Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  “Are you losing your voice?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Sore throat?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Um, Mason? I’d appreciate it if you don’t take photographs inside,” she said nicely.

  “Oh. Sure.” He shut off his camera with a boyish, been-caught grin, one of a small but effective repertoire. “Secret plants?”

  “Secret house,” she shot back mysteriously.

  No lie there. Last night in the attic, Mason had discovered that when one family, such as the Delarues, lived in a house for over 130 years and never moved, there was little incentive to throw away anything. But really, they should have. A lock of hair was a simple memento. Same with a favorite doll. But when the doll was wax and hidden in a dusty trunk, with human hair glued to its head and a pin stuck in its gut, come on, somebody was up to something.

  He knew very little about voodoo or anything like it. The doll hadn’t looked like him, but even though it was meant for someone else, would he start getting sick simply because he’d looked at it? Professional or not, if he started throwing up or running to the john, he was outta there for good.

  There was more. Saving photographs of the family pet was okay, but this family saved the damn pet! He’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d opened a box and found a black cat. A real one, stuffed, back arched, tail up, its neck circled with a jeweled collar. His suspicions were confirmed when he opened a brittle diary and read how this particular familiar had assisted in magic rituals.

  Did Jade know that one or more of her ancestors had practiced witchcraft? Should he be worried?

  Nah. Witches didn’t come in stiletto heels and fuzzy sweaters, green with white snowflakes today. Besides, all that stuff had been packed away forever.

  Had any other Delarue spouses mysteriously disappeared?

  He should check out more of the conservatory while he had the chance, especially the poisonous corner.

  “That is a waterfall I hear,” he declared. He craned his neck this way and that, searching for the path that would lead him to it, as excited over the discovery as he was eager to take care of business.

  “You’ll get overheated back there with your coat on,” Jade warned.

  “Me?” Mason did a double take, but she looked perfectly serious. “No way. Sounds like heaven.”

  “Okay, but the paramedics hate it when people pass out in the back. They charge double.”

  It was almost worth shedding his coat just to see what the heck she was up to, but he only unzipped it. He had naturally broad shoulders and he worked out regularly, but come on, she couldn’t be so sex-starved that she’d make up excuses to get him out of his clothes.

  He wished.

  “This way?” he asked.

  Jade helpfully pointed to the left, and Mason set off along the meandering flagstones. While he should have wanted to be alone so he could photograph the plants and check them out later, he was, in fact, inordinately happy to hear Jade following him. Sneakers would have softened her steps; that tap tap could only be made by tiny heels on stone. Eventually the tapping was drowned out by the splash of cascading water.

  It wasn’t a huge fall by any standards, but indoors, it was pretty magnificent. Taller than he, nestled beneath a canopy of trees, it slipped over the edges of dark rocks and tumbled into a shallow pool. A turtle lurched off a boulder and swam away, following the pond as it narrowed and meandered through verdant vegetation.

  Anthony had joked that this area might be used for orgies. Mason was rapidly approaching critical condition, a romp for two in mind.

  It was out of the question of course. He was a professional. He was here to work. But he couldn’t be arrested for fantasizing about Jade, himself, and the rock ledge. He could cushion it with the very coat she’d wanted him to leave behind.

  Jade bumped into him when he stopped, though it hadn’t been abrupt at all. Not so sudden that she had to catch herself by putting her hand on his hip. Call him nuts, but first she tried to get him out of his jacket and then she picked his pocket?

  How could she possibly suspect he wasn’t what he claimed? Not one single item had come with him that didn’t support his cover. Except the Glock, but she hadn’t seen that.

  He turned and reached for her, as if to steady her on her feet. She jumped away quickly and remained at arm’s length, affecting a wide-eyed, innocent look.

  Mason wanted to put her at ease—he’d say the job demanded it, but that wasn’t the half of it—so he revved up the boyish grin in preparation to say something clever and amusing. He was born knowing how to charm women, and in truth, he’d honed the skill until it was child’s play for him to get information out of the most recalcitrant females.

  “If I’d known this pond was here, I would’ve packed my snorkel and—”

  He began all right, but then choked like never before in his experience. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost beneath the intensity of her gaze, the green of her eyes. He closed his mouth before he said something stupid, like how the color was a perfect match for the dark leaves all around them. Or how, if she kept it up, she’d stare a hole straight through him.

  He could no longer blame this weakness where Jade was concerned on the Black Weekend. His head no longer pounded or threatened to split open at the slightest sound. His gut no longer roiled with every movement. Sweat no longer oozed out of his pores at ninety proof.

  The first rule of investigative work was never get involved.

  He was so close to breaking it. Shattering it.

  “Are you all right?” Jade asked.

  The way she was looking up at him, eyes full of concern, Mason figured he hadn’t blown it—not yet. He could cover his ass and claim he was feeling overheated after all, but she might call 911. He had to do better.

  “I, ah…just remembered. I was expecting a document, but I had trouble with my computer, and I was going to ask to borrow yours, but you weren’t around at the time, so I went out and started taking pictures…”

  He was babbling, but Jade didn’t seem to notice. In fact, she looked inexplicably overjoyed when she said, “You want to borrow my computer?”

  Was he professional or what? If that wasn’t permission to take a look at her files, he didn’t know what was.

  Chapter 7

  M ystic Manor. You’re staying there? Nice place.”

  Anthony put his feet up on the bed and listened to the day’s recording, thoughtful about what he’d heard in line at the grocery store. Not that he needed to buy snacks, but sometimes, if the line was long enough, people got bored and talked, like the guy who’d been behind him. He’d looked like a salesman, with carefully styled hair and a nice suit under a tailored topcoat.

  “That Jade, she’s some looker, isn’t she? I thought about asking her out—who hasn’t? But she never attends any of the Friday night singles functions, and I got to wondering why she doesn’t go to church. Because she’s done something wrong, and she’s going to hell anyway, so why bother?

  “I’m not saying she did. Just wondering.

  “Far as I know, none of the others have asked her out either. Though maybe they did. Maybe she turned them down, and they just don’t want anyone to know.

  “Know why, don’t you? You heard about her husband disappearing? Newspaper reporter’s been going around interviewing people. Told her what I know. You’ll want to keep your eye open for that.

  “Guy like you, traveling all the time, you have enough insurance? You know, if you travel out of network and get sick or injured, your out-of-pocket expenses can get out of hand. Here’s my card. Stop by the office later, and we’ll talk.”

  When it became evident that Mason and his partner weren’t leaving by midweek, Jade invited them to dinner for a little extra oomph on the riddance scale. What she wouldn’t give for a fourth-quarter moon, the absolute best phase for getting rid of anything, including men who were there by mistake.

  The dining room looked bare since s
he’d removed every Craft-related knickknack, right down to the hand-carved trivets made by Great-uncle Norman, each displaying a different Nordic rune.

  To minimize the bare spots, she dialed down the chandelier and wall sconces. She’d find something else later to fill in the spots. Maybe her old snowman collection. She’d packed it away when she’d gotten engaged to Doug because it seemed the grown-up thing to do at the time.

  An eye-popping bouquet of long-stemmed calla lilies and blue iris had arrived a short while ago. Jade placed that on the table, off to the side where it wouldn’t block anyone’s view.

  She set two tall white tapers on the long rectangular table and was just about to cast a spell on the salt when the phone rang. Ordinarily she wouldn’t interrupt a spell to answer it, but it was Courtney, the men would be here any minute, and Jade had a huge favor to ask.

  “Hello,” she answered quickly, eager to skip the social niceties and get right to the point.

  “He’s dead,” Courtney said, just as abruptly.

  “Mason?” Jade clutched the back of a chair, frightened that she’d made another mistake, a horrible one this time, but only because she’d just been thinking about him.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass,” Courtney said, her dry tone dispelling Jade’s qualms. “This is the part where you always say, ‘He could be missing,’ and I always say, ‘A week is missing. A month is missing. Six years is dead. And if he isn’t dead, I’m going to kill him when he gets home.’ And then I could tell you the news.”

  Jade regained her composure and said, “Guess you’re not worried about anyone listening in.”

  “Yeah, the mystery is sooo current.”

  “Let’s pretend we said all that then. Just go ahead and give me the news.”

  “It’s official. We’re widows. The county’s issued presumptive death certificates on all three of them. The insurance company will cut the checks any day now.”

  “How’re you doing?”

  Courtney’s sigh was a little ragged. “I always thought I’d know if he was dead. You know, feel it somehow. I still don’t. I get a feeling of foul play, but not death. And I realize—it happens every day in this country right?—we might never know.”

  “Six years.” Jade slid onto one of the chairs, lost in thought.

  When had she finally given up on Doug’s return? Or finding out what had happened to him? She’d never cared about the red tape, the legal delays in pronouncing him finally, irrevocably deceased. For a long time, if it wasn’t official, she didn’t have to believe it.

  “I guess it’s not as if we didn’t expect this.”

  “Time moves on,” Courtney agreed.

  “You ever wonder how comes none of us has? Moved on, I mean. We’re all young, intelligent, healthy, self-supporting—”

  “Simple. Men are nervous as cats around intelligent, self-supporting, pretty women who can’t explain what happened to their husbands. Anyway, that’s all I have. You called earlier?”

  Jade blinked, rapidly switching gears back to the reason she’d called in the first place. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

  Most friends would say, Sure, anything. But there was one thing Courtney didn’t like to do at all, not for anyone. Not even for herself. Especially not since the guys went missing.

  “What?” she asked warily.

  Jade explained the whole Pierce Brosnan-clone mess. “Please, Courtney, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important. I’m not having any luck putting things right on my own. I can make a talisman, but…” She left the suggestion hanging in the air.

  “But you want me to make one for you.”

  “Mine aren’t as powerful as yours. You know I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate, but the longer Mason’s here, the harder it’ll be to break this spell.”

  “I don’t know,” Courtney said, drawing it out, stalling for time. “Seems like you could repel the man if you try hard enough. Don’t brush your teeth until he leaves.”

  “Ew-ww.”

  “That’s the point. If you’re afraid he’s falling for you, make yourself less approachable.”

  “I have limits.” She had a pair of sweats she saved for wallpapering and painting. A man’d have to be insane to think she was desirable in those.

  “So do I,” Courtney said.

  “Please?” Jade wasn’t above begging, not for something this important.

  “Well…” Courtney fell silent, and Jade realized she was going to have to pay up big time. “Valentine’s Day is coming up. Jazzy’s teacher’s looking for volunteers to make treats for the class party.”

  That wasn’t so bad. “I can bake.”

  Jazzy wasn’t six yet; Courtney’d found out she was pregnant just days after the guys had gone missing.

  “You have to stick to tradition, though,” Courtney warned. “Pink hearts. Cupids with arrows, not broomsticks. No moons, no stars.”

  She was going to do it!

  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Jade said in one breath, giddy with relief. If she’d been religious, she would’ve crossed herself. “No moons, no stars; I’ll try to contain myself.”

  “You will contain yourself.”

  “Okay, promise. Hey, listen, I just heard the clone come in the back door. I have to go.”

  “I’ll drop it by soon.”

  Time was growing short as Jade hung up; Mason could stroll into the dining room at any moment. With a talisman from Courtney, she probably didn’t need to do any more spell work, but she was just stubborn and proud enough to want to fix her mistake on her own. Besides, anything she learned in the process would go in her grimoire, to be passed down to future generations.

  The sooner she got rid of Mason, the sooner she could get to work on finding the right man to help with that. She’d rerun the same spell later, only with an escape clause.

  Jade slid the saltshaker into position in front of the candles and laid her hand on it while she affirmed her intention, the same one she’d use on the wine and honey, too, just to be sure Mason got a dose.

  “The moon isn’t perfect and neither am I,

  But we must quickly fix what has gone awry.

  Salt you are and salt you’ll stay;

  When consumed by my mistake, you’ll send him away.”

  Mason was ravenous. Something about freezing his ass off all week to support his cover made him hungry, and the inside of Mystic Manor smelled as if a gourmet chef had moved into the kitchen and worked since dawn.

  When he entered the richly paneled dining room, he couldn’t help thinking Jade looked just as tasty. Which was saying a lot considering his teeth were still chattering, and there was a crackling fire calling him toward the hearth. Just looking at her standing beside the table in curve-hugging jeans and a peach sweater heated something else he thought he’d frozen off.

  “Wonderful,” he said with his new raspy voice, trying not to drool.

  “It’s a great room, isn’t it?” Jade said, misunderstanding his comment. Just as well. “My ancestors settled here at the beginning of the lumber boom. This room’s walnut.”

  His ancestors had been indecisive, moving from New York to Wisconsin, Kansas, and finally Florida. For his money, they could’ve skipped Plymouth Rock and landed in the Caribbean.

  Mason made a beeline for the fire to warm parts resistant to Jade, like his knees. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. Anthony can’t make it. He says to tell you he’s sorry.”

  Jade gazed at the table set for three, looking perplexed for just a moment before she lit the candles and regained her cheerful composure. “I guess it’ll still work.”

  “Sorry. Did we mess you up?”

  “Ah, I was thinking it’s a big table for just the two of us, but we’ll be fine.”

  “Nice flowers.”

  The card was right in front of him, though tucked deep inside the greenery, and he peeked when Jade wasn’t looking. Not that he expected it to say, “Miss you, babe, can’t wait until we’re toge
ther again. Love, your other half,” but he had to check. He certainly didn’t expect what he read, either.

  Many thanks, Lyle and Brenda.

  “Pretty, aren’t they?” Jade said.

  Mason coughed. It was that or stammer out something stupid.

  Lyle and Brenda? How—?

  They knew Jade? She knew them?

  “You okay?”

  Mason felt as if he’d just been harpooned. He thumped his chest, making sure his heart was still beating. “There, that’s better.”

  Jade wiped her palms on her jeans, drawing his eyes to unsafe territory. “Cold settling in your chest?”

  “Mm. Yeah. My throat, too.”

  “Try this.”

  She poured from a china teapot and handed him the warm cup. Mason had always thought tea, like cream soup, was for women. He’d been wrong about the soup. And this brew smelled really, really good. He leaned over the cup for a closer sniff, and the aroma alone began to soothe his scratchy throat.

  Just shoot me now, he thought, because he’d do almost anything to stop a cold. Hell, if she’d poisoned the tea, and he fell over dead, at least his throat wouldn’t hurt. And there would be flowers.

  “I’ll be right back with our dinner.”

  Mason watched Jade leave the room, one second wondering if her ass was really that nice or if it was just the jeans, the next realizing that once she was out of sight, the room felt lonely. And…something else. Bare—that was it. There’d been knickknacks when he’d walked through the other day. Now the mantel was empty. Nail heads stuck out of the paneling, nothing on them. The built-in china cabinet displayed several patterns, but if he wasn’t mistaken—and he rarely was—a whole set of goblets was missing.

  He couldn’t afford to linger by the fire. Jade was getting their meal, and since he oughtn’t risk eating food that he didn’t know came out of the same pot, he hurried through the butler’s panty and into the kitchen in time to see her ladle up both servings.

  “Can I help?” he offered, a sharp eye on the lookout for any extraneous herb sprinkling, especially over his bowl. Just because he wanted to strip her naked and throw her down in front of the fire didn’t mean he’d completely lost his senses. “Mm, what is that?”