Page 34 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
“Out,” Oakes instructed us all. “Not you,” he told Lucien.
“I’m his attorney.” Which meant I got to stay as well.
The sheriff shook his head. “Fine. First off, where was your client while this was going on?”
“I don’t exactly know when this happened,” Lucien told him. “I was with Cassie at an anger management meeting, then went with a cyclops and a troll to have a few beers. I’ve got witnesses. Or is it an alibi? What do you all call it?”
I shushed him. “My client can prove where he was all night. This probably had nothing to do with him. Someone got the wrong room number, and trashed the place, upset because they couldn’t find whatever it was they were trying to steal.”
“And stubbed their toe on the bedframe on the way out?” Fred scoffed. “Because that’s a lot of blood, Cassie.”
“Lucien was walking along the street alone when we picked him up,” Bronwyn added unhelpfully. “I’m sure there’s a gap between when everyone last saw him at the tavern and we saw him on the road. He’s a demon. Maybe he runs really fast or teleports.” She snapped her fingers. “Or flies. He’s got wings. I’ll bet he flew here, saw someone robbing the place and stabbed him a few times with demon claws, then flew back to make it look like he was just leaving the tavern.”
“Not helping,” I snapped at her.
Bronwyn had a fantastic imagination. I glared at her and turned back to the sheriff.
“My client is wearing the same clothes as when I saw him last. He doesn’t have anything else to wear. If he’d done this, he would be covered in blood. And he would have had no reason to be flying around, stabbing people with…alleged demon claws.”
“I do have demon claws,” Lucien announced.
“Not helping,” I retorted. What was with these people? Everyone needed to be quiet and let me be a lawyer here.
“Paramedic, divination witch, and occasional CSI coming through.” My sister Ophelia pushed her way past Bronwyn and stared matter-of-factly down at the blood stain. She and Sylvie were the twins of our family. They were equally tall, equally thin, equally dark-haired with somewhat pointed noises and definitely pointed chins. But where Sylvie was a gym-rat health nut, Ophelia looked as if she’d spent most of her life sequestered in a coffin with a vampire sucking her blood. She wasn’t Goth, she just naturally looked Goth.
I grabbed Lucien’s sleeve and pulled him aside as the other two took a step away from the crimson stain. Ophelia pulled a series of stones out of her bag, carefully arranging them around the edge of the blood-soaked section of carpet.
“Lotta blood,” she muttered. “Whole lotta of blood.”
“Is that the incantation?” Lucien whispered.
“No, she just likes to talk to herself as she casts,” I whispered back.
Once the stones were arranged to her liking, Ophelia pulled little twigs of dried herbs from her other pocket, putting them at key spots. Then she pulled out a Bic lighter.
“Hollister’s gonna kill you for burning holes in his carpet,” I warned her.
“He’s gonna have to replace it anyway with this big red spot,” she replied.
“Nah, he’ll just slap some bleach over it and move the bed over a few feet to cover it up,” Bronwyn said. “Burn away, sis.”
Eww. But she wasn’t wrong. Hollister wasn’t exactly known for running a five-star hotel, and with a wedding this weekend, he wouldn’t have time to replace the carpet. No way he’d lose out on a room rental just because of a huge blood stain and some burn marks. That’s why God invented bleach and Febreze, you know.
The herbs smoldered, sending the aroma of rosemary and burnt carpet fibers into the air.
“You know we’re all going to get cancer from this,” Bronwyn told her.
“Glenda will heal us,” Ophelia said. “Now hush. I’ve got to concentrate.”
The sheriff took a step toward the door and gestured for Lucien to follow. “I’m going outside. You might want to as well, buddy. Witch magic feels like someone poured itching powder down your underwear.”
Lucien’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll take my chances.” The demon did move closer to the door, though, clearly not as willing to have his nether regions itchy as he claimed.
Ophelia took a breath and began to chant. Unlike Sheriff Oakes had claimed, the magic wasn’t itchy, or unpleasant—at least not to me. Goosebumps raised on my skin as my sister’s spell shivered over me like a ghostly hand. My own magic rose from deep inside me, eager to answer the call. I pushed it down firmly, and glanced over to see Bronwyn, her eyes glowing electric blue, white light like a fog curling from her fingertips. Lucien watched, transfixed. As he looked at me, I saw the lust in his eyes. He was turned on. Our magic didn’t frighten him or make him feel like he was itching. It wasn’t unpleasant to him, it was an aphrodisiac.
The thought shredded my control and I let my magic fly, feeling it surge out through my skin, giving power to Ophelia’s spell.
My skin tingled when it was done. I felt more alive than I had in years. And I was scared. If I gave in to magic, if I allowed myself to accept my witch gifts, then I also needed to accept the destiny of my birth. No. I didn’t want responsibility for this town and its residents. No, I didn’t want to be the one everyone came to when there was a problem. I just wanted to be Cassie Perkins, that lawyer who lived up on the hill in her family’s old home. Just a normal citizen—well, as normal as any of us were in this town.
