by Nancy Warren
“Go back,” Benedict whispered, his face close to mine so he barely breathed the words. “Get help.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” I whispered back. I had powers he didn’t know about. I could protect him.
We might have kept arguing, but a light appeared below us, and there were Darius and Florence, illuminated by a torch that Darius was waving about manically.
Florence was alive! I exhaled loudly.
Benedict skipped the bottom rung and landed with a thud on the ground. I quickly followed.
But it was as if we weren’t there at all. Florence looked at us, terrified, but Darius didn’t turn to face us. He was too busy ranting, and his voice was soaring with indignation, growing louder and more caustic, his words laced with vitriol.
“I love you, Florence. How could you be with another man? I won’t stand for it. I won’t allow it! You are mine. Do you hear? Mine. We are entwined, one person—not two.”
As he spoke, Florence backed away farther into the wall.
“I’m going to marry you, Florence Cinelli,” he suddenly declared.
Florence’s eyes opened even wider, the whites shining in the dark.
Suddenly it all made sense. I stepped forward. “That’s why you had to kill Ella, isn’t it? So you could marry Florence?”
Darius spun round and glared at me. His eyes flashed, and he was sweating, no doubt from exerting all that energy declaring his undying love. Except that it was a dying love—it was just that someone else had to die in order to make room for it. What a coward.
I couldn’t tell if Darius was angry or shocked. It was like he’d suddenly been roused from a fever dream and brought back down to earth. He was panting, and his arms were still out in front of him, ready to gesticulate alongside the next passionate decree of love.
But my words appeared to be sinking in. His tanned face was losing color—fast.
“What are you talking about? Why are you here? I’m trying to talk to my woman.”
“Your woman?” Florence spat. “I’m not your anything, you crazy man!”
Florence looked at us in despair. “He made me climb down here. I was so scared. I thought he was jealous and I could talk him out of it, but it’s not that. I think he’s mad.” Florence suddenly stopped talking as Darius took another step closer to her. She pinned herself flat against the wall.
“I’m talking about your wife, Ella,” I said, trying to get Darius’s attention away from Florence. It worked. He turned back towards me. I breathed a sigh of relief but tried to stay firm, holding my ground. “Or Eloise, as she called herself when she took the job as pastry chef at Broomewode Inn. That is, until she suddenly died.”
“Eloise?” Florence said, bewildered. “You were married to the pastry chef? No wonder she was so rude to me.”
Darius pointed at me. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I think she does,” Benedict interrupted. “And I think you should listen very carefully.”
“It’s an old story,” I said quietly. “Man meets woman, falls desperately in love at first sight, sweeps woman off her feet and BOOM! Marries her quicker than you can say ‘I do.’ Except once you actually had her, Ella lost her sparkle. She wasn’t a fresh shiny conquest anymore. She was a real living breathing human being with needs and vulnerabilities. And you couldn’t handle it, could you? It’s the thrill of the chase, the promise of the new that you want, Darius. So you left. Just like that. Packed up your things and disappeared.”
“You are the crazy one,” Darius said, his fevered eyes turning to Florence, beseeching.
I shook my head. “I’m not crazy, but I think Ella was a little love crazy. She’d made her marriage vows faithfully. She was so love in with you that she left her job and her life in York and came to find you. But when she did, what happened? You ignored her? Acted like you’d never met? I can’t even imagine how devastating that must have been for her.”
“Oh, poor Ella,” Darius said, mimicking my voice. “Poor sad Ella. Ha! I gave that woman an experience of love that she never would have had if it weren’t for me. I gave her a Hollywood-style relationship. The stuff that romance novels are made of. I gave her the dream. She could never have expected it to last. The moment we were married, I knew I’d made a mistake. Ella was so ordinary. So unremarkable. Not like you, Florence,” he said, turning back to my friend. “You sparkle. You shine. You’re my soul mate.”
“So you’re not even going to deny it,” Benedict said quietly, shaking his head.
“Is it a crime to marry someone and then leave?” Darius retorted.
“No,” I said firmly. “But it is a crime to murder them.”
“Ella died in a terrible accident,” Darius said, taking a step towards me. “The shelves collapsed. She hit her head on the pantry floor. Regrettable, but an accident. Could happen to anyone, Poppy. Even you.”
I was scared but stood my ground. Benedict moved closer to me, which was nice. But there was no way I would let this terrible man frighten me. Well, not much.
“If it was an accident, why haven’t the police been able to find the missing bolts from the shelves? They were fixed to the wall to avoid exactly that kind of tragedy. If they were loose and simply broke free, then the bolts would have rolled across the pantry floor. But there are no bolts. Because you unscrewed them and pocketed the bolts. Did you agree to meet her there so you could talk? Or were you hiding like a coward, waiting until she walked in so you could kill her? Either way, you planned it all out to look like an accident.”
Darius stared at me, his face contorted with rage. “I am no coward. I needed Ella gone. She was a thorn in my side. I left her, but she wouldn’t accept it. A man needs his freedom. He needs to be free to love whoever his heart chooses.” He stopped and turned back to Florence. “And I choose you. Let’s be together, Florence. Marry me.”
Florence drew herself up to her full height, indignant now rather than frightened. “Absolutely not. You think I want to marry you? You’re a few crumbs short of a biscuit!”
Darius looked horrified. “What are you talking about, my darling? We’re made for each other. We’re like coffee and cream. Like feta and olives …”
Suddenly a voice boomed into the cistern. “You’re like a criminal heading to jail.”
“Hamish?” I said, looking upwards, where the outline of my friend was illuminated by the setting sun.
“We saw you running towards the cluster of beech trees,” he replied. “So we followed you here and brought some friends with us.”
Heavy boots clanged down the ladder, and DI Hembly came into view.
“Darius Bellou, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Ella Cartwright. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
He handcuffed Darius, who was too shocked to resist.
“This is a first,” DI Hembly mused, walking Darius over to the ladder. “I’ve never arrested anyone at the bottom of a cistern before.”
Chapter 18
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Gerry.”
I was back in my room at Broomewode Inn, packing up my things for the last time. Gerry was miserable, floating around the room with a terrific pout as if I’d lost my place in the competition to spite him. But I had a plan. After giving my statement to Sgt. Lane, I walked with the other bakers back to the inn, and on the way, I’d messaged Susan and Eve. I wouldn’t leave Broomewode Village without making good on my promise to Gerry, and my coven sisters said they’d help me try to find a way to help Gerry pass over to the other side. It wasn’t a full moon, but I hoped that the three of us would be able to conjure up enough magic to send Gerry on his merry way.
We arranged to meet at the magic circle at dusk. This meant I had to make my excuses (for the final time) to the other bakers, saying I’d join them in the pub for a last dinner afte
r a little alone time. I made it seem like I needed some time to process what had happened with Darius as well as being voted off the show, but in truth, I didn’t think the news had really sunk in, what with trying to save Florence from the grasp of an obsessive murderer. The events of the day would hit me later, probably when I was truly alone, soaking in the bathtub, when no one would be around if I shed a little tear or two. It had been a dramatic weekend, that was for sure. It was bound to take its toll eventually.
And so to stop Gerry’s whining, I let him in on the plan. “Are you ready to experience your first magic circle?” I asked him.
“Ready for anything that gets me out of these here walls,” he replied.
I didn’t mention that I was worried he might not actually be able to float the distance to the forest—he seemed to be trapped between the inn and the grounds around the baking tent after all. But I figured it was best to appear confident and in control until the situation didn’t allow it anymore. Ha. If only I’d been able to be that calm and collected during filming, then maybe I’d be coming back next week.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell. I grabbed a warm cardi from the folded pile of clothes sitting on top of my open suitcase and gestured for Gerry to follow me downstairs.
Luckily, the other bakers were already back in the pub, no doubt about to crack open another bottle of wine, and my spirit consort and I were able to leave without being seen. Not that anyone could see Gerry, but still, walking around with him made me uneasy. I didn’t want to forget myself and get caught having a chat with thin air—not when I’d made it through the last few weeks without being busted.
Enjoying the silence before Gerry would think it was safe to start jabbering on again, I let myself remember the details of the first time I attended a magic circle. It felt like a lifetime, but it was only six weeks ago. I’d never forget how kind Elspeth had been, the way she’d taken a young witch who knew nothing about her powers or her past under her wing. Elspeth’s magic circle had helped me understand more about the sisterhood, but there was still a long way to go. I didn’t even know if I’d managed to call the hawk for help with my spell or if he’d come all of his own accord. I just hoped that my powers were strong enough to help Gerry now.
I guided Gerry onto the narrow pebbled path lit by old-fashioned caged lanterns. Whitebeam trees flanked either side of the path like they were guarding it, and their puffy leaves swayed gently in the breeze. We walked away from the inn and the manor house on a path that grew rougher and headed into the woods. The lanterns stopped, and we had only the pale silver moonlight to guide us. I stole a look at Gerry, who had stayed unusually silent. He appeared thoughtful but determined. I was just glad that he was able to come this far from his haunting sphere.
We climbed up a hill and then took the path that crossed a patch of thick trees until we came out into the clearing where the old stones were arranged. “Whoa,” Gerry said, his first words since we’d left the inn. I told Gerry the same things that Elspeth had told me the first time I visited this special place. That no one knew how or who had arranged the stones. It was a complete mystery. And then I remembered when Elspeth had warned me that sometimes we only notice the things we’re already looking for. That mystic phrase of hers still rang true. I was determined to keep my eyes open going forward. Clearly I’d been blinkered by the competition, and now I had to stay open to my powers and focused on my search for my birth parents.
“The headstone is where Eve will stand as the eldest witch and lead the ceremony,” I explained.
Gerry nodded. “These other stones don’t look so hot.”
“They’re not supposed to look ‘hot,’ Gerry,” I admonished. “They’re ancient. Weathered by time and the elements. And the gaps are where stones have gone missing, moved by someone thoughtless or stolen by the local people to use for their own devices, not realizing the true value of these grand structures.” I stopped. Why did Gerry always bring out the schoolmistress in me? “The local people used to take the stone and break it up to build houses and fences and things. Thankfully now things are a bit different, and the stones are protected by law.”
“You’re kidding me,” Gerry said. “Why would the law be interested in a bunch of fossils?”
“Aren’t you listening, Gerry? These stones are the very embodiment of history. All of life is contained in those rocks. They’re not simply a bunch of old fossils.”
“She’s right,” an amused voice said. “If I could see you, I’d tick you off myself.”
“Susan!” I said with glee. I was so pleased to see her. “Blessed be. I’ve missed you this weekend. It’s been … a roller coaster.”
Susan hugged me. She smelled of fresh green herbs and hay. “Blessed be, Poppy. You’ve done very well in the competition. I hope you’re suitably proud of yourself.” She stood back and looked at me. “And now the next part of your journey begins.”
I asked after Sly and the farm, and Susan chattered on about her happy eggs and the bees and said that Sly was his usual cheeky self—always scampering off and begging for his ball to be thrown. As she spoke, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I already missed the farm, the animals, Susan and my other sisters.
But luckily Eve broke my musings on the past, arriving in a fluster, out of breath and apologizing for being late. “Blessed be, sisters. It wasn’t easy to get away, dearies, believe me. Everyone at the inn is in shock about Darius. And Eloise, of course. Or Ella, I should say. Can’t believe it myself. How could those two work in the same place and not let on? Darius walked past the wife he abandoned every single day and there was never a flicker of emotion on his face. He’s a criminal as much for that as he is for her terrible murder.”
Gerry cleared his throat. “Okay, Gerry, we know why we’re here,” I replied.
“It’s quite something, watching you talk to a ghost.” Eve chucked. “On the surface, you look like such a normal lass, and then BAM—ghost-whisperer.”
Susan laughed, and I had to join in. It was such a relief to be myself around these women. It was the first time I’d felt relaxed all weekend.
“Anyway, we should get on,” Eve said. “I’ve got Sol the chef covering the bar for me now we’re a man down, and goodness knows if he’ll be able to pull a decent pint of Guinness without my supervision.”
Eve slipped a bag from her shoulder and pulled out six large church candles and three crystals, each of a different hue. She passed the reddish crystal to Susan, blue to me, and kept the green one for herself.
“Fire, water, and earth, right?” I asked.
“You’re learning, dearie,” Eve replied. “Very good.”
The three of us maneuvered into a small circle inside the circle of stones. I asked Gerry to step in the middle and then couldn’t resist showing off my favorite new trick again to Susan and Eve. I focused on the wick of the candles and brought a spluttering flame to life.
“Bravo,” Susan said.
“Let us begin,” Eve said solemnly. “Gerry, we ask you to let go of all your attachments to this earth. Unshackle yourself from this temporal plane.”
Gerry closed his eyes in concentration. I could see he was trying to let go—probably trying too hard, if his intense frown was anything to go by. “Soften your face,” I said. “Let your shoulders relax. I’ve never seen such a tense ghost. You’ve got to let go, not hold on.”
Gerry glared at me and then closed his eyes again.
Eve told us to set our crystals by our feet and join hands. I felt the familiar gentle ripple of electricity in my hand, waves reaching up into one arm and then out of the other. I had a sudden rush of compassion for Gerry, feeling for the first time the intensity of his pain being trapped. I wondered if Eve were senior enough in the coven to speak in the same ancient language that Elspeth used when she led a magic circle.
But to my surprise, Susan spoke next, calling the astral power of fire to her side. Eve gestured for me to go next, and so I copied Susan’s words but calling th
e power of water. Eve completed the circle with earth, and then the electricity that connected our bodies turned up its frequency. I closed my eyes and let the energy take over, grateful to submit to a power larger and more mysterious than I could ever comprehend.
But I couldn’t totally focus my energy on Gerry. Being at the magic circle reminded me of my birth dad. This is where he liked to appear, full of cryptic warnings telling me to leave Broomewode Village and never come back. Despite being back in Broomewode for another weekend, I’d yet to have another message from him or my birth mom. Or unearth any new clues. Had they abandoned me again? My heart sank, and I felt miserably alone, even while surrounded by my fellow witches. At least the hawk had shown up to help me find Florence. And that majestic bird was definitely connected somehow to my dad. If only he’d show himself in human form! Last week, I’d realized that my dad appeared to me as a ghost while my mom appeared as a vision—which could mean that she was alive even if he wasn’t. Part of me was hoping my dad would appear now and say something other than “you must leave.” Something useful for my search for my mother if she was still alive. I needed something new to go on.
But my thoughts were interrupted by a warm feeling coming from my feet. I opened my eyes again to see that my crystal was glowing. “Whoa, cool,” I whispered. But no one appeared to hear me. Eve cleared her throat and began to chant the spell.
Earth, Fire, Water, all three,
Elements of Astral, I summon thee.
By the moon’s might
On this earthly night
I call to thee to give us your might.
By the power of three,
I conjure thee
To send this spirit to his resting place,
To carry his soul now full of grace.
So we will, so mote it be.
So we will, so mote it be.
Susan and I joined in for a second round, and then a third, our voices synchronizing and gaining in momentum with each new round.
