Mrs. P poked me with her elbow. “If you don’t mind me asking, Darcy, did you grow a third boob when I wasn’t looking?”
“Darcy!” Harper whispered as she looked my chest. Her eyes widened in horror.
I reached into my shirt and pulled out the agate ball. I shrugged. “I was tired of carrying it around in my tote bag.”
The diary was tucked into a plastic bag and hidden in the big box of Tide in the laundry room at As You Wish. It was a temporary hiding spot—until I could find something a little more permanent. Like a bank deposit box.
Harper peered at my shirt. “How is it staying in there?”
“Sports bra.”
“Those things have stretch. Stretch is good when you’re keeping a rock in your bra,” Mrs. P said as if she knew from experience.
“Do you think that rock ball really works?” Harper asked.
“I’ve been warned by two people to keep it with me at all times. I’m not taking any risks. Besides, so far so good.”
Mrs. P yawned. “If anyone can pull off a third boob, it’s you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. P.”
“You’re wel—”
We fell silent as noises came from the back door.
“She’s here,” Harper whispered.
“Take your places,” I said as quietly as I could.
We spread out.
The back door creaked open. The intruder had on a Crafter cape with the hood up. She crossed to the refrigerator and pulled open the double doors. When the light didn’t come on (we’d emptied and unplugged the fridge in advance), she reached up. That’s when Harper jumped up and stiff-armed her from behind. The intruder went stumbling into the empty fridge. At that point, Mrs. P and I slammed the doors closed.
Evan assured us that Dorothy would be okay in there for at least an hour—and what we had planned wouldn’t take nearly that long.
“We can call Nick now,” I said, flipping on the light.
“Darcy Ann Merriweather, is that you?” the voice said from within.
“That doesn’t sound like Dorothy,” Mrs. P said.
“Mrs. Pennywhistle, open this door at once!” the voice demanded.
“Sounds a little bit like…” Harper glanced at me.
“Harper! Open this door!”
“…Aunt Ve.”
We swung the doors open. Ve stood inside, having the good grace to look embarrassed. Slowly, she strolled out, patted her hair, and looked at the three of us. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”
We all nodded.
“I, ah…heard the cake was beautiful. I wanted to see it.”
“You lie,” I said, putting pieces together and coming up with a picture I couldn’t quite believe.
Harper and Mrs. P nodded.
“Velma Devany,” I said. (I figured if she could use my full name, I could use hers.) “Have you been sabotaging your own wedding?”
She held up two fingers, about an inch apart. “A little.”
“The invitations?” I asked.
“Well, actually, that was Dorothy. I figured out a week ago what she must have done when those RSVPs didn’t come in. It gave me the idea to take it a step further.”
I gasped. “You stole your own dress?”
“Spoiled all that food at the Sorcerer’s Stove?” Harper added.
“Made off with the cake Evan made?” Mrs. P asked.
Ve’s head bobbed. “Guilty, guilty, and guilty.”
“Why would you sabotage your own wedding?” Harper asked.
Ve glanced at the floor and didn’t answer.
“You don’t want to get married?” Mrs. P suggested.
Looking up, Ve said, “I don’t love him. I love—”
“Oh. My. Goodness,” I cried. “I just realized what that handkerchief was in your bathroom. It’s not a hankie. It’s a pocket square!”
Ve’s cheeks reddened.
I babbled on. “Not only is it a man’s pocket square; it’s Terry Goodwin’s pocket square!” That’s where I’d seen it before—the night he put out the fire. He’d had an identical one in his dinner jacket’s pocket.
Harper’s mouth dropped open. “You and Terry?”
Mrs. P threw her head back and laughed. “Hot diggety! This is the best news I’ve heard in an eon.”
My brain was whirring, thinking about the morning I’d found that pocket square in Ve’s bathroom. And how it had been right after the “intruder” had broken out through the kitchen window.
I recalled how loud Archie had been that morning, too.
I pointed at her accusingly. “It was Terry in the house Tuesday morning. You and he…he and you…in the tub! Archie was your lookout.” That’s what was up with his loud trilling. When I got my hands on that macaw…
Harper stuck her fingers in her ears. “Lalalalala.”
“Oh, to be young again,” Mrs. P said dreamily.
“Guilty?” Ve winced.
“Why didn’t you just call off the wedding?” Harper asked. “Wouldn’t it have been easier?”
“I didn’t want to hurt Sylar’s feelings. I thought the sabotage would postpone things for a while until I could figure out how to talk to him.”
“Were you making yourself sick, too?” I asked. How far would she go in this little scheme of hers?
“Not guilty,” Ve said fiercely. “I was truly ill.”
I bit my lip. “Were you going to let Dorothy take the blame for the sabotage?”
Ve smiled. “It would have been a perk, don’t you think?”
Mrs. P cackled.
I sighed. “Did Dorothy set the fire or was that you, too?”
Ve’s eyes darkened. “That, my dear, was all Dorothy, and I’ve yet to have it out with her.”
“Can we go home now?” Harper asked.
“Good idea, Harper dear,” Ve said, taking our arms and heading for the door.
Mrs. P turned out the lights. “I still think a Taser would be a good idea.”
“No,” Harper and I said.
As I locked the door behind us, Ve said, “Darcy dear, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but did you know you have a third boob?”
Chapter Thirty-three
When we got home, I pleaded a headache and went straight up to bed. I was tired. So tired. Ve had taken Missy for a quick walk before turning in herself. I wondered if she was going to stop at Terry’s on the way back.
I still couldn’t believe the two of them, sneaking around.
A rooster crowed outside my window. I pulled down the shade. I was mad at Archie and didn’t really want to talk to him right now.
I kicked off my shoes and walked into the bathroom to take out my contacts and brush my teeth. When I flipped on the light, I came face-to-face with…the Peeper, ski mask and all.
In my bathroom.
At midnight.
I screamed.
The Peeper grabbed my arm and shook me. “Be quiet. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” The voice was garbled, but I could understand every word. Gloved hands held a gun. “We’re going to take a walk,” the Peeper said.
“We are?” I asked.
The Peeper nodded.
“Where?”
The Peeper didn’t answer, but waited patiently as I put my shoes on. As I was escorted down the staircase and out the front door, I could feel the agate ball nestled against my chest. Would it really protect me?
I wondered how the Peeper had gotten inside As You Wish with the protection spell being in place…. Then I recalled what I’d overheard earlier. Ve had said she needed to recast the spell because she hadn’t had enough time to do it properly.
Because she’d been out stealing her wedding cake.
Great.
We skirted the house and went through the back gate, over a small bridge, and then onto the Enchanted Trail. It was empty this time of night. As we walked, with the gun pressed into the small of my back, I was trying to think of some way to escape.
; The Peeper wasn’t very big. Maybe a little taller than I was. I frowned. Clearly, the Peeper wasn’t Jonathan or Andreus or Lazarus. Not tall enough.
Maybe if I could get the Peeper talking again, I would recognize the voice. “My aunt Ve is sure to notice me missing and call the police.”
“I’m sure she will,” the Peeper said, seemingly undisturbed by my pronouncement.
I tried to place the voice. It was a medium tone, and I realized I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.
“They’ll look for me,” I added.
“I’m sure they will.”
“They’ll find me,” I said bravely.
“Maybe.”
I could probably make a run for it—I’d been getting pretty fast. But then I realized no one was fast enough to outrun a bullet.
So I started wishing with all my might that Ve would discover my absence. Despite what I’d said, I wasn’t sure she would. She might just assume I’d gone to bed for the night and not notice I was missing until the morning.
That thought turned my stomach inside out.
Finally, the Peeper said, “Up here, turn right.”
It was the trail’s exit onto Incantation Circle’s cul-de-sac. The path right next to Patrice’s house. The Peeper walked us around to the back door. The boards I’d put up earlier that day were lying on the deck.
Suddenly, a rooster crowed from nearby.
I almost cried in relief. Archie was near. I immediately forgave him for keeping me in the dark about Ve and Terry. The crowing was his way of letting me know help was on the way. I just had to hang on.
The Peeper pushed the door open and motioned me within.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“I want the Anicula.”
My eyes went wide. “I don’t know where it is.”
The gun came up to my nose. “I suggest you find it. Right now.”
I looked at the Peeper helplessly and shrugged. “I don’t know where it is.”
Suddenly, the front doorknob turned. Elodie stuck her head in. “Hello?”
“In here,” the Peeper said.
My pulse pounded. Elodie was in on this?
She came into the light and her eyes grew wide with alarm. “What’s going on here? Darcy, are you okay?”
“Just fine,” I said, as though we were chatting in the grocery aisle. “You?”
“I got a call that there was an emergency here. I came right over.”
I glanced at the gun. I’d say this was kind of an emergency. “Who called you?”
“I did,” the Peeper said, “so don’t get your hopes up that your knight in shining armor is going to rescue you. Either of you.” The gun pointed at Elodie. “I want the Anicula, and I want it now.”
Elodie tipped her head and stared at the Peeper. “I don’t know where it is. Someone stole it before my mother died.”
“I don’t believe you,” the Peeper said. “You have ten seconds; then I start shooting. I am not bluffing.”
The voice, I realized, leaned more toward the feminine. I racked my brain trying to figure out who it could be.
“Ten,” the Peeper said. “Nine. Eight.”
Elodie grabbed my hands.
“Seven. Six.”
The front door swung open and a big grizzly filled the doorway. “What’s going on in here?” Roger boomed.
The Peeper didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “Time is up.” The Peeper leveled the gun at Elodie, took aim, and reached for the trigger.
Roger charged forward. “No!”
He dove in front of her as the gun went off. The bullet hit him square in the chest. He fell backward with a howl.
The Peeper said, “One down. Now, am I going to get that Anicula or not?”
Roger moaned. Elodie’s face was frozen in terror.
“Okay,” the Peeper said. “The choice is yours.”
The choice is yours….
The Peeper took aim at Elodie and deliberately placed a finger on the trigger.
“Wait!” I cried. “I know where the Anicula is.”
“Where?” the Peeper asked.
My mind churned. The choice is yours. I knew that phrase. I knew that voice. I knew who the Peeper was. And I knew why she was doing what she was doing.
I walked over to a box in the corner, rummaged inside, and came out with a beautiful amulet that Patrice had stashed away among the clutter. In the center of a sturdy intricate platinum filigree hung a round black opal. “Here,” I said, handing it over.
Elodie stared at me. I winked at her as the Peeper snatched the amulet out of my hands.
Roger moaned and Elodie went over to him. She fell to her knees and took his hand in hers. “Hang in there,” she said. “Hold on. We’ll get help as soon as we can.”
“Not so fast,” the Peeper said. “How do I know this is the real Anicula?”
“Make a wish,” Elodie said, catching on. “Something simple maybe, since the Anicula hasn’t been used in a while.”
The Peeper curved a hand around the amulet. “I wish I had a…pizzelle.”
My skin tingled as I covered my mouth and whispered the words. “Wish I might, wish I may, grant this wish without delay.”
I was counting on my hunch about the Peeper’s identity being true. The only way this plan would possibly work was if my kidnapper was a mortal and the Elder didn’t have to get involved.
A pizzelle appeared in the Peeper’s hand. She stared at the cookie in wonder and let out a cry of triumph.
“Take the amulet and go, Zoey.”
Elodie gasped. “Zoey?”
Zoey tugged the mask off her head. Her hair stuck in a mass to her head, and her eyes were wild. “How did you know it was me?”
“‘The choice is yours.’ You said the same thing last night during class.”
Elodie stood up. “You’re the Peeper Creeper?”
“I had no choice,” Zoey said. “I need the Anicula. I have to heal Jonathan. I have to make him better.”
How did she still know about the Anicula if her memory was cleansed? Then I recalled what Elodie had said about charms being for Crafters and mortals alike. The Elder must have cleansed Zoey’s memory only of the Craft references she’d heard.
“I’ve been looking for this amulet for a year and a half, ever since Jonathan was first diagnosed.” Her crazed gaze shot to mine. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve broken into this house looking for this charm.” She cradled it in her hands. “I can’t believe I finally have it. I wish Jonathan were here.”
I covered my mouth so she couldn’t see my lips moving and cast the wish.
My thoughts were spinning. Jonathan had been diagnosed with ALS eighteen months ago? Was it a coincidence that it was the same time frame Patrice went missing?
Zoey’s eyes gleamed as she grasped the amulet. They held a spark of insanity—of recklessness. She’d been breaking into homes around town to find the Anicula. The sicker Jonathan became, the more desperate she had acted.
But what about eighteen months ago? How desperate had she been then to cure her ailing husband?
A chill swept down my spine. “Was it you?” I asked softly. “Did you kill Patrice?”
Zoey waved the gun. Her hand was shaking. “She wouldn’t grant Jonathan another wish! How could she not grant him a wish that would save his life? She tried to tell me the Anicula had been stolen. Does she think I’m stupid? I knew she wanted him to suffer. She was jealous because he chose me over her.”
Elodie let out a sharp cry and barreled forward. Zoey ducked and missed the blow, but Elodie locked onto her legs. They toppled forward and into me. I fell backward into the wall behind me and shadowboxes rained down around me, crashing to the floor. Glass shattered and burst out like shrapnel, slicing into my skin.
“How could you?” Elodie cried.
“I have to save him,” Zoey shouted. “He’s all I have. He’s all I have, El.”
“That’s enough!” a voice boomed. �
�Zoey, stop.” Jonathan stood in the doorway. There were tears in his eyes. “What have you done?”
She burst into tears, but continued to wave the gun around crazily. “They’re going to tell. We have to get rid of them.”
“No, Zoey, no,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking aim at Elodie.
I had to do something. Anything. If only I hadn’t cleaned up the clutter in here. I could have easily reached something to throw at her.
And then I remembered I had a secret weapon. I reached into my shirt and pulled out the agate ball. Without thinking twice, I threw it at her just as she pulled the trigger. Zoey cried out and doubled over as the ball hit her in the head. The bullet hit the ceiling.
Jonathan rushed over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close while taking the gun from her and tossing it across the room. Rocking her, he kept saying, “What have you done? What have you done?”
I tried not to look at my arms, which were dripping blood from the shattered glass (I didn’t want to faint again), as I rested my head against the wall. I saw the crushed pizzelle on the floor and said, “I really wish the police were here.”
“Me, too,” Elodie said, crawling over to Roger.
“I wish for an ambulance, too,” I added. “That would be nice right about now.” Roger didn’t look too well. His face was the color of chalk.
Suddenly, sirens split the air.
For a second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But within moments, Nick rushed into the house, gun drawn. He crouched down next to me. “Don’t move, okay? The ambulance is right behind me. I’m not sure how they got here so fast, but I’m glad they did.”
“Roger’s been shot—he needs help first.”
Other officers filed in, including Glinda. She spotted Zoey in the costume and raw emotion flooded her face. She reached a hand out to her sister, then slowly curved her hand into a fist and withdrew it. A beat later, she turned and walked out of the house.
Zoey had said that Jonathan was all she had.
Maybe she’d been right.
Chapter Thirty-four
I was sitting on the porch swing the next afternoon, lazily swinging away when Evan came strolling up the walkway. I closed Melina’s diary and smiled at him.
“You look good in white,” he said.
A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 24