Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,35
your powers of smartassery.”
I laughed and sat on the bed again. “Okay, so let’s do inventory.”
Ruthie sat on a chair that had my robe and a pair of leggings thrown over the back.
“If nothing else,” I said, “I have at least one warlock after me. At least one malevolent being attached to me. And at least one unstable human wanting me to raise the dead. Oh, and let’s not forget the creepy dungeon. We need to figure out where it came from. I mean, is Percy in danger of caving in?”
“I don’t think so,” Ruthie said. “It had to have been there when they built the house.”
“Then why are we just now finding it?”
“Because of you.” She graced me with a patient smile. “You’re the finder of lost things.”
“No.” I held up an index finger. “You are the finder of lost things. That’s what you did for the people of Salem for decades.”
“And now it’s passed to you. I never even knew that cavern existed. You’re the finder of lost things on steroids.”
Nette laughed at Ruthie’s choice of hip words.
“Okay.” I threw my hands up. “Let’s table that for now. What do we do about the other two?”
“If you had your powers”—her emphasis on if couldn’t have been heavier—“I would say we need to do a little casting.” She got up and strolled to the door. “But since they’re gone, possibly forever, and you’re leaving anyway, I guess there’s nothing we can do.”
“You’re funny.” I crossed my arms. “By the way, what in the ever-loving hell is in the attic?”
She whirled around, her lids rounding for a brief second before she recovered. “What do you mean?”
I pursed my lips. “There’s a darkness in one of those rooms, and I’m willing to bet you know what it is. Is it a warlock?”
“A darkness?”
“Yes. A very angry, very aggressive darkness. It almost knocked down one of the doors. I didn’t check the other rooms but—”
“It can’t get through. There’s no reason to worry about it.”
“Why can’t it get through?” Annette asked at the same time I said, “What can’t get through?” I mean, it was the more pertinent question.
“I don’t know,” Ruthie said. “I never knew there was anything in those rooms. I can feel malevolence like you can, but I’ve never felt anything from the attic. We’ve tried opening those doors several times over the years.”
“Did you try a locksmith?” Nette said, trying to be helpful.
Revisiting her place on the chair, Ruthie looked at both of us. “We’ve tried everything. Locksmiths. Plasma cutters. Sledgehammers. We even tried small-charge demolitions. The doors are magically sealed. Nothing can get in or out, and I rather think there is a good reason for it, so we stopped trying.”
“Holy crap, Ruthie. Who lived here before you did? Were they witches too?”
“This house has been in our family for generations, so yes.”
“Okay, let me rephrase. Who was powerful enough to cast a spell like that?”
“To be honest, no one. None of our ancestors ever possessed the power or skill to create a spell that would remain absolutely impenetrable for decades.”
“Then who could’ve done it? Someone who lived here before our family took possession? You know, in a non-ghostly way.”
“This house was built in the early 1800s, and it’s always belonged to us. We’re one of only a handful of families in the entire state to have kept control of a property for over two hundred years. And we’ve owned the land even longer.”
“Then who?” I asked.
She bowed her head. “You.”
I frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”
She came over to the bed and sat on the edge with me.
Annette scooted closer, caught up in the intrigue.
“You’re a charmling, and your lineage goes all the way back to Mesopotamia,” Ruthie said, as if that cleared it right up.
“Still not processing.”
“I think that you somehow went into the past and sealed those rooms.”
The hairs on the back of my neck perked right up. “And I think you’ve seriously overestimated the scope of the abilities I no longer have.”
Nette inched even closer, until she was practically sitting on my lap.
“You may think I’m crazy, Defiance, but I just know it was you,” Ruthie said. “I think I know how, but I don’t know why.”
“How?” Nette’s eyes widened.
“My theory is that Defiance has access to all of the witches in her direct line going back thousands of years.”
“Access?” I tugged absently at my earlobe.
“Yes. You can, how should I say it, summon them to help you out when you need it?”