Spell of Shattering Page 5

  What did Holden and Rebecca have to do with anything? And who was Cabal? “Derek, I’m confused.”

  “Go to Holden.” His breath puffed over the line. “Promise me you’ll go see Holden and I’ll…”

  “Derek?”

  He panted as if the words were difficult to say.

  “Do it, and I’ll fly home.”

  * * *

  Derek shook so badly he had trouble turning off his phone.

  Jessa was working with Mayor Paul Westfield. Friendly, generous Jessa who’d helped him through the most difficult time of his life was the mayor’s new plaything.

  Without really thinking it through, he stuffed some clothes, his wallet, and a few personal items into a suitcase, grabbed his toolbox off the floor, and rushed out of his trailer.

  He was lucky Bo was already back from his morning hunting trip and answered the door.

  “I need,” Derek started. “Can you…” The words were there in his mind, but he couldn’t sort them. “I have to—”

  “Slow down.” Bo put an arm around him and forced him inside the rustic, wood-paneled foyer. “What’s got you all twisted up?”

  If only he could express the anxieties burning through his veins.

  Derek set his tools down and gave his speech another go. “I need to fly home,” he said with difficulty. “Can you…” He swallowed, hoping to loosen the words.

  “I can fly you to Fairbanks,” Bo said as if reading his mind. “From there you can catch a commercial flight.” His eyebrows lowered. “If I’m not being too nosy, where is home?”

  What a nebulous concept. His first instinct was to say the trailer out back. But Bo meant where he was from, not his current address. And though it didn’t necessarily feel like home, Derek said, “North Carolina.”

  “Haven’t you seen the news?” Bo asked. “There’s a hurricane heading up the eastern coast. You might not get a flight anytime soon.”

  Derek shrugged, communicating it didn’t make a difference.

  Bo bobbed his head a few times. “Well, I’d rather keep you here. Things have been a lot simpler with you looking out for me, but,” he clapped Derek on the shoulder, “if you gotta go, you gotta go.”

  “Thanks,” Derek grunted. “I have to go.” For Jessa.

  “Now?” Bo asked, glancing from Derek’s jeans and flannel—the same outfit he’d worn the day before—to the gear on the floor between them. “Looks like you’re all packed.”

  Derek was grateful Bo didn’t tease him about his lack of belongings. The pilot knew Derek had arrived in Alaska with one backpack and not a single coat.

  “Before we leave,” Bo said, snatching a set of keys off a table, “don’t forget you can come back anytime. No questions asked.”

  “I can pay you,” Derek said, offering the envelope of cash.

  “This one’s on the house.”

  Later, Derek would accidentally forget the cash on the plane so Bo wouldn’t be out of pocket. Derek didn’t care about the money. He’d never cared about money. Truthfully, to get back to Auburn he would’ve paid anything Bo asked.

  Because Jessa was in trouble.

  She probably didn’t even know how much yet, but she was. Big, scary trouble.

  At the very least, the mayor knew her, and being in his eye-line was the most perilous position to be in. Catching his attention wasn’t only dangerous. It could be deadly.

  Because Paul Westfield wasn’t just the mayor of Auburn. He was also the Dark Caster.

  Chapter Five

  Jessa hung up with Derek, more concerned for his mental health than ever before. Maybe it was a good thing he was flying home. She would insist his doctor in Auburn examine him while he was there. Because he sounded off, and she was worried.

  Her concern, though, didn’t dampen her excitement at moving forward with securing his property for Paul. She called the mayor to deliver the good news. Derek was coming home, and even earlier than they had hoped.

  “Derek Walker is on his way here as we speak,” she confirmed, unable to contain a smile. “As soon as I see him, I’ll bring him straight to you.”

  That is, if he wasn’t worse and in need of medical attention ASAP. He sort of sounded worse.

  “I’m thrilled with your progress,” Paul said, “but I won’t be able to properly celebrate until I meet him in person.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  “Call me the moment you have him in hand, Miss McAvoy,” Paul added, “and I’ll meet you anywhere you want.”

  “Of course. The moment I have him.”

  They ended the call, and Jessa took a moment to lounge in her desk chair and enjoy the rush of excitement. She was going to make a sale. A big one. A sale that would set her on a new course in her career. Today was a good day.

  And then she recalled her confusing conversation with Derek, and some of the giddiness wore off. He’d made her promise to go see their old boss Rebecca Powell. Was he even in his right mind? Did he think they still worked for her? Was he doubtful of Jessa’s ability to close the deal with Paul on her own?

  Well, she wasn’t going to see Rebecca. There was no need. Jessa could handle this sale. Besides, she’d hate for rumors to get back to Ryan before she was ready to tell him.

  But because she’d promised, Jessa dialed Rebecca’s cell phone. It went to voicemail. “Hi, it’s Jessa,” she said. “Derek asked me to tell you cabal wants to hurt me, or possibly him, I didn’t really understand. I think he’s a little confused. Anyway, call me if you want to talk.”

  Then, over the next twenty-four hours she inundated Derek with texts.

  Are you traveling today or tomorrow?

  What’s your flight number?

  I’ll pick you up at the airport.

  Thanks for coming home.

  Are you excited?

  She received no response. But it didn’t dampen her spirits one bit. Derek was coming home to sell his house, and she was going to facilitate the entire process, earning a commission of her own, the respect of Ryan, and the keys to her own career.

  * * *

  The closer Derek got to North Carolina the worse he felt. On the overnight flight from Fairbanks to Denver, he started chewing on antacids. By the time his third flight crossed into North Carolina airspace early Wednesday morning, he was downing whiskey sours in pairs. All it did was slow his already sluggish reflexes. At the Raleigh International Airport, he stood in the rain to hire a van to Auburn, at least a two-hour drive. It would cost him hundreds of dollars, but the alcohol made it seem even less important than it normally would.

  Tossing his soaked overnight bag into the rear, Derek flopped onto the bench seat and leaned against the headrest.

  “Where to?” the cabbie called out.

  “Richlands,” Derek said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Head east,” Derek said, “for about two hours.”

  The cab driver hesitated a fraction of a second. “You know it’s going to cost you.”

  “I don’t care,” Derek answered.

  The van rolled away from the curb, and Derek closed his eyes.

  One good thing that came of being buzzed in the hours before dawn—maybe he’d picked up more from Bo and his friends than he’d realized—was the constant stream of verbal abuse faded into a low murmur at the back of his head.

  Which left too much room in his thoughts for all the reasons he’d left Auburn in the first place, swearing never to return.

  First and foremost, there was no way the Dark Caster would release Derek from his contracts, both blood and paper ones, simply because some time had passed. No chance. Because in April Derek had been given the task of possessing Rebecca Powell with a demon, thereby building the first of three pillars that would open the Chaos Gate and unleash hell on earth.

  Except it hadn’t gone according to plan.

  Yes, Derek had completed the spell. He’d actually cast a demon into Rebecca, but the whole idea of the spell was it had to sti
ck. And no sooner had the demon entered her than Holden Clark yanked it right back out again.

  So, it didn’t count. No pillar. No joy.

  Paul was furious. Derek hadn’t known how furious at the time because he’d been nonsensical from Holden’s below-the-belt memory spell. But he’d been pissed. No doubt about it.

  Something nudged his left shin, and Derek flinched so hard he kicked the back of the seat in front of him.

  A pair of shiny hazel eyes stared up at him from the floorboards.

  “Don’t mind Sookie,” the cab driver said. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  The mini schnauzer broke eye contact and placed a paw on Derek’s calf, so tiny he couldn’t feel it through his jeans.

  “Sookie.” Derek reached out for her, his hand trembling. It had been shaking since he’d fallen off the roof, the night the dark cabal cast a summoning spell, and hadn’t stopped.

  Sookie didn’t seem to mind the tremors as he scratched behind her ears. She gazed up at him with unfiltered adoration, but rather than calm him down, it only made him uneasy.

  He sat back, folding his arms tightly. He was too dirty, inside and out, to deserve affection. Even if it came from a dog.

  The cab driver sang enthusiastically along to the radio, making sleep impossible, so Derek spent time staring out a dark window, occasionally catching sight of a white clapboard house or a picket fence. Right before dawn, a sign appeared through the van’s windshield. “Welcome to Auburn,” it read. “The city of possibilities.”

  Derek shook his head, not amused. The whiskey had worn off, and his spirit tormenter was back in full force.

  “…He will flay your skin from your bones, you filthy pile of garbage…make you eat your own flesh before you die…”

  “Almost there,” the driver announced, turning onto Highway 24. “This your house?”

  “...chewing your own internal organs as your blood drains...”

  “A friend’s.” Derek didn’t dare go to his own house. Truthfully, he never wanted to see it again. It was rank with the black magic he’d cast on Paul’s behalf. Positively stank of it. No, that house belonged to the former Derek Walker, the one who wanted power so much he was willing to hurt people to gain it. Entering his former house, he feared, would bring up those foul motives.

  What if he walked through the front door and all his evil intentions came tumbling back?

  What if simply saying Paul’s name aloud conjured the need to please that Derek used to feel so strongly whenever he was around his master? Paul had known just what to say, just how to act, to make Derek agree to do anything, even hurt an innocent person like Rebecca Powell. Because he couldn’t cast magic himself, Paul had made a big fuss of naming Derek his number one disciple. And Derek had eaten it up with a spoon.

  Because of the attention, Derek had dreamed of nothing but opening the Chaos Gate in Paul’s honor. He’d spent hours on his knees casting the demon-summoning spell to raise the first pillar. As a good devotee of the Dark Caster, Derek had wanted so badly to succeed.

  He’d done it. For a moment. He’d pulled a demon through the barrier between realms and cast it into Rebecca Powell. It had been the absolute worst and greatest feat he’d ever accomplished in his life. The magic required had seared him from the inside out like a living lobster dropped into a pot of boiling water. If Holden Clark hadn’t been there to reverse the spell, the Chaos Gate would already be open.

  The taxi rolled up in front of Holden’s restored farmhouse, but there were no other vehicles in sight. Derek didn’t get out of the van.

  No one was home.

  “Can you take me to this address instead?” Derek showed the driver contact info in his phone. “My friend should be there.”

  Friend. Ha. Holden was not his friend. Not even close. But Holden and Rebecca came as a packaged deal now, and since Holden had utterly disabled Derek, he’d be capable of casting a couple of protection spells over both Derek and Jessa. Just until Derek figured out the Dark Caster’s next move and how to stop it from happening.

  Paul messing with Jessa couldn’t be a coincidence. It was another way for him to torment Derek—attack one of the only people in the world he cared about.

  “Sure thing.” The cab headed into Auburn.

  Luckily, Sparky’s was open early for breakfast. As he paid the driver with a credit card, he spotted Rebecca through the large windows waiting tables.

  He couldn’t believe the change in her.

  She had thrived running her own brokerage firm, craved the chaos and pressure inherent in it. But he’d never seen her as happy and glowing as she looked at that moment—grinning to a customer, setting tall glasses of juice and sweet tea on a table, swishing her short skirt as she returned to the kitchen where Holden arranged hot plates on a counter.

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him over a basket of tater tots.

  Derek still couldn’t remember kissing. Couldn’t fathom the appeal. He might feel jealous of their intimacy if he had any idea what he was missing.

  Suitcase in tow, he ambled through the front door and breathed easy for the first time since setting foot on North Carolina soil. He recognized more than one barrier spell protecting the property. He sensed witch magic mixed in there too.

  Sparky’s, the fifties style diner with the checkerboard tiles and neon jukeboxes on every table, felt like the safest place in the universe right then.

  A bell tinkled overhead. “Welcome to Sparky’s,” Rebecca called out. “Where the past is…” Her voice trailed off as she recognized him.

  Immediately, Rebecca’s expression went cold and steely, and then Holden somehow crossed the room in the blink of an eye.

  Caught off guard, Derek flinched into the glass door even as he silently cursed the fear that was always lying just under the surface, ready to swim through his veins like his own personal tsunami.

  Undaunted, the larger man dragged Derek by the collar through the kitchen and shoved him into a tiny office. Rebecca squeezed around Holden to stand in front of her boyfriend, arms crossed. As if Derek were the problem. As if he were a threat to them and every person inside the diner.

  As if were the villain.

  Derek straightened his flannel shirt with shaking hands. “Where’s Jessa?”

  Rebecca had the nerve to look confused. “Jessa? Jessa McAvoy? What are you talking about?”

  “I sent her—” Damn it. Holden’s looming presence was stealing his voice. “To you.”

  “She called me yesterday,” Rebecca said, still frowning, “but we haven’t seen her lately.”

  “What did she say?” If she hadn’t listened to him, he was going to blow a gasket. Because he was in no condition to save anyone.

  “She asked about your house and whether it was paid off. I told her it was.” Rebecca shrugged. “She left me another message, but with everything that’s going on, I haven’t listened to it yet.”

  “We’re getting off topic,” Holden grumbled, his eyes boring into Derek like twin drills. “Are you here to stop the Dark Caster?” And then before he could respond, Holden added, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You will tell us the Dark Caster’s real name. You will help us close the Chaos Gate.”

  No. Too many conflicting facts overwhelmed him. Maybe it was the alcohol or the spells on the building or even jet lag, but Derek’s mind was working in even slower motion than normal. All he could focus on— the one thing that mattered most—was Jessa partnering with evil incarnate.

  “Where’s Jessa?” he pressed.

  “She’s not here,” Rebecca said.

  “Stay on topic,” Holden added. “Do you know who the Dark Caster is?”

  “Yes.” That was an easy one. “Where’s Jessa?” He couldn’t get the idea he’d already lost her out of his mind.

  “Focus,” Holden growled. “Who is the Dark Caster? I need a name and an address.”

  “The mayor,” Derek blurted out, his gaze bouncing from Holden’s vengeful expression to Rebecc
a’s slightly more sympathetic one.

  Though he wasn’t claustrophobic, usually, he felt trapped in the tiny office with Holden blocking the only way out. Holden, who’d wrecked him four months ago with a single spoken word.

  “Paul Westfield is the Dark Caster.”

  “What?” Rebecca covered her mouth. “But I know him. He’s—He’s—”

  Holden wrapped an arm around her from behind. “He was at the Chamber of Commerce party,” he said. “Remember?”

  At the mention of the night Holden had cornered Derek in his bedroom closet and annihilated him, he began to sweat.

  “I have to process this,” Rebecca said.

  Derek didn’t have time for her to get with the program because just then, the ghost of a little black girl in pigtails appeared beside Holden, and Derek broke out in a cold sweat. She’d been witness to his defeat on the night Holden destroyed his mind. The night everything had gone so wrong. Hell, her power had fueled it.

  His shivering escalated to full-scale, teeth-rattling shakes.

  “Wh-where is Jessa?” Derek demanded.

  “Why?” Shrugging off Holden’s arm, Rebecca stepped nearer, forcing Derek to back into the desk. “Why are you so worried about Jessa? She’s not a caster. Is she?”

  “He called her,” Derek said, pulling the scattered pieces of his memory together. He needed to get out of that room. He couldn’t breathe. “Paul was with her.” It was only a matter of time until he hurt her. Paul didn’t make friends. He made allies and enemies, nothing more.

  “Paul?” Rebecca parroted, still not grasping the gravity of the situation.

  “The mayor!” Derek shoved the nearest thing to him, and the folding chair fell over with a clatter. “The mayor has Jessa. Where is she?”

  Holden took a threatening step into the room, and Derek flashed back to the worst day of his life in high definition. He remembered Holden barreling through his closet door, remembered the sleep spell, and recalled the agony of waking in the emergency room an empty, terrified husk of a human being.

  “Don’t!” Derek held up a hand to ward off the other man as he crashed into the desk. Electronics and coffee cups wobbled.