Witch Hunt

by Cate Conte

And here I was, upended once again. Not only upended, but in trouble. Possibly on my way to jail unless someone figured out who’d really killed Carla Fernandez.

  For a few long moments, nothing in the apartment moved. Our eyes were locked on each other, each waiting to see what the other would do next. Until the air crackled again, and I heard a thud and a muttered curse from behind the screen. Zoe appeared a minute later, looking annoyed.

  “That bed isn’t in the best position,” she announced. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anything broke,” she added for my benefit.

  “You have to work on that overshooting,” Fiona said to Zoe. “You almost did it earlier with the three of us. I had to course-correct you or we would’ve ended up on the wrong floor.”

  Zoe sniffed. “You don’t need to help. I’ll get it.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. You’ll get it.” Fiona waved a hand at her. “Miss Independent. Sit. Violet and I were just getting to the good stuff.”

  Pouting, Zoe dropped onto the sofa and began rifling through her food bag.

  I finally found my voice. “The good stuff?” It came out as more of a squeak, and I cleared my throat to start over. “You just . . . waltz in here and expect me to believe all that nonsense about witches and lineages and whatever else you just said?” I rose, forcing Fiona to take a step back so I could stand. “Plus, I still can’t figure out how you know anything about what happened today.”

  “Of course I expect you to believe me. It’s all true.” This time, Fiona’s voice softened and she reached for my hand. “Violet. I’m your mother. The last time I saw you, you were five”—her voice broke a little there, which surprised me almost as much as her crazy insistences that I was a witch—“and you were wearing your Wonder Woman outfit. Your father and I had agreed to divorce, and we were having a terrible time coming to any sort of resolution over what to do with you. I don’t mean literally,” she hastened to add, but I hadn’t even noticed her choice of words. “That was the day that, well”—she cleared her throat—“we don’t need to discuss that now.”

  I was stuck on the memory of myself in my favorite Wonder Woman outfit. Maybe it wasn’t a conscious memory, but Grandma Abby had so many pictures of me in that outfit, it was hard to deny it. I especially loved the fake gold cuff bracelets, big enough on my tiny child arms that they almost reached my elbows. How would she know that if she wasn’t who she said she was? That was the day that . . . what?

  “I would’ve swooped you away with the snap of my finger, but Abigail . . . had powers that rivaled mine. And George didn’t want you to follow in my footsteps.” Fiona hesitated. “How is your father?”

  “He’s dead,” I said. “He died five years ago. Cancer.”

  My mother’s jaw dropped. I could tell she wasn’t expecting that. My eyes narrowed. “If you’re so magical, why didn’t you know that?”

  “I’m a witch, I’m not omniscient,” she snapped. “Your father renounced all his powers a long time ago. Let me guess. He didn’t even try to use any to save himself. I’m surprised Abigail didn’t do it for him. He always was a momma’s boy.”

  “He didn’t . . . what? What do you mean, ‘his powers’?” My head felt like it was going to explode.

  “Oh. Violet.” She looked at me with pity. “I just told you you were three-quarters witch. Which means your father was half-witch. Until he decided he didn’t want to be, and that you weren’t going to be either. Abigail put the same kind of spell on him as she did you. She was thorough, I’ll give her that.”

  I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around all this talk of powers and spells and magic and especially my father—my college professor, tweed-jacket-wearing father—as a witch, even half of one. I started to giggle. I was probably the only one who heard the note of hysteria in it. “A witch. That’s really what you’re calling yourself. I can’t believe you expect me to sit here and listen to this with a serious face.”

  Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. “What I’m calling myself? It’s what I am. It’s what you are. And if your other family hadn’t been so selfish and vindictive, you wouldn’t have wasted all these years thinking otherwise.” She leaned forward and grasped my shoulders. “Violet. You’re a smart, powerful woman. You have to know that, somewhere in your heart.”

  When her hands grasped my shoulders, I felt like she’d plugged me into an electrical socket. Like there was some kind of current passing between us.

  CHAPTER 20

  I gasped and took a step back, trying to put distance between us. I didn’t know what scared me more—thinking that she was there because someone wanted to mess with me, or thinking she was there because what she was saying was true. But . . . how could it be? If I was a witch, I’d like to think I would’ve figured it out by now. Then again, I guess I’d always been a bit of an underachiever, content with where I was.

  I desperately wished for my father to show up in this room right now and help me. If he’d been a witch like Fiona said, why couldn’t he? And why had he died in the first place? Same with Grandma Abby. And what was all this talk about powerful families and me having a responsibility?

  I had so many questions my head spun. I shook my head to clear it. “I know I’m smart,” I told Fiona. “And because I’m smart, I know this is all a bunch of nonsense. I don’t know who put you up to it, or what you have to gain, but it’s not fair for you to come in here and expect me to just take everything you say at face value.”

  “Fair?” Fiona nearly shrieked the word. “You want to talk about fair? What your grandmother did wasn’t fair. To you or to me. Or to our community. And that’s why we’re all in this situation right now. You, and me, and our whole world.” She waved her hand, and the air snapped again, leaving glitter raining down on my floor. “A world that you don’t even know about, but one that’s so important to our heritage. So don’t talk to me about fair. Abigail chose wrongly. Selfishly.” Her chest was heaving, and I swore I could see silver fire shooting out of her fingertips.

  “That’s enough.” I pointed at her with a shaking finger. “Don’t say another word about my grandmother. She was around for me all those years when you weren’t.”

  Fiona stepped back like I’d struck her. I could see Zoe out of the corner of my eye, frozen in place, watching us like we were her favorite TV show and she didn’t want to miss a word.

  But I couldn’t slow the words. They needed to come out, and I wasn’t holding back. “I’m not sure why you’re here now. You have another daughter. She’s probably better suited to you anyway. So why are you here? Why did you come?”

  Zoe sucked in a breath, pausing from unwrapping her sushi. “Hey. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The tension lifted, just a smidge, as Fiona and I both turned to stare at her. Zoe started to laugh, apparently unconcerned with the mood in the room. “You think I’m better suited to her? You should’ve seen yourself just then,” she said to me. “Talk about twinsies. Have you noticed you both use the exact same hand gestures when you’re mad and trying to make a point? Only you”—she pointed at me—“don’t shoot glitter everywhere. Yet.”

  I sent her a withering look. I didn’t need this chick coming in here and making jokes about everything like some kind of bad supporting actress in a drama I didn’t even know I was starring in. But she returned my stare with a wink.

  I sank into my purple chair and reflexively dug my hand into the candy bowl on the side table. I needed a good Lindt truffle right now.

  But before I could unwrap it, my mother pointed at me and . . . it vanished from my hand.

  I stared at the place where it had been, blinking slowly. “What the . . . ?”

  “You shouldn’t eat chocolate,” Fiona said. “You’ll get fat.”

  Across the room, I heard Zoe snort. I felt my face get red. I might be a lot of things, but one thing I certainly was not was fat. Still, I glanced down at my waistline to see if any rolls were visible or something. Hardly. I’d barely eaten since Grandma
Abby died.

  But Fiona had moved on from my disappearing chocolate truffle. “You want to know the truth about your grandmother? Then listen up. Her name was Abigail Moonstone.”

  I rolled my eyes, a childish habit that I’d made a huge effort to kick. “This again? Her last name was Mooney. Like my dad’s, and like mine.”

  Fiona waved a hand, dismissing my statement. “They changed their name so they could live here among the Lulus.” She said the word like it was dirty.

  I frowned. “What the heck is a Lulu?”

  “That’s her current slang for non-witches,” Zoe filled in helpfully. “You know, because you guys and your Lululemons. She’s kind of fascinated with that word. If you think that’s bad, you should’ve heard some of the other less flattering ones,” she added.

  Was she for real? Lululemons? “I have some in my closet,” I said to Zoe. “I guess I’m guilty as charged.”

  “I know, I saw them when I ended up on the floor in there,” Zoe said. “I actually like the pink ones. With the stripes?”

  “Sale,” I said immediately. “They are cute, right?”

  “Girls,” Fiona said through clenched teeth.

  Zoe sat back on the sofa and popped a tuna roll into her mouth.

  I refocused on Fiona and waved a bored hand, as if I couldn’t be bothered with this story but had nowhere else to be. “Go on.” But really, my heart was close to pounding right out of my chest. Part of me wanted to block my ears at whatever she was about to tell me. The other part was hungry for the knowledge. And the reason why my mother had left me twenty-seven years ago and thought she could just show up now with a grand story about witches and magical powers.

  “The Moonstone family helped create the standard for modern witches,” she said. “Along with my own family. Our ancestors were among the most powerful in bringing the practices of witches back into the light, after all the history of pain and torture and oppression. I’m sure you’ve heard the sayings: We are the granddaughters of the witches you couldn’t burn is the most popular. And it’s very true.”

  I had heard the sayings. I actually had a sticker with those very words on them in my shop. I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I stayed quiet, my eyes fixed on her, waiting for more.

  “We can get into the details later. What’s important is, after years of turmoil and endless work and strategizing and waiting and planning, the people from our two families gained power in our government and put our world back on track. It’s a world where women reign, and men understand the value of that. Most men,” she amended. “And now with Abigail gone, there’s a chance that the balance of power could shift and fall back into the wrong hands. Not just men, but people who don’t have the same values. Who don’t understand the benefits of sharing space with Lu—mortals.” Those piercing eyes were fixed on me, unblinking. “Unless her only heir steps up.”

  Her only heir. She couldn’t possibly mean me.

  “You said something about my necklace,” I said suddenly, my hand reaching for my bare neck. “What did you mean?” Without waiting for her to answer, I got up and raced to my dresser, where I’d deposited the broken chain earlier. It was still there. I picked it up, flooded with relief. I wondered if I put it back on if Fiona would vanish? I certainly didn’t need this overpowering, insulting, glitter-laden woman in my life.

  Then I hesitated.

  Did I want her to vanish? The thought crept up on the edges of my consciousness without my even understanding where it had come from.

  I let the gold chain drip through my fingers as I pondered this. I had no family now. My dad was gone. He’d never remarried, and I had no other siblings. My grandma was gone. I didn’t really know much about her relatives, but none of them had surfaced after her death, so as far as I was concerned, there weren’t any. I had my friends, I had Todd, but I had no family.

  But what kind of a family were they, really? I mean, she’d just vanished on me. One day she was there, the next day she was gone. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted children, if she’d gone out and had another one. So there had to be some reason she hadn’t wanted me.

  But something had brought her back.

  Fiona watched me curiously as I came out of my room, the necklace dangling from my fingers. “Are you hoping I’ll go away if you put it on?” she asked, and though her tone was amused, I caught a hint of something else in it.

  I flushed, but didn’t bother to answer. “I want to know what you meant. That the necklace kept you from me.”

  But Fiona didn’t answer. Instead, she motioned to the necklace. Unwilling to let it out of my grasp, I held it in the palm of my hand, offering it to her for inspection. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply. “I’m sure you enjoyed wearing it.”

  I ran my thumb over the stones. “I did,” I said softly. “It made me feel . . . safe.” I looked at her defiantly. “I’m going to get it fixed.”

  Fiona nodded. “Of course you should. It doesn’t matter, my love. The spell is broken. I’m here now.” She spread her hands wide. “For better or for worse. So we’d better figure it out. And whatever you decide about me, you must realize that you need help here on the mortal plane.”

  CHAPTER 21

  My buzzer sounded, jolting us out of the moment. I rose and hurried to the door, yanking it open to find Todd on the other side. Annoyance and relief warred for the reigning emotion, but I had enough battles to fight that I pushed the annoyance to the back burner. “Where have you been!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him.

  He hugged me back, but I could feel him tense almost instantly. I pulled back and saw his gaze had moved over my head to lock on Fiona.

  I waved my hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

  He refocused on me, and I noticed that he looked exhausted. Whereas this morning—a lifetime ago—he’d seemed refreshed and energetic, now his whole body slumped. His eyes were red, and he needed a shave. When he spoke, his voice sounded kind of alien, like he was forcing it. Oddly enough, he didn’t ask who my guests were.

  “I just heard,” he said, dropping his voice and moving his gaze away from Fiona to look at me. “About Carla. And what they did to you. I was crazy busy at work all day. I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to you sooner. Are you okay?” He stepped back, holding me at arm’s length, taking inventory.

  I leaned in again to sniff. I could smell onions and french fries. And I was suddenly aware that I was famished. Aside from my coffee and Pete’s blackberry muffin before . . . everything, the only other food I’d had was a few bites of my frozen Indian lunch. And it was catching up with me at that moment.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but I realized he was barely listening to me. He kept sneaking glances over my shoulder at the occupants of my living room, and I swore I saw fear on his face. I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day, and everything was playing tricks on me, clearly. Still, my stomach was doing crazy flips, some kind of warning. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Tired.” He trailed off as Fiona, who had been watching our exchange, swept over to him, holding out a regal hand.

  “Good evening. I’m Fiona. Violet’s mother,” she added, for full effect.

  His surprise didn’t strike me as genuine. I watched curiously as he reached for Fiona’s hand. He winced when she shook it, as if she’d hurt him somehow. “Violet’s . . .” He looked at me, as if waiting for me to verify. I gave a little shrug.

  “You’ll have to pardon her. She’s having a hard time believing I’m really here,” Fiona said with a smile, looking him up and down. “And you are?”

  Todd said nothing. I’d never known him to become speechless so easily.

  “This is Todd. My boyfriend,” I said, shooting him a look.

  “Boyfriend,” Fiona said. “How lovely. And your last name, Todd?”

  “Langston,” he said.

  “Lang . . . ston.” She turned that over on her tongue, a look I couldn’t quite read in her eyes. “You missed a lot of t
he excitement tonight.”

  He cringed, shrinking back from the words. “It was a busy night at work. I didn’t hear until just a while ago. Violet didn’t mention you were coming for a visit.” He gave me a sideways glance, a little chastising. Which immediately got my back up. He was giving me attitude? When he’d been nowhere to be found all day, especially during all of this? Never mind our abandoned date night, which he hadn’t even acknowledged.

  “Oh, we surprised her,” Fiona said.

  “We?” Todd raised his eyebrows and looked around.

  “Violet’s sister is here as well.”

  Zoe waved her chopsticks from the couch.

  Todd lifted an uncertain hand before shoving it back in his pocket. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” he said.

  Fiona said nothing. Todd’s gaze roamed around my apartment as if he’d never seen it before, looking everywhere but at the human occupants.

  “Hey,” I said to Todd. “I need to talk to you.” I dragged him into the hall, closing the door behind me. And immediately was engulfed by that same staticky noise I’d been hearing all day. It had to be stress. I pressed my hands over my ears, trying to block it out.

  Todd looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

  I glared at him. “Not really. You heard I got dragged to the police station?”

  “I did. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine why . . .” He trailed off, scuffing his toe on the rug. “They’ll figure it out,” he finished lamely.

  I was tired of people telling me that. “Who told you?” I asked.

  “About you? Pete. He came by when I was locking up.”

  How did Pete know? And how was I going to face any of these people again?

  Todd looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. The forced smile had disappeared, leaving his mouth turned down in a grimace. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I was pretty tied up today.”

  “Tied up,” I repeated, letting the disbelief come through in my tone. “Does this have something to do with that woman?” I may have sounded paranoid, but I figured I deserved it after all this.