“So you raised them.”
Aunt Tillie hesitated. “I was always around when they were little. My husband and I didn’t have children. We helped raise Winnie, Marnie and Twila. They were like our children anyway.”
Hannah leaned back in her chair. “Were Winnie, Marnie and Twila adults when their mother died?”
“Winnie was. Marnie was close enough. Twila was still technically a minor for a few years.”
“And what happened then?”
Aunt Tillie didn’t respond, so I did.
“Willa wanted Twila,” I explained. “She didn’t want her to raise and love, though. She wanted her because she thought that would grant her access to the family land.”
“Willa wanted to do the worst possible thing in your view,” Hannah said to Aunt Tillie. “She tried to break up your family.”
“That was never going to happen,” Aunt Tillie insisted. “I told Willa that right from the start. I would’ve killed her before I let her separate those girls.”
Hannah’s eyebrows hopped. “You would’ve killed her?”
“I said it, and I meant it. Screw Willa. She doesn’t care about anybody but herself.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” I argued. “She seems to care about Rosemary. I mean ... why else would she be here?”
“To screw with us,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “She only cares about Rosemary enough to use her as a weapon against us.”
I wasn’t certain I believed that. “I think she genuinely cares about Rosemary.”
“And what do you think of Willa?” Hannah asked me.
“I don’t think much of her. We didn’t grow up knowing her. She was this relative way out there we never saw.” I waved my hand for emphasis. “We knew she was Aunt Tillie’s sister, but she wasn’t part of our family.”
“So she’s an outsider who is trying to invade your family.”
“That sounds a bit dramatic.”
Hannah laughed. “Maybe, but Tillie believes she’s an outsider. Did you always believe that? Were you always aware she wasn’t a full sister?”
Aunt Tillie held out her hands. “I knew there was something different about her. Ginger and I were close. Willa and I were not. I always hated Willa.”
“Did your mother treat her differently?”
“My mother raised her,” Aunt Tillie insisted.
“Yes, but did she treat her differently?”
Aunt Tillie worked her jaw. “I didn’t think so at the time,” she said finally, taking me by surprise with her honesty. “But now ... I think she was colder with Willa. There was an invisible wall.”
“And you picked up on it,” Hannah surmised.
“Probably. It doesn’t matter. Willa is the devil.”
“Willa probably picked up on the fact that she was an outsider and hated you for it,” Hannah said. “You’re right about her not being here for Rosemary. Er, well, she’s not entirely here for Rosemary. Payback against you is her primary motivation. That’s why she came to the inn the way she did last night.
“You obviously didn’t invite her, and any sane person would realize that going to the inn wouldn’t accomplish anything,” she continued. “She went anyway. I can only conclude that was to push buttons, something she managed to achieve.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“It could be that she feeds off negative attention like Tillie, but it could also be that she wanted to serve as some sort of distraction. Perhaps Rosemary was doing something and she wanted to make sure that you were distracted enough not to figure it out.”
“That’s diabolical,” I muttered as Hannah laughed.
“We have other things to worry about,” Chief Terry interjected. “Willa is an issue — she’s always an issue when she comes to town — but Tillie will take care of her as she always does. She’s an annoyance but she can’t be our primary concern. Those shade things that hurt Bay last night are our primary concern.”
“That’s why I brought this.” Hannah tapped the folder on the table. “This is the case file from Salem. I had it messengered to me and it arrived this morning. I thought maybe Bay might want to take a look. I would like her opinion.”
“Why?” Landon asked as he returned to the table. “What good will that do?”
“I think the cases are similar. If they are, we might find answers in the first case. If they’re not, we can eliminate that right away.”
“I can look at it.” I accepted the file from her. “This is the case from two years ago?”
“Yes. The case from twenty years ago does not have complete information.”
“Why is that?” Landon asked.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain. I could chalk it up to lazy police work, or at the very least lazy filing. It’s likely a multitude of things.”
“But?” Landon prodded.
“But the pages of the file that are missing feel a little too strategic,” Hannah said. “I think someone purposely removed them.”
“Why?”
“Because there was a paranormal element,” I said. “Whoever hid it didn’t want people to read that part.”
Hannah nodded and brightened. “I like that I don’t have to explain myself. Anyway, I’ll let you look at this and explain a bit to the others while you do.”
I flipped the file open. I’d read case files with Landon. Still, it was slow going.
“Two years ago in Salem, I was called in because their regular profiler was on paternity leave,” Hannah started. “The initial case I was called in on involved three men. Their bodies were found on the second floor of a downtown business. They had long rap sheets, mostly for petty crimes, but there were some other disturbing allegations.
“One of them had twice been accused of rape,” she continued. “The women who accused him recanted at some point. The case notes explained that the women were terrified and the officers investigating believed that this man had intimidated them. But they could not prove it.”
“Okay.” Landon rubbed his hand over my neck as I read the file. “You’re talking about general dirtbags. How did they die?”
“There was discoloration around their necks, but there were no other obvious marks on the bodies. This happened two months before I was called to Salem. It only came up because of what I’m going to tell you next.
“The first individual who died in Salem was Maggie Masters,” she continued. “She was sixteen, beautiful, and her family owned an Irish pub. Maggie did not work there because she wasn’t old enough, but she came in to visit her parents from time to time. The men who died visited the pub often. They were fans of the atmosphere because it didn’t involve kitschy drinks. It was more like a standard pub.”
Landon nodded as he stroked his chin. “Okay, but Maggie died two months after these men died.”
“Yes. Her body was found in the same downtown building. Her parents said she had no reason to be there. Maggie was a good girl who never gave them a lick of trouble.”
“But trouble found her,” Chief Terry mused.
Hannah continued. “Maggie was stabbed multiple times. Someone used her blood to draw runes on the around the scene. Much like Paisley Gilmore, almost three-quarters of her blood was removed from her body and not found at the scene.”
I jerked up my head and looked at Landon. “You didn’t mention that.”
“We just got the report this morning,” he replied calmly. “I was going to tell you ... when it felt like the right time.”
“And when was that going to be?”
He arched an eyebrow at my challenging tone. “When you weren’t dealing with ghosts explaining that you’re a target. Believe it or not, I don’t like to add to the weight you already carry.”
Chief Terry extended his hand to stop us. “Let’s not turn this into a thing,” he said. “You know I don’t like when you two go at each other.”
Landon held my gaze a moment longer and then backed down. “I wasn’t keeping it from you,
Bay. I was going to tell you. You were already aware that I didn’t feel all the blood was left at the scene. I just didn’t get into the specifics with you.”
“I’m sorry.” I held up my hands. “I didn’t mean to go all crazy on you, but that’s a big detail.”
“Someone is performing blood rituals,” Aunt Tillie said. “The runes — which I still feel I know but can’t place — are a sign that this differs from a normal murder. The blood, though ... .” She trailed off.
“Why is the blood important?” Hannah asked.
“Blood is always important,” I replied. “It’s ... life, right? It’s the symbol of life. If your blood stops flowing, you die. When it’s taken in this manner, it’s being used for something else. Given where we are — a witch town — the blood holds significance.”
“Was Maggie the only one to die in Salem?” Landon asked. “How many murders are we talking about?”
“Three,” Hannah said. “Maggie was the first. Two other girls followed. Their manner of death was similar to Maggie’s, but they were both killed in some woods.”
“Three is symbolic in the witch world,” Aunt Tillie said to me. “The power of three.”
“I believe that’s from the show you hate,” I argued. “Charmed.”
“They’re not real witches.”
My lips curved. “They’re not,” I agreed. “You’re not wrong about the symbolism of the number three. Three is a powerful number in the witch world, as is four.”
“Is that why there are three witches in each generation of your family?” Hannah asked.
“What?” I flicked my eyes to her. “What do you mean?”
“You, Thistle and Clove are one generation. Winnie, Marnie and Twila are another. Then there’s Tillie, Willa and Ginger.”
“Yeah, but Willa wasn’t born from their mother,” Landon argued. “That’s where the witch genes come from. She’s not a witch.”
“No, but there was another baby,” Aunt Tillie volunteered. “My mother gave birth to a stillborn after Ginger. Nobody talks about it because that was common in those days. There would’ve actually been three of us.”
I went back to looking at the file. “You have an idea, Hannah. I would love to know what it is.”
“I was hoping to hear your hunch first.”
I hesitated.
“Bay, she wants to hear it,” Landon said in a soft voice. “So do I. You’re the smartest person I know.”
“Hey!” Aunt Tillie made a face. “Did you forget someone?”
Landon shook his head. “I did not. Bay is far smarter than you.”
“Oh, I hate you sometimes,” Aunt Tillie groused.
“You’ll survive.” Landon kept his eyes on me. “What is it?”
“Hannah is leading me to her idea, but she doesn’t have to,” I said. “The answers are all there. The three men who originally died were dirtbags, as you put it. That means they likely knew they were in trouble. They decided to embrace the paranormal to escape. They purposely turned themselves into shades.
“There’s more,” I continued when Landon furrowed his brow. “I’m assuming they got their hands on a book, something that told them what to do. Their bodies weren’t emptied of blood?”
Hannah shook her head. “They were not.”
“They turned themselves into shades. Nobody did it for them. They won’t die that way, at least not their souls. They won’t suffer. They still need to feed, though, because they’re not real ghosts. To sustain themselves, they have to drain others.”
“Oh, gross.” Landon screwed up his face. “They drink blood.”
I nodded. “It makes sense.” I turned to Hannah. “What happened in Salem? What’s not in this file? The killings wouldn’t have stopped unless someone stopped the shades.”
Hannah’s grin widened. “You really are on top of things. You’re right. Something didn’t make that file and yet you figured it out. A local coven stepped in and trapped the souls of the shades.”
“I told you we needed to trap them,” Aunt Tillie said smugly.
I ignored her. “How did they trap them?”
“Poppets.”
I nodded, thoughtful. “Do the souls have to be trapped in physical items?” I directed the question to Aunt Tillie.
“You can’t cut them loose because they’re already loose,” she said. “You have to trap them in a place they can’t do any harm.”
“Which means poppets ... or other magically-imbued items.”
“Pretty much.” Aunt Tillie was grim. “How many shades have you seen?”
“A lot. Like, ten of them.”
“Ten?” Hannah looked horrified at the prospect. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t say. Maybe they’re trapping the souls of their victims upon death as a way to enslave them or something. I mean ... Paisley wasn’t hanging around the spot where she died. Maybe that’s because they absorbed her into their group.”
“Why have we only had one murder?” Chief Terry demanded. “If these things kill to feed, why haven’t we seen more murders?”
“Because we’re at the beginning,” I replied. “This is the start of the cycle. If we want to stop them, we have to do it before they get a foothold in the community. The more they feed, the more dangerous they’ll get.”
“Then let’s get some poppets and trap them,” Chief Terry said.
“That’s the plan,” I said. “I need to go to Hypnotic. We’re going to need Thistle to make poppets for us.”
“Lunch first,” Landon insisted, his hand on top of mine. “You need to eat and keep up your strength. You can go to Thistle for the poppets after.”
I thought about arguing, but found I was hungry. “Okay.” I leaned in and laid my head on his shoulder, smiling when he kissed my forehead. “Lunch ... and then we’ll start working a plan.”
“I would like to point out that we’ll be working the exact plan I suggested twenty minutes ago,” Aunt Tillie said. “We’re going to build a trap. That’s what I said to do.”
“You’re wonderful and wise,” Landon drawled. “We’re all in awe of you. Is that what you want to hear?”
Aunt Tillie didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. I would like a crown, too.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
19
Nineteen
I ate my soup and sandwich — there was little joy to be found in it — and then headed outside. Aunt Tillie had excused herself after eating, explaining she would find her own way home, and then disappeared. I figured that wasn’t a good sign, but as long as she wasn’t my responsibility, it didn’t matter.
“What are you thinking?” Landon asked when he found me sitting on a bench outside the diner.
“I’m thinking you ate two BLTs for lunch, both of them slathered with mayonnaise, and if we want you to live a long and happy life, we need to start watching your food intake,” I answered.
“Don’t torture me,” he warned with a grin, laughing when I glared at him. “I’ll switch to light mayonnaise. Will that make you happy?”
“Not really. I want to keep you a long time. You have to make some adjustments.”
“Are you going to make adjustments?”
“I don’t eat nearly as much as you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. We were circling each other. “Hannah’s story makes sense,” I said. “The two men in Salem killed themselves in a dark ritual in an attempt to live forever.”
“It’s interesting that they had to die to live forever.”
“It’s not living. Not really. Their souls carry on, but they have no bodies. They can’t eat BLTs ever again. Would you want to live that life?”
“Absolutely not, but I understand reasons for choosing it.”
I was dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, don’t look at me that way.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying I want to turn into a shade. I’m saying that I can
see how it happened.”
“Under what scenario would you agree to that life?” I demanded.
“One in which you were in trouble and it was my only way to save your life.”
“What are the odds of that happening?” I asked after several moments of contemplation.
“Probably not very good. But I can see other people choosing that life for another reason.”
“And that is?”
“Fear. People are afraid to die. Can you imagine being the sort of person who kills and steals? Even if you didn’t believe in an afterlife, or punishment from a god or goddess, there would always be this niggling worry.”
“I still wouldn’t choose the life of a shade,” I said.
“I wouldn’t either. I want this life with you. That said, the idea of leaving you shreds my heart. I can see someone going that route if they were terminally ill and didn’t want to leave a family member.”
“That’s not what happened in Salem,” I pointed out.
“No, but I wasn’t talking about Salem specifically. You indicated that you couldn’t understand how anybody would go that route. I can think of a few reasons.”
I studied his profile, debating. “You know that you wouldn’t love me if you decided to turn into a shade.”
He frowned. “I’ll always love you.”
“You can’t love me if you don’t have a soul.”
His expression didn’t change. “How can you be sure?”
“That’s the way it works.”
“Explain it to me as if I’m an idiot.”
I laughed, which was probably his intention. “Your soul is who you are.” I rested my hand on his chest. “When you die, your body will be put in the ground. That won’t be you, though. Your soul is what makes you, you.”
He caught my hand and pressed the palm to his lips.
“You lose your soul if you become a shade,” I pressed on. “I don’t know if you willingly abandon it, but shades don’t have souls.”
“Do ghosts?”
“Yes. Their soul is what stays behind.”
“So ... what fuels a shade?”
That was an interesting question.
Prelude to a Witch Page 18