Carolina Witch

by January Daphne

  I wasn’t sure if he’d asked Liam to put on a shirt so he’d have time to spike Liam’s drink with the truth serum, or if he had other motives.

  “Welcome to my humble abode.” Liam motioned to the arm chairs. “Please, make yourself at home.”

  I sat down in one of the chairs, and was slightly taken aback to realize it rocked.

  “It this a social call, then?” Liam plopped down on the couch and placed his sock-cad feet on the coffee table.

  “I thought it would be nice to get Natalie out of that old musty cabin,” Blake said.

  “So you brought her to my old musty trailer? Good thinking.” Liam rested his bicep on the back of the couch, a boyish grin playing on his face. His eyes landed on me and the smile fell away. “Seriously though, I’m sorry about your loss, Natalie. I know Martha and I had our spats, but I really, really wish she hadn’t died. I mean that. And not just because I’m the prime suspect in that case. Although, did you hear? Angie says they’ve successfully apprehended the bear who was responsible.”

  “I did hear and thank you for your condolences,” I said, smoothly.

  “No, thank you.” Liam’s eyes slowly worked their way up my body. “Natalie,” he said, his eyes finally resting on my face.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said, tugging my leather jacket tighter around me.

  “Like what?”

  “Like a…” I searched for the right word. “Like a dog”.

  Liam laughed, amusement dancing in his eyes. He glanced over Blake who was reaching into Liam’s freezer for ice cubes. “Does she know what I am?”

  “A dick?” Blake said, joining us around the coffee table, and handing out the glasses. First mine, then Liam, and the last one was for him.

  “Oh, you’re funny, aren’t you?” Liam remarked.

  “I know that you can turn in to a wolf,” I said, trying to be delicate. I wasn’t sure if it was a sensitive subject for him.

  He snapped his fingers. “Right. I’m a werewolf. You ever heard of one?”

  “I’ve watched movies.”

  “Oh, have you seen Blake’s? I rather enjoyed that one, though it got a bit sappy at the end with the love story part. If you haven’t heard werewolves can be quite the romantics. I’m sure you could read about it in Martha’s grimoire.”

  “What do you know about her grimoire?”

  “I know it exists, and that she’s written about me,” he said.

  My eyes flicked to the drink in his hand, and I saw he still hadn’t taken a sip.

  “Here’s to Martha.” Blake held up his cup, as if reading my mind. “To the woman who held this whole town together.”

  “To Martha,” Liam said, lifting his glass. But he didn’t drink. Instead he watched Blake and me carefully.

  Once Blake took a sip, Liam set his own glass on the coffee table in front of Blake and said, “How about we trade drinks?”

  Blake hesitated. “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t think my best friend would normally try to ambush me with a magically-spiked drink, but I’ve learned the hard way never to underestimate a Wilder witch.” He flicked his walnut-colored eyes to me. “No offense, Love.”

  I shrugged, trying my best to look like I wasn’t freaking the heck out inside.

  Liam held out his hand to Blake. “So trade me drinks. You went through the trouble of bringing my favorite bourbon, and I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t want any.”

  Blake stared into his drink, a muscle tensing in his jaw. “What makes you think I spiked it?”

  “Because that’s an awfully beautiful women over there who thinks I killed her aunt, and if the tables were turned, I’d probably throw you under the bus for her sake, too.”

  This was not going well. I wanted to do something, but there was nothing I could do what wouldn’t give me way.

  “Thank you kindly,” Liam said, accepting Blake’s drink. He held it up. “To Martha, though I doubt we’ve seen the last of her. No doubt she’s wandering around haunting us, and I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Liam down the glass, and let out a satisfied sigh. Then he cocked an eyebrow at Blake. “Not thirsty anymore?”

  Blake rolled his eyes. “You got me.” Blake set the spiked glass of bourbon on the coffee table.

  Liam clapped his hands together. “I knew it.” He grinned triumphantly. “That’s was a good try though. A word of advice, don’t take so long pouring the drinks. What’d you put in it? Love potion?” He threw me a suggestive smile. “Give yourself some credit. You don’t need potion for that.”

  Blake cleared his throat. “Truth serum.”

  Liam’s eyebrows rose. “That’s it? Truth serum? Have you two no imagination?”

  I lifted my chin, and met his eyes. “I needed to know what happened to my aunt.”

  “And you didn’t think you could trust me?” Liam looking slightly hurt.

  I folded my arms. “No.”

  “It’s bad manner’s too tinker with a man’s drink,” he said huffily.

  I rubbed my temples. This was going to be a huge waste if I couldn’t get him to drink the truth serum. Even if Liam starting talking, I had no way of knowing if what he said was true.

  I did have one more idea, but it was a total Hail Mary. “You’re right,” I said. “That was rude. Sorry.” I got up to retrieve the bottle of bourbon Blake had left on the counter.

  I held out my hand. “Do you have any more of that truth serum?”

  Blake reached into his back pocket for the small bottle.

  Wordlessly, I dumped the rest of the serum straight into the bourbon bottle.

  Liam’s hand flew to his head. “No, no no! Not the whole bottle. You’re just going to let her go and ruin a perfectly good bourbon?”

  Blake winced. “I had nothing do to with that.”

  I screwed on the lid and give it a shake. “How about we all have some truth serum?” I smiled.

  “Natalie, that was a lot of truth serum you put in that bottle,” Blake warned.

  “Good,” I said. “Because we need a lot of truth

  “Christ, we’ll be telling the truth for days.” Liam raked his hand through his messy blonde hair.

  “Is that such a bad thing?” I asked.

  “What if someone asked me if that dress makes her look fat?” Liam protested.

  “Then don’t say anything,” I said breezily.

  “That’s not exactly how it works,” Blake said. “Truth serum makes the truth just spill out of you. It takes a lot of willpower to keep quiet.”

  “If that’s what it takes, I’m game.” I downed my glass and refilled both mine and Liam’s drinks. “That is, unless you boys are scare.”

  Liam, resigned, picked up his glass. “If I get in trouble about the dress-thing, I’m coming for you, Wilder.”

  Blake also lifted his glass. “You’re even crazier than Martha, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

  I ignored both of them. “Here’s to the truth.”

  We clinked the glasses before drinking every last drop.

  This time the brown liquid did not go down as smoothly. I gagged and covered my hand with my mouth, barely managing to keep it down.

  Blake slammed his glass down on the table, grimacing. “Burns, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  Liam burped. “Truth hurts. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I examined my glass. “That was seriously disgusting.”

  Blake leaned back in his chair. “There goes a perfectly good bottle of bourbon.”

  “Stop pouting,” I said. “I made it better.”

  Blake and Liam exchanged glances, then Liam spoke. “Do you actually believe that, Love?”

  “She must. She drank the truth serum,” Blake said.

  “Let me clarify—it doesn’t taste better, but I think if we were all most honest with each other, the world would be a better place.” Then before I could stop myself, I added, “I wish I’d had a bottle this stuff back when
I was dating Grant. The sad thing is, I didn’t even see it coming. He took me out to this fancy restaurant last Friday, and I thought he was going to propose.” I laughed and the shrillness of it grated on my ears. “I never want to be that woman again—the one who gets cheated on.”

  “Ouch,” Liam said. “That was TMI. At least we know the truth serum works.” He scooted to the end of the couch and leaned over to pat my shoulder. “Probably felt good to get the off your chest.”

  I glanced up, and clamped my mouth shut, horrified by my spontaneous confession. “I didn’t meant to say all that,” I stammered.

  Pity and concern rippled through Blake dark eyes. “Getting cheated on is nothing to be ashamed about,” he said. “You’re the woman who was brave enough to love in the first place.”

  He smiled at me from across the table and heat crept up my cheeks.

  Liam rubbed his hands together. “Let the soap opera begin.” Liam grinned. “Who’s first? Blake, I’ve got a question that’s been eating me up for years.”

  “Fantastic,” Blake said sarcastically. He wiped his hands over his face. “Let’s hear it.”

  “That night at karaoke, were you reading the words to that Miley Cyrus song like you said, or did you in fact have the entire song memorized?” Liam tapped his chin, thoughtful. “What was that song called again?”

  Blake coughed, and his lips moved slowly to form the words. “‘Party in the USA’ and yes, I’ve memorized almost every Miley Cyrus. I listen to her when I work out.” He looked miserable as be spoke, like someone was pulling the words out of him like those clowns that pulled streamers out of their mouths. Then he blinked, as waking up from a dream. “Ok, both of you stop looking at me like that. Miley Cyrus is a very talented individual. As a writer myself, I have a lot of respect for her work.”

  “I knew it,” Liam crowed. “That must have been pretty embarrassing for you to admit.”

  Blake rolled his eyes. “Here’s a question for you—why are you showing off for Natalie?”

  “Because I find her incredibly sexy, and I’m feeling competitive with you. You always had better luck with women,” his voice sounded rigid and unnatural. The smile faded from Liam’s face. “Ugh. Why did I say that? Was that question really necessary? I think we need to set up some ground rules here.”

  I knew I needed to step in before things got out of control. “Can we please stay on topic here? Blake likes teeny bopper pop, and you have low self-esteem. I’m actually not surprised by any of that, so let’s get to the real stuff. We don’t know how long the serum is going to last.” I turned to Liam. “Did you kill my aunt?”

  “No,” he said, smoothly. “Sorry to disappoint you.” He turned to Blake. “Did you think I killed her?”

  Blake gave his friend a long look. “No. I think someone went through a lot of trouble to make it look like you.”

  “I appreciate that,” Liam said.

  I frowned, puzzled. “But it has to be you.”

  “Why’s that?” Liam asked.

  “Because I’ve talked to the other people that the sheriff said didn’t have alibis, and you’re the only one of them who seemed remotely strong enough to pull off that kind of attack.”

  “Strong enough?” Lloyd grinned. “You mean because you’ve seen me shirtless?” He leaned forward. “Let me ask—did you like what you saw?”

  I closed my eyes, doing absolutely everything I could to not answer. Then, like a sneeze, it came out. “You looked good, but it also made me uncomfortable,” I said. “But you seem to like making people uncomfortable.”

  “I guess I do.”

  “Probably related to the self-esteem thing,” I mused.

  Liam’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Can we stop with the psychoanalyzing? It’s bad enough you’ve got my best mate, wrapped around your witchy little finger, bring over bourbon, trying to drug me—which, by the way, hurt my feelings,” he said to Blake.

  “I know,” Blake admitted. “But I also know we’re good enough friends that you’d forgive me for it.”

  “It’s not Blake’s fault. He insisted I talked to you before I went to the sheriff with the information I’ve learned from the others,” I said quietly. “It’s in your best interest to help me.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Why?”

  “Because the real killer is still out there, and whoever it is knows how to perform a killing spell while making it look like an animal attack. What happens when there’s another so-called animal attack? How many times will they blame the local wildlife before looking at you?”

  “Actually,” Blake held up a hand, interjecting. “They’ve been covering things up with animal attacks since before I can remember.”

  Liam wasn’t smiling anymore. “Did you say a killing spell?” Lines appeared on this forehead. “Now that’s a problem.”

  “What do you know about killing spells?” I asked.

  Liam licked his lips and jabbed his finger at me. “They work as advertised. Not the kind of magic to mess around with,” he said, all the amusement gone from his voice.

  “Do you have any idea who would want to frame you?” I pressed.

  “No idea. But whoever did it made it look real—I heard they even found black fur at the scene of the crime. If I hadn’t accounted for every minute of my time that day, I would have worried that I’d turned and attacked without even knowing.” Liam looked down, running his finger over the rim of the glass. “You lose time when you’re a werewolf—you lose control. It doesn’t happened as much now that I’m out of my twenties.”

  “Where were you when Martha was killed?”

  Liam’s shoulders tensed. “Visiting with a friend.”

  “Who?”

  Liam pressed his lips together until they formed a thin white line. Whatever it was, he as fighting like crazy to not say it.

  “A lady friend. Don’t ask me her name. It’s personal.”

  Blake flattened his palms on the table. “Are you dating someone?”

  Liam’s face was a bright red balloon about to pop. “I…can’t… say.”

  “Wow,” I commented. “You’re really guarding this information.”

  “Please. I can’t.” Beads of sweat formed on his brow and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  I touched his arm gently. “You can trust me. I’ll keep your secret. It could help me solve this murder.”

  His chest heaved as he opened his eyes. “I was with Lola,” he said. “Lola Honeycutt.”

  Blake’s eyes were two full moons. His mouth dropped open. “You and Lola? You’re dating her?”

  Liam let out a gushing sign of relief. “My god, that truth serum is strong.” Liam swallowed and wiped sweat off his forehead. “I’m not just dating her, I’m in love with her. I’m so incredibly in love with her, I can’t barely think about anything else.”

  Blake smacked him in the shoulder. “Are you insane? Frank and Ida would kill you if they found out. You know how protective they are of her.”

  Liam let out a dark laugh. “Don’t you think I know that?” He sighed, shaking his head. “She’s probably one of the only people in Wolf Mountain who doesn’t know what I am, and I can’t tell her.”

  I scooted to the edge of my chair. “Why not?”

  Blake answered. “Lola had an older sister. She was killed awhile back by some kind of supernatural creature. Lola was barely teenager when it happened, and it destroyed her. Apparently, she saw it happen, but it was like her mind wouldn’t process it,” Blake said. “Her parents went to Martha for memory dust to make Lola forget.”

  “She’s strong enough to handle it now,” Liam said resolutely. “I know she is. She’s a grown woman, and she deserves to have control of her own mind. It pisses me off.” Liam tightened his grip around his glass to hard that it cracked. He blinked, staring down at the the blood no his hand like it was someone else’s. He muttered under his breath and got up wash his hand in the kitchen sink.

  I gathered up the bits of glass t
hat had fallen onto the linoleum floor.

  “You should stay away from Lola,” Blake said carefully. “Frank and Ida went through a lot of trouble to protect Lola from all of that supernatural stuff.”

  “But I love her,” Liam said stubbornly. “And Frank and Ida are the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met. Do you know how many times that family has asked me for blood?”

  “Can we talk about that?” I said, setting the larger shards of glass on table. “Why are you giving away your blood?”

  He groaned. “Martha was on my case about that, too,” Liam said. “Look, I’m a werewolf. I’ve killed people when I’ve been in my wolf form, and I’m not proud of that. My blood heals people with relatively few side effects. I can’t undo my mistakes, but at least I can atone for them.”

  When he came back over to the couch, the gash down the middle of his hand has completely disappeared.

  “Do you know that Ace Harris uses it to turn into a werewolf?”

  “I did hear that, and I stopped giving him blood after that. You are almost as judgmental as Martha,” he said. “I didn’t give him that blood she found in his backpack. Whatever werewolf blood he’s got is either from someone else, or the Internet.”

  “They don’t sell werewolf blood on the internet.”

  “Don’t be naive. They sell everything on the internet.” He clasped his hands together. “Are we done here? Because this stopped being fun the moment you brought up Lola and accused me of corrupting the youth of America.” He jabbed his finger at me. “By the way, none of that better leave this room.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I’m almost done. Why did Ida see you meeting up with Martha and delivering jars and stuff?”

  “She was working on finding a cure. For me,” Liam said. “So I could be fully human again, and be with Lola. Now Martha’s gone, and I’m still a werewolf.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Last question.”

  He lumbered over to the door, and folded his arms. “Get on with it then.”

  “Do you know how to do a killing spell?”

  Liam closed his eyes and leaned against the door. “Yes, but, again, I didn’t kill Martha.”

  “How did you learn it?”