Spell of Summoning (9 page)

Dani froze at the sight of Rebecca and her demon companion and then recovered. “Sarah,” she said to the receptionist, “I’m taking a five. Georgie’s covering for me in room four.”

“Let’s walk.” Dani pushed through the security door and led them out into the warm, heavy air. She headed for the Bojangles’ but turned on them about halfway across the lot and narrowed her dark eyes at Rebecca.

“You could have knocked me over with a feather,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” She glanced briefly at him, and he understood her surprise. The demon spell, up close, had knocked the wind out of him, too. “You can see it, right?”

Holden nodded.

“Amazing.”

Dani circled Rebecca, examining her from every angle. “It’s a demon. For sure.” She gestured above Rebecca’s head. “But the spell marks are sloppy. I don’t think he’s done this before. See?” She pointed to a spot near Rebecca’s right shoulder. “It’s so weak it’s actually fading. He’ll have to redo it.”

This wasn’t why they’d come. He could see the spell marks for himself. “How do we find him?”

Dani dug a notebook and a stub of a pencil from her apron and sketched quickly before showing him her drawing of the three spell marks. “Is that what you see?”

Holden double-checked. “Yeah. That’s it.”

She faced Rebecca. “I’ll do what I can, but you’re our best asset. This spell is intense, specific, and personal. This person knows you.” Dani cocked her head to the side. “Who wants to hurt you this badly?”

Rebecca wound her arms around her middle. “I, uh—”

Even though she’d made it clear she only wanted a professional relationship, and he wasn’t interested in anything romantic with anyone, either, Holden sidled next to her and laid a comforting hand on the small of her back. Rebecca leaned away. After standing there for a moment like an idiot, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Dani didn’t wait for an answer, but took a small piece of white chalk out of her apron and handed it to him. “Draw a spell circle, please.”

Holden accepted the chalk and knelt at Rebecca’s feet, wracking his brain for the info in Cole’s email. Without any sleep the night before, it was hard to think clearly. He drew a wobbly circle and overlaid it with four spell marks at compass points. Unlike his first attempt at casting, this was a magnification spell meant to channel Grams’s power into him and then into Dani to boost her natural magic.

Dani inspected his sloppy spell circle with one raised eyebrow and then grabbed both Becca’s hands and yanked them between their bodies. “Palms up. You’re the one who’s going to find him.”

He knelt in the circle and whispered to Grams, “Give me a little bump. But don’t exhaust yourself.”

Grams sent him a small whirl of power, and it moved through him, zinging and crackling up and down his limbs. He focused his mind and muttered more of Cole’s Latin, “
Consocio.”

Rebecca moved nearer to him, straining to see his spell circle.

“Don’t move,” Dani snapped, digging her thumbs into Rebecca’s palms. “Touch your enemy; know your enemy.”

If Holden’s magic was like jamming a finger in an electrical outlet, Dani’s was a lightning strike. It wasn’t like he passed her power. It felt more like she pulled it out of him with an industrial-grade vacuum cleaner.

Ow.

An invisible, charged force field exploded out of her. He shielded his eyes from the pop of power and put one hand on the warm asphalt to steady himself.

Halfway across the parking lot, Buster yelped helplessly from the Jeep.

Grams’ spirit flickered. Dani was sucking every particle of power from her.

And this wasn’t even a big spell.

Blood pooled in Rebecca’s palms under Dani’s thumbs, and she squirmed as if she felt the magic, too.

Finally Dani dropped Rebecca’s hands and backed off a step, though the atmosphere remained charged.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Rebecca swayed.

Holden hopped to his feet, both knees popping, and scooped Rebecca into his arms before she hit the ground. She was small and soft against his chest, and he breathed in her strawberry scent. But she didn’t look well, and all of his protective instincts kicked in.

“Don’t move,” Rebecca hissed, clinging to him with her sharp little nails, “or I’m going to throw up all over you.”

“Deep breaths,” he whispered back. “It’ll pass in a second.”

Dani wiped his spell circle into gibberish with the sole of her shoe. “I gotta go,” she said. “But think about what I said.”

Wait, what? She was leaving? “What happens next?” Holden called. Maybe she didn’t know about his complete lack of magical expertise.

“If she touches the necromancer casting the summoning spell, then her hands will bleed. It’s the best I can do right now.” Dani shrugged, looking way too calm. “I’ll call you later.”

“That’s it?” Rebecca grumbled as Dani quickstepped it back to the child care center.

Exactly. But she didn’t need any additional stress after that magical loop de loop.

“Let’s call it a day,” he said into her soft hair. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Witch magic is strong.”

“Mmm.” Apparently.

Holden carried Rebecca to his Jeep and set her gingerly on the passenger seat, fixing her belt before rounding the hood and hopping behind the wheel. He clenched the gearshift to keep from clasping her hand. She was scared and vulnerable, and she needed space, not his paws all over her.

Even though he hadn’t asked for this—and he still didn’t think he could help her as well as someone more experienced, like Cole—he would do it. For his Grams. For Rebecca. Holden would do his best to save this woman’s life.

Chapter Seven

Rebecca didn’t say a word the whole drive through Auburn. She sat in Holden’s Jeep, wearing his UNC cap and typing into her phone. This must be her first experience with witch magic, and it had rattled her. Well, it had surprised him, too. His hands still tingled.

He pulled up at the only restaurant he ever frequented, hopped out, and rounded the hood.

“Rebecca?” He touched her, and she jumped. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

Nodding, she climbed down. He guided her along the sidewalk toward the muted blue lights in Sparky’s Burgers and Malts.

A blast of warm, oil-scented air hit them the moment he opened the door. It smelled like childhood and family. Like hot summers and ice cream. Buster remembered the place, too, and flopped onto his favorite section of black-and-white tiles behind the cash register.

Holden sat Rebecca on one side of the nearest empty booth and slid into the opposite seat. His knees bumped hers, but she didn’t react, just stared vacantly at the mini jukebox at the end of the table.

“Hi, Mr. Clark.” The waitress kept her distance.

He’d never gotten to know the staff all that well. He’d never tried to make friends with anyone. No, that wasn’t right. Not since he was fifteen. Before then he’d had lots of friends. Now, the woman he’d hired to take orders covered her belly with both hands and stared at him like he’d come with bad news.

Holden didn’t waste her time with small talk. “Bring a bowl of chicken noodle soup. And a cup of hot tea,” he added. That was soothing. “With lots of crackers. I’ll have the number four with a Coke.”

“Sure thing.” She stabbed her pen at her notebook and left them alone.

Since Rebecca wouldn’t interact, he took advantage and observed her. Riding in the Jeep all morning, even wearing his old UNC cap, had messed up her hair into a teased blonde ‘fro. He wouldn’t mention it, though. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with women, but he knew not to criticize their hair.

After at least two minutes passed in complete silence, he finally broke and said, “Rebecca?”

“Hmm?”

Any response seemed like a good sign at this point. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Um.” She blinked several times, coming back to herself.

Frowning, she reached across the table and created a sloping, multilevel tower with the sugar dish, the ketchup bottle, and the mustard. Then she lined up her silverware perpendicular to the table, each equidistant from the other.

Even though she’d already made clear she didn’t appreciate his touch, he grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

After a last look at the napkins, Rebecca laughed humorlessly. “Sure.” She laid her smartphone on the table and tapped on the screen. “I made a list.”

This didn’t sound good. “Okay. What does it say?”

“Did you see spirits in my apartment today?”

Holden expected questions about the witch, so it took him a moment to remember. “Besides my Grams? No.”

“Why did you ask Damian to do the séance? Couldn’t you do it?”

“I could, I guess, but I want to see what he conjures.”

“If you called spirits right now, would I be able to see them?”

Holden glanced at Grams in the next booth. Her head was bent, and her knitting needles were clicking together. “No.”

“Is your grandma here?” Rebecca asked.

He nodded.

“What does she look like?”

He stared at the flickering shadow, but remembered her as she’d been when she was alive. “Long flannel nightgown. Her hair used to be red, but it’s streaked with so much gray that it looks more pink now.”

“Tell her something nice about me, bubba,” Grams teased.

He caught his grandma’s eye. “Everything about you is nice.”

Remembering himself, Holden blinked and refocused on Rebecca.

“It scares me when you do that,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Sorry.”

“Do you see spirits everywhere you go?”

He remembered the little girl at Happy Trails. “I try to tune them out.”

“Are there a lot?” she asked.

“I can only see the spirits who are stuck here.” Old guilt rifled through him. “The ones in the spirit realm aren’t accessible to me.”

She drummed her fingernails on the bare table top.
T-T-T-T-Tup. T-T-T-T-Tup. T-T-T-T-Tap.
“What is your endgame?”

“Stop whoever is targeting you.”

“But how?” Rebecca pressed.

“Mr. Clark, I’m so glad you’re here.” The restaurant’s manager rounded the bar and stood in Holden’s personal space. “I tried calling you yesterday. Did you get my message?”

Yes, he’d heard Sean’s three messages. He wanted to meet. It was private and important. Frankly, Holden had too much going on with Rebecca to worry about his employee’s problems, too. Holden expected Sean to run Sparky’s six days a week, train and hire staff, stock the food, keep the receipts, and leave Holden alone. He wasn’t supposed to make desperate, repeated phone calls to his cell all night.

Holden slowly shook his head. “It’s not a good time.”

“When is a good time?” Sean’s oversized belt buckle neared Holden’s left ear. Holden’s skin crawled. “This is important. Did you get my message?”

Holden didn’t like the idea of interviewing new managers—hated it, actually—but it was probably now a necessity.

“I’m in the middle of something.”

Sean slammed both hands on their table, disrupting Rebecca’s condiment construction. She gasped, and Holden jumped to his feet, wedging himself between Sean and Rebecca.

“I don’t care if you are my boss,” Sean shouted, backing away. “You’re a real asshole. Have a nice meal.” He stomped through the front doors, quitting, apparently.

“He works for you?” Rebecca twisted in her seat to watch Sean leave.

“My manager. He runs the place.” Holden sank into the booth.

“Wait. This is
your
restaurant?”

“Yeah.”

Her dark amber eyes roamed the interior as if seeing it for the first time. All he saw was the blaring absence of his grandfather.

“Why would he talk to you like that?”

Holden said to the table, “I’m not good with people.” Which should be obvious to anyone who spent more than five minutes in his company. He was sorely out of practice dealing with people.
Living
people.

“You’re good with me,” Rebecca said.

“It’s different.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

Yes. But it was something else, too. Rebecca wasn’t normal, either, not in the strictest sense. She may look like a million bucks, but underneath she had dangerous spells written into her.

“No. Because you’re screwed up, too.” He picked up a plastic menu and pretended to read it.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. But it wasn’t a comfortable silence. He’d said the wrong thing, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He stared at the same photo of a patty melt until it blurred into colored shapes and squiggles.

The waitress brought their food, and Holden used the distraction to glance up and see how bad it was.

Pretty bad. Unshed tears welled as Rebecca fiddled with her tea set.

“I’m sorry.” He fidgeted in his seat. He was such a failure. At everything. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re right. I’m a mess.” She covered her face with both hands.

Holden didn’t know what to do. He’d never been in this situation before, and he panicked like he was trapped in the trunk of a car.

Then Rebecca sniffled bravely, and he told himself to quit being such an ass and comfort her. Sliding into her side of the booth, he wrapped his left arm around her, absorbing her body heat and her delicate scent. At first contact she stiffened, but then her body melted into his. She clung to his shirt and cried wet, messy tears all over him.

* * *

Holden was right. She was so screwed up she couldn’t tell which way was north anymore. And it wasn’t just the demon messing with her life. Becca had been this way for a long time. It was just that nobody had ever noticed before. She did a really great job of covering it up. Yet, somehow, Holden saw right through her.

“That’s nice of you to say.” She wiped her face and straightened her little black coat. “But I am.”

“Not possible.”

Lord, he smelled good. He was warm, too, like a yummy blanket. Which made her think of him in a bed.
Them
in a bed. She scooted away, creating some distance. The last thing she needed at this point was a romantic entanglement.