Double, Double, Toil and Truffle (Bewitch by Chocolate ~ Book 6)

by H. Y. Hanna

  “Did you think of reporting Minerva to the police?” she asked.

  Hattie’s eyes flashed. “O’ course! I wanted her arrested—maybe we could even get some money back—but Dad wouldn’t let me. He was so ashamed o’ having been conned by her, he couldn’t bear anyone else knowing. An’ I was worried that if the police started interviewing him an’ raking everything back up again, he might have a relapse. So I had to let it go...” She clenched her teeth. “But I didn’t forget. And then, that day when I was with you in the Library an’ Minerva walked in...” She gave a laugh. “It was like Fate dropped her straight into my lap! We’d never met, but when I was sorting Dad’s things, I found a leaflet advertising her services an’ there was this picture o’ her, dressed in this silly costume—the same dress as the one she wore on the day she came into the Library!”

  Caitlyn recalled now how Hattie had gasped and stared as if she’d seen a ghost when Minerva had been escorted into the Library. She had thought that the girl had simply been awed and enthralled by the self-proclaimed witch... how wrong she had been!

  “I didn’t immediately think o’ killing her, you know. If she hadn’t started going on about how powerful she was an’ how much she was helping people... an’ then she had the bloody cheek to mention my father! Do you remember?” Hattie demanded.

  Caitlyn started to shake her head, then she paused as a memory came back to her: Minerva Chattox smiling smugly and saying: “...in fact, I saved a man last year who was surrounded by terrible malignant forces, and with my help he was even able to protect his daughter, who would have surely died had the evil spirits not been removed.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she said faintly.

  “I wanted to jump on her an’ kill her when I heard that!” hissed Hattie. “How dare she brag about destroying my father’s life? An’ even worse, use his story to lure some other poor, innocent person into her scam... She deserved to die!”

  “So it was you arguing with Minerva in the woods the morning she was murdered?”

  Hattie frowned. “I never argued with Minerva.”

  “You weren’t in the woods with her?”

  “Well, I was—but I wasn’t arguing with her. I told her I wanted her to cast a love spell to get my boyfriend back, but I said she had to do it in the icehouse ’cos that’s where he dumped me.” Hattie gave a sarcastic laugh. “She was as gullible as her own victims. She met me there, just like I asked, and when she wasn’t looking, I hit her on the head with the stool I’d brought. It was so easy. I just had to tie her to the stool an’ throw her into the water. She was still unconscious so she probably drowned almost immediately.”

  Caitlyn repressed a shudder. She hadn’t liked Minerva and agreed that the woman deserved to be punished, but the girl’s cold-blooded account of her murder was unnerving.

  “Did you include the stool to make it look like a witch trial, so it would push suspicions towards others in the village, like Vera Bottom?”

  Hattie looked surprised. “No. I just thought it was cool. You know, like... like justice. Minerva pretended to be a witch an’ destroyed my father’s life, so it was fitting that she was killed as a witch. I did get the idea from Vera Bottom, though. She gave Louise this old book—it was all about witch hunting in England—an’ Louise left it in my room one night when she came over for a cuppa. I meant to return it to her but totally forgot about it. When I saw Minerva in the Library that day, I remembered that book. I remember wishing that witch hunting still existed. Anyway, I found the book that night an’ read it an’ that’s when I saw the stuff about witch trials—”

  “And it was you that Lawrence Ford talked to, not Louise!” realised Caitlyn suddenly. “His wife told me that he talked to one of the new waitresses at the Manor’s coach house restaurant. I immediately thought of Louise, because she had been acting strangely and because I’d found her crying... but it was actually you he talked to!”

  “Yeah. He wanted me to testify against Minerva. I would have done it... except that I’d already decided then to kill her.”

  “And the icehouse? How did you know about that?”

  Hattie waved a hand. “That was easy. One o’ the carpenters working on the restaurant told me about it. I think he fancied me an’ wanted an excuse to hang out with me. Anyway, he told me he grew up in the local area an’ found the icehouse when he was playing around in the woods as a boy. That day, after I saw Minerva, I got him to show me exactly where it was. He thought I was looking for somewhere kinky to have a snog with him, stupid bugger! I just wanted to find a good place to kill her.” Hattie smiled grimly. “I told you, it was like everything was meant to be.”

  Except this, thought Caitlyn, eyeing the other girl warily and wondering if Hattie had considered what she was going to do if someone discovered her secret. The girl was standing between her and the entrance to the icehouse, and the passageway was narrow. Still, Caitlyn remembered that she had the torch. If she suddenly extinguished the light, would she be able to squeeze past the other girl and escape before Hattie got her bearings?

  As if reading her thoughts, the other girl lunged suddenly for the torch in her hand. Caitlyn gasped and staggered back, flicking her thumb over the switch and plunging them into darkness. Hattie’s grip on her wrist tightened and her other hand came over, violently groping for the torch. Caitlyn fought to wrench herself free. She pushed against the other girl and they stumbled and struggled in the darkness, the air filling with their harsh breathing.

  “Let go of me... Let go!”

  Suddenly, Hattie slipped and her grip loosened. Caitlyn tore herself free and shoved the other girl away, then began to run up the passageway. Behind her, she heard Hattie cry out and the sound of scrabbling against brick, then the next moment, there was a dull splash of water.

  Caitlyn faltered to a stop. Had Hattie fallen into the pool?

  She turned reluctantly, straining to hear in the darkness. Every instinct was telling her to get out of there as fast as possible but she couldn’t bring herself to leave without knowing if Hattie was okay. Whatever the girl had done, Caitlyn couldn’t treat her in the same cold-blooded way.

  She took a step back and called: “Hattie?”

  Belatedly, she remembered the torch still in her hands and she switched it back on, sweeping the beam across the domed chamber. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the still body in the water.

  “Hattie!”

  Caitlyn ran back to the edge of the pit and crouched down. She could see a smear of blood on Hattie’s temple—the girl must have hit her head on something as she’d fallen in. She was unconscious and if she wasn’t pulled out soon, she would drown. Caitlyn put the torch down, wedging it between two fallen bricks so that it cast its beam upwards and lit the entire domed chamber with a weak glow. Then she lay on the ledge and stretched out her arm, trying to reach the girl. But no matter how hard she stretched, she couldn’t quite reach her. Hattie was too far in the centre of the pool.

  Caitlyn hesitated for a split second, then took a deep breath and jumped into the water.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE ICY COLD DROVE all breath from her lungs and Caitlyn could do nothing for a few seconds but gasp and choke, splashing water frantically. Then her feet touched the bottom and she steadied herself. The pool wasn’t very deep, she realised with a wave of relief. The water barely came up to her chin, although it was still deep enough to drown you if you were exhausted or unconscious. She moved clumsily through the water, reaching Hattie’s side and turning the girl over so that her face was above the surface. She was relieved to see that Hattie seemed to be regaining consciousness.

  “Hattie! C-can you stand? C-c-can you w-walk to the edge of the p-pool?” asked Caitlyn through teeth that were beginning to chatter.

  Hattie looked dazed but she responded to Caitlyn’s urging as the two girls struggled through the freezing water to the edge of the pit. But when they got there, Caitlyn realised with dismay that the ledge was far above her h
ead—she could just reach it with her fingertips if she stretched up—but there was no way she could climb out without help, never mind push Hattie up. She glanced at the girl beside her, who was beginning to shiver violently and looked ready to sink back down into the water again.

  “H-Hattie!” She gripped the girl’s sodden clothing and tried to pull her upright. “Hattie, s-stay with m-me! We h-have t-t-to g-get out of here b-before we b-b-both fr-freeze!”

  Hattie didn’t answer and seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Caitlyn looked at her worriedly. The water in the pool was colder than she’d expected and she wondered if the other girl was succumbing to hypothermia. She could feel her own limbs stiffening and becoming sluggish, her fingers turning numb and her teeth chattering harder and harder as she stood immersed in the icy water. Hattie had suffered an injury to her head, so she was already in a weakened state.

  Caitlyn turned quickly to the ledge. If she could somehow heave herself out of the pit, she would be able to reach back down and haul Hattie up as well. She stretched up for the ledge, clenching her fingers over the side, and tried to pull herself up. But it was no use. It was just too high above her and she didn’t have enough upper body strength. And the sides of the pit were too steep, and the stones too slimy for her feet to gain any foothold, so she couldn’t climb up either. Besides, she was beginning to feel so weak and lethargic from the cold that it was an effort even to raise her arms...

  After struggling for several moments, Caitlyn had to fall back into the water, panting and exhausted, her arms trembling and aching. Her teeth were chattering violently. She felt panic begin to fill her. What if they couldn’t get out? Then her ears caught the sound of something.

  Footsteps.

  Someone was coming down the passageway. Oh, thank God!

  She looked up eagerly as a figure appeared, its shadow looming large over the walls of the domed chamber. The weak light from the propped torch fell on the man’s face. She’d half expected to see Viktor—in the past, her vampire uncle always seemed to know when she was in trouble—or Mosley the butler, having come at last, or maybe even James, but to her surprise she saw the harsh lines of an old man’s face, with pale blue eyes and a grey goatee. It was Gerald Hopkins, the witch hunter.

  “Help!” said Caitlyn weakly. “H-help us!”

  He looked at her dispassionately and, for a moment, Caitlyn had the sickening thought that he wasn’t going to help her. Then, to her relief, he bent down and stretched out a hand. Caitlyn grabbed Hattie, shoving her towards Gerald Hopkins first. He grasped Hattie’s arm and pulled her up with the unexpected strength of a much younger man. Laying the girl aside, he turned back to Caitlyn, who put her own hand up.

  But he didn’t take it.

  Caitlyn stared up at him, surprised and confused. He was watching her with a strange expression in his hooded eyes and it scared her. She thrust her hand at him again and croaked: “P-p-pull me up!”

  “No,” he said coldly. “I do not save witches.”

  “Wh-what?” Caitlyn dropped her hand limply back into the water. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I have spent all my life trying to destroy women like you. Do you think I am going to help save you now?” A smile played across his mouth. “And how fitting that it should be a drowning... the perfect end for a witch!”

  “N-no...” said Caitlyn weakly. “Y-you can’t... Y-you can’t let me d-d-die... P-people will w-wonder why you d-didn’t help m-m-me—”

  He gave a mocking laugh. “I shall simply tell them that I arrived too late—that I found the girl unconscious in the passageway and you dead in the water. Everybody will think that it was some kind of tragic accident and I got here too late to save you.”

  “N-n-no...” said Caitlyn again, but her voice was barely a whisper now. She was shivering so violently that it was hard to even think. She couldn’t feel her feet or fingers anymore, and the rest of her body was heavy and leaden. It was an effort even to stand up. All she wanted to do was to slump down and let the dark water close over her, to close her eyes and go to sleep...

  Dimly, she was aware of the man standing above her, watching her with that cruel smile still playing about his mouth. He was enjoying this and the knowledge pricked her, shaking her out of her lethargy. No, she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of watching her die!

  “H-help...” Caitlyn started to call, feebly. “H-help! HELP!”

  Her voice was barely more than a hoarse croak and her teeth were chattering so much that it was hard to form the words.

  Gerald Hopkins laughed. “Who do you think is going to hear you?” he sneered.

  Caitlyn shouted again, putting every ounce of her failing strength into the cries. Mosley might hear, she thought desperately. The butler had said that he was following her to the icehouse as soon as he’d disposed of the chicken, hadn’t he? Surely he should have come by now?

  As she gave a last sobbing cry, Caitlyn heard footsteps. Yes! Someone else had arrived in the icehouse. A second later, she gasped with joy and relief as she heard a familiar deep male voice:

  “CAITLYN! Where are you? Good God! What on earth—Gerald!”

  James Fitzroy skidded to a stop in the entrance to the domed chamber, his chest heaving as if he had been running hard. He stared in shocked horror at the scene in front of him, then rushed forwards to help Caitlyn. But before he could get to the ledge, Gerald Hopkins stepped in front of him, grabbing his arm and holding him back.

  “What are you doing, sir? Let go of me!” cried James, struggling to break free.

  “She has you bewitched, boy,” hissed Gerald. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Are you mad?” demanded James, wrenching himself out of the old man’s grasp. “She’s going to die if we don’t get her out of that freezing water!”

  “Good. Then there will be one less witch to deal with,” said Gerald with satisfaction.

  James stared at him in disbelief, then tried to shove the old man aside, but Gerald Hopkins stood his ground, barring access to the ledge.

  James cursed and said through clenched teeth: “I don’t want to hurt you, sir, but I will if you don’t get out of my way.”

  Gerald grabbed him by the collar and said urgently: “You must listen to me, James—you have been bewitched! You do not know what you’re doing. She has you under some kind of spell. She is using black magic to seduce you—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped James. He thrust the old man violently aside and rushed to the pool. Hanging over the ledge, he reached out towards Caitlyn.

  “Caitlyn! Take my hand! Take my hand!” shouted James.

  His voice penetrated the icy fog surrounding her and Caitlyn roused slightly. She looked blankly at his outstretched hand for a moment, then, summoning the last of her strength, she lifted her own hand. She barely felt James’s strong fingers close around her wrist and was only vaguely aware of him hauling her smoothly out of the water. A moment later, she lay dripping and shivering in his arms.

  “J-J-James...” she gasped.

  “Shh... shh... don’t talk...” murmured James, rubbing her body in a desperate attempt to get some warmth back into her.

  Caitlyn started to relax into the circle of his arms, then stiffened as a shadow loomed over them. She looked up and gasped as she saw Gerald Hopkins, his face twisted with hatred and his eyes filled with disgust as he looked down at them.

  “James, you don’t realise what she is! She’s a witch! She can conjure magic—”

  “Yes, I know,” James cut in. “And I don’t care. It doesn’t matter who Caitlyn is.” He turned to look at her, his grey eyes meeting hers. “It doesn’t change my feelings for her.”

  Caitlyn felt a rush of happiness flood through her, but before she could respond, Gerald Hopkins stepped forwards and grabbed James’s arm, hauling him to his feet.

  “If you don’t care about yourself, then at least think of your duty to your family name!” the o
ld witch hunter said harshly.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” James demanded, trying to pull his arm free of the old man’s grasp.

  Gerald Hopkins’s voice lowered and he said earnestly, “Your father never told you, but you are descended from a long line of men who have sworn an oath to protect King and Country from the forces of Dark Magic. Yes, I am not the only one who is descended from a great witch hunter! You, too, are one of a noble line—the very last, in fact! Your ancestors trace their lineage back to the first Lord Fitzroy who fought alongside Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder-General, during the era of King James I.”

  “What?” James stared at Gerald in exasperated disbelief. “That’s a load of nonsense—”

  “Is it?” the older man said. “Then ask yourself why your father had so many secrets, ask yourself why he had an obsessive interest in the occult, and a strange collection of artefacts and texts which he kept from the world.”

  “It was just an interest, a hobby—”

  Gerald gave a derisive laugh. “You’re fooling yourself, boy, and you know it! Your father was weak—he abandoned his principles and deserted his duty, and tried to make you a traitor like him by keeping you in the dark.”

  “My father wasn’t—”

  “I am going to bring you back into the fold. I am going to show you the great and glorious work that your ancestors once did—and which you should be continuing. Yes, everyone thinks they know Matthew Hopkins as the most notorious witch hunter in history, but what they don’t realise is that Matthew was not alone. Oh no, he was part of an elite order—a secret society of men sworn into service to His Majesty and pledged to devote their lives to hunting down and destroying witches. Membership of this society passes from father to son...” Gerald Hopkins looked at James, his eyes glowing. “You are the Fitzroy heir; you need to take your rightful place as one of us.”

  “That’s the most absurd story I’ve ever heard! Witch hunters are a relic of the seventeenth century—”