“Oh.” I pause. “Ok, but it’s just a house. She didn’t do anything to anyone.”
“Except Rachel, maybe.”
“Oh,” I say again, finally starting to understand what she’s saying. “You think she made Rachel mad? Well, madder?”
“I bet, if she gave up on the project like you say, that Rachel pushed her magic back onto her and killed her.”
“That’s what I thought, but everyone seems to think that Aries did it.”
“Also, do you think Rachel is going to just stand there and be banished?” She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow and looks at me.
“No...” I’m starting to see. “You think that in the process of trying to banish her, Lilly made Rachel worse?” I didn’t see how she could get much worse.
“I think you need to be careful now. More careful.”
“I don’t think I can be more careful, without hiding in a hole somewhere.”
She looks at me like that’s a viable option.
“No. I need to just banish her.”
“Then do that, but make sure you get it right the first time.”
“I can’t, not until I make up with Bilda.”
She furrows her eyebrows.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you waiting for other people to solve your problems?”
I open my mouth to answer, but then close it again. I try to wrap my mind around an image of casting Rachel out myself, and it doesn’t work. “I’m not. I’m calling in help, because I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know how.”
She tucks her silky black hair behind her ear and looks at me. “So figure it out. You keep forgetting that you’re a witch, Trinket, and you are more powerful than you think.”
Is she right? Could I face Rachel alone and cast her out of my house? It’s true that I don’t know how to do that, but I bet I know where the directions are - in Bilda’s grimoire. She keeps everything in there.
It would be in her attic room, I know, along with anything else I might need to cast the spell. Well, except for...
“Dammit. The photo. Angelo’s got it.”
“So he did catch you.”
I nod. “We’re on speaking terms, but I still feel like Rachel is somewhere glaring at us whenever I’m near him.”
“Good. You two are cute together.”
“Can we not change the subject?”
“Sorry. Go ask him for the photo.”
“Will you help me with the spell, if I do?”
She sighs and looks away. Then, when she turns back to me her eyes are flashing impatience. “Did it ever occur to you that things happen for a reason?”
“Umm...”
“Maybe,” she continues, “You are supposed to deal with all of this yourself. Maybe it’s a way for the fates to prove to you that you have what it takes to be the witch you were meant to be.”
I’m doubtful, but I’m listening. In a way it makes sense. I was making friends here in Jagged Grove - sort of - and the moment this happens, I start losing them. I’ve never thought much about fate or predestination, but ... “I suppose it’s possible.”
“Of course it is, and when you try, you’ll do fine.”
I don’t know about that, but I decide to give it a shot.
SEVEN
Dinner is at six, so I need to do a few things before then, especially if Angelo is going to show up.
It’s surprisingly easy to get my hands on Bilda’s grimoire, partly because it’s just lying there on a corner of her altar, and partly because the well worn leather-bound book is marked in about fifty places with neon green sticky notes, making it the brightest thing in the room. They jut out all over and swell the actual book to twice its original size.
I wait until she’s well into her nap, then sneak up the creaky staircase and fumble around in the darkness of the room until I think to stand in the middle and spin slowly until it catches my eye. Of course, the fact that it’s in plain sight and not in one of the mysterious piles of stuff makes me feel a little bit ridiculous, but at least I’ve got it.
The thing is heavy. I lug it into my bedroom and start flipping through the pages until I spot a sticky with the word HAVRUE on it.
Ta-da. This is it. I’m really going to do this.
I’m terrified.
The book itself seems menacing to me, even though I’ve seen and held it a million times. Scanning the page, I see that I’ll need a few candles, the photo, salt and a sage smudge stick.
That’s it? I scan again, then read through a third time more carefully, certain that I’m missing some important ingredient. I even turn the page, wondering if the spell is continued on the other side.
Nope. That’s all. Pretty common stuff, even for a beginner witch.
I sit back on my bed and try to remember how to do things like cast a circle and call up the energy I need to power the spell. Somehow I don’t think it’s like my healing energy - it requires more focus. More intention. My healing energy simply knows what to do, and sort of takes over, but I know that calling up energy and then unleashing it without a clear reason can cause a lot of damage.
I spend a few moments pouting and wishing I had some help, but then remind myself that I can banish Rachel alone.
I just have to protect myself, and go into the house.
I don’t want to do that, but it looks like I’ll have to if I’m ever going to live there. Grabbing a small notebook, I carefully copy the spell. My mother’s neat, curly handwriting is easy to read, at least.
When I take the book back upstairs, it’s already five-thirty. Still, I pause for a moment to grab the supplies I’ll need. The candles are easy - Bilda has them stacked all over in every color of the rainbow. I take two black and two white, even though the spell only calls for one of each, then grab a smudge stick and an extra lighter from the small pile on the shelf.
One more thing - salt. Her salt, actually, blessed specifically for use in magic. I look around for a moment and spot a tiny cardboard box, covered with sparkles. It’s the perfect size, the kind that a necklace might come in, and I figure I’ll just scoop some up.
When I open the lid, I screech and almost drop it. There is something inside that is leathery and slightly curved. It’s also sort of finger shaped. Human finger shaped. Gross. But there’s nothing else around, so I carefully plop the thing out onto a high shelf without looking at it and then scoop salt from the bag she keeps.
Still shuddering at the unexplained finger-thing, I hurry out of the room and down the stairs to my own - just as I hear the doorbell ring. Finding a small leather purse, I shove everything inside and hide it behind my bedroom door. When I’m sure the twins won’t see it, I take a deep breath to calm myself and head for the front door.
Bilda meets me there, but before opening the door she shoots me an odd look. “Are you all right?” she asks, peering closer. “You look flustered.”
“Sorry.” I fiddle with my hair again, but can’t think of an excuse, so I just shrug and open the door.
Angelo smiles at me, then hands Bilda a bouquet of small pink roses that he pulls from behind his back, bowing as he does.
I refrain from rolling my eyes and open the door wider, but only after looking past him. “Come in, if she isn’t with you.”
He ignores me, still talking to Bilda. “You said dinner was at six, right?”
Bilda nods, her chin buried in the flowers. “It’s almost ready.”
That reminds me that I haven’t seen the twins all day. “Where did Glade and Rain go?” I ask, following her through to the kitchen.
“Out,” she says. “Set the table.”
Angelo follows me, too close, then says, “I’ll help. Point me to the plates.”
Bilda points. Angelo goes. I flop down into one of the dining chairs to watch.
She looks at me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Angelo brings bowls to the table, along with the fresh bread Bilda apparently made earlier.
&n
bsp; I nod and run my fingers through my hair, trying to look innocent. “Just the heat, I guess.”
“It’s seventy-five degrees outside.”
“My hair gets frizzy in the humidity. I was kind of hoping you had fixed that problem in a magical city.” Anything to change the subject. Anything at all.
“You know an eco-system can’t survive without moisture in the air. Didn’t you pay attention in the seventh grade?” He’s looking at me like he can’t believe I just said that.
“No, she really didn’t,” Bilda offers, plopping the pot of stew down onto the table. “Angelo, did you know that Rain asked Trinket to teach her healing magic?”
Angelo’s eyes light up. “That’s fantastic.”
“She said no.”
Angelo turns the full force of his gaze on me. “Why not? That would be perfect - you still need an assistant, and the town still needs a healer, even after you’re gone. Also it would be good for Rain to find a...purpose.”
“A purpose?” I ask.
“Something to make her feel important. Maybe purpose isn’t the right word, but she needs a plan of some sort. Doing that would take her mind off her parents, and maybe even help her feel in control.”
He’s right. Crap, he’s right. I sigh, but he isn’t finished.
“In fact, you could teach a class. I’m sure more than one person in Jagged Grove would like to learn that kind of magic, and after Maggie...” His voice trails away.
“You need back-up healers, more or less,” I finish.
He nods. “Something like that, except you don’t have to sound so cold-hearted about it. Why don’t I talk to Rive Callahan about using the old armory?”
“Using it for what?” I ask, wondering if the conversation is changing again.
“A classroom. You could teach there, maybe two or three evenings a week?” His blue eyes sparkle with excitement.
It’s a question, but I can’t answer. I can only look at him and feel the idea snowball out of control.
“We could do a sign-up sheet to gauge interest, then we’ll know what size room you’ll need.”
Panic thumps in my chest. “Angelo, I’m not a teacher, and I’m not a very good healer.”
“Shut up. It would be perfect.”
I suddenly feel a whole lot of pressure on me, even more than five minutes ago when I was just sneaking out to banish a bitter witch. “Let me think about the idea first.”
I have no intention of thinking about the idea, but I’m not about to start an argument right now. Instead, I eat fast and try to find a way to exit the dinner table without drawing too much suspicion.
Dinner takes forever, and I don’t get to leave the house until almost ten, when Angelo challenges Bilda to a game of Scrabble and I refuse to sit and watch. I also refuse to acknowledge the disappointment on his face when I excuse myself. Sneaking into the hall, I hold my breath and dig around in Angelo’s jacket pocket, praying that the photo is there. It is.
I grab my bag, put the photo inside, and leave by the back door. Stepping out into the cool night air, I take a deep breath and turn in the direction of the cottage.
“You can do this,” I say out loud. Then I say it again and again until my feet start moving in the right direction. Talking to myself is a bad sign, but so is being a chicken - again. I’m getting kind of tired of running away, to be honest.
I walk through town and am a little surprised to see so much activity for a Thursday night. There is still a lot I don’t know about Jagged Grove, but I do know that it seems to be a quiet town, especially after supper hours, unless there is some special event.
The thought of special events reminds me of Mayor Callahan’s party, and my brain latches onto it in order to keep from thinking of my upcoming adventure.
I consider Jones’s advice about how I should try to get involved in the community, but I’m not sure waltzing into Wisp’s territory is the way to go about it. She hates my guts, for whatever reason, and I don’t really care to try being buddies.
Angelo’s offer to create a class would be my better option, if I didn’t accidentally get somebody killed. Could I teach a class? The idea is intriguing, but I still don’t know enough about my own power to be confident. Of course, didn’t somebody once say that the best way to learn is to teach someone else? Rain would be so happy, and maybe...
I hear something and stop. I’m just outside of the main part of town, where the streetlights have given way to the darkness of thick trees along the street. I try peering into the shadows, but I can’t see anything.
The moon sheds a little light, but not enough. I hesitate to step from the safety of the sidewalk into the woods, but it sounds like someone might be hurt. “Hello?” I call, wishing that it wasn’t quite so dark. No answer. Hmm.
Then there’s movement, but even it surprises me. First of all, the figure that darts from between two of the oldest trees is much, much smaller than any human being, even a child. Second, he - or she, or it - is skimming the ground instead of walking on it. There is definitely a gap between its feet and the sidewalk’s silvery-gray surface. I’m still staring at it when something explodes right in front of my face and I suddenly can’t breathe.
Then my attacker is gone, and I’m left clawing at my throat. I drop to my knees as the world begins to spin and feel the sharp crack of kneecap on concrete. I’m pretty sure I’m trying to yell, but it could be just simple gasping. My throat is on fire and tears stream down my face. The edges of my vision start going dark.
This is it, I’m going to die here in Weirdsville. In the middle of the sidewalk, in the dark of night. No one will know what happened to me. Poor Bilda will think I had a stroke or something, and the town will be without a healer again. Angelo will have to trap a new witch for Jagged Grove.
Angelo. I’m blacking out, about to die, and I’m thinking of Angelo? Seriously? My throat constricts, like a steel band is crushing my windpipe.
And then hands are lifting me up and deep voices are telling me that I’m OK. At least I think that’s what they’re telling me, because the ringing in my ears sort of blocks out most everything else. I feel my body pressed against a chest and I claw at it with one hand while I point at my throat. Then a hot, hot liquid is flowing down past my tonsils and choking me more. The chest tilts me away just as I throw up.
I hear it spatter on the sidewalk, but then I can breathe again, so I do. Long and deep, over and over. My vision starts to clear, and then the chest sets me on my feet.
I look up slowly to see Jones and Scott Travine, of all people, staring down at me. Scott must have been the one holding me - he still had his hands on my back and arm. “What...?”
Ow. I wince and decide that talking is too painful right now. Besides, Jones is already shaking his head. “Not sure, babe. Just hold steady for a minute, till you get your balance back.”
I nod and breathe again, just because it feels so good. I look down to see if the rest of me is OK, and notice that there is an odd red powder sprinkled across my white t-shirt and arms. It’s exactly like the stuff I found near Lilly’s body, and that makes me sit down again before my knees buckle.
“Another minute, and you might have been dead,” Scott said to me. He smiled a sad but still fashion-model sweet smile, all white teeth and square jaw with just the right amount of stubble.
“What was that stuff?” I can still taste the sticky sweetness in the back of my throat.
“A kind of syrup. It’s safe, and it will destroy the effects of the powder.”
My stomach is still roiling. “You just carry it around with you?”
Jones laughs. “We were headed to your house, to test its effect on the red powder we found there. Turns out it works, I guess.”
I glare up at him. “I thought you were mad at me?”
“Imala came and talked me down.” He glances at Scott. “Can we discuss it later? I need you to take off your shirt.”
“What? Screw you, Jones.”
�
�He’s right - you’ve got Devil’s Tongue all over your clothes,” Scott says. At least he looks embarrassed. Jones just looks annoyed. “Take it off - carefully - and keep your hands away from your face. Do not inhale it.”
Jones reaches for my shirt and I slap his hands away. “No.”
“I’ll give you mine.”
Finally I let him lift the hem and tug it over my head, closing my eyes tight and trying not to breathe while he does. Then he turns it inside out and balls it up to wipe as much of the stuff as he can from my arms.
I stand very still, feeling more naked than I ever have in my life, even though I’m not. As soon as he lets go of my arms I cross them over my chest.
“Baby blue lace - very nice,” Jones says.
I ignore him. “Give me your shirt.”
“You can have mine if you’d rather...” Scott says.
“No, I’m sure she wants mine.”
“Oh, jeez,” I mutter, snatching the new shirt from Jones’s hand. It’s still warm from his body, and now he’s shirtless in front of me. Then moon shining above highlights his gorgeous...everything. I turn away while I’m putting it on.
Scott reaches to smooth the collar of the button-up before I can pull away. I don’t care if he just saved my life, Scott still seems too slick to me. I take a step back from his reach, but a squeal tells me that I’m too late to avoid the inevitable.
“Scott? Scott! Whatever are you doing?” Wisp’s voice makes my ears hurt, and I kind of want to throw up again now.
Scott spins away from me. “Wisp - stay away. There’s a dangerous situation here.”
I pray for the woods behind me to swallow me whole as Wisp comes close enough for me to make out her features in the dim light.
Wisp crosses her arms and gives him what I assume is her half-best pouty face, because she could do better. “It doesn’t look dangerous. Unless you count the idea that you are on very thin ice here. What are you doing with her?”
Her is a nice long snarl. I would laugh if my throat wasn’t still burning.
“She was in trouble.”
“In the middle of the night? On the street? With you?” She turns to Jones. “And I suppose he’s in trouble, too? Was there a shirt emergency?”
Conflicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 2) Page 10