A Witch's Magic

by N. E. Conneely

  I held my breath and counted to ten. “Yes, modern technology does make it easier to get invitations to people. So, with that in mind, spring of this coming year.”

  Elron’s mouth gaped open. “That only—only six months away!”

  “Quick, but with modern technology it should be easy enough.” I managed to say it with a straight face.

  His mouth moved, but sound didn’t come out.

  “Small, immediate family and friends.” I pushed forward while I had the chance. “Perhaps have both an elf and witch marry us? It would be a nice touch. We’ll want flowers. Given your job, I’d think something magical would be ideal. Oh, and casual. As sexy as you’d look in a suit, it’s not your style.”

  “How long have you been planning this?” He finally figured out how to talk again.

  My smile had a feral edge. “Oh, darling, planning weddings is what little girls do.”

  He paled, grabbed his wine, and drained the glass.

  I snagged the bottle before he could refill. After all this time, I wasn’t letting him drink himself silly before we had a solid planning session. “We already agreed to an outside wedding. Any ideas for the flowers?”

  “What?”

  “Flowers, what would you like?” This time I hid my smile.

  His eyes went wide. “Well, there are so many choices. Roses are classic.”

  “But not very us.”

  “I suppose not.” He didn’t sound sure. “I know a good flower shop. We could visit tomorrow.”

  “Gladly.” I grinned. “I want to pick the flowers for my bouquet tonight.”

  Elron sighed. “What about tulips?”

  “Magical or mundane?” I should’ve forced him into this conversation ages ago. It was devilishly good fun watching him squirm.

  “Sunflowers!” Elron’s words tumbled over themselves so quickly they ran together. “There is a magical variety that gives the appearance of a small sun hovering over the center of the flower.”

  “A little bright for a spring wedding, but lovely symbolism.” I tapped my fingers on the table and took rather too much pleasure in watching him squirm. Looking at his wide eyes and white-knuckled grip on the empty wine glass, no one would know the man had been married before. Maybe elven weddings were easier to plan.

  I suppressed a snort. Right. Invitations sent years ahead, gifts in the making before invitations went out… Nope. They weren’t any easier, at least not for the formal weddings.

  “Or rhododendron flowers.” Elron grabbed the wine bottle out of my hand.

  “I don’t know… remember that day in the rhododendron maze?” I really shouldn’t torment the man, but six months of dodging questions, and I couldn’t resist. “What do they mean?”

  He set the bottle down and looked at me with clear blue eyes filled with hope and a hint of pain. “Everything is better with you.”

  “Rhododendron it is.” And it didn’t matter if they could dance and sing. In fact, after today, I’d rather they didn’t.

  Elron pushed away from the table. “It is, you know.”

  “Is what?” I couldn’t see or hear past the silver of his hair, the blue of his eyes, or the love in his voice.

  “Better with you.” Cupping my cheek, he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine.

  A sharp knock cut through the moment.

  We froze.

  “Michelle, we need to talk.” Mom’s voice shattered whatever was left of the romance.

  I groaned. “She won’t go away.”

  Elron smiled slightly and brushed his knuckles across my cheek. “There will be other moments.”

  “But I was enjoying this one,” I grumbled as I answered the door. “Mom, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Mom pushed her way in, followed by Dad, Susannah, and two other aids. “Given—” She took a deep breath. “Given the events, we need to talk. Oh, hello, Elron.”

  Dad shook his head. “I told you to call.”

  “A call would’ve been nice. Doing this in the morning would’ve been better. Today was, well, along with everything else, filled with magical mayhem that needed my attention.” I snagged Elron’s glass of wine off the table. Whatever we were going to talk about would require fortification.

  The aids marched past our awkward family moment, refreshment tray and papers in hand. Without more than a nod in my direction, they set up in the living room.

  Elron shut the door. “Shall we get started?”

  Before moving so much as an inch, I gulped the wine, which was a poor use of a nice red.

  As we shuffled to the living room, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “We’ll do this quickly so they can be on their way.”

  “Smart man,” I whispered back before settling next to him on the love seat.

  Mom and Dad took the sofa, with Susanna perched next to them. The puffy-eyed aid whose name I couldn’t remember set the papers in front of mom while the other set out the tea. The mini vanilla scones were from Landa’s kitchen, and I took three. After we were settled, they retreated to the kitchen, one of them loudly blowing her nose.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at—” I checked my watch, “nine-thirty?”

  Mom shifted uncomfortably. “Susanna should start.”

  Susanna bobbed her head before focusing on me. “Word of Ethel’s death has spread quickly. I’ve been fielding calls all day from ministers who do not believe, given how events have unfolded, that it is appropriate to follow with Ethel’s plan of Nancy easing the transition between Ethel and you. They want to vote in a new minister immediately.”

  “How many calls?” Not that I had a strong position to push back a movement against me. And did I want to? Was I helping witches in general if I pitted clan against clan in a bid to gain power? That was the point behind accepting the position of premier—being able to help witches avoid the outdated and inhumane customs that some minsters insisted on inflicting upon their clan.

  “Enough.” I put more bit behind my words. “A number.”

  Her lips flattened. “Sixty, but you know for each clan that called, another two share their views but are afraid to speak.”

  “Afraid of what, exactly? Me holding a grudge? I don’t have any power over them. Even as premier, there are limits to my power. Maybe I’m woefully under-informed when it comes to politics, but given my precarious situation, fearing me is senseless.” Across from me, Mom and Dad were doing their best blank faces. A hint of doubt crept in. “Right?”

  Dad sighed. “No one wants to be on the wrong side of the premier.”

  “Which I’m not, and no one is sure if I’ll ever be at this point.”

  “That’s not precisely true,” Mom cut in. “You’ve been named the next premier. Paperwork filled out, and signatures gathered just as they’ve been for thousands of years. They even worked in an addendum about my tenure, which was rare but not unheard of. The question is if enough clans will press the issue to cause a problem.”

  “Sixty isn’t enough.” That much I knew. Which would’ve been more comforting if I had any idea how to handle this situation. It wasn’t a magical emergency. It was people, and those were harder to wrangle than forks flinging meatballs.

  Susanna shook her head. “The issue isn’t the sixty questioning your leadership but the thirty who’ve called to question why you aren’t in custody, being the clear benefactor of Ethel’s death.”

  “What!” Only Elron’s grip on my leg kept me sitting. “I didn’t want her dead! I’m much better off if she lives the rest of her long life and then turns over the position.”

  “I told them as much, but if everyone with a reason to want a different premier bands together…” Susanna didn’t say it.

  Not that it mattered. Everyone in this room knew the rules and could do the math. If everyone who didn’t want me to be the premier banded together, it wouldn’t be difficult for them to get the 140 clans needed to push a vote on the subject. A vote that was unlikely to benefit me i
n any way.

  I drained half the glass of wine before coming up for air. This was where I had to make a decision. Fight or don’t. It was all up to me.

  Elron’s hand closed over mine. “That is enough.”

  “No, it isn’t.” But I let him take the glass anyway. Drunk wasn’t the way to decide my future.

  “Michelle,” Dad’s voice was soft, but the words weren’t. “This is the life. It isn’t like working with the police. There’s no one else. All the decisions come down to you. Whether you’re tired, sick, heartbroken, it doesn’t matter. You still have to be the premier. Or you don’t, but this is your last chance to back out.”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  Mom sat next to Dad, back ramrod straight, hands folded in her lap. Her thoughts didn’t show on her face, but it was all too easy to slide back to my grandmother, her mother, torturing her in an effort to find me. Grandmother hadn’t cared about Mom, a simple medial witch, but my power? That she wanted for her, the clan, and to become the next minister. And if torturing her daughter was what it took, well, that was the cost of the future.

  “If I step down, which will do nothing but fuel the rumors that I had a hand in Ethel’s death, who will take up the mantel? Who will fight to allow more men to be minister? To allow people to easily leave clans and bring justice when a minister abuses their position? Because these ministers like their power. They won’t choose a premier who cares as much about the abuse of power or lack of integration with the rest of society.”

  And I knew. I knew that wanting a job wasn’t the same as being the right person for a job.

  “In this world, you’re a radical,” Susanna said bluntly. “They’ll find a nice traditional minister and shove them into the office. Nothing will change. Perhaps the new premier will undo the progress Ethel has made.”

  “Then we fight.”

  I’d said those words before, with fever and fire behind them. Today, only fatigue and pain backed them. Fatigue and pain.

  Three sharp knocks at the door held up any replies.

  Almost as one, the group turned to the door with puzzled expressions. Which was refreshing, given how many people were currently in my apartment ruining what part of the evening the nonsense at Italian Flair hadn’t already ruined.

  “Were you expecting company?” Mom asked.

  I gave her a pointed look. “No.”

  Three more knocks.

  With a heavy sigh, I marched over and yanked open the door.

  Isadora paused, hand poised to knock again.

  “What are you doing here?” Defeating me publicly hadn’t been enough?

  “I didn’t do it.” She grabbed my shoulders, nails digging in through my shirt. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her.”

  The smeared eyeliner, heavily creased makeup, and hair tumbling out of its ponytail was a far cry from the woman I’d faced at the convention. That one had been a shark in a suit. This Isadora had the look of a woman who’d fought off a shark and barely escaped.

  “You’re hurting me.” I kept my voice calm.

  She let go and backed up a step. “Sorry, sorry.”

  I gently ushered her in and led her over to the table. “Take a breath and tell me what happened.” I got her seated and cast a longing look at the empty bottle of wine. I really wished Elron had let me finish the glass.

  Isadora’s hand shook as she slid her phone across the table.

  She still hadn’t noticed the rest of the people in the room, and I wanted to keep it that way. As subtly as I could, I motioned for them to stay back. “What is this?”

  “Read it.”

  A bright red headline filled most of the screen. “Isadora Baker is wanted in questioning in the death of Premier: Suspect magically capable and dangerous.”

  “They think I killed her.”

  I scrolled down. It only got worse, all but saying Isadora had killed the premier, though it was light on details as to how Isadora had managed to create a car accident that only killed one person or if they’d even located Ethel’s body.

  A lump formed in my throat, and tears gathered in my eyes. I swallowed hard, pushing back the emotion. Problems like this needed cool and collected thinking. Too bad I hadn’t had that since breakfast.

  When I finished reading, I pushed the phone back to her and waited until she looked at me and I could lock eyes with her. “Did you kill Ethel?” It hurt to say those words.

  “No! No!” She grabbed my hand, squeezing too tightly. “You have to believe me. I don’t like you, but how would killing Ethel help me? If she’s dead, you’re the premier. I wanted you gone! Now that can’t happen.”

  According to Susanna, it could, and the woman I’d battled was smart enough to know that. “Unless enough band together for a vote.”

  She blanched. “They haven’t done that in nine hundred years! A hundred and forty ministers can’t agree on lunchtime, never mind more important matters. Why do you think we have a premier?”

  “To prevent little witches like you from causing trouble. Only Ethel was too lenient and you killed her for it,” Susanna said as she charged over.

  Isadora knocked her chair over in her haste to get up. “No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” She backed away, eyes wide as she finally saw all the witches in the room.

  “You did!”

  “I wasn’t even there! Cars crash. Horrible things happen, but it wasn’t me.” Isadora spun around and grabbed my hand. “You have to believe me.”

  Oddly enough, I did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Susanna, stop. Accusations without proof don’t help anything.” I pitched my voice to cut through the room, and it did, with everyone focusing on me. “Sit down in the living room while I talk to Isadora. Mom, join us?”

  “But, what if she tries to hurt you?” Susanna didn’t say ‘like she did the premier,’ but we all heard it.

  Isadora’s grip tightened painfully on my hand.

  I snorted. “Don’t mistake her besting me in the Trial by Magic for me being defenseless. I trust if it comes to it, you’ll rush to my defense.”

  Susanna’s lips flattened to a thin line. “As you wish.”

  Mom shooed the other aids over to Susanna, and Dad drifted into the middle of the room until Mom waved him over. Elron had already assumed he’d be involved and positioned himself behind my chair.

  I used the time to free myself from Isadora’s grasp and shake feeling back into my hand. The events didn’t add up to me. Susanna claimed the witches blame me for Ethel’s death. Isadora shows up claiming she’s a suspect. Maybe we’d both be suspects, but then Mom should be on the list too. And why would the police be looking at Isadora in the first place?

  “You’ll help me?” Isadora’s voice wobbled.

  I sat down between her and my mom. “Tell them what you told me, and we’ll talk.”

  She showed them the phone. “Zack, Marquette, and I were driving home today. We’d stopped in Woodstock for dinner. While I was in the bathroom, I heard a woman mention the witch who killed the premier, so I checked my phone. There it was, a picture of me. I took the car and drove here as fast as I could. I didn’t know what else to do. My clan minster would turn me in, guilty or not, and I couldn’t put Zack and Marquette in any more danger. You have to believe me, I didn’t do this. I was at the hotel when I heard about Ethel’s accident. It’s why we delayed leaving.”

  “Say I believe you. Why do you think the police are looking at you?” Mom asked.

  Isadora shrugged. “Maybe the Trial by Magic?”

  “Can you think of any other reason?” I watched her closely.

  “No.” She shook her head. “My minister and I don’t get along, and she’d love to be rid of me.”

  “That’s it? That’s the only person who might be holding a grudge?” I couldn’t let it go. It took effort to plant evidence, magical or mundane. The police had to have a reason to want to talk to her.

  Her
shoulders slumped. “I spent the drive over replaying every moment. I don’t know why I’m a suspect.”

  Police I could work with. Police wanting to question her, I could manage and control, to an extent. “Mom, get one of Ethel’s lawyers here.”

  “What? Why?” Isadora’s attention darted from Mom to me.

  I took her hand in mine, hoping this way she couldn’t cut off circulation to my fingers. “You have to talk to the police, but you don’t have to do it alone or risk a tense situation when turning yourself in. I’m going to coordinate a meeting between you and officers I trust.” She tried to yank her hand away, but I held firm. “You came to me for help. This is how I can help.”

  “By turning me over! That’s not help, it’s suicide.” She looked at Dad. “You know what they do to witches!”

  That was mostly true. It wasn’t easy to hold a witch in jail. We tended to get expedited trials and swift executions. Another one of the many reasons witches didn’t want to work with the rest of society. A reason I’d like to change. “Doing it this way ensures everyone is on their best behavior. You’ll have a lawyer and the next premier with you. You’ll talk to police I trust. This is the only way.”

  “No, it’s not.” Isadora sighed. “But it is the smartest option.”

  I smiled, which may not have been as reassuring as I’d hoped from the way she clutched her phone. “I’ll do everything in my power to make this uneventful and easy.”

  “Make your phone calls.” She sagged against the chair back and closed her eyes. “Take my phone so I’m not tempted to use it.”

  “Done.” With her phone in one hand and mine in the other, I stepped away from the table.

  Elron followed me. “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “No.” I found Rodriguez’s number. My finger hovered over the call button. He wasn’t going to like hearing from me again tonight.

  “Then why are you helping her?”

  “Because I wished someone had helped me when I’d had trouble. Because the premier has to help. That’s the job.” I gazed into his worried eyes. “Don’t you see? She—they need me. And not that long ago, I could’ve used someone like me in this job.”