A Lying Witch Book Three

by Odette C. Bell

I sat back in my chair and let out a massive side that reverberated through the room and could have been mistaken for a clap of thunder. Drawing my hand up, I placed it over my eyes and blinked wearily against my palm. Then my phone beeped. I crumpled forward, snatched it out of my pocket, and waited with baited breath as I read the text from Bridgette.

  She was happy to see me and was available right now.

  I left Max a scribbled note on the table, grabbed my jacket and keys, and left.

  Though I hadn’t lied – for the first time in my life – and I did trust Max, that didn’t mean I wasn’t determined to find out absolutely everything I could about him. Because there was something that told me that would be the key, not only to my life but his.

  Chapter 2

  It was still absolutely pouring down, and as I got out of my car, I tilted my head up and frowned. The kind of frown that doesn’t just cut down your chin but threatens to lop it right off your face.

  I hadn’t pressed Max to figure out more about his weird comment about the Lonely King and the weather. But as I tilted my head back and felt the rain splash against my cheeks like thousands of watery swords, I realized something had to be up. Even I, with my almost insignificant knowledge of magic, could feel that slight buzz in the air. It left an unpleasant tingling beneath my tongue, and a cold, slick feeling shifting between my shoulder blades.

  I shivered, caught my collar between stiff fingers, and yanked it high over my neck.

  Bridgette was waiting. And god knows I needed some answers already.

  I quickly jumped up onto the pavement and rushed under the relative protection of an awning. I say relative, because the rain was coming in every direction, sideways and almost from underneath, as if it were propelled by the twisting, chaotic winds of a hurricane.

  Bridgette wasn’t at the café, and instead, she’d suggested we meet up at the library. In the past few weeks, I’d gotten to know another side of Bane City. The magical side. The side that apparently existed under everybody’s noses and had so for hundreds of years. If you had your wits about you and a shadow of knowledge about magic, you’d be able to see it down every winding street, twisting alleyway, and darkened shopfront.

  Drawing out my phone and protecting it with the sleeve of my rain jacket, I checked the coordinates, nodded to myself, then hooked a right between two buildings. Not down an alleyway, mind you – between two buildings that abutted. To the rational mind, to the untrained eye, there was no space between the buildings. But to the magician, if you tilted your head at just the right angle, you could see it – a fraction of a gap. A gap that grew larger as you plowed headfirst into it.

  That unpleasant tingle beneath my tongue only became stronger, practically zapping down my throat as I forged a path forward. After several steps, the buildings parted sufficiently, and I found myself traveling down a laneway that was nicely spaced and no longer felt as if I were being squeezed between two walls of brick.

  I checked my phone once more until I found the right section of wall. I walked right up to it, hesitated for half a second, then reached forward and rapped my knuckles on the brick.

  One knock then two, and finally the brick started to change. Charges of iridescent blue and green magic crackled over it, sinking through the deep pores of the brick, sparking into the air, and changing everything they touched.

  With that special sinking feeling I only felt around powerful magic, the wall before me changed, just as had happened when Max had introduced me to that seedy magical bar.

  With a final creak like an old oak splitting in half, the door opened, and I walked in.

  The library was amazing, breathtaking. It took me right back to those magical fantasy films I’d watched as a kid. It looked as if the room had been set up by a production design team, and not just a bunch of witches.

  The shelves ran from the floor to the ceiling, and were so stuffed with books, several had fallen out and fluttered invitingly by my feet. The building was twisting, too, almost like a flowing river as it meandered around obstructions in its path.

  Atop the various wall-to-wall bookcases were lights. Except these were no ordinary lamps. They weren’t $10 LEDs from the hardware store. Nope, they were mushrooms. Luminescent mushrooms.

  You might think this made the entire place look like some cheesy drawing from a kids’ fairy book. It didn’t. The mushrooms had little luminescent caps that reminded me of Tiffany style lamps, and the light they shone was organic, mysterious. It was erratic, lighting up different books in turn almost like a spotlight searching for an item of interest.

  I’d seen a lot in this magical world, and to be honest, most of it was unpleasantly gritty. Every time I closed my eyes, it was a struggle not to remember that moldered, blood-covered plastic in Fagan’s warehouses. Heck, I could even smell that awful, faintly acrid scent. I swore it had scoured holes in my nostrils.

  But this, this kind of reminded you that there had to be a good side to magic.

  As I turned around another meandering corner in the library, I found Bridgette. She was lounging back in a gold and blue, sumptuous wingback chair. Several long, elegant fingers were tapping the carved arms as she pondered a book in her lap.

  As soon as she saw me, a pronounced grin spread across her red lips.

  She bounced out of the chair. “You were quick. What do you need to discuss, anyway?” Though at first a friendly grin had spread across her face, now her brows knitted together in worry.

  I may have only known Bridgette for several weeks, but she was already pretty good at reading me.

  I pressed my lips together and shrugged. “I need your help. And to be honest, I’m not exactly sure where to start.”

  Bridgette spread her arm to the left, indicating the chair.

  I sat in it glumly, running my bottom lip through my teeth. Though I was absolutely determined to find out everything about Max that I could, I wasn’t an idiot. If he found out what I was doing – turning to Bridgette to snoop on him – he wouldn’t exactly be pleased. And wouldn’t that be a slap in the face for him considering only this morning he’d stared endearingly into my gaze and asked me to trust him.

  I hardened my jaw against the thought. I needed answers.

  So I opened up.

  “Don’t get me wrong – I trust Max. Of course I do,” I said breathlessly, and there was precious little I could do to control my tone.

  By now, Bridgette had literally pulled a chair out of the wall. Though there hadn’t been a recess there, she’d just plucked up one of the books, and, removing it from the shelf, another of those wingback chairs had appeared. She sat down, folding her long limbs in.

  At the mention of Max, the underside of her jaw hardened. Her brow was still smooth, her eyes still open and alert, but anyone trained in reading facial expressions would be able to see her concern.

  I kept fidgeting with my hands. “I trust him,” I repeated, mostly for my own benefit, mostly to prove to myself that my voice didn’t waver as I said the word trust. “But…”

  “But you know nothing about him,” Bridgette jumped in.

  I jerked my gaze up to meet hers. Slowly, I nodded.

  She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. For several seconds, she wouldn’t make eye contact. “I won’t be able to tell you much, not as much as you want to hear, anyway,” she answered. “To be honest, I’ve always been slightly suspicious of Max’s relationship with Sarah Anne.”

  At that admission, my stomach kicked. One of those powerful, lurching movements that make you wonder whether you’ll throw up.

  I managed to hold on to the contents of my stomach. I did not, however, manage to slow my suddenly thundering heart.

  Bridgette looked up and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. There’s never been anything between Sarah and Max, that I know of,” she added with a shrug. “There’s never been anything between Max and anyone that I know of. He’s too private, too mysterious. When your grandmother was still alive, h
e never left her side, only went out into the wider magical world when she needed to hunt something down. And that,” Bridgette raised her gaze and locked it on me once more, “is weird. Don’t get me wrong, magical bodyguards – especially fairies – are loyal. That’s part of the contract. But Max’s loyalty…” she trailed off, suddenly staring at her fingers instead.

  “Loyalty what?” I pressed forward onto the very edge of my seat. Any further, and I’d tumble onto the floor. I didn’t care, though. By god, I needed some frigging answers, and I needed them now. It wasn’t just the sound of the pounding rain that managed to pierce even the walls of this magical library. It wasn’t just the ominous sense that had filled the city streets as I’d driven through town. It was everything. Every damn thing that had happened to me since the day I inherited my grandmother’s house and her curse.

  Bridgette obviously sensed my growing desperation, because she pressed her lips together and shot me a subdued smile.

  “Magical fairies are a lot of things, but they are usually not as loyal as Max is. Nor are they as connected to their charges,” Bridgette added, her voice dropping conspicuously low.

  My stomach ignited with nerves. I fidgeted with my hands until it felt like I would pluck my fingers from my palms. “What does that mean?” I asked uncomfortably.

  She took a moment then shrugged, shoulders riding high towards her ears, the old leather of her beaten up jacket creaking. “Beats me. Max has always been a mystery. He….” She looked as if she wanted to add something, but shook her head.

  Again, I pressed forward on my chair until I was sitting right on the very edge. If a feather had landed on my back, I would have crumpled forward. “He what? Seriously, whatever you know about him, anything would help. Because I know nothing. And every time I question him—”

  “He claims to have no memory, ha?” she answered.

  I nodded gravely. “Is that honestly how it works? I mean, I know magic costs ordinary people something, but that seems excessive.”

  Bridgette made a face. “What do you mean you know magic costs ordinary people something? It costs everyone something. That’s the very nature of magical power. In order for it to manifest, it has to take something from the person through which it arises. Nothing comes for free, kid,” she added.

  It was my turn to frown awkwardly. “Except for my magic, right?” I asked, sounding ridiculously innocent. My voice shook a little and had a real tinge of stupidity.

  Bridgette scratched her nose. “Of course your magic costs something. I mean, I never asked because we never exactly had the chance. But what do you lose? You know what I lose.” Bridgette brought a hand up and patted her stomach, indicating the permanent scar that ran down her torso. Bridgette could split herself off, create a body double. But every time she did so, she opened that scar. If she used her magic for too long, she would run the risk of splitting herself in half, literally.

  I began to shake my head but stopped. Sure, I hadn’t exactly used my powers extensively – but I’d used them enough to know nothing like what happened to Bridgette happen to me. I didn’t lose my memories, I didn’t open up a permanent scar down my torso, and I didn’t stop myself from forgetting, like Sarah whenever she used her magic.

  Bridgette watched me carefully, and it was her turn to press forward in her seat, resting her lanky elbows on her knees. “Nothing comes for free,” she repeated. “All magic costs. It’s a fundamental rule. And even seers – though rare – don’t get out of it. So your magic will cost you something, even if you haven’t figured out what that is yet.”

  Bam. I felt like someone had just shot me.

  I already had too much to think about, too many questions swirling around and clamoring for answers. Now this.

  A moment of silence passed between us. She leaned back, still staring at me. “He told you it costs nothing, didn’t he?” she asked perceptively.

  That twist of nerves in my gut only turned harder, kind of like a thumbscrew being tightened by a torturer.

  At first, I couldn’t answer – didn’t want to betray Max’s confidence – but in another moment, I found my head nodding anyway.

  Bridgette’s expression became grim.

  “Perhaps he didn’t know. Perhaps whatever magic had cost my grandmother hadn’t been visible, and—”

  She shook her head with some finality. “Every magical creature is beholden to the laws, Chi. They’re part of reality. They are sown into the very fabric of the universe. Every ounce of magic costs you. And the more you use, the more you pay for it,” her voice dropped down low, her gaze darting towards her middle.

  … What the hell was Max hiding from me? I could conjure up the first conversation we’d had. Where he told me that magic costs everyone but me. That the only true consequences of my magic came from the curse. Came from turning from my abilities.

  Trust me. Max’s voice rose unbidden in my mind, as if a perfect copy of the guy had suddenly squeezed itself between my ears. I could hear his exact tone, practically feel his presence behind me.

  I shook my head in a tight move.

  Bridgette gave an uneasy sigh. “That doesn’t bode well. And, to be honest, I’ve always had my suspicions about Max. It’s not that he’s ever done anything…. It’s just that…” she trailed off.

  A surge of emotion propelled itself through my stomach and shot hard into my heart. I wanted to jump to Max’s defense. My whole body did. But I controlled myself as I clenched my teeth. “I don’t think he is a bad guy,” I said in a light, falsely easy tone. Just…” I trailed off as I wondered just how much to tell Bridgette.

  I hadn’t told a soul about what had happened to me in the past. That vision with Max, with Mary McLane, with the curse. Max had told me never to breathe a word about the curse. He’d said doing so would only aggravate it, would only bring more fell creatures to my door.

  Now I wasn’t so sure – of anything.

  I brought up a hand, plastered it over my sweaty brow, and hid behind it as I let out a fatigued sigh.

  “Buck up, kid. We’ll find a way. Though I’m reticent to agree with you,” she paused as she breathed through clenched teeth, “I’m inclined to agree. Somewhere under Max’s surface is an okay guy. I mean, he’s had plenty of chances to turn against us witches, but he always seems to do the right thing at the end of the day. That being said,” she looked at me directly with the intensity of a star, “he’s got secrets. And you’re gonna need to find out what they are.”

  There was something so bolstering about her tone, so sure, so powerful.

  It reminded me of something. The person I’d been before I’d fallen headfirst into this ridiculous world. The ballsy fortune teller who never backed down from a fight. The woman who used her lies as a weapon and yet as a tool to bring others happiness.

  Slowly a faint smile spread across my lips. “You got any ideas how to find those secrets out? Because I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start at home,” she said directly. “Max is your magical bodyguard, so somewhere in your grandmother’s house will be a contract. Fairies sign up a scrap of their soul to their employers whenever they join them. You find that contract, and you bring it here. There are certain rights we’ll be able to do to interrogate it.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Interrogate it? Isn’t it just a book?”

  She shook her head. “It’s way more than that. It’s a sanctified magical document that uses a scrap of Max’s soul and your soul to bind him to you.”

  I blinked suddenly. “Sorry? A scrap of my soul? What are you talking about?” My voice shot up high as I flattened a hand on my chest as if someone had snuck in and carved out a section of my heart when I wasn’t looking.

  Bridgette nodded. “That’s how you’re bound to each other. It’s basic fairy law. Though,” she trailed off again, tipping her head to the side as she stared at one of the mushroom lamps, a ponderous look crumpling her usually smooth brow.

  I wanted to press
forward in my chair again, but I seriously would fall out. Instead, I ran my bottom lip through my teeth. “Though what?”

  She shook her head, appearing to dislodge whatever thought was bothering her. Then she stopped and looked directly up at me. “Though it sounds mad, I’ve never really… I’ve never really thought Max was a fairy,” she finally said.

  I had no idea what to do with that comment, so I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something about him….”

  I nodded. Because, like it or not, there was definitely something about Max.

  But rather than wallow in that thought, I clenched my teeth together. “So I find this book and bring it back here. Then we interrogate it. That will tell us what Max is? That will reveal his secrets?”

  “It won’t necessarily be a book. It could be any kind of magical object, from a statue, to a ring, to a picture.”

  It was a book. It was definitely a book. It was the book that always sat atop the desk in the attic. The so-called copy of my curse.

  I was sure of it.

  “But yeah,” Bridgette continued, “you bring it here, and there are several rights we can perform. It will be costly.” She controlled a grimace as she ran a hand down her stomach. “It will take a heck of a lot of magic, but it will be worth it.” Her mood changed as she grinned back at me.

  I couldn’t help but smile in return. It sure was nice to have someone on my side.

  “Alright,” I said as I pushed hard to my feet. “I’ll get the contract and bring it right back here. Do you have time this afternoon?”

  She chuckled. “Sure, but it will probably take you some time to track down the contract—”

  “I already know what it is. And I need to get this sorted,” I began as I tilted my head to the side and listened to the sound of the driving rain reverberating from outside, “today. Now, preferably.”

  Bridgette rose to her feet and pushed a hand out.

  I shook it.

  “I’m here for you, sister. The whole coven is. We owe you. Good luck in finding the contract. And don’t forget, be on the lookout.”