The Trouble With Witches

by Kristen Painter

  Gracie nodded. “I understand. I wish I didn’t know.”

  Telling him would lighten her burden, he understood that. He was stronger than Gracie. He could bear it. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Tell me what you found out.”

  She nodded, then hugged her arms around her torso. “Listen, I’ve had a couple of glasses of champagne. More than a couple. And some of that punch that Bishop made, and I know there’s alcohol in that. All I’m saying is, don’t take what I’m about to tell you as gospel. Research it first. I know you can do background checks on people.”

  “I can.” As Shadowvale’s peacekeeper, he had access to every criminal database known to mankind, including the big one, the National Crime Information Center. He used them only when he had a very compelling reason. Or sometimes when a new person appeared in town.

  He hadn’t even thought about doing it with Em. She was Amelia’s niece, after all. That seemed to be background check enough. Maybe he’d been wrong.

  “Say you’ll do it on Em. Promise me. I don’t want what I saw to be true. I want it to be some silly misinterpretation due to all the birthday fun I’ve had.”

  “I promise. I’ll check it all out.” He rolled his shoulders, which had gone very tense. “Tell me what you saw.”

  Gracie took a breath, then blew it out slowly. “Emeranth might not be her real name. She’s gone by others. She’s been involved in some shady things. She’s conned a lot of people out of a lot of money. In fact, her mother is in prison right now.”

  The words rolled over him, making him numb. “I can’t believe that.” Em was a good, decent person.

  Another tear slipped down Gracie’s cheek. “I don’t want to either. That’s why you have to check it out.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  Gracie wiped her face. “We have to pretend like nothing happened. We have to finish this party with smiles on our faces.”

  “Right,” he said. “There’s no reason to do otherwise, until I can run a background check on her.”

  “Could you do that now?”

  “I can start it, but those things take time.”

  “How long?”

  “At least overnight. Maybe longer.” He was fortunate to have the kind of access few others had. He understood in the outside world, the kind of info he was after might take days to populate.

  “Start it now. I want to know I was wrong. I need to be wrong.”

  “I want that, too. I’ll get it underway.”

  “Good.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Should I tell Bishop and Shepherd?”

  “No, let’s keep this between us until we know for sure.” He tried to keep his tone light. “Besides, Bishop sucks at hiding his feelings.”

  “He does, I agree.” She let out a breath that she’d seemed to be holding. “In the meantime, until we do know for sure, you have to keep being sweet to her. No different than you’ve been.”

  “I will. But that’s a hard thing to ask.” Especially if she was hiding something like this from him. Maybe even using him for her own means. And all at the cost of his and Gracie’s freedom. What if she wasn’t even really Amelia’s niece? It would be pretty tough to fool Amelia. And he didn’t want to go down that path.

  Not yet.

  “I know it’s going to be hard. But what if I am wrong? I don’t want to be the reason things fall apart between you two. I couldn’t live with that, Deacon.”

  “You won’t have to. We’re going to figure this out.” He hesitated.

  Gracie’s face fell again. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” He didn’t want to tell her what it would mean if Em was lying to Amelia, too. The chaos that would rain down on this town. He made himself smile. “You’re probably right, it was just a false reading brought on by too many bubbly drinks.”

  A faint, hopeful smile finally curved her mouth. “That’s right. That’s all it was.”

  He kept up the optimistic expression. But it was hard to hold on to. Especially when they both knew that whatever Gracie learned from her curse had never been wrong yet.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Em finally found Gracie out on the deck with Bishop. Deacon was still nowhere to be found, but he’d probably been cornered by someone and was trying to escape the small talk. She smiled at the pair. “Hey there. Gracie, have you given any thought to when you want to open presents?”

  Gracie turned stiffly. “I don’t know. I guess I could do that now.” She looked up at Bishop. “What do you think?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Have at it.”

  “Okay.” She looked at Em again, but there was something strained about her expression that Em couldn’t quite figure out. “You want to gather everyone in the living room, then? We’ll just be another minute.”

  Em nodded. “I’m on it. I haven’t seen Deacon in a bit, though. I’m sure he’s around. I’ll just have to look harder.”

  “Oh,” Gracie said. “He, uh, had to run upstairs to take a phone call. He’ll be down as soon as he’s done.”

  “Okay, great.” But Em’s internal crap detector was going off. What the heck was going on? Was Gracie mad that Em had accidentally knocked her down in the hall? That couldn’t be it, could it? It seemed so petty. And so unlike Gracie.

  Then it occurred to her what this was.

  Gracie’s curse. It must have something to do with social interactions, must make it hard for her in some way. That had to be why Deacon had been hesitant about the party.

  And why Gracie didn’t go out much. It all made sense now.

  Poor kid. Em felt for her. If Gracie’s curse was social anxiety, it was something a lot of people suffered from, but at least Gracie had the safety of Shadowvale to protect her. Here, people seemed to understand that being different was okay.

  Everyone in Shadowvale was weird. Which meant no one was.

  She smiled. Heaven help her, but she loved this place. Hard. “See you inside in a bit.”

  She found Deacon in the kitchen on her last sweep through to gather people for present opening. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He was cleaning up. Wiping down counters. Busy work that could wait until later.

  “Everything okay?”

  He nodded. “Yep.” Then he smiled. Like he’d suddenly realized he hadn’t been. “How’s it going out there?”

  “Good. Gracie’s going to open presents, so we should get everyone into the living room.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll gather whoever’s outside.”

  “Everyone’s pretty much gathered. We just need you. We’re going to do the cake right after. Then I suspect people may start heading out.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. My aunt already left.”

  “She was here longer than I thought she’d be. She’s not one for socializing much.”

  The socializing comment made Em want to ask about Gracie’s curse, but she just smiled instead and kept the conversation on her aunt. “Maybe I can help change that. After all, she did show up tonight.”

  “True.”

  She leaned against the fridge. “Although I really don’t know if that had anything to do with me or not.”

  “You must have had something to do with it. When I say she doesn’t go out much, I mean I really can’t remember the last time I saw her outside her home. I think she goes to council meetings, and that’s about it.”

  Em shrugged. “I guess I’m a more powerful influence than I realized.”

  He gave her a long, odd look. “I suppose you are.” He draped the dishrag over the arch of the faucet neck. “All right, let’s get those presents open. Then we can cut into that cake.”

  And send everyone home was the next thing she expected him to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he just gave her a terse smile as he went out to the back deck.

  No kiss on the cheek. No wink. No sweet expression that was meant only for her. Something had changed in him, just like it had in Gracie.

  Em was clueless as to what had happened. Unless Gracie had
told Deacon about Em knocking her down. But again, that was an accident. He wouldn’t hold that against her, would he?

  She wished she knew. The not-knowing was causing a pit to grow in her stomach. She did her best to ignore it the rest of the evening. Fortunately, that wasn’t for much longer. But as the night was drawing to a close, she didn’t know anything more than she had earlier.

  Gracie and Deacon still seemed slightly chilly toward her. Well, Deacon did. Gracie’s attitude toward Em seemed to be more about pitying her for a reason she couldn’t fathom.

  Em did her best to pretend nothing had changed. She started to help clean up, gathering cups and plates from all over the house, but Deacon stopped her.

  The smile she loved was there, but it didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

  She straightened. “I don’t mind.”

  “That’s kind of you, but you have to be exhausted. You worked all day helping us. We’re tired, too. In fact, we’re not even going to worry about this mess tonight. We’ll tackle it in the morning. After coffee.”

  She straightened, her hands full. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. Besides, don’t you have your first day of work at Black Horse in the morning?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “I don’t want this mess to be the reason you’re late. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. You want to make a good impression with Nasha on your first day.”

  “For sure.” She smiled. He was right. But she still felt like she was being sent home. “I’ll just go grab my bag and head out. I should say good night to Gracie and your brothers, too.”

  “Gracie went up to bed already, and Bishop and Shep are in some deep conversation in the den. I’ll tell them you said good night.”

  “Okay.” Weird. But maybe they really were all just tired. She went back to the guest room, grabbed her bag, then walked to the front door.

  Deacon was waiting there, door open. She went through, and he walked out onto the porch behind her.

  He just stood there. She glanced at him. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Impulsively, she leaned in to kiss him.

  He turned at the same time so that she caught his cheek and not his mouth.

  Her gut told her it wasn’t by accident, but she wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. Even though she wanted to.

  She put it—and him—behind her and went down the steps to her car. She’d call Gracie tomorrow and flat out ask her what had happened. And maybe apologize again.

  But right now, she needed to get home. Deacon was right. Tomorrow was important. Having a job was key to her survival.

  Having a boyfriend wasn’t.

  * * *

  Deacon was a wreck inside. The kind of chaotic mess he hadn’t felt since his father had passed. And his mother had left.

  That was crazy, though. Why should he have such strong emotions about a woman he just met?

  He knew why.

  And he refused to put it into words. Not until he had some truth about Em. Who she really was. What she really was.

  Right now, he was in self-preservation mode. Walls up. Feelings off.

  Except that wasn’t totally possible with Em, and that was killing him. If she really was conning them, he was going to be crushed.

  As much as it had hurt when their father had died, and then their mother had left, having to cut Em out of his life would be just as bad.

  It would dump fuel on his desire to get out of this place, too. Gracie would probably feel the same way. Maybe in some small way, Em’s betrayal could be good for them.

  Devastating, but there was always a silver lining, right? He shook his head. Nothing felt very shiny at the moment.

  As her car pulled out of the driveway, he turned and went back inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

  The party had been great, much in part to Em’s help. She’d been everywhere. Talking to people, making sure drinks were filled, food was replenished, and everyone was happy.

  She’d been perfect. Too perfect? Was that even possible?

  Had she been trying to ingratiate herself to them? But for what end goal? She’d already been given the green light from Amelia to stay.

  He couldn’t figure it out.

  He jogged upstairs to check on Gracie. He knocked softly on her door. “You still up?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  He opened the door and leaned in. She was in bed, a book on her lap, Tinkerbelle at her side. “Did you have a fun night?”

  “I did.” Her smile only lasted a second. “Until…”

  “I know.”

  Her face was scrubbed clean, making her look younger than her years. Reminding him that she was indeed his baby sister. “Anything come back on the computer yet?”

  “I haven’t checked since I came upstairs.”

  “Well, let me know.”

  He nodded. “I will. Love you. Night.”

  “Love you, too. Night.”

  He started to shut the door.

  “Deacon?”

  He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

  “What are you going to do if…it’s all true?”

  He took a breath. “I don’t know. Talk to her, I guess. There are two sides to everything. But those databases don’t lie.”

  Neither did Gracie’s curse. They both knew that.

  She looked down at her book. “I don’t want them to be true. I really, really don’t. I like Em. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

  “I know. I feel the same way.”

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “I do. I did.” He sighed. “I do. But I’m the law here. I can’t be involved with someone with a criminal past. How would that look?”

  “But if it’s in her past, you could just let it be.”

  “I don’t know, Gracie. I can’t decide that yet.”

  She scratched Tinkerbelle’s head. “You let me know.”

  “I will. Get some sleep.”

  She smiled weakly again.

  He shut the door and went to his office. He stood at the door, hand on the knob, but couldn’t bring himself to turn it. He didn’t want confirmation of what Gracie had found out. Not tonight.

  What would it matter if it waited until morning?

  He took his hand off the knob and walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  But Deacon couldn’t sleep. His thoughts wouldn’t let him, and so, at five thirteen in the morning, after much tossing and turning, he got up, went to his office, and switched on his computer.

  He logged into his National Crime Information Center database account. The reports he’d requested were waiting there.

  He stared at them a long time before clicking on the first one to open it.

  Immediately, he wished he hadn’t.

  A long, painful sigh slipped out of him, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he cursed softly as the happiness of the last few days evaporated, only to be replaced by anger and the feeling of betrayal.

  Gracie’s curse had been right. Again. Just like it always was. Except in this case, it hadn’t captured the whole story.

  Emeranth Greer, aka Elizabeth Green, aka Emma Greyson, aka Ellen Garwood, had quite a past. Two arrests, both with her mother, Manda Greer, who had her own string of aliases and was indeed serving time at the moment. Both of Em’s arrests had occurred when Em was a juvenile.

  That was something to cling to.

  But what stopped him cold was that Emeranth had an outstanding warrant. One that was extraditable. And now that he knew about it, he couldn’t just do nothing.

  He cursed again.

  Then he dug into the report a little more, reading to find out what exactly had happened.

  Her mother had been arrested a week prior, but it wasn’t until a few days ago, maybe even the day that Em had arrived in Shadowvale, that the money her mother had been accused of stealing had been found.

&n
bsp; Over five hundred thousand dollars. In three different accounts. All in Em’s name. Which was what had caused the warrant to be issued.

  He shook his head.

  No wonder she’d wanted to stay in Shadowvale. She was untouchable here. Protected because this town basically didn’t exist. What better place to hide from the law?

  He squinted at the screen. Made sense why she was so desperate for a job, though. Those accounts would have been frozen instantly. The money unusable.

  What a mess. He leaned back. A quick glance at the time told him he’d been at this nearly half an hour. Still too early to wake Gracie up and fill her in.

  He didn’t really want to tell her about all this. She liked Em so much, and he wanted Gracie to have a friend. But not a friend who was a liar and a thief and out to con her way through life.

  He scowled at the screen.

  Emeranth might be able to explain some of this, but five hundred thousand dollars? There wasn’t an explanation that was going to make that right. Except for a confession.

  He stood, stretched, then went back to his room. Motivation sped him up, because he would have rather lingered under the hot shower. Instead, he got dressed, then quietly left the house.

  The air was cool and still. His truck would make a lot of noise when he started it up, so flying was his best option if he didn’t want to wake Gracie and Bishop.

  With a few quick steps, he shifted and took to the air.

  He landed minutes later on Amelia’s driveway and returned to his human form. He went straight to the door and knocked, then rang the bell, thinking that might be a better way to roust someone at this hour.

  Beckett was that someone. He came to the door, somehow impeccably dressed even though it was early. He greeted Deacon with an odd look. “Were we expecting you this morning?”

  “No, but I need to talk to Emeranth immediately.”

  “Then you’ll have to head downtown. She left for the bakery five minutes ago.”

  Deacon hesitated. “They don’t open this early.”

  “Apparently, they do now that they serve coffee.” Beckett stepped back. “You’d better come in.”