Witchful Thinking: A Cozy Paranormal Mystery (The Happily Everlasting Series Book 4)

by Kristen Painter

  “I take it that didn’t work?”

  “Nope. Didn’t get as far as trying it really. Millie and Lola interrupted all that. They knew he was working for the Collective, too, but I get the sense they were going along with everything to keep the Collective from guessing their true intent, which was to keep the book for themselves.”

  “The Collective isn’t going to like being double-crossed, but Millie and Lola will be safe in the FOL cells.” He laughed. “Really, they should be thanking the FOL for protecting them.”

  “I doubt that’s going to happen.”

  “Me, either.” He leaned in and kissed her, ignored the disgusted grunt Lola made in comment, then pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I wasn’t sure I’d get here in time.”

  “And I’m so glad you figured out where I was.”

  He leaned back and tapped a finger to the side of his nose. “I’m a pretty good tracker.” He pulled his phone out. “I have to call my boss to come take possession of them and the book. One quick question first. Did they force you to bond to the grimoire so that you could use the spells?”

  “Not exactly.” Charlotte explained what Lola had done with her own blood.

  “Hmm. Since it wasn’t your blood, I don’t know if that means you’re bonded or not. You did speak the words. This is a gray area for me.” But he knew what Stillwell would think. That Charlotte should be taken into custody just like the other two witches. Walker could not allow that, but he also had to get things tied up here. He dialed Stillwell, resolved to be as vague as possible. The conversation about Charlotte could wait until Stillwell was here in person. And Charlotte wasn’t.

  Walker’s boss answered on the second ring. “Stillwell.”

  As if Walker didn’t know who he was calling. He also knew Stillwell wouldn’t be far away. Most likely he was on an FOL plane already landing on a nearby airstrip. “It’s done. I’ll have the book in safe keeping at my apartment within the next half hour.”

  “That’s all the time you’ve got. Unless the witch bonded with it.”

  “I’ll find out.” Walker checked the time. Twenty-eight minutes until midnight. “Either way, I have it handled.”

  “Where is the witch?”

  “With me. And there’s two of them.” Stillwell would assume one of them was Charlotte, and Walker was going to let him. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked at her. “What’s the address here?”

  “19 Elderberry Lane.”

  He repeated it for Stillwell. “They’re in the root cellar, zip tied to the shelving. Their magic is bound. Once I contain the book, I’ll bring it back here and meet you to turn it over and give my report.”

  “You didn’t take the case with you?”

  “No. I was tracking them. No way to carry it.” Stillwell would understand that. It happened often. “When do you think you’ll be here?”

  “ETA is twenty minutes.”

  Just like Walker thought, Stillwell was close. “Sounds good. See you then.”

  Stillwell hung up.

  Walker tucked his phone away and checked on Millie and Lola. Millie was just waking up to discover she was zip tied to the rack next to Lola. “You two behave now.” He jerked his thumb at Millie but looked at Lola. “Might want to let her know about the boomerang effect. Just in case she decides to try something.”

  Then he grabbed the book and Charlotte’s hand. “Come on, we need to get back to my apartment and lock this thing up. My truck is at the library, but maybe we can find the keys to the judge’s car.”

  “No need. My car is in his garage and my keys are still in it.”

  He grinned. “Pretty and handy. You just get better and better.”

  Charlotte went straight to the couch and hugged Edgar Allan as soon as they got back to Walker’s apartment. It suddenly hit her, sitting there, that she’d been about to die. There were no tears, however, just a few deep breaths. And a whole lot of anger.

  Walker sat next to her. “I have to return to the judge’s house to meet my boss, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She rested her chin on the top of Edgar Allan’s head. He was purring hard and kneading his paws on her leg. “They were going to kill me because I refused to join them.”

  Walker brushed a piece of hair off her cheek. “But they didn’t. You’re safe now. I promise.”

  She nodded, but the chilling thought hadn’t quite let go of her.

  “You going to be okay here by yourself? I could call someone to sit with you until I get back.”

  She offered him a weak smile. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got Edgar Allan to keep me company. Just shaken up a little, you know?”

  “I do know. I promise I’ll be quick. And I’m only a phone call away.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  He stood, the book still in his hands. “If you’re asleep by the time I get back, I won’t wake you.”

  “I don’t think sleep is very likely.”

  “I understand that.” He took off for his bedroom, returning a few minutes later with a metal box that looked like a steampunk briefcase. The Mobius symbol decorated the tarnished metal. “Okay, I’m out.”

  She nodded at the case. “Is the book really secure in that thing?”

  “It’s steel lined with a thin layer of lead, then thin sheets of rock salt, and the whole thing has been enchanted with the same magic I used on Millie and Lola. It’s about as magic-proof as it can be.”

  “Good.” And interesting. “They’re mother and daughter, by the way. I had no idea.”

  “Seems they were keeping all kinds of secrets.”

  “Apparently.” Edgar Allan curled up on her lap and settled in to sleep. “When you get back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it all.” He dangled her keys from his fingers. “Thanks again for letting me use your car.”

  “Sure. We’ll get yours in the morning.”

  “See you when I get back.”

  “Bye.” She eased Edgar Allan off of her lap and onto the couch, then went to the bedroom to change into her flannel pajamas, which were not the least bit sexy but were very comfortable (and that was all that mattered). She came back to the couch and sat there for a while, just trying to process everything. It was hard. Overwhelming, really. So many things were up in the air now. Would she get the head librarian job? It was a crazy way to get promoted. If it happened.

  And what would happen to the coven with Lola gone? Maybe Mena Peabody would take over. If Mena was a good witch. Had any of the other witches in the coven known about Millie and Lola’s plan? Would Charlotte get a new mentor? Did she even still want to be a witch? Could you not be a witch if you were a witch?

  It was all a muddle of possibilities.

  New questions came up about Millie and Lola, too. What exactly was going to happen to them? Charlotte knew they’d be in the custody of the Fraternal Order of Light. But what did that mean? The FOL wasn’t exactly a well-known organization. Or was it?

  She sighed and looked at Edgar Allan, who was now upside down and snoozing. “You have the life. No job, no bills, no problems. Just love and pets and noms.”

  She looked toward the kitchen. “Speaking of noms…” She got up to see if there was anything good for a snack. The fact that she had any appetite at all must mean she wasn’t as traumatized as she’d thought. Or maybe trauma made her hungry. Hard to say. She’d never had a near-death experience before.

  She opened a few cabinets and found a box of protein bars, a vat of peanut butter, an industrial-size sack of beef jerky, a stack of pull-top tuna cans, a bag of coffee, and a loaf of bread. “He eats like a survivalist.”

  She moved on to the fridge. It held a couple of beers, what looked like a gallon of strawberry jam, a carton of eggs, a stick of butter, and a jar of pickles. She shook her head. “Who lives like this?”

  With such slim pickings, she reluctantly made herself a peanut butter and strawberry ja
m sandwich and took it back to the couch. She put the television on for a distraction and clicked through until she found the first Ghostbusters movie. Seemed oddly appropriate.

  The sandwich was surprisingly good. It had been ages since she’d had a PB&J. It was comforting in a way. Like a childhood friend. And with Edgar Allan snuggled up next to her and her soft, flannel jammies on, she could almost forget what she’d been through.

  A knock at the door made her put the last half of the sandwich down. She wasn’t sure who it would be at this hour. It was after midnight. Could Walker have forgotten his apartment keys? She didn’t see them laying around anywhere.

  She got up and answered the door. “Did you forget your—oh, you’re not Walker.”

  The thin man’s expression remained steely. “No. I’m Stillwell.”

  “Um, okay, Mr. Stillwell.” She had no idea who this guy was, but judging by his suit and tie, he was someone important. Was this Walker’s boss? “Can I help you? If you’re looking for Walker, he’s not here.”

  “You’re Charlotte Fenchurch. You’re the witch.”

  “I don’t know if I’m the witch.” She straightened. “How do you know—”

  “You’re supposed to be in custody.”

  “Okay, nope, I’m definitely not that witch.” She started to close the door.

  He shoved it open.

  “Whoa now.” She backed up, but Stillwell grabbed her arm. Panic raced through her. “Let go of me.”

  He pulled out a set of cuffs and was about to slap them on her when her instincts kicked in. She zapped him with a bolt of witchy energy. He jerked back and hit the wall, falling to the floor.

  She took off as he climbed to his feet. She scooped Edgar Allan up and kept going to the bedroom. She hip-checked the door shut, dropped Edgar Allan on the bed, and twisted the lock to secure the door. Good thing she’d come in here earlier to change, because she’d brought her purse in when she had. That meant her cell phone was here.

  She grabbed it and dialed Walker.

  Stillwell pounded on the door. “Open up, witch.”

  She ignored him to listen to the phone ringing. “Pick up, Walker, pick up.” Suddenly her phone started buzzing with an incoming call. She looked at the screen and tapped the button to take the call. “Walker—”

  “Don’t answer the door.”

  “Too late. Stillwell is here.”

  Walker cursed softly. “I’m on my way. I just got a text from him saying he’d meet me at my apartment instead of the judge’s so he could take possession of the book immediately. The FOL must be eager to get this thing out of town. Did you let him in? Does he know who you are?”

  “I wouldn’t say I let him in so much as he forced his way in. And does he know I’m Charlotte and that I’m a witch? Yes.”

  Walker cursed again. And not quite as softly. “Where are you?”

  “In the guest bedroom with the door locked. He said I was supposed to be in custody. He tried to put handcuffs on me.”

  “Tried?”

  “I sort of zapped him. Magically.”

  Walker snorted. “Nicely done. I’m in the parking lot now. I’ll get this sorted out as soon as I get up there.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Stillwell wiggled the doorknob. “Let me in, witch. The more you fight it, the harder the take down will be.”

  She didn’t even want to think about what that meant. She shouted, “Hurry up,” into the phone, then tossed it on top of the dresser and grabbed the chair beside it to wedge under the door handle. “I’m not the witch you want, Mr. Stillwell.”

  He jiggled the door handle again.

  “Seriously, I’m not.” Too bad she was just a fledging witch and not a Jedi. If only. She’d use the Force to change his mind. She whispered a protection spell. “The witches you want are the two at Judge Turnbury’s house. Walker is on his way to explain everything.”

  Right on cue, she heard Walker bellow, “Stillwell. Leave her alone.”

  She put her ear to the door to hear Stillwell’s answer.

  “You were told to bring her in.”

  Well now. That was new information.

  “I know what I was told. She’s not the witch you want.”

  Charlotte nodded and yelled through the door, “That’s what I said.”

  Stillwell’s answer came from farther away, which made her feel a little better. “The book chose her. We need the witch who bonded with the book.”

  “That’s not her. Probably.”

  Stillwell grunted. “Prove it.”

  Walker made a sound. A sigh maybe. Then he called for her. “Charlotte, come out here please.”

  She moved the chair, unlocked the door, then cautiously snuck down the hall and looked out. The two men were in the small living room, faced off. She looked at Walker.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he made eye contact. The metal case was clutched firmly in his hand. He motioned with a nod of his head for her to join him.

  She went to his side, not at all confident that Stillwell wouldn’t try to grab her again, but very certain Walker would intervene if he did. “What do you need me to do?”

  Walker put the case on the sofa and opened it up, revealing the book. The title’s gold letters gleamed at her. She almost reached out to touch it, but curled her fingers into a fist instead.

  Walker stood back. “I need you to cast a spell from the book.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “No.” Stillwell’s response was pretty much exactly what Walker had expected.

  He held up his hand. “Hear me out. She can attempt to cast the spell at me. You won’t be affected.”

  Stillwell looked unconvinced. “You would trust a witch?”

  “This one? Yes.” He glanced at Charlotte. He’d never met a woman like her. He couldn’t imagine not meeting her. “With my life.”

  “Then you’re a fool because that’s precisely what you’ll be doing. Trusting her with your life.” Stillwell shook his head. “I can’t allow it. She could unleash destruction on us. Or the world.”

  Walker fought hard not to roll his eyes at his boss. He had to remember that Stillwell didn’t know Charlotte like he did. “Except that she won’t. Not only is she a kind, caring person, but she’s not bonded to the book. She won’t be able to cast the spell at all.”

  He sighed. “I’m asking you to trust me. After my years of service, can’t you give me that much?”

  Stillwell stared at him for a moment. “It’s a big risk. One you seem awfully confident about taking. And one that could have extensive consequences. I’m not entirely sure you’re not already under one of her spells. This could all be part of her plan.”

  Walker barely restrained a second eye roll. “It’s not. She’s been helping me. And she’s been the victim here more than anyone else.”

  Charlotte grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Walker, I don’t think this is a good idea. What if I am bonded to the grimoire?” Her eyes held a sadness he hadn’t anticipated. “If I hurt you, I couldn’t live with myself. I can’t do this.”

  He took her hand. “You have to. There’s no other way to save yourself.”

  She looked at Stillwell. “There has to be another way. Don’t you have a magic test or something you can conduct?”

  “No. But I’d be happy to accommodate you if you’re thinking about turning yourself in.”

  She frowned. “No. And you’re so helpful.” She went back to Walker. “I really don’t want to do this.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You have to, Charlotte. It’s the only way you’re not going into FOL custody.” At least the only way that wouldn’t involve violence, but he didn’t want Stillwell to know that he was ready to fight to keep Charlotte free. At least not yet.

  She swallowed.

  “Fine. Let her attempt it.” Stillwell crossed his arms.

  “Please, Charlotte,” Walker begged. “Do this for me.” Because if she didn’t, there would be hell to pay. There was no way
Stillwell would let her walk without proof of her innocence. And the thought of sweet Charlotte spending the rest of her life locked away in an FOL cell was unacceptable.

  She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “You saved my life. Now you’re asking me to potentially take yours.” She shook her head. “How do I say yes to that?”

  “You just do. For me.” He lowered his voice. “For us.”

  A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she scrubbed it away with the back of her hand and lifted her chin defiantly. She let out a long sigh, then nodded. “Okay.”

  She turned her attention to Stillwell. “So you know, I’m barely a witch. I’m a novice. My spellcasting ability is probably equal to yours right now, unless you happen to have some secret magical powers I don’t know about. Which is infinitely possible, based on what I’ve learned recently about my skill in detecting magic in others.”

  Stillwell snorted.

  She continued. “The idea that you think I’m some big, bad, all-powerful witch is laughable. If I was, would I be living in a one-bedroom apartment in the low-rent district? Would I be driving a ten-year-old car? And do you really think that little zap I gave you would have been my best shot?”

  Stillwell grunted.

  She shook her head. “Walker has told me about the FOL, and it sounds like an organization that needs to exist, especially after what I’ve seen tonight, but you’re wrong about me. One hundred percent wrong.”

  The hard set of Stillwell’s mouth didn’t change. “Cast the spell. I’m done waiting.”

  So was Walker. He wanted this over. He wanted Stillwell gone. And he wanted Charlotte in his arms.

  He’d never had doubts about his future with the FOL. Until he’d met her. And now a future with Charlotte was all he could think about.

  He just hoped it was still possible after what she was about to attempt.

  Charlotte lifted the book from the case and opened it. The grimoire warmed in her hands like it had before, coming to life with the same magical energy she’d felt previously. She gave it a moment, to see if it would automatically turn to the binding ritual. It didn’t. So was she bonded to it? That uncertain response did nothing to slow her pounding heart or calm her nerves. She would die if she hurt Walker. She owed him her life.