He paced in front of the bookcase. If he came any further in front of the desk, he might see she was dead. “They won't believe me.”
“I believe you,” I said too loudly. Listen to me, Paul. Trust me. Give me the gun.
“They won't believe me!”
The judge bolted off the desk and plowed into Paul. The two men crashed against a bookcase. Books rained on their heads.
Longway kneed Paul and banged his gun arm against the bookshelf. The judge wrestled the gun away.
Paul collapsed, sobbing, to the thick carpet.
Longway planted his foot on Paul's backside and shoved him flat. He walked behind the desk and aimed the gun at my chest. “All right. All right.” He smoothed his graying hair. “I'm in control. This is going to work out. You, Miss Bonheim, came to bring me new evidence about Paul Neumark. He followed you here and shot first my wife – in the back – and then you. I wrestled the gun away and called the police. Yes. Yes, that will work.”
Brayden stepped into the library.
I gaped, frozen. “No!” But no sound came out. Not Brayden. Not here.
Brayden smiled, sending fear arcing through my veins. “This is my choice, Jayce.” His expression hardened, and he turned to face Longway. “The story might have worked, Judge, except I've been outside your door, on the phone with the sheriff.” He paced between me and the judge. “Sheriff McCourt heard everything. And there's an ambulance on the way.”
“I don't hear sirens,” the judge said.
“You wouldn't,” Brayden said. “You’ve got hostages. The sheriff was planning a stealth attack. Sirens off.”
“Or you're lying. Give me the phone.”
Brayden took a step forward.
“No,” the judge said, and Brayden stopped.
“Jayce will bring it to me.”
“Jayce isn't going anywhere near you,” Brayden growled.
The judge lifted a single brow. “Or I could just shoot her now. I doubt you'd be able to get to me in time.”
Shakily, I rose and walked to Brayden. “It's okay.”
He smiled. “I know it will be.” He handed me the phone, and our fingertips brushed. “I trust you to do what's right.”
I glanced at the phone. There was no open call. Had Brayden been bluffing?
Paul sobbed, curled into a fetal ball, against the bookshelf. Around him, books lay scattered on the carpet.
“You'll do what's right,” Brayden repeated.
Do what's right? What did that mean? I blinked rapidly. I didn't know what was right! I acted on instincts. Instincts that were usually good — like my instinct that Brayden was trying to tell me something important.
I nodded and backed from Brayden.
“Bring it here,” the judge said sharply.
I edged widdershins around Evangeline’s still form. Do what's right.
“Hurry up,” Longway snapped.
I stepped to the desk and extended my hand. The judge snatched the phone from me. “There's no call to the sheriff.”
“I hung up before I came in here,” Brayden said dryly. “The sheriff didn’t want me to confront you.”
“What's your passcode?”
“11-01-88.”
My birthday. Do what's right. Muscles tightening, I moved my right hand behind my back and made a gesture. I focused on the philodendrons in the window, visualized power from the earth flowing up through my feet. Heat raced into my torso, into my shoulder, down my arm. “Grow.”
The leaves trembled, and vines raced up the diamond-paned windows. A pot cracked.
The judge whirled toward the sound.
Brayden launched himself at the judge. In two bounds he was on and over the desk. He tackled Longway. The two men crashed through the window, covered in vines.
Cold air flowed into the room. A gunshot split the night.
I jerked backward, pain gripping my chest. “Brayden!”
Picking up Brayden's fallen phone, I ran from the study, dialing nine-one-one. “Brayden!” I flung open the arched, wooden door.
Light blinded me.
“Sheriff's Department. Drop your weapon! Drop it now!”
I dropped the cell phone and raised shaking hands.
“On your knees!”
I fell to my knees. A human silhouette moved toward me in the white glare and resolved into a sheriff's deputy. Roughly, he handcuffed my wrists behind my back and pushed me facedown to the ground.
“Evangeline Longway's been shot,” I said. “She's inside, with Paul Neumark.” And oh God, Brayden.
Boots marched past me.
“Is Brayden okay? I heard a shot!” I raised my head. “Brayden!”
Another pair of boots stopped in front of my nose. I craned my neck higher.
Sheriff McCourt glared down at me. “It looks like you’ll be visiting my station again.”
“Is Brayden hurt?” Tears streamed down my face. All he’d wanted was for me to be honest about what was happening. Instead, I'd raced here like a maniac without explaining anything. “Please tell me he's all right.”
“He's fine. The judge took a bullet to the leg though.”
“It was the judge all along,” I said. “He shot his wife and tried to frame Paul.”
“I heard. Your boyfriend had me on the line the whole time. He recorded the entire thing too. That one's got a good head on his shoulders.”
I rolled awkwardly onto my side. “Then you know… Can you uncuff me?”
She adjusted her broad-brimmed hat. “There's a lot I still don't know. In cases like this, the best thing to do is keep everyone separate and sort it out at the station.” She titled her hat to me and walked away.
Seriously? Seriously? I kicked helplessly at the ground. But at least Brayden was okay. “Brayden!” I shouted.
“Jayce!” His voice came faintly from somewhere behind me. “Are you alright?”
I grinned with relief. “I'm fine!”
Thirty minutes later, the sheriff loaded us into the back of the same police car.
Brayden's flannel shirt was spotted with blood. He'd worked on Evangeline until the other EMTs had arrived, but she was gone.
Rising on one leg, I pivoted and straddled the man I loved. “I knew you weren't bluffing about the cops.”
He cocked a brow. “Oh?”
“You're a planner,” I said. “You wouldn't have lurked outside, listening to the judge talk, without backup.”
“I would never risk you.”
“Are you all right?” I asked, scanning him, wishing I could run my hands over his face, his chest. But our wrists were pinned uncomfortably behind our backs. “Really all right?”
In answer, he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The station’s glass doors swished open on snow. It drifted down in fat, wet flakes, coating the cars.
My chest expanded. Freedom.
Brayden straightened off a lamp post and shook fresh snow from his head. “I couldn't handle waiting inside.”
Euphoric, I raced across the pavement and jumped, weightless, into his arms.
His lips captured mine in a soul-melting kiss and left my mouth burning fire. My heart thundered, the pounding of my pulse and his touch blocking out all other sensations. And then he was holding me close, his breathing warm and uneven and delicious against my neck. “I thought I might lose you,” he said unevenly. His rough hands caressed my neck, and I arched closer.
And we were not discreet. We were not tentative. We were not uncertain.
We were magic, and my heart ached at that knowledge.
Toes barely touching the concrete, I pulled away and gazed into his emerald eyes. “And now?”
“Jayce…” He swallowed and shook his head.
“When I ran off—”
“It was magic, I know.” He released me, and I slid down, my boots flat on the ground. “I knew you were
n't yourself, that something else was going on.”
“I didn’t even know that at first.”
“Well, you wouldn’t.” His face darkened, and I knew he was remembering when he’d been in thrall to dark forces.
“That's why you came after me?” I whispered. He’d come, knowing he’d be facing his worst fear. Magic. I wiped my face, damp with snow and salt.
“Not right away. Seeing you walk away…” He shook his head. “Then Mr. O'Hare turned up—”
“O'Hare!”
“And his friend, Mrs. Raven.”
“Whoa.” This was serious.
I forced myself to step away. “What did they say?”
“They said…” Brow furrowed, he rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his curling black hair. “They… Weird. I can't remember. I must have been only half-listening.”
I doubted that was the reason.
“But afterward, I knew it was magic,” he continued. “You weren't yourself, and you were in danger. So, I went after you.”
A sheriff’s SUV blipped and cruised into the parking lot.
“And you can't remember what they told you?” I asked, worried.
More flakes dusted the shoulders of Brayden’s down vest.
“No,” he said. “It's hazy, like a dream you can't hang onto. I know they were there. I know we talked. I must have been so worried about you—”
“Or they're magic.” I wasn’t keeping anything from him. Not anymore. A snowflake lodged itself in my eyelashes, and I winked it away.
He blanched. “Were they controlling—”
“No! At least, I don't think they were controlling you. Do you feel like you were compelled?”
“No. I just knew you were in danger, and I had to find you. Are you sure they're, uh, supernatural?”
“What else could they be? The old-fashioned clothing. The way they always turn up when magic is going down. This is Doyle.” I glanced sideways at him. Did he still want to move?
“Right,” he said heavily. “Doyle.”
“Brayden, I'm sorry—”
“Don't apologize.” The skin around his eyes crinkled. “Because we both know you don't really mean it. You love Doyle and your sisters and magic.”
“But I do mean it! The last thing I want to do is hurt you or our relationship.”
“I know. But your magic is a part of you, and like I was trying to tell you, that's the way I like it.”
I blinked. “It is?”
“If you hadn't run off, I would have explained better. I'd feel better if I was a part of what you do, so I can help keep you safe.” He looked around the parking lot. Snow dimmed its amber lights, whitened the pines, gilded the black mountains. “Doyle's a part of me too. And that means all of Doyle, even the magic.”
Joy bubbled in my chest, and I laughed aloud, unable to contain my pleasure. Because we were meant to be together. He knew who I was – all of it – and he loved me, and I loved him. “I can live with that.”
“Can you?” He kissed me again, his mouth searing a path from my lips to my neck. Brayden pulled away. “What I don't understand is what drew you to the judge's house?”
I hesitated. I'd had a long time to think it over in the sheriff's station. “I think some of the virika’s power was somehow transferred to me.” It was why the bench had burned my hand. Fairies are allergic to iron. “They were driven to be there when people died, to see Death.” And I had been as well. How badly I’d ached to meet Him.
He stilled. “And did you? See Death?”
I wasn't sure what I'd seen, but the power in that roiling black mist had knocked me to my knees. “I don't know,” I said slowly. But I must have. Evangeline was dead. “I had a bad feeling about Evangeline. I'd thought she was responsible for Mathilda's death, but I saw that she was surprised to hear about the ring.”
“What ring?”
Quickly, I explained about the vintage ring Mathilda had left in her employee bin. “The judge realized that might have been where the ring he'd given her — his wife's ring — had gone. He was the one who’d broken into Ground, to steal it back.” I grimaced. “I'd told Judge Longway too much. And I’d told his wife too much too. I could see she was furious. And the next best suspect for giving away that ring was her husband. I thought something bad might happen. But I didn't know Paul would be there.”
I scrubbed my face, my belly knotting. But I should have known. The judge had done an even better job messing with Paul's head than he had with mine.
Brayden looked toward the modern sheriff's station. “Where's Nick?”
“I thought I'd give him and Karin a break tonight. The sheriff wasn't going to arrest me, and they need their sleep.”
“So do I.” He checked his watch, and the dial glowed blue. It was past midnight. “Want a ride?” He angled his head toward the parking lot, and the green Jeep parked in a lined spot.
“Yeah, but how did you get your Jeep here? You were brought here in the sheriff’s car like me.”
He smiled. “An EMT buddy of mine.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course.
We drove slowly to the judge's through the falling snow. A deputy stood outside the arched door and stamped his feet, blowing into his hands. Yellow police tape fluttered across the closed door. The yard was a field of white. Lights gleaming from its windows. Frosted with snow, the mansion looked like something out of a fairy tale. I shivered, thinking of what had gone on inside.
Feeling weirdly guilty, I collected my F-150.
Brayden followed me home. We made up for months of miscommunication and fell asleep.
A hand grasped my shoulder, and I jerked awake.
My bedroom was dark and silent. Brayden lay on his side and breathed softly.
Quieting my own breath, I stared at my skylight, coated with white. Logic said I must have imagined someone shaking me awake; it had been a dream.
But logic didn't spend a lot of time in Doyle.
I pushed my aura outward, feeling for magic. Past the walls of my bedroom, I touched something alien.
Careful not to wake Brayden, I slid from the bed and slipped into my silky kimono robe. I tied the belt into a rough knot and padded from the room.
My apartment was all gray shapes and angles. I banged my toe on something and smothered a yelp. Feeling my way more slowly, I trailed one hand along the wall and found the bathroom.
I sent another experimental push of awareness through the door. Something not right pinged in my brain.
My jaw set. This was my apartment. It was surrounded by magical wards, keeping dark magic out, and I knew they hadn't failed. Which meant whatever was in the bathroom wouldn't hurt me. Another virika? Maybe one hadn't made it home.
I opened the door. Reaching around the corner, I flipped on the light. The bathroom was small and simple. A bathtub/shower with a green curtain. A white sink and vanity. A mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink.
Something shifted in the mirror.
Heart leaping, I spun to look behind me.
The hallway was empty.
I blew out a breath. Great. I'd freaking scared myself with my own reflection. One hand pressed to my chest, I walked inside the bathroom.
The shower curtain rippled, as if stirred by a breeze.
It's probably a virika. I reached out and ripped back the curtain.
The bathtub was empty.
I checked between the toilet and the bathtub, the toilet and vanity. I opened the cupboard beneath the sink.
No virikas.
Had I accidentally left a crystal in here, and it was calling to me?
I opened the medicine cabinet. Mouthwash. First aid kit. Aspirin.
Shutting its mirrored door, I checked myself out in the mirror. I had some serious bed head going on, and I raked my fingers through my hair to tame the curls.
My image kaleidoscoped, shattering into pieces and swirling in a cascade of color. Dizzied, I b
raced my hands on the sink, the cool porcelain grounding me back in reality. I shook my head and looked up.
Mrs. Raven, her hair in black, marcelled waves, stared at me through the mirror.
“Whoa!” I leapt backwards and banged against a towel holder.
She flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the shoulder of her green suit. “Miss Bonheim. We need to talk.”
<<<<>>>>
Can’t wait to read more? Don’t miss the Witches of Doyle In-Betweens to learn what happened between the Doyle witch cozy mystery novels!
Working with Crystals
Burying crystals in the ground temporarily is believed to recharge crystals, as they spend some time in their natural home. It’s best to bury them so they lay along the north-south axis.
When you first get a crystal or gem, however, run it under water and visualize the stone being cleansed of any prior attachments.
There are too many different types of crystals here to list all their properties. But if you’re starting out, it can be helpful to focus on the “big three” in crystal magic: clear quartz, pink or rose quartz, and amethyst.
Amethyst can be used for moving people away from addiction, temptation, and for vibrating to a higher spiritual level to help heal spiritual illness
Clear quartz is good for nearly everything. You can also give it any crystal or gem’s attribute by cleaning both the clear quartz and other gem under water and putting the other gem on the quartz to charge it with those properties. Place your hand over both stones while they’re together and visualize energy from the gem moving into the clear quartz. Then leave both overnight in the moonlight.
Pink or rose quartz is frequently used for healing magic.
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The World of Doyle Reading Order
About the Author
Kirsten Weiss has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine. The latter gives her heartburn, but she drinks it anyway.
Fey: A Doyle Witch Cozy Mystery (The Witches of Doyle Book 5) Page 21
