How to Fly a Pig (Witch Like a Boss Book 1)
Page 13
Another view of a blank face. The library. A book with a cracked leather cover.
“Wait a minute.” I clutched my aunt’s arm. “Can it zoom out?”
“It’s a memory, not a digital camera. You get what you get.”
Soon, the image I was waiting for appeared. The outside of the library. One step back from the door and I could see an alleyway on one side and an empty section on the other.
“This isn’t anything like the place you told me the library was located,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “Does anyone know where this place is?”
Another memory appeared, showing the sign at the corner. I wrote down the street names, guessing at the number based on the nearest house.
Into the library again, a white stick tapping out the way.
“This must be Isabella.”
“Why would she still be using a cane if the suckling repaired her sight?”
My aunt had a fair question, but I could only shake my head. “Maybe she needed the reassurance?”
The entrance to the library opened, revealing a treasure trove of books inside. Some were shelved while others were stacked one atop another in piles that stretched almost to the ceiling.
I blinked, staring down at the notepad in front of me. “Wait. What’s this address?”
Genevieve glanced at my scribbles, pulling her mouth down at the corner. “I don’t know. There’s certainly no houses that far along Westchester Lane.”
I drew a doodle alongside, giving the names a tick as I saw them appear in the suckling’s memory. A minute later, the library entrance appeared.
“What’s this address?” I asked, holding the pad up. “Does it mean anything to anyone?”
Aunt Florentine and the supreme took a look over my shoulder. “It doesn’t mean anything to me,” Genevieve said. “There’s nothing that far down Westchester Lane.”
A bubble of smoke came out of the beetle and an old spellbook spread open, the pages crammed full of tiny lettering, detailing an old incantation.
I glanced down and saw some writing on the pad in front of me. “Hey, what’s this—?”
“For goodness’ sake,” Patrick yelled, taking me aback. “It’s the address of the library. You keep saying the same thing over and over. Thirty-four Westchester Lane is the address of the library. Got it?”
“There’s no need to shout.” My hand crept to my neck, encircling it like a chain. I tilted my head back to stop my eyes from watering, then glanced down. “Hey, what’s this address?”
Patrick snatched the pad from in front of me. “It’s the library. The library. The LIBRARY!!! What’s wrong with you people?”
“That’s not the library,” Genevieve said, peeking at the page. “There’s nothing—”
“That far along Westchester Lane,” Patrick finished in tandem with her. “You’ve already said that three times in the past minute.” He pointed to the cloud of smoke, now showing a woman stuffing three old spellbooks into her ratty woven bag. “It’s where the library in those memories is located. Why can’t you hold onto that thought?”
I snatched back my pad, surprised to see an address written on the front page. “What’s this?”
Patrick dragged his hands down the side of his cheeks, pulling his face into a horror mask. “Is this a joke or are all witches blind to the location?”
“This address is nowhere near the library,” Genevieve said with a snooty huff. “It’s out in the section near—”
“No, it’s not.” I stared at the writing in front of me, watching the letters sag apart like a liquid in front of my eyes. “When Aunt Florentine and I went there this morning, it disappeared. The building is long gone if it was ever there. When I unleashed a burst of magic on the place, the façade blew apart and all that was left was some charred old foundations.”
“Some… What?” The supreme appeared equal parts startled and aghast. “But the library has always…”
She trailed off and I stared at a notepad in front of me. There was an address written in my handwriting, accompanied by a doodle and a series of ticks.
Patrick snatched it off the counter. “This is ridiculous. We need to go to Westchester Lane and examine this address.”
“There’s nothing that far down—”
He held up his hand to cut Genevieve off. “Yes, I know. There’s nothing there. How about we take a ride and examine this nothing close up?”
Before anyone could protest, he put a glass over the curdlebug to trap it, and lifted Meredith off the counter, hefting her over one shoulder. “Come along, little missy. Let’s have a look with my useless human eyes at whatever it is a witch isn’t allowed to see.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Close your eyes,” Patrick ordered. When I didn’t immediately follow his advice, he put a hand over my face and pulled me closer to the empty section. “Can you feel the door?”
I reached out a hand, hitting my knuckles hard against a rough brick. My fingers splayed out, trying to provide a mental picture of what they were feeling. “I’ve got a handle.”
“Well… Open it then!”
The handle wouldn’t budge when I twisted it, and I felt beneath it for a keyhole. “I can’t.”
“I don’t even understand what you two are looking at,” Genevieve grumbled from behind us. “There’s nothing here at all.”
“Auntie? Do you have a good cloaking reversal spell handy?”
“Not on me.”
She stepped closer, laying a hand on my shoulder. I briefly opened my eyes to check on her, then closed them again as the entire structure of the building in front of me disappeared. A few seconds of running my hand across it, and the outline reformed in my brain.
“I’ll just try something simple.”
“Nobody has been killed.” I didn’t need to fill in the last word of that sentence, everyone could easily make that leap on their own.
Mumbling under my breath, I pictured the door opening, revealing a stack of treasures inside, just as I’d seen in the suckling’s memories. Old books, their leather bindings cracking with the heat of ten trapped summers, aching for the touch of a witch’s hand.
“It’s turning,” I said, then kicked at the base of the door as the handle locked fast again. “How much magic can this thing possibly take?”
“Isabella got inside okay,” Jared said, “and she’s not even from your coven. A bit embarrassing if a blind woman from out of town can get inside without any problems but you…?” He trailed off into a shrug.
The feeling of wanting to murder him helped more than I’d ever let him know. I closed my eyes again as the inarticulate rage of being overlooked rose inside me, cresting atop a wave of my reclaimed magic. I sent the entire force of its energy shooting out my fingertips and into the door handle, jumping backwards when its temperature rose fifty degrees in a second.
A flash of light popped out of the darkness and my eyes jerked open reflexively. The small concentration of light exploded into a large, single-level building with walls of stone and an ornate wooden door, festooned with deep carvings, charred around the edges.
“I can see it.”
“We can all see it now,” Aunt Florentine said, shuffling past me to step inside. She cast a belated, “Well done,” over her shoulder.
I traced one of the carvings, jumping back as a hinge on the door collapsed, sending the heavy wood tilting drunkenly to one side. A stream of molten metal dripped onto the ground, the remnants of the door handle.
Annalisa slunk by me, nosing into the open cavern of the library entrance. Jared propped the door back into position, waving the rest of us inside.
“I’ll just stay out here,” Patrick said in a quavering voice. “For protection. It would be terrible to get the building open after so long, only for it to lock again and trap you all inside.”
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br /> “A fine idea,” the supreme said, giving him a quick nod before she ran her hand over a glass case, protecting an old book with its pages laid open. “We still don’t know what person the suckling was afraid of.”
I crept along one aisle, shelves of books on either side of me, the stacks reaching near to the ceiling. The knowledge contained in the library was so vast it stole my breath away. For the coven to still be surviving on half a dozen fairly useless books spoke volumes about their individual power. Add to that the thousands of volumes in front of me and our coven could rule the entire world.
A book dropped off a shelf farther inside the library and I froze to the spot, mentally checking off everyone’s position. Genevieve, still near the glass case. Aunt Florentine, one row over, her pristine tweed suit visible through the gaps. Jared, hanging back by the door, his teeth bared at Patrick who cowered outside. Effie, holding onto Meredith and her suckling host, remained in the car.
“Who’s there?”
My voice held a trill of fear and I cleared my throat, furious at the weakness. “Show yourself this instant,” I yelled to recover, moving toward the sound with heavy stomps so whoever hid in the darkness would hear me coming. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
Thoughts of witch hunters swarmed into my head and I held my hand up, magic spouting from my fingers like tiny flamethrowers. “Show yourself this instant or I’ll attack first and ask questions later!”
I heard a shuffle in front of me, to my right. My hand followed the noise, readying for an epic confrontation. A shadow peeled away from the depths of the stacks, finding form as it stepped closer to me. Blue-grey hair tipped towards me in a half bow.
Agatha emerged from the dim lighting, clasping a bulging bag shut with her arthritic fingers. “H-hello?” she called out, her entire body trembling. “Please don’t hurt me. I swear I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
My shoulders relaxed at the sight of the elderly woman. “What are you doing back here? How on earth did you gain entry?”
She adjusted the horn-rimmed glasses resting in front of her startled eyes. “I j-just walked through the door,” she said in a strained voice, gesturing behind me. As she caught sight of the carnage of the entrance, her face faded to pale. “It’s never locked,” she finished in a whisper.
“You mean a human has been wandering in and out of our most sacred building, willy-nilly, but we’ve been kept out all this time by a spell?” Genevieve shoved past me, knocking my shoulder. “This is utterly disgraceful. Why haven’t you told us you could access the library all this time?”
“I-I didn’t know it was a problem.” Agatha’s shoulders shrunk into a small cage as she raised the bag in her hand as a shield. “Nobody told me—”
“Genevieve?” I barely recognised my aunt as her querulous voice joined the conversation. “Desdemona? How about you two step away?”
“Step away from what?” The supreme straightened her spine until her pile of messy hair brushed the ceiling. “This is an absolute outrage.” She raised a finger, jabbing it in Agatha’s face. “I know my predecessor allowed you access to our books to further your studies, but that stops right this instant! Why you’ve had more… more…”
Her strong words faded into nothingness as Genevieve’s frown deepened. Annalisa growled low in her throat, her tail flicking back and forth as she calculated the distance and trajectory between her and Agatha.
Agatha’s face glowed with an unhealthy green light. Her fingers scrabbled at the clasp of her bag and a smile evil enough to curdle an entire dairy farm of milk curled her lips.
I sent a bolt of light towards her, showering sparks and embers down upon her shoulders. A single strand of magic curled around her neck, clasping tighter and tighter until she dropped her bag, a rictus of fear etching deep into her face.
The purse hit the ground, spilling out its contents. Potion bottles and twisted wooden charms scattered across the floor. One glass container broke, spilling crimson liquid on the marble tiles. Liquid that ate into the heavy stone.
Agatha struggled against the magic, twisting free for a second before I sent out another strand, and another. She howled in unadulterated fury, kicking at a vial on the floor until it skidded across to break against my shoe. “How about you take a helping of your own medicine, witch?”
A cloud of noxious smoke rose from the broken glass, choking me. I held my breath, waving a hand desperately in front of my face. My feet stumbled forward. I dropped to my knees, finding a patch of clean air. I hauled in a deep breath, slapping another magic rope around Agatha’s shoulders as tears streamed from my eyes.
Aunt Florentine ducked close, dragging the bag clear and sweeping the fallen potions and charms back into it. “Why don’t you try that again without your special sauces, human?”
She backed up, handing the purse to Genevieve. “We should destroy her,” she said in her matter-of-fact voice. “It’s obvious she’s had access to knowledge she should never have been exposed to. It’s twisted her brain.”
“I’m not the one who’s twisted.” Agatha pulled at the magic cords, snapping one and reaching for another. “You’re the pathetic group who couldn’t even open the door to a library.”
“Isabella.” I whispered the name under my breath, sending out another spiral of magic to catch Agatha’s hands and tie them safely behind her back. “Is that how you tricked your way into our secrets?”
“What trick? I just asked the silly witch, and she was happy to help. Her life’s work has been dedicated to all this nonsense.”
“My mother ran out of town so quickly, she didn’t have time to do more than put a simple misdirection spell on the place.” I spoke with confidence, though the clues were only just drawing together. “It kept it safe from witches but not from humans.”
Agatha chuckled. “She didn’t think that one through.”
“My mother was such a powerful witch, she probably never thought of you at all.” The barb hit its mark and Agatha snarled, baring her yellowing teeth.
“But the library has always been protected from humans,” Genevieve said with a wail. “This should never have happened.”
“Isabella gained access,” I explained. “And judging by the difficulty of getting in tonight, she protected it against another witch doing the same.”
“I never trusted Pounamu Basin witches,” my aunt said in a flat voice. “They’ve always been better at meddling in other people’s business than their own.”
It didn’t sound like the same woman who’d extolled the virtues of Isabella being a scholar just a few days before, but I wasn’t about to nitpick.
“Was it the movie theatre when you found out?” When Agatha didn’t immediately answer, I snapped my fingers under her nose.
“Found out what?” Genevieve sounded flummoxed.
“I wasn’t the only person keen on getting hold of your library.” Agatha spat on the floor, then shook her head to clear it. “You thought you had a problem with witch hunters in the past?” She threw back her head and cackled.
“Stop it.” Genevieve stepped close, raising her hand in the threat of a slap. “Tell us everything you know, right now. Were you selling these books to someone else? Is that why Isabella fell out with you?”
The suggestion clicked into place with an audible snap. Of course. With the entire coven meant to
be at a meeting, it made sense that Agatha had come here to clear up and clear out.
“My supreme asked you a question.” I advanced a step, my eyes never leaving the woman’s face. “Were you selling our coven’s legacy to the highest bidder?”
“I don’t owe you anything. Not even an answer.” Agatha stopped struggling against her magic bonds, sagging to her knees while her head tilted back. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
Her voice dropped to such a low whisper, I had to lean forward and strain my ears to hear it. “None of you have any idea how bad people can be. How bad monsters can be.”
Her eyes bulged and her tongue protruded between her teeth. A tiny piece of spittle in the corner of her mouth grew to a cascade of foam.
“What’s she taken?” The supreme ran to her, jerking the woman’s head forward and unleashing a slew of thick spittle that dripped to the ground. “Agatha? What did you do?”
A thin curl of green smoke emerged from the woman’s mouth as she gave her last sigh, the life leaving her body.
“No!” I grabbed the front of Agatha’s blouse, my stomach cramping as her head lolled on her neck, sickeningly loose. “Come back. We need more answers.”
But her eyes stared blankly into space, the lenses turning opaque.
Jared put a hand around my waist, lifting me away. “Let her go, Desi. She’s gone.”
Chapter Nineteen
“The chair’s not so bad,” Blair Candlewood said as he rolled up his driveway. “My brief stint on two legs might’ve been nice for a change, but with everything that happened?” He shuddered. “No thanks. I’ll stick with Bessie.”
“You’ve named your chair?” Patrick wrinkled his nose.
“What? There’s a wide world out there with people naming their Roombas and you think my old girl doesn’t deserve a cute nickname? Get away with you.”
“With everything I saw in the last few weeks, I have to agree. Eyesight might be a pleasant novelty, but I’d rather be blind and safe than seeing danger everywhere.” Isabella turned her face towards the sun, her stick sweeping in front of her until it hit against the porch. “Besides, together we make a whole person.”