The Witch and the Dead

by Heather Blake

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for not making a joke about evil coming in when I came in. . . .”

  “Cross my heart, I didn’t even think it.”

  “We’ve come a long way.”

  “Yeah, we have.” I closed the front door. “How are things on the home front? With, you know . . .”

  “Weird,” she said after a moment. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “I imagine so.” I linked arms with her. “Well, come on in. Let’s get that inquisition over with, so you can enjoy the party. Archie’s in grand form if you’re the karaoke type.”

  She laughed. “I can do a mean Aretha Franklin.”

  “Evan will be recruiting you for the stage in no time.”

  “He’ll be wasting his breath. I’ll leave the theater to my mother.”

  Dorothy was still complaining about being cast as one of the nuns in the play instead of Maria. I thought it absolutely hysterical myself.

  I left Glinda with Liam, who’d joined in the walnut conversation. I cut two pieces of the coconut cake—which to my delight had raspberry and cream filling—and set them on a plate. Once I found the right drawer, I grabbed two forks and headed for the stairs to see Harper.

  On my way past the front door, I happened to glance outside and saw Vince standing at the front gate. I watched him for a moment step forward, then backward. He crossed the street, and I thought he was leaving until he stopped, turned around. He took another step forward, then back again.

  I set the plate in my office so none of the pets would steal the cake, and grabbed my pea coat from the hat tree and went out to see what was going on.

  Vince didn’t look all that surprised to see me as I stepped up next to him. We stood near Mrs. P’s bench and the beautiful birch tree that was raining yellow leaves onto its seat. I heard a coo come from the upper branches and knew I wasn’t having this conversation with Vince alone.

  My mother was here. I’d sensed her even before she’d given me the vocal heads-up.

  As I was learning, the magic within was extremely powerful.

  Vince looked . . . shell-shocked. Bloodshot eyes watched me from behind his glasses. One of his eyes was still bruised from the fight last weekend. Stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his hair was disheveled.

  “Vince, why don’t you come on inside?”

  He slid a look my way. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do, Darcy?”

  I held out my hand. “Come with me. We’ll go together.”

  He held out his hand to take mine but abruptly pulled it back, cradling it like it had been injured.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head.

  That made two of us. “What’s going on?”

  “Every time I get near your house I get this little buzz, like I’m a dog wearing a shock collar. The closer I get, the more jarring the buzz. And I just felt it when I reached for your hand.”

  I glanced back at the house, then at my hand, then at him.

  Realization hit me like a sucker punch, bringing with it a deep sadness. I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out the lone acorn I had left in there. I tossed it to him. “Catch!”

  He snatched the nut out of the air and dropped it almost as quickly as he caught it. “What the hell?”

  “You’re practicing sorcery,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

  His blue eyes darkened. “So?”

  “You don’t need it,” I said, hearing the pleading tone in my voice. “You have the Craft, Vince.”

  He jammed the toe of his shoe into the grass, kicked up a divot. “Right. The Craft,” he sneered. “I have the power to make brooms. Whoopty-freakin’-do.”

  I thought of the beautiful besom Glinda had just gifted me, and I wanted to hit him upside the head with it. He was being shortsighted.

  “With sorcery I could have endless power,” he said, throwing his arms wide. “I could make Starla love me again. I could make the whole village love me.”

  “Is that what you want? To be loved?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “No. Love is for the weak,” he spat. “I want power.”

  I shoved fisted hands into my coat pockets. “Dark magic isn’t the way to go.”

  He kicked up another divot. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “I know you’re hurting, Vince, but—”

  “Don’t tell me what you know, Darcy. I wasted more than a year on Starla.”

  I tipped my head. “Do you really think it’s wasted time? You loved her. . . .”

  He flicked me a wry look. “It wasn’t her who told me about the Craft, now, was it?”

  My jaw jutted. It sounded to me like maybe Starla had been right about his using her. I hated thinking it might be true. It made me feel sick that she was inside worried about hurting his feelings when he might not have cared about her after all. I wanted desperately to believe that he was just talking in anger. He’d been through a lot this past week.

  But I wasn’t sure.

  Maybe he was more like his father than anyone thought and didn’t know how to love . . .

  I said, “I think you just need some time. To process.”

  “You think so?” he replied sarcastically.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to cut him some slack, but I didn’t like him very much right at the moment.

  He motioned to the ground. “What’s with the acorns?”

  “Witches use them for protection from things like dark magic. Among other stuff. You’re new to the Craft. You have a lot to learn. You have more abilities than just Broomcrafting, Vince. Spells, charms. You don’t need the dark stuff.”

  He glanced toward my house and kicked up another divot but said nothing.

  “You should talk to the Elder,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Maybe.” Then he added, “Thanks for the invite, but I’m just going to go. See ya around.”

  He spun around and walked off.

  “Vince!” I called out.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  My heart was in my throat when I asked, “Did you love her at all?”

  Raw emotion flashed across his face for the briefest moment, and I saw the truth before he shuttered it behind a steely glare.

  “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he said and strode off.

  I watched him walk away, then replaced the three divots. I sat on Mrs. P’s bench and tried to digest the conversation I’d just had.

  “He loved her.”

  “Yes, he did.” My mother’s voice came from the branches above my head. “Until the quest to learn dark magic took over. It became his new love and Starla was cast aside.”

  I didn’t dare look upward for fear of giving away her position. This way to any onlookers who happened by I would simply look like I was talking to myself.

  “This sorcery . . . ,” I began.

  “He’s hurt and angry and confused,” she said. “I’ll talk to Dorothy. We’ll work together to get this sorted. He’ll come around.”

  I picked up the acorn from where it had fallen. I was glad my mother sounded so confident about Vince, because I wasn’t. I dropped the acorn back in my pocket.

  At all.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  It had been a busy Sunday. The morning had been spent cleaning up after the housewarming. I’d told only Nick of my unsettling conversation with Vince, and he agreed that the situation with him was probably going to get worse before it got better.

  The rest of the day I’d helped Nick and Mimi finish packing up their house, which was now officially on the market. We probably loaded and unloaded Nick’s truck a dozen times, and would need to do it probably a dozen times more to fully empty the place. Our weekends were booked for the foreseeable future, which was a good thing because it
excused me from helping with the yard sale Ve had planned for next weekend. She was determined to get that space cleaned out and smudged, to exorcise all its lingering bad memories.

  I yawned and stretched, feeling knots in my back. Moving was exhausting work, but it had been worth every minute of it. Nick and Mimi had decided to head back to their old house to gather one last load of boxes for the night, and I’d stayed behind to feed Annie, Higgins, and Missy and to take the dogs for their nighttime walk around the square.

  We’d just come back, and I’d fully expected to find Nick and Mimi here unloading their latest haul, but instead I found two notes beneath a dandelion paperweight on the kitchen island. The missives were being guarded by Annie.

  Or perhaps she was lying in wait.

  Annie loved making confetti.

  The paperweight had been a good idea.

  One note was from Mimi: Went to Aunt Ve’s for ice cream and to watch a movie. Be home later. At the bottom, she’d signed an M inside a heart shape. Under that she added a PS: We need to add ice cream to the grocery list ASAP. Chocolate chip. Double chocolate chunk. Anything chocolate.

  My first thought was that it was a bit late for a movie on a school night, but Mimi was thirteen and . . .

  That’s when my second thought hit, hard and powerful.

  She’d written home.

  She’d be home later.

  I glanced around. This was now her home.

  Our home.

  Life was never going to be the same ever again.

  And I couldn’t have been happier about that.

  Nick’s note simply said Meet me in front of Spellbound at 9:15.

  I looked at the furry faces watching me carefully. “Spellbound? What’s this about?”

  Not a single one answered me, though Higgins did slobber my hand. He slobbered everything, so I wasn’t sure what it meant. Missy’s stubby tail was wagging for all it was worth, and she yapped happily. Annie’s gaze shifted to the piece of paper in my hand. She reached a paw for it, and I quickly stuck the note in my pocket and rubbed her head. “Nope. Not for you.”

  It was nine twelve, so I gave them all treats and told them I’d be back soon. In the mudroom, I slipped on my coat and my shoes and wondered why Nick had left the note. Was Harper okay? Wouldn’t she have called? I knew she was having a rough time because of Marcus, so my heart was in my throat as I hotfooted it across the green.

  As I jogged, I took a moment to breathe in that magical smell I loved so much. To appreciate it. The scent seemed especially strong tonight as the faux gaslights that lined the village sidewalks and the twinkle lights twined through tree branches cast a soft glow upon the village.

  Moonbeams caught the colors of autumnal flowers overflowing from tall planters that dotted the pathways. It was a beautiful night, chilly but not too cold. Breezy but not too windy.

  Vibrantly colored leaves crunched under my feet as I searched for answers as I neared Spellbound. The storefront was dark, as were the windows of Harper’s apartment. My gaze settled on the manly silhouette pacing in front of the shop.

  “Is Harper okay?” I asked when I was close enough for him to hear me. I noticed he’d showered. Damp hair curled around his ears, and he smelled soapy fresh. He wore jeans, a button-down, and a blazer. Definitely not moving clothes.

  Light thrown from a gaslight nearby lit his smile. “She’s fine. This isn’t about Harper.”

  Utterly confused, I said, “Then what’s it about? Apparently it’s ice cream and movie night at Ve’s, and I’m sure we’ve only missed the opening cred—”

  “It’s about these,” he said, cutting me off.

  He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out what looked like a small block of square notepaper. On closer inspection, it was just notes held together with a paper clip. A lot of notes.

  “Recipes for toasted walnuts?” I teased.

  He laughed. “No. That was just a ruse.”

  “What are they?” I reached for them, but he pulled them away.

  I tipped my head in question, but he just kept on smiling.

  I was starting to get a warm, mushy-gushy feeling in my stomach.

  “Yesterday, at the housewarming party, I asked our guests to write down something they love about you.” He held up the notes. “These are the results.”

  That mushy feeling bloomed into my chest. “When? How? Why?”

  He ignored my questions. “This one is from Godfrey. He says, ‘Everything. I love everything. Except her flip-flops. Those have to go.’”

  He held it up and tears came unbidden to my eyes when I saw Godfrey’s chicken-scratch scrawl. “Nick . . .”

  He said, “This one is from Ve.”

  I blinked away tears. “I can’t . . .”

  He swallowed hard. “She says, ‘Everything. Darcy is light and goodness and all that is right in this world. She owns a piece of my heart, always and forever, and now you will, too, Nick.’”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with tiny daisies and handed it to me.

  I shot him a questioning glance.

  Nick was not a handkerchief kind of guy. Daisies yes, handkerchiefs no.

  “Pepe sent it for you. He thought you might need it.”

  Which only made the tears fall faster. “He’s an intuitive kind of mouse.”

  “That he is.” He held up a note. “This is from Archie via Terry: ‘Darcy had me at hello.’”

  I laughed. I loved that bird something fierce.

  “From Harmony: ‘Everything, of course, but especially her love of all creatures great and small and those slightly smelly from having been in a Dumpster . . .’

  “This one,” Nick said, holding up the next note, “is from Glinda.”

  Smiling through tears, I said, “Oh no. I’m not sure I want to know. . . .”

  “She says, ‘Love? Let’s not get crazy. But I do admire Darcy’s ability to see the good in people who cannot see it in themselves.’”

  Fresh tears filled my eyes.

  “Starla says, ‘Everything. Absolutely everything.’” He flipped to the next note. “This bundle is from Mimi.”

  It was three or four stapled pages, and my heart swelled.

  “I’ll let you read those on your own, or I might not get through this,” he said, his voice strained. “Let’s just say there are many, many things she loves about you.”

  The lump in my throat made it impossible to talk. I nodded.

  “From Mrs. P and Pepe: ‘Toutes les petites choses. All the little things. Darcy is love.’”

  I had to look away to just . . . catch my breath. My blurry eyes tried to focus on the flowers in the window box below Harper’s display window, but the yellow geraniums and purple pansies blended together like something from an impressionist-style painting.

  “From Terry: ‘I consider Darcy to be the daughter Ve and I never had. I love her. If you hurt her, I will hurt you. Understood?’”

  I couldn’t help but sniffle and laugh at the same time as Nick read that one.

  With a lifted eyebrow, he said, “Terry’s kind of scary.”

  Which made me laugh harder.

  “This one is from Evan. He says, ‘Hello-o-o, everything! Simply, I love her.’”

  I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

  “From Harper . . .”

  I set my hand on his. “I . . . Nick.”

  He took a step back and drew in a long, deep breath. “She says, ‘Darcy already knows how much I love her. It’s an indescribable love that can’t truly be put into words. I think you know the feeling, Nick. I see it in your eyes when you look at her. For that, I love you, and I’m looking forward to the day when I become your sister, too. Welcome to our crazy family.’”

>   I had to sit down. There were no benches nearby, so I opted to sit on the curb. Nick sat next to me, his shoulder and leg touching mine as though we were connected.

  I supposed we were. And had been for quite some time.

  “You didn’t have to do all this,” I said, emotion cutting the words into shards.

  “I didn’t think so at first, either. Trust me—I tried asking you other ways, but I kept getting interrupted. By Vince, by Harper, by Terry . . . And I started thinking that maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. Because without them,” he said, cupping the notes in his hands and lifting them up, “we wouldn’t quite be us. They’ve shaped our relationship as much as we have, taught us lessons, helped us grow. . . . So I knew they had to be part of this.”

  This.

  Nick was right. Absolutely right. The people in our lives had helped shaped us. Loved us. Healed us. For Nick to think of including them tonight made me love him more than I ever dreamed possible.

  He shifted sideways, to face me. “And if you didn’t notice, the predominant trait that our friends love about you is everything. Just like I love everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, your kindness. I love the way you love Mimi. Oh God, the way you love her . . . I love that you don’t mind Higgins’ drool. I love the way when you’re sleeping, you pull the covers up to your nose every . . . single . . . time. I even love that you try to talk to me when you’re brushing your teeth. Everything. I love everything. Which is why I brought you back here, to where it all began on a stormy June night right about this time when we came upon each other right here at this doorway. . . .”

  The memory was one I’d never forget. I’d been new in town, and I’d just come from a job acting as a tooth fairy that hadn’t gone exactly as planned. I was running late for a town meeting . . . as was Nick.

  It was the first time in such a long time that I’d felt anything for a man that it had taken me aback. It had scared me . . . and given me hope all at once.

  He said, “I knew the moment I saw you standing there in your sparkles and tiara with that cautious look in your beautiful eyes that I could love you. It didn’t take long for me to realize just how much. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you by my side. Darcy Ann Merriweather, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, of letting me love you for as long as I live? Longer, even . . .”