Alcohol, the best truth serum known to man—or witch—in this case.
In the kitchen, she shows me how to make the serum, insisting I do the work myself to make it more potent. “You’re the one who needs answers,” she tells me. “You have to create the potion for her to give them to you.”
The mixture bubbles and turns an interesting shade of lime green. “Is that it or do we need something more?” I ask.
“All we need is the person with the truth locked inside her.”
I nod, knowing exactly how to get Prissy to The Wedding Chapel.
“Come on,” I say and motion to Logan as I hustle through the front area.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
He drives us to the game, and I ignore the looks that people give me, the way they speak behind their hands and point. A few are bold enough to actually ask me if Mama really killed my aunt, and it’s all I can do not to punch them in the face.
Instead, I call on the good old Holloway backbone, straighten myself up, and paste on a smile. “My mother wouldn’t hurt anyone, and y’all know that. Enjoy the game.”
It doesn’t take long to find Prissy holding court with some of her friends behind the bleachers. She’s smug as she sees me approach.
Logan, a few steps behind me knows the plan. He brushes my lower back in support. I stop several feet from her cluster of friends. “Could I speak to you for a moment in private?”
She exchanges looks and a snicker with the two women from the country club. “Whatever for?”
“I’m sure you know what happened earlier.”
“Your family is a disaster,” she says. “Get to the point, Ava. What do you want?”
I move away from the group, into the shadows of the bleachers. After an annoyed pause, she follows.
I glance at the ground and act embarrassed. “Aunt Willa’s business is done, finished. I can’t handle the wedding tomorrow and I want to get out of this town. I hate it here. I thought maybe you could…”
“Could what?”
“Are you interested in buying out the business?”
A sudden silence falls, even the crowd in the stands seeming a million miles away. In the weak light, I see her scan my features.
“I know you don’t need the business name,” I rush on, “but Aunt Willa has a ton of supplies, and all the weddings that are coming up at the end of this year and into next. I’d like to turn all of those brides over to you so I don’t leave them hanging.”
I have her complete, undivided attention now, and the way the corners of her mouth turn up tell me my bait is working. “I’ll consider it.”
“I don’t have time, Prissy. I want to get out of town tonight. If you want it, we need to make a deal now.”
“Pushy,” she snarls. She starts to walk away. “I said I’ll think about it.”
“I can have Logan draw up the agreement tonight.”
That stops her. She turns back, one of her eyebrows lifts.
I motion at him. “I’m selling the house, too. Aunt Willa left all of it, including the house, to me, so I can do whatever I want with it. If you don’t want The Wedding Chapel’s business, I’ll have to turn it over to Rosie.”
“Rosie?” Another snort. “You can’t be serious.”
“What choice do I have? It’s you or her.”
She’s playing hard to get, but I know I’ve got her. Acting as if this is an inconvenience, she shrugs, her focus landing on Logan. She licks her lips. “I suppose I can take a few minutes to go over the paperwork with you. I need to be back for the varsity game, though, y’hear?”
I return to Logan’s side and soon we’re in his car, Prissy following.
Inside the house once more, not only is Winter waiting to help me but so is Persephone. Tabitha circles Winter’s ankles, her golden eyes sparkling and gleaming. She’s ready to break more than one curse tonight. But the only one I care about at the moment is this connection between Prissy and her ghost.
I drop a light kiss on Logan’s cheek and tell him to go home.
He insists on staying. “I can help,” he says under his breath in my ear.
Goose bumps race over my skin at the warmth of his breath. “I’m going to need your help over the next couple of days, but right now the best thing you can do for me is go home, or go back to the game. Act normal, and if anyone asks you what’s going on with me, pretend you have nothing to do with me now. Distance yourself from us.”
His face goes hard, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Get real, Fantome. That’s the last thing I intend to do.”
I squeeze his arm. “Trust me. This is all part of my plan. I promise I’m going to fix everything.”
He shakes his head and argues with me for another minute, until Prissy comes through the front door. She’s gliding on air.
She eyes the front windows and I see the wheels in her head turning as she inventories what she wants from my aunt’s displays.
“Please, Logan. I have this under control and I’m not alone.” I point to Winter. I’m not sure if she’s sent Rosie home or on some errand, but I’m sure the two of us, along with Persephone, can handle what’s about to happen. “I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m done here.”
Prissy strolls over to us, and his jaw works overtime a little more before he nods and stalks out.
“What’s with him?” she asks offhandedly. “Isn’t he staying to draw up the contract?”
I motion her toward Aunt Willa’s desk. “He’ll be back in a jiffy with it.”
Winter enters the room and the two exchange a look.
“Let’s get started,” I tell Prissy, getting her to focus again on me. “So we can get you back to the football game.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Prissy takes a seat across from me. She continues eyeing things, as if she owns them already.
“Do you know anything about your family history?” I ask. From the kitchen, I hear the whistle of the tea kettle. Winter and Tabitha wait in there.
Prissy looks at me as if I’m wasting her time. “What about it?”
Answering a question with a question. Hmm. “You may not have realized it, but you’re a descendant from Samuel Thornton and his first wife Redemption.”
She stares at me half a second too long before she shrugs. “So what? I thought we were going to talk about the business.”
I take a seat in Aunt Willa’s office chair, leaning back and steepling my fingers in front of my chest. Winter warned me earlier to be careful with her. If Prissy’s capable of raising a revenant ghost and bend it to her will, we don’t know how strong of a witch she is. “Redemption was a member of a Salem family of witches. Did you know that?”
I see the fact register and she starts to reply. Then she steels herself and makes a scoffing noise in the back of her throat before she looks away. “Ava, you’ve lost your marbles. How many weddings are on the books for the last of the year?”
She wants to pretend innocence, but I’m sure she’s heard this version of history before even though it’s been all but erased from the town’s archives.
“Redemption’s family left Salem during the trials, even though they’d blended in so well with the Puritans no one realized they were the ones performing magick. Redemption’s family members were masters at the Craft, and were able to conceal their real nature and turn all eyes on innocent people.”
Winter comes in with two cups of steaming tea, saying nothing as she sets them on the desk for me and Prissy. There’s a third cup as well, but it’s empty. “Thank you,” I say to her.
Priscilla eyes her cup with disgust. Maybe she’s a coffee person. “I’m not here for tea and a history lesson. I couldn’t care less who my ancestors are. I live in the present, and I want to hear your proposal about selling The Wedding Chapel.”
I blow on the hot liquid, mostly out of spite to force her to cool her heels. “I’m gonna get to that in a second. Hear me out okay?”
The tea is just right and I sip leisurely. Her ey
es have gone hard, and she’s glaring at me.
“Redemption even fooled Samuel for a long time after they met and married. Eventually, he found out and left her.” I tap the book of spells, now unlocked, that sits on the edge of the desk. “From this account, it appears he tried his best to get the kids away from her as well, but she turned the town against him.”
Prissy looks up at the ceiling as if asking a higher power to help her with her patience. “Get on with it, already.”
“It was my great-great-grandmother, Tabitha, a good witch by the way, who helped Sam escape before the town could hang him. Your grandmother, his first wife, cursed him and his future offspring, while putting protective charms on their children so he and Tabby could never get them away from her.”
As I drum my fingers with one hand and sip my tea with the other, Priscilla dons a face that tells me I’m crazy. “You’re all about witches, aren’t you? You and your crazy aunt.”
I bristle, but refuse to rise to the bait. I pull Tabitha’s diary out of a drawer and set it on top of the spell book. “Tabitha Holloway’s diary”—I tap the worn leather—“states they never stopped trying to get Samuel’s kids away from Redemption, but her magic and influence were too strong. So, he and Tabby made a home here, naming the town Thornhollow and creating their own family and a supportive environment free to everyone, no matter their religious beliefs or their walk of life.”
She huffs, coming to her feet. “Are you selling me the business or not?”
“Relax.” I wave her back into her seat. “I just found it interesting that we’re very, very distantly related, and the history in my grandmother’s diary differs so much from the one we’ve grown up with, don’t you? The other fact never mentioned is that Preston Uphill is also a descendent of Redemption and Samuel.”
Her avarice rises to the surface and she sits down on the edge of the chair. “What kind of profit margin am I looking at for the next six months?”
At least she’s sitting. Behind her in the shadows, Winter motions at me to get her to drink the tea. Tabby slinks into the room and hides under the desk. “You’re looking at ten thousand dollars or more, based on the current number of brides.” I’ve made this up off the top of my head, but it makes her eyes glow. “Knowing your aggressive promotion strategies and networking abilities, Prissy, you can probably make more than that.”
The corners of her mouth curl. I raise my cup as if in salute. “Seems like this calls for congratulations. You’re getting what you always wanted.”
Reluctantly, she raises her cup and gingerly taps it against mine. She barely takes a sip, but then seems to find it appealing and drinks more. “This is good stuff. What’s in it?”
“Honey, brandy, some vanilla.”
“Brandy, huh? That must be the interesting aftertaste I’m getting.”
I see the potion going to work, her muscles relaxing. The tightness around her eyes dissipates and she sighs.
“I can’t wait to get out of this town,” I lie. “But it makes me happy that Aunt Willa’s business will continue.”
She nods, and then the truth serum kicks in. “I have no intention of keeping this business up and running.”
Her eyes widen in alarm. She clamps her jaws together, shocked at her confession.
I press back in the chair and rock. “I’m not surprised. You’ve made it clear you have a different way of doing things. I’m just relieved that our brides won’t be left out in the cold.”
“I’m gonna suck them for every penny I can get.”
Again, shock registers on her face and she covers her mouth with a hand.
Now that the potion is full strength, it’s time to get to the truth. “So you’ve been dabbling in magic?”
She starts to shake her head to deny it, but then says, “I couldn’t resist. I tried a silly beauty spell I found on Pinterest one day and it worked. I had to try more.”
“Latent magickal power runs in your blood, thanks to Redemption. I have the same, apparently, with Tabitha’s blood. Unfortunately, playing with the spirit world is dangerous business, and you’re no Redemption I’m afraid. Was it your intention to force Calista’s ghost to kill my aunt?”
Now she does shake her head. Her cup slams into the saucer hard, spilling what’s left onto the desk. “I had nothing to do with her death. I mean, I messed with Calista, but her spirit wouldn’t willingly respond to my requests.”
My eyes go to Winter. She scowls. This must be bad news. “But the ghost killed Aunt Willa?” I confirm.
She tries again to silence herself, but the truth tumbles from behind the hand over her mouth. “I think she did.”
I wonder how in the world I can prove my mother’s innocence if a ghost murdered my aunt. I already had my suspicions, but now it’s confirmed and I’m more worried than ever. “You think? Don’t you know?”
She gives a half-hearted shrug, and I understand this is the truth—she’s not sure.
And that means…
She’s not the one controlling Calista.
I mentally curse. Who then?
Must be Prissy’s partner in crime. Now I’ll have to deal with him.
At least there’s one thing I can do right now—break the family curse. “In this spell book that belonged to Redemption,”—I slide the diary away and tap the leather-bound tome again—“I found a way to lift the curse on Samuel and Tabitha’s progeny, but it requires the blood from the last descendants of both Samuel and Redemption.”
Her eyes go wide. “What are you talking about? You’re not suggesting…”
She knows exactly what I’m suggesting, and fear ripples across her face. I pull out Aunt Willa’s letter opener, the tip sharpened and gleaming under the overhead light. “It’s just a little prick, Prissy. You’ll hardly feel it.”
“No, no… I…I don’t do blood magick.” She jumps up, but before she can run out of the room Winter flicks her fingers and Prissy falls back into the chair, unable to move.
I lift a brow at my friend.
She shrugs. “Binding spell. I’ll teach you how.”
Prissy fights as, against her will, we draw blood from one of her fingers and let it drip into the empty cup. Winter adds the assortment of herbs we gathered and the powder we ground up.
“Now yours,” Winter says to me.
Tabby circles my feet and I have an idea. I jab one of my fingers with the letter opener. “I think we should throw some of Tabitha’s blood in, too, just to be safe.”
The cat meows loudly, and I assume she doesn’t want to have her blood drawn either—or maybe she thinks it’s a good idea. Hard to tell.
Two drops fall into the cup and I straighten, licking my finger. “Is that enough?” I ask Winter.
The air around us seems to shiver. She looks toward the shadows, and I see her frown again.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The wards…”
A man’s voice from behind us interrupts her and sends shivers down my spine. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I jerk around and see an ugly black gun pointed at me.
Chapter Forty
Preston Uphill moves faster than I expect of a man his age.
Winter, still holding the cup and Prissy’s arm, isn’t quick enough to defend herself as he attacks.
I scream as he hits her in the head with the gun and she crumples to the floor. The cup crashes near my feet, the handle breaking and the contents spilling.
I take a swipe at Uphill but he dodges, kicking the chair Prissy is in and sending her tumbling into me. We topple backward, and in the frenzy I hear Persephone yell at me to get up.
With Winter out cold, the binding spell breaks. Prissy rolls, pressing the arm of the chair into my rib cage and making me gasp. She comes up on hands and knees, and I fight with the chair to get it off of me.
Preston points the gun at both of us. “We’re not breaking any curses tonight,” he snarls.
As Prissy gains her feet, she ac
ts relieved to see him. “Thank goodness you’re here. They took my blood!”
She lifts a fingertip to show him her injury, like a child wanting their mother to kiss a booboo. The barrel of the gun follows her as she steps closer to him. “Stay over there,” he demands.
Prissy’s confusion is evident as she looks back at me. I’m torn between helping Winter and stopping Preston.
“What’s with the gun?” she stage-whispers. “That’s a little much, isn’t it?”
“Shut up.” He waves the weapon, motioning her to return to me.
Rib screaming in pain, I gain my feet. Winter is breathing, and I pray she’ll be all right. I grab Prissy’s wrist, hauling her behind me. “Put the gun down, Mr. Uphill. Everything’s fine. There’s no need for any violence.”
He checks out the books on top of the desk. I notice Tabby’s hiding under it again. A disgusted sigh escapes him as he fingers Redemption’s grimoire. “You broke the lock. Figures. I knew Willa had this, but it belongs to me.” He taps the gun against his chest.
“It should be burned,” I murmur. “The magick in there is bad stuff.”
He acts like he didn’t hear me. “All of this,”—he motions with his free hand, encompassing the house—“belongs to me. I’m the true descendant of Samuel and Redemption. I’m the only one who’s carried through on the revenge Redemption deserved to mete out on your family. You and your meddling aunt should have never been born.”
“And yet, here I am.”
His smile is wicked. “It ends here.”
“But Preston…” Prissy is still in disbelief, disengaging my hand from her wrist so she can step forward. “I thought we were in this together. What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”
His thin face draws into a haughty expression. “You are so easy to manipulate. All I needed was to appeal to your worthlessness, make you feel like the only way to prove yourself in this town was through your business. Setting you up for killing Willa, and now Ava, was entertaining, but not exactly challenging.”
Pumpkins & Poltergeists, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 1 Page 17
