by Jane Hinchey
With no time to ponder those particular mysteries, I climbed out of the car and followed. Last night, this had seemed like a brilliant idea. In the cold light of day, I wondered what on earth I’d been thinking.
“Come on, scaredy-cat,” Blake teased, grabbing my hand and dragging me up the garden path. As soon as I set foot on the front stoop, I felt it. The energy.
“Can you feel that?” I whispered to Blake, squeezing his hand tightly.
“Yep,” he confirmed, peering at the panel of doorbells. Six in total. He found the one marked Holt and pressed. I heard the buzzer echo inside, but no other movement.
“He’s not home.” I was half-disappointed, half-relieved, and turned to leave but Blake kept a hold of my hand.
“Wait,” he commanded. He appeared to be listening, so I cocked my head and listened too. Faintly, in the distance, I thought I heard footsteps. Eventually, the door opened and a rumpled Jacob Holt looked at us through bloodshot eyes.
“I knew it would be you,” he said. He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept.
“And why’s that?” Blake asked conversationally.
“Because I saw her last night. And she saw me.” He pointed at me, his finger shaking.
Blake pushed his hand down. “It’s rude to point.”
“Sorry.” Jacob was immediately contrite. Okay, so this wasn’t as scary as I’d built up in my mind. In fact, it seemed that Jacob was just as wary of me as I was of him.
“Can we come in?” I asked. “Clearly, we have things to talk about.”
All the color left his face and he swallowed audibly. “Are you going to kill me?” he croaked.
I looked at him in surprise, and opened my mouth to tell him that, in no uncertain terms, we had no intentions of harming him at all, when Blake muttered menacingly, “That’s to be determined.”
“What?” I whispered to Blake, who winked. Unsure what game he was playing, I decided I’d play along, for now.
“We just have a few questions for you. About the orb. That’s you, right?”
“I didn’t kill Bonnie,” he cried, and my heart went out to him.
“Relax, kid.” Seemed Blake took pity on him too. “We don’t think you did. We want to know what you’re doing with that orb and why you’re spying on Harper with it. For the record, she nor her grandmother killed Bonnie either.”
Jacob visibly sagged, grabbing the doorframe to hold himself up.
“Oh, thank god for that.” His relief was palpable and his demeanor totally changed. Holding the door wide, he ushered us inside.
“Let’s go to the basement. I have it warded.” Then he frowned at me. “Only you busted through.”
“Err, sorry?” I offered, following him down a hallway, through a small mudroom at the back of the house that led to a narrow set of wooden stairs leading into the basement. It was pretty unremarkable, standard-issue type basement, if you didn’t count the pentacle spray painted on the floor.
Jacob hurried to a pile of junk in the corner and tossed three milk crates into the center of the room. “Take a seat.”
I flipped one of the crates over and gingerly sat down.
“When I heard that Bonnie’s grimoire was missing, I got to thinking about ways we could look for it, track it. And I remembered my grandmother, God rest her soul, telling me about the orbs when I was a kid. I thought, if I could find that spell and make my own orb, I’d be able to freely search for her grimoire without anyone knowing,” Jacob said, producing a dog-eared notebook from beneath a canvas duffle bag.
He flipped through the pages and briefly held the notebook out so we could see the page. On it, was a hand-drawn sketch of an orb. Ah, the tattered notebook was Jacob’s grimoire.
“I take it you haven’t found Bonnie’s grimoire,” Blake said, only sitting once Jacob had settled himself on the crate opposite me.
Jacob shook his head. “Sadly, no. I was hoping I could use the orb like a tracking device. Seems that wasn’t the case,” he admitted.
“Well, I can assure you, I don’t have it,” I grumbled.
“Sorry. But I saw you with Detective Ward in Bonnie’s house. You were my only lead.”
“I’m not even a suspect!”
“Well, your Gran is, and I couldn’t get a connection with her. And then you turned the tables on me last night…what did you do?” His eyes were wide with curiosity. “I knew you’d warded your house to keep me out. That’s why I took your blood, to try and break your wards, only I couldn’t. And then you were here!”
Well, that explained what I’d seen, with him sitting with a bloodied napkin that he could only have gotten from Bean Me Up. I must have dropped one on my way out because I distinctly remember tossing one in the trash can in The Dusty Attic.
I glanced at Blake, who was looking at me with speculation in his eyes.
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a dream or real,” I admitted.
“Oh, it was real. You were here, like, right there.” He pointed to a spot on a floor. “Like an apparition. And then, poof”—He mimicked an exploding motion with his hand—“you disappeared. Scared the crap out of me.”
“You and me both,” I muttered under my breath.
“Well, Jacob, seems like you’ve learned a useful lesson, hmm?” Blake stood and we followed suit. “No more spying on people. You never know when it will backfire.”
That was it? We were leaving? But then, I guess Jacob didn’t have anything new to reveal to us. He was looking for the grimoire just like we were, and it seemed his only lead had been me and I certainly didn’t take it.
“No sir,” Jacob said solemnly, then turned to me. “But how did you do it? Was it astral projection? There have been whispers in the coven about you, about your power.”
“I wish I knew. Sorry.” I shrugged. All I knew was that I’d felt stronger, more powerful than ever last night. Maybe it was the cottage? Maybe it was the fresh wards and my magic was amped because of them? I had no real answers. But I knew where to get them.
After Blake had dropped me back at the bookstore, I called Izzy, the headmistress of Drixworths.
“Harper, how are you?” she answered on the third ring.
“Can I astral project?” I asked without preamble.
“Doubtful, but it’s possible, I suppose. Why?”
I told her about what happened last night, how I’d traveled down the energy path of the orb to Jacob’s basement.
“Ooooh, exciting!” I heard her clap her hands. “Come to Drixworths when you finish work. We’ll explore this further.”
I hesitated. “I don’t want you to dampen my magic anymore. I want you to teach me to use it. To control it.”
“Harper, I haven’t been holding you back.” She sounded puzzled. “Why would I even do that?”
“To stop me from going berserk? Like I did in East Dondure?”
“I think you learned your lesson from that little episode, don’t you?” She was right. I had. Drixworths had stripped my magic and suspended my witch’s license. That hadn’t been a fun time at all.
“But you assigned Archie to me to help control my magic.”
“That’s what a familiar does, Harper. Helps control. But Archie can’t stop your magic—he can help you funnel it, draw on it, but from what you’re telling me, you don’t need his help at all.”
I frowned at that. “I’m not giving him up!”
She laughed. “Of course not. You’re connected. He is yours and you are his.”
“Right then.” I huffed, calming down.
“Drop by after work, Harper, and we’ll talk some more, I don’t think you fully understand what is happening.”
After work, I headed straight to Drixworths Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school was deserted at this time of day, with no elf to greet me at the door like there had been in the past. I pushed open the big wooden doors and bypassed the massive staircase in the foyer, heading down the hallway toward the back of the building
where I knew the headmistress’s office was.
Esmerelda Higginbottom—Izzy, for short—had taken me under her wing when my witch’s license had been suspended and I’d been ordered to attend magic classes here at the Academy, and then re-sit my witch’s exam. Thankfully, I’d passed the exam and had been meeting with Izzy every week since. I was technically on probation, but we’d also developed a friendship and I looked forward to catching up with her.
I knocked lightly on her door and pushed it open. Izzy was where she always was whenever I visited Drixworths, seated behind her desk.
“Come on in, Harper.” She smiled as she finished typing something on her computer, hit the enter key with a flourish, and turned her full attention to me. “So, you’re coming into your magic, eh?”
Her smile was warm and inviting. She was the type of person you instantly felt comfortable around. And slightly in awe of, not only because of her own personal power, but her goddess good looks.
“Is that what this is?” I asked, slumping in the chair in front of her desk. “It feels like I’m too big for my skin, like I’m going to bust out of myself.”
“You’ve got this, Harper.” She leaned over the desk, holding her hand out to me. Leaning forward, I placed mine it and she settled her other hand over the top, sandwiching my hand beneath both of hers. “I think you have denied your spiritual side for so long that you don’t recognize it for what it is. A blessing. An extension of who you are.”
I shrugged. Possibly. Although, I recognized a thread of truth in what she’d said. I’d been in denial with my magic for a long time, having stopped practicing witchcraft altogether when I moved to East Dondure five years ago.
“So, tell me what I’m capable of,” I said now. “Everyone keeps telling me I’m powerful, and well, there has to be some truth to it since I’m one of the few who doesn’t need a wand, but”—I paused, gazing out the window while I gathered my thoughts—“what does that really mean?”
“It means whatever you want it to mean,” Izzy said softly, and I could have throttled her. She was an expert in saying plenty while saying nothing at all.
She laughed, reading my mind. “Okay, tell me what happened last night. You said astral projection?”
I explained what happened, the sensation between wakefulness and sleep, of zipping along the energy path the orb had left like I was an extra in The Fast and The Furious.
“Okay, take a breath. A deep one, in through your nose, out through your mouth…and…relax.” She breathed with me. “It could be a form of astral projection, or energy manipulation. You don’t have to put a label on it. What you did, you did instinctively. The orb invaded your space and you did what you had to do to protect yourself. That’s not a bad thing, Harper. And you didn’t use your magic in an aggressive or inappropriate way.”
“I guess.”
“Something else is bothering you. What is it?”
“It gets back to having all this power at my disposal but not being able to use it the way I want,” I said in a rush.
“How do you want to use it?”
“I want to find Bonnie’s killer!”
“If only it were that easy.” She steepled her fingers, resting her chin on top of them and studying me.
“How about finding Bonnie’s grimoire then?” I was desperate. I was out of clues and out of suspects. I was confident that whoever had killed Bonnie had taken her grimoire. It was the key to all of this.
“Here’s what you do.” She leaned forward again, and I leaned in close. Finally!
“Meditate.”
Say what? I sat back, looking at her like I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me. Meditate? My mind was like a squirrel on crack. There was no way I could sit and meditate! I opened my mouth to argue but she cut me off.
“Just try it before you dismiss it.”
I crossed my arms and glowered. Of course, she took that as a challenge.
“Right. We’ll do it together,” she declared.
“What, now?”
“Yes. Now. Get comfortable. Both feet on the floor, hands in your lap.”
With a put-out sigh, I did as instructed. “Now close your eyes. Take a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, and as you exhale, all your worries and stress leave you, you are relaxed. And again, breathe in…breathe out.” Her voice continued on, soft and melodic, issuing instruction, and I felt my body grow heavy in the chair.
We were around the point where I was consciously relaxing different body parts, I think we were up to my hips, when my mind wandered—as I knew it would. I started to think about our coven, of Gran, of Bonnie and what had happened to her. I pictured her that day, not knowing what was coming, happy in her kitchen doing what she loved. I imagined her delight at taking her angel food cake out of the oven, how pleased she was with it. I felt like I was there with her, could smell the cake, feel the warmth from the oven.
Then the image flickered, a quick snap of static, and I was back, standing now in the living room doorway, my back to the kitchen. Kristen rushed past me, anguish pouring off her in waves. I stiffened. This was it. Bonnie was dead. Had it been Kristen? I didn’t see the act itself and didn’t turn now to confirm that Bonnie was no longer alive, but I could feel it. Her spirit had gone. What caught my attention was Kristen running up the stairs. She said she’d gone out the front and called the police when I asked her about finding Bonnie.
I followed, making it as far as the landing, when Kristen rushed back down, shoving Bonnie’s grimoire into her oversized purse as she hurried back down the stairs and out the front door. I stood, mouth open in surprise, then heard her on the phone to the police, her voice trembling with the shock and horror of what she’d discovered.
“Harper? Harper?!”
I blinked, dazed. Had I nodded off?
“What?” Rubbing my hands over my face, I shook off the dream.
“You did it, honey.” Izzy was beaming at me.
“Did what?”
“You’re not astral walking, you’re having visions. Your spirit is moving through time and space. This is wonderful!” She clapped her hands in glee while I frowned at her.
“That was real?”
She was nodding madly. “Where did you go? What did you see?”
“I went to Bonnie’s house,” I said, voice flat. Her enthusiastic clapping and nodding stopped.
“Oh.” Yeah. Oh. “And what did you see?”
“I need to go,” I said, jumping up and scooping my bag from the floor. I was out and down the corridor, ignoring her calling my name. Outside of Drixworths, I sprinted for my car, fumbling for my phone as I ran.
“Hi, Harper.” Jackson answered on the first ring. I liked a person who answered immediately.
“Jackson!” I exclaimed. “Kristen Lane has Bonnie’s grimoire.” I puffed, my feet sliding in the gravel as I skidded to a halt by my car, jamming the phone between my shoulder and ear as I dug around for my keys.
“She does? You found it?” he asked.
“No, I saw it. A vision. I’m on my way to her house now. Meet me there!”
“Do not approach her!” Jackson warned right before I cut him off, ending the call.
I couldn’t say for sure that Kristen killed Bonnie, but she definitely took her grimoire and lied about it, and that made her look plenty guilty in my eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
I’d had time to call one other person on the drive over to Kristen’s house. Gran. She was the one they’d arrested, and the one out on bail. She had more skin in the game than me, so I figured it was only fair she knew. I hadn’t counted on her getting to Kristen’s house before me. Or having the rest of our coven with her. Seems the witch’s version of the phone tree was working incredibly well.
Slamming my car door, I made my way to the group of witches who stood huddled around Kristen’s front gate.
“What are you doing?” My irritation was evident in my voice. “Gran, you shouldn’t have called th
em here.”
“Nonsense, this is witch business.” Annie sniffed, her cheeks flushed. Oh, good grief, they were all primed for battle. I had to diffuse this right now.
“No, this is police business,” I corrected her, “and Jackson will be here any second. I don’t want you all here when he arrives.”
I was promptly ignored. Gran unlatched the gate and began stomping down the path toward the front door, Annie, Agnes, Jennifer, and Leah following. I threw up my hands and hurried after them, pushing through to the front to stop them from mounting the steps.
“Wait here!” I hissed, holding my hands out, my back to the door. “I’ll take care of this.”
I glanced over their heads to the street beyond—where the hell was Jackson? He should have been here before any of us, but there was no sign of him.
I froze when I heard the door open behind me and glanced over my shoulder to see Kristen in the doorway, the Crescent Coven gathered behind her. Fan-freaking-tastic. This was going to get messy.
Swiveling on my heel, I opened my mouth to address Kristen when a swarm of bees descended. So, rather than demanding she hand over Bonnie’s grimoire, I was instead flapping at my head, wincing as more bees than I would like managed to score a direct hit and deposit their stinger into my unprotected flesh. Our coven scattered and chaos ensued. The garden hose came to life, looping through the air, water chasing off the bees and dowsing the Crescent Coven mob who now stood side by side along the verandah, wands in hand. They were behind the bee attack!
Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong. Magic sparked through the air, as spells were cast and deflected by both sides. The shrub I was crouched behind went up in flames. I quickly extinguished it and frowned at Gladys who had her wand pointed my way. As I eyeballed her, Jacob shot his wand my way and a bucket of slime hit me in the chest. I glared at him and he grinned with an apologetic half-shrug.
