Charmed To Death Part 25

"How soon after the incident was he killed?"

"I think about two weeks later. Why?" I asked, not understanding where she was headed with her questions.

"Were there a lot of people in the library when the girl went into convulsions?"

"Yes. Quite a crowd gathered, I think. I was too busy trying to help the girl to notice."

"You were the one closest to her when the convulsions started?"

"Yes." I squinted, trying to remember. "She was standing at the counter, trying to check out a book for a research a.s.signment. I remember now," I said. "We were having an argument. The book she wanted wasn't allowed out of the library and she didn't think it was fair. She'd started to raise her voice, when all of a sudden her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed in a grand mal seizure. I rushed to the other side of the counter to help her while someone called the paramedics."

Darci nodded her head wisely.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't you know any of the superst.i.tions concerning witches?"

I heard the exasperation in her voice, but I didn't understand why.

I threw my hands in the air. "What's a girl getting sick have to do with superst.i.tion?"

Darci rolled her eyes at my ignorance. "At one time, people believed seizures, or fits, were caused by the victim being possessed."

"So?"

"By a witch witch," she said with emphasis on the word witch witch.

I stood and walked over to the edge of my patio. "You're saying someone thought I'd hexed that girl?"

Darci came to stand beside me. "Yes. You were arguing with her and she fell down in a fit."

"Okay, someone thought I was a witch and caused the girl to get sick. But it doesn't explain why someone killed Brian, why they did what they did to him. The wounds, the star carved on his forehead-"

Darci grabbed my arm, stopping me. "What star?"

I took the clip out of my hair and smoothed it flat. "A five-pointed star. The police have never released that piece of information, but I saw the star in my vision."

"Can you show me?"

"Sure, it's just a star." I bent down, and with a stick, drew the star I'd seen in my dreams in the dirt. Throwing the stick away, I stood and looked at Darci.

Her eyes were wide and her hand covered her mouth. Slowly she lowered her hand and turned to me. As she did, her eyes filled with tears.

"That's not only a star, it's a pentagram."

My G.o.d, she was right! We'd all been so sure Brian had been killed by a serial killer that I'd never made the connection between the marks on his body and my heritage. The pentagram-the mark of the witch. I suddenly felt like I was standing in a pit and the walls were closing in. And from the pit, I watched the tears trickle down Darci's face, while her voice sounded very far away.

"I don't think the killer intended to kill Brian. You-he wanted to kill you."

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

The sun was getting higher in the sky and clouds were building in the west. There'll be rain before nightfall There'll be rain before nightfall, I thought from where I sat on the cold concrete.

Birds flew over the trees that circled my backyard. Is one of them my hawk Is one of them my hawk, I wondered? I wish I was with him now I wish I was with him now.

Queenie lay in the gra.s.s near me, watching a robin hop around, hunting for worms. Her predator eyes gleamed and the tip of her tail twitched slowly back and forth. She'd never catch him if she pounced. The robin was too far away.

Lady was on the ground next to me, her head in my lap. When I'd sank to the patio, my legs no longer able to support my weight, she'd plopped down near me. With a whimper, she'd snuggled close.

Darci sat at my other side, slowly rubbing my back while I stared at nothing in particular.

Everything looked so normal normal.

I made a derisive snort. Normal? Nothing is normal, especially me. And because of my oddity, because of who and what I am, my best friend Brian had been killed Normal? Nothing is normal, especially me. And because of my oddity, because of who and what I am, my best friend Brian had been killed.

And what about Gus? A low groan came from deep in my throat. Am I responsible for Gus too Am I responsible for Gus too?

I looked at Darci, questioning, "Gus? Do you think Gus was killed because of me too?"

Darci shook my arm in irritation. "Gus and Brian weren't killed because of you. They were killed because some sicko believes in old superst.i.tions."

"But if Gus hadn't spoken to me at the meeting, maybe the killer wouldn't have tied him to me."

She shook my arm again. "Snap out of the guilt trip," she said sternly. "You said you didn't know if the energy you felt was directed at you. Maybe it was at Gus. Maybe the killer went to the meeting to find you, but then zeroed in on Gus."

"But why Gus?"

"He had a squint," she said, her eyes focused on Queenie as she made a mighty leap and missed the robin completely.

Her words soaked through my misery. " 'A squint'? I don't understand."

"You really need to read more about witches," she said patting my leg. "A squint is the mark of the evil eye."

"A squint means the person can curse someone simply by looking at them? That's crazy."

"The killer's sane?"

"I get your point," I mumbled. "But he's going to kill people because they squint?"

"He might"-she trailed off-"if you and Comacho don't stop him. Listen, he thinks he's a witch hunter and he's hunting you you. If you don't quit feeling guilty, you could screw up and he might get lucky and kill you. Then Abby could be next."

I scrambled to my feet and whipped out my cell phone. I quickly punched in the number for Abby's room.

"h.e.l.lo," Mother answered.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Arthur is still here and we were talking about going down to the cafeteria. Why?"

"I think it would be better if you went one at a time."

"You don't want your grandmother left alone. Is that it?"

"Yeah. I know there's a guard, but I'd feel better knowing either you or Arthur were with her too. I'll explain later."

"All right, dear," she said and hung up.

I jumped when my cell phone rang as I was putting it back in my pocket. Opening it, I answered, "h.e.l.lo."

"You were right. Something's weird about the bottle," Comacho said without preamble.

I couldn't see the expression on his face, naturally, but I bet he about choked on the words "You were right." I tried not to gloat.

"Hey, you still there? Did you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes." I moved over to the side of the house and leaned against the siding. "What did the lab find?"

"The bottle did contain urine, but it had been wiped clean, no fingerprints at all."

"Teenagers wouldn't have bothered to wipe off the prints before they chucked the bottle in the ditch," I speculated.

"That's what I think too."

"What rattled in the bottle?"

I felt Comacho weighing his words before answering my question.

"Nine bent nails. And get this. The urine had human hair in it." He hesitated. "Since you're supposed to be a witch-"

"What did you say?" I interrupted.

"You heard me," he growled. "Is the stuff in the bottle a spell-or what?"

"Does the question mean you believe me?"

"No." His voice sounded positive. "It means I'm a cop and it's my job to examine all the angles, even if I think they're wacky."

"I see. Sorry, Abby's the spell expert not me."

"But don't you guys write this stuff down? Don't you have some recipe?"

"You mean like 'eye of newt, hair of toad. Bubble, bubble; toil and trouble'?" I asked.

Comacho missed the sarcasm. "Yeah."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, my tone derisive.

I wasn't the only one who needed to read up on witches. Comacho's only frame of reference was obviously TV shows. I intended to set him straight.

"There are books, journals, handed down from mother to daughter, and I know Abby has them," I explained. "But I've already told you: What we do isn't about charms and curses. Our magick is about using the energy around us to heal and help. Whatever was in that bottle was meant to hurt; Abby wouldn't have anything like that written in her journal. Even to write the words, the spell, used in that bottle would give off enough bad vibes to hurt someone."

"Would you at least look?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said, satisfied. "One more thing, tomorrow I'm going to check out the stores in Des Moines that sell this particular wine, see if anyone remembers someone buying it recently. Do you want to go with me?"

Shocked, I almost dropped my phone.

"Sure," I said.

Wait a second. This was too easy. Comacho had fought my involvement in his investigation from the start. Why the sudden change?

"Why do want me to go with you?" I asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

" 'Cause if you're with me, you won't be getting into any more trouble."

The line went dead.

Clicking the phone shut, I walked over to Darci.

"That was Comacho. The bottle we found had nine bent nails, human hair, and urine in it. Since you've been doing so much reading, any idea what the bottle could mean?" I asked.

Darci pursed her lips. "Hmm," she said, thinking. "No, but I'll see what I can find out."

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me carefully, Darci. I only want you to do research. No going off on your own, snooping around, okay?"

Her eyes slid over to the circle of trees. "Okay."

I gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "I mean it, Darci."

"I thought I heard voices back here," said a voice coming around the corner of the house.

We both jumped at the same time.

"Gosh, Bill, you startled me," I said.

"Sorry. I knocked, but no one answered. I saw Darci's car and I figured you might be out here." He looked up at the sky. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I think there'll be rain before tonight."

He sniffed the air. "Maybe."