Rowan's Responsibility : The Willoughby Witches (Book One)

by Terri Reid

  He nodded. “I’ll visit you, and then I’ll marry you,” he had promised with all the fervor of a six-year-old.

  “Deal,” Rowan had giggled excitedly.

  “Deal!” Henry had called back.

  The vision faded, and he looked at the woman in his arms. “I’ve finally come to visit you for real,” he said.

  She smiled widely. “You remembered,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “And I think I should make good on my other promise,” he whispered.

  She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was hoping you would,” she said.

  “Marry me, Rowan Willoughby,” he said, brushing her lips with his. “Deal?”

  She tightened her arms around his neck and poured all of her love into the kiss. Finally, she leaned back, breathless and her eyes shining with love. “Deal,” she whispered.

  He picked her up in his arms. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  The red Jeep skidded to a stop in the back of the house as Henry walked across the barnyard carrying Rowan in his arms.

  Hazel jumped out of the car, running in their direction. “What happened?” she asked, sprinting towards them. “Is she okay?”

  Rowan, with her arms wrapped tightly around Henry’s neck, beamed at her sister. “I’m great,” she said languorously. “I’m just great.”

  Henry chuckled softly and placed a kiss on Rowan’s forehead. “I think what she means to say is Buck is unconscious in the Still Room,” he said. “Four more of the coven goons are unconscious around the barn. Agnes is in the house, making some tea for all of us. And Rowan has consented to be my wife.”

  Hazel shook her head and smiled at Henry. “Why did you save the best part for last?” she laughed. She wrapped her arm through Henry’s and walked alongside them. “Welcome to the family, professor.”

  Cat held Donovan back while Hazel escorted Henry and Rowan into the house. “What do you know about all of this?” she asked harshly.

  He stared at her. “Really, you think I would chain myself to a wall in a tower?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, actually, I think you would,” she said. “I know what you chose years ago, and that wasn’t me or my family. And now those you chose to align yourself with have tried to hurt the people I love.”

  He met her eyes, saw the anger and the skepticism in them. “You’re right,” he finally agreed. “I did choose the coven, but I thought that was my only choice.”

  “That’s a lie,” Cat said. “We loved you. You were a part of our family. You could have…”

  He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek. “Loved me, Cat? Past tense?” he asked. “Is there no love left for me anymore?”

  She stepped back, out of his reach. “You forfeited any love when you chose to work against us,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to work against you, Cat,” he said. “You have to believe that.”

  “I believe what I see,” she replied, shaking her head. “And I don’t see that you’ve changed.”

  He stepped closer to her. She could feel the warmth of his body, smell his familiar scent. “And what if I did change, Cat?” he whispered. “What if I wasn’t who you thought I was?”

  She looked up into his eyes and wanted so badly to believe, wanted so badly to have him take her in his arms and tell her it was all a lie, that he’d always been true. But, she remembered, her decision to trust him could affect her whole family. Could she really risk them for a fantasy?

  She shook her head sadly and stepped away from him. “I can’t risk believing you,” she said.

  He dropped his head and nodded. “If you’d let me borrow your SUV,” he said, his voice emotionless, “I’ll get rid of Buck and the others.”

  She nodded. “I’ll get you the keys.”

  He smiled mirthlessly. “I don’t need the keys.”

  She sighed. “Sorry, you’re right,” she said. “Good-bye, Donovan. Be safe.”

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  “Donovan just sent me a text,” Cat said as she walked into the house several nights later. “He wanted us to turn on the local news. Said there was some information that he was sure we would find interesting.”

  “What in the world would that be?” Agnes said, picking up the remote and pointing it to the television.

  Henry smiled at the normal action. Not only had he been recovering from his wound, he’d also been learning over the past few days, how to access the power within him and use it in the correct manner. Agnes could have easily just waved her hand to turn on the television, but instead she used the remote. “Watch and learn,” he whispered to himself. “Watch and learn.”

  Rowan sat down next to him on the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you talking to yourself again?” she asked.

  He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips. “Yes, I am,” he said with a shrug. “Always. It’s something you’re going to have to learn to live with.”

  She smiled and returned the kiss. “I love the sound of that,” she replied. “Learn to live with, forever.”

  He started to reply when his attention was pulled away by the announcer.

  “Whitewater Police Chief Bill Stoughton, along with a number of his officers, including Officer Abbott and Officer Wildes, were arrested today in connection with a drug smuggling ring in Whitewater County,” the announcer read. “The officers, along with a group of men who ran the operation, including Officer Abbott’s nephew Buck Abbott, were taken into custody after a large stash of narcotics was found in his home, as well as his place of business, the Dark Arts Tavern. In a surprise move, the men were transferred up to Iron Mountain Prison in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to await trial.”

  Henry turned to Rowan with a question on his face.

  “Iron Mountain prison is made of stone with naturally occurring iron deposits,” she explained. “And the prison bars are also made of iron. So, someone must have suggested that would be the best way to keep them incarcerated.”

  “I had no idea they were involved in drugs too,” Henry said.

  Hazel, seated on a bar stool, glanced over her shoulder at Henry and laughed. “I’m pretty sure they weren’t involved in drugs,” she said. “But it’s really hard to lock someone up for practicing witchcraft these days.”

  “You mean it was a set-up?” Henry asked.

  Cat nodded. “I’m sure it was a set-up,” she said.

  “I’m sure it was Donovan,” Hazel added. “So, maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all.”

  Cat shrugged, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

  “And now they’ve got two times the trouble,” Rowan added.

  “Why two?” Henry asked.

  “In witchcraft, you can’t create something from nothing,” she said. “The material Hazel used to build the apartment came from local vendors…”

  “There’s a price for magic,” Henry added.

  “Exactly,” Rowan said. “Those drugs had to come from a dealer somewhere, and that dealer is not going to be happy to find out that some good old boys in Wisconsin decided to steal them from him.”

  Henry sat back against the couch. “So, the plot thickens,” he said.

  Cat nodded. “And if I know Donovan,” she said, “he left just enough evidence to let those dealers know exactly who took it, without making it too obvious.”

  Henry looked over at Cat. “Sounds like Donovan might be a good guy to have on our side,” he said.

  She shrugged and shook her head. “I’m not convinced yet.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Now that they didn’t have to fear reprisals from the Whitewater Police Department, Henry and the Willoughbys drove into town the next morning. They parked in front of the Museum of Spiritualism in downtown Whitewater.

  “Are you sure about this?” Rowan asked Henry.

  “This is where all of my research leads,”
he said. “When the school moved to Milwaukee, several members of Pratt’s family decided to stay here. They were often quoted as saying they had a responsibility to fulfill.” He shook his head. “If this isn’t the place, at least it’s a good start.”

  They walked through the entranceway and were greeted by a tiny woman in a black dress. She smiled at them. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Charity Pratt Anderson. Morris Pratt was my great-great-great- grandfather.”

  Agnes came forward first. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Agnes Willoughby.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Really, a Willoughby. Oh, how exciting,” she said. “My family has such wonderful stories about the brave and remarkable Willoughby women.”

  “They still are pretty remarkable,” Henry said, his arm around Rowan’s shoulders.

  Charity looked up at him. “And you are?” she asked kindly.

  Henry felt a kind of buzzing in his head, similar to what he felt when Cat had first unlocked the information about the book. “I’m…” he began. Then he shook his head and tried again. “I’m…I’m Henry Goodfellow McDermott,” he said. “And I believe you have a package for me.”

  Charity’s hands went to her neckline, and she gasped softly, tears filling her eyes. “I have been waiting my whole life for someone to say that to me.”

  “You have?” Agnes asked.

  Pulling out a lace hankie, Charity blotted her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “Yes. We Pratts can finally fulfill our part of the oath.” She looked at Henry. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

  Charity hurried from the room, closing a door behind her.

  “How did you know to say that?” Hazel asked.

  Henry shrugged. “One of those strange, inherited memories again,” he said. “It just came out of nowhere.”

  “I wonder how many more of those memories you’ve got holed up in that brain of yours,” Hazel remarked.

  Henry grinned. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said.

  The door opened, and Charity walked out, carrying an item wrapped in plain burlap cloth. “This has been with us for so long,” she said. “It’s like a part of the family.”

  She put the item on the tall reception desk, then stopped and looked at Henry. “Do you think we should lock the doors?” she asked.

  Henry nodded. “Good idea,” he said, turning to walk towards the door.

  Hazel shook her head and waved her hand. All of the locks in the building snapped closed.

  Charity looked at Hazel. “Well, you certainly are a Willoughby,” she said with a pleased smile.

  Then she turned and slowly unwrapped the item. Underneath the dusty cloth of burlap, was a wooden box. She lifted the lid from the box, and inside it was stuffed with cotton. She moved the cotton aside and then pulled out of the old, leather-bound book. “Here it is,” she said, placing the book on the counter.

  Henry stared at the book and felt like he somehow recognized it. He stepped forward, placed his hand on the cover and said, “Memores acti prudentes future.”

  “Mindful of deeds done, aware of things to come,” Rowan said softly.

  The book glimmered beneath his hand, the old, brown binding brightening and turning gold. Henry lifted his hand from the book, and the cover lifted, the book opening before him.

  “Thank you for letting me witness this,” Charity said. “It’s fulfilled a dream. But, I would urge you to take the book someplace safe. There are too many who would wish it destroyed, and now that it is no longer in our keeping, it is not secure.”

  Nodding, Henry lifted the book and placed it back in the box.

  “Thank you, Charity,” Henry said. “Will you be safe?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  They hurried from the building and went back to Cat’s SUV.

  “So?” Henry asked once they were on the road. “What’s the safest place for the book?”

  “I would say the house,” Rowan said. “That’s the most protected. We can ask Esmerelda to keep an eye on it when we’re not there.”

  Henry shook his head in wonder. “Asking a cat who’s a familiar to keep an eye on an enchanted book,” he said, shaking his head.

  Rowan grinned. “Who would have believed it?”

  I wouldn’t,” he whispered. “Not in a million years, and I believe everything at first.”

  Hazel chuckled as she rolled down her window. The wind whipped through the car, and she laughed delightedly and put her hand out into the air. “Welcome to the family, Henry,” she said. “You’ll find with the Willoughbys there is never a dull moment.”

  He looked over at Rowan, who was trying not to laugh, and shook his head. Then he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I’m quite looking forward to never a dull moment with you,” he said softly.

  She smiled at him and nodded. “We’ll make wonderful magic together, Henry.”

  He chuckled softly. “Deal?”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “Deal.”

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Agnes Willoughby walked slowly down the forest path with Fuzzy by her side. She was desperate for a moment to be by herself. She pushed back a branch now filled with bright green leaves and thought about how only two weeks ago there had only been buds. She breathed in the night air and let the cool, damp wind caress her skin.

  “I’m feeling a little nostalgic, Fuzzy,” she admitted. “Seeing Rowan so happy and so much in love. I miss that feeling. That wonder when you find the one who completes your life.”

  Fuzzy whined softly, and Agnes laughed. “Well, of course darling, you complete my life,” she coddled the spoiled dog. “But I was actually thinking about someone who walks on two feet.”

  The dog snorted in disgust and loped ahead of her a little way on the trail.

  “Sorry,” she whispered when she reached Fuzzy on the top of the bluff. “I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Of course, you are enough companionship for me.”

  She walked to the edge of the bluff and inhaled deeply, letting the scent from the lake fill her lungs. In a few days’ time would be the full moon, where the moon was at its most powerful. They had decided to wait until then to cast the circle and read from the Goodfellow Grimoire. But there were still things Agnes needed to know, still questions on her mind.

  Once again, the dark night pooled around the edges of the black stone. Agnes looked up to the constellations; Orion, The Dippers and Draco, the Dragon. She caught a glimpse of a shooting star and smiled. Magic. There was magic all around if you only looked to see it.

  She lifted her hands to the sky, the sleeves of her loose-fitting shirt slipping back to reveal the hammered silver cuff bracelet. Slowly the runes carved into its surface began to glow.

  “Sisters of night and sisters of lore,

  Sisters of courage, who walked here before,

  Before us the quest created by thee,

  Give me direction, so mote it be.”

  She stood, her hands stretched over her head and listened. Soon the sounds of the earth around her quieted. The frogs were silent, and the owls ceased their calls. Even the winds in the trees died down. Agnes could sense the spiritual presence of others, and then she heard their whispered chant.

  The first ritual complete, one of three,

  Two more to fulfill the prophecy,

  One in faith and one clemency

  As we deign, so mote it be.

  Chapter Sixty-two

  The door to the mayor’s office opened, and the mayor’s assistant walked out. “The mayor can meet with you now, Mr. Farrington.”

  Donovan stood up and walked across the room, nodded to the assistant and then let himself into the office, closing the door behind him.

  The mayor, a stout man with graying temples, stood up and reached over his desk, offering his hand to Donovan. “Nice to see you again, young man,” the mayor said. “Have a seat. Have a seat.”

  Donovan took the leather seat
in front of the mayor’s desk and relaxed. “You wanted to see me?” Donovan asked.

  The mayor sat down and nodded as he templed his hands together. “You must know that I’m very pleased with how things worked out,” he said. “Stoughton was never a good soldier, and those Abbotts, well, they were trouble from the beginning.”

  Donovan nodded. “I was just doing what I thought was right.”

  “Well, good for you,” the mayor said. “It’s brought me a lot of positive publicity, and you know we politicians can’t get enough of that.”

  The mayor paused. His smile dimmed, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “The Master is very pleased with your work,” he whispered, “and wants to know how you are doing with the Willoughby Witches.”

  Donovan nodded and leaned forward, mimicking the mayor’s posture. “It’s going well,” he said, his voice low. “I can tell they are beginning to trust me again. Soon they will be eating out of my hands.”

  The End

  About the author: Terri Reid lives near Freeport, the home of the Mary O’Reilly Mystery Series, and loves a good ghost story. An independent author, Reid uploaded her first book “Loose Ends – A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery” in August 2010. By the end of 2013, “Loose Ends” had sold over 200,000 copies. She has sixteen other books in the Mary O’Reilly Series, the first books in the following series - “The Blackwood Files,” “The Order of Brigid’s Cross,” and “The Legend of the Horsemen.” She also has a stand-alone romance, “Bearly in Love.” Reid has enjoyed Top Rated and Hot New Release status in the Women Sleuths and Paranormal Romance category through Amazon US. Her books have been translated into Spanish, Portuguese and German and are also now also available in print and audio versions. Reid has been quoted in several books about the self-publishing industry including “Let’s Get Digital” by David Gaughran and “Interviews with Indie Authors: Top Tips from Successful Self-Published Authors” by Claire and Tim Ridgway. She was also honored to have some of her works included in A. J. Abbiati’s book “The NORTAV Method for Writers – The Secrets to Constructing Prose Like the Pros.”