by Cate Lawley
Brad felt a nasty chill, but this time it was a wave of cold that traveled through his whole body, not just his spine. He knew Adele had resented his relationship with her only daughter—but this was like nothing he could ever have imagined. And he had no idea how to win over a woman who acted with such nasty, vile intent.
Chapter 17
Hillary had traded off with Gramps, one or the other of them driving by Grace’s memorial site every few hours. It had been twelve hours, but surprisingly it had only taken until the third hour of Brad’s disappearance for Hillary to reach an astounding conclusion: Aunt Carol and Uncle Tim might possibly not be the offspring of Satan. It was amazing how motivating fear could be. First she’d been driven by her fear that Gramps would lose his home and his independence, and now by the fear that a man both she and Gramps cared about might lose his life.
In light of the escalating danger to Brad as they delved deeper into his curse, it was much easier to see her own biases. She’d approached her Gramps’ competency evaluation with a bull-headedness that both Beth and her grandpa had tried to point out to her. Maybe, for a moment, if she could see her aunt and uncle as allies and not enemies, a solution could be found.
She and Gramps had talked, something about priorities, mending fences…maybe some other stuff that had to do with her being unreasonable, maybe an apology. Gramps had admitted that maybe Tim and Carol thought Hillary was a bad influence with her psychics and tarot and crystals, but that they really liked her—something Hillary had always doubted. Hillary had acknowledged her bias against her relatives and Gramps his soft-heartedness for his children. And then they’d moved on. Most importantly, the two of them had come up with a plan to fix Gramps’ problem. While neither of them wanted Gramps to get booted from his house, after a small perspective adjustment that problem seemed infinitely more solvable than Brad’s curse.
But then came the difficult part. She’d swallowed her anger and her pride and she’d called first Aunt Carol and then Uncle Tim. She’d done her best to pitch a reasonable alternative to placing Gramps in a home, one she hoped that they were considering even now. She put her turn signal on and started to slow down, knowing now from experience that the memorial was just up ahead.
As she pulled onto the shoulder, she saw him. He was sitting cross-legged not far from Grace’s memorial. He looked to be lost in thought and didn’t even appear to have noticed her. She sat in the car and waited, because she didn’t want to disturb him. If Glenda hadn’t erred grossly, Brad had his memory back. And this was a memorial site for the man’s deceased girlfriend.
Five minutes went by, then ten. She started to worry that he remembered his past, but not his present. Three more minutes. Or he was angry. Five more minutes. Or something terrible—more terrible than the pain she’d witnessed on this roadside twelve hours ago—had happened to him.
Finally, he stood up and walked to the car. As he got closer, she realized she’d never asked whether he could pass through solid walls, so she reached across the passenger seat and shoved the door open.
“Hey. Thanks for waiting.” His voice sounded normal enough. He looked okay—no glowing red eyes or other signs of demonic possession.
“No problem. You’re okay?” Awkwardly, she reached over him to close the door. Physical contact seemed like a really bad idea. Funny—that wasn’t exactly her normal attitude with hot guys.
“Yeah. I’ve actually been here a while. I just wanted a few more minutes to say good-bye. I’m not planning to come back.”
Hillary glanced at him before she pulled out onto the road. But he was staring straight ahead.
They’d driven for several minutes in silence when Brad spoke again. “I’m okay. Really. I remember everything: who I am, Grace, the accident. Grace’s mother, Adele. It’s a lot to process, but I’m good. How long have I been gone? And what about Walter’s exam?”
“You’ve been gone twelve hours. About Gramps… I think we came up with a solution. I’m waiting to hear back, but I think it’s good.” She threw a smile his way. “You’re actually responsible. Grandpa and I decided your curse was more important.”
“Than Walter’s life?” Brad’s incredulous voice bounced around inside the tiny car. “I was only gone half a day.”
“Yeah, well, we both decided there was a perception problem. I tweaked the equation—admitted that perhaps Aunt Carol and Uncle Tim aren’t evil-doing masterminds—and that opened up some alternatives. So, really, it’s not about your problem being more important. It’s about Gramps’ situation becoming less of a problem. There you have it.”
Hillary didn’t think it was the right time to tell him that neither she nor her grandpa had been able to handle the thought of Brad’s curse getting the better of him. His second unexpected disappearance—much sooner than was normal, according to Gramps—had them scared witless.
“Wow. I hope it all works out.” He gave her a curious look.
She pretended not to notice, because she didn’t want to jinx it. She’d explain if and when all the pieces fell into place. They should know soon. “So—you have your memory back. Any ideas on how we’re going to break your curse?”
“Yeah. I might have one or two. But I’d like to confirm my suspicions with Glenda. Let’s see if she answers the call this time.”
Hillary wouldn’t count on it—even though the elusive witch had picked up earlier—but she could hope.
Chapter 18
Walter opened the door looking more haggard than Brad had seen in a long time. His unexpected disappearances and the stress of breaking the curse were aging the guy. Since Walter was in his seventies, that was no good.
“Hey, Walter. I’m fine, and I’m really sorry to worry you guys like this.”
“Not your fault, son. Come on in.” Walter opened the door wide and waved him through. As Hillary passed by, he reached out and gave her a quick hug. “Good job, peanut.”
Walter headed into the kitchen with Brad and Hillary in tow. When they arrived, he immediately poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed Hillary one and said to Brad, “Wish you could join us.”
Hillary took a sip of whiskey and wheezed out a small cough. Once she’d recovered, she said, “We’ve got some good news: Brad has his memory back.”
Brad grimaced. “The bad is that I’m still not certain on how to break the curse. I’ve got a few ideas, but they’re guesses based on what I know about Adele. Specifically, what I know about Grace’s relationship with her mom.”
“So what’s next? How does the actual breaking happen? A ritual? Magic words?” Walter gave Hillary a searching look. “That’s your area of expertise, right?”
Hillary took another sip and shook her head.
“I was thinking we’d try Glenda. She certainly has some answers—if we can reach her.” Brad looked from Hillary to Walter. “Who’s going to dial?”
Walter picked up his phone. “Let’s give this fancy new phone a try, why don’t we? What’s the lady’s number?”
Glenda opened her compact, but before she made the call she took a second to compose herself. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t certain every piece was in exactly the right place, but it was the best she could do. “Adele.”
No answer.
“Adele, I know you hear me.”
Silence.
Very quietly, almost a whisper, certainly a plea, Glenda said, “My friend, please.”
The tiny mirror in her hands shimmered to life. “Why now after seven years of silence?”
Glenda closed her eyes as a sadness washed through her. “Your silence, dear friend. I have always been here, ready to listen.”
“A lie. You didn’t understand then and you won’t understand now, because you refuse to hear me.” The mirror in Glenda’s hands turned a stormy grey, reflecting the passion in Adele’s voice.
“I’m listening now.”
“He doesn’t deserve her. He never did.” Adele’s voice was cold, the passion now gone.
“Tha
t was always for Grace to decide. And you must know, the memory charm is broken.”
“No.” The chill in Adele’s voice, the controlled violence, practically cracked the small glass.
An error. Glenda had believed Adele would already be aware. But she pushed forward. “Yes. Today. He remembers. He has mourned. And he treasures his memory of their shared love even now.”
“Impossible. The return of his memory should have been prevented.” Cold and dispassionate. Adele spoke of the boy’s planned death as if it meant nothing.
“Your killing curse failed. I made certain of it.” Glenda’s fingers clenched the mirror tightly. Her heart ached that her friend had changed so much. “Adele, you must make this right. For Grace, for yourself. You have to meet the boy. You have to fix this.”
“I will not.” Implacable. Spoken with a chilly calm.
Glenda’s heart broke a little more. But needs must… “Meet with the Sherwood boy. Listen to what he says. If you refuse, I will report the killing curse you placed upon him to the council and ensure that any damage you inflict—no matter the cost—will be undone.”
Glenda’s threat equated to a death sentence. In undoing Adele’s curse, she would most likely undo Adele herself, so tightly were the two bound. But even this might fail, for Glenda was no longer certain the woman still held any regard for her own life.
The compact grew cold in Glenda’s hands. Perhaps she had miscalculated. Had she waited too long? Had the woman’s pain overtaken her so fully that it was all that remained?
A frosty film covered the tiny make-up mirror.
“I’ll go,” her childhood friend said.
And then the mirror in Glenda’s hand shattered into small pieces.
Gramps put the phone on speaker. It rang several times, but no one picked up. It was well past The Goode Witch’s regular hours, but then it had been when Hillary had called before.
The phone buzzed.
“You’ve got a text,” Brad said, but then he looked at Hillary in confusion.
She shrugged. Brad was right—she was the one most likely to be texting her grandpa. Then she remembered the text with the virtual memorial web address. She grabbed the phone off the counter and swiped at the screen with a little too much force.
Brad — Speak from your heart. Walter — Answer your door.
She flipped the phone around so Brad and Gramps could read the message.
“Is that what I think it is?” Hillary asked.
“Words of wisdom from Glenda? I bet so.” Brad pointed at Gramps. “You probably should answer the door.”
The doorbell rang.
An eerie silence fell, then suddenly all three of them moved toward the door at once. Rather than jostle one another—or run into the cold dense air space that was Brad—Gramps went first.
He also opened the door, but she and Brad were right behind him.
A pink sundress, a pastel fitted sweater, cute sandals. Not what Hillary expected from the wickedest witch in Texas. Adele Galloway looked like a soccer mom. All five feet three inches of her. Hillary had just catalogued the shiny blonde bob and the pink lip gloss when she made her way to Adele’s eyes. Cold, hard, passionless. Not good.
Hillary casually inched closer to Brad. This woman was no soccer mom.
“Mrs. Galloway?” Gramps asked. He didn’t offer his hand, but when she inclined her head, he opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Please come in.”
The group marched into the living room and spread out into three areas. Adele was the furthest from both Brad and Hillary, where they’d clumped together near the sofa, and Gramps was awkwardly placed between them.
Adele smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m here. I’m listening.” Oddly, she seemed to be addressing the mirror hanging above the sofa.
Brad exchanged a quick look with Hillary, then said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Adele. I never had the chance to tell you before.”
“I had no wish to speak with you then, nor do I now. But know this,” Her gaze moved from the mirror and pinned Brad with a laser-like focus. “Your circumstances are of your own making.”
Brad looked stumped. “If you think the accident could have been prevented—”
“I think you should have been prevented. You should never have been in her life. You didn’t understand what you had and certainly didn’t deserve it.” Adele’s gaze had again moved to the mirror.
Hillary glanced nervously at the mirror. But it looked the same as it always had, like a normal mirror. She thought her grandmother had put it in there to make the room look bigger. Epic fail. The room felt much, much too small right now.
“I know this may not be of great comfort, but she was happy. She knew she was loved and she was happy.” Brad looked incredibly sad.
Looking at him, Hillary realized Grace may have died eight years ago and that event may be in the distant past, but he’d only recently regained his memories of her. He must still be dealing with his grief. And to have this horrible woman and her nasty curse to contend with on top of that. Ugh. She would shoot the evil witch if she had a gun. Good thing Gramps had a gun safe, or she’d be looking at some serious time in the pokey.
“You say she was happy. All I know is that she’s dead. She left to be with you, and now she’s dead.” Adele’s cold dispassionate response wasn’t what Hillary would have expected from a mother speaking of a child’s death.
A shimmer from the mirror caught Hillary’s eye, and she turned to see that it was emitting a soft glow.
Glenda’s voice emanated from the mirror’s surface. “You say I don’t hear. Listen to yourself, Adele. Hear yourself speaking. Your daughter didn’t abandon you for the Sherwood boy. She had enough love for both of you.”
“No. She didn’t. We’d argued. She said she didn’t want to choose, but I was making her. She chose him.” Adele turned a nasty look on Brad. “And look what you did. You took that gift like it was nothing. And now she’s gone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Brad sank down onto the edge of the sofa. He seemed to carefully consider his words. “I do know she loved you. And you both would have worked out your differences. But something terrible happened before you could do that.”
“We never had that chance. Now’s she’s gone, and she left this world with hate in her heart for her own mother. You made her hate.”
“No. She could never hate you.” Brad was speaking, but Adele wasn’t listening.
And then Hillary drew a connection. A parallel she hadn’t seen, but seemed especially relevant now. “Brad—I’m sorry, I mean Steve has a mother.”
Adele’s gaze flew to Hillary, and her eyes narrowed to slits. But she didn’t say anything.
“Steve’s mom has no idea where he is. The police think he killed himself, because he disappeared on the anniversary of your daughter’s death. But there’s no body.” Hillary swallowed. She was rambling a little, but Adele was listening. For now. “So, there’s no body, that means that Steve’s mom doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead. But it’s been years, so by now she’s probably thinking he’s dead. She might even have started to believe that he killed himself. And she’ll wonder if she could have done something, said something. She’ll wonder why he didn’t ask for help. Or if he did, and she missed it.” Hillary gulped, swallowing past a huge lump in her throat. “You’ve stolen another mother’s child away from her.”
Hillary had been talking so fast, trying to keep Adele’s attention that she’d run out of breath. But she’d also run out of things to say. What else could she say to appeal to a woman so cold?
But Adele’s face had changed. There was no sympathy there, but she’d lost the rigid tense look. Now, her face was blank.
The mirror lit up from within, and Glenda spoke. “Spare the woman some pain. You’ve had your solitary grief for seven years. Let this boy’s mother know some peace.”
As Glenda spoke, the corners of Adele’s mouth slowly turned down until her face look
ed simply tired.
“Do this because it’s right.” Glenda’s voice made ripples across the mirror’s surface.
Adele’s face tensed, then she sneered. “I do this because I choose to live. This is not right.”
But Hillary thought she might be lying. She wasn’t sure what threats Glenda had made and why Adele thought her own life was on the line, but she had seen the change in her when focus had shifted from Brad to his mom. If the crazy powerful witch lady needed an excuse to break her curse—okay.
“Wait. Where’d she go?” Hillary hadn’t even blinked. Adele had been there and then she was gone.
“Don’t know; don’t care,” Brad said just a fraction of a second before he grabbed Hillary in a bear hug and swung her around in a circle.
“I’ll be danged.” Gramps gave a happy little hoot.
Brad set her down and let go of her. She was a little light-headed—because he was real, solid, totally substantial, not ghostly. Wow.
Brad had already walked over to her grandpa and given the old guy a huge hug by the time her head had stopped spinning.
“That was it.” Hillary felt like the queen of obvious, but someone had to say something.
Brad laughed and clapped his hands together. A satisfyingly loud sound resulted. “That’s right. That was it.” A huge grin was plastered across his face, revealing that adorable dimple she’d only caught a few times.
Chapter 19
Hillary had left Gramps and Brad toasting each other. Repeatedly. Brad had been bodiless for more than seven years, and the first thing he did with his newly reacquired physical self was to get drunk with her grandpa. Pretty funny actually. But not her gig. After giving Beth an update, she sank lower in her warm bath. After a good night’s sleep, she’d feel much better.
Unfortunately, Brad wouldn’t be so lucky. He had some difficult questions to answer and a lot of planning to do. A man can’t disappear off the planet for seven years, suddenly reappear, and expect no repercussions. And all of that had to be sorted before he could reach out to his mom. Rotten stuff on the heels of such a smashing victory. She could see the appeal of a few drinks and a night of celebration before tackling those new challenges.
