Evicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 3)

by Willow Monroe

  Bumper lands on my shoulder and makes an odd, soft cooing sound in my ear. I feel his mind nudge mine, offering what courage he can. I nudge back, not sure if he can feel it, and he flies off again to circle over our heads.

  I’ve never been in this part of the colony before, so I’m depending on them to know where we’re going. Even though I know they do, I don’t relax until we come to the end of a well-worn path and I see a low stone altar, set alone in a clearing. Candles are already burning, marking a perfect circle around the perimeter.

  I’m very glad that May and Angelo are holding me here between them. Otherwise, I would run for my life. I eye the altar slab, hoping that we aren’t about to sacrifice someone.

  Or even a chicken.

  The witches fan out around us and take their places at the edge of the circle, then May whispers, “Take your places. Kneel on the altar.”

  Is it me they’re about to sacrifice? They can have Angelo, but I want my neck intact at the end of this. Not to throw him under the bus, but better him than me.

  I let Angelo pull me forward, then follow his lead as he sits down and tucks his feet under his butt on the freezing stone. We face the center of the altar, and each other. He winks at me, but I’m too scared to wink back or even nod.

  He holds his hands out, palms facing me, so I do the same and we twine fingers, keeping our arms shoulder height. Almost immediately I feel a strong tug in my sternum, making waves of something close to nausea roll through me. Angelo’s fingers tighten around mine.

  And then the visions come, wispy at first, then clearer in my mind. My earliest memories of watching Bilda mash herbs for potions, of playing in giant fields full of green grass as her coven works nearby. Of bedtime stories and the gray cat that was older than even Mom. The sound of her chanting over my bed when I was sick, the horrible tea she made me drink.

  Then a memory I didn’t know I possessed - a scene of my mother and father, voices angry and faces ugly, shouting at one another while I hid inside the pantry of my childhood home. My father’s wrath drove him forward, arm raised as if to strike, but Mom stopping him with words in a language I didn’t understand. I feel her anger toward him, draw it into myself, and understand that it is fuel for my part in today’s work.

  The visions skip ahead. My healing of another child on a generic school playground, the laughter of other kids as the teacher leads me away with consternation on her face. My first day of high school, trying so hard to seem normal that I come home with a migraine and miss the rest of the week.

  Next, I’m in the woods, crying and kneeling beside my boyfriend. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt that matches his blue eyes. As I watch, he clutches the shirt and falls to his knees. His face, drawn and suddenly whiter than the dusky light around us, opens in a scream I can barely hear. My palms pulse, draw me to him, and I try to let the power flow.

  Something is resisting it, though. Some wall that stops the flow as surely as a dam. When I look into his eyes, he’s staring back and shaking his head from side to side. Then he’s pushing away from me, calling me a monster as he gets up and runs to or three feet before collapsing again, this time for good.

  In the vision I scream, loud and long, feeling my heart break as my very best childhood friend rejects me. I want to run away, but I’m frozen in place, watching as he dies in front of me and powerless to stop it happening. The anguish mixes with the rest, here on the altar of my memories, and surges through my body. My palms are hot against Angelo’s and the tips of our fingers stream light toward the heavens. We’re welded together with the emotions of our entire lives.

  Somewhere far away, the chanting rises to a crescendo, and my mind comes back to Dravo’s face of its own accord. I see him writhing on some floor, with my mother standing over him as if ready to strike, and wonder why my memories have gone backwards.

  Then I realize that they haven’t - I’m watching them, somehow, in this moment. She falls to her knees beside him, weeping, and takes his hand. Placing something there, she stands again and utters words in a language I can’t understand.

  Then he is still.

  I’m holding my breath as I watch the entire thing unfold, but the Bilda turns to me. Looks me in the eye, and says, “It’s over, Trinket. All is well.”

  Even as she does, though, I see him open his eyes behind her and start to rise. A chill rushes like ice through my veins and suddenly I’m slipping from Angelo’s grasp. He holds tighter, pulling me to him, but it doesn’t help. I’m pulling back, willing myself to stay put...Angelo cries out, an anguished, “Noooo...”

  And then I’m in the room with my mother and father. Only now do I recognize his office, so elegant and rich. Angelo’s presence is gone, the circle in the trees is gone. Dravo is laughing.

  Bilda is lying on her back on the hard stone floor, and I drop to my knees to cover her with my body. She feels still and small, like a wounded child. I remind myself that she isn’t a child, though - she’s strong and sure, where I am timid and weak. I place my fluttering palms on her temples and will my energy into her.

  I will her to wake up.

  I will her to heal and stand and help me defeat this monster.

  Dravo laughs, but Bilda does not move.

  He’s killed her, I think, blinking back tears as I study her face. He’s killed her and now he’s going to kill me and win this war. My wash of grief goes red as I look up at him, and hot anger drives the cold from my body. I’m almost blind with sudden fury, barely able to see him.

  I stand, pulled to my feet by the power inside of me. The power that I’ve denied. The power he covets.

  He wants it so bad? I lift my hands and I let him have it.

  The force of the energy streaming from my palms throws me back against the wall. I don’t drop my hands, though. I’m not sure I could if I tried, and I don’t want to try. I cry out as the heat sears my nerves and twists hard in my gut, but I don’t stem the flow of power. I simply watch, half stunned, as it blasts across the space and shatters him into a million pieces. I know instinctively that I’m giving it all I’ve got - and that all I’ve got is more than I ever imagined. The room lights red and then goes dark, but all I know is that Mom is close by and she needs me.

  I drop to my knees and feel for her, almost missing her completely but brushing my knuckles across her soft hair at the last minute. I take her clenched fist in my own clammy one and place my other hand over her heart. It flutters underneath my fingertips. My palm pulses in response, but it isn’t enough. I feel drained, shaky.

  Then, surprising me, she moves. Just a little. I squeeze her fist, but she’s twisting it in my grasp and saying something. I lean down, turning my head.

  “Take it,” she murmurs. “Fix this.”

  She’s delirious. Take what? I feel around, find her dress pockets and check them, never letting go of her hand.

  “There’s nothing here,” I say.

  She groans and whispers again, “Take this.”

  Twisting her fist. Trying to turn it over, in spite of the way she’s laying. I finally understand and open her fingers, scooping out the thing she holds - Dravo’s finger.

  I want to throw it. Throw up. Scream. Run. Instead I hold it even tighter, and then hold her other hand in mine. A flutter, then a throb, beats into my blood from her hand and she starts to chant in a raspy voice. I don’t know the words, but they’re there, filtering through her and out of my mouth.

  The words, if that’s what they are, are choppy and short. Sharp, like a blade cutting through my understanding. Together, we are binding him. Together, we are stronger than he is, and this is the end of our fight.

  I let it flow, and I swear that my mother hovers off the floor as the words snake across the room to tangle my father’s limbs. He screams, but it’s over.

  He’s gone.

  From somewhere behind us, I hear a door crash open. I hear voices. I feel my mother’s hand stroking my hair, but I can’t react to any of it. When the st
rength of our magic finally lets me go, I collapse into her lap and cry.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Trinket, there you are! Come down here!” Blakely calls. He’s smiling up at me and waving to get my attention. I look out from my spot on the emerald-encrusted stairs and smile at him, then blow him a playful kiss.

  “That’ll be enough of that,” Angelo growls into my ear, only half playing.

  “You’re not the boss of me.” I swat at him and trot down the rest of the stairs to greet my guests. I push back the niggling feeling of loss as I walk away from him - this is my housewarming party, and I’ll ignore him if I want.

  Well, our housewarming party, because I can’t seem to sleep now if Angelo isn’t nearby. I keep reminding him that it’s temporary.

  Bilda and her sisters are playing welcome wagon at the front door, so I make my way through the room to give her a kiss on the cheek and say hello. She grins up at me. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her.

  She does, too, in spite of the dark shadow of exhaustion in her gaze. She’s wearing a lilac dress that flows around her ankles and matches her crystal bracelet - a gift from Blakely.

  The three of them - Bilda, Bloom, and May - almost look like triplets. May is a little taller, and Bloom is a little skinnier, but the three of them are remarkable together. The last few days have been one long reunion for them, and I’m sure that has helped Mom’s recovery. Binding Dravo almost killed her.

  Mom pats my arm and turns to greet Imala with a kiss on the cheek. Imala peeks at me through her long hair, then comes to take my hands. “You did it,” she whispers.

  “We all did it. You were there, too.” I lead her away from the main room and ask a question that’s been bugging me since the night that Dravo was taken into custody. “Imala, where were the twins that night? I think they’re mad at me because they weren’t included, but I don’t know what to say to them.”

  She smiles. “Remember that tent you found on the forest path that first night?”

  I nod. I remember it - barely.

  “We needed them out of the way, so I sent them to scout out the owners.”

  “Really? They fell for that?”

  “Not a bit, but they went anyway. But they did find Aries daughter, Tula. She wasn’t in great shape, and it looked like she was starving to death. They saved her life, Trinket.”

  The last time I saw Tula, she was attacking me for the murder of her mother. I’m glad the twins are with her - they probably have a lot in common.

  Angelo comes to stand beside us. Imala smirks at me. “How’s married life?” she asks, swallowing a giggle. “You two moved in together yet?”

  “Sort of, I suppose.” I say, glancing at him. “The sooner I figure out how to break this spell, the happier I’ll be. He’s driving me crazy.”

  Angelo chuckles. “You’re not the best wife ever, you know.” He turns to Imala. “She won’t even let me in the house unless someone else is around to keep her from throwing herself at my fantastic body.”

  I groan.

  Imala laughs.

  A squeal in the corner gets my attention. We all turn to see Wisp, surrounded by Winter and their other coven members, talking up a storm. Angelo leans closer, “She’s telling them how she single-handedly put out the forest fire and saved the whole colony.”

  “Did she?” I ask. I’ve heard about the fire - it seems that Angelo and I together really generate a lot of heat - but I wasn’t there to see it, for obvious reasons.

  “Not so much, unless you count her hysterical tears when the trees spontaneously combusted.”

  “Well, I’m sure her daddy is proud.”

  Someone clears their throat, and I turn again to see Jones standing there. “All better, I see,” he says quietly.

  I nod. “Thank you for sending over the tea. It was exactly what I needed.” I pause. “Can we talk, Jones?”

  “Of course.” He nods to Angelo and Imala, then holds out his elbow for me to take. I laugh and grab his bicep, then follow him through to the kitchen, where it’s quieter.

  “I wanted to thank you for all your help,” I start, then stop. I cross my arms and lean against the counter. Why do I feel so uncomfortable in his presence right now? As my first - and best - friend in Jagged Grove, he deserves better from me. “Well, for more than that. You know...”

  He watches me, and it feels like he can see into my soul. “I suppose I have to stop calling you babe now, huh?” he jokes, but his smile is touched with sadness.

  “No. Well, yes. Sort of... I don’t know, Jones. I know that I’m going to figure out how to break this spell.”

  “That’s a tall order,” he says.

  “I can’t help it. I don’t want to be married to Angelo.”

  He grins.

  “Or you, you dumb old werewolf.”

  “I’m not old.”

  “Yeah you are.”

  “Well, not as old as Angelo. He’s a geezer.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to break this spell, and I’m going to live in my house, and I’m going to make you stop looking at me like that.” I put my hands over his eyes. “Stop it, Jones.”

  Ok, ok.” I slowly remove my hand and the leer is gone. “That’s better.”

  “Fine.” He changes the subject. “I hear Bilda kicked you out. It’s about time.”

  “She didn’t kick me out - she helped me move.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It is not! She is OK with it, though.”

  “I’m not - you won’t be next door anymore.”

  I pat his arm. “I’ll come visit a lot, OK?”

  “Bring Bumper. I’ll miss him more.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  His laughter fades. “Seriously, are you OK? With everything?”

  I don’t hesitate. “I am. Dravo is no longer a threat, and the fight took a lot out of us, but we’ll be fine. And Jagged Grove has a healer again.”

  He cocks his head. “You mean you, right?”

  I smile. “Right. Well, me and Rain. I think we’ll make a good team, and I think I’ll be staying in Jagged Grove for a while.”

  “That,” he says, giving me a hug, “Will make a lot of people very happy.”

  Did you love Evicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 3? Then you should read Rear-view Murder: A Gemma Stone Cozy Mystery by Willow Monroe!

  When Gemma needs a new car, she calls on her friend and one-time fiancée Nick to help out. The used car salesman sells her more than a Honda, though, and now Gemma has a dead body in the trunk, a sneaking suspicion of murder, and an entire police force who thinks that the victim is just another hooker.

  Gemma knows better, and her search for answers takes her to the roughest part of town and into the world of pimps, dirty senators, and one oddly threatening blues singer. Somebody murdered poor young Opal, and Gemma is determined to catch her killer.

  Genre: Cozy Mystery

  Length: 30,000 words

  Read the series in order:

  Rear-view Murder

  Mall Santa Murder

  Mansions can be Murder

  Cupid’s Corpse

  Also by Willow Monroe

  Evicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 3