“Well,” Zoe said, walking over to me as she gingerly set the cauldron down, “what now?”
“We might as well try to tidy this place up a bit,” I suggested. “Mee-maw can research while we try to make this as comfortable as possible.”
Zoe nodded, and together we made our way around the room, picking up errant trash, moving the chairs out of the way, and brushing away the cobwebs and dust with some old rags we’d found. We finished by setting the typewriter and cauldron side by side on the table, and I was astonished at how right they looked sitting next to one another.
The familiar pull towards the typewriter tugged at me, and my fingers tingled, but it was different than it had been before the ritual. It felt…removed, somehow—torn, like there were miles between us instead of feet. Swallowing hard, I took a few slow steps over to it, running my hands gently over the old keys. What struck me was a sense of grief and loss, so intense that it threatened to overwhelm me completely.
“Factum.”
The word reverberated in my mind again, and despite not knowing what language it stemmed from, the deepest part of me knew what it represented. I still hadn’t told any of them yet. I could barely face it myself.
Whatever deed they’d done, intending to break the bond between Maude and I, had definitely had an effect. Something between us was very wrong.
And I had no idea how to make it right.
Chapter 4
“What about this one?” Mee-maw asked, jabbing a finger toward something on Greg’s computer screen.
“Mee-maw, for the love of God,” said Zoe, rubbing a hand over her face, “when you said you were going to research potions, we were hoping you’d focus on something more useful in mind than one for my libido. Which is fine, in case anyone needed to know.”
Mee-maw held her hands up defensively. “Look, I’m just trying to work with what we’ve got. We’re not exactly pros, here!”
“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t be trying to make potions like…that, yet. Start with something simple.”
I watched with an amused grin as they continued their banter, hunched over the computer in search of beginner potion recipes. I was perched on a chair in the far corner of the room, my hands in my lap, my eyes occasionally flickering over to Maude on the table. I had spent the previous couple hours trying to type something on Maude—anything—but the familiar inspiration that signaled one of my special stories never struck. Instead, there was just that hollow, mournful feeling I had felt earlier when I touched her, and it scared me.
As much as I wanted to just give my body some more rest and time to heal while we waited for Patrick to return, I had realized something as I listened to Zoe and Mee-maw bicker, and now it wouldn’t leave me alone. For the past day or so, the hot flashes I had been feeling for the past several weeks hadn’t been appearing nearly as much. Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been great. Who wanted to feel like they’d swallowed a nuclear bomb and were about to combust? But the fact that they were so much more sporadic and less intense only deepened my concerns about my bond with Maude. There had been a definite connection between the hot flashes and the buildup of my magical power, ever since I first found the typewriter. When my inspiration had been at its peak, they had seemed to come in waves, as strong as they were unavoidable.
And now?
Nada, besides a low-key flush every so often.
Was this permanent? I had no way of knowing. It would have been helpful to have someone to talk to, but with Patrick gone, I was left to stew in my own juices. A few times I caught myself thinking about Connie, but contacting her wasn’t even a possibility right now. I truly did believe that her initial intentions were good. My jailer the other night had said as much. She’s been under the spell of some other magical item that had forced her into being an operative for the Organization. Which meant that, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t trust her. But, boy, would it have been nice to talk to someone who could shed some light on what was happening to me. I felt utterly, completely lost.
I let out a long sigh and stood, realizing how stiff my muscles were. The healing wound on my stomach gave a tiny pang of protest, but Patrick was telling the truth about one thing. I was definitely healing far faster than I would have before this all started.
Speaking of Patrick…
I glanced down at my watch and my stomach clenched. He’d been gone for hours. The sun was surely coming up by now, and we couldn’t even risk venturing out to look for him.
I gnawed my lip, worried—not for him, of course, but about the possibility that he had double-agented on me again and decided to turn us all over to the Organization. Or maybe they tracked him down while he was getting supplies and were torturing the truth out of him right this moment. Or maybe he just decided we weren’t worth his time and gave up on the whole thing. Or--
I closed my eyes, telling myself to relax.
As if reading my mind, Mee-maw leaned back in her seat, letting out a yawn. “Where the heck did he get off to, anyway? We--”
But she was interrupted by a loud thumping noise above us, followed by the discernible sound of footsteps. Mee-maw opened her mouth, but I shook my head frantically.
“Shh!” Heart pounding in my chest, I made my way over to the door. Yep, the sound was definitely footsteps, and seemed to be heading our way. I glanced over my shoulder at Zoe, muttering, “Stay here and take care of Mee-maw. If I scream, go straight to the police. Do you understand?” Zoe gave a worried nod, and I slowly pushed open the door and crept out into the hall. I knew it was probably just Patrick coming back, but if it was, he was sure taking his sweet time with it. And if it wasn’t? Well…
I skulked down the darkened hallway, mentally kicking myself for forgetting to grill Mee-maw about her gun and if she’d brought along bullets for it.
Leaning against the wall outside one of the other rooms was a broom, which I grabbed in front of me like a weapon. I didn’t want to turn the lights on, which meant feeling my way around the next corner, moving on tiptoes so as not to make any noise. The sound of a door closing behind me nearly made me jump out of my skin, and I whirled around, brandishing the broom. A light flicked on a moment later, blinding me, and I began to swing frantically until I heard a muffled, “Ooph”.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Patrick, doubled over and clutching his stomach, where I had jabbed him with the top of the broom. “What the hell, Cricket?” he groaned, staring up at me in disbelief.
I swallowed, my cheeks heating. “You’d been gone so long, we were starting to think you weren’t coming back.”
He gestured behind him, where there were scattered a half a dozen bags full of supplies. “I had a lot of stuff to do,” he reminded me, straightening. I moved to help him retrieve his things as he continued, “Then I had to hide the car, remember? I’ve still got to go back and get some more bags.”
“Oh.” My face went even hotter. “I, uh… That makes sense.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry I hit you,” I added lamely. It struck me then that I had been worried about him, and my relief at having him back here was palpable.
Seeming to sense where my mind had gone, Patrick leaned in closer to me, meeting my eyes with his. “I need you to know something, Cricket,” he said, his tone urgent. “I can’t make up for what I did, but I want you to know that I’d never do that again. I’m so very sorry.”
“Patrick,” I began quietly, “I--”
But he put up a hand to quiet me. “I just wanted to get that off my chest. And to let you know that I’m working on fixing what’s broken inside of me. My father’s mind is twisted,” he said. “And he twisted mine the same way. I’m trying to rectify that now, but I can’t change my past. All I can do is try to be a better man in the future.”
I nodded, swaying in place and leaning toward him, the pull impossible to resist. “You’re already doing that,” I replied, the broom falling from my hands and clattering to the floor. He looked so strong in that moment, so
stable, in a sea of chaos. A breathless moment later, I felt myself rolling up on my toes, leaning in as he reached out a hand to cup my jaw.
My lips were inches from his when a gravelly voice boomed, “Hey, before you two kids head off to Bonetown, me and Zoe gotta show you something.”
I jerked back with a start as Patrick straightened. It was probably a good thing Mee-maw had saved me from doing something stupid, but dang, it didn’t feel like it in the moment.
“Yup, be right in,” Patrick murmured, his voice husky.
Awkwardness ensued as Mee-maw scurried away and Patrick and I bent to collect the rest of the bags. Wordlessly, we brought them back to the other room to find Zoe perched in front of Greg’s laptop. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she waved us over.
“You guys have to hear this,” she said, getting to her feet. “Mee-maw and I were doing some more digging on crone’s covens. We started with that site where she found A. Cromwell’s letter about the Crow’s Feet Coven, and also checked out that wiccan message board you signed up for, Gaia’s Gathering. From what we’ve read so far, most witches in the coven had a base level of magic once they came into their power—magic over and above their special talent, I mean. And it’s not just faster healing and more vitality.”
A nugget of hope formed in my chest. “That would explain why I was able to uproot that tree trying to escape the other night.”
But that had been when Maude and I were still tightly bound...
“What if there’s an...issue with your connection to your item?” I glanced over at Maude. “Would a witch still have the ability to use other magic?”
“Supposedly, once she makes the initial, first spell with her item, it awakens the magic inside her. I don’t think that goes away,” Mee-maw said and then shrugged. “Well, that’s what MountainGoddess79 seems to think, anyway.”
Another reason the Organization would want to kill a witch after the separation ceremony. If my powers were already strong enough to uproot a freaking tree, imagine what a strong witch might do to them in retaliation for taking her item if they didn’t kill her?
“Anyway, they’ve made a list of all sorts of basic spells, and ways of harnessing your magic,” Mee-maw said.
“We figured, while we wait for you and Maude to reconnect, this would give you something to do,” Zoe added.
“I mean…” I bit my lip. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”
“Exactly,” Mee-maw crowed as she clapped her hands. “Here--” She grabbed a pencil off the table and held it up. “Try to make this float.”
I eyed it dubiously. “And how do you propose I do that?” I’d done the tree thing out of desperation, not by design. Later that same night, I’d tried to take down my prison guard using magic, and that had nearly worked, too. But the circumstances were very different. Staring at the pencil with all eyes on me and no one about to murder me? I was at a loss as to how to harness the feelings that had been churning inside me to produce the spark.
“It says right here, the trick is to close your eyes and meditate while you learn to focus your magic,” Zoe replied. “If you get good enough at it, then it will become like a reflex.”
I sighed and picked up the pencil, placing it in my palm and thinking back to the burst of magic I had unleashed back in Finneas’ prison. Letting my eyes drift closed, I did my best to clear my mind, steadying my breathing and trying not to think about how foolish I felt in the moment. After what seemed like endless minutes, a faint stirring of something bubbled in my gut as I focused, but I couldn’t be sure whether it was all in my head or not…
Until Mee-maw muttered, “Well, that was a bust.”
I opened my eyes and saw with a sinking feeling that the pencil hadn’t moved. The interruption had shattered my concentration, and if there had been a twinge in the pit of my stomach that wasn’t related to the need for breakfast, it had winked out in an instant. I sighed, setting the pencil back on the table.
“I don’t want to burst bubbles here, but pinning our hopes on the musings of MountainGoddess79 might not be the best way to go. Maybe we need to be looking for some older sources.”
“You can’t give up just like that,” Zoe insisted. “Here, try turning the lights off with your mind!”
I rolled my eyes and gave it the old college try, with the same results—or lack thereof. The others continued to make suggestions, from telekinetically opening the door to raising the temperature in the room, but no matter how hard I focused, I only ended up feeling more and more like a failure. Patrick watched this all quietly from the back of the room, his expression unreadable.
Eventually, they ran out of steam, and I settled into a chair, mentally exhausted and emotionally battered, while Zoe continued to peruse the forums. Mee-maw looked at me, raising her eyebrow, before her gaze settled on Patrick.
“So,” she said to him, breaking the silence, “your people—and by people, I mean the bad guys you used to run with—seem to have a lot of knowledge about witches. We’re coming up empty here. Is there anything you know that might help Cricket learn to use her magic?”
Patrick’s face went stormy as he crossed his arms.
“Keep in mind, I don’t have a whole lot of faith in what I was told anymore,” he replied slowly. “Most of it was based in folklore, and the Organization was more dedicated to hunting down witches’ personal items than researching the theory of magic. Whatever I knew for sure, I’ve already shared. I’m sorry that I can’t be of any more help.”
My shoulders slumped as I looked away. I hadn’t broached the topic with him yet, but I’d hoped he could tell me whether my connection with Maude was truly gone and, if not, how to get it back. The realization that he had limited knowledge in this area was crushing, to say the least.
“But don’t worry. I have a plan to change that soon.” He got to his feet and dug through one of the bags and pulled out a black hoodie. “I’ll be back. I’ve got to make a call and, in order to do so, I’ve got to get the burner phones from the car before the library opens.” He donned the sweatshirt, pulling up the hood as he headed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“What’s he got planned?” Mee-maw asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Let’s just hope it’s something good.”
Mee-maw stood up and I watched as she went to one of the bags Patrick had brought back, rummaging for a moment before withdrawing the white board he’d bought. She began to make a list of the spells we had tried so far, crossing each one off before returning to Zoe’s side to consult the list some more.
“We’ll just have to keep trying until we find something that works while we try to find potions for Zoe,” she said without turning to me. “We’re not giving up that easy, Cricket.”
“This other guy is saying you might need an altar for using spells,” Zoe spoke up, squinting at the laptop screen. “He says you can use crystals and herbs for grounding, an athame for channeling your power, and--”
“And where are we supposed to get any of that stuff?” I asked.
“There has to be some kind of a store around here,” Zoe responded, “even if it’s in the weird part of town. Besides, I could use some of this stuff, too. There are all kinds of potions listed here, love potions, protection potions, healing potions…”
By the time the door swung open a short while later, we were all entrenched back in our fruitless labor. It wasn’t until I looked up and locked eyes with someone who was decidedly not Patrick that panic set in.
Trudy the librarian gaped at me and raised an accusing finger.
“What in the hells bells are you three doing here?”
Chapter 5
What were we doing here?
What was she doing here? It was more than an hour before opening.
Shame on me for thinking things couldn’t get any worse. I really needed to learn to stop doing that.
Trudy continued to appraise us with her sharp, blue eyes, which, combined with her aquilin
e nose, gave her the air of a predator. One that had just cornered its prey.
While I had respected the librarian because she clearly loved her job and took pride in excelling, I wasn’t overly fond of her, personally. She was way too tightly wound for my tastes. It was time to set that aside and crank the charm up to eleven, because if we didn’t talk our way out of this, we were well and truly screwed.
I glanced frantically over at Mee-maw and Zoe, who were staring, open-mouthed, having seemingly lost the ability to speak.
Come on, Cricket.
“Trudy! So nice to see you again. You look amazing, by the way. Love the cardigan. Roosters are my favorite, too. What is that color called, anyway? Mustard yellow, or more of a goldenrod--?”
She ignored my yammering as her gaze scrolled over the white board. “What is all that?”
“That…” I moved stealthily in front of it and continued, “is, uh, we were…”
“Playing Dungeons and Dragons!” Zoe suddenly exclaimed, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. Mee-maw and I turned to gape at her, but she pressed on. “We’re really trying to get into the spirit of the roleplay,” she said, babbling a hundred miles an hour. “I play the witch, so I was telling Cricket, here—I mean, um…Cassandra...the warrior princess…what ingredients we needed to get at the market. Our grandmother, here, is the one running the game. That’s why she was writing on the white board. We have to keep everything straight, you know?”
I didn’t groan out loud, but it was a close thing.
“Uh-huh,” Trudy muttered, but one look at her expression told me she wasn’t buying it. “What are you doing in the library basement before we open? And how on earth did you even get in here?”
Brewing Trouble Page 4