“This is where I went left last night. I think the boys went right.”
I looked to the left. It was bright and sunny. To the right, it was dark and foreboding, the trail not even a true trail but more like a bushwhacked footpath for a troll. Drooping branches didn’t leave much headroom and spindly shrubs stuck out every-which-way promising to grab hold of anyone who dared trespass.
“Are you sure?” I whispered, preferring the bright and sunny route.
She gave a quick nod. Though she seemed determined, I spotted a flicker of uneasiness in her eyes.
“Do you really think he lives here in the woods? I mean, who does that?” I asked, trying to talk us out of this foolish endeavor.
“The Elder?” she returned.
Touché. “But, we don’t really know if she resides in the forest. She could just visit that tree.”
Harper said, “Semantics.”
“Not really. There is a difference between visiting and residing. And anyone who wants to live in there”—I pointed toward the sinister gloominess—“is crazy.”
“Exactly, Darcy.”
Damn. She was right. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay then, let’s go.”
Without a word, she plunged forward, dipping under branches and pushing against the reaching shrubs. Clouds moved in front of the sun, making the path even darker, scarier. Thinking of Starla, I resolutely pushed forward.
In here, the snow wasn’t as deep because the overhead branches had blocked most of the precipitation from hitting the ground. It soon became clear we weren’t the only ones who’d been back here recently.
Footprints half filled with snow led the way to a shady clearing. Mossy patches poked through a thin layer of snow and the small area was completely surrounded by tall trees, both evergreens and deciduous. The clearing was actually a small canyon with rocky hills on three sides that were barely visible through the trees.
There was no way in and no way out other than the path we’d taken. It was a hidden little hollow, the perfect place to build a hideout. Except there was nothing here but what belonged in the natural space. Nothing visible at least.
“A dead end,” Harper said. “I can’t believe it. I’d been so sure.”
I walked around, my footsteps unnaturally loud in the clearing. There was a feeling in here I couldn’t shake. A dark cloud. A depression. This was not a happy place, and I had the eerie feeling this was exactly where Kyle had been hiding. “He’s here.”
“What?” She whipped her head around, searching to and fro. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I can only feel it.”
Slowly, she nodded. “You’re right. I feel it as well.”
Trying to calm my anxiety, I kept walking, circling the clearing looking for anything out of place. That’s when I noticed the footprints in the muck near a stand of trees. “Over here.”
Harper was at my elbow in a flash.
I pointed. “There are footprints.”
My gaze followed their path to the trunk of a large tree. Harper edged closer. “There’s a door cut into the bark.”
As I looked more closely, I also saw there was a window disguised by a tree hollow.
I gulped. “We promised Ve we wouldn’t go in.”
“You promised,” she said, pulling the door open. I held my breath as she stuck her head inside, and then quickly popped it back out again. “No one’s home that I can see, which doesn’t mean much, considering he’s invisible. You have got to see this place.”
I rushed over and stepped inside, my eyes widening in wonder. Not only at the design of the hiding place, the elaborate indoor tree house, which was essentially a studio apartment with its window, octagonal skylight, small kitchen, wooden floors, tiny bathroom. I couldn’t even imagine how there was water and electrical out here and figured they’d come by some sort of magic.
The strong scent of lemon cleanser filled the air. The place had been recently scrubbed immaculately clean.
“My God,” I breathed as I took in the room. Art supplies filled a table, and an easel had been folded up and tucked into a nook. Almost every other available surface was filled with artwork. Small canvases, large canvases. Sketch paper tacked to the walls, hung on the small fridge.
Each picture had the same subject.
Starla.
I walked over to the bed. The nightstand had nothing on it but a thick volume of Shakespeare’s works. On the floor, something long and shiny glinted from the shadows near the headboard, but as I bent to pick it up, it squirted out of my fingers, farther under the bed. Then, Harper turned my attention back to her by saying, “Looks like he packed and left in a hurry.”
I stood up and saw what she meant. Dresser drawers had been emptied, only a few straggler socks and T-shirts left behind. The bathroom had been cleaned out as well.
Damn.
Kyle Chadwick had escaped again.
Chapter Nine
An hour later I was back in As You Wish’s kitchen, warming up with a steaming cup of coffee. Harper and I had waited in the forest for Nick and other officers to show up, then skedaddled before they asked too many questions. Nick had said he’d call later to check in.
Harper had to leave to open the bookshop but promised she’d be back as soon as she let her employees in and got everything set up for the day. Twink was asleep in Missy’s doggy bed, and Missy was sprawled under my stool. Evan had already left to go to the bakery and Starla, just out of the shower, was upstairs getting dressed—we hadn’t yet told her what was found. I dreaded the thought of that conversation.
Ve leaned on the counter as I finished telling the tale of finding Kyle’s hideout.
She refilled my mug and said, “Did it appear as though he’d lived there long?”
“It looked well lived-in,” I said. “So my guess is yes.”
“Unbelievable,” she said.
We fell silent at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Good morning,” Starla said sheepishly, giving Twink’s head a pat as she passed. “I can’t believe how long I slept in.”
She appeared well rested. Gone was the anxiety from her eyes, replaced with the usual brightness I knew and loved. It did my heart good to see her looking so refreshed.
“Well”—Ve grabbed another mug and filled it with coffee—“you had a little help.”
“Cherise works wonders,” Starla said, sitting on the stool next to me.
“Are you hungry?” Ve asked. “I can make some eggs or pancakes or an omelet?”
Starla held up her hand. “Maybe just some toast, please? My stomach’s a little unsettled.”
“You’re not planning to go in to work, are you?” I asked.
She covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’m not on the schedule at the paper today, and I think I’ll keep Hocus-Pocus closed. Take a personal day and spend it on the couch at home.”
“Do you want some company?” I asked. “We can watch a movie marathon. Musicals, maybe. Just not West Side Story . . .”
Ve winked at me.
“And we can stop at the market,” I rambled on, “and pick up ingredients to make stew, maybe something chocolate for dess—”
I abruptly cut myself off. Some things simply didn’t need fixing.
“Only if, you know,” I added lamely, “you want company. No pressure.”
Starla smiled sweetly. “Musicals sound great. A little My Fair Lady, The Phantom of the Opera, or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. And you know I can’t resist a good stew. Or chocolate.”
“And you know I can’t resist My Fair Lady,” I said. “It’s my favorite.”
Ve and Starla shared a smile. “We know,” Starla said.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t watch it that often.”
Only every other week. No big deal.
Ve dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster. “I don’t happen to be doing anything today . . .” She batted her eyes at us.
Starla laughed. “Ve, would you like
to join us?”
Clapping her hands, she said, “What a lovely idea! I’d be happy to.”
“I suppose Harper will want to come as well,” Starla added.
Ve set out the butter dish and a jar of jam. “I don’t believe there is a way to stop her.”
“The more the merrier. It’ll be a regular girls’ day in.” She yawned again. “That spell certainly wiped me out. How long did I sleep through? Sixteen hours? I can’t remember ever sleeping that long before.”
Ve and I exchanged a glance. “Well, not quite straight through,” I said slowly, testing these uncertain waters. Why did she think she had slept through the whole night?
Starla tipped her head. “What do you mean? I slept like the dead.”
A shiver slid down my spine at the description.
Ve said, “You were up for a little bit last night, about an hour or so. Don’t you remember?”
Blue eyes opened wide as she shook her head. “Not at all. Is that strange? Is it a side effect of the spell?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. How in the world could she not remember Kyle’s visit? The wedding rings? But she certainly seemed oblivious to it all.
“It could be.” Ve opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a butter knife as the toast popped up.
Starla laughed. “I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing.”
Ve slid the plate of toast over to Starla, but when neither of us replied to her question, she searched our faces. “Did I do something embarrassing?”
“Do you recall Liam and Will Chadwick stopping by?” I asked.
Her back straightened. “They were here? Why?”
“Oh dear,” Ve murmured.
Starla reached out and grabbed my arm. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Not sure how to even begin, I took a deep breath. I was just about to launch into an explanation when a knock sounded on the back door, and it swung inward.
Mimi called out, “It’s so pretty outside!” She slipped out of her boots but left her coat on as she came into the kitchen.
Twink barked and Missy scrambled to her feet and launched herself at the girl, bouncing on her two hind legs until Mimi lifted her up and let the chin-licking commence.
“Hey Starla!” Mimi said. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Sleepover,” Starla said numbly.
“Oh, I had one, too. At a friend’s house.” She yawned, her long dark lashes brushing against her rosy cheeks. “I hardly got any sleep at all.”
“Starla didn’t have such a problem,” Ve said with a smile. “Hot chocolate, Mimi, dear?”
“No, thanks. I just came by to ask Darcy a favor.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“And you can’t say no, because I came all the way over here and didn’t text just so you could see my eyes and I could blink at you like this”—she blinked innocently—“and who can say no to my face when I look like that?”
Smiling, I said, “What’s the favor?”
“Remember you can’t say no.” Missy lay happily in Mimi’s arms. It even looked like she wore a smile.
“I’ll remember.”
“So it’s like this,” she began.
For having had little sleep, she was unusually animated. One hand held Missy tightly, and the other waved about. Her brown eyes lit from within, and her long dark curly hair sprung about her head in unruly waves. At almost thirteen she was growing up so fast, and I loved watching her go from little girl to young woman.
“Glinda was supposed to take me to my art lesson today, but she got called in to work, and Dad’s at work, and I can’t go alone because it’s jewelry-making day, and I need to use a soldering torch, and in order to do that I need an adult’s permission because of the whole flame thing. Will you take me?” She blinked at me again.
I couldn’t believe she spewed out all that information in one breath. My skin had tightened at hearing Glinda’s name, and I tried to play it cool. “Art lessons? I didn’t know you were taking lessons.”
Mimi’s cheeks brightened even more. I fully expected her to launch into an explanation about how she didn’t want to tell me about taking them because of Glinda’s involvement, so I was completely unprepared when she said, “I know, I didn’t want to tell you. It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I asked.
“For your birthday,” she said bashfully. “You’re so good at art, and I wanted to be just as good as you, so I started taking these lessons, and for your birthday I was going to make you something from what I learned.”
Ve tipped her head and smiled at me, and Starla poked me with her elbow.
I stood up and went over and gave Mimi a big squish. “You didn’t ruin anything, Mimi.”
“So then you’ll take me? I mean, I know I could have asked Aunt Ve or Mrs. P, but I really want you to see the studio. I think you’d like it there. Just as long as you don’t peek at what I’m working on.”
“When is it?”
“In fifteen minutes at Wickedly Creative.”
I looked between Starla and Ve. I didn’t want Starla to feel uncomfortable with me fraternizing with the enemy’s family. “But . . .”
“But nothing,” Starla said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Go, have fun. I’ll wait here for you to get back, and then we’ll have our girls’ day in.”
“And while you’re gone,” Ve said, “Starla and I will occupy ourselves with chitchat.”
Ah. I got her message. She’d fill in Starla about what had happened last night. “Okay, then, let’s go, Mimi.”
Mimi jumped up and down. “We’d better hurry. I don’t like to be late.” She gave Missy a kiss on the top of her head and gently put her back on the floor.
I gave Starla a hug. “Everything will be okay,” I whispered.
“I know,” she said. “Well, I hope.”
Ve followed us into the mudroom and watched over us as we bundled up. Mimi headed out the door, and Ve said, “Don’t worry about us here. But, Darcy, dear?”
“Yes?”
“While you’re at Wickedly Creative . . . you may want to snoop around a little, if you know what I mean.”
I looked at my aunt, at the glimmer in her eye. I winked. “It had already crossed my mind.”
“That’s my nosy little witch. Have fun, girls!” Ve called after us.
We waved, and as we headed for the art studio, Mimi linked her arm through mine, giving me a little pep in my step and a fullness in my heart.
* * *
A couple of blocks from the town square, Wickedly Creative art studio was housed in a renovated two-story dairy barn located behind the beautiful Chadwick family farmhouse. The land felt more like a compound, with all its outbuildings, ranging from stables to an outdoor amphitheater to a kiln building to a garage apartment Kyle’s brothers shared.
The studio’s renovation was spectacular, mixing rustic with modern. The outside of the barn still held its inherent charm with weathered clapboards and shake-shingled roofing, but the big barn doors had been replaced with glass doors flanked with tall windows.
The path to the entryway had been shoveled and salted, and I followed behind Mimi as she went inside.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect . . . or how I would be received. After all, I was Starla’s best friend, and she certainly was no longer welcome in this family.
“Mimi, right on time! Who’s your friend?” A beautiful older woman with silver-streaked dark hair, troubled blue eyes, and a friendly smile walked over to us. The smile, I noticed, didn’t reach her eyes.
I glanced around at the half-dozen tables dotting the main floor of the barn, almost all occupied by artists engrossed in their projects. Murmured voices carried from a far corner, where a glassed-off room revealed artists standing by easels painting still lifes of a black stiletto, a red rose, and a human skull. Will Chadwick walked about the room, murmuring to his students.
Mimi shrugged out of her coat and hung it
on a sculptural metal coatrack. I did the same as she said, “Glinda and my dad had to work, so I brought my friend Darcy Merriweather.”
Recognition fluttered in her gaze; then the corners crinkled as she smiled more broadly. A genuine smile this time. “Lovely to meet you, Darcy. I’m Cora Chadwick. I’ve heard much about you from Mimi.”
I relaxed a little as she added the part about Mimi. If she’d heard things about me from Glinda, I might still be worried.
Warmth flowed from her hand as she shook mine. Strong fingers grasped firmly, and she rested her other hand atop our adjoined ones and said, “Welcome. And thank you for bringing Mimi. We require our younger students to have a guardian here when working with some of our more dangerous tools.”
I sensed no animosity, yet her gaze remained troubled. Whatever was bothering her, I gathered, didn’t have anything to do with me. I suspected it had to do with Kyle and Starla, and I wondered what it was like for a mother to realize her son was capable of such violence. The thought alone sent a surge of sympathy toward this woman, but then I recalled how the family had treated Starla in the aftermath of the attack and I took back my pity.
“I’m actually glad she asked. This place is amazing.” It was, too. Octagonal skylights flooded the space with natural light and dark beams crisscrossed the ceiling. The barn had more of an industrial feeling inside, especially with its airy loftlike second floor, which allowed the center of the building to remain open to the ceiling. To my right, a curved staircase led upstairs to the upper level, and its twisted iron balustrades and railing continued up there, running along the perimeter of the loft as a safety measure.
Upstairs, there were many at work—young, old, and in-between. A watercolor group, a pottery class, and someone working on a loom. I also saw the glow of a blowtorch and sparks—someone was welding a metal sculpture. Everywhere I looked there was something to see, an object to admire, but my gaze kept going back to the skylights, six in all.
And how they certainly looked like the one in Kyle Chadwick’s hideout. Though, really, that shouldn’t be such a surprise to me. If his brothers were able to lead Harper to the tree house, then obviously some—if not all—of Kyle’s family knew about the place. And, if those skylights were any indication, they’d helped him build it as well.
The Goodbye Witch Page 8