Halfway Drowned (Halfway Witchy Book 4) Read online

  Looking at Wulfric as he folded tables and lifted them by the stack, I knew I would do it again without hesitation. His lopsided grin and good nature never flagged, even as he cleaned and worked like five people to restore order on the battlefield of Amelia’s party.

  “Will you hold her?” Anna asked at my ear. She was disturbingly quiet, even carrying a sleeping child. Amelia slumped against her, cheeks reddened and sweaty from a state of slumber that only children and puppies can achieve, despite being jostled about.

  “Sure.” I took Amelia with a grunt. She was surprisingly dense for a three year old, or maybe they all are. My sample size for children is small, and so am I.

  “I’ll be right back. I need a minute,” was all Anna said before vanishing around one of the four vans that the party crew were filling back up. It took a dizzying array of gear to exhaust fifty children and their parents.

  I wandered around with Amelia drooling on my neck. It felt natural, if a little gross, which is what I suspect a lot of parenthood must be like. Her body was hot, and the day was warm. I found myself entering that strange kind of sing-song pattern, cooing to her now and then while making patterns on the lawn as the chaos around me was brought to order. After some unknown amount of time, Anna showed back up and the lawn held a single white folding table, nearly empty except for a few bottles of wine.

  “I’ll take her. Thanks, Carlie.” Anna seemed genuinely thankful, and my smile was almost real. The bracelet held so many things at bay, but my human tendencies still percolated to the surface in odd little pulses.

  I forced my smile to hold steady and handed Amelia over in a slumping mass of sweaty kid. She didn’t move except to wrap a possessive arm around Anna’s neck. The twinge I felt was real, and I wasn’t really sure why. I loved her, but I don’t know if I understood her, and I worried that I never would.

  “There’s a bottle of good wine for you on the gift table. Wulfric, too,” Anna said when the moment stretched into something at odds with the day.

  “Wine?” I perked up. “Wine for Wulfric?” I added, confused. He tolerated wine, but it wasn’t his thing. I suspected he longed for the days of drinking horns and songs about pillaging or something, although his love of coffee assured me that we were never leaving each other. Some bonds are meant to be, and caffeine is one of them.

  “No, I think its mead. Someone brought him a stone bottle of the local stuff, there was a little card.” She rolled her eyes, telling me it was from a woman.

  I smiled in modest solidarity. “He deserves it.” We both stood admiring the love of my life, and then I knew I had to go. The quiet between us was growing, and I felt the urge to fill it. Given my internal turmoil, it probably wouldn’t be kind. Today demanded kindness. “Thank you for this, for all you did,” I told her. I didn’t hug her, but I put enough emotion in my words that she knew I was trying, and that was good enough for both of us.

  “Take care of him,” was all she said.

  “I will.” I walked away to gather our gifts and Wulfric and to go home. My mind was a storm of possibilities, and he was my safe harbor.

  Tonight, we would begin working together to fix what I had broken. Me.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Viking Karaoke

  “Soooaaaaap is your friend! I looooove soap!” Wulfric wasn’t singing, he was bellowing in a tuneless howl from the shower that sent Gus scurrying downstairs.

  I looked into the bathroom, giggling uncontrollably at his impromptu concert. It turns out he didn’t like mead. He loved it. The bottle, now empty, stood watch like a mournful guardian over his enormous frame as he splashed and wallowed about in the shower, throwing water everywhere, including the ceiling. Apparently, he was an enthusiast when it came to combining mead and showers, a sport I’d not heard of until a few minutes earlier.

  “Babe, you okay?” I asked, trying not to laugh at him.

  He looked over the shower curtain, eyes crinkled with a smile. “I am better than okay. I am”--

  “Babe?” I asked when he fell silent, dipping his head behind the shower rod.

  “Carlie, I must confess something to you, and I do not wish you to laugh.” His voice was grim. The water splashed over him in a constant as he grew still.

  “Go ahead. I’m here.” I tried to keep my voice light.

  “I’m horribly drunk.” He belched to emphasize this incredibly obvious point, then looked over the curtain again. “That mead was . . . a bit much.” His confession complete, he resumed soaping himself, but in a more dignified manner and without the singing.

  “When was the last time you had real mead?” I climbed on the sink and reached past the curtain to hold his hand. It was slick with soap, and warm. He held my fingers lightly, then kissed my knuckles with his wet lips.

  “Before I came here,” he said. “Over there. Across the sea.”

  Time fell away for a moment, leaving me spinning in place. More than a thousand years since he’d tasted this relic of home. I shook my head, resolving to be better for him. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring your home to you.”

  “I never asked.” He forgave me with ease. It was one of the best parts of him.

  “I won’t make that mistake in the future. Tell me some of the things you miss?” I asked, ready to make a list of all the things that could bring an ancient place to him, so that he might remember who he once was.

  “I will be honored to do so. In bed.” The water turned off with a flick of his wrist, and he pulled the curtain back. Dripping, he stood before me with a smile that was softened by drink and goofy with exhaustion. He was magnificent. He was mine.

  “Use nine towels and dry off. I’ll meet you in there. Gotta feed Gus,” I said with a kiss, slipping away to make sure Gus didn’t feel the slightest pang of hunger over the next hours.

  After placing the tuna and fresh water just so, I climbed the stairs to find Wulfric in nude glory, snoring as if he’d been shot with a tranquilizer.

  “First item on the list--a boyfriend who is awake,” I groused, but then I felt guilty. He’d worked hard all day to make the kids feel at ease while giving Amelia everything he could. The list could wait. I climbed in bed next to him, curled up, and thanked the stars he was there when Amelia needed him.

  I hoped he could do the same for me during the coming days. Touching the bracelet, I sent a small prayer to the stars, and then I slept.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The Last Mistake

  “I’m going back home for my mug. Be right back,” I said over my shoulder. It was a two minute walk, and I was doing it for the good of humanity. I’d left in the pre-dawn darkness, careful not to wake Wulfric. Or Gus. Either would complain forever if I’d interrupted their deep, dreamless sleep, Gus stretched out across Wulfric’s chest like an ornamental fur.

  In my stealthy leaving, I forgot all sixty-four ounces of caffeinated goodness, closing the door behind me like I was leaving a crime scene. Without my personal mug, that meant I’d have to pour a dozen human-sized cups of coffee just to keep my supply at normal levels, and that’s not something I have time for. There are waffles to make. And sample. Once again, my commitment to quality control knows no bounds.

  “Mrowwwrrrr.”

  I froze at the sound of Gus, turning to see him in a wide eyed panic. He was outside, under the hedge, and bristled as if in mortal danger.

  My blood went to ice when he came to me with a desperate leap, flying into my arms and tucking his head under my chin. He was shaking with fear. When I looked at my house, the world tilted, and I fought to keep my feet.

  The door was open. Because of Gus, my door is never left open, and my stomach flipped with fear at the yawning unknown of something as simple as a door swinging wide. Without thought, I lifted my charms, letting every spell I knew well up on my tongue in a silver flood of potential light to cleanse everything in my hom
e that didn’t belong there. The list was long, but so was my spellbook. I had them ready.

  “I’m going to set you down, baby. Stay here.” I put him on the wooden porch with a pang of regret, his hiss of protest burbling forth, raw with fear. He’d seen something terrible.

  In three steps I was through the door and in the kitchen, silent and staring. There was . . . nothing. No disturbance, no presence.

  No Wulfric.

  There should have been smells of coffee. Breakfast scents, or a lingering fog from the hot showers he loved. I couldn’t even detect the echo of his acrid soap. There was nothing, and that was wrong.

  I felt a call to him almost force its way past my lips, but I bit down on it and began climbing the stairs as chill fingers wrapped around my spine. The ruthless cold of unknown things began squeezing, each quiet tick of the house ratcheting my fear higher. By the time I reached the top step, sweat poured freely down my nose, each drop cold and unwelcome. I cleared my vision with a dogged shake of the head, like a fighter recovering from a hammering blow. Our room grew closer, though I didn’t feel my legs moving. Time slowed, and then it stopped.

  The door was open, the bed unmade. Wulfric’s pillow was on the floor, all three of mine still on the bed in the order I left them. I saw crinkled sheets, a blanket lapped over to drag on the hardwood. Two towels pooled in the hall, dropped and forgotten, and on the wall just beside them was a single gemlike drop of blood. Wulfric’s blood.

  An inner voice told me it was his before I could move to it, hand reaching out of a need to connect with him in any way possible. His blood. Our home. Something had been here, and he’d been hurt. How? He was a man among men, trained to lethality in centuries of a harsh wilderness. You didn’t sneak up on Wulfric. You didn’t beat him at anything unless he chose to lose out of sportsmanship. He was more than human, and yet, he was gone.

  There was more to this than I could see, so I started at the beginning, after a hideous series of calming breaths that failed to do any good whatsoever. I looked around the room with agonizing slowness, letting the air close around me as it told a story. In hints, I began to unravel the scene, confirming something and nothing in one pass of my vision.

  The air was still with disuse. I knew he wasn’t here, and not by choice.

  Every nerve in my body screamed for him. I needed to hear his sounds, see his shape. I drew air through my nose like a bellows, filling lungs that held a shriek of such raw anger that I knew my power would shatter the glass of my home, just like my will in that moment.

  “Babe?” Everything in my whisper. Nothing in the answer.

  The tears began as I went to a knee, shattered by the enormity of something that simply could not be. I began to breathe in gulps, trying to keep my heart from bursting free of a chest that ached with the unknown.

  I also hurt from guilt. I had done this, because evil had never been present in my home until I brought it there, simmering in my core like a hot coal that would spark a fire to end all things. “Think, Carlie.” I dropped to the floor, ragged from adrenaline and anger. “Spells. Use your spells. Start small.”

  “Prrrrt?” Gus queried from the doorway. He crawled into my lap and began a tentative purr. His eyes were still round with the echo of something he couldn’t explain, but I didn’t need words to understand what he was telling me. Something bad had been here, and it was time for action, not tears. I dropped my hand to the floor, fingers spread so that my charms spread around in winking petals of silver, gold, and metals in between. Jewels gleamed in the sunlight, now high in the window-- our window. “Find him. Now.”

  I poured my power into the command, watching the floorboard ripple with unseen forces of energy driven by centuries of McEwan women and our collective magic. I let my lungs go empty, hissing outward in a wind of purest will, filling sails of magic to spread ever outward in a quest for Wulfric. For any part of him, and for the thing who had taken him. There was no question as to the humanity of such a creature, for Wulfric was no ordinary man.

  And I was no ordinary woman.

  Gus wriggled from the proximity to such power, but calmed when I put an absent hand between his ears and began making lazy eights. His head snapped toward the lake as I felt a push back against my spell. Gus knew an instant before I did, his feline senses honed to a razor’s edge.

  “He’s there?” I asked, looking for confirmation. Gus answered with a deep, rumbling purr. “I think so too.” My eyes closed as I drew to the center of everything I am, pulling back the call of magic. After a moment, I looked through the walls and beyond. I couldn’t triangulate, but I had a direction.

  “Time to work,” I told Gus, who was quiet as I put him down with a gentle pat. He sauntered ahead of me into the hall, looking back to make sure I was following. “I know. I’ll close the door and feed you. I think you’ll be at Gran’s tonight, does that sound good?”

  His purr carried back to me as he slipped downstairs on silent pads. To Gran’s, then. I’d made my first call with charms and magic, but the second one would be a rallying cry throughout Halfway.

  I was going to get Wulfric back, and something was going to pay. Gran told me a long time ago that flaws can be turned to advantages, given enough time and will. I had limited time, but a mountain of will. I knew, from the serpentine chill of my own heart, that something was wrong with me; it might be corrupt, but it was powerful. It was time to find a way to turn that darkness outward.

  The time for pure magic was past. It was time to bring out my bitchcraft.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Rallying Cry

  “No sign at his shop, in town, or anywhere at the lake. I’d know, and so would everyone else,” Tammy reported with grim efficiency. She sat at Gran’s table, drumming her painted nails in a tuneless rhythm before standing abruptly. “I took the day off work. Need to get a few things at the house. I’ll stay at your place tonight, Carlie, but we’re going to need some extra help.”

  “Who?” I asked, bleary with exhaustion. It was still early in the morning, but I was utterly drained. Only Gran’s hand on my arm kept me from sobbing. I felt shame, and emptiness, and rage. It was a toxic mix that left me shaking and unable to focus, hardly the state I needed to be in for what was coming.

  “Alex. Anna. Let’s get them running free and see what they can find. You agree, Gran?” Tammy arched a sculpted brow as she pushed her chair in, flashing a holstered .45. She took family business seriously.

  “I do. Tell them to do what they do best, and come to me, but not until after moonrise. We can’t expose the town to open warfare, no matter how much we want him back.” Gran was thinking in optimistic, if martial, terms. She’d sworn to protect Halfway, just as I had. The difference was that she hadn’t failed.

  “Carlie, you’re going to sleep now, and when I wake you, we’ll work on this together. Wulfric isn’t dead. Do you understand?” Gran’s eyes bored into mine as she gave voice to the darkest fear I’d ever known, but had been too cowardly to say.

  “Why?” My answer was a whisper. It was all I could do before the tears began to fall, hot and slow on my cheeks.

  “Honey, what’s happening to you?” Tammy asked, leaning over her chair with a look I’d never seen. It was fear.

  “Carlie,” Gran began, then closed her lips into a thin line. “Here.” She wiped at my face with a napkin, the snowy fabric coming away streaked with red. “Tell Tammy what happened when you saved Wulfric. It’s time.”

  Bloody tears. The vampire in me was closer to the surface than I’d suspected, and I knew why Gran told me I would be sleeping through the day. My self-loathing reached new heights as I tried to focus on my friend, who had defended me since I was a skinny kid.

  “I’m sorry, Tam. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t even have the energy to cry, so I told her everything in flat, lifeless tones. I spoke of the spell, and the bloodmagic; I even admitted to no r
egrets, because it brought Wulfric back to me.

  And now, it was going to cost me everything, unless I could find a way out of the darkness.

  “It’s okay, kid. I woulda done the same thing,” Tammy soothed. She came to me, resting her head on mine. My sense filled with her perfume and presence, and for a moment, I could feel nothing but calm.

  I turned my head to her, knowing that I was in the middle of a truly ugly vampire-Carlie-cry, which must have done wonders for my complexion. “You would?”

  Tammy’s snort was gloriously dismissive. “Of course. Have you seen that slab of man? The things I could do to him. . .” She trailed off with a leer, and I did my best not to blow a snot bubble. Just because I was becoming some weird witch-vampire hybrid was no reason to be unduly gross.

  “Thanks, Tam. I think.” I smiled at her as a flutter of hope came to rest on my heart.

  “You know it,” she said, kissing my head and walking to the door before I could comment on the tears in her eyes. She turned, gave me finger guns, and slipped outside into the painful light of day. Only her perfume and kindness lingered, and I was thankful for both.

  “When you rise tonight, we’re going to work. You’ll feel restless today, but I’m not going to drug you. Do you understand, honey? Your mind must be clearer than the day you were born. I need you to rise and fight. I tell you, flesh of my flesh, this night is going to hurt. Are you prepared for what might happen?” Gran’s voice was soft, her hands folded and still.

  “I’m already dead, Gran. All I can do is try to come back.” I looked away as the cold began to uncoil within me again. It was happening more often, like a tide that comes in but never truly leaves.

  “You’re never dead until you surrender your humanity, Carlie. That won’t happen while I still breathe,” Gran stated. She spoke evenly and without vanity.