“I didn’t kill him, Charlotte!” I said loudly, my eyes bulging at my ridiculous cousin. “He’s not even dead, though the fact that you were so nonchalant about the idea of it that you were actually going to help me dispose of a body says a lot about you.”
“We’re family,” she explained. “If you can’t commit a felony for family, I’m not sure what good you are.” She tilted her head, looking Riley over. ‘Still, if he’s not dead, I guess I’ll go boil some water and rip up some sheets or something.”
“He’s not going into labor, Charlotte. He’s—you know what?” I said, swallowing hard and nodding at her. ‘Boil the water. Rip up the sheets. Just also get me Grandma Winnie.”
“Grandma Winnie!” Charlotte screamed again, once again not moving from her spot beside me.
“Get out of the way, Charlotte,” Dallas said, coming into the lobby from the kitchen and holding a vial of something purple. “Grandma’s not here. It’s Bingo night at the Civic Center, remember? You know how much she loves to magically manipulate the game. Last week, she changed Ester Grandville’s cards so that they were all in Ancient Latin, and the week before that, she made ninety percent of the Bingo balls read, ‘Bite me, losers.’ ” Dallas winced. “It wasn’t the family’s proudest moment. But that doesn’t seem to matter right now. Tell me what’s going on.”
I looked down at Riley. His face was pale and his body was still, but he was breathing. It might have been faint, but he was definitely breathing. What was more, I felt a pulse, too. He might not have been in great shape, but he was alive, and that was something.
“I was confronting him outside The Roundabout when he was struck by lightning,” I said. “You see, it turns out he had been watching the entire family and we found a—”
“A board in his house. I know. Charlotte and Savannah filled me in,” Dallas answered. “But if he got struck by lightning, why didn’t you take him to the hospital, or better yet, call an ambulance? It seems like a natural occurrence, and you know that isn’t our forte.”
“Because it wasn’t a natural occurrence,” I answered, barely able to hold back tears as I took in the state of the man. “The sky was clear. The storm came out of nowhere.”
“Storms come out of nowhere all the time,” Dallas reminded me.
“Maybe,” I answered. “But do they usually speak first?”
Dallas leveled a gaze at me. “Okay. That’s weird,” she conceded. “What did the lightning bolt say before it struck him down?”
“The same thing Fallon said before she died,” I answered. “It said I never should have come back here.”
“The weather seems awfully concerned about your travel plans,” Charlotte quipped, grimacing. “Not that it matters to me. This guy has been watching us for years. He’s probably been lying to us for longer. Not to mention the fact that his dog nearly mauled me to death. I say that if lightning had to strike somebody, I can’t think of a better candidate.”
“You don’t mean that,” I answered. “Besides, he’s not the only one who lied in this relationship.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Charlotte asked.
“It means we never told him we were witches,” I said, remembering what he said before the lightning struck and how hurt he seemed about it.
“That’s not even close to the same thing,” Charlotte balked.
“Whatever,” I said, waving a hand at her to shut her up. “I’m not having this conversation right now. I just need to try to fix whatever’s broken here. I figured that, since the lightning was magical in nature, we probably should look for a magical solution, and there’s no better place in all of Spell Creek Mountain to do that than right here.”
“It’s probably better that you didn’t,” Dallas said, leaning in toward him. “Did you look at his arm?”
“No,” I answered hesitantly. “Why?”
“Because the whisper wasn’t the only message the lightning had for you, Izzy,” she said, turning Riley’s forearm to me. Across it, burned into his flesh, was 1967 Walnut Grove.
“What is that?” Charlotte asked, squinting at the sight.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked, sighing as I read it. “It’s an address. Someone’s trying to get us to take a little trip.”
18
“How is he?” I asked, looking at Riley, who had been moved to my old bed from the lobby bar after Dallas fed him the healing potion she had in the vial she had been carrying—a magical heirloom that had been in the family for generations, it filled itself with whatever was needed at the time—and his pulse began to quicken back to a normal rate.
“I’m not sure yet,” Dallas said, shaking her head. “What I gave him basically put his body in stasis. It stopped the effects of the lightning strike, but you were right to bring him here. I’m not sure a traditional hospital could have done much for him.”
“Can we do much for him?” I asked, my throat tightening in fear at the prospect of her answer. “Is he going to make it?”
She blinked at me, and without even a word, I knew the answer.
“Oh, no,” I muttered.
“It’s not that bad,” she said quickly, reading what must have been an unbelievable amount of pain on my face. “I’m not giving up hope. It’s just that this is way beyond what I’m capable of here. The good thing is, I talked to Grandma Winnie, and she’ll be here in ten minutes. The bad part is, if Riley does wake up, she wants to put him on a spit roast over an open flame until he admits to why he’s been spying on us all this time.”
“Couldn’t she just use Tawny?” I asked, crinkling my brows in concern.
“That’s what I said,” Dallas sighed. “Apparently, Grandma Winnie would prefer to go a more creative route.”
“You know, I wouldn’t even object to that too much if it meant he’d just wake up,” I admitted, blinking back tears. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Which part?” Dallas scoffed. “Things have been so strange since you came back home.”
“Not like old times?’ I asked, a slight, hesitant grin crossing my face.
“Actually,” Dallas started, matching my smile with one of her own, “It’s a lot more like old times than I think any of us would like to admit. I mean, no one was getting struck by magical lighting or outed as a spy or anything, but I do remember life being much more interesting when you were around.”
“Happy to be of assistance, I guess,” I said, nodding at my cousin and feeling a very welcome sensation of warmth run through me. Tonight had been a tough one. I would take kind words anywhere I could get them.
“It’s just, I know that it feels bad for you. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must be to have someone threatening you and hurting people to get it done. All I’m saying is, if it had to happen, I’m glad it happened here, while you’re surrounded by people who love you.”
Another rush of warmth and acceptance ran through me. If Riley hadn’t been lying close enough to death that he could have reached out and touched it, Dallas’s words would have made me feel fantastic. Still, even her kind words reminded me of something horrible.
“That scares me too, actually,” I said, biting my lower lip. “If the tarot cards were right, and if Riley was actually the Ace of Cups, that means that one or more of you is next.” My heart sputtered at the idea. “It means that you guys, the people I love the most in the world, could be next on this horrible chopping block.”
“Anyone who comes to this coven looking for easy pickings is going to find more than they bargained for. I promise you that,” Dallas answered, her jaw tensing.
“And I believe that,” I said tersely. “But I also know that two people have been attacked already, Dallas. And I’ve only been here for a day. I don’t want you guys to have to worry about some unnamed trouble I’ve stirred up. You’ve all got lives to live. I don’t want to be in the way of that.”
“You’re part of our lives, Izzy,” Dallas said. “An important part, and it’s going to take mor
e than some two-bit magical thug who didn’t want to see you return to town to change that.”
I looked back down at Riley, blinking hard and trying to stop tears from falling.
“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” Dallas asked, patting me on the shoulder.
“He does,” I said. “I mean, he did. Honestly, I don’t think I know him anymore. That’s the weird part. When I was confronting him about the pictures in his room, he sounded so genuine. He sounded just like the pimply-faced teenager whose name I used to write in a heart with my own in all of my notebooks. I looked at him, and I really saw him, you know?”
“Of course, I know,” Dallas answered. “That’s how I felt with Jasper. It’s how I still feel every time I look at him.”
“I just can’t make sense of it in my head,” I admitted. “I can’t reconcile the guy I knew with the sort of person who would spy on us.”
“Life’s complicated,” Dallas said. “I wish I could give you a better answer than that.”
“He said his bosses made him spy on us,” I said, folding my arms over my chest and looking at Dallas. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
“He works for the police department,” Dallas said. “Do you think they’re onto us?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Riley definitely knows we’re witches. He said he has since our prom night.”
Dallas’s eyes went wide. “So that’s why he stood you up! I knew it wasn’t because he wasn’t interested in you.”
“That’s not the point,” I argued. “I mean, you’re totally right, and he’s definitely into me. You should have heard some of the things he said to me before he was struck by the lightning.” I shook my head. “But the point is, we need to figure out not only who’s behind the attacks on everyone, but also who Riley has been working for.”
“Good thing Grandma Winnie is coming back,” Dallas said. “She’ll pull the truth out of him if it’s the last thing she does.”
“You tell her I said to behave herself,” I answered.
“Tell her yourself,” Dallas said.
“I would, but I’m not going to be here,” I said. “This is all happening too quickly for my taste. We have a clue, and I’m going to follow it. I’m taking Charlotte with me and getting to the bottom of this.” I looked back at Riley. “You wake him up if you can, Dallas. I don’t want the last thing I ever did with him to be a fight.”
“And what if he does wake up, and you don’t like what Grandma Winnie gets him to admit?” Dallas asked.
I let my eyes linger on Riley, seeing not only the man in the bed but the boy I loved all those years ago.
“Then I guess we’ll be fighting again.”
19
“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked, lagging behind me just a little as we strode through town. Night had fallen on Spell Creek Mountain, and with it, the good people of the mountain town had taken to their beds. Of course, like any town, Spell Creek Mountain wasn’t comprised entirely of good people. In fact, it wasn’t comprised entirely of people at all. There were all sorts of creepy-crawlies inhabiting our hometown. Those were chief on Charlotte’s mind tonight, even though, technically, my cousin and I would fall among their ranks. “There could be vampires out here,” she said.
“So?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “What, are you afraid you’re going to run into one of your old boyfriends?”
Charlotte scoffed as she trotted forward to match my pace. “You go out with one vampire, and suddenly, it’s all anyone can talk about,” she muttered.
“You went out with at least three,” I reminded her, shaking my head. “Two of them at the same time, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, it wasn’t all that bad,” Charlotte answered.
“They were brothers, Charlotte,” I said.
A sly, lovelorn smile fell across her face. “Good times,” she answered.
“If I didn’t love you so much, I might hate you,” I told her, stifling a smile.
“If I didn’t love you so much, I might teach you something,” she said, shooting me a wink. “But seriously, what are we doing out here in the dead of night?”
“You know what we’re doing, Charlotte. I told you already,” I said, my heels clapping against the sidewalk. If anyone looked out of their window and saw us tonight, it would likely become the talk of the town tomorrow. Two vivacious, single women out on the prowl at all hours of the night. The ladies at the beauty parlor lived to speculate on that kind of gossip. I couldn’t worry about that now, though. I wouldn’t have left for five years if I cared what the folks of Spell Creek Mountain thought about my ability to follow the rules. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it.
“I know you pulled me away from a two-hour episode of The Voice so we could run after an address that appeared on Riley Davis’s liar arm,” she balked, sounding like a dejected teenager.
“You can catch the recap of The Voice,” I answered. “All anybody cares about is the witty banter between the judges anyway, and that stuff always goes up on YouTube right after the episode airs. Also, can someone’s arm be a liar?”
“Sure. If the rest of him is,” Charlotte said. “And the rest of Riley Davis is absolutely a liar.”
“I’m not sure it’s that simple,” I said, remembering what Riley said before he was struck by lightning as well as the way he looked while he was saying it. I wasn’t convinced he was a bad guy, not yet. For the sake of argument, though, I was willing to give Charlotte the benefit of the doubt and proceed as though she was right about things. “Even if he is, though, it doesn’t mean he deserves what’s happened to him.”
“Maybe not, but it also doesn’t mean he deserves our help,” Charlotte said. “My time is precious, especially on Voice night.”
“Would you shut up about the stupid Voice?” I scolded her, pursing my lips at my cousin. “This is important. Your feelings on Riley aside, those tarot cards are clear. Fallon died, and Riley is on death’s door. The next thing that’s going to happen will happen to one of you, to my family. I must stop this before it comes to that. If something happened to any of you, I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself.”
“So, your bright idea is to run face-first into danger?” Charlotte asked. “You’ve been away from the witchy world for a long time, indeed, if you think that’s the right play here.”
“It’s the only play,” I explained to her, pushing down a spark of indignation. “We have no clues, absolutely none. The marking on Riley’s arm is the only lead we have to follow.”
“Or it might be a trap,” Charlotte said. ‘Seeing as how the same person who was behind hitting him with that stupid lightning is the same person who put the marking on his arm, I’m going to go ahead and guess that the intention here isn’t all that pure.” She practically stomped her foot as she continued. “Not to mention the fact that Walnut Grove doesn’t even exist. We know every road in this town, Izzy. I’ve never heard of that one.”
“Neither had I,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “But I looked at some of my mother’s old photo albums and journals. It turns out that Calhoun Street used to be called Walnut Grove, which is why we’re headed that way.” I took a deep breath. “As far as this being a trap, the truth is, I have no idea whether it is or not, but I don’t think we have the luxury of sitting around and waiting. What’s more, you don’t know for a fact that the person responsible for hurting Riley is the same who put the mark on his arm.”
“Really?” Charlotte asked, throwing so much shade at me that she actually had to come to a stop to do it. “And who, pray tell, would be responsible for an act like that if not the mastermind behind all of this?”
“Maybe her,” I said, shock filling me as I looked forward, pointing to the figure ahead. Standing in front of Charlotte and me—no, standing isn’t the right word for it. What the figure was doing was floating. Floating right in front of us, pale, all see-through, and as dour as she had ever looked in life, was the ghost of
Fallon Fulcrum.
“Well,” Charlotte scoffed, taking the entire scene in. “Guess I’m going to miss The Blacklist too.”
20
Okay. So, here’s the thing. As witches, we learn early on about all the goings-on in the supernatural realm. Ever since I was a little girl, playing in the hills and hollers of Spell Creek Mountain, I’d known about the existence of vampires, werewolves, and even the stray goblin or two. Because I had grown up with this knowledge, the old campfire stories that scared the bejesus out of many of my classmates back in the day had little effect on me. I was cultured in that way. Grandma Winnie had made sure of that. We’d dined with vampires and hosted werewolves. Heck, half of our clientele at the B&B were supernatural in one way or another. Ghosts, however, were a horse of a different color.
I had never really cottoned to the idea of speaking to the dead. Sure, magic had its workaround for that as it seemed to have its workaround for everything. Still, the idea of reaching out into the great beyond had always rubbed me the wrong way. The way I saw it, you stick your hand out into the unknown and you can’t really be sure what’ll happen when you try to pull it back.
Ghosts weren’t people, you see. There’s this belief among mortals that ghosts, apparitions, and spirits are the souls of the deceased, lost and walking around, all trapped on this plane, or even those who have moved on who have decided, for whatever reason, to pop back in for a hot minute.
That’s not true. It’s never been true. I mean, what good would a soul be if it just meant you were still stuck here after you died? In actuality, ghosts are little more than concrete memories. We do things in our lives. We make our mark, as they say. Turns out that we make many marks, in fact. Sometimes, if those marks are strong enough, or if they go unfinished, we leave a touch of ourselves behind inside them.
Mountains, Mystery, and Magic Page 9