All the Pretty Witches

by Lauren Quick

  Rachel’s shoulders tensed. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t one of us. I swear to you. Is there anything I can bring you to make you more comfortable?”

  “No, but thanks.” Clearly Rachel had known that Honora was going to be set up, but why was she really there? “What do you know about Alana Burr?”

  Her eyes brightened for the first time. “You’ve seen her. How is she? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. We were close once. We were like sisters. But she changed. She went really dark, really fast. The black magic overtook her. It happens sometimes to witches who aren’t used to using it. She wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Is she capable of murder?”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t want to believe any of this, but I don’t know what to think.”

  Honora tried to get a read on her, but it was hard. Rachel could be totally playing her, pumping her for information for Ophelia. Or she could be sincere and in with the wrong crowd. Honora needed to be careful.

  “So help me out. How do I get friendly with her? What can you tell me?”

  “Alana loves flattery, especially about her spellwork. The dark charms were her idea. She researched and cast the charms. You might not like us, but it’s true. We aren’t bad witches. It got out of hand. The gold was too good for us to stop. But believe me, we would never betray one of our own.”

  “What about me?” Honora smirked.

  “I like you, Honora. You didn’t deserve this, but you were never really one of us. We all saw it. Ophelia was afraid that you might turn out like Alana and wanted to protect us in case something went wrong.”

  “And it did.” Harsh, but true. Honora couldn’t dispute it. “What about Alana? You all betrayed her.”

  “Alana changed. She wasn’t herself anymore. She was obsessed with black magic. Ophelia felt she needed to be stopped and that this was the only way. We did it for our own protection.”

  “Are you really protected? Are you safe?” Honora asked.

  “What do you mean?” Rachel glanced around her and twisted a strand of her hair nervously around her finger.

  “Come on, Rachel. Don’t play dumb with me. Constance is dead and you claim none of you did it, and yet someone with a grudge murdered her. Aren’t you scared that the same witch might come for you too?” Like Alana. But Honora didn’t mention the witch with an ax or, more appropriately, a wand whip to grind.

  Rachel drummed her fingers on the table. “Tell Alana I’m sorry. I had no idea Ophelia would go this far. I didn’t want this to happen, but I don’t know how to stop it.”

  “So you’re afraid.”

  “Yes. All right. I’m afraid. Something isn’t right. I don’t feel safe. I think someone is watching me all the time.” She swallowed hard and her gaze darted around the room. Honora realized the witch was acting paranoid—like dark charm paranoid. “Rachel, you need to watch your back.”

  “I have to go. I’m really sorry.” Rachel jumped to her feet and hurried from the room in a wild haste, leaving Honora alone.

  Had Alana gone too dark too quickly? Was she behind Constance’s death and seeking revenge on her old club? Rachel wasn’t in good shape. Was she next? Was another member of the flying club working with Alana? Honora needed to rethink what she thought she knew about Witches of a Feather. Maybe none of them killed Constance Danbury, and if that were true, she had no idea who did.

  19

  Being in Honora’s apartment without her felt wrong. Barnaby shifted on his perch and wouldn’t touch the food in his bowl. Vivi waved her wand and brewed up a cauldron of coffee since Honora didn’t have any tea, which she considered to be the drink of earthbound witches. Clover and Detective Corder sat in the living room in silence. The detective had met them at the apartment after Jenny had told them about Honora’s current circumstances and they reacted in true Mayhem sister fashion. They’d stormed the police station in search of an explanation and Corder ran interference, refusing to speak with them in front of the entire force. But once Clover threatened to stage a sit-in at the station, the detective offered to meet and explain Honora’s imprisonment.

  “How could you let this happen?” Clover asked, spearing Corder with her gaze. He sat stiffly in the center of the room in a wooden chair, like he was being interrogated.

  He sighed in annoyance. “I didn’t let it happen. Your sister volunteered to go undercover and is working on a highly sensitive, very important case. That’s all I can tell you. I’ve told you too much already, but your conduct earlier was ruining the operation.”

  “Oh, we’re ruining the operation,” Clover harrumphed. “Our sister is in the Banishment and it’s our fault.”

  Corder’s jaw tensed, anger flaring in his eyes. “No. I wasn’t saying that. I’m just asking for a little calm, and I want to assure you that nothing will happen to your sister. She’s under our protection and she happens to be a damn good operative. She’s made for this. If anyone can handle the Banishment, it’s Honora.”

  Vivi set a tray of coffee cups and a pot on the table and poured. Corder took a sip, but Clover just glared at the brew. A wave of heat rose up from the fragrant liquid, causing Vivi to step away. No coffee for her.

  Clover paused, and then slumped back in her chair, her anger deflating. “That’s true. But what are we supposed to tell her friends and the rest of our family? We’ve been bombarded with questions from witches and wizards wanting to know what happened. I’m just glad Mom and Dad are out of earshot.”

  “It will all be over very shortly and I promised Honora I would clear her name. Once the mission is complete, we’ll figure this out,” Corder said.

  Vivi rubbed an amethyst around in her sweaty hand, listening to the two of them talk. Sweat broke out on her brow. She slipped out of her spring cardigan, growing hotter by the second. “No. No, it’s not fine.” She tried to breathe but she felt suffocated, like she was surrounded on all sides. “Something bad is going to happen to her. I can feel it.”

  “Did you have another vision?” Clover asked.

  “No. It’s more like a waking premonition.” Vivi eased herself down on the sofa. She fanned her face with her hand. “I don’t feel well. It came on suddenly.”

  Clover hurried over to her and pressed her hand to Vivi’s cheeks and forehead. “Vivi, you’re burning up.”

  Corder jumped up and brought her a glass of water. “You don’t look well.”

  Vivi gulped down the cool liquid as the room spun around her. A slow burning heat crawled over her skin. The sensation felt like a message, as if her premonition had taken on a physical form, but she didn’t know how to articulate it.

  Clover felt her forehead again. “Vivi, I think you have a fever. Will you please bring me a cold washcloth, Detective?”

  “A fever! That’s it. That’s what I’m feeling. I think Honora is going to get sick.” Vivi rested on the sofa. “It’s a fever. She needs to be aware of fever.” Her eyes fluttered, her face burning.

  “I’m sure they’ll take care of Honora if she does,” Corder said, handing Clover a cloth he’d found on the counter and dampened. “There’s nothing to worry about. A fever is easily treatable.”

  “I’m contacting a doctor. You need to see someone right away. It came on so suddenly.” Clover patted Vivi’s forehead.

  “Like an attack,” Vivi said. “I’m sensing an attack.”

  “But it’s not a premonition,” Corder said. “I don’t know what you’re seeing, but I’ll send word to our people to be on high alert at the prison.”

  “This can’t be normal,” Clover said.

  “My healer has an office around the corner. I’ll see if she can see Vivi.” Corder leapt into action, heading for the door.

  “I hope Honora�
�s okay,” Clover said. “Fevers can be nasty.”

  When Honora finished speaking with Rachel, Witch Cross led her to the cafeteria for dinner. The room was cavernous with long wooden tables and benches. A long line of witches dressed in red prison garb waited with tiny black bowls that resembled cauldrons, clutched in their hands. As Honora waited in line, she scanned the room and was relieved when she didn’t see anyone from her cell block. She needed time to think and plan her next move. The sooner she found her contact Harley Evans, the better. Perhaps if she ate alone, Harley would approach her. At least that was what she was hoping.

  Honora grabbed a cauldron and glanced at the buffet choices in the food line. None of it looked appetizing. The theme for the evening meal seemed to be stews in shades of murky earth tones. She could only speculate on the contents. The witch in front of her pointed at one of the vats of brown muck and with a flick of the server’s wand the stew appeared in the witch’s cauldron. Honora took her cue and ordered the same. It rose in her cauldron from the bottom up and smelled like earthworms and rotten potatoes. Honora blinked rapidly at the sharp odor.

  After grabbing a cup of water and a spoon, she found a seat alone at a table and tried to eat, swirling her spoon around in the congealing brew. A smile bloomed on her face when she thought of Slader and the healthy soup he’d brought her. That seemed so long ago. She could only imagine what he and the rest of her real flying club were thinking. It had all happened so fast, but really she had dived in headfirst like she always did, and now she was here, all because she couldn’t face her reality and took too many risks to avoid her feelings about Ren. And she felt like she’d wasted her life.

  Honora choked down a few bites of the stew. She shoveled the lumpy slop into her mouth to keep her strength up. She carefully scanned the other witches and the guards, but no one returned eye contact and no one came near her while she slowly ate and dumped off her dishes in the bin next to the trash can. When she was finished, Witch Cross led her back to her cell.

  Honora grew restless. “Is there a witch named Harley Evans working in the prison?”

  Witch Cross completely ignored her.

  “Come on. Prison employment isn’t confidential. I’m just curious,” Honora said.

  She shrugged. “No one by that name works in the Banishment.”

  If she wasn’t a prisoner and she wasn’t an employee, then who was she and how was Honora supposed to find her?

  The common room was mostly empty so Honora went to her cell. Her blanket was rumpled and her box of things had been moved, which didn’t surprise her. Fever or one of the other inmates probably went though her meager belongings. She probably would have been more surprised if they hadn’t. Let them, she thought. She had nothing important anyway. The heavy food had made her drowsy. She closed her eyes and tried to rest on her thin mattress. Something tickled her cheek. She brushed it away and rolled over, facing the wall. A tiny squeaking sound woke her. Her eyes flashed open. Perched on her pillow was a small mouse. Honora jerked off the bed and bumped right into Fever, who had silently entered the room.

  “There’s a mouse.”

  Fever snorted. Her eyes narrowed at Honora, her mood darkened. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a rat. This place is crawling with wildlife.”

  Honora glanced back at her bed, but the mouse had disappeared. “I guess you’re right. Did you have dinner?” Honora asked lamely, groping for conversation.

  “What were you talking to Alana about earlier?” Fever asked.

  “Nothing really. She wanted to let me know that she was in charge around here. Nothing serious. Just wanted to put me in my place.” Honora trusted no one, so told Fever as little as possible.

  “Really. I’d have thought she would have shown you her little map and tried to get you to join her ill-fated cause to escape.”

  So she knew about that. Fever knew more than she had given her credit. “Are you involved?” Honora deflected the question with a question.

  “No. I tried, but it doesn’t work. It won’t work.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Honora said.

  “I know I’m right. And you need to be careful around here and make sure you don’t go around making the wrong friends.”

  Honora had gotten herself in the middle of a power struggle between the two witches. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m staying out of it.”

  Fever’s eyes were so wide, Honora half expected them to fall out of her face. “I don’t want you talking to her anymore. I don’t want her filling your pretty little head with lies and false hopes. You’re here now and you better get used to it. The sooner you do, the better off you are.”

  “I’ll keep your advice in mind. But if I want to talk to Alana, I will.” It was important for Honora to stand her ground. She returned to her bed and crawled under the thin blanket. It was still early but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to know what the nightlife was like in a place like this.

  The next morning, Honora walked out of the cell and into the common area. One of Alana’s lackeys spotted her and motioned for her to join them in Alana’s cell. Honora dutifully responded.

  “Good, you’re here. I want to go over the spell with you. We don’t have a lot of time and you need to know it inside and out if you’re going to activate the portal.” She unrolled the cloth while one of her girls watched the door.

  Honora sat on the bed next to the small bag of obsidian and examined the cloth. “What’s going on between you and Fever?”

  “What did she say to you?” Alana’s voice lowered.

  “She’s angry. She doesn’t want me talking to you anymore.”

  “Let me worry about Fever. By the time she formulates a plan of attack, we’ll be long gone.”

  “Plan of attack?!”

  Alana poked the cloth. “Read!” She walked over to the girl watching the door and they spoke in hushed whispers.

  Honora focused her attention on the cloth and the black magic spell. It wasn’t as complicated as she’d first thought. Whoever did the translation of the ancient text had done a good job explaining the spell and the ramifications if something went wrong. The spell was volatile and had the potential to backfire built into it. Utter one of many tricky parts wrong and nasty results occurred. This thing was booby-trapped, she thought. One wrong word in the middle caused the cloth to disintegrate. Another phrase, if pronounced incorrectly, caused the spell to shoot magical energy back on the witch performing it. The blast wouldn’t kill her, the note said, just knock her out. And lastly, if the ending phrase was misspoken, a flood of scorpions would pool from the earth. As if the black magic stain on her soul wasn’t enough, she had to hope she didn’t kill herself in the process.

  Alana must have seen the look of terror on her face. “Isn’t the spell epic? I love black magic.”

  Honora guessed the danger was part of the allure. “Epic,” she said.

  Suddenly the cell block was filled with the blaring sound of an alarm. “Damn! It’s a shakedown. They’re going to turn the rooms,” Alana said.

  “What do you want me to do?” Honora asked.

  “Get out of here now.”

  Honora folded up the map and handed it to Alana who shoved it back at her.

  “Hide it.”

  Of course. Alana didn’t want them to find it on her. Honora slid off her shoe and jammed the cloth map into the toe. She did the same with the small bag of stones in the other shoe. Honora raced back to her room and kicked off her shoes and pushed them away from her bed and next to the toilet, out of sight. Wizard Cross and another wizard entered the room. “Search their things,” she commanded.

  The guard turned over their bedding and dumped the sheets and blankets onto the floor. Next she went through the wooden boxes that contained their personal items. Honora stood with her arms over he
r chest. Fever hovered in the doorway.

  “Found something!” the guard yelled. She was digging through Honora’s box.

  “That’s impossible. I don’t have anything.” Honora jerked forward and Witch Cross pulled a metal charm off her belt and threw it at her. A burst of hot air hit Honora in the face and shoved her backward into the wall. She couldn’t move.

  “Watch it, Honora. You too, Fever.” Witch Cross turned to the guard. “What did you find?”

  “Makeshift wand,” the guard said and held up a rough wand with runes on the side that had been carved out of her toothbrush.

  “That’s not mine!” Honora yelled. “When would I have had the time to make a wand? I just got here.”

  “Search her!” Witch Cross yelled.

  The guard jumped up and patted Honora down and ran a wand over her while muttering a magic detection spell. “She’s clean.”

  Witch Cross stood within inches of Honora’s face. Her expression was scarily neutral and yet commanding at the same time. She must get training for that.

  “You disappoint me, Ms. Mayhem.”

  “I told you that the wand isn’t mine. Someone set me up.”

  “Is that the story you’re going with?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I thought you and I’d get along, but it looks like you need to learn a lesson.”

  Honora didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m not a very good student,” she shot back with a smile. Wisecracking was kind of her thing and was the only defense when faced with an angry prison guard.

  Witch Cross smiled back. Not a nice smile, but a creepy, toothy smile. “We’ll see how you like the well.”