Another, louder knock.
“Just a minute,” I called out. “Take it easy.”
I zipped up the jacket and picked up my staff. Power ran up my fingers into my arm and chest, then my eyes, which helped me see through the door.
“Are you kidding me?” I mumbled. He couldn’t have responded so quickly to my taking the torc out of the bag, could he? My father was a witch and a brilliant thief, but he wasn’t that good.
Gripping the staff tightly, I opened the door. Malcolm Bellrose, now darkly bearded, stood on my back patio in a black trench coat, hat, and gloves, peering critically under the lid of his takeout coffee cup. The sun wasn’t up yet; everything but his gleaming eyes faded into the shadows.
He looked up and bowed his head slightly. “I can’t stay. Thanks for asking.” He reattached the lid to his coffee, reached into his pocket, and produced a glossy notecard printed with flashing, metallic ink. “I was relieved to hear Crystal Hawk had left this plane of existence without doing you—or me, of course—any harm. She wanted to go into business together, which offended me. I’m an artist. She was a common criminal.”
I looked at the card he held between us, reluctant to touch it. “What’s that?”
He wiggled it. “Scan it first if you don’t trust me,” he said.
I did so, then took it as Random, not always the most responsive guard dog, came running out of the house to greet his old master.
“Ethan,” Malcolm said, bending to pet him. The dog wiggled and thrashed, his wagging tail beating the doorframe. Until recently, Random had been Malcolm’s dog Ethan, drafted into crimes as I had been.
“Dogs are too forgiving,” I said, reaffirming my vow that I wouldn’t be.
“Read the invitation,” Malcolm said.
I moved the card into the light and read the delicate calligraphy.
And then reread it.
I lowered my hand. “I thought you weren’t ever going to get married.”
“You’ve never met her,” he said. “If you did, you’d understand.”
“I’m busy that weekend.”
“It’s a Wednesday,” he said.
“I do my laundry on Wednesdays.”
He gave Random a final pat and straightened, grinning at me. “Suit yourself. I just wanted you to feel welcome.” He tipped the brim of his hat and began to turn away.
“Wait, why didn’t you just mail it?” I asked.
“I did,” he said.
I bit my lip. Maybe he had. I might’ve put it in the recycling. Over the years he’d sent me spells in the mail, and I’d stopped trying to disarm them, choosing to just get rid of the letters instead.
I lifted the card and read the address again. San Francisco, Pacific Heights. “Is the venue witch friendly?” I asked.
“Should be,” he said. “I own it.”
“Where’d you get that much—” I cut myself off.
No, the torc couldn’t have brought him that much money.
But he was looking over my shoulder into the kitchen, grinning wider. “Speaking of weddings, is there something you want to tell me?” He tilted his head to one side, looking off into the distance. “Someone you want to tell me about?”
It was no use pretending I didn’t know who he was talking about. “He needs the wellspring water year-round for himself,” I said. “His health is poor.”
“Then why did he give it to you?”
I gripped the staff to pull an impenetrable curtain of silence, privacy, and disinterest around myself. “Random, come,” I said, stepping back into my kitchen.
“It’s so lovely to see you again, sweetheart,” Malcolm said. “Do come to the wedding. Bring… a date. I bought the house in San Francisco so we could be close again. Vivian’s idea.”
Vivian was the bride’s name on the invitation. I’d have to meet her eventually, but did it have to be at another witch party? “I don’t know, Dad,” I said.
He was already walking away, fading into the dim morning light. “You’ll love her. She really reminds me of”—on the driveway now, he disappeared around the corner of the house—“your mother.”
Never, not once, had he talked about my mother. I’d begged, I’d shouted, I’d pounded, weeping, on his chest—more than once—but his mouth had always sealed itself shut as if enchanted.
I ran barefoot out of my house after him, the staff banging against my shins.
My mother—part demon, ancestor of demons, or a lie, a misunderstanding—had he known? Something had changed—
I ran onto the driveway, chest heaving, and looked around frantically for any sign of my father, but it was too late. The only sign of him was his empty coffee cup, rolling slowly down the driveway.
He was too good at making an escape. He was the best, the best there was, at getting away.
As he’d intended, the only way I could get answers was to go to him.
I picked up the cup, shuddering at the odor of coffee, and dropped it in the bin near the detached garage. I moved my gaze to the redwood tree, hoping for a friendly nod from Willy, but the dewy sorrel was dark and quiet.
Assuring myself I didn’t have to know everything, that I could live with uncertainty and mystery in this one facet of my life, I went inside with my dog, set aside my staff, and made a fresh cup of tea.
Go Back to the Beginning - Sonoma Witches Book One
Dead Witch on a Bridge by Gretchen Galway
Is her magic strong enough to stop a killer?
On her first assignment as a demon-hunting witch, Alma was unable to kill. Now broke and unemployed at twenty-six, she lives in Silverpool, a remote town in a redwood forest north of San Francisco, where she sells magic-infused jewelry and tries to live a drama-free life.
When fairies draw her to the dead body of her ex-boyfriend, she must defend herself and the hidden power in Silverpool from an influx of supernatural trouble. The only way to make peace—and stay alive—is to find the killer.
Drawing upon years of formal magical training she’d rather forget, and using other abilities she’d like to keep secret, Alma goes up against bloodthirsty fae, a dangerously charming demon, her infamous father, and other ambitious witches with agendas of their own.
This time, an inability to kill might be not just the end of her job, but of her life...
Available now!
Also by Gretchen Galway
SONOMA WITCHES (Paranormal Mystery)
Dead Witch on a Bridge (Sonoma Witches #1)
Hex at a House Party (Sonoma Witches #2)
OAKLAND HILLS SERIES (Romance)
Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)
This Time Next Door (Oakland Hills #2)
Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills #3)
This Changes Everything (Oakland Hills #4)
Quick Takes (Oakland Hills Stories Boxed Set)
Going For Broke (Oakland Hills #5)
Going Wild (Oakland Hills #6)
Oakland Hills Romantic Comedy Boxed Set (Books 1-3)
RESORT TO LOVE SERIES (Romance)
The Supermodel’s Best Friend (Resort to Love #1)
Diving In (Resort to Love #2)
About the Author
GRETCHEN GALWAY is a USA Today bestselling author who writes mystery, fantasy, and romance. Raised in the Midwest, she now lives in in Sonoma County, California with her family.
Sign up for her newsletter at www.gretchengalway.com to hear about new releases.
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