“But she’s not gone,” I said. “I talked to her ghost yesterday.”
“True. People have a tendency of not staying dead around here. It’s better than nothing, I guess.”
I didn’t want to know what that was about, so I ignored it. “This Harris Coven—do you think they have a motive for killing Martha?” I asked.
Blake’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and a muscle twitched along his jaw bone. “We’re about to find out.” With that, Blake pulled the truck onto a narrow gravel path and cut the engine.
“Are we doing what I think we’re doing?” I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“If you’re thinking that we’re about to trespass on the property of a highly dangerous, black-magic-practicing coven, then yes.” Benjamin said, getting to his feet and gracefully leaping out of the truck window.
“Am I safe in assuming that the growling sound Benjamin just made was him answering you?” Blake asked.
“It was, and it didn’t make me feel better,” I said.
Blake chuckled. “Trust me, it will be fine. Ace is a good kid, and the rest of his family won’t mess with me. We’re sort of friends at this point.” Blake gave a devilish smile.
“You’re friends with an evil coven of witches?”
“Well, drinking buddies, anyway,” Blake amended. “We have a sort of understanding. I get to write about their dark deeds, and they get invites to the movie premieres.”
I slid out of the truck, not at all sure this was a good idea. “What if they aren’t feeling so ‘understanding’ today?” Do you have a magical crystal like in the movie—or was that part of your ‘creative license’?”
“As a matter of fact.” Blake went around the truck bed, and rummaged in an old backpack. To my surprise, he pulled a small gray stone. “Smoky quartz,” he said, pressing it into my hand. “It absorbs curses from evil witches.”
“A rock. How handy.” I looked to Benjamin for some reassuring words, but he’d already disappeared into the trees.
Blake touched the small of my back, guiding me forward. “Don’t be scared.” His touch sent warmth all through my body.
The Harris coven homestead stood on the edge of a gorgeous lake surrounded by trees. With no wind in the air, the glassy surface of the water perfectly mirrored the bright gold and orange leaves that decorated the robust tree line. A large white mansion stood in the center of the property, surrounded by several small cabin-like structures. A motor boat was tied up to the dock, floating silently on the sheet of water.
“Wow, it’s so… civilized,” I remarked. “This was not at all what I was expecting.”
“The witches in this coven are basically considered royalty among the supernatural community. That’s how Martha explained it anyway. They do magic for people, and they get paid well for it.”
“Are you sure these are the bad guys?” I asked “This place looks like a bed and breakfast right out of southern living.” I smiled at the joyful chirping of birds and the peaceful rustle of leaves in the breeze.
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Image is everything’?” Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced over his shoulder.
“Of course I have,” I said. “I work in PR.”
“Then you know that the bad guys don’t typically look like the bad guys, and vice-versa.”
“They’re not necessarily bad,” Benjamin piped up, his bushy tail swinging as he circled back and fell into step with us. “They just have different ideas on justice. I’ve been a familiar for a couple of their family members in the past. When you have supernatural powers, you tend to see the world in shades of gray.”
“Gray areas are companies making faulty cell phones so they can make more on upgrades and repair services,” I said. “I feel like black magic is not really a gray area.”
“You and Martha would have been agreement on that,” Benjamin said, his eyes scanning the walkway that led to the front door. He seemed on high alert. “She wasn’t what the supernatural community would call a progressive.”
We walked up the marble steps to the white mansion and paused at the door.
“Are we going to knock or what?” I asked.
Benjamin positioned himself between me and the door. The hair on his back stood up.
Blake rocked back on his heels and swallowed hard. With a deep breath, he lifted his knuckle to knock on the door, but before he could, the door flew open.
It startled me so much I had to grip one of the thick porch pillars to catch my balance.
A surprisingly normal-looking teenager stood in the doorway. “Hey Blake! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya’ll. My little sister can always sense when witches are nearby. She told me she saw one our doorstep.” He knelt down as a big smile spread across his face. “Hey Bennie, little buddy!” He roughed up the hair on Benjamin’s face. “Who’s a good boy?”
To my surprise, Benjamin gave him a big lick on the cheek.
What a traitor, I thought. I cleared my throat. “I’m Natalie. I’m Martha Wilder’s niece.”
The boy’s face fell. “I’m sorry about what happened. I guess you probably know I was the one who found her. Along with Bennie, here.” He gave Benjamin another pat.
“Yes, the sheriff mentioned that.” I eyed him slowly. He didn’t seem like the type of guy capable of brutally murdering someone, but then again, he also didn’t seem capable of being a part of the most notorious black magic coven in the southeast. “You’re Ace Harris.”
The boy nodded. He had pale skin, almost white, and shoulder length black hair that he’d pulled up in a man bun. “I told Sheriff Angie everything I know,” he insisted, shooting a look to Blake. “I tried to save her, you’ve got to believe me—but I couldn’t. She was already gone when I found her.” His gaze dropped to the doorstep and he fiddled with the handle on the front door.
“I know,” Blake cut in. “We’re just here to give Natalie some closure. She didn’t know her aunt that well, and I thought it would be helpful for her to talk to you directly.”
Ace hesitated for a moment, before nodding and stepping outside all the way. He quietly closed the door behind him. “Let’s talk over by the water.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want to talk inside?” I followed Ace out to the dock where he sat down on the ledge with his feet dangling above the water.
“You don’t know?” Ace gave me a funny look. “But you’re a witch.”
“How do you know?”
Ace laughed. “I can see it in your energy field. You can harness the power of electricity. It sort of sparkles around you. Can you see mine?”
I squinted at him, but all I saw was man bun. “No, but I’ve only known I’m a witch for a day.”
“Oh,” he said. “Right on. So I guess you couldn’t sense the enchantments either?”
“No,” I said slowly. I didn’t even know what an enchantment was, but I opted to keep that to myself.
“Witches put a bunch of enchantments on their houses—you know, against other witches and magical creatures. It’s kind of a hassle to undo them,” Ace said, leaning back on the heels of his hands and tilting his head up to the sun. He closed his eyes, basking in the warmth. “I don’t want to get you turned into stone. Those are the worst spells to reverse. They take forever.” he said absently.
“That’s… considerate of you,” I said, because what else could you say to that?
Benjamin trotted down the length of the dock and laid down beside Ace. The boy responded by gently stroking Benjamin’s fur.
I shook my head. What a total traitor. I cleared my throat. “So, Ace, what were you doing out there in the woods?”
Ace cocked his head. “Why’s that important?”
“Just so I can get some context.” I smiled. “You’re not on trial or anything,” I added. Although, he did strike me as a bit defensive, which was worth noting.
“I was working,” he said.
“Alone? In the woods?�
�� Blake asked, casually leaning against a tree near the water’s edge. I hadn’t noticed him walk over.
“Yes, I was working,” Ace said, his jaw set.
Blake spoke. “And if we called Frank, he’d would confirm that?”
Ace stiffened. “Don’t call him.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because he’ll be pissed.”
“Why would he be pissed?” I said.
“Because I wasn’t supposed to be out there.” Ace sighed. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone, ok?”
“Sure,” I said, then looked at Blake, who nodded.
Satisfied, Ace went on. “I was planning out a trail for the mountain biking race I want to have next month. Frank and Ms. Wilder didn’t want it to happen. They said the insurance would cost too much, which really sucks because I already posted it about it on social media.” He picked at a chip on the wooden dock. “I swear that’s the only thing Ms. Wilder and Frank ever agreed on. I feel like if I’d got one of them on my side, I’d be able to make it happen, you know?” He chewed his lower lip and drew one knee up to his chest. “It’s weird to think about her not being around,” he said.
“So you were out in the woods, doing something that you didn’t want other people to know about,” I said. “That’s why you didn’t tell Sheriff Angie what you were doing in the woods.”
His eyes went wide. “No way. She’d never go for a mountain bike race—to dangerous or whatever. She’d probably make some law against it.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I won’t tell her. I mostly want to know if you think Martha was killed by an animal.”
Ace glanced over at his house, as if checking to see if anyone was watching. “Not a bear or a mountain lion, if that’s what you’re asking.” Ace lowered his voice. “I get that you’re a newbie witch, but you know about black magic curses, right? You’re not going to freak out or anything if I start talking about spells and stuff?”
I paused. “I’ll be fine,” I said, although I sounded more sure than I felt.
“I think Ms. Wilder was killed by black magic. I sensed some kind of weird energy that day, so I followed it and… well, that’s when I found Ms. Wilder,” Ace said solemnly. “She was cut up pretty bad, but I don’t think that’s what did her in.”
I exchanged glances with Blake. “The sheriff seemed to think it was a heart attack—that Martha was already dead before the animal got to her,” I said.
Ace nodded. “Yeah, I think she was dead already. Maybe it was a heart attack. It can effect everyone in different ways. Sometimes it’s a heart attack. Sometimes it’s a blood clot.”
“I’m not following,” I said.
Ace broke a sliver of wood off the dock and absently tossed it in the water. “Ms. Wilder had a green glow around her. It was fading by the time I got to her.”
Benjamin’s head jerked up and he stared intently at Ace.
“A green glow? What does that mean?” I asked.
“That’s what happens to someone’s body in the moments after someone uses a killing curse on them.” Ace shivered. “Killing curses are freaky.”
Fear gripped me, but I needed to know more. This felt like a breakthrough. “Do you know how to do a killing curse?”
Ace’s eyes darted back to the mansion. “No,” he said. “And if I did know one, I wouldn’t use it.”
“Do you know anyone who can perform a killing curse?”
“Sure. The actual curse isn’t that hard to pull off. You don’t even have to be a witch. As long as you have some kind of supernatural energy, you can cast a killing curse. All you have to do is make eye contact with the person you want to kill and say the incantation.” He cleared his throat. “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”
“No, that doesn’t make sense.” Blake said, folding his arms. “Martha was found face down. She wasn’t looking at her attacker with she fell.”
“Unless she was looking over her shoulder,” I said.
Ace nodded. “Maybe the killer wanted it that way. Maybe he wanted to do everything he could to cover up the fact that she died from a killing curse.” He shrugged. “You know, if I hadn’t been in the woods that day, I wouldn’t have gotten to Ms. Wilder’s body in time to see the green glow from the curse.”
“Interesting. And you weren’t even supposed to be in the woods that day,” I said.
“No ma’am.”
“Why didn’t you tell the sheriff about the killing curse and the green glow?”
He shifted on the dock. “I guess I didn’t want to give her any reason to suspect me. She doesn’t really get along with my family.”
I nodded. That made sense to me. Sheriff Angie seemed fed up with magic in general. “So who would know a curse like that?” I asked again.
“No one I know,” Ace said quickly.
“Oh, come on. Really?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re telling me that you don’t have any killing curses tucked away in some old family grimoire.”
Ace blinked. “You know about grimoires?”
“I’ve seen movies,” I said. “And my aunt had one.”
Ace tapped the rubber soles of his converse sneakers together. “Of course, we have killing curses in our grimoire. Ms. Wilder probably did, too. Witches have spells written up for anything. But it wasn’t one of our killing curses. I know it wasn’t.”
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
“The greenish glow—it wasn’t the same shade of green as my family’s curses. The glow around Ms. Wilder’s body was sort of neon green. When my family performs a curse, it’s a dark green, like pine needles.”
He said it so matter-of-factly as if curses were an everyday occurrence. Maybe in his family they were. I slid my hand in my pocket, and curled my fingers around Blake’s gray stone. “You have absolutely no idea who was behind this?”
Ace grew very still. “I didn’t say that,” his voice was quiet. “I shouldn’t say anything, but it pisses me off that someone out there is killing witches with out own curses. It’s not right. I know you’re just trying to do right by your aunt. I would, too,” he said. “I think was Liam.”
“Why do you say that?” Blake said, his voice rough.
“I worked with him at the lodge. He’s the maintenance guy. He’s been different lately. He comes in late and leaves for hours without telling anyone. I’ve noticed him talking to Ms. Wilder a lot more recently, and he gets weird if you ask him about it. He never used to be like that. We were friends. We’d talk about things—girls and stuff,” Ace said. “But if Liam did it, that would also explain why Ms. Wilder’s death looked like an animal attack. Maybe Liam used the killing curse on Ms. Wilder, and then got so worked up from seeing her dead that he turned.”
“Turned?”
“Yeah, into a werewolf.”
“Oh, this is Liam, the werewolf we’re talking about.” I put it together. This was the man Blake went all alpha male on in the bakery today. “What do you mean ‘worked up’?”
He tugged at a lose strand of black hair. “You know how werewolves are. When they get worked up, they give into their animal instincts. Kind of like how witches lose control of their magic when they get really emotional.”
I nodded. I didn’t really know how werewolves were, on account of I didn’t know they existed until today, but I did have a tiny bit of experience with magic at this point. I thought back to me trapping my ex boyfriend in the revolving door or freezing the sheriff’s dogs when they were barking at me. I’d performed magic without knowing I was doing it.
“I don’t know how you’ll be able to prove it, though,” Ace said, getting up. “You might have some luck if you looked for signs that a werewolf was in the area where Ms. Wilder’s body was—fur, claw marks, maybe a weird-looking tooth.”
“Have you ever seen Liam when he’s in his werewolf form?”
“Once or twice,” Ace admitted.
“What color is his fur?” I felt so stupid asking about a man’s fur
, but I didn’t know another way to phrase it.”
“Black,” Ace said. “The color of night.”
Chapter 10
“Well, that was educational,” I commented, happy to be back in Blake’s truck and speeding down the road. “I’m just going to say this once, then I’m going to let it go.”
“What’s that?” Blake asked, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.
“This place is weird.”
Blake smirked. “You’re not wrong.”
“And as for you.” I turned my stink eye on Benjamin. “You two were awfully buddy-buddy, don’t you think?”
Benjamin yawned. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Natalie. I go where I’m assigned. It’s not personal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And, what, you’re currently assigned to me?”
“It appears so.”
“Who assigns you?”
“I have no idea. Usually, familiars are assigned to the next witch in a family line, which was why Martha asked that I stay with you in the event of her death. Every now and then, I get assigned to a witch in a different coven, like when I went from the Harris coven to the Wilder coven.”
“How do you know who you’re assigned to?”
“It’s whoever can understand me.”
“Well ok then.” I leaned back into the worn leather of the truck seat. “It sounds like this Liam guy is the culprit. I don’t know about you, but I’m not that excited about confronting a werewolf on a murder he committed, what about you?” I directed my question at Blake. “No offense, Benjamin, but I’m not sure you could take him on.”
“With your attitude, I’m not sure I’d bother taking him on for your sake,” Benjamin retorted.
“We’re not going to talk to Liam,” Blake said, eyes on the road, one elbow resting on the driver side window. His hair whipped wildly in the chilly autumn air. “I think we ought to talk to Frank Honeycutt first.”
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