the pearly gates though, which has to be kinda nice."
I nodded, not sure if I agreed with the woman but unwilling to make her feel uncomfortable for trying to find a silver lining in an unexpected death. If she was strong enough to work with death every day, then she had the right to find whatever it took to get her through the day. "Yes, it was very tragic."
Her voice got even lower as she leaned in. "Do you know what happened to her?"
I gave her a hard stare. There was nothing wrong with trying to find a positive in tragedy, but now she was being gossipy. "I couldn't say," I was unable to keep the frost from my voice.
The woman sat back abruptly, aware that she shouldn't have asked. "I'll go see if Mr. Williams is up for visitors."
While she scurried off, I perused the displayed brochures and found out that cremation was a cost-effective alternative to traditional burial service, lovely. I moved on to reading about high-end coffins for the loved one who enjoyed the finer things when the receptionist returned with an overly bright, "Dusty will see you now."
I followed her down a yellowed laminate hallway. The effect eerily similar to the fluorescent lights in Violet's lab. Dusty’s room was located all the way at the end of the hall and dramatically different to the rest of the hospice I had seen. It was painted a deep green color and the floors, while still laminated, were faux wood. The room was surprisingly soothing, despite the hospital bed and various monitoring equipment.
With the help of an adjustable hospital bed, Dusty sat upright. I doubted he would be able to do so without the assistance. His hospital gown hung off his gaunt frame. His forearms gave hints of what used to be ropey muscle, before the disease got ahold of him. He must have been a strong capable man. I gently shook his limp hand. "Hello, Mr. Williams. My name is Peg Darrow. I’m sorry for your loss."
He nodded, the movement slightly ruffling the yellowed white hair. To the left was a framed photo of a blond cowboy with a dark-haired woman and a little girl, who matched her mother. Dusty, his wife, and Violet.
"I want to know who would hurt my baby," he rasped out.
"That's what I'm here for. I'll find out who did this." I reached back out and squeezed his hand.
He must have found some reassurance because he gave me an approving nod and his mouth firmed. "Do you have any leads?" His voice weak but clear.
"A few. I hate to ask, Dusty, but are you a witch?"
He shook. "No, ma'am, but my wife was one. She kept no secrets from me. You can speak freely, even if you told me some big dark secret, I'll be dead before I can tell anyone."
I gave him a speculative look. "She told you everything?" I didn't doubt him, I just didn't want to give the dying man a heart attack.
"Yes, ma'am. I know about everything and everyone." He put an emphasis on “one.”
"Okay, well there is a possible curse angle, but there’s also a vampire angle."
"That's not good," he replied mildly. He obviously knew about vampires.
"No, nothing they touch is ever good. Did you know about any relationships Violet may have had with vampires?"
"No, ma'am. My little girl should have known better. Her mama certainly drilled it into her head enough. Never talk to vampires, they only want your blood.”
Nodding, I asked, "What about curses? Do you know if Violet ever cursed anyone? Maybe an ex-boyfriend or a former friend?"
He shook his head. "No, to me my daughter was a princess and never disappointed me. Then again, she wouldn’t share anything that could disappoint me. We weren't close like that. Don't get me wrong, I loved my daughter and would do anything for her, but she never wanted to worry me. She talked to her mom about that stuff before she passed away. I'm not a stupid man, my daughter couldn't have been the angel I believed her to be. Everyone's shit stinks, but I was happy to pretend."
"Children never want to worry their parents," I agreed, I never wanted my parents to think I was incapable of taking care or myself. Violet wasn’t perfect but she made bad decisions to help her father. I would never tell him that. "If she was going to tell someone about the darker side of her life, who would it be?"
"I'm not sure if they're still close, given that Ivy still lives here in Tucson, but they were best friends growing up. I think they still stayed in touch."
