Desert Magick: Dream Catcher Read online

  My Precious Zoey, if you’re reading this, it means today is your twenty-first birthday and I’m no longer with you. Please don’t be sad. I had a very fulfilled life. My only regret is that I didn’t get to be with you longer. You were the best thing that ever happened to Alexander and me. I love you as if you were my own daughter. Now, wipe those tears, sweetheart.

  Aunt Mena had always been uncanny at reading her. Zoey let out a chuckling sob and swiped a hand across her moist eyes. So much for not crying this year. She sniffed and continued reading.

  Inside this box is a special gift. This may seem an odd request right now, but I can’t stress enough how important it is that you keep this gift safe. It’s been in our family for generations and you must share it with your daughter when she’s of age. Happy Birthday, My Darling Zoey. My love is with you always. Aunt Mena.

  P. S. Beware the Anguisher.

  Not certain what that last part meant, she swallowed her grief, now replaced by mounting curiosity, and lifted the box from its glass home. The jewels stayed lit until she set it on the coffee table and took her hands away. She drew close and inspected the inside for the special gift but found nothing. Had her aunt forgotten to put it in here? But where had the note come from? Zoey hadn’t opened that display case since Mena died. How could the woman possibly have known she would open the box today?

  Maybe she would find the special gift hidden in the house someplace. She still hadn’t been through all of her aunt’s things. She dismissed those thoughts for now and focused on the box. When she closed the lid and caressed the cool metal, the turquoise gems lit up. Carefully, she turned it over, searching for a battery compartment. Not that she expected to find one on a box this old, but she couldn’t resist looking. Nothing. It had to be spelled. What other explanation could there be?

  She left it on the coffee table and went into the kitchen for a refill, only half a cup this time. While she drank, she leaned over the sink and watched two antelope squirrels through the window, scurrying in the granite yard around the pool. Was the pool guy coming Monday or Tuesday? She couldn’t remember.

  When she returned to the couch, the box’s silver lid stood open. I closed that. I’m sure of it. She shrugged and shut it again, this time testing the latch to make sure it was secure.

  A brisk tooth brushing consumed the next couple of minutes. A cursory glance in the mirror at the shorts and cami she’d put on after her shower—she never seemed to wear anything else in summer—and she nodded to herself. “Acceptable.” She leaned close to inspect her face as she put her damp hair into a ponytail. “You could use some serious cover up on those circles, Zoey girl. Oh great. Another zit. Just what I need.” She skipped the makeup, as usual, and headed into the greatroom again.

  The box lid was open. Must be a hinge loose. She sat on the couch and put her face close to the box. When she saw nothing broken, she put her hand in to check the hinges. A shock met her fingers and she took a quick breath. Her fingertips tingled for a moment and she rubbed them together before feeling inside the box again. In return, she got another shock, stronger than the last, which caused her to jerk back and suck on her fingers. “Ow!” Damn static.

  Later, she would call Daisy and see if the witch could find out who’d spelled the thing. Hmm. Might’ve been her or Cousin Bridgette.

  Hesitantly, she reached out and snapped the lid closed. No shock this time. As soon as her hand was clear, the latch flipped up and the lid opened. It didn’t seem like a hinge problem. More like an invisible hand problem. She smirked at the childish thought but sat mesmerized at what she saw next. A faint rainbow swirled around the inside of the box, a colorful vortex, beautiful, yet frightening. Instinctively, Zoey scooted back, careful not to take her eyes from it. After a moment, bravery swelled and she leaned over her knees, keeping her hands tucked under her breasts and away from the damn thing.

  “What the hell?”

  Dream Catcher, came a tiny voice.

  The next few seconds seemed to go by in a blur because Zoey found herself standing several feet from the coffee table with little recognition of moving. Her heart sounded like a jackhammer in her head. It took a few seconds, but she finally calmed down enough to make a coherent thought.

  A spell. Aunt Mena’s special gift. Has to be. “God, you’re such a wuss, Zoey.” Uncle Alex is probably laughing his butt off in the afterworld right about now. She couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that left her throat as she moved back to the couch and sat. “Did you say something?”

  Dream Catcher. The faint voice sounded female.

  Must work like a Magic Eight Ball. Definitely a special gift. Spelled for sure. “And pretty damn cool!”

  She giggled, thinking of the time a girl at school had received a Magic Eight Ball from her parents. The girls had gathered around it, asking questions about boys and marriage. She’d been no different from a million other little girls fantasizing about her wedding day with whatever hot TV stud she happened to like at the time. Now she figured Jason might be her future groom. But not for several years. Zoey had too many things she wanted to do before becoming half of an old married couple. Sticking to a damn major clambered into her brain as one of them. The sex was good, though. As was the company. Jason always made her laugh.

  Fear dissipated, leaving curiosity and amusement. Of course, she had no idea just how complicated the spell was, but the box seemed to answer more than simple yes or no questions. Maybe it had been designed just for this purpose. That would explain the dreamcatcher etched into the lid. Symbolic. To answer a girl’s dreams. Or in this case, a woman’s dreams. She glanced at the letter again and read aloud, “It’s been in our family for generations and you must share it with your daughter when she’s of age.”

  “Why wait so long, Aunt Mena?” Maybe it answers dirty questions. Or maybe a kid just couldn’t be trusted with such an old heirloom. That was probably the reason. Her aunt and uncle had several family traditions that Zoey still tried to honor, so why not a special gift on a girl’s twenty-first birthday?

  She folded her long legs beneath her on the couch and leaned forward. “Are you a spelled box?”

  Dream Catcher.

  The voice was stronger now and definitely female but it couldn’t seem to say anything else? Maybe the spell had shorted or something when the box shocked her. Did spells short out? Zoey’s knowledge of spell casting barely filled the screen on her cell phone. No matter. This heirloom belonged to her now and she decided to take advantage of it. Once the spell was activated by her touch, it probably wouldn’t last long. Twenty-four hours maybe. Or less.

  “Okay, let’s try this one. Will I get married?” The box didn’t answer. She repeated the question but the box still didn’t say anything. “Stumped you, huh? Not even a maybe? Or not likely? Come on, box, what’re you good for?”

  Dream Catcher.

  “Yeah, I can see the dreamcatcher etched in your lid, you stupid box. Fine. How about this one? What will I be when I grow up?”

  Dream Catcher.

  She sniffed. “Guess you’re stuck on that one, huh?” Maybe the thing had shorted out. She leaned closer to peer inside at the swirling rainbow when the phone rang, sending her heart into a coronary arrest. “Shit!” Who the hell’s calling on the landline? Not that she had many friends, but everyone she knew used her cell. Probably some damn telemarketer. Even after two years, some salesperson invariably called looking for her aunt or uncle. Maybe I should just cancel the damn thing. The phone rang again before she found it on the adjacent chair, buried under a throw pillow and yesterday’s newspaper.

  Not in the mood to talk to a telemarketer, she said “Hullo,” in a terse voice.

  “Hi, Zoey. Happy Birthday.”

  She relaxed. Jason’s mother. “Hi, Connie.”

  “I tried your cell but it went to voicemail.”

  “Oh, sorry. I must have silenced it. Thanks for the birthday wish.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. Why don’t I come around
with Jason this afternoon? I have something for you.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell Connie she and Jason had other plans for their afternoon together. Plans that definitely didn’t involve his mother. We’ll get her out quickly. “Um, sure. That’d be great.” They said their good-byes and Zoey pressed the off button then tossed the phone onto the nearby chair.

  She narrowed eyes on the box, a bit nervous that she may have broken whatever spell had been put on it. “Okay, let’s try this again. What will I be when I graduate?” If it tells me to change my major again, I’ll scream.

  Dream Catcher. Dream Catcher. Dream Catcher.

  She shook her head and leaned back into the couch. “Well, shit.” Aunt Mena’s special gift and I busted it.

  Chapter 3

  For Me and My Siren

  Daisy heart did a flip-flop. “Shit. Someone’s coming.”

  “Hold him,” Bridgette ordered. Her levitation spell cancelled out as she cast a cover spell.

  Daisy grunted with the sudden dead weight of the siren as he tipped over, still under the influence of her trussing, until the three of them got him propped against the wall. Luckily, Noah was with them or they might have dropped the idiot right in the front door’s path.

  Bridgette’s cover spell would keep them “invisible” except for the distorted atmosphere around their bodies that waved like air above asphalt on a hot day. Even a mortal would see that distortion upon close inspection. And they couldn’t walk around or they’d be seen for sure. So, they were stuck here. At least those in her little group could see each other.

  And trussed or not, Simon could grunt noises so Daisy leaned close to his ear. “Make a peep and you’ll regret it.” He nodded. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the lamp but he knew how dangerous mortals could be if they learned paranormals existed.

  All this transpired in the time it took a key to jiggle in the key hole and the door to open, letting in a whoosh of hot air. A dark-haired woman in her twenties shut the door behind her and dropped keys and purse on the coffee table. Simon’s latest victim. “Booby, you home?”

  Daisy glanced at Bridgette and mouthed, “Booby?” The other witch smirked but Daisy caught a hint of anger behind it. Had Simon made Bridgette call him that pet name too? She fought the urge to kick him in the shin and leaned against Noah. Her husband felt comforting, reassuring.

  The victim crossed into the bedroom, peeling off clothing items as she went, and called out to Simon in several pet names. Some almost made Daisy laugh, but her heart jumped to her throat when the woman returned and raked eyes over their hiding place. We should have made Simon leave her a note. Damnit, why didn’t we think to do that? Bridgette’s mouth tightened, indicating she’d heard Daisy’s thoughts. We have to get out of here, Bridge.

  Simon’s victim started their direction when a phone rang, stopping her in mid-stride. She turned and fished a cell from her purse. “Hello? Yes.” A long pause. “All right. I’ll stop and get some on my way back. No, I’m at lunch. Did my boyfriend call there?” Her body shifted into a disappointed posture. “Okay, well, when he calls tell him I’m home. No nothing’s wrong. He probably just ran out for something. Thanks.” She flipped the cell shut and headed back into the bedroom. A moment later, the shower ran.

  “Now,” Daisy said in a low voice. Bridgette replaced the cover spell with one for levitation. They managed to get Simon outside, and Daisy was sweating as much from the near panic as from the heat and the trussing spell she still kept on him.

  Noah blew out a noisy breath. “Shit. That was close.”

  Outside, they had few distractions on this scorching day. Simon’s girlfriend would eventually realize he wasn’t coming back. She would weep and feel sorry for herself, like all the others, wondering what she’d done to drive him away. At least Daisy didn’t have to contend with another weeping woman. She didn’t think she had the strength for that today. Eventually, the woman would lose her infatuation with the siren and move on with her life. Mortals were resilient if nothing else. And the affects of siren song only lasted a few weeks without being reinforced.

  Daisy and Noah had removed all but one of the rear seats of her vintage VW bus. When she wasn’t chasing down idiot sirens in the Valley of the Sun or learning spells from her mother’s old books, she hit estate sales and thrift stores for items to sell at her online auctions. They secured Simon between an antique trunk and a box of last year’s Halloween costumes. The carpeted floor kept things from sliding around.

  Daisy, sweating quite a bit now, slipped into the driver’s seat, turned the key and put the van’s a/c on high. She cursed when the seatbelt burned her fingers. Thankfully, she had cloth covers on the vintage vinyl or she’d have more than a seatbelt to worry about, because shorts and sandals were pretty much the only thing she wore this time of year. Her cousin also wore shorts, though they were a hell of a lot more expensive. Noah had on a pair she’d bought on sale last week. He looked damn good in them too. Especially now. He gave her a smile and her heart jolted.

  Get a grip, Daisy. This is no time for sex thoughts. The siren song must’ve had an effect on her after all. She slipped her sunglasses down from the top of her head and several strands of hair caught in the hinges. Ouch. Time for a trim. It had grown past her shoulders, longer than she usually wore it in summer. She fished out a hair band from her shorts pocket and secured her hair back.

  After Noah and Bridgette settled into their seats, Daisy pulled out of the apartment complex and turned onto Bell Road, heading east toward her North Scottsdale home. As they passed cacti, desert trees and plants that created a buffer between Bell Road and the CAP canal, she silently thanked her mechanic, a paranormal who could manipulate metal with his bare hands. He had retrofitted her vintage bus with amenities one could find in a new car, especially the a/c. Her vintage ride even had a plug-in outlet for her MP3 player.

  She adjusted her visor against the sun glare from the sports car in front of her. “Now, aren’t you glad I have this van, Bridge?”

  Bridgette sniffed. “It’s useful this time. But I still say it’s a hippy-shit car.”

  Daisy chuckled and concentrated on not speeding. She had no idea who saw those traffic camera photos, but the last thing any of them needed was to be arrested for kidnapping. A glance at her dashboard clock told her it was eleven-thirty in the morning and 109 degrees already.

  She heard ice shift as Noah rummaged through the cooler between the front seats and she pointed a finger at her rearview mirror. “Hey, mister. Seatbelts aren’t fashion accessories. I’ll pull this van over if you don’t buckle up.” She didn’t care that Simon had no seat, much less a seatbelt, and ignored his grunts.

  Noah chuckled and pushed an open water bottle into her hand, then gave one to Bridgette before settling into his seat again. Most snowbirds had fled back to their home states sometime in April, so Daisy didn’t have to weave in and out of traffic in order to keep a steady speed.

  The siren grunted again and she eyed him in her mirror. “Don’t bother, Simon. You can’t talk until I take that trussing spell off you.”

  He grunted again, a curse probably, then grew silent.

  As she turned into her neighborhood, white clouds billowed up from behind the McDowell Mountains, like exploding cotton. I hope we get another monsoon today. It would cool things off a few degrees, for a short while, anyway. Last night’s wetness had already disappeared.

  They were silent the final minutes of the drive. Once home, she pulled into the garage and triggered the door shut. Bridgette cast another levitation spell and the three moved Simon from the van into the house and put him on the tile floor in the family room. None too gently, either. He was still under Daisy’s trussing spell and couldn’t catch himself.

  After getting his usual hugs and pats, Perky trotted up and stuck his terrier mutt nose in Simon’s ear. The dog sniffed around the prone body for a few seconds before losing interest. Daisy took Perky out back to do his business. He chose t
o go in the shade. Smart dog! The hot day was quiet and only a few quail pipped from the wash the other side of view fence. Just before the dog could jump into the pool, Daisy scooped him up. “No you don’t, Perky-poo. No time for a swim right now.”

  When she carried him inside and latched the patio slider, Simon still looked to be in one piece. At least Bridgette hadn’t maimed or killed him. Yet. Noah sat on the couch, eyeing the siren with an unreadable look on his face. God only knows what he’s thinking right now.

  Perky took a few laps from his water bowl then Noah put him in his kennel, where he’d be safely out of the way in case things got ugly.

  Bridgette stood over her former captor and cast a nettle – a stinging spell that hurt worse than a skin full of cactus needles. Cousin Sally in Canada had adapted it from older versions. A witch couldn’t create original spells anymore, but she could adapt existing ones to meet current needs. Casting a nettle felt like running inside a static ball in 100-degree heat and Bridgette began to pant after a few seconds. A crack of thunder outside accentuated the intense look on her face.

  Had Simon not been trussed, he would have screamed. He certainly deserved the pain he got now. Daisy had little sympathy for him. They needed to scare him enough to make certain he went straight home, back to his tiny, uncharted island in the Pacific. He had to know they were serious.

  Like most paranormals, the only sure way to stop a siren from doing what comes naturally was to kill him, but Daisy wasn’t about to have another death on her conscience. Bridgette, on the other hand, seemed quite comfortable with the idea.

  Chapter 4

  Second Hand Box