by A. N. Sage
A bout of nausea engulfed me and I tried not to throw up on his lap. Did he seriously just call me a hunter? What a joke! If he only knew the truth, he wouldn’t be making those wild accusations. But…
“So I’m a hunter now, am I?” I purred.
River smiled and reached over to brush a hair off my forehead. “Through and through, Goldilocks.”
“Oh, ew, no. Uh-uh!” I shook my head. “We are not doing nicknames!”
“We are now, Goldilocks!”
I slapped his chest and laughed into my hands. “You’ll regret this,” I hissed.
“Already kinda do.” He snickered and then his eyes darkened again. “Hey, can I ask you something? You ever feel, I don’t know, out of place or something?”
You have no idea, hunter! “I guess. Why?”
“I don’t know. Just that sometimes I get this feeling that I’m different somehow. And not because of the whole witch hunter thing.”
“And you think I feel that too?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Not sure. Something about you is different. I can’t explain it but you’re not like the other girls I know.”
“Well, the other girls you know are tools so that would explain it.”
River smiled, but something in his eyes told me to worry.
“What’s wrong?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at me through dark lashes. “Sometimes, when I’m by myself, I get this weird feeling. Like I’m different. Dark.”
“You feel dark?” I tried to make his revelation sound like a ridiculous notion but I understood what he was saying. I felt that darkness myself from time to time, more so after a particularly gruesome vanquishing. Perhaps River was reacting to his own life in the same way I reacted to mine; like it was a duty more than a choice. I thought back to the times our skin touched and the dark energy escaped him and it all made sense. Somehow, I could feel his emotions as though they were a tactile thing. It was super weird and totally freaking me out.
“You’re right, it’s stupid,” he said and lowered his gaze. “Forget I said anything.”
The sadness in his voice broke my heart and I reached for his hands. I wrapped my fingers over his fists, barely covering them. River’s eyes met mine and I breathed out, placing a palm across his chest. “It’s not stupid,” I whispered, “and I feel it too sometimes.”
His heart raced under my palm and I pressed down, wishing I could use my magic to calm him. But for some reason, I wouldn’t allow myself to do it. I wanted his emotions to flow through me. I wanted every wild thought he had and I wanted to swallow them whole. I wanted it to be me—not magic—that relaxed him.
I took a deep breath and locked my eyes on his.
Everything happened so fast. Before I knew it, River’s hands were free of mine and he cupped my face with one while pulling me in with the other. His lips crashed to mine and I moaned against him. The sound River made in response made my knees shiver and I raised myself from the slender stool I was on to hop on his lap. His back hit the counter and he winced but his arm wrapped around my waist to pull me closer. Closer. Closer. My legs hooked around his waist until I was straddling him like a show pony. His tongue pushed my lips open and my breath quickened. Every part of my magic screamed in my head and I tried to keep it locked away when our tongues touched. River pulled on my hair to tilt my head back and deepen our kiss. I nipped at his bottom lip and River growled against my lips. His woodsy scent invaded my scenes and I moaned again before nibbling some more on his lips.
This was heaven. This moment right here was everything I’ve ever wanted. This—
“River Hunting! What the hell is going on here?”
My back froze and I jumped off River’s lap to find his mother standing in the kitchen doorway. Her mouth was wide open and I could see the anger roll off her as she crossed and re-crossed her arms. My face was on fire and I tried to straighten the knotted mess that my hair had become with little success.
“Mrs. Hunting!”
“Mom!”
In front of us, Evanora shot daggers with her eyes and each one pierced my flesh with their bite. “Explain to me what I’m looking at please.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” River said as calmly as he could manage but I could hear his breathing was still heavy from our out-of-this-world make out sesh. “We were just—”
“I don’t need the details, River!” Evanora snapped. “I’ll show you out, Miss Stonewall.”
Her voice was ice cold and it sent goosebumps down my arms but I followed her to the front door, flashing an embarrassed smile at River before ducking out of the kitchen. When we reached the doorway, I laced my boots and dared to sneak a peek at Evanora. Her hazel eyes narrowed and creases ran up and down her forehead.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hunting. We shouldn’t have been doing that in your kitchen.”
Evanora’s lips crashed into a line as she stared me down. “You shouldn’t have been doing that at all.”
“Excuse me?”
“Billie, dear,” she growled, “I will make this very clear so I need you to pay close attention. My son is many things but unkind is not one of them. He has a big heart—something he gets from his father—and often, it steers him wrong.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
“River has a future and a bright future at that. I have worked very hard to make certain that my son is on a specific path that will allow him to achieve that future. Girls like you are simply not part of the equation.”
“Girls like me?”
“Yes, Billie. I mean no disrespect but I believe we want what’s best for River. Am I correct in thinking that?”
I nodded again because my damn mouth forgot what it was there for.
“Very good. And what’s best for him is to be with someone more in tune with our ways, someone more in his league. Someone like…”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence, I knew what was coming next. “Savannah Michaels.”
“Perhaps, yes,” Evanora agreed. “I’m glad we understand each other. You can, of course, stay friends but I would appreciate it if you did not get yourself involved with my son. I would hate for him to have his feelings crushed when this,” she waved her hand over me, “little tryst did not work out.”
With that, she gave me a wave goodbye and closed the door in my face.
Frigid air slammed into my face and I hugged my arms closer to my body to keep from shaking. My senses dulled and big, sticky tears burned the back of my lids. I blinked and they rushed down my cheeks, drawing dark lines of melted eyeliner over my face. I was hollow and afraid and not even the magic I pulled from Evanora’s stunning garden could make me whole again.
My heart was completely and utterly shattered.
A Conduit of Information
The energy of Main Street on this warm, fall afternoon completely opposed my own. After a million attempts, I managed to convince Imala to drop me off instead of joining in for a shopping spree. There were many things I wanted to do with my free afternoon and going shopping was not one of them. I could tell she was disappointed and promised to make it up to her by letting her take me out for a girl’s brunch tomorrow. It was surreal to deal with affection from the adults around me but I refused to let Beatrix’s actions jade me. If Imala wanted to play mom, I was sure as hell going to let her. Just not today.
Today I needed space.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Imala’s soft voice filled the car. I swear, sometimes the woman sounded like she was auditioning for a Snow White remake and I expected birds to fly through the window and perch on her shoulder.
“I’m sure,” I answered. “But I promise, tomorrow, it’s you and me!”
Imala widened her smile and unbuckled her seatbelt to reach over. Her arms wrapped around me and before I could hold myself back, I inched closer to her. She smelled like coffee and Coco Noir and I inhaled her with a sharp breath. I slouched and my lips curled i
nto a childish grin as we parted. Is this what having a mom feels like? Super weird.
I stared at her like a weirdo for a few minutes then unbuckled my seatbelt.
Voices invaded my senses as soon as I hopped out of Imala’s Porsche and waved goodbye. The street was full of Shadowhurst residents and tourists alike; all bumping into each other as they chattered away about whatever items they could snatch up in the stores. Unlike the other times I’ve visited, Main Street was an exploding ball of energy and I tried to stick close to the shadows falling from the canopied roofs as I made my way through.
A group of students gathered in front of the ice cream shop a few feet past me and I crossed the street before anyone could recognize me. Not that it was such a strenuous task to go unnoticed. Even after all these weeks here, I doubted most of the kids at school even knew who I was.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I turned it to airplane mode without reading the message. There were only two people that could have been messaging me and I had no interest in talking to either of them. My mind still reeled from thinking Peyton might be involved in the killings and after my unfortunate and rude AF talk with River’s mother last night, being around him today was out of the question.
Rounding the corner, I almost knocked over a postcard stand from one of the corner shops and had to apologize fifty times to the owner before rushing off. I sped my way past a few bespoke clothing stores and skidded to a stop. Above me, the worn-out sign of the Crystal Cauldron swayed in the breeze, and a knot formed in my gut.
I knew why I came here today; to prove Ms. Broussard is the killer witch and clear Peyton’s name. But now that I stood in front of the dusty glass entrance, my body refused to enter. Was confronting the witch that was killing students the smartest play here? Probably not, but I knew I had to try everything. Peyton was going to Ms. Broussard’s house tonight and if she was the witch I was after, I had to warn my friend before it was too late.
Blowing off the hair that fell over my eyes, I straightened my back and turned the handle.
As soon as the bell rang I was attacked with the familiar scent of the Crystal Cauldron. Hints of myrrh and chamomile pushed their way into my throat and I had to fight to keep the tingle in my fingers in check. I stuck to the center of the shop, refusing to let the siren calls of the crystal-lined shelves overtake me, and marched to the back counter where Ms. Broussard was writing in an old notebook. Her hair was back up in that messy bun she fashioned the first time I met her and I could see her frustration as she crossed out something she wrote seconds ago.
“Ms. Broussard?” I asked as I approached.
The shop owner’s eyes snapped to me in surprise. “Billie! Hello.”
“Hi.” I swallowed hard. “Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all,” she said and slammed the notebook shut. “I’m trying to get ahead on tax season but I have to tell you, numbers are not my strong suit.”
“What is?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Ms. Broussard narrowed her eyes then tightened her lips into a thin line. “Why, magic, of course!”
She chuckled and spread her frail arms wide to present the shop to me.
“Ha, right.” I tried to smile but failed.
“Anything I can help you with today, Billie? And where is that perky little friend of yours?”
“Who, Peyton? Oh, she’s busy,” I answered. “I’m here alone.”
Excellent work, detective. Tell the suspect you came alone. Stellar work.
“Well, you are just in time for my tea break, dear,” Ms. Broussard said and waved me behind the counter. “Do me a favor and flip the open sign?”
My body tensed but I did as she asked before joining her behind the counter. Ms. Broussard led me through the back door of the shop with a smile and I reached for the amber crystal in my back pocket as a precaution. The last time she came through this door she was holding a tray of snacks and tea but knowing my luck, I was marching to my death here. I strolled behind her, my eyes scanning the tight corridor we passed for escape routes. I cursed under my breath; there wasn’t even a window I could crawl through.
At the end of the corridor was another doorway and my gaze drifted over the intricate carvings that marked its frame. Some lines and symbols sat tightly packed next to each other and I didn’t have to look for long to know what they were; protection runes. This made no sense. No witch in her right mind would display protection runes like this. The whole point was to hide them from intruders until it was too late.
“Um…” I grimaced, running a finger over one rune.
“Oh, these?” Ms. Broussard’s gray eyes twinkled. “I told you, dear. Magic is my strong suit.”
Not really, I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut.
The shop owner unlocked the door with a key hanging from a long chain around her wrinkled neck and led me through. As I stepped over the threshold, my heart lightened. The air seemed to separate around me as I walked into the tiny room and my feet felt like they were floating. All the negative energy I had before walking in was replaced with something different, something I haven’t felt in ages; satisfaction.
Correction, not protection runes. Mood alteration. Interesting…
Ms. Broussard gestured to the red velvet sofa that sat opposite a wide-screen television and turned for the small kitchen to my left. Despite my better judgment, I followed her lead and plopped myself to sit. The smell of paprika pounced at my senses and I felt my shoulders drop and my ears perk up. Everything about Ms. Broussard’s tiny hideaway behind the Crystal Cauldron was relaxing. My eyes jumped around the room, taking in every detail like a scavenger. Unlike the shop, the room I found myself in was full of light energy and it was then that it hit me.
She lives here!
I didn’t know how I didn’t notice it before. Between the walls lined with books and the beaded curtains that separated the living room and kitchen from what appeared to be a small bedroom nook, everything in this space pointed to someone’s home. Freshly cut flowers in six different vases sat on the small windowsill close to me and framed pictures hung haphazardly on the walls. It seemed Ms. Broussard might have missed a few courses on interior decorating because this place had so many colors around that it made my eyes bleed.
“Peppermint?” The shop owner asked and shoved a teacup under my nose.
I jerked back in surprise and reached a trembling finger to clasp the handle. This is it, Billie. She no doubt put something in this. Say your goodbyes now, you idiot. Why didn’t I ask Peyton to come with me? I was for sure going to regret this.
My nose wrinkled as I took a whiff of the tea but all I could smell was mint and water.
“Oh, calm down, child,” Ms. Broussard sang. “I didn’t poison the damn thing. That was always your mother’s forte.”
A lump formed in my stomach and I almost dropped the tea in my lap. My eyes widened and my jaw hit the floor. What did she just say?
“What did you just say?”
The shop owner laughed and the sound echoed through the room. “My, my. You are just like her.”
“You knew my mother? I mean, Beatrix?”
Ms. Broussard frowned. “I take it you never repaired your relationship.”
“Hard to repair when she’s locked up,” I said and slapped my mouth shut before I could say anything else.
“Oh, yes. Such a shame. I heard about her dealings with the High Coven and was broken-hearted. I’m sorry, Billie.”
“Don’t be. She wasn’t great even when she was around.”
“Yes, well, Beatrix always marched to the beat of her own drum. Ever since she was a wee child,” the shop owner said. “I have a feeling you’re much the same.”
“I…” I shivered. “I can’t believe you knew her. How? When? And why didn’t you say something before?”
Ms. Broussard settled her own teacup on the round maple coffee table at my feet and lowered to sit next to me. Her back rolled into the sofa cushions and she
groaned as her old muscles worked to let her get comfortable. “I wasn’t certain it was you at first. But then you came back and asked for those books and I just knew! I knew you had to be Beatrix’s girl. I mean, you look exactly like her. And most humans walk right by that shelf without so much as a second glance but not you.”
“So you’re what? A witch too?”
“No, no. Though I often wished that was the case.” She smiled. “I am simply a conduit of information for your kind. A friend. One your mother trusted.”
The muscles in my face tightened and I could feel myself try to speak but no words came out. Beatrix was here and stayed long enough to make an impression. But for what purpose and why had no one at the High Coven told me about this? I knew why Beatrix wouldn’t, I haven’t spoken to the woman in years, but the high priestesses? They knew every detail of the lives of those in the coven and there was no way they didn’t know about this. So why keep it from me? Goddess, help me. What have I gotten myself into here?
“Can you tell me about her?” I asked, eyes narrowed.
Ms. Broussard grinned, leaned deeper into the sofa, and gulped a big sip of the steaming tea in her mug.
“It all started when that little rascal stole from my shop…”
Hard to Believe
Holy actual spitballs. My mother, the Wicked Witch of the West herself, used to live in Shadowhurst. My mind was officially blown.
From what Ms. Broussard told me, she didn’t just live here; she grew up here. My head was a mess of recent information that I refused to agree with but I knew what the shop owner told me was true. Beatrix never talked about her past and now I knew why. She fled this place like it was a freaking plague and here I was, trolling around its streets like it was freaking Disney World. I felt so stupid.
What was worse was that my prime suspect in the killings was now mush. There was no way Ms. Broussard could have committed the murders, she wasn’t even a witch.
Outstanding work, Sherlock. You’re back to square one…