“I’m not other witches.”
“Which is why I think you need to think hard about your relationship with Alex,” he said. When I just looked at him, he sighed and continued. “Okay, I’ll spell it out. Alex owned a bookshop in a town full of witches. A book shop that often took in old books. I’m sure sometimes magical books that humans came across and had no idea what they’d found. He also hunted witches.”
“Only evil witches,” I interrupted.
“Please, Allegra, hear me out.” Athan paused and when I nodded, he continued. “What if he didn’t find that black grimoire in a barn one night? What if he already had it and was just waiting for the right witch to come along and unlock it?”
“And you’re saying that I was the right witch to unlock the grimoire? The dark grimoire? What does that say about me?”
“That somewhere in your lineage there are some dark magic practitioners. It would have been way back, Allegra. That’s why you unlocked the book’s power, but it never did what Alex wanted,” Athan said.
“But he took me out hunting evil beings,” I said. “We were fighting evil.”
“Possibly his competition,” Athan offered. “Or maybe just trying to sell you his story.”
“His order is good. They were part of the church until they broke off because they didn’t agree with hunting witches,” I said.
“That’s what he told you, Allegra, but the church isn’t bad. If his order broke with the church, it was probably because they wanted to do things that were not condoned.”
“But the church used to burn witches,” I protested.
“That’s a whole lot of history to unpack, Allegra. I’d be happy to do it with you. Happy to spend more time with you for any reason, but the short answer is that those people didn’t represent the church. They were horrible people who twisted a good thing into something bad.”
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I said.
“I know,” Athan said. “That’s why I want to help.”
“But you won’t help me find Alex. That would clear things up right away,” I protested.
“Maybe he’s just done with you, Allegra. Did you think of that? Perhaps there is something he wanted from the book, but when the right witch came along and he still didn’t get what he wanted, he moved on. He moved on to find what he wanted somewhere else.”
“You’re just… You’re just saying that.”
“No, Allegra. I want to help you. Goddess only knows why, but I’m drawn to you. The same way you’re drawn to me. I’ll help you figure it out. If that means finding Alex, then so be it. But if he’s a bad as I think he is, then you won’t like what I do.”
“He’s not,” I said. “But you will help me?”
“Yes, I will,” Athan said. “If you take me to the book, we can start there.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “The book. You need to see the book to help me find Alex?”
“Yes,” Athan answered.
My eyes narrowed. “This is all a ruse. You are using some sort of magic on me to make me feel things for you. You’re telling me you’ll go against the council to help me find Alex, but you just want to get your hands on the book. You were waiting here for me. Everything about you is a lie!”
“Allegra, no!” Athan shouted after me, but I was already running from him.
Tears stung my eyes, but I had no idea why other than that I’d almost fallen for his deception. Anger burned in my chest, but it was directed at me. Goddess help me, I hated Athan, but I still just wanted to turn around and run back to him.
Chapter Eight
I was too wound up to go home. I knew that Voodoo would support my decision to keep investigating Rosaline’s murder.
“I want to go to Rosaline’s place,” I said. “I’m not sure where else to start looking for clues about the locket, so let’s start there.”
“A little breaking and entering then?” Voodoo asked.
“Only if we’re sure no one is there,” I said. “Do you happen to know where she lived?”
“I’ll lead the way,” he said.
We ended up in the alley behind Rosaline’s house. Her backyard was surrounded by a privacy fence, so if I could get through the gate without being noticed, we could get into the house without alerting her neighbors. All we had to do was hope there was no one inside.
“You’re sure this is it?” I whispered. “I really, really, really don’t want to walk into the wrong house.”
“I’m sure,” Voodoo said and sniffed the air. “And it seems that no one is inside.”
“Let’s just hope your memory and sniffing skills are in top form,” I said.
I looked up and down the alley one more time to make sure no one was watching. When I saw that there wasn’t anyone around, I opened the gate and Voodoo and I slipped inside.
We walked quickly up the sidewalk to the back door. I tried the knob on the door, and it turned. Either Rosaline didn’t keep her doors locked, or someone had forgotten to lock it. Either way, we were in without having to pick the lock.
I opened the door a crack and listened. When I was satisfied that Voodoo was right about there not being anyone inside, we stepped through the door into a small kitchen.
From the outside, the house was a charming white two-story farmhouse that had been restored. The inside was just as nice. While the kitchen wasn’t huge, it had newer white appliances and custom cabinets with quartz countertops. It was a narrower room with cabinets and a stove on one side and the sink and dishwasher on the other. A cheerful yellow curtain covered the window over the sink. A few clean dishes and a frying pan sat in a drying rack on one side of the sink. Rosaline would never return home to put them away.
The door from the kitchen opened up right into a modest dining room. There was a square table in the center with four chairs around it, and along the far wall, next to a large window, was an antique china cabinet that Rosaline probably inherited from an older relative.
Spread out on half of the table were wedding invitations that she was filling out and preparing to mail. A spool of stamps sat next to a pile of envelopes. There was also a list of guest names written on a yellow legal pad.
Sadly, most of the guests were written under Rosaline’s name. There were only a few names listed under Gareth’s. He really didn’t have much family, and his future wife was gone too.
We moved on to the living room where the furniture was arranged around a solid oak coffee table. The matching set consisted of a small leather loveseat and two armchairs. A television sat on a stand in the corner, it would have only been visible from the sofa unless you turned the chairs around.
The living room featured a big front window that looked out onto the porch. It was covered with long lace curtains that let in the light. Voodoo and I skirted the edges of the room because the heavy drapes that were hung under the lace curtains had been left open. Someone out in front of the house would have been able to see us moving around inside.
From where I stood, the front door and the stairs to the second floor were off to my right. There was another smaller set of windows to my left that must have overlooked the driveway. The drapes covering those windows were mostly closed, but when a cloud moved away from the sun, a beam of sunlight shot through them to the floor.
The light picked up a glimmer of something just under the edge of the sofa. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled over to it.
A broken chain.
“What is it?” Voodoo asked as he trotted over to me.
“Broken necklace chain,” I said and pulled it out from under the couch.
Voodoo sniffed it. “It’s got a little blood on it.”
I looked at the chain, and there were a few small specks. There didn’t appear to be any on the floor, though. I used my phone’s flashlight app to check for sure.
“No blood on the floor, though,” I said.
“Might not have anything to do with the murder,” Voodoo said. “It’s no
t like she was stabbed or something.”
“I don’t know, but if it went with her locket, it might explain why she wasn’t wearing it,” I said. “Let’s keep looking.”
I absentmindedly stuffed the chain into my pocket and crawled back over to the side of the room. When I was away from the window, I stood up and started up the stairs.
At the top was a landing and three doors. There was one to the left, one to the right, and one nearly straight ahead. The door on the left led into a large bathroom. The one off to the right had the door halfway open, and I could see that it was a bedroom.
Rosaline hadn’t made her bed the day she was murdered. A book sat open but upside down on her nightstand. I could imagine her setting it off to the side as she got too tired to keep her eyes open anymore.
The bedroom was good sized, but all it had in it was a bed, desk, and a dresser. There was also a walk-in closet that was probably added when the second floor was remodeled.
I walked into it and found a bare bulb with a chain hanging from the ceiling. The light was dim, but it illuminated the closet well enough for me to see.
Even though the rest of the house had been tidy, there were a few articles of clothing thrown on the floor of the closet. When I bent over to look at them, I noticed they looked strange, so I picked up a pink shirt on top of the small pile.
It was ripped up or possibly cut up. "Look at this,” I said and held up the shirt.
Voodoo was sniffing around under the bed, but he turned to look at me. "That's a shirt,” he said.
"Yeah, but there are tons of holes in it. It's like someone cut it up. Maybe?"
"That's weird,” he said and trotted over to me. "Yeah, definitely cut up."
"How can you be sure?" I asked.
"There's a pair of scissors sitting about a foot away from the pile of clothes,” Voodoo said. "Do you need to do a spell to improve your eyesight?"
"Personal gain,” I said. "Also, don't be rude."
I picked up another shirt from the floor. It was also cut to ribbons.
When I looked over at the other side of the closet and saw what the scissors were lying under, my breath caught in my throat. I took a step forward and grabbed the bag hanging from the rack.
"What is it?" Voodoo asked.
"It's a bag from the wedding dress store in the city. It's open,” I said.
"I something wrong with the dress?"
I pulled the bag open to examine the gown. At one time, it had been gorgeous. The ivory satin was embroidered with a beautiful leaf and flower pattern all over the skirt. The bodice was studded with crystals, but someone had cut it to shreds.
"It's all cut up too,” I said.
I stepped out of the closet and turned off the light. After closing the door, I walked to the middle of the room and proceeded to pace.
"So, her locket was broken off possibly?" Voodoo said. "And she cut her clothes and wedding dress up."
"I mean, it looks that way,” I said.
I wandered over to a desk against the wall. On it was a stack of mail and other various envelopes. I started mindlessly flipping through them. "The wedding invitations downstairs weren't done either. I just thought maybe she hadn't finished them yet, but perhaps she had no intention of finishing them."
My fingers stopped flipping through the envelopes when I found one near the bottom with Gareth's name on it. I pulled it out of the pile and began to open it when a loud crash from downstairs made me jump.
"What was that?" Voodoo asked.
"I have no idea," I whispered.
I heard footsteps and talking. There was someone in the house. They'd apparently come in and knocked something over.
Voodoo and I froze when we heard them walking up the stairs. I looked around frantically for a place to hide. The closet was our only option.
We slipped inside, and I closed the door as softly as I could. Luck was on our side that day, though, because whoever it was, it sounded like they went into the bathroom and closed the door.
"We have to get out of here now," I whispered.
I opened the closet door slowly to avoid making the hinges creak, and then we bolted. Every step was a mini heart attack for me as I imagined the old hardwood boards beneath our feet groaning, but Voodoo must have used magic to muffle the sound. The steps didn't make a peep as we descended them.
The exact moment that I got down on my hands and knees to crawl across the living room floor, the bathroom door upstairs opened. I held my breath, expecting the person to come right back downstairs, but they didn't.
Instead, they walked across the hallway, and it sounded like they went into the bedroom we hadn't gone in. I crawled the rest of the way out of the living room and stood up to make my way through the dining room and into the kitchen.
As soon as we were out the back door, Voodoo and I sprinted across the yard and flung ourselves out through the gate. It was rather dramatic, but I was afraid whoever was upstairs might look out a window and see us.
We found something interesting in the alley, though. There was a red Toyota Camry just outside the gate.
"Why would they park in the alley and not the driveway?" I asked as I pulled out my phone.
"Did we just get run out of the house we broke into by someone else who broke in?" Voodoo asked. "That's kind of annoying because we broke in first."
"I can't think of any other reason why they'd park in the alley,” I said.
"Who do you think the car belongs to?" he asked.
"Not a clue."
I used my phone to take a picture of the car and another of the license plate. It was tempting to try to open the door. We could find out really quick who it belonged to, but I had no idea how much time I had. The other trespasser could come out at any moment.
"They could be the killer,” Voodoo said.
"I know, but we should go,” I said. "I've got a picture of the car and the license plate. We'll figure out who it belongs to. It might not even be the killer. It could just be a relative that likes to park in the alley."
A man came through his back gate a few houses down and deposited a bag of trash into a metal can. He started to look in our direction, so I turned on my heels and began walking down the alley in the opposite direction.
Chapter Nine
The entire walk home, I kept expecting to see Bethany's cruiser roll up to arrest me. I hadn't recognized the man putting his trash out, but that didn't mean he didn't know me. Plus, there'd been no guarantee that whoever was in Rosaline's house wasn't a relative. The could have seen us fleeing and called the police.
We made it, though, and I reminded myself as I closed the front door to my house that Voodoo was perfectly capable of a protection spell that would obscure us from truly being seen. The anxiety of escaping Rosaline’s house had spiked a huge adrenaline rush and made me completely paranoid. But, we were safe.
"I think you stole something,” Voodoo said with a chuckle as I walked into the kitchen to make tea.
In the excitement of it all, I forgot that I still had the envelope with Gareth's name on it clutched in my hand. I put it down on the counter and pulled the chain out of my pocket.
"Stole this too,” I said and set it next to the envelope.
"You're quite the burglar,” Voodoo said.
"Yeah, but now we have to make sense of all of this. We've got the chain with blood on it, the letter, the torn clothes, and the picture of the car."
"How are we going to figure out who the car belongs to?" Voodoo asked. "We should have waited to see who came out. We could have hidden behind a trash can or something. We probably should have taken a picture of the torn clothes too."
"Oh! We can ask Gareth. The only garage in town has probably seen that car before,” I said. “You’re right about the picture of the clothes, but who would we show it to? We were breaking and entering. We’ll just go talk to Gareth.”
"Don't you think you should open the letter with his name on it first?" Voodoo asked.
"Now, that's a terrible idea," Voodoo retorted.
"You're just nosy and you want to know what it says."
"Be that as it may, I still think you should see what it is before you give it to him. Obviously, Rosaline never gave it to him. Maybe she didn't want him to see it. It was on the bottom of the pile, right? Not like it was laying out where you'd think she was about to deliver it."
"You're right. I'd hate to deliver it if it's something she didn't want him to see,” I said. I opened the letter and started to read. "It's a good thing I didn't take this to him."
"Why, because you'd have to explain why you were in her house going through her things?" Voodoo snarked.
"You know, I didn't think about that. Why didn't you lead with that?" I asked.
"I was hoping you'd figure it out for yourself,” he said. "What's the letter say?"
"It basically says that she hates him, he broke her heart, and she hopes he dies in a fire. There's some more colorful language I won't repeat."
"You know this all adds up to their relationship not being what Gareth wants everyone to think it is,” Voodoo said.
"It does seem that way," I admitted. "But what about the other person who broke into her house today? That still has to be something."
"Fortunately, you can ask Gareth about that. You can tell him you were snooping around outside and saw the car. Like you were doing a stakeout. He already knows that you're involving yourself in the case."
"A stakeout, huh?"
"Yep,” Voodoo said.
"The problem is that he might be a killer and I keep hanging around him. What if he's just pretending that he wants me to help with the case, and when the moment is right, he kills me too?"
"I'm not going to let that happen,” Voodoo said.
"I hope not because we're supposed to go back when they close to get the car. We'll probably be alone with him."
Chapter Ten
I spent all of the time between Voodoo’s and my conversation and picking up the car trying to talk myself out of going. I had to go, though. The garage had my car, but what I didn't have to do was bring up Rosaline's murder. I could pick up my car and go home. Voodoo would probably never let me live it down, but I could still do it.
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