“Of course. Even a low-level blood witch can do something like that. But it takes a much more powerful witch to do it for very long.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t stick. It’s more like a sideshow trick. The memory may be altered, but only for a short time or only while the witch is nearby. But a more powerful witch…” She thought about it. “I mean, it’s not like in the movies. Even blood witches can’t control you.”
After seeing what she just did to Roane, I wasn’t sure I believed her.
“They can’t make you do something against your will. Not without a little help. But they can manipulate your memories.”
“Manipulate how?”
“Subtract. Add. Edit. That being said, the more precise the manipulation, the more precise the skill needed. It’s like surgery. It takes years of practice with a scalpel to do such a thing, and it veers quite far into the black arts.”
I chewed on a nail in thought and tasted furniture polish. “Can you think of anyone in the area with that skill set?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. But I haven’t lived here long.”
Though I hated my next question, it had to be voiced. “I’m sorry to even ask this, Love, but what about you? You’re clearly skilled. Could you manipulate someone’s memories? Perhaps another witch’s?”
She dropped her gaze as though ashamed. “I would never lie to you, Sarru.”
“Defiance.”
“I have… dabbled. But, no. I’ve never tried to do what you’re asking.”
“You’ve dabbled in black magic?”
“Yes. Briefly. It was a long time ago. A teen rebellion thing.”
I felt a grin tighten one corner of my mouth. “You said not without a little help. What kind of help?”
“The usual. Herbs. Flowers. Anything that pertains to memory. And sometimes…” She looked around her shop and pointed. “See that hourglass?”
I followed her line of sight to a high shelf on a far wall. A gorgeous hourglass sat inside a carved black frame adorned with engraved silver, the sand on the bottom a deep red like the iron-rich molecules of a dying star. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s old. It’s also a relic from my black-magic days. Something like that could be used to manipulate the temporal aspects of memories.”
“You mean, like, when something happened?”
“Exactly. Someone could be made to believe they’d eaten at a certain restaurant on a Tuesday instead of a Monday.”
“That doesn’t sound worth the effort.”
“You’d be surprised. There are any number of applications for something like that. Witness tampering, for one. Again, it would take a skilled hand. Otherwise, the target’s memories could be wiped completely. My mother would know more. I could ask her if you’d like.”
“Please.” I took out my phone and handed it to her. “Can you put in your number? I’ll get back with you.”
“Of course,” she said.
“So all black magic is bad?”
She shook her head. “No magics are inherently bad. Even black magics can be used for good, but because they go against a witch’s philosophy, against the natural order of things, the harmonious nature we seek with the world around us, it’s called black magic or dark magic. But it’s what you do with the magics that counts. I would never use them to harm anyone.”
I believed her, though I did have to ask my next incriminating question. Gigi had been poisoned going on seven months prior, thus… “How long have you lived in Salem?”
One of the patrons coughed impatiently, hoping to hurry us along. I’d half expected an officer to show up with the way the cashier ran out of the shop, but so far, nothing.
“A little over six months ago,” she began, “I felt a really strong pull to move here. Just out of the blue. My mom suggested I listen, but it took about me three months to find a shop and get it open. Not to mention a place to live I could afford.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
A soft pink blossomed over her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I’m not,” Roane said, rubbing his temple.
I tossed him a quick scowl, even though I almost had a meltdown myself when he was being hurt. “You don’t count,” I teased. “I just have one more question, Love.”
“Anything, Sarru.”
“Defiance.” I leaned closer. “Why did you take your cashier’s diary?”
She stilled, as though my words had solidified everything she’d already suspected, but I thought I did that when I admitted to being a charmling.
“I didn’t. I found who did and stole it back. He… it would’ve hurt her.”
Pride filled the vast cavity in my chest where my heart should’ve been. Sadly, I’d given it away to the man standing beside me. “Good for you, Love.”
“Elle,” she said, brightening. “My friends call me Elle. Love is more like a stage name.”
“Elle. Are you ever going to give the diary back?”
One corner of her mouth crinkled into a mischievous grin. “Yes. But I’m going to make her sweat first. She left it out in the open.” When she realized what her words had implied, she jumped to correct herself, taking my hands into her own. “Not that her carelessness excuses the boy’s actions. Not in the least. But Gwen does need to learn to be more careful, especially considering what she wrote.”
“You read it?”
“Oh, Goddess, no. Absolutely not, but it’s been hard. The things she told me…”
And now I liked Love—Elle—even more. That she would respect her cashier’s privacy that much meant a great deal.
“Wait,” she said, snapping back to me. “That makes you the finder.”
“The finder?”
“Of lost things.”
“How did you know?”
“There are three charmlings: the finder, the healer, and the seer.”
I leaned closer, intrigued. “For real? I had no idea.” And I hadn’t. The fact that each charmling had a different area of expertise made the whole thing even more delicious. “My grandmother was a finder as well, though not a charmling. Not a blood heir. I just figured I got that part from her side.”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?”
“In what way?”
“Perhaps your grandmother’s magics were influenced by yours instead of vice versa. Was she a finder before you came along?”
I sat back. “I think so, but—”
Another cough wafted toward us from the peanut gallery.
“Okay, we need to go.”
Love bowed her head. “Thank you for coming, Sarru.” Then she cast a sideways glance at Roane. “Sorry about your dog.”
I slammed my eyes shut when Roane emitted a low growl. “Now, now. Let’s play nice.”
She led us to the door, but before we left, I turned and said, “Oh, wait, just one more question.”
“You’ll have to ask her, Sarru,” she said, fighting a giggle.
Damn it. So close.
Twelve
Once upon a time,
there was a girl who really loved coffee.
It was me.
The end.
—True story
“How’s your head?” I asked Roane when we walked out of Elle’s shop and into the crisp air. The sun hung low, adding ribbons of orange to the already moody sky.
“Better now. But everything sounds like it’s underwater.”
I stopped short and gave him my full attention. “Your hearing is messed up?”
“Very much so. And there is a ringing.”
“Crap.” I looked back, wondering if I should go talk to her. “Surely it’s not permanent.”
He bit down. “It’d better not be.”
“Roane, you can’t kill her. She’s a person.”
“She’s powerful. And at some point in her life, I’d say she was one step away from becoming a warlock.”
“Seriously?” I aske
d, suddenly wary. “What makes you say that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Even blood-born witches have to use spells to conjure that kind of power. They have to use something as a conduit.”
“She did. The crystal.”
“But there was no spell. It just worked for her.”
“By spell, you mean something like eyes of newt and bat wings.”
“Yes.”
“She was reciting something.”
“No. It would take way more preparation for a regular witch. Even someone like your grandmother.”
“Damn. Are eyes of newt a real thing?”
A grin broke free from its restraint. “Yes, Ms. Dayne. Newts have eyes.”
“Right. How do so many witches know about warlocks and hunters and charmlings when I’ve never even heard of such things? Well, okay, warlocks, but not about the hunters that they create or charmlings or the original witches.”
“The vast majority don’t. I think your coven knows so much because both Serinda and your grandmother are blood born. They come from a long line of witches, and the lore has been passed down from generation to generation.”
We grabbed coffees and had barely pulled into the drive when Annette ran out, her face a shimmering frenzy of anticipation. She followed us as Roane drove around the side of the house to park in the back, his usual parking spot. I watched in the side mirror as she ran after us, waving her laptop.
“You know you could’ve let me out in front,” I said through a fit of giggles.
He was laughing, too. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”
When he went as far as he possibly could without crashing into the back fence, I opened my door. Before I could get out, however, she yelled, “Pirate booty!”
I stifled another giggle and asked, “Whose booty?”
“Pirate.” She skidded to a halt, breathless with anticipation. “Think about it. Those caves were used by pirates for smuggling.”
“We think,” I corrected, handing her a coffee.
“They want the house because of the caves.” She put her arms on my shoulders and shook, sloshing coffee out of the sippy hole on the lid. “Deph, don’t you get it. There’s pirate treasure in them there caves.”
I shook coffee off my hand and started for the back door. “I have considered the caves. That’s clearly how they got in and out. The caves are easily accessible from the outside. They’re hidden from view. But how would anyone even know about them?”
The self-satisfied smirk she wore suggested she’d already thought of that. “Maps.”
We stepped into the mudroom and took off our jackets before heading for the kitchen. “You found maps with the caves drawn on them?”
She lifted a shoulder. “In a way.” She turned to my beau. “Strip, wolf boy.”
“Boy?”
“You know, now might not be a good time, Nette.”
“Why?”
“We had a run-in with Elle.”
“Who’s Elle?”
“You know her as Liliana Lovett?”
Annette’s eyes rounded to perfect saucers. Saucers of betrayal. “You spoke to Love?”
“I did.”
“Behind my back?”
“She would hardly let me into her store if you were there.” I sat at the kitchen table. “And her friends, like Roane and me, call her Elle.”
“We are not friends,” Roane said.
“They are, he just doesn’t know it yet.”
Annette sat in shock. “Why?”
“Because she’s nice, and I think they’ll get along famously.”
“No, why would you go see her? She’s cray-cray.”
“Please. She’s very nice. And she’s a blood witch.”
“But… wait, really? Damn it.” She sank into the chair beside me and banged a fist lightly on the table. “I should’ve known. She’s too good at predictions to be a mundane. Almost as good as I am.”
I rubbed my brow. “You and Elle are just going to have to learn to get along.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t know what I did.”
I started to ask her about that when Samuel joined us. He climbed into a chair and propped his head on his folded hands, his little blond head barely able to reach the tabletop.
“Hey, mister man,” I said, taking another sip. “Where’s your friend?”
He pointed outside, a place he apparently could not go without some help. A salt barrier kept the riffraff out, but they could get in or out if attached to a host. So I’d been told. Which was apparently how he got in. He’d followed Annette and me home.
Samuel went back to pouting. His only friend had escaped. The three-year-old released a forlorn sigh then vanished.
Annette had been gazing at him with ardent adoration, but she gasped softly when he disappeared. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“I’m still learning about the departed, too. So, you mentioned a map?”
“Oh, yes.” She perked up and looked at Roane again. “Do it, mister man. I need you naked.”
He arched a scythe-shaped brow but lifted his shirt over his head.
If I’d known it would be that easy, I would’ve had him do that hours ago. I resisted the urge to rub my hands together in anticipation as the shirt slid away and was replaced with the hills and valleys of a nigh-perfect physique, almost every inch covered in ink.
Annette sprang to her feet to study him, but I sat there marveling at the work. It was gorgeous. Detailed. A giant black-and-gray skull covered most of his torso. She twirled a finger to get him to turn around, and he obeyed. An old map of Salem covered his back with a symbol overlayed in the middle. The symbol for the spell I’d used to change the wolf into the boy. He’d somehow remembered it.
She ran her fingers over his back, following a section in the middle that literally shouted X marks the spot. It was faint. Lighter than the other lines. “Exactly what I thought.”
“What?” I stood to join her, wanting in on the action.
She pushed her glasses farther up her nose and pointed. “Here.”
“What am I looking at?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, the caves.”
“Why would the caves be on a topographical map of old Salem?”
“Right?” She leaned around him. “Where did you get this map?”
“It’s a copy I found at the library when I was a kid. They sell them everywhere.”
“No, they don’t.” She opened her laptop and pulled up a sepia-toned image. “Here’s the map they sell all over. Notice anything?”
Roane and I both leaned in to look closer.
“Wait, you’re right.” I turned him around again and followed the lines of the early streets of Salem, interrupted only by the spell. “They have all the streets and the landmarks, but none of this other stuff is on there. And look.” I ran my fingers along the lines that spiderwebbed out from the initial cave system. “They branch out in all directions.”
Gigi came up the stairs and stopped. “What are you girls doing to poor Roane?”
“Nothing you haven’t wanted to do, Gigi.”
“Who says I haven’t?”
Annette snorted, and Roane tossed her a flirtatious grin.
I laughed before reality sank in. Then I stabbed Annette with an accusatory stare. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That the map on Roane’s back was different from the maps they sell in town? Did you put a camera in his shower again?”
She choked on her coffee and smiled at Roane. “She’s kidding.”
“Only a little.”
“My point is, someone could’ve realized this map had caves and came looking for the booty.”
“There’s booty?” Gigi asked, making a fresh pot of coffee.
“I’m sure of it.” Annette set her jaw.
“Anyone could’ve seen that map,” I said, reminiscing on the fact that anyone could’ve seen that map.
“Pretty much. But a
t least we have our motive.”
“I’m not sure the hope of finding pirate booty is motive enough to kill someone. They would have to know for certain the treasure was there to risk such a move. Therefore, they would’ve already found it. Therefore, they would’ve had no reason to kill Gigi.”
“Are you going to rain cats and dogs on my parade all day? We need to get down there just in case. Find it before they do. After all, you’re the finder of lost things.”
“Okay, let’s say you’re right and they haven’t found it yet. Don’t you think they would’ve been looking for it this whole time?”
She backhanded my arm. “That’s just it. Not with super wolf here. And as long as Gigi was alive and Roane was working for her with his super-wolf hearing… You see the problem.”
“So, not only did they know about the caves, they knew about Roane being a wolf shifter with super hearing and they killed Gigi to get rid of Roane so they could search for a pirate treasure?”
“Bingo.”
“All right. I will concede that it is a possibility. Though a slim one.”
She did a little dance in her seat. Either that or she had to pee. “Yay me. Wait, you never answered me. Why did you go see Love?”
“I had a few questions. She had a few answers. Now I get to call her Elle.”
“What kind of questions?”
“The kind that end in a question mark.”
“Did she… tell you what happened?” she hedged.
“Yep. She told me everything.” I glared at her. “I’m so ashamed, Annette. That you of all people would do such a thing.”
She sagged in her chair. “She didn’t tell you a damned thing.”
“No, but she thought about it. I could tell.”
“She really didn’t,” Roane said.
Gigi giggled, and I suddenly remembered my bestie was having sexy times with my grandmother’s ex. In her dreams, yes, but still… How would Gigi take that? Would she care? She’d been dating the chief for over forty years. I could only imagine what they did in the house my grandfather haunted.
Hoping my grandfather wasn’t a voyeur, I beamed at Gigi. Perhaps a little too conspicuously.
She narrowed her lids to razor-sharp slits. “What?”
“What?”
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