Way of the Witch

by Cate Dean

  When five minutes passed, she started to fidget. When it turned into ten minutes, she got up and headed downstairs.

  She found Martin in the kitchen, sitting at the scarred farmhouse table, his mobile in his hand.

  “Martin?” Her heart skipped when he looked at her, pain darkening his grey blue eyes. “What?”

  “Spencer has just been arrested.”

  He leapt forward and caught her when her knees just gave out. By the time she could focus, she sat in a chair, Martin next to her, rubbing her back.

  “When?” she whispered. “Why?”

  “Ian rang me a few minutes ago. They were processing Spencer, he said. Elgin Givens is dead, Maggie.”

  She covered her mouth with one hand. “No—no, Martin. Spencer couldn’t—he was headed back to the bookshop, to help Patrick—ˮ

  “He was found next to Givens, unconscious, and holding the murder weapon.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “No, Maggie.”

  She stood, adrenaline shoving aside everything but her determination. “He didn’t do this, Martin. I’ve known Spencer most of my life—I know him, Martin, better than anyone. He’s being set up.”

  Martin ran one hand through his hair. “I think so, as well. But I won’t have you walking into a situation that might turn dangerous, Maggie. Not now.”

  He glanced at her stomach, and she spread one hand over it, already protective. “I would never—don’t raise your eyebrow at me, Martin. Every time I found a killer, it has been unintentional.”

  “Exactly. Your record speaks for you, love. I’ll not have either of you in danger.”

  “Going to the station should be safe.” She meant it to be sarcastic, but his smile drained it out of her. “I do want to see him, Martin, talk to Ian. Even if I don’t do any investigating, I want to know what’s going on.” And maybe see the crime scene, if she could get that information out of Ian.

  Going after the crime had been committed, and not alone, would be safe. She had decided in the clinic that she wouldn’t check anything on her own anymore, not until their baby was born. Maybe not after that.

  Martin finally nodded. “I want you to eat, first. No argument.” He pointed at the tray, which he had obviously loaded before Ian’s call.

  “Yes, Martin.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “No more neglecting yourself, love. Before you say anything, I am taking my own advice, as well.”

  “Good. Then you’ll eat, too.”

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her ear. “Yes, Maggie.”

  They both sat and ate quickly. Maggie didn’t want Spencer to be alone any longer than necessary. She knew that Ian would only let her see him for a few minutes—but it would be enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

  “I need to call my solicitors,” she said, pushing to her feet. “I want to give them a heads up, so one of them can head down here as soon as possible.”

  “Wait until we speak with Ian.”

  She paused, studying him. “Okay.” He had his reasons for asking her to wait, so she would. For now. “I’m ready to go.”

  “All right.” He finished his sandwich and stood. “We are going to drive. No argument, Maggie, not after your fainting spell.”

  “It wasn’t a fainting spell.” She followed him out of the kitchen. “I don’t want you treating me like I’m fragile, Martin, just because—”

  He spun, the intensity on his face shocking her. “I am going to treat you like the most fragile glass, Maggie.” His hands closed over her shoulders; she laid her hand over his when she felt his fingers shake. “I am madly in love with you, and I am falling in love with our child. Until I know I can keep you both safe, I will overcompensate, and most likely drive you mad with my need to stand between the both of you and anything that might harm you.”

  “Oh, Martin.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, letting out a muffled gasp when he slid his hands up and tangled them in her wild hair, deepening the kiss. When they finally came up for air, she had to hold on to him to keep from falling over. “Not dizzy,” she muttered, as he tightened his arm around her waist. “Out of breath.”

  He smiled, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Nice to know the magic has not faded.”

  She burst out laughing, any tension between them gone. “Keep kissing me like that, Professor Martin, and the magic will never fade.” Her smile disappeared, and she felt almost guilty for feeling joy, with Spencer in so much trouble.

  “Stop berating yourself, Maggie.” Martin tilted her chin until she met his eyes.

  “I was hoping I’d learn to hide my emotions from you.”

  “I would be insulted if you did.” He brushed her wild hair over her shoulder, reminding her that she needed to do something with it before they left. “I want you to feel that you can cry on my shoulder as needed.”

  “Good to know. I might be doing more of that than you ever wanted to deal with, you know. Hormones.”

  He smiled. “I will buy extra shirts.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  She just managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with...” Her voice faded as another, horrifying thought crossed her mind. “He didn’t—you didn’t watch any of the Star Wars films, did you? With Spencer?”

  “Guilty.” He turned her around and guided her to the foyer, handing her one of the ponytail holders she kept near every mirror. “It was during one of your day-long antique hunts, last month. Spencer swore me to secrecy.”

  Maggie finished her messy bun, then turned to him. “Please, if you love me at all, never, never, never quote them to me.”

  “On one condition.” He pulled her Kelly green coat off the rack by the door, and helped her into it. “You promise not to tell Spencer you know.”

  “Deal.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “Your guilty secret is safe with me.”

  “Honestly, the guilty secret is this.” He whispered in her ear. “I enjoyed them.”

  Maggie let out a sigh and opened the door.

  She had just become outnumbered.

  Twelve

  The easy banter with Martin had helped Maggie wrangle with her fear, until the police station came into view.

  Martin parked in front, long enough for her to get out.

  “I am going to park in the car park,” he said. “In case we are here for some time.”

  “Thank you.” She stood back, and watched him turn around, heading for the top of the high street. Taking the extra time didn’t help; she was still scared to walk inside, and face a possible truth she didn’t want to hear.

  She took a deep, unsteady breath, and marched to the door.

  The inside of the station looked normal, Jackie manning the tall front counter, two other constables sitting at the desks that looked older than the building. Then Ian walked out, and her heart started pounding, so hard she was sure everyone else could hear it.

  “Maggie.” He stopped by the counter, his arms crossed. “I’m sorry, but you can’t see him.”

  Panic threatened to take over. She shoved it down. “Why not?”

  “First, he is still being processed. Second, he is a murder suspect.” Ian raised one hand when she opened her mouth to argue. “I understand how close you and Spencer are, but in this instance, I must follow procedure.”

  “Will I be able to see him at all?” She realized she was twisting her hands into the hem of her shirt, and forced herself to let go. “Please, Ian—I need to know.”

  “I can’t be answering you on that, not yet.”

  “How much trouble is he in?” she whispered.

  Ian finally moved forward, reaching her just as Martin strode in. He waited until Martin joined them. “Spencer was found next to Dr. Givens, unconscious, blood on his shirt, and holding the weapon that killed him.”

  Martin spoke before she could gather her scattered thoughts. “What was the weapon, I
an?”

  “A silver and crystal wand.”

  Maggie covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Only Spencer had access to the wand he had found in Giles Trelawney’s private stash.

  Martin wrapped his arm around her waist. “How could a wand have killed him?”

  Maggie answered before Ian could open his mouth. “The tip,” she whispered. “It’s narrow, and a strong person could—” She cut herself off and pressed her face against Martin’s chest.

  “I am sorry,” Ian said, his voice quiet. “The evidence points to Spencer, and I had no choice.”

  Maggie lifted her head. “I don’t blame you, Ian. Will I be able to see Spencer, once he’s—processed?”

  Ian sighed, rubbing his forehead. “For a couple of minutes. I can’t be giving you any more than that, Maggie. I shouldn’t be letting you see him at all, but I know you won’t slip him a skeleton key, or help him escape.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas.”

  He managed a smile. “I wouldn’t need to. Go on home, and I’ll ring you when Spencer is ready for a visit.”

  “Thank you, Ian.” Martin shook his hand, then led Maggie outside, his arm still around her. “I am taking you home, love, and you are going to rest until Ian phones. No argument.”

  “I wasn’t going to argue.” She let out her breath, exhaustion weighting her. “I know this stress isn’t good for me. For us.” She was still adjusting to the fact that they were going to have a baby. “Sleep sounds good about now.”

  Thank heavens Shelly had started her part time shifts at the shop. Maggie would be feeling guilt as well as exhaustion right now, leaving Ashton on his own.

  She halted when she remembered the restoration.

  “Martin—the manor—”

  “I spoke to Heather when you were in the clinic. Ted is going to take over while you recover.”

  She blinked. “Ted?”

  “It seems he is a natural on camera. Heather wants the double perspective, from the owner, and the restoration expert.”

  “I need to call her. We need to let her know about—” She cut herself off, not wanting anyone to overhear.

  “We will, love.” Martin helped her into his sports car. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of the low slung car. She laid her hand over her stomach and looked up at Martin. He smiled, and shook his head. “I believe we’ll be needing a bigger car.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to get rid of it. We can be a three car family.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Three car?”

  “The Rover, your sporty car, and a van.” She sighed. “I’ve always wanted a van.”

  “We can talk about the third car. A van.” He shook his head. “I’ve never met a woman who would smile like that over a van.” Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

  Thirteen

  Spencer sat on the edge of the bunk in the holding cell, staring at the floor.

  He had done it this time. There was no chance of talking his way out; he had been found next to Givens, holding the wand that should have been in the display case. Not only did he not remember taking it out, he didn’t remember seeing Givens—not after their very public argument.

  There was another hole in his memory.

  Ian didn’t have any choice, Spencer knew that. But being arrested, and fingerprinted, and photographed, had been humiliating, even if Jackie had been polite through the process. Now, Spencer had nothing but time to think about what he couldn’t remember.

  Footsteps approached, and he lifted his head as Ian appeared. Spencer was surprised to see Dr. Smith with him.

  “We’re going to take a blood sample,” Ian said.

  “To add to your murderer collection?”

  A slight smile crossed Ian’s face. “To prove or disprove a theory.”

  Spencer stilled, looked from Ian to the doctor, and voiced the theory he’d been forming since he lost the first hours. “You think I was drugged.”

  “It crossed my mind.” He unlocked the cell and waved Spencer out, gesturing to the chair next to the scarred desk. “I’ve known you long enough to notice behavior that’s out of character.”

  “What, like me killing someone?”

  “That was my first clue.”

  Spencer sat, and started rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. “If the test is negative, you won’t have another option, Ian.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge if it appears.”

  Dr. Smith sat at the desk and opened his kit. “Rest your arm on the desk for me, Spencer, palm up.” Spencer obeyed, and watched the doctor pull out a thin band, a needle, and two empty tubes. “Good veins, young man. Hand in a fist, and look at me.”

  Spencer obeyed, and flinched when the needle slid into his arm. He glanced down, and watched his blood fill the tube. Dr. Smith replaced the full one with the empty, and drew more blood.

  Ian stood next to Spencer, quiet but alert. Once Dr. Smith finished, and taped a plaster to Spencer’s arm, Ian helped him stand and led him back to the cell, locking him in.

  “I will bring you something to eat.”

  “Thanks.” Spencer tried for a smile, and failed miserably. “Ian, will you do me a favor?”

  “If I can, Spencer, I will.”

  “Please keep Maggie out of here. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  “She’s been here already, wanting to see you. This won’t sit well.”

  “I know.” Spencer turned away from the bars. “Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to make it up to her. Don’t let her come back, Ian.”

  “I’ll be the villain, and tell her she can’t see you.”

  “No. You tell her the real reason, Ian. Tell her I don’t want her involved in this.”

  “Very well. I will be back soon.”

  Spencer nodded, and waited until Ian and the doctor left before he lowered himself to the bunk, defeat pressing on him.

  Unless the doc found something in his blood sample, he was going to pay for murders he had nothing to do with.

  ***

  “What do you mean, I can’t see him?” Maggie’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

  Standing beside her, Martin felt her shaking. He had rarely seen her this angry, and he braced himself, in the event that he needed to step between her and Ian.

  The last thing they needed was Maggie to be charged with assault.

  “It was his request, Maggie.”

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “I am sorry.” Ian did look sorry, and a bit trapped. “Spencer asked me, specifically, to keep you from him.”

  Martin caught her just as she lunged at Ian.

  “No! Let me go—I need to see him—I need to—”

  “You need to respect his request, love.”

  She stared up at him, and the anguish darkening her crystal blue eyes tore at him. “He doesn’t want my help,” she whispered.

  Martin gathered her into his arms, tightening his embrace when she began to cry.

  “Here,” Ian said. “Bring her back.” He led them to the interrogation room, unlocking the door. “I’ll leave it open. Take your time, Martin. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Ian.”

  “I’m sorry for it, but Spencer was firm.”

  “Understood.” Martin gently guided Maggie to the closest chair, and when she wouldn’t let go, he sat, pulling her into his lap. Her ragged, heartbreaking sobs worried him. “Breathe, love. Focus on my voice, now, and breathe for me.”

  After an endless minute, she did, taking in a few shaky breaths before they evened out. Finally, she relaxed against him, and accepted the tissues he offered her.

  “I’m sorry, for making a scene.” She blew her nose, loudly, and Martin smiled, aware she couldn’t see it. “Why wouldn’t Spencer want to see me?”

  Martin rubbed her back, his voice gentle. “If you were in the same position, love, would you want Spencer to witness it?�
�

  “Yes—no.” She sighed, and lifted her head. “I’d want to spare him the sight of me behind bars.”

  “He obviously feels the same.”

  “I want to help him, Martin, somehow.”

  “We will make certain he is well represented, should it get as far as a courtroom. Perhaps you can bring some of his personal things, to make him more comfortable? We can ask Ian what is allowed.”

  “I can do that.” She slid off his lap, and wiped at her face. “Let’s go talk to him.”

  “There’s my Maggie.”

  “A temporary lapse. I hope.” She flashed him a pale version of her smile. “Hormones will tell.”

  He burst out laughing, and stood to pull her into his arms. “I look forward to the daily surprise.”

  “Oh, no.” She stared at him. “It could be daily?”

  “I believe a few new books are in order.”

  “I told you I didn’t have a role model. Hopeless.”

  “Never that, Maggie. I consider your inexperience a boon.” He leaned in and whispered. “No bad habits.”

  “You’re right.” She kissed him, her fingers brushing his cheek. “Thank you, my beautiful Professor.” He felt heat rush to his face at her endearment. Maggie didn’t normally use anything except his name. “Martin—are you blushing?”

  “It is warm in here.”

  “Of course it is.” She cradled his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” He glanced down at her belly. “Both of you.”

  “Oh, heavens. It’s sinking in.” She looked a bit panicked. “We’re having a baby.”

  “Yes, love. We.” He pulled her in, kissing the top of her head. She fit, so perfectly. It was still a surprise, even after all this time. “You may be carrying the weight—”

  “Literally.”

  “Yes, literally. But I will be here, every moment, supporting you, learning with you.” She tilted her head back, frowning. “I lost my own mother too young, and my father spent his time ignoring everything but his work.”

  “Martin.” She reached up and slid her hand into his hair. “You mentioned not having a close relationship with your father. Why didn’t you tell me?”