Witchful Thinking

by Kristen Painter

  Just look, he texted back. Happy?

  Yes. Then on a new line she added, Unless you’re going to search her house too.

  He’d already decided that was his next step, but he knew Charlotte wouldn’t be thrilled about it. There were no other options, though. Millie was at work until seven, so he’d have plenty of time to go through her home to see if he could find anything that might tie her to the Collective. I don’t have any other choice.

  Her answer was a sad face emoji and the words, I don’t like it, but be careful.

  I will. I always am. He almost added a heart emoji, then stopped himself. Where had that come from? He wasn’t in love with Charlotte. Love took a long time. And love wasn’t in the cards for an FOL agent. He stared at his phone, thinking about the past couple of days. He did like her an awful lot, though. He smiled. Hard not to when thinking about her. Could that be because of her poorly cast love spell? Maybe. But what he was feeling seemed very real.

  Betsy came back with a small plate holding two steaming biscuits and a pile of foil-wrapped butter pats. “Here you go, fresh out of the oven. Take out order is coming up.”

  “Thank you.” Hot biscuits definitely made the day a little brighter. Then his phone lit up with another text from Charlotte.

  I have an idea. Are you willing to recruit a little outside help?

  He put down the butter and answered her. Outside help from who?

  Another witch. My mentor.

  He stared at the screen. Having Charlotte’s help was already pushing the boundaries of what the FOL considered SOP. But sometimes getting the job done meant ignoring the standard operating procedure.

  Adding another witch to the mix, however, that might be a bridge too far. For Stillwell. Not for Walker. Not when Charlotte might be in danger. So this was going to have to be one of those things Stillwell didn’t find out about.

  Walker tapped his screen to respond. Sure. Set it up. Just tell me when.

  Will do.

  He was digging into a slice of cranberry apple pie when she texted again.

  Seven thirty at her house. I’ll drive. Good?

  Good, Walker responded. That would give him ample time to swing by Millie’s place and see if she’d been dumb enough to leave anything incriminating lying around.

  * * *

  Nervous energy danced over Charlotte’s skin as she parked in front of Lola Honeycutt’s grand old Victorian. Lola had all the lights on, making the place twinkle like the centerpiece of a Christmas village. And while it wasn’t a big house, Lola kept it in pristine condition. This was the first time the house hadn’t been on the Cranberry Festival tour of homes in a long time, but Lola had said she was just too busy this year. Charlotte hoped to have a house like it someday, although there were days when that dream seemed further and further away.

  “Here we are.” She and Walker got out of the car. She’d barely had time to get to his place and change before they’d left again, but the rush was worth it. She hadn’t seen her mentor since she’d returned from her trip.

  He stared up at the place. “Nice house.”

  “Very nice. I’d love to have a place like this.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “What did you say your mentor does? Besides being a witch.”

  “She teaches at the college and she’s written a few books.”

  Walker grunted something. Then added, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Thankfully, there was no sarcasm or derision in his voice. He sounded genuinely curious.

  That didn’t stop Charlotte’s stomach from tying itself in a knot as they walked to the front door. She kept reminding herself that Walker wasn’t her boyfriend and it didn’t really matter what Lola thought of him. Sure, it did a little. Lola might not help them if she thought Walker wasn’t on the up and up, but Charlotte doubted he’d be anything but his usual charming self.

  Lola opened the door as they stepped onto the porch. “Hello, Charlotte.” She stuck her hand out. “And you must be Walker.”

  “I am.” He shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Honeycutt.”

  Lola’s eyes widened as their hands touched. “You’re a…” Her shocked expression turned into a guarded smile as she dropped his hand. “You’re a shifter.”

  He nodded. “Feline, yes, ma’am, I am. I hope you’re not allergic to cats.”

  Lola laughed. “No, thankfully. But Charlotte didn’t mention that.”

  “No? Well, Charlotte told me about you. All very good things.”

  She stepped back to let them in. “They’d better be. She doesn’t want me to turn her into a toad.”

  Walker’s mouth opened in a very uncertain way.

  Lola laughed. “Just kidding. We don’t really do that.” She winked at Charlotte. “At least not to our sister witches.”

  Walker managed a smile then, but a little apprehension remained in his eyes. Charlotte figured that was healthy around Lola. The woman was extraordinarily powerful. She was also, to Charlotte’s eyes, beautiful in an unconventional way. Her thick, black hair and big dark eyes added gravity to her tall, slender frame. She accented those eyes with smoky makeup and arched brows maintained to the point of perfection.

  Lola shut the door behind them, then led them into the living room. Her home was just as beautiful on the inside as it was outside. Every room held expensive antiques and lovely fabrics, but still maintained a welcoming vibe. And to Charlotte’s eyes, the house also had a slight witchy feeling to it. Maybe it was the occasional crystal on a side table, or the apothecary jars that dotted the shelves, or the titles of some of the books on those shelves.

  Then again, maybe Charlotte only noticed those things because she was a witch too. To the uninitiated, all of that might just blend into the background.

  Lola stopped halfway into the room. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I’m fine. Walker?”

  He held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m good. We’re going to Chickadee’s for dinner after we leave here. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, by the way.”

  Lola took a seat on one of the twin couches that made up the room’s seating area. “Charlotte is always welcome in my home.”

  Charlotte almost snorted. Lola’s way of letting Walker know he was the outsider wasn’t really that subtle. Charlotte sat, patting the spot beside her to get Walker to join her. “Still nice of you. Especially because I know you’ve been traveling.”

  “Vacation?” Walker settled onto the couch, but didn’t lean back. Like he wanted to be ready to move on a moment’s notice.

  “Work,” Lola answered. “I was giving a lecture at the Archaic Studies group in Boston. Nice people. Bought every book I had at the signing.” She clasped her hands and rested them in her lap. “Now, what can I help you two with? Charlotte didn’t want to tell me much over the phone. Very mysterious. And I’m a sucker for a good mystery.”

  Charlotte took a breath. “I found a book. Or maybe it found me. Either way, it showed up at the library – someone put it in the book return box. Millie threw it away because it looked so ratty and the pages were glued together, but I rescued it and took it home.”

  “And let me guess,” Lola said. “When you got it home, you found out the pages weren’t actually glued together. And it wasn’t so ratty after all.”

  “You know the book?” Charlotte asked.

  “Middian’s?” Lola shrugged. “Most of the higher-level witches in town know about it. Mostly because we’ve been waiting to see who would end up with it, for one. Mena Peabody, who is my mentor, was sure it would find its way to me, but I told her it would go to someone younger.” She smiled broadly. “I see I was right. I’m not surprised it chose you, Charlotte. You have the potential to be one of the greatest witches New England has ever known.”

  Charlotte wasn’t so sure about that, but the compliment was flattering all the same. “Thank you.”

  Lola lifted her clasped hands t
o her heart. “And just think. I knew you when.”

  Charlotte laughed. “I’m not there yet.”

  Lola leaned forward. “You haven’t bound yourself to the book yet, have you? That will make turning it in far more difficult.”

  “Bound myself? Turning it in?” Charlotte rubbed her temple. “Back up. How would I bind myself to the book? And where would I turn it in to?”

  “The binding is simple, really. Three drops of blood straight onto the pages. The ritual should be the first page the book opens to on its own. Have you seen it?”

  “I haven’t really gotten that far.”

  “Good.” Lola leaned back. “Say, do you think I could come over and have a look at it? I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. Though, as I mentioned, you’ll be expected to turn the book over.”

  Walker cleared his throat. “Turn it over to who?”

  Lola’s brows went skyward. “That book is very powerful and very dangerous. The witches of this town made a pact that whomever came into possession of the book would voluntarily turn it over to the coven to put into magical suspension.”

  Walker finally sat back. “Didn’t work the last time, did it?”

  Lola’s eyes lit with an unhappy gleam. “If you’re referring to Flora Mae—”

  “I am.”

  “We tried everything to get her to turn over the book. She refused. We eventually revoked her membership in the coven. Before she moved, she used the book to hex the entire town with a dreadful flu that hospitalized a hundred and seventeen people.”

  “Your pact didn’t do much good.”

  Lola sat up a little straighter. “The pact came about because of Flora Mae.”

  Charlotte put her hand on Walker’s leg. “I haven’t agreed to it yet, by the way.”

  Lola raised her brows. “But you will when you’re initiated.”

  Walker glanced at Charlotte. “I don’t think it matters now.”

  “Probably not,” Charlotte agreed.

  “Of course it matters,” Lola said. “Why wouldn’t it?”

  Walker sighed and held his hand out as if to indicate Charlotte should be the one to explain.

  So she did. “Because the book was stolen from me this morning. In fact, they broke into my apartment looking for it. That’s why we’re here. To see if there’s anything you can do to help us recover it.”

  Lola sucked in a breath. “You weren’t home, were you?”

  “No. Thankfully.”

  “Is Edgar Allan okay?”

  Charlotte smiled with the relief of being able to answer, “He is. Thanks for asking.”

  “That’s good. But still, having your apartment broken into is an utter violation.” Lola’s expression darkened and she sat very still for a few long seconds. Then she muttered a curse. The profane kind, as opposed to the witchy variety. “I should call the coven.”

  “No,” Walker said. “We don’t know who we can trust.”

  Lola’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously, you can trust me.”

  “Charlotte trusts you. And I trust her.” He smiled at Charlotte.

  Lola shifted in her seat, slightly indignant if Charlotte was reading her right. “And you trust him, Charlotte?”

  “Yes.” She did. He’d given her no reason not to.

  Lola’s brows lifted. “Despite what he is?”

  Charlotte frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Beside her, Walker stiffened. “She has nothing to fear from me.”

  “You’re keeping secrets, Mr. Black. And now that I know Charlotte’s been put in a path of danger, I can’t abide that. You need to tell her the truth about who you are. Or I will. I won’t have one of my novice witches be hurt in whatever game you’re playing.”

  “I’m not playing a game,” Walker said. He glanced at Charlotte and took her hand. “I was going to tell you, I was. It’s just not the kind of thing you can randomly drop into a conversation.”

  Charlotte tilted her head. “Tell me what?” She looked at Lola. “One of you needs to explain what’s going on. Now.”

  Lola pointed one long, graceful finger at Walker. “This man you brought into my house? He’s not exactly the kind of company people like us should be keeping.”

  The muscles in Walker’s jaw tensed. “That’s not true.”

  Charlotte could only shake her head. “I still don’t know what you mean. Is it because he’s one of the uninitiated?” She looked at Walker. “What are you?”

  The soft glow of anger lit his beautiful eyes. The feline beast inside him. “I’m—”

  “He’s a hunter,” Lola announced. Her mouth firmed into a hard line.

  “A hunter?” Panic settled over Charlotte. Lola was upset and Charlotte didn’t understand why. “I mean, I love animals as much as the next person, more really, but he’s a shifter. Hunting is probably a big part of being that kind of—”

  “A witch hunter,” Lola snarled.

  Charlotte blinked once, then laughed, but her laughter died out a second later. “Wait, are those actually real?” She looked at Walker. “Tell me you don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  He growled softly. “I do. And she’s right.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte’s horrified expression nearly undid Walker. She pulled her hand away.

  Walker let it go. Reluctantly. “I can explain. And I was going to. It’s just not the easiest thing to tell a witch you’ve been trained to hunt those of her kind who stray. Especially when that witch is…” Becoming more than a friend. And is such a good kisser. “Is you. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I promise you, I absolutely was going to tell you and I am not here to hurt you or any other innocent witches.”

  “You swear that?”

  “On my life. I don’t hunt the innocent.”

  “Then why are you here?” Lola asked.

  “Because,” he said, “a witch hunter is who the Fraternal Order of Light sends when there’s a case that involves a witch. I’ve come up against some that were pretty bad business. Clearly, you two are nothing like that.” Although he had his reservations about Lola. She was incredibly powerful, he could sense that. And the fact that she knew about the book but didn’t want it for herself was curious. Maybe this job was making him see shadows where there weren’t any, but if it turned out she was using Charlotte to get to the book…the very idea made him see red.

  “No,” Lola said. “We’re nothing like that. Neither are any of the other witches in town.”

  Walker shot her a challenging stare. “Really? You don’t think there’s a single other witch in this town that might want that book for themselves? Because someone stole it out of Charlotte’s bag this morning. Right after her apartment was ransacked in another attempt to find it. And two nights before that, the library had been broken into and torn apart. Someone took that book, and since only a witch can use it, the pool of suspects is pretty shallow.”

  Lola stared at him for a second, then relented. “Not every witch in town is a member of the coven, but those who are would never do such a thing. I can vouch for that. I told you, they’ve all signed the pact agreeing to turn the book over.”

  He snorted. “So they signed a piece of paper. What’s to keep them from making off with the book anyway?”

  She gave him a rather condescending look. “It’s not just any pact. It’s a witch’s pact. Signed in blood. Breaking it means you’d be marked.”

  “Marked how?” Walker asked. “Magically?”

  “Yes. The unfaithful witch’s aura would bear the black scar of betrayal. She would be forever branded. Shunned by the magical community.”

  He looked at Charlotte. “Can you see auras?”

  “No. That’s a little advanced for me.”

  He turned back to Lola. “I’m guessing you can see them. Is that how you knew what I was?”

  She nodded. “That and when you shook my hand. Charlotte, you had to have felt the sharp jab of dark energy that comes off him? That’s th
e bite of a witch hunter’s touch. Unless, you two haven’t had any contact.”

  “No,” Charlotte said. “We have. But I didn’t notice anything.”

  Lola looked concerned. Then she shifted back to Walker. “Have you put some sort of hex on her to keep her from noticing?”

  “No, I swear it. Although I initially thought she’d put some kind of spell on me…”

  “You did?” Charlotte asked. “Why would you think that?”

  “I told you,” he said. He lowered his voice. “Because of the way I was feeling around you.”

  “Oh. Right. That.” Charlotte frowned. “So why can’t I feel this dark energy?” She laid her hand over top of his, then took it off again. “Nope. Nothing. Why is that, Lola?”

  The woman shook her head. “Perhaps you’re too much of a novice yet. Clearly, we need to step up your lessons.”

  Walker leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Look, the book is missing. And this is serious. You know who I am, I know who you are, let’s work together to find it. That’s why Charlotte asked if we could speak with you. She thinks you can help us. Can you? Will you?”

  Lola glanced at Charlotte before answering him. “I can. But I won’t. Not until you swear you won’t hurt any of the coven members, just like you swore you wouldn’t hurt Charlotte.”

  He sat back, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “I can promise no harm to anyone who’s innocent. But if one of them is the thief? Or if one of them is working with the Collective? Then all bets are off, because I am here to recover that book and if possible, take into custody the Collective agent trying to attain it. And I will. No matter what it takes. I’ve never failed a mission yet. But trust me, you wouldn’t want that person in your coven anyway.”

  When neither woman spoke, he continued. “I realize it’s not fun to think that someone you know has been living a double life. That they aren’t the person you thought they were. But this goes beyond Everlasting. Beyond whatever friendships you might have, or your perceived loyalty to the coven. This is about protecting mankind as a whole. That book is dangerous and needs to be dealt with. End of story.”