“It’s okay.”
“Happy Birthday, by the way.”
Olivia gave a small huff. “I didn’t think you’d remembered.”
“Are you kidding?” Louisa shook her head and began to walk backward toward her car. “You’re the only person I’ve ever known who was born on Halloween. We’ll celebrate properly later, okay?”
“Sure.” Olivia smiled and watched her friend walk away.
The sound of a throat being cleared behind her had Olivia turning her gaze back to the tall deputy, whose brows had risen impatiently.
“Alright.” Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go before you add a body cavity search just for the hell of it.”
They returned to the house where Olivia endured the humiliation of having to strip in front of deputy Hanson, who bagged up her clothes and left her with the added inconvenience of no longer having a coat. Cursing the Mercy Police Department, Olivia locked the door behind her unwelcome guest and headed straight for the shower.
With the water temperature as high as she could stand it, she scrubbed until her skin was raw, only to emerge from the shower pink and wrinkled, and still feeling like she’d rolled in something gruesome. Throwing on some comfy clothes, she climbed into bed and tried to ignore the bright daylight filtering through the drapes. Instead, she pulled the comforter up over her head and closed her eyes.
Twenty position changes later and she was still no closer to the sweet oblivion of sleep. She rolled over again, staring at the cracked paint on the ceiling. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get the image of Adam’s mangled body out of her mind, nor the Chief’s cool, accusing gaze.
She found herself frowning as she stared at the faded paint. The whole crime scene had reeked of magic. It was like nothing she’d experienced before, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that it was responsible somehow for Adam’s death. She hoped she was wrong, knowing that it had to take some pretty heavy-duty dark magic to do something like that to a human body.
She absently rubbed her throbbing temple, glancing over as her nightstand began to buzz with the vibration of her cell phone.
“Hello,” she answered, not even bothering to check the screen to see who was calling.
“Olivia?” a smooth voice with a crisp British accent echoed through the line. “You’re not still in bed, are you?”
“Hey, Mags.” Olivia sighed and sat up, giving up on trying to sleep.
Much older than Olivia, Margaret Hale had been so much more than just her literary agent, she’d been Olivia’s friend and confidant, filling up all the little empty spaces in her life.
“Is everything okay?” Mags asked and Olivia could hear the concern in her voice. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“It’s just been a stressful couple of days.” Olivia shook her head, even though Mags couldn’t see her. “It’s…” She broke off, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. “Being back is hard,” she admitted in a quiet voice.
“I know.” Mags’ voice softened. “That’s to be expected, but don’t be so hard on yourself. Give it time.”
“I suppose,” she murmured.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” Mags asked.
For a second, Olivia considered telling her the truth. Mags had been one of the precious few constants in Olivia’s life for the past several years, but even as she opened her mouth, the words wouldn’t come. This wasn’t a trivial worry about making rent, avoiding overshooting a deadline or the last-minute nerves of public speaking. A man was dead, brutally murdered, and she was sure someone had used dark magic to do it. As much as Olivia wanted to confide in her, she couldn’t. This was a part of herself she’d never shared with Mags. The solid and practical older woman had no idea witches were real, let alone that Olivia was not only descended from a long line of them but was a talented witch herself.
“I’m fine,” Olivia decided firmly.
“Well… if you’re sure,” Mags answered. “Anyway, the real reason for my call. Happy Birthday, Olivia.”
“Thanks.” Olivia smiled, the tension in her shoulders relaxing.
“I’ve sent something for you. It should be arriving sometime today,” Mags continued, and Olivia could hear her rustling paperwork around on her desk and someone speaking in the background. “Anyway, I hope you like it. I think you’re going to need it. I’m tying up a few commitments at the moment, but I’ll clear some time in my schedule to come and visit you in the next few weeks, okay?”
“Sure,” Olivia replied. “Sounds good.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Olivia heard a muffled voice in the background. “I’m sorry, Olivia, I have to go. I’ll call in a few days.”
Olivia tossed her phone on the bed as the call disconnected. She pushed the quilt from her legs, and climbed out of bed, knowing that with so much going on in her head, sleep would continue to elude her, no matter how tired she was.
Pulling on an old hoodie, she grabbed her phone and left the room, her thick socks making no sound against the worn floor other than the odd creak and groan of the floorboards. It was no surprise that, twenty minutes later, she found herself, once again sitting cross-legged on the library floor in front of the crackling fireplace, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of tea warming her hands.
