Water & Flame (Witches of the Elements Series Book 1)

by Alejandra Vega

  She flashed the smile that made his heart pound in his chest—it was nice to see it still did that even with what he had just heard—and reached across the table to take his hand.

  “No, the part about eating children is real.”

  She couldn’t maintain her straight face, though, and gave it away with her snicker. “Seriously, though, there have always been people who could harness the power the elements provide. Some can use the magical energy from the earth itself, some from fire, some air, and some,” she pointed to herself, “the power inherent in water.

  “We are exactly the same as onlies…as other humans.” She paused as if what she said caused her to remember something. “Except that we can wield these magical forces. We live, we breathe, we eat and drink, we die, just like everyone else. It’s not like we’re another species or anything, though there are prejudices, of course.” She paused again, her mouth twisting as if she had tasted something rotten.

  “I’m really sorry, Ben, but it’s really hard for me to talk about the differences between us. I have…baggage, I guess you’d call it. Let me start by talking about something else. I promise to try to make sense of it all, but I want to start with the most important part.”

  She was still holding his hand, and he felt hers tremble. He looked more deeply into her eyes and saw something there, something he’d never seen. Was it fear?

  “Abbie, you know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, how much more of a shock can it be than what you have just told me?”

  She flicked her eyes downward, as if studying their clasped hands. She squeezed his.

  “Don’t be so sure it can’t be,” she finally said. “Promise me you will let me finish, that you will stay here and listen to me until I have told you all I need to tell you.”

  “Abbie, you don’t have to—”

  “Promise me, Ben. Promise.”

  He sighed. “I promise to let you finish.” He realized his hand was trembling now, too. Was she going to tell him something worse than being a witch? Did they do sacrifices or something? Was he safe? He thrust the thought away. He trusted Abbie. She would tell him what he needed to know. Thoughts of the old TV show Bewitched flashed through his head, and he smiled at the thought.

  “What did you just think of?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What’s funny?”

  He told her, and she smiled weakly back at him. She was obviously too nervous for humor to work in calming her mood.

  Abigail took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She opened her mouth to speak when someone knocked softly at the door.

  “Come in, Zoe,” Abbie said.

  The door opened and a woman came in holding a tray with an antique teapot, two cups on saucers, sugar, honey, and some wedges of lemon. She put the tray down on the table and then straightened.

  Ben couldn’t help to notice how attractive she was. She was short, maybe just above five feet, and she was slender but shapely. It was the twinkle in her brown eyes that gripped him, though. She flicked her dark hair, lighter highlights cascading around her heart-shaped face and the mouth that wore a smile that was nearly a smirk. She eyed him up and down.

  “Hi,” she said, turning to Ben. “I’m Zoe. I’m Abbie’s obnoxious best friend.” She winked at Ben and then met eyes with Abbie and raised her eyebrows in a way that made Ben feel like he had just been approved.

  She swiveled her eyes back to him and put her hand out. Ben took it and shook it. She had a firm grip.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

  “What is Abs doing to you?” Zoe asked. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  “I…she…” Ben stammered, but Abigail came to his rescue.

  “I just told him I’m a witch,” she said.

  “Ahh, I see. Well, not to make you more nervous, but I am, too. It’s nice to meet you, Ben. Maybe I’ll see you later at the animal sacrifice ritual.” She drew her eyebrows down and focused on his eyes.

  Abigail smacked her friend’s shoulder. “Zo, play nice.” Turning to Ben, she continued, “Don’t listen to her, Ben. She’s a joker. I should have known better than to have you meet her without a lawyer.”

  “I’m just having a little fun,” Zoe said to him. “I’m not serious. Or am I?” she widened her eyes in a comical fashion and stared at him.

  “Enough,” Abbie said. “Shoo, begone. We’ll call for you when we need comedy relief. Go.”

  Zoe laughed and tossed her hair again. “Okay, but I’ll be right outside, probably listening at the door.” With one more look at Ben, and a wink, she glided toward the door and out of the room, her hips moving in a graceful and exaggerated manner.

  Abigail shrugged at Ben as the door closed. “Best friends from childhood. What you gonna do?”

  “She’s…” Ben started.

  “I know. She has that effect on everyone. Men and women.”

  They settled back into their respective seats, Abigail pouring the tea for both of them. “It’s a mint tea. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine,” Ben said as he added a little honey to his. “Okay, I’m ready to listen. Fire away.”

  The look on her face when he said that last part was confusing. It almost looked like she was reliving a painful memory. It was very nearly a flinch as if he had thrown something at her. He was going to ask about it, but she started speaking.

  “My mother was the leader of our coven. That’s how we are organized, in covens, groups that originally started as families and that have grown to include others. In most cases. There are still some covens that are only one family, but they are rarer than they used to be, from what I understand.

  “I’m getting off track. So, Mother was a powerful witch—strong use of the magic runs in our family—and everyone loved her. She was beautiful, powerful, smart, and everyone I had ever seen interact with her thought the world of her.”

  “You are your mother’s daughter.” Ben realized he was sitting there holding his tea cup halfway to his mouth. He took a sip and set it on the saucer on the table in front of him.

  “She was murdered six years ago,” Abbie continued, her eyes becoming liquid but her voice not faltering.

  Before Ben could speak, she continued. “She was performing one of our rituals, for the Spring Rain festival—a simple thing to align our coven with the energy of the local bodies of water, not any kind of sacrifice or anything—along with a friend of hers. Emma Williams. She was attacked in force while she did it, ambushed by fire witches and warlocks, as well as onlies…humans without magical abilities with guns. She fought as best she could, she and Emma, too, but they overwhelmed her. As one of her last acts in this life, she sent me her memories of the battle, a way of explaining what happened to her.

  “She actually sent that memory to my brother and sister as well, but they got only scattered pieces of it. Whether it was because they were not as receptive to the water magic or their powers were not developed quite enough yet, no one knows. Only I got the entire scene. I have relived it over and over again, many times throughout the years since.”

  Abbie stopped for a moment and breathed deeply, dipping her head so Ben couldn’t see her eyes.

  “Oh, Abbie,” he said, “I’m so sorry. I lost my father, too, but not like that. It must have been horrible to get that memory sent to you.” He didn’t mention that he couldn’t understand how such a thing could be done. They could talk about that later.

  “That’s the thing, Ben.” Abbie lifted her head, sniffled, and wiped at her wet cheeks. “We have more in common than you know.

  “In the vision of my mother’s death, I saw the witch who orchestrated the ambush, the one who led those who murdered my mother. She launched the final volley of magic that overwhelmed my mother and killed her. I saw the woman’s face clearly, but it was unfamiliar to me. I hadn’t ever met her. Until I started working at the estate.”

  “What?” Ben said. “You saw the woman again at the estate? A murderer?”

>   “Yes.”

  Ben sat there, staring, his mouth open. It took a few seconds to recover and ask the obvious question. “You’re not saying…” He paused for a moment. “Abbie, who was it?”

  “Margaret Huntsman,” she said.

  Chapter 36

  “Margaret…my mother?” Ben said.

  “We’ll get to that in a moment,” Abbie answered. “It was Margaret Huntsman. Let’s leave it at that for now. Seeing her face again was enough for me, but not enough for the leading Council of the coven. They wanted more proof before any action was taken. My mission at the estate was to get that proof.”

  “Wait,” Ben said. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that you were working there as a spy, some kind of undercover thing?”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze but shifted her eyes around the room as if uncomfortable looking at him.

  “To prove that my mother killed your mother.”

  “To prove that Margaret killed my mother, yes.” She looked at him, though it seemed to pain her to do so. “I have a talent, a rare talent. I am able to detect magical residues, the leavings of energy when magic is used on someone or something. I used that talent to find something with a strong magical residue on it, something that had been subjected to Margaret Hunstman’s magic. Margaret Huntsman’s fire magic.”

  Ben’s head was still spinning. He could hardly keep up. Looking at her, he wondered where this was all going. “Something she used her magic on?”

  “Well,” Abbie said, “someone.”

  “And?”

  “You. It’s you, Ben. Margaret has used magic on you. Quite a bit. I don’t know why, but you reek of it. I never noticed because in order to detect magic, I have to focus on using my power, something I never did with you. It’s not like hearing, where any sound that comes around will make it to your ears. It’s more like seeing, where you have to open your eyes to get an image.”

  “This magic,” he said, “that you say is all over me. You say it’s my mother’s?”

  “Margaret’s. It has to be. I detected no other magic on anyone in the house besides her. Other than the residues, I mean. She’s the only one who herself is magical. At least, she’s the only one I’ve come into contact with who has the use of magic. My ability does not let me identify particular people from the residue, but one of the witches here can. I would like her to read the residue on you, if you are willing.”

  “Abbie, this is a lot to take in. You’re a witch, my mother’s a witch, my mother killed your mother, it’s kind of a lot, you know.”

  “I do know, Ben,” Abbie said. “I do. Please, just trust me for a few minutes more. Just a little while longer. It will all make sense, I promise.”

  Ben raked his fingers through his hair. He did trust her, but all this witchcraft stuff. And murder. He didn’t know what to do. “A few minutes more, Abbie,” he said. “If it doesn’t start making sense, I’m going to need some time alone to sort through everything.”

  “Agreed.” Abbie turned toward the door. “Isabella?”

  A wiry woman, probably in her late thirties or early forties, came into the room. Her thin face held an expression of resolution, but still seemed friendly.

  “Hi, Ben. I’m Isabella. I’m just going to take a reading of the magic on you, if you don’t mind. You won’t feel anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Is that okay?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  She closed her eyes and moved her hands slowly in front of her as if she was feeling his aura or something. It only took fifteen or twenty seconds and she opened her eyes again.

  “It matches. The witch who cast the magic on him is the same one who killed Olivia. The residues are identical.”

  Abigail sighed. Whether it was in relief or agreement with the result, Ben didn’t know. “Thank you Isabella.”

  “Oh, and Abbie,” the woman said, “that other item you gave me, the ring, it also had the same residue on it, but from much earlier. I’d say it’s been about eleven or twelve years, I’d guess, since the last time magic was used on it, but it has layers from at least twice that long ago.

  “Thank you,” Abbie said, taking the ring the other woman held out for her. Ben was surprised to see that it was the engagement ring he had given her.

  “Abbie? Is that my grandmother’s ring?” Ben said, but couldn’t even put into words what he wanted to say.

  “Yes. I asked Isabella to check the residue on it.”

  “I’ve had that ring for about ten years,” he said. “It was my grandmother’s, and when she died my dad took it and kept it in his pocket at all times. When he himself died, it came to me. It’s been in a special box I had made for it, sitting on my nightstand.”

  Abbie shook her head sadly. “Okay, Ben, here is the whole story. Margaret Huntsman is a fire witch. She orchestrated the ambush of my mother and Emma. She herself landed the killing blow. She has been casting spells on you for some reason, maybe to try to control you in some way. Her magic is on you in thick layers, and must have been placed there over a long period of time. What Isabella just said about the ring confirmed what I thought was true. Your father did not die of a heart attack, stroke, or some disease. Margaret Huntsman killed him.”

  Ben stood up and started to speak, but she raised her voice over him.

  “And Margaret Huntsman is not your mother, Ben. She is not your mother.”

  The angry words he was ready to say froze in his mouth. He stood there, trying to catch his breath. The room seemed to be moving around him. He sat down hard on the couch.

  Abbie sat across from him, looking into his eyes, waiting to see what he would do. He took two more long breaths.

  “What do you mean she’s not my mother? How could you possibly know that?”

  Abbie got up and moved around the table to sit beside him. “We have researchers, Ben. They are very good. Margaret did a fairly thorough job of destroying all evidence of your real mother, but she didn’t get it all. There was a photograph of your birth certificate that she didn’t know existed. It has your mother’s name on it. Grace Mason.”

  “Grace?” Ben whispered reverently.

  “We have pieced things together. Margaret, a friend of the family, killed your mother, then inveigled her way into your father’s affections. When he had given her what she wanted—power and wealth—she killed him too so she could be in control. She has killed quite a few people, actually, including several other witches in the last year or two. We’re still not sure what her master plan is, but it obviously involves removing anyone who could hinder it.”

  “Including you?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, including me. If she had found out who I was, she would have killed me, too. She may have done it just because I caused problems with you and your engagement.”

  Ben knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. Organizing his thoughts felt like swimming in molasses. “Are you…are you sure about all this, Abbie? I mean, those are some pretty serious accusations.”

  “Ben, you know in your heart that I’m telling the truth. But yes, we have evidence. I’ll show it all to you, if you need it.”

  “I…might. Not right now, though. Right now, what I need to do is go home and confront my mother about this, ask her to explain.”

  “Ben,” Abbie said, grabbing his arm, “don’t you understand? You can’t just go and confront her and ask her about things like this. She killed your mother, your father, my mother, she won’t hesitate to kill you. It’s too dangerous. Maybe, with some time to think about it, you can get the information from her own mouth, but you’ll have to be clever about it. You do not want that woman to suspect you know the truth. She doesn’t like loose ends.”

  A feeling started in Ben’s belly. It was just a sort of buzzing at first, a rumbling. It grew to a type of vibration and then to a little ball of heat. As it did, his mind cleared, bit by bit. And the heat grew until it felt like a softball of molten lava in his middle. It didn’t stop there. It continued to build, to ge
t hotter and bigger, and soon his whole chest felt like it was on fire. He was angry, but it was a different kind of rage than any he had ever felt.

  “Abbie,” he said calmly as he took her hand from his arm and kissed it lightly. “I am going to see her now. If all this is true, if she tries to kill me, too, she better be very fast, because I plan on being ready for her. My father’s collection of handguns is still in the room where he kept them when he was alive. I know how to use them.”

  Abbie looked as if she would object, but then a look of resignation came over her face, as if she realized she could not stop him. “I don’t suppose you’ll wait until tomorrow morning? If we leave now,” she looked at her watch, “we won’t be there until late tonight.”

  “No, not tomorrow. Tonight. Right now. I don’t…wait a minute. Did you just say ‘we’?”

  “I did. If you’re going to go and put yourself in danger, you’re not doing it without me. Isn’t that what a good wife does?”

  Ben laughed in spite of the situation. “I guess so. I wouldn’t know. It might be useful to have a witch with me in case everything turns out to be true. Not that I doubt you precisely, but…”

  “I understand, Ben. Just so you know, though, I don’t think I’m a match for her in magical ability. I think she’s more powerful than me, and I know she’s more experienced in using the magic as a weapon. I might not be much protection, when it comes down to it.”

  “It won’t come to that. You’ll see.” Ben kissed her hand again and then released it. “Let’s get going.”

  Chapter 37

  The car ride to the Huntsman Estate was over four hours long, though to Abigail it felt much longer.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Ben?” she finally asked more than an hour into the drive. “Maybe we should think about it again and decide on a more…conservative approach.”

  Ben shifted his eyes to her for a few seconds and then back to the road. To her and back to the road. “Abbie, you almost sound like you’re scared.”