Page 57 of Witches of Dubious Origin
I was undaunted. “What sort of witch are you?”
Olive’s scarred eyebrow lifted, but she didn’t answer me. Can’t say I was surprised.
“Well, that’s not very helpful.” I gestured to Shelly’s unconscious form. “I had more questions for her.”
Olive shrugged. “I’m not good with screamers.” She took her phone out of her pocket, tapped it a few times, and held it up to her ear. “Jasper, we have a situation. Yes, the sooner the better.”
She ended the call without another word and I wondered where Jasper was on his tour and how he would manage to get out of it and get here in a time that would satisfy Olive.
I stood up and gestured to Moran. “How did you know he was dead?”
Moran’s eyes flitted from me to Olive. It was the only part of his body he could move. I would have felt sorry for him, but he looked almost relieved to be frozen in place. Weird.
“It’s a gift,” Olive said, which I took as a nonanswer. I resisted the urge to roll my own eyes.
She turned back to Moran. She raised her hands again and this time her incantation was soft, almost like she was crooning a lullaby to a sleepy baby. Moran’s shoulders slumped, then his neck wobbled, his spine bent, and he sagged back in his chair.
“Who brought you back?” Olive asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Olive tipped her head to the side, studying him.
“Did he get blasted with the same spell you used on Shelly?” I asked.
Olive gave me a side-eye. “That would never happen.”
“Then why can’t he speak?” I countered. “He was fine when we got here.”
“Mr. Moran, who brought you back?” Olive asked again.
He tried to form the words, but he started to choke.
Olive spun away from him and sat on the edge of the desk. “Someone is controlling him.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he clearly wants to speak but can’t.” Olive crossed her arms over her chest.
“Could it be because he’s newly dead?” I asked. “Maybe he doesn’t have control of his vessel yet.”
Olive frowned, considering, then she shook her head. “No, the newly deceased usually have more muscle memory thanthe more aged dead, which is why I didn’t catch on that he was undead right away. According to Dabrowski, he’s only been dead for two weeks. He should be able to talk, jog a marathon, or—”
“Choke someone out?” I cried as I grabbed Olive and yanked her away from Moran’s outstretched hands. He had lurched to his feet and was reaching for us, clearly with the intent to harm.
Olive immediately raised her hands and repeated the spell that froze Moran in place. The same chill permeated the room, but this time I was ready for it. Reaching across his desk with his hands out, it was clear Moran had been about to strangle one or both of us. His face was a mask of resistance, with teeth clenched and helplessness in his eyes. It was obvious he’d been fighting whoever had compelled him to do harm.
“Someone really has a hold on him,” Olive observed. “Thanks for the assist.”
“No problem.” I was surprised by the surge of pleasure I felt at her thanks. “Do you think someone planted Moran here to try to keep us from finding out what happened to my mother?”
“Potentially, but it seems like a lot of work just to keep us from asking about your mother’s death. Still, he’s not as malleable as they’d like. I believe they reanimated him for a more nefarious reason.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t think it was me he was trying to strangle.” She gave me a pointed look.
My stomach dropped and I glanced at Moran. Had he been trying to kill me? I didn’t like that. Not at all. “Do you think it’s the same person who is after the grimoire?”
“Seems likely, as you don’t offer much else of value,” Olive said.
