Witching The Night Away

by Constance Barker

Over the fence she went. There was a slope on the other side, though, that became sandy as it blended into the coast. Bailey wasn’t expecting it, gave a startled shout when she saw the slanted ground rushing up at her, and then did her best to tuck her chin as she lost her footing and tumbled down the slope. Sand got into her nose and mouth as she rolled, but she managed to keep it out of her eyes by squeezing them shut. She hit a small hunk of driftwood on her way down that was just enough to knock the breath out of her.

  When she stopped, she pushed herself to her feet, struggling to breathe, and looked frantically around her. There were tracks in the sand leading south, toward the caves. She took off after them, and soon saw a figure leading her by a ridiculous distance. The woman almost certainly had some kind of magic.

  Bailey shouted for the woman to stop, and tried to summon the same forceful sensation from before. Either she was too far away to be heard, or whatever triggered that aspect of her gift had been spent on the dog. Instead, she was forced to run until she felt her heart might give out.

  Almost the moment she had the thought, her legs did give out. She stepped wrong, stumbled, fell and plowed into the damp sand of the beach.

  She sputtered out a mouthful of sand as she rolled onto her back, heaving, her muscles burning and her chest pounding painfully. It was no use.

  By the time Aiden, Chloe, and Aria caught up with her—Francis had apparently stayed behind—Bailey was just recovering herself. “I lost her,” she growled, dejected. “I should have just let her go.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Chloe said. She was smiling, for some reason. Bailey frowned at her, and Chloe pointed to the sand. “It looks like she dropped something that you managed to fall on.”

  Bailey looked around her, and then where she had fallen.

  There, mashed into the sand, was Professor Turner’s notebook.

  “See?” Chloe said, a little smugly, and perhaps more to Aiden than to Bailey. “Subtle magic.”

  “It wasn’t particularly subtle to me,” Bailey complained.

  “Well, in fairness,” Aria said, “you didn’t cast the spell. We did.”

  “And,” Aiden added, “You said ‘she’ got away? So, we know it was a woman?”

  “I’m just about certain,” Bailey said. “But there was something wrong. Her thoughts... they were a bunch of voices telling stories, and there was music. The faster it played, the faster she ran.”

  Aiden grimaced. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Share with the class,” Bailey begged.

  “If you were hearing her mind accurately,” he said, “then I believe events are more advanced than I feared. Our culprit may already be deeply in the thrall of faeries. If that is the case... they will act to protect their asset if they can.”

  Like helping their ‘asset’ run much faster than humanly possible. Bailey groaned as Aiden helped her to her feet. “Wonderful,” she said. “Well at least we have the notebook.” She reached for it, stopped, and then asked Chloe for the apron she’d run out of the bakery wearing.

  She knelt, and picked it up with the cloth. “And who wants to bet that the whole time she had this on her, she touched it with her bare fingers at least once?”

  It wasn’t victory yet; she’d have to have a criminal record to show up in the crime data banks. But it was something and, more importantly; it might well place someone else at the crime scene that wasn’t Ryan. Bailey wrapped the journal, and let Aiden support her as the four of them made the long walk back up the hillside and into town.

  Chapter 19

  As the day broke, Bailey received calls from Avery and Piper looking for any good news. She told them about the chase, and that she’d recovered the notebook. Both of them promised to be there as soon as possible.

  Bailey, however, didn’t wait for them to arrive.

  “We have to get this to the sheriff as soon as possible,” she told Aiden and the coven ladies as she stuffed it into her jacket, still wrapped in the apron. “Before whoever had it has a chance to skip town, or come back for it.”

  “I should go with you,” Chloe suggested.

  Bailey bit her lip, mulling it quickly. Aiden raised an eyebrow at her from where he leaned against the counter, and gave a small nod.

  “Alright,” Bailey said.

  “Take my car,” Aiden offered. He tossed Bailey his keys.

  When they’d gotten into Aiden’s car and pulled away from the sidewalk in front of the bakery, a tense silence took over for several minutes.

  “Hopefully this will clear Ryan,” Chloe said.

  “Why did you give me up?” Bailey asked. Probably she’d meant to say something else, but those were the words that spilled out. Once they were, she almost wished she could take them back.

  Chloe took a deep breath, and then sighed it out with her eyes closed. “When I realized I was pregnant,” she said quietly, but evenly, “I also realized I wasn’t ready to be a mother. Not just because it was going to be hard but because I was only a few years into learning to be a witch and I had already broken so many, many rules.”

  “I guess we have that in common,” Bailey said. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

  Her mother chuckled lightly, and nodded. “Maybe it is. The women who taught us—Martha, as well as Anita and Rita and their sister Angeline, before she passed—they had all their children later in life, after they’d become the witches they needed to be to guard the caves. Supposedly, Martha had a child, a few years before me. She made the same choice, though I think it was for different reasons.”

  “I know,” Bailey said. “A baby boy. Probably Aiden. That’s what he thinks.”

  Chloe blinked, and turned to stare at Bailey. “Really? Aiden?”

  “Yes,” Bailey said. “I don’t think he’s entirely certain, but he’s fairly well convinced about it. Is it possible?”

  “He’d be the right age...” Chloe said.

  “So, when witches get pregnant too early they have to give up their children? Is this some other tradition I haven’t had the pleasure of learning about yet?”

  “No,” Chloe said. “There were other factors.”

  “Like what?”

  When she didn’t answer right away, Bailey provided a guess. “Does it have to do with who my father is?” She asked.

  “It... does,” Chloe admitted. “You have to understand, it’s—”

  “Don’t you dare say it’s complicated, Chloe,” Bailey snapped. “I’m not stupid, you know; just uninformed. And that’s your fault, by the way. Just tell me why. That’s all I want.”

  “It’s because your father is a wizard,” Chloe said. “I had no business getting involved with him in the first place and when he left town and I realized I was pregnant, the coven feared that he would come back for you if he ever realized it.”

  Bailey swallowed. Her throat was getting tight. “Was he a bad man, then?”

  “No worse than any other wizard,” Chloe said.

  “What does that mean?” Bailey asked. “Aiden seems like a good person, Chloe. I like him. A lot. What does it matter if he’s a wizard? Or if my father was? What is with this... feud, or whatever it is?”

  “Witches have been the guardians and guides and healers of our world for thousands of years,” Chloe said. “We are trained carefully, slowly, over a very long time so that as our power grows, our wisdom grows with it. Wizards are different. They learn forms and formulas, and their magic comes to fruition too fast. Without wisdom to temper that kind of power, they can sometimes... become a little unstable. Misuse their power.”

  “A long time ago, there was a witch queen. The last to sit on Medea’s throne.” Chloe stared out the passenger side window. “Liliana Morgase. She’s a legend now. She took a wizard as a lover and he betrayed her, and all of us. He stole a spell that connected all of us to the throne, and in the process, he destroyed the throne itself. It’s broken, now. Somewhere in Greece, last anyone knew. Since that time, we’ve been weaker. He never managed to use it, bu
t it has substantially crippled the power we once were able to employ to help people across the world.

  “And he did it simply because he wanted more power for himself.” Chloe sighed. “The Covens have asked the wizards to give us the spell back. For hundreds of years. They can’t use it, as far as anyone knows. They’ve refused to give it back because to them, magical knowledge is power. They’re afraid of what will happen if we take it back.”

  “I can see why that might create some hard feelings between us and them,” Bailey said. “I really can. But it’s not a reason to make that choice for me, or for my father.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “I’m not being clear. That’s why I said it was complicated, there’s history to consider, and... the truth is, you’re of both worlds, Bailey. You have our magic. But there is a very good chance you have your father’s magic as well. And if he knew—if any wizard knew—then I was afraid someone would try to use you.”

  “And you don’t think I could manage to not be used?” Bailey asked, incredulous. What sort of person did her own mother take her for?

  “Now? Perhaps not,” Chloe said. “But you’ve shown a... a desire to gain more power. I know you don’t think of it like that,” she added quickly when Bailey protested, “but you’re in a hurry to gain something that should take a long time to gain. And maybe you are your own woman now—but if he’d taken you as a child? Raised you? Shaped you himself, for his ends? It’s entirely possible you would be able to work the spell that was stolen from Liliana Morgase, Bailey. And we couldn’t risk that. So, I did what I had to do to ensure that you were allowed to chart your own destiny.”

  “Well,” Bailey said quietly. “So much for that, I suppose. Right?”

  Chloe didn’t respond. She only touched Bailey briefly on the knee, and then stared out the window until they arrived.

  Seamus Jackson looked at Bailey, and then the journal. He looked as though he thought it might bite him. “Bailey, we have to enter this as evidence. I can’t just... what you’re asking me to do is illegal. You know that, right?”

  Bailey wrapped the journal back up. It was early, and most of the deputies on duty had worked over night. They were tired, and weren’t paying much attention, thankfully. Plus, with Chloe nearby maybe, there was magic involved. Bailey didn’t know.

  “You would run prints on it anyway, wouldn’t you?” She asked. All she wanted was to be apprised of the results. Though she wasn’t especially keen on letting the department keep the journal; but it seemed like a necessary trade.

  “Only if there was a compelling reason to believe that it figured as evidence,” Seamus said. “I have to fill out a form to get this done. It’ll have my name on it. The results will go to the sheriff, not to me.”

  “Seamus, this is Ryan we’re talking about. My dad. He didn’t do this, and no one’s even looking for another suspect.” She bit her lower lip, and let the prospect of losing her father forever fully engulf her heart. Her throat tightened, and her eyes stung with tears. Real tears, even if they did serve a purpose. “It’s like this whole town is just turning its back on him. Even you.”

  Seamus’ resistance crumpled. He slumped, and took his hat off to run his fingers through his hair as he glanced around the room. “Bailey don’t cry... look... maybe if I hang with the tech... it’ll still go to evidence, and the sheriff still gets the report but... I suppose I could give you a call about the results.”

  Bailey wiped her eyes, and threw her arms around Seamus’ neck. To her surprise, he put his arms around her, too. He hugged her. Tightly.

  “I believe in Ryan,” he whispered. “Okay? I do, I promise.”

  Bailey let him go, and withdrew back to the chair. She was embarrassed, now; Seamus looked like she’d kissed him. His cheeks were red, and he wouldn’t quite look at her. “Thank you,” she told him. “You don’t know what this means to me, Seamus.”

  “I think I probably do,” he said softly, and took the wrapped journal from her. He still held it like it was hot enough to burn him. “Just stay by your phone. I’ll call you so that, you know... there’s no record. I could get in so much trouble for this.” But there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

  “Just call me as soon as you know,” Bailey said.

  “I’ll go right now.” He stood, and then rubbed his neck. “You know, I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

  Bailey stood with him, and for a moment realized that maybe, Seamus Jackson still had more than a crush on her. Guilt tugged at her stomach. “I appreciate it,” she said. “I have to go.”

  “Listen,” Seamus said before she could leave, “whatever the results are, you need to promise me you’re going to stay safe. Don’t go doing anything foolish.”

  Rather than answer him with a promise she already intended to break, Bailey kissed him on the cheek. This, people noticed. She saw and felt their eyes. Well, they could look if they wanted to.

  She turned and left him there before she got herself into any more trouble.

  On the way out, Chloe seemed amused. Bailey glanced at her, caught the sparkle of humor in her eyes, and then shook her head. “Don’t,” she groaned.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Chloe said. “Though if I were going to, I’d say that Seamus seems like a fine young man. That’s all.”

  “Good Lord,” Bailey muttered. “Ten minutes as my mother and you’re already thinking of setting me up. You’ll be begging for grandchildren by this afternoon.”

  Chloe made a dramatic gasp. “Oh, I hadn’t even thought of it. Grandchildren!” She drew the word out with exaggerated excitement. “You think you can manage six or seven?”

  Bailey ignored her, or tried to. She couldn’t help smiling just a little as they got into the car and left to rejoin the others at the bakery.

  Chapter 20

  Everyone was gathered when Bailey and Chloe returned. Piper, Avery, and Aiden were seated at the corner table. Grovey Goodies was open for business, and there was a steady stream of morning customers that Aria and Francis were seeing to. Chloe quickly joined them. Before she got too busy, she brought Bailey a warm, gooey cinnamon roll and a latte.

  Piper watched Chloe leave, and then turned her attention to Bailey. “So... how’s that going?”

  Bailey shrugged. “Back burner,” she said. “Too much else going on right now. But... I’m trying to be open minded.”

  Piper reached across the table and took Bailey’s hand. She squeezed it once.

  “So,” Bailey said, “Seamus is going to get prints run on the journal. I would imagine that plenty of people have touched it, though. It won’t have been washed. And we’ll only get something useful out of it if someone on that list has a record. So, what next?”

  “Normally the most likely candidates are those that knew the victim,” Avery said. “But Aiden and I have been talking about the old cases. The ones form the early 1900’s.”

  “They bear a striking resemblance to the events that preceded the Creswell incident,” Aiden said.

  “We think,” Avery added, “that it could have been an earlier attempt to breach the veil.”

  Piper had apparently been caught up, because she nodded as though she understood what was being said. “How does instigating a bunch of murders help Tinkerbell break through to London, again?”

  Aiden took a deep breath. “Local resonance is generally a stable field—” he began.

  Avery cut him off as politely as possible, clearing his throat. “In layman’s terms,” he said, “when people are killed violently, instead of passing naturally, something happens to the area. You see it in hauntings, for instance. The barrier between this world and the others gets perforated, you could say.

  “We think that the cases from the early twentieth century were probably an initial attempt to weaken that barrier.” He took out his phone tapped the screen a few times, and passed it to Piper, who scrolled through the article that was pulled up on it. “Back then, though, there were other active
cave systems like the one here. And notice who gets mentioned over and over again in that article.”

  Piper frowned and scrolled, her lips moving as she skimmed. She raised an eyebrow. “Rita and Anita Hope. The Hope sisters?”

  “They’re the elders of the coven,” Bailey said. “Though you wouldn’t know it. I hardly ever see them.” She caught Avery smiling a little. “What?” She asked.

  “Hmm?” Avery’s face smoothed. “Nothing.”

  “Something,” Piper said.

  He only shrugged. “Thomas Hope is visiting soon. Rita’s nephew. That’s all. I was just reminded.”

  Though Piper and Bailey both shared a suspicious look, and Aiden appeared thoroughly confused, they let it pass for now. “Right,” Bailey said. “Well, so she was around during the early nineteen hundreds?”

  “Funny thing about Rita,” Avery said. “You know she just sort of disappears from public record around 1970?”

  “How old is she?” Piper wondered.

  “Older than she looks,” Bailey said. She recalled Rita’s gnarled form. She’d been ancient for as long as Bailey could remember, in fact. “Or, maybe exactly as old as she looks.”

  “If she was around during the last... incursion,” Avery said, “then she’s got to be at least a hundred and thirty years old. Figuring that she was an adult when it happened. Actually, Bails, her story is remarkably similar to yours.”

  Bailey took the phone and looked over the article. Again and again, one murder after another, Rita Hope’s name came up, sometimes with Anita’s and sometimes alone. She’d found five murder victims over the course of just four years. She was even, it seemed, accused of being the culprit several times, but never convicted. All of the murders were solved. Except one.

  “What’s this?” Bailey muttered. “The last murder was never solved?”

  “Cold case,” Avery said. “Linda Meyer. She was found in the seventh cave.” He pointed to the phone in Bailey’s hand. “Cause of death unknown. She was perfectly healthy when she died. But it was still ruled a murder.”