Read Online Murder Most Witchy (Wendy Lightower Mystery) by Emily Rylands - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Rylands
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left behind in the thick layer of dust as perfect outlines of the missing objects.
Wendy set up everything in the center of the beige carpeting in her living room. She kicked off her shoes and sat with crossed legs beside the cauldron. With exceptional care, she began turning the pages of the ancient book. She had studied the tome from cover to cover at one time in her life, a time that seemed like another life to her. It all came rushing back to her now as she looked at page after page. Somewhere, she couldn't be sure where, there was a spell that would do what she wanted. It hovered at the back of her memory like a dream, and yet she was absolutely sure it was in the book somewhere.
When she found it, she was moving so quickly she nearly flipped right past it. The handwriting was practically indecipherable, but once she figured it out, the directions were as clear as she could have hoped.
Wendy dropped several ingredients into the cauldron in the order indicated. This part of the spell was more like science than magic, all about timing, portioning, and combinations in balance. At the end, she added the single hair from Benny's head, which had made its way home safely tucked away in her pocket.
Wendy took a deep breath and cleared her mind of everything. This part, making her mind blank and ready, had always been a challenge for her. Over the years, she had developed a sort of mental journey, where she walked away from her home, her life, her town in the confines of her mind. She saw herself walking out on the bluffs, towards the ocean, and into a very dark cave. The cave had no light, no sound, nothing at all, and inside this cave she could concentrate.
Once she had her mind blank of everything except the darkness, she began to fill it with emotion. Sorrow, rage, regret, and fear, she picked them out one by one and arranged them like a bouquet. All the emotions that Benny must have felt as his life finally slipped away from him flooded the blank canvas of her mind.
All the best and most impressive magic was based on emotion. Emotion was combined with energy, from herself or the world around her, to make her will happen. In order for this spell to work, she had to live through everything that Benny had felt in his last moments. She hung onto her control as long as she could, but there was a moment when she had to let it go. When she did, the power of the emotions, the energy, the magic knocked her flat on her back.
Wendy bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. Tears ran unabated down her face, and sobs racked her body. It hurt, and hurt badly. The onslaught of negative feelings was like blitz bombing. There was a moment when she was certain that the magic would tear her apart.
Just when she felt that she couldn't take anymore, a warm, heavy weight landed in her lap. The closeness of her obese cat brought her back to the ground and an image burst through the pain and panic, playing out like a grainy newsreel in her head.
Wendy was back in the museum, a mop in her hands. The monotonous wiping motion felt peaceful and comforting, moving the spongy head back and forth over the tiles. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause to dip the mop in the bucket and back to wiping. The whole night might pass this way. Dip and swipe, dip and swipe.
A loud crash made her look up from her mopping. Ignoring the mounting fear that made her chest feel tight, her feet followed the sound into the back of the museum. Darkness surrounded her. She heard a scraping of metal on metal and the clink of glass.
“Who's there?” she called, but the voice was not her own.
A crushing force, like that of two unseen hands, closed over her windpipe. There was a rope around her neck, crushing out all air and life. She clawed at where she felt the rope with thick, ineffectual fingers, but there was nothing there. No rope, no hands, nothing was there to cut off the flow of precious oxygen. Panic seized her now, making her movements even
Wendy set up everything in the center of the beige carpeting in her living room. She kicked off her shoes and sat with crossed legs beside the cauldron. With exceptional care, she began turning the pages of the ancient book. She had studied the tome from cover to cover at one time in her life, a time that seemed like another life to her. It all came rushing back to her now as she looked at page after page. Somewhere, she couldn't be sure where, there was a spell that would do what she wanted. It hovered at the back of her memory like a dream, and yet she was absolutely sure it was in the book somewhere.
When she found it, she was moving so quickly she nearly flipped right past it. The handwriting was practically indecipherable, but once she figured it out, the directions were as clear as she could have hoped.
Wendy dropped several ingredients into the cauldron in the order indicated. This part of the spell was more like science than magic, all about timing, portioning, and combinations in balance. At the end, she added the single hair from Benny's head, which had made its way home safely tucked away in her pocket.
Wendy took a deep breath and cleared her mind of everything. This part, making her mind blank and ready, had always been a challenge for her. Over the years, she had developed a sort of mental journey, where she walked away from her home, her life, her town in the confines of her mind. She saw herself walking out on the bluffs, towards the ocean, and into a very dark cave. The cave had no light, no sound, nothing at all, and inside this cave she could concentrate.
Once she had her mind blank of everything except the darkness, she began to fill it with emotion. Sorrow, rage, regret, and fear, she picked them out one by one and arranged them like a bouquet. All the emotions that Benny must have felt as his life finally slipped away from him flooded the blank canvas of her mind.
All the best and most impressive magic was based on emotion. Emotion was combined with energy, from herself or the world around her, to make her will happen. In order for this spell to work, she had to live through everything that Benny had felt in his last moments. She hung onto her control as long as she could, but there was a moment when she had to let it go. When she did, the power of the emotions, the energy, the magic knocked her flat on her back.
Wendy bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. Tears ran unabated down her face, and sobs racked her body. It hurt, and hurt badly. The onslaught of negative feelings was like blitz bombing. There was a moment when she was certain that the magic would tear her apart.
Just when she felt that she couldn't take anymore, a warm, heavy weight landed in her lap. The closeness of her obese cat brought her back to the ground and an image burst through the pain and panic, playing out like a grainy newsreel in her head.
Wendy was back in the museum, a mop in her hands. The monotonous wiping motion felt peaceful and comforting, moving the spongy head back and forth over the tiles. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause to dip the mop in the bucket and back to wiping. The whole night might pass this way. Dip and swipe, dip and swipe.
A loud crash made her look up from her mopping. Ignoring the mounting fear that made her chest feel tight, her feet followed the sound into the back of the museum. Darkness surrounded her. She heard a scraping of metal on metal and the clink of glass.
“Who's there?” she called, but the voice was not her own.
A crushing force, like that of two unseen hands, closed over her windpipe. There was a rope around her neck, crushing out all air and life. She clawed at where she felt the rope with thick, ineffectual fingers, but there was nothing there. No rope, no hands, nothing was there to cut off the flow of precious oxygen. Panic seized her now, making her movements even
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