“Yes! It’s the witch hunter!”
“I knew I should’ve brought salt,” Annette said.
“What do I do?” I asked Ruthie.
Samuel stood a few feet away, his huge blue eyes as round as Jupiter.
“We need a container,” Ruthie said. “Something that can’t be opened.”
“Then how do I get him inside?”
“I know!” Annette took off toward my room.
“Don’t you dare pour out my Patron!”
“You keep Patron in your room?” Dad asked.
“Only the one bottle. I bought it in celebration of my divorce being final, but I never opened it. That stuff is too expensive to drink.”
Annette ran back to us, her flapping towel dangerously close to revealing more about her than anyone needed to know. Too bad the Puritan was locked in my fist. He’d have a cow at how much skin she was showing. It would’ve been fun to watch.
“This.” She skidded to a halt beside me. “It’s a container and can’t be opened.” She held out the crystal ball.
“No.” I frowned at her. “You bought that for me.”
“You can still use it.”
I glanced askance over my shoulder.
Ruthie nodded.
“Even though it’s solid glass?”
“Glass is more porous than you might think,” she said. “He’ll fit.”
“Okay, fantastic. So how do I get him in there?”
“How did you get him into your palm?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It just sort of happened, like everything else I do.” I never thought before I leaped. That was my problem. Well, one of them.
Ruthie stepped in front of me, a patient smile on her face. “Only you know how to do it.” She put her hand over my closed fists. “Take deep breaths and think about it.”
The pressure of holding him in my palm was starting to feel like tectonic plates rubbing together and creating friction. My hand was getting hotter and hotter. Like I’d disrupted some sort of cosmic balance, and the universe was trying to right itself again. “Deep breaths. Okay, I can do this.”
Roane was still leaning against the wall without a care in the world, a gorgeous grin lifting one corner of his mouth.
Ruthie took the glass orb from Annette and held it out to me. “This way, no one can ever release him again. Even if it happens to break, he’ll be scattered throughout the microscopic holes in the glass.”
“Right. Good idea.” Heat blistered my hand, but I concentrated, filling my lungs and slowly releasing the air.
Ruthie was wrong, however. I didn’t know anything. The dozens of witches who came before me did. Those who were a thousand times stronger than I was. I tapped into that. I went back in time and asked my sisters how to stuff a malevolent spirit into a glass orb, as one does.
Naturally, they had an answer.
“Oh,” I said aloud. “Duh.”
The spell flashed in my mind bright, hot, and excited. I risked the revenant’s escape by releasing my left hand and taking the orb. I cradled it in my palm and drew the spell on the air with the orb.
This spell reminded me of a Josephine knot, intricate and interlaced. Closing loose ends. Tying them off. Binding that which needed to be bound. Instead of the air glowing with the lines of the spell, the orb absorbed the power and glowed as bright as a small star.
I brought my right hand to my mouth, the energy in it scorching my skin. I filled my lungs and opened my hand.
Annette gasped.
But I’d tethered the revenant to me as I blew softly across my palm. His molecules drifted like dust on the wind and penetrated the glowing glass. Even though it was solid, it absorbed the revenant, soaking him up and drawing him deep inside.
We would never know his name, but it didn’t matter. I leaned closer to the glass as it began to solidify, and whispered, “You will never know peace.”
The glow dissipated, and I could see beyond it again.
“Did you do it?” Annette hugged the front of her towel.
I turned and showed her the orb. “I did.”
“Oh, wow.” She walked forward and peered inside. “You can see him in there.” She looked at my dads. “It was clear before. Now it has black sand in it.” She tapped it like a kid at a snake exhibit, because that doesn’t make the snakes nervous at all. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would do to Sir.
My dads leaned in. “You did it, cariña,” Dad said.
Annette beamed. “This calls for donuts.”
“Isn’t it, like, four in the morning?”
“Almost five. And Dunkin’ opens at five. I should know. Worst two weeks of my life.”
“Okay, but don’t get pulled over.” A teasing grin played about Roane’s lips. “You’re nigh naked.”
“And you’re nigh high if you think I’m going out for donuts in a towel.” She turned on her heel and strutted off like only my BFF could.
“You did it,” Ruthie said, her smile full of pride. “And without almost getting killed this time.”
“That’s a first, eh?”
She laughed.
I hugged my dads, raked my gaze over Roane as though he were in wolf form and I was a dog brush, and announced my intent to finally take a shower. Roane offered to help. My dads were not amused. But I was.
I walked over to Percy and pulled a rose as black as my heart closer to smell. He wrapped a new vine around my wrist since I’d burned the last one to ash. I had so many questions for him. For everyone.
“The offer still stands,” Roane said. “About the shower.”
I felt a warmth spread over my face. “Though I am dying to see under the kilt, I think since I’ve already tried to kill you once today, maybe we should give you some time to heal.”
“You can look up my kilt anytime,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked off.
Electricity arced through my body. I went in search of Samuel before I caved and took the wolf up on his offer.
Samuel had disappeared after I stuffed his friend into the orb. And now I couldn’t find him. He must be torturing the cat. Wasn’t there something about kids who tortured animals growing up to be serial killers? Sadly, I’d never know.
Thirteen
Today I’m wearing a lovely shade of
I slept like shit so don’t piss me off.
-T-shirt
Fifteen minutes later, I had just stripped off my clothes in my bathroom when Annette came in through the passageway. I jumped and grabbed a towel.
“Please,” she said with a scoff. “Like I haven’t seen your sad excuse for a bosom.”
“What?” I looked down at the girls. They were showing their age a little, but all-in-all, they were still pert. Spirited. Dare I say perky?
“I’m posting it to our social media page.”
I hugged the towel to me. “No one needs to know what you think of my bosom.”
“We are back, baby.”
“Who is we?”
“And the world is going to know it.”
“But does the world need to know it?”
“I’ve already applied for the LLC. Breadcrumbs, Inc. is back in business.”
“We were never in business.”
“Right. But we are now. So . . . never mind.” She hurried out. Hopefully to get the donuts. But who knew what harebrained—inspired—scheme she’d come up with between here and there?
“Wait.” I called down the passageway. “We have a social media page?”
An hour later—it was a long shower—I had squeaky clean hair, polished skin, and sparkly teeth. In theory. With those three essentials checked off my to-do list, I went in search of someone I knew would have answers. It had taken me a while to learn his signature. His texture. But once I figured out where I’d felt him before, I knew exactly where to look for Percival Goode.
I took the basement stairs and headed straight for the door between Roane’s and Ruthie’s. I’d felt a presence every time I came down he
re, but it hadn’t occurred to me until now that what I was feeling was my biological grandfather.
The door was locked as usual. Before he could stop me, I did a simple spell and unlocked it. The door opened to a completely empty room. Small with a dirt floor, it couldn’t have been more than ten feet by ten.
I turned on my phone’s flashlight and saw something glisten on the ground near the back wall. I stepped forward only to find my feet glued to the spot. Percy had put on his Sherlock Holmes hat and figured out my game.
“It’s okay, Percy.” I kept my voice soft. “I already know.”
The vines shrank back but stayed close. They slid along the walls of the empty room like thousands of snakes. Watching me. Making sure I didn’t get too close.
I stepped near the glistening object. A headstone. Percy’s bones were underneath it.
Percival and Ruthie had split long before I was born, though they’d never officially divorced. He’d grown interested in black magic which, at its core, was all about doing harm in one way or another for personal gain. He quickly became addicted. Apparently, that was a thing.
He’d fallen deeper and deeper into that world until his humanity was almost completely stripped away. After that, Ruthie didn’t see him for years. Then in a more lucid moment, he came to her wanting to die. The darkness would not let him, so he begged her for help.
She and her coven performed a ritual. They had to burn him in a witch fire and sear the flesh from his bones to accomplish the tragic act. Those bones were buried here.
I knelt in front of the headstone.
Percy covered it with vines before I could read it.
I smiled at him and brushed them away, and he let me, pulling back until I could see the black stone. I read the name that had been etched into the memorial. “Percival Channing Goode.” I looked up. “That’s an incredible name.”
The room hummed around me.
“You keep saving my life.” A soft vibration rippled over me. “I just wanted to thank you.”
Brushing dirt off the stone, I looked for dates. There were none. But there was a saying at the bottom. Igne natura renovatur integra.
Since my Latin was beyond rusty, I cast a spell, drawing the lines of reveal on the air and pushing the bright hot symbol toward the stone. The letters transformed into Through fire, nature is reborn whole. They stayed that way until I released the spell.
I stood. He’d saved my life I didn’t know how many times. He deserved his privacy. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Percy. I won’t do it again. Just . . . just thank you. For everything.”
An entity took shape before me. Vines rose and formed a human shape and then fell away to reveal a revenant. A man. Percival Channing Goode, in all his glory.
When I’d first seen a picture of him, the one Annette now had in her room, my initial impression was that Percy could’ve given Lucifer Morningstar a run for his money. And I was not wrong.
The man was nothing short of stunning. My grandmother sure knew how to pick ’em. Inky black hair. Startlingly blue eyes. A full mouth and strong jaw. His clothes were a little dated. Late sixties, early seventies. Not a great time for fashion. But he didn’t just pull it off, he made it look good.
“Percival.” I didn’t try to hide the surprise in my voice.
He tipped an invisible hat. And just like I could tell Samuel’s eyes were blue, I could tell Percy’s were too. Brighter than the rest of him. The color impenetrable. His stance was guarded, but I stepped closer anyway.
And I suddenly had nothing to say. I rubbed my hands together and stuffed them into my jeans pockets. “So, how have you been?” I rolled my eyes inwardly. What was up next? The weather. Hockey? Did ghosts get into hockey? If Ruthie had WiFi, surely Percy had ESPN.
A charming grin slid up to those beautiful blue eyes, and he lifted a shoulder.
“Can you talk?” I asked.
He pressed his mouth together and shook his head.
While I was burning to know why, I kept that flame to myself.
He put a hand on my face. Or tried to.
Just like with Samuel, I only felt a coolness where his fingers would’ve been. “We’re going to have to learn sign language.”
He smiled and nodded.
“Hey.” I thought of something I could ask him. “Did you know there’s a cave underneath the house?”
He nodded, put an index finger over his mouth to shush me, then cupped a hand over one eye. Which was weird until it sank in.
“Pirates,” I said, astonished.
He encouraged me to take it further with a summoning wave.
“Smugglers.”
He pointed at me, and I could practically hear him say, “Bingo!”
“Wow. Do you know what they smuggled?”
He spread his hands. A bunch of stuff, apparently.
He had a small scar on his face. I asked, “What happened?” before I remembered he couldn’t answer.
He dismissed my question with a shake of his head, but I looked closer. It didn’t look so much like a scar but more like one of the vines that covered the house. “Is that from when I pulled you across the threshold into the passageway?” My stomach clenched at the thought. It was the only time I’d seen him hurt. “When you withered and turned to dust?”
He didn’t answer.
“Percy, I’m so sorry.”
He stepped to me sharply and shook his head.
“But it’s my fault.”
Another shake, this one sharper. He pointed to the door. Was he kicking me out?
I started to leave, but he stopped me by blocking it with his arm. He lowered his head and pointed to himself then pressed his palms together as though in prayer.
“You’re apologizing to me?
He nodded.
“You’re asking for my forgiveness?”
Another nod.
“That’s ridiculous. There is nothing you need to be forgiven for.”
The smile he flashed me was blinding. Yep. Ruthie sure knew how to pick ’em.
“Thanks, Percy. I have to find Annette before she eats all the donuts.”
He stepped aside to unblock the door.
“Would you mind if I come back. You know, from time to time?”
The smile that stole across his face was all the answer I needed. I tiptoed to him and made a soft kissing sound on his cheek. Bona fide dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. What a heartbreaker he must’ve been in his day.
I turned and hurried up the stairs, but not before saying over my shoulder, “I love the bracelet.”
He was already gone, but the vine at my wrist tightened ever so gently.
My life was so strange.
Leaving the basement, I strolled into the kitchen in search of sustenance in the form of roasted bean juice and fried rings of flour dipped in sugar. I found neither. At least I could do something about the roasted bean juice. I put on a pot of coffee then ran upstairs to grab my laptop.
My dads had gone back to bed, sleeping in their designated guest room at Ruthie Goode’s Broom and Boarding House. I couldn’t help but wonder where the wolf was. If he was resting too.
After retrieving my laptop, I sipped the bean juice and dug into Salem’s murky past. That time in the Witch City that even Salemites regretted. A time when fear and superstition were at an all-time high. When the persecution of their own became the norm. Who knew? Perhaps I’d run across a drawing of the Puritanical revenant now residing in my crystal ball. Did that make my ball possessed? Was it okay to have possessed balls? A few choice, and inappropriate, images brought Roane to mind.
Two hours and three cups of bean juice later, I emerged from the rabbit hole a veritable wealth of information but no closer to finding the truth about the things I went in for: Samuel’s family, the witch hunter’s name, and the smuggler’s cave underneath our house.
Generally, when I fell down the rabbit hole, I fell hard. Today was no exception. I’d fallen so far so fast, I’d failed
to realize Annette never came back with the donuts. Alarm shot through me until I remembered I had to take three things into consideration.
One, Annette loved to shop and most likely found a little store full of bobbles and trinkets to keep her occupied for hours.
Two, she’d worked at the donut shop for a couple of weeks. She could be hanging out, chatting with her acquaintances. Or, knowing her, helping with the morning rush.
And three, our lives of late were anything but normal. At this point, a freak rockslide or a vampire attack could’ve slowed her down.
There was a fourth option, as well. Annette could’ve tried to enter The Witchery again, and Love could’ve bludgeoned her to death with a jar of wolfsbane. But that one was a stretch, even for me.
I took out my phone and texted her. Then I looked out the window and got sucked into watching the wolf stack wood in the backyard.
He wore a tobacco-colored hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His forearms corded as he worked. His breath fogged in the air. He must’ve felt me staring because he turned, his powerful gaze meeting mine. He nodded a greeting before going back to the task at hand.
Ink jumped onto the table.
I nuzzled him, and then texted Annette again—three times in a row to make sure she felt the vibration if she had her phone on silent, which she rarely did. My dads came in, and we chatted a while but even they noticed how fidgety I’d become. Well, when they weren’t ogling my man.
“Dads,” I said, appalled. “You can’t lust after my guy.”
“The hell we can’t.” Papi raked a hand through his thick silver-streaked hair.
Dad chuckled. “What’s wrong, cariña?”
“Something’s wrong?” Papi asked.
“Annette went out for donuts, like, three hours ago.” I stood to get my jacket. “Would you mind calling the chief, just in case? See if there’ve been any accidents?”
Papi sobered. “Of course, sweetheart.”
“I’m going to drive the route.”
Roane walked in the backdoor, a gust of cool wind following in his wake. “Not without me, you aren’t.”
“Holy cow, you really do have good hearing.”
He didn’t react. He just stood there, staring at me like he’d caught me doing something bad. When I did something bad, he’d be the first to know. And the second. And the third.
Bewitched: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Betwixt & Between Book 2) Page 18