Conflicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 2)

by Willow Monroe

  Glade smirks. “Ask who? Folks around here don’t exactly like us, remember?”

  “That’s changing, Glade, in case you haven’t noticed. People do like you, now that you’re coming out of your shell and becoming part of the community.”

  He doesn’t look convinced. “Well, I still don’t know who might have a picture of Rachel.” He gets a sly look on his face. “What about Angelo? Wasn’t she his girlfriend?”

  Angelo. Of course. “Would you go ask him?”

  He’s already shaking his head, and Rain is too.

  “Why not?”

  “Simple - we don’t like him all that much either.” This time they do turn and disappear up the stairs. I hear laughter and then music. Meeting over.

  “You could go ask him,” Bilda says gently.

  “Think Jones would do it for me?”

  “No. You.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Do you want to banish your bitter witch or not?’

  “Yes... What if she sees me talking to him and kills me before I can cast the banishing spell?”

  “Then your worries will be over, won’t they? Maybe you can haunt Angelo, just for bringing you here.”

  I smile at that - it does sound like fun. Then I frown, because I’d have to be dead to pull it off. “Never mind.” I peer at her. “You won’t go for me, will you?”

  “Nope. I have a bingo date with Blakely tonight.” Bilda is shaking her silvery head vehemently, and I suddenly get the feeling that I’m being set up.

  “Are you sure I need an actual photo?”

  “Yep - let me know when you get one, OK? I need to dress for tonight.”

  And then she’s gone, leaving me sitting there with my mouth open and staring after her.

  I have to talk to Angelo, and I have to do it in a way that Rachel won’t notice.

  Also, the bag is still here, sitting innocently on the table. I pick it up with two fingers and put it back upstairs in her attic room, because it feels dangerous and I don’t want the twins to get their hands on it.

  I don’t want to see Angelo, so I decide to stop and see Jones on my way home from work the next afternoon. He’s sitting in the sunshine on his front porch, whittling.

  “I didn’t know you could whittle.”

  He looks up at me and blinks from the bright sunshine. “Anybody can whittle. I’m just stabbing a stick with a knife.”

  I laugh, and it feels good to sit down beside him. The tension, for the moment, seems to be gone after our talk on the mountain, and I’m glad. I want my friend back. “Just be careful and don’t stab yourself,” I say, bending to see. “What are you making, anyway?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

  He looks down at the stick in his hand. “Because I don’t actually know?”

  His dark eyes sparkle and I laugh again. “So you’re bored? What is it you actually do here in Jagged Grove, anyway, Jones?”

  I can’t believe I never thought to ask. I just assumed he was...I don’t know, independently wealthy or something. Now I’m curious.

  “Well, until you interrupted with all your healing hocus-pocus, I mostly took care of Feena. Now, I’m at loose ends and looking for something to fill the time.” He pretends to leer at me. At least I think he’s pretending. “Have any suggestions?”

  I slap his shoulder and stand up. “Not that. I do have a favor to ask you, though.”

  “No.”

  I pause. “No?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  He shakes his head and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Bilda - the love of my life - said to tell you no if you came asking for a favor.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “I just follow the rules.”

  “And since when is Bilda the love of your life?”

  “Since you didn’t want the job?” He looks truly perplexed, but I know he’s screwing with me.

  “Stop it, Jones.”

  “No, really. You broke my heart, you know. The first time I saw your eyes...your incredible butt...that pinched, frustrated expression on your face...I knew you were the one for me.”

  “Oh, for the love of...”

  He holds up a hand like he’s warding me off. “Don’t make it worse, Trinket. Don’t twist the knife.”

  I’m doubled over and laughing so hard that I can’t breathe. “Shut up. Please.”

  He goes in and gets me a cup of coffee, bringing it back out just as I’m getting control of myself. I take it gratefully.

  “So what is this favor I can’t do for you, anyway?” he asks.

  “I need a photo of Rachel, and the only person I can think to ask is Angelo.”

  “Ah, I see. And you’d still rather not talk to him?”

  “Exactly. Could you do it?”

  He laughs. “We don’t exactly get along, babe.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “He wouldn’t give it to me if I did ask. We’ve always been somewhat...competitive, I suppose...”

  “That’s really very caveman, Jones.”

  “I didn’t say I was proud of it.” He looks proud of it, though. “Anyway, we both went after Rachel, back when she first came here. Angelo won, but he never forgot that I was a contender, too.”

  “Ooh, interesting.” It is, too. I understand the animosity between them better now. Still... “You both went after her? Like she was the Heismann or something?”

  “She was the most beautiful woman in Jagged Grove for a long time. Ask anybody. But now you’re here, so...”

  I ignore the implication. “So could you ask him? Say you’d like a photo for old times’ sake or something?”

  “You want me to lie?” He looks shocked.

  “You’re starting to piss me off, Jones.”

  He holds out his hand, the one with the knife. “Want to whittle? I hear it relieves tension.”

  I glare at him, sigh, and stomp back across the yard toward home, more annoyed at Bilda than Jones.

  “He refused to help, didn’t he?” Bilda asks as I come through the back door and into the kitchen.

  “No thanks to you.”

  She’s stirring a pot of what smells like potato soup. “Maybe you should just give up on the idea of living there. It’s not like I’m kicking you out.”

  “I told you, already...”

  She waves her free hand dismissively. “I know, I know. You need space, and all that.”

  “You don’t have to make it sound so petty.”

  She looks at me, then goes back to her soup. “Just talk to him. He’ll most like be at the Salty Hog tonight. You should go down there and just ask, like an adult.”

  My face burns, but I know she’s right. Anyone watching this whole scenario would think I’m a whiny teenager instead of a grown woman. “Fine. I will.”

  She flashes me a distracted smile. “Good for you, dear.” She cocks her head. “Unless you change your mind about living there. With both Rachel and Lilly haunting the place, it might be best to just avoid the property altogether.”

  I’m not answering that. I start to leave the kitchen, then stop. “Mom?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What about my father? Have you seen him since we got here?”

  I see her shoulders tighten, and she puts a hand to her temple. “No - that’s another one of those things you’re going to have to deal with yourself, dear.”

  I sigh, but I should have known - it’s the same answer she gives me every time I ask.

  According to Angelo, that last night I saw him, my father had something to do with our being placed here in Jagged Grove. I didn’t get to ask nearly enough questions that night, and now I wish Angelo wasn’t so off limits. I could really use the truth - my mother apparently never gave it to me. She said he was a normal, but from what I’ve learned since coming here, he’s a powerful wizard and he wants to meet me.

  So why hasn’t he just shown up
to say hi?

  It’s a mystery that will have to wait. First I have to get Rachel out of my house.

  It’s amazing how fast I’ve come to identify with the little cottage as mine. It isn’t, really, because I’ll be leaving here in a few months, but I have the keys and that’s enough to make me feel like I own the place. Either that, or I’m just desperate to carve out some sort of life while I’m here.

  Probably a bit of both. “I’m going to find him. See you later.”

  She waves a hand. “Oh - just in case you’re wrong about Rachel killing Lilly, you need to know that Aries is out of jail.”

  I blink. “Huh. OK, thanks.”

  That’s weird, because according to Angelo, murder around here gets you an almost instant death sentence.

  I walk downtown, sort of hoping that I’ll see him somewhere, but also hoping that I won’t, if that makes any sense. He isn’t around, for once, but when I pass by Lilly’s little shop I pause, then go inside.

  I scan the interior of the store, peeking between its crowded, close shelves. I have no idea what I expect to find - I’m just following an impulse.

  “Can I help -?”

  I whirl around.

  “Oh.” Aries says, already turning away now that she’s seen me. “Get out.”

  I wonder briefly why she isn’t in jail, but then assume that she made bail or something. “Please. I need your help. Tell me what happened in that house.”

  She snorts. “I have no idea, except that my best friend is now dead. Get out.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m about to face down a havrue. The same one that killed Lilly.”

  Ariel’s eyes narrow. “You think you’re silly little ghost did this?”

  I nod. “She killed my assistant just before I came here, and she’s been threatening me since the beginning.”

  “I can’t help you.” Lilly spins around in her long flowing outfit and marches to the door. When she opens it her eyes are blazing.

  “Please?” I ask. “Rain told me that you tutor kids and teach them black magic. I need to learn, too. At least enough to do battle with Rachel.”

  She shakes her head. The conversation is over.

  I give up and leave the shop. As I push open the door, I almost hit somebody standing on the other side. “Oh, sorry,” I say, then realize that it’s Candace, the teen who wanted birth control. Her eyes go wide as she recognizes me, but then they narrow in anger. She pushes past me and the door closes before I can say anything else.

  I wonder what she’s doing here, but then decide that I don’t want to know. I have more important things to worry about than one hateful kid.

  Angelo, for once, is nowhere to be found. The walk around town does me some good, though.

  SIX

  “Witchy bitch, four o’clock,” Imala mutters into my ear. It took me about ten seconds to decide that I wanted her with me when I faced down Angelo here at the Salty Hog.

  Of course I look, knowing that I shouldn’t.

  Sure enough, it takes Wisp about ten nanoseconds to meet my eyes across the crowded dance floor. Her sneer is perfectly made up and framed by cute blonde hair. “How does she even know I’m here? Is it radar or something?”

  Imala snorts. “Can’t the queen sense every threat to her hive?”

  “I’m not a threat. I just want to find Angelo, get a photo, and then relax. You promised that we would relax.” I elbow her in the ribs to make my point, and we veer left toward the bar - where Portia’s sneer greets us.

  Imala smirks. “I’m not sure I should be friends with you. Your reputation around here sucks.”

  “Tell me about it.” I watch Portia wordlessly pour us shots of Hennesey and then promptly turn her back on us. I down mine and stare at her back, willing her to pour me another. “But you are skilled at creating doughnuts, and to me that’s like...I don’t know. Magic. Better than magic. So you have to be my friend.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Uh-huh.” The liquor is warming my insides. Imala was right - coming to the Hog was a good idea, even if I am running the risk of death by witch.

  She sips hers and twists her bar stool so that she can look around. Normally I would follow suit, but tonight I’m bored with the pettiness of Jagged Grove’s minor elite.

  It takes Portia ten minutes to notice that my glass is empty and refill it. I smile as sweetly as I can when she does.

  “Why the pretty smile? Are you after Portia now, too?” Imala asks, looking over at me.

  “I’m smiling to show her that she doesn’t intimidates me.”

  “Does that work?”

  “I feel braver...”

  Imala’s attention shifts to just over my shoulder. “Good.”

  I spin to see what she’s looking at and a fairly undignified squawk escapes my lips, because Angelo has just walked in through the heavy wood doors and he’s looking around.

  “Hide me.” I cringe, waiting for Rachel to blow something up.

  “No. You came to talk to him, remember?”

  “I changed my mind. I’ll figure out something else.” The sight of him fills me with pure cold dread, and my instinct is to run. Fast.

  Except there’s nowhere to go. He’s between me and the door, and the bathroom is too far away, so I lunge for the only small space in the room - behind the bar. I use my feet on the stool to push me over, smacking my knee and almost landing on my head, then I close my eyes and curl up against the back of the thing, hoping that Imala distracts him. Better yet, maybe she’ll lead him out of the bar so that I can make a clean getaway.

  It smells like beer back here, and the floor is sticky. Hurry up, Imala.

  “She’s back there,” I hear her say.

  Oh, for crying...

  “Hey. What are you doing?”

  I look directly over my head to see Angelo staring down at me, his dark hair flopping around his face. Then I just close my eyes again, like he won’t be able to see me when I do that.

  “Trinket? Come out of there.”

  “No.” The small comfort of the booze is gone, and I know that any minute Rachel is going to come down hard on the Salty Hog. I pray that everyone gets out safely - I still remember the last time we encountered one another, and it makes me want to throw up.

  “Trinket?”

  “Leave me alone, Angelo,” I whisper.

  “Uh, no.”

  I hear a thump near my feet and then he’s - yikes - picking me up. I open my eyes and stare up at him. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

  Speaking of killing - I want to give Imala a mean stare too, but she’s behind Angelo’s broad shoulder somewhere and I can’t see her. “Put me down and I’ll go away,” I promise.

  He looks down at me. “Why would I want you to go away? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  I sigh in defeat and drop my forehead onto his chest before I realize what I’m doing, then I struggle to get out of his arms. With my feet on the floor, maybe I can think straight. He carries me all the way around the bar before he lets me go, dropping me onto my feet but still holding one of my arms at the elbow. “Stop,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I try to tug away from him, but it doesn’t work. He just grips tighter. “Your girlfriend will - she proved it. Ow.”

  “She’s not my-.”

  “Shhh!” I whisper so hard that I spit. “Sorry. She is your girlfriend, apparently. If not, then she didn’t get the memo. Now let. Me. Go.”

  This time he does, and I stumble backward just a little, enough to bump into someone. “Sorry,” I say over my shoulder before turning back to face Angelo.

  Only then do I realize I’m free, so I spin around and head for the door, hoping that I’m fast enough to get away before Rachel notices. I hit the double doors running and keep it up for half a block before I slow down.

  “Where are we going?”

  I scream. Then I punch the big stupid guy jogging along beside me. “Dammit, Angelo. Would you l
eave me alone?”

  “No. Like I said, I’ve been looking for you. I’m not letting you get away now.”

  He acts like he could just keep jogging all night long, and I can’t, so I just stop. If Rachel is going to kill me, she’ll have to do it here. “I really don’t appreciate you putting my life in danger like this,” I inform him. “For the record.”

  “Listen - as far as I know, Rachel is gone. I haven’t...sensed her since that night. Maybe she’s moved on.”

  I stare at him. Surely he’s not serious. Even now, it feels like Rachel is watching our whole exchange from some vantage point where she can shoot me or blow up Jagged Grove again. It’s like she’s just waiting. “Were you even here that night? She almost destroyed this whole town. You think she just got it out of her system and found something else to do?” I’m yelling by the end of that sentence, but I can’t stop. No man is this dense.

  He looks up and down the street before he answers me. “Would you calm down?”

  I glare at him. I hate him so -. Then I remember what happened the last time I got hysterical in front of him, on the boat to Jagged Grove: he kissed me.

  Just thinking about it makes me feel all flushed. I decide that it’s time to shut up before that happens again. I stop yelling and put my fists on my hips. “Can I just go, before we make her jealous again?”

  “No way. I need a report from you, and we need to talk.”

  “I’ve been giving you reports, every week.”

  Some part of my mind is telling me to ask for Rachel’s photo now, since I’m not getting rid of him. Another part is telling me to panic and run away again - which apparently doesn’t work.

  Now he looks confused. “Trinket, I haven’t seen you for almost a month, other than in passing.”

  I start to argue, but my mind pings a memory and I groan instead. “Of course you haven’t,” I mutter, looking back toward the Salty Hog at the end of the street. “I gave the reports to Portia.”

  He grins. “Why would you do that?”

  I ignore the question and ask one of my own. “She didn’t give them to you, did she?”

  He shakes his head, still grinning. “Haven’t seen one.”

  “Wonderful.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands.