“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly, sitting up and adjusting the borrowed dress. “I should at least go check who it is.”
“Sure,” Ethan said gamely, sitting up on the couch with just a hint of regret in his eyes.
I shot him a grateful look as I darted back into the dining room, where I had left my purse. Just as I’d thought, it was Zoe calling me. The truth was, I was a little grateful to have been pulled away. I liked Ethan but, at the risk of seeming paranoid, I didn’t want to get too close to anyone before I knew what was really going on. Sex would for sure muddy the waters even more and mess with my objectivity.
But I had to be honest with myself, there was another factor, and its name was Patrick. As hot as things had been getting back there with Ethan, I couldn’t deny a stab of guilt at thoughts of the handyman with a heart of gold and eyes full of sin.
I felt more confused than ever. If someone had told me I’d move home only to find myself in the midst of a full-blown love triangle while grappling with my witchy powers, I’d have slapped them. Yet here I was.
Gathering my scattered thoughts, I answered the phone.
“Hey, Zoe.”
“Well?” She sounded impatient. “Are you being serial murdered? Is the hottie your bad guy? Did you find anything?”
“I…” My voice trailed off as Ethan walked into the room, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay, I understand. On my way.”
“Good,” Zoe replied. “I want to know everything.”
I hung up without another word, trying to compose myself. If I didn’t leave now, I might get sucked back into things with Ethan.
“What’s up?” Ethan asked, approaching me.
I pulled my purse onto my arm. “It was Zoe,” I answered. “Mee-maw isn’t feeling too great right now and Zoe has to head home. I’ve got to go.”
“Hm,” Ethan hummed, his eyes boring into mine, still warm with passion. “I’m going to let you off the hook easy, here, because your Mee-maw hasn’t been well, but I also want you to realize that I know you, Cricket. We have history. And I know you’re running scared right now. Sooner or later you’re going to have to stop running.”
I cleared my throat and stared at him, wide-eyed. He’d seen right through my excuse. There was no point in pretending he was wrong. “I will,” I said with a rueful smile. “Next time. Right now, though, I really need to get home.”
“One more for the road?” he asked. I should’ve said no, but instead I stood there and waited, tipping my face to his. His warm breath washed over my face a moment before he pressed his lips to mine. It was a teasing touch of mouths, one meant to remind me of what it was like between us. A promise of things to come. And it was enough to leave me swaying on my feet.
I felt like I was walking on air as he led me to the front door.
“Don’t be a stranger, Cricket,” he said, pulling it open for me.
“I won’t.”
But part of me knew that was a lie. Because I was a stranger, even to myself right now. A stranger with secrets and responsibilities, and untapped, untold potential…for what, God only knew.
I made my way to my car as Ethan looked on from the doorway, my mind reeling with thoughts.
Thoughts of Ethan, Patrick, Maude, Mee-maw, Zoe…
In short, I was a mess, and only one thing was becoming perfectly clear to me:
Things were only getting more confusing.
Chapter 20
“So what’d we learn?” Mee-maw asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table to join Zoe and I with a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
That Ethan was an even better kisser than he had been in high school.
But I kept that little nugget to myself.
“In a nutshell?” I said, tucking my now-jeans encased legs under my bottom with a sigh. “I really don’t think he’s involved. I managed to steal his phone and look through it for a few minutes and there was nothing suspicious to be found. He didn’t even have a passcode locking it. He caught me, so I said I was checking for other women. He didn’t seem worried about me looking through it at all, and even said I could keep looking if I wanted.”
“Okay, so what if he has two phones?” Zoe said.
Mee-maw nodded vigorously in agreement. “Any self-respecting member of the Illuminati would.”
I let out a sigh. “It was the same phone he’d taken the call on during our sushi date. For the record, it was his nana. I saw the call log. Hardly the actions of a super-villain. ”
“That’s what the contact name said,” Mee-maw said stubbornly. “Maybe it’s a codename to hide who he was really talking to.”
“Yeah, probably he calls his secret witch-hunting contact ‘Nana’,” I said with an eyeroll. “You know what? Either way, I don’t think he’d be so eager to have me looking through a phone he used to talk about having me burned alive on,” I reasoned.
Zoe nodded. “I wouldn’t say he’s totally clear but I have to agree with Zoe. It seems unlikely he’s involved at this point.”
“What about Patrick? You guys dig up anything new there?” I asked.
“Beyond what I already told you, no. We’re actually kind of at a dead end now. There just isn’t much info out there about him or his family. His father is a fairly well-to-do business man, also from Scotland living stateside now, but not as well off as Ethan’s family or anything. Nothing on his mother, but that could be because they were divorced while still living in the UK or maybe she passed away there. I just don’t have access to a lot of data outside the US.”
Dead end, indeed.
“There is something else we need to discuss,” Zoe said. “I saw the lights on in Connie’s shop last night. I went and knocked, but she didn’t answer the door. I think we should pay her a little visit. We can use a little intimidation to find out why she lied about going out of town.”
“Seems kinda risky to me. Who knows what kind of powers an Everlasting Conservator might have?” Mee-maw said dubiously. “Back in the day, that might’ve been a role of honor and the mark of a friend and protector of the coven, but people get weird when it comes to power. We still don’t know whose side she’s on.”
“Luckily, we have someone with some magic of their own on our team,” Zoe said, eyeing me expectantly.
“I don’t even know what kind of stuff I can do with my magic yet,” I replied, wondering what the hell she expected to happen if things went south. Maybe for Connie to start zapping me with a wand and then waiting patiently while I sat around until inspiration struck, eventually typing out a story about a spunky giraffe? I failed to see how I came out on top there.
“Why don’t you try spying on Connie using the typewriter?” Zoe asked. “You said you were feeling a stronger connection with it lately, maybe it’ll work this time.”
“Her,” I corrected. “I named her Maude.”
The fact that both of them nodded, accepting this without question, only further supported my theory that we’d all gone off the deep end.
“I doubt it will work, but there’s no harm in trying,” I said, following Zoe’s lead into the basement to go get the typewriter.
Typing on Maude felt more natural than ever, like a relief almost. Even the familiar hot flash that followed felt like a welcomed guest. And, after typing in Connie’s name, it took but a few seconds before the words began to flow from my fingertips without thought. For the first time, I felt the energy pour out of me and into Maude almost seamlessly. A moment later, I surged back into reality with a jarring crash just as I put the period at the end of a sentence. I was surprised to see that, besides Connie’s name at the top, I’d written only a single line:
Trust only three.
“What?” I demanded, beyond irritated. “That’s it?” It had felt like so much more…we’d had such a connection in that moment, Maude and I. And all she had to say was that? “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” I muttered.
“It could mean that you can only trust three other witch
es? Maybe that will be the size of your coven?” Mee-maw theorized.
The thought that there might be three other women out there going through what I was filled me with longing. It would be so good to have someone who truly understood to talk to right now. Too bad magic didn’t seem to run in the family. Having Zoe or Mee-maw sharing this experience instead of on the outside looking in would have made me feel so much less alone.
“Or, maybe it has to do with the people that somehow seem to be involved in all this besides Cricket?” Zoe cut in, addressing Mee-maw after a long pause. “You, Patrick, Ethan, Connie, and I make five. I think it’s saying that Cricket can only trust three of us?”
I nodded, thinking it over and sighing. “Hmm, yeah, that feels right. We are actively looking into all the people in my life right now, so that does make more sense in context. I already know two of the people I can trust.” I eyed my family with a deep rush of gratitude. “So is Maude telling me that we just have to figure out who the third one is?”
“If we have it right. Again, though, there is one person we can ask who probably knows for sure,” Zoe reminded me with a raised brow.
It all came back to Connie.
“And if she is one who can’t be trusted?” I asked. “She’ll just lie anyway.”
“Good point. Why don’t you try typing one more time?” Mee-maw said. “Maybe it’ll give you more information.”
I turned back to face the typewriter, moving it to a new line and focusing on getting myself back into the zone. “Nothing,” I said after about ten frustrating minutes of trying. All I’d gotten for my trouble was a headache.
“Why do you think it works that way?” Zoe asked. “It’s weird that you can use it one minute but can’t get it to happen the next.”
I thought for a second, trying to think about how to explain the feeling. “I guess I just have to improve my powers. It’s like, if I try to force it, it doesn’t work. It feels like being constipated except with magic. But then if I sit at the typewriter and something needs to come out, it just…does.”
Mee-maw nodded sagely. “Maybe you need to get more fiber in your diet.”
“We’ll have to get some prune juice,” Zoe added with a smirk. After a few seconds, her face hardened. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. One that doesn’t involve your bowels. You ready to go have a chat with our friendly neighborhood Everlasting Conservator, Cricket?”
I wasn’t ready at all. In fact, I was pretty sure it was a terrible idea. Not for any particular reason. I just had a weird feeling about it. An apprehension that I couldn’t shake.
The first time I’d met Connie, she’d seemed full of light and warmth. Talking with her felt like sitting by the glow of a fire on a winter’s day. After that, though, she’d changed completely. Between our weird and stilted exchange at the shop and her ghosting me, I wasn’t sure which Connie we’d run into even if we did find her. But the fact was, I’d run out of ideas and things were ramping up far too quickly for me to sit aside and twiddle my thumbs. I’d been robbed. The house that my elderly grandmother lived in had been violated and her safety threatened. A man—the very man who had broken into my home—was dead. Things were out of control. All signs pointed to Connie being the only one who could shine some light on what I was supposed to do next.
So, half an hour later, after a short argument with Mee-maw about being left behind that ended in a grudging harrumph after she agreed we needed someone to contact the authorities if it all hit the fan, we found ourselves standing outside Connie’s Curiosities in the inky darkness. If there had been lights on inside as Zoe had said, there sure weren’t now.
I’d knocked four times already, to no avail, and we’d wound up going around the building to the back door in the alleyway to try our luck there.
“It was silly to think she’d be here and just answer the door this time,” I grumbled, annoyed with myself for even getting my hopes up as I rapped sharply again. “If she doesn’t want to talk with me, I can hardly make her. We should just go.”
“Nope. Not happening,” Zoe said, rifling through her purse.
“What’re you looking for?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“This,” she said, pulling out a small leather bag that vaguely resembled a case for eye glasses.
“What is—” I started, cutting off with a gasp as she opened it to reveal a set of long metal hooks. “Are those…?”
“Yup,” she said, handing me her phone with the flashlight on as she set to work on the door. “Lockpicks. While you were out with Ethan I was watching YouTube videos on how to do it. I’m a natural.”
“What are you thinking?” I hissed, looking around the dark alleyway to see if we were being watched. “What if we get caught?”
“We won’t get caught,” she said. “Now quit moving around and hold the light still. I need both hands for this.”
“This is crazy,” I said, but held the light steadily as she asked.
After what felt like eternity but was probably only five minutes of nervously glancing around and getting yelled at for shaking too much, the lock slipped open with an admittedly satisfying snick.
“Wow,” I muttered, grudgingly impressed.
“Right? It’s actually easier than it seems, because it’s a pretty low-security lock.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this was part of the plan?”
“Ask for forgiveness, not permission,” she said as she pulled the squeaky old door open. Both of us waited a long moment, anticipating an alarm, but none came. “Excellent. Now let’s go see what Conservator Connie is hiding, shall we?”
“What are we even looking for?”
“I bet she has an office somewhere.”
“Okay, and if we don’t find anything here, we can try upstairs,” I said, emboldened by Zoe’s success getting in and feeling desperate for some—any—information that might help shed some light on my situation.
I had been to the shop before, so I took the lead as we tiptoed down a dark hallway with just Zoe’s phone light, dim so as to not draw attention, to guide us. A sudden clang broke the silence and I spun around, facing my light into the darkness as I held back a scream.
“All good,” Zoe said sheepishly, stooping to pick up an ornate metal serving tray from the floor.
I let out a deep breath as she put it back on a shelf that seemed to hold stock not yet out in the storefront. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”
She laughed. “No harm done, we’d hear them coming by now if someone was here.”
I picked up the pace as we made our way toward a closed door. “This must be it,” I said, pulling at the handle. It swung open easily to reveal several metal filing cabinets and a huge desk that took up more than a third of the room.
“What should we check first?”
Zoe shuffled in to join me in the miniature room. “You check the desk while I check those filing cabinets.”
I shut the door quietly and took a gander around. No windows, so I flipped the lights on, allowing my eyes a moment to adjust before heading over to the desk.
I scanned through the top of the desk but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Part of me had expected to find an open spell-book or a bottled eye of newt, but it was pretty standard office fair, with a calendar, computer, and a label maker. I went to pull the drawer open but stopped short, a chill running down my spine, as I heard the sound of a low, female voice, far too close for comfort.
“Hello?”
“Holy crap! She’s here!” I hissed, looking around in terror and trying to find somewhere to hide.
“Stop!” Zoe shot back. “The place is the size of a walk-in closet. There is nowhere to hide, Crick. The only way out is past her. We wanted to talk to Connie. Let’s go talk to her.”
Soft footfalls sounded down the hallway and I swallowed hard as Zoe flung the door open and stepped out like she was strutting onto the catwalk.
“Connie? We’re unarmed and aren’t here to hurt
you. We just want to talk.”
I scurried over to peer around Zoe’s shoulder, wincing as I caught sight of a clearly confused Connie standing a few feet away on the now-brightly lit storeroom floor.
“What are you two doing here at such an hour?” Connie asked, her voice not nearly as angry as I’d expected.
“Y-you wouldn’t return my calls and then you left…or pretended to leave,” I said, a sudden courage rushing through me as I stepped out from behind Zoe. “But I need answers and this time, I’m going to get them. You’re the Everlasting Conservator for the Crow’s Feet Coven, aren’t you?”
Connie’s face suddenly went a terrible shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her eyes bulging, voice strained and choking, like something straight out of a horror movie.
“Cricket is a clairvoyant, isn’t she?” Zoe pressed.
“I don’t—” she said, cutting off briefly, clenching her fists so hard that I could hear her knuckles cracking before she continued as if the words were being torn from her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave! Now!” She was almost screaming, her tone in sharp contrast to the calm she’d exuded when she’d first walked in.
What the hell was going on here?
My whole body was shaking, but I held my ground. “Not until you answer me. My typewriter was stolen, my family was put in danger. Give me something, Connie. Anything. I’m begging you.”
Connie’s eyes went from straight fury to fear on a dime, her tone morphing to one of malice to one of abject terror. “Run,” she rasped, clawing at her throat. “Get the typewriter, run, and don’t look back!”
The words were barely out of her mouth before her own hand flew from her side and slammed into her cheek with a sharp crack.
“You stupid hag,” Connie snarled in that other tone, only this time her rage seemed to be aimed inwardly. “All you’ve done is hasten things along.”
Writing Wrongs: Crow’s Feet Coven, Book One Page 16