The Witch and the Dead

by Heather Blake

  She patted my cheek. “Good try.”

  It had been.

  We swung in silence for a few moments. I could have sat with her, like this, all day long.

  I said, “Do you know if Miles’ death involved Crafting at all?”

  “Other than the Crafters themselves who are involved?”

  “Other than.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean . . .”

  “I’ve been thinking about what Steve Winstead told me last night. About Penelope and the blood on her hands. If she killed him, there’s only one way she could have transferred his body to Ve’s garage. The Special Delivery Spell. The Elder would know if she’d used it, wouldn’t she? Since Penelope had used magic in a criminal manner?”

  “A record of that would have been kept, yes. However, I’ve searched the archives for any infractions relating to Miles Babbage and there was only one, and it didn’t relate to that particular spell.”

  One? Then I remembered. “Penelope’s powers.”

  My mother nodded.

  “She told Miles, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. From what I’ve discovered, she felt the need to be honest before they eloped.”

  “Was he memory-cleansed?”

  “He was, shortly after Penelope was whisked away to Cape Cod.”

  We swayed for a moment before I said, “If Penelope killed Miles, his body should have been in the bunkhouse. But it was gone by the time Steve returned to check on him. . . . So what happened to the body?”

  “Do you know for certain she killed him?”

  “No, but she had a lot of blood on her hands, so something tragic happened.”

  “But according to the medical examiner Miles was strangled, wasn’t he?”

  I rubbed my temples. “Yes.”

  “Then how does the blood factor in?”

  “I don’t know . . . yet.” I needed to speak with Penelope. The sooner the better. Right now all I had was Steve’s word of what had happened that night, and suddenly I wondered if he’d been telling me the whole truth.

  Glancing up at the sun as if judging its placement in the sky, Mom gave a little sigh. “I must be going. You’ll figure out what happened to Miles, Darcy. I have faith in you.”

  At least one of us did. “Thanks.”

  “You know where to find me if you need me.”

  I did.

  I waved and Missy barked as my mother disappeared into a glittery cloud. A mourning dove flew off, headed in the direction of the magical meadow where she lived.

  As I watched her go, I wished I’d thought to ask her if she knew where Miles’ amulet was. Even though it no longer held any power, it was still made of enchanted clay, so there was a chance she would be able to find its location. I’d trek into the woods later to ask her.

  I sat on the bench a little while longer before heading back into the house to refill my coffee. Afterward, as I headed for my office to check voice mail, I happened to glance at the front door.

  Looking in, Higgins had his nose pressed to the sidelight, and drool dripped down the glass. “What in the world?”

  It sounded like someone knocking as his tail thumped the front porch. I peeked outside. Nick was in the grass on his hands and knees with a magnifying glass.

  I pulled open the door and Higgins gave me a bath in kisses. I gave him lots of love and he soon turned his attention to Missy, who didn’t tolerate his kisses nearly as well as I did.

  I sat on the bottom step of the porch stairs, set my coffee next to me, and tightened the sash on my robe. Higgins and Missy darted about the yard, sniffing far corners. I stretched out my legs, felt my heart swell. Softly, I said, “How long have you been out here?”

  “Not long,” Nick said.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He looked over at me. “I’m going to find it.”

  “Nick . . .”

  “No, Darcy.” He stood, stretched, and rolled his shoulders back as though he’d developed some serious kinks. He left the magnifying glass on the ground as he walked over to me and sat down. “It’s too important to let go. I’ll spend every morning for the rest of my life out here if I have to. I’ll find it.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He thumbed a teardrop from the corner of my eye. “I want to do that. Just like I want to spend every day of the rest of my life here with you.” He took hold of my hands, drew in a long deep breath, and said, “Darcy, will you—”

  “Is this a private party?” Harper asked as she strolled up the walkway, carrying a paper sack from Spellbound. “If so, you need to work on your party clothes, Darcy. Godfrey would be appalled.”

  Nick stared at me, smiled. “So close.”

  I couldn’t help smiling back. I leaned my forehead against his. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He gave me a kiss and went back to his search.

  Harper’s face scrunched in disgust. “You two . . .”

  “Hush,” I said. “You and Marcus are just as bad.”

  Something flashed in her eyes as she took Nick’s spot next to me. Something bleak.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. It was clear something was. “Is it Marcus?”

  The bleakness turned to despair and Harper looked away, suddenly fascinated with the paint on the newel-post.

  I bumped her with my shoulder. “Harper?”

  When she finally looked back at me, I could tell she was trying hard to keep her emotions in check. “He, um, he . . .”

  “What?”

  Nick, I noticed, had stopped looking for that clover.

  “He’s just kind of torn up about what’s going on with his parents. He’s taking it hard. What Steve Winstead said about Penelope . . .” She swallowed. “He went to talk to her about it last night. He didn’t come home.”

  Home. To Harper.

  “Did he call?” Nick asked.

  She nodded. “Eventually. After I left eight thousand messages on his phone. He gave me some excuse about needing to stay at his parents’ house last night. I knew this would happen.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Her eyes were clear and bright with moisture as she said, “That they would tear us apart. It’s starting. I can feel it.”

  As much as I wanted to discount what she said, I couldn’t. Harper’s feelings weren’t to be taken lightly. She knew things. I didn’t know how. Maybe it was part of the magic that lived within her. And I couldn’t help but recall the look of pity Oliver had given me yesterday as well. I said, “You won’t let that happen.”

  She gave me a wan smile. “I know I’m stubborn, and I’m up for the fight, but I don’t know if I can compete against them. They’re his parents. . . .”

  I took hold of her hand. “He loves you.”

  “I know he does. I just don’t know if it’s enough.”

  “It is,” I insisted.

  Holding my gaze, she nodded. But I could tell she didn’t believe it.

  She gave my hand a squeeze, then released it. “Enough about me. I brought you something. A housewarming gift.” She handed me the bag.

  “But the housewarming is next weekend,” I said, trying to hand it back.

  “I was going to save it, but as I watched Nick crawl around out here on his hands and knees for the past three hours, I thought he needed a break.”

  “Three hours?” I said to him. “You said ‘not long.’”

  He gave me an impish smile. “When you compare three hours to the rest of my life . . . it’s not that long.”

  “Nick.”

  “Open the present,” Harper said. “I’m getting a headache. I think Starla’s migraine was contagious.”

  Yeah, they’d caught it from the men in their lives. I looked at my sister and immediately wanted to go find Marcus to shake s
ome sense into him.

  “Open it,” she said, dragging the words out. “I have a store to open in two hours.”

  I laughed. “All right.”

  From the bag, I pulled out a heavy square-shaped package. It was badly gift wrapped in red paper, the corners bunched, the edges uneven. Harper never had the patience for wrapping, and I’d come to love the way she presented gifts. If I ever received one that looked professionally done, I’d have to question her wellness.

  I slowly peeled back an edge.

  “For the love,” Harper wailed. “Today is not the day to torture me, Darcy.”

  Nick laughed and motioned to the present. “What is it?”

  I quickly ripped off the rest of the paper, squeezing it into a ball. I tossed it at Harper.

  I’d managed to tease a smile out of her.

  It was a start.

  The gift, which felt like a frame, had been double-wrapped. I was more careful as I undid the tissue paper protecting the glass. When I saw what Harper had framed, my mouth dropped. “How did you—”

  “What is it?” Nick asked, standing up.

  The frame had wooden trim, but its center was made up of two panes of glass. Sandwiched between them was a slightly frayed four-leaf clover.

  Nick stared. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Harper said, “Terry told Ve about seeing you and Nick out here, crawling around, and Ve told Mimi, and Mimi told me. I’d just read about this spell in one of my books, about finding lost objects, so I decided your little clover was a good way to test the spell.” She nodded toward the iron fence that divided our yard from Terry’s driveway. “It was snagged in the bushes in Terry’s yard.”

  I hugged the frame, telling myself not to cry. If I started, Harper would start. I was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to stop, thanks to the emotional roller coaster Marcus had her on. I might have been able to manage to keep my tears in check, but my voice cracked as I said, “I love it so much. And I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Thank you, Harper,” Nick added.

  She stood up. “You’re both welcome. That kind of keepsake should be treasured.”

  It should be. It would be.

  Nick set his hands on his hips. “So three hours you let me crawl around?”

  She smiled. A real smile. “It was kind of entertaining.” She kissed our cheeks noisily, then strode off across the green.

  I watched her go, a smile on my face as I wondered if she knew she’d given me two gifts this morning. The clover, of course . . .

  But she’d cast a spell to find that clover.

  She’d finally used her witchcraft, and knowing so was almost better than the gift of the clover.

  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that casting that spell wasn’t so much a gift for me . . . as for herself.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  No sooner had Harper left than a new visitor appeared.

  I was shocked down to my toes to see Penelope Debrowski lingering at the gate and could only wonder what would have happened if she and Harper had crossed paths.

  Immediately I was glad it hadn’t happened.

  Penelope cleared her throat. “Is now a bad time?”

  She wore wide-leg trousers, a floral blouse, and a cropped cardigan. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. I rather missed her paint-splattered clothes.

  “Not at all,” Nick said as she came up the walkway.

  “Hello, Darcy.” She eyed my robe and slippers and lifted a judgmental eyebrow. Her attitude seemed to shift depending on which of her personalities was present.

  Yesterday, it had been the Colorcrafter. She’d been friendly, relaxed.

  Today she was in Lawcrafter mode. Stiff and starched.

  It was interesting to watch, especially considering she had lost her powers. I supposed you could take the Craft out of the witch, but not the witch out of the Craft.

  “Hi, Penelope.” I picked up my coffee and sipped.

  Nick leaned on the stair railing. “Should we go inside?”

  Penelope shook her head. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather stay out here. It’s such a beautiful day.” She sat next to me on the steps. “Since I’ll be locked up soon, I’d like to enjoy it as much as possible.”

  Nick said, “What do you mean? Locked up soon?”

  “I have a few legal matters to wrap up this afternoon, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll be turning myself in by evening.”

  “Turning yourself in for what?” I asked, though I had a good idea.

  “I know Steve Winstead paid you a visit last night. Marcus told me.” Her voice cracked when she added, “It’s long past time the truth comes out. I’m tired of living in fear. I’m just . . . tired. It’s my fault Miles Babbage is dead.”

  “Does Oliver know you’re here?” Nick asked, his voice gentle.

  “No.” She watched a leaf fall from the tree in the front yard. “He’s against my decision to turn myself in, but I’m done living a lie. I see what these last couple of days have done to Marcus and it makes me sick to my stomach. It should have never gotten to this point.”

  Nick said, “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  She picked at her manicure as she said, “Miles and I dated briefly before he dumped me for Dorothy, breaking my heart the first time. It took a little while to get over him, but soon enough I started dating Oliver and Steve. Oliver because my parents insisted and Steve because he was fun and fed my creative side. But I never forgot about Miles. He was . . .” She shook her head. “I loved him. It’s that simple. And that complicated.”

  I thought about Miles not knowing how to love and realized the same was true. It was that simple. And that complicated.

  Penelope shifted so the sun wasn’t in her face and said, “I was at Wickedly Creative the next time I ran into Miles. I remember it so well; it was a Tuesday night that had been so very ordinary until he waltzed in like he hadn’t been gone for a year. All it took was one look, and I fell for him all over again.” She glanced between us. “And yes, I know some of that was the amulet, but some of it was just that I found him alluring. He was funny and kind and talented, and he had a wicked sense of humor. We picked up where we left off. The next day, he asked if I wanted to get married. I said yes. We planned to do it that weekend. . . . That’s when he confessed about the amulet. And I told him I was a witch. We wanted to start the relationship on a clean slate.”

  Missy trotted up the steps and lay down on the porch, her head on her paws. Higgins, I noticed, was rolling in the grass . . . and over the daisies, flattening them.

  “How’d he take the news that you were a witch?” I asked.

  “Like it was no big deal,” she said. “He said he’d always suspected there was more going on in this village than met the eye.”

  I imagined that using enchanted clay had heightened that awareness.

  Penelope’s voice hitched again as she said, “Then Steve and Miles got into that fight and all hell broke loose. My parents sent me off to Cape Cod.”

  “But you came back . . . ,” Nick said.

  “Two days later. I snuck out and called Oliver from a pay phone. He came down to the Cape and picked me up. I think the only reason he did was because he wanted to warn me that Miles and Ve had eloped the day before. He was trying to prepare me.”

  My coffee had gone cold. I set the mug aside. “How’d he know?”

  Seemed I’d heard over and over again the past few days that only a few people had known about the elopement at the time it happened.

  “On the day of the elopement, Ve had called him to see if he could work some magic on a Massachusetts marriage license. He refused and tried to talk her out of marrying Miles. She didn’t listen and told him that they’d just go up to New Hampshire. I could
n’t believe what I was hearing. I cried; I wailed. I was in hell. Absolute hell. I ranted and raved about Miles, that amulet, and about how I told Miles I was a witch.”

  I could only imagine the shock she had been in.

  “When I got back to the village that Saturday afternoon, I called Miles at Ve’s house. He agreed to meet me at the bunkhouse that night. When I finally saw him face-to-face, I wanted to know why. How could he plan to elope with me one minute, then run off with Ve the next? It had been only a day since my parents sent me away that they eloped. A single day.”

  My heart hurt for her. She’d honestly loved the man, and he’d just married another woman.

  She clasped her hands together. “He tried to tell me that he didn’t know what I was talking about. That we hadn’t had any plans to marry and that he was sorry I was upset but he’d married Ve, and he wasn’t going to break that vow, even though he did have feelings for me. I was so angry I couldn’t even see straight,” Penelope said, her cheeks flushing at the memory. “His ceramics tools were on the table, and I grabbed his sculpting knife and went after him. I slashed him a few times. When he jumped back from me, he lost his balance and fell, hitting his head on the coffee table. There was blood everywhere.”

  The mental image I conjured made me queasy. Queasier, I should say, because my stomach had already started to churn. All I could think about was what my mother had told me this morning. . . . About how Miles Babbage had been memory-cleansed after Penelope was sent away.

  He’d been telling Penelope the truth that night—he had no memory of asking her to marry him.

  It had been wiped out by magic.

  I wasn’t sure whether that knowledge would help her or hurt her more at this point, so I kept quiet for now. I’d seek the counsel of my mother on the matter.

  Penelope went on, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He was alive when I left, still pleading his innocence.” She blinked away tears. “With the way he was bleeding, I should have called for help.”

  Nick ran a hand through his hair, and then said, “I don’t quite understand. If Miles was alive when you left, why do you think you were responsible for his death?”