Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1

by Willow Monroe

  The path winds through a thickly wooded lot, and the stones are uneven enough to make the path charming without threatening to break an ankle. I look around and see that darkness has almost already fallen in here, and I’m happy to feel Bumper’s reassuring weight on my shoulder. I reach up to scratch him, but he shifts away from my searching fingers.

  “Are you sure he’s your familiar?” Jones asks from behind me.

  The truth is that I never really used that word. Bumper found me and latched on the same night that I vowed to never do healing magic again. “I guess. Why?”

  “First of all, owls are predators, and you seem less predatory than...well, than almost anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Okayyy...”

  “And second, he doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

  “Nobody ever said that familiars had to be besties, Jones.” For all I know, someone had actually said that, but I’m trying to make a point here.

  “Whatever you say.”

  The path had to be a full quarter mile, but it is so worth it. When we come around a final turn, between two towering weeping willows, I catch my breath and stumble, then stop dead. I couldn’t have squashed the smile spreading across my face if I tried.

  “It’s wonderful!” I squeal.

  Jones laughs. He comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder, then nudges me toward the verandah that skirts the lower level of the cottage.

  It is a nature paradise. More of the willows frame the grounds and offer a natural property boundary, and ivy trails everywhere - along the sides and front of the house, even braiding itself through the banisters on the porches and balconies. The steeply pointed peak of the roof almost blocks the sun from the front yard - what there is of it. It’s full of art. I reach out to touch one of the many pieces of stone statuary and feel a small jolt - Rachel’s energy answering mine. There is something familiar about it.

  This is a powerful place. Even Bumper offers a low hoot of appreciation when I whisper, “An enchanted cottage.”

  The front boasts lots of windows, and I can only imagine how much light the interior gets. We climb the steps to the front door, which is a golden color that makes me smile, and Jones steps away a little. “Go ahead.”

  I look at him and clutch the key tightly. I want to use it more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. “Am I trespassing? I don’t know who this place belongs to, now that she’s gone.”

  He shakes his head and his hair feathers in the soft breeze. The rustle of leaves creates a song all around us. “She gave you the key, remember? It’s an invitation.”

  I look at the door again. There is a small window near the top, but I can’t see through it. I take a deep breath and slip the key home, directly underneath the ornate glass knob. It gives a satisfying click and Bumper ruffles his feathers like he’s preparing for something.

  The knob turns by itself and the door swings inward silently.

  I look at Jones again, then take a deep breath - I’m doing that a lot today - and step across the threshold.

  Bumper immediately launches himself off my shoulder and flies deeper into the house. I stand still until my eyes adjust, then catch movement off to my left.

  Bumper is standing on the mantle of a shimmering green fireplace that’s as tall as me. I look at it more closely and see that it looks odd, but I can’t place why, exactly.

  “It’s made of polished jasper,” Jones says, close to my left ear. I jump.

  He’s right - I can see the glassiness of the surface, and I want to touch it so much that my hand itches. With a fire in the hearth, it would glow like the gorgeous gem it is.

  The rest of the room, now that I can see it, is done in pale greens and yellows, with deeper shades of those colors used as accent pieces. The effect is that of open fields and sunshine. “It’s beautiful,” I say to no one in particular.

  “It is - this place was Rachel’s pride and joy. Come on - every room has its own surprises.”

  I follow slowly, still looking around. I can’t imagine what could top such a masterpiece of stonework as that fireplace.

  The kitchen is off to our left, through an archway that is a mosaic of semi-precious gemstones set in stucco. They trail from over my head to the floor, and then fan out to become the floor of the entire kitchen and dining nook. “I’m walking on amethyst,” I say.

  “And tiger’s eye and citrine and labradorite and some lapis...” He’s laughing at me, and I can’t help but grin back.

  “This is crazy.”

  “She truly believed in the energy contained in gemstones, and it showed everywhere. You’ll find it showcased all over the house.”

  “It’s incredible.” Every step I take makes the floor catch the light in a different way, sending sparks flying from under my feet. I stop and turn in a circle, and the effect makes me dizzy. I laugh at the sheer insanity of it.

  In order to show off the floor, the rest of the kitchen is done in black and cherry wood, with a black granite countertop making a u-shape around the room. If it weren’t for the transom type windows over the upper cabinets, the room would have been very dark. As it is - and thanks to the full wall of windows in the dining nook on the far wall - the room is sunny and warm.

  Copper-bottomed pots and pans line the area under the cabinets, hanging in order of size. A door on the far side of the black fridge hides what I assume is a pantry. Garnet-colored pendant lights illuminate the work surfaces. This room, like the living room, is spotless.

  Jones looks as delighted as I feel. “I knew you’d like this,” he says. “Come on.”

  I follow him back through the door to a set of steps. The stairwell is painted the same pale sage as the living room walls, but there is a thin strip of emeralds at banister height all the way up, as if pointing the way.

  We are halfway to the top when I hear Angelo’s voice. “I wanted to bring you here.”

  I turn and grab onto the banister to keep my balance. He’s standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at us with a kind of sorrow on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t either. Sorry, my friend.” Jones sounds anything but contrite.

  Something passes across Angelo’s gaze as he considers Jones, but I can’t read it. He nods once. “Carry on, then. I’ll wait down here.”

  We hurry through the upper floor, because for some reason I feel uncomfortable now. There are two bedrooms up here and a bathroom that seems to be made entirely of rose quartz, if that were somehow possible. Each bedroom boasts its own lapis or obsidian version of the gemstone fireplace downstairs, and each has a matching window seat that looks out over a vast back garden.

  “Rachel loves her flowers,” Jones says with a smile when he catches me looking out the window.

  The air between us feels thicker now that Angelo is waiting downstairs. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I was going to say, and my heart is beating too hard to think right now.

  “We should go,” he says finally, turning away from me. “Boss man is waiting.”

  I nod and gratefully follow him back to the first level, letting my fingers run along the descending line of emeralds so that I don’t look at him.

  He takes me to where Angelo s waiting in the living room and then salutes as he heads out the door. “I’ll see you later, my dear,” he says as the door closes behind him, leaving me alone with Angelo.

  “You like it?” he asks me.

  I shake my head at the wonder of it all. “Who wouldn’t? It’s glorious. It must have taken her years to put all of this together.”

  “It did,” he agrees. “I helped her find the pieces, a little here and a little there.”

  His voice is thick with emotion, and I look at him quickly before he can turn away.

  “You loved her,” I say. I didn’t mean to blurt it like this, but it’s out before I can stop it.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Maybe not
, but it’s the truth. I know it as well as I know my own name. “I’m sorry,” I say, because I feel like I’m trespassing again. “We can go.”

  “Actually...”

  I stare at his back because there is more than sadness in his voice now - there is tension.

  “What?”

  “This is yours now.”

  I blink. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Rachel wanted you to have it.”

  “But...why?” My heart is spinning at the thought of being able to live here, but I’m not sure what I might be stepping into, all the same. “Shouldn’t this go to her...I don’t know? Children? Or you? You said you helped build it.”

  He shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that, Trinket. It-. Listen, it isn’t important. What’s important is that she wants you to live here. Congratulations.”

  The bitterness in his voice stings. “Angelo...?”

  I don’t understand. Rachel didn’t even know me, and she definitely couldn’t have known I was coming. I didn’t even know until what - seventy-two hours ago?”

  Unless... “Angelo?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, but I can’t help it. “Angelo? How did she give me a house before she even knew I existed?”

  He doesn’t answer me. In fact, he walks to the front door and lets himself out on the porch. I follow, looking back to see that Bumper is content to stay put for the moment. “Angelo?”

  He reaches around and pulls a creamy-colored envelope from his back pocket. “Here. She told me to give this to you.”

  I stare at him, unwilling to take it before I get some answers. “Angelo, Rachel is at my house right now, talking with Bilda. Why didn’t she mention any of this before I came here? Like, I don’t know, when she knocked that vase over and gave me the key in the first place?”

  He was going pale, and I saw him grope for and then sink onto the top step of the verandah. “What do you mean, she’s at your house?”

  The violence in the question stalled me. Had I messed up? Was Rachel’s presence, or ghost or whatever, supposed to be a secret? “Gads, this place is confusing. I just want to go home.”

  “Trinket? I want to know what you meant just now. Is Rachel still running around here?”

  “Well, her ghost is, I guess.”

  His curse scares a few starlings out of the closest willow. He jumps up, takes my wrist, slaps the surprisingly heavy envelope into my palm, and then pulls me down the path after him toward the street. “Let’s go.”

  I try to pull away, but his grip is too tight. “Angelo? Tell me what’s going on?”

  “Bilda could be in trouble. We need to go find her.”

  “She’s at home...”

  He glances back at me. “You’d better hope so. Rachel is persuasive - and dangerous.”

  His words cut through any questions I might have asked next, and I run past him to the gate and stumble out onto the sidewalk. That’s when I realize that the property behind that fence is somehow darker than the rest of the town. Or something. It doesn’t seem nearly as beautiful as it did only a little while ago.

  What I do know is that if I decide to live here, that hedge is coming down, along with half the trees that block the sun. And that if Bilda is all right, I’m going to ask her to teach me about our magic - it’s obvious that if I’m going to stay in Jagged Grove, I need to know.

  I can hear my footsteps pounding, and the fainter rhythm of Angelo’s sneakers behind me, but the hills are steep on this end of town and I’m falling as much as I’m running. If I’m not careful, I’ll land on my face.

  If I’m not careful, something bad could happen to Bilda.

  The streetlights are humming to life overhead by the time I spot our cottage. I’m glad to see that the street seems as quiet as it did when I left with Jones. I round the edge of the little fence and sprint up the walkway, not sure what I’ll find. I hope that Angelo is wrong. I hope that Rachel, whoever she is, hasn’t done something. I hope that Bilda is OK. I practically screech her name as I slam the front door open.

  She pops up from the sofa, looking scared out of her wits. I stumble to a halt, and by the time I do, she’s gone gray. I don’t mean her coloring - I mean the actual air around her looks like smoke. I blink again, and I can barely see her pink dress.

  “Bilda?” I’ve never seen this before. Is Rachel stealing her or something? Whisking her away in a bloom of cloudy evil? I take a step toward her, but I’m not sure what to do here. “Bilda? What’s going on?”

  Angelo catches up with me and walks toward her. “Bilda - go ahead and put that away. Everything is fine.”

  I stare openmouthed as the cloud dissolves and Bilda is clear again. “What the hell...?”

  “I’m sorry dear - you frightened me. It was a simple protection field.” She waves a hand, as if she can make it dissipate even more.

  Bilda smiles at me like she hadn’t just almost disappeared. I don’t answer, because my brain is still catching up. When it does, it’s sad to realize that it isn’t any less confused.

  “OK, wait. You mean you have a built in force field? Like a space ship?”

  Bilda giggles. “No, silly. More like a...”

  “Cloaking device,” Angelo supplies helpfully, earning a glare from me. “Humans can’t see her behind the smoke. They can’t even see that it’s there.”

  “So...you...sort of...ink? Like a startled squid?” I think about this for a second, then I snort laughter. “That’s ridiculous.”

  She sighs.

  “No, really. Ridiculous, but very cool. I want one.” The laughter is bubbling inside of me now, partly due to my mental image of Bilda inking and partly a response to the knowledge that she’s really OK. I come over and give her a hug. “I think you should do that a lot. Just to mess with people. I would.”

  She shakes her head and pats my arm, pulling away from me. “I’m going to the kitchen for coffee, and then I want you two to tell me why you’re chasing through my house like hellhounds.”

  We followed her through the doorway and arranged ourselves around the dining table while she fiddled with the coffee pot.

  Angelo didn’t wait for her to finish. “Bilda, Trinket told me that Rachel was here earlier. Is she still here?”

  I looked around like I could spot her, even though I knew I couldn’t.

  “No. She left. She said she had some business to attend to downtown and that she would be back soon. Such a sweet girl.” She gives me a look over her glasses. “Why?”

  I’m looking at Angelo too, now, but before he can answer a knock at the back door makes us all jump. I look at Bilda, but the air around her seems normal. Maybe it doesn’t happen every time. “I’ll get it.”

  I don’t get a chance to, though, because Jones comes bursting in before I can even get out of my chair. His eyes skim me and Bilda, then land on Angelo. “Your girlfriend is causing a little trouble, friend. You might want to go get her.”

  Then he turns to me. “And you might want to get to the office. People are going to need you. I’ll find Rain and Glade and send them over. Keep Bilda with you - she’s already given Rachel a way into our plane.”

  I look at Angelo and see that he’s gone pale. “I have no idea what that means.”

  Jones goes to Angelo and pulls him to his feet by one arm. “Come on, dude.”

  Angelo blinks and nods, then follows Jones toward the door. Jones turns to me. “I promise we’ll explain all of this soon. Just go, for now. All hell just broke loose, and people will need help if they get caught up in Rachel’s tantrum.”

  Bilda is still staring after them. “I didn’t know Angelo had a girlfriend.”

  I don’t bother to explain. “I don’t think it’s like that, but right now I really need your help down at the office. Please?”

  That last word - which I mean with all my heart because I’m drowning here - snaps her into action, except that she hurries off up the stairs instead of toward the front door. I look up there after her until she
disappears from the landing. “Bilda?”

  “Just a minute.” Her voice is muffled, and I hear shuffling. Then a couple of banging sounds. Then a door closing.

  “Bilda?” I’m about to go up after her when she reappears, carrying a bulging green suitcase.

  “What is that?”

  “Just grab it for me, OK?” She sets it down and then pulls a shawl from the coat closet. “I don’t have the same gifts you do, so I’m bringing my own kind of magic.”

  “Oh. Um, OK.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but at least we’re out the door and headed the few blocks to my office. When we turn the last corner, we see that Glade and Rain are already there, waiting for us under the streetlight.

  Just as I slide the key home, a scream sounds from close to the docks and echoes across the valley. Only then do I realize how quiet it is in town. Nothing is moving except a chilly wind that teases our clothes and makes me shiver once before I get us all inside.

  Glade looks at me with worry in his gaze. “What’s going on? Jones said for us to meet you here.”

  “I have no idea,” I answer, shaking my head and watching Bilda. She finds and flips on the bank of light switches, then goes through the exam room doorway. I wonder what she’s up to, but then turn back to the twins. “Are you two OK? Any trouble getting here?”

  They shake their heads, but something in Rain’s expression tells me differently. I’m not going to push for answers right now, though.

  Bilda has gone to the big worktable in the corner and cleared it, and now she’s opening her bag and setting out glass bottles in neat rows. Lots of them. “Bilda?”

  She turns to me, and I see that the bottles are full of...everything? Green stuff - obviously herbal elements. Brown stuff, too. Liquids in every color of the rainbow. Some of the contents of the bottles are even moving, and I suddenly don’t want to know what’s in those at all.

  “A lot of that stuff is already here. How do you know what we’ll even need?” I ask. As far as I know, she doesn’t know what’s going on, either.

  “Because what we have on our hands is a havrue, my dear.”

  “A what? I thought Rachel was a witch?”