Клеа Саймон - A Spell Of Murder

“No, that’s ridiculous.” The tall accountant had the temerity to smile. “You’re…you’re so nice.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Becca wasn’t having it. “But Suzanne was seeing my ex, and they’ve heard that someone was stalking her, so…”

“Okay.” Ande raised her hands, signaling her to stop. “I’ll talk to the cops, I promise. I just really don’t think I have anything to contribute.”

“Thanks.” Becca turned to go when another thought stopped her in her tracks. “There’s not any reason you wouldn’t want to go to the cops, is there?”

“Me?” Ande smiled, her dark brows rising in mock surprise. “You mean, because I’m black?”

“I wasn’t…” Becca struggled, a bit flustered. “I just think there are too many secrets. Like, what’s going on with you and Marcia?”

“Me and Marcia?” Maybe it was the dimming light, but Ande appeared genuinely confused.

“You two are hiding something.” The conversation in the kitchen. The shared glances. Becca was sure of it.

Ande didn’t argue. “It’s—look, I can’t tell you. It’s not my secret to share. But yeah, Marcia has taken me into her confidence about something—and no, it’s not about Suzanne—”

“Ande, where were you last Saturday?” The question burst out of nowhere. Ande’s response—a startled laugh—surprised Becca even more.

“Saturday? I was with Marcia. She and Luz had me over for lunch. We were probably talking—even as…dear goddess, there was no way to know.”

“No, of course not,” said Becca. “So Luz was there too?” She hated herself for asking.

The taller woman tried a smile, but it didn’t reach the sadness in her eyes. “Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, if you need confirmation. She was there.”

“Hey, you two.” Kathy stood on the top of the bank. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Ande turned for one more look at the river, where the orange was spreading over the blue. “Remembering.”

Becca nodded. “Isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

“Well, yeah.” Kathy turned back toward the main gathering.

With a sigh, Ande began to climb the bank, her voice sinking to a conspiratorial level. “Though I think Larissa has something a lot fancier in mind.”

Becca reached out to give the other woman a hand up. “I’m sure—and shouldn’t we get started soon?”

“You’re right.” Ande looked back once more at the calico reflections. “The sun is beginning to set.”

***

She was right. Already the light was changing, splashing the pale blue sky with orange and pink. For Clara, the increasing darkness was a blessing. Out here in the wild, she tended to be more cautious. A domestic cat could get in trouble, and besides, she didn’t want to give her person a scare. But although the tall weeds by the water’s edge stopped far short of the path, the play of shadows had given her an increased freedom, and even as her person returned to the cropped grass, the shaded feline lingered close to Becca’s feet. Close enough to pick up a tension that had not been alleviated by Ande’s capitulation—or her alibi.

“Finally!” Larissa’s growl would have done Harriet proud.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Trent?” Kathy looked around as the two joined the main party. “I mean, he is our leader.”

Larissa, raven brows lowered, shot her a look that by rights should have pushed her into the river. Only the sight of the bearded warlock, jogging down the path, stopped her rebuttal. “There he is, the little scamp,” she said.

“Sorry—ah, merry meet.” Breathing heavily, he forced a smile. Becca, Clara could see, was eying him carefully as the coven gathered and joined hands.

So was Larissa, who scowled as his hand went up reflexively to his open collar. “You’re not wearing your amulet,” she said, forgoing the usual greeting.

“No.” His long fingers played over the dark curls as if feeling for the missing piece. “I—the chain broke, and I have to get it fixed.”

“Ah.” Larissa sniffed, and for a moment Clara wondered if she could smell the blood that Harriet’s claws had drawn. “You should be careful with a piece like that.” The smile was back, only a slight rebuke in her voice. “It has power, you know.”

“I know.” His smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual, but before Clara could approach and attempt to sniff out anything about the man, Ande and Marcia had joined hands. For a moment, Becca seemed about to address them—the question in her eyes—but instead she turned toward Trent, and Clara had the distinct impression that she was going to apologize, yet again, for Harriet’s indiscretion. Only then Kathy reached for her hand and drew Becca in, linking her to Larissa and the others. Trent completed the circle, joining Becca and Ande, and Larissa began to speak.

“We are here today to celebrate our sister, Suzanne.” She looked around, her gaze taking in each of them in turn. “To remember her magic, and to return her to the stars.”

“Oh, brother.” Kathy’s whisper was audible to all.

“She was our sister in the mysteries we share.” Even as she kept talking, Larissa silenced the coven pet with a glare. “Mysteries that evoke the mysterious secrets we all share.” Becca, conscious of her status as the newest member of the group and suddenly very conscious of Larissa’s eagle eyes, held stock still as the older woman droned on. Beside her, Kathy struggled to contain her giggle.

“And as we watch the sun descend, so too we bid farewell to this stage of our sister’s being.” With the last of the light, Larissa seemed finally to be winding up. “Farewell, Suzanne,” she intoned in a voice that must have carried to the water’s edge and beyond. “Farewell!”

“Thank the goddess.” Ande’s exhalation was audible, even if its meaning was open to interpretation. And as Larissa turned toward her, she girded for the rebuke. “I mean, goddess be praised,” the other woman said.

“Goddess be praised.” Becca echoed the sentiment as the circle broke its bonds.

“What was that about?” Marcia sidled up to Becca as Trent wrestled with the bottle of cider Larissa had brought, her attention on the flamboyant pair. “I thought this was supposed to be focused on Suzanne.”

Becca couldn’t bring herself to disagree. “I’m beginning to realize I never really knew her.”

Marcia’s large, dark eyes peered up at her as she once more donned her cap.

“She wanted to talk to me about something,” Becca explained. “That last meeting. I never found out what it was.”

“Oh, I know.” A surprising smile. “She wanted to do a casting out.”

Becca’s jaw dropped in confusion.

“Because of your summoning spell. You know,” Marcia explained. “She was hoping you could help her.”

“In her personal life?” Becca couldn’t help thinking of Jeff. Casting out spells were to rid oneself of negative influences—or people.

“You mean, like she had mice in her apartment?” Marcia was in an exceedingly jolly mood despite the occasion.

It was contagious, and Becca found herself chuckling at the idea. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t need a witch. She could have borrowed my cats.” That was so close to an oxymoron that Clara’s tail twitched.

“No, I don’t think so.” Marcia leaned in again, her voice growing soft. “I think she was talking about the coven. Something—or someone—who wasn’t, well, right.”

“Trent!” Larissa’s shrill command cut through the growing dark, and Marcia rolled her eyes.

“I can think of a couple of candidates,” she whispered.

“A couple?” As soon as the words were out, Becca regretted them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”