Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  But a relative?—he wouldn’t bet money on a relative.

  The walls looked to be plaster, a coating nowhere near a hundred years old. He recalled stories of murderous spouses hacking into the foundation, storing family members, and refinishing the walls.

  Keep it together, Mason.

  No outdoor access; no surprise there, as he’d searched from the outside. It had been a little tricky poking around in snowdrifts without leaving evidence of having been there. Not something he had a lot of experience with.

  Mason caught another whiff of cigarette smoke, but he walked the whole perimeter and still couldn’t trace it. The low-ceilinged space ran the length of the house from front to back, but not nearly from side to side. Darn small for such a big house, but still, it was big enough to throw a New Year’s Eve party for dozens of your closest friends.

  Mason strolled into the conservatory, planning to sit on the bench, peruse the wireless network, and keep an eye on the driveway so he’d know who was coming and going. He’d put off this area because it was the hardest to access without Jade, Weezy, Annie, or that damn dog seeing what he was up to.

  The house was bound to be empty sometime, and when it was, he was finishing the whole wing in one swoop. Searching Mystic Manor wasn’t something he had to rush, but it was the most logical way to move the job along. One bit of evidence, and he could pack up and go.

  All of a sudden, leaving didn’t sound so good.

  He’d felt something powerful between Jade and him the second he’d walked in the front door, the moment he’d laid eyes on her. At the time he’d been too hungover to recognize it for what it was, but thank God he remembered now. It wasn’t because she’d bewitched him; she hadn’t had a chance to do so.

  As the conservatory door closed behind Mason, warmth and humidity welcomed him, washed over him. Smells intermingled. One green plant looked much the same as a hundred others. He wondered which ones were the herbs Jade had given him for sleep. He’d dumped them down the toilet on the sly and slept like a rock with her in his arms, which is why she needed time to catch up on work and why he was taking chances with her in the house.

  He often got a feeling that Jade wanted to talk about something, but either she backed off, or they were interrupted. Like an hour ago, a guy had come to the side door. That blasted door. Why did people need Jade so much, and in such a hurry? Couldn’t they handle their own problems?

  Sitting down, perusing e-mails on the other computer between Jade and prospective clients, Mason found that Jade was clear on what she would and wouldn’t do, how she could help, how much it would cost, how long they could expect it to take. She referred them elsewhere if she felt someone was better qualified. There was also an abundance of thank-you e-mails, detailing how lives had improved after a visit with her, mentioning that they’d recommended her to friends. For the scary people looking for an underhanded way to get a job promotion or to make an uninterested person fall “madly in love” with them, Jade quashed any discussion of malevolent spells and did not follow with a referral.

  It appeared she mentored a good number of witches, too, and not just around the state or around the country, even, but worldwide.

  Trekking through files finally led Mason to a second website, its file tucked away in an insignificant-looking folder on the hard drive and having nothing to do with Mystic Manor Botanicals. Secretive woman that she was, Jade had labeled the damn thing Stationery and stuck her Craft web files in there. He opened his browser and visited. The site had an active blog, a bulletin board, and a password-protected area—yeah, right, like that worked when he was on her computer—where a small network of witches held their own discussions and consulted with each other.

  So that’s what she was up to for long stretches of time in her office. There was an increasing number of queries on the witches’ loop about where Jade was and what was keeping her so busy these days that she didn’t have time to post. Speculation touched on whether it had anything to do with the anniversary of Doug’s disappearance or a new man in her life.

  Thanks to web surfing and the books he’d bought, Mason followed this easier than he could have a week ago. Jade wasn’t just practicing a little witchcraft on the side. She lived it and breathed it. Like oxygen, it sustained her.

  Some of the witches were in the closet; some weren’t. Discussion showed how Jade had learned the Craft from her mother and grandmother, even her great-grandmother while she’d been alive. How fearful those women had been of discovery and persecution, as each of them remembered generations before, the links in the chain reaching back so far that the legacy of historic witch-hunts had trickled down to the present day. Many understood Jade’s insistence that her secrets be protected. Many were of the opposite mind, that the more they were out there, the sooner people would get used to them and not be frightened.

  Church bells rang in the distance, as if on cue. Yeah, he could see why Jade was staying in the closet. Although it seemed a good number of people in the area knew, so every day, as far as he could see, her secret was in some degree of danger. But if she’d kept it hush-hush this long, she must know what she was doing. The whole family must. Maybe they did spells about it.

  The large, deliciously warm conservatory worked its magic on Mason, set aside the reality of snow and ice, and made him long for Aruba. He wanted to take Jade there. If she wasn’t already certified in scuba, he’d talk her into that first. He wanted to show her what he loved most, share his world with her.

  Ooh, that hit him right in the gut. Sharing his world meant telling her the truth, didn’t it? The whole truth. He couldn’t do that yet, but the longer he put it off, the deeper the hole he was digging for himself.

  All dreams of diving with Jade flew out of his head when she ripped into the conservatory and threw down the same leather bag she’d carried when she’d gone away with Nathan. Eyes blazing, hair flying—man, she was a sight when she was riled!

  She yanked open a cabinet, grabbed a candle. Any tighter and she’d choke it. She paced small, agitated circles, muttering unintelligible words, driven by a powerful need to exorcise some invisible demon while every bird, frog, and insect hiding in this heaven on earth went deadly silent. Moments later, she slapped a mirror into a stone niche, rubbed the candle between her palms, lit it, dripped a few drops of wax onto the mirror, and stuck it there.

  Whew, Mason thought. A spell, live and up close.

  Jade’s intensity took his breath away. Even yards from her, Mason felt her power. If he didn’t swoop up and grab her, charge back to the waterfall, and make mad, passionate love to her right now, he might go stark, raving mad.

  Jade kicked the bag.

  Maybe he’d wait to swoop. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence. Jade glanced his way, then her gaze quickly skittered off, as if embarrassed.

  He tamped down his need for her and said, softly, “Can I help?”

  “Know a good hit man?”

  “Ah…”

  “Never mind. Forget I asked. That’ll work just as well.” She tipped her head at the candle, then said, “Mason. You have time to talk?”

  In response, he closed the lid on the notebook.

  Jade’s lips thinned into a disgruntled line as at first she hesitated, then swallowing any misgivings, she perched on the edge of the bench. She didn’t cozy up next to him, but spared every inch of the boards as she plastered herself to the other armrest, leaving two lonely feet of space between them. Too far to nonchalantly drape his arm across her shoulders and comfort her, which she looked as if she needed. If he was going to do that, he’d have to scoot over, but her rigid posture warned that she’d take flight if he tried.

  “I…don’t know where to start really.” She hung her head, stretching tight muscles in her neck. “But two people…us…who are becoming friends, or, ah, more…”

  “More’s good.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile, which just as quickly faltered. “Yeah. We shouldn’t, ah, keep
secrets from each other.”

  “Is this about the spell you just did?”

  Jade’s head snapped up. Her eyes bore into his, searching, as if in doing so she could divine the answer. Softly, warily, she said, “You know?”

  His response was a sort of lopsided shrug, an arch of the eyebrows that he used to convey more clearly than words, “How could I not?” because he was afraid if he said it, it’d come off cocky. His gaze slid from the large pentagram inlaid in the floor, to the candle burning in the niche, to the archway that led to the drying room and all its bottles of herbs and oils. And probably potions.

  It was too soon for Jade to breathe a sigh of relief, Mason could tell, but she did look less wary. Eyes could be windows; wheels behind hers were turning a mile a minute. He read them clearly.

  Should she flat out admit it, spell it out, tell it like it was?

  Should she mince words, make light of it, talk around it?

  What if, what if, what if?

  Buying time, Jade picked wayward specks of herbs off her sweater where they’d caught in the rolled cuff at her wrist. Then, tossing her hair over her shoulder, she came to a decision.

  “He was pretty mad when he left,” she said, referring to her visitor. Her voice was tight, but not shaky. “No telling what evil thoughts he’s having. The mirror will reflect them back to him.”

  Times three, Mason recalled from the reading he’d done.

  “The candle sends the energy on its way,” Jade explained.

  “Simple enough.”

  “Much of witchcraft is.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched then, and Mason knew she was letting down her guard. For him. He was touched by her trust. He’d never betray it. She wouldn’t think so, of course, when she learned he was deceiving her every minute of every day.

  “Nowadays, people are used to more-vivid imaginations drawing pictures for them about witchcraft,” she said. “Gone are the days of a nose twitch and whoosh, there’s a brand-new car in the driveway. Now it’s pixies that pick up children, plants with deadly cries, snakes born from chicken eggs…”

  “Owls carrying messages,” he added helpfully.

  “What’s so odd about that?” she asked, matter-of-factly. A moment later, she burst into laughter. “That does it, I’m signing up for CPR class next week. No telling when I’ll need it.” She took a deep breath, perhaps for fortification. “So you’re not going to freak out about sleeping with a witch?”

  “Not if you agree never to use witchcraft on me.”

  Without hesitation, she nodded.

  “You know how important this is to you?”

  She nodded again.

  “It’s just as important to me that I hear you say it.”

  Jade looked him right in the eye and said, “From now until your dying day, I’ll never use witchcraft on you.” Her gaze was steady, honest.

  “Good enough.”

  “Mason, this is a big secret for me. Most people here won’t tolerate a witch in their midst.”

  “Yeah, I met the librarian.”

  Jade winced. “And she’s not the worst of the lot. Organized religion is rampant in West Bluff, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Kind of hard to miss that. And yet,” he said lightly, “you lob Tupperware containers into the river.”

  She shrugged prettily.

  “So what’d the guy who’s getting the mirror treatment want?”

  “He lied. He said he wanted help finding something, but it was obvious he’d never lost it. He just wanted something that didn’t belong to him.”

  “How could you tell?” Can you tell that I’ve been lying to you, too?

  “He dropped a name.”

  “Well, off with his head, then.”

  “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted. The man he mentioned isn’t local. He lives outside Paris, and the only place his name exists in West Bluff is in my computer. So I have a hacker on my hands. My tech guy, the one I trusted—I can’t let just anybody on my computer with what’s on there—moved away two years ago. I guess I’ve fallen behind the times.”

  “Can’t you just do a spell to hide your files or something? Lock up anyone’s computer who hacks in? Look, I don’t pretend to know how witchcraft works, but what good is it if you can’t protect what you have?”

  “Spells are like any other energy. They wane. They have to be repeated. I do my best to protect my secrets from people who mean me harm, but it’s time-consuming to keep after it. I’ll have to find someone.”

  He’d offer to help, but really, it’d be like hiring a well driller to dig his grave; it was getting deep fast enough, thanks anyway.

  “You know anything about computer security?”

  He grimaced. “I can take a look at it. But why trust me?”

  She smiled. “You haven’t ratted me out to anyone yet.”

  “I could tell you were keeping it under wraps.”

  “You didn’t tell Anthony?”

  “He’s just as observant as I am. But not to worry; he won’t tell anyone. Though it seems you have a lot of local traffic through here for not wanting anyone to know.”

  “They all have reasons to keep it to themselves.”

  “But, Jade, they don’t. Noah told Nathan. Nathan brought someone with him.”

  “Well, I do sacrifice a rooster at the end of each spell and tell them that’s what’ll happen to them if they ever talk.”

  Mason felt hair stand up on the back of his neck.

  Jade’s laugh revived him like sparkling chimes.

  “Oh, I get it. CPR again.”

  She grinned with unsuppressed amusement, literally bouncing on the bench like Lily did when she was proud of putting one over on Uncle Mason. Only with Lily, it wasn’t for real. With Jade, he was constantly caught off guard.

  Damn, he had more reading to do.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t look it. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “I can tell you won’t try not to do it again.”

  “True.”

  Jade scooted across the bench and nudged him with her shoulder until she’d burrowed in beneath his arm. Right where he liked her. He felt complete when he held her. Even Aruba was a distant thought; scary as that should have been, it wasn’t.

  “Dare I ask what Annie did to the soup?”

  “With Annie, you never know.”

  “Does it have anything to do with, say…poisonous herbs?”

  “Oh my gosh, no! Is that what you thought? Annie’s a kind and gentle creature who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “But I wasn’t supposed to touch her soup.”

  “Okay, she wouldn’t hurt a fly intentionally.”

  Calmer now that Jade had quit ranting, the tiny birds dared to take flight again, flittering around overhead, going about their business. One flew close by the niche, its slipstream causing the candle’s flame to flutter and dance.

  “Now that you’ve told me your big secret, may I ask questions?”

  Jade cuddled close. “You’re comfortable with this?”

  “So far.”

  “Then I’ll tell you anything, if you agree to tell me when I’m getting out of your comfort zone.”

  “I’m a pretty open-minded guy. We may never get there.”

  “We’ll see. Ask away.”

  “Let’s see. Oh, I know. Can’t believe I almost forgot. What was with all the candles the night I arrived?”

  “Imbolc.”

  He tilted his head and stared at her. “God bless you.”

  She laughed at that. “Imbolc’s a celebration, a fire festival really, marking the midpoint between the winter solstice and spring equinox. We light candles to celebrate light and new life.”

  “Ah. Let’s see. Do you ever eat without candles?”

  “They frown on it at McDonald’s.”

  “Uppity bastards. No class.”

  “So you’re getting used to them?”

  “They’re growing on me. It’
s not one here or there so much as the dozens you had going that night. The last thing I remembered was hundreds of candles in the church and then all of a sudden I sort of woke up here, and it looked like a repeat.” He fell silent.

  “Of the worst day in your life?”

  “I thought so at the time.”

  “You recover quickly.”

  “It’s complicated.” That was putting it mildly. “So complicated, in fact, that I meant every word when I thanked my ex.”

  “For dumping you.”

  He poked her in the ribs and made her wiggle, which had its own rewards. “You like saying that, don’t you? I prefer ‘letting me off the hook.’ We weren’t right for each other. Granted, she might have chosen a better way to do it. A better time. Still, I can’t help feeling grateful.” He set the notebook on the floor, leaning it against the bench. “I’m thirsty. What say we open a bottle of wine?”

  “A drink to truth and honesty—yes!”

  “I was thinking of cozy dinners, crackling fires, and new friends.”

  “You’re trying to get me drunk again,” she said with a bubble of laughter.

  “I never got you drunk.”

  “You tried.”

  “Sweetheart, I have plans for tonight.” He nuzzled her neck, zeroing in on the sensitive spot behind her ear. “And I want you sober for every last one of them.”

  Chapter 17

  B &B Owner Dies Second Time

  Jade shrieked when she read Friday’s headline in West Bluff News.

  Across the master suite, Mason dropped a log short of its mark and crouched in a protective stance, looking like Bond about to whip out a gun. “Christ! Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry. But—But—”

  He straightened quickly and set about righting the log with tongs before the room filled with smoke.

  “Wow,” Jade said. There was a lot there to admire.

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Rambo and Bond rolled into one. Where’d you learn that who-do-I-shoot-first crouch?”