Evicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 3)

by Willow Monroe

  I notice his use of the word you’re. “You aren’t coming with me?”

  “I can’t. There’s been a small break in the case.”

  This makes me look up. “You found Bilda?”

  He shakes his head. “I said a small break.”

  Jones and Rain step into the hall behind him, stealing my attention. Then I see Glade, too, and realize that they’ve come to say goodbye. I look away.

  “Leave me alone, Angelo. My friends are here.”

  This is going to break my already smashed up heart, and I don’t want him to see that he’s won.

  Besides, I hate sad goodbyes.

  When Angelo leaves, I can see that Jones, at least, doesn’t look all that sad. In fact, he looks downright pleased. “What?” I ask, taking in his self-satisfied grin.

  “Nothing. Like you said, just came to say goodbye.” He squeezes my hands through the bars.

  “You look thrilled that I’m leaving.” Which sucks.

  His gaze slides away, toward a corner of the room. I start to turn, to see what he’s looking at, but he grips my hands tighter and shakes his head very slightly.

  “OK, this is weird.”

  “I want to thank you for leaving Bumper with me, Trinket. We’ve become close, and I hope I can give him a long and happy life.”

  Now the twins are smiling, too. I blink. Open my mouth, but then close it again. I’ve never discussed Bumper with Jones. I was actually waiting until the last minute to demand him, to buy myself more time. But now Jones is saying that I agreed to give him away? “I...uh...Jones?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “No, of course not. He’s such a great companion. Who knew that owls would be so friendly?”

  I wouldn’t know - Bumper doesn’t exactly like me, even if he is my familiar.

  But that’s beside the point, because Jones and I never talked about Bumper. “Are you feeling all right?” I ask.

  Behind him, Rain clears her throat and takes a step back, against the opposite wall. Then she shakes her head.

  I have no idea what she’s doing.

  Glade takes a step back, too, just off to the side of the cell bars. Then he raises his hands to his face and mimes a camera.

  A camera?

  “Oh.”

  “Shh.” Rain.

  OK, I get it, but that has nothing to do with why Jones has appropriated my familiar, and he’s just giving me a blank grin and no answers.

  “Play along,” Glade mouths to me.

  I refuse to have hope that they’ve found a way to get me out of this, so I just nod. Only then does Jones let go of my hands. Then he turns to walk away, and the twins follow. “Well, see ya,” he calls over his shoulder.

  I’m stunned as I watch them go. While I do hate goodbyes, that was a little...cold-hearted? I would have sworn I mean more to these people than a casual dismissal. Only Glade’s parting smile offers any warmth, but then it’s gone as they close the door behind them.

  Angelo brings me a sandwich and a bag of chips a few minutes later. “What is the small break in the case?” I ask, ignoring the food.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He turns and starts to walk away.

  I put a hand through the bars and catch his elbow. “Angelo? Tell me? I’m leaving, so it shouldn’t matter if I know.”

  He rubs his temple. “Fine, but you aren’t going to like it.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “We found something not far from Bilda’s house.”

  Uh-oh. I think I know what it is, and this doesn’t bode well for her innocence. “What did you find?”

  “A finger.”

  I was afraid of that I try to make my expression unreadable, and think of an excuse at the same time. “Oh. That... That’s mine, actually.”

  He looks up. “Yours?”

  “Yeah. From...?” I can’t think.

  “From who?”

  “My boyfriend? The one I told you about?”

  He looks puzzled. “The one you couldn’t save?”

  “Yes! Him. It was a souvenir.” I want to smack my own forehead.

  “A souvenir from your dead boyfriend?”

  “Yeah... I’m weird.”

  He doesn’t believe a word of what I’m saying, and I don’t actually blame him.

  “Stop it, Trinket. It’s time to go.”

  “No. It’s true. I knew I’d miss him and...” My voice trails away as he walks out.

  It was a stupid lie, anyway. Anyone who knows Bilda’s history and sees Dravo’s right hand would know exactly who that finger belongs to - I did.

  Chapter Seven

  He returns in five minutes with a set of handcuffs. “You don’t really need those.”

  “Yes I do.” He snaps one in place on my left wrist and then opens the barred door, escorting me through it with a hand on my back. I fight the silly urge to make a run for it, knowing that I wouldn’t get far. Angelo’s too smart for that - he’ll have men stationed everywhere, just to catch me if I make the attempt.

  “I have to pee,” I say, even though I don’t. If he would just leave me alone in the bathroom...

  Instead, he motions to a female security person and has her take over. When she smiles at me I can smell peaches - a witch. I smile back, but I’m afraid it isn’t very sincere. Now I have to pee with one arm handcuffed to another witch, and there is still no chance to escape. If anything, Ms. Security looks more capable than Angelo.

  The ship looks bigger than I remember, even though it’s the same. I hang onto the side of the small boat as it grows bigger, stare up at the steel gray hull and wonder how to get out of this. I’m becoming more and more afraid that I can’t, and that Angelo is going to dump me back on Earth with nothing.

  In fact, that’s exactly what he plans to do. I can see it in his eyes as he nods goodbye to me, and I refuse to acknowledge the sadness I see there. I simply turn away. Ms. Security escorts me all the way up the metal stairs to the main deck before handing me over to another guard. This one - a clean cut, slightly pudgy man - is nicer. He smiles at me and leads me down to a cabin that looks a lot like the one we had coming here. It might have only been a couple of months ago, but it feels like a million years.

  He gets me settled and then walks back through the door in his gray uniform, but when I see him reach for the lock, I touch his hand.

  “Please don’t lock it. I’m slightly claustrophobic and I tend to get seasick.” I plead with my eyes. Those things aren’t true, but I’m instinctively terrified of being locked in here.

  His smile softens. “I’m sorry - boss’s orders.”

  “Please?” I squeeze his arm. “It isn’t like I could escape. Where am I going to go?”

  He sighs. Looks at the door, then back to me. “Promise you’ll behave?” he asks finally.

  “Absolutely.” I give him my biggest smile, trying to ignore the fact that I really am trapped on this boat, regardless of the lock. Still... “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  The ship lurches a little then, and I grab his arm to keep from falling. “Wow, what was that?”

  “We’re pulling out. Time to go.”

  “Can I come up on deck, just for a minute?”

  “You just told me you would behave.” He lowers his brows.

  “I will. I...” Think, Trinket. “I just want to wave goodbye, and see the place one last time.”

  “Angelo said you hated it here.”

  I shrug. “It grows on you, don’t you think?”

  He scratches his arm while he thinks. “Fine, but then you come right back down here.”

  “Cross my heart!” I give him a super-bright smile and then follow him back up the stairs.

  The wind up here is a blast of heat and salt, rippling through my clothes and hair. I breathe it in before turning back toward the shore. Then I wave, because my guard is still watching me, but of course there is no one to wave back. Not even Blakely. He told me this morning that he would
n’t come. He said it would be too painful, and that I should take care of myself. Then he hugged me through the bars and walked away, leaving me with tears streaming down my face.

  Now that I think about it, he was being very dramatic - not the cool, composed Blakely that I’ve come to know.

  The shore starts to recede as I watch. It’s funny - I’ve been imagining this moment since I got here, and now that it’s happening I’m dying to make it stop. I look back over the swell of the busy town, then the forest beyond and all the way back to Mt. Savage, where I spent the day with Jones.

  Bilda is out there somewhere, hidden on the island. I strain to see details, as if I’m going to pick her out on the landscape. I can’t. I can only hope that Angelo sees his mistake and clears her name before something terrible happens. I feel helpless.

  I stare until the land is out of sight, trying to ignore my breaking heart. Only when my guard finds me and asks if I’m OK do I give up and head back toward the stairs that lead to my cabin.

  I’m seven steps down when the boat lurches again and grinds to a halt. I grab the hand rail to keep from tumbling head first into the lower level, then sprint back up to see what happened.

  When I open the door, men are running and yelling at each other, all headed toward one side of the ship. I go that way, too, but then something tugs at my mind, urging me in the opposite direction. I ignore it at first, but then it gets worse. Go, go, go.

  So I go, making my way around scattered pallets and ropes, careful to keep out of sight as best I can. If someone saw me, they would think I’m trying to escape.

  It’s only when I see a white flash of wing and then Bumper landing on the deck railing that I realize I am, and that I’ve got help after all.

  Bumper flaps his huge wings twice and then looks at me with those big amber eyes. Then he bends and starts picking at something with his beak. When I get to him, holding out a hand in greeting, I see that a slip of paper is rolled like a scroll and tied to his leg with hemp cord. My fingers are shaking as I fiddle with the knot and finally untie it.

  Bumper flaps, blinks at me, and pushes off the railing to fly back toward Jagged Grove.

  Just as he catches a breeze and wheels around the front of the boat, someone yells. I turn to see my guard, running toward me, so I wave as innocently as I can and slide the paper into the pocket of my jeans.

  “What are you still doing up here?” he asks. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  He’s talking to me, but staring after Bumper, who is just a small speck over the water now.

  “My familiar,” I say, touching his arm. “He came to say goodbye.”

  He stares for a moment longer, then turns his brown eyes on my. He’s all business now, and a silly flirtation isn’t going to work. “Why isn’t he coming with you?”

  I grimace. “It’s complicated.” That much is true.

  He still isn’t sure, but he lets it go. “Well, head back to your cabin. Supper will be served soon, and you aren’t supposed to be up here anyway, remember?”

  I nod. “What was all that commotion about, though?”

  He grins. “Huge tuna. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Almost as long as a whale.”

  I wonder who was responsible for that...“We hit it?”

  “Yeah, but didn’t hurt it none. He’s gone - just disappeared back into the water.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. Now go on, before I have to lock that door after all.”

  I salute. “Yes, sir.”

  I make it all the way back to my room before I give in to the urge to dig the paper from my pocket. Unrolling it, I study what’s there.

  It’s definitely masculine handwriting, sharp and thick, so it has to be Jones even though it seems too elegant to suit him. He’s written, Swim away from the sun. Ten minutes.

  I have no idea what that means. Is it some kind of metaphor? He gets all melancholy like that sometimes. But what does it mean?

  Underneath the words is a sketch of what looks like malformed rabbit ears. I blink at it. Swim away from the sun when you see a bunny? A little out there, even for Jones. That can’t be right. I doubt I’ll be seeing any rabbits in the next few minutes.

  Someone knocks at the door and I put the paper back in my pocket and open it. A tiny woman of possibly Italian descent smiles at me, hands me a bowl of soup, and leaves. It’s hot against my hands and it smells good, but I set it down on the table and go back to the note.

  What is Jones trying to tell me? And do I only have ten minutes to figure it out?

  The soup is teasing me, and my stomach grumbles. I sit down and use my free hand to spoon some up and take a bite. It’s beef and vegetable, and it’s so good that I moan a little and close my eyes.

  But my brain keeps teasing at the note. What does it mean? I’m sure Jones thought it was clear, but if I don’t know what to do, it won’t help a bit. I sigh, swallow my soup, and lean my head back against the chair. Why couldn’t he just write the instructions in plain English like a normal person?

  When I open my eyes again, I’m staring at the soup. More specifically, I’m staring at two chunks of carrots, sticking up out of the broth like boulders in a lake.

  I blink.

  Or an ocean.

  Shit. I drop the spoon and head for the door.

  Up on deck, there is still a lot of chatter from the men. They apparently think giant fish are cool. I don’t mind - if they’re talking to each other, they are less likely to notice me. I manage to slip by unannounced.

  I’m a quarter of the way around, scanning the choppy water for rocks that look like rabbit ears, when I get caught. A young guy, maybe twenty, drops a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in your cabin?” he asks, arching a dark eyebrow like we’re sharing the joke.

  Think, think, think... “I was. I just get seasick easily, and needed some fresh air.”

  He considers this, but doesn’t take his hand away. I try to look over his shoulder at the water, scared that the rocks I need will slip by before I can notice them.

  Once I see them, I’ll have to jump off the boat. Am I really going to do this? It’s probably very dangerous, and I might even get eaten by the giant tuna - although somehow I think the fish was a ploy to capture the men’s attention. I wish it would come back.

  It’s OK. If I keep my cool I can lie my way out of this and get on with my mission.

  Heh - mission. Angelo would be proud.

  There is still no sign of the landmark I need, and I’m starting to think I missed it.

  At that moment, my palms get hot. Not gradually, but all at once, enough to make me shake my hands like I’ve burned them. I look down at them, and a pulse of energy shoots up my spine. The crewman feels it, too - he lets go of my arm in a hurry.

  This can only mean one thing. I groan inwardly, because I don’t have time for this.

  My body is telling me different, though. Someone nearby needs help.

  The crewman shouts and points just as I see it: someone has gotten stabbed by a piece of long thin metal with a hook on the end. I don’t know what it is, and that doesn’t concern me in the slightest. Blood is pouring from the wound in his thigh, and he’s screaming now. The pain in his voice sends a shiver through my body.

  I yank my arm away from my unwanted companion and head that direction. My unique magic urges me forward, even as I utter my specific words.

  “Spirit bold and Spirit bright.” I repeat the phrase and my magic pulses stronger every time. By the time I make my way through the gathered men, I’m lightheaded with flowing power.

  Just as I kneel to place my hands on the man, others finally slip the object free. This is a good start, but now even more blood is pouring from the wound and the injured man’s screams are growing shriller. He’s about to pass out.

  I can almost taste the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth. Someone yells, “Hey!” but I ignore them and concentrate on the man’s leg. My pal
ms and fingertips are going crazy, and the eerie green glow emanating from me makes his eyes go wide.

  “Get her away from me!” he yells, trying to drag himself away.

  Well, this is unexpected, and I don’t have time for the unexpected. The note said ten minutes - how long has it been? Five? Six? Fifteen? I have no idea, but I’m not going to waste my chance of escape on a squeamish sailor.

  I grab his leg in spite of his protests and feel energy pour through me into his body. The wound is bad - I feel lightheaded and more than a little sick to my stomach. The dizziness and headache will come later, but right now, I know that I’m helping this man.

  He goes still when my magic bleeds into his body, staring up at me with round eyes. I look down and see the wound through the cut in his blue work pants. It’s nasty, with ragged edges and scratches across the pale skin, but even as I watch it starts to knit together.

  “Just let it happen,” I say, looking back up at him with a small smile. “It’ll be over in a minute.”

  My chance to escape might be, too.

  It takes precious seconds, but finally I see the last of the wound close together and color begins to fill the man’s cheeks again. He’s still breathing heavily, but that’s probably more from fear than pain.

  I stand up and immediately start watching the water again, but the crewmen get in my way. I hear and see that they want to thank me, or congratulate me, but I need to find the rabbit rocks.

  “I need to be alone, please,” I say, then when nobody hears me I say it again louder. “Please. I need to recover.”

  It’s not exactly a lie. I feel woozy at the energy loss.

  “Of course.” Someone takes my arm, and I look up to see the captain. He smiles at me. He’s wearing an insignia on his thick jacket, partly covered by a long silver beard. “Oh, and here - you dropped this.”

  He bends to pick up the note - it must have fallen from my pocket. I take it with shaking hands before he can open and read it, and shove it back into my pocket.

  “Are you OK? You look distraught...” He steps closer.

  I want to laugh, but it’ll sound hysterical. Distraught? Who talks that way? Well, besides Blakely? “I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”