Batter and Spells (Sweetland Witch Women Sleuths) (A Cozy Mystery Book)

by Zoe Arden

  "I can't do that," Sheriff Knoxx replied.

  "Well, then I can't marry you."

  Her words hung in the air. For a second, she looked surprised that she'd said them. She opened her mouth, and I thought she might take it back, but she didn't.

  "You don't mean that," Sheriff Knoxx said. He looked hurt.

  Eleanor rounded her shoulders back. "If you really loved me, you would never treat my family this way."

  I felt my heart rip in two watching them. I didn't know two people more in love than Eleanor and Sheriff Knoxx. This couldn't be for real.

  "I need you to leave," Sheriff Knoxx said quietly.

  "Fine, I'm going. But I meant what I said."

  Sheriff Knoxx nodded sullenly and followed her back down the hall, barely lifting his feet off the ground.

  * * *

  1 9

  * * *

  I woke up and lay still, listening to my breath with my eyes closed. For a moment, I thought I was home. Then I opened my eyes and remembered the ugly truth. I was still in Sweetland Cove Jail. And now, I was truly alone.

  Karla was gone. She'd finally relented around midnight and agreed to turn Lottie back into herself so that she could go home and get a good night's sleep. I'd heard from Elmer that Lottie had started plucking out her feathers, so I supposed it was a good thing that Karla was willing to change her back. Karla must have been a pretty powerful witch if no one else had managed to undo the spell she'd placed on Lottie.

  Before she left, Karla wished me luck and informed me she was getting off this island as fast as possible. "People here are weird," she'd said before leaving me alone in the cell.

  I wondered what Wilma would think about her friend's departure and made a mental note to ask Lucy and my aunts if any of them had seen Karla at Wilma's welcome party. I still wasn't sure that I remembered her. I was also dying to tell someone what she'd said about Thaddeus Black not being a real curse remover. He was just a big, fat phony.

  I heard the clank of a door opening from down the hall and expected to see Sheriff Knoxx or Otis coming by with breakfast. I'd heard that prison food was worse than hospital food and wasn't eager to test the theory out, but I was starving.

  It wasn't Sheriff Knoxx or Otis, though.

  "Dean Lampton?" I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

  "Hello, Ava." He stood tall and confident, looking at me with equal amounts of pity and irritation. He clearly didn't want to be here.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked. "If you've come to grill me about attacking Grayson Redfern, I've got nothing to say about it. I've already told Sheriff Knoxx everything I know."

  "That's not why I'm here," he said, expelling a breath. "Colt asked me to come. He wants me to do him a favor."

  "He... he did?" I asked.

  Dean nodded.

  "Yes. I figured I owed him that much, considering everything he's been through with his father. He seems to think I'm responsible for making his life miserable. I tried to tell him we're all in charge of our own lives, but I guess the fact that I kept his father from him so long hasn't sat well with him."

  "What sort of favor did he ask you for?" I was starting to get excited. Dean was the head of the Council on Magic and Human Affairs. They regulated almost everything to do with the paranormal world, as well as its interactions with humans.

  "I called in a few special favors and got your bail posted. You're free to go."

  My eyes widened. "Are you serious? I can leave?"

  Knoxx suddenly appeared. His face was grim. I wanted to say something to him regarding Eleanor, how it would all work out, but I wasn't sure if that would help or only make things worse. His handcuffs jingled loudly as he walked down the hall toward my cell. He stopped next to Dean.

  "You told her?" Sheriff Knoxx asked. Dean nodded. Sheriff Knoxx could barely look me in the eye. "Ava, look, I'm sorry about all this."

  "I know," I told him. "It's okay. It's not your fault, I know that."

  He finally raised his eyes to mine. "Will you explain that to your aunt?"

  "I'll try." I knew that Eleanor was just mad, that she probably hadn't meant what she said the other day, but still... what if she decided to stay mad? Aunt Eleanor could have a vicious temper when she wanted to. Maybe I should talk to my dad and Trixie first, before I talked to her. If they agreed to back me up, tell her that Sheriff Knoxx was a good man and she was making a mistake letting him go, maybe she could be convinced.

  Sheriff Knoxx unlocked my cell, and I followed Dean back down the hall. Even before we opened the doors, I could hear the noise. It was like a million voices all talking at once.

  "What is that?" I asked Dean.

  He sighed. "I'm sorry about this. I tried to shake them but it's no use. There's too many."

  He opened the doors, and I saw a mass of reporters and photographers. They were all snapping pictures and shouting out questions, only I couldn't hear what they were asking because they were all talking over each other. It was chaos. I had no idea where they'd all come from or even why they were here.

  "What is this?" I asked. "Is this because of me?"

  Dean shook his head. "No. It's because of Russell. He's out."

  My eyes widened. "Out? You mean... like free?"

  "That's right," Dean said, though I wasn't sure he sounded very happy about it. "COMHA decided against incarceration, considering the circumstances. It was not a unanimous vote, but majority rules."

  "How did you vote?" I asked.

  Dean looked at me from the corner of his eye. "Like I said, it was not a unanimous vote."

  I knew then that he'd voted in favor of locking Russell up. He was probably feeling guilty about it and that's why he'd decided to help me when Colt asked. I was glad the rest of the council had decided to let Russell go. I understood Dean's point of view, but I didn't think he was a danger to anyone. Not anymore.

  Dean's cheeks turned slightly pink when someone pushed a microphone toward him and asked, "Sir, is it true that you lied about Russell Hudson's existence for over a decade?"

  Dean pushed the microphone away. The question had clearly embarrassed him, or maybe egged on his guilt. Well, too bad. He should feel guilty. He was largely responsible for Colt's father being in the position he was currently in. If Dean had never sent him on that undercover mission or just told Colt the truth about his father while he had the chance, this might not have happened.

  A band of protestors with picket signs marched toward Dean. The signs read: VAMPIRES MUST ROT and RUSS MUST BE DUST. Not very original, but enough to get the point across. One of the reporters blocked Dean as we tried to get to his car.

  "Mr. Lampton, how does it feel to have a vampire like Russell Hudson out on bail?"

  "Feels fine," Dean replied casually. He had regained control of himself and there was no further sign of embarrassment or guilt. He was stoic, if nothing else.

  Another reporter jumped in, seizing his opportunity. "Have you spoken with Colt Hudson? How does he feel now that his father has been released into his custody?"

  I shot Dean a look. Russ was released into Colt's custody? I'd have to ask him about that when I had the chance.

  A third reporter jumped in. "Dean! Dean! Frampton Michaels of the Wizard's Gazette. This has been dubbed the most controversial case in COMHA history. Would you agree with that statement?"

  Dean pushed past the reporter. "I'd agree with anything to get out of here right now," he said and barreled through the reporters to his car, me trailing just behind him. We made it to the Lincoln Town Car he had waiting.

  "Drive!" Dean yelled.

  The driver took off, almost knocking over three reporters as he did so.

  "Wow!" I said. "This is crazy. It's a madhouse out there."

  "Yes, it is." Dean folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. He clearly didn't want to talk about it.

  "How's Colt?" I asked, not letting him off the hook so easily. I had a few questions of my own for him. At
least now I knew why Colt hadn't come to see me in jail. He'd been trying to take care of his dad. I was just happy knowing that he'd still been thinking about me, going so far as to get Dean involved with my case.

  "Well?" I asked after a moment of silence in which I listened to Dean breathe. "Is Colt okay?"

  "He's fine, I guess," Dean said.

  "Can we go see him?"

  "I'm taking you there now. I promised him I'd let him know the second you were out. He wanted to come himself but he's not allowed to leave his father alone. You saw how many reporters were outside the sheriff's station. It's even worse outside Colt's apartment, so brace yourself."

  "Oh, jeez. Worse than that?" Colt and his dad must have been going nuts. I only hoped the raucous died down soon, for their sakes.

  "Sir?" the limo driver said, turning back toward us. "We have a tail."

  Dean looked behind us. "Darn it, the reporters are following us. Of course, they are. They won't go away."

  "Why are they harassing you like this?"

  "They want to talk to me. Everyone wants the first scoop. Only there's nothing left to scoop. Everything to do with Russell and Vlaski Ambrose has already been released to the public. Can we drive faster, please?" Dean asked the driver.

  The driver stepped on it, trying to shake the reporters. We were gunning it down a mid-sized road when one of the reporter's cars came up beside us, trying to get Dean to roll his window down. When it seemed like the only way to get the reporter to ease up, Dean complied.

  "Hey! Ava!" the reporter yelled, catching me off guard. How did he know my name? "What do you think about this mess?"

  "None of your business!" Dean yelled and threw an empty Coke can at the reporter. It distracted him enough that his car swerved. It fishtailed for a minute before he regained control.

  I glared at Dean.

  "You could have killed him."

  Dean shrugged.

  The reporter wasn't done with us. He drew closer to our car, clearly mad.

  "What's he doing?" I asked. "Look how close he is."

  Dean turned and looked out the back window. His eyes widened. "Oh, my roses."

  The reporter was right on our tail. The nose of his car tapped the back corner of ours. Hard. Suddenly, our wheels spun out of control. We went careening into oncoming traffic before the driver jerked the wheel to the right and got us back in our lane, but it was too late. Our car was out of control. I let out a sharp cry as our limo ran off the road.

  "Look out!" I screamed. Our limo was headed straight for a tree, and I had never buckled my seat belt.

  * * *

  2 0

  * * *

  There was a light tap on my door. I stared at it, afraid it might be another reporter. They had been trying to sneak into my room ever since I'd been brought to Sweetland Hospital. Dr. Dunne and Sheriff Knoxx had finally had to combine forces and set up a barricade of deputies and nurses to stop them from getting in.

  The knock rang out again, louder this time.

  "Can I come in?" a voice asked.

  "Colt?"

  The door pushed open, and Colt stuck his head into the room. "Hi. Up for a visitor?"

  "Of course," I cried, sitting up in the hospital bed. I was thrilled to see him. "What are you doing here? Dean said you couldn't leave your father alone."

  "I can't, but he's not alone. Dean's babysitting."

  The Council on Magic and Human Affairs had, after much debate, released Russell into Colt's custody. As it was finally explained to me, this meant that Russell was essentially on probation for the next three years. He was allowed out of the cell he'd been held in—much worse than the one I'd been in, I was told, COMHA cells were more like a box than an actual cell—as long as he was not on his own. He had to have someone with him at all times, and the person he was with, if not Colt himself, had to be approved by COMHA. Essentially, Colt had become his father's babysitter.

  I wasn't sure how long that was supposed to last, and I knew that Colt was working tirelessly to get that portion of the verdict reversed so that his father could go without supervision. I didn't want to get into all that just now, though. There was something else on my mind.

  "So, Dean's all right?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he's fine. Just bumps and bruises. He's lucky, unlike you. I can't believe you've got a concussion."

  "A minor concussion," I corrected. I'd been repeating that to people for the last two days, assuring them it was no big deal. My father and Eleanor had almost had a heart attack when they'd found out about the accident. Trixie was ready to turn the reporter who'd hit us into a celery stick.

  "Minor, major, whatever," Colt said. "You could have been seriously hurt. When I think of it..." His eyes misted over. He kissed me gently on the lips, afraid he might hurt me. "This is all my fault."

  "How is this your fault?" I asked, mystified.

  "Those reporters were chasing you because of my father. Because of me."

  I bit my bottom lip. "You're being way too hard on yourself. Besides, I'm not so sure that reporter even cared about you or your father. I'm not even sure he was a real reporter."

  Colt frowned. "What do you mean?"

  I took a breath, trying to think of the best way to phrase what was running through my head without sounding like a nut. "The reporter knew my name."

  "So?" Colt asked, not impressed with this information. "He's probably been following me and my dad since the trial started. All the reporters have. They probably all know your name."

  "Yeah, but, Colt, there was something about the way he looked at me. I don't know. Did Dean tell you that he tried to run us off the road?"

  "Dean said it was an accident. The guy's car got too close to yours."

  "It was no accident. He deliberately knocked his car into ours."

  Colt's lips turned down and a deep V creased his forehead. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive."

  "How can you be so sure? Dean said it all happened way too fast to even get a description of the guy."

  This was infuriating. He wasn't taking me seriously. I'd been afraid this would happen, which is why I hadn't told anyone yet. "Colt, Someone is trying to kill me."

  Colt balked, which did nothing to ease my anger.

  "Why would anyone want to kill you?" he asked. "It's the candidates that the assassin is after, not you."

  "Yeah? Then why did someone try to push me off those rocks at Mistmoor Beach?"

  "Are you sure that's what happened? Eleanor said she never saw anyone that day."

  "Fine, forget Mistmoor Beach. What about the gun that was hidden in my car? Eleanor's car. Whatever. There were the gun and that letter. Someone planted those there to frame me. Unless you really think those were mine."

  There! I could tell I'd finally said something that had gotten to him. "Framing me didn't work, and now they want me dead. They must think I know too much, only I don't know anything. I have no idea who the assassin is or who they're going after next."

  Colt bit his lip and scratched nervously at his chin.

  "I don't know," he finally said.

  "Don't know what? I'm right about this."

  "There's so much going on right now, I need some time to think it all over. Look, I can't stay anyway. I promised Dean I'd be back in an hour or so. He has to get back to the mainland. I only came by to check on you. Why don't we talk about this later? After you've had a chance to rest and I've had a chance to think."

  "I don't need to rest. I need to figure out what's going on." I folded my arms across my chest. "Besides, I feel fine."

  Colt kissed the top of my head, and I cringed. "Ow!"

  "Sorry," he said.

  "It's okay." He was eyeing me skeptically. "Okay, so maybe I don't feel fine exactly. My head does hurt, but it's not affecting my thinking."

  "Just get some sleep. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"

  "Fine," I said, somewhat huffily. Colt kissed me again and left.

  I closed my eyes, trying to
sleep as he'd suggested. I listened to the sounds of the room. The monitors humming... the clock ticking... the squeak of nurse's shoes just outside my room. I started to doze off. Suddenly, I was wide awake. I couldn't breathe. I opened my eyes and couldn't see. Someone was holding a pillow over my face. I tried to scream but didn't have enough air.

  I grabbed at the pillow and pulled as hard as I could, but I couldn't make it move. I tried to scream but it was muffled, lost in a mouthful of cotton and fabric. I was going to die if I didn't do something fast. I made a fist and swung it blindly through the air, asking Sara Sweetland to guide my fist. My knuckles collided with my assailant's stomach. I heard them gasp and suddenly the pressure on my face lifted. I threw the pillow across the room, able to breathe again.

  The assailant was still doubled over. Good, I'd punched them hard.

  "Who are you?" I demanded, trying to get out of my bed. My head was dizzy.

  The assailant finally looked up. It was Thaddeus Black.

  "Thaddeus?" I asked, confused and a little frightened. Was I hallucinating? Was this a ghost? He reached out toward me with some kind of stylus. The tip of it turned an ice blue as he pointed it at me. I felt my skin begin to tingle. My heart was pounding.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "Don't worry, it won't take long." His voice was high-pitched and tinny, nothing like Thaddeus’.

  "Stop it," I said, trying to scream, but the room was fading. It felt like my heart was imploding.

  Suddenly, there was a sliver of white light and a woman's voice cried loudly through the air, "Cara rouge!"

  The assailant dropped his stylus as a bolt of lightning shot through the air, hitting him square in the back. He fell to the ground. Eleanor rushed to my side. "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, still trying to catch my breath. Eleanor's face was crazed. Frantic and worried and angry all at once. She knelt down next to my assailant.

  "It's Thaddeus!" I cried.

  "No," she said, rolling him over and pulling off his fake nose and chin. I stared at the figure. It revealed a face so remarkably unlike Thaddeus’ I had to admit how impressed I was with the disguise. This was not your ordinary fake nose.