Arcanum (Tales from the Tarot)

23. Chris

Chapter twenty-three

Chris

T wo trips to the hardware store and about five hundred dollars later, Greyson’s house was fixed. I replaced the window screen, installed brand-new smoke/CO detectors, despite the fact the other ones weren’t that old, and added exterior security cameras and motion lights. It might have been a little overboard, but I wasn’t taking any chances. “Someone” had taken the time to break in and not only remove the backup batteries from all of the detectors, but they’d cut the main power cable where it was hardwired into the house. I wasn’t a detective, or a big-brain like Greyson, but given how his family died? Even a blind squirrel could find that nut.

I packed up my toolbox and headed outside, stopping by the mailbox on the way back to my house.

Even if he’d grudgingly agreed to our sleepover, Greyson had wasted no time making himself at home in my kitchen. He was at the stove, stirring a pan of little lumps in green sauce, when I walked in.

“That took a while,” he said.

“I added some cameras and stuff. We’ll have to download the app later.” I kissed the side of his neck and peered over his shoulder at the pan. “Is that pesto?”

“And homemade gnocchi.”

“Did you have groceries delivered when I wasn’t looking?”

“Something like that.” He smiled over his shoulder.

“Well, it smells good.”

“Good. It’s ready.”

Getting out of his way so he could finish up, I went to the table and opened the pile of mail. Junk, bills, useless solicitations to refinance my non-existent mortgage.

I tore into the last, card-shaped envelope, and withdrew the contents with a furrowed brow. It was a greeting card featuring a cat and loopy cursive that said “You’re always on my mind.”

Shaking my head, I flipped it open, fully prepared to unblock Monica in my phone and tell her off for the last time—until I saw the contents.

In shaky block letters, someone wrote:

I WILL ALWAYS FIND YOU

YOU CAN’T RUN FROM WHAT YOU DID

YOU FUCKING MURDERER

TICK TOCK

Turning the envelope over, it was Greyson’s name and address on the front, not mine. Ralph, the mail carrier, must have put it in the wrong mailbox again. Or it got caught in my pile of junk mail. Either way, my throat tightened as I turned to face Greyson, trying to decide which question to lead with instead of a blanket, “What the fuck?!”.

He was already watching me, his eyes wide, looking like he’d seen another ghost.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, holding up the card.

He shook his head slowly, turning a sickly shade of white. “I wanted to be wrong. I wanted it to be kids. Or Karen Carlisle. I didn’t—”

I closed the distance and took his face between my hands. “He’s not going to hurt you. Ok? I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him,” he whispered, covering my hands with his and pulling them down gently. “He’s been doing this for over two years. You know the statistics. Stalkings that go on this long? They end in one thing.”

I shook my head vehemently. “That’s not happening.”

“He killed my family and he’s going to kill me.”

“We’ll go to the—”

“The police can’t help! You know they can’t.” He gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “It’s one of the hardest crimes to prosecute, made harder by the fact the offenses are spread out over so many jurisdictions.”

“Who is this guy? Who is he to you? And why is he calling you a murderer?”

Greyson sighed, crumpling in front of me like a broken doll. “He thinks I’m responsible for killing his daughter. I didn’t, I swear. She was troubled, long before she met me, but he refuses to see that. He blames me and he’s made it his mission to destroy my life. He’s gotten me fired from all of my teaching jobs. I’ve lost friends. My family. Everything.”

“How do you know he killed your family? CPD said it was a CO leak.”

“He’s a plumber,” he replied sadly. “From what I’ve been able to figure out, he talked his way into the house one day, convincing my sister that our parents had made an appointment for the water heater. While he was there he must have tampered with the mechanics in the basement. At some point, he also disabled the CO detectors. I don’t know if he thought I’d be there or not, since he’d just chased me out of my last apartment, but he’s not going to stop.”

“What’s his name?”

“It doesn’t matter. I already have reports on file with so many different departments. None of it matters. No one can make a case.”

“That is a case, Greyson! With the right cop, the right State’s Attorney, this fucker can be prosecuted!”

“It won’t bring my family back.”

“No, but you don’t have to be next!” God, I wanted to shake some sense into him, but I had a feeling that would only make him dig his heels in more.

“I’m tired,” he said weakly. “I’m tired of fighting. Tired of running. Tired of trying to get someone, somewhere, to believe me. Because even if they do, it’s still not enough, legally speaking.”

“Why does he think you’re responsible for his daughter’s death? Was it an accident or something?”

“I wish it were that simple.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. “You know I’m a witch because I told you, but I used to be much more open with my practice. Nemo, The Magic Shop. We used to have meetings there. Not a coven, but more like an occultist book club. Or an afternoon tea. It was a place for the magically inclined to gather.

“Lola, Don’s daughter, was friends with my friend Beatrice. Beatrice knew what I was and she had taken an interest in tarot, herbs, simple things, nothing dangerous. Lola wanted to learn about it too.

“I knew right away that Lola idolized Beatrice. When they walked in, they were practically carbon copies of each other. Dressed the same. Hair the same. Beatrice is a stunning, natural blonde. Lola had obviously dyed her hair to match. I’d given Bea a peridot pendant when I went away to college. She never took it off. Lola had one just like it. And the feeling I got from her, from Lola, as time went on? It wasn’t love or admiration. It was obsession.

“I don’t know when it happened, but eventually that obsession transferred to me. Lola stopped emulating Beatrice and threw herself into witchcraft. She was determined to develop her own powers. I told her that it takes time and practice, but she didn’t want to wait. She thought she could accelerate things by drinking elixirs nonstop.” He shook his head, looking away for a moment. “Some crystals are water soluble and when they break down they release toxic elements like arsenic, lead, and copper. I told Lola to stop drinking the elixirs. She was getting sicker and sicker right in front of us. Vomiting, jaundice, tremors. But the sicker she got, the more she consumed, convinced she was on the edge of success. Finally, her organs gave out. Her body shut down and she died.”

“Jesus…” Besides the fact it was Greyson speaking, I didn’t doubt the veracity of his story for one second. People did strange things for even stranger reasons and there was no getting through to them. I knew that firsthand.

“Don, her father, reported me to the police. He claimed I brainwashed her. That I was the one who made her drink everything. They didn’t pursue charges, obviously, and that’s what set him off. I’d never even met the man until her funeral and now he’s determined to kill me.”

I blinked slowly, still trying to process everything he said, but it was hard to make sense of it when you weren’t mentally ill. “She seriously thought she could give herself magic powers by drinking rock water?”

He nodded glumly.

“And I thought I dealt with some crazy ass people…”

He made a face at me but cracked a smile nonetheless. “Most of the people who find their way to witchcraft aren’t crazy. But every once in a while someone comes along and upsets the apple cart.”

“Yeah, well, in keeping with your apple analogy, it doesn’t sound like this one fell too far from the cuckoo tree.”

“Now you see why I didn’t want to tell you? About any of this? It’s insane!”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of baggage to haul around. Good thing I work out.” I smiled softly and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him.

He melted into me with a sigh, burying his face in the side of my neck.

As shitty as it was, I was glad Greyson had opened up about everything. Now that I knew the whole story, I could actually help him, like I’d been wanting to do since he moved in.

First things first, though—I needed to find out who this Don asshole was immediately . It’s not like it would be hard. All I’d have to do was contact each agency where Greyson had lived and get their reports sent over. I could literally do it from my squad in the driveway. And then I’d have everything I would need to put an end to it. Permanently.