Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Half a dozen glasses cracked, sending glass and water cascading onto the floor as the customers yelped in surprise.

The sound was loud, like a gunshot. Two wine bottles behind the bar tipped over, popping their corks and dumping their vintage all over the counter. Through the window into the kitchen, I saw the grills flare up, sending gouts of flame towards the roof and scorching the ceiling.

Someone screamed.

A chair toppled over, one of the legs snapping like kindling. The drapes in the front window dropped with a crash, just barely missing someone who was sitting just below them. Customers flinched, curling away from the sounds, and a babble of confused voices rose up from both the dining room and the kitchen.

It was like an entire year's worth of bad luck had just hit Nosh, all in a single instant, and to say I was suspicious was like saying Hellcat was a drag at parties. An understatement that would get your eyebrows hexed off.

Louie shot to his feet so fast that his chair flipped over backwards with a resounding crack. "The food," he yelped, his face twisted with horror as he stared through the pass to the chaos going on in the back of the restaurant. Then he bolted forward, moving like an avalanche, towards the doors.

I sat there, stunned that someone so big could move that quickly.

The server had gone to check on the guests, and then stood in the middle of the room, wringing her hands and looking around at the mess like she didn't know where to even start or what to even do. Some people were grabbing their coats, others looking around like they weren't sure what happened and whether or not they were in danger.

I wasn't as panicked. In general, panic wasn't a good look, so I very rarely (if ever) wore it. Instead, I took my time as I made my way over to the sideboard that the server had just abandoned, and snapped out a carefully rolled napkin so I could lift the pewter salt-shaker, which I was fairly sure was the last item she'd touched.

Even through the protective cloth, I could feel the ugly, rotted cobweb feel of the curse clinging to the pewter. The curse, as I imagined it would be, was spent, depleted for the moment, but just waiting to build up the energy required to strike again. I would have bet money that this particular shaker had been the most recent addition to Louie's set and he'd probably acquired it in the last few days. Otherwise, I was fairly sure the curse would have already gone off and the Council would have heard about it.

I poked gingerly at the little pile of salt crystals lying on the cloth of the sideboard. No magic there, just little flavor crystals. Curious. Some of the salt clung to my fingertip, and out of habit, I lifted my hand and flicked the crystals over my right shoulder. It was a silly superstition; one I didn't even think about before doing. Witches weren't in the habit of courting bad luck, but why take the chance? Spill salt, toss it over your shoulder to avert any bad energy. It was automatic. A reflex.

I froze.

Oh.

Seriously?

And just like that, I recognized the pattern to the curses.

Not necessarily the who, or even the why, but most definitely the how. How were the curses being triggered? What set them off, and how was it happening? Goddess, it was so obvious; I felt a bit silly for not recognizing it earlier. In my defence though, neither had the trained detective, and I'd had a lot on my mind lately.

The curses had all been locked onto common superstitions.

The waitress spilled some salt… At the art lover's house, there was the painting of the black cat and someone had most definitely crossed its path... Opening an umbrella indoors at Poppy's store... Even the girl with the beautiful shoes—well, she could have easily stepped on a crack while she was out on her date.

Okay, so I had the means that the curses were being delivered. That was a big piece of the puzzle, sure, but I still didn't know the why. Why was someone playing nasty, dangerous games? If it wasn't such a risk, and innocent people weren't getting hurt, I might have almost been impressed.

I just needed to confirm one thing.

Sticking my head through the swinging kitchen doors was like poking my face into a war zone. There was fire, and shouting, and the clatter of dishes. Someone was using a fire extinguisher that hissed and filled the air with choking powder. Louie was hopping around the room, shockingly nimble for someone bigger than an industrial refrigerator.

"Hey, quick question," I called as he darted past. "Do you ever buy your salt and pepper shakers at pawnshops?"

Louie gave me a frazzled, confused look. His heavy brow was drawn down, his lower tusks more visible than they had been a few minutes ago. "What?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"What was the question?" he yelled out while dodging a blow from the extinguisher.

"The salt and pepper shakers—did you buy them from a pawnshop?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't tell you which ones came from which stores."

Sometimes it amazed even me just how brilliant I was.

With proof in hand, I could go and get some real answers. And then, as Darla might say, I was going to ‘bust this case wide open'.

Louie was still frowning, trying to save something from the grill that was flaring up into a tower of flame and looked beyond redemption, as far as I was concerned.

He gave me a suspicious look. "Why do you–?"

I was saved from having to deal with any awkward questions by the sprinklers going off overhead.

***

The nice thing about pawnshops, if television, movies, and salacious novels were anything to go by, was that they tended to keep very late hours. That was convenient for me, because I had some questions for Mr. Owner, whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me. But that didn't matter that much at the moment. What did matter were the pointed questions I had to ask him. Questions that might come accompanied by some of the nastier hexes that a Blood Witch was capable of, if he wasn't willing to cough up answers. This whole situation had gone on far too long.

I mean, what if that nasty little curse had damaged the restaurant? I'd have been back to square one with my anniversary date planning. Some people were so inconsiderate. Really.

And, as much as I couldn't admit it, I was the High Witch of Haven Hollow. If someone was messing around in this town, magically speaking, then they were doing it on my turf. It didn't feel like witch magic, true. If it had been, I would have to rain down all kinds of hell, but I was pretty sure it wasn't witch magic. But, at this point, that didn't matter. It was the principal of the thing. Especially when what whoever was doing was showy, overt, and liable to cause problems for every other supernatural living in the Hollow.

The fact that I still didn't know why someone would create a bunch of powerful hexes, and then unleash them on their own customers… well, that was still nagging at me. I was confident I could handle whatever some jumped up spell slinger could throw at me, but it just didn't make any sense.

And I really wanted it to make some sense.

Curses weren't like hexes. You had to meanthem. And that meant that someone had put some serious spite, not to mention anger, into those little spells that were going off everywhere, like annoying cherry bombs. These sorts of curses weren't the kind of thing a person did randomly, or just for a laugh. And that made me, not uneasy, but cautious. Furthermore, I was pretty sure I didn't have the full story.

My phone dinged from the passenger seat where I'd tossed it, and I glanced over long enough to see that it was Lorcan calling again. My heart gave a bruised little thump. I'd been avoiding him, not taking his calls. I'd managed to play the reason off as me being annoyed with him. But the truth, as little as I wanted to admit it to myself, was that I was, perhaps, the tiniest bit upset with him. About our anniversary—something I really shouldn't have cared about at all, given what I was. And anniversaries were silly, human created events that were only meant to benefit corporations like Hallmark. Yes, I was convinced of all that.

And, yes, I was still hurt.

It was stupid. It was just an arbitrary date, after all. It wasn't one we'd chosen as momentous. And it also wasn't the date when we'd decided to commit to each other. We'd been racing to keep Maverick and Astrid from becoming the latest victims of my mother's ridiculous, bloody scheme. Two more bodies to be sacrificed to her altar of what she considered perfection. The rest had all been chance, a magical accident. That we'd managed to survive at all was a miracle. There was no reason for me to be annoyed that Lorcan hadn't remembered something so… silly. Unimportant. Stupid even.

Spell, I couldn't remember when our first date had even been. We'd gone on it in an attempt to keep Lorcan from going insane from being denied the return of his Kiss, which would have ultimately driven him to complete the turning. Like Roscoe had with Betanya.

Still, wasn't that equally an anniversary? When had I gotten so maudlin and sappy that this was the kind of thing that I now found important?

Yes, Haven Hollow had made me soft. And I didn't like it one bit.

But, even so, some small, starved part of me, the part that had never considered a relationship and dates and connection like what I had with Lorcan, well… that part of me wanted it, anyway. And that was the part that was currently flaring with hurt. Because, if a relationship was important, if it mattered, wouldn't someone wantto celebrate it? I hadn't grown up with the idea of husbands and love and weddings and relationships as important and yet, even I'd made a note about ours, and decided it was something worth celebrating.

So why hadn't Lorcan?

Then the larger, more practical side of me cleared its throat. Because I was about to walk headfirst into a confrontation with an unknown magic user, one who'd managed to conceal his power from me while I was standing across a counter from him. One, who also had unknown motivations. And having a vampire as backup might not be the worst idea in the world. Especially not a vampire with a vested interest in keeping me uncursed and in one piece.

So, I hit the control on my steering wheel that activated the hands-free option, and I told the Escalade to call Lorcan. He picked up on the first ring, fumbling a little. "Ah, Sweetling. Finally, you answer. Is everything alright? I've been texting and calling you all evening."

I probably should have checked my phone, but I'd been a little distracted by the exploding glassware and kitchen fire I'd just survived.

"I'm fine. I've just been working on a case for Taliyah."

There, that was a good reason to be avoiding someone's calls if I'd ever heard one. A very important, mature reason. Nothing to do with hurt feelings or petty revenge. I was a hundred- and forty-three-years-old. Right, I was a witch who didn't have time for foolish things.

Oh, who was I kidding? A witch's main personality trait was petty. It came with the territory.

"A case?" Lorcan's voice lost its humor, growing serious. "Is it dangerous? Are you alright?"

Well, those were loaded questions. Dangerous? For some. Probably not for me, though. Still, the concerned note in his voice did give me a warm, fluttery feeling, which I promptly squashed.

"It's fine. But I need to go ask someone some questions, and considering they've been slinging some nasty curses around town, I thought, maybe, having some undead backup might come in handy." I tried to keep my voice breezy and unconcerned. Like it was no big deal whichever way he decided.

"You're going now?" He fumbled something, and I heard him give a muffled curse as he scrambled for the phone. "Wanda, it will take me… wait, isn't Taliyah with you?"

Ugh.

I knew I probably should have called her. I still wasn't thrilled about how she'd tried to cut me out of the investigation earlier, but if I left her out of the loop entirely, I knew I'd never hear the end of it. But that didn't mean I couldn't give myself a little head start.

"I'm sure she's on her way," was the half-answer I gave to Lorcan.

He fumbled again and swore more creatively this time. It was enough to get me to crack a real smile as I drove through town. The rain had started up again, turning the streetlights outside to dull smears, and the streets to silver and onyx. I flicked on my windshield wipers, keeping an eye out for the people who were stupid enough to wander out into the road without looking. The tourists that came to the Hollow could be a little bit like lemmings when it came to scuttling across the street to look at yet another store.

"Wanda, I… damn it. I'm on my way. Wait for me though, sweetling? I'll be as quick as I can."

"It's the pawnshop on Kitrey," I told him, very deliberately avoiding making any promises about waiting. It was my lead, and I wanted a chance to talk to Mr. Owner without anyone breathing down my neck. Or nibbling on it, for that matter.

"Wait for me. Please."

All I said was, "see you soon." Though, knowing Lorcan, he could probably hear the smile in my voice.

I hung up before he could say anything else. And if I took a tiny, petty thrill at hanging up on him, well, I was still a witch.