Dead Witch on a Bridge

by Gretchen Galway

  “They didn’t know you were going to kill the evil one,” he said, bowing his head over the berries.

  I squatted down and took the basket. “I’m sorry too. For everything.”

  “Your animal is gone,” Willy said.

  I was still too sad to talk about that, so I thanked him again, and he returned to his tree.

  My house was quiet, empty. No dog greeted me, and even Birdie had gone home. After spending last night on my couch, restored by a mug of ginger tea spiked with a drop from the wellspring, she’d felt good enough to leave the protection of my enchanted property.

  She’d asked me to teach her magic. I didn’t know if she had any power worth nurturing, but I’d felt so bad about letting Jasper and Phoebe hurt her that I said yes. She even offered to pay my rent for a few months, courtesy of the riches she’d inherited from her father. I didn’t know yet if I could accept that. Probably not.

  As I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed, I tried not to think about my own father. After a heist, he could stay underground for months, even years, and I didn’t expect to see him for a long time, if ever. Tristan’s murder, Jasper’s fairy revolt, his own daughter’s evidence against him—if Malcolm cared about his own skin, which was the only skin he did care about, he’d never set foot in Silverpool again.

  Which was why I was surprised when Random appeared in my bedroom after I’d fallen asleep. There was no moon, and the clouds covered the sky, blocking the stars. Random’s dark fur blended in perfectly with the shadows, and if he hadn’t jumped up on my bed to lick my face, I might not have realized he was there.

  I smiled, letting the tongue get me wet, but didn’t make a sound. I didn’t even sit up for fear it would alert his master. He was shaking with the effort of disobeying a direct command by making contact with me. My heart jumped to see him—well, smell him. I could feel the pain, the distress, in his furry body.

  A flash of power outside suddenly moved him to action. He turned away from me, a slight whimper in his throat, and jumped off the bed. I heard the scratching of his toenails on the hardwood floor as he went to the filing cabinet in the other room.

  I got out of bed, put on a robe, and touched the two beaded necklaces and four bracelets I wore now at all times before I followed Random.

  Nobody was fooling anybody now, so I flicked on the lights. If my father had been able to get into the house, he wouldn’t have sent the dog.

  Random sat bolt upright in front of the cabinet, staring at it, then at me. He was pleading with me to open it.

  I removed the staff—I was going to need it—and, after a pause, I opened the bottom drawer. Random began to shake harder, with joy this time. When I drew out the torc, encased in a black velvet bag, he jumped to his feet and wagged his tail so wildly it knocked a candle off the coffee table.

  “This is what he wants, isn’t it?” I asked Random, holding it up.

  Random suddenly sat down, rock steady, as if waiting for his favorite treat.

  That’s why he’d appeared in my house that morning; Malcolm had sent him in to retrieve what he’d hidden there the night before after learning Tristan was dead. Never got caught with the goods when heat was around, that was my dad. Dear old Dad.

  But this time Malcolm had gone too far. With Random so close to the object of his command, I could feel the spell that bound him to it and my father. It was no innocent spell, nothing cute like being a dragon for parties. This binding spell carried the penalty of death, and if I broke it, I might break my dog.

  And he was my dog, dammit. Time to make that clear to my father.

  I put the torc in the pocket of my robe, went into the kitchen, and opened the door, careful to block Random from following me. The bond would compel him to chase the torc wherever it led—which is why from the beginning he’d demonstrated such affection for Seth.

  “Come inside,” I said in the doorway. Because it was my house, and my house was powerfully spelled, my invitation carried weight.

  Against his will, Malcolm appeared from the shadows, walked up my steps, and crossed the threshold into my kitchen. “So nice to see you,” he said. “I didn’t want to bother you so late.”

  I set the tip of the staff on the floor between us. “You’ll speak the truth in my home.”

  He opened his mouth, as if to speak, and his smile faded. Pressing his lips together, he nodded.

  Glad to see that spell at least was working, I moved on to the next. “You won’t leave this house until you agree to my terms.”

  This one was more tricky. If he didn’t agree, and I knew he wouldn’t want to, then he might be there for a long time. But at least that way, I figured, Random would be there with me. I was willing to put up with my father’s slippery presence for the remainder of a good dog’s life, if that’s what it took.

  “Break the bond you have with this dog,” I said. Then I tapped the staff for good luck. Good luck was no small thing.

  “I don’t want to.” He moved his lips in a funny way, stretching and wiggling them as if he wasn’t used to the taste of honesty in his mouth.

  “You want to live here with me instead of leaving without him?” I asked.

  “You’ll get sick of me before I get sick of you, daughter. And you know I’m not lying when I say that.” He smiled triumphantly as if he wanted extra credit for his paternal feelings.

  “Break the bond,” I said.

  Still smiling, he went over to my refrigerator and took out an apple. “If we’re going to be living together, you should know I’ve gone vegan.” He held up the apple. “Buy in bulk. Costco might be worth the trip.” Then he took a bite, still smiling at me as he chewed.

  Unfortunately, he was right. I already wanted to kick him out. Instead, I took the black velvet bag out of my pocket, took the torc out of the bag, and casually regarded it in my hand. Random came running over and sat at my feet, on point again.

  “Break the bond, and you can have this,” I said.

  He stopped chewing. His eyes shone, watching the gold torc in my hand. “Your magic ensures my honesty, not yours,” he said.

  I gave him a hard stare. “I’m not a liar. You are.”

  “So what does that mean—your word is good?”

  I gripped the torc harder. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to give it to him. The deal I’d made with Helen would need to be settled a different way— I didn’t like to think how creative she was going to get with my debt—but I had to free Random.

  “Yes,” I said tightly. “That’s what it means.”

  Eyebrows raised, he took another bite of the apple. After a long moment during which I had to watch him chew, he finally nodded. “All right. I’ll let Ethan go.” He scowled. “It’ll break the dragon spell though. He’ll just be a dog all the time.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “And he’s not even a golden retriever. That was another spell. This is what he really looks like.” He threw the apple core in the sink. “Good for night work, you know?”

  I thought of all the black hooded sweatshirts, knit caps, scarves, leggings, and boots I’d worn as a child. “I know.”

  “You’re crazy, you must know that. It’s a ridiculous trade. No dog is worth that much.”

  “You’re stalling,” I said. “My boundary spells will hold. You can’t get out of here without my permission.”

  His eyes went out of focus for a moment, and I knew he was testing me, testing my power. Eventually he looked at me seriously and said, “You’re right.”

  I nodded.

  “Did I teach you these? The”—he gestured in the air—“whatever magic you’ve got going on around here?”

  I held up the torc. “No.”

  His hand shot out to take it.

  “Random first,” I said, pulling it away. “The dog. My dog.”

  “Won’t you consider calling him Ethan? That’s what I called him.”

  I noticed he was already using the past tense. “I’ll call him whateve
r I like,” I said, then added, “or what he likes. Now break the bond, Dad. Get it over with and you can go.”

  Malcolm sighed and squatted down in front of Random. He took his furry head in his hands and pulled him closer, looking him in the eyes for a moment. Finally he reached inside his shirt, pulled out a silver amulet on a chain, and tapped it on the dog’s black burglar-friendly nose.

  “It’s done,” he said, standing up with his palm out. “Hand it over.”

  “Hold on a second.” I carried the torc across the room, watching to see if Random followed. I set it down on the floor, released it, pushed it toward him with a fingertip.

  Completely uninterested, Random trotted out of the kitchen. Down the hall I heard the sound of the bed creaking and dog feet circling the bed covers, looking for the perfect spot.

  “Take it,” I told my father.

  He rolled his eyes at the need to bend over and pick it off the floor himself, but he did, very quickly, with his usual grace, and then was at the door. He paused, not looking back until I released the spell that kept him in my kitchen. Next breath, he was gone.

  I reengaged the boundary spells before I returned to bed, where my dog was already asleep in the center of the mattress. Curling up next to him, I stroked his silky head and smiled.

  “Welcome home,” I said.

  Also by Gretchen Galway

  OAKLAND HILLS SERIES (Romance)

  Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)

  This Time Next Door (Oakland Hills #2)

  Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills #3)

  This Changes Everything (Oakland Hills #4)

  Quick Takes (Oakland Hills Stories Boxed Set)

  Going For Broke (Oakland Hills #5)

  Going Wild (Oakland Hills #6)

  Oakland Hills Romantic Comedy Boxed Set (Books 1-3)

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  RESORT TO LOVE SERIES (Romance)

  The Supermodel’s Best Friend (Resort to Love #1)

  Diving In (Resort to Love #2)

  About the Author

  GRETCHEN GALWAY is a USA Today bestselling author who writes mystery, fantasy, and romance. Raised in the American Midwest, she now lives in in Sonoma County, California with her husband and two children.

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  www.gretchengalway.com