by Cindy Stark
“That’s the other reason I came, Peter. I found more information inside Timothy’s notebook, stuff I knew you’d want to hear. There’s one section where I believe Timothy writes about Sarah’s death. He was upset because he thought he and Samuel, or maybe the group, had agreed to run someone out of town. Timothy had thought that to remove a witch from town meant to scare her off, but he’d misunderstood, suggesting it might be more than that.”
Peter’s face blanched.
“The entry in his diary was shortly after Sarah’s death. Timothy didn’t use names or specify exactly what ‘more than that’ meant, but it must be Sarah he’s referring to. Don’t you think?”
Peter clenched his fists and jaw. “I’ll kill him.”
The anger in his voice scared her. She moved to his side of the desk and took his face in her hands, loving the raspy feel of stubble against her fingertips. This man was the dearest thing on earth to her.
She ran a finger across his bottom lip. “Don’t let your emotions get the best of you. You can’t think clearly then. I promise you Samuel will pay for what he’s done. But let’s do this the right way and not leave any chance that he’ll get away with it. You’re a brilliantly trained officer of the law. Use that to your advantage.”
The brick red color in his aura dimmed, and she sensed his anger lessen.
“You’re right. I need to make sure he’s behind bars without putting myself there, too.”
She nodded. “Yes. Remember, we’re in this together.”
More anger drained from him, and his tense shoulders relaxed. “Okay. I’ll try.”
She stared deep into his eyes, basking in the love she found there. “I’m going to help you as much as you’re helping me. We have a rough road ahead of us, but we can handle this.”
He held her gaze for a long moment as though needing to be certain of her words. “Life will never be boring with you around, will it?”
She grinned and placed a fierce kiss on his lips. “Probably not. But really, would you have it any other way?”
He lifted a brow. “Is that a serious question?”
She chuckled. “Hush now. Let’s eat lunch and then we can both get back to work.”
He stared at her and then shook his head. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me you’re planning to go to the teashop today.”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t really decided until now, but, yes, I think I will. I don’t want to hide, Peter. That won’t help. You’re going to be busy, and sitting home will drive me insane.”
“You change your mind faster than I can blink. Give a guy a second to think all this through.”
She raised a flirtatious brow. “I can give you another minute.”
He shook his head, but she recognized the acquiescence hovering there. Instead of arguing, he lifted his sandwich and took a bite.
She took the opportunity to steer the conversation in a new direction. “Menendez isn’t very happy with me.”
He snorted. “I imagine he isn’t. He’s not a man who likes to disappoint his boss, which is why I put him in charge today. For all the good that did.”
She held back a smile. “Don’t be mad at him, okay? He put up a good fight.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
She considered not telling him about the interview with Gracie because they didn’t need another point of contention that day, but then thought better of it. She needed to be open and honest with him regardless of the consequences. “I did something else.”
Peter groaned and rolled his eyes. “Oh, geez. Do I want to hear this?”
She nodded. “I think it will be a good thing. Gracie Adkins from the Stonebridge Sentinel caught me outside the police station just now and asked for an interview. At first, I’d thought against doing it, not wanting to antagonize the town, and I wasn’t sure I trusted Gracie.”
He discounted her concerns with a wave of his hand. “I know her. She’s a good soul.”
Hazel was grateful for that confirmation. “Good, because I did get the impression she wants to help everyone understand witches and further our cause. But then again, I’ve given the benefit of the doubt to a few people I shouldn’t have. Anyway, I hope I gave her information that will help the town realize we’re good people, at least as much as anyone is.”
He pulled open his bag of chips. “For once, we agree on something.”
She shot him a half-hearted look of disapproval. “What are you talking about? We agree on most things.”
“Yeah, until you make a different decision.”
She supposed she deserved that. “I’m sorry. I would have called and discussed it with you before I left the house, but I know you would have shot me down.”
He kept his expression neutral. “I might have.”
She chuckled and shook her head. They both knew better.
Peter dug around in his box and pulled out a napkin and the cherry macaroon he’d want to swap for Hazel’s other half of her sandwich. “No pickle?”
Hazel checked her box and pulled out the foil-wrapped spear she found. “I got one. Check again.”
He frowned. “Cora gypped me.”
Once again, they were back to loving kindness, and she couldn’t be more grateful. “Tell you what, I’ll trade you my pickle for your forgiveness.”
He playfully pondered the idea. “Do I get the other half of your sandwich, too?”
“Throw in your cookie, and it’s a deal.”
They switched items, both more than happy with the trade.
Peter bit into the pickle, dripping juice on the sandwich wrapper on his desk. “I’ll agree to let you go to the teashop today on one condition.”
She lifted hopeful brows. She intended to go either way, but she preferred his support. “What’s that?”
“You don’t go alone.”
“It’s daylight, Peter. I think I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “I’m walking you. For the time being, until we get a good feel for the level of animosity in this town, I don’t want you traveling alone. I would prefer it if you could increase Gretta’s hours, too, so that you’re not at work by yourself.”
Hazel snorted. “Assuming Gretta is okay working for a witch, I’m sure she won’t mind, but she’ll need to take a lunch sometimes. I can’t expect her to be there every minute we’re open. She has her grandmother to help with, too.”
“Then I’ll have lunch with you at the shop while she’s gone.”
Hazel hesitated, not liking the constraints.
“Humor me, Mrs. Parrish. I’m willing to give, but you need to, too.”
She couldn’t say no to that and still be a team player.
Instead, she smiled, loving that he worried about her. Honestly, she was a little anxious, too. “Okay. I’ll do my best to make sure I’m never alone. And I’ll beef up my protection spells, too, okay?”
He nodded. “Deal.”
Eight
Hazel inhaled brisk October air as she stepped from the police station with Peter by her side. A gust of wind sent curled, brown leaves skittering past, as though they ran, trying to escape an unseen monster.
She could relate.
Peter took her hand, and she squeezed it tightly. She was brave enough to walk down Main Street by herself but having Peter by her side comforted and reassured her. Some stared as they passed. Others offered their usual hellos and continued walking as though nothing had changed.
She appreciated the latter tremendously. Despite the quiet storm brewing about town now that others knew she was a witch, Peter and the folks who were friendly made her feel that everything would ultimately be okay.
She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
“Hey, look,” Peter said as they approached the teashop.
Hazel scanned the lime green awning above her door and window, looking for something out of place.
Then she realized the sign indicating the shop was open faced forward, and she drew her brows together. She pulled
on the door, and the bell that signaled a customer had entered chimed overhead.
Behind the counter, Gretta looked up from her cell phone screen and smiled. “Hey, boss.”
Her greeting further warmed Hazel’s heart, and the familiar scent of brewed Spiced Chai greeted her like an old friend. “Gretta? What are you doing here?”
Gretta’s smile faded to confusion. “Working? Didn’t we arrange for me to cover the shop during the week after your wedding?”
Hazel blinked back heartfelt tears. “We did, but that was before…”
“Before I knew you were a witch?” she offered, her unsure gaze darting between Peter and Hazel.
Emotion clogged Hazel’s throat, making it hard to speak. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to work for me any longer.”
Gretta waved away her concern with a flick of her hand. “Makes no difference to me. I think it’s kind of cool, and honestly, I’ve always wondered anyway.”
Peter leaned close and kissed Hazel on the cheek. “Looks like things are covered here. Remember, I don’t want you out alone. I’ll pick you up a little after six.”
Hazel nodded her agreement.
Peter tipped his head toward Hazel’s assistant. “Thank you, Gretta. I always tell Hazel she’s lucky to have you.”
Gretta blushed and waved goodbye as the chief left them alone.
Once the shop’s door closed behind him, Hazel turned to Gretta. “You’ve always wondered? But you never said anything.”
How many others in town had thought the same thing? Maybe she hadn’t been as good about hiding as she’d hoped.
Gretta scrunched her features as though Hazel might be daft. “Um, hello. We’re living in an anti-witch town. You know as well as I do that it’s a subject best left alone, so, of course, I wouldn’t ask. But you are awfully handy with herbs.”
Hazel slipped off her coat and considered Gretta’s words. “Do you think that people will talk more openly about witches, now that everyone knows about me?”
Gretta slid her phone into her pocket and then held her hand out for Hazel’s coat. “I’m not sure.”
Hazel wanted to argue that she could hang it herself but accepted Gretta’s show of friendship.
Gretta took the coat into the backroom, and Hazel followed her.
Hazel’s assistant glanced back at her. “Witches are definitely a hot topic of conversation. We’ve had tons of people in here this morning. Surprised there’s not any now.”
“Really? I was worried people would avoid me, that maybe they’d boycott my shop in hopes of running me out of town. Are they buying anything, or did they just come for the circus show?”
Gretta nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. They’ve bought stuff. Your love potion has been flying off the shelves. The youthberry, too. I guess people are hoping you’ll help them be younger or fall in love.”
Hazel briefly covered her eyes in exasperation. “Sorry, but that won’t help them. I don’t use magic in the teas I sell here.”
Gretta shrugged. “Guess they think it’s worth a shot. Seriously though, I thought more people would be against you, too. The abolition of witches has been the backbone of Stonebridge for ages.”
Her words sent a chill of foreboding creeping up Hazel’s spine. “I think that’s awful. We should never condemn someone for their heritage.”
“Unfortunately, not everyone thinks that way.”
Irritation simmered in her blood. “It’s not like I can help it, you know. And I’m a good person. My great-something grandmother, Clarabelle, was, too.”
Gretta lifted her brows. “She was one of the four original witches? Not to be offensive, Hazel, but that’s not what history tells us about them. The books I’ve read led me to believe those four women were bad.”
Hazel folded her arms, growing more defensive. “Yes, in the end. But would they have acted differently if they hadn’t been persecuted? Think about it. How would you react if put in the same position?”
Gretta appeared to consider her words and then nodded. “I’m not agreeing with them, Hazel. I’m just pointing out the thinking of some in town, and why they want you to leave.”
Hazel knew what others like Timothy and Samuel thought, and it wasn’t right. “They can want me to leave all they want, but I’m staying. It’s long past time this town confronted its past and remedied it. We’re better than this.”
Gretta grinned. “We are, and you’re preaching to the choir.”
That reminder popped Hazel’s balloon of defense. The anger rushed out of her, and she smiled in return. “You’re right. I’d be better off saving my diatribe for those folks who are on the fence.”
Gretta slid onto one of the stools next to the counter where Hazel crafted her teas. “I do have a question though. Do you really believe you’ll be able to convince everyone in town that we should allow witches to reside here? I mean, some are pretty adamant.”
Hazel had attempted to travel down that road of thought many times, but she’d never found a clear path. “I guess I’m hoping to change the minds of most. Maybe if I do, the town will force the worst of the others out, instead. I would think most people would want peace, not hatred and violence.”
Gretta nodded. “I agree. But we’ve had peace during most of the years. Some might argue that witches are the ones who disrupted it.”
“Meaning me.”
She didn’t have to ask the question to know the answer.
Gretta held up her hand in truce. “Not arguing with you. Just playing devil’s advocate. You need to know what you’re up against. Peter’s right. It could be dangerous for you.”
She focused on her dear assistant. “It could also be dangerous for you since you’re associated with me. I wouldn’t blame you if you want to quit.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Nah, I’m in this for the long haul, and I’m more worried about you than me. People will understand that this is my job.”
Hazel wished she was as certain.
The bell on the front door chimed, and Gretta stood. “This could be the start of round two in the teashop. If people know you’re here, I expect we’ll have even more visitors.”
Hazel grimaced. “Come to see the freak show, huh?”
Gretta glanced out front and then back at her. “Actually, it’s only one guy who’s come to see the pretty lady.”
Hazel followed her gaze and inwardly groaned. For being a rejected suitor, Victor stood at the front counter, looking tall, handsome, and hot in his black leather jacket. But the despondent look on his face told her everything.
Apparently, now that she’d married Peter, he’d given up on trying to become someone she’d prefer over her new husband.
Gretta slipped past her. “I’m going to grab a to-go coffee and sandwich at Cora’s and give you a few minutes.”
Hazel nodded her appreciation.
“Hey, Victor,” Gretta said as she slid on her coat and headed toward the door.
“Morning, beautiful,” he replied.
Hazel caught sight of Gretta’s blushing cheeks before she headed outside.
She tried for a friendly, somewhat hopeful smile. She didn’t love Victor like he wanted her to, but she’d managed to accept him as a friend. “Hi, Victor.”
The usual shimmer in his blue eyes had dimmed. She supposed the knowledge that the most powerful male witch along the Eastern seaboard wasn’t the chosen one in her prophecy, chaffed his narcissistic personality.
He lifted his chin in the slightest acknowledgement of her greeting.
A tiny slice of her heart noticed and missed that he didn’t address her as goddess.
“Wanted to let you know I’m heading out.”
His announcement caught her by surprise, and she widened her eyes. She couldn’t blame him for going, but she’d sort of liked having him around in case anything went awry. “You’re leaving?”
He rubbed the scruff on his chin and gave a short nod. “I gave it my best shot, and you chose
someone else.”
The empath in her suffered for the hurt she’d caused him. “I’m sorry, Victor. I truly am. But I had to follow my heart.”
“I get it.”
“You don’t have to leave, though. You should stay if you like it here. We can still be friends.”
He snorted with derision. “No. I have my own heart to follow. A man like me wasn’t born into ordinary. I won’t stay and be second choice.”
He’d been her first choice once, until he’d broken her heart. Even if Peter wasn’t the one, she doubted she could have given Victor another chance. “I understand.”
Though she couldn’t say she wouldn’t miss him. He’d protected her more than once.
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he approached and pulled her into his arms.
She didn’t resist his hug. Instead, she tried to send an infusion of warmth his way, hoping to ease his hurting heart.
He pulled back and caught her gaze. “Goodbye, Hazel.”
“Goodbye for now, Victor.”
His lips were on hers before she realized his intent. She lifted her hands to push him away, but he released her.
He turned and didn’t look at her again as he left the shop.
A moment later, the roar of his powerful motorcycle filled the autumn air, and he whisked by, muscled and handsome as ever, off to find his own destiny.
“Good luck, Victor,” she whispered as the sound of his engine faded away.
Then she was alone.
Silence surrounded her, and she inhaled deeply.
Part of her wanted to run and hide from what the future would bring.
Still, she was on her own path now, she reminded herself, and she didn’t need Victor to help her be strong.
She’d become a powerful witch in her own right, and she’d use her intuition and kindness to protect her and to persuade the town to accept her. The prophecy had chosen her, and she was up for the challenge.
Nine
Hazel had never been in a rush to read the town’s latest news and usually didn’t open the Stonebridge Sentinel until evening or even a day or two later.
