Witch I May, Witch I Might

by K. J. Emrick

  Nobody was moving.

  Everything was frozen in a single moment in time, as if this was a wax museum or a room full of mannequins. No one breathed. No one twitched. The old man sitting at the booth had knocked over the salt shaker, and now it hung in midair over the edge of the table. Light sparkled on tiny flecks of salt crystals suspended between the shaker and the floor. Somehow, time had stopped.

  Across the room, under the occupied corner table, Doyle had just pounced on a fluffy piece of scrambled egg. He knew better than to be out in the middle of the dining area like that. The customers might like him, but the health inspector did not. The egg had no doubt been too much for him to resist and now he was a part of this frozen panorama just like everyone else. If anyone saw him under there, the café could be shut down for unsanitary conditions.

  Although, at the moment, Addie was fairly confident they had bigger things to worry about than a visit from the health inspector.

  She could feel the magic thrumming through the air. This was a powerful spell. One that required both a level of talent and a physical reserve of power that were beyond her.

  At the table closest to her, Philly Smith appeared out of nowhere and smiled an angelic smile at her. “Hello, Addie. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 9

  Fallen angels had more power than almost any other magic users on the planet. They were more powerful than even the most devout Christians could guess.

  Most witches, on the other hand, were very aware of what kind of power the Fallen had at their fingertips, especially when those fingers were drumming angrily across the top of a café table not three feet away from you.

  Addie took a breath.

  “Philly,” she said, managing to keep a quiver out of her voice, “why are you in my café?”

  His fingers stopped. “My, my. Someone who doesn’t run away screaming when they know I’m angry. So intimidating. So—” He paused and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “—refreshing.”

  “Just answer the question,” Willow said from over Addie’s shoulder. “You don’t scare us.”

  His eyes shifted toward her. “Boo.”

  Willow shrank back a step, muttering something under her breath that might have been a protective spell.

  “That’s enough,” Addie said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. “Philly, we have a lot of things to do today.”

  “Oh really?” he said sarcastically. “I don’t know how you’re going to top what you did yesterday. You sent my son to jail.”

  His finger jabbed in her direction.

  Addie threw her hands out, fingers canted just so, and hurled a burst of magic at Mephistopheles Smith, twined with a flood of her Life Essence. She could feel the power leeching out of her in a spell that would have knocked an elephant to its knees.

  He batted it away with a simple wave of his hand.

  “That’s not going to work twice,” he told her with that smile that did not touch his lips. “You worry too much, Addie. If I was going to hurt you I would have done it already.”

  The remnants of the banishment spell drifted in tatters across the room and faded away. Addie felt the color drain from her face around her freckles. She’d used that spell to good effect on him back at Stonecrest when he first showed up to claim his rights as Alan’s father. That time she’d caught Philly off guard. This time… he’d been prepared for her.

  It made her wonder what else he was prepared to do. His promise that he wasn’t going to hurt her didn’t exactly set her mind at ease.

  He stood up from the table, his black suitcoat falling open across the crisp white button up shirt underneath. He looked like he was dressed for a night on the town, slacks and polished loafers and all, the buttons at his neck undone, a gold chain hanging loose across his throat. Maybe, Addie thought to herself, this was what angels did for entertainment. They froze an entire café in time so that they could have the undivided attention of the woman who had meddled with their family.

  Which was her, in this case.

  Fixing the cuffs of his sleeves, Philly spoke to them without looking up, his tone both slow and deliberate. “Let me explain something. My son did not, and I want to repeat that… did not murder anyone.”

  Willow snorted. “Oh, like you’re any expert on good and bad people.”

  He cocked his head as he brought his gaze up and levelled a glare at her. “Sweetheart, I came from Heaven, and I fell to Earth. I’ve seen the best and the worst and the in between. I most certainly am an expert on what is good, and what is… not good. You know what they say. It takes one to know one.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she answered back, lifting her chin defiantly.

  Philly laughed softly. “You’re a witch with a heart of gold playing at being a bad girl. I think you know exactly what I mean. I know your boyfriend does.”

  Willow gasped, but her face turned beat red, too. “Why don’t you just leave?” she demanded. “This is a private discussion we’re having. Just family.”

  A dark something passed over Philly’s features. “I’m the boy’s father. I am his family!”

  Willow took a step toward Philly, and Addie had no idea what she thought she was going to say, or do for that matter, but she could see this going wrong in a thousand different ways. One of her best spells had just been swatted away like a swarm of angry insects, for the love of Saint Patrick! Granted, she was still weak from the spells that she had cast yesterday, but she and Willow were not going to be able to stand toe to toe against a fallen angel. Not even with all the Essence they could muster up between them.

  It was time to stop this before someone got hurt.

  “That’s enough, both of you,” she said, putting her arm across her sister’s chest to keep her from doing something stupid. “Listen. Both of you, just listen. Philly, we didn’t put Alan in jail. The facts put him there.”

  “The facts, you say?” He snapped his fingers dismissively. When he did, a flame burst into life between his thumb and his forefinger, small and wavering and the color of burnt oranges. With deft skill, he bounced it from fingertip, to fingertip, and back again. “Let’s talk about those facts of yours, shall we? Or better yet, Addie Kilorian, why don’t we look at those facts in a different light.”

  With a quick flick of his wrist he threw his palm out toward her and the orange flame flared into a bright red arc that SNAPPED and disappeared, leaving behind the acrid scent of ozone and a brief puff of smoke. The flash was so bright it left an afterimage on Addie’s retinas.

  “Now,” he said, wiping his hand on the front of his shirt. “I told you before, I came into this one late. I don’t know who killed Autumn Lynch any more than you do, but I’m just as certain that Alan didn’t do this. What you just saw is part of the reason why I’m so sure.”

  “Philly, honestly, I want to believe that too,” Addie assured him. “I really do. For his sake, and for Kiera’s, I want that to be true more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I don’t know what your little light show was supposed to prove, but it doesn’t matter. You can blast me to ashes if it makes you feel better, but that won’t change the fact that everywhere I turn, I find more and more evidence that just goes to prove Alan’s guilt.”

  “And you don’t find that a little suspicious?”

  She was confused. “What do you mean?”

  He sighted heavily. “Humans can be so slow. I mean, what if all these clues, all this evidence, is exactly what you were supposed to find?”

  Was he saying what she thought he was? “You mean, like someone left all those clues out there for me to find?”

  “Something like that.” He put his hands into the pockets of his suitcoat, like he was holstering a very deadly weapon, and Addie felt herself relax as he did. “You’re a smart woman, Addie, so I’m going to talk to you plainly. Angel to witch.”

  “Hey,” Willow protested. “What about me?”

  Philly brought out his terrifying smile agai
n. “Well, I don’t really know you, Willow. I know Addie a little better. What I do know about you, is that you had the dead girl’s body in your trunk. You ran away rather than staying to help my son. You’re part of the problem, not the solution. So. No offense, but I’m talking to Addie right now.”

  Willow humphed and crossed her arms, but thankfully she didn’t try to argue with him.

  “Now where was I?” Philly asked himself. “Ah, yes. I want you to consider another possibility. I want you to think back to when you and I and Alan and Kiera were all sitting in your car, that nice Jeep of yours, and I struck my deal with to visit my son this Friday.”

  Addie didn’t have to think too hard to remember it, since it had only been just last night. Amazing how much could happen in such a little bit of time. “I remember.”

  “Good. Now. You remember how I sealed that deal?”

  “Yes. You shook hands with Alan.”

  “That’s right. Now. Do you remember the little spark when our hands touched?”

  Now that he mentioned it, yes, Addie did. It had been such a little thing, and where angels were concerned you never knew what kind of powers were going to be thrown around. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it. “It was red,” she recalled. “A red arc of light… oh! It was like the one from your light show just now!”

  “Exactly. I thought that might jog your memory. Here’s the thing. That color isn’t my brand. Red? Please. Such a cliché. Oooh,” he intoned sarcastically, “I’m a fallen angel and I love the color red because it’s the Devil’s colors. Oooh, oooh! Please. I’m much more of a yellowish-gold tinge myself. That red? That magical little snap of power? That one came from Alan.”

  Addie didn’t know what to say. If Alan had power within him, then he must be a witch. A male witch. A warlock, as some people still called them, although that was a very sexist term, in her opinion. It was possible, sure, considering who his parents were, but that was beyond rare. One in a thousand male births, maybe.

  But, if Alan could use magic, then didn’t that also mean that he could be casting spells without even realizing it—

  Philly cleared his throat. “Hold on. Just, hold on. You’re getting ahead of yourself. That was power, yes. It’s inside of Alan, yes. However, it’s not his.”

  Willow was watching the conversation, turning her head back and forth between them. “What are you two talking about? Alan has powers?”

  “Hey, look who else is catching up,” Philly snarked. “Yes, he has powers, but the powers aren’t his. That’s what I’m saying. Someone has put the magic inside of him. It’s there, but he isn’t even aware of it himself. It surprised both of us when I felt it. I could tell how much it shocked him. No pun intended.”

  Pulling a chair out from an unoccupied table, Addie sat down. She needed to sit down. This was all just too much. “So, you think that someone forced a kind of magic into Alan’s body, and it’s just been sitting there this whole time?”

  “Pretty much.” He nodded, pursed his lips, and then nodded again. “That’s as good a way to put it as any. This power is there, but it’s not his. He can’t control it. Someone else is controlling it. Let me ask you. Did he say that he experienced any sort of loss of control? Blackouts? Loss of time?”

  “Yes, actually. He did.” Addie couldn’t believe she was listening to this. More than that, she was actually starting to believe it, as crazy as it sounded. “You think someone was using magic to make him do this, without him even knowing it. Like a puppet having its strings pulled.”

  Philly took the chair next to her, turned it around, and sat down straddling the chair with his arms resting on the back. “Like I said. I knew you were smart. My son didn’t do this, Addie. Someone made him do this. Someone with a very evil intention.”

  Willow scraped the other chair at the table out noisily and dropped herself into it. She wasn’t going to be left out of this. “You guys are talking crazy. Look, I saw Alan yesterday. He was in Birch Hollow. Him. Not some puppet master or evil magician. It was him. He wasn’t acting weird or psychotic or anything.”

  “He wouldn’t have been,” Philly told her. “Ever known a puppet to be aware of the puppeteer’s hand up its ass or pulling its strings?”

  Reaching out, he picked up a steaming cup of coffee from the table that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She wondered idly if he took his coffee black, or if he had also made milk and sugar appear in the cup. Even a trick that simple looking would require an enormous amount of power for a witch to pull off. Philly hadn’t even blinked.

  She swallowed, still in awe of what an angel could do.

  “There’s other things that don’t add up,” he said, after another sip. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that. The body of Autumn Lynch, as I understand it, was put in a car at the Nash Palms Motel. Now, Willow was nice enough to confirm that both she and my son were up in Birch Hollow, but have you gotten around to asking her if she was at that motel?”

  “We hadn’t gotten that far,” Addie admitted cynically. “She’s been in hiding since yesterday, and you kind of interrupted our conversation.”

  Willow snorted. “Well, I’m back now. Maybe you should have started with that question, sis. No, I never went to a motel. What kind of girl do you think I am? I have a boyfriend. I don’t have any need for seedy motel room visits.”

  Philly laughed out loud. “Well, not anymore, right? I seem to have heard something about you and a boy named Joey Livingston. He was eighteen, you were—”

  “That’s none of your business!” Willow cut him off. Her cheeks were burning again.

  He just smiled back at her.

  Addie did her best to ignore their banter as her mind puzzled through what Philly had told her. “That doesn’t prove anything,” she said after a moment of thought. “Autumn was killed in the motel, and put in a car, and then the killer put the body from their car into Willow’s. There’s no cameras at the Nash Palm Motel. No one saw the murder happen. All that means is that Alan killed her at the motel and brought her to Willow’s car when they had coffee.”

  Philly slapped his hand down on the table. “Whose side are you on, Addie Kilorian?”

  She jumped, but she didn’t look away. “I’m on the side of the truth, Mephistopheles. The facts are what they are. Nobody saw the murder, and your son is claiming he had amnesia, so we can’t say for certain he didn’t do this even though both of us wants that to be true!”

  “The truth, dear Addie, can be a very cruel mistress.” He smiled at her, the anger of a moment before evaporating. “Now answer me this. If no one saw the murder, and no one saw the body being placed in Willow’s car, then who called in the anonymous complaint to Herman Bledsoe that started this whole thing?”

  Addie pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. “I was just wondering the same thing myself this morning.”

  “There! You see?” He looked very pleased with himself. “Just keep asking those questions. You know the truth here. It doesn’t matter what the facts show, someone made my son do this. I want them found, and I want them punished.”

  That last word drifted around them in dark echoes, whispering off the walls and dripping slowly down from the ceiling and sneaking up from behind to worm its way into Addie’s ears. She shivered, unable to stop herself.

  Philly casually finished his coffee in a long swallow. “Well, I think I’ve done enough helping for now. Not really my style, you know? I prefer to keep my interactions with humans to a minimum. Even when those humans are witches.”

  “Apparently my sister was the exception?”

  Addie watched the darkness in Philly’s eyes grow a little bit lighter as she mentioned Kiera. Whatever had happened between those two, whatever had brought it to an end, it was obvious there were still embers of their feelings burning for both of them. The kind of love they had didn’t ever really die. It had been deep, and forbidden, and probably the very stuff that fairy tales were written about.

  The angel and the
witch. Had there ever been a stranger love story?

  He set the coffee cup down on the table, turning it in his fingers. “Since you asked, yes, your sister was the exception for me. The first one—the only one—in a millennium or more. There was a time when angels would fall from Heaven like raindrops to start up relationships with this girl or that woman. That was in the early days of human history, when heroes were everywhere and ‘special’ was easy to find. Since then, angels have lost interest in humans. You’ve all become so… ordinary. Living your lives from day to day, worrying about bills, and who’s following you on social media, and what color to dye your hair next week. It’s all just so blah, you know?”

  “People have to live their lives,” Addie said.

  “Well, sure, but does it have to be so boring? Anyway. One day I saw your sister, and I saw into the depths of her Essence, and I knew that she was a special kind of something I just had to possess.”

  Addie wasn’t sure if Philly could hear how bad that sounded. When he saw Kiera, he just had to possess her? It made it sound like he wanted to own Kiera. The rest of it was such a beautiful sentiment, and she could see how deeply he still felt about the time the two of them had shared.

  She wasn’t going to be the one to tell a being who had turned his back on Heaven that he was being a chauvinist. She liked living too much to do that.

  “Well,” he said abruptly, and Addie and Willow were both startled when he waved his hand right through the coffee cup. It vanished like an illusion, when it had been completely solid just a moment before. “I guess I should be going.”

  “Wait, what?” Addie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You basically break into my café, you hold all of my customers and my employee—and my cat—hostage, and now you’re just going to get up and leave?”