Page 10 of Any Witch Wolf (The Smokethorn Paranormals #2)

Chapter

Ten

CHAPTER TEN

T he mandrake went missing an hour before I was supposed to meet with Ronan.

“Did you see anyone come into the garden room?” I asked Cecil.

He chittered what I presumed were gnome obscenities at me.

“Fine, okay, no one could get in without your knowledge. Then how? I’m kind of panicking here, okay?”

Fennel growled at Cecil, who made a rude hand gesture back at him.

“Let’s stop blaming each other and figure out how in the world something could go missing when no one knew it was buried here, besides us.” I moved from planter to planter, searching frantically for the mandrake. “I knew I should’ve kept it in the trailer.”

Cecil chattered to Fennel.

“I can hear you, and no, I’m not losing it,” I snapped at the gnome. “I’m looking around to see if whoever uprooted the thing buried it in another spot.”

That was a dead end, so I started looking outside.

“ Meow .” Fennel strode up to me, plopped on my feet, and refused to move.

“Fennel, I don’t have time for this. I have to look for?—”

The cat climbed up my body to my shoulder and began to meow loudly into my ear. He was pissed, and I didn’t understand why.

“Why are you so enraged?”

He pushed off my shoulder and hit the ground running, right up to the front porch of Mom’s cottage. He planted himself in front of the door and let out a sound I’d never heard him make before. It was a cross between a hiss and a screech and seemed to come from the deepest parts of him.

“You want me to go inside? Why? No way the mandrake’s in there.”

Cecil darted out of the garden room, across the grass, and up the porch steps. His beard was puffed out, indicating his arms were crossed beneath it.

“You, too? C’mon, guys. I need to find that damn plant for Sexton. I can’t afford another screw up here. I still owe him for that enchanted lamp he used to save me last month.” I thought it over. “Enchanted or cursed—hard to say with artifacts like Persephone’s Ear.”

Fennel’s tail swished. Cecil’s nose twitched. They both gave me thoroughly annoyed looks.

“What are you trying to tell me? Because I’m not picking up on what you’re laying down here.”

“ They’re telling you to stop relying on your human senses and start relying on your magic. Any fool could see that. ”

The voice didn’t send a chill down my spine. It sent an ice pick directly into the center of my brain. I let out a pained grunt and swiveled around.

“Sexton?”

The gravedigger demon stood off to my right, behind the mailboxes, arms folded. He wore his customary black robe over a three-piece gray suit, complete with watch and chain. His bones were covered with flesh, but no fat or muscle. He was a seven-foot-tall skeletal cadaver, and he scared the sanity out of me.

“Will you allow me inside?” He held up a long bony finger. “I swear not to harm a single entity on your property in spirit or flesh.”

Gods, that was a creepy way to say he meant no harm. “Come in.” I’d wanted to keep the missing mandrake a secret, but now that he was here, I resigned myself to delivering the bad news.

“What is it your partners are asking you to use your magic for?” Sexton asked. He greeted both Cecil and Fennel with a respectful nod, which they returned. Cecil’s nose twitched nervously. Fennel looked perfectly fine. Cats were guardians of the underworld, so he had nothing to fear from Sexton.

“I lost your package,” I said, sadly.

His eyes were dark, not the flat black typical of demons, but the color of deep space, an infinite dive into the star-dusted galaxies buffeting our world. I jerked my gaze from his. It would be so easy to fall in and lose myself.

“Are you certain?”

I explained everything.

“How did you know it was a Mictlan mandrake?”

“A friend of mine helped me figure it out. That’s why you wanted to keep Ida away from the mandrake, right? Because her kind can accidentally awaken it?”

“Yes.” He gave me an odd look. “Perhaps that is what has happened.”

“How? Ida’s not here. She went to the beach for a couple of days with some of her friends. Unless that mandrake has an insane range, it can’t be her. It was still under my workstation after she left.”

Cecil leaned into Fennel, who lowered his furry head. They appeared to be sharing some secret. Fennel jerked upright, and Cecil took off across the lawn, disappearing under Gladys’s trailer.

Fennel’s head moved from me to the trailer and back again. He seemed to be torn between staying to protect me and following Cecil.

“Go after him. I’m fine here with Sexton. If he wanted me dead, I’d already be six feet deep.”

Fennel bounded off to the sound of Sexton’s rattling laughter. “You amuse me.”

That hadn’t actually been a joke. “I’m sorry about this. I won’t stop looking.”

“You are your mother’s daughter. Of course you won’t.” He strode up to the porch, lowering himself onto the swing. His hand made an odd hollow sound as he patted the wood-slatted seat, indicating I should join him. “You won’t find it with your human eyes.”

I didn’t play dumb. “You’re saying I need to use earth magic.”

“If this were a human plant, you’d use human skills. But the mandrake is a magical plant. Doesn’t it make sense to use magic to find it?”

I sat on the swing, let my legs dangle. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“Lose an expensive plant? What sense would that make?”

“No,” I sighed. “I don’t mean the losing part. I mean did you purposely stop by tonight because you sensed I’d lost it?”

“How would I have known that?” His voice was like the wind through dry leaves.

“How do you know most things? Through your own magic, I guess. Sexton, I’ve seen you do things most witches would consider impossible. So, I ask again, and respectfully request an answer. Did you come here tonight because you knew the plant was missing?”

He held up a hand like a spindly tree branch. Power shot from his fingers in a silent whomp that I felt in my chest. For a short moment, the soil around us glowed lava red. “It is not missing. It is here.”

“Where?”

“It has buried itself.” He chuckled, the sound like bones being shaken in a metal cup. “It discovered the magic in your soil. It will be a challenge to extricate it.”

Glad someone had connected with the soil.

I leapt off the swing and hopped down the porch steps. “Tell me where you sensed it, and I’ll get it.” A disturbing thought hit me. “Wait. Has it awakened? My understanding was if I kept it buried and away from Ida and bright sunlight, it would remain dormant. But if it buried itself…”

Sexton regarded me. He’d stopped laughing.

“Oh no. Someone activated it.”

The gravedigger demon nodded.

“Was it … me?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” In a single blip of a second, he’d left the porch and stood beside me. Even though I’d been staring directly at him, I never saw him move. The swing was entirely still. “Find the creature.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Mictlan mandrakes are the size of a frigging peach pit.” I stood in the middle of Mom’s small front yard and did a full turn, arms extended. “He could be anywhere.”

“She.”

“Pardon me, she . I didn’t check her bits before I buried her in the pot,” I muttered.

“Good to know you’re not a deviant,” he said, without even a hint of humor. “If you don’t find her before midnight tonight, at least you can be certain you will find her soon after.”

Damn. I’d forgotten about that.

“How loud do they shriek?”

“You’ve never heard one?” His lip twitched. “You’re an earth witch.”

“Mictlan mandrakes are pretty rare. I’ve only ever seen one other, and it was being prepared for travel. I know they don’t like to be alone.”

“Only between the hours of midnight and sunrise. They dislike the night.”

My shoulders drooped. “Why do you keep sending me on these bizarre jobs?”

“I make a request. You accept the errand.” Sexton blipped across the lawn in an eye blink. “The grass is coming in. It would seem the magic here is rising closer to the surface.”

“I don’t know about that. Mostly it’s been about water and fertilizer.”

He blipped again and was back behind the mailboxes. “Don’t be stubborn, Betty Lennox. I am afraid you might not have the time.”

That sounded ominous. “What do you mean by?—”

He was gone.

“Master of the creepy exit,” I said. “You could at least say goodbye.”

There was no response, of course. He was long gone. And he hadn’t given me a single clue as to where the mandrake was, except:

If this were a human plant, you’d use human skills. But the mandrake is a magical plant. Doesn’t it make sense to use magic to find it?

I glanced at my watch. Astoundingly, only twenty minutes had passed since I’d last checked, which meant I had forty to get to Ronan’s Pub. I only needed ten if I played fast and loose with the speed limit on the back roads.

A quick look around told me Cecil and Fennel were still off somewhere. My instincts told me they were probably committing a felony. Oh well. At least they were quiet.

I set a timer on my watch, went to my knees in the grass, and pressed my fingers into the soil. As I had at Annabelle Rossi’s house this afternoon, I pushed power into the earth, seeking out the taproots of the mandrake.

Seeking out the entire mandrake, actually. The creature was mostly root.

I closed my eyes, sinking not only my fingers and magic but my consciousness into the soil. This was how I’d been taught to connect with the earth as a child—it was a form of meditation specific to earth elemental witches, a way of boosting our power.

There was a part of me that didn’t think it would work. A big part, after the way the soil had failed me last night. I expected instant rejection, so when it not only accepted my magic but welcomed it, it took me a moment to acknowledge what my senses were telling me.

Cold, damp soil pushed against me on all sides. I was aware of my physical body—now lying face down on the grass—but it was background noise, a distraction. I let it go, and suddenly, I was a mole tunneling underground, a rat scurrying through petrichor-scented passages, a garden snake soundlessly slithering between and beneath growing things. Exploring. Absorbing. Seeking. When connected with the soil like this, it was easy to lose myself in the joy of being in my element, which was why I’d set the alarm. If I hadn’t, I might not emerge for hours.

Or ever.

I discovered the mandrake under Mom’s cottage. It had tunneled into the crawlspace and holed up beneath the false bottom floor where we kept our family grimoire. To anyone else, that might seem an odd place for her to end up. It made perfect sense to me.

The grimoire was filled with Lennox spells and slices of our history; it was old and powerful and as close to sentient as was possible for a book. Over the years, we’d imbued it with love for the soil and everything that grew in it.

No doubt the mandrake had been drawn to it for that reason.

Although it pained me, I began the careful task of withdrawing my consciousness from the soil. I’d handle the mandrake later—definitely before midnight. She was about as safe as she could be at the moment, and I had other things to deal with.

When I came back to myself, I’d sunk several inches beneath the surface of the soil. That wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t unusual to find myself buried a few feet underground after a longer session.

What was unusual was the way the ground hugged my arms as I freed myself, clinging to my fingers as if afraid to let go.

Sexton’s words rang in my ears. It would seem the magic here is rising closer to the surface.

Could it be? After what happened yesterday, I fought not to put too much stock in it. My hope was like an asparagus fern leaf—a wispy, fragile thing. I’d been hurt by the soil here so much.

Still…

I sent one last burst of magic into it, a show of affection and a promise to return soon. “Take care of the tiny one, please,” I whispered. “See that she’s comfortable.”

The earth released my fingers. Magic rolled across the surface, decorating every blade of grass with diamond starlight. Slowly, the power winked out.

I went to dust the soil off my hands and face and found none. A slight hum of energy buzzed beneath my skin, and I was surprised to find I wasn’t nearly as drained as I usually was after dealing with the soil here.

Hope tried again to wriggle into my heart. This time, I let a little bit in. I let myself dream about the day I’d live on soil that made me feel like this all the time. And while I was dreaming, I made a wish that it would be this soil.

My watch alarm went off, and I shook myself back to reality. I stopped by the trailer, gathered up my purse and keys, and headed to the parking lot.

Gravel crunched beneath my feet. The wind kicked up, blowing a flyer against the fence. A tinny ticking, like the sound of a car cooling down after a long trip, came from near the dumpster.

I glanced up and saw a familiar beige sedan parked in the crusty, alkali dirt on the other side of the fence.

My stalker was back.

He wouldn’t be able to pull into the lot because the spell protecting it allowed only tenants and approved guests inside. As the spellcaster, I could give—and retract—permission by speaking the words, but tenants had to provide their guests with a key. Most parked on the street to avoid the hassle. Also, the curse talker couldn’t gain permission by simply forcing me to say the words, because intention was everything in magic, and I had no intention of letting him in.

So when he decided to leave the comfort of his car and scale the fence, I wasn’t worried for a couple of reasons. One was that I felt strong and centered after communing with the soil, and nothing this tool could do would change that.

The other was if he tried, he’d feel really bad, really fast. My spell didn’t electrocute intruders like a human bug zapper; it made them sick. As in stomach flu, food poisoning, worst hangover ever. And the longer they stayed, the worse the feeling got. If he even made it over the fence, he’d be driving the porcelain bus all night afterward.

The last time I’d revoked privileges—Margaux Ramirez, Alpha Floyd, and Mason Hartman’s—from what I heard, none of them had had a pleasant evening—and that was after Bronwyn had done her best to mitigate the effects of the spell for them.

My elemental magic might be weaker than before, but I could still chant a hell of a spell. And if I used strong ingredients, as I had when I’d cast the park’s spell?

Let’s just say I was not a witch to be trifled with.

I cupped my hand around my mouth and called out, “Who are you working for?”

“Justice,” he grunted.

“I thought that was your name.”

“It is my purpose.”

He was nearly at the top of the fence now. “Dude, stop. The place is warded. This isn’t going to go well for you.”

“After our last encounter, you must have figured out what I am,” he said. “Why would I be afraid of someone like you?”

Why, indeed?

Four things happened very fast after that.

One: Cecil appeared on top of the dumpster and threw a flaming burlap bundle at the stalker’s car.

Two: Fennel jumped onto the dumpster, grabbed Cecil by the back of his little gray robe like a mama cat with a kitten, and bolted across the lot, screeching at me through clenched teeth to follow.

Three: Justice the curse talker stalker fell off the fence, clutching his belly and dry heaving.

Four: A brain-scrambling boom shook every bone in my body, a whoosh of heat washed over me, and I was punched to the ground by an invisible fist of air.

I stared up at the sky, a high-pitched ringing in my ears. My ribs ached, my face hurt, and I could smell burnt hair.

Although my watch said I still had ten minutes, I was pretty damn sure I was going to be late to my appointment with Ronan.

“The gnome did it. I’m certain of it.” Senora Cervantes stood over me, hands on her hips. “There’s a reason he was kicked out of Faery. Did you know he stabbed my tires one time?”

“Calm down, Maria.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Trini. That little monster nearly burned down my home.”

“Hardly. The fire’s on the other side of the fence.” Trini Orosco peered down at me. “You okay, mija?”

She was a small, skinny woman with creased brown skin and long white hair she wore in a braid that reached her belt. Her arms were adorned with hammered silver and turquoise jewelry she crafted herself.

“I’m ferfectly pine,” I said, feeling for my teeth with my tongue. Jackpot. They were all there.

Senora Cervantes’s face appeared in my line of sight. “Where are your eyebrows?”

“Oh no.” I felt around my eyes. My lashes were still there, probably singed, but my eyebrows flaked off my skin like dust.

Fennel bounded up, a charm clutched in his teeth. He dropped it into my hand, and Trini helped me put it on.

“Thanks,” I said, as comforting warmth rolled over me. I lay still while the heal charm went to work repairing the lesser injuries and lessening the pain of what I was pretty sure were a pair of cracked ribs.

“There’s a guy on the other side of the fence rolling around,” Trini said, in her calm, monotone voice. “He looks okay. His car’s gone, though. Should we check on him?”

“He’s my stalker,” I said. “Best leave him be.”

“A stalker?” Senora Cervantes stomped all around me, kicking up dust and gravel. “You’ve got a stalker, too? That’s it. I’m calling my son to pick me up. I can’t live in this dangerous place anymore.”

“Understood. I accept your notice. Let know when you plan to vacate,” I said, on a cough.

“How dare you? Your mother would never have talked to me like that. Of course, your mother was a strong witch who cared about?—”

“Stick a sock in it, Maria. You were the one who said you wanted to leave.” Trini’s bracelets clinked as she waved away the dust cloud the other woman had kicked up. “Leave Betty alone. She’s doing just as good a job as Lila did—maybe even better, since her mom didn’t have the added challenges she has.”

“You sound like Ida Summer,” Senora Cervantes huffed.

I smiled. Ida never let anyone talk dirty about me.

“Go home and brew a pot of manzanilla tea, put up your feet, and watch one of your novelas. Maybe add a drop of gin into your cup to help you sleep. I’ve got it from here,” Trini said.

That must’ve sounded good to her, because after lobbing a few more passive-aggressive insults at me, the senora grumbled her way back to her trailer.

Fennel nuzzled the top of my head.

“Thought that traviesa would never leave.” Trini scowled down at me. The look wasn’t personal. The woman had resting scowl face. “That charm’s had some time to work. Let’s get you off the gravel.”

At eighty-six, Trini was my oldest tenant. However, she was also a bighorn sheep shifter, which made her roughly twice as strong as an average twenty-year-old man.

“To be fair to the senora, I was the traviesa tonight. Or, rather, Cecil was the troublemaker.”

“Hard to argue with that.” She gripped my hand in hers and yanked me to my feet. “You going to take care of that fire or should we call the locals in?”

The three of us turned as Cecil raced across the parking lot with another bundle. He scaled the side of the dumpster and hurled the bundle over the fence at the burning remains of the car.

“ That had better … be a … fire blanket … spell ,” I yelled in between coughs.

It was. The instant it activated, the flames died out.

“That stalker of yours took off while Maria was running her mouth. Sorry. I didn’t see which direction. Maybe your partner here can track him.”

Fennel gave his tail a hopeful swish.

“Let him go for now,” I said, as Trini handed me my purse and car keys. “There’s no need to chase him. He’ll be back. He’s not done with me.”