by Iris Kincaid
“No. I’m serious.”
“That would be a negative. Witches do not exist.”
“Don’t they?”
Rocky was walking past, and it seemed like an opportune moment to levitate him to help change Ajax’s mind. He was clearly confused and startled.
“Wow! That’s . . . that’s even more impressive than the trick you did at the party. You’re probably not going to tell me how you did it.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you. I just don’t know what it will take for you to believe it.”
Zoey patiently explained everything—the leukemia, the stabbing, the witch’s blood—to a stunned and skeptical Ajax.
“She was a very powerful witch, and now I have some of her powers. No, I’m not crazy. My mind can make things happen. When I see something that I want . . . that I really, really want . . . ”
Ajax felt the strangest sensation, as if someone was tugging at his shirt. He looked down and saw his shirt unbuttoning itself, one button at a time.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was just thinking about things that I want.” Zoey was a bit mortified. This was a bad time for her mind to go haywire.
The long-sleeve shirt tugged itself off, as if someone behind Ajax were helping him get undressed.
“Maybe it’s because you’re in my home that I can’t stop thinking about this. I’m really sorry. I ought to be able to control my mind better by now.”
Ajax’s bare chest was not yet visible. But, then it sure was, after Zoey started wondering about it. The T-shirt pulled itself off over Ajax’s head and tossed itself into the corner. Ajax was doing his best to remain calm.
“Can’t . . . really explain this. What if, for the sake of argument, I was willing . . . ”
Zoey sighed in relief, and Ajax’s pants unzipped.
“Willing to entertain the fact that you are a witch?”
“Oh. So, so . . . any other kind of willing?”
“As far as you’re concerned, I am every kind of willing. I am so willing that the whole witch thing is something I don’t mind putting on the shelf for now.”
The last of Ajax’s clothes came off.
“Oh, you can’t just stand here naked in the middle of the living room. Justine could be back any minute. We should probably work this out in my bedroom.”
“You lead the way.”
Zoey remembered to release Rocky from his airborne perch and also to gather Ajax’s clothes and float them ahead of the couple into the bedroom. That removed the final doubt from Ajax’s mind. He was about to make love to a witch.
*****
The following morning, Zoey woke up more well-rested that she had in a decade. She had slept the whole night! No 2 AM and 5 AM sleeplessness. But where was Ajax? The space next to her was empty, although still warm. And then she heard his voice out in the hallway. Oh, he must have run into Justine.
A moment later, he had slipped back into bed and was holding her in a warm cuddle.
“With Justine surprised to see you?”
“It wasn’t Justine. It was Boris, dressed in an even smaller towel than me. And no, neither of us was surprised.”
Boris! Okay, so all that twerking was apparently a means to an end.
“So, have you given any more thought to what I told you last night?” Zoey asked.
“You can move things with your mind. Hey! Is that what you are doing at the pool table?”
Zoey nodded guiltily. “It’s quite a lot to get used to. I understand.”
“One last question. Last night. How was it for you, after eight and half years?”
Dare Zoey say magical?
“Worth the wait.”
*****
Later that day, Zoey, Justine, and their new fellas were having lunch at a popular sports bar. There were big smiles all around.
“Boris, I did not need to see you naked,” Ajax deadpanned.
“I was not naked,” Boris protested. “I had a towel.”
It was all so funny and ridiculous and promising. And they were all starving.
After lunch, Zoey was returning from the restroom when she heard a familiar voice sitting at the bar. It was Sherman Baretta, talking to the bartender in loud, animated detail about the previous Saturday’s ball game. He had watched every moment of it. But that didn’t make sense.
That game was the same afternoon as her barbecue, the one with Susan that he would have loved to go to if it weren’t for his family obligations. Why would he turn down the chance to be at an event where he could talk to the object of his fan worship? After all, he had come all the way out here from Nevada to see her. Nevada. Nevada . . .
Was she being paranoid? Zoey had to find out if Sherman was the rabid fan she had assumed he was. She made a quick call to Finn, and half an hour later, Margo had casually sat down on the barstool next to Sherman to test his devotion to Susan Sidwell. By then, Zoey had sent away her three companions, telling them she had something urgent to attend to.
She and Finn waited outside. They watched Sherman exit and scowl in their direction before he got in his car and drove away. Then, Margo came out and hurried toward them.
“He doesn’t know anything about her films. He’s only seen like two of them. And he said how moving and dramatic her last film was, but he couldn’t remember the name of it. And it wasn’t moving or dramatic. It was a comedy! And I’m sorry to say, not her finest work.”
Zoey turned to Finn. “He wanted to get a room in the hotel and blend in with the fans. But that’s not what he came to the hotel for.”
*****
As Zoey and Flynn broke into a run toward the hotel entrance, they were stopped by the sight of Sherman Baretta and Caitlin Murdoch walking briskly together. Caitlin looked terrified, with one hand clutched over her pregnant belly. When Sherman saw them, he pulled his gun, which had been pointed at Caitlin’s waist, and aimed it at her head.
“Stop right there. I knew I should’ve gotten out of town. Aaron Gabler—Frank Churchill to you—destroyed my family, and I came to settle that score. And I did. Even if I had to act like some empty-headed nutcase Hollywood fan. It was a good plan. I just didn’t have time to watch all those stupid movies.
“But Gabler didn’t just put my family in jail. He ruined us financially. And now I see that he has a child coming.”
“You’re willing to hurt his innocent child?” Zoey asked, incensed.
“Not if his mother signs over the estate to me. Then the debt’s paid. Then I’ll be done.”
Nope. You’re done now. Sherman’s gun leapt upward with great force and rose six feet into the air, the terrified Sherman still holding onto it for dear life. Caitlin fainted.
Zoey pulled Caitlin away to a safe grassy area. Finn pulled his gun on Sherman.
“Let go of the gun, Sherman. Unless you want us to float you to the moon.”
Us! Listen to him! Zoey scoffed.
Sherman had no options. He let go of his gun and came crashing to the ground, where he was cuffed and read his Miranda rights. Zoey stayed with Caitlin and held her hand until she could be checked out medically. She and the baby were fine.
*****
At the police station, Finn and Zoey pieced together the final details of the case. Aaron Gabler, A.K.A. Franklin Churchill, had been a Vegas mobster, involved in at least four deaths. In order to avoid prison, he turned state’s evidence and ratted out his former employer. This necessitated getting into the Witness Protection program. He had been placed in Boston but made a chance discovery of Oyster Cove while visiting the Cape.
Then, because he had been allowed to keep his ill-gotten gains, he strong-armed his way into a 50-50 hotel partnership and then pushed his partner out. Then he got involved with the unsavory, blackmailing Whitney Blair. And then knocked up the hotel’s housekeeper. His was not going to be a eulogy to be proud of. Or, as Esmeralda was later to claim, “Dibs on his heart!” Dark hearts were especially coveted amongst witch practitioners of the dark arts.
“Looks like
this one’s a wrap,” Finn concluded. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
That was a nice concession. Maybe he was going to wind up on her list of new friends after all. Then Zoey got a phone call, and she could see that it was coming from Camille’s number.
“Hey, honey, how are you doing?”
“Daddy is taking me somewhere, but he won’t tell me where. He picked me up from camp, and he says I’m not going back to stay with the doctor. He’s going to find a new place for us, and he said it’s going to be a really, really long drive. He’s in the gas station right now. I think that we’re running away. But I don’t want to run away. I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to find me.”
Dalton was kidnapping her baby! How was she going to stop him? How was she even going to find them? Camille wasn’t able to say exactly where the gas station was or what direction they were headed.
“Tell her to stay on the line and slip the phone in her pocket,” Finn ordered. “We’ll be able to find her. It’ll just take a while.”
Zoey couldn’t wait. She left her phone with Finn to track the location and got Justine to quickly drive over and loan her the car. Zoey couldn’t sit still. She had to get out and look for Camille herself. Finn gave her a burner phone, just in case.
“Don’t worry, we just set up blockades on every major freeway out of town. They can’t get far.”
Where would Dalton have headed? All Zoey could do was to race aimlessly around Oyster Cove, keeping an eye out for Dalton’s car and waiting for Finn’s call. It finally came.
“Got a fix on her location.”
“What’s the address?”
“It’s 9672 Sawmill Road, but I don’t want you going over there. We’ve got cars headed out there. We’ll get her, don’t you worry.”
The phone line clicked. Geez, he really shouldn’t have told her the address.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The location was several miles outside of town, in the farming area. Dalton had become aware of the police blockade and had stopped to try to figure out his next move. His car was hidden behind a barn, but Zoey was able to locate them with the address she had been given.
Dalton grimaced at the sight of Zoey driving up to them and then snarled, “So, this is why the roads are blocked. You’re behind this, aren’t you? Just like you’re behind me getting evicted from The Grand. Just like you’ve been filling Camille’s head with moving into your big house. I can take a lot better care of her than you can.”
Zoey scoffed. “With what? Drug money?”
Dalton pulled Camille tightly against him. Zoey could see that she was frightened.
“Camille, are you okay? Good, honey. You need to give her to me right now. You’ll never get through the blockades,” Zoey said.
“I will, as long as I have my lucky charm with me. That’s what you are, baby, my lucky charm. The police might get all trigger-happy if it was just me. But not if they know that Camille is with me.”
“You want to use our child as a human shield?” Zoey shouted.
Camille tried to squirm out of Dalton’s arms. “I want to go with Mommy. You were wrong about her.”
“She’s got you hoodwinked, baby. You’re staying with me. It’s time for us to go.”
He pulled the car keys out of his back pocket, but before he could reach the car, the keys had jumped into the tall grass.
“Geez, how did I do that?”
He bent over to grab them, but the keys sped away through the grass as if they were a frightened mouse. Dalton was so startled that he let go of Camille, who ran to Zoey, and the two of them ran around to the other side of the barn. Zoey tried to think quickly. Why didn’t they just lock themselves inside the barn and wait for the police to arrive?
It could have been a workable plan if the barn had locked from the inside! It didn’t, and it was too late to run. There was a tall, sturdy ladder leading to the barn loft. Zoey quickly got herself and Camille up and then pulled up the ladder just as Dalton stormed in.
“You put that ladder back. You put that ladder back and send her down right now, or you’re going to be very, very sorry.”
“We’re going to be safe up here,” Zoey reassured her child. “The police will be here very soon.”
Dalton was searching around for something—Zoey couldn’t imagine what—until he located a torch and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.
“I’m giving you one last chance to do it the easy way. You put that ladder back and come down in peace. Or I will make you come down and it will not feel pleasant. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” He lit the torch and tossed it in a far corner of the loft. “I know you won’t let anything bad happen to her, so put down that ladder and get down right this minute.”
The loft was full of straw, and the fire was raging out of control in just a few moments.
“Put down that ladder. You don’t have any choice now. Put it down right now!” Dalton yelled.
How could he have done this? With his own child up here? Zoey glanced around. There was an uncovered window at the back of the loft. She dragged the ladder to it, urging Camille to keep close. She looked outside the window. The ladder was short by a mile. It would never work. Unless . . . she pushed the ladder outside the window and willed it to stay in place, suspended in the air.
“You follow me, honey. You stay right behind me. I’m always going to have my hand on your back. We’re going to climb down.”
“Is the ladder long enough?”
“It’s plenty long. Just follow me.”
Zoey climbed out first and the ladder held firmly, though its feet were nowhere near the ground. Camille couldn’t really see that. Zoey was blocking her sight, so she climbed down confidently behind her mother. As they were descending, Zoey allowed the entire ladder to slowly drift toward the ground so that by the time they reached the end, they were able to walk right off onto the ground.
Just as Camille was getting off, Dalton came running from around the corner. He ran straight at Zoey, furious. Just before he got to her, she threw her hand out, and his body was tossed away like a rag doll, several feet back.
Thankfully, Camille had just been getting off the ladder and her back had been turned. She could see that her father was dazed and on the ground, but she wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. What all three of them were sure of, however, was that they could hear the loud sound of sirens speeding in their direction.
They were soon surrounded by four police cars. And just like that, it was all over.
Zoey gathered up her little girl into her arms and took her home, where she belonged.
And Officer Finn Cochran cuffed Dalton and took him to jail, where he belonged.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EPILOGUE
Lloyd Bacon decided against pursuing a reacquisition of The Grand Hotel. He had chafed at Franklin Churchill’s dodgy influence over the institution Bacon had worked so hard to build. But under the watchful guidance of Artur Frost, Caitlin’s baby would one day be a proud and honorable hotelier. And even in his retirement, Lloyd was happy to be contracted as a design consultant for special events at the hotel. He certainly had a way with flowers.
*****
Justine had, of course, accepted Susan’s job offer of assistant. It was just the kind of break that ex-cons rarely get. A job! In LA! With Boris in her future! She was over the moon. And when the occasion arose for her to travel with Susan, Justine didn’t mind staying in four- and five-star hotels. Didn’t mind it one bit.
Of course, the best kind of traveling for Susan’s crowd were the frequent trips back to Oyster Cove. They were always overjoyed to see Ajax again, and Zoey and Camille quickly became treasured by all. Justine and Zoey were especially happy at every opportunity for a reunion.
*****
Zoey’s social life was further enriched by her fellow Lilith Hazelwood transplant heirs. They would often gather in her kitchen, watching in envy as a sumptuous dinner telekinetically put itself together. They often
commented that if they had to exchange their powers with any other witch, it would have to be her. No more housework!
But Zoey, in turn, was dazzled by their wide range of impressive talents. It was a strangely familiar sensation for her. When had she last been surrounded by such awesomely formidable women before? Oh, yeah. Prison.
*****
Speaking of prison, Dalton’s cumulative sentences for arson, two counts of attempted murder, kidnapping, attempt to flee house arrest, and possession with intent to sell, for the stash of drugs found in his car, added up to a thirty-year prison sentence. Dalton got exactly one visit from Zoey, which she considered a necessary closure to the end of their relationship.
“I suppose you’re going to be really vengeful and petty about this. Or are you going to let Camille visit me?”
“Am I going to let her visit, is she going to want to visit, and can you deny that you actually tried to set us on fire to secure your own escape from the law? Same answer to all three questions, I suppose.”
“She’s still my daughter. Camille Spitz is still my daughter.”
“Camille Proctor. I’ve already put in the papers for a name change. Her name is Camille Proctor. And she’s my daughter.”
*****
Ajax was able to plan his part-time management career around spending time with his new family. He did take a lot of pride in kickstarting the careers of some talented local bands, and he was always able to line Zoey up with several weekly magician engagements, all comfortably small affairs where she could enjoy strutting her stuff. Camille loved to be recruited as her assistant.
*****
Snorkeling had never been on Zoey’s list of dream activities while she had been in prison. What a huge surprise that it turned out to be one of her absolute favorite things. It wasn’t only that it involved her two absolute favorite people. It also thrilled her to see Camille lit up with curiosity and courage when exploring the fascinating world below the waves. It was also thrilling to watch Ajax step into the father role with tenderness and gusto.
And there was just something about being cocooned in that water world, just floating and watching the colorful and unusual marine life float by. It made her feel free. Zoey’s whole life now made her feel free. And very, very lucky.
