Witching You Wouldn't Go

by Constance Barker

  Piper glanced up at the ceiling. There was no time to try clearing out the room; the best option was to try and get Chloe out of it.

  Unfortunately, Piper didn’t see how to accomplish that if Chloe wasn’t mobile. Carrying the woman was out of the question—Piper was far to small to just haul someone like Chloe onto her shoulders. She was taller, wider, and the kind of woman that wasn’t concerned about having a flat belly.

  “Chloe,” she hissed, “you have to try and get up. I just need to get you up the stairs. Come on, lady, put on your big girl panties and snap out of this.”

  It looked like she was trying. But there was a problem. Piper stood to help Chloe up, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. There was a creaking noise, and then several heavy thumps. A light shined from near the stairs, and when it turned from her face down to Chloe’s, Piper saw Seamus holding it, shaking his head slowly. “Now that was just foolish,” he said. “Walking right in here like that. That feeling in your belly there, making your head all swimmy is a little something called witch hazel and pot-ash. This is just a little, really, meant to keep people like you out, keep those sneaky powers under control. Give it a second...”

  Piper took a step toward him, or to get between him and Chloe, but her foot didn’t make the entire journey through a single step, and she stumbled, falling forward on to her hands. Her limbs felt thick, and wouldn’t respond like she needed them to.

  “Piper...” Chloe said.

  “Yeah,” Seamus muttered. “She got a big dose. Don’t worry, you two’ll get used to it in a little bit, I’m told. So you can talk. I have a whole lot of questions.”

  “Seamus,” Piper said, her mouth full of cotton, “why...?”

  Seamus snorted, and wandered back to the stairs. “Seamus is down for the count, witch. Maybe for good. You just sit tight here, and I’ll be back after a while. Oh, and I wouldn’t recommend trying to run. There’s a whole house full of hunters up top that would just love to get a little exercise.”

  As Seamus withdrew, Piper reached for him uselessly, and then swallowed as she felt Chloe, Aria, Frances, and the Crones all fading from her awareness. Bailey was the only one left, gradually quieting as well as Piper’s gift followed her to sleep.

  Her last thought, though, was hopeful. Bailey was getting closer, and fast. She was coming home. Piper put everything she could into reaching toward that light just as it began to vanish. Then there was nothing.

  Chapter 30

  Bailey.

  “What?” Bailey looked at Aiden. “Did you say my name?”

  He shook his head, frowning. “No, love.” For a moment he studied her face, his eyebrows pinched. “You’re exhausted. Try to sleep.”

  She had tried that. She hadn’t slept since she came back from the dead. Something about spending three days in peaceful repose made the idea of sleeping... unappealing. Still, Bailey smiled. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

  In the seats in front of them, Avery appeared to have been successful at falling asleep. Gideon, on the other hand, fidgeted with his armrest or paged through his journal ceaselessly. Bailey could almost sense his nervousness at returning to Coven Grove. She’d been able to locate the compulsion that Chloe had placed on him, and with some effort had been able to suppress it. She dared not apply any significant power to the effort until she understood what exactly had changed about her magic and how it worked. Not when she was knee deep in another person’s mind.

  “You’re... not sleeping,” Aiden said gently.

  “No,” she admitted. “I don’t know that I can. There’s just so much ahead of us.”

  “And behind,” he suggested.

  She nodded. “That, too.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “It will be alright. I promise.”

  Bailey didn’t see how he could make a promise like that, but she let him anyway. It was comforting to imagine he could keep it, and somehow from here on everything would be easy.

  After all, she’d done it, hadn’t she? Passed the trials, gained the Throne—or at least the means to recover it. She’d even found her father in the bargain. Everything was supposed to be alright.

  Wasn’t it?

  The flight was longer coming home than it had been going out, and the drive from Portland seemed to take days. By the time Bailey finally got home, she was disappointed not to find Ryan waiting for her, but also not thrilled about relating the story of the last week. She arrived quietly, and dropped off her bags. All she really wanted was one day to simply be alone. To process everything, and not have some quest to pursue laid out in front of her.

  But, it wasn’t time for that yet. And she couldn’t relax so long as she was actively checking Chloe’s compulsion inside Gideon’s mind. It was impossible to think of him as Leander, never mind her Father. As far as she was concerned, she had a father already.

  “It’s... a very nice home,” Gideon said as he stood in the living room, where Bailey had dropped her bag.

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “Your mother,” he said, “she came from rather humble means. How did she afford this place?”

  “I was adopted,” Bailey said. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. She went to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea.

  She stopped as she saw the kitchen. There was a pot on the stove, crusted with something. Dried noodles and more of the red muck was splashed across part of the floor, the counter, and even spattered on the refrigerator.

  Their phones had been fried inside the maze, so Bailey picked up the cordless on one counter just as Gideon followed her into the kitchen. “What happened here?”

  “I don’t know,” Bailey said. She ignored the nagging voice in the back of her head and dialed the bakery directly—Ryan had the number written down next to the phone, along with several others. He’d never quite trusted himself to remember them, and didn’t believe in keeping his contacts all on his phone—luckily.

  It rang several times before Frances answered. “Grovey Goodies, we’re closed.”

  “Frances!” Bailey said quickly, before Frances could hang up. Closed? It was just past noon. “It’s Bailey. I just got home and dropped of my—”

  “Bailey!” Frances gasped. “You’re alive? Oh, merciful gods... we thought you’d...”

  “I... it’s a long story... how...?”

  “Piper,” Frances said. “She felt it, felt you—oh!”

  “What?” Bailey asked. She waved at the kitchen as if Frances were there. “What happened at my house? Where is Ryan? Did he leave town, or—”

  “Come to the bakery. Straight away. Chloe is missing. So is Piper. And...” she paused, and Bailey heard her swallow. “...Ryan is with Aria. At the hospital.”

  The world shook under Bailey’s feet, or possibly just inside her. “Frances, what on earth is happening?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Frances snapped. “Come to the bakery, as quick as you can. We need to find Chloe and Piper, I have a terrible feeling. I found this awful thing on the steps this morning and... just get here. Bring everyone.”

  Bailey very nearly threw the door to the bakery off it’s hinges, and charged in as though the problem were there and she could simply stomp it to death to bring her world back into balance. Frances came down the stairs and emerged from the back room when the door closed. “I’m already working on a locator spell, I have some of Chloe’s—you!” Frances had frozen, her face contorting with rage as she laid eyes on Gideon. “How dare you show your face here again...” She trailed off, and looked from Bailey back to Gideon. Gradually, her expression cooled and then failed as she put her hand to her mouth.

  “I know about Gideon,” Bailey said, and then shook her head. “Or Leander. My father. I’m sure we have a lot to tell one another. What about a locator spell?”

  Frances’ mouth worked, and she had to close her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. “I... have a lock of Chloe’s hair. We all keep things locked away, just in case. I just...�
� she couldn’t stop from staring at Gideon, but licked her lips and continued, “...the spell is mostly complete. Come up and help me with it. We don’t have anything for Piper, and I have no idea if they’re together. I haven’t been able to get in touch with either of them. Chloe said that Piper had some concern about young Seamus; he’s on leave.”

  “Seamus?” Bailey asked as she rounded the counter. Gideon began to follow, but Aiden and Avery intercepted, whispering to him as Bailey followed Frances through the store room and up to the attic. “Seamus Jackson? What on Earth could he have to do with anything?”

  “I know as much as you now,” Frances muttered. She paused, and glanced down the stairs before she closed the door. “Well... perhaps not quite as much. I won’t ask yet.” She held up a hand as Bailey sighed in advance of drawing her attention back to the articles arranged on the table.

  The spell was simple enough; Bailey carefully provided power to it—Frances gave her a wary look when she did—while Frances worked the spell itself. A colorful swirl of smoke flowed into the air, resolved itself into... a cloud of colored smoke, and then disappeared.

  Frances went pale.

  “What happened?” Bailey asked. “We should try the Greek version, it’s more specific.”

  “No,” Frances said, shaking her head. “No... it should have worked. The... canister I found this morning; it smells of witch hazel and something bitter. Pot-ash, maybe.”

  “What... does that mean?” Bailey asked. From the look on Frances’ face, it was something bad.

  Frances sagged, and all but fell into one of the chairs near the table that looked as though they’d been hastily thrown out of the way. “It may mean... hunters. Witch hunters.”

  Bailey blinked, and then tempered the mix of irritation and fury that threatened to overcome her fear for Chloe and Piper. “Why... do I not know about witch hunters?”

  “Because they’re all but gone,” Frances spat. “They died out decades ago... maybe longer. We haven’t seen or heard from a witch hunter since before I was born.”

  “What do witch hazel and pot-ash do?”

  “Together, they can restrict a witch's magic. Muddle her mind, make her weak.”

  “Does it work on wizards?”

  Frances shook her head. “But there are other tools like that. They’re hypocrites; witch hunters use rudimentary hedge magic—bindings and herbal orisons that don’t require much power. If there are hunters here, and they’ve already taken Chloe and Piper, it’s because they’re trying to find out about the rest of us. That’s how they work. It’s possible they’re new. Young. They shouldn’t have left evidence behind like that.”

  “Okay,” Bailey said. “Okay. We’ll find them, alright? But, Frances... I need to know what happened to Ryan. Why is he with Aria? What happened?”

  Frances’ eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh... Bailey, I’m so sorry... Ryan had a heart attack several days ago. He’s been in the hospital.”

  Bailey’s heart cracked, and she had to sit down as well. She took several grounding breaths, and struggled to order her thoughts. If Aria was with him... it meant that regular medicine wasn’t working. And Aria couldn’t keep him alive forever. She was a talented healer, but what she could heal would take several days. Ryan was still in the hospital... which meant...

  “Okay,” Bailey whispered and wiped her eyes. “Okay. He’ll be alright. We need to find Chloe and Piper. Get me... get me some quartz. And the canister you found.”

  “Quartz?” Frances asked, though she got to her feet. “If you mean to work a tracking spell, I’ll get you turquoise.”

  “Get me a quartz,” Bailey said. “I’m not working a tracking spell you know.”

  Frances did as she was asked, and delivered both objects to Bailey, suspicious or skeptical, or both. “You must have had some trip.”

  “You have no idea,” Bailey muttered, and very carefully tapped into the roiling sea of primal magic inside her.

  Now, she thought as she focused on the spent canister, tell me where you came from.

  Chapter 31

  Piper woke nauseous, and in a chair. She tried to reach up and rub her head, but her hands were secured. So were her feet. She looked around the room to find Chloe nearby, in a similarly simply chair.

  At least she was awake. Her eyes were on Piper, concerned, and ringed with exhaustion. “Piper,” Chloe whispered. “Piper, what were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t have time to think,” Piper groaned. “I didn’t know what was happening.”

  “Hunters,” Chloe sighed. “I didn’t think there were any left. Seamus Jackson; it doesn’t seem possible. I knew his parents. Aria tended him when he was sickly as a baby once.”

  “I don’t think he’s himself,” Piper said, recalling with fuzzy detail what Seamus had said before he left them in the cellar. She tried to feel for someone, even Chloe, who was right in front of her just feet away, but couldn’t. “Your magic?”

  Chloe shook her head. “It’s the smoke. Cheap trick. Regular magic works, but I don’t have anything and,” she tugged at the ropes that tied her hands.

  “What do they want?” Piper asked.

  “Us,” Chloe said grimly. “Witches; it’s what they do. What they’ve always done. They’ll want to know about the others. How many there are, what they can do.”

  “We’re not an hour away from Coven Grove,” Piper said. “Have they been here all this time?”

  Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know. They move around a lot. Now that the church doesn’t sponsor them... whatever hunters are left are just vagabonds.”

  Piper looked around the room again. “So... what do we do?”

  “Do?” Chloe asked, and shook her head as she closed her eyes. “We don’t talk. No matter what.”

  Ice flowed through Piper’s veins; real, animal fear, like she’d never felt before. “Chloe,” she said, her voice shaking, “what are they going to do?”

  Chloe didn’t answer. If she was going to, she never got around to it—the cellar doors swung open, and Seamus strolled down the stairs. He carried a bag with him. There was someone else as well, but Piper could only see a pair of jean-clad legs standing at the top of the stairs.

  Seamus whistled a tune as he came down and set the large duffel bag on the ground. He straightened slowly, and looked at the two witches, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Look at you two. All that power. Snipped. I can’t believe it was so easy.”

  “Seamus,” Piper said, “what are you doing, this isn’t—”

  “No,” Seamus said quickly, holding up a finger as his face twisted. “It isn’t. Seamus. Is. Gone.”

  “Who are you?” Chloe asked.

  Seamus’ grin returned. “Oh, come now... you don’t recognize me? Think very, very hard.” He turned in a slow circle, and then held his fingers in front of his mouth, pantomiming some kind of instrument as he did a little jig.

  Chloe’s breath caught. “You... can’t.”

  “Who is it?” Piper breathed. “Who are you?”

  Seamus pointed to Chloe, both eye brows creeping slowly up in expectation.

  “Amadan Dubh,” Chloe said. “Mr. Dove... how did you...?”

  Seamus, or Mr. Dove, looked down at his arms and legs. “Oh, entirely by chance. An old... sleeper cell, if you will. Poor young Seamus here... well, let’s say his mother wasn’t entirely faithful.” He put his hand to his lips, eyes wide with scandal.

  “Changeling,” Chloe said, her voice growing dangerous. “Of course. We should have seen it when he was an infant.”

  “Instead,” Mr. Dove smiled, “you nursed the poor little half breed back to health! Hindsight, as they say, is twenty-twenty.”

  Piper frowned. “Half-breed? Seamus is, what... part faerie?”

  Mr. Dove smiled with Seamus’ lips.

  “Seamus,” Piper said, ignoring Mr. Dove and reaching out to the boy she’d gone to school with, “Seamus Jackson—listen to me; you don’t have to do any of this. You ha
ve to fight him, Seamus. Think about Bailey. Think about Riley, and William; my kids. Gavin’s kids. You two played—”

  “He can’t hear you,” Mr. Dove sang, and then laughed. “We have some questions for the two of you, though. So I very much hope that you hear me.”

  Chloe snorted, and when Piper looked at her, she was shaking her head slowly.

  “I’m pleased that you’re amused,” Mr. Dove said, and bowed. “I do so love to entertain.”

  “Chloe?” Piper breathed.

  “He knows all he needs to know,” Chloe said.

  “So then... why does he need anything from us?”

  Mr. Dove’s smiled didn’t falter—but it did stiffen, ever so slightly.

  “He’s not actually here,” Chloe said. “He’s not in the world. Anita sent him packing back across the wall. This is just... a shadow. A pale imitation. A last ditch back up plan.”

  Mr. Dove’s smile faded. He put his hands in his pockets as he approached Chloe, and bent slightly at the waist. “Be that as it may,” he said quietly, “the people who live in this... humble abode... are very much here, and very much interested in you, and your daughter, Ms. Minds.”

  “Seamus,” Chloe said. “I name you. Seamus Jackson.”

  “Seamus Jackson,” Piper said, following Chloe’s lead. “Seamus Jackson.”

  Mr. Dove’s face, trembled, and he closed his eyes briefly. The muscles of his jaw twitched, and after a long moment he chuckled, and shook his head. “Well, well. A little fight still left, eh? No matter. I have nothing but time.”

  He turned away from them, and ascended the stairs again. He exchanged words with the person at the top of the stairs, and a moment later the doors closed.

  Chloe glanced at Piper, and smiled. “He’s still in there.”

  “Yeah,” Piper said. “But what happens to him if he wakes up? The hunters just let us go?”

  The other witch didn’t have an answer to that, and instead just sighed.

  “We just need to buy time,” Piper said. “As much as we can. Before the smoke got into me, I felt Bailey getting closer. Fast. Maybe on a plane. She’s coming.”