To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

  The air warmed, and I unzipped my coat as I walked toward the tree. A mourning dove flew out from the tree top, swooped downward, and my mother appeared in front of me, her bare feet not touching the ground. Dressed in a flowy long-sleeved white dress with cowl neckline, she gave me a hug as she motioned toward two tree trunks rising out of the ground.

  “This is a nice surprise,” she said as we sat. “But I have the feeling you’re not just here for a cup of coffee and a chat.”

  “What? I could have just been in the neighborhood and decided to drop in. Plus, you do make the best coffee.”

  “I do, don’t I?” She waved a hand, and a coffee cart appeared next to us. Pushing up her sleeve, she reached over, picked up a steaming carafe, and filled a mug.

  How Harper could even think of giving up magic was beyond me.

  My mother filled another mug, and cupped it between her hands as tendrils of steam rose up. “So you’re not here about Abby or Harper?”

  I reached over to the cart and picked out a shortbread cookie from a platter mounded with tasty offerings. “Well, now that you mention them…” I eyed her. “Harper mentioned you came by earlier. So you know everything that’s going on with her?”

  “Everything, Darcy. Everything. Including her decision about the Craft.”

  “She doesn’t mean it,” I said. “She’s terrified of losing her baby and is lashing out. That’s all.”

  She stared into her coffee.

  I ate another cookie, then said, “I need to know. It’s time I know.”

  “Know?”

  “Whatever it is about Harper that’s been worrying you. You’ve been concerned for a while now. I’ve seen the looks you give her when you think no one is watching. I’ve seen them for months and months now, even before what happened with Marcus. This goes beyond Harper’s health and the baby’s health as well. What is it? And in that vein, why are Glinda and Godfrey worried Harper will have a baby girl?”

  Her head came up. “They shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I agree. You should have been the one to say something.”

  For a long moment, she remained quiet. It was if I could see the debate raging in her head. The fire in her eyes, then the softness.

  Finally, she said, “You’re probably right. I should have told you, but I didn’t want to put you in the middle of a battle that is not yours to fight. And more than that, I wanted to protect you. But now here you are, and I should send you on your merry way, but I … I’m going to need your help after all.”

  “You have it,” I said without hesitation. “Now, what is it we’re fighting?”

  She glanced around. “Let’s walk.”

  I had to smile since she didn’t walk at all. She floated. I set my mug on the cart, stood, and left my coat on the seat. Mom linked her arm in mine and started forward. The wildflowers parted, revealing a grassy path for us to follow.

  “You know the Eldership is matriarchal,” she began. “But what you do not know is that is a hereditary monarchy.”

  I stopped in my tracks. Surrounded by the scent of lavender, I said, “A hereditary monarchy? You mean…”

  “Yes. The Eldership has been in our family for generations. My mother was the Elder before me, and the one before her was her aunt.”

  I was trying to wrap my head around the monarchy part of her explanation when she started floating off, and I nearly tripped over my feet as she tugged me along.

  “Every twenty-five years, there is a renewal ceremony,” she said. “My renewal is coming up in June.”

  “On Midsummer’s Eve.” Harper had uncovered information on the renewal in one of her dusty old books not too long ago.

  “Correct.”

  “It is possible on that night I will have to relinquish the Eldership and the line of our rule will end with me.”

  “Why? If it’s hereditary … I mean, I know Harper and I aren’t dead yet but some day we will be.” Elders, after all, were always witches who’d already passed on and became familiars. “If it’s a monarchy, you should be able to reign until one of us…”

  “I don’t even like thinking of such,” she said with a small shudder. She patted my hand. “But the rules are clear. The reign is passed down to the youngest woman in the family. It has always been that way. On the day of her twenty-fifth birthday the heir apparent will be asked to make a vow that, upon her eventual death, she will claim the role of Eldership with a pure, willing, and voluntary heart. If she makes that pledge, I will continue to reign until the day she crosses over.”

  I barely had time to process what she had said before she continued on.

  “But if that young woman is a witch who does not want to be a witch, she is unlikely to take such an oath. And no one can force or entice her.”

  Harper.

  My heart sank.

  I stopped again. “If you just told her all this…”

  But my mother was shaking her head before all the words were even out of my mouth. “Impossible. And it’s one of the reasons I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to try to influence her. Not on purpose, of course, but subconsciously. As heir, she is not to know about the monarchy until the day of her twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “That is a lot to spring on someone all at once.”

  “One would think so, but if said to you right this minute, Darcy, when the time comes, would you take over my role as the Elder? Would you govern our community with courage and strength, dignity, and fairness? Would you protect our heritage, our way of life? What would you say?”

  I didn’t have to think twice. “I would say yes, of course.”

  “That’s because you have the love of the Craft in your heart. You feel it beating within you. Harper does not feel that way quite yet, or if she does, she has not accepted it and openly embraced it. She had been taking immense steps forward, and I was so hopeful, but I fear her recent troubles have set her back.”

  My head spun with questions as we walked a loop around the meadow. The scents of the flowers were at times subtle, at other times overwhelming. Mint. Orange. Marigold. It smelled of summer and sunshine. Of happiness. Which seemed wrong, considering the anxiety racing through my body. “You’re Elder. There must be something we can do. We can lobby the Coven of Seven for more time. Something.”

  The special coven helped create and amend Craft laws and advised the Elder on important matters. They, as a group, had great power.

  “While the Coven of Seven is loyal, most of them at least, I cannot ask them to change a rule simply to benefit my family. It goes against everything I stand for.”

  A disloyal witch? I immediately added Dorothy to my list of possible Coven members. “Is it possible they’d do it on their own?”

  “Unlikely.”

  My heart beat hard and fast. “So what happens on Harper’s birthday if she says no? What happens to you on the night of the renewal? Who takes over as Elder?”

  She patted my hand. “I’m getting there. Patience.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but I could feel my hands shaking.

  She said, “From time to time, there have been coup attempts. Families who feel they could better govern the Craft. So far all those coups have failed, because our laws are strong, our family stronger. But that is not currently the case. The future of the Craft is in question, and though our family is strong, its ties to the Eldership are in question. Trouble has been brewing for some time now.”

  “This is about Dorothy, isn’t it?” As soon as I said the words, I knew it was. I could feel it in my bones.

  “As you already know, Dorothy believes our ancestors stole the Eldership from hers and feels it is her family who should be governing, not ours. Over the years she has gained supporters, mostly witches who have at one point or another felt slighted by an Elder’s ruling.”

  Ooh, I despised that woman.

  “For years, she has been biding her time, waiting for an opening to push for broad changes. That
opening came with Harper, when she moved here. When she arrived in the village and didn’t embrace the Craft straight off, Dorothy began plotting a new plan of attack for the next Renewal. Dorothy’s plans, however,” Mom added, “were abruptly derailed last fall when she learned Harper had started using the Craft.”

  “That explains her uptick in hostility in the last few months.”

  “Yes. She’s been seething with rage.” She turned back toward the weeping tree. “When Dorothy finds out about Harper’s latest disavowal of the Craft—and she will find out—she will renew her plans with vigor. Full steam ahead.”

  “What are her plans exactly?”

  “She wants the Coven of Seven to approve a massive overhaul to our ancestral laws, allowing a change for a living witch to become Elder once I am forced to resign. A living witch whose identity is known to one and all.”

  I froze, looked at her. “Let me guess. Dorothy wants to become Elder?”

  “Not possible,” she said. “With her reputation, she would never be approved by the Coven of Seven. She’s burned too many bridges.”

  I wondered if that phrase was literal in Dorothy’s case, considering she was a firebug.

  “Dorothy knows the best approach with the Coven is to adhere to Craft heritage as much as possible. Too much change all at once will throw our world into turmoil. Her plan for a takeover aligns with the Craft’s current form of government—a monarchy. One where the Eldership is passed down to the youngest female witch in the family. She simply wants to change the family to hers.”

  The youngest female witch in her family … My heart sank. “Glinda.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know what her mother is planning for her?”

  “Yes. Dorothy informed her a few months ago, before Harper started using her magic. Back when she fully believed my Eldership was not going to be renewed.”

  “Is that when Glinda learned your identity?”

  “It is.”

  I was rattling off questions as fast as I could think of them. “Isn’t it against Craft law for Dorothy to tell people who you are?”

  “Dorothy was not the one to tell her, Darcy. I summoned Glinda and told her myself.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted her to know the whole story. I did not want Dorothy to paint the Eldership—and our family—with one broad, bitter brush.”

  My mind raced. “Whose decision is it to choose the next Elder if you’re forced to resign? Is it only the Coven of Seven? Or is there a global vote among witches?”

  “It would be the decision of the Coven of Seven. There is no modern precedent for replacing an Elder. It’s been hundreds of years since there’s been a situation such as this. The Coven has been meeting regularly to discuss how to handle the matter.”

  “If Dorothy is in the Coven of Seven, isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  Mom lifted an eyebrow. “Is she in the Coven?”

  “Is she? You tell me.”

  She smiled. “I cannot reveal the Coven’s members.”

  I sighed. “Well, I might not know who’s in the Coven, but most of the witches I know aren’t going to do what Dorothy says just because she says so. I can’t imagine they feel especially indebted to Dorothy … and therefore Glinda.”

  “This is true. But they feel tied to our ancestry, and if there is a link to the Eldership and Dorothy’s family as she has always claimed, then they would honor that.”

  “But this … that … It isn’t right.”

  “Right or wrong is not up to us. If the time comes, it will be up to the Coven. They will decide.”

  As we continued walking, I said, “Then there’s really not much of a battle to fight, is there? It’s out of our control. Either Harper will decide, yes, she wants to be Elder, or the Coven of Seven will decide on a replacement.”

  “All of that is true. However, there’s been a development of sorts that changes everything. And it’s why we might have to fight harder than we’ve ever fought for anything ever before.”

  Her tone scared me. “I don’t understand. What development?”

  “Harper’s baby,” my mother said.

  Suddenly it all made sense as to why Glinda and Godfrey had been concerned the baby might be a girl.

  “If Harper’s child is a girl, as the youngest female witch in our family she would then become heir apparent, not Harper,” my mother said, confirming my thoughts. “I would remain as Elder for the foreseeable future. When that child is of age to consent to continue our family’s reign, we go through this all over again.”

  “And the decision is made on her twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “Correct.”

  Feeling a little dizzy with all this information, I slowed to a stop. “But even if the baby is a girl, she wouldn’t be due before Midsummer’s Eve. Your time as Elder will have expired.”

  “It does not matter when the baby is due. If the baby is a girl, she was conceived before the renewal. It’s all that matters. She already exists. We are simply waiting for her arrival.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, Darcy?”

  “Do you know if Harper is having a little girl?”

  My mother took my hands in hers and faced me. There were tears in her eyes. “I do not know yet. It’s too soon. We’ll need to wait along with Harper for a blood test or ultrasound.”

  “There’s no magic we can use?”

  “Sadly, no. Until then, we need to keep a close watch on Dorothy. And an even closer watch should the child be a girl.”

  “And if it’s a boy?”

  “Then the future of the Craft as we know it rests in Harper’s decision on her twenty-fifth birthday.”

  Good heavens.

  “We need to be prepared for anything, Darcy. Because no matter what, Dorothy is going to do everything she can to make sure power changes hands from our family to hers come June. She is not going to go down without a fight.”

  No, she wasn’t.

  Forget battle lines.

  There was going to be a war.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stayed with my mother for a long time, brainstorming ways to keep Dorothy in check and Harper and the baby as safe as possible in the coming months.

  It wasn’t going to be easy, on either count.

  Dorothy was wily, and Harper was both stubborn and fiercely independent. She wasn’t going to welcome any kind of benevolent smothering. Adding to the issue, we couldn’t tell her why we were being extra protective.

  It was late afternoon by the time I left the meadow and speed-walked toward the village, taking a different route than I’d come. I wasn’t going straight home.

  As I neared the Enchanted Trail, the paved path that looped around the village, I took off my Craft cloak and folded it until it fit inside my tote bag. I took the trail around the square, headed for the second-floor apartment above Balefire.

  I wanted to try to catch Ben Bryant at home, where he couldn’t sprint away. Then I needed to stop by Abby’s house to see Quinn.

  The village was fairly busy for a Sunday afternoon. Drivers searched for parking spots along the square. A stream of people were standing in line on the steps of the playhouse for the matinee. I was more than a little amused to see Vince Paxton and Noelle Quinlan together in the crowd. That was quick. I guessed she’d taken him up on his offer to call him—and wondered exactly how long she had waited. An hour? Two? It made me wonder if she was truly interested in him … or only in making another sale. I kind of hoped for the latter since Vince wasn’t interested in long-term commitments at the moment.

  The lights were off inside Balefire when I arrived at the building, and my gaze went upward, to the second floor. I couldn’t tell if Ben was home or not, but wished with all my might that he was. The sooner I could question him, the better.

  I detoured around to the back of the building, where there was an exterior staircase. I trudged up the first flight of steps, hoping I could gather my wits about me enou
gh to concentrate on the job I had to do. My thoughts were scattered, but I had a few set questions to ask Ben.

  I wanted to know what he and Abby had fought about; whether he thought she had any enemies; who was responsible for the creative bookkeeping; why Abby was selling her house; and if he thought Duncan was dangerous.

  I stood on the landing outside his door and knocked. Up here, I could see a light on inside his apartment. I heard footsteps and a moment later, Ben opened the door and groaned when he saw me. “Go away, Darcy.”

  I should have expected hostility after the way he’d behaved earlier, but I’d hoped his mother would have talked some sense into him. “I have a few questions. Talking to me can only help you, Ben.”

  With a weary sigh, he said, “I have nothing to say to you right now.” He slammed the door in my face. I heard the click of the dead bolt.

  Stunned, I stared at the door for a moment.

  I debated knocking again but ultimately, backtracked down the steps and turned toward the neighborhood where Abby had lived.

  As I walked away, I glanced back at Ben’s apartment. I saw him looking down on me, but he quickly closed the drapes, blocking me out.

  Hmmph. He could tell me to go away all he wanted, but I wasn’t giving up so easily.

  I’d be back. Maybe not today. But soon.

  If he didn’t talk to me then … he’d be summoned to see the Elder.

  And I had the feeling that wouldn’t turn out well for him. At all.

  * * *

  Abby had lived in a quiet village neighborhood a few blocks from the main square. The sidewalks had been cleared of snow and liberally sprinkled with sand. Tall oaks cast thin shadows over yards filled with small footprints and lopsided snowmen.

  The driveway and front path of Abby’s one-story cottage had been cleared. A small SUV was backed up to the single garage door, which was open, revealing Abby’s sporty hatchback parked inside. The SUV’s engine was still ticking—apparently Quinn had just arrived home.

  I’d been here only a couple of times before, while dropping off paperwork for Abby regarding the race. Painted a lemon yellow with white trim, the house gave off a cheerful energy that seemed extra depressing considering the circumstances.