Witching You Wouldn't Go

by Constance Barker

  Piper sighed, and pushed the bundle away. “Sorry, Aria. I don’t think the grounding thing helps. Or anyway, I’m not getting it.” She groaned. “I’m a terrible student, I know. I’ve always been bad at... well pretty much everything. Except being a mom. Wait, no,” she held up a finger, “lately I kind of suck at that, too.”

  “Don’t say that,” Aria chided gently, and took Piper’s hand. “We all come to this at different speeds, in different ways. It’s unique to every witch.”

  Piper didn’t respond. The word made her nervous. Witch. Piper the Witch. It didn’t feel right. Maybe that was part of the problem. Aria had already told her that accepting her power was going to be the first step in controlling it and doing anything with it—but doing that meant being okay with it and if she was honest, she had to admit to herself that she wasn’t. Yet. Maybe it would change. What if it never did, though?

  Aria gave her a pitying look, and then pressed her lips tight together before she leaned back in her chair, letting Piper’s hand go. “So, Bailey? What do you sense? Can you give it more identity? More words?”

  Piper shrugged. “It’s not something I have a lot of words for. Like someone turned one of those dimmers on a light up? She’s brighter, louder. More like she was when she was here.”

  “Interesting,” Aria muttered.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Piper said.

  “I mean that... the only real difference, I would expect, is that when Bailey was here in town she was directly connected to the Caves; to our base of power.” She waved vaguely out toward the east. “Over there, she’s presumably weakened. But if that’s the comparison you’re making... well, maybe she found something over there. Something that she’s connecting to.”

  “We should call her and find out,” Piper said.

  “We?” Aria asked. There was a note of challenge in that word.

  Piper heard it, and sighed, looking away. “I... could call her, I suppose.”

  “She’d want to hear from you,” Aria said softly. “You don’t have to rush it, Piper. Whatever time you need... you should take it. But you know that Bailey—”

  “I do know,” Piper said. “I know that you’re right, Aria. Just... I never wanted this. I know Bailey didn’t ask for it either but for her it was destiny. For me it’s... like she made the decision for me.”

  Aria was wise enough to not argue against the point. They’d already had that discussion once before, and Aria respected Piper’s position even if she didn’t agree with it. Which was understandable—magic was part and parcel to who Aria Rogers was; it always had been. To her, Piper had been given a gift that most people never received, never even dreamed that they could. And now, Piper knew the ways that those who did dream might acquire such a gift—at a steep price, the way Thomas had, in some cases. Given that... she was lucky, in a certain light.

  “I’ll call her,” Piper said finally.

  “Perhaps we should be finished for today,” Aria said gently. “Tomorrow, perhaps we’ll work on your first cantrip? A change of pace might do you good.”

  “Cantrip?” Piper wondered.

  Aria nodded, and pointed at a candle. As Piper watched, the wick began to smoke and then, with a quiet pop and a twang of something in the air it sparked to life for a heartbeat and then flickered out.

  “Well,” Piper admitted, “that’ll certainly save me money on matches to light the furnace during the winter.”

  Aria chuckled, and then stood up from her chair and, as always, ended their practice session with a hug.

  Together they left the attic of the bakery, and once down stairs Piper gave the other two witches brief but warm hugs as well while Aria praised the progress that Piper was supposedly making. Chloe gave her a package to take home, muffins and cupcakes, and one of her experimental scones that she normally would have forced on Bailey. Piper accepted the gift with gratitude that she tried very hard to feel, and then excused herself on the basis of needing to get home to her children.

  If there was one benefit to her new... condition, it was that Piper needed only to turn her attention toward her oldest son, Riley, to know with remarkable accuracy where he was. Once he grew into a rebellious teenager, that particular boon was going to come in handy. Especially if he ended up dating one of the next generation of witches. Or a wizard. She supposed either was possible, though she almost preferred that he rebel with someone else she could also sense, just to keep an eye on them. If her mother had been able to pinpoint Piper’s location with just a thought, well... she’d have gotten into less trouble, certainly.

  As she walked up Main street toward home, she noticed Seamus Jackson driving the opposite direction. He gave her a long look, but didn’t stop. Still, it was unsettling. There was just something about him lately. She’d seen him more and more often, seemingly by chance—except that in all the years she’d been here, and the four or so years that Seamus had been with the sheriff’s department, she’d probably only seen him a dozen or so times patrolling. She’d seen him that many times in just a few days.

  She paused, and looked back to watch his patrol car roll down Main street and make a left turn up Murray. Was it possible that sweet, gentle Seamus was...?

  No. She shook the thought away. Seamus was a gentle, trusting soul. Even if he did suspect Piper or any of the Coven ladies of something—and, there was plenty of reason to now—he’d have come right out and asked them. Not skulked around observing them. Probably some of the deputies that had been at the Caves were taking some time off to sort through what had happened, and Seamus was simply taking up some extra patrolling. That made the most sense.

  Piper turned back, and wondered if maybe she shouldn’t drop by Seamus’ place sometime soon and take him something. A pie or maybe a meatloaf. God knew, he’d been a hopeless bachelor since his parents left for warmer climes. Funny, too; if not for Aiden, she would have expected Seamus and Bailey to end up together at some point. Everyone knew he adored her.

  Yes; she’d take him something soon, just to check in.

  “Mama!” Riley crowed when Piper arrived back home. She scooped him up as he ran to her, and hefted him onto her hip, and he hugged her around the neck. He pulled away from her and smiled, pointing to the kitchen. “Made noodles!”

  In the kitchen, Piper’s cousin Bennett stood near the stove where he was making dinner for them. “Hey, Pipes. How’d it go today?”

  “I practiced turning people into frogs,” she said.

  Bennett nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was holding into what was probably spaghetti sauce. “Really?” His eyes had gone wide.

  Piper snorted. “No, not really. There’s some good reason why that isn’t actually possible, but I don’t remember what it is. Something about how hard it is to convince someone they’re a frog in the first place.”

  Strictly speaking, it was against the ‘rules’ to tell people about herself. The coven ladies didn’t know that Piper had told Bennett, and they weren’t going to find out soon. He’d come into town to help her with the kids and she’d had to tell him something—so she’d told him the truth.

  “Oh,” he said, disappointed. “So how did it really go?”

  “No better or worse than any other day,” she sighed. She nuzzled Riley again before she set him down and went to check on William, who was bundled up in his rocker, swinging contentedly to the electric tune of ‘rockabye baby’. “How long has Will been out?”

  “Half an hour,” Bennett said. “He had a full bottle before he went down. So, you still can’t shut it off?”

  “No,” Piper said, dejected as she stood from checking on the baby and shrugged her coat off. “But I guess I’m getting used to it. It’s like background noise now. Or it was, anyway, until Bailey... oh.”

  Bennett glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “Can you keep an eye on Riley for just a moment longer? I should give Bailey a call.”

  Her cousin smiled hopefully. “Of course. Tell her I said hi.”r />
  “I will,” Piper said. “I’ll, ah... tell her to tell Avery you’re in town.”

  Bailey didn’t think that Bennett was Avery’s type. To be fair, she hadn’t seen Piper’s cousin since they were all in high school. Now, Piper was pretty sure that Bennett was everyone’s type. Plus he was, it turned out, relatively pro-witch, he worked remotely as a programmer so he wasn’t tied down in Washington and, most important, he was almost certainly not secretly an evil enchanter working for the Faeries like Avery’s last almost-boyfriend.

  He also had a heart of pure, twenty-four karat gold, as evidenced by his willingness to help Piper weather a crisis that had no real end in sight, up to and including keeping her secret from Gavin.

  After everything, telling Gavin just seemed like it might not go very well.

  She retired to her room, and stared at the dark screen of her phone for a long moment before she unlocked it and found Bailey’s number. What time was it going to be in England now? It was something like an eight hour difference, so... probably close to midnight. She half hoped Bailey would be asleep, but she wasn’t.

  “Piper?” Bailey asked when she answered. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Piper said quickly. “Everything here is fine. As far as I know.”

  “Oh,” Bailey said, and then off to the side, “she says everything is fine.” Probably everyone had momentarily panicked. “Good. Uh, it’s good to hear from you, either way.”

  “You all are still up?”

  Bailey sighed. “Yes. We’re on our way to Brussels, actually.”

  “Brussels,” Piper repeated.

  “It’s a long story. How is everything there? Any more weirdness around town? And... how are things going with your... you know, with Aria?”

  “My education and training,” Piper provided. Might as well call it what it was. “Remember when I tried out for marching band?”

  Bailey clucked her tongue. “Ouch. That bad? Maybe you should work with one of the others for a little while.”

  “Aria’s a fine teacher,” Piper sighed, “it’s me. Um... look, Bails... I just wanted to say that... just...”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Pipes,” Bailey said, her voice quiet and thin. “However you feel... you have a right to.”

  “That’s just it, though.” Piper plopped onto her bed and leaned against the pillows, wishing Bailey were there with her instead of on the other side of the world. “I feel both ways. I know you didn’t have a choice in what you did, and that you were just trying to keep us all safe. I do know that. And that part of what I feel is... grateful that you risked yourself for us and that you did save us all. The other part... I’m trying to get over it. Okay? I really want us to be okay again. And I know it’s all on me—”

  “It’s not all on you, Piper,” Bailey insisted.

  “—and,” Piper went on, “that I have to move forward. So... I want to do that.”

  After a moment, Bailey just said, “Yeah. Okay. I love you, Pipes.”

  “I love you, Bee,” Piper said, smiling a little, though sadly. Maybe it was good Bailey wasn’t right there. She cleared her throat. “Um... so anyway, what happened earlier? You feel different.”

  “You can tell from all the way over there?” Bailey asked.

  Piper groaned. “Apparently. It’s like having a party in my head where no one talks but no one will leave.” She sighed, but pressed on. “So? What happened?”

  “I don’t actually know,” Bailey said. “I met, ah... come on, it’s Piper.” Bailey’s voice had grown suddenly distant. She argued with someone, a man, briefly. “No one is tapping Piper’s phone, Gideon.”

  “What?” Piper asked. “Bailey, what’s going on?”

  Bailey grunted something possibly obscene, and her voice got close again. “I can’t go into detail. But I guess I got a little of my mojo going again. I’m not entirely sure how or what it means.”

  “And someone might be tapping my phone?” Piper took the phone away from her ear briefly, as if she might see it somewhere on the device.

  “I seriously doubt it,” Bailey said, “but Gideon seems to think all forms of communication are susceptible to surveillance.”

  “Why... would someone be surveilling us?”

  “Exactly,” Bailey breathed. “Anyway... I’ll catch you up later.”

  “Good,” Piper said, and then realized she was pretty much out of things to say. Except, “Oh, also... Bennett’s in town. When do you all think you’ll be back?”

  Bailey chuckled. “Piper, really... this again?”

  “I’m sending you a picture now,” Piper muttered, and did so quickly. She put the phone back to her ear. “So just you take a look and tell me again that he’s not Avery’s type.”

  “I’ll do that,” Bailey said, still laughing a little. “I don’t know when we’ll be back, though. Hopefully soon, but... who knows.”

  Humor had quickly turned to something like nervous uncertainty, and Piper frowned. “Is there... anything I need to know? Or that the Coven needs to know?”

  “It’s nothing,” Bailey said, too quickly. “Really. Don’t worry about me, and certainly don’t worry the Coven. If you could... I mean I can call him myself but you know how dad is... would you mind just dropping in to check on him?”

  “Of course,” Piper said. “Sure, I can even take him some dinner tonight. Bennett’s making mom’s spaghetti.”

  “He’d love that,” Bailey said. Was her voice a little tight? “Thank you, Pipes. Tell everyone we said hello. And... I love you. Really, I do, Piper. And I’m sorry that I dragged you into this.”

  “Bailey?” Piper asked, sitting up straighter.

  But Bailey muttered something, and then said, “I have to go, Piper. We’ll talk soon, okay? I’ll call once we get to Brussels.”

  Piper bit her lip, and tried to think of what else she might ask to get the truth. Nothing came quickly enough to mind, though. “Sure,” she said instead. “I’ll talk to you then. Call any time, okay? I’ll leave my phone on for you.”

  “Will do,” Bailey said. “Later.”

  “Later,” Piper echoed, and then the call ended.

  She laid the phone on the side table, and then checked that the ringer was, in fact, on.

  What exactly had Bailey gotten herself into over there?

  Chapter 10

  The drive to Brussels was only around six hours—a fact that Bailey leveraged to insist that they be allowed to get another round of rest in before leaving Amesbury. Consequently, they drove through the night, which made for a somber, quiet trip with the exception of a call from Piper.

  Bailey did look at the picture of Bennet—beset with a toddler hanging on his back and an infant in his arms—and had to admit that he had grown up from the pudgy kid she knew in high school. She eyed Avery. Maybe it was best to wait until they got back. Right now, they all needed to be on their a-game; not looking forward to getting home just yet.

  Instead, she caught Avery and Aiden up with the brief news she’d gotten, minus some limited details that she didn’t care to discuss in Gideon’s presence. If he made it back to Coven Grove with them after all of this, then maybe she’d decide that he was worth trusting but for now the jury was out.

  “It’s good that she called,” Avery said, smiling. “Maybe things will be okay with you two.”

  “I hope so,” Bailey agreed. She looked out the window at what looked like wilderness. “Where are we headed exactly?”

  “The town hall,” Gideon said. “You’ll see it when we get close. You can’t miss it. Massive gothic structure. It was built in the early 1400’s; however,” he held up a finger and grinned in the rear-view mirror at Bailey, “at the time, some of the stone used to lay the foundation was brought in from older structures in the region, including ancient stone structures built by people who—you’ll love this—left almost no evidence behind of their existence in Belgium. There’s an entire swathe of history where Belg
ium appears to have been practically uninhabited—and yet these megalithic structures, not terribly unlike Stonehenge in principle, are scattered around the region near Brussels; one of the highest concentrations is in a small village called Weris, just south and east of where we’re going. It’s quite fascinating, as well, we’ll pass it on the way to Budapest, in fact.”

  “We’re not sight seeing,” Bailey said.

  Gideon eyed her in the rear view mirror. “Of course not, lass. You must forgive an academic his tendency to lecture.”

  “You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” Bailey muttered, and flashed Aiden a long suffering smile. He returned her a bashful one. It was in a wizard’s nature to lecture, she thought. Even Avery did it, and he’d been a wizard for barely a year—but he’d always had that tendency.

  Gideon, however, was right about not being able to miss the town hall. Europe wasn’t by any means short on massive cathedral-like buildings, but so far Bailey hadn’t seen any of them up close. The town hall at Brussels was lit with eerie light at this time of night, and the place was quiet. It was, again, in the early hours of the pre-dawn morning. A great central spire that looked as though it were covered in small hooks stabbed at the sky above them, giving the place a sense of looming, as though it stood guard over something. Which, Bailey supposed, it did.

  “Where do we find the particular stone we’re searching for?” Aiden asked quietly. “I suspect the Belgian government won’t appreciate us digging up the foundations of their six hundred year old hall.”

  “According to my notes,” Gideon said, “we shouldn’t have to. The marking was found on one of the cornerstones in the back left corner from where we are. All we need is to go around the side and see if we can activate whatever... test, or enchantment is meant to be revealed. If there is one.”

  “If?” Bailey asked. “You mean we may have come to Brussels for nothing?”

  Gideon shook his head, “I don’t believe so. But the stone was moved. I can’t be certain if we should be here, or where it was originally located. There’s simply no way to know. It’s only an hour or so drive to where the stone was taken from if that’s the case, though... identifying where precisely would be something of a task...”