Witching Your Life Away: A Cozy Mystery (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 5)

by Constance Barker

Her stomach turned. “Delbert?” She asked Seamus. “Did he…?”

  Seamus sighed. “I can’t say anything, Bailey. I’m sure we’ll hear from your dad soon enough.”

  “And you’ll talk to him, but not me?” Bailey asked, fists on her hips.

  “He’s the press,” Seamus said. “Sheriff Larson’ll make a statement I’m sure.”

  Bailey chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at him. “At least tell me who he… who the victim was?”

  Seamus held his breath a moment, glanced behind him, and then said quietly, “It was Bobby Baines.” His face paled a little, and with good reason.

  “Edward Baines’ son?” Aiden asked.

  “He and Delbert have been best friends since they were kids,” Bailey breathed. “Inseparable. Did he…” she swallowed hard, “…did he say why he did it?”

  “No,” Seamus said grimly. “He hasn’t said anything. We found the murder weapon in his hand, though. Some old musket. It burned his fingers when he fired it.”

  “And he simply waited for your department to arrive?” Aiden wondered. He looked skeptical. “You found him here?”

  Seamus nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “There was no one else here?” Bailey asked. “No signs of someone… running off? You didn’t see anything?”

  He stared at her. “No, Bailey, we didn’t see anyone else here. We’d have taken them in, too. Why?” He peered at her.

  Back in Faerie, when she and Aiden found themselves in a strange facsimile of Coven Grove, everyone had appeared to have a doppleganger. Faeries dressed up in illusory costumes of the people who lived in Coven Grove. Most of them were almost identical—all except the witches, including Bailey’s own twin. The faeries found it difficult to duplicate any person who had native magic of their own. Something about the source of Faerie magic made it difficult to do accurately.

  When she’d seen Seamus’ double over there, he’d been one of the ones that didn’t quite look right. Ever since, Bailey had been wondering why that should be. Seamus didn’t appear to have any magic of his own. Then again, it was Coven Grove.

  Though she opened her senses just enough to feel anything that might be going on, Bailey didn’t sense anything from the deputy. Perhaps his magic was ancestral, buried deep inside him. Maybe that was enough to keep the faeries from duplicating him.

  “No reason,” Bailey sighed. “I just can’t believe he would have done something like this on his own.” She felt Aiden’s eyes on her and pointedly avoided looking at him.

  “I can’t believe it either, to be honest,” Seamus said. He took his hat off briefly and used the bill of it to scratch his head. “Doesn’t make much sense. But then, it usually doesn’t when it’s people you know.” He put his hat back on. “He’s in shock right now. When he snaps out of it, we’ll find out what happened.”

  Something moved in the corner of Bailey’s sight, and she glanced that direction. Only the shifting shadows of trees and bushes were there. She shivered, and looked back at Seamus. “Okay. Do his parents know?”

  “I expect Sheriff Larson will give them a visit after Bobby gets… well, after we get them both back to the station.” Seamus was still pale, but he went a little grayer. “I’ll go with him. Bobby was in my class…”

  “I’m sorry,” Bailey said, and touched Seamus on the shoulder.

  He gave her a nod, and she took a few steps back and turned to Aiden. “Let’s get back to the office.”

  They left Seamus and the scene, and didn’t speak until they were sure they were out of earshot. When Aiden finally glanced back, he still spoke quietly. “You’re thinking this is another faerie incursion?”

  “Delbert was a sweetheart,” she said. “I mean… he is a sweetheart. I can’t believe it was in him to kill anyone, much less his best friend. Bobby and Delbert have been together since they were kids. It wasn’t in him to do something like this.”

  Aiden didn’t say anything right away, and when Bailey looked up at him he was pensive and perhaps a bit skeptical.

  “What?” She asked.

  “It’s just… I certainly can’t say that I know your friend better than you do, or anyone else in Coven Grove… but Bailey, no magic can make a person act entirely against their nature.” He had his hands in his pockets, and didn’t look at her.

  She stopped. “You’re saying that somewhere deep down… Delbert wanted to kill Bobby Baines?”

  He sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, then gave her a regretful look. “I don’t know, Bailey. All I know are the limits of magic. A person’s deepest mind is… sacrosanct. You can alter surface thoughts, even confuse perception, but a person’s deepest self is behind a threshold magic cannot reach.”

  Of course, Chloe had told her the same thing. And Aria, and Francis. But accepting it meant that Delbert had always had the potential in him to kill someone, whether that urge had been released or he’d done it on his own. For how long? And if something like that was inside Delbert, who’d always been a kind soul, soft spoken, and smiling… what might be lurking deep down in any of them?

  Aiden must have caught on to some of what she was thinking—if not from her thoughts, then from the expression on her face. He put his hands on her shoulders. “The greatest defense against all magic, mortal or faerie, is self awareness.”

  Bailey nodded, and accepted a long hug.

  “It isn’t our only defense, though,” she said as he let her go and opened the door to the office for her.

  “Of course, preparation is the next best thing, but—”

  “No,” Bailey said as the door closed. “I mean… your visions. I’ve been thinking. Maybe… I could help. Take a look at them while you sleep.”

  “Ah,” Aiden said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned them.”

  She frowned. “Why not?”

  Aiden retreated toward the office and she followed him. “Because,” he said, “the visions that I experience are… complicated. Cryptic, at times. It has taken me years to even begin to decipher some of them.”

  She plopped into the chair behind his desk, arms folded, as he turned the lights on. “So,” she said slowly, “I can record what I see, and then we can go over them together.”

  He gave her a long look before he took a seat in the chair opposite her, and leaned to brace his elbows on the desk. “Such things are not meant to be casually shared, Bailey,” he said carefully. “Premonitions of all varieties can be dangerous. Just knowing them can alter the course of the future in ways that are difficult to predict and—”

  “And you think I wouldn’t be able to handle what’s in them. Is that it?” Bailey set her jaw and attempted to stare him down.

  Aiden, however, didn’t budge. “It isn’t that,” he said calmly. “They must simply be handled carefully, each part examined and understood rationally rather than interpreted intuitively.”

  “And I’m not capable of being rational?” She scowled at him.

  It was clear that he knew he’d stepped in it, but it didn’t change what he said next. “I merely mean that it may be unwise for me to allow you to see the full scope of my premonition when I myself am unable to experience it directly.”

  “And you don’t trust me to relate the whole thing accurately,” Bailey added.

  “Trust has nothing to do with it,” Aiden said.

  Bailey sighed, and stood up to leave.

  Aiden raised both eyebrows and frowned as she walked to the door of the office. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m taking the day off,” she said, “like I said I would.”

  “Bailey,” he said, standing, “you know that I hold you in high esteem as a person and as a practitioner. I care for you very much. The last thing I want is to burden you with visions that may not clarify anything.”

  “I think,” Bailey said, “that you worry what else I’ll see. I know that you have secrets, Aiden.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Second, third, and fourth thoughts had plagued her
the past two weeks, and here they were again. Maybe her mother was right after all. “I accept that as a reality of who and what you are. You have the right to keep them, of course. But they put a limit on what we can have.”

  Aiden watched her for a moment, and then pressed his lips together tightly.

  Bailey left.

  Chapter 4

  For the fifth time since he’d laid down to nap, Piper peeked in her two year old son, Riley. He was sleeping fitfully, but at least he was asleep. She watched him for a few long moments and then closed her eyes and calmed her nerves.

  It had been only two weeks since he laid in a hospital bed, humming some awful faerie song while she sat by and wondered if there was even any point in praying. She’d felt so hopeless, so terrified, and even after her friends had saved him—maybe saved all of Coven Grove—that fear stayed behind, nestled in her gut. Nothing seemed to help it go away.

  Magic. Faeries. How was a mother supposed to protect her children from those kinds of things?

  It had also been two weeks since she left the house. Gavin had been a champ. He’d gone to the grocery store twice and the second time even made the grocery list himself. She’d told him she was still recovering from giving birth to William, and he had tacitly avoided arguing with her about it. He knew. She could tell by the sympathetic looks he gave her. He thought that it was a strange occurrence, what had happened to Riley and twelve other children, and had been reading articles about mass delusions and hallucinations. It worried him, but he’d gotten over it quickly enough. Done was done—that was Gavin’s philosophy these days.

  Piper couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. Oh, Bailey had told her it was okay; that Piper was allowed to induct her husband into the ranks of Those Who Know. But it was bad enough Piper had to carry that burden. She couldn’t bear to share it with him. One of them had to enjoy the stability of ignorance.

  William stirred, making the first little mewling sounds of wakefulness that would become hunger in just a few moments. She left Riley’s door and went to the crib in her and Gavin’s room, gently scooping the little nugget of squirmy innocence up to feed him.

  She lowered herself into the rocker and let him find what he wanted, swaying gently while she tried to focus on here and now.

  Across the room, her phone lit up and chimed. She watched it until the screen went dark again, pensive about who it was. Gavin checked in occasionally, of course, but she’d been anticipating a message from Bailey or Avery, wondering where she was, what she’d been up to. She hadn’t said much to them since Riley had been hospitalized.

  And that wasn’t fair. She knew it. She felt awful about it. Every time she started to reach out, though, she froze; and then felt worse than before.

  That morning, Gavin had encouraged her to spend time with them. “You always feel better when you’re around your friends,” he’d said, gently. “Mom can always take the kids for a little while. You know she doesn’t mind.”

  That wasn’t strictly true. Theresa said she didn’t, of course, but there was always an implied, unspoken judgment to the tune of “Why can’t Piper be bothered to raise her own children?” Never mind that Theresa hardly ever looked after them, and Piper usually didn’t even like to leave them alone with her. Not that Theresa was irresponsible; Piper just didn’t want her bitterness rubbing off on her kids.

  William finished and went back to dozing while she burped him and checked her phone.

  It was Bailey instead of Gavin. “Want to hang out?”

  No mention of it having been a while since they saw one another. Piper almost didn’t respond. Her fingers shook just looking at the text.

  This wasn’t fair. Bailey couldn’t help that she had magic, and she’d never abused it, never made Piper feel bad about not having magic herself. Neither had Avery, for that matter. Her friends weren’t what she was supposed to be afraid of, and Avery especially had even sustained injuries trying to save Riley—and he had, in the end.

  It took until William had burped and she’d laid him back down for her to work up the nerve to text Bailey back.

  “Sure. Lunch?”

  A moment later, “Sounds good. Bakery?”

  Piper hesitated. She could always claim Riley was having a bad day. He had those a lot, lately. Above and beyond the terrible twos, he seemed to have fits at random. The last time she’d left the house was when Mr. Dove had invited everyone to a town picnic in celebration of his taking over the antique shop from Mr. Baines. Riley had kicked and screamed in the middle of Mr. Dove’s impromptu musical interlude, until Piper was so embarrassed she had to leave early.

  Whether it was just his age, or some kind of trauma from what had happened, she didn’t know yet. He didn’t have the words he needed to tell her. There was every chance he’d have a meltdown in public if she took him out, and Theresa hated getting no notice before taking the kids.

  “You don’t have to come out if you can’t yet,” Bailey messaged her. “We all understand.”

  Piper closed her eyes tight as they burned. She was being silly. Bailey and Avery loved her, and she loved them. Of course she would go. She let Bailey know it would be a bit to get ready and round up her children, and they agreed to meet in a couple of hours.

  She couldn’t hide forever.

  As it turned out, Piper arrived downtown before Bailey did. With nothing much else to do, and feeling a bit nervous about going into Grovie Goodies—where the Coven ladies worked—alone, she visited Mr. Dove’s shop. She hadn’t gone in since he opened up, and felt bad about that after Mr. Dove had been such a friend to the community all these years.

  “Mrs. Spencer! What a pleasure it is,” Mr. Dove said as Piper backed through the door to the antique shop.

  Piper dragged Riley’s stroller in with her, while shielding William from the door where he was strapped to her chest.

  “Allow me to assist,” Mr. Dove said, rushing from behind the counter to help hold the door open for her. His long fingers gripped the edge of the door and pulled it further open.

  “Thank you so much,” Piper said, and winced as Riley almost immediately began to complain. “Riley, please…” She grimaced at Mr. Dove apologetically.

  “It is no trouble,” he said. “Children are creatures of impulse, rather than propriety. I’m not the least offended.” As Piper cleared the door, he closed it behind them. “What can I do for you this fine day, Mrs. Spencer? Looking for a special gift, or for something to brighten up your day?”

  His eyes dropped to Riley, who was tugging at the straps in his stroller. “A toy for the little sprite, perhaps?”

  Riley hid his face.

  “Don’t be rude to Mr. Dove,” Piper urged. “Say hello.”

  Her son scowled out from his stroller. “Dub wrong.”

  Piper gave up. “It’s his newest trick. Mommy’s wrong, Daddy’s wrong. Apparently you are, too. Welcome to the club.”

  “Wrong about what, I wonder?” Mr. Dove mused curiously. He waved fingers dismissively. “No matter. They live in a different world than we do, children. What brings you to my shop, Mrs. Spencer?”

  Piper looked around the place. It was filled to the brim with all manner of curios and antiques, all of them neatly organized onto shelves or little displays. The place had an old world feel to it. “I just thought it was high time I dropped in,” she said. “You’ve been such a good friend to us all these years, I felt bad I hadn’t come to say hello and see how business is going.” At the moment, they were the only people in the place.

  “It’s going swimmingly,” Mr. Dove said, smiling broadly. “I’ve managed to find the perfect thing for everyone who’s come through the door.”

  “How nice,” Piper said. She bobbed a little when William started to squirm. “Well, maybe I’ll just have a look around?”

  Mr. Dove tapped a well manicured fingere against his chin. “Of course… but I do pride myself on being able to find just the thing for anyone. You’re under no obligation to purchase
anything, of course, but might I make a suggestion or two?”

  “I’m on a pretty tight budget,” Piper warned him, “but if you like… I’m curious what you’d pick out.”

  He gave a delighted little noise of approval, and then assumed a serious look as his gaze swept over the shelves and displays. “Tell me, Mrs. Spencer—on what day were you born?”

  Piper blinked. “Pardon?”

  “What day of the week?” He asked.

  She giggled, her brow furrowing in confusion, but answered. “I was born on a Wednesday.”

  “And the season?”

  “Spring.”

  He began to pace and once or twice reached for an object but then shook his head and moved on. “The first animal you can remember seeing?”

  She had to think about it for some time. “I can’t be sure… maybe a butterfly?” Suddenly, the memory was crisp and clear. She’d been at the playground, sitting on the bench. It was warm, and her mother towered above her. She’d caught a flash of color and turned to see a brilliant blue and yellow butterfly alighting on the corner of the bench, just for a moment before it flitted away.

  Piper had to blink the memory away. “I’m sorry,” she said when she realized Mr. Dove had said something to her. “What was that?”

  “Name a flower,” he said. “And then hum for me. One note, but any note will do. Whatever comes to mind.”

  This was certainly building up to some sort of punchline. Part of Mr. Dove’s sense of showmanship, she imagined. “How about… daffodils,” she said. And when he gave an expectant raised eyebrow, she cleared her throat and hummed a single, steady note.

  Mr. Dove listened, his eyes distant, and then gave a nod. “Perfect,” he muttered. “I have just the thing…”

  With some amusement, Piper rocked William back and forth as she watched Mr. Dove search briefly, and then duck behind a display case. When he stood, he waved her over.

  She pushed Riley’s stroller to the case, and parked it nearby as she looked over the small array of curious looking bracelets. Some were silver, other’s gold. There were simple bands with elaborate patterns etched into them, chains with charms hanging from them, and one in particular that stood apart.