Witchtown

by Cory Putman Oakes

  “I’m very sorry to hear all of this, Brooke,” my mother said. Her voice oozed sympathy, but I could tell that she had mentally checked out of the situation. She was probably already planning our next move.

  The mayor’s face darkened.

  “I refuse to see that great man’s legacy crumble into ruin,” she said, and I jumped slightly at the vehement tone that had suddenly crept into her voice. “Witchtown was Reginald’s fondest dream, and he left me in charge. This town will not die on my watch. I will not allow it.”

  Percy reached out and put a hand on his wife’s arm, but the mayor shook him off and leaned in closer to Aubra.

  “I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “I thought you might,” Aubra said, but I could hear the indifference in her voice.

  “I found a group of investors who are interested in financing the town. They are due to arrive in about a week. The townspeople believe they are coming in order to help fund a planned expansion.”

  “And you need me to do what, exactly?”

  The mayor took a deep breath.

  “I need you to make a false set of books. To convince the investors that Witchtown is profitable, stable, and a good financial risk.”

  “Oh,” my mother said, and the lack of enthusiasm in her voice was obvious.

  “That and one other thing,” the mayor added, elbowing her husband. “You tell her, Percy.”

  “Well.” Percy cleared his throat. “You see, Reginald Harris poured a substantial percentage of his wealth into Witchtown. But the bulk of his personal fortune is still intact. Harris had no will and he left behind only distant relatives, so his estate has been tied up in litigation since the day he died. There’s a lot of secrecy surrounding his assets. But we believe that there is a large chunk of Harris’s fortune located in a vault, right here in the Witchtown Bank.”

  “I see. And you believe this because . . . ?” my mother asked skeptically.

  “Because he told me,” the mayor cut in. “Reggie told me. And I know, I know down in the depths of my soul, that he would gladly hand over a piece of his personal fortune to save Witchtown. All of it, if that was what it took. He was very passionate about this place, Aubra.”

  I couldn’t see my mother’s expression, but I could imagine her raising her eyebrow.

  “I’ve tried to get inside the vault myself,” the mayor confessed. “But the spells protecting it are complicated, and I’m just a Learned. Reginald Harris was a Natural. A powerful Natural. I was wondering if you would take a crack at it.”

  “Me?” my mother asked, sounding incredulous. “You’re asking me to break into Reginald Harris’s vault?”

  I bit back a grin at the irony.

  “Yes,” the mayor said, her expression serious. “And if you succeed, I give you my solemn pledge that whether the investors come through or not, we will take only the money we need to get this town back on its feet.” After a moment, when my mother said nothing, the mayor added, “Plus a generous percentage to compensate you for your time and effort, of course.”

  “Ahh, I see,” my mother said slowly, and it sounded to me like she was checking back in. Cautiously, at least.

  “I know I’m asking a lot—” the mayor started.

  “Yes, you are,” my mother said flatly.

  “I know it would mean taking an enormous risk—”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “And you have your daughter to think about—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But if you could just consider my proposal—”

  “I have,” my mother interrupted her coolly. “I’ll do it.”

  The mayor looked startled at the sudden acquiescence, but she composed herself quickly and smiled with obvious relief.

  “Thank you for trusting me with this information, Brooke,” my mother continued. “In return, I’d like to make an investment of my own. I’d like to lease the Supply Depot. I heard somewhere that the buy-in is a thousand dollars?”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” the mayor said.

  “I know it’s not much,” my mother went on. “Not enough to make any kind of a difference, surely, but it’s all I can manage. I mean it to demonstrate my loyalty to the town.”

  “Well,” the mayor said, sounding overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say, Aubra. I assume you know the history of the Depot?”

  “Of course,” my mother said, even though I knew she didn’t. I would have bet everything I had that she hadn’t even known of its existence until I mentioned it to her earlier.

  “Well, then, I’m sure you understand why I would hesitate to rent the place to just anyone, given the poltergeist and all. But I’m sure that, being a Natural, you’ll be able to get a handle on it right quick.”

  Poltergeist? I thought. Oh, crap.

  “I’m sure I won’t have any trouble,” my mother said pleasantly, but I could practically hear her teeth grinding. Oh, she was going to kill me.

  “I can have a new set of books done in a day or two,” my mother went on. “As for the vault, I really won’t know until I’ve had a look at it.”

  “I’d be happy to show it to you,” Percy assured her. “At your convenience.”

  “Thank you, Percy. That’s very kind.”

  I winced as Percy’s ratlike face lit up and he nearly melted into his chair. Another male turned to goo after the slightest bit of attention from my mother.

  “Thank you, Aubra,” the mayor said, walking over to my mother’s chair and clasping her in an extremely awkward-looking hug. “I can’t tell you what it means to have your help. I had a feeling about you when you first walked into my office. I think . . .” she trailed off, choking up. “I think you’re going to save us.”

  I rolled my eyes behind the door.

  Lady, you have no idea.

  “I’ll do everything I can,” my mother said, holding the mayor at arm’s length after the hug and turning slightly so that I could see her give the simpering woman her patented Aubra O’Sullivan, friendly-neighborhood-Natural-to-the-rescue smile.

  On the other side of the table, I saw the dopey look that Percy was giving my mother, and I started to feel sick to my stomach. Men like that had proved to be nothing but a massive distraction to my mother in the past.

  Please, Laverna. Don’t let her get distracted by this one.

  After the mayor and Percy left, my mother opened the bedroom door and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  My mouth fell open in shock. My mother had never asked me my opinion before. Not on anything. Not even dinner, let alone anything relating to a con.

  I swallowed. An epic question deserved an epic answer, but all I could do was shrug.

  “A vault . . .” my mother tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Can you open one of those?”

  I shook my head.

  “They’re totally different from normal locks,” I pointed out. “And besides, the mayor said it’s protected by spells. That’s your department.”

  “Do you think there’s really any money in there?” my mother pressed me.

  “I think that the mayor thinks there is,” I said carefully.

  My mother nodded.

  “My thoughts exactly. We can still bail, you know. Right now. Tonight.”

  I stiffened. Bailing meant that everything my mother had promised me about this being our last con would be nullified. We’d have to find another prize. Somewhere else where we could presumably make enough money to leave thieving behind. But there weren’t any other Havens like Witchtown.

  Could I really continue to live like that indefinitely? In little windows of time. A few months here, half a year there. An endless string of almost connections, almost friends, almost loves . . . never hanging around anywhere long enough to let anyone get past the surface.

  I swallowed, chasing all thoughts of Rafe from my head. I could not afford to lose myself in him right now. I needed to think.

  M
y mother knelt down in front of me.

  “It’s up to you, Macie. We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Pulling off that job at the mayor’s office must have convinced her of more than I thought.

  “No, Witchtown is our endgame,” I told her. “Our last con. We get the money, then we leave here and we find somewhere to settle down. Somewhere we can really live. That’s what we agreed.”

  “But if there’s no money—” my mother started.

  “There is money,” I informed her. “The town might be broke, but have you looked around? The businesses are thriving. The merchants must be making money. The Merchants’ Guild is what we should be looking at—​just like I was trying to tell you earlier.”

  My mother nodded.

  “And that’s the con you want to run?” she asked. “The Depot? Getting in with the merchants?”

  I nodded. She looked at me sharply for a split second before nodding back.

  “Then run it,” she said.

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “Yes. I have to help Brooke with those investors. And then I have to do my best to get inside that vault—​who knows, maybe Brooke is right and there’s a fortune hidden there. But I won’t have time to run a business. It has to be you.”

  She smiled wickedly.

  “It’s brilliant, actually. You’re so young, they’ll never see you coming. Those shop owners will take you under their wing like that.” She snapped your fingers. “You’ll be in before you know it.”

  I bit back a grimace at all she was insinuating there—​that I was some helpless little thing, that the business owners of Witchtown were idiots. The important thing was that I was getting what I wanted. It didn’t matter what my mother thought of it.

  To my amazement, my mother reached out a hand and stroked my hair.

  “I know I have some ground to make up with you,” she said wistfully, pulling gently on the freshly severed ends. “I want you to be happy. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I said, afraid to move.

  Who are you and what have you done with Aubra?

  “I like this plan,” she said. “It may even end up paying off. Maybe we’ll get more money out of Witchtown than we thought.”

  I felt a small smile tug at my lips, and her face hardened.

  “I want nothing to do with that poltergeist,” she said, not quite suppressing her shudder. “I don’t even want to hear about it. You know how I feel about ghosts.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I promised her.

  “Good.”

  She held out her hands and pulled us both to our feet.

  “Come on. Let’s have a glass of wine and talk details.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, I was itching to go check out the Depot.

  My Depot. My very own con. The thought that I was going to be able to run it however I liked, without my mother’s interference, was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

  The mayor had brought over the lease papers that morning; my mother had signed them, written the mayor a check, and handed me the keys. They were burning a hole in my pocket.

  But there was something else I had to do first.

  The door to the Archives was open. It led to a steep flight of dingy stairs, which in turn led to a small, dungeonlike room with no windows. I suspected that some people would go nuts spending long periods of time in such sensory isolation, but I doubted Talya was one of them. No wonder the mayor had hired her for this job.

  There were bookshelves along all four walls. A long table ran down the center; Talya was seated cross-legged in the middle of it, hunched over a notebook, with open books all around her. No surprise, she was in all black again: this time, black overalls over a black long-sleeved thermal. Even her black Chucks had black doodles on the white parts.

  I cleared my throat.

  She looked up and froze. Her eyes darted quickly to the door and she grimaced, seemingly realizing that her only escape from the room was behind me. Caught, she put down her notebook and watched me warily, from behind thickly eye-linered eyes

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to bring you this.”

  Careful to stay at arm’s length so as not to spook her, I tossed a plastic baggie into her lap.

  “In exchange for the herbs you brought by yesterday,” I explained, when she gave me a puzzled look. “It’s a mandrake root. It’ll enhance your spells.”

  She looked down at the bag without touching it.

  “I know what it is,” she said. “It’s worth a lot more than the herbs I gave you.”

  “Not to me. They were exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said carefully. “Thank you for what you did in the square.”

  “No problem.”

  Neither of us mentioned our strange midnight encounter.

  Talya finally picked up the bag, fixed her eyes on me, and stared.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked her, surprising myself with the question.

  “Do what?” she countered, her eyes still locked on my face.

  “Stare.”

  She paused a bit before answering.

  “I’m waiting for something.”

  I spread my hands.

  “This is all I do. I don’t turn into anything. I don’t dance. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

  She smiled. She also blinked, and dropped her piercing gaze down to the mandrake root.

  “Well, thank you for the herbs,” I said, and turned to go.

  “What are you?” she said to my back.

  “What?” I whirled back around. My heart suddenly skipped a beat, and my hand flew to my moonstone.

  She looked at me again. Not staring this time, just looking.

  “They think I’m a Void,” she said. “Autumn and the others. Don’t they?”

  “That’s the rumor,” I said truthfully.

  She smiled grimly.

  “I stay away from them. But it’s not because I’m a Void; it’s because I see things.”

  “What kinds of things?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Things people don’t want me to see,” she answered, just as casually. “Secrets. I see them. Some of them. And then I have to say them. That’s why I avoid people.”

  “Oh,” I said, my head spinning slightly. Talya was a psychic? “Like in the square? Were you seeing things about Royce?”

  “Yes.”

  I had always avoided psychics like the plague, for obvious reasons. Now that I knew what she was, my entire body was tense. I recognized the sensation: fight or flight.

  “I see things,” she repeated, “but not about you. This makes three separate times I’ve been around you and I haven’t seen anything. That’s never happened to me before.”

  “Oh,” I said, and forced myself to let go of my necklace. “Maybe I’m just not very interesting.”

  “Everyone has secrets,” Talya retorted. “Everyone. Why can’t I see yours?”

  Because I’m empty inside. Hollow. A Void.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Why do you want to know things that people don’t want to share?”

  Her face darkened.

  “I don’t want to know them at all.”

  I let out a small sigh of relief. A tortured psychic, then. Somehow, that seemed less dangerous than a motivated, enthusiastic psychic.

  “What did you see about Royce?” I asked, honestly curious.

  She shook her head.

  “I can’t tell you that. It wouldn’t be right.”

  A psychic with ethics. It was definitely time to change the subject.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Thanks again for the herbs. They seemed fresh; you must have found them around here, right?”

  “There’re lots of good gathering places in Witchtown. I could show you,” she offered, looking vaguely shocked at the words coming out of her mouth.

  “I’d like
that,” I said, equally shocked at the words coming out of mine.

  Get out of here, Macie, a voice inside my head ordered me sharply. And I decided to obey.

  What are you doing? the voice demanded, as I turned and let myself back out onto the bright streets of Witchtown. She’s a threat! You should be staying far, far away from her. No making friends.

  Part of me agreed wholeheartedly with the voice. But another part of me was finding it difficult to think of Talya as dangerous. A third part was wondering what she might have seen in me, if I had stayed down in that room just a little bit longer.

  I gritted my teeth and walked faster.

  It didn’t matter what the weird Goth girl thought of me. She was just a mark. Witchtown would be no different from any other Haven we had ever visited: when we were ready to leave here, my mother would cast her spell, and Talya would forget she had ever known me. Just like everyone else I had ever met. That was the way it had to be.

  It made no sense that in some weird, twisted way I was already sad about it.

  Chapter Nine

  The board that had been nailed over the door of the Depot was no longer there; the mayor must have gotten someone to remove it. My key slid into the lock easily enough, but it didn’t want to turn. I strained, jiggled the key, and turned the knob as sharply as I could, but it refused to budge. I was on the verge of running to get my lock picks when one final jerk of the key did the trick.

  The shop was very similar in size to the Crescent Roll; it was long and narrow, with high ceilings. It even had the same U-shaped counter, but the Depot’s was wooden instead of marble. There were a few empty display cases near the counter, and the center of the space was dominated by a pile of boxes. The mayor had mentioned that morning that some of the previous tenant’s inventory had been kept offsite, so it had been spared from the fire. She had thrown it in with the price of the lease.