“I know it’s kind of girly, but you can make it your own,” I said.
“Samantha.” He spun around. “It’s perfect,” he assured me.
I smiled back. I couldn’t help it. His energy was contagious. “There’s a queen bed in the loft and a dresser to put your clothes in.”
The loft was one of my favorite parts of the cabin. It was lit with a vintage-looking electric lantern that hung over a worn leather armchair. The end of the bed was pushed up in front of a large window making it feel as if you were sleeping outside under the stars.
“My friends and I had many sleepovers in here. I can’t walk in the door without thinking about all-night dance parties and roasting marshmallows in the fireplace.” I said.
Wes turned his careful gaze back on me. “You like dancing?”
I shrugged. “Everyone likes dancing.”
“Noted.” He went up the no-frills steps into the loft area. He froze, his smile instantly disappearing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You should see if that sheriff is still hanging around.” He took the last few steps into the loft and motioned for me to join him. “You may want him to see this.”
Curious, I trotted up the steps.
I was not at all prepared for what I saw up there.
The puffy duvet was bunched on the floor. The mattress was slashed. Bits of fluff spilled out and the metal springs poked through. The pillows had been cut up too, white and gray feathers covered most of the floor. The same thing had been done to the leather chair.
The decorative vintage trunk in the corner looked as if it had been hacked into with an ax. The lock was busted, and there was a gaping hole in the leather material on the top.
I pressed my hands over my mouth, looking at the wreckage. A sinking feeling filled my stomach when I saw the trunk was empty. “This must have just happened in the last two days. Rosie cleaned in here and the main cabin before I got into town. I’m sure she would’ve locked up after, and she definitely would’ve told me if anything was out of the ordinary.” I peeked over the edge of the balcony, only now noticing the handful of feathers that had fallen down from the loft. “Wes, I’m so sorry about this. I don’t know how this happened.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Wes pressed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Unless, you went and trashed your own cabin. It looks like whoever broke in believed the thing they wanted was up here—whatever it was.” Wes brushed his fingertips against the jagged mattress springs.
I nodded, my mental faculties coming back now that the initial shock had faded. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll tell Connor to take a look.” I headed down the steps. “We’ll put you up in our cabin until we get this cleaned up. There’s a guest room.”
“Do you have any idea what someone would want from here?” Wes asked.
I shook my head. “There’s nothing valuable in here.”
Wes licked his lips as his eyes scanned the cabin with renewed interest. “It wasn’t an animal. The first floor was untouched. The door was locked. The windows are shut.” Wes peered into the beat-up trunk. “Whoever did this was looking for something specific.”
10
I pulled a pocket knife out of my jeans and stabbed at the cellophane wrapping on the gourmet basket. “This will save me a trip to the grocery store.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You want some gouda?”
“No,” Connor said, still wearing the same frown he’d had on since I’d asked him a few innocent questions about his alibi.
“More for me,” I said. “Hey, before you leave, can I ask which lake you found the body in? There are a few out that way.”
Connor waited a beat before responding. “I’ll take you down there tomorrow. You can see for yourself.”
I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. I’ll go alone.”
“No, you won’t,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not letting people over there right now. This is an open investigation,” Connor said.
I took a deep breath, realizing I was making this harder on myself by being argumentative. “Is this about earlier? You know, me questioning you?”
Connor’s expression gave nothing away. “You mean, when you implied that I murdered your mother or when you pried into my personal life?”
“Both..?” I hedged.
“No, it’s got nothing to do with that.” Connor said mildly.
“Connor.” I flicked my knife closed and shoved it in my back pocket. “I need to know where the body was found. My abilities might allow me to see things you can’t.”
“I understand that. I’ll take you tomorrow,” he said firmly. “I’m free in the morning.”
I took a moment to think it over. “You know, I could find out where it is myself and go alone. I’m asking you as a courtesy.”
Connor folded his arms. “I told you that it’s closed to the public right now. That includes you.”
“You’re saying it’s roped off with caution tape and orange cones?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I can get around that, Sheriff.”
He blinked several times. “That would be illegal, Willa, and then I would have to arrest you.”
I gritted my teeth. “You would seriously arrest me for doing my magical duty?”
“No, I would arrest you for breaking the law.” He regarded me coolly. “You got into town today. I’ve never worked with you before, and as far as I know, you’re not not trained in law enforcement.”
“I’m a witch,” I said.
“I know. That’s why we're having this conversation.” Connor perched on the edge of the bakery counter. “I’ll take you to the crime scene tomorrow. That’s my offer. It doesn’t matter to me what you decide. You’ll be the one dealing with the consequences.”
“Sure, tomorrow works,” I mumbled. I might as well get used to spending time with this man. When did he become so bossy?
The thing was, I could easily make him change his mind.
I could make him do whatever I wanted.
Connor McGregor didn’t have free will around me, not really. I’d taken that from him twelve years ago. I ruined his life. I was still ruining his life.
And he has no idea.
I allowed myself one long look at the guy who I’d pined over all of my childhood. Those inconvenient feelings I had for him were still there, strong as ever.
I couldn’t change what I felt every time I looked at him.
Neither could he—I made sure of that with one stupid teenage decision.
My phone vibrated, pulling me out of my thoughts. I checked the screen and saw Sam was calling. I brought the phone to my ear. “What’s up?”
Sam’s voice came through the phone. “Is Connor still with you?”
“Unfortunately.” I glanced up and caught the concerned look on his way-too-handsome face.
“We need him at the guest cabin. Someone broke in.”
Connor had a thorough look around the guest cabin while Wes, Sam, and I sat in the rocking chairs outside on the porch.
“What do you think they were after?” Sam asked, staring off into the trees.
“No idea.” I rubbed my palms over my arms, working to keep the evening chill away. “It’s not like there were any valuables in that cabin. No TV, no speakers, not even a wifi router. One look in a window could tell you that much.”
Wes rested his arms on his knees, perching on the top stair. “And you’re sure this happened between the time that lady cleaned the place and now?”
“That lady,” I said, slightly-peeved, “is Rosie Mitchell. She was practically a second mother to us growing up.”
“She wouldn’t do something like this,” Sam said. “Even if she did—which she didn’t—there’s nothing in that cabin she would’ve wanted.”
“What was in that trunk?” Wes scooted around on the step, leaning his back into the rail.
A jolt of anxiety bolted up my spine, and I looked over at Sam to see if sh
e was thinking the same thing I was.
“The trunk was open?” I asked.
Sam’s expression remained neutral. “I think so. I’ll have to check.”
“What was in the trunk?” Wes asked again.
“Spare blankets,” I said as casually as I could. I wasn’t about to tell this random dude that the trunk had held a notebook of spells my sister and I created when we were teenagers.
My mom had been careful to keep all the family grimoires under protective spells, so that our magic would never fall into the wrong hands.
She hadn’t known about this grimoire though, mostly because it was a crappy spiral notebook with silly doodles. No one knew about the notebook, apart from my sister and me.
Wes gave me a hard stare, and I tugged the collar of my jacket up, pretending not to notice him.
Wes shook his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Again with the lying. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
I shrugged, still trying to play all of this off. “I don’t know you very well, so I don’t have an opinion either way.”
“I get it. You don’t trust me.” Wes said, picking at a splintering piece of wood on the step. “But if you’re going to play things like that, you two really need to learn how to lie.”
“Why do you think we’re lying?” Sam asked, flattening her feet on the porch to keep her chair from rocking.
“If there were spare blankets in the trunk, what happened to them? I didn’t see any thrown around. I saw the bedding, and pillows, but no ‘spare blankets.’” Wes made air quotes around that last part. “You think the thief came in, ransacked the loft, slashed a mattress, and ultimately decided to make off with a few musty blankets?”
Busted. I looked out into the tree line, not sure what to say.
Sam tucked her long hair behind her ear, a nervous habit of hers. “Maybe it was a squatter, a backpacker passing through?”
“How would a squatter get a key to get in and lock up after?” Wes gazed up into the sky, resting his head on the rail. “I know you ladies are taking a chance on me given my history, and I appreciate that. But you both need to realize I’m taking a chance on you. If you don’t want to tell me something—fine. Don’t tell me. For the record, you’re not fooling anyone.”
Sam opened her mouth, but I gave a quick shake of my head.
Don’t say anything else, I thought. Maybe Sam didn’t realize the power of that stupid notebook we’d doodled in all those years ago, but I did.
Sam closed her mouth and went back to rocking gently in the chair.
Wes rubbed his hand over his hair. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Listen, I’m only going to work for you if you both promise me one thing.”
I drummed my fingers on the wooden arm of the rocking chair. “What’s that?”
“When I ask you a question that you don’t want to answer, tell me you don’t want to answer. Don’t lie to me.” He held my gaze, his brown eyes dead serious.
“OK,” I said.
Sam echoed my sentiments. “I can do that,” she said.
Wes pressed his palms together. “Great.”
“Wes, you’re growing on me,” I said, smiling.
Wes’ expression warmed. “Right back at you.” He made a point of leaning around to look at my sister. “And you, too.”
Sam held up a defensive hand. “Oh, I didn’t say anything about you growing on me.”
“Didn’t have to,” he said.
Connor emerged from the cabin, his eyes weary. “You sure nothing’s missing?” He directed the question to Sam.
“I don’t think so, but it’s been twelve years since I’ve seen the place. Rosie would be a better person to ask,” Sam answered.
Connor nodded, pulling the cabin door shut behind him. “What was in that trunk? The locked one that they had to break through the top to get into?”
“Nothing was in there,” I said, revising my answer from before. “It was just decoration.”
Connor turned the key to lock up before slipping it back into his pocket—his personal set of keys that our mom had apparently trusted him with.
That bit of info was not lost on me. I mentally filed it away for later.
“I’ll get someone out here first thing tomorrow to see if we can find any fingerprints,” Connor said. “I’ll need to take fingerprints from you three so I can separate them from the thief’s.”
“Not me.” Wes shifted on the step. “I didn’t touch anything in there, so it’s pointless to take mine.”
Connor’s face remained neutral, but his stare lingered a beat on the tattooed man. “It would be a good idea to take your prints.”
Wes returned the sheriff’s level stare. “No.”
Sam stepped in before things got too heated. She was good like that. “Connor, he got into town the same day I did. We were on the same bus. This was his first time in the cabin, and I didn’t see him touch anything.”
Connor rested his hands on his hips. “I’m not sure what the issue is. These are elimination prints. None of you are being investigated. In my experience, people don’t realize all the surfaces they touch.”
Wes’ lips formed a thin line. “If I’m not under arrest, you’re not getting my prints. Period. I know my rights.”
Connor cocked his head to the side. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Wes,” I said. “His name is Wes.”
“Wes, how about you come down to the station and we can have a proper talk,” Connor suggested, his friendly tone slipping.
I got up. “Connor, leave the nice baker alone.”
Sam offered Wes a hand up. “We might as well head up to the cabin. I found some lasagna in the freezer we can make for dinner.”
“Frozen lasagna?” Wes said. “That’s a decent start, but I think we can do better than that.”
I jabbed my thumb in the direction of the bakery. “We’ve got a fancy cheese basket, too.”
Connor’s expression soured. “He’s having dinner with you girls?”
Wes’ eyes glittered. “Breakfast, too.”
Connor’s glare intensified. “Excuse me?”
“He’s staying in the guest room until we get this cabin cleaned up,” Sam said.
“Are all the rooms booked up at the Mountainside Hostel?” Connor asked.
“He doesn’t have a car, and we want him close to the bakery.” Sam was already tugging Wes around the corner of the wraparound porch. The back porch was where the boardwalk to our cabin started. “It’s just for a few nights.”
Connor puffed his chest out. “I have no problem driving him.”
“I appreciate your concern, Sheriff,” Wes said. “But the Cravens offered their home. It would be rude not to accept.”
Both Sam and Wes disappeared, heading up the backstairs.
That left Connor and me standing alone on the porch.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, hoping my attempt at politeness would cut through the tension. “Thanks for your help with all this.”
Fire flared behind Connor’s eyes. “He’s staying in your home?”
“That’s what my sister said.”
Connor’s eyes held no humor. “That man is a virtual stranger, and I think you’re making a big mistake.”
“I can tell,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t trust him either. I trust Sam, and no one else. That includes you.”
Connor was silent for a long moment. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I promised Rebecca I’d look out for you girls when it came time for you to move up here.”
“First of all,” I said. “Sam and I are women, not girls. Second of all, we can look out for ourselves. Sam’s out of practice, but I’m not. My powers are almost back to what they were before I left.”
“No, Willa, you don’t get it.” Connor pinched the bridge of his nose, bracing his palm on the rail. “Your mom had powers, too, and I pulled her corpse out of a lake just a few days ago.”
I swallowed, w
incing at his words. I didn’t want to think about that now. I couldn’t.
“Sam and I will be fine,” I said firmly. Then, to prove it, I held my palm up and visualized fire lifting up and out of my hand.
Witchcraft was all about connecting an intention to a matching emotion. A witch could do all kinds of powerful magic with just that one concept. I grabbed onto a fiery emotion—anger—and paired it with my intention to create witch fire.
It just so happened that anger was the most prominent emotion in my energy field at the moment. It made my blood boil whenever anyone thought I couldn’t take care of myself, that I needed someone to protect me, someone who had better judgement than me.
My hand twitched as a bright blue flame appeared.
Connor’s jaw went slack as he stared at my handful of witch fire.
“Willa,” he whispered. “Don’t do that where people can see.”
“OK.” I curled my fingers in fist, extinguishing the flame. When I saw Connor’s wide-eyed expression, I was surprised by how self-conscious I felt.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked. “I’m a witch. You worked with my mom. You must have seen her do stuff like that.”
Connor wiped his hand over his mouth, eyes locked on my closed fist. “It’s different seeing you do it.” He inched closer, reaching for my hand. Slowly, he turned my palm up, examining it, straightening out my fingers one at a time.
His touch bought up a memory—him interlacing his hands with mine as we danced under the florescent lights of the Denali High gymnasium.
“Incredible.” Connor rubbed his thumb over my palm. “No burns. It doesn’t even feel hot.”
Maybe my hand wasn’t hot, but my cheeks were lighting up with some witch fire of their own.
I tugged my hand away, hugging my arms to my chest. “That’s why you don’t need to worry about me or Sam. I’m also planning on putting wards on the thresholds of our rooms.”
My mom had also put a ward on the outer perimeter of the entire house. No one with ill-intentions towards any member of the Craven family could enter. I’d never seen the wards in action, but I had felt the energetic buzz of them every time I went in or out of the house as a child.
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