“Why is it okay for her to stay and not me?”
“Because I didn’t force Viola to stay.” Although, now that he mentioned it, I had no idea when my necromancer powers kicked into high gear. I knew when I first noticed them. Viola died several months before that ... and in front of me. I was so traumatized by her shooting that Landon went into protective boyfriend mode and shut me away from the world for hours to make sure I processed things correctly. There was always the chance that the trauma triggered my necromancer abilities and I was the reason Viola opted to stay behind. That was something I would have to consider … but at a later date.
“I don’t care that you forced me to stay,” Hopper argued. “I’m glad it happened. I want to be here. This is my home.”
“This is what you know,” I corrected. “You don’t want to pass on because you’re afraid of what’s on the other side. I get that you’re a pervert and you’re probably worried you don’t have a bright afterlife waiting for you, but I’m sure you can do some penance and arrange for that to happen. I mean ... it’s not as if you’re evil.”
The second the words escaped my mouth I noticed a shift in Hopper’s demeanor. He didn’t cackle maniacally and rub his ethereal hands together, but he did acknowledge the statement. Unfortunately, it was with a smirk.
“Wait a second ... .”
Hopper didn’t allow me to follow my natural train of thought, instead trying to force me to focus on something else. “I believe everything happens for a reason. You’re a witch. That means you believe in karma, right?”
I nodded, my mind moving at a fantastic rate.
“Therefore, it’s important for me to stay here,” Hopper stressed. “I need to remain because this is where I belong. I want to help people. I’m a giver. Hey, who knows? If you get powerful enough maybe you’ll be able to give me another body or something. I mean ... I know that’s down the road, but I’m not sad being here without any way to interact with the living or anything.”
That’s when things clicked into place. Er, well, as close as they were going to get without him filling in the gaps. Realization washed over me in a cool, green wave that left me feeling sick to my stomach … and a bit shaky.
“I didn’t call you.”
Hopper froze at my quiet words. “What are you talking about? Of course you called me. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m not talking about today. I definitely called you today.”
“Then ... what are you talking about?”
“The day you died.” I worked hard to untangle the crossing threads in my busy brain. “I didn’t call to you. You saw what was waiting for you on the other side and you ran.”
“That is preposterous.” He said the words but couldn’t hide the lie in his eyes.
“No, I’m right.” My anger began building as I rubbed my sweaty palms over my knees. “You understood you wouldn’t be going to a good place, so you stayed behind. I’m not sure how you found me — maybe you were running from whatever was chasing you, or merely wanted to put distance between you and the threshold that terrified you — but somehow you found me.
“Maybe you did hear a voice at that point,” I continued. “I don’t like the idea that my disembodied voice is floating around ordering others what to do, but I don’t believe the story you told the day you appeared is the truth. You stayed behind because you were afraid to cross over, and now you’re trying to manipulate me to keep you here because what’s waiting is worse than living in limbo.”
Hopper didn’t immediately respond. Instead he merely stared. He finally shook his head and raised his eyes to the sky. “Why can’t you just do as I asked? It’s not as if it hurts you.”
“You’re not a good person. I should’ve seen that earlier.” I was talking to myself more than him, but I knew he could hear. “You manipulated those women into sleeping with you, abused your position, and I’m betting you were responsible for a few more immoral deeds. I mean ... why were you seeing Margaret Little?”
“I already told you. I won’t break doctor-patient confidentiality.”
I was sick of that song and dance, and unleashed a flurry of magic, allowing it to barrel into Hopper and causing him to widen his eyes. He wasn’t corporeal. That meant he could walk through walls or things could pass through him without trouble. The magic I sent to rein him in was strong enough to cause physical pain to a body that no longer existed, though, and I wasn’t even mildly sorry when his features twisted.
“What the heck is this?” Hopper’s voice was laced with panic as he struggled. “What did you do to me?”
“I want to know why Mrs. Little was seeing you,” I demanded. “She’s afraid of something. She tried to blackmail us for her file last night. I can’t understand why she was seeing you in the first place.”
“I won’t tell you that!” Hopper gritted his teeth as he fruitlessly struggled against the magical bonds I’d tethered him with. “There’s nothing you can do to make me. My oath is my bond.”
I snorted. “We both know that’s a load of crap. I’m willing to test the theory that there’s nothing I can do to make you talk.”
For the first time, real fear flickered across Hopper’s twisted features. “What are you going to do?”
“Take control. You had a chance to do the right thing and tried to manipulate me instead. I think it’s time we evened the score.”
“That sounds ... ominous.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Twenty-Six
I felt empowered after my showdown with Hopper. Not in an evil “I’m going to put you in a sleeping curse to get my own way” empowered, but stronger all the same.
Hopper didn’t answer my questions. He was adamant. That made me realize I was on the right track … yet still unwilling to go full-on evil to get my way. I was essentially a work in progress.
I texted Aunt Tillie and she met me on the bluff shortly before ten. She wasn’t happy about being summoned, but when I informed her of what I wanted she brightened considerably.
“You want me to torture your ghost?” She was almost gleeful as she circled a furious Hopper. He remained trapped in the magic I tethered him with, unable to move. “I can’t believe you finally gave me a gift that’s truly magical. This makes up for all those years you made mugs with Twila and insisted they were good Christmas gifts.”
I scowled. “I was a kid. A coffee mug is a great Christmas gift when you’re a kid. I made it myself, for crying out loud.”
“They were lopsided.”
“Only the first two ... er, four.”
“Whatever.” Aunt Tillie clearly wasn’t in the mood to reminisce. “What is it you’ve done here?” She peered closely at the magical bindings anchoring Hopper to the bluff. “What spell did you use?”
The question caught me off guard. “I didn’t use a spell.”
“What did you do?”
“Um ... I just imagined what I wanted and it kind of happened.”
“Really?” Intrigued, Aunt Tillie extended a finger and poked at the magic. “This is very impressive. I’m guessing it’s because you’re a necromancer and he’s a ghost. Unless ... do you think you could do this with a live human being?”
I didn’t want to even consider that. “No.”
Aunt Tillie met my steady gaze. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t know why it came to me. It just did. He’s being a tool, so I need him to stay here until he decides he’s going to answer my questions.”
“What questions?”
“I want to know why Mrs. Little was seeing him.”
“She’s nuts.”
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“She’s massively nuts.”
I sucked in a calming breath. “This is serious.” I told her about my run-in with Mrs. Little the previous evening, keeping the story succinct. “She’s got her finger in a bunch of different pies,” I finished. “I don’t think that gathering we saw at
her store yesterday was a coincidence.”
Aunt Tillie’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Of the people who were there,” I explained, “at least two of them were having sex with this piece of walking garbage.” I sneered at Hopper, which caused him to groan and twist. “Esther was there, and she had ties to Hopper. I don’t think he was treating her, but something else could’ve been going on.”
“What about Tori Corbin? She wasn’t in the sex files.”
“No, but I didn’t pay attention to all the names in the files we didn’t flag,” I admitted. “I’m willing to bet that Tori and her husband were seeing Hopper regularly, too. I’ll have to confirm that with Landon later this afternoon. He’s going above Judge Morton’s head to get the warrant for the files. His daughter, Janet, was definitely having sex with Hopper. We can’t risk going through the files a second time without the proper paperwork in place.”
“Okay.” Aunt Tillie turned thoughtful. “Maybe Janet was the psychopath.”
I didn’t know much about the woman, but it was a decent guess. “It’s a possibility. The other possibility is Melanie Adams. I mean ...why was she there? I definitely would’ve remembered seeing her name in the files.”
“Maybe Margaret simply wants to add her to her cadre of losers,” she suggested. “Margaret likes power. Given Melanie’s relationship with Chief Terry, she could afford Margaret some leverage.”
“I considered that, too,” I admitted. “Mrs. Little complained about Melanie in her own file, but somehow they got over that. There’s a chance Melanie didn’t even know that she was being plotted against.”
“Maybe they worked out a truce.”
“Maybe.”
Aunt Tillie pursed her lips. “You’re going to ask Melanie about it, aren’t you?”
“That seems to be the next logical step. I’d rather confront her than keep questioning her motives.”
“I guess that’s a good idea.” Aunt Tillie said the words but didn’t look convinced. “Be careful, Bay. I don’t know that woman well, but she’s relishing the power she has over Terry. That was clear last night. She thinks she’s won because he went with her.”
“He was her ride.”
“Still ... she feels as if she’s in the power position. When she realizes she’s not — that you’re still nearer and dearer to Terry’s heart — she might not take it well.”
“Do you think she would attack me?”
Aunt Tillie shrugged. “It’s doubtful, but she’s not nearly as sweet and innocent as she wants people to believe.”
“I’m visiting her yoga studio. She wouldn’t dare turn things into a physical confrontation there.”
“Probably not.” Aunt Tillie held my gaze for what felt like a very long time and then smiled. “I can torture the ghost however I want while you’re gone, right? I mean ... can I tell him stories about my childhood and make him look at photo albums?”
“You can get as mean as you want.” I meant it. “I want to know what Mrs. Little was doing under his care. There has to be a reason she was seeing him. Also, I want to know who the psychopath is.” I fixed Hopper with a pointed look. “He might not know who killed him — and I’m on the fence about whether that’s true — but he knows who the psychopath is. He’s not leaving this bluff until he shares the information.”
Aunt Tillie offered a hearty salute. “I’ll get the information if I have to kill him a second time to do it.”
“Good luck.”
“Oh, I don’t need luck.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes gleamed with evil intent as she grinned at Hopper. “I’m the wickedest witch in the Midwest. I have skill.”
I’D NEVER BEEN TO MELANIE’S yoga studio. I was familiar with the building — it used to be a pizza joint, and before that a video store — but she’d put the facility through a massive overhaul. I was determined not to like her, but even I had to admit the space was cute.
She was finishing up with a class — I recognized a few familiar faces in the group — so I loitered at the back of the room until she finished with her demonstration.
At first glance, she seemed amiable. She chatted with her customers as they dispersed, offered them helpful hints and bathed them with compliments about their efforts. She was aware of my presence even though she barely glanced in my direction. She waited until her customers had left before she acknowledged me.
“Well, you’re the last person I expected to see.” She rubbed a towel over her sweaty face as she regarded me. “I was about to make a strawberry smoothie at the bar. Do you want one?”
I followed her gaze to the counter. It was basically a half-moon with eight stools placed around it. “Sure.”
She headed in that direction, keeping distance between us, and slid behind the counter before indicating I should sit on one of the stools. “You’re not allergic to coconut or anything, are you? I use coconut water in the smoothies.”
“I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Well ... great.”
Melanie was the picture of efficiency as she began chopping strawberries. She didn’t seem eager to deepen the conversation, which meant I would have to be the one to speak first.
“So ... about last night.”
“Yes, that was a lovely evening,” Melanie drawled. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to be part of your happy family last night.”
If she expected me to apologize, she was going to be disappointed. “What did you expect? You tried to get me arrested. They were hardly going to welcome you with open arms.”
“I didn’t try to get you arrested.” Her eyes flashed with impatience, making them greener. “I simply pointed out that your actions yesterday afternoon were not acceptable. I can’t believe that you think they were. Margaret Little ... .”
I held up my hand to still her. “You’re new to town. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because of that. But we have a long history with Mrs. Little that you’re probably not privy to. I doubt very much she would tell you the whole truth when it comes to her relationship with my family.”
Melanie pursed her lips. Her face was devoid of makeup because she’d been working out, but she was still attractive. That only served to irritate me more.
“Listen, I’m not going to pretend that I’m an expert on Margaret Little. She’s been nothing but nice to me since I landed in town. She invited me to join the Downtown Development Authority. She’s going to help me with my first booth at the spring festival. She’s been warm and welcoming.”
Obviously Melanie didn’t realize that Mrs. Little had been complaining about her to the neighborhood shrink. “Mrs. Little is great at schmoozing people when she wants something,” I agreed. “The second you cross her, she becomes a vicious enemy.”
“And what did you do to cross her?”
“Oh, all manner of things.”
“I prefer specifics.” Melanie tossed the strawberries into the blender, her gaze never moving from my face. “If you expect me to cut ties with this woman, I want a good reason.”
And there was the rub. “I don’t expect you to cut ties with her on my behalf.” That was the truth. “She’s not an easy woman to get along with. Is she evil? There are times I wonder. Still, her dislike of my family is probably warranted. She’s been enemies with Aunt Tillie since they were in grade school.”
“Yes, your Aunt Tillie is quite the welcoming soul.”
“Oddly enough, she has a good heart,” I countered. “I would never pretend that she’s perfect. She has plenty of faults. I mean ... a lot. She’s headstrong and mean when she wants to be. She goes out of her way to tick people off. She’s a master at revenge.
“She’s also loyal to a fault,” I continued. “She would die for any one of us. She listens when we talk, even though she doesn’t always agree. She tries to help when we’re in trouble, although sometimes her solutions are out there. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s a good woman.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word
for that,” Melanie said dryly as she added coconut water to the blender. “She’s been nothing but rude to me.”
“Maybe that’s because you tried to get her arrested, too.”
“Maybe.” Melanie hit the puree button before I could say anything else, so I bided my time and watched her mix the concoction. When she was finished, she poured it into two glasses and shoved one in my direction. “No sugar. Totally healthy and organic. It’s going to be the drink of the future.”
I preferred a chocolate malt or a good old-fashioned Slurpee. Still, I forced a smile and sipped the drink. It tasted like icy pieces of grit thanks to the strawberry seeds, but I feigned delight anyway. “Awesome.”
Melanie’s expression darkened. “You hate it.”
“It’s fine. I’m just used to richer food.”
“Because that’s what your mother cooks?”
And there it was. I wondered if Melanie would bring her up. If she was as innocent as she pretended, she would’ve avoided the topic. She was manipulative, no matter how she played things. She was about to see what buttons she could push by mentioning my mother.
That wouldn’t end well ... for either of us.
“My mother and aunts are the best cooks I know,” I offered honestly. “I’ve never tasted a bad dish that they’ve cooked. Okay, Twila once got it in her head to make Indian food, and that tasted like curry-flavored turds, but that’s the only meal I’ve ever wanted to send back.”
“You love your mother.”
“Doesn’t everyone love their mother?”
“I didn’t like my mother, but I guess I loved her.” Melanie sipped her smoothie. “You’re upset because you want Terry to be with your mother. Don’t bother denying it. He told me the whole sad tale.”
I had no intention of denying it. “I always wanted him to marry my mother,” I agreed. “It started when I was a kid. I stopped thinking about it as an adult, though, so I’m not sure it was exactly an active wish.”
“It was active enough that you didn’t like it when he told you he was dating me.”
Witch, Interrupted Page 25
