by Freya Darcy
“We need another third,” Payton is saying. “Since Meghan quit on us, we haven’t been able to do half as much as we used to.”
They go inside and shut the door, leaving me fuming just out of sight.
Meghan wanted out of their coven, so they’d used her post breakup depression against her and performed some kind of ritual to kill her and make it look like suicide.
And what if I refused to join? Would they do the same to me? Find my weakness and exploit it till I walked off the cliffs or hung myself too?
I want to confront them, right now. Just march in and ... and...
And what? What can I do against black witches twice as powerful as myself? I barely know the basics, what am I going to do, light their candles then make it rain?
Turning away I pick my way back to the road. I need a plan, a real one. Obviously that shack is where they’re keeping their ritual materials hidden. Maybe if I can get some pictures, Jaz will be able to narrow down exactly what the ritual was, and we can work on some kind of magical defence.
Maybe you could just burn it all to the ground right now. The thought is so sudden and unexpected I actually stop and press my back to the trunk of a big old ghost gum.
After a couple of breaths, I peek around the trunk to stare at the shack. My hand slips into my pocket and I feel the vial of salt Jaz insisted I bring in case I needed to use magic. It would be so easy to just burn both of them and their black magic alter with it.
Something dark and silky smooth, slips along my veins, pulses in my chest and fingertips. Just do it. Burn it all. Everyone will think it’s a horrible accident and I can go back to my life knowing justice was done.
The world is suddenly black and white and silent. I’ve never felt so calm as I wrap my fingers around the vial of salt and prepare myself for what is to come.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, my eager gaze never leaving the shack, I put it to my ear.
“Kizz?” It’s Frankie.
Suddenly the world comes crashing back in. Colour and sound and smells.
My legs turn to jelly and tears spring to my eyes. Relief and horror fight for a place as I sink down to the ground and curl up behind the tree.
“Frankie.” Saying her name is like breathing after almost suffocating or drowning.
“I don’t know why, but I just got this feeling that I needed to call you, like right this second. What’s going on?”
I don’t even realize I’m crying until my tears drip from my chin and my hand shoves away the vial of salt in my pocket to pull out a tissue.
“Thank you,” I sob, gripping the phone so tight I think I hear a crack. “I have to go, but everything’s fine now. I’ll call you tonight and explain it all, I promise.”
I end the call before she can argue, but hold the phone to my chest for another minute.
Hearing voices again, I crouch lower and watch as Payton and Derick emerge from the shack and walk back through the woods to their car.
If there’s ever a better time, this is it. As soon as they’re out of sight, I jump to my feet and run for the shack.
The door is locked but checking under the mat reveals a key. I roll my eyes. Seriously, even the murderous dark magic witches are too damn trusting.
I open the door and step inside, but stop as my hands fly up to cover my mouth before I can scream.
“Find what you were looking for?”
I spin to face the door. Both Derick and Payton are blocking the only exit.
Chapter Eighteen
“YOU’VE BEEN FAKING Bigfoot?” I think I’m screeching the words.
“Come on,” Derick says with an almost cocky smile. “All the Bigfoot sightings are fake.”
“It’s not like we’re hurting anyone,” Payton adds, her hands up, palms out as though calming a wild animal. “We’re simply offering an exciting camping experience. It’s like Paintball. Do you see those people complaining that they’re not shooting at each other with real guns?”
I wave off her words, shushing them both. “So you mean to tell me, that you two have been sneaking around all over town, acting all suspicious because you were faking Bigfoot?”
Payton and Derick exchange a look, then a shrug.
“Yeah,” Derick says. “What, did you think we were the murderers or something?”
I make a face implying, duh, and they have the gall to look offended.
I grab a large foot and throw it at Derick, then a hand and throw it at Payton.
“Do the two of you have any idea what it was like thinking you might be killers?” I’m shouting now, throwing arms and legs and bits of wood. “You were the first friends I met here in town, and you were so nice and as crazy as I am, then BOOM, your crazy turned homicidal.”
“But we didn’t kill anyone,” Payton is yelling back as she dodges and blocks another foot and a hand.
“But I” – throw— ”Didn’t” – throw – "Know that!”
“Well you know now!” Derick yells. “And we’re sorry that we scared you, and for faking Bigfoot, and for not telling you sooner. And I’m sorry to you too, Payton. You were right, just telling Kizz would have been much easier.”
I fall back against the wall. “You two have no idea.”
My relief is only slightly surpassing the guilt that I nearly killed them both over a bunch of fake Bigfoots.
“What are these?” I ask, picking up a foot. “I thought it would be like shoes and gloves, like a costume.”
“Nah,” Derick says, stepping cautiously into the shack. “These aren’t costumes, they’re puppets, really big puppets.”
Payton moves in and takes two thick poles off the wall. In the next moment I’m standing face to midsection with a giant ape-like creature.
“This is impossible.” I look up and up until I see the same face I saw that night during the camping trip.
“Nothing is impossible if you can believe it,” Payton lowers her voice into something growly and deep, before adjusting the control at the puppet’s back so it reaches down and ruffles my hair.
“It takes practise,” Derick says, lifting his own giant puppet and mimicking a hearty, belly-aching laugh. He peeks around the side of the enormous body and grins. “You want to learn how?”
I stare up at the two ape-like faces and tip my head to the side. “No, wait. I remember that night. When that guy took a picture, the Bigfoot growled at us. Like actually growled, showing teeth.”
“You mean, like this?” Payton presses a button and I jump back, slamming against the wall when the Bigfoot actually growls.
LATER, WE’RE SITTING in the back corner of Rich Brews, quite literally eating our weight in cookies, donuts, and coffee, as I divulge the events of the afternoon; leaving out, of course, the parts about almost burning the shack, and them in it, to the ground.
Payton and Derick exchange a look before Payton says, “This is all our fault. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own work, we didn’t even notice what’s been happening.”
“And now Vanessa is missing?” Derick adds and looks again at Payton before saying, “I had a bad feeling when she got into that car. We didn’t see the driver, but she seemed to have been expecting to be picked up, so we just called it a night.”
“Well Detective Angry-pants thinks that I’m involved now, since Vanessa was witnessed yelling at me one day and flipping me off last night.” I rip one of the donuts in half and stuff a chunk into my mouth. “If anything, she should be the main suspect in my murder.”
Payton makes a sympathetic sound and places her hand over mine. “I’m sure he’s just angry because he likes you.”
“Yay?”
“He’s not wrong though,” I say, then, seeing their matching shocked expressions. I laugh and throw a cookie half at both of them. “Not about me being the murderer, about it all being connected.”
They look relieved and I can’t really be mad. I kind of deserve it after suspecting them.
“It’s too much
of a coincidence,” I say “Meghan is murdered, then her fiancée comes back into town but the first anyone sees of him is when his corpse comes floating down the river, then her best friend Vanessa disappears? There’s no way, this isn’t connected somehow.”
There’s a bark of laughter and we turn to see Connor leaning against the counter, his coffee in one hand and the other searching through the basket of sugar.
“Vanessa was no friend to that girl,” Connor says, pointing his raw sugar packet at us. “I saw her and that poncy city boy meet up at the Mutt Hut a week or so back. Let me tell you, hell hath no fury like a woman finding her man grinding the gears with her best friend in the back seat of his car.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“Well,” Connor rubs at his chin-stubble thoughtfully. “I remember a lot of yelling and crying and then the city boy got in his expensive car and drove off, leaving the two ladies glaring at each other. There was some more yelling then Meghan drove off and Vanessa came back into the bar to drink enough to kill an elephant.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this to the police?” Derick demands.
Connor gives a palms-up shrug. “What happens at the Mutt Hut stays at the Mutt Hut. Besides do you know how many arguments and fights happen outside bars every night? I didn’t even remember it till I overheard your little meeting of the Scooby Gang here.”
I mimic a laugh. “And he’s funny too!”
He just grins. “That’s me, Princess.”
“Since you’re so eager to be helpful,” Payton interrupts. “Have you seen a new car around. Black or maybe midnight blue, very sleek, almost soundless.”
Connor purses his lips and after a moment nods. “Yeah, but not recently. I used to see it pretty regularly late at night when I was shutting up the bar or out on a run. Why?”
“Last night, it picked up Vanessa and she hasn’t been seen since.”
Connor pales. “Are you fu—” He stops and clears his throat. “Are you kidding me? Three people involved in a fight outside my club bar are now dead?” He growls, a low dangerous sound and stares down at the floor, shaking his head. “That’ll teach me for opening my damned mouth. Jameson is going to love this, as if I don’t have enough crap coming from the council as it is.”
With a glare at us, he tips the sugar into his coffee and marches out, still muttering under his breath.
The fact that there might be a fourth player just makes everything more confusing and I can feel a tension headache forming behind my eyes.
“I say we call it a night.” I look from Payton to Derick and they both nod. “The question is, how much do we tell Malcom? I feel bad getting Connor involved.”
Payton nods while Derick rolls his eyes.
“We’ll tell him about Vanessa and the car that picked her up last night,” Payton says, “At least that shifts you to the back of the suspect list again.”
“Fine,” Derick grumbles. “But if Vanessa doesn’t show up or shows up dead, we’re telling the police everything.”
“Agreed.”
DRIVING HOME, I TRY desperately not to make my tension headache worse but just allowing my mind to flick through what I think I know.
“Number one,” I say to myself. “Someone used ritual magic to force Meghan to kill herself.”
The voice in her head had not been her own. I’d felt it. The fear, the violation of it. But worse, the hopelessness. She had been so alone in those last moments.
“Number two, Vanessa was most probably the witch talking with Robert in the woods the night before we found his body and no way would Meghan and Vanessa have still been friends after what happened at the Mutt Hut. But why would Vanessa kill Meghan rather than the other way around?”
“Because she was weak,” a voice says from the back seat.
Chapter Nineteen
WITH A SHRIEK, MY FOOT slams on the brake pedal and there’s a satisfying grunt of pain from the back seat as Vanessa is thrown forward. I have no idea if she’s actually hurt or just winded, so I unbuckle my seat belt, open my door, and skitter out to get a better look.
Unfortunately, the backdoor swings open too, and Vanessa falls out. She coughs into the grass and swears up a streak as she crawls away from the car.
Holding up my hands in front of me, I back away. Is this a bad time to say that I’ve never actually been in a fight before? Lots of arguments but never an actual, physical fight.
“Okay,” I say. “I will take equal responsibility for this, since rule one of S.S.D.G.M is to check the back seat.” I think for a moment then smile. “I believe it’s also one of the rules for surviving a zombie apocalypse.”
“Do you ever shut up?” Vanessa spits, pulling herself up.
“Not really,” I reply, backing up another step. “It’s kind of a nervous tick. Some people bite their nails, I talk and talk and...”
My words drop to silence when she raises her eyes to mine and suddenly my situation becomes very clear.
“You killed Meghan.”
She snickers. “Meghan killed herself.”
“You violated her mind. You forced her to kill herself.”
“And how would I have done that?”
“Because you’re a witch. You used some kind of ritual, got into her head, forced her to—”
“I didn’t force her to do anything!” Vanessa bellows, her voice cracking. “Meghan was way more powerful than me. She could have shut me out, she could have fought back. She could have performed the same ritual and stopped my heart if she’d wanted to.”
“And what about Robert?” I ask, still backing up slowly. “I know you met with him before he died. Did you kill him too?”
She squints at me. “How do you know that? How did you know about the ritual? I know you saw it. But how?”
I shrug. I don’t want to give away how much or little I know. “Did you kill him with the same ritual.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “That wasn’t my fault. The drunk idiot took a run at me, tripped and hit his head on a rock. I just rolled him into the river and let it take him. It was actually kind of funny how he floated by you the way he did. Almost like you were meant to find him.”
“So, you just rolled him in the river?” I say, incredulous. “You didn’t check to see if he was alive?”
She fidgets and her hands fist at her sides. “He tried to kill me.”
“Only after you actually killed his fiancée.”
“Ex fiancée,” She corrects me with a smug smile that makes me sick.
“Thanks to you! What kind of person has sex with her best friend’s man?”
“The kind who doesn’t want her friend to make the biggest mistake of her life. She was going to move to the city. Leave all her friends, her job, everything we had. She was just going to forget about it all!”
It’s almost laughable. “So, rather than talking to her and sharing this with your best friend, you chose the route of deception and boyfriend stealing.” I can feel my temper rising now and I let it come. “I have a best friend too and I know for a fact that she would never betray me the way you betrayed Meghan. But if she did. I would never talk to her again.”
Something shifts in her face. Pain? Regret?
“That’s what happened, isn’t it,” I say. “She refused to forgive you. Probably told you to stay the hell away from her. Maybe she planned to leave anyway just to get away from you.”
“Shut up,” she hisses but I can’t stop now.
“So, you used magic. You created a ritual to get inside her head and you killed her.”
“I didn’t kill her! She killed herself.”
I don’t even try to hide my disgust as I say, “Meghan was betrayed by her best friend and the man she loved. She lost you both on the same night. All because you were too selfish to share and too insecure to believe that she’d still want you in her life after she got married.”
“She would have forgotten about me.” Her voice is so small, almost childlike. “
The same way everyone does when they leave.”
“Not everyone,” I say, making my voice gentle. “I lived here for a little bit when my father died. We moved away when my mother remarried, but I came back, and I never forgot.”
“Too bad you had to wait till she was dead before coming to visit.”
Her words are like a punch to the stomach. “I was a child when we moved. I had no say.”
“It wasn’t your fault?” Her eyes are now full of hateful glee. “Your mummy wouldn’t let you call? You couldn’t get in the car and drive up to visit? Why? Too busy? Too tired? Just didn’t care until there was something in it for you?”
I bite down to hold back the sob. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s not fair boohoo.” Vanessa mimics me crying before turning deadly serious. “Maybe I did use my magic to kill her. Maybe she let me.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a long wickedly sharp looking knife.
Fear and adrenalin pulse through my veins but my own confusion is overwhelming my need to flee. “How did you even get that in your pocket?”
She grins. “Ooh, you haven’t learned this technique yet? Shame.”
“In fairness, I only just started learning.”
“Well now you can add this to the syllabus. How to get stabbed to death.”
I turn and run.
“That’s not really magic,” I yell over my shoulder but her crazed cackling doesn’t make me feel any braver. “And it wasn’t’ funny either!”
Why can’t I shut up?
I focus on just moving my legs and not running into any trees. Running actually feels pretty good. I jump over a fallen log and duck around the thick trunk of an ancient tree.
Binding potion! Remembering the potion, I reach into my pocket, turn and throw it at her feet. The vial smashes and engulfs Vanessa in a noxious looking green gas.
Vanessa lets out a cry and there’s a thump. She must have fallen.
