Witch in Progress

by Elle Adams

  I hung up, my head spinning once again. “Wow.”

  Bethan said, “Yes, he really is that rude to everyone. Sometimes I’m surprised new witches and wizards acquire wands at all.”

  “Well, he got all insulted that I implied he was selling wands under the table,” I said. “But I don’t think that’s what happened.”

  Bethan frowned. “No. Someone else must have been helping. I’d almost say it’s impossible to cast spells in such a way as to make it look like someone else did it… if the killer is capable of that, they’re capable of worse. This is way beyond my level.”

  Tell me about it. But I thought I knew the story. At the interview, Vaughn had paid Wilfred to help him fake being a competent spellcaster. He’d done so by casting the spells from outside the room in order to make it look like Vaughn had done it. And then… and then I guessed one of the two of them had killed Mr Bayer, perhaps because he’d found out about the cheating. With those boots, Wilfred could also have levitated into the garden and found the poison that way. And Vaughn had handed himself in…

  Because the pack would defend him. They protected their own. Like a fool, I’d let him hand himself over to the people most likely to bare their fangs in defence of him—and who already hated me.

  I couldn’t have screwed this up more thoroughly if I tried.

  Bethan squinted at me. “Are you okay, Blair? You look a little pale.”

  “I …” I trailed off. With the pack behind him, things could get nasty. Unless Madame Grey had figured out his game. But nothing about my conclusions accounted for Callie’s indifference when he showed up. He hadn’t put the spell on her to make the pack turn on me. I’d done that on my own.

  I took in a breath. “I’m going to call Madame Grey. Then I’ll talk to the boss.”

  I left the boss’s office to find Blythe standing outside. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’ll be pleased to know we caught the perpetrator,” I told her. “So we’re handing this over to the police.”

  Her brows shot up. “What?”

  “Yes. He’s coming back here first, so he can reverse the spell on Callie.” I watched her face carefully for any changes in expression.

  I’d heard a lot of people lie over the last week. Some were more obvious than others. My magic told the truth, including the unspoken truth. When I knew what to look for, that is. And Blythe looked like she was trying to suck on a lemon.

  “Go on,” I said. “What is it? Something wrong with my plan? You want Callie back in her human form, or…”

  “You can stop gloating,” she growled.

  “Are you going to tell the boss you did it?” I asked. “Because it’s not looking good for you, either. If you’ve been listening to my thoughts, not to mention the candidates’, you’ll already know who the killer is. Yet you chose not to tell anyone and attacked your own colleague instead.”

  “Because you’re not the bloody police,” she said. “It was going to get you both killed. And for the record, no, I didn’t pick up anything from the suspects’ thoughts, but they’re all angry with you. Leaving it to the police is the best move.”

  “That’s exactly the plan,” I said. “Thanks for leading me down a false trail that nearly got me killed.”

  “If you didn’t run into trouble at every turn, none of this would have happened.”

  “Mr Bayer died before I was even here,” I countered. “I’m starting to think you’re the bad luck charm in the office. Anyway, as I said, the police are taking over. So you can go back to worrying that I’m killing your vibe or whatever it is.”

  I walked past her to the lobby. Callie lay beside the desk, her head resting on her paws. When she saw Blythe, she let out a low growl.

  “Go on,” I said to her. “Put the reverse spell on. I think Callie’s spent long enough stuck in that form.”

  Blythe scowled. Then with a flick of her wand, Callie jumped backwards. The desk went flying, somewhat ruining my triumph in a shower of papers and stationary. But a second later, in place of the wolf was a dishevelled Callie.

  Lizzie and Bethan ran from the office into the lobby. “Callie!”

  She shook her head, looking dazed. “I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days.”

  “You’ve been wearing fur for days,” said Lizzie. “Where’s the caster?”

  I gave Blythe a pointed look. “Right here. Meanwhile, Veronica is in contact with the police about the murderer, who is also in custody. Unless you want to confess to that, too?”

  “You don’t have to act so smug,” said Blythe. “No, I’m not a murderer. I didn’t kill anyone, or order anyone else to do it, so you can stop looking at me like you have a clue what I’m thinking.”

  Callie shook her head again. “I don’t remember much.”

  “I’ll let Blythe explain.”

  One perpetrator down. One to go. But despite my almost certainty about how the events of the interview had played out, Blythe was innocent of murder. I didn’t kill anyone… or order anyone else to do it. Her jaw was set stubbornly, determined to make life difficult even as she knew she’d lost. There was only one occasion where I’d ever seen her submit to someone….

  I’d left the interview files on the desk. Running into the office, I picked them up one-handed. Wilfred had helped Vaughn cheat—no disputing it. But there was a second candidate who’d also scored perfectly on every part of the interview.

  I called Madame Grey’s number.

  “Ah, Blair,” she said. “I don’t suppose you plan on coming to assist me with apprehending this werewolf in person? It seems you were right—he did indeed enlist the help of Mr Wilfred Bloom, in order to cheat his way through his interview with Mr Bayer.”

  “But not murder. Tell me—is it possible for someone to use magic to affect someone’s mind? Not reading it—but controlling it?”

  “In theory? Yes. It’s a very rare ability.”

  I bet it is.

  “You have the wrong guy,” I said. “Wait for me—I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  I activated my own boots as I left the office, unable to keep myself from feeling like it’d be the last time. I’d left utter chaos behind me, and yet—I’d never forgive myself if I got innocent people locked up.

  Before I could second-guess myself, I broke into a run, or hover. The other shops would still be open. It was broad daylight, though the police were otherwise occupied. As I reached Mr Bayer’s shop, I slowed down.

  Did you kill him? I’d asked Simeon. Without missing a beat, he’d said, No.

  I ran down the alley, and levitated—higher and higher, until I could see clearly over the fence. The nearest killer plant snapped at me, but I was far out of reach.

  In the middle of the garden, sure enough, were the plants with pink-veined leaves, and a large amount of overturned earth.a

  I descended, knowing what I’d find before I reached it. The buried remains of a spell, hidden in the earth. The spell that blocked mind powers and who knew what else.

  And beside them, a person stood beside a suddenly docile-looking killer plant. “You again?”

  16

  Simeon faced me, his expression calm. Remorseless.

  “So it was you,” I said. “Only guilty people return to the scene of the crime. That was a stupid idea.”

  He kicked the ruined spell. “I’ve been trying to dismantle this blasted thing for a week. He did a thorough job.”

  “Shame.” He wasn’t a mind-reader—not that Blythe would have warned me if he was. Of all three candidates, he’d seemed the most innocent. And the most like he was putting on an act.

  Vaughn might have wanted to get his hands on the spell, but he didn’t have the skill to use it. Unlike his accomplice, who hadn’t been nearly careful enough about hiding his traces. “Wouldn’t want someone to switch off your mind-control ability, huh.”

  “How did you work it out?”

  Because the only time I’ve ever seen Blythe do what s
omeone told them without a fuss was when you told her to go back to work. “Process of elimination. Wilfred had the skills but no motive. Stands to reason that if one of you cheated in the interview, the other might have, too.”

  He scowled. “You’re nothing at all. I didn’t even need to use my powers on you.”

  “I’m honoured.” He hadn’t needed to, because it’d taken me far too long to make the connection. After all, the others had looked far guiltier. “Why kill Mr Bayer? Why not join him instead?”

  “Because I can’t permanently keep someone under my control,” he said. “I knew what those two were doing, so I followed them. Bayer caught him, and I knew he’d catch me, too, so I swiped the spell and had Bloom take him out of the picture. He could levitate over the fence in those ridiculous boots of his—which also helped me to dispose of the evidence.”

  “And then you what, wiped his memories?”

  “It’s better that way,” said Simeon. “Like Bayer, he completely squandered his talents. But I stole enough of his props to make up for all the magical skills I’m supposedly lacking.”

  “And then you came back to finish me off.” He was controlling the plants, too. How had I ever thought the other two might be more threatening? He’d nearly killed me once already.

  “Sorry about this, Blair. Nobody will find you here.” He stepped closer. While we’d been talking, the plants had begun to inch closer to me. “Are you scared?”

  “No.” My voice didn’t tremble—and I didn’t fall.

  I’d lied.

  I could lie.

  I hit the heel of the boot, levitating out of reach of the snapping plants. Nice try. He didn’t wear boots of his own, because he thought he didn’t need them.

  “You can’t run from me, Blair.”

  He raised a hand, doubtless to cast a mind-control spell, and I flew upwards out of the way. The plants moved where he directed, and I moved faster. Flying. I was flying. Not levitating, or walking on the air. My body rose higher as though of its own accord.

  “Get down,” he snapped. The plants swayed after him, snapping at my heels. I flew on—right towards a group of stone-like figures rapidly approaching from the air. Three gargoyles, huge and menacing.

  “Get him!” I shouted at them, pointing at a now panicked-looking Simeon.

  The gargoyles drew closer. Simeon had nowhere to run.

  “Should have brought those boots,” I told him as the three gargoyles flew in.

  Steve the police chief followed close behind, facing me in mid-air. “You’re flying.”

  “Yes, I am. Get this guy behind bars before he uses his mind control ability. The counter-spell is buried in the garden, and I don’t think you want to gamble on whether or not it works.”

  Everyone moved very quickly then. While the gargoyles flew down to surround Simeon, one of them took my advice and dug up the anti-mind spell device. There were doubtless other curiosities buried in the same place, or stolen by Simeon.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” said Steve the Gargoyle in a gravelly voice, once we’d landed outside the shop.

  “Yes, you should,” I said. “Considering you can fly. He disposed of the evidence in the garden and put a spell on it preventing anyone else from getting in, which is illegal even when you ignore the fact that he had an innocent man murder someone.”

  “I searched the garden,” he said through gritted teeth. “Of course I knew there were poisonous leaves there.”

  “And the ingredients for the prototype spell Mr Bayer was working on?”

  “There were the ingredients for a million spells, you idiotic girl.”

  “Don’t speak to my employee that way,” said Veronica, walking over to us. “It looks like she did a better job than you did.”

  Maybe I wouldn’t get fired today after all.

  “You know your absurd little company has found more criminals than employees,” snarled the gargoyle.

  “We attract an interesting clientele. Besides, the paranormal world is small.” Veronica gave him a smile I couldn’t quite read.

  “I don’t want to point fingers,” I said. “But—Blythe’s magic is similar to Simeon’s. Are they related? Might she have known?”

  “I spoke to her already,” said Veronica. “She’s not an accomplice, but she’d certainly have recognised someone with similar magic to hers. I can only assume she didn’t know what he was capable of.”

  “She didn’t,” I said. “I mean, she said she didn’t know who the killer was, and I’d know if she was lying. He must have hidden his thoughts from her, but he probably recognised her as a mind-reader anyway.”

  She’d better hope that was true, otherwise the two of them would be seeing each other in the paranormal jail shortly. The gargoyles might have overlooked the obvious, but they were scarily efficient. Simeon Clarke was thoroughly handcuffed, and several witches accompanied the gargoyles when they finally left, with Simeon in tow.

  Veronica turned to me. “You were lucky.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry for going behind your back and butting into the investigation. I know it has nothing to do with me—”

  “It does now. What affects one person in Fairy Falls affects all of us. Including you.”

  She couldn’t have given me a better endorsement if she’d tried.

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  Veronica gave me the rest of the week off to recover from my ordeal. Not that I spent it recovering. My new cat was very demanding, for a start, and there were things to buy and a new home to make mine. I got through to a removal company on the phone and arranged to have the rest of my belongings dropped off outside the town. They were confused when I said to leave the boxes in the middle of nowhere, but I said I’d handle it.

  “I’ll wear the boots,” I said to Alissa. “I can almost fly now.”

  “You did fly when you caught the criminal.”

  I’d yet to repeat the performance. “Maybe it only works when I’m under stress, or my life is in danger.”

  Blythe had left the office with her wand permanently bound from casting hexes for the foreseeable future, and there were rumours that Veronica had sent out word for a replacement. Okay, those ‘rumours’ came from Bethan and Lizzie, who were calling up potential candidates. I was happy to leave them to it, as long as the new witch wasn’t a mind-reader.

  “Maybe it does,” Alissa said, a touch of hesitancy in her voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked my grandmother to reach out to her contacts about your abilities.”

  I blinked. “You mean, fairies?”

  “No, the other witches.”

  “I’m not a witch. The spell was wrong.”

  “No—it was right. She had to put out feelers amongst the covens… some of them weren’t keen to hand over the information, but when pieced together with what I know, it’s the only likely explanation.”

  “Explanation for what?”

  “You’re one of us.” She beamed. “I knew it when I saw you.”

  I shook my head, frowning. “I’m not a witch.”

  “Your mother was. Tanith Wildflower was.”

  My mouth fell open. “I—what?”

  “Tanith used to live here as a child,” Alissa said. “Before I was born, so I didn’t know her. But one day, she disappeared. Rumour had it she fell in love with a stranger and left. That’s one rumour. The other is that the man she fell in love with wasn’t a wizard or even a man at all. Nobody knows for certain, and no one has seen either of them since then. But only a fairy could have put that glamour on you.”

  “So you’re saying—” I needed to lie down. “My mother was a witch. And my father wasn’t human?”

  The doorbell rang loudly.

  “Essentially.” She glanced at the door. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No, I’m not. Unless the boss wants me to come back to work.” I got to my feet and walked to the door.

  The last person I expected to see on my doorstep was Nathan. “Ah. Hi.
How’d you know where I lived?”

  “Madame Grey,” he said, which was enough of an explanation in itself. “I wanted to apologise in person for how I spoke to you the other day. I know you’ve had a lot to adjust to—”

  “I have.” My heart lifted, and I might well have levitated without the boots. “It’s all sorted now, anyway. I’m a witch.” I wanted to hug him, but he looked nonplussed at my jubilation.

  “Is that news?” he asked.

  “You heard what Blythe said, right? She was wrong. She was the one who hit me with a spell in that bookshop.”

  He blinked, then frowned. “She was? As well as hexing Callie?”

  “Yes. She was probably following me around all week, since she apparently had nothing better to do with her time. Is she in jail, anyway?” If my mind hadn’t been spinning with information, I might have conjured up a more interesting conversation topic than my former co-worker, but I was genuinely curious as to whether she’d been locked up or not.

  “No,” he said, still frowning. “But I didn’t know she hexed you. The pack wanted her locked away, but her witch relatives managed to convince Madame Grey to lower her sentence to community service in addition to having her wand bound. I can have a word with her if you like.”

  I shook my head. “No need. I was just curious, and I thought you’d want to know she lied…” Stop talking, Blair.

  “Why would that affect whether you’re a witch or not?”

  “Never mind. It was a misunderstanding.” I smiled cheerily. When he smiled back, a shiver ran down my back, and maybe I couldn’t entirely blame the weakness in my knees on anything magic-related. I wasn’t even wearing the boots.

  “Anyway, I’ll speak to you soon,” he added.

  Alissa grinned at me when I walked back into the living room. “An in-person visit. Let me know when your first date is so I can surreptitiously stalk you.”

  “I think I might need moral support to keep Blythe out of my hair, since she’s not in jail and is probably plotting horrible revenge on me,” I admitted. “Anyway, we’re not dating. I think he thinks I’m slightly unhinged, but oh well.” I planted myself on the sofa again. “So where did my powers come from? The witch side?”