Brewing Trouble

by Christine Gael

  “So what’s your dad’s true role in all this?” Zoe asked. “What does he do…aside from torture innocent women, that is.”

  Patrick cleared his throat. “Initially, it was just to stop witches from uniting with their items. The idea was that if we could keep them separate, witches’ powers would never awaken, and that would be that. No one would get hurt on either side and eventually magic would die out after centuries of lying dormant.” I let out a snort of protest at that, but said nothing. “But he got greedy,” Patrick continued. “He and the rest became convinced that magic could help them protect humanity, and that they could do more good with it than the witches had. They figured that if it were wielded by someone in a controlled setting, and there were checks and balances in place--”

  “Ha!” Mee-maw cackled. “Sounds about right—of course men want to steal power from women. They can do it better, right?”

  Patrick nodded grimly. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “It’s so clear to me now. You have to understand that I was brought up to think that witches were evil, preying on innocent people, drunk on their own power. And everything I’d been shown and taught supported that theory. Until…” His eyes flickered over to me for just a moment, but he cleared his throat and pressed on. “I don’t think my father started out as a bad person,” he said, “but the truth is that he’s been corrupted by the promise of power himself. He can’t be trusted to do what’s right. Not anymore.”

  I stared at him for a long moment before asking, “What about you, Patrick?” It was time to draw a line in the sand and see which side Patrick Byrne landed on. We needed to know that he was in—all in—with us and our cause, or whether he still had reservations.

  He looked at me with an earnestness that left me feeling taken aback. “You’re not evil, Cricket. I can’t be sure of many things, but I know that much is true. Magic is a scary thing, though.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I guess I’ve just finally realized that it’s here for a reason. It has a purpose. And it’s not up to me or the Organization to decide what that purpose is.”

  “Whose decision is it, then?” I asked, my body tingling with something like hope as I waited for his answer.

  He met my gaze and held it. “Yours and those like you. Witches. Trying to punish someone for a crime before it’s happened isn’t the way to do it. If a witch wields her power for evil, then yes, I believe there should be an organization to protect the weaker faction of humanity and find a way to stop it. But to strip a body of their birthright when they’ve committed no crime?” He set his jaw. “That’s wrong. There’s no doubt about it.” His light brogue had grown thicker as he grew more impassioned, and I couldn’t deny, he was compelling as all get out. He shot to his feet and stared down at the three of us. “And it’s a tyranny that won’t continue. Not on my watch. You don’t have to accept my help, but that won’t stop me from trying to dismantle the Organization and take my father down. I just think we’d be stronger as a team.”

  It was a pretty speech. But, dang, he’d hurt me. My pride, my ability to trust…it would be a long time before I’d forget what he’d done.

  I glanced from Zoe to Mee-maw. They seemed to be waiting for me to make the call. “There’s something I still don’t get,” I said slowly, addressing Patrick. He waited for me to go on. “The man who broke in and stole my typewriter. My jailer said he tried to get Maude for himself and--”

  “That’s true. He was a low-level member of the Organization,” Patrick said, anticipating my question. “From what I’ve gathered, his wife was terminally ill. He heard about the power of the typewriter and he thought he could use it to help her.”

  That rocked me back on my heels some as I imagined the poor man’s feelings of helplessness.

  “And the hit and run?” I prompted, ignoring the sudden ache in my throat. “He was hit by a black sedan. The same kind you were driving when you brought me to your father, Patrick.”

  He held his hands up. “I had nothing to do with that, Cricket. You have to believe me. I still don’t know what happened, exactly, but there’s a standard issue vehicle for members of the Organization.” Seeing my skepticism, he continued, “As soon as I saw that newscast, I went straight to my father. He told me they went after him to get the typewriter, and there was a chase as he tried to get away on foot. When the guy realized there was no escape, he veered in front of the car. There was no avoiding him.” Patrick scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know it sounds weak. When I think back on it all, there were so many red flags that I ignored. But up until then, I’d never even been able to imagine my father hurting someone, never mind ordering their death. I’ve finally accepted the truth, though. He probably had that guy murdered. My father is off the deep end and he needs to be stopped, at all costs.”

  My heart skipped a beat at the solemn resolve in his eyes.

  “Most people can’t see that kind of thing, even when it’s right in front of their face,” Mee-maw observed quietly.

  He was breathing hard, looking between the three of us and waiting for a response. “We could use the help, Cricket,” Zoe murmured. “And who knows more about the inner workings of the Organization than Patrick?”

  I sighed, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “We don’t have much of a choice but to trust you. I’m not saying I forgive you…but I’ll accept your help. For now, anyway.”

  Patrick tipped his head in a grim nod. “Brilliant,” he said. “Then I guess I’ll start by telling you that I think I have the perfect place for us to hide out.”

  Chapter 3

  “The library?” I said, staring at the building in the distance before rounding on Patrick, who stood a few yards away, hands in pockets. “The public library?”

  Truth be told, it was my bad. When Patrick had said he had a place in Rocky Knoll for us to hide out for the next few days, I’d spent the drive over more concerned with the fact that he’d used the term “us”—i.e., including him—than I’d been about the actual location. When I’d accepted his help, I hadn’t really considered that we’d all be holed up together, sleeping in the same space. Then, when I finally did start to think about the potential options for our safehouse, I’d imagined a clandestine cabin where we could be close to the action and keep tabs on the Organization while Zoe figured out how to use her magic and I tried to reconnect with Maude.

  A public building in the center of town that had people in and out all day hardly fit the bill.

  “Kinda ballsy, even for me,” Mee-maw said as she squinted at the building in the darkness.

  We had parked down a nearby alleyway, but there had been no need. It was two AM and the place was like a ghost town. Tomorrow, though, Main Street would be buzzing with activity.

  “We won’t be hiding out in the library,” Patrick corrected as he tugged a key ring from his pocket. “We’ll be hiding under it. There is a virtual catacomb of unused rooms in the basement at our disposal, including a bathroom. Trudy gave me the keys to the building, allowing me to go in and do the noisiest work before they opened and after closing to keep from disturbing the patrons. There is still a laundry list of repairs that need doing, so they won’t be asking for the keys back anytime soon.”

  I chewed on my lower lip, still not convinced.

  “You need to understand that no matter where we are, the Organization is going to find us. We’re buying time to collect information, at this point. Let’s get you all settled in and then I’ll go hit up my cash reserves and head over to Mannington to the 24-hour Walmart.”

  We’d stopped off and pooled our change and errant dollar bills to get some waters and snacks at a convenience store, but we definitely needed some supplies.

  “I’ll grab some clothes but also a laptop, and some stuff to sleep on. We’ll be fine, “Patrick added.

  I mulled that over, trying not to focus on the “stuff to sleep on” part, and eventually nodded. He knew better than I did, and at this point, with no better alternative at hand, the point was moot. “
Okay, I guess we’ll make it work. And for now, it’s all we’ve got.” The idea of camping out under a public building still didn’t sit entirely right with me, but what was the old saying about hiding in plain sight? As long as Patrick had the only set of keys, it might be a good option for the time being. The last thing we needed was some night janitor stumbling across a coven of witches camping out in the library basement.

  “Mee-maw, what about your heart medication and such?”

  I turned to see her fumbling in her enormous granny satchel. “Got ‘em right here. Even got some Metamucil. Never leave home without it,” she said with a grin, holding the bottle up proudly. “Also,” she added, hauling out an enormous laptop and slapping it affectionately, “no need for the laptop, Patrick. I’ve got that part taken care of.”

  I squinted at the computer, my eyes going wide with recognition a split second later. “Mee-maw, is that Greg’s?” I hissed. “Did you steal Greg’s laptop?”

  Mee-maw gave a derisive sniff. “That ding dong doesn’t know how to use it, anyways. You know, Cricket, I never spent a whole lot of time alone with the guy when you two were together, but after the past 24 hours, I’m starting to understand why you left him.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay to steal,” I protested, even though I was secretly pleased by the latter part of her reply. She’d been of the “divorce is rarely an option” mindset and had come down on me pretty hard when I’d left Greg. Hearing that she finally got it…even a little, was a balm to my battered heart. “What if he misses it?”

  Mee-maw waved a dismissive hand at me. “Relax. You could steal his shoes off his damned feet and he wouldn’t notice.”

  Zoe stifled a laugh at that, and I shot her a look even as I struggled not to smile myself. Patrick padded over to the car and yanked open the back door, pulling Maude off the seat. The old girl was still covered in a blanket, which suited me fine for now—there was a painful reunion coming, but now wasn’t the time for it. I felt a surge of protectiveness watching him carry the typewriter—a bit like a new mom letting someone hold her baby—but Maude was heavy, and there was no way I would manage carrying her on my own right now, witchy healing abilities or no.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Mee-maw asked, coming to stand beside me. “We’re burning moonlight.”

  Without another word, the four of us began to skulk out of the alleyway, locking the car and leaving it behind. I felt a little like a criminal, glancing nervously this way and that as we crossed the street and into the empty parking lot.

  “Move in a zigzag pattern, just in case,” Mee-maw muttered, shooting a glare up at one of the flickering street lamps. “We’re pretty exposed here.” She rushed to the front of our ragtag group, moving in a serpentine pattern as she stole furtive glances around.

  She’s enjoying this, I realized, shaking my head in disbelief. This was her chance to finally live out that Mission Impossible fantasy. The three of us trailed behind her in a straight line, our footsteps echoing softly on the asphalt as we crept toward the large, brick building. I was about to step up onto the sidewalk when Mee-maw shot an arm out to stop me, nearly knocking me over. Her eyes were as big as saucers.

  “Halt!”

  “Jeez, Mee-maw, what?” I hissed, heart hammering in my chest.

  “Don’t move,” she whispered back. “I heard something.”

  Patrick and I looked at each other, the four of us remaining frozen in place while Mee-maw put her arms out like a cartoon character, eyes narrow with suspicion. “Mee-maw,” Zoe began, “are you sure--”

  “Shh!” Mee-maw hissed, her head snapping back and forth. She reminded me of an old hound dog that had just caught the scent of its prey. There was a long moment of silence as we waited for her to say something. I was on the verge of starting to walk again when Mee-maw suddenly yelped and lunged to the side, shoving me out of the way like a bomb had gone off. Pain rocketed through my side as a shadow crossed in front of one of the light posts, looking long and monstrous… and then it shrank again as the stray cat that had cast it padded across the sidewalk and disappeared under the bushes.

  “Seriously?” I gasped, pressing a hand to my throbbing stomach and turning to Mee-maw.

  “How was I supposed to know it was a cat?” she replied, straightening her jacket with a huff. “It could have been an assassin. Forgive me for watching your six.”

  I rolled my eyes, but Patrick bit back a smile and jerked his head toward the building steps.

  “Let’s keep moving.”

  Still a little on edge, we scurried the rest of the way to the library entrance in silence, pausing on the steps as Patrick set Maude down and fished his keyring out of his pocket. He had to squint in the darkness while he found the one he needed, leaving the rest of us to wait and shuffle our feet. After several agonizing seconds, he located the key and unlocked the front door, holding it open for us as we filed into the empty building one by one.

  It was hard to make much out as we picked our way through the darkness, and at one point I smacked into the edge of the circulation desk, letting out a string of curse words. Moonlight filtered in through the broad glass windows, and our eyes slowly began to adjust as we headed down the long hallway past the children’s section. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad to feel Patrick’s sturdy presence beside me—our past interactions aside, he gave off an air of calm reassurance that I appreciated more than I liked.

  Somehow, we made it to the back hallway and waited as Patrick unlocked the door to the restricted rooms.

  “The employee lounge is through here,” he murmured as we filed into the corridor. “The door to the basement is in the back. All we have to do is…”

  He trailed off and we all stopped in our tracks as Patrick threw up a staying hand. There, just yards away, stood a lanky figure silhouetted against the back wall of windows. My heart jumped to my throat and I was about to instruct everyone to run when Mee-maw muscled forward.

  “Don’t move!” she bellowed, pulling a revolver out of her granny satchel. “Put your hands where I can see them!” The sound of a gun cocking reverberated through the silence, and her eyes flashed in the darkness.

  “Put the gun away. It’s just a coat rack!” Patrick hurried past her and towards the dark silhouette, tugging the jacket off the top to reveal an old-fashioned coat tree leaning against the far wall. “Someone must have left this here,” he said, letting the jacket that had been hanging fall to the ground. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as my heart rate slowly returned to normal.

  “Mee-maw, jeez…why are you packing heat?” I demanded, reaching out and pushing her wrist down. “What if that had been an innocent person?”

  “Relax,” Mee-maw said, tucking the gun into the elastic waistband of her jeans like a cop in an old movie. “It’s not loaded.”

  I glared at her for a moment, only slightly mollified.

  A few, blessedly uneventful, minutes later, we made it down the stairs and into the lower level, which turned out to be as Patrick had described, a veritable labyrinth of old storage rooms and archives that looked like they hadn’t been used in years. He paused by the base of the stairs to flip on a light switch, and the fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered to life, casting the basement in a gloomy pallor. A layer of dust covered just about every surface, and the air was stale and stagnant, but it seemed like it would work. Definitely not a heavily trafficked area.

  “Do we still get Wi-Fi down here?” Mee-maw asked as Patrick led us down the hallway.

  “We should,” Patrick replied. “The server room sits directly above us and the library has excellent Wi-Fi due to the size of the building and amount of use.”

  “Good,” said Mee-maw, nodding her approval. “Then I think this will do, then.”

  We watched as Patrick pushed open a door on the left, which led into one of the more spacious rooms on the floor. Aside from some old chairs, a stack of magazines in the corner, and a rickety old table, it was
empty.

  “I was thinking we could camp out here,” Patrick suggested as we filed in.

  Zoe leaned gingerly on the table while Mee-maw settled into one of the chairs. She sneezed twice and then popped open Greg’s laptop, seemingly content with the digs.

  “I’m going to head to the store and start stocking up on essentials,” Patrick continued. “Let me know what you want me to pick up.”

  “I’ll need a white board,” Mee-maw told him, “along with yarn, tape, printer paper, and dry erase markers.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She was clearly going to recreate the conspiracy board she had in her bedroom, but who was I to complain? It had come in handy last time.

  Zoe opened her rucksack and withdrew the cauldron she had found at Connie’s, holding it reverently. It was clear that she’d already formed some sort of bond with the item. “Do you think we should try to get some sort of potion ingredients?” she asked as she stared at it as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Maybe now would be a good time to try to figure out how it works.”

  “I hate to say it, Zoe, but I’m pretty sure Walmart won’t sell eye of newt or toad’s breath,” I said. “Maybe we should have Mee-maw do some research on the potions front, first. I’m making jokes here, but for all I know, potions can be made with saffron and Splenda nowadays.”

  “You’re probably right,” Zoe replied with a nod, glancing over at our grandmother.

  “I’m on it!” Mee-maw said, already tapping away at the computer. “That dum-dum doesn’t even have this thing password protected. It’s like a free for all in here.”

  “All right, then, I’m going to head out,” Patrick said, nodding. “I’ll also get some food and bedding. We may end up being here for a while.”

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked him, crossing my arms.

  “Few hours, give or take,” he responded. “I want to hide the car on a trail in the woods afterward, which is going to take some time. I’ll be back, though—I promise.” His eyes met mine, and I resisted the urge to tell him to be careful. He wasn’t my boyfriend—heck, he wasn’t even my friend, at this point. We had to work together for now, and that was it. Biting the inside of my cheek, I gave him a curt nod, watching as he turned and headed out the door.