Last Grave (9781101593172) (18 page)

As she stared, the grate suddenly seemed to be brighter, shinier. There was less grime covering it, and it was more easily recognizable as metal. She blinked, wondering what was causing the illusion. She glanced up at the sky, but the clouds were obscuring the sun. She stepped forward hesitantly and touched the metal, trusting her other senses. It felt clean.

“What is happening here?” she wondered out loud.

It could be a glamour spell, but for what possible reason? It made no sense. A glamour spell would be more likely used to obscure the cave entrance altogether. The clouds overhead began to darken, and a light drizzle of rain started. She gazed around apprehensively.

The last time she had been in these mountains, the rain had been accompanied by thunder, lightning, and a witch bent on killing her. She turned and began the hike back to where she'd left her car.

She turned for a last look back at the cave. Through the thin veil of rain, she could barely even see the barrier anymore. It certainly wasn't shining like it had been a minute before.

She turned, hunching her shoulders up against the cold, and walked. Around her, the trees seemed to be whispering to one another. It was just the wind blowing through them, but after her experience the other night, she'd never look at trees the same way again.

A high-pitched scream caused her to whip around quickly. It had come from the direction of the cave. Was someone trapped in there? She stood, hesitating. She didn't want to get near the thing again, but if there was an innocent hiker trapped, she should help. A second scream drove her forward until she dropped on her knees in front of the cave entrance.

“Hello!” she shouted. “Can you hear me?”

There was no answer. “Hello?” she called again.

It might not have even been coming from the cave. The mountains were loaded with trails. Someone could have slipped and fallen on one of them. She put her hand inside the mouth of the cave and touched the stone. It was considerably cooler than it had been when she touched it before. As she pulled out her hand, she noticed something else that was different. The barrier that was blocking the top portion of the entrance was no longer made of metal. It was wood, old and faded. The word
DANGER
had been scrawled across it.

She touched the sign. It felt old even. Her confusion mounted. Something was happening here, changing this place, in ways that she couldn't explain.

She thought about the scream she'd heard. Was it real, from a living, breathing person, or some sort of ghost or echo from the past?

Magic is simple.

She placed both hands on the rock just inside the cave and felt the buildup of energy in her body. “If there is a living human down there, this energy will go to them. If there is no living human down there, it will come back to me.”

She pushed the energy into the rock and then waited. A minute passed, two. She knew the caves were supposed to be extensive, but a person shouldn't be able to reach that far into them.
Maybe there is someone down there, trapped. God, please, I don't want to have to go down there.

And then she felt a surge of energy hit her fingertips and pass into her body. Her energy had come back. “Nothing living down there, at least not human,” she whispered.

She stood shakily to her feet, relief flooding her. But the cave mouth just gaped at her, as though it were laughing. She could almost hear it whisper,
Another day.

Not if I can help it,
she vowed.

The rain had ceased. It was just a cloud burst apparently. She felt her spirits lighten slightly as she hurried away from the cave. She couldn't help but feel that she'd dodged a bullet. However it had happened, she was truly grateful.

Samantha returned to her car and breathed a sigh of relief when she hit the road. She hadn't liked what she'd felt at the cave, and she just wanted to put as much distance between it and herself as she could.

Her mind churned as she drove, conjuring up all sorts of gruesome images for her to ponder. Finally she came to the turnoff, and a minute later she was parked outside of Robin's house.

There was no sign of the car her aunt had been driving the night before. Hopefully, that meant the problem had fixed itself. She sat for a moment, trying to compose herself. She didn't want to alarm Robin. The poor girl had been through enough already.

Samantha got out of the car, remembering that she had forgotten Robin's T-shirt in the clothes dryer.
Oh well. I'm sure I'm going to be out here fifty more times this week,
she thought drily.

Robin was outside, picking some herbs from the garden along the side of the house. She seemed none the worse for wear and very focused on what she was doing.

She looked up as Samantha approached.

“How are you today?” Samantha asked. “Feeling better than last night? I know I certainly am.”

“Who are you?” Robin asked, fear flashing across her face.

“What do you mean?” Samantha asked, taken aback.

“You . . . you're like me.”

“Yes, we've been through this,” Samantha said.

Robin dropped the flowers and backed toward the house. “What do you want?”

“Robin, is something wrong?”

She could see the girl's eyes. Unlike the night before, they looked normal. But what was this if not some sort of spell? Could the girl's mind have finally shut the door on the traumatic events of the past few days, similar to what Samantha had done with most of her childhood?

“Stay away from me!”

Robin turned and ran up the steps to the house and inside, slamming the door behind her.

Samantha stood for a moment, wondering what had just happened. If Robin had gone into denial, they were going to have to work this out together. Personally, she would like nothing better than to get in her car and get out of there, forget she knew of Robin or had ever seen her mother's petrified body. For the first time since the whole nightmare had started, she let herself think about just leaving. She might not be able to go back home to Boston, but there were plenty of other cities out there. Let the rest of the police department deal with this mess.

As much as Samantha wanted to, though, she couldn't just leave the girl alone, not with witches out there intent on using her. They had killed Robin's mother, and Samantha knew that Giselle would have no problem doing the same to Robin if it suited her purposes. Samantha took a step toward the house, and the door opened and a woman came out onto the porch.

“You're not wanted here. Get off my property,” the woman said. Her eyes blazed with anger, and her posture was mildly threatening. That wasn't what shocked Samantha, though. What shocked her was who it was she was staring at.

The woman standing on the porch glaring at her was a very alive Winona Lightfoot.

17

“What are you doing alive?” Samantha burst out. Even to her it sounded like the worst question in the entire world.

Winona cocked her head to the side. “Are you the one who's been sending me those letters?”

“Winona Lightfoot?” Samantha asked, trying to recover. It had to be a trap, an imposter. It wouldn't be the first time a witch had killed someone and taken their place. She thought of Salem. She refused to be fooled by that trick again.

“Who wants to know?” the woman demanded, hands on her hips, anger sparking in her eyes.

“Detective Samantha Ryan,” she said, producing her badge.

“Oh.” Some of the fight left the woman. “What do you want?”

“I have a couple of questions for you.”

Samantha's phone rang. She checked and saw that it was Lance. “I have to take this call.”

“Okay,” Winona said, her voice now uncertain. “Just knock on the door when you're ready.”

“Sure.”

Samantha answered the phone as Winona retreated back inside the house. “Hi. What's up?”

“I'm wondering where my partner is. You were supposed to meet me at the crime scene.”

“Which crime scene?” she asked.

“Which crime scene? Are you losing it or something? The one from yesterday, the Thai restaurant downtown?”

It was all Samantha could do to try to focus, figure out the best thing to say next. She hadn't heard about a murder at a Thai restaurant in the last few days.

“Right. Can you text me the address again?” she said, scrambling to catch up. “I'll be there as soon as I can. I was just chasing down some leads. Hey, you know the Lightfoot murder?”

There was a pause. “What Lightfoot murder?”

Samantha's pulse quickened. “A few days ago, the body in the Swamp at the Natural History Museum?”

“You mean the place they filmed all those PSAs? ‘I'm proud to be a Japanese American' commercials.”

“Yeah, only we established that you are proud to be an Asshole American,” she said.

Another pause. Then a chuckle. “That's funny. I'm going to use it. As for the homicide, I haven't heard anything about something happening there. You want me to ask around, find out who's on the case?”

“No! I mean, no, that's okay. Send me that address, and I'll meet you as soon as I can.”

Samantha hung up, and she could feel sweat dripping down her back. Was it possible that the murder never happened? Or had she chosen to put her trust in the wrong person . . . again. Could Lance be part of whatever was happening? She double-checked the date on her phone to make sure that it was the day she thought it was and that the whole thing hadn't been some sort of dream.

No. Everything was as she expected it to be.

She called the coroner next. Jada answered on the third ring. “What can I help you with, Detective?”

“Jada, I was hoping you could refresh my memory about something.” She stopped, struggling with how to word her question so she didn't sound crazy.

“I'll do what I can.”

“You remember the petrification case, the one where the woman's body had been turned solid?”

“Petrification? No. I would remember something like that. How old is the case? It was probably before my time.”

“You know what, never mind. I think someone was just teasing me.”

“It's always hard to be the new cop in the group. Don't believe a word half those boys say.”

“Thanks. I'll remember that.”

Samantha hung up. Even if Lance and Jada were both in on whatever was happening, there was one more place she could look. The murder had been big news because Winona was a bit of a local celebrity and because of where her body had been found. Samantha launched her Web browser and did a quick search.

Nothing. No news articles about Winona being dead or about a body being found in the museum complex. Samantha shoved the phone in her pocket and steadied herself for a moment on the car.

The past had been undone. Somehow Winona was back from the dead and Samantha was the only one who remembered it. How was that even possible?

She took a deep breath and forced herself to walk to the house. Why would she remember when others didn't? Was it because of her powers? If that was the case, though, then how come Robin didn't seem to remember? If she had, she would have recognized Samantha.

She mounted the steps to the front door and knocked. Moments later, the dead woman herself opened the door and ushered Samantha inside. She couldn't leave Lance waiting too long. It was going to take forever to drive there as it was, and he would be chock-full of questions she had no answers to. But she couldn't pass up this opportunity to talk to the living Winona. Just because she was alive at this moment didn't mean someone wouldn't try to kill her again.

They sat down in the living room. She could see Robin in the kitchen, curious, but not wanting to approach too close. It was then that she realized Robin was wearing the same purple T-shirt that was supposed to be in Samantha's washing machine. She rubbed her head.

“What is this all about, Detective?” Winona asked. She still seemed mistrustful, and who could blame her after the scene outside?

“I understand you've been getting some threatening letters.”

Winona cast a quick glance over her shoulder, clearly not wanting Robin to be part of the conversation. The girl didn't take the hint, though, but she still kept her distance.

“Um, yes.”

“I'm just following up on a tip we got,” Samantha said, struggling to choose her words carefully.

Winona looked at her, eyebrows raised questioningly. Samantha looked from her to Robin.

I can't do this. I can't sit here and pretend everything is okay when it's not.

Samantha cleared her throat. “Okay, look. I know your daughter can sense me, but I don't know if you can. So I'm going to level with you.”

There was a notepad and a pen on the far end of the coffee table. She crooked a finger and the pen flew into her hand.

Winona's face hardened. “What do you want?”

“I had a . . . vision.”
So much for leveling with her
. “It didn't go well with you. A witch . . . hurt you.”

“Dreams and visions should never be taken lightly,” Winona said.

“I know. That's why I'm here. I need to know who's been threatening you and if you've been contacted at all by someone like me. Also, does the name Giselle mean anything to you?”

Winona pressed her hands to her face. “I'm sorry. This is a lot to take in. Let me think.”

“Of course,” Samantha said. She ticked her gaze over to Robin. The girl had drifted slightly closer, her eyes pinned on Samantha. Curiosity and fear vied with each other for the upper hand in the girl's eyes.

“Well, I can tell you that the letters are because I've proposed limiting access to some of our caves here in Santa Cruz. We have some very famous ones that are home to some endangered species. As part of my work, I not only do ongoing research about the early history of the area, I also struggle to maintain it and the culture. These caves were significant to the culture of the early inhabitants for practical and religious reasons. Unfortunately, these caves are being desecrated by kids who think of them as good places to party. We did a clean-up not so long ago of one cave that was full of trash, beer bottles, stuff like that. Of course, many students think of these places as their own party dens and don't want access cut off. Additionally, there are others, those who are into spelunking, that sort of thing, who don't want access to the caves restricted.”

“Is Hell Hole Cave on the list of caves you're trying to limit access to?”

Winona shook her head. “That cave is much harder to access. It doesn't need the same kind of immediate protection that the others do.”

Samantha noticed that the woman hadn't shown any real reaction to the name of the cave. She took a stab in the dark. “Have you found the book in the university library yet that corroborates what your grandfather told you about the demon that was buried under the mountain in that cave?”

Winona went completely white. “No,” she whispered. “It's true?”

“I don't know if it's true, but I know that you read this book before you . . . in my vision.”

Winona nodded slowly. “I will have to go look for it.”

Samantha was at a loss how to answer. If Winona had never found it and Winona had never been murdered then she and Lance shouldn't have been there investigating and she wouldn't have found the book. So the jackpot question would be:
Where is the book now, in my room or in the library?

It made her head hurt just thinking about it. She nodded, not sure what she could say.

“As for Giselle, no, I haven't heard the name. And to the best of my knowledge, you are the first person outside of family members I've met with these gifts.”

Gifts.
That was how Winona truly saw them. Samantha could never see them as that. To her, they were a curse.

“Okay. I appreciate your time.” She fished a business card out of her pocket and handed it to the woman. “If you think of anything, or anything new happens, please let me know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the diligence with which you've responded to your vision. I hope it never comes true.”

“Me too,” Samantha whispered.

She stood up, forcing a smile. She headed for the door.
Just get out of these people's lives and pray that they never have to see you again and vice versa.

She had her hand on the door when she stopped.

“Is there anything else we can help you with, Detective?” Winona asked.

Samantha set her jaw. “Yeah, actually.” She looked past Winona to where Robin was standing and locked eyes with her. “Robin, stop sneaking out of the house to go to the witch ceremonies in Cathedral Grove. They're dangerous people, and they've been using and manipulating you. Anything they've given you, destroy it immediately.”

Winona turned to look at her daughter.

Robin was pale and shaking. “How—how did you know?” she whispered.

“It's true?” Winona asked, voice rising.

Robin nodded.

“I know you want your daughter to be a shaman like your father was, but you need to talk to her about what she wants. And both of you need to call me if you see any sign of anyone else with power. Do I make myself clear?”

Both Winona and Robin nodded.

“Good. Now I'll leave the two of you to talk things over.”

“Wait!” Robin said, eyes wide.

“What is it?”

“I don't know how to explain it, but it's been like I've been having snatches of a dream or something coming back to me all day. Everything has just felt wrong. And it was like I recognized you when I first saw you. I think you were in my dreams. And . . .” The girl stammered and turned to her mom. “In my dreams, someone had killed you.”

Winona put a hand over her heart and stared at her daughter, speechless.

“Thank you for telling me,” Samantha said. “If you can think of anything else, please let me know.”

Samantha turned and walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She wasn't sure how it was going to turn out between mother and daughter, or if it would even matter. Come tomorrow, it might be a whole other world again.

She got in her car and headed down the hill for what she hoped was the last time. It would be a miracle if Winona escaped this thing unscathed. For Robin's sake, she prayed that it was so.

She dialed Anthony, hoping he'd pick up.

When she heard his voice on the other end, relief flooded through her. “She's alive! The woman who was killed by witches is suddenly alive again.”

“Whoa, slow down. Who are you talking about?” Anthony asked.

“You don't remember either,” she said.

“Remember what? Samantha, you're not making much sense. Are you okay?”

She licked her lips. “No. I can't talk now, though. I'll call you later.”

She hung up and poured on the speed. She just had to deal with Lance. And after that, she really needed to find a way to get in touch with Trina. Hopefully, the other witch had answers.

*  *  *

When she finally walked into the Thai restaurant Lance had sent her the address for, he looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to show up. Sorry to inconvenience you today.”

“Knock it off. I told you, I was working.”

“Yeah, we should all do that much work,” he said sarcastically.

Samantha felt rage explode inside her. He had no idea how much she had been through in the past few days. She wanted to kill him.

She felt energy building up in her body, and with sudden alarm, realized that she was going to kill him. She turned and made it to the door before energy exploded from her fingertips. It arched over a dozen cars and caused a Dumpster to explode. A shower of garbage rained down all over the parking lot.

She stood, dazed, as Lance pushed past her. “What happened? Was that a bomb?” he shouted.

She couldn't speak. All she could do was stare at the charred ground where the Dumpster had been. She had done that. Not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't stop the outburst, just control the direction of it. If she hadn't moved when she had, she would have killed Lance with that energy. She felt sick to the bottom of her soul.

I almost killed him. I almost killed him for being ignorant and sarcastic. Dear God, what's happening to me?

Lance was inspecting the area now. She could see him calling someone on his cell. If he thought it had been a bomb that went off, he was probably calling in the experts.
How could it possibly get any worse than this?

Finally, Lance walked back to her. He took her arm and led her inside to a booth in the back. “Can we get some water?” he asked the manager.