Witching You Wouldn't Go (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 6)

by Constance Barker

  Magic.

  Not a week ago, Piper had been mortally terrified of it. She still was, if she was being entirely honest with herself; but now it was a part of her, and a part of her son, and according to the experts—Bailey, Chloe, Aria, and Frances, not to mention the two resident wizards of Coven Grove—that wasn’t going to change.

  So, Piper had faced a choice. Leave Coven Grove, and hope that the magic just went away on its own, or at least weakened to the point that it might as well not be there—or enroll herself in witch school with the Coven. Or, whatever the equivalent was. If Piper had been the only one newly dragged into the magical world against her will she would have taken the former option. She really would have.

  But she wasn’t the only one. Riley would one day grow up and his magic would manifest. Exactly how it would happen was anyone’s guess—he was new territory. And that was scary enough that Piper had chosen to stay; even if being here meant that she’d never quite shake the feeling that there were people just a few feet away.

  All members of the Coven were connected by the magic of the Seven Caves. Normally, it was that from the time they were born. They were fish who didn’t really know what water was—at least, it was so common an experience to all of them that they had taken it for granted until Piper just popped up on their internal radar the way they had on hers. To them, it was just a minor alteration, though. It was something she noticed all the time.

  Recently, she’d noticed that part of it was… not exactly gone, but very far away. Bailey, if she was going to guess. Each of the witches felt a little different and there was something especially familiar about Bailey. Riley, of course, Piper could have pointed to from across town. He dozed now in his stroller, and William gurgled contentedly in the carrier that sat atop it as they made the walk to Grovey Goodies. It was finally time for Piper to pull her head out of the sand and accept the offer that the witches had made to teach her. That, and she wanted to know why Bailey was suddenly so far away—and why she hadn’t told Piper she was leaving.

  Not that it wasn’t partly Piper’s fault. She’d asked for time, and she’d gotten it. If she hadn’t become suddenly aware of Bailey’s distance—and come to think of it wasn’t there some rule about the witches not leaving Coven Grove?—she might still have been at home, mulling over whether or not to visit the bakery and start taking some kind of responsibility for her newfound magic.

  She turned around when she got to the bakery and hauled the stroller up the stairs to the porch. By the time she got to the door, it was already opening. “Let me get that for you,” Aria said.

  When Piper was inside, each of the witches took turns mooning over the children, and Piper got the impression very quickly that they felt about as awkwardly about the whole situation as she did. Eventually, though, all the mooning was spent, and they were left with the obvious purpose of Piper’s visit.

  “I’ve… been thinking,” Piper said slowly to the three women. “I don’t really know what all of this means for me. Or for my children. And… I can’t pretend that it doesn’t scare me. Magic, and faeries and the Caves… all of it, it’s… it doesn’t feel safe. But I can’t pretend that I can ignore this, either. So instead I want to learn.”

  Frances and Chloe both nodded understanding. Aria, though came forward and took one of Piper’s hands in both of her own. She peered at Piper’s eyes and smiled, wide and sweet—the only way Aria could really do anything, as far as Piper was aware. “It’s okay to be afraid, Piper,” she said. “We all are, at one time or another.”

  “And,” Frances added, “as soon as we find out precisely what happened, we’ll help you learn if we can.”

  Piper blinked, and looked around at the three women. “As soon as you find out…? What does that mean?”

  Aria frowned sympathetically. “It means we’ll teach you,” she said, and paused, her mouth open just a bit, “but… also that we’re not entirely sure what to teach you.”

  “Or how,” Chloe added.

  “It may be that your magic works just like ours,” Aria said.

  Frances shrugged. “Or, it could be something entirely new that none of us knows a darn thing about. We could be just as much in the dark as you are.”

  “I… but…” Piper shook her head, and took her hand back from Aria. “You all said that you could help me.”

  “Bailey said that,” Frances grunted. “It’s her go to line.”

  “Frances,” Chloe chided, casting a brief scowl at the other witch. She turned back to Piper, her hands spread. “What she means is that Bailey might have been prematurely optimistic. But that doesn’t mean we can’t help.”

  “It just means we don’t know whether we can or not,” Frances finished. She looked up as the door opened, and then scurried away behind the counter to help the gentleman that came in. He was one of the few—the rumor that Piper had heard, via Gavin’s mother, was that people were afraid to come to the bakery after what some people said happened at the Caves. Piper hadn’t fed the rumor, but she understood entirely.

  “Perhaps we should take this upstairs,” Aria said softly.

  “I can watch the children,” Chloe said. “If Riley wakes or William gets hungry, I can let Aria know.”

  “Let Aria know?” Piper wondered dubiously, just a moment before she realized that Chloe meant… with magic of some sort. “Oh…”

  “They’ll be safe with me,” Chloe said. “I promise.”

  As distressing as it was to just be out of sight of them, it wasn’t as though Piper hadn’t left the children with a babysitter before. She just hadn’t done so since the incident at the Caves. Or, before that, since Riley became enchanted by Thomas Hope, who was also presumably one of the good guys until he put thirteen innocent children into a freakish trance so that they could all be used to open a passage to Faerie. That she was nervous about leaving them now, she thought, was only natural.

  Still, she did trust Chloe, at least as much as she could trust anyone lately. She showed the woman where the diaper bag was, and the stored milk for William, and Riley’s lunch if he woke up hungry. Then she followed Aria around the back of the bakery’s bar and into the storage room, where a staircase led upstairs to the attic.

  Piper had seen Bailey disappear into the back room before, but she’d never been there herself and certainly never been up to the Coven’s… “What is this place?” She asked.

  Aria smiled as she closed the door quietly behind them. “This is our workroom. It’s where each generation of mothers keeps their collected spells, components, tools; that sort of thing.”

  “Mothers,” Piper repeated, frowning. “Do… you and Frances also have children? Like Chloe?”

  “Oh,” Aria said, waving a hand, “no, no. There are three… generations of witches at any given time. The maidens are the youngest—right now that’s just Bailey and, well, maybe you, too. The mothers are currently me, Frances, and Chloe. Martha would have been as well but…” She gave a sad smile and looked around the room as if she were imagining what might have been. She recovered a second later. “And then the Crones are the oldest generation. That’s Rita and Anita, who you’ve… well, seen, at least.”

  Piper had seen. Rita and Anita Hope had ended the fight with Mr. Dove, wielding the kind of magic that simply defied belief. It seemed almost ridiculous to think so; but until that moment, all the magic that Piper had been privy to was somehow subtler, more insidious when it was arrayed against Coven Grove. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say. The mention of Martha Tells had reminded her of Bailey, though. “Where did Bailey go?” She asked.

  Aria looked sheepish for a moment, and wrung her hands. “Ah, she… didn’t say?”

  Piper shook her head, but quickly said, “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to. Just… well now that you’re all up here, it was hard not to notice.” She tapped her skull.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Aria said, just as she had before. It hadn’t helped then. It still didn’t.

 
“I’m… sure I will,” Piper said. “She must be very far away, I can barely feel her anymore.”

  Aria nodded slowly. “She’s gone to Britain with Aiden and Avery.” She blinked, and then tapped her finger on her chin. “Wait—you’re saying that you can feel her… even from here?”

  Piper shrugged, and pointed off in Bailey’s direction—east and a little south, maybe. “Over there. A long way, over there. And Frances is there, and Chloe is there, and Riley there.” She pointed to each of the people she could feel in her mind.

  “Is there… anyone else?” Aria asked quizzically, taking a step closer to peer at Piper—not at her eyes, but at her forehead, as if looking for something there.

  “I thought I felt… maybe Rita or Anita? Yesterday. But only for a little while. I can still sort of feel that they’re near, I just couldn’t point to them.” She waited for Aria to say something, but Aria’s face was a mask of interest and attention. Piper felt a desire to roll her eyes up, as if she might see whatever Aria was seeing. “It’s very worrying not knowing what you’re thinking, Aria.”

  “Oh,” Aria said, her eyes dropping from Piper’s forehead to her eyes. “I’m sorry—I was looking at your aura. It’s not very different than it was before, I think. A little brighter. But… you say that you can actually tell precisely where each of us is? In your mind?”

  “I don’t know that I could tell you exactly how far away—sometimes it feels like you’re all standing right behind me, or just out of sight around a corner,” Piper said. “It’s enough to drive me crazy, actually. But, yes, I can. How long did it take you to get used to it? Or was it just always that way? Bailey said she never really noticed before.”

  “That’s because Bailey doesn’t experience it the same way,” Aria said. “None of us do, Piper. I don’t think Bailey quite understood what you were telling her at the time.”

  Piper’s heart sped up and fell at the same time. “So you mean… it’s broken? It’s different than it is for you? I’m not a witch, then, I’m, what, something else?”

  “Oh, no, no,” Aria assured her, waving her hands quickly to dismiss Piper’s fears, which she didn’t accomplish. “I’m not saying that; it’s too early. Just that maybe… this is your particular talent.”

  “Like how Bailey can read thoughts?” Piper asked nervously.

  “Precisely,” Aria said. “She and Chloe share that gift. I have a talent for growing things, which was originally mostly flowers and herbs and such, and then later developed into healing. Frances can manipulate the wind, and by extension the weather to some degree. She also learned to apply it toward creating ice. Frances is quite frankly a genius of the craft.”

  “I see,” Piper said. “So… I’m not going to get used to this, then. I’m… always going to be aware of you all. All the time. Is that what that means?”

  Aria’s expression didn’t inspire confidence, but after a moment she finally said, “I don’t… think so. If Chloe and Bailey couldn’t control their gifts, then they would be hearing everyone’s thoughts all of the time. But they don’t. They learned to quiet it all down and keep it under control. I suspect that you can do the same.”

  “Alright,” Piper said. She tried to feel more optimistic. “If that’s the case, then how do I do that?”

  Again, Aria’s expression was stiffer than Piper would have liked. She looked around the room for a moment, and then back at Piper. “I have to admit to you, Piper, that I haven’t encountered a talent like yours before. So in all honesty I don’t know. But most gifts function, more or less, to some degree, on the same principles. We can start with the basics and… see what we find.”

  A feeling of bleakness leeched away some of the momentary hope that Piper had tried to muster, but she took a deep breath and nodded to Aria. “Whatever we can do.”

  “Good,” Aria said. She turned away, led Piper to a chair at a what looked like a small, round breakfast table, and then retrieved something from a shelf a few feet away. When she returned, she put a crystal in Piper’s hand. “Let’s start with this.”

  Chapter 5

  Two thirty in the morning came far too soon for Bailey’s taste.

  She hadn’t managed to get much sleep. It had taken hours to fall asleep in the first place, her mind racing even though she was exhausted, and she’d watched the light outside fade to dark before she eventually slept. It didn’t feel like it had been very long.

  She and Avery each took turns changing clothes in the bathroom, and before Bailey was even finished, there was a knock at their door. Aiden came in, followed by Gideon, each bearing some food. Nothing much; just oatmeal and fruit. What Bailey very much wanted just now was one of Aria’s bran muffins, but she ate the meal without complaint, and by three in the morning they were setting the dishes outside their door and locking up to leave the hotel.

  It was far colder outside than it had been before, and Bailey’s coat didn’t seem to be much of a defense. Avery, however, ran his wand along the front, back, and sleeves, working some complex spell that made the air immediately around Bailey slightly colder but made her coat grow warm. “As long as you keep moving, it should hold,” he said.

  She thanked him, and they got into Gideon’s car.

  It was a short drive—Stonehenge was only a few miles away from where they were staying. When they arrived, however, Bailey’s stomach lurched. Of course there was security. No doubt Stonehenge attracted all sorts, and not all of them were respectful; to say nothing of the folks who might have some wild notions about the mysterious landmark. She expected Gideon to start laying out a plan for how they’d be getting around the posted security guards—they didn’t look particularly attentive, but then they wouldn’t have to be to catch a handful of apparent tourists at this time of night.

  Instead, though, Gideon merely parked the car, and glanced at them all. “Are we ready?”

  “As we can be,” Aiden muttered. “Milner’s cloak? Or Orestes’ shimmering curtain?”

  Gideon chuckled softly and shook his head. “Won’t be necessary. Come along, all.”

  He got out of the car, and Bailey, Avery, and Aiden followed nervously behind him as they approached the barred entry near the sign proclaiming the area ahead to be ‘Stonehenge Field’. In this darkness, the site itself may as well have been invisible.

  “The problem,” Gideon said as they approached the small guardhouse, where the current attendant looked up to see them and then clearly sighed as he rose from his chair and turned to open the door to the little shack, “is that there’s security all over the site. We can’t operate under an invisibility spell properly. Instead… Ho there, officer!” He waved at the approaching guard, who was sour faced and impatient already.

  “Oy, you lot,” the guard said, waving a finger at them, “site’s closed. Come back at half past nine with passes like everyone else.”

  Gideon smiled, and produced a wand with a flick of his fingers. “Happily, friend.” He flicked his wand about, and muttered something before he reached up with his free hand and brushed two fingers over the center of the guard’s forehead.

  The Guard’s eyes went momentarily glossy, his face falling slack, and then recovered with a friendly smile. “I suppose I can make an exception, though.”

  “Oh, you mustn’t go to any trouble,” Gideon said, his wand disappearing again.

  “Nah,” the guard grunted, waving the group along as he returned to the gate, “no trouble for you, sir.”

  “And if anyone should come asking?” Gideon wondered as he and the rest of them followed behind.

  The guard shrugged. “I’ll tell them you’ve got the crown’s permission. No one’ll bother to check.”

  “So kind of you to help a gentleman out,” Gideon said. “I assure you, we won’t be long.”

  “Take all the time you like, sir,” the guard said, and smiled happily at them as he pushed the gate open and let them file through.

  Bailey said nothing until they were several yards int
o the field. “You altered his mind,” she said, when she could bring herself to say the words.

  “Just a minor alteration,” Gideon said dismissively. “I set it up when I visited yesterday, just as he started his shift. Him and the rest. It’s perfectly safe, I assure you—once they each hear the word ‘crown’ they’ll each be triggered, and we’ll be left alone.”

  “I’m not worried about the other guards,” Bailey said, her voice getting sharp. She looked at Aiden. Surely he understood?

  But Aiden only gave her a sympathizing, patronizing look and rested a hand on her shoulder for a second. “They’ll be alright, Bailey.”

  She shrugged her shoulder out from under his hand, but held her tongue after that. It wasn’t as though Bailey hadn’t compelled people before—but those situations were different. Weren’t they? And it had torn her up to do it. Gideon had done it with a smile and Aiden hadn’t even blinked. How often did he go around mucking with people’s minds? The thought occurred to her, just a random sliver of irrational fear, that Gideon might have passed that knowledge to Aiden, and if Aiden knew how to do things like that… had he done them to her? As part of some plan to get her to go along with him?

  It was irrational, of course. Chloe had explained before that it was extremely difficult to work such magic on people who had magic of their own; they had natural defenses that eroded those sorts of charms and enchantments over time. On the other hand, Mr. Dove hadn’t seemed to be all that worried about anyone’s natural defenses, and he’d fooled them easily enough. She found herself exploring her memories of Aiden, her feelings for him, as they walked toward the stone plinths that were beginning to become barely visible in the cloudy, dark night. Did they all make sense? Was there any sign of tampering? If there was, she didn’t find it. She did find that her mistrust was beginning to grow thorns, though.

  “Everything okay?” Avery asked quietly, and the two of them slowed a bit to let space grow between them and the other two wizards, who were muttering in conversation with one another.