To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

“Good timing, Darcy!” Archie said as he landed on his perch.

  The gray bird folded its wings over its chest and my mother appeared before me. “Very good timing.” She kissed my cheek.

  “Tea?” I asked. “The kettle’s still hot.”

  “Please,” Mom said.

  “I do not suppose you have stocked any rum today?” Archie asked.

  I set out a couple of teacups. “Have you considered that you might have a problem?”

  “Oh, most certainly. Many problems. One of which is the lack of rum in this house. How long until Quinn takes her leave of Ve’s home?”

  “Tomorrow, I believe. Until then, you’re going to have to suffer with tea or coffee, milk or juice, water or tonic.”

  “Gin and tonic?” he asked hopefully.

  I stared at him. “I’m going to have to talk with Terry.”

  “Do I hear voices?” my mother asked, tipping her head.

  “Harper’s on the phone.” I set tea bags in the mugs. “With Marcus.”

  Mom’s mouth formed a little “O” as she floated closer to the stairway.

  Archie crossed his wings over his chest, cleared his throat, and said, “‘Whatever happens, I must not cry.’”

  “Shrek 2. And you and me both. Where have you two been all day?”

  “Here and there and Delaware,” Archie said.

  “Delaware, really?”

  “We paid a visit to the Roving Stones,” Mom said, floating back to the island. She pulled a necklace from her pocket and held it up. A small stone pendant wrapped in golden threads glinted in the light. “It’s the most powerful protection amulet in the Craft world. It should keep Harper safe from harm as long as she’s wearing it.”

  “And the baby, too?” I asked.

  “The baby, too,” Mom said.

  Thank goodness. “How do we explain the necklace to Harper? Without worrying her, I mean.”

  My mother said, “We don’t. Dennis Goodwin will give it to Harper and explain its protection value for the baby. There is no way she will deny the gift it if it’s meant to protect her child.”

  I touched the charm. Warmth seeped into my fingertips. When I heard footsteps above, I abruptly said, “So Nick had to bring Joe back in for questioning when—”

  Harper stuck her head over the railing of the overlook, the interior balcony that looked down into the kitchen and family room. “He’s coming over. It’s okay that he’s coming over, isn’t it? Hi, Mom. Hi, Archie.”

  “Who’s coming over?” Mom asked as she hadn’t heard a word about Marcus in her whole life.

  “Marcus. He said he has a meeting but will be by around five. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” I said, wishing I could be home for the visit. But I’d be at Abby’s memorial service. “I won’t be home, but that doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ll be here. Rum-less, but here,” Archie said. “I can chaperone.”

  “Just tell Marcus to bring a six pack and Archie will leave you two alone.”

  “I do not drink such swill,” Archie said. “Make it a bottle of wine, and I’ll be practically invisible.”

  “Archie, have you ever considered that you might have a drinking problem?” Harper asked him.

  He cursed under his breath, then grumbled, “You and your sister are spending entirely too much time together.”

  “How did Marcus sound on the phone?” I asked, ignoring Archie.

  “He sounded … good.” She smiled, then turned and went back to her room.

  “Good is good, I guess?” I said.

  “‘Tis a sight better than bad,” Archie added.

  “I’m feeling the winds of change,” my mother said.

  “Are you sure that’s not just Higgins’ tail?” Archie eyed the dog.

  We heard footsteps again, and Harper appeared once more at the railing. “Hey, Archie, how about a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon until Marcus gets here?”

  “Ahoy, matey!” he cried excitedly, flapping his wings. He soared upward.

  The Pirates movies were at the top of his favorites list. “He’s going to want rum even more now.”

  My mother waved her hand and a bottle appeared on the counter top. “I have the feeling you’ll all need cocktails at the end of this day.”

  I carried the bottle to the pantry. “Not that I don’t trust Archie to find this and drink the whole bottle in one sitting, but I’m just going to hide this for now.”

  My mother sat on a stool. “Wise woman. Now, when Harper was coming down, you were saying something about Joe? What was that about?”

  I filled her in on all she’d missed today. “No one knows where Duncan is now,” I said. “Or why Ben would have been hiding him.”

  “Is it possible Ben didn’t know the police were looking for Duncan?” Mom asked.

  “I suppose,” I said. “Ben’s been keeping to himself these past couple of days, so he could have been insulated from the gossip going around.”

  “Grief is a terrible and often lonely companion. Will the police release Ben in time for him to attend Abby’s memorial?”

  “Unless he’s under arrest, I can’t imagine Nick keeping him too long. He just wants some answers about Duncan. Oh, and I have a question for you about Abby,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Did Abby get her powers back after Duncan Cole was memory cleansed?” Oftentimes in those kind of situations, Crafters could petition the Elder for the return of their powers. I knew of several witches who’d been granted the request.

  “No, she didn’t. She didn’t ask.”

  I drummed my fingertips on the counter. “Isn’t it strange she didn’t ask?”

  “Not everyone does. Vitacrafters in particular often feel burdened by their powers. Unless you’re particularly nurturing—or emotionally manipulative—it’s difficult to deal with the energy of others on a constant basis.”

  I could understand that, thinking of Lew Renault, an Emoticrafter, whose powers were the next level up from those of Vitas. He could physically feel the emotions and pain of others and had chosen to become a hermit to keep himself sane.

  “How much does Duncan remember about the incident at Balefire?”

  “Most of it except the parts about the Craft. He does not recall accusing the Bryants of cheating via magic, for instance, but he does recall accusing them of altering his lab results.”

  “I still don’t know why they did that. They could have just let him go, without framing him for doping. Abby knew the consequences if he spoke of the Craft to anyone other than witches. She wouldn’t have let him run his mouth. The only reason he did was because he felt attacked by those lab results.”

  Mom sipped her tea and said, “But if they simply let him go, then Abby might have left too.”

  And everybody loved Abby. “Ah. That way, they kept Abby and got rid of Duncan.”

  She tipped her head in acknowledgement. “By accusing him of cheating and providing so-called proof, they knew Abby would break up with him, as she lived by a strict moral code.”

  “It’s reprehensible.”

  “Agreed. But not against Craft law. They didn’t use the Craft to change those results.”

  “Is it possible Abby told Quinn of the Craft as well? Can she do that after already losing her powers?” I explained about my conversation with Quinn, and how it’d seemed she was hinting that she knew of the magical world around her.

  “It is possible, and she did. It’s a loophole within our law that the Coven is trying to close. A witch, after losing his or her powers, can tell as many mortals as they please with no consequences whatsoever.”

  “That’s a big loophole.”

  “Enormous.”

  “But why would Abby tell Quinn about the Craft?” I asked.

  “I believe Abby shared the knowledge to enlighten Quinn on the world around her. And to explain the Bryants and their abilities and behaviors.”

  “So, Quinn is a Halfcrafter.”

 
“Yes, but her knowledge is limited to what she’s been told by Abby, which isn’t much.”

  “Is she going to be memory cleansed now that Abby has died?”

  Even if she was, she’d remain a Halfcrafter forever, just like Duncan. Despite not remembering being one.

  “It will be brought up at the next Coven meeting.”

  “Which is when?”

  She wagged a finger at me. “Uh-uhn.”

  “It couldn’t hurt to try.” I was forever trying to get her to slip up and reveal information about the Coven of Seven.

  She pushed her teacup away and rose off the stool. “I need to get back to the meadow. Dennis Goodwin is stopping by before his visit with Harper.”

  I walked her to the back door. “Do you know if Dorothy has learned about the baby yet?”

  “She has not. Trust me, Darcy. When she finds out, we will all feel the full strength of her fury.”

  “Something to look forward to,” I said drolly.

  She laughed and floated out the door. In a blink, she turned into a mourning dove and flew off.

  I heard my phone buzz and ran for it. It was a text from Glinda wondering about the cake tasting, if we were still on.

  I wrote back that I’d see her at the Gingerbread Shack tomorrow at eleven.

  As I hit send, I couldn’t help wondering whose side Glinda was on.

  Good. Or evil.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I can’t thank you enough, Darcy, for stepping in to help Quinn,” Lucinda Bryant whispered to me as we stood at the back of Balefire, fifteen minutes after the memorial service had ended. She had Aine strapped to her in a wrap that crisscrossed her back, and the same red blanket with hearts that had been in Aine’s stroller earlier was now draped across Lucinda’s shoulder. The baby was sound asleep, her lips pursed as she nestled her cheek against the soft, worn fabric.

  “You’re welcome.” Shelves had been pushed aside to make room for folding chairs. A large picture of a smiling Abby sat on a tripod at the front of the room, and my throat tightened every time I looked at it. The Black Thorn had done an amazing job with the flowers. Tall arrangements of ivory roses, calla lilies, and peonies laced with pale greenery flanked the photo and smaller spray covered a makeshift lectern where at least a dozen people had shared stories of Abby and her vitality with all the mourners gathered.

  Lucinda had given a brief welcome to all who’d come, but neither Ben nor Joe had spoken. Quinn and Madison had. Quinn had tearfully shared personal stories while Madison had talked of her beloved running partner.

  And it was as everyone had said: Abby was well-loved.

  I glanced around the room and found Quinn in a far corner, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes glazed. Every once in a while, someone would stop to speak to her, but she was in her own world and the person usually moved on quickly.

  None of them had been Bryants.

  Ben, Joe, and Madison stood amid a group of Mad Dashers, and Ben looked much like Quinn, staring blankly at nothing at all. Joe and Madison kept sending me angry stares, and I tried not to let them bother me. Too much.

  The longer I stayed, the more I wanted to leave. I wasn’t comfortable here, and it was clear I wasn’t welcome, despite Lucinda being the one to hire me.

  Lucinda shifted foot to foot, rocking Aine. Absently, she picked one of the fuzz balls off the blanket. Then another. “You’ll send me an invoice for your services?”

  “There will be no invoice. Abby was my friend, and this was the least I can do for her.”

  “Well, thank you then. Again.”

  She wandered over to Ben and whispered something to him. His eyes came up to meet mine, then he quickly looked away.

  My gaze skipped among the Bryants, wondering if it was one of them who’d knotted the noose with my name on it. My nerves ratcheted up a notch just thinking about it.

  I checked my watch, trying to figure out a way to get out of here as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I needed to stay to clean up, so I’d be here another hour at least.

  Stef Millet was directing a server who carried a tray of cheese tart hors d’oeuvres through the room. A small bar was set up near the door, which made me think of Archie.

  Which then made me think of Harper.

  I’d been checking my phone as often as I could manage. There had been no updates on the meeting with Marcus, and it was making me anxious. I couldn’t even rely on Mimi to eavesdrop, as she had gone straight to Spellbound after school to work a short shift.

  I glanced at my phone yet again.

  Nothing.

  As I was looking down, a bit of red caught my eye. I stooped low to scoop it up. Fluff. From Aine’s blanket. I stared at the piece of lint in my hand, and my heart started pounding. It was identical to the lint that had been found on the noose.

  My head snapped up, and I looked around. As I did so, my gaze caught on something I hadn’t noticed earlier.

  The display of jump ropes on a far wall. Among them, a blue one identical to the rope used to make the noose.

  “Excuse me,” Quinn said. “Darcy?”

  I’d been so focused on the jump ropes that hadn’t heard her approach. I pressed my hand to my heart.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She swayed a little and I caught her by the arm. “I don’t feel well,” she said unnecessarily.

  That made two of us. I needed to talk to Nick as soon as possible to tell him about the lint and the jump rope. And how they definitively connected the Bryants to the noose. I didn’t know which one of them had threatened me, but I had no doubt one of them had. My money was on Joe.

  But first, I had to help Quinn.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you back to Ve’s.”

  “I can’t leave … Clean up.”

  “I’ll take care of everything.” I propped her against the window and ran back inside. I found her coat and mine, then tracked down Stef. “Quinn’s not feeling well, so I’m going to walk her home.”

  “You don’t have to do that, I can take her,” Madison offered, coming up beside us.

  I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and feel a cold sweat rise along my hairline. “No, no,” I insisted. “You have guests. Stay.”

  I strode out before Madison could argue. I helped Quinn into her coat, then texted Ve that we were on our way. Wrapping an arm around Quinn, I glanced back at the store as we walked away. Ben stood at the window, watching us with anguish splashed across his face.

  I walked faster, ushering Quinn along. When we reached the corner, Quinn automatically turned in the direction of Abby’s house, before I steered her toward Ve’s. She didn’t say a single word, just kept her head down while tears streamed from her eyes and dripped off her chin.

  Night had fallen, and the village twinkled under the glow of fairy lights. It looked so peaceful it was hard to imagine anything untoward such as murder happened here.

  And thinking of murder suddenly had me thinking about nooses, and just like that, my heart was racing again. Which was probably why when we crossed the street I noticed something out of place as we neared a tall oak tree. A man leaned against its trunk, blending in with its shadows. As we hurriedly passed by, the man lifted his head. Our gazes met.

  He’d shaved his beard, making him even more recognizable.

  Duncan Cole.

  The twinkle lights in the branches above his head glinted off the tears in his eyes and on his face. I glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, and when I looked back at the tree, Duncan was gone.

  Quinn, with her head down, hadn’t noticed the interaction. Nor did she say anything when I picked up our pace. I rushed her across the village green.

  As we passed my house, I saw that Dr. Dreadful’s car was parked at the curb, and I wondered if Marcus was still there as well. I hoped so. Some good news on this crazy day would be nice.

  Ve was waiting for us on the side porch and immediately took hold of Quinn, ushering
her inside with promises of soup and tea.

  Quinn crumpled against her and sobbed.

  “Now, now,” Ve said, patting her head. “It’s okay. You just go on and cry. Let it out.”

  Over Quinn’s head, Ve said to me, “You go on. We’ll be just fine. I have a wee sleeping potion I can whip up if need be, but most times, crying is the best medicine of all.”

  I thought of Harper crying this afternoon, and my voice cracked with emotion as I said, “Thank you, Aunt Ve.”

  “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”

  As soon as they were inside, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Nick to let him know what I’d seen at Balefire with the red lint and the jump rope and who I’d spotted on the green. I swore I could hear sirens before I even hung up with him.

  Within minutes, the village was going to be crawling with police, and I had the oddest feeling of wishing Duncan wouldn’t be found.

  It had been that look in his eyes.

  He didn’t look like a guilty man. He looked like a man who’d just lost the love of his life.

  It was out of my hands now. But still, I wished …

  Since there was no way I was going back to Balefire, I headed straight home. As I walked, I knew I needed to let Stef Millet know I wasn’t coming back, but I needed a reasonable excuse.

  I was hurrying past Terry Goodwin’s house when my phone rang. I nearly dropped it trying to get it out of my pocket, and was surprised to see the call was from Noelle Quinlan.

  Puzzled, I answered.

  “Darcy, oh thank goodness,” she said in a rush, sounding out of breath. “I’m so glad you picked up.”

  “Is everything okay?” She sounded frenetic—something I’d never heard from her in all the time I’d known her. “Is this about Nick’s closing?”

  “Nick’s closing? Oh! No, no. This is about Vince. Vince Paxton?”

  Oh, God. “What did he do?”

  “Do? Nothing. He’s in the emergency room, Darcy. He collapsed when we were walking into the movie theater. He’s really sick, some sort of blood infection, but he keeps saying your name over and over. Can you come here?”

  * * *

  “Just wait until you get my bill,” Dennis Goodwin said as we walked into the hospital twenty minutes later. “I’m charging extra for all the house calls and these extraneous visits.”