He’s already shaking his head, but there’s no real conviction in the gesture.
“Please? I’m worried about her.”
He chuckles. “I’m fairly certain that Bilda can take very good care of herself.”
“No - you don’t understand. I know she used to be a powerful witch, but things have changed. She isn’t very...” How do I say this nicely? “She’s lost a lot of her edge, I guess you’d say.”
“Her edge? Do you mean her power?”
“Yes? No, wait. Not her power - she still has that. She just doesn’t use it properly, I think. She hasn’t done well with the craft these last few years, and I don’t think she’s the woman you remember.”
“I don’t understand.” He sets his drink down on the table beside his chair and leans forward, too.
I struggle to explain it without being disrespectful to Bilda, but then give up. “Her spells seem to cause trouble, more than anything. She has a tendency to mess them up. Usually, it’s harmless, but once in a while she does some damage.”
Confusion and worry cloud his features. He sits back in the chair and thinks about this. I wonder if Jones is listening at the door. I try not to look at it.
“This doesn’t make any sense. The Bilda I know would never mess up a spell. She was precise, fair, and powerful, and she never made a move she didn’t thoroughly plan.”
I shrug. “She’s out of practice. She hasn’t even been part of a coven for probably three years.”
The only way I can describe his face is...tender. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”
The words sound formal, but he is obviously upset.
“So you see, she might be in more trouble than you think. Will you help me find her?”
He pauses, then nods once and stands. “I’ll be right back.”
Before he gets to the door, he pauses. “You know, I haven’t attempted to search for Bilda myself because I assumed she would be using a cloaking spell, but from what you’ve told me, there is at least a chance that she’s simply hiding somewhere. We’ll find her.”
He opens the door and almost crashes into a surprised Jones. I cringe.
He waves Jones into the room. “It’s fine. You aren’t as stealthy as you think you are.” Then he closes the door behind him and is gone.
Jones comes in and stands beside the fireplace. “Well that was...embarrassing, to be honest.”
“You really aren’t all that stealthy, especially for a werewolf.”
“I haven’t tried. You should see me when I’m hunting. I am the epitome of stealth.”
I raise an eyebrow, but drop the subject. We can discuss Jones’s sneaking abilities another day. “Where do you think he’s going?”
“To talk to the men he’s got hanging out all over the property, would be my guess.”
“There are men hanging out all over the property?” I hadn’t seen anyone.
“Security, I assume. They’re all weres, like me.”
“You mean like you - except stealthier?”
Shut up.”
“I didn’t see them. I saw you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.” Jones goes to the bar in the corner and pours himself a drink. I realize I haven’t touched my own.
“You were listening at the door, trying to not get caught. That is the definition of stealthy.”
“Shut up. He’s coming.”
A second later, the door opened. “My men are out looking now,” Dravo says. “If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
“If Angelo’s men don’t find her first, you mean.”
He looks away. “They won’t.”
Uh-oh. “How do you know?” I’m almost afraid to ask the question.
He’s still not looking at me. “We’ll handle it.”
“Is somebody going to get hurt?” It’s a stupid question. From the look in his eyes, of course someone is going to get hurt.
“My men will take care of it. They are very good at their jobs. I guarantee that Bilda will not fall into Angelo’s hands.”
His tone is telling me to stop asking questions, so I do. I feel kind of sick, to be honest. It’s like he’s the supernatural mob or something.
“But,” he continues, “I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” Kill an enemy? Bury a body? Run his fronting operation, the one that hides all the ill-gotten money? I shake my head. He’s my father, not the mob.
“You need to work on clearing Bilda’s name.”
“You can clear her name, if she was with you the whole time.”
He’s already shaking his head. “I wasn’t with her. I just happen to know where she was.”
“Where was she?”
He closes his eyes for a moment. “Helping a friend. But that friend can’t speak for Bilda.”
“Why not?” I snap. I’m getting confused and frustrated.
Dravo’s tone drops. “He’s dead.”
My hopes die. I was so hoping this would be easy. Dravo would tell Angelo that Bilda had an alibi, and Angelo would go stalk somebody besides us. “Another dead body?”
“Not exactly. This person was already dead - Bilda just helped him move on.”
“So how do I clear her name, then?”
He gives me a look. “Just do it. Catch the real killer. I can find Bilda and even keep her hidden for a while, but not forever. Angelo will get his hands on her sooner or later, if the culprit isn’t found.”
I glance at Jones. He’s watching me. “I’ll help you,” he says.
Dravo’s expression darkens again. He turns to me. “May I speak with Jones for a moment?” he asks, except that it isn’t a question. “Dinner should be served now, so please make yourself comfortable. We’ll be down in a moment.”
I’m reluctant to leave, but I can’t think of any reason to stay.
Chapter Five
Rain is already at one end of the table with a full plate when I get downstairs. She looks up, checks behind me, and asks, “Where’s Jones?”
I sit down beside her at one of the three empty place settings. The table is completely full of food, with every dish that could possibly be conjured to go with pot roast. My mouth waters. “He’s upstairs with Dravo. They’ll be down in a minute.”
Worry creases the spot between her eyes. “Is it safe to leave them alone?”
I shrug. “Jones can take care of himself. Besides, I think they just want to talk about how to find Bilda.”
The worry line stays put. “But Dravo came down here and yelled at a bunch of men to go find her...”
“He wants to find her before Angelo does.” I stab a chunk of beef with the serving fork and stuff it into my mouth. The walk through the woods made me hungry. Next I move on to mashed potatoes, but then pause, undecided, when I spot cheesy scalloped potatoes on the other side of the table. I may have to try both. “And I’m somehow supposed to find the real killer before she gets caught.”
“I’m worried about her.” Rains voice is soft.
“Me too, sweetie, but Dravo promised he would find her for us.”
“And we’re supposed to be catching a killer?” Her tone lightens a notch.
“No. I am. You aren’t helping.”
She snorts. “You need my help.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yeah, ya do.”
“Rain, it’s dangerous. People are dead. Also, I don’t even know where to start.”
“That’s why you need me. I know exactly how to find her. I got the idea when you abandoned me here with all this food. It smelled wonderful.
“How? And we didn’t abandon you.”
“Yes you did. Anyway, I was sniffing, because pot roast is fantastic, and I wondered why we can’t just let Jones sniff something that belongs to Bilda and then track her. Like in the movies.”
“Because I’m not a bloodhound, you goofball.”
I choke on my potatoes, then turn to see Jones and Dravo in the doorway. Jones looks flustered, Dravo
looks amused.
“We couldn’t wait. We were hungry,” I said, nodding at the table.
Dravo waves a hand. “It’s fine.”
Rain isn’t letting up. “You’re a werewolf, and that’s like a dog. Dogs have a perfect sense of smell. It could work.”
Jones face turns red. Well, redder. I bite my lip and look down at my plate.
“No. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
Rain looks crestfallen. I shake my head at Jones.
“What?” he asks me.
“Nothing.” I haven’t mentioned Rain’s crush to him, and now he’s hurt her feelings. I tilt my head toward her, though in case he can take the hint.
He looks confused for a moment, then suddenly gets it. I can tell because his mouth forms an ‘O’ and a stricken expression crosses his face while he stares at her, and then me.
I nod and go back to my potatoes.
He comes to sit down beside her and puts a hand on her arm. “Actually, now that I think about it, that might...not be a horrible idea at all,” he says slowly. “I’ll try it later, OK?”
She looks up from her staring contest with some corn and smiles at him. “No. You’re right - it’s a bad idea.”
Jones visibly relaxes and starts to eat, but I don’t miss seeing Rain rub the spot on her arm that he touched.
She’s got it bad, and I should have warned Jones earlier.
“So did you guys make a plan?” I ask. “You weren’t in there long.”
Jones stabs a forkful of meat extra hard, clanking his fork on the china.
Dravo answers, “No. We were just...talking.”
Jones grunts.
I’m sensing tension between them, but I don’t know how to ask what’s going on without sounding too nosy.
We finish supper with small talk. It drives me crazy because I want to know more about what happened with Bilda and Dravo, but that too will have to wait. I do manage to ask something else during dessert, though. I’m not sure how, because I only want to concentrate on the lemon meringue pie in front of me.
Maybe lemon meringue makes me brave.
“So, Dravo. How is it that you disappeared and never came back to us?”
My Aunt May had mentioned that Dravo’s disappearance was Bilda’s doing, but I wanted to hear his side of the story. Who left who? Which one of them decided it was OK for me to grow up without a father?
He chews and swallows before he answers, obviously buying time to think. “It’s complicated.”
“And why help us now, if you and Bilda are water under the bridge? Why should you care what happens to her?”
His face softens into a smile. “I will always care what happens to you and Bilda.”
I go back to my pie. That answers that question. Bilda has some explaining to do.
But Dravo isn’t finished talking. “I think,” he says, picking up his napkin and dabbing at the corner of his mouth. I can’t help but stare at the spot where his finger is missing. “That you should stay here until this is all cleared up.”
I stare at him for a second, considering this. He has an entire security team, so that might be a good idea. Also, if I stayed here, it would give us a chance to really talk, and maybe I could figure out what happened between him and Mom.
But some other, deeper part of me tells me that this is a very bad idea, and that it’s time to leave. My palms even flutter, just for a second, as if panicked that I would consider his offer.
“I think I’ll be fine,” I say. “I’m not the one Angelo wants to arrest.”
He scowls at me, but doesn’t mention the idea again.
“So what did he want to talk about?” I ask Jones, stepping carefully around some dead wood on the path.
Jones snorts. “He wanted to warn me away from you.”
Irritation flares in me. “You’re kidding? You should have said something, Jones, and I could have set him straight right there. He lost the right to play protective daddy a long time ago.”
“It wasn’t worth the fuss. I let him say his piece. It’s over.”
No it isn’t, but as soon as Mom is safe, I’m going to have a talk with Dravo. As to whether I want more with Jones...well, I refuse to think about that right now.
We’re halfway back through the woods when Angelo’s men confront us and take me into custody. Jones protests, Rain protests even louder, but I knew it had to happen eventually. If I avoid Angelo long enough he resorts to drastic measures to get my attention.
The cuffs are cold on my wrists, and their presence makes the journey back to town that much more difficult. I’m sweaty and tired by the time we get there. Jones and Rain follow quietly, and I’m glad they’re there to keep an eye on me.
Portia laughs out loud when they bring me to the Salty Hog. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her happy in my presence. Angelo shoots her a look, though, so I don’t have to fight the urge to stick out my tongue at her. Then he turns to me, and the look in his eyes is murderous. They’re still pretty eyes, though.
“What are you doing traipsing around in the woods between here and the colony?” he asks, his voice low and even. He’s sitting across from me in a booth that is at least a little secluded from the rest of the bar. He looks a little like a tired, irritated Godfather.
“What are you doing having me arrested?” I shoot back, jingling my steel-bound wrists for effect. “What have I done, Angelo? Why the cuffs?”
“Would you have come willingly?”
“Uh, no. Answer my question - what’s the charge?”
He shakes his head and looks at the table. “Do we always have to argue?”
“You had me arrested, genius. What do you think?” I glare at him as hard as I can, but he isn’t paying attention. He’s still fiddling with the salt and pepper shaker.
“You made me do this. Please know that.” His voice is quiet enough that it makes me nervous.
“Do what?”
“I have to send you away.”
I really, really want to kick him in the shin. “I don’t even know what that means, Angelo. Send me where?” He’s not sending me anywhere, not until Bilda is safe.
“Home. To Raleigh.”
My mouth falls open. “You’ve got to be joking.”
He shakes his head.
“Look at me, ASS man. You choose now to do the one thing I’ve been begging you to do all this time?” I’m numb. His words have hit home, and I don’t even know how to respond.
When he looks up, I catch the full brunt of his exhaustion and worry. I would feel for him - if I weren’t in handcuffs. “It’s the safest place for you right now, until we get this mess settled.”
“Safe for who? Me, or you? I’d say you, because if you try this stuff right now I’m going to kill you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Other people have come into the bar behind me, but I don’t pay attention until I feel a hand on my arm. I turn to find Imala. The moment I see her, my eyes tear up. Of course she would come - she cares about me and Bilda. “He wants to send me back to Raleigh now. Can you believe this?”
She glances at Angelo, who meets her gaze. Then she looks at the floor. “I know. I’m sorry. It was my idea,” she says quietly, squeezing my arm.
If I was numb before, I’m ice cold now. “What?”
“It’s too dangerous here at the moment, and trouble seems to find you, Trinket.” She smiles sadly and tucks my hair behind my ear, just as Mom used to do when I was young.
“I have no intention of leaving.” At any other time, if Angelo had offered to send me home, I would have jumped at the chance. But now Bilda is in trouble, and he wants me to just...leave her here? Toss her to the wolves?
Speaking of wolves, Jones catches up finally. He comes in in time to hear my last words. “Leaving? Where?”
“He wants to send me back to Raleigh.”
Jones turns to Angelo, and something in his manner changes. He grows tense and somehow more compact, and I swear I hear the rumble of
a growl in his throat. Oh, hell. He’s going to eat the ASS man.
I know I should stop him, but I don’t want to at exactly this minute. Right now it would be kind of fun to watch him tear Angelo limb from limb, even if it wouldn’t actually help.
I twist slightly and put a hand on his arm. “Jones,” I say quietly.
Thankfully it snaps him out of whatever trance he was in, and he turns to me. “Take it before the Council,” he says.
Imala makes a small noise beside me, and Angelo looks at us hard. “That won’t do any good,” he says.
“Then it shouldn’t matter to you if she tries,” Jones shoots back.
“I don’t want this to be a fight.”
“I’m in handcuffs, Angelo. What did you think was going to happen?”
He huffs. “I guess I hoped that for once, you’d see reason and let me do my job without interfering.” He pauses. “A lot has happened since you’ve come to Jagged Grove, Trinket, and you seem to be in the middle of all of it. This particular situation is too volatile for you.”
“Take off these cuffs and I’ll show you volatile,” I mutter.
“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
Jones’s idea scares me, but Angelo’s expression is set. I’m not getting anywhere with him. “I want to see the Council.”
“Fine,” he barks, standing up from the table.
“Fine,” I spit back, even though nothing about this situation is fine at all. I’m afraid of leaving here without knowing Bilda is safe, but there really isn’t anything I can actually do about it except argue my case.
Angelo rakes his hand through his hair, and Jones moves closer to me.
Angelo’s eyes narrow. He really hates that I’m so close to Jones these days, but what does he expect - for me to embrace him? I can’t. I’m in handcuffs. “Could you please take these off?”
“Are you going to disappear again?”
“Would it do me any good? You’ve already told me that your men are everywhere on the island, looking for Bilda.”
He shakes his head and nods to one of the men who brought me in. “Take them off.” To me he says, “Go home. Get some sleep. Be at the courthouse in the morning at nine.”
Evicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 3) Page 5