by Cate Conte
Violet needed help. And Fiona had somehow gotten the message. The spell Abigail had cast all those years ago was finally, miraculously broken, and she could see her daughter again.
Fiona rose abruptly, knocking over a glass of water on the table when she jostled it. With one crook of her index finger, she caught the cup. The water flowed backward, into its place, and the cup once again stood straight. “This meeting will need to be postponed,” she announced, leaving no room for argument. “Please reschedule it,” she said to Frances Hazelton, the secretary, then turned without waiting for any kind of response and waved her hand, disappearing into a cloud of purple smoke—her favorite way to travel.
She appeared in the grand parlor of her home in a shower of her trademark glitter and called for Zoe. Her younger daughter floated to the top of the wide, circular staircase, earbuds in her ears, one foot still tapping to a beat only she could hear. “What’s up?”
Fiona grimaced. Another one with the technology. She’d never wanted to let Zoe have a taste of the mortal world, but in the end she couldn’t control everything.
“We’re going on a trip,” Fiona announced, sweeping up the stairs. “Get some things.”
Zoe perked up, pulling out her earbuds and tucking her long black hair behind her ears. She bent down to tie her red Converse sneakers. She loved trips. She loved adventure, period. It had been a challenge for Fiona to have a daughter even more headstrong than she was, who wasn’t afraid to use her powers on a whim. Teaching Zoe best practices with her powers had helped her ground her own. “Where to?”
“I’m not exactly sure what it’s called,” Fiona admitted. “It looks like one of those rancid little towns in the mortal world where everyone is in each other’s business and you can’t even make them disappear without getting into hot water. But it doesn’t matter where it is.” She took a deep breath. “We’re going to get your big sister.”
CHAPTER 15
Pete Santorini and his date, a woman named Tiffany who’d been coming into The Friendly Bean for the past couple of weeks and unabashedly flirting with him, happened to be walking by the North Harbor police station when two women appeared in a puff of purple smoke.
It hadn’t been a particularly fun night for Pete, until now. He’d only gone out with Tiffany because she’d asked. Really, he was interested in Sydney Santangelo, but just hadn’t found the nerve to ask her out yet. Which wasn’t like him. Pete usually had no problem asking for what he wanted. But this girl was . . . special. And he got the feeling she wouldn’t say yes to just anyone. So he kept putting it off, and instead he’d gone to the new martini and piano bar that had recently opened on Water Street, a stone’s throw from Violet’s store. Tiffany had indulged in one martini—or maybe two—too many. Pete had lost count. But when she’d become louder and more giggly, planting sloppy kisses on his cheek with bright-red lips, he knew it was time to go.
And since he hadn’t had too many martinis, he knew exactly what he was looking at when the purple smoke cleared, leaving a shower of glitter on the sidewalk.
Fiona Ravenstar. Witch of all witches. Which meant things were happening.
Tiffany, foggy from her martinis and feeling good, had to stop short so as not to bump into the two women who’d appeared in front of them, seemingly from out of nowhere. The older one had wine-colored hair tipped with blond and cut in an edgy, misshapen bob around her chin. She wore a floor-length green velvet dress with high-heeled boots. The other, younger woman had long black hair and wore something resembling a long tutu with a lacy tank top, despite the cold weather, and fire-engine-red Converse sneakers. She shivered, obviously regretting her poor choice of clothing.
Tiffany blinked and took a step back, looking over her shoulder uneasily at Pete. Probably trying to see if he could see them too.
But he wasn’t admitting to anything. “What’s up?” he asked.
Clearly unnerved, she glanced from him to the two women, who were arguing—something about Should we just pull her out of there—and who didn’t even acknowledge that anyone else was around.
“What the heck is that,” she said, way too loudly in the way drunk people did without realizing it. “Do these people not know Halloween was months ago?”
He frowned. “What’s what?” he asked and kept walking, pulling her along with him as if no one else was on the sidewalk. As he passed the women, the older one glanced at him. He gave her an imperceptible nod as he passed, which she returned.
Tiffany didn’t notice. She still looked alarmed, but bent her head and kept walking, stepping in that too-careful way one did when one was tipsy. “Nothing. Way too much to drink, I guess,” she muttered. “Those stupid drinks were strong.” Then she slowed, pulling her hand away. “Did you put something in my drink?”
Pete sighed. This was the problem with mortals. They couldn’t see what was right in front of them, and if they saw it, they convinced themselves it wasn’t really there. Of course, he was perpetuating that tonight, but it would be easier than trying to explain how two witches had suddenly appeared on the sidewalk.
“No,” he said. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she allowed him to lead her to her building, where he made sure she could get inside safely, then gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her to get some sleep.
Then he walked away, glancing behind him only once to see her brushing glitter off her coat, still looking totally bewildered at what may or may not have transpired.
On his way home, Pete detoured down a small alleyway that led to the back door of Hubert’s, the local candy shop. It was way after hours, but there was always a group of them there on Monday nights. Most nights, actually. The fairy lights in the window glowed warm and comforting against the dark, cold night, a signal that they were his kind. He rapped three times on the door to be polite, then, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, snapped the leather bracelet around his wrist, vanishing from the sidewalk.
He reappeared in the basement room where Krista Carmichael, the candy shop owner, sat with a few others, including Josie Cook. They all looked up expectantly when he came in.
Pete looked solemnly around the table at each of them. Their faces were in turn worried, anxious, excited, and anticipatory. It was a tense time in their community right now, with the pending council election only one week away. Not to mention all the mortal-world drama that they couldn’t escape. Well, had chosen not to escape, to be exact. Some witches opted to stay in their own realm, while others ventured out into the mortal world to get a taste. Many of them stayed, an attempt to live in two worlds that didn’t always work out as planned.
“Well?” Jonas Friedman, a local fisherman, finally asked.
Pete sat down and put his feet up on the coffee table. “Something’s going on. Fiona’s here.”
“She’s here?” Krista asked anxiously. “With Violet?”
“Not yet. I saw her out on the street. She must not have found her yet.”
“Yes! She’s here!” Krista shot to her feet, fist pumping the air. In doing so, she startled the sleek black cat with the bright-yellow eyes who had been curled under her chair. He stalked over to sit near Pete instead. “That’s the important part. Now she’ll make it happen. Don’t underestimate Fiona.”
“I don’t know,” Pete warned. “Violet wasn’t expecting this. I’m sure she’ll be reeling. I wonder how she got past Abigail’s spell?”
No one knew.
He looked at Josie. “You’ll help her, right? You’ll explain how much this matters?”
Josie picked through a bowl of jelly beans on the table, methodically plucking out the pink ones. “I’ll do everything I can to help Violet, of course. But she has to come to me. I can’t just insert myself in this without her understanding who I am. Who she is. It will just push her away. And you’re right, Pete.” She nodded. “Violet will be reeling. She’s got a lot of anger toward her mother. She thinks Fiona abandoned her.
Fiona will have to tread carefully.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ginny Reinhardt broke in, shaking her head vehemently. “Violet will totally be open to her. Especially once she knows what’s at stake.” Ginny was one of the younger members of the group that hung out here, and she still had an optimistic view of their world. Too optimistic, in Pete’s eyes, given the state of everything right now.
“Don’t be so sure,” Jonas warned. “We have to have a contingency plan in place. There’s too much at risk to let everything rest on a girl who hasn’t even been involved in our community. Who doesn’t know her rightful place in it.”
“Violet is a smart girl,” Frank Mercury, one of the town councilmen, broke in. “It’s Fiona I’m worried about. She’s got a tendency to come on too strong. She could scare the girl away.” With a sigh, he stood. Frank was a big man, and the ceilings were kind of low in here. Pete always expected him to hit his head, but he never did. He was a witch, after all. “I have to go. Have you all heard the news?”
Most of them nodded, murmuring their disbelief. Krista spoke up. “Sure did. Didn’t hear the details, though.”
“What news?” Jonas asked, looking from Krista to Frank. “What? I had to go see my daughter at school.” Jonas’s daughter, Ariella, was in training to become a teacher at the top witches’ school in his other world. Which meant he’d been away from North Harbor and the rest of the mortal universe all day.
“Carla Fernandez. Dead.”
Jonas’s mouth dropped open. “How?”
“Murdered.” Frank shook his head. “I actually have to go make a statement with the rest of the council. Keep me posted.” He clicked his ever-present Montblanc pen and vanished from the room.
Krista sighed. “Meeting adjourned, everyone. We should get some rest. I think things are going to get crazy around here.”
CHAPTER 16
In front of the police department, Fiona and Zoe still argued, although Fiona had lost interest after recognizing Pete. She’d seen him before at council meetings when something critical was on the docket and public comments were welcomed. She had been surprised to see him here, of all places, but perhaps she should have known.
Fiona had gotten a feeling as soon as she’d landed on the sidewalk that this was a magickal town, and meeting a kindred literally that same moment was all the proof she needed. It gave her a small sense of satisfaction that no matter how hard Abigail and George had tried to keep Violet from her true heritage, she was drawn to it without knowing why or even how she fit in.
Their argument was silly anyway, with Zoe being dramatic as usual, and Fiona was tiring of it. Fiona often loved that her daughter’s personality so closely resembled her own, but at times like this she understood the challenges the people closest to her must have experienced during her younger years.
“You didn’t tell me it was going to be freezing,” Zoe said accusingly, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Well, how was I supposed to know? I’m not monitoring the weather around the world.” Fiona closed her eyes and waved her hands down her body. A black velvet cloak appeared in their wake.
“I need one too!” Zoe said indignantly.
Fiona sighed. “Really? Do I have to do everything for you? Haven’t you been practicing more practical things than how to give yourself flatter abs?” Nevertheless, she focused the same hand motion on her daughter. A long red wool coat matching her sneakers appeared.
Zoe grinned. “Sweet. Thanks, Mom.” She paused to admire the coat.
“Let’s go,” Fiona said, motioning to the front entrance. “We came here for a reason and we’re wasting time.” She marched up the steps to the police station and shoved open the door, surveying her surroundings. What a dreadful sort of building this was. Sparse and gray, even in the lobby that wasn’t supposed to be for criminals.
Her first instinct was to simply lift her daughter out of that awful room she’d seen in her vision and send her back home—to Fiona’s home, where she’d belonged all this time—but she had learned patience over the past twenty-seven years. She was still no expert at it, by any means, but at least she could function without flying off the handle at everything these days. And she had an inkling that it would be worse for Violet if she reacted that way.
Her daughter probably didn’t remember her, after all. She had only been five years old when they were separated. It would be best to keep their reunion as drama-free as possible.
Which was an oxymoron, Fiona realized, but still.
She walked up to the bulletproof glass, behind which two police officers stared openly at them. One was clearly in charge of the desk—he was sitting behind it, fingers poised over a computer keyboard. The other stood behind him, mouth slightly agape. Fiona defiantly tossed her hair, sprinkling glitter all over the counter, and leaned in near the holes meant for speaking. “I need to see my daughter,” she announced.
The standing cop didn’t bother to hide the tiny smile that played across his lips. “Who’s your daughter, ma’am?”
“Violet . . .” She racked her brain for the variation of the name she’d heard George had settled on for his mortal existence “. . . Mooney.”
The cop’s smile faltered a bit as he tried—unsuccessfully—to hide his disbelief. “Violet?”
“You know her?”
He nodded.
“Well, then why is she still in this rotten building?” Fiona demanded.
“I . . . I didn’t realize she was,” the cop said. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on.” He leaned down and said something to the dispatcher that Fiona couldn’t hear, then turned and walked into the bowels of the building.
They both watched him go. Zoe sighed. “Why don’t you just let me put a spell on these fools that will make them forget the whole thing? Wouldn’t that be the easiest way to fix this?”
Fiona considered this. It would, of course. But Zoe’s skills were still young and a bit clunky at times, and she couldn’t be trusted with something like that. Fiona could do it herself, but easy wasn’t always best. And easy sometimes—fine, often—brought its own mess along with it. Especially when witches imposed their idea of easy on the mortal world. The two often didn’t jibe, and left an even bigger problem than the original in its wake.
It had taken her many years to learn that lesson, and it was one she still railed against when actually confronted with a mortal situation. Which in fairness, she hadn’t been in a long time. After she and George had split, Fiona had retreated back to the world she knew, the world in which she was most comfortable. A world where witches stayed with their own kind and the rules of society were clearly spelled out for all parties to understand. Not that they were always followed, of course, but at least there wasn’t the gray sludge area that you had to deal with when combining a witch and a mortal kind of life.
“Enough of this,” Fiona snapped at the other officer. “Go find my daughter now!” She flicked her fingers at the seated cop, who sat in stunned silence as his chair careened backward out of the office and down the hall, narrowly missing running over a cop walking into the office. It was as if a tornado-strength gust of wind had blown through the station, upsetting everything in its path.
CHAPTER 17
Someone banged on the interview-room door. Haliburton’s head shot up from reviewing my statement. He looked relieved to be interrupted. Denning reached over and pulled the door open.
The cop who regularly frequented the Bean in the morning and Todd’s place on his lunch break—Gabe, aka Sergeant Gabriel Merlino—stuck his head in, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before shifting to his colleagues. I felt my face get red and dropped my eyes back to the table. He’d probably heard that everyone thought I was a criminal—not just a criminal, a murderer—and now he’d always look at me differently.
“Hey. Are you done with Violet? She’s got some . . . people here to pick her up.”
My head snapped up. People? Who? Todd, hopefully. And maybe he’d brought Syd
ney. I knew he would come once he heard. I hadn’t had a chance to text him the details, but news traveled fast in our little five-square-mile town. And he had to be looking for me.
“Yeah, we’re done.” Haliburton looked at me. “You can go. Thanks for coming in.”
Denning stepped aside to let me pass.
“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” Gabe said, glancing at his colleagues.
I followed him down the hall. He didn’t speak until we got to the door leading into the lobby—into freedom. I hoped it lasted.
“I heard about Carla,” he said in a low voice once we were out of earshot. “Is that why you’re here?”
To my dismay, tears filled my eyes as I nodded. “They actually think I had something to do with it.”
Gabe frowned and appeared to be thinking that over. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” He squeezed my arm, a friendly touch that was supposed to be comforting.
“Thanks,” I said, swiping at the tears. I wondered if he was humoring me, or if he really believed I didn’t do it. “Is Todd here?”
He cocked his head at me. “No.”
“I thought you said I had people to pick me up?” I said.
“I did.” He pulled the door open, shooting me a quick grin. “I’ve never heard you mention your mom before. She looks like quite a character.” He motioned for me to go ahead of him.
I stopped and stared at him, my throat going dry. “My . . . What are you talking about?”
My mother had vanished from my life when I was too young to even remember much about her, and my father and grandmother never wanted to discuss her. All I knew was that she’d left us when I was five, and I’d never seen or heard from her again. When I’d been really young, I’d made up fantasies about why she’d left. She’d been kidnapped. My life had been threatened and to save me, she had to stay away from me. Someone had cast a spell on her. As I got older, I wondered if she was dead. As bad as that would be, it would almost have been better than knowing she just hadn’t wanted me.
