by Jane Hinchey
Setting up Archie’s litter tray and putting down fresh water and dry food for him, I decided to leave him in the cottage while we were gone. There was plenty of time for him to explore outside later. After locking up the cottage, we strolled side by side up the path to the lighthouse. At the base was a concrete path with steps and surrounding that was lush green grass. I made a note to ask the realtor who kept the grass mowed, because it was very well maintained. Between the lighthouse and the cliff was a park bench and we sat on it with the basket between us.
Blake opened the wine and poured us each a glass while I popped a grape in my mouth. I wasn’t sure wine was a good idea but I accepted the glass when Blake handed it to me. “Hair of the dog,” he said.
“Do you have a family?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, helping himself to a grape. “I have a sister.”
“And your parents?”
“Still alive. Living in Redmeadows.”
“And is she a lawyer too? Your sister?”
He chuckled, leaning against the bench, one arm resting along the back behind my head, his legs stretched out in front, crossed at the ankles. “My father is a retired judge. My mom was his secretary. Cliché, I know.” He grinned. “And my sister works for the SIA.”
“Oh wow. The Supernatural Investigation Agency. That’s pretty badass.” As an only child, I didn’t know what it was like to have a brother or sister to share growing up with, to argue with, play with, laugh with. Not that I had a horrible childhood, far from it, but at times—especially when Mom and Dad were away on a dig—it got lonely, and I’d dream of having a big family.
“Mom always told us we could be whatever we wanted. She didn’t care if we were a dog walker or a brain surgeon. To Mom, the most important thing was that we were happy.”
“She sounds amazing,” I said softly, my eyes on the horizon where the ocean met the sky in a hazy mist.
“She’d like you.” His voice was equally soft and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Last night, he’d rallied around me with my friends, like he was a part of my inner circle. The problem with that was how right it felt. That he belonged. Don’t get used to it, Harper. He’ll be leaving soon, remember that.
We lapsed into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I heard him rummaging around in the picnic basket, then he nudged my arm. I looked down to see him holding out a sliver of cheese on a cracker. I took it, enjoying the tang of the cheese and the crunch of the biscuit.
“So, about those clowns,” Blake said and I laughed out loud.
“Please forget I said anything about clowns,” I pleaded.
“Well no, I can’t do that,” he teased. “Such a riveting topic of conversation.”
“Stop.” I giggled, my cheeks heating.
“And then it was cats,” he continued. “It’s got me curious what’s going to come out of your mouth next.”
“I’m sorry. I babble when I’m nervous,” I explained.
“And I make you nervous?”
“Very.” Oh god, Harper, you’re doing it again. Just shut up.
The hand that had been resting on the back of the bench moved to stroke my neck and I shot to my feet, startling us both.
“I don’t know what Gran told you, or what you think might happen here, but I can’t.” I chugged the last of my wine and shoved the glass back into the picnic basket. “Thank you for your help today, but really, I think this…”
He stood and caught one of my hands in his, stilling my anxious gesturing. “Harper.” God, even the way he said my name had me coming undone. “Your Gran didn’t say anything. There’s no hidden agenda here. Just two people enjoying each other’s company.”
“I don’t think I can be trusted,” I blurted, and he frowned in puzzlement. “My judgment,” I elaborated. “I can’t trust myself right now. Seeing Simon last night brought up a whole bunch of stuff.”
He looked at me with those impossibly dark eyes. “I would imagine so. Has he bothered you again?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him.” I wrapped my arms around my waist and turned my back to him, focusing my attention on the ocean.
“Do you want to?” I could feel him behind me, the warmth from his body, but he didn’t touch me. He just stood there, and his presence was strangely soothing and equally stimulating.
I shook my head. “No. It’s stupid…I’d been longing for at least a phone call. A text message even. Something to say he missed me. But him turning up, out of the blue and unannounced? Well, it made me see something that I don’t think I consciously wanted to see. Or know.”
“What’s that?”
“That, despite the pain and hurt he put me through, I’m not in love with him. And last night, seeing him in person…he’s not the man I thought he was. He had me fooled. And admitting that? It stings.”
I hadn’t meant to admit that, and panic welled up in me. I had conflicting emotions over Jackson, I’d had the hots in the worst way for Blake, and I wondered if I was merely on the rebound. Either way, my own emotions were too overwhelming and confusing to deal with right now. I’d much rather focus on catching a murderer!
“Thanks for the picnic, but I’m going to head off,” I said, not giving him a chance to respond. I hurried down the path as quickly as I could without actually running—because that would look like I was wimping out.
Arriving at the cottage, out of breath but alone, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, managing to catch hold of Archie who’d let out a godawful howling noise and bolted for the door as soon as I opened it. Clutching him tightly and managing to avoid his claws, I ran a hand over his fur which was standing on end. I don’t think I’d ever seen him this agitated.
“What is it, Archie?” I ran my hand over his back, stroking until I felt him relax against my chest. “What happened, boy? Did something spook you?”
I pushed the door closed with my foot and moved to the oversized plush sofa, sinking down onto it with Archie on my lap. Then I felt it. Magic. Power. No wonder Archie was freaked out. Moving him to the cushion at my side, I whispered, “Stay here.”
The vibration in the air was similar to what I’d felt at Bonnie’s house. There was a dark, sinister undertone. Is this what Kristen had meant when she said she sensed evil?
Whatever it was—ghost, spirit, or something else entirely—it wasn’t in the living room. I closed my eyes and centered myself, managing to pinpoint where the energy was coming from. Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms. Making my way upstairs, I paused on the landing, and my eyes zeroed in on the glowing light leaking out from under the door to the master bedroom. I tiptoed across the landing and wrapped my fingers around the knob, and slowly turned. I was trying to be quiet but with a house this old, it inevitably creaks and groans, and that is exactly what it did. The door groaned loudly as I slowly pushed it open.
I gasped at what I saw. The orb. This time, big and bright, I could see it perfectly and it was hovering in my room by my dresser. It turned when I entered, almost as if it could see me, and again, I wondered if it could.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded. It started toward me, slowly at first but picking up speed, and I had flashbacks to Bonnie’s attic when it seemed the orb had been about to attack us. Throwing up a hand, I pushed out my magic. “Stop!”
To my utter surprise, it worked. The orb stopped, but by the way it kept backing up and then rushing forward only to bounce back, I imagine my forcefield was an unexpected surprise to the orb as well. Trouble was, we were at a stalemate. I wasn’t used to using my magic and holding the orb back was draining me fast. I’d meant to ask Izzy at Drixworths about the orb but I hadn’t seen her for my weekly check-in yet. If what Jackson had said was true, someone was using it to spy on witches. I hadn’t sensed it at Gran’s house, but she had that place warded up the wazoo. No such protection existed here—something I needed to remedy, pronto.
The orb started to emit a loud piercing noise and with one hand thrust ou
t, holding it back, I couldn’t cover my ears.
“Harper?” Over the screeching, I heard the front door burst open and Blake yelling my name. I was gritting my teeth so hard I couldn’t unlock my jaw to reply but figured he’d worked it out when I heard his footsteps on the stairs.
Within seconds, he was by my side, thrusting his hand, palm out, next to mine and with a pop, the orb disappeared. I sagged in relief, bending forward to rest my hands on my knees and drag in a breath. I felt clammy and when I wiped the back of my hand across my brow, it came away damp with sweat. My battle with the orb had been intense and exhausting.
“Thanks,” I puffed, straightening up. “We were at an impasse.”
“You okay? You look pale.” He was too close, messing with my senses again, so I moved over to the dresser and tried to figure out what the orb had been looking at. Or looking for.
“I’m fine. I’m not used to using so much magic.” I pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and peered inside. Empty. My suitcases were on the bed, untouched, waiting for me to unpack.
“You aren’t?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why?”
“Apparently, my magic is very powerful, and since I kinda neglected my witch heritage for the past five years, Drixworths have me on lockdown. They fear if I’m given full throttle, I could go a little nuts.”
He regarded me for a moment. “Interesting,” was all he said.
“And that’s why I have Archie,” I added. “My familiar. He’s meant to help me keep a lid on things. Although, I could have used his help with channeling my magic today.”
Even though Blake hadn’t moved, his eyes had done a thorough inventory of my bedroom. “What do you think they were looking for?” he asked.
“They?”
“Whoever summoned the orb,” he prompted. “Clearly, they’re looking for something.”
“I’ve seen it before,” I blurted. “In Bonnie’s attic, the night she died. The night you arrived. I thought it was you.”
Not my most eloquent sentence but considering he’d been in the room with me and the orb, clearly, he wasn’t the one using it.
“Did you now?” he drawled, dark eyes intent. I swallowed. Maybe I should have kept that observation to myself. “I assume that is no longer your opinion?”
“No,” I quickly answered. “I mean, it can’t be you. You were here with the orb. You helped me get rid it. But then, you can manipulate energy, so maybe it is you. But I don’t think it is.”
“It isn’t me,” he muttered, an underlying tone of annoyance lacing his words. Great. I’d pissed him off.
“Well, Gran, said you were a powerful fae,” I said defensively. “And you know, a powerful fae turned up at the same time as the orb.”
“And you put two and two together and got five.”
“Seems like,” I admitted. Then he crossed the room so fast I could barely track his movements and touched his fingers to my cheek.
“You’re too pale. Come downstairs and I’ll make some tea. And then you’re going to tell me everything.”
And just like that, he was gone again. I frowned. He moved almost as fast as Monica, and she was a vampire. But he was right, I felt wobbly and a cup of tea sounded divine.
Downstairs, I sat at the kitchen table, with Archie on the chair next to me, and watched while Blake unpacked the box of kitchen supplies Gran had insisted I take. A starter pack, she’d called it. Bread, tea, coffee, sugar, milk, and various other essentials. God love her.
A headache was starting to niggle and I pinched the bridge of my nose, dropping my hand when a steaming mug of tea appeared in front of me.
“Don’t know how you take it,” Blake said, depositing a box of sugar cubes and a carton of milk in the middle of the table.
He sat opposite me and waited while I added sugar and milk to my tea and slowly stirred before taking a sip.
“Better?” he asked. I nodded. “Alrighty then. Spill.”
I blew out a breath and considered my options. He was a lawyer, I could trust him, right? It had been Gran who had planted the seed in my head that he was behind the orb and that maybe he was involved. But today proved that to be false. So, I could trust him. I think. I squinted at him and he regarded me passively while I debated with myself.
“I think the best way is to show you. In my bookstore, I have this crime board…”
His eyebrows shot up. “You have a crime board?”
My eye twitched. “I do. It has all the information we’ve been able to gather so far and rather than rely on my memory—which, let’s be honest, is a little swiss cheese right now, thanks to a certain number of shots last night—we should go to The Dusty Attic.”
“And who is we?”
I frowned. “You and me.” Duh. “You and me should go to the Dusty Attic to look at the crime board,” I enunciated, slowly and clearly, figuring he hadn’t understood me. Maybe I was slurring…I wouldn’t be surprised.
He grinned. “No, I got that. Back up a bit. You said the crime board has all the information we’ve been able to gather.”
“Oh! Right. So, that would be me, Jenna, Monica, and Gran.”
He shook his head and I couldn’t be sure if it was in wonder or resignation. “Seems you’ve got your own little murder club going.”
“Don’t call it that. Gran calls it that and it’s not. You make it sound like we’re ambulance chasers, and we’re not.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Not a murder club.”
I finished my tea and glared at him. He smirked in return. Infuriating male. I carried my cup to the sink and rinsed it, leaving it to drain. It wasn’t until I looked down at myself, thinking I needed a shower, that I realized something critical. I’d been flouncing around in my sweat pants, T-shirt, sans bra, all day. The critical words here were sans bra. The girls had been bouncing about, unimpeded, without me so much as noticing, not even once.
Heat scorched my cheeks, again, and I tried not to panic. I mean, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t indicated at all that maybe I’d like to put a bra on. Oh god. Truly mortified, I tried to shuffle out of the kitchen, keeping my back to him.
“Harper? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Um, I’m just going to quickly get changed, then we can go.” I continued with the most awkward of exits from a room known to mankind.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
Oh man. Just when I thought I was home free, he had to ruin it all. “What?” I squeaked in my chipmunk voice.
“The…view.”
I shot up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were after me.
Chapter Eleven
We gathered around the crime board in The Dusty Attic—Blake, Jenna, Monica, Gran, and I. Archie sat on my desk and watched the proceedings with a critical eye.
Seeing his name pinned to the board, Blake plucked it off and held it up. “Ladies, let me assure you I am not involved in this, other than as your lawyer, Alice.”
Gran actually blushed. I blinked a couple of times, trying to clear my eyes. I’d never seen Gran look the slightest bit…abashed? Uncomfortable? Ashamed?
She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I call ’em as I see ’em and you know, you turned up at the same time as the orb did.”
“Let’s find out, shall we? What’s the timeline here? Harper?”
“Timelines are my job.” Monica jumped up and, with vampiric speed, taped together pieces of paper and stuck them to the bottom of the crime board to begin the timeline.
“Kristen discovered Bonnie’s body at around five,” I said, to kick things off.
“I was arrested at seven or thereabouts. I remember because I was getting ready for my date. Such a shame I missed it because he was really dreamy too,” Gran said.
“Yeah, we don’t want to hear it, Gran.” I stopped her before she could overshare. “I called Mom and Dad after Gran was arrested, but I’m not sure what the time was…I was a bit dazed for a bit and time got away from me. I think it was a
fter eight? Maybe closer to nine? And then I went to Bonnie’s house.”
“How long were you there?” Blake asked.
I shrugged. “A couple of hours, maybe? Jackson arrived. We thought we could try and summon Bonnie, if her ghost was there, and that’s when we saw the orb.”
“And the orb was where in the house?”
“Upstairs in the attic. Next to Bonnie’s altar.”
“Not downstairs at all? At the crime scene?”
I shook my head. “Oh, and her grimoire is missing. I would have thought it would have been in the attic where Bonnie clearly practiced magic. But Jackson and I searched for it and couldn’t find it.”
“It’s possible the police already have it in evidence,” Blake said.
“But surely Jackson would have known that?” Jenna pointed out.
“I’ll ask him.” Before I could stop her, Gran had her phone out and was dialing. When he answered, she moved away so she wouldn’t disturb us.
“What next?” Blake asked.
I stared at the timeline. Gran was in jail. Jackson and I searched Bonnie’s house. Then…
“You arrived. I was back home, I’d just got in and you banged on the door.” I said.
“I knocked,” he corrected me. “That was around eleven,” he said to Monica, who dutifully added it to the timeline.
I pointed at the timeline. “See? Gran was arrested at seven and you arrived at eleven, assuming my dad called you sometime between eight and nine, after I’d called him and Mom. How did you get here so fast?”
“Helicopter,” he replied.
“Really?” Jenna said, voice full of awe. “That would be so cool.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You hired a helicopter to fly down here to take on Gran’s case? That makes no sense. This is small fry to you.”
“The helicopter belongs to the law firm I work for. It’s available for us to use. And since I’m friends with your dad, I said I’d do this for him. He was upset, stuck on the other side of the world, and he couldn’t be here for you. So, I came instead.”
Jenna coughed. “I’d hardly call being a partner in a law firm working for them.”
