Witch in the House

by Jenna McKnight

  He turned his head and stared at the closet. Now that he’d seen what was behind door number one downstairs, he had every reason to get to the back of this one.

  Like the other, this closet had a pocket door in back leading to a set of stairs. This time they dropped two stories into a completely separate cellar. One with cigarette smoke, men’s clothing and freshly laundered sheets, metalworking tools and silver table knives. No one was there, but the shower was still wet.

  Eureka!

  The best way to learn anything was to let people talk.

  Well, except Lyle. If Lyle talked, Mason was in deep shit. While the mild-mannered florist had appeared intimidated by Mason’s warning that he knew where he lived, that he might even shoot him in the foot, it also seemed he liked and respected Jade. Probably enough to overcome his fear and blab.

  Mason made a quick call. “Hey, Anthony.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “Have you found out how Jade and Lyle know each other?”

  “Not even his checkbook is talking.”

  Something had to give. The camera in the locked bedroom hadn’t picked up anyone going in or out, though it was obvious someone was. In fact, the replacement cameras seemed to have bugs in them, too, so he was just writing it off as one heck of a protective spell on Mystic Manor in general and staying more alert.

  Even if Jade didn’t know she knew anything, a simple fact, even a pseudofact, could flip a switch and turn this whole case around. Now that she knew he knew her secret, Mason could prompt her. Hopefully she’d keep talking, filling in holes as she went.

  Timing was perfect when Jade asked if he had time to join her for dinner on Saturday evening. It was obvious she was expecting him to say yes; she already had a tray of appetizers out, along with place settings for two.

  “It’s a B&B,” he said, careful not to appear too eager. “By definition, you don’t have to feed me dinner.”

  “I’m a good cook, though.”

  “Darlin’, you could burn it to coal, and I’d eat it.”

  “Why, you charmer, you.” She batted her eyes and made him laugh.

  He eased up behind her and looked over her shoulder to see what she was rinsing in the sink.

  “It’s salmon—you like salmon, right?”

  “Just checking to make sure you didn’t filet that reporter,” he kidded, opening the topic.

  “If I did, she’d be in the river, not my sink.”

  “I read the article.”

  “So did a lot of others. I had to wash egg off my Jeep. Courtney’s ready to kill; Jazzy went out to ride her sled, but she was teased so much, she ran home.”

  “Crying?” Mason guessed, his heart going out to a little girl he’d never met.

  “According to Courtney, Jazzy was so mad, she went online looking for a ‘fix those mean ol’ kids’ spell.”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t spell ‘spell’ when I was—Wait, I don’t know why, but I thought she was little.”

  Jade snickered. “Five.”

  “I hope you’re going to do something about that.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Mason was filled with new insight, which around Jade usually amounted to a whole lot of new questions. Like how you kept kid witches from hurting others with spells before they were old enough to cast responsibly.

  Listen to him! Maybe the Black Weekend booze had fried a few brain cells after all.

  As he watched her work, he found himself longing for babies with dark, curly hair, and he didn’t care if they wiggled their noses and made donkeys fly.

  “Somebody stole Annie’s purse in the grocery store, and the management didn’t even want to call the police for her.”

  “But if they don’t know you’re witches—”

  “People don’t like people who are different, who don’t fit in. And when something bad happens to outsiders, our so-called Christian residents are quick to think the worst. Doug didn’t believe it either, at first.”

  “He didn’t belong to a church?”

  “Oh no, he and Annie and Courtney’s husbands all belonged. Three different ones. They were all very personable men, very social, Courtney’s husband in particular. Their plan was to charm people from the inside out.”

  “Was it working?”

  She bobbed her head in a yes-and-no kind of way. “The trouble with that was eventually, when they went missing, there were three very vocal congregations pushing the police to charge us with a crime.”

  If he let her go on like this, he’d lose control of the mood. “Can I help with something?”

  “You can pick out a bottle of wine.”

  “Chardonnay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He found the opener and did the honors. “You’d think the paper would’ve mentioned a few facts, like what your husband did.”

  “You mean other than boating and fishing with his buddies?”

  “Yeah, you know, for a living. Was he an herbalist, too? Did you run the B&B together? Just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

  “I don’t mind.” Jade pulled Brussels sprouts out of the refrigerator.

  “Ah…” Mason said.

  She grinned. “No Brussels sprouts?”

  “Feel free to cook some for yourself.”

  “That’s okay, they would’ve just been a small side. I have a veggie casserole ready to come out.”

  Mason poured two glasses and handed one to Jade after she pulled stoneware out of the oven and set it, steaming, on a pair of side-by-side trivets.

  “Mm, smells wonderful.” He leaned over the dish and savored the aroma. “Keep this up, and I’ll be a fresh-herb convert before you know it. Are those the trivets that disappeared from the dining room wall?”

  “My, you’re very observant. I know, I know, photographer. But still, I think it’s weird how much you notice. You probably know how many freckles I have on my face.”

  “None.”

  She smiled at him, because he was right. Because he’d noticed. “What color my eyes are?” She closed them so he couldn’t cheat.

  “Green.”

  “Too easy.”

  “Mid-to-dark, more than one shade, like mature tree leaves in late summer when there’s been plenty of rain.”

  Jade blinked and stared at him. “Wow.”

  He grinned triumphantly and popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. “Now that we’ve established my incredible powers of observation, what are the hieroglyphic-looking symbols on the trivets?”

  “Runes.”

  “As in fortune-telling stones?”

  “Yes and no. There’s much more to runes than that. Sometimes I carry them with me—”

  “You’d need a big purse.”

  She smacked him with a pot holder.

  “Hey, not nice.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t have the wet fish in my hand.”

  He tried a cube of white cheese, decided he liked it, and ate the whole thing. “Go on. You carry them with you. What else?”

  “I carve runes on candles, draw them in the earth, and on slips of paper I put in charm bags. You look a little confused. Maybe it’ll be easier if you think of them as shorthand for specific kinds of energy.” Using pot holders, she lifted the pan aside just long enough to show and tell. “For instance, Jera, on the left, symbolizes rewards, like a harvest; a time of celebration. The other one, Algiz, is a defense rune, for protection.”

  “Are we celebrating something?”

  Jade picked two red napkins sprinkled with tiny white hearts out of a drawer and waggled them in the air, tipping her head to the side in that come-kiss-me way Mason found utterly irresistible. “Is it too soon?”

  “For…?” Funny she didn’t mention the huge death benefit and whatever “big plans” she had for it. “Oh, Valentine’s Day! Fine by me.”

  “Good. Thought you’d gone off the deep end there for a second.”

  “I was going to warn you about fortune hunters.�
�

  “At least I know you’re not one.”

  “How’s that?”

  “When you walked through my front door, you didn’t know me from Eve.”

  “When I walked in your front door, I didn’t know my hand from my foot.”

  Jade laughed. He loved it when he made her laugh.

  “Fear not. I have remedies against men with ulterior motives,” she said with a wink, as she rolled the napkins into brass heart-shaped rings and set them on the tray.

  “Boy, you’re prepared.”

  “B&B, service industry…remember?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you provided a different kind of service. One that doesn’t pay too much attention to traditional holidays.”

  “You catch on quick.”

  “So the second one, Algiz—are we protecting something?”

  “Me. From further backlashes from that blasted news article.”

  “In Chicago, nobody’d think anything of a widow inheriting a death benefit. It just seems bad because you live in a small town.”

  “That’s how I like it—below everyone’s radar.”

  “Will this protect Annie and Courtney, too?”

  “They’ll do their own spells. Oh.” She looked as if she’d made a terrible mistake. “Maybe you didn’t know they’re witches, too?”

  “No. No, I didn’t.” Damn, he hated lying to her. But how could he know, except to admit he’d been snooping? Great opportunity, though. “So, what about your husband? Doug, was it?”

  “That’s right, you asked about him. Let’s see.” Carrying the tray, she led the way into the dining room, where Mason quickly helped her set up. “He helped with the bed-and-breakfast side when he wasn’t teaching, but when it came to plants, unless it was a rose or a dandelion, Doug didn’t know one from another.”

  “What’d he teach?”

  “English.”

  “Excuse me. I will start e-nun-ci-at-ing every syl-la-ble now.”

  “Only if you want to sound like a robot.”

  “Good. Where’s the candles? I know you want candles. Or is it, where are the candles?”

  “In the drawer behind you.”

  He pulled it open. An assortment, of course. “Red?”

  “White’s fine.”

  “Candleholders?”

  “Pick a pair.”

  He glanced into the china cabinet, then back at Jade. “Is this a test? I pick the right pair and win the heart of the maiden in the tower?”

  She tipped her head again. He wished she’d never stop doing that.

  “Not a test. The heart’s still up for grabs.”

  At her words, his heart soared with hope, and he tucked incredible joy away until he could safely show it the light of day.

  He selected a silver pair of candlesticks, heavy, elaborately carved. “What would you call this? Gothic?”

  “I may have to get out my pointy hat.”

  “I’d like to see that sometime.” He couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed the pair together. “So, are you doing a spell every time you eat?”

  She stared at him.

  “What?” He examined the candles; nope, not crooked.

  “I’m waiting to see if you stop breathing.”

  “Ah. I’m over that.”

  “Not breaking out in a sweat either.”

  “I’m telling you, I’m all man.”

  She laughed again, which was just as he’d intended. He didn’t spew out corny lines like that for any other reason.

  “I guess you need to light them then.”

  “No, go ahead,” she said.

  “Want to carve runes on them first?”

  “Mason. They’re not for spells. Light them.”

  “So, time won’t come to a standstill…your mother won’t suddenly float in…your dog won’t start speaking in English…Actually, that’d be a good thing. Then I’d know what he’s thinking.”

  “What’s with you and a dog?”

  “Love. He’s a little scary.”

  “What’s scary is that you think I have a dog.”

  Mason waited for a punch line that didn’t come. “No dog?”

  Jade shook her head slowly, which did nothing for the hair standing up on the back of his neck.

  “Bear, then. It could be a bear.”

  She laughed at him. “I promise. No animal will appear and speak English before you.”

  “The fish won’t walk in here by itself?”

  “The fish!” Jade rushed from the room.

  Chapter 19

  M ason was having a perfectly good wreck-diving dream when the sound of flutes edged its way in. As dreams so often do, it made perfect sense to turn his back on the wreck, to swim over to a mermaid playing beautiful, haunting music underwater.

  It was Jade’s smooth porcelain face, her long raven-colored curls floating within the aura of light surrounding her, her sexy green eyes beckoning him ever closer, her naked breasts playing peekaboo behind a school of colorful, darting fish. He shooed them away, pulled her into his arms, and began to make love to her.

  The tail got in the way, though. Damn.

  Mason woke with a pillow squashed in the circle of his arms. The soft notes of the flutes, though, were for real, and he rolled through the darkness to find Jade gone. The clock read midnight. Last he remembered, she’d said she was going to soak in a bath and come back.

  Had her insomnia returned? He hoped not. For the first time in his life, he discovered there were many pleasures in sleeping with someone, other than sex. Warmth, comfort, companionship. Trust.

  Nope, don’t go there. No need to ruin a perfectly good hard-on.

  He went in search of Jade, fully prepared to spread her out on the nearest furniture and make love to her right there. He walked through the house, trading one fantasy for another as he went from room to room without a glimpse of her.

  The conservatory! The waterfall. He might get the ultimate fantasy yet.

  As it turned out, he didn’t find her there, either, but the flutes sounded closer. Lyrical notes drew him to the window looking out on the backyard.

  A full moon rode high in the sky, bathing the snow-covered yard in so much reflected light, it was almost as bright as day. The windowpanes were flawed and wavy, so Mason stole into the kitchen for a better view.

  Jade wore a white cape tonight. When she raised her arms to the sky, palm up, he caught a glimpse of bare thigh that made him wonder if she was nude underneath. Looked like some kind of ritual. Hopefully he hadn’t arrived too late to watch her work naked beneath the stars. He couldn’t tell if he was witnessing the beginning, middle, or end.

  No, not the beginning. There was a circle drawn in the snow, a mound piled in the center, four small snowmen built around the perimeter, evenly spaced every ninety degrees. East, south, west, and north. He’d read a little about this. She’d marked the four quadrants with snowmen. The one to the east, nearest the river bluff—

  He ran up to his room, grabbed his binoculars, and resumed watch through his window. Damn, it was cold. He dragged the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around himself. He could see her breath on the air now, the short, furry boots beneath her cape. Her body moved rhythmically to the tune of flutes, and drums now, too.

  The snowmen were clearer from here, each one holding something different: a striped windsock; a red candle, lit; a snowflake ornament, shimmering in the moonlight; and a potted plant. The mound must be a temporary altar, as she struck a wooden match and lit a white candle resting in the center and incense off to the side. There was a plate of cookies, a mug of steaming liquid. Small blobs scattered around looked like flower petals, but from this angle, with white on white, it was impossible to tell.

  Jade faced each direction in turn, speaking to the night. He was just about to open his window to see if he could hear what she was saying, but she turned toward him then, and he thought better of it.

  If she got naked soon, he wanted to join her. Not nude, of course. Not e
ven if it were summer. If there was a camera out there somewhere, he didn’t want someone else recording it.

  He wanted to be closer. Gathering the quilt tighter around him, he raced down the back stairs to the kitchen window.

  Jade was eating a cookie, tipping the mug to her lips. When she set the plate and mug on the ground, Mason figured that must be about it. She took a remote out of her pocket; the music stopped.

  She held out one hand, palm up again. She stood silent for a long moment, then turned and waved for him to join her.

  “How does she do that?” he murmured. No fool he, he shoved his feet into the hiking boots he always left by the back door. Snow kicked up over the tops and trickled inside, but he kept going.

  “Love your cloak,” she teased.

  “I hope you don’t mind—”

  “Take it off.”

  “Huh?” He came to a standstill three feet away.

  She tossed her cape aside, white velvet pooling on white snow. A silky white gown clung to her body, hugging every curve, delineating every valley, making no attempt to hide winter-chilled nipples.

  Hell, if Eskimos lived through colder nights than this, maybe he could handle it.

  Jade glanced skyward. “Wiccans call this a Chaste Moon.”

  “I hope that doesn’t mean the nightie’s not coming off.”

  She smiled slyly. “We’ll see.”

  “Are you Wiccan?”

  “I’m eclectic, but this is one of their traditions I like. It’s why I made snowmen to mark the directions. They believe a Chaste Moon is time to do something fun, to let your inner child play.”

  She flopped on her back. After she shrieked against the chill, she made big arcs in the snow with her arms and legs, laughing as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Mason hugged his quilt tighter.

  “Come on!” she said.

  “I think I should tell you what I believe.”

  “We can make a whole party of snow angels.” Jade jumped up, moved six feet, and flopped down to make another.

  “I fervently believe it’s way too damn cold for a Florida boy to try a stunt like that.”