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All the Pretty Witches

Page 21

by Lauren Quick


  Corder assured her she wouldn’t have to worry and reminded her she was only there for backup. He and his team would take them down, no problem. At least her costume came with a leather jacket. But her high-heeled boots were killing her.

  Diabolical was packed. Honora wondered how many of the witches and wizards crowded into the shop were actually undercover cops, hopefully a lot. Excitement rippled through her body. This was who she was, an investigator, a fighter, and she wasn’t about to change that now. She walked through the shop, glancing at the merchandise. The shop worker she’d seen earlier was in a frenzy helping customers. Honora leaned against a table with a perfect view of the doorway to the basement.

  Corder and his team filed downstairs. The shop worker mopped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Honora bet his nerves weren’t only from keeping up with the customers, but with the action in the basement. She fingered a silk scarf on the table, pretending to browse.

  “Imagine seeing you here tonight, jailbird. Can we expect some action, Ms. Mayhem?” The red glowing eyes of the skull lit up.

  “Zip it,” Honora snapped. “I’m working.” She rolled her eyes. That skull must have no life. “How’d you know it was me? This glamor is one of the best I’ve ever used.”

  “It’s a skull thing. Or is it a witchy essence thing? I’m not sure. I just know that blonde doesn’t suit you.”

  Honora flipped her hair. “I like it.”

  “It’s a little too bleached, but to each her own.” The eyes flashed. “What’s going on in the basement? Something devious, nefarious, wicked?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes, I would. Nothing good ever happens out here. Is it Ophelia? Witches of a Feather is down there again. It’s an emergency meeting from what I’ve heard.”

  “Let’s just say things are going to change around here.” Honora glanced at the door. There was no movement from the basement.

  “That’s good. I never did like all the sooty stuff going on down there.”

  Honora raised a brow while admiring a silver flask on the table of merchandise. “Really? Dark magic isn’t your thing?” Honora asked, a little surprised. “I thought you’d be into dark charms, ash, and glass circles, blood magic. You know, stuff like that.”

  “Is it because I’m a bony old skull? That’s stereotyping. I can’t help where I end up and the witches and wizards I associate with. I go where I’m taken. I didn’t choose to be here, but my previous master sold me to this place and so here I sit, waiting to be purchased and whisked away by a witch in shining armor or in skintight leather in your case. Hey, are you in the market for an assistant?”

  “No. And if you’re looking for sympathy you came to the wrong witch.”

  “Shhh! I hear something. It’s coming from below.”

  Honora narrowed her gaze at the skull. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I have very sensitive hearing. The bust is going down now. The police are arresting the entire Witches of a Feather club. I knew something like this was bound to happen. You could have told me.”

  “What’s happening? Give me details.”

  “A fight has broken out and it’s vicious. The cops are holding their own against those Blackbury wizards, and I’m a little surprised. Those wizards are nasty. Good for them. Rex and Rachel have surrendered. The Nix sisters are struggling, but have been restrained by one of the officers.”

  Relief filled her. “Good. I’m just glad it’s over. Anything else?”

  “Someone’s coming. One of them broke through the magical containment net. She’s trying to escape. She’s going to fly.” The skull wobbled on the stand.

  Honora tensed, gaze trained on the door. She pulled her wand from her jacket and aimed, but the store was too crowded with customers wandering in her line of fire for her to get a clean shot off. The door to the basement broke open, slamming against the wall. Sheathed in her trademark white leather, Ophelia blew through the opening, flying like a bullet toward the front door of the shop. Her goggles were on, head lowered. Her body shot like an arrow out the door, leaving Honora pushing through the crowd.

  Once outside, the witch was airborne within seconds, soaring into the black night sky. Honora raced after her, lifting instantly skyward and training her gaze on the white blur zinging ahead. Ophelia’s speed caught her off guard. They’d flown together a few times, but clearly, she’d been holding back her true talents. Honora had a few tricks to gain speed and applied them now.

  The sky was clear and brisk, a perfect night for flying. Honora soared to within a few feet of the witch.

  “Bring it in, Ophelia. It’s over,” Honora said.

  Ophelia’s head jerked toward her. “Is that you, Honora?”

  This particular glamor didn’t disguise her voice. “No need to prolong the inevitable.” Honora pulled out her wand and cast a stunning spell toward Ophelia. The witch dodged the strike and doubled back, accelerating, and darting around a corner of a tall building. Honora chased the witch and almost lost her as she dodged around another corner. Following her around the edge at a much lower altitude than Ophelia had flown, Honora avoided the barrage of strikes that flew from Ophelia’s wand. The witch cursed and launched herself at Honora, grabbing her in midair and pulling her close. “I’m going to make you wish you were back in the Banishment with your little ankle bracelet.” She pulled off her necklace and mumbled a spell. She was casting a curse.

  Honora pulled up her feet and kicked Ophelia in the stomach, shooting her backwards through the air. But it was too late, the dark charm activated. A huge blowfly dove at Honora and landed on her throat. She swatted the fly away, but felt the effects of the magic almost immediately. It stung and seethed through her veins, causing a dreadful sense of fear to seize her.

  Ophelia watched to make sure the black magic took hold of her. “What are you afraid of, Honora? Is it a little too high for you?”

  Heart racing, Honora soared to the ledge of the building and pressed her back against the stone. She couldn’t look down. Her body was covered in sweat. Her legs trembled. She knew it wasn’t real. Flyers weren’t afraid of heights, but the dark magic pulsed through her. She was paralyzed on the ledge. The thought of falling to her death washed over her. She was so high off the ground. What if she plummeted to the pavement and broke like a doll?

  She gritted her teeth and shook her head. It wasn’t real. She was a flyer and flyers don’t fall. It’s impossible. But what if her magic failed her like in the Banishment? Memories of the ankle bracelet choking off her magic flooded her system. It had been almost too much to bear and now she was too terrified to move.

  Ophelia laughed. “You’ll pay for this before I’m finished.”

  She turned her back and flew away, leaving Honora trembling on the ledge. It was just a curse. It wasn’t real. Honora needed to get a grip and push through the overwhelming fear pulsing through her. She couldn’t let Ophelia escape. Fight the curse. Control the fear. She swallowed and lifted in the air. Honora launched herself after the witch. Just don’t look down, she told herself. She had to stop Ophelia, who was flying into the distance. Honora darted left and flew around the block, cutting the witch off and blocking her path. She clutched her wand and launched a series of stunning spells, hitting Ophelia directly in the chest, sending her tumbling to the ground.

  Honora dove after her. Right before Ophelia hit the surface, Honora yanked a charm from her bracelet and struck her with an encasement spell, the same one used on her by the police, and she was enveloped in a huge pink magical bubble that hit the pavement with a thud. The witch was trapped. Honora lowered herself shakily to the ground. She held her head high, not wanting to give Ophelia the satisfaction of knowing her charm worked and she was terrified of being in the air. It would take time for the curse to wear off. But she didn’t mind being
earthbound for now as long as Ophelia Lockwood wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

  Honora tapped on the bubble. “It only gets worse from here, Ophelia.”

  The witch’s mouth moved at vicious speed, but Honora couldn’t hear a thing.

  23

  Vivi stood outside of Edward Cashing’s law office. The street was deserted. The gawking witches who’d gathered there earlier in the week, eager for any scrap of news, had given up the vigil to find Willow. It seemed like a hopeless cause, to everyone except her. She clutched a basket piled high with warm scones she had picked up at Nocturnes. Armed with pastries and a truth potion, she knocked on the door, but it was Lance who opened it. His face was solemn. Vivi had cleared the potion with him earlier, but he insisted that it had to be taken voluntarily.

  She stepped over the threshold and entered the tidy office only to find it in complete disarray. Edward was sitting in a wooden chair behind his desk. His clothes were disheveled. His face was ashen, his eyes weary, and from the odor in the air, Vivi deduced he hadn’t bathed in days.

  “What’s happened?” she asked Lance.

  “Total breakdown. Willow’s disappearance has crushed him. He sent all his employees home until further notice, canceled contracts, and clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself.” Lance stepped aside so Vivi could enter.

  “Doesn’t he have any other family members or friends to help him?” Vivi asked.

  “None of them is local and I think he told everyone to stay away. He’s ashamed and blames himself.”

  “I blame myself because it’s my fault,” Edward said, commenting on their conversation. His bloodshot gaze shifted to Vivi.

  She glided over to him, empathy for the poor wizard overwhelming her. Placing the basket of scones on his desk, she kneeled down to speak to him. “If it’s really your fault, you should tell us all about it. I know you’re holding back.”

  He averted his eyes, releasing her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do. I think it involves your niece and a cameo. There’s something in your past that haunts you and it could help us find Willow. Because I don’t think she’s dead.” Vivi pulled the potion bottle from the bottom of the basket. “I brought this for you. It will help you to tell us the truth.”

  “A potion.” He barked with laughter. “You think a potion is going to help me.” He slumped in his chair, the energy draining from his body.

  Lance stood with his hands resting on his belt buckle. “Hear her out.”

  Vivi held the potion bottle out to him in her palm. “It’s a truth potion. It will only last a few minutes and I’ve taken it myself, so I know what it does.”

  His eyes shifted nervously. “That’s not necessary.”

  “It won’t hurt you. It will help you talk about Willow, to tell us what you know, and what you know you should tell us.”

  Edward looked small sitting behind his desk. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing really.”

  Vivi rested her hand gently on his arm. “I think Willow’s in hiding and I think that you know why. I think deep down you want to tell us but you’re afraid of the truth and of what it might say about your relationship with your niece.”

  “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you because you won’t believe me.” His body tensed.

  “We need to find Willow,” Lance said. “Anything you can tell us, no matter how unbelievable, will help the investigation. Will you try the potion?”

  Edward took the bottle and held it for a few moments. He closed his eyes, brow furrowing, agonizing over the decision. “I’ll do it for her.”

  He popped the cork and gulped down the potion. His face twisted in disgust, lips puckering.

  “Sorry, I know it’s ghastly. I added some orange oil to try and help with the awful taste,” Vivi said.

  He shook his head. “It didn’t help.”

  “You only have a minute or two to question him,” Vivi said to Lance.

  “Edward Cashing, do you know the location of Willow Cashing?”

  “Maybe.” He shook his head? “I’m starting to think the bloody scarf was a ruse. You must know I truly believe something happened to her when I found the scarf. I thought she was hurt, kidnapped, or something terrible. I was so worried.”

  Vivi exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Lance.

  “Where is Willow?” he asked.

  Edward jumped to his feet and spun around, arms outstretched. “I think she’s been here. She’s close. She might have never left. At least not entirely.”

  “What do you mean?” Lance asked.

  “Sometimes when I come to work I notice her things have been moved. I thought I was imagining it and then I thought maybe one of the police moved them. But I swear her bed was slept in the other night. Her clothes were moved slightly. Just small shifts, but I know it’s her.” He paced back and forth, his gaze darting around the room.

  Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s impossible. The office and apartment have been under surveillance.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers. “It’s Willow’s and it was on the floor in front of her dresser this morning when I checked her room. I always check her room, hoping I’ll find her sound asleep in her bed like this has all been a bad dream. I know it sounds crazy but she’s here.” His eyes were wide, his face slack. “It’s all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?” Vivi asked, unable to contain herself.

  “After her parents’ death, I was too kind, too soft. I gave her this job, but I don’t think she ever really wanted it, but I convinced her a stable job was for the best. I fear I made a mess of her upbringing.” He slumped down into his chair. “Maybe I’m going mad. I want her back. There’s so much I want to say to her.” He jumped to his feet and clutched Lance’s shirt. His eyes were wild. “You have to find her. You have to do more,” he gasped, his breathing rapid.

  Lance pulled the distraught man’s hands from his shirt. “You have my word. We’re doing everything we can to find her.”

  Vivi raced for a glass of water, pouring it from a pitcher on the desk and handing it to the rattled man. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “It’s not your fault,” Vivi said in a comforting voice.

  Lance shifted. “I think we’ve asked enough questions for today. I apologize if we’ve upset you. But anything you can tell us is important, no matter how crazy it sounds.”

  The necklace was still wrapped around his fingers. There was something about it that seemed familiar. Lance gently took the piece of jewelry from him. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take it into evidence and have it checked out. It might offer up a clue.” He glided to the door. “I’ll get one of my deputies to walk you home.”

  After sitting with Edward for a few more minutes to make sure he was okay, Vivi and Lance headed back to The Potion Garden. “That was a bust,” Vivi said. Frustration sent a pulse of annoyance through her. She felt like she was chasing her own tail, so close to finding the witch and yet still so far away.

  “Not entirely. I’m curious about Edward and why he still thinks she’s here. And I don’t think he’s going mad or just distraught. My gut tells me there is something more going on here,” Lance said.

  “I hated to see him so upset, but I have a feeling you might be right.”

  Lance followed Vivi through the back door. The shop was already closed up for the night.

  “Hey, you two,” Clover said. She and Derek were seated on stools around the counter. “Pepper let us in before she left for the night.”

  “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but dropping by spontaneously isn’t your usual thing,” Vivi said a little surprised.

 
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Clover said. She had a mischievous look in her eye. “I’ve got an idea about how you can find Willow Cashing.”

  “Really,” Vivi said. “Because we can use all the help we can get.”

  “It looks like my research and fine observation skills are finally paying off for more than imaginary pursuits.” Clover grinned.

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” Vivi said. “Though you are good with suspense.”

  After a late night of discussions and approval from both Lance and Detective Corder, a plan was hatched.

  The next evening, Willow’s bedroom was quiet, lit only by rays of moonlight peering through the gauzy curtains. Edward had taken the cameo from its hiding place and left it visible on Willow’s dresser. The necklace he’d found the other day was also there. Edward sat on the bed, petting a huge white cat. The window was open and a spring breeze blew the curtains back and forth. The air smelled sweet and crisp. His shoulders sagged. He should have known the Mayhem sisters would have figured out Willow’s secret. He only hoped they were right about her now.

  “I miss you, Willow. I’m so sorry,” he spoke aloud to himself. “I wasn’t a very good guardian. I failed you. I know that now. I should have listened and I should have let you live the life that you wanted. I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, please know that I miss you.” His gaze shifted to the ceiling. His eyes closed.

 

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