“Go after Ellison for the court costs,” Killian said, his eyes twinkling. “I can hardly wait to hear what happens in that courtroom.”
“You and me both,” I said.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I woke up too early, given I was on vacation. I couldn’t break myself of the habit of getting up at seven, even when I tried. I squinted, trying to decide whether to force myself to go back to sleep for another hour. But I decided no, it was time to get up. If I fell into the habit of sleeping late, when it was time to go back to work it would be doubly hard rearranging my schedule.
I sat up, squinting at the window. Rain pounded sideways—the way it did in the Pacific Northwest—and the wind whipped past, knocking branches against the side of the house. As I watched the storm, images flooded back from the night before: the visit to the police station and after that, the late-night call with the lawyer.
Almanzo Meier had agreed to meet me at noon, in the coffee shop near the courthouse. We would go over the case against Ellison, and I would write him a check for the retainer at that time. I was to dress neatly, and fairly conservatively. He thought we could put Ellison away for quite some time.
Killian had gone home for the night—we spent about three nights out of the week together—and so I wandered into the kitchen and flipped on my espresso machine. While it was heating up, I fed the cats, made sure their water fountain was working properly, and stood at the fridge, trying to make up my mind. I decided that a grilled cheese sandwich would work for breakfast. Some people used mayonnaise on their grilled cheese, but that seemed an abomination to me—I wasn’t a big fan of mayo and didn’t care for salad dressing, either. As I buttered the bread and sliced the cheese, Xi wound around my ankles, purring.
While the sandwich was grilling, I made myself a mocha, then opened a can of fruit cocktail and spooned half of it into a small bowl. By then, the sandwich was ready and, carrying my breakfast over to the kitchen nook, I sat down and began to eat.
I was almost through my breakfast when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I said, swallowing the last of my sandwich.
“January, hi! This is Sera, the secretary of the Witches Guild. I wanted to touch base about the email we sent.” She sounded entirely too perky for eight a.m. While she was nice, she had the kind of personality that was always “on”— lit up like fireworks in July. Everything was fabulous, or horrific, or to die for—exclamation point and emphasis included.
“Hey. I was going to contact you today to ask what this was all about.” I stifled a yawn, longing to put everything on hold and go back to bed.
“The Witches Guild is the primary sponsor for the Winter Solstice Festival. We come up with the theme and present the community-wide ritual. Given your job is mostly research, we thought you’d be the perfect choice to research solstice festivals through history. If you could, please find ten interesting rituals, capsulize them, and bring the information to the meeting on Saturday. If we all chip in, this will be the best festival ever!” And with that perky squeak, she disconnected before I could get a word in edgewise.
I stared at my phone. Today was Friday and she wanted the information by tomorrow night? Today I had to show up in court, I had a Crystal Cauldron meeting at nine p.m., and tomorrow I had to shop for Thanksgiving décor, since next week I was hosting my first full Thanksgiving dinner. When I’d been with Ellison, we had gone to his parents’ for the holiday, which always went as well as you’d expect it to.
“Welcome, holiday rush,” I muttered, polishing off my coffee. As I pushed my chair back from the table, Xi jumped on my thigh and rubbed her cheek against my hand. I lifted her up, bringing her down so I could kiss her nose. “Thank you, punkin, I needed that.” I petted her for a moment, then kissed her nose again, set her down and hurried upstairs to change.
I dialed myself into high gear. I pulled out a full-circle skirt in navy blue, slid on an ice-blue V-neck sweater and pulled the outfit together with a black leather belt and a pair of black knee-boots. Then I brushed my long hair—which was currently a deep burgundy—into a ponytail.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I decided I was ready to go back to a purplish-black. I’d have to make an appointment with Ari. As I sat down at the vanity and applied my makeup, I noticed my hand was shaking.
“Why am I so nervous?” I asked, but then I realized what it was. The last time I had seen Ellison in court, he had stripped me of everything I held dear. I had walked out of there swindled, duped, and humiliated. “Oh good gods, I don’t need those memories right now,” I whispered. “Buck up. The shoe’s on the other foot now.”
As I finished and headed downstairs, I glanced at the time on my phone. I had two hours before I had to meet the lawyer, so I decided to get a leg up on the research for the Witches Guild. I walked into my office. Without the door on it, the room felt more spacious. I’d had the contractors widen the doorway to bring in more of the open concept to my house. I settled at my desk, set an alarm so I wouldn’t be late for the meeting, and then powered up my laptop.
Finally, ready to begin, I dove into the research abyss, wishing I had a better grasp on how to say “No” to people.
At eleven-forty, I printed out a couple of the documents I thought that the Witches Guild might like and started the download on a large file that I found on one of the historical sites. It was a zip file that was supposed to contain a number of obscure and arcane rituals. Even though I had high-speed internet, it was taking longer than I wanted, so I decided to leave my computer working while I headed to court. I sorted through the hall closet next to the powder room, and found my military-style jacket that hit me mid-thigh. With gold buttons in a double row down the front, it cinched at the waist with a tie belt. One last peek in the mirror and I headed out.
My car—an Ocelot—was still new enough that I smiled every time I saw her. She replaced the decades-old Subaru that Ellison had bought for me. Cookie had bit the dust last winter and I finally broke down and bought myself a new car for the first time in my life. I plugged my phone into the dashboard and clipped it into the holder.
As I headed toward City Central, Killian texted me.
“Read text, Jerica,” I said. The hands-free AI that was standard in new cars was named Jerica.
best of luck in court today, love. let me know how it goes. you know i’m rooting for you.
I dictated my return text to Jerica. thank you. i’m pretty sure ellison doesn’t have a leg to stand on and you know me, i’m willing to kick him when he’s down, the jerk.
“Send to Killian.” I snorted, shaking my head. But it was the truth. When it came to Ellison, he could do no good in my eyes.
I pulled into the parking lot in front of the City Central complex. I gathered my purse, a tote bag full of notes about our divorce, and my copy of the restraining order. Hustling into the building, I looked for Tangier’s Coffee Express, the coffee shop located in City Central. I pushed open the doors at eleven fifty-five and glanced around, looking for someone who could be a lawyer. There were at least half a dozen men and women who could fit the bill, but a man stood up, waving at me. I wondered if I looked like someone with an ex who would violate a restraining order.
“Mr. Meier?” I asked.
“January Jaxson?” He pulled out the chair for me. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Triple-shot mocha, please.” I settled myself at the table while he ordered my drink. I sorted out the documents from my tote that I thought he might need.
When he returned, he handed me the mocha and I went to hand him a ten-dollar bill, but he waved it away. “Consider it on your ex. By the time we’re done, he’ll be liable for your court fees and everything else.”
I held up the restraining order. “Do you need to see a copy of this?”
“I have a copy, as well as of your divorce proceedings. Your grandmother mentioned Ellison cheated you?”
“Yeah, but there’s nothing to do about that
now unless I can prove that he misled me. I certainly didn’t hand him over ownership of the magazine, or anything else. But right now, my goal is to get him out of my life. I don’t want him calling me, I don’t want him showing up on my doorstep…I don’t want him living in the same state as me, though I doubt if I can manage to manifest that.” I leaned back, sipping my drink. “Ellison is persona non grata to me—pariah.”
Almanzo read the police report. “Well, we shouldn’t have a problem, not since the cops arrested him on your doorstep and he was drunk. His blood alcohol was .15, which is pretty high. He also admitted to them that he drove over to your house, which means he was driving while under the influence. I think we can nail him on a DUI, as well.”
“What does all of this mean?” I asked. “Will he go to jail?”
“Are you concerned about that?” the lawyer asked me, glancing up.
“I’m hoping for it,” I said.
He relaxed. “Sometimes, even if you’re afraid of the person you get the restraining order against, there’s a chance you might feel sorry for them and—”
I laughed. “You can stop worrying right there. I have no sympathy for Ellison. I want him out of my life, and if putting him in jail’s the ticket to doing so, then so be it. He’s been a thorn in my side for years—most of those while we were married. I’m stick a fork in me done with him.” I paused. “If I’m called on to testify, is there anything I should be aware of?”
“Given there’s no evidence you ever tried to win him back, or that you invited him in…you didn’t, did you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve tried to have as little contact as possible since I left.”
“I see here that he filed a report that you damaged his car when you left?”
I shrugged. “I was angry. I filled his convertible with water and burned our wedding clothes. I admit it. But the car wasn’t totaled. He was able to recondition it, and I figure he didn’t come after me for the money because he already had bilked me out of most of our common assets. Oh, in case you don’t know, he negligently burned down the building our magazine was based in and there are a dozen people in line to sue him, I believe.”
“You’re right on that,” Almanzo said. He closed the file, leaning forward. “All right, here’s the plan. You avoid getting riled. You play up the factor that you’ve never called him, that you wanted him out of your life, but don’t get angry. Please, keep your temper. Don’t go off on a rant or a tangent. Just answer the questions you’re asked. If they start getting pushy, look my way and brush your hair back and I’ll do something to give you extra time, if I can’t stop the question altogether. I know the defense lawyer, though, and he has a real issue with domestic abusers. He’ll do his job for Ellison, but I have the feeling he won’t go the extra mile.”
Still feeling anxious, but more secure than before, I relaxed and finished my mocha.
The outcome was not what I had hoped for. I played my part perfectly, Almanzo said afterward, but the judge was still a good ol’ boy and I could tell he wasn’t sympathetic to my side of the argument, though the law was clear and there was no doubt Ellison had violated the restraining order and—even more—wasn’t the least bit sorry.
I was grateful that Ellison’s lawyer didn’t fight the length of the sentence or the fine, even though he made a lethargic but successful stab at convincing the judge that Ellison was needed at home to help take care of his aging mother. Granted, his father had recently had a stroke, but Ellison’s parents could afford good in-home health care.
“He’s on house arrest? What does that mean?” I asked as court wrapped up.
“He’s been sentenced to two years’ house arrest, his driver’s license is suspended for two years, and if he breaks the order of no-contact, he’ll automatically go to prison for the rest of his sentence. So that’s one win. Document if he calls or shows up, and call the police regardless of how he tries to contact you,” Almanzo said. “I have a feeling Ellison won’t be able to help himself. He’s a classic narcissist. And just one text will break the camel’s back.”
“And house arrest means…” I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.
“House arrest means if he sets foot more than two feet outside the house—in any direction—his monitor goes off. He’ll have to call in to have it reset, and the police will be able to tell if he’s back inside, so to speak. If he stays outside the field for more than a few moments, the police will send out a squad to apprehend them. They’ll be able to trace him if he tries to run.”
“Can he get it off?” I could imagine Ellison sitting there with a nail file, trying to pry the anklet off of his leg.
“No. If he does manage to break through the casing, a second alarm will sound and it won’t shut off. And since I’m also a lawyer for the Court Magika, I persuaded them to install a magical alarm system on him—a spell will sound an alarm if he moves more than one hundred feet outside of the radius of his house. Think of it as a magical GPS.” Almanzo grinned at me. “All in all, I think we won major inroads on keeping him out of your life. I’d rather have him in prison, but the truth is, he may be more restricted this way. Plus, they suspended his license for two years. At least he’s on house arrest and won’t be able to buy a car or rent one for the next twenty-four months.”
Relief filtered through me. “And phone calls?”
“As I said, if he calls you, make note of it. Same with texting. The court’s putting a block on his phone so he can’t contact you, but he can still borrow someone else’s. We can’t fool-proof this, unless we execute him.” My lawyer snorted. “And that’s not going to happen.”
“Unfortunately not. Honestly, I hate the fact that he’s still free.”
“He’s about as free as a chimp in a zoo,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry too much, if I were you. He’s also been slapped with a five-thousand-dollar fine, and has to submit to drug and alcohol testing once per week. No, Ellison is trussed up pretty tight.”
“He’s a turkey, all right,” I said. I turned to him as we stood in the parking lot. The wind was blowing up a storm, whipping the last of the leaves off the trees. “So, what do I owe you?”
“You don’t, and here’s your retainer check,” he said, handing me my check back. “Ellison will be paying all your court costs, so this one’s on him.”
I clapped my hands. “Good, he deserves it. Listen, if I need a lawyer in the future for anything, can I call you?”
Meier handed me his card. “I know I gave you one earlier, but here’s another. Call me whenever you need. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to worry about with Ellison’s case. But for now, I think you can forget about your ex and focus on the holidays—and the next two years.”
“By then, maybe he’ll have forgotten me,” I said. “Wishful thinking, I guess, but maybe he’ll find some way to turn himself around.”
As I turned to my car, I realized that at least one big episode in my life—Ellison—was pretty much over and done with. I thought it had been when I left Seattle, but now, it was true. He couldn’t come racing down here without the cops throwing his ass in prison. He couldn’t call me or he’d be tossed in the slammer. And even he couldn’t be that stupid. He was still in Bellingham, but he might as well be in another dimension, and that was good enough for me.
My heart feeling lighter, I tossed my tote bag in the backseat, settling down in the driver’s seat, and burst into tears, I was so grateful and relieved.
Chapter Four
I felt like having a drink to celebrate, but with the Crystal Cauldron coven meeting that night, I thought it might be best to go easy on the booze. Then I remembered—I had been downloading a document and needed to finish the research for the Witches Guild. Deciding that one drink couldn’t hurt, I poured myself a glass of white wine and carried it into my office. As I sat down and shifted the mouse, the computer woke up and I saw that the document had fully downloaded while I’d been gone.
Setting the wine to the side, I
pulled out my phone and texted Killian. house arrest for two years. even better, he’s on permanent block to my phone. if he fucks up, he goes to prison for real. i count that a win.
Killian texted back. i’d be happier if he were fully locked up, but i guess we’ll have to settle for that. at least he’s got the threat of being incarcerated hanging over his head. you’ve got your coven meeting tonight, right?
right, so i’ll see you tomorrow. love you. xi and klaus send their purrs.
talk to you later, sweetheart. oh, my sister’s coming into town this weekend. i hope you don’t mind—i invited her to thanksgiving. our parents are going on a cruise next week and our brother’s out of town, so she was going to be alone.
I liked Tally, and one more at what was quickly becoming a large event wouldn’t matter. Besides, I could put her to work in the kitchen with the rest of us. that’s fine, she’s welcome at the table. talk to you tomorrow.
I put my phone down and turned back to my computer. The zip file was fully downloaded. Apparently, some group called the D-Zone had gathered all sorts of arcane lore about solstice celebrations held in various European countries. It was so large they had created a zip file to lighten the download, but it was still a hefty amount of information—books, images, and a lot of recorded rituals. I created a folder to hold the file and then dragged it from one window to the other. Once it was in that file, I clicked on Extract Files.
My stomach rumbled, so I decided to let the files do their thing while I hunted for some dinner. I carried my wine into the kitchen and poked my head in the fridge. I didn’t want to eat anything heavy, not before the coven meeting, but I needed something substantial, so I pulled out the deli turkey, bread, tomatoes, lettuce, butter, and cheddar. I slapped together a quick sandwich, going heavy on the meat and cheese, and then put the fixings away and carried my plate back to my computer, along with a can of Sprite. I didn’t want to drink more than one drink, and yet, I was craving something ice-cold and crisp.
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