Crap.
I’d been so caught up in everything going on, I hadn’t even considered how she must be feeling. Granted, we all knew that her marriage was crappy, and had known it for years. Zoe included. But, as confusing and scary as it was in a million ways, something about getting in touch with your magic, mid-life, really put things into perspective. And something told me that she was seeing just how irrevocably broken things were between her and Phil. His reaction to their trial separation, and lack of concern for not only her happiness but also her well-being, was clearly hitting her right in the feels.
Part of me wanted to pull her into a tight hug. But the bigger part of me knew that would likely earn me some grumbling about being mushy, and a stiff elbow to the gut. I was already feeling sore enough from all the bullet holes.
“Okay, then, I’ll just let myself out,” Phil said with a nod, hefting his suitcase out of the kitchen and into the foyer as the three of us trailed behind him.
When he reached the front door, he turned to face us.
“I gotta say…You all are acting really weird. Are you sure there’s not something else going on here other than Cricket’s bad taste in men? Something I need to know about, maybe?”
“Positive,” Zoe said firmly, her back ramrod straight as she reached for the knob. “I’ll call you next week sometime.”
The door swung open and Phil stepped onto the porch. Before he even cleared the stoop, a man dressed in all black leapt from the bushes and hurled a bucket of water directly into his face.
“Be gone, demon warlock!” the stranger bellowed, tossing the bucket aside and brandishing a large, gold crucifix. “The power of Christ compels you!”
Chapter 4
"So now, there are some people who have apparently drunk the Kool-Aid and think we're witches. And that's the whole story, Phil. Take it or leave it."
Please take it.
Zoe had done some Tony-worthy tap-dancing in the thirty minutes that had passed since Phil’s attacker had run off, but as good as she was at weaving the tale, it was clear her husband still had some questions.
“And why aren’t we calling the cops to chase after this wacko, again?”
“Because we aren’t sure if any of them are in on it,” she repeated patiently.
"It just seems really strange, Zoe..." Phil ran a hand through his dark hair, still damp with holy water, and shook his head. "An international cult of witch-hunters...and they came to Rocky Knoll to hunt witches?" He settled back on the couch and took a sip of the hot cocoa Zoe had offered him once he'd changed into dry clothes. "Why?"
Why, indeed?
I shot a glance at Zoe, who didn't miss a beat.
"Are you kidding me? Rocky Knoll is, like, the perfect place for that kind of thing, if you think about it. New England town, a little spooky. And people can be so uptight. Don't forget, Salem is in New England, too, and all it took was a couple of rumors to set that whole mess off," Zoe said solemnly.
"Okay, but why you three?"
"What do you mean?" Zoe asked.
"Well, if I was the leader of a witch-hunting cult, I'd be more likely to suspect women that had a real lot going for them. Women with high-octane, awesome jobs, cool cars. And, of course, they'd be really sexy and young-looking. I mean...Cricket is a divorcee who works part-time at a bakery and lives in her grandmother's basement. What do they think she's doing with these supposed powers?" he asked with a snort.
I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut after a pointed glare from Zoe, but that didn't stop me from shooting him eye-daggers as he continued.
"And we all know if you had some sort of magical powers, those jowls would be long gone, Zoe. Not to mention Mee-maw...She just had a heart attack and she's not getting any younger." He set his cup down and shrugged. "Call me crazy, but if I'm a witch-hunter, I just think there are more...fertile grounds to explore. That's all I'm saying."
I could tell it was taking every last bit of self-control Zoe possessed—which wasn't very much—not to leap on him and rip his heart out, but to her credit, she remained calm.
“Maybe they tried my cupcakes and thought they were so good, they must be magic,” she shot back with a tight smile. “Who knows, Phil? All I can tell you is that there are people who think we’re witches. Even more of a reason for you to steer clear of here until it’s all sorted out. I’m sure it won’t be long before the culprits are rooted out. If and when that happens, you’ll be the first to know. Now finish up your cocoa. I have things to do.”
Phil nodded and then drained his mug before putting it back on the coffee table. “Well, I hope you ladies get this all cleared up.” He pushed himself to his feet and hoisted his suitcase up again. He leaned in and lowered his tone, apparently for Zoe’s ears only. “And, uh, I’ll be staying at the Ramada Inn if you change your mind about Saturday…”
“Bye, Phil,” Mee-maw bellowed as she stood and ushered him toward the exit. “Don’t let the door hit you in the keister on the way out.”
Despite her words, Mee-maw made no effort to wait until he’d actually cleared the doorjamb before beginning to close it behind him, causing him to stumble out onto the porch before barely catching himself on the railing.
“Have Zoe call me if--”
Slam.
Mee-maw made a ceremonial show of locking the deadbolt before padding back over to the living room.
“You need to divorce him. He’s a garden slug of a man. Slimy, no backbone and even less substance,” she declared.
I blinked in surprise. Neither Mee-maw nor Zoe had ever uttered such a thing. Both felt very strongly that divorce wasn’t the answer and that, for most people, getting one only resulted in the parties bringing their faults, flaws and problems into their next relationship.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d heard my grandmother’s recycled versions of tired phrases like, “Marriage is hard work. You don’t quit your job every time things get tough,” or, “It’s not all puppy dogs and roses. Sometimes it’s dog doo and thorns. Nothing worth having is easy.”
When I’d finally had enough and pulled the plug on me and Greg, she’d been legitimately angry with me. Recently, since all the magic stuff had started, she seemed to have had a change of heart and at least understood why I’d given up on my marriage. But to actually suggest someone get a divorce?
Brand new territory.
Zoe cocked her head in surprise. “Mee-maw, you always told us that, unless a man was beating you or your ki--”
“Yeah, I was a stubborn old goat. Forget all that nonsense,” she said, slicing her hand through the air. “Cut him loose. He doesn’t deserve you.”
If Zoe had looked emotional before, she looked like someone had slapped her now.
“Jowls, indeed,” Mee-maw muttered. “The nerve! The man looks like a mortician who pretends the corpses are his girlfriends, and he’s going to talk about your appearance?”
I let out a snort at Mee-maw’s all too apt description and was gratified when Zoe did the same.
“One of his cousins used to tease him and call him Lurch, from the Addams family,” she admitted with a chuckle. “He hated it.”
“Well, as soon as we get rid of this Verbena character, you get your ass down to the courthouse and file those papers. And don’t worry, there’s plenty of room at my house. Me and Cricket would love to have you, isn’t that right Cricket?”
The very idea that I would still be living in Mee-maw’s basement if we survived this was bad enough. The thought of the three of us living together, under the same roof, 24/7? Was almost as chilling as the reminder of Verbena.
“Oh, yeah, no…” Zoe said, shaking her head furiously. “It definitely won’t come to that. Definitely.”
“Well, the offer’s open. Now, where were we before Lurch came barging in?” Mee-maw asked, glancing around the room as if searching for a clue to jog her memory.
“Patrick,” I reminded her, my anxiety ratcheting up again as I thought of him
alone in a jail cell.
"Your magic has been getting stronger and stronger, Cricket. Zoe's, too. Maybe we just go there and bust him out. You and me can go in, all invisible-like, and Zoe can whip up some coma cookies or something--"
"I'm not going to feed our town Sheriff and his deputy coma cookies, Mee-maw," Zoe protested. "If that's even a thing. We’re supposed to use our powers on bad guys. We can't lose sight of the fact that we're Glindas in this scenario. Or, at least, two Glindas and a Dorothy, for the moment," she said with a nod toward Mee-maw, who winced. "Point being, we're the good guys here. We've already done things that are hard to reconcile."
"Speak for yourself," Mee-maw said, folding her arms over her chest. "I think they all got what was coming to them."
"Be that as it may," Zoe pressed on, "we've got to have some sort of a code. If we just use magic whenever it suits us, regardless of who it hurts, then what makes us any different from them?"
"Uh, how about the fact that we don't murder other witches to steal their powers, maybe?" I shot back.
Zoe groaned and scrubbed a frustrated hand over her face. "You're picking nits. We need to save spells that can cause potential harm for those who deserve it. The cops are just trying to do their jobs. As much as I don’t like it, and it makes things difficult for us, they aren’t our enemies here. You get what I'm saying, right, Cricket?"
I did.
And, unlike Mee-maw, despite the fact that most of the people we'd hurt probably did have it coming, it still ate away at me.
An image of Finneas floated into my mind...writhing on the ground, face twisted in an agony only someone who had experienced the power of the torture amulet could possibly understand. And clearly my own torturer—I’d thought of him as only “Necklace” —was still suffering from the aftereffects of the magic I’d taken him down with, if he was still in the hospital.
As awe-inspiring as it was, magic was also terrifyingly powerful, and not to be trifled with.
"We need to make a pact," I said firmly. "Let's do it here and now, because this slope can get real slippery, real fast."
I stepped forward and held my hand out, gesturing for the others to do the same.
Zoe stuck hers out and, after some grumbling, Mee-maw did, as well.
"We, the Crow's Feet Coven three, vow to do no h--" I broke off and frowned. "We, the Crow's Feet Coven three, vow to do as little harm as possible," I amended. "We vow to use our magic for the greater good, to protect ourselves, our coven, our families, and our witch sisters. Uhhh…Amen?"
Zoe shrugged and nodded.
"Yeah. Amen."
"Fine," Mee-maw tacked on with a sigh. "Whatever. Amen for me, too. But, we also vow to kick that witch Verbena's butt, and do whatever it takes to make sure she can never hurt us or anyone else ever again."
"That, too," Zoe agreed.
I nodded, satisfied that we at least had some sort of code to live by, such that it was.
"All right, so back to Patrick."
Before I could continue, my burner phone bleated, vibrating in my pocket.
"Maybe it's Trudy with some intel."
I tugged the phone from my pocket and stared down at the caller ID. Rocky Knoll Police Department.
"Who is it?" Zoe hissed, but I just held up a finger as I pressed the green button and lifted the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Cricket?"
My heart lifted at the sound of the voice on the other end.
"Patrick!"
"Yeah, listen, I only have a couple minutes. I'm fine, and everything is going to be alright, but I'm going to need you guys to get in touch with a local lawyer for me. They might be able to schedule a bail hearing for me as soon as tomorrow, and I need representation."
"We can do that." I covered the receiver and called to Zoe, "Patrick needs an attorney. Can you make some calls?"
"On it," she shot back, making a beeline for her phone.
I turned my attention back to Patrick. "Are you alone? Why did they come after you?"
"Apparently, they arrested a couple of the guards, and seized some of the Organization’s files that they didn’t have a chance to destroy. In an attempt to try and get themselves out of hot water, they pointed the finger at me, suggesting that I was the mastermind behind your kidnapping.”
I winced and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. They weren’t wrong, except about the mastermind part. Patrick had been part of the initial plot to kidnap me, but, to be fair, he’d changed his mind midway through.
And things were different now. He was different.
"Okay. Okay, so surely they're going to get in touch with me again soon to question me some more? I've given them my statement, and without my testimony against you, how can th--"
"Rasmusson has it in his head that I've intimidated you or have you hoodwinked somehow. Like Stockholm syndrome or something. The Sheriff seems less sure, but Rasmusson is like a bulldog, all of a sudden. And, get this..." His tone dropped to a whisper. "He questioned me for a solid twenty minutes, asking where this amulet Necklace has been rambling about ran off to. He also mentioned a jewelry box. The Sheriff came back in the room and started asking me about my father, so I wasn't able to confirm my suspicions, but I got the feeling they might have that item here in evidence."
I closed my eyes, recalling the powers of the jewelry box in question.
"It does some sort of alchemy spell, right? It's how the Organization was able to refill the coffers with money to fund their witch-hunts."
"Yep. Put an item in, close the top, and then bam. Gold, gemstones...you name it. Easy enough to move on the open market. Cricket, if the cops have that in their possession and figure out what it can do? The whole roof blows off this thing, and magic...witches...all of it. Out in the open."
Given what even suspected witches had suffered through the ages, the very thought left me with a block of ice in my belly.
"Not to mention what would happen if Verbena figures out they have it and comes to get it."
I thought back to our coven's all too recent pact to do as little harm as possible, and sighed.
"She's done her best not to make too many public waves, but something tells me she'd have no qualms about killing a few cops to get what she wanted if she had to," I agreed. As happy as I was to hear from Patrick, I wasn't thrilled that our call had wound up highlighting more problems and zero in the way of solutions. "Are you going to be moved to an actual prison? What's the next step?"
If we needed to do a jailbreak, it had to be before they moved Patrick from the town clink.
"Let's get the lawyer to work on bail, and go from there. I have about five grand in cash at the house. It's in the nightstand on my side of the bed in an envelope. Use that as a retainer. In the meantime, you three keep close to home or out in heavily populated public places as much as you can and stay safe. Maybe ask the others if they think it’s safe to give Connie a call. My guess is she's already served her purpose, and Verbena has moved to greener pastures. She could have information about Verbena’s past that can help us. If she's acting strange again, disconnect as quickly as possible, destroy the burner, and get a new one."
"Okay, I’ll see what they say."
"I've got to go in a sec. My time is almost up."
I gripped the phone more tightly, hating the idea of him alone and vulnerable. "Mee-maw was saying we could come there. Give them some sort of potion to knock them out and free you..."
"Nope. They're already suspicious enough as it is, and that won't stop them from coming after me again. We've got to do this by the book. Get the lawyer down here ASAP and I'll take care of the rest."
"Time's up, Byrne," I heard Rasmusson say in the background.
"Don't worry. It's going to be okay. I promise," Patrick said.
It was a promise he had no way of keeping, but I let that slide.
“I’ll see you real soon, all right?” he said.
“Yeah. See you soon
,” I mumbled.
He hung up a moment later and I disconnected, feeling dejected.
"How is he?" Zoe asked as she pulled her phone from her ear.
"Hanging in. Did you find anyone who can represent him?"
"Dean Garibaldi. We went to high school together and he's got a small practice over on Reston Road."
I nodded, vaguely remembering him. "He seemed like a decent enough guy back then. What did he say?"
"If we can get him a retainer and sign some paperwork tomorrow afternoon, he can get down to the Sheriff's Office and talk with Patrick right afterward.”
"Perfect."
I filled Mee-maw and Zoe in on what Patrick had told me, and they agreed with our current plan of action.
“Let’s put a pin in contacting Connie until after we have Patrick back. If Verbena does have a connection with her, we don’t want to be poking that bear until we’re all together again. I worry about Patrick alone and defenseless,” Zoe said, brow knit with concern.
We wouldn’t make a move on Verbena until our group was whole again anyway, so contacting the Everlasting Conservator could wait. Patrick was the one and only priority right now.
"Agree. Mee-maw, one other thing…when you grabbed the magical items, did you happen to notice a jewelry box there, as well?”
She frowned and then nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, I might have. I remember the compass leading me into the room. I saw the candle and the mirror first, so I nabbed them. But then I felt the pocket watch pulling me…it was sitting next to another item that very well could’ve been the box. I was so consumed with…I guess you could say joy and relief? About finding the watch that I didn’t even really pay it any mind.” She paused and then winced. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
“No,” I assured her briskly. “No, not at all. We were all buzzing with adrenaline, we’d just witnessed a murder. We aren’t machines, for God’s sake. You did great grabbing the ones you got. It’s just that Patrick seems to think the police have it in evidence based on some questions the Deputy asked him. We’re going to have to get it back. So let’s put our minds to work on that problem, too. In the meantime, I'm going to take a quick shower and get the money for Garibaldi from Patrick’s stash. Zoe, if you can fine-tune that protective splash potion so that we’ll be alerted if anyone touched by magic tries to come into the house, that would be amazing. Then, we can take the trip into town together…maybe make a quick stop at the library to check to see what Trudy has come up with. And, even better, if Verbena tries to take over a non-witch’s body and pay us a visit in disguise at some point, we’ll know something is amiss."
Stealing Time: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel Page 3