Witch's Jewel Read online

  I paid for my new drink and let my thoughts wander while Fenwick ran through his tutorial. People-watching wasn’t much fun. There weren’t any otherfolk in the bar besides the two sitting next to me.

  I was glad the vampire hadn’t asked more questions about the bindi. It seemed wrong to lie about it, like claiming that the diamond ring your fiancé gave you was paste instead of real.

  Uncle Fred had said in his letter that this was even more valuable than the house he gave to James. James thought that was because of the sentimental value, but what if it really was worth that much? Was it valuable enough to kill for? If I had been willing to sell, how high would Monica have gone?

  What I had to do was find out more about Uncle Fred, who his friends were, who his enemies were, who knew about the bindi. Silvara might be able to head me in the right direction. I should talk to her anyway, let her know that I wouldn’t be bringing in trees anytime soon. I yawned.

  “… Oh yeah. Check email, get calls, take photos, games, all kinds of apps. These are really great. I wouldn’t mind one myself.”

  Ted Palmer shook his head side to side. Whatever had made him look vampire-y when I first saw him had faded, and his smile was as bright as a sixteen-year-old with the keys to a Porsche. “I thought it was just a pager. Maybe I should find that manual. Thanks for all your help.”

  “Hey, no problem.” Fenwick pointed to the phone. “I typed my info in there under ‘contacts.’ Give me a call if you have any more questions. I think I have to take Kit home though.”

  “I’ll be seeing you,” the vampire said, which is funny, because as it turned out, he really meant it.

  Chapter Ten

  When you work in a coffee shop, you value your alone time more. That was the explanation James gave for not answering his apartment door when people knocked. His unspoken rule was that only Ulrich and I were allowed to visit on those rare occasions when he wasn’t either working or sleeping. James would peek out the window and see who it was, and if it wasn’t either of us, he simply wouldn’t answer the door. Even Fenwick got the brush off when he came by, and James liked him.

  So, when James opened the door, looking up (to someone taller), rather than down (to where Ulrich’s face would be), it was unusual enough to make me get off the couch to see who it was.

  Silvara walked in gracefully, wearing another of her elaborate outfits. This one was a floor length, amber brocade dress with an Egyptian motif at the hem. She wore a long ivory silk cardigan sweater over it.

  Since I was wearing the bindi, I also saw that she had a pair of huge wings. The gray feathers of her wings gently brushed the floor. If she spread them they would touch either side of the room. Could she spread them out?

  Jesus, they looked so real. Was she an angel, or something else? Who knew how many of the slightly-magical were living here?

  By this point, nothing should have surprised me.

  “Hello, Kit.” Silvara smiled politely, and pointed to my reddish-brown palms. “I like your mehndi. That’s new, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Ah,” I began, and then shut my mouth. How does one politely ask why someone has wings?

  “My wings. You’re staring at them.”

  I nodded and closed my mouth, but still couldn’t stop staring.

  “Why can you suddenly see them? Have you learned the knack?”

  James had disappeared into the kitchen. Could he see them too? “What are you?”

  “I’m the city’s Avatar of the Goddess.” Silvara turned slowly, showing her wings from behind. They were proportioned like the wings of an albatross, and folded so that the bend came up almost past her head.

  “What’s an Avatar? Are you like an angel or something?” I’d only heard that term used in gaming.

  “More like high priestess for the city. ‘Avatar’ is my title. I represent the Goddess in ceremonies, help solve disputes between covens, perform blessings.” She smiled modestly. “It’s a little like being the Harvest Queen, or the Queen of May.”

  “Do they do this everywhere? Is this a Pagan thing?”

  It sounded like James was filling a kettle. Was he being shy? Politely giving us privacy? Or maybe he just wanted to make himself a caffeine fix?

  “As far as I know, Seabingen’s the only town with this position. The wings can only be seen by those who know they are there.” She inclined her head. “But you didn’t know, did you?”

  “No.” I lifted my bangs. “It’s this. My inheritance. It lets me see things.”

  She nodded slowly. “Then the rumors about Frederick’s famous jewel are true. May I sit?”

  I pulled a pillow and some newspapers off the couch for her. “You knew about the bindi.”

  She seated herself, and her wings slumped on either side like the ears of a dog. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry about the other day, Kit. I didn’t mean to be so curt with you, but hearing that name—Frederick Edgerson—I never imagined you were his niece. It took me by surprise. I’m glad you inherited his bindi.”

  “I’m not. Someone tossed my apartment looking for it. That’s why I don’t have any trees. All my stuff was trashed.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Silvara looked shocked and dismayed. She placed her hand on my arm. “What did the police say?”

  “I didn’t bother telling them. It’s not a safe area of town. I doubt they’d do much.”

  James came in from the kitchen, silently bearing a tray with three teacups, an assortment of tea bags, and a pair of scissors. He nodded deeply to Silvara before going back for the kettle.

  He knew. That jerk knew this whole time that Silvara was the Pagan Avatar and he hadn’t told me.

  “I can’t believe the things people will do.” She tutted and pulled her wings closer around her shoulders. “At least you’re unhurt.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And? You have a face like an open book, Kit. You’re angry and worried about something. Why don’t you let it off your chest?”

  “Someone threatened me.”

  “For the jewel?”

  I nodded glumly. “This thing’s like the Maltese Falcon.”

  “Who threatened you?”

  “Monica Delcourt.” I said it quietly, so that James wouldn’t hear. It would only make him worry.

  “Oh dear.” She turned away, and her wings ruffled. They had to be real. How else could she move them like that?

  “You know her too, don’t you?”

  “I know of her.” Silvara sorted through the basket of teas. She didn’t look at me as she tore open a paper wrapper and dropped the bag in her cup.

  “And?”

  James had returned with the kettle, so Silvara lifted her teacup to be filled. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t get involved. I can’t gossip about other Pagans, or even speculate. As Avatar I have an obligation to remain impartial, and no one is impartial about Frederick Edgerson.”

  “You knew my uncle, didn’t you?” When she didn’t reply, I pressed. “Silvara?”

  “I knew his name; everyone knew of him, but I was a child then. Our paths didn’t cross.”

  “Wouldn’t he have talked to you at some point anyway, since you’re the Avatar?” I dropped my chai tea bag in the cup, but James fished it out and cut it open with the scissors. He dumped the leaves in the cup and stirred it with a small silver spoon, still without making eye contact with either Silvara or me.

  “This was long before I was chosen. I did meet him once, at a festival. Midsummer, I think. My mother had been a solitary witch for a long time, and didn’t have many friends in the Pagan community, but she really admired Frederick Edgerson, so we waited in line to talk to him. He was nice to us. He had been chosen as the male Avatar that year, and even if he hadn’t been, he was still the most famous witch in town, and he shook my mother’s hand as if they were old friends. It meant a lot to her.

  “I was kind of shy, and at the time I was young, still in grade school. He bowed to me, as though he knew I was going to be the Avatar and
wanted to pay his respects in advance.”

  She held the saucer with one hand and delicately lifted the bone china cup with the other, sipping her peach blend tea with the grace of a queen. It was easier to be ladylike when you didn’t have to strain chai spices through your teeth.

  “Of course no one knew that, certainly not me. But maybe he saw the future. He knew some unexpected things sometimes. Even people who don’t like him can’t deny he was a very skilled witch.”

  “I hardly knew him at all.”

  Maybe she could sense my disappointment, because she looked at the ceiling to search her memory. “You know, I do know someone who was a contemporary of your uncle. He teaches at the University. I can write down his name for you.”

  James handed her a piece of paper and a pencil almost as soon as the words left her mouth.

  She nodded thanks to James, which made him blush. “I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re coming. I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk to you.”

  “Thanks. But don’t tell him about the bindi, okay? Just tell him I’m writing a biography or something.”

  “If you like.” She set her teacup and saucer on the table and stood to go. “Oh, Kit? There’s a reason I came to see you. You know the Samhain celebration?”

  “The big Halloween festival?”

  She chuckled. “Yes, that’s the one. The festival organizers have hired Tulipa to provide decorations for the event, boughs. Last year it was a nightmare, because they wanted all fresh materials. We barely broke even on the deal because of all the overtime. This year I convinced them to go with silk. I’d like to subcontract with you, if you’re up to it.”

  I took another swig of the gritty tea, and licked the front of my teeth. “I can use the work, but you know I lost a lot of stuff when my apartment got broken into.”

  “Tulipa can advance you the materials. I’ve already placed an order with my wholesaler. They should be here within the week.”

  “So soon? It’s only the beginning of September.”

  “It’s a huge job.” Silvara’s wings curled under at the tips. “You don’t have a phone yet, do you?”

  I shook my head. “Leave a message with James, or email me, and I’ll get the stuff when it comes in.”

  “No, no, I’ll deliver it. We’ll just have them unload the boxes into our delivery truck. It will be less work that way.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  There. Done with the tea, as much as I could get down anyway. Now to flip the cup over quickly, to keep from getting tea all over the couch.

  “Bye, Kit.”

  James stood to escort her to the door, and actually bowed when he opened it for her. Silvara responded by touching him lightly on the brow. She murmured something to him. Whatever it was, it made James’ smile last until he sat down and drank his own cup of tea.

  He flipped the cup over, then stared at the leaves. After five minutes, his soothsaying trance broke, and his smile grew even brighter.

  “Well?” I peeked into the lumps in his cup. The lumps just looked like Rorschach tests to me. “What’s it say?”

  “A tall dark stranger will help me with my business problems.”

  “Great. A day for good news then.”

  James and I met each other’s eyes over my upturned cup of tea. Maybe it would be a good reading this time. Yeah right.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  Deep breath in. Deep sigh. “Okay. Go.”

  “You sure?”

  “Just do it, James.”

  James lifted the cup and stared at the bottom. Stared, and stared, and stared at the bottom. Jesus, James, good news or bad? I needed a cigarette.

  He finally set the cup down and wiped a thin sheen of sweat off his forehead. “There’s good news and bad news. Bad news is that the broken heart and murder are still there. Good news is that I don’t see thieves anymore.”

  Because it already happened.

  Which meant that this tea leaf nonsense wasn’t nonsense after all.

  “You’re shaking,” James pointed out. “You want a sweater?”

  “Yeah.” Shaking because of the cold. Yeah. That’s why my arms looked like the skin of a frozen chicken.

  “Kit, you can beat this. All you have to do is—”

  “—find out who wants to kill me and stop her. And that means finding out about Uncle Fred.”

  “The first one you want to talk to is his old teacher, Ginny. He used to talk about her all the time. He said she was really brilliant, and that she had a great rapport with animals, especially cats. I think you should find her. She probably still lives in Seabingen.”

  “Do you have a last name, phone number, or an email address? He ever mention those?”

  James shook his head. “No, sorry. I guess I’ve forgotten.”

  “If the tea leaves reveal her surname, I’ll get right on that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a good lead right here. John Hamilton, with an office on the university campus.” On campus. Great. Parking was going to be a bitch. “I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  Professor Hamilton’s office was on the top floor of a squat brick building on the far north of campus. Classes let out as soon as I started to climb the concrete steps, so I had to push my way down a narrow hallway filled with students leaving and entering classes.

  It took ten minutes to find the right room, and by that time, the halls had become empty again. His door was so covered with memos, post-it notes and comic strips there was hardly any clear space to knock.

  “Come in.”

  The overheated room had a window that overlooked the ivy-covered brick wall of the building across the courtyard. His own desk, at which he now sat, was covered with a stack of papers and thick hardback books, earmarked with other books. The other equally cluttered desk had an empty chair with a sweater draped over the back of it.

  Fetishes, idols, religious icons and several odd exotic looking statuettes filled the space in front of textbooks, hardbacks, and horizontal stacks of magazines on the metal bookshelves.

  He finished the paper he was grading and put it atop a stack. His eyes flicked to the design on my hands, but he didn’t remark on the henna. “What can I do for you?”

  Professor Hamilton didn’t satisfy my expectations of a stereotypical absentminded professor. His gray hair was neatly trimmed above the collar of his polo shirt, and he had the build of a man who had been athletic for most of his life. Most astounding, however, were the horns springing from his brow. These were no dainty goat horns like the devil in illustrations, this was a six-point rack of antlers spreading slightly beyond the width of his shoulders.

  Silvara had neglected to mention this.

  “Ah,” I shut my mouth. “I’m ah, my friend said you knew my, you knew Frederick Edgerson. I wanted to ask you some questions about him. That is, uh, if you’re John Hamilton.”

  “Yes, I’m John.”

  I stared at the antlers. They didn’t wobble. They seemed just as much a part of him as Silvara’s wings.

  “Frederick Edgerson.” He picked his pen up and started flipping it around his thumb. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. He ran for mayor once.”

  “That’s what I heard, but it was before I moved here.”

  “You were probably still in diapers.” He smiled. “His political career never took off, but I remember he did a lot of things for the Pagan community.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “You know, charity events, fund raisers. He was very instrumental in promoting community awareness about modern Paganism, and removing some of the stigma against it.” John stared at the pen flipping around his finger, then began to flip it the other way, as though I were an irritating interruption.

  “What can you tell me about the Sacred Grove coven?”

  He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, I heard Frederick Edgerson and some of the other members had some kind of falling out.”

  “A fal
ling out?” He laughed bitterly. “That’s a tidy way of putting it. Yes, he and the High Priestess had a disagreement about money. She hived off to form her own coven, and eventually what was left of Sacred Grove disbanded.” He flipped his pen around his finger again.

  “You don’t know any more details about that?”

  “Nope. Sorry.” He stared at me as he flipped his pen. Flip, flip, flip. Yeah, I got it. Go away kid, you bother me. “Anything else?”

  “No, I just wanted to know about Frederick Edgerson, and about … something he once owned. Silvara indicated you could tell me more.”

  “Silvara?” The pen stopped mid flick and fell into his palm.

  “We’re friends. She said she’d call you and mention I was coming over.”

  His put his pen down on the table. “No, I had no idea. I thought you were a student. How’s she doing? I haven’t seen her since Lammas.”

  “She’s fine. Business is doing well.”

  “Good to hear. She’s a nice lady.” He picked a pile of books and papers off a previously hidden chair and stacked them on the floor. “Have a seat. So, I’m sorry, what were you asking about?”

  “What did Frederick and the High Priestess fight about?” The wooden barrister chair creaked with my weight.

  “Oh, there were plenty of things for them to fight about, since they were together all the time.”

  “They were friends?”

  John nodded. “They used to be inseparable. Sure, they fought like cats and dogs, but they were a good team. Fred was the idea man. He always had ideas about how to make things better, and he had the energy to carry them out.

  “It was infectious. He’d say, ‘Hey, let’s host a marathon and donate the proceeds to Amnesty International,’ and before you could even think of the reasons why it was a bad idea, you’d find yourself stuffing envelopes for ‘Pagans for Peace.’

  “Of course, Monica was the one who’d have to organize everything, but Fred had the energy to get things started. That’s part of the reason she broke off on her own. Monica got pretty tired of him getting all the kudos for things she did.”

  “He didn’t pull his weight?”