A Witch to Remember

by Heather Blake

  “Then it isn’t likely the Recantation Spell was used.” Cherise poured herself a glass of iced tea and squeezed a lemon over the glass. “The only other means to cancel a spell is if the person who cast the spell dies. But we know Andreus is very much alive.”

  Since I stubbornly refused to think that Andreus would enable Dorothy’s evilness, I tried to think of any other way this tragedy could have happened. I threw out the only idea I could come up with. “It is possible Dorothy wasn’t the one who lit the fire,” I said, knowing it wasn’t going to be a popular theory with Amanda and Dennis. “It would explain why the protection spell didn’t work.”

  Dennis’s jaw jutted. “Who else had motive? When Amanda and Leyna bought the cottage, Dorothy said they’d soon regret the decision, so it doesn’t take much of a leap to conclude that she is the person behind what happened today.”

  “It is true that Dorothy has had it out for Leyna and Amanda since day one,” Cherise said as she squeezed another lemon.

  Amanda sighed heavily. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

  “Open minds,” I said, echoing Nick.

  “Waste. Of. Time.” Dennis shook his head. “Leyna deserves swift justice.”

  I’d last seen Leyna yesterday at the Witch’s Brew, and honestly, I’d done my very best to avoid speaking with her even though she stood in front of me in line.

  Dealing with an empath when you’re keeping so many secrets is dangerous business.

  But as hard as I’d tried to keep to myself—checking my phone, tying my shoes (twice)—she’d talked a mile a minute about the bridal luncheon and how pleased she and Amanda were to be part of it. I’d been taken aback by her friendliness, as she didn’t usually say more than hello before retreating into a protective shell. I’d admired the amethyst hairpin that secured the messy bun on top of her head—a style she rarely varied—and she’d thanked me, telling me it had been a gift from a good friend.

  Despite hogging the conversation, she’d seemed distracted while she talked, her blue-gray eyes darting here, there, and everywhere. Her head turned toward the door every time someone entered the café. I’d been grateful for her preoccupation as I mentally chanted my grocery list over and over, just in case she tapped into my psyche. I wasn’t sure empaths could truly be blocked from reading others, but I did my best to try.

  If she’d picked up on any of my concerns, secrets, or general anxiety, she hadn’t let on, and when I spoke with my mother later about the meeting, Mom hadn’t seemed too concerned about Leyna possibly knowing what was happening with the Eldership.

  Hindsight being what it was, I regretted how I’d brushed her off. If I could have gone back, I’d have taken my time to talk with her. Hear her. Maybe try to figure out what she was thinking and feeling. It had seemed like she was waiting on someone. Who?

  I glanced at the fascinator on the table. My gaze went straight to the lump in the band. “We need to figure out who else might have had motive,” I said, wishing Glinda would call. She’d said she’d let me know as soon as she tracked down Dorothy. Nick had officers out looking for her as well. “Did Leyna have any enemies?”

  Amanda closed her eyes. “She’d only just come back to the village. She hadn’t had much time to make friends, let alone time to make enemies.”

  Leyna hadn’t been in the village long because she’d been traveling with the Firelight festival for more than a decade. Which suddenly turned my thoughts to Feif Highbridge and what Ve had said earlier about him. Leyna might not have new enemies, but did she have old ones? “How come you threw Feif Highbridge out of Divinitea this afternoon?”

  Amanda’s eyes flew open. “Feif. I’d all but forgotten about him because of the fire.”

  “Feif?” Nick asked.

  “He’s a psychic with the Firelight festival,” I explained. “And he caused some sort of incident today at Divinitea.”

  “I never did like that guy,” Dennis mumbled.

  “What kind of incident?” Nick asked, scooting to the edge of the cushion.

  Amanda said, “I escorted him off the premises.”

  “Why?” Nick asked.

  “Leyna asked me to,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t know what prompted the dismissal. She didn’t volunteer any information, and we were so busy that I didn’t have time to press the matter.”

  “What was the relationship between the two of them?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Leyna never liked to talk about anything personal. She tended to stick to topics like weather and current events. It was a bit of a surprise when Feif showed up today, insistent on speaking with her. It was the first time I’d seen her angry. She was fuming that he was there.”

  “Did she speak with him?” I asked.

  “Yes. I heard a heated discussion and went to investigate. Leyna and Feif were arguing, something about a misunderstanding.”

  A misunderstanding. That could cover so many things that I didn’t even know where to start guessing.

  Amanda said, “Leyna asked me to see him out, so I did. He left without much protest.”

  “But he came back,” I said.

  She shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

  I nodded. “He had to have come back.”

  “Why do you think so, Darcy?” Nick asked.

  “He was soaked. I saw him outside while we were all waiting on news about Leyna. He had to have been inside Divinitea when the sprinklers went off.”

  Amanda blanched, and Dennis reached over to take her hand. She said, “I had no idea. He must have come in the back door, through the kitchen.”

  Nick said, “I’ll need the names of the kitchen staff. And also anyone else you can remember being inside Divinitea when the fire broke out.”

  Amanda nodded.

  Nick looked my way. “How much longer is the festival in town?”

  “Until Wednesday.” I glanced at Amanda. “Where’s Leyna been staying? I’d like to take a look around her place, if possible.”

  “She has an apartment here in town, above All That Glitters. I have a spare key. I’m ready to go if you are.”

  Nick said, “We need to let my team in there first. Then you two can go in. It’ll be a few hours at least.”

  Amanda glanced down at herself. “That will give me time to go home, shower, and change.”

  We made plans to meet up later, and Nick and I were about to head out when my cell phone chimed. I glanced at the text message that had been sent and sighed.

  “What is it?” Nick asked.

  I stood up. “Glinda found Dorothy. We need to go.”

  “Where is she?” Dennis asked.

  I grabbed my hat from the table. “She’s passed out in the woods behind Third Eye.”

  Chapter Five

  “Don’t touch me,” Dorothy said not five minutes later as she swayed hard to the right, away from Glinda.

  At least that’s what I thought Dorothy said. Her words had come out all slurred together, sounding more like “dounchme.”

  Dorothy was drunk.

  Sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, dappling Glinda’s skin as she dropped her hand from her mother’s arm. “I looked everywhere for her, before I remembered Sylar’s phone call last week about her being up in the tree behind Third Eye.”

  “Literally up in the tree?” Nick asked.

  I was stunned by Dorothy’s appearance. Since the last time I’d seen her, plump cheeks had hollowed, her curvy body had thinned, and skin that hadn’t been touched by her routine Botox injections sagged. Shadows darkened her eyes, which were bloodshot and glassy.

  Drinking had taken a harsh toll on her.

  “Long story,” Glinda said. “Anyway, I decided to check if she had returned to the scene of the crime, so to speak. I found her sleeping beneath this tree, snoring away. How many Bloody Marys did you have this morning, Mother?”

  Dorothy’s short white dress was covered in dirt and forest debris, as though she’d been rolling around on the
ground. She reached up and picked a leaf out of her hair, frowned at it in confusion, and then let it drop. “One. Two?”

  There were many leaves stuck in Dorothy’s teased bottle-blonde hair, along with dirt, twigs, and a piece of moss. Usually styled in a bob, her hair currently stuck up every which way, revealing patches of a pale scalp. Her dark eyeliner had smudged, giving her raccoon-looking eyes, and her skin was a mottled red.

  Glinda rolled her eyes. “More like four or five.”

  Birdsong rose around us as we stared at Dorothy in shocked silence, like we were viewing a carnival sideshow act that both horrified and intrigued us. From where I stood, I could just see the pitched roofline of Third Eye. Up in the branches of the trees around me, however, I’d have bet there was a great view into the shop through the high windows, not to mention Dorothy would have been able to see the back door clearly and monitor all comings and goings.

  But why had she been spying? Had she truly thought she’d catch something she could use against Sylar? If he was seeing someone else, it was a moot point. He and Dorothy were legally separated.

  Nick put his hands on his hips. “I can’t interview her like this. She’s clearly incapacitated.”

  Dennis said, “Or she’s faking it. You should throw her into the drunk tank for the night. I bet she’ll sober up real quick at that suggestion.”

  In this lighting, his deep-blue eyes looked almost black. He’d followed us here, saying he could provide medical help if need be.

  I tried to imagine the very snobby Dorothy in a drunk tank and couldn’t quite wrap my head around the hissy fit that would likely ensue.

  “You should shut up,” Dorothy said to Dennis, trying to point a finger his way but ended up pointing it at a walnut tree instead. Her stilettos were firmly planted in the loamy earth, and I suspected they were probably the only things keeping her upright.

  Dennis said, “Oh, that she can say with barely any slurring at all. The speech impediment seems to come and go on its own, doesn’t it? Quite a coincidence. Her alibi is going to be that she was asleep in the woods—with no one but the squirrels to corroborate. It’s not like you to be so transparent, Dorothy.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  Glinda sighed.

  This wasn’t quite the signed, sealed, and delivered alibi I’d been expecting, as squirrel testimony was anything but airtight.

  And while Dorothy was a good actress, I didn’t think she was faking the drunk thing. There was that blank, glassy look in her eyes to consider, and she hadn’t insulted me once. Ordinarily, she never missed an opportunity to torment me.

  In fact, she didn’t even seem to realize I was here.

  I rather liked it that way.

  Dorothy let out a loud yawn and almost fell backward. Glinda grabbed her mother’s arm to prevent her from falling over. “She reeks of alcohol, Dennis, so I’m guessing she had more than just a couple of Bloody Marys this morning. Do you want to come closer to take a whiff?”

  “I’m good,” he said, taking a step backward.

  Me, too. A big step. I said, “We need to retrace her day. She may be drunk as a skunk right now, but we don’t know when she became this inebriated. It’s been hours since the fire started. Plenty of time to down a few cocktails.”

  Or guzzle bourbon straight from the bottle.

  “I agree about retracing her day, but first I need to get her home,” Glinda said. “She’s going to be of no use to anyone for a while, unless Dennis can sober her up with a spell.”

  Dennis rubbed his hands together. “I’m game. Let’s do it.”

  At the mention of a spell, I looked around to make sure no mortals were nearby. We seemed to be alone in this little plot of woods, thank goodness, because I still didn’t have any memory cleanse handy.

  “No!” Dorothy wagged her finger again, this time in Dennis’s general direction. “Don’t touch me.”

  Even though some of those words were slurred, they were perfectly understandable.

  Dennis folded his arms across his chest. “Well, if this doesn’t prove she’s faking all this … I’d be able to prove with one touch if she is really as drunk as she seems. Or we can wait for one of Nick’s officers to arrive with a Breathalyzer. I refuse to let her walk away without knowing for certain she’s not faking.”

  Her refusal did seem a bit … convenient. Why not let him work his magic?

  “Dennis is right,” I said. “Dorothy should be tested. One way or another. Her choice.”

  “Just let Dennis help, Mother,” Glinda said.

  Dorothy dug in her heels. “No.”

  “Why?” Dennis asked.

  “Said so,” she answered, drawing her shoulders back and lifting her chin stubbornly.

  I saw Nick send off a text message. No doubt, a Breathalyzer was on its way.

  “Hmph,” Dennis said, looking smug. “Can’t you arrest her right now, Nick, and interrogate her later?”

  “Arrest! What for?” she asked, her voice high as she swayed again.

  Dennis snorted. “As if you don’t know.”

  Nick’s tone conveyed that he’d rather have been just about anywhere else as he said, “There was a fire at Divinitea. Leyna Noble was murdered.”

  Clearly startled, Dorothy’s face blanched. But then she started laughing.

  “Mother,” Glinda said sternly.

  Dorothy kept on laughing and muttered something about karma. Abruptly, she quieted and put her hand on her stomach. “Sick.” She lurched toward the walnut tree and started retching.

  Talk about karma.

  “This day just keeps getting better and better,” Glinda said, her tone dark. “There are days I wish I’d been the one she gave up for adoption.”

  It was a wish I couldn’t grant. I couldn’t turn back the hands of time, no matter how often I longed to do so.

  Glinda’s older brother, Vince Paxton, had learned only last year that he was Dorothy’s biological child. She’d given him up at birth to a mortal family. It had been quite the bombshell when we all learned the truth. Glinda’s younger sister, Zoey Wilkins, a mortal, had been adopted at birth by Dorothy and her second husband, also a mortal, who had passed away years ago. Sadly, Zoey was currently in prison on kidnapping and attempted murder charges. She should have been in prison for murder, but her husband had confessed to crimes she had committed in desperation to save his life. She hadn’t succeeded in the latter regard.

  Dysfunctional didn’t even come close to describing the Hansel family.

  Concern was etched on Glinda’s face, in downturned lips, eyebrows pulled low. “Can you help her with the nausea?” she asked Dennis.

  “I can’t.” His voice held a note of true regret. “I’m prohibited from helping a witch who has refused treatment. She said no.”

  “She’s clearly not of sound mind,” Glinda protested.

  “Take it up with the Elder,” Dennis said, now sounding as though he was losing patience. “My hands are tied.”

  Little did Dennis know that by this time next week, Glinda might be the Elder. Have mercy, as my aunt Ve would say.

  “Mom?” Glinda called out. “Are you okay?”

  Dorothy kept retching.

  Glinda winced.

  My stomach started rolling with sympathy nausea as I asked, “What do we do now?”

  “I can’t arrest her like this,” Nick explained. He didn’t take his gaze off Dorothy. “She needs to be sober to understand her Miranda rights. The station doesn’t have a drunk tank. I’d have to take her into protective custody and then drop her off at a treatment facility. I’m hesitant to do that without any solid evidence whatsoever that she was involved with what happened this afternoon.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  Nick dragged a hand down his face. “We wait for the Breathalyzer. If she’s drunk, Glinda will take Dorothy home, sober her up, and will meet me at the station tomorrow morning at eight AM sharp. If Dorothy’s faking, I’ll take her there
right now.”

  Dennis muttered under his breath, then said, “Dorothy could be halfway across the world by tomorrow morning.”

  Glinda nodded. “She’ll be there. Even if I have to hog-tie her …”

  “She won’t run,” I said.

  Dennis frowned. “You can’t know that.”

  I glanced at Glinda—she and I both knew Dorothy wouldn’t leave this village. Not now, not with the Elder’s renewal coming up. But we couldn’t say anything about that in front of Dennis—he had no idea what was going on behind the scenes in our witchy little world.

  Glinda said, “I’ll stay by her side all night long. I won’t let her go anywhere.”

  Dennis threw his hands in the air. “Am I the only one thinking rationally here? She killed Leyna. She shouldn’t have the luxury of sleeping in her own bed tonight.”

  “Actually, your love for Leyna is clouding your rationality,” Nick said, his eyes narrowed with intensity. “You’re thinking like a mortal. You cannot dismiss the spell Andreus cast on the cottage simply because you want to. Dorothy couldn’t have been the one to kill Leyna. I might only be a Halfcrafter, but even I know that.”

  Meaning, he’d once been mortal. A Halfcrafter was half mortal, half witch. When in a committed relationship, a witch had the option of revealing the truth of the Craft to the loved one. Usually it was a romantic relationship, but in rare cases it applied to friendships as well. But there was a high price to pay to reveal the truth in that all the witch’s powers were revoked. Nick’s former wife, Melina, had been a Wishcrafter like me. She’d lost her abilities when she told him, but her powers lived on in Mimi. Because Nick had become part Crafter through marriage, he was able to make sure Mimi nurtured her gifts, and he could be fully involved in the magical world they lived in and privy to many of its secrets.

  Glinda straightened. “I’d forgotten the cottage had a spell on it. Who cast it?”

  I quickly filled her in on Amanda and Leyna’s visit to Andreus.

  She said, “And they used Dorothy’s hair? Then there’s no way she passed through those doorways. No wonder the vandalism stopped so abruptly.”