A Familiar Sense of Dead Page 15

  “That was uncomfortably close,” said Cordelia. “Did you touch it? Do you feel okay?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why would there be a lesion here?” asked Cordelia.

  “I wonder if Ronnie had something to do with it. He cast black magic here. The spell was powerful enough to destroy Tyler’s truck.”

  Hazel turned her attention back to the pink aura. “Do you see something?” she asked. She leaned a little closer and squinted. Sure enough, she saw the interior of the Spire, as if she were standing, she thought, behind the circulation desk, looking out at the lobby.

  “It’s the Spire!” she exclaimed. “I can see the Spire! I don’t see Zelda though.”

  Cordelia leaned in next to her. “Well I’ll be . . .”

  “What does this all mean?” Hazel asked. It was rhetorical; she was merely thinking aloud. Somehow everything seemed clearer today with a bit of rest in her. The werespider, the medicine, the riven, the lesions. It was all connected somehow—of that she was now certain. She had felt the same vibrating energy at Oddlump’s shack when she smelled phantom maple syrup.

  She was struck with an epiphany. “I know where we need to go next!” she announced. She took off down the South Way—not quite running, but moving as fast as her sore body would allow. For the first time in this whole investigation, she was the one leaving others behind.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “It’s probably best to stay in the doorway,” said Hazel. “You know, in case this place is riddled with lesions.”

  “This is a sugarhouse?” asked Cordelia, clearly disappointed. “I imagined more gumdrops and candy canes.”

  “You’re thinking of a gingerbread house,” said Tyler.

  “And I think we’ve had enough out-of-season baked goods to last us a while,” added Hazel. “Unless you’d like another cannoli?” She patted her trusty satchel.

  Cordelia made a face and stuck her tongue out. “Those are still in there? That’s disgusting.”

  “I’ve been busy,” said Hazel defensively. “I’ll get to cleaning it out . . . eventually . . .”

  Cordelia shook her head in disgust and turned her attention back to the sugarhouse interior. “It looks a lot like Oddlump’s shack. Minus the flea-market motif.”

  “Because it is Oddlump’s shack,” said Hazel. “Sort of. Oddlump’s shack is just a reflection of the sugarhouse.”

  “How do you know this world isn’t a dull reflection of the magical one?” asked Cordelia pointedly. “Isn’t a reflection usually dimmer?” Her pejorative tone was clear. Cordelia the snob had reared her head again.

  A voice came to them, tiptoeing into their heads like a thief. Then you must be a reflection of a reflection, Cordelia. Because you are the dimmest of them all.

  Hazel looked up and saw Clancy sitting on an overturned syrup bucket just outside the door.

  “Oh look,” Cordelia said, “a sentient hairball.”

  Funny.

  “Do I need to remind everyone that we’re on the same team?” asked Hazel. “And that we’re here to solve a murder. Multiple murders.”

  With more on the way if we don’t figure this out.

  “What?” asked Hazel and Cordelia in unison.

  I followed up on some of the things you told me last night. In what was an uncharacteristically verbose monologue, he recounted how he had returned to Once Upawn a Time and sifted through the papers Silas had laid out in the back room.

  “Well somebody is being chatty and helpful,” interrupted Cordelia.

  Clancy ignored her except for an angry swish of his tail and an annoyed flick of his ears. Silas was trying to do more than cure a single riven, he said. He pawed at a small rolled-up parchment balanced on the bucket next to him, flicking it to the ground at Hazel’s feet. She picked it up and unrolled it, revealing a crudely drawn map.

  “Is this Silverwell Academy?” asked Cordelia, leaning over Hazel’s shoulder.

  Clancy nodded.

  “There are marks at the Spire and at Oddlump’s shack,” observed Hazel.

  Silas was trying to track the lesions. And, I would assume, trying to close them. He was not the sort of man to leave a problem unsolved. This is how he knew to prescribe Dr. Winkworth’s cures to Oddlump and Zelda. Unfortunately, it seems he was about as successful at closing lesions as he was at healing riven.

  “So there’s a connection between lesions and riven?” asked Hazel.

  Very much so. Silas managed to gather a few ancient accounts of lesions. If these accounts are correct, it’s not mere coincidence that we have a simultaneous glut of both riven and lesions. The lesions are causing the riven. When living creatures pass over a lesion, it’s a bit like sliding a block of cheese over a grater.

  “So what’s causing the lesions and how do we close them?”

  No idea. But I have no doubt he was trying to figure that out too. Maybe that’s why he’d been spending so much time at the Silverwell Library. And Silas was a bit of an open book. If he knew about these lesions, chances are good that our werespider did too.

  “So what?” asked Cordelia.

  The so what is that last night our werespider attacked both Oddlump and Zelda.

  “What?!

  A student came to do some late-night studying and discovered our direspider cocooning Zelda right over the circulation desk. Zelda will recover, but the creature escaped.

  “What about Oddlump?”

  When the attack came, he and his redcaps were putting the troll in patrolling by marching up and down the streets of Quirk looking to expel any outsiders. His posse was able to fend off the direspider.

  “And the spider escaped?”

  Unfortunately. I’ve found a lead of sorts though. Do you still have Silas’s ledger?

  “Of course.” She retrieved the ledger from her satchel.

  Flip to the back.

  She quickly complied.

  Those symbols in the margin, I finally realized what those are.

  Hazel ran her finger over the odd series of symbols penned there in Silas’s hand. Three icons that looked like characters in an alien language. And beneath them was written a single world in very plain word in English: lesions.

  “Oh my god . . .” They had overlooked its significance before.

  Cordelia came closer.

  These symbols coordinate with the system of shelving in the Silverwell Library.

  “We don’t really have time to research and write a term paper,” Cordelia snapped.

  “I could help with that,” Tyler interjected. “I’m a bit of a writer, you know.” When nobody took him up on the offer, he added, “Okaay. This would be a lot easier if I could hear the whole conversation.”

  “Sorry, Ty. I’ll catch you up to speed in a minute,” said Hazel.

  He gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up and she turned back to Clancy.

  Silas thought there was something vital at the library. Maybe there’s a bit of information that could aid us in closing these lesions . . . and in tracking down this werespider . . . and maybe even lifting its curse.

  Cordelia practically hissed. “There’s no reversing what it’s done.”

  Caring about other people has never been your specialty.

  “Oh please. Don’t pretend to be so altruistic. The only reason you are being so helpful is because you have something to gain from this too.”

  Clancy stared at her warily, his back bristling.

  “Did you warn your new partner?” asked Cordelia.

  Clancy only stared at her, his tail flicking rabidly. This is hardly the ideal time.

  “This seems like the perfect time, actually. You could at least provide her with the courtesy of full disclosure.”

  Enough.

  “Fine,” spat Cordelia. “I’ll tell her. It’s only right that somebody warns her about the sort of partnership she’s entering into before it’s too late. As I told you, Hazel, Clancy and I tried to form a familiar bond.”

 
; “And what happened?”

  “Right at the moment where we were going to forge our link, he almost consumed my essence!”

  “Am I the only one that thinks that sounds dirty?” asked Tyler. Everybody stared at him blankly. “Okay, just me then.” He trailed off, then suddenly seemed interested in something on the far edge of the sugarhouse and went to investigate.

  “That sounds familiar,” Hazel said slowly. She recalled her practice session with Clancy the morning before. She had projected herself toward Clancy and for a moment she’d occupied his body, not like some sort of passenger, but like she’d been stuffed inside the zippered pouch of her satchel. “You said that had been my fault.”

  “I’m sure he did,” said Cordelia smugly. “And do you want to tell her the real reason?”

  Clancy’s mumbled words floated into her head.

  “Speak up,” said Cordelia.

  Because I’m riven, he said.

  “So you’re a werecat?”

  Cordelia laughed at her. “You’re still thinking about rivening wrong. Rivening is the result of magic gone awry. How it manifests depends on the thing being rivened. Sometimes it results in werecreatures—two halves existing in a single whole. Sometimes those halves separate fully, resulting in two individuals. Doppelgangers. And sometimes the riven gets stuck somewhere in between.”

  Of course. The double ears, the double tail.

  I think you’ve done enough here.

  “I dunno. Maybe if I grab your tails and pull them like a wishbone, I can complete the process. Then you won’t even have to worry about this charade of seeking justice as a means of helping yourself.”

  Don’t you pretend like you’re so saintly. How’d you earn that dampener? I’ve never even heard of the Council doing that before, so it must have been particularly vile.

  “Don’t change the subject, furball.” Cordelia smirked “I can see you two need some time to catch up. Why don’t you go ahead and investigate this lesion together? It could be a bonding experience. If you need me, I’ll be taking a walk to look for clues. Care to join me Tyler?”

  “Sure” Tyler replied quickly, turning to follow. But when Hazel shot him a look, he shuffled to a stop. “Or I can just wait here. That’s cool too.”

  Hazel turned back to Clancy. “How did you become like this?”

  Like what?

  “Riven.”

  I dabbled in magic that was too powerful. This was the result. Silas tried to help me undo the curse, but . . . He whipped his double tails.

  “You were the first patient he helped with Winkworth’s medicine.”

  Clancy nodded.

  Something about all of this didn’t add up. That Clancy was somehow not naturally a cat with a duplicate of parts, but the result of a magical mishap. Was that what he always meant when he said he wasn’t a cat? “But I thought your whole family was like this,” she said. “Your father in that picture. He looked just like you.”

  That wasn’t my father, Hazel. That was me.

  “What?!”

  Our families haven’t had a long history together. My ancestors have not been partnering with your ancestors. That was me. I partnered with all of them. I have been the familiar of every Bennett woman since Hisolda Bennett. I was your Gammy’s familiar. Goddesses willing, I’ll be your familiar, too.

  She took a few steps into the sugarhouse and sat down hard on the floor.

  Careful. There’s a lesion here. I can feel it.

  She absently scraped some dust off the floor, and without a second thought, or a word of Latin, cast her detect magic spell.

  You’re getting better at that.

  “A little late for compliments.”

  As the dust spread across the room, a jagged tear appeared in the air. The lesion arced across the room, clearly tracing the path she herself had taken during her out-of-body projection in yesterday’s practice session. The connection was suddenly clear.

  “Is it me?” she whispered.

  What?

  “Am I the common denominator here? There’s a lesion at the site of my accident. A lesion here. These are both places I’ve cast spells.”

  That doesn’t make any sense. The amount of power required to tear a hole between the mundane and magical worlds—would be immense.

  “Where else have I cast spells?” she asked, panicking. She ran through a list in her head—the East Barn, the Carriage House, the now-collapsed sheep barn. “What is going on? You need to tell me everything.”

  I’ve told you what I know.

  “Why did you lie?”

  Maybe one day I can explain that to you.

  “But not now?”

  No, not now.

  “Then we have nothing further to talk about. As a Wand of the Council, I have a murder to solve.”

  There was an explosion of sound outside, a thundering crack of splintering wood followed by the galloping hooves of a horse.

  Tyler shouted, “Incoming!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Hazel spared Clancy one last look, but his eyes were fixed on the rippling gash that split the sugarhouse air. She bolted outside and was nearly trampled as she ran into the clearing. The unicorn tore by her, heading up the road.

  She took off after Tyler. It was absurd to try to keep pace with the beast. Despite its behemoth size, it moved with incredible speed.

  “What’s the plan?” she shouted.

  “How’s that holding spell shaping up?”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then we have no plan,” he said. “Do you still have that glue stick? Maybe we can offer to return its horn.”

  Up ahead, Cordelia leaned against a tree, smoking a cigarette. As the unicorn approached, her eyes widened and she flung the cigarette to the ground. “What do I do?” she shouted.

  “Stop it!” Tyler answered.

  Cordelia assumed the stance of a linebacker waiting for the snap. But as the unicorn approached without slowing, she swore loudly and she leaped out of the way.

  The unicorn changed course and plunged into the forest. It hardly slowed as it galloped between the trees and in moments had disappeared into the thick vegetation.

  Tyler finally accepted the futility of chasing the unicorn on foot and collapsed to his knees, panting wildly. “Well that was hardly our finest effort.”

  “At least it didn’t end with us breaking off another of its appendages.”

  I dunno,” he said. “We might have stood a chance of finally catching it.” Tyler rolled onto his back. “Me go sleepy now.”

  She shushed Tyler. “I hear something.”

  Cordelia crashed through a nearby bramble and collapsed in a heap next to Tyler. “I need . . . to stop . . . smoking,” she wheezed.

  “Probably a decent idea,” said Tyler. Hazel suppressed a giggle and offered Cordelia a hand.

  “I’m good down here,” Cordelia panted, waving Hazel away.

  Hazel pivoted to Tyler and held out her hand. He took it and she pulled him to his feet. For a moment their faces hovered close together. Then Tyler busted into song, “I wanna hold your haaaaaaaaand. I wanna hold your—”

  She smiled at Tyler as he continued serenading her, but she had the distinct feeling they were being watched. She looked around slowly and spotted the unicorn watching them from between the trees. The beast locked gazes with Hazel. “I hate to cut you off,” said Hazel, “but the chase is back on.”

  Tyler followed Hazel’s gaze. “Whoa. Is it waiting for us?”

  The unicorn whinnied as if in reply.

  “Huh. It certainly seems so,” responded Cordelia, now propped up on her elbow.

  As soon as Tyler took his first step, the unicorn turned and cantered off into the trees. “After you, ladies,” he said, motioning them on.

  Cordelia simply grumbled and pulled herself to her feet.

  They followed the unicorn a ways. The beast stopped and waited when they fell behind until at last it seemed content to stand still, even as they approa
ched.

  “Well this is unsettling,” said Hazel.

  “Why do I get the feeling we’re walking into a trap?” asked Cordelia. “This is a bad idea. That thing could crush us like tin cans.”

  Hazel ignored her and approached the unicorn, keeping her gaze locked on the creature’s silvery eyes. When she came close enough that she could almost touch the creature, it turned its head, directing her attention to a huge tree. Two cocoons hung from the trees, one of them so massive, it bowed the tree it was attached to.

  “Oh snap,” said Tyler.

  The unicorn brayed and dipped its head as if trying to gore the air with its nonexistent horn.

  Hazel rushed forward and started pulling at the webbing. “Help!” she called to Tyler.

  He came forward, pulling the Leatherman from his belt and using it to carefully saw through the thick strands.

  “What is this thing?” Tyler asked.

  “It’s Oddlump,” Cordelia said. “The troll. And if I’m not mistaken, the riven troll.”

  “Is it dead?” asked Tyler.

  Hazel leaned in close enough to feel and smell the troll’s fetid breath. “Very much alive.”

  She rushed to the other cocoon and cut away the webbing, this time revealing a face clustered with eyes. “Zelda. The Silverwell librarian herself. Or at least her riven half. So much for Winkworth’s cure.”

  “Well it didn’t work for Clancy . . .” said Cordelia.

  “I suppose you can cross both of them off the suspect list now,” said Tyler.

  “Our killer is targeting riven,” said Hazel. She felt an intense pang of guilt. If these lesions were somehow her fault, then that meant she had created this mess. She had set the table for the werespider’s feast.

  “That’s absurd,” said Cordelia. “The werespider is just targeting easy meals.”

  “Easy?” laughed Hazel. “It’s traveled back and forth between the Postern and only attacked riven.”

  “Why?” asked Tyler.

  “That’s what we need to find out,” said Hazel

  “How do you propose we do that?” scoffed Cordelia.

  “The Spire,” she said. “The Silverwell library. That’s where Clancy was pointing us.”