Conflicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 2)

by Willow Monroe

  Jones’s voice goes a little deeper. “That’s a separate colony, I suppose is what you’d call it. A few of our...unhappier residents live there, but they don’t associate with the rest of us much.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’d guess that they never learned to like it here.” He turns to me. “They’re still pissed, actually, and every once in a while they cause the rest of us a bit of trouble.”

  “Who are they?” I squint, but all I can see is a few rooflines, surrounded by palm trees.

  “Witches and shifters mostly, just like we have in Jagged Grove. They are not friendly, though, Trinket. Please don’t mess with them.”

  “Oh,” I say again, but his tone is making me more curious, not less. “How do you get there? Just walk? Is there a path?”

  “One, but it isn’t well traveled beyond the people who work in Jagged Grove proper. I know Lilly used it.”

  “Or you could go around and walk along the beach, I guess,” I say. Then his last words catch up with me. “Lilly lived there?”

  “It would be a long walk, and they might just have you for lunch when you got there.”

  He doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

  I shoot him a look. “They’re probably just people. And I can relate to hating it here.”

  “Even with this view?” He sounds disappointed.

  “The view is gorgeous, but I miss home, Jones. Can’t you understand that at all? A sunset isn’t going to un-break my heart.”

  He turns back to the sunset and doesn’t answer, and I feel bad, like I’ve hurt his feelings. “Thank you for showing me this, Jones. It does make me feel better.”

  He still doesn’t answer, but I feel him relax a little beside me, and we sit and watch the sea until the sky grows dark.

  It’s almost midnight by the time I get home to Bilda’s, but she’s wide awake and waiting for me. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried to death about you.”

  I cringe at the word death, and immediately wish I was back on the mountain with Jones. It was so peaceful up there. Before I can answer I hear the tins clomping down the stairs, no doubt to hear the gossip.

  Bilda is waiting for an answer, but I’m so, so tired. “Lilly Crabtree got murdered at my house sometime today, I guess. I found her, but they are pretty sure they’ve already caught her killer.”

  “Who?” Glade asks. “Was it Rachel?”

  I shake my head. “They’ve arrested her business partner - a woman named Aries - for the murder.”

  Rain laughs. “Aries? She’s one of the nicest people I know.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah, I thought about taking one of her classes, but she only does private tutoring these days, and she’s pretty expensive.”

  I stare at her. “What kind of classes?”

  “Magic, silly. Why else would I want to take one?”

  “OK, but...” How do I phrase this delicately? “What kind of magic?”

  Her gaze wanders away. “Just...you know...different kinds.”

  “You mean black magic?”

  She shrugs. I sigh. Bilda looks confused, but not surprised.

  “Why would you want to know about black magic, Rain?”

  The teen’s face clouds behind her black curtain of hair, but she doesn’t answer.

  “She wanted to get revenge,” Glade answers for her. “As soon as we figured out who killed our parents, she was going to go after them.”

  That makes sense. Rain is only now coming out of her depression, and I can easily see a girl who would want to retaliate against the person who killed her family.

  “Well, I don’t see how a black witch can be a nice person, but I’ll take your word for it,” I answer finally.

  Bilda stands up fast and goes to the kitchen.

  The twins, evidently bored with the conversation, wander back upstairs after a few minutes.

  When Bilda comes back, she’s carrying a mug of cocoa for me. “Take this upstairs and soak in a hot bath.” Then she hands me a small bag. “Sprinkle this into the water - you’ll feel a lot better.”

  I take the pouch. I don’t know what it is, but I’m too tired to ask. Before I can go upstairs, though, there’s a knock at the door. Bilda answers it, and Imala steps inside, comes over to me, and takes my hand. “Where have you been?” she asks, worry marring her pretty features.

  “Jones brought her home,” Bilda answers for me.

  “Oooh...anything I should know about here?” Imala asks, curiosity blazing in her eyes. She takes in my dusty clothes and snarled hair.

  She, as usual, looks like she just finished up a fashion shoot. Cute flouncy skirt, long black hair, and gentle, graceful features make her one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met in my life. Also, her leather cowboy boots show off long legs that make me jealous.

  I untangle a twig from somewhere near my right ear, toss it down onto an accent table, and glare at her. “No.”

  Imala is staring at me pointedly, waiting for an explanation.

  “We went for a walk.”

  “Where?” She puts her hands on her curvy hips, amused.

  “Mt. Savage.”

  Her eyebrows come up in surprise. “He took you to his spot?”

  I feel a sharp stab of jealousy that she knows about his spot, but that’s ridiculous. Didn’t I just explain to him that we have to remain friends? I meant that.

  “How do you know?” I ask anyway. I love Imala, but tonight she’s kind of annoying me for some reason.

  She smiles slowly but ignores my question. “It’s a great place, isn’t it?”

  “I love it. Now if I could just transport my real life here, I’d be the happiest girl in the world.” I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose.

  She hesitates, looking me up and down. “For the record, he told me about it. I’ve never been there. I’ve never fallen for Jones’s charms.”

  I ignore my relief. “Can we talk about something else besides Jones and murder?”

  She shrugs. “Are you going to Callahan’s party next week?”

  “Why? Need a date?” I’m teasing. Imala is gorgeous - if there is one thing she never, ever needs, it’s a date. Men - of all species - line up to date her.

  “Very funny. I think you should come. It’ll be good for you.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s what Angelo said when he brought me to Jagged Grove.”

  She winces. “Ouch. Sorry. I still think you should go.”

  I set down my cup too hard. “What good will it do? Is there some secret surprise? Because people keep telling me I have to go to this thing.”

  She’s quiet for a second. “We’re worried about you.”

  “Why?” I swear I’ll just keep asking, until somebody explains my crazy new life to me.

  “Because we like you, Trinket, and we want you to be happy.” She sounds so wise and serene. Then she flips her long black hair behind one shoulder and slurps her drink.

  “How will the mayor’s party make me happy?”

  “You might be nicer if you cut loose once in a while, for starters.” She levels her gaze on me, and I squirm.

  “I’m nice.”

  “You’re tolerable.” She’s still staring.

  “I’m an introvert. Also, I’m pretty sure it isn’t healthy for people to push introverts into extrovert...ish situations. I might have a breakdown or something.”

  “Doubt it. Did Jones kiss you?”

  “No.” The question came out of nowhere, and I’m answering before I think. The answer is right, but my voice is all wrong. I sound...disappointed? “No,” I say again, more forcefully. “He knows how I feel about him.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sure he does.” She looks amused again.

  “But you don’t think that will stop him, do you?”

  “Not really.”

  “He respects my decision.”

  She purses her lips and nods sagely, obviously not believing a word I say
.

  “He does. We’re friends, and we won’t cross that line.”

  She takes a drink of her tea. “If you say so.”

  “I do. I did.”

  “He’s hot.”

  “Then you can have him. Angelo warned me about him when I first got here, and I plan to heed that warning.”

  “K.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “By the way, Angelo was at my house earlier, looking for you.”

  I blanch. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth. I had no idea you were off somewhere alone with Jones.”

  Another thought crosses my mind. “Why was Angelo at your house, anyway? I hardly ever go there.”

  “Now, Trinket. You can’t have all the men.” She finishes her drink and stands up. “You have to share with the rest of us.”

  “I don’t-.”

  But she’s already gone with a wave, out through the front door. I hear it close behind her, and it doesn’t muffle her laughter.

  Why do I care if Angelo was at her house? I don’t want to care, but for some reason the idea of Angelo and Imala together bothers me.

  Maybe I’m worried that Rachel will try to kill her, too, if she catches them together. That has to be it, because my personal interest in Angelo stopped when he dragged me here against my will.

  I’m sure of it.

  So why do I feel as miserable right now as I did when Imala asked me about Jones’s kisses?

  This is getting ridiculous, and I want to go back to Raleigh and Clay more than ever.

  I bathe and get ready for bed, using Bilda’s herbs. The smell earthy and fresh, and by the time I pull myself up from the hot water I feel a little more normal. Bed beckons, and I answer readily. It’s been a long day, and my mental exhaustion demands it now.

  I’m in bed and almost asleep before I remember the band of outcasts on the other side of Mt. Savage. I should have asked Imala about them, since she’s more forthcoming with some information than Jones is, but I’m too tired to care about it tonight.

  The next time my eyes open it’s pitch black in my room, and I can barely see the foot of the bed, even after my eyes adjust to the darkness. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what woke me up. Then I hear it - a deep, faraway howl. It sounds soulful, here in the dark safety of my bedroom, and my mind goes to Jones. Is that him, out in the night?

  The loneliness hidden in its depths tugs at me, because my heart understands. I hope it’s not him.

  FIVE

  The next morning I wake up with a headache and a lot of determination.

  I find Bilda in the kitchen, sit down across from her and look her in the eye. She returns my gaze with a placid expression of her own. “Tell me everything you know about defeating a havrue,” I say.

  One silver eyebrow goes up. “You’re sure about this?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Tell me anyway.”

  “You know, if you would just learn to listen to your magic and trust your instincts, the answers you need would come to you.”

  “I don’t know how to do that, and I’m not sure I believe it anyway.”

  She shakes her head, stands, and disappears up the stairs. I watch the doorway, my entire body quaking inside.

  This is it - I’m going up against Rachel, the bitter witch. She’s done enough damage to the folks in this town, and I’m tired of being scared. I don’t care what the police say, I know she killed Lilly.

  Also, I want that house, I want it ghost free, and it isn’t too much to ask that I have it. Rachel is gone and doesn’t need it anymore, and she can have Angelo, because I want nothing to do with that mess at all. No, I just want the house, because if I don’t move soon, my relationship with my mother will start deteriorating again.

  “Why do you look so...frowny?” Bilda’s back, carrying a red cloth bag.

  I smooth my face with both hands and smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you sure you don’t want me to do this for you?”

  “No. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself. Just show me how, and I’ll do it.”

  She doesn’t answer. Instead, she places the bag on the table with a soft thump and rummages around inside it for a moment. Then she pulls out a tall candle. It’s black and maybe twelve inches high, but the worst part is that it looks just like a woman. In fact, if not for the wick on top, I would have thought it was a fairly elaborate sculpture. The hair and clothing are beautifully detailed, flowing down to a base that is probably three inches in diameter. It immediately gives me the creeps.

  “What’s that?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “A candle.” She plunks it down on the table so that I’m staring directly into its dead dark eyes. “OK, now you’ll need to carve her name into the candle.”

  “With what?”

  “A knife? A pencil? Whatever you like, Trinket.”

  I can tell by her tone that she’s impatient with me. “OK.”

  “While you’re carving, you’ll need to think about how you want her to die, and then-.”

  My head jerks up from the candle. “Whoa. Whoa, wait. What?” I’m shaking my head and staring at Bilda now. It’s surreal to hear her talk about somebody’s death so casually. Maybe there is more to this woman than I thought. “I don’t want anyone to die.”

  She groans. “It was a figure of speech. She’s already dead, remember?”

  Not dead enough, I think. I just don’t want to be the one to kill her. “Can’t we just...I don’t know, scooch her off to live somewhere else?”

  “Scooch her?” Bilda blinks at me and starts to laugh, holding her ribs with one arm.

  “You know what I mean,” I mutter, staring at the death candle again. The woman appears to stare back at me accusingly. Bilda is still laughing. “Cut it out.”

  She gasps, “Oh, goodness. I’m - afraid - I’m all out of - of scooching spells, Trinket. So, so sorry.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I might have some squishing spells...or a few scrunching spells, or-.”

  “All right, all right. Come on, Mom.” I implore her with my eyes, because I’m starting to feel embarrassed. “Can we not, uh, kill her?”

  “She’s already-.”

  “Dead. I know.” Suddenly the more appropriate word pops into my head. “Banish, then - can we banish her to somewhere far away? Or at least bind her so that she can’t hurt anyone else?”

  Finally she stops laughing and tilts her head to the side. “Hmm, yes, I think banishing her might work. That comes with another set of risks, though.”

  “What kind of risks?”

  She looks me in the eye. “The kind where she is corralled elsewhere, unless you as the spell caster speaks her name. Then she’s free again, and I don’t think she’ll be happy.”

  I nod. “That makes sense. I’ll just have to be careful. OK, how do I do that?”

  I’m relieved when she picks up the accusatory candle and puts it back into her bag. “That makes things easier, actually. Be right back.”

  She disappears again. I look at my fisted hands on the table and wonder again how my mother knows about death spells. She was a powerful witch, long ago, and I’m positive she knows all about many different types of magic, but why would she have the supplies here? When did she think we would need a death spell, and why keep a candle like that handy, as if it’s sugar or an extra pot for the oven?

  Also, what else is in that bag?

  I use one finger to splay open the bag a little more, and the first thing I see is a small brown bottle. The label says Devil’s Tongue.

  My breath stalls, and my mouth drops open. I remember how abruptly she left the room when Rain mentioned black magic last night, and I know that’s what killed Lilly. Surely Bilda didn’t...?

  No, that’s ridiculous. Bilda wouldn’t hurt anyone, and the fact that she has stuff like this lying around is just a coincidence. She’s a misguided witch, and a bit clumsy with her magic these days, but she is not an e
vil witch.

  I zip the bag closed. I refuse to think that my mother is a murderer.

  But I do need to ask her about these things, before she accidentally gets somebody killed. Just...not right now.

  As for the banishing spell, I think I can pull off something like this, and then all I have to do is never speak her name again. Easy enough - I don’t like saying it now.

  When Bilda comes back this time, she’s carrying much more mundane items. With a small smile, she spreads them out on the table in front of me: black thread, black paper, a simple canning jar. Then she turns and goes to the kitchen and brings back vinegar and salt. I watch all of this with some amusement.

  “Are we going to bake her a cake?” I ask.

  “No, smarty. We’re going to banish her, if you think that’s enough.”

  “I think so. At least, I hope so.”

  You’d better be sure, because making her angrier might get you killed for realz.”

  I blink at her. “For realz?”

  She grins and shrugs. “I picked that up from the twins.”

  I drop my head onto the table for a moment. “Ok, tell me what to do with all of this stuff.”

  “I will - but there is one more thing we need.”

  “What?”

  “Her picture.”

  “I, uh...where would I get one of those?”

  “Surely there is one in the office somewhere? A diploma or ID card in a drawer?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll ask the twins, but I don’t think we found anything like that.”

  “Well, you need one. Otherwise this spell could latch onto any random Rachel and do some real harm. It’s irresponsible magic, and you’ll still have one angry havrue.”

  “Glade!” I yell, twisting in my chair to look at the stairs. “Glade! Rain!”

  They sound like a herd of emo cattle coming down the steps. “What?” Glade asks. He’s got a set of headphones in his hand.

  “Have either of you seen a picture of Rachel anywhere in the office? Even just a small one?”

  The twins look at each other, shrug, and then look at me again. “Nope,” Rain says, then turns to go back upstairs. I can tell by her tone that she’s still upset with me.

  “Wait, Rain. Do you two think you could find one - maybe ask around?”