Batter and Spells Read online

  "How's Colt?" I asked, not letting him off the hook so easily. I had a few questions of my own for him. At least now I knew why Colt hadn't come to see me in jail. He'd been trying to take care of his dad. I was just happy knowing that he'd still been thinking about me, going so far as to get Dean involved with my case.

  "Well?" I asked after a moment of silence in which I listened to Dean breathe. "Is Colt okay?"

  "He's fine, I guess," Dean said.

  "Can we go see him?"

  "I'm taking you there now. I promised him I'd let him know the second you were out. He wanted to come himself but he's not allowed to leave his father alone. You saw how many reporters were outside the sheriff's station. It's even worse outside Colt's apartment, so brace yourself."

  "Oh, jeez. Worse than that?" Colt and his dad must have been going nuts. I only hoped the raucous died down soon, for their sakes.

  "Sir?" the limo driver said, turning back toward us. "We have a tail."

  Dean looked behind us. "Darn it, the reporters are following us. Of course, they are. They won't go away."

  "Why are they harassing you like this?"

  "They want to talk to me. Everyone wants the first scoop. Only there's nothing left to scoop. Everything to do with Russell and Vlaski Ambrose has already been released to the public. Can we drive faster, please?" Dean asked the driver.

  The driver stepped on it, trying to shake the reporters. We were gunning it down a mid-sized road when one of the reporter's cars came up beside us, trying to get Dean to roll his window down. When it seemed like the only way to get the reporter to ease up, Dean complied.

  "Hey! Ava!" the reporter yelled, catching me off guard. How did he know my name? "What do you think about this mess?"

  "None of your business!" Dean yelled and threw an empty Coke can at the reporter. It distracted him enough that his car swerved. It fishtailed for a minute before he regained control.

  I glared at Dean.

  "You could have killed him."

  Dean shrugged.

  The reporter wasn't done with us. He drew closer to our car, clearly mad.

  "What's he doing?" I asked. "Look how close he is."

  Dean turned and looked out the back window. His eyes widened. "Oh, my roses."

  The reporter was right on our tail. The nose of his car tapped the back corner of ours. Hard. Suddenly, our wheels spun out of control. We went careening into oncoming traffic before the driver jerked the wheel to the right and got us back in our lane, but it was too late. Our car was out of control. I let out a sharp cry as our limo ran off the road.

  "Look out!" I screamed. Our limo was headed straight for a tree, and I had never buckled my seat belt.

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  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

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  There was a light tap on my door. I stared at it, afraid it might be another reporter. They had been trying to sneak into my room ever since I'd been brought to Sweetland Hospital. Dr. Dunne and Sheriff Knoxx had finally had to combine forces and set up a barricade of deputies and nurses to stop them from getting in.

  The knock rang out again, louder this time.

  "Can I come in?" a voice asked.

  "Colt?"

  The door pushed open, and Colt stuck his head into the room. "Hi. Up for a visitor?"

  "Of course," I cried, sitting up in the hospital bed. I was thrilled to see him. "What are you doing here? Dean said you couldn't leave your father alone."

  "I can't, but he's not alone. Dean's babysitting."

  The Council on Magic and Human Affairs had, after much debate, released Russell into Colt's custody. As it was finally explained to me, this meant that Russell was essentially on probation for the next three years. He was allowed out of the cell he'd been held in—much worse than the one I'd been in, I was told, COMHA cells were more like a box than an actual cell—as long as he was not on his own. He had to have someone with him at all times, and the person he was with, if not Colt himself, had to be approved by COMHA. Essentially, Colt had become his father's babysitter.

  I wasn't sure how long that was supposed to last, and I knew that Colt was working tirelessly to get that portion of the verdict reversed so that his father could go without supervision. I didn't want to get into all that just now, though. There was something else on my mind.

  "So, Dean's all right?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he's fine. Just bumps and bruises. He's lucky, unlike you. I can't believe you've got a concussion."

  "A minor concussion," I corrected. I'd been repeating that to people for the last two days, assuring them it was no big deal. My father and Eleanor had almost had a heart attack when they'd found out about the accident. Trixie was ready to turn the reporter who'd hit us into a celery stick.

  "Minor, major, whatever," Colt said. "You could have been seriously hurt. When I think of it..." His eyes misted over. He kissed me gently on the lips, afraid he might hurt me. "This is all my fault."

  "How is this your fault?" I asked, mystified.

  "Those reporters were chasing you because of my father. Because of me."

  I bit my bottom lip. "You're being way too hard on yourself. Besides, I'm not so sure that reporter even cared about you or your father. I'm not even sure he was a real reporter."

  Colt frowned. "What do you mean?"

  I took a breath, trying to think of the best way to phrase what was running through my head without sounding like a nut. "The reporter knew my name."

  "So?" Colt asked, not impressed with this information. "He's probably been following me and my dad since the trial started. All the reporters have. They probably all know your name."

  "Yeah, but, Colt, there was something about the way he looked at me. I don't know. Did Dean tell you that he tried to run us off the road?"

  "Dean said it was an accident. The guy's car got too close to yours."

  "It was no accident. He deliberately knocked his car into ours."

  Colt's lips turned down and a deep V creased his forehead. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive."

  "How can you be so sure? Dean said it all happened way too fast to even get a description of the guy."

  This was infuriating. He wasn't taking me seriously. I'd been afraid this would happen, which is why I hadn't told anyone yet. "Colt, Someone is trying to kill me."

  Colt balked, which did nothing to ease my anger.

  "Why would anyone want to kill you?" he asked. "It's the candidates that the assassin is after, not you."

  "Yeah? Then why did someone try to push me off those rocks at Mistmoor Beach?"

  "Are you sure that's what happened? Eleanor said she never saw anyone that day."

  "Fine, forget Mistmoor Beach. What about the gun that was hidden in my car? Eleanor's car. Whatever. There were the gun and that letter. Someone planted those there to frame me. Unless you really think those were mine."

  There! I could tell I'd finally said something that had gotten to him. "Framing me didn't work, and now they want me dead. They must think I know too much, only I don't know anything. I have no idea who the assassin is or who they're going after next."

  Colt bit his lip and scratched nervously at his chin.

  "I don't know," he finally said.

  "Don't know what? I'm right about this."

  "There's so much going on right now, I need some time to think it all over. Look, I can't stay anyway. I promised Dean I'd be back in an hour or so. He has to get back to the mainland. I only came by to check on you. Why don't we talk about this later? After you've had a chance to rest and I've had a chance to think."

  "I don't need to rest. I need to figure out what's going on." I folded my arms across my chest. "Besides, I feel fine."

  Colt kissed the top of my head, and I cringed. "Ow!"

  "Sorry," he said.

  "It's okay." He was eyeing me skeptically. "Okay, so maybe I don't feel fine exa
ctly. My head does hurt, but it's not affecting my thinking."

  "Just get some sleep. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"

  "Fine," I said, somewhat huffily. Colt kissed me again and left.

  I closed my eyes, trying to sleep as he'd suggested. I listened to the sounds of the room. The monitors humming... the clock ticking... the squeak of nurse's shoes just outside my room. I started to doze off. Suddenly, I was wide awake. I couldn't breathe. I opened my eyes and couldn't see. Someone was holding a pillow over my face. I tried to scream but didn't have enough air.

  I grabbed at the pillow and pulled as hard as I could, but I couldn't make it move. I tried to scream but it was muffled, lost in a mouthful of cotton and fabric. I was going to die if I didn't do something fast. I made a fist and swung it blindly through the air, asking Sara Sweetland to guide my fist. My knuckles collided with my assailant's stomach. I heard them gasp and suddenly the pressure on my face lifted. I threw the pillow across the room, able to breathe again.

  The assailant was still doubled over. Good, I'd punched them hard.

  "Who are you?" I demanded, trying to get out of my bed. My head was dizzy.

  The assailant finally looked up. It was Thaddeus Black.

  "Thaddeus?" I asked, confused and a little frightened. Was I hallucinating? Was this a ghost? He reached out toward me with some kind of stylus. The tip of it turned an ice blue as he pointed it at me. I felt my skin begin to tingle. My heart was pounding.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Don't worry, it won't take long." His voice was high-pitched and tinny, nothing like Thaddeus’.

  "Stop it," I said, trying to scream, but the room was fading. It felt like my heart was imploding.

  Suddenly, there was a sliver of white light and a woman's voice cried loudly through the air, "Cara rouge!"

  The assailant dropped his stylus as a bolt of lightning shot through the air, hitting him square in the back. He fell to the ground. Eleanor rushed to my side. "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, still trying to catch my breath. Eleanor's face was crazed. Frantic and worried and angry all at once. She knelt down next to my assailant.

  "It's Thaddeus!" I cried.

  "No," she said, rolling him over and pulling off his fake nose and chin. I stared at the figure. It revealed a face so remarkably unlike Thaddeus’ I had to admit how impressed I was with the disguise. This was not your ordinary fake nose.

  "Do you recognize him?" Eleanor asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Me either."

  "Who is he?"

  Eleanor looked up at me, smiling. "Ava, I think we've just found the assassin.”

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  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

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  It seemed like I just couldn't get away from the sheriff's station. Everyone was here. Sheriff Knoxx, Colt, Eleanor, Trixie, Lincoln, and Felicity. My father was with Russell at Colt's apartment. He'd wanted to be here with everyone else, but I'd asked him to me this favor since Colt had called in a favor of his own to get me out of jail. My dad couldn't say no.

  Eleanor, Trixie, Felicity, and I were not allowed anywhere near the assassin. Lincoln had tried desperately to convince Felicity to go home but she refused to budge. She'd been with Lincoln when Sheriff Knoxx had called to tell him what had happened, and she'd insisted on accompanying him to Sweetland Cove.

  Eleanor kept glancing furtively at Sheriff Knoxx whenever he was around. He pretended he didn't notice but I saw him sneak his own furtive glances her way.

  "Look, this is crazy," I said to Colt. "I'm the one who was attacked. Don't I need to identify him or something at least?"

  "You already identified him," Colt said, but I could see him thinking. He whispered something to Sheriff Knoxx, who sighed and nodded.

  "Okay, Ava, come with us."

  Sheriff Knoxx directed Elwin and Otis to stay with the rest of the group and led me back to the sole interrogation room that was clean enough to actually hold an interrogation. The room had one of those two-way mirrors. I could see the assassin in the room, sitting in a chair, but he couldn't see us. I suspected he knew we were there though. He was calm and collected, like he was sitting at home watching television. This was a trained killer, and he seemed quite good at the job. Except, of course, he'd been caught. But then, everyone made a mistake now and again.

  "All right," Sheriff Knoxx said. "Take a good look. Is this the man who attacked you in the hospital?"

  I looked at the pink bulbous nose, the dark gray eyes, the sinister lips.

  "Yes," I said.

  Sheriff Knoxx checked something off on his clipboard.

  "Okay," Colt said, "now look at him and tell us if this is the same man who attacked you at Mistmoor Beach. The one who tried to push you off those rocks."

  I looked at Colt uncertainly. He hadn't even believed me about that up till now. No one had. I searched the man's face again, looking for something to latch onto. The memory of that day was clear in my head, but his face wasn't. Mostly because I'd never seen it.

  "I'm not sure," I admitted. "He was wearing a black mask. I never got a good look at him, not even his eyes." My voice cracked. "Does that mean you can't hold him?" My knees started to shake, just the tiniest bit.

  "Release him?" Lincoln laughed. "He's not going anywhere for a long time."

  "You mean, you've got enough to hold him?" This was probably the one good thing that had happened in recent memory.

  "Ava," Colt said, stroking my arm gently. "He confessed."

  My eyes bulged out of my head. "He what?" I was certain I'd misheard him.

  "The man in there confessed to killing Thaddeus Black. He even confessed to attacking Tazzie Singer, only..." He looked from me to Sheriff Knoxx to Lincoln.

  "Only what?" I pressed. Sheriff Knoxx gave a slight nod of his head and Colt went on.

  "He says that Tazzie's the one who hired him."

  Colt's words hung in the air, confusing me more than anything up until now.

  "What do you mean? Hired him for what?"

  "To kill Thaddeus and the other candidates."

  I laughed. That had to be a joke. "You can't be serious."

  "I'm afraid so. The thing is, he says Thaddeus was the only one he was supposed to kill. The others were only supposed to be frightened into dropping out of the race; that's why their price tags were so much lower. Grayson and Amanda Hollyberry were targets, but never hits."

  "This doesn't make sense," I said, trying to keep calm. "If Tazzie hired this guy, then why did he attack her? And what about burglarizing her house?"

  "The first attack was faked. Designed to throw suspicion off her. It was her idea."

  "No way," I said. "That's totally bogus and you know it."

  "You have to admit," said Lincoln, "it makes sense. What better way to make people think you're the victim, not the perpetrator? I never even considered Tazzie as a suspect for one second."

  This was insane. I had to make them understand that. "Yes but—"

  "The burglary," said Sheriff Knoxx, cutting me off, "was a real threat to Tazzie."

  "Why?" I asked. "Why threaten the person who hired you?"

  Colt answered that for me. "Because she didn't pay him the money he was owed for killing Thaddeus. He was giving her one last chance to correct her mistake before killing her."

  "He'd rather have his money," Lincoln said. "In his eyes, he had a job to do and he did it. He wants what he's owed."

  I shook my head. "Uh uh. No way. This can't be true. Tazzie Singer is not a murderer. Do you really believe she wanted to be mayor so badly that she would kill for it?"

  Sheriff Knoxx, Lincoln, and Colt all exchanged a look.

  "I don't know what I believe just now," Lincoln finally said. "If you'd have asked me a week ago whether I thought Tazzie Singer could do something like this, I'd have tol
d you were crazy. But now... the guy tells a convincing story."

  "Yeah, but that's part of his job," I said. "He's a master of disguises, right? That includes telling people stories to go along with those disguises. He's just telling you what you want to hear."

  Sheriff Knoxx sighed. "Well, we can certainly hold him. He's already been formally charged with Thaddeus’ murder and your attempted murder. Let's just get him in a cell and talk to Tazzie."

  "I've got one of my deputies bringing her in as we speak," Lincoln said.

  "You're arresting Tazzie?!" I screeched. "Based on something a known liar is telling you?"

  "We just want to talk to her," Colt said. "She's not officially under arrest. Yet."

  This was unbelievable. I didn't know what to say. I started to argue again and was finally shuffled back out of the room. I filled in Felicity, Eleanor, and Trixie. Felicity was particularly upset to hear what I had to say.

  I realized standing here with them that we were a roomful of girlfriends of law enforcement. Eleanor and Sheriff Knoxx... despite what they said, I had faith they would work things out. Me and Colt, my sexy COMHA agent. Felicity and Sheriff Lincoln Maxwell. Trixie was the only one of us who wasn't involved with law enforcement, but she did have a vigilante vampire on her hands. I decided that was close enough. No wonder we were all so stubborn. We had to be, being in relationships with men like that.

  "I can't believe Lincoln would buy a ridiculous story like that!" Felicity said, her face turning almost as red as her hair. Eleanor was pacing. Trixie was standing still as a statue except for her foot, which she tapped incessantly.

  "Maybe we should go back to our place," Eleanor said. "We could all use a little dinner, I think. Ava, the hospital released you because I promised Nurse Sadie that I would make sure you got some rest. I don't want her getting mad at your father or me because you're not taking care of yourself."