Time Spell (9 page)

Like a lift I’d seen in an old British movie, the lower part of the elevator walls was paneled with dark wood and the top half was wrapped in heavy metal lattice. I knew the
Reveal Spell
wouldn’t help any further. The little cabin would fill with the orange essence in a cloud and hover during the short ride.

I examined the inside of the door. There was only one wooden pull knob. This was obviously a one-way ride to Simone’s closet with no other stops on the way. I gave a quick tug on the knob, and the elevator car lurched and then descended. Her suite was on the seventh floor, but I counted off eight levels as the car’s gears registered each floor with a heavy click as it passed through the elevator shaft.

The doors opened and I cautiously stepped out into what appeared to be an underground garage. The dark concrete maze in front of me twisted in circles, taking guests up to the street surface.

The lingering smell of diesel and a few drips of oil splattered in front of the elevator doors indicated someone was here not too long ago. I was slightly angry with myself that I hadn’t followed Simone and her mysterious leather bag, but the witchy tingle had pushed me down this trail. After all, this was my first encounter with a secret closet elevator, and my curiosity outweighed my apprehension.

Simone and Holden were gone. If I wanted to track them, I only had one option—fly. Maybe I would be lucky and find both. Before I could look for them, I needed to navigate through this labyrinthian parking garage. Flying required an open space with lots of height, and my vertical leap was too high for this low ceiling. Getting off the ground in here would be impossible.

I trekked up the inclined driveway past industrial-sized fans and a few busboys taking smoke breaks. As I emerged on the street level, the desert wind whipped across my face and swept my hair back. The urge to duck back in the wind-free garage was strong. Instead, I tucked my arms in and propelled myself upward in a tight spin.

A stream of cars circled the blocks of casinos and nightclubs. I flew higher to extend my view of the streets when I saw a lone car driving west of Diamond Towers, outpacing everything in its path. With a hawk-like intensity, I zeroed in on the car and followed it out of the city limits for what I guessed was thirty miles. It was always hard to tell how far I had flown, especially in a chase like this. The headlights dimmed when the driver turned the car on a gravel path and slowed the wheels to a snail’s pace. With the engine still running, he parked the car dangerously close to the edge of the canyon.

I descended closer to the car, straining my eyes through the darkness. A young, bald man with a distinctively pointy nose, dressed in a suit, stepped from the driver’s side. He retrieved a pair of gloves from his pocket and slipped one over each hand. He took five steps to the rear of the car and pulled the trunk’s lever. I drifted closer to the figure working in the dark, fearful of what I was about to witness. My stomach churned and my hands shook. There in the cavernous pit of the trunk lie Holden Chadsworth’s body, slumped over and lifeless.

The bald man gathered Holden’s arms, threw him over his shoulder, and carefully walked toward the edge of the cliff. He stumbled under the weight of the broad-shouldered man. When his feet reached the rocky ledge, he dropped the body on the ground, and with a vicious kick, sent him tumbling over the side of the ravine.

Through the howling winds, I thought I heard him mutter, “Bastard,” as he turned to watch Holden’s limp body plummet over rocks and prickly desert brush. The bald man turned and closed the trunk. He stepped into the driver’s side of the car and peeled the vehicle back onto the road toward the lights of Las Vegas.

Horror and dread consumed me. There was a tight knot in my chest and a sickening pit in my stomach. I waited until the car was out of sight.

I inhaled a deep breath of desert air, and I whispered, “Illuminate.”

A small orb of glowing light levitated in my palm while I descended the rocky terrain of the canyon walls. The sphere of bouncing flames produced just enough light for me to make out the rugged landscape. I floated along the canyon wall, making a zigzag pattern with the orb. The light reflected off something shiny and gold. I recognized Holden’s watch on his limp wrist. He was wrapped around a gnarled bush and wedged between rocks. I didn’t care about the consequences or what effects my actions had. Without thinking, I lowered myself to the canyon floor and dropped to his side. I grabbed his wrist and ran my fingers to his neck to search for a pulse.

Nothing. Holden Chadsworth was dead.

M
Y FLIGHT
back to the lights of the city was heavy with guilt and a sense of confusion that permeated my core. The images of Holden and Helen, his handsome smile and devilish treatment of her, the intense passion he shared with Simone, and now the image of his lifeless body at the bottom of a canyon kept reeling through my mind. My eyes started welling with tears again, but this time it wasn’t from the desert wind.

It was late and I needed sleep. I wasn’t quite sure what time it was. It seemed like hours ago when I watched the sun set in the Chadworths’ apartment. How long had it been since I started this
Time Spell
? My head was pounding. I hoped the Starlight would have an open room so I could crash for the night and regroup.

I took a quick peek at the reservation book while David, the front desk clerk, assisted a disgruntled couple. The woman in the party kept shaking her finger and her head. She shouted at the clerk that they had been promised a suite upgrade for her honeymoon. She threw angry stares at both David and her new husband while they tried to sort through the confusion.

With one eye on the arguing trio and the other on the reservation list, I scanned the handwritten notes. Scribbled next to “Smythe Family, Check In Thursday at noon” were the words “Hold Room.” Perfect! There was an open room on the floor below the Chadsworths’ penthouse. Close enough to keep an eye on Helen while I worked through Holden’s murder. It gave me chills thinking about it, but I couldn’t leave 1968 without answers.

After a restless night’s sleep in the Smythe family suite, I awoke with no more clarity than when I turned out the last golden lamp. I had been too upset to even create a night’s sky. My head hit the polyester pillow, and the heated breeze from the vent soothed me into sleep. The shock of what I had seen unfold in the desert evaporated and was replaced with a committed sense of purpose. I wanted to know why Holden Chadsworth was dead. Who was the young bald man? How were Helen and Simone involved? My witchy instincts started to tingle again. It was time to visit Helen.

The most important duty of the
Time Spell
was to erase any trace of my visits through time. Ripple effects and changing history terrified me.

I faced the room, lifted both arms, and whispered, “Erase.”

At once, the room twitched and ticked. The towels in the bathroom folded and draped neatly on the racks. The water droplets in the shower vanished, the smudges on the cup disappeared, and the sheets and flower-adorned comforter returned to their original creased state. Pleased with this crafty spell I had perfected, I performed a final inspection. Yes, the room was ready for the Smythe family, and no one would ever know Ivy Grace had been here.

I scanned the hallway through the peephole. I only spotted morning copies of the
Sun News
rolled in front of each door. I cracked the door open enough to slip through then turned toward the stairwell doors. With only one flight of stairs to climb, I made it to the penthouse level in only a minute. The hallway in front of the Chadsworths’ apartment was littered with matching sets of green luggage edged with white piping. Valets walked in and out of the penthouse, loaded with bags. The security guards huddled close, whispering to each other.

“Henry, get all of this to the airport, won’t you?” Helen called from the other side of the suite’s heavy doors.

She stepped through the doorway like a queen on her way to her coronation. She was dressed in a long-sleeved white dress, which stopped just above her knee and was fashioned with a matching white belt. Her hair was pinned under an oversized white hat that was tipped to the side. Her eyes were concealed behind a gigantic pair of tortoise sunglasses. She buttoned a pair of leather gloves and pinched her pearl-studded earrings to ensure they were tightly fastened.

“Of course, Ms. Chadsworth.” He smiled at the willowy woman. “We’ll take care of all of your belongings and meet you at the airport.”

Henry was a short, middle-aged man with a tint of gray hair creeping above his ears and an array of wrinkles around his eyes.

Helen leaned to whisper in Henry’s ear; she was considerably taller than he was. I couldn’t hear the exchange, so I stepped closer to listen. There it was again. She looked in my direction, right at me. I stepped against the wall, barely avoiding a collision with a hatbox. I glanced at my arms to make sure they were still shimmering from the
Fade Spell
. Everything about her stare unnerved me. My skin grew cold.

She turned her attention to Henry, and whispered, “Make sure my driver doesn’t mention my last stop to anyone before I go.”

Henry acknowledged the secret request by nodding and stepped back to let Helen enter the elevator. “Of course, ma’am.”

The workers continued the packing, stacking, and moving of Helen’s belongings while the elevator carried her to the lobby floor. The doors closed before I could slip between them and follow her. I didn’t want her out of my sight. I exited through the side stairwell and launched myself into the staircase. I needed to reach the first level before Helen left the building.

I rushed to the lobby just in time to see her glide through the Starlight’s grand lobby, nodding her head at guests and smiling at the desk clerks. Her white dress dazzled in the sun as she pulled the brim of her hat closer to her face to shield her delicate skin from the intense rays. The driver crossed in front of her to open the car door. She climbed in and the car sped away from the Starlight.

I had never run so fast as I hurdled toward the first clearing I could find. The sidewalks were littered with tourists. Finding a spot where I wouldn’t hit someone on my ascent was difficult. I settled on flowerbed, and propelled upward.

From the sky, I tracked Helen’s car to the Diamond Towers. The Cadillac turned into the parking garage. I followed the car as it careened through the garage, knowing she would stop at the lowest level. Right on target, the car slowed and parked in front of the secret elevator.

Helen stepped out, buzzed the elevator, and waited. The elevator car was too small to attempt a ride with her, and if I tried to call the elevator for a second trip, it would certainly arouse suspicion. Confident Helen would arrive in the closet, I sprinted to the Diamond Towers’ lobby in the hopes I could enter the suite through Simone’s foyer.

Simone’s suite felt warm in the morning sun. It was in opposition to everything else I was feeling. The light bounced off framed marquee posters of Simone lining the walls. I hadn’t taken the time to notice them on my first visit. Simone in a black bathing suit winked, with one hand on her hip, in the first poster. In another, she was holding a martini glass as if to say “cheers.” The last photograph in the trio showed Simone lounging on the top of a baby grand piano in a high-cut red dress, probably the dress I had seen Holden rip to tatters last night.