Water Witch

by Carol Goodman

  See, he said as the thread came to the end of its reach, his voice as clear as a bell in the emptiness of space, like I said. True lovers.

  The thread snapped back, hurtling me back into space. I reached out my hands and felt a hand grasp mine. I slammed up against something hard.

  Damn, I thought. Love hurts.

  I opened my eyes. I was lying on the ground, surrounded by a circle of concerned faces, but not the one face I wanted to see.

  “Brock? Is he …?”

  “I’m here, Callie.” I saw Brock’s face hovering over me.

  “Oh thank God,” I said. “I thought I lost you.”

  He knelt down on the ground beside me as Liz and Ann Chase helped me sit up. “I turned around and the spiral broke. I thought we were spinning out of control.”

  “We were, but you pulled us both back.”

  “It was Liam,” I said. “I heard his voice …” I stopped as an expression of dismay crossed Brock’s face.

  “That damned incubus!” he swore with unaccustomed anger. “It’s his fault I was trapped in the shadows in the first place. I was on your roof when I saw the storm coming, carrying something with it – a creature from Faerie …”

  “That was Lorelei,” I said.

  “No. I saw her descend into the woods, but the storm came on, carrying with it another presence, and heading straight toward Honeysuckle House. I realized then that although I’d warded the house …”

  “That was you!” I interrupted. “Duncan Laird said someone had.”

  “Duncan Laird?”

  “My new magic tutor and a wizard of the Ninth order. The circle found him to train me.”

  I noticed Liz exchanging a look with Anne Chase. The rest of the circle was picking themselves up from the ground, brushing grass off their clothes, and stretching cramped limbs. Ike and Amma were approaching from the house, tears streaming down the old woman’s face at the sight of her grandson restored. Brock, though, was focused entirely on me, his face creased with guilt.

  “A wizard of the Ninth order would have no trouble recognizing my humble wards. The problem was that I’d just put in a new section of roof that wasn’t warded and that meant the creature in the storm could get in. I couldn’t leave you unprotected like that so I stayed on the roof until the storm arrived.”

  “Oh Brock, you shouldn’t have! You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk to protect the house, Brock. It’s only a house …”

  “It’s your home, Callie. If a creature breached its wards it would have power over you. Power over your mind and body and even your dreams. That’s how the incubus possessed Dolly. First it possessed Honeysuckle House.” Brock dropped his head and covered his face with his calloused, work-worn hands. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I let the incubus back into your house.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LIZ INSISTED ON driving me back. “Diana can drive my car back to the inn,” she explained as we walked to my car, “and I don’t think you should be driving so soon after your … journey.” She started to say something else, but then glanced out at the fields and motioned for me to get inside the car. As soon as we were inside, with the windows rolled up, she didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. She turned to me “Brock’s right,” she said. “Your incubus is back.”

  She said it like I’d had a reoccurrence of shingles or bed bugs.

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” I said defensively. “I’d still be spinning through space if Liam hadn’t pulled me back and that wouldn’t have worked if he weren’t my true love.”

  Liz clucked her tongue and started the car. “According to him, Callie!” she said, keeping her eyes on the road and grasping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “He’s enslaved you. Look at yourself. You’ve got so much Aelvesgold in your system that you’re glowing. He’s gotten you addicted to the stuff.”

  “Oh, so now I’m an addict and a sex-slave … hey, wait a second, I’ve been using Aelvesgold under the direction of Duncan Laird, the tutor you got for me.”

  A pained look crossed Liz’s face and she took her eyes off the road long enough to turn and give me a doleful stare.

  “You don’t think …?”

  Liz turned her eyes back to the road but not before I saw her lip tremble. “I’m sorry, Callie, but yes, I think Duncan Laird is your incubus.”

  “No,” I said, my stomach roiling at the idea. “You said he was recommended by a member of the circle …”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid it’s possible that the circle member who recommended him might not have been acting with your best interests in mind.”

  “Who …?” I began, thinking of Moondance’s obvious hostility and wondering if she had been the one to recommend Duncan, but Liz silenced me with a raised hand.

  “I’d rather not say who it was until I’ve verified my suspicions, but I think we have to consider the possibility that Mr. Laird might have been foisted upon us under false pretenses.”

  “But you checked his references personally.”

  “Such things can be faked. I’m afraid now that I might not have been careful enough. Believe me when I say that the thought that I may have made the same mistake twice and put you in harm’s way again is deeply mortifying to me.”

  Liz’s face, even in profile, was so pained that I had to look away. I looked out the window at the woods that lay to the west of Trask Road, into the deep shadows of the pines. The same woods where I’d roamed as a deer and an owl with Duncan Laird. I had felt an attraction to him – he was undoubtedly a handsome man – but when he’d tried to kiss me, the wards had prevented him.

  “Duncan can’t be the incubus. The wards pushed him away.”

  “That might be a trick, Callie.”

  But it hadn’t just been the wards. “I pushed him away,” I said, turning back to Liz. “I wouldn’t let him kiss me.”

  “Well,” Liz said with a tentative smile, “maybe you’ve finally developed some sense.”

  I sighed. I’d very much like to agree with Liz that I was developing better judgment in my love life, but I doubted it. I had slept with Liam in Faerie and in my dreams. So why would I have any better judgment if Duncan were my incubus in the flesh?

  I pondered in silence until we headed up Elm to my house.

  “What are we going to do? Duncan Laird is coming over tonight. Should I still go ahead and transform with him? If he’s the incubus it could be a trick.”

  “It may indeed,” she said with a grim set to her lips. “I’m afraid that what Duncan’s been doing with you has only decreased your power …” She suddenly slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “What an idiot I’ve been! I’ve compromised your power just when we needed it the most – and Lorelei’s still on the loose.”

  “Soheila didn’t find her at Lura’s house?” I asked, recalling that she had been planning to look for her there.

  “Lura wouldn’t let her in.”

  “I could try talking to Lura,” I said. “She let me into her house before.”

  “I think it’s better if you try to rest up. I have another idea of how to trap Lorelei. I’m going to ask the Stewarts to help …”

  “The Stewarts?” I asked remembering the plaid-shirted farmers at the diner and the guileless boy I’d met last night in the woods. “Do you mean Mac Stewart’s family?”

  “Oh, so you’ve met him … a nice boy, although perhaps not the brightest. Yes, his father Angus and his brothers are part of an ancient order that has protected the woods for generations. I’ll coordinate their efforts … oh, hellfire!”

  “Liz!” I’d never heard her swear before.

  “Look!” We’d pulled up in front of my house but Liz was pointing across the street to the Hart Brake Inn where a large black SUV was hulking like a malevolent water bug in the inn’s driveway. Three doors clicked open at the same time, disgorging two men in identical navy blue suits, both so tall and blond and similar in features they might have been
twins. Each carried a long furled black umbrella. The third occupant of the car was a silver-haired woman dressed impeccably in a St. John’s knit suit and carrying an oxblood Birkin bag.

  My heart sank. “I didn’t know my grandmother was going to stay at the inn … it’s not exactly her style.”

  “I didn’t know either. She must have made the reservation under a different name. Diana will be beside herself.”

  We both watched in horror as my grandmother led the way up the path, glancing disdainfully at the ceramic gnome at the foot of the porch steps. She said something to one of the men and he touched the tip of his umbrella to the offending gnome. The red capped figure began to vibrate, then rock back and forth on his stubby feet, then, with a high pitched whine, he exploded.

  In the car Liz flinched and cried out, “Oh no, poor Aethelready! He’s been with Diana since she moved to Fairwick.”

  Adelaide brushed powdered plaster off her suit jacket and proceeded up the steps, followed by her gnome-smashing minions.

  “I’d better go help Diana cope with them,” Liz said, flustered. “Don’t worry about tonight. I’ll organize the plan to trap Lorelei. In the meantime, try to … um … fend off Duncan Laird, if you know what I mean.”

  “I had no intention …” A bang from inside the inn made both of us jump.

  “I really must be off,” Liz said.

  I got out of the car and hurried up my front path, swooping up Mr. Rukowski and bringing him and my spare key into the house.

  “There you are,” I said putting the statue down in the foyer and locking the door. “You’ll be safe here.”

  But would I? As Liz had pointed out, my threshold had already been breached. I might already have let an incubus into my house. Who knew what else might be coming?

  I hurried upstairs and into Liam’s old study to get a view of the inn. I caught sight of Diana hurrying out onto the porch with a basketful of bric-a-brac. Her face looked pinched and pale. A series of pops, crackles and loud bangs from the house made her look over her shoulder. A trail of smoke wiggled out of a second floor window.

  Poor Diana. I’d always thought that the inn was too cluttered with bric-a-brac, but only now did it occur to me that the ceramic creatures might have greater significance to her. Why else would Adelaide be getting rid of them if they didn’t have magical powers? It couldn’t be just because she was offended by the twee décor. Perhaps like the gnome they were guardians that protected Diana’s home and person. I recalled the way Liam brought home little tokens from the forest – round river stones, twisted bits of wood, birds’ feathers – and lined the windowsills with them. Had he been weaving a protection spell with them?

  I looked around the empty room, running my hand along the windowsills. I crouched on the floor to check for loose floorboards.

  “Are you looking for something?”

  My hand jerked at the unexpected voice and I jammed a splinter into my finger. Looking up, I found Bill standing in the doorway gazing down at me, his cap, even indoors, pulled low over his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I startled you,” he said, crouching down in front of me and taking off his cap. “I thought you knew I was up here painting the ceiling. Let me see that splinter. I’m good at getting them out, seeing as I’m always getting them myself.”

  I laid my hand in his wide cupped palm, where it fit as snugly as a bird in a nest, and felt a swell of warmth that made me dizzy. It must be exhaustion from today’s circle or the pain of the splinter, which Bill was now prodding with blunt calloused fingertips – only it wasn’t really pain I felt. The current of feeling his touch released felt a lot more like desire. The feeling was so overwhelming that I let out a little moan.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “It’s all right! It’s my own fault!” I squawked, trying to mask my reaction to Bill’s touch. I must be still under the effects of Aelvesgold. Liz was right. It was working to make me attracted to my handyman … who really was quite handsome, I thought, getting my first good look at him with his cap off. He had beautiful eyes – the color of leaves in autumn or aged brandy flecked with gold …

  “Why your fault?” Bill asked.

  “Oh … I was checking the planks for hiding places like I was Nancy Drew or something. My … um … boyfriend stayed in this room last winter and I thought he might have left something behind.”

  “You mean like a note?” he asked, his gaze bent down, his fingertips deftly stroking my finger … which made me wonder what it would feel like to have those fingertips stroke other parts of my body.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said, shaking away the image of Bill’s hands on my body. “It was a silly idea, though. He had to leave … in a hurry. He wouldn’t have had time to leave a note.”

  “Unless he knew he might have to leave suddenly,” Bill said. “Then maybe he’d have hidden a note somewhere. I’ll keep an eye out if you like … There. It’s out.”

  I looked down and saw a half-inch of jagged wood tipped with blood squeezed between Bill’s thumb and forefinger. “Wow, I really skewered myself!” I exclaimed, looking into Bill’s eyes, eyes full of compassion, and something more. A longing. Had he picked up on the desire I was feeling? How could he not? I felt as if it were written on the air between us.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, still looking into my eyes.

  “It doesn’t hurt a bit now …” I said, leaning toward him. An inch further and our lips would touch … but then my cell phone, which was in my pocket, chimed, startling us

  both.

  “Oh,” I said, feeling as though I’d been woken from a dream. “I suppose I should get that.”

  “Sure,” Bill said, dropping my hand. “Just make sure you put something on that. Those kinds of wounds can fester.”

  “Uh huh … I will …” I said, blushing as I retrieved my phone from my pocket. The text was from Duncan.

  The Grove has descended, he had written. We need one more transformation to free your power. I’ll be there before dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “IS SOMETHING WRONG?” Bill asked.

  He was still crouched beside me, brow furrowed, a look of concern in his kind brown eyes. What a nice guy, I thought, immediately followed by, I have to get rid of him. Liz had said to stay away from Duncan but I had a better idea.

  “No, it’s just … That was my … um, advisor. He needs to speak to me about a project.”

  “Your advisor? Is that the guy who was here before … the one with the messy hair and thick glasses? Sort of snooty looking?”

  I laughed at Bill’s description of Duncan Laird. “That’s him. He’s … British,” I added, as if that explained the snooty look. “But yeah, he said this was important … so I’m afraid …”

  “Oh, I see.” Bill got to his feet. “You want me to clear out.”

  “It’s just that I’m afraid we’ll be in your way …” I stood up too and put my arm on Bill’s elbow. Then took it off again when I felt another jolt of raw heat and desire. “I really do appreciate how hard you’ve been working on the house. I can’t thank you enough,” I said, my embarrassment making the words come out stilted and formal.

  “You don’t have to thank me at all, Ms. McFay,” he said stiffly, picking up on my tone. “It’s my job. Shall I come back first thing in the morning … or maybe not quite first thing?”

  I bristled at the implication that I might have company that early. “First thing will be fine, Bill,” I replied, matching his formality.

  He nodded, put on his baseball cap, and turned to go. I bit my lip to keep from calling him back to apologize for kicking him out. I waited until I heard the front door close and then watched him drive away in his truck. I felt bad about going all “Lady of the Manor” on him, but I didn’t want him to be here when Duncan arrived. I didn’t want an audience for what I had planned.

  I decided to lay a trap for Duncan to find out for myself if he was the incubus. It bothered me that I couldn’t tell. If we
were true lovers, like Liam had said in my dream, shouldn’t I have already swooned in his arms? I certainly shouldn’t be falling into my handyman’s arms.

  I headed for my bedroom to take a quick shower before Duncan arrived. I needed to look my best. Shucking off jeans and t-shirt in my closet I heard a clink as my jeans hit the floor. The Aelvestone rolled out of my pocket. I knelt down and picked it up. It pulsed in my hand like something alive. I knew I’d already absorbed too much Aelvesgold from the spell circle, but I couldn’t resist closing my hand around it.

  Instantly a wave of warmth swept through my body and buckled my knees. I sank to the closet floor, my back cushioned by a soft quilted suitcase that held winter sweaters and scarves. I let my head sink back on the bag, the smell of wool and lavender bringing back memories of being little and hiding in my mother’s closet.

  I was five or six, little enough that I could fit in the space between suitcases. There were lots of suitcases because we were always going places. That’s because my mother and father went to far-away places to dig things up – wonderful treasure they sometimes brought back for me, like brightly colored beads and globby coins with smushed-in faces. Sometimes I went with them but sometimes they left me with Grandmother. I didn’t like that. Grandmother always looked at me as if I might be about to explode all over her white couch, which made me feel like I might indeed throw up. She never touched me. This was supposed to be one of those times when they left me. The car to take me away was outside waiting, but if they couldn’t find me then maybe they would send the car away and I could go with them instead. I heard them calling my name, making a game of it like they always did, my daddy calling “Kay” and my mommy calling “Lex,” but then they stopped, right in the middle of my name and I heard my father say, “I hate her going there as much as she does. One of these times Adelaide is going to notice …”

  “There’s nothing to notice. She’s been warded.”

  “That’s another thing. That can’t be good for her, having all those locks and binds on her spirit. It’s like she’s been caged up. Sometimes, Katy, I swear she looks at me like she’s lost. What if she has gotten lost? What if she’s lost now …?”