At the last suggestion, her head lifted and she blinked sleepily at me.
“Annie?” I said again.
She closed her eyes and purred.
“Annie it is,” I said. I scooted backward and flopped against my pillows. Titania—Annie—was still nestled in my arms, and Tilda had settled at my hip. Missy hopped onto the bed, yawned, and turned in a circle three times before finding the perfect resting spot between my knees.
Right here, right now, with the pets and under my mother’s watchful gaze, was the most at peace I’d felt in weeks. . . .
Right up until I woke up thirty minutes later to the sound of a booming cheer going up outside.
Panic set in as I hazily blinked at the clock and realized I’d fallen asleep. I had ten minutes to make it to the Wisp to meet Nick.
I jumped up, and both cats meowed protests and leaped off the bed.
“Sorry!” I said.
Throwing a glance outside, I didn’t see anything that would cause celebration and wondered if they’d possibly received news that the Wisp had reopened.
I sent Nick a text that I was running a few minutes late and quickly set about making my bed, a task I normally undertook every morning like clockwork, but for some reason had skipped today. My OCD insisted I make it before I left again, and as I drew the rumpled comforter toward the head of the bed, I was confused for a moment when I found my Craft cloak beneath the covers . . . until I recalled that I had tossed it on the bed last night after returning from the Elder’s meadow.
I hurriedly carried the cloak from my bed to my closet. Halfway across the room something fell from the hood, which had turned partly inside out in my rushing about. Both cats immediately pounced upon the object, batting it to and fro.
I bent to see what it was and found a feather. It was pure white along the bottom its quill, slowly blending to a grayish brown near its tip. The barbs of the feather followed the same color pattern. Fuzzy white at the bottom, narrowing to a grayish brown at the top.
I recognized it immediately.
A mourning dove feather.
Glancing at my cape, I wondered how on earth the feather had become tangled up in it.
Unless . . .
Unless it had somehow fallen into my hood while I was standing under the Elder’s weeping tree last night. Had the bird been there and I just hadn’t seen it?
If so, why had the bird been there? In that tree?
Did the bird have something to do with the Elder?
Suddenly dizzy, I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind swirling. I had suspected for a while now that the mourning dove I kept seeing around As You Wish was more than it appeared. Was it possible the bird was associated with the Elder somehow, as Archie was? A secretary of some sort? A spy, even?
Maybe so, but as I stared at the feather, the sound of the Elder’s voice kept going round and round inside my head, making me even more dizzy.
“I was with you all along, Darcy.”
“I was with you all along, Darcy.”
“I was with you all along, Darcy.”
I looked at the pets, who were all staring up at me as though sensing something was wrong.
I stood up, sat down, stood up again.
“I was with you all along, Darcy.”
I thought of all the times I’d seen that bird around the village, and all the times I’d heard the Elder’s voice here in this house. Had I never seen her coming or going, because she had flown in through Ve’s bedroom window?
“Is the mourning dove the Elder in disguise?” I said aloud, my heart rate kicking up at the possibility.
None of the pets, however, answered me.
I sat down, stood up, sat down again. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to ask.
Sensing my agitation, Missy barked. I patted her head. “Is it possible?”
She barked again, but I didn’t know if it was a yes or a no.
My head started to ache with how hard my brain was working, trying to connect the pieces of this puzzle.
I twirled the feather between my fingers. “But if the Elder’s going around as a bird, how is she doing that?”
Then I recalled something Glinda had said this morning.
“One thing I know for certain is that the Elder can embody all the Crafts and can change from one to another at will. She’s Wishcrafter, Broomcrafter, Curecrafter, et cetera, at whim. She knows every Craft inside and out.”
I stood up, sat down, stood up again.
Missy started to whimper. The cats darted under the bed.
Was there a variety of Craft that could morph into an animal? I’d never heard of one, but that meant little. There were so many secrets still to uncover in this village, but I had the feeling I was on the right track with this one.
As soon as possible, I had to find out if there was such a Crafter . . . or if the feather being in the Elder’s meadow was just one big coincidence.
And I knew just the mice to ask.
Chapter Twenty
As much as I hated to do it, I had to postpone my trip to see Pepe and Mrs. P, but I planned to go see them immediately after meeting Nick at the Wisp.
I packed my laptop into a backpack along with the cord I needed to transfer the data from the spy pen to my hard drive. I grabbed some blank disks and a thumb drive and headed out. I was careful to lock the door behind me as I left As You Wish, just in case the rumors of a petnapper weren’t just rumors.
On a normal day, driving to the Wisp, which was two blocks back from the main square, would be faster, but the village green was packed, and a steady stream of cars flowed into the village from the main entrance toward designated parking lots at the far end of the square. If I were to drive, I’d have to sit in that traffic for a while.
I set off on foot, my mind still reeling with the possibility that the mourning dove was the Elder in disguise.
As I walked, I searched branches and lampposts, bench tops and flower urns, for any sign of the bird. Although there was a steady thrum of voices out here on the green, I strained to hear that telltale coo I’d come to recognize so well.
I wasn’t altogether sure what I planned to do if I actually spotted the bird—interrogate it?—but I wanted to see it again. Wanted to see if there was something subtly magical about the bird that I’d somehow missed before.
What I needed was a better picture of the bird.
Perhaps the bird had an unusual eye color or there was a magic marking . . .
“Whoa, Darcy!”
A set of hands grabbed my shoulders, and I jumped. It took me a second to realize that I’d almost knocked over Harmony, who’d been headed in the opposite direction.
“Everything okay?” she asked. “You look a little out of it, if you don’t mind my saying.”
I needed to push the thoughts of the Elder out of my head for a while. It was the only way to keep my wits about me.
I gave my head a small shake. “I’m just . . . in a rush and wasn’t paying attention. Sorry. Any word on Cookie?”
“Nothing. No sightings of her at all today, which is strange. I’m hoping she didn’t leave village limits.” Harmony looked toward the woods. “She has a collar on, but she’s a hornless breed, and doesn’t have the defenses horns would have provided her against predators.”
“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” I tried to reassure her, but it was strange that there had been no sightings of Cookie today.
“Maybe,” Harmony said. “I’m a little worried about the petnapper gossip. I know Cookie got loose on her own, but what if the petnapper happened to come across her and took advantage? You hear all the time about these so-called pet flippers. Maybe that trade includes goats.”
“Pet flippers?” I hadn’t ever heard the term.
“It’s a person who steals a pet, or sometim
es even gets it for free—think of all the times you’ve seen free kitten signs—then puts the animal up for sale online. The flippers don’t care where the pet goes as long as they get their money. Could be to a nice family, but it could be to a dog-fighting ring or to a pet-testing laboratory. It’s fast cash.”
I felt a little queasy. “That’s . . . vile.”
“Yeah.” Her gaze scanned the green. “But maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. After all, Lady Catherine was found this morning, so anything’s possible.”
“She was found? Was that the loud cheer I heard a little while ago?”
“It was. Ivy Teasdale found her near the back door of Fairytails. She took her to Marigold straight off. I’m mourning that reward money. I’ve been looking for Lady Catherine all morning—don’t tell Angela.”
I smiled. “My lips are sealed.”
“Do you know what I could do with that money?”
“Buy a miniature donkey?”
She laughed. “No. Just no.”
“Never say never.”
“You’re a bad influence, Darcy.”
My phone buzzed. “Sorry. I’ve got to check that.”
“Actually, I’ve got to go, but if you could keep an eye out for Cookie, I’d appreciate it.”
“I will,” I promised.
As she walked away, I felt slightly guilty for not keeping hold of Cookie in the meadow last night, but I just couldn’t risk anything about the Craft being uncovered.
Sighing, I pulled my phone out of my backpack and checked the message that had come in. It was from Nick saying he was running late, too.
I let out a relieved breath and pressed on, worrying about pet flippers and the two dogs and cat that were still missing. If I was in the business of stealing pets, the Extravaganza would be the perfect place to scope out potential victims.
It was a disturbing thought that I couldn’t shake as I started up the road that led to the Wisp. Had the pets that were missing been stolen? I wished I knew for certain. If for no other reason than that I could start searching online to find them listed in for-sale ads.
I was almost to the Wisp when someone stepped up next to me. “Hi.”
I gasped and nearly fell off the sidewalk into the gutter. My arms looked like windmills until Glinda grabbed one of them and held on until I regained my balance.
“You’re awfully jumpy,” she said, laughing at my reaction.
I had to face it—I shouldn’t be wandering around the village on my own today. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“I’m stealthy that way. It’s one of the things that makes me a good PI.”
“Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stealth with me. I think I lost ten years off my life.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Why so on edge?”
“Baz Lucas.” I quickly told her about how he’d been at Chip’s, then later followed me to the Elder’s meadow last night.
“That’s all very strange. Where’s he now? In police custody?”
“Not that I know of. Nick hasn’t found anything that implicates him in any crime.”
“I don’t like it,” she said as we kept walking. “He doesn’t seem the dangerous type, but people do dangerous things when they feel cornered.”
That didn’t make me feel better. “Why would he even think I was cornering him? I’ve barely had any contact with him.”
“You said he saw you at Chip Goldman’s, right? Maybe you overheard something he wants you to forget.”
That sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to recall everything Chip and I had talked about, but it was all rather fuzzy at this point. “Nothing comes to mind.”
“Keep thinking on it. It could be something that seems trivial to you, but is monumental to him.”
There was very little traffic at all in the back neighborhoods, only a passing car or two as we walked along. Clouds dotted the sky, and it was beginning to look as though it might rain.
“What are you doing here, by the way?” I asked.
“Walking?”
I sighed. “I told you I’d get you a copy of that footage.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she began, then paused. “No, that’s exactly why. I don’t trust you. Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of motivation for you to take that footage to Vivienne yourself.”
My chest ached at her words, and I realized I was hurt by them. Which was all kinds of stupid on my part. She was Glinda. I should have known better than to let my guard down around her. “Oh.”
She stopped walking, looked at me. “Oh? That’s it? No snappy rebuttal?”
Shaking my head, I surged forward. “It is what it is. What it always is. What it will always be.”
She caught up to me. “What’s that mean?”
I drew up and told her the flat-out truth. “I’d allowed myself to think that we had been forming some sort of strange friendship.”
“Aren’t we?” she asked, her eyes full of confusion.
“Obviously not. Friends don’t think friends will backstab them and steal their money.” I started forward again.
“I—”
Heat surged into my face as my temper flared. I stopped and glared at her. “I don’t need your money. I don’t want your money. I never wanted your money. And if you were my friend, you’d already know that.” I took off walking again, my anger making me walk faster than usual.
Glinda jogged to catch up. “I—”
I kept walking as I said, “I told you I’d give you the footage, and I will. That’s it, end of story. As soon as Nick gets here, you’ll have it, and then you can be on your way.”
She grabbed my arm. “Darcy, stop!”
“What?” I huffed.
“If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, you’d know.”
I tapped my foot.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She looked upward and took a deep breath.
When she looked back at me, there was moisture in her eyes, and my anger evaporated. Glinda didn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve.
“I don’t trust easily, that’s all,” she said. “Too many people have betrayed my trust. I—I’m sorry. Truce?”
It was the first time I’d ever heard Glinda issue an apology for her bad behavior. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “You’re just lucky I believe in second chances.”
She gave a smile, and it lit her whole face, making it look as if she were glowing from the inside out. “I must be on my fifth or sixth chance with you by now.”
“True enough. Then you’re just lucky I’m a big sap.”
She said, “You really are.”
I laughed. “We all have our crosses to bear.”
“It’s not a cross,” she said softly. “It’s a badg—”
She was cut off by the ring of her cell phone. She gave me a wait-a-sec finger and glanced at her screen and frowned. “Hello?”
I could hear a male voice, but not what he was saying.
By the stricken look on Glinda’s face, it wasn’t good news.
“What? When? Where?” She peppered him with questions. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up and looked at me. “I have to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Someone just tried to steal Clarence.”
“Tried? Or did?”
“Tried.”
Thank goodness. “Did Liam see who it was?”
“I don’t know. I have to go. Liam’s freaked out.”
“The pen . . .”
“Bring me the footage when you get the chance.” She paused a beat. “I trust you with it.”
I rubbed my hands together. “And here I was just wondering what I could do with the five hundred grand. Another addition on the house . . . A new car . . . A bunch of miniature donkeys . . .�
�
“Donkeys?”
“Long story,” I said, laughing.
Glinda shook her head and waved over her shoulder as she took off running down the street, her blond hair flying out behind her.
I was still laughing as I turned back toward the Wisp.
Laughter that died on my lips when I saw Baz Lucas step out from behind a large oak tree.
Chapter Twenty-one
Baz took a step toward me, and I held out my arm. “That’s close enough.”
In that instant, I heard a sound so soothing I immediately relaxed a bit. It was the coo of a mourning dove, and it was somewhere nearby. I wasn’t alone.
The Elder was with me.
I could feel deep down that it was true—that she was using the bird as a method to travel in and around the village. Why had I never noticed the immense comfort the bird’s call had brought to me before now?
Confusion slashed across Baz’s features. “What? Why?”
Bolstered with the knowledge that I had the governess of the Craft as potential protection against Baz, I took a moment to study him. The past twenty-four hours hadn’t been kind to him. He, like Vivienne, was still wearing the clothes he’d had on at the Wisp yesterday. His shirt was untucked, and his long coral-colored cargo shorts were filthy. Thick stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his hair was flat on one side, standing on end on the other. Cuts and scratches covered his arms, his legs, including one nasty-looking wound near his ankle that I was sure had come from Pepe.
And what I saw of him didn’t paint the picture of a cold-blooded killer, but rather a man who’d lost control of his life.
“Why were you following me last night?” I asked.
“How did you—” He ran a hand down his face. “I refuse to deny it. Yes, I followed you into the woods, but quickly lost you in the growing darkness. I sought your help, nothing more. I didn’t know where else to turn, and Vivienne always spoke so highly of you and your sleuthing skills at your job through As You Wish.”
He’d thrown me for a loop. “Help? With what?”
“I am fearful. Fearful the police are going to look no farther than my doorstep for Natasha’s killer. Fearful I am being used as a scapegoat.” His voice rose louder and louder. “Fearful my good name will be forever besmirched because of the company I chose to keep, and for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fearful that perhaps I will be the next victim.” Taking a shuddering breath, he dropped his chin to his chest, and his eyelids fluttered closed.
Gone With the Witch Page 18
