by Lauren Quick
“You should tell Lance tomorrow. He can follow up on the hood, but it still looks bad for Austin. His fingerprints were all over the materials in the trunk,” Vivi said.
Clover considered the evidence. “But that’s easy to fake. They were all just items—a brown bottle that had been broken, the belladonna, which he admitted to knowing about. He could have touched that when helping his father.”
Vivi and Honora exchanged a glance. “You sound like his lawyer, trying to defend him,” Vivi said.
“Maybe he needs defending.” Clover could admit when she was wrong, but she didn’t think she was. “I don’t know. Deep down, I never really suspected him. I thought it was someone else.”
“Someone more villainous?” Honora asked. “It’s tough to get used to the idea that wizards we know, who are part of our community, can also do terrible things.”
“I guess you’re right. But I’m not totally convinced.”
After dinner Honora flew back to Stargazer City and Vivi drove the hover bike back to Willow Realm after Clover convinced her she didn’t need help getting home. Wanting some fresh air, Clover walked home under a balmy summer moon. She felt conflicted. Maybe the sheriff’s department was right and Austin really did do it. Maybe she just didn’t want to face the awful truth of a son killing his own father when they had only a few months left with each other. It wasn’t right. But who was she to argue with evidence?
As she rounded the corner for home, she saw Felicity sitting on Oliver Yearling’s porch. A wry grin curled on Felicity’s lips when the two witches’ eyes met. That didn’t take long, Clover thought. The sight gave her a bad taste in her mouth.
“You’re awfully happy after such a long day,” Clover said.
Sitting on the porch, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, in the soft glow of illuma light, Felicity appeared both proud and dangerous at the same time like an animal crouching in the darkness. “I am, especially now that I’m your new neighbor. Wilford said it’s a formality, but since Austin’s arrest and my heroics—his words, not mine—the house and land will be put into my name. He believes I’m Oliver’s true love and legal heir.” Her skin glowed in the moonlight.
“That’s fast.” Clover stood on the bottom step of the porch and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
“I’ve been vindicated. Aren’t you happy for me?” She stopped rocking, examining Clover.
“Of course. You’ve been through a lot, especially after everything that happened today at the labyrinth.”
“Something wrong? You’ve got a strange look on your face.”
Clover was terrible at hiding her true feelings and often it showed. “I’m curious. Something occurred to me. How come you were able to be around all that poison and not get sick? It didn’t affect you at all.” Clover held out her hands, the pale runes shimmering in the moonlight. “I have the runes Tabitha Rosewood gave to me. The question is what saved you?”
“I saw those. I figured Tabitha was behind them. She’s impossible to get poison from without her recording your name in that ledger. Such a stickler for the rules.” Felicity snorted. “But to answer your question. I have my tiger’s eye amulet.” She pulled a long chain from her neck and let the stone dangle back and forth like a ticking clock.
Felicity had an answer for everything, but Clover wanted to test her smugness. Something wasn’t right with the hero witch. “Tiger’s eye isn’t a neutralizer,” Clover hedged. She didn’t know for sure if Felicity was lying, but she wanted to see how she would react.
“You’ve learned a lot about poisons since Oliver died. I hope you aren’t testing me. I realize you’re tired, so I won’t take it personally. You’ve had a long day and you feel slighted that you didn’t get the credit for saving the witch today. I understand your being a little jealous of me. But we’re friends and I’ll always remember how you helped out today.”
Clover mentally rolled her eyes. A physical eye roll was too much trouble. Did Felicity really think she was that shallow? Then another thought sparked Clover’s memory. “The new wand. You used a new wand today.”
“I told you I lost my old one.” Felicity spoke slowly as if Clover were stupid.
“Did you? Or had you been using Oliver’s old one all along?” A shiver went up Clover’s spine. The initials were a perfect cover. No one would suspect it was hers if it were ever found. And that’s why Austin never suspected it was missing because his father never used it anymore. Clover’s stomach bottomed out. It was Felicity who created the poisonwood tree and the dangers in the labyrinth, and she used Oliver’s wand so no one would ever find out. Setting up Austin would have been easy. It was Felicity all along. Clover’s mouth was suddenly dry. She’d said too much.
Felicity’s twisted grin looked sinister in the low light. Her voice was low and steady. “I loved Oliver and he loved me. We worked side by side for years as a devoted couple. And then he got ill, incurably ill. I was devastated for a long time, but then I realized it happened for a reason. His illness was my opportunity to finish what he started, only making it better. The labyrinth needed me, my vision, my new blood.” She chuckled. “Ollie was too soft and sentimental. He lacked the vision to see how advanced the labyrinth could really be.”
What she really meant was that he refused to use suspect and black magic to create a death trap. Clover couldn’t believe what Felicity was saying. She’d pushed Oliver to darken the magic in the maze and when that failed she…. Clover took a few steps back. She desperately wanted to race across the yard and go home, but it was too late. She’d tipped off Felicity, the truth about the wand spilling out of her and now the two witches both knew the truth. Felicity had poisoned Oliver and framed his son for the murder so she could have the labyrinth to herself. A shiver trailed up Clover’s spine like a spider crawling up her skin.
“Clover, it’s over. Austin’s been arrested by our upstanding sheriff’s department for unspeakable crimes, including the black magic used against you. There’s nothing you can do now. Let’s end this, let bygones be bygones. We’re friends remember, and trust me when I say you want me as a friend, dear. Not an enemy.”
She needed to get as far away from her as possible and call the police, but the two witches were in a standoff. Felicity had fooled everyone except Clover with her act, and they both knew that Clover wasn’t about to keep quiet about it.
“I’m stronger than you,” Felicity said. “I’ve been developing a new persuasion that even those runes of Tabitha’s can’t save you from.”
“What’s that?” Clover asked.
“Poison.” Felicity yanked the tiger’s eye amulet from around her neck. “Grady’s not the only one with something to hide,” she said.
Once the disguise charm had dissolved, her true nature was revealed. Her eyes were the violet color of poisonous monkshood. Her skin was a delicate pale green, covered in dark waxy green patches, and the soft area around her neck was covered in a series of thorns sprouting right out of her skin. The thorns reminded Clover of the vines she saw at the Winters’ farm.
“You poisoned their land, didn’t you? It wasn’t the backfire that destroyed their crops. It was you.” Clover had discovered another part of Felicity’s devious plan.
“Grady had been trying out new pesticides on his crops, and I just helped him along. He blamed himself, of course, and so did his wife. Talk about a couple turning on each other. Once the crops withered and died, they became positively desperate for land, playing right into my hand. Desperation is a perfect motive for murder, especially with Austin’s debt and desire to sell his father’s land. I knew that one of them would eventually be charged with the crime. And my plan worked.”
“That’s truly devious. They have no idea. They’re getting sicker by the day.”
“I’m surprised you figured it out, Clover. Don’t get m
e wrong. You’re a sweet witch, really you are. But I always pegged you as the dumb Mayhem sister.” She chuckled again, truly annoying Clover. “No offense, but you’re a simple little witch, aren’t you?” Felicity slid her wand from her sleeve and clutched it tightly in her hand.
Anger over the insult bristled on the back of her neck, the skin on her face warmed, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from physically throttling the pompous witch. Clover swallowed her emotion. Unfortunately, she’d talked herself into a corner. It wasn’t as if she planned to confront Felicity and accuse her of murder. To make matters worse, she hadn’t recovered her own wand, had no orbs, and her charm bracelet was charmless. The only magic she had was her own persuasion.
The thought flickered in her mind of what it meant to be a word witch. “Words are more powerful than you think,” she said aloud. “It took me a long time to understand that.” It took her an even longer time to learn to harness them and keep the stories she spun locked to the page and in the imagination of the reader. Learning to use the crystals to store and hold the scenes was an even greater challenge. When she was first creating stories, her words came to life in walking, talking illusions. Scenes popped right out of her head and into her living room.
Felicity wrinkled her brow. “I’m sorry it has to end this way. Truly I am. Do you have any last words before the end? A message for you sisters, perhaps?” She pointed her wand at Clover. “Don’t try anything. I know you don’t have any magic on you. Simple witch.”
“I don’t have any magic on me, and I don’t have any final last words. But I am wondering what Oliver would have to say to you if he were here.” Clover focused all her persuasion on envisioning Oliver Yearling walking up the path to his front door, his crestfallen face, the suit and tie he wore to the party, his illness-riddled body, his anger bubbling up out of his mouth, and the devastating betrayal ripping his heart apart.
Clover didn’t need paper and ink to conjure a scene to life. All she had to do was unlock it from her mind’s eye and set it free from the walls of her imagination and into the world like an actor walking onto a stage—or a porch, in this case.
“Felicity, I had no idea what a vicious witch you truly were.” Oliver’s voice trembled in his throat as he appeared. “I tasted it in the beer. The bitter brew you served me under the solstice moon. Poison is the choice of cowards. It suits you.” His eyes narrowed, and the muscle in his jaw clenched.
“Oliver,” Felicity gasped, but turned on Clover in an instant. “What is this? An illusion? You can’t fool me.” She cackled and tried to run her hand through Oliver and found his body very real and very solid. There was no telltale magical warmth, tingle, sparkle, or any other outward sign that he wasn’t flesh and blood. “What kind of spell is this?” She fumed and cast a few dissolving spells, but Clover’s illusion held.
Clover might have been a simple witch to those who didn’t know her true power, but she had a great imagination and years of practice creating seamless illusions with no telltale signs. Scene stealing was one of the prizes of her persuasion.
Felicity’s eyes widened in confusion and horror. “Oliver? Is that you? It can’t be. You’re dead.” She took a step back and bumped into the front door. She turned her back on him and faced Clover. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not buying this illusion. It’s a trick.”
Clover held out her hands. “I’ve got nothing—no wand or charms. I’ve not cast a spell. You’ve been with me the whole time.”
Oliver grabbed her and braced his hands on Felicity’s shoulders. Fear flashed in Felicity’s eyes as Oliver closed in on her.
“You took my home, my labyrinth, my magical joy. You stole it, corrupted it. You took my son and, worst of all, you took my final dying days from me. You robbed me of the final words I would say to my son, my family, and my community. You stole my goodbyes.”
Felicity trembled under his touch, her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t believe you. This isn’t real. You aren’t real.” But the witch was starting to falter.
“You won’t get away with it. All of Everland is going to know that you were the love of my life and finally my murderess.”
“Never! You can’t hurt me.” Her skin glowed green and the thorns sprouted right out of her arms and neck, but her poison didn’t affect Oliver. In fact, Clover envisioned him restraining her so she could make her more.
While Oliver’s illusion distracted Felicity, Clover raced up the porch steps, snatching the wand right out of her hand. Next she fired off a series of binding spells to completely subdue her. Clover sprinted into the yard and sent a glowing red beacon up into the sky and waited for the sheriff to come. Felicity thrashed around on the porch, eyes wild. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll make you pay.”
“But we already have, my dear. And once the sheriff sees what you’ve done to yourself, this will all be over,” Oliver said and walked off his porch into his backyard and disappeared into his labyrinth, forever.
23
Clover stepped off her porch into the warm summer sun. She could already tell it was going to be a hot one. A week had gone by since the incident with Felicity and much had happened. After days of questioning and a neutralizing spell bath, Felicity finally cracked, confessing to all of her crimes. Once the truth about Felicity was uncovered, Wilford Rutherford deemed Oliver’s last will invalid and used his previous will, which left his entire estate rightfully to his son. All charges against Austin were dropped and Felicity was charged with Oliver Yearling’s murder and the magical destruction of property she’d caused to the Winters’ farm.
Staring over at Oliver’s house had never made her happier. She waved at Austin who was up bright and early, directing a team of witches and wizards working hard to clean up the labyrinth and rid it of all illusions, spells, and especially black magic. Tabitha Rosewood and her team were also clearing the labyrinth of the poisonwood tree and any trace poison that was in the land. The theory was that once all the spellcraft and other dangers were removed, Austin could start over, building a brand new enchanted labyrinth. He vowed to continue his father’s tradition that brought joy, not fear, to the Meadowlands.
Derek had returned all of her Cassandra Reason materials to the office and they had a long talk about their future. Currently, her assistant stood on the porch with his tanned arms crossed over his T-shirt. “Are you sure about this?” he asked for the millionth time.
“I’m sure. Are you sure?” Clover asked.
His arms dropped to his sides, an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders. “Yep. It’s the right thing to do. We can’t live in fear any more. It’s time.”
In a puddle of sunlight, Rusty yapped in agreement from his curled-up position on the porch. Then he yawned and continued his napping.
“We’re all in agreement. It’s time for Cassandra Reason to come out of the closet for good.” Clover grinned like a giddy school witch.
The fight with Felicity had changed her mind—or at least given her a completely new perspective on how she was living her life. She’d never cared about what witches thought about her, until Felicity flat out told her she was the puttering, simple, and even dumb sister. That had done it.
A persuasion was a huge part of a witch’s life and personality. And even though Clover had taken her magic to the pinnacle of success, she’d done so by burying her identity in secrets and lies. She even had a fake, though gorgeous, face thanks to a magical potion Vivi had made for her. But enough was enough.
She realized that, as kind as many of her neighbors were, they really didn’t know her at all, and that was a deception in its own right. If she truly wanted to be a part of her community, she needed to start telling the truth, the whole truth, and deal with the consequences good and bad.
Sure, Clover would lose some of her privacy, but maybe that was a good
thing. Derek was reluctant at first, but decided in the end that change was good and with Clover going public, she would actually need him more than ever. In fact, one of the changes was levitating up the pathway as they spoke—a gorgeous new desk Derek had ordered from Wildwoods Wands and Woodwork.
“I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner,” Clover said as a young delivery wizard guided the desk into the house.
“You never use the office on the first floor, so it’s a perfect place for my new workstation.” Derek’s face was glowing with excitement. “Now I’ll have a space for all our materials, so you’d better get writing so I can schedule you a book tour, signing, reading, maybe even start a book club.” Derek stood in the doorway. “Over there,” he said to the delivery wizard, directing the desk placement.
Clover cocked her eyebrow. “Slow down. We’ll have plenty of time for all that. But I’m glad you’re excited. You’ll need to finish up your community service before we schedule too many events. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Derek had been given probation and community service for the obstruction of justice charges. “Yep. I’m going to work with Rosemary’s Familiar Farm and Sanctuary.”
Now it was Clover’s time to beam. “That’s great. I love the sanctuary. It should be a lot of fun. I hear they got a new hawk from a witch who passed away suddenly. And you’ll see Oliver’s familiar, Cocoa.” Austin offered to take care of his father’s familiar, but the cat really didn’t like him. Plus, since Cocoa had been staying at Rosemary’s, she refused to leave the comfy cat tree nooks at the sanctuary.
The familiar farm was founded by and named after her great-great-grandmother Rosemary Mayhem. The farm took care of lost, abandoned, and needy familiars that had lost their owners and could no longer return to the wild. The farm was currently being run and maintained by a couple of young animal-loving wizards dedicated to their care and welfare. Many of them found new owners, but the sanctuary was a permanent home for dozens of familiars.