Witches and Witnesses

by Lily Webb

  “’Bout time you got up, lazybones.”

  “Oh, this is a good day for her. You don’t wanna know what time she gets up on the weekends,” Luna said and flashed me a devious look. Her neon-blue eyes sparkled in the morning light streaming in from the open front window.

  I rolled my eyes. “I can always count on you to dime me out, Luna.”

  “Like I didn’t already know how much my baby girl loves to sleep. I lived with her for a decade, remember?” Grandma asked. She sipped her coffee and slapped the front page of the paper. A picture of Heath with his hands behind his back as the gargoyles marched him out of the Town Hall took up most of the page, accompanied by a massive headline underneath: Head Warlock Accused of Murdering Son. “Anyway, you mind tellin’ me what all this hoopla is about?”

  I sighed. “Can I have some coffee first? I’m gonna need it.”

  “Sure thing, it’s still in the pot.”

  I stumbled into the kitchen and filled the largest mug I could find in the cupboard before I joined Grandma on the couch. There wasn’t any way I’d be able to get back up without her help, but I didn’t let that stop me.

  “So?”

  “As usual, it’s a long story,” I said and gulped down a healthy amount of the coffee. “To make it shorter, I think someone framed Heath for murdering his own son.”

  Grandma’s eyes widened so much I worried they might shoot out of their sockets with a little popping sound and land in her coffee. “What in the Good Lord’s name…?”

  “Yeah, good question. Adam, his son, was supposed to make a statement yesterday disowning his connections to the Black Brotherhood in exchange for immunity from any legal trouble and his continued cooperation. Doesn’t exactly sound like a situation that would drive a father to kill his son, but crazier things have happened.”

  “The evidence in the article sounded bad.”

  “I won’t lie, the optics of Heath found standing with his wand drawn over Adam’s body are awful — like, really awful — but I spoke to Heath last night and I really don’t think he had anything to do with this.”

  Grandma raised an eyebrow. “Then who did?”

  “That’s the sixty-four thousand Moon question, isn’t? It’s first on my agenda today to answer.”

  “I ain’t lettin’ you leave this house alone, you know that.”

  “Grandma, please, I’ll have Umrea with me and the necklace you—”

  “I don’t give a hoot about no darn gargoyle. I’ve seen how fragile they can be — all it takes is a magical little dagger, remember? — so ain’t no amount of ‘em gonna be enough to keep you safe,” Grandma interrupted, and I shivered at the memory of how easily the vampires who attacked me a few months back overcame my gargoyle guards. “Don’t forget, Sugar, you’re carryin’ precious cargo now.”

  Like I ever could. My twenty or more trips to the bathroom every night made sure of that. “Fine. I know I’m not gonna talk you out of it, anyway.”

  “You got that right. Now go shower and run a brush through them tangles of yours. I’m sure you’re gonna be on camera at some point today and we can’t have you lookin’ like a Raggedy Ann doll. I’ll make you some lunch to take with you.”

  It wasn’t worth arguing, so I set my mug on the coffee table and tried to stand — but failed, as predicted. I glanced over at Grandma. “Can you help me up?”

  She came over and offered me a hand and a smirk. “You know, I gotta admit part of me enjoys seein’ Lil’ Miss Independent so helpless.”

  “I’ll remember that when it comes time for me to change your diapers,” I grunted as she pulled me to my feet, and she cackled. When I was steady, she pulled me in for a hug. “More than anything else, I think I missed our banter.”

  “Me too,” I said and after she’d released me, I picked my mug up off the table and carried it with me into my bathroom. As I peeled off my robe, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my feet without a mirror and looked forward to the day I could bend over to pick things up off the floor without help again.

  True to his caring and forward-thinking nature, Beau had placed hand-held reacher tools in every room in the house just in case I was alone and couldn’t reach or pick something up. Now that Grandma had arrived, it wasn’t as much of a worry, but a feeling of gratitude washed over me as I stared at the tool lying on the sink because I knew I’d need it to get my clothes off the floor when I finished.

  Showering had become yet another exercise in humility for me since getting pregnant. Lately, I’d taken to just standing under the hot water until it ran out because it took too much time and energy to do much of anything else. I had no hope of reaching most places, but thankfully, Beau had thought of that possibility too and bought me several new loofahs on long wooden handles to help.

  After I’d sufficiently scrubbed, I carefully got out and used one of the reacher tools to tug on my undergarments and the pair of robes Beau had hung on the back of the door for me in advance. As often as I said it, it still wasn’t enough: I would’ve been an absolute mess without Beau around for this rollercoaster ride. A glance in the mirror revealed my wet, tangled curls could’ve used taming, but I didn’t have the energy left to care.

  In the kitchen, Grandma stood near the table where a surprise bagged lunch and a portable thermos of coffee for both of us rested. “You look much better. Ready to go?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I groaned and snatched the bag and thermos.

  “I’ll carry your bag,” Grandma said as she walked to the front closet and pulled it out like she owned the place. She smiled and slung it over one of her shoulders, then rubbed my stomach. “You’ve got more than enough to carry. Can’t have you straining yourself.”

  “Thanks,” I said, defeated. I knew in retrospect I’d be immensely grateful for her help, but in that moment, I wanted to run away from her doting as fast as my swollen, unstable legs would carry me.

  Outside, Umrea stood still as stone, waiting for us. She came to life with a great rumbling sound like a rockslide and shot a look at Grandma. “Are you sure bringing a visitor today is a wise idea?”

  “Few of my ideas are wise, but they usually work out. This one’s no different. And if you really think you can stop her from coming, be my guest.”

  Grandma locked eyes with Umrea, and though it was slight, I swore I saw a flash of fear in her otherworldly lamps. Umrea nodded. “Whatever you say, Councilwoman.”

  Together, we set off for the Town Hall in the center of town. As we walked, I couldn’t help noticing the stares from passersby. No doubt word had already spread far and wide about Heath’s predicament — nothing in Moon Grove stayed a secret for more than a few hours — and I didn’t want to guess what the general population thought of me. Still, it wasn’t the first time I’d faced the scrutiny of the whole town, so I kept my head held high all the way to the building’s huge wooden double doors, which Umrea threw open for us.

  The hum of conversation among the remaining twenty-four council members hushed abruptly as I entered, and I wondered if it was because they’d been talking about me. No one seemed to want to make eye contact with me — no one except Wesley, anyway.

  As soon as he spotted Grandma and me, he dashed down from the dais and waved to get my attention as if I couldn’t have noticed. “Zoe! Zoe, please we have to talk, we’re all worried sick about—”

  “Come with me,” I interrupted and headed down the hall toward my office without waiting for a reply. Clearly, the rest of the members had nominated Wesley to be their sacrificial gossip lamb, but I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of watching it play out in front of their eyes.

  When I reached the door, I turned to find that Wesley had followed as ordered, but he looked much less enthusiastic about his situation than he had before. I opened the office and beckoned him and Grandma inside. Holly was already in her office, and she jolted when she spotted me.

  “Zoe! Oh, I’m glad you’re here, there’s so
much we need to talk a—” She started and froze when she saw Wesley trailing behind me. She swallowed and looked away. “I guess it can wait.”

  “Oh, come now, there’s no need for subtlety. The broom is already out of the closet, so to speak,” Wesley said and gestured with his chin at a gold-trimmed envelope sitting on my desk I hadn’t had the time to notice.

  With a lump in my throat, I approached my desk and picked it up. “To the Head Witch, on behalf of the Justices of the Supreme Court of the United Supernaturals. Strictly confidential,” it read in a loopy, fancy looking script. Now I knew why none of the other council members would look at me; they must’ve already gotten wind of the news of this letter.

  I gulped and turned to Holly. “When did this come?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I found it taped to your door when I got here this morning.” Well, that explained how the whole Council knew before I did.

  “Wesley, you and I will have to talk more later. If you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.”

  Wesley nodded. “Of course. If you need anything, you know the rest of the Council and I are here to he—”

  “Go, Wesley,” I snapped, probably with too much force, but I didn’t have the patience left to deal with him anymore. Thankfully, I had the excuse of being pregnant to help me get away with it. Wesley scurried out the door in a hurry and Grandma kicked it shut behind him.

  “I trust that one about as much as the hair growin’ on my chin not to show,” she mumbled. She wasn’t the only one.

  I lowered myself down into my chair and used a letter opener to slice open the envelope. Before I read a word, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths to brace myself. When I was decently sure I wouldn’t have a panic attack, I re-opened my eyes and brought the letter up to them.

  “Dear Miss Clarke,

  It has come to our attention that your counterpart, Moon Grove’s Head Warlock Heath Highmore, is in a most unfortunate legal circumstance. Per the universal laws agreed upon and established in the Treaty of 1592, specifically Section 1.3 which refers to the connection of a member of a magical community’s leadership to alleged crimes, it is the Court’s responsibility to investigate and justly rule on the evidence to maintain the integrity of local governmental systems. Thus, we are writing to inform you of our arrival in Moon Grove this Wednesday. We ask that you prepare lodging for all nine of us for however long may be necessary to resolve the case. We look forward to meeting you soon and putting this matter to rest for you and all of Moon Grove’s citizens.

  On behalf of myself and the entire Court, we wish you well.

  Jorah Raven, Chief Justice”

  I let the letter flutter down onto my desk, speechless. Heath had mentioned the Court’s involvement, but I didn’t think they’d descend on us this quickly — which meant I had less than a day to speak to as many people and gather as much innocence-proving evidence as I could for Heath, because as soon as word spread that the Justices were in town, I knew anyone who’d been friendly with Adam would suddenly find themselves unable to flap their otherwise loose jaws.

  I turned to Holly. “The Supreme Court’s Justices are coming. Tomorrow,” I said, and the color drained from Holly’s face. “Get me Morgan Talbot’s information ASAP. I don’t care what it takes.” She nodded and headed for her desk. “Oh, and set up a meeting for me later this afternoon with Virgil, Adam’s lawyer, and find a place for the Justices to stay if you can. Maybe the Stubbe’s Palace, the casino, has some room availability? It doesn’t matter where, just do whatever it takes.”

  “You got it,” she said and darted for her phone and copy of the Parapages, a massive tome that listed the names and contact information for everyone in Moon Grove — assuming they hadn’t opted out.

  Grandma shot me a worried look. “This is bad, ain’t it?”

  “It’s worse than bad. It’s potentially catastrophic. If the Court rules on the evidence that’s already there, Heath won’t stand a chance, and I don’t even want to think about what that will mean for the future of the Council and Moon Grove. We’ll have to hold another election to replace him, and that’s assuming anyone in town still trusts us enough to—”

  “Whoa, slow down, Sugar,” Grandma interrupted and stepped forward to rest a hand on my arm. “Now ain’t the time to go losin’ your mind. We’ve gotta stay cool and collected if we’re gonna get Heath outta this pickle.”

  I looked her right in the eye. “We?”

  “Yeah, we. I ain’t gonna just sit around here and watch while all this happens. Besides, you ain’t exactly mobile these days, so I’m sure you’ll need the help. Now, what do you want me to do?”

  Thankfully, I never had to answer because Holly came flying back into my office. “Zoe! I just spoke to Morgan; she wasn’t hard to find. She said she’s willing to meet with you at her house, but it has be now because reporters are already swarming her house and she’s worried it’ll get worse fast.”

  “Outstanding. Where does she live?”

  Holly reached for a pad of sticky notes on my desk and a pen from the cup I kept full of them and scribbled the address down. It was… In the Warlocks’ Quarter? I hadn’t been there often, but if my memory served, the house seemed to be near The Magic Touch, the warlocks-only pub that Seth, Morgan’s son, used to frequent.

  “Are you sure this is the right address?”

  “One hundred percent. I asked her to repeat it twice because I was skeptical too. She said she won the house from Adam in their divorce.”

  Well, that made more sense. “Okay. I’m heading over there now. Keep me posted if you talk to Virgil, I’ll have my cell with me.”

  “I’ll start working on that now.”

  “What about me?” Grandma asked. “I assume you don’t want me comin’ with you.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. Why don’t you handle the phones and any of the other office stuff so Holly can stay focused on Virgil and getting rooms for the Justices? Oh, and if you have any free time, see what you can dig up for me on Virgil and his reputation.”

  “Sure thing. I kinda like the idea of doin’ some opposition research.”

  “Good. Thanks, Grandma,” I said and pecked a kiss on her cheek as I snatched my bag from her shoulder and waddled toward the door.

  Chapter Six

  Unsurprisingly, Morgan Talbot’s house wasn’t one of the nicest I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t one of the worst, either. Then again, I couldn’t make out many of the details thanks to the wall of reporters surrounding the building.

  As if a hive mind controlled them, they all turned at once as I approached, and an excited buzz erupted among them at the sight of me. Umrea growled and stepped between us with her arms held wide and claws turned upright — a not-so-subtle warning.

  “Move. The Head Witch is here on official business to speak to Miss Talbot,” Umrea barked in her authoritative voice, and no one objected. Instead, they parted like blades of grass in a harsh wind to let us pass. Amazingly, and somewhat disappointingly, no one tried to thrust a microphone in my face as we walked toward the door.

  A single, wide eyeball appeared in a slit between the curtains, and a moment later the door flung open, but Morgan stood hidden behind it. “Get in, hurry,” she hissed as one of her hands waved us forward. I stepped in with Umrea on my heels, and Morgan slammed the door shut and twisted the deadbolt.

  When she faced me, her appearance bowled me over. Her drowned demeanor during Adam’s announcement paled compared to the death warmed over look she wore now. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin was the color of fresh cement, and her hair was so greasy that the shine of its strands could’ve blinded me.

  “About time,” she snapped and crossed her arms over her chest.

  I ignored the comment and looked around the living room we’d entered. The few pieces of furniture in the space looked tattered and secondhand like more than a few cats had had a go at them, and though I stood several feet away from the kitchen, I still
saw the dishes piled in the sink and the empty cardboard boxes stacked on the counter.

  Half a dozen rectangular spots marked the walls where photos had probably once hung. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out what the photos probably showed and why Morgan had taken them down.

  I never got to know Seth Highmore very well during our time together at Veilside, but I hoped for his sake that his mother and father hadn’t always lived this way. If they had, it explained a lot about why Seth turned out the way he did. The thought prompted another: What ultimately led Seth to dark magic? Was it Morgan’s obvious issues with mental health, Adam’s connection to the Black Brotherhood, or some combination of both? Somehow, I doubted Morgan would claim responsibility.

  I turned back to her and forced a smile. “Thanks for having me over.”

  She didn’t return my courtesy. “It’s not like I could’ve said no. You’re the Head Witch.”

  “Good point. Anyway, we should probably take a seat before we get started.”

  She laughed and gestured at the furniture. “Sure, make yourself at home.”

  Given the state of the sofa and recliner chair, I would’ve much rather remained standing, but I didn’t want to be too rude, so I sat on the arm of the sofa as a compromise. Besides, I doubted I could’ve gotten back up if I’d tried anywhere else.

  Morgan chose the recliner, which squealed as she used the handle to extend the footrest. Clearly, she didn’t think she had any reason to be nervous. “I’d offer you something to drink, but I haven’t been able to get to the store for supplies thanks to those pests,” she said and jabbed a thumb through the air toward the reporters outside. I resisted the urge to point out I was once a pest just like them.

  “No worries. I’m fine, but thanks anyway.”

  She locked eyes with me, and I shivered. It was like looking at the face of a corpse. “I assume you’re here because of what happened to my ex-husband?”