All the Pretty Witches

by Lauren Quick

  Rachel and Rex were closest to Ophelia and knew the most concerning the club’s operations. Rachel was the kindest and most welcoming to her. Rex was standoffish and cold and rarely spoke.

  The Blackbury wizards were annoying, rude show-offs. She couldn’t stand any of them and couldn’t think of one redeeming quality. Well, in all fairness, they weren’t hard on the eyes. Honora felt they could be the muscle of the group. They worshiped Ophelia and would do any dirty work she needed done. After seeing Magnus use Ophelia’s wand whip, Honora felt they were the ones to watch. If someone in the group had killed Constance, it was probably one of them. But she still had no proof.

  The Nix sisters were weird. They were social and fun one minute and then frosty and standoffish the next, only talking to each other. The blonde’s name was Beatrice and was the most social with Honora. They were party witches who loved Soar and would probably hang out there every night if they could. In fact, now that she thought of it, the club was highly social and partied a lot. She mentioned to Corder that he might want to get someone undercover full-time at the club, if he hadn’t already.

  No one in the club ever discussed former members Constance or Alana, and the one time Honora brought them up, she had been frozen out the whole night. She wasn’t about to push her luck again. Currently, she was working the ingredients angle. They had to be purchasing the items for something specific, but what? Honora reviewed what she’d written on the parchment for her report and folded it up for delivery. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had. Hopefully Corder was staking out the Halo district and had run down the members, but no one had mentioned being questioned or suspicious of the police.

  Honora leaned back in her chair and stretched. The feather charm around her neck warmed and vibrated. She groaned. Not another night out. This time, the charm gave her a clear vision of Diabolical in the Halo district, Ophelia Lockwood, and hands on a clock. The message was clear—come tonight at midnight. Ophelia would be there. Honora smiled. Finally she’d be able to see Ophelia outside of Soar. This could be her chance.

  The charm calmed, but a cold chill washed over her. Honora grabbed her jacket and headed out. If she was going to be out late again tonight, she wanted to fly home and get a quick nap. After dropping her report off with January, she arrived on her ledge and noticed two very familiar witches milling around inside her apartment. She wasn’t sure what to think. Her stomach lurched. With a flick of her wand, the window shot upward, and she flew inside.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Is it Mom? Dad? Is one of you sick? In trouble?” Honora blurted out the questions in rapid succession. “What are you two doing in my apartment?” She landed and planted her hands on her hips.

  Vivi and Clover stared at her.

  “We came to warn you of the impending apocalypse, Miss Serious,” Clover said with a giggle. “Can’t your sisters visit you? We do have a key to your apartment.”

  “Sorry.” Honora shrugged and tried to unclench.

  Vivi plopped down on the sofa and leaned back into the thick cushion. “We thought it would be fun. We haven’t seen you in a while and wanted to make sure you had food in your fridge, which you didn’t,” Vivi said with a smile.

  There was a bowl on the counter overflowing with fresh fruit and a huge vase filled with flowers. The dishes had been done and the trash picked up and taken out. Her sisters had shopped for groceries and straightened up her apartment. Grateful as she was, Honora knew they definitely wanted something. Sisters or not, no witch does another witch’s housework just because.

  Honora crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s really nice of you two. Now tell me why you’re really here.”

  Clover exhaled dramatically and plopped down onto the sofa next to Vivi. “I need to ask a favor and Vivi came for moral support.”

  Honora sat on the arm of a chair opposite them. “Sure. Anything you need. I don’t know why you’re worried. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

  Clover smiled tightly. “I need to borrow your apartment.”

  “What do you mean borrow? Like stay here with me?”

  “No, I mean. I need to borrow it so that my alter ego can stay here and I can set a trap for a jewel thief to rob me.”

  Honora threw her head back and cackled the biggest laugh she’d had in weeks. Clover was completely nuts and was a true joy. “Are you kidding? What have you gotten yourself into now? Don’t spare any details. I want to know everything.”

  Clover took a breath and spilled her whole story. “The Lady Raider won’t even take a nibble at the hotel. Derek and I’ve been there all week and nothing’s happened. So I came up with another scenario of Anise being shacked up in her fabulous boyfriend’s new trendy loft apartment.” She batted her eyelashes, innocently. “I thought if I were somewhere with no security that was low key, she might try and rob me.”

  Honora considered Clover’s predicament. “You’ll need to spell this place to look like a guy lives here. And get the word out that you’re here. But even doing that, I’m skeptical.”

  “We’ve got that covered,” Vivi said. “This is Clover’s last chance. She really wants this to happen.”

  Clover twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m giving it one more try before I quit. It was a long shot from the beginning. I don’t know what I was thinking. The Lady Raider’s probably too smart to fall for an amateurish trap like this anyway.”

  Honora fell back into the chair with her leg hooked over the arm. “Maybe it’s not the trap but the bait that she’s not falling for. What kind of jewelry are you tempting her with?”

  “A necklace.” Clover pulled the jewel out of her purse to show Honora.

  Honora wasn’t impressed. She held the necklace in her hand. “It’s pretty and the stone is huge, but doesn’t she have a lot of necklaces? If she’s as glamorous as you say she is, maybe you should offer her something different. Something she doesn’t have. Something rare and hard to get.”

  “She’s stolen rings, bracelets, and necklaces.” Clover sighed. “What else is there in the jewelry department?”

  Honora shrugged. “Maybe the Lady needs something more regal. What about a crown? Like a diamond-studded tiara. An old one with a story attached to it. You’re great at making up stories.” Honora jumped up and rummaged through a closet. “I might have a party favor tiara in here somewhere. Vivi could put a spell on it for you and you’d be golden.”

  Clover jerked forward. “That’s it. Lady Raider needs something original, something no one else has. She’d never go after another necklace. She’s upping her game. I need to create a better story—not about me, but about the jewel. Maybe the tiara belonged to the duchess of East Hazelton.”

  Honora had heard of Hazelton, but she had no idea they had a duchess.

  Clover continued spinning her tale. “The duchess died a terrible death—she died of a broken heart when her beloved was killed in a hunting accident and was devoured by rabid dogs. The crown was her wedding tiara that she never got to wear. She was betrothed four times after his death only to have all four suitors perish before her wedding.” Clover grabbed Vivi’s arm as inspiration struck. “The tiara is cursed. I’ll have to detail an expedition to the South where Archer, also known as Derek, bought the crown for Anise and gave it to her as a birthday gift for the article in Witch World Daily. That’s how I’ll bait her.”

  “Wow, now that’s a backstory.” Honora’s eyes widened. Her sister’s wild imagination never ceased to amaze her. “What does the tiara look like? It could be made of diamonds or sapphires.”

  Clover narrowed her eyes in thought. “I was thinking it would be made entirely of pearls, black pearls of all sizes with one huge one in the middle. It’s one of a terrible kind. It would take a brave witch to wear it and an even braver one to steal it.”

 
“How can she resist?” Vivi asked. “I don’t think you need the apartment. You should just stay at the hotel.”

  “I think you’re right,” Clover said. “That gives Derek and me time to run the story in the paper and get ready. I think this time it might really work.”

  “If I were a jewel thief, I’d definitely take the bait. But if you need the apartment, let me know. It wouldn’t be hard to let you move in with my nightly schedule.” Honora bit her lip. She’d said too much. Undercover work meant keeping secrets from the ones she loved. Her sisters had no idea what she was up to and she had to keep it that way.

  “What are you working on?” Vivi asked. “You look a little tired.”

  “I came home to take a nap actually. I’ve got a new case with Detective Corder and since Sawyer and Jenny are busy, I’m handling it all myself. Nothing exciting, but boring pays the bills,” Honor said, trying to fill the empty air with vagueness.

  “We’ll let you sleep. Come on, Clover.” Vivi stood and went to grab her coat off the rack near the door. She reached out and fingered Honora’s new leather jacket. “This is gorgeous. I wish I could pull off leather jackets like you do. I just look dorky, like I’m trying to be tough and edgy.” The smile on her face suddenly dropped and she crumpled to the floor, landing on her knees. Her eyes rolled back in her head, exposing the whites.

  Honora and Clover raced forward. “She’s having a vision,” Honora said and steadied her sister so she wouldn’t keel over.

  “What should we do?” Clover asked.

  “Nothing. We need to let her ride it out. Scarlet told me never to interrupt a witch when she’s in a prophetic trance. She just never told me how difficult that would be.” Honora’s pulse raced. Vivi groaned and swayed. Her sister’s persuasion was a mystery.

  “Do you think she’s in pain?” Clover asked.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and ask her.”

  “It was your jacket,” Clover said and grabbed at the sleeve. “Vivi touched the leather and it brought on the vision. Where’ve you worn it?”

  “It’s new. I’ve worn it at night all over town like I normally do with jackets,” Honora said. She’d been wearing it out with the club. Could that have something to do with Vivi’s vision? She shook her head. “Vivi sees the future. Not the past.”

  “I’d bet this vision has something to do with your future.” Clover circled Vivi like a mother hen, brushing hair from her face. “I don’t like it when her eyes go back like that. It’s really creepy.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Honora said.

  “I won’t,” Clover snipped and launched herself at Vivi as her sister blinked her eyes and slumped forward. “You’re okay, Vivi. We’re at Honora’s apartment.” Clover helped her to her feet and they moved to the sofa.

  Vivi wiped sweat from her forehead and took a glass of water that Honora pushed into her hands.

  “You had a vision,” Honora said. “Can you talk about it?”

  Vivi paused to take a drink and a breath. “I saw something terrible when I touched your jacket.” She shook her head. Her eyes stared right at Honora. “In the vision I was you and I was scared and alone. It was so dark and cold, bone numbingly cold.”

  “Where were you? Could you see your surroundings?” Honora asked.

  “It was so dark. I can’t tell exactly. Just that you were trapped in something like a cage or a cell. No not that.” Vivi stared off into space. “It was round, a round room with stone walls.”

  “Like a tower!” Clover yelled.

  “No, not a tower. Much lower and darker and more terrible. It felt like I was wrapped in an icy embrace like cold fingers clenched around my neck.” Vivi pulled at her collar, her shoulders pinched up to her ears.

  Vivi painted an awful possibility, but Honora couldn’t let it scare her. “It’s okay, Vivi. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. What other details are you getting? Anything will be helpful.”

  “I heard squeaking like there were mice or vermin all around me.” Vivi’s eyes went wide as if remembering something. “I get it now. Honora, you were trapped underground in a well.”

  “A well,” Clover said.

  Honora’s skin went cold. “This is the second time someone’s warned me about a well.” But how would she fall into a well? It’s impossible. She’d fly out. “Did you see the sky? Were there bars or something trapping me inside?”

  “No, but I saw a light above. I don’t know if it was the sky. There were no bars from what I could tell.”

  Honora was relieved. Maybe she wasn’t trapped at all. Maybe she was exploring the well and Vivi only thought she was trapped.

  “Sorry I have nothing more specific. I don’t even know of any wells in Stargazer City,” Vivi said.

  “Maybe it has something to do with a case you’re working.” Clover slipped into her jacket. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Don’t take too many risks and be careful. I worry about you taking on dangerous cases.”

  “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.” Honora got Vivi’s coat for her and gritted her teeth against a sinking feeling that she couldn’t avoid.

  Try as she might, Honora didn’t sleep a wink. Her nap was a bust. What did she expect? All she could think about was being inside of a well, which again was impossible, because she could fly out. She had nothing to worry about, unless she lost her power to fly. Her stomach twisted and she silently berated herself. Negative thoughts weren’t helping. Instead she dressed for her night out with her new gang. A wave of sadness washed over her. She missed her friends, her true flying club. She’d heard nothing from them or about them, and why would she? They were giving her space while she was pretending to be part of another club, which she realized was missing the most essential ingredient—friendship.

  Witches of a Feather really didn’t seem that close. Of course the siblings were tight, but as a whole, the members didn’t seem to care about each other. Sure, they partied and socialized, but that wasn’t the same as true friendship. That got Honora thinking. If the purpose of the club wasn’t friendship, then what was it? As she was about to leave the apartment, she went to grab her jacket and hesitated, thinking of Vivi’s premonition. Should she risk fate catching up to her and wear it anyway or should she play it safe? She grabbed the jacket. If she knew one thing about fate—it always found her, no matter what she was wearing.

  It was midnight and Diabolical was packed with customers. Honora jostled through the crowd, scanning it for the club members. Seeing no one, she leaned against the table with the skull. The eyes lit up. “Back so soon. What are you doing here?” the skull asked. “Come to mingle with the dark side?”

  “I’m looking for Ophelia if you must know. Have you seen her?”

  “She’s in the basement. She loves it down there. It’s her little hidey-hole.”

  “Diabolical has a basement? Why does that not surprise me?” Honora asked, picturing a cold, dank room with a packed-dirt floor, and then she remembered the dreaded well. “There isn’t a well down there, is there?” she asked, being cautious and a little paranoid.

  The skull’s red eyes flashed. “Not that I’m aware of. Why? Are you planning on making a wish?” The skull cackled, rocking slightly on its stand.

  “That’s not the kind of well I’m worried about.” Honora shoved her hands in her pockets.

  “There’s one thing you need to remember about wells,” the skull said. The thing was pontificating like they were old chums.

  “What’s that?”

  “There is only one way in and one way out.”

  “That’s not exactly enlightening, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Creepy skull. Honora spotted the salesperson heading her way, so she quickly ducked behind a crowd of witches before he reached her.

  In her search for the basement, she dodged
a few customers and glided down the hallway past the bathroom. At the end of the hall were two doors. She opened one and found a supply cabinet. Behind the second door was a long dark stairwell lit with a trail of illuma lights. She heard voices drifting up from below.

  As she descended, the reek of soot and brimstone floated up like a wet black mist, clinging to her nostrils. When she hit the landing of the stairs, she could see the group of witches and wizards milling about. Shelves and tables lined the walls. A few chairs and a battered black sofa were scattered around the room, but it was what was in the center that made Honora’s stomach plummet—a circle cast in black ash. She wanted to stop and race back up the stairs as if she hadn’t seen a thing. The image of Constance’s dead body in the center of a similar circle surfaced from memory. Was this where she’d been murdered? Had Honora found the original crime scene?

  She steadied herself. She had to see this through. At least there wasn’t a well, she told herself. She slowly descended and covered her trepidation with a smart-ass smirk. It was her go-to decoy look that she used whenever she needed to fake some bravado. When she reached the bottom, she planted her palms on her hips and said, “It’s about time I got to see behind the scenes of your little operation.”

  Dressed in a crisp white jumpsuit and red stilettos, Ophelia lounged on the black sofa. Her make-up was immaculate; her nails were painted red daggers. “Honora, the guest of honor. Come sit next to me. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” She patted the worn spot next to her and Honora strode past all the other members of the group. They eyed her with distrust. She tensed, her nerves on edge. All eyes bore holes into her. Honora sat and stared back at the others, who’d gone quiet as the dead. Ophelia motioned to the room. “Welcome to our little workshop. It’s our pride and joy.”