Conflicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 2)

by Willow Monroe

  “Yes. Maybe? He hates using a condom, but I want to be safe.”

  I nod and relax. This part is easy - no magic necessary. “Good call.”

  I stand up and dig around in one of the cabinets behind my desk, finally pulling out a small vial of pills. Other witches swear by magical means whenever possible, but I’m more comfortable doing things the mundane way when I can.

  Magic can get you into trouble, especially when you’re doing it for someone else.

  “You’ll need to take one of these at the same time every morning,” I say, reading the label as I go. I’m not a doctor. “Don’t forget. And wait three days before you have sex again.”

  She blushes at the word sex. I swallow a groan.

  “How old are you, Candace?”

  “Seventeen.”

  She’s lying. I can see it on her angelically pretty face.

  “How old are you, Candace?” I ask again.

  “Old enough,” she snaps, eyeing the pills like they’re a lifeline.

  I hesitate, then put the pills back in the drawer. “I’ll tell you what. You go home and get your mom. Bring her here. We can discuss this - like adults.” I’m hoping the word adult stings just a little.

  It does, if her expression is anything to go by. “I don’t need my mom. She doesn’t understand.”

  I waver. Should I try to reason with her, or put my foot down here? On the one hand, I think she needs to discuss this with her mother. On the other, I 76don’t want to piss this girl off and have her casting spells on me. That’s the trouble with witches - we can be tricky.

  It’s hard to think, with her glaring at me.

  If she’s as young as I think she is, then I agree with her parents that she doesn’t need to be sexually active. On the other hand, I get the impression that she’s going to do that whether she has the proper protection or not. Then again, I don’t know a single thing about kids.

  For the first time, I wish I could get Angelo’s advice.

  I can’t, though, so I’ll have to wing it. “Just go get your mom. I’ll try to talk to her.”

  I watch her stare at the drawer with the pills for a moment, then get up and stomp out of my office, brushing rudely past Glade. He raises his eyebrows at me, and I shrug. I’m not cut out for this healer stuff. I tried to tell Angelo that, but he won’t listen. Nobody will listen.

  I remember that I still haven’t answered Rain’s question, so I go find her. She’s at the front desk, doodling in my appointment book. “Rain, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to teach you about healing. I’m not very good at it myself, first of all, and it’s more complicated than you think.”

  Her face falls. “You’re being selfish.”

  “I’m not. I’ll get Bilda to show you all you need to know about herbal magic, and I’ll let you sit in when I do my work, but I can’t be responsible for teaching you what I barely know myself.”

  She shakes her head and goes back to her doodles. I hate that I’ve disappointed her, but I’m afraid.

  I give her one last look, then go back to my office and put my head down on my desk. Rain is a sweet girl, all things considered, and I hate to disappoint her. My own power has gotten me into trouble in the past, and I don’t want it to happen to her. If she can even learn.

  I don’t know where my magic comes from exactly. I only know that it senses when someone needs help and then it uses me as a conduit to fix whatever is wrong. I can’t diagnose a patient’s problem, or even promise that they’ll get better, because I don’t know what I’m doing.

  Why doesn’t anybody understand that?

  A knock on the door brings my head up. Bilda comes in smiling. “Angelo was trying to find you. I told him you went for a hike on the mountain.”

  I grin. “Thanks. That should keep him busy for a few hours.”

  She laughs. “That’s what I thought, too. I just came in to borrow some skullcap for Imala, and he was on his way here.”

  “What’s the skullcap for?”

  “Imala is having trouble sleeping. It will help her relax.”

  I nod. Mom is the herbal expert around here. “Well, thanks for heading Angelo off at the pass.”

  “What is Rain so upset about?” she asks, walking to the shelves and shelves of small bottles and running her fingers along the labels.

  “She wants me to teach her to be a healer.”

  She turns. “That’s a wonderful idea, Trinket. Why don’t you?”

  “Because I don’t know how,” I answer honestly. “And I’m afraid of screwing up.”

  She grimaces. “When are you going to stop limiting yourself? You are better at this than you think you are.”

  Why do people keep saying that? It’s common knowledge, since I say it every time the subject comes up, that I once killed a boy with my magic. “I’m not, though. I suck at this sort of stuff, and you know it.”

  “No I don’t. One mishap, ten years ago, does not a failure make.” She shakes a finger at me.

  “It wasn’t a mishap,” I remind her. “I killed somebody.”

  She turns away and heads toward the door, but not before saying, “No, you tried to save somebody who was already dying.”

  I watch her go, and then close my mouth. Is she right? It doesn’t feel like it, but maybe I should give her words some thought. Not right now, though. I need coffee.

  Then I remember the sharks, and I jump up from my chair and catch her before she leaves the office. “Mom! Bilda?”

  “What?”

  “Did you get rid of the deathtrap in the back yard?”

  “The pond? Of course - I told you I would.” She looks so innocent.

  “What did you do?”

  “Imala helped me, and now we have koi.”

  Her smile is so happy that I just shake my head and watch her leave.

  By the afternoon, with no more patients forthcoming, I give Glade and the still-sulking Rain the afternoon off, because they’re starting to drive me crazy. Jagged Grove does need a healer on hand, but it’s not exactly a full time job, and there definitely isn’t enough work to keep three people busy all day long.

  An hour later I’m cleaning out the storage room in the back of the office when the lights flicker. The room is small and very dark anyway, because it’s completely windowless. While that keeps it cooler, it doesn’t help me get any work done back here.

  I’ve got one arm elbow deep in a box of old reports, looking for clues about Rachel, when the lights go out completely. I just stand there for a moment in the jumbled room, waiting for a moment and hoping that they’ll come back on.

  They don’t. I groan and carefully extract myself from the musty box, figuring it might be a breaker. I make my way toward the door, trying hard to remember exactly where the breaker box is in this place, when I hear it - that same weird, wispy laughter as before.

  Chills run down my arms and I stop mid-stride. “Who’s there?”

  Which is dumb - I know exactly who’s there. Here. “Go away, Rachel.”

  Silence.

  Then more laughter. Not evil, just sort of...arrogant. There’s a small thump from somewhere behind me, and I immediately think of the day Rachel knocked over the vase, so that I could find the key to her house.

  “Rachel?”

  More laughter. That’s all. I swallow hard and turn, expecting to see her glowing form floating in the dark behind me. I’m actually surprised - and relieved - when there’s nothing there.

  “Rachel?” I ask again. I hate that my voice sounds so small and weak right now.

  This time I get an answer, and I immediately wish I hadn’t.

  Her voice is almost musical, like a teasing lover’s, whispering through the room. “Come see me, Trinket,” she says.

  That’s all. Three little words, and I run for my life. I trip over at least three different boxes of crap trying to get to the door, and the whole time she just keeps laughing and saying, “Come see me.”

  I’m whimpering by th
e time I make it through the waiting room to the front door, sure that she will catch up and strike me down before I make it to the sunny street outside.

  I lock the office without bothering to check the breakers. I’ll call somebody. Right now, I’m getting as far away from here as I can.

  I walk around town for a while, glad to be in the midst of other people and trying to think of who I could get to banish my ghostly nemesis. That was a close call - too close.

  Eventually I stop shaking and sit down on one of the pretty benches that line Main Street. In the sun. Blocks from my office. The view of the harbor is beautiful, and the sun is warm, but I feel cold.

  It takes me approximately twenty minutes to start wondering if the whole episode was my imagination. Nope, it was too real. Then I wonder if my worrying has conjured Rachel, enforcing the link between us. Is she going to appear every time I think about her now, as if we’re linked by some mystical umbilical cord?

  Eww. Gross.

  I look around to be sure she isn’t here, then try to think of anything else. Eventually my thoughts land on Bilda and my need to find her a coven. It’s a safe project, and one that I can work on right now.

  Hopefully it will keep my mind off...her. I jump up and head for Imala’s house.

  Imala isn’t home when I knock, but her next door neighbor Frank tells me that she went for a run. Then he comes over to keep me company while I wait.

  Frank is maybe in his late forties, and seems like a quiet soul. He smiled shyly when we were introduced sometime last week, and Imala says he’s the perfect neighbor - quiet, polite, and mostly keeps to himself. She brings him her famous homemade donuts to keep him around. He looks at me and runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, smiling with a crinkle at the edge of his blue eyes.

  Now, I’m surprised that he is being so friendly, since he seldom has much to say.

  “Don’t the new docks look fantastic?” he asks me, and I think I remember seeing him at work down there a few days ago.

  “It does. You guys are doing a wonderful job.”

  “It’s going to be better than ever. So is the park, now that the new equipment has been installed.”

  I shift in my seat on Imala’s front steps, uncomfortably aware that all of this work is my fault. But then his next words surprise me.

  “You know, you might have done us a favor. This town needed a facelift.”

  I’m not sure how to answer that, so I don’t, and soon he disappears back into his cottage. I’m left wondering where that came from. Did Imala put him up to it? She, along with everyone else, keeps saying that none of last month’s trouble was really my fault, but I just can’t believe that. I didn’t do it, but I caused the issue in the first place. Somehow.

  Well, actually, all the blame should land on Angelo’s head. If he hadn’t made me come here, and if he hadn’t dated a crazy jealous witch, and if he had just warned me about her in the first place...

  I sigh and try for the millionth time to wish myself back to Raleigh.

  My thoughts just keep going around in the same old circles, so I’m relieved to see Imala jogging up the street. Her dark skin is shiny with sweat, but she still looks gorgeous in pink running shorts that match her newest pair of delicious candy-colored Nikes. I’m always jealous of her footwear.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” she asks, collapsing onto the stair beside me and taking a swig from the water bottle in her hand. “Not working today?”

  I shudder at the very thought of my office and avoid thinking of her again. I’d love to tell Imala all about what just happened to me, but I’m scared of saying the R word.

  Instead I say, “Not enough. I came to ask you something.”

  She wipes trickles of perspiration from her eyes. “K. What?”

  “Bilda needs a coven.”

  “I know. She and I were just talking about that yesterday, but she didn’t seem interested in joining us.”

  Imala’s coven is a bit on the wilder side, and probably not to Bilda’s taste, now that I think about it.

  “Are there any others you can think of that might suit her better? I’m desperate here, Imala. If she doesn’t focus her magic, she’s going to end up in trouble again.”

  She rubs the top of her head with one hand. “Uh, let’s see. There are three covens in Jagged Grove. Mine - which she isn’t interested in. Portia’s, which may be too quiet for her - I’ve seen how Bilda likes to experiment. And Winter Blake’s coven.”

  “Who’s Winter Blake?”

  “She is one of Wisp’s posse, and they all belong to the same coven. I doubt Bilda will be interested, but you could ask.”

  I can’t see Bilda hanging out with Wisp at all, but it isn’t my decision to make. “I’ll let her know.”

  “She could start her own coven, you know. Didn’t you tell me that she was a big deal, back in Washington?”

  “Yeah, but that was a while ago.”

  Imala gazed at me with chocolate-dark eyes. “Maybe you should let her spread her wings a little. There is plenty of room in Jagged Grove for all of us.”

  “I’m not stopping her,” I protest, but we both already know that’s a lie.

  “You made her feel pretty ashamed yesterday.”

  I look away. “She put sharks in the pond, Imala. Somebody could have gotten hurt.”

  She scoffs. “They were just little ones, and sharks are way more interesting than Koi. Koi are weird.”

  I couldn’t argue that, but at least they wouldn’t snap off a random finger. “I just want to lay low until I can get out of here, and Bilda isn’t good at laying low. If I can find her a coven, she’ll be able to channel all of that energy.”

  She laughs. “That’s true. Still, why don’t you give this place a chance, and see how it goes?”

  “I thought I was giving it a chance.”

  “No - you are simply biding your time. All you really think about it going home.”

  “That’s not true.” I’m spending a lot of time lately thinking about how to get rid of Rachel, how to avoid Angelo, how to keep an emotional distance from Jones...

  “Listen. Why don’t you send Bilda over Friday night? We’ll be celebrating the summer solstice. In fact, you should come, too.”

  I haven’t attended a solstice celebration since I was a child, and I’m not sure I want to start now. “That might be a little too...witchy...for me. But I’ll tell Bilda.”

  “What do you mean, a little too witchy? You’re a witch.”

  I shift. “Not really. Not like you guys.”

  She gets what I’m saying. It’s one of the reasons I like her. “You could be.”

  I sigh and get up, stepping out into the sunlight. “We’ll see.”

  She stands too, and waves as I start down the walkway. “Think about it - we’d love to have you.”

  Sure they would - right up until the moment when they figure out I don’t know a thing about witchcraft beyond a few vague childhood memories and what I’ve picked up recently by hanging around with Bilda. The rest of it I purposely blocked, back when my high school boyfriend died and I decided that witchcraft was too dangerous.

  I’m at the end of the walk when I hear her front door open again and she sticks her head out. “By the way, Jones mentioned that he invited you to the Callahan bash. You should come - it really is a lot of fun.”

  I can’t see her in the shadow of her porch. “Even with the great Wisp, who hates my guts for no apparent reason?”

  “That makes it even more fun,” she says, and slams the door again.

  I head for home, wondering what in the world is wrong with people around here.

  I’m halfway home when I spot Angelo coming up the sidewalk, directly toward me. My heart stumbles a bit and I duck into the nearest doorway, close the door and then head for the back of the store.

  The place is deserted. As I walk down the first aisle I come to, I see that I might have made a mistake in picking this particular store. The atmosp
here in here feels heavy, and the place seems to be full of candles. Red candles. Blue ones. Really tall glass-enclosed white ones.

  Some are shaped like human figures, staring out at me from shadowy shelves. I shudder.

  “Can I help you?” A female voice, somewhere behind my right shoulder.

  I stop and whirl around, checking the door to see if Angelo followed me inside before turning my attention to her. No sign of him.

  She’s around forty and dressed in a flowing shin-length dress. Her hair is obviously artificially red, but she makes it work. Bright blue eyes, filled with amused concern, sparkle up at me.

  “Hello,” I say, still trying to glance toward the door without her noticing.

  “Can I help you?” she asks again.

  “Umm, no. Just looking.”

  “Do you need a curse?”

  Apparently, I’m already cursed. “No, thank you.” I smile as politely as I can.

  “You’re Trinket, aren’t you?”

  I nod, forcing my attention from the door to her again. “Yes, ma’am. Have we met?” I know we haven’t, because I would remember that hair.

  “Not yet, but I’m happy to make your acquaintance, finally.” She holds out a hand dripping with huge rings. “I’m Lilly. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  The way she says it seems odd, but since she’s staring at me I can’t figure out how, exactly. “Is this your shop?” I ask, glancing at an eyeless wooden voodoo head, complete with black hemp hair, on a heavy stick. She’s got me trapped between two tall shelves full of strange merchandise. “Is that a real shrunken head?”

  “It is my shop.” She glances at the head in question. “Sometimes white magic doesn’t get the job done, does it?”

  This time her words make me shiver, she says it so matter-of-factly. “I...I suppose.”

  “Sometimes you need to be invisible.”

  I blink, then realize that my actions are probably plain as day. “That could help, yes.”

  “And sometimes you need to make other people invisible.” She’s staring at me hard now. “Maybe even make them disappear completely.”