Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society R.D. Hunter (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

looking at me as if I’d just announced I could fly to the moon on a broomstick. “My car’s not here and I have to get home. Think you can get me there?” Damn, that hurt almost as much as the Hawkins’ explosion.

To his credit, he didn’t gloat or mock me. He simply nodded, gestured towards the door and said, “Please.”

I half expected a posh limousine to be waiting outside, but instead he motioned towards a black, newer-model Mercedes Benz SUV. It was tricked out with every available option known to man and looked like it could wade into an active war zone without sustaining any serious damage. The inside was a model of comfort and function. Mason had converted most of the back seat into a make shift office, with computer monitors and keyboards built into the back of the front seats, as well as a miniature fax machine and even a mini-bar that held a wide assortment of designer waters. I helped myself to one without asking. It tasted like a rain cloud had a baby with a glacier, and I sipped it appreciably.

Bo-Bo drove, and after I gave him my address the rest of the trip was passed in near silence. No one thought idle chit-chat was a good idea.

It was late afternoon by the time we got back to my house. Tilly was lounging on the front porch, but perked up when we pulled up the winding driveway. I didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete stop before opening the door getting out, muttering a hasty “Thanks” in my wake.

Inside, I went straight to the phone and dialed Beth, Nichole Barret’s friend. She’d said during her interview that I could call on her if I needed something during the hunt for Nichole’s killer. I was about to put that to the test.

“Hello?” she answered on the third ring.

“Beth, this is Melanie Graves. I spoke with you yesterday.”

“Yes, Detective. How can I help you?”

I briefly told her what I needed, why I needed it, and if she could get enough people to do it. There was a thick pause on the other end of the line.

“I can make it happen,” she said at last. “When do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible. Hawkins is going to strike as soon as the Imbolc festival is under way, and I don’t have a lot of time before I’m going to be in no shape to go up against him.”

“Ok. I’ll gather the girls and be there soon.” I gave her my address and hung up, already planning my next move. First things first; I needed a shower.

I went through the kitchen and into the master bathroom, stubbing my toe along the way. There was the usual flash of pain, but, thanks to Gramps amulet, it melted away like an ice cube on a wood stove within seconds.

In the bathroom, I stripped out of my shanghaied scrubs, and got my first good look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. My hair hung in untangled clumps that still had bits of wood and dirt in it. The glamour spell I’d used to hide my swollen face had been shattered in the face of Hawkins’ attack, so it looked like I had a baseball under the skin of my right eye.

The rest of my body wasn’t much better. Bruises and lacerations covered almost every square inch of skin. Several of the cuts still oozed blood, and I found the sixteen stitches Gramps had told me about. The whole left side of my body was worse than my right. That had been the side facing the door when Hawkins burst through it in a magical fury. All in all, I’d been lucky, but I wasn’t looking forward to the butt load of pain that was going to hit me when my amulet ran out of juice.

Well, nothing to be done for it now. I had to prepare myself.

The shower was just this side of orgasmic, but I had to be careful how much hot water I used. Thanks to Gramps’ amulet, I couldn’t tell if it was just pleasantly hot or scalding, and I didn’t want to face Hawkins looking like a boiled lobster. Magic always had a downside.

I got out, finished drying, then laid out my clothes. Instead of my usual ensemble of jeans, t-shirt and jacket, I put on a white, ceremonial gown I hadn’t worn in probably four or five years. I combed my hair as best I could, then took a few deep breaths while looking at myself in the only full-length mirror in the house.

Was I really going to do this? I didn’t have much choice if I planned on taking on Hawkins. Gramps was right; if I tried it like I was now, he’d eat me for breakfast. This was the only way.

Besides, I’d known for a while that things couldn’t go on as they had been. Work had taken over every aspect of my life, to the point where I was neglecting the people and things that were important to me. I needed something different. I needed balance.

The ringing of the doorbell pulled me out of my funk, and I went to the front door to find Beth and three other women of roughly the same age, all holding candles, sticks of incense and herb pouches. They looked a little nervous. I could relate.

“Hi. Welcome. Please, come in,” I said, as cheerfully as possible. They filed in one-by-one and I directed them where to put their packages on the coffee table. Then we sat down and Beth made the introductions.

“Detective, this is Amelia, Denise, and Janice,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. They all nodded politely, which I returned in kind. God, this was awkward. Time to break the ice a little