Uh, no way.
But Sal’s feet were coming faster now, his insidious footsteps, the rasp of his breath lending to sheer terror like I’ve never known.
So I did it. I ran for that rope like it was the only thing to grab on to that would keep me from falling off the edge of the planet.
The coarse material ripped at my hands as I gripped it, wrapping it around my restrained wrists, panic making me push off the step just as Sal grabbed at my right foot, his fingers slipping off my ankle with a howl of rage.
“Ahhh!” As I flew across the entryway and headed into the parlor, where I was sure I was going to fall to my death, I screamed again.
My scream was matched by Sal’s bone-chilling howl, making me swivel my head to see him fall head first over the banister. His skull hit the table saw with a sick thud before he landed on the entryway floor, a pool of blood spreading out behind his ebony hair.
But Win gave me yet another order. “Don’t look back again, Stevie! Look down and the minute you see the parlor floor, drop, tuck, roll!”
Honest, as I flew over the entryway and into the parlor, I’m not sure I had a choice but to drop because my entire being shook with fear.
“Drop, Stevie! Drop now!”
So, I dropped, probably fifteen feet or so, definitely much higher than the window at Madam Z’s, and fell to the floor on my arm in a crumpling heap.
So much for tuck and roll.
Then there were flashlights and sirens and people yelling and Sandwich on crutches, kneeling down beside me. “Stevie! Don’t move. Stay right there,” he ordered, suddenly sounding incredibly authoritative. “Here, let me get the tape off your wrists.”
But I had to see if Sal was really dead, so I sat up, my body bruised and battered, my feet bloody and raw.
Win’s warmth surrounded me all at once. “Stevie. Don’t look anymore. You’ve seen enough. Please.”
“But Sal…what if—”
“He didn’t,” Win reassured me in soft words. “He’s gone. There’s nothing to fear.”
Sandwich confirmed what Win told me as he took the tape from my wrists with gentle hands. “It’s all okay now, Stevie. There’s nothing to worry about where he’s concerned.”
And then I remembered Forrest, his arm wounded from a bullet, his head gushing blood. “Forrest!”
The paramedics arrived with gurneys and blood pressure cuffs, heading toward the kitchen, but I had to see for myself if Forrest was all right.
I fought to move them out of my way, but Sandwich was back in my line of vision again. “It’s okay, Stevie. Forrest’s gonna be just fine. We got the pizza delivery kid, too. He’s okay. Now, let the people do their job and make sure you’re okay. You took quite a shiner to the eye. Doc at the hospital’s gonna wanna look at that.”
Heaving a sigh of relief, I allowed the paramedics to put me on a gurney and wheel me out of the house to the ambulance.
“Do as Sardine says,” Win said. “I’ll be here the whole way. Promise.”
And he was, right up until the moment they wanted to admit me. But I had Belfry to consider and no way to explain his existence. So after giving the police another statement, I took the script for pain meds, promised to see the eye doctor for my trashed eyeball, tucked the sling for my sprained arm against my body and let Sandwich drive me home.
“Wish you’d have at least stayed the night, Stevie. Your eye’s all kinda colors,” he remarked with a smile just as dawn was breaking over the horizon, the drizzle of a new day arriving in the way of splotches of rain.
“What kind of accused murderer would I be if I couldn’t take a right hook to the eye?” I joked, forcing myself to keep things light.
“About that,” Sandwich said, his face somber, his eyes tired. “I was just doing my job. Sometimes it’s hard to separate that from friendship, Stevie. I have to keep things professional, but I never thought you hurt that nice lady.”
I smiled until it hurt my eye. “Are we friends now, Sandwich?”
He held out his hand and grinned. “You bet. Now lemme get you up this mudslide and inside where it’s warm.”
“And how are you going to do that with a sprained ankle? It’s enough you already did it once today. I’ll be fine, Sandwich. Promise. You go home and get some rest.” I propped open the door and dropped out of the police cruiser.
Sandwich held up a hand and waved to me just before I turned to fight my way up those crumbling stairs. “Driveway, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom. Before we put coffee-urinating sculptures of David and waterfalls in the kitchen—a driveway, please.”
He cackled his rich laugh. “A driveway for the lady it is.”
I successfully made it to the front steps to find Enzo waiting for me, steaming cup of coffee in hand, the first smile I’d seen on his face since I met him.
“Thought you could use this,” he said, gruff and short. “Heard all the commotion on the scanner and came right over. Took care of that mess, too. Police said I could after they finished up here. Didn’t want you coming home to that.”
Tears welled in my eyes, tears of gratitude. “Oh, Enzo, thank you so much. I…” I couldn’t finish my sentence as he led me inside where, as promised, everything was cleaned up.
“Nah, you don’t have to thank me. You go get some rest. I won’t be bangin’ around down here much today, but I’ll be here if ya need me.” With that, he sauntered down the hall to the kitchen, leaving me with more thank yous on my lips.
“Let’s get you your medication, a hot bath and then bed,” Win suggested.
I nodded, taking my coffee up the steps, avoiding the rope, and heading straight to my bedroom.
Upon entry, I was thrilled to find a small table by the bed with aspirin and a squeaky-clean glass for water. “Man, Enzo really thought of everything, huh?”
“He’s a prince among thieves,” Win remarked.
Belfry flew at me, landing on my shoulder and snuggling against my neck with a sigh. “That was some close call, Stevie! You scared the pants off me.”
I rubbed my cheek against his soft body as I made my way into the bathroom. “You don’t wear pants.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t scare me. You okay?”
Setting my coffee on the edge of the cracked sink, I nodded. “I’m alive, thanks to Win and you. If you hadn’t called 9-1-1, Bel…” I shuddered at the thought before forcing myself to shake it off.
“Say that again?”
“I said—”
“Not you, Stevie. Hold on one second. I’m getting something…”
Leaning back against the sink, I took a sip of the most delicious coffee ever and waited.
Suddenly, Win’s warmth surrounded me again, only this time it came with a very different feeling. There were all sorts of emotions mingling with the gentle nudge I’d come to realize was Win’s way of comforting me.
I stood up straight, the hair at the nape of my neck standing on end. “Win? What’s going on?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s Madam Zoltar, Stevie.” His voice was thick, chock full of the usual richness, but richer, if that were possible.
“Did you tell her we did it, Win?” I asked, my own voice hitching.
“I did. She says thank you. Thank you for everything. Oh, she’s brilliantly clear now, Stevie. She sounds smashing.”
I smiled as a lone tear slipped from my eye. “Tell her I’ll check in on Liza from time to time, would you?”
“She asked if you’d do her a small favor,” he said, his words almost sounding choked.
“Anything,” I murmured.
“She has a message for Chester.”
That warmth I had come to find familiar heightened, as though someone had thrown a log on the fire, making it leap with a sudden burst of heat. This warmth encompassed not just my physical being, but settled deep within my soul, and words—words of gratitude and direction—popped into my brain as though MZ had dropped them in a mail slot.
And everything was cle
ar—so clear.
“Tell her of course I will.” I couldn’t say anything more, words escaped me, and as I stroked Bel’s tiny head, I felt the link I’d once felt to the afterlife again. It was weak and thready, but it was still there briefly, before it evaporated and slipped away.
“She’s gone over,” Win whispered low.
I smiled and nodded as more tears fell down my face. “I know…”
And then both Win and I sighed a happy sigh—together.
* * * *
Two Weeks Later
I sat with Win on our newly installed front porch steps, enjoying the warmth of the sun on an unusually, unseasonably bright day in March, grateful my vision was still intact after the right hook I’d taken from Sal.
I’d been exonerated of all charges, especially since Forrest had heard Sal tell me he killed Madam Z. His statement to that effect was the final nail in Sal’s coffin and officially closed the case. Forrest was healing nicely, though he’d groused about the four stitches in his head while we shared a cup of that long-awaited coffee just yesterday.
I’d just come back from the doctor, who’d assured me my vision was still 20/20 and the fracture behind my eye was healing nicely. The sprain in my arm was almost one hundred percent, too.
I grabbed the bag from Target and pulled out a frame with a debonair man’s picture used for the insert. He had steely-blue eyes, hair the color of a starless Texas night and a chiseled jaw.
“New boyfriend?” Win asked.
“Nope. He’s you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He’s you. I’m tired of talking to the air, Win, and seeing as you won’t tell me anything about you and what you look like, I’ll just use this. Every time I talk to you, I’ll break out this picture frame, and this way I’ll have a face to go with all that snippy British sophistication.”
He laughed in my ear. “I’m not snippy.”
I held up the black frame with crisp edges, turning it around against the sun. “He’s cute, don’t you think? Very spy-like.”
Win scoffed. “I look nothing like that. Nothing.”
I clucked my tongue. “That’s too bad. He’s pretty cute. So show me a picture of what you really look like and let me decide if you look like him.”
“I told you, all in due time, Stevie.”
Yeah. He’d said that about how he was able to communicate with me, too. All in due time, Stevie. When the time is right, Stevie.
Truthfully, I didn’t really mind him not sharing his past. Sure, I was endlessly curious about how he’d died and what he looked like, but I could wait because I liked him. He made me laugh. We’d spent a lot of time together while I recuperated, and between him and Belfry, they’d helped me begin to shape this new life of mine.
I didn’t want to rock that boat just yet, so I’d let it rest. I hadn’t scoured the Internet for information about him or the prior owner of the house out of respect.
For the immediate future, I was learning things about myself I never knew. I’d begun to take a yoga class or two when realizing how out of shape I was after my encounter with Sal, taking it slow because of my sprained arm.
I took long walks by the shores of the Sound. I sat and watched the waves from my bedroom window almost every day now. I spent my nights watching Netflix or scouring the Internet for items Win wanted for the house while Belfry gave us his opinion about them whether we wanted it or not.
When everyone in town found out what happened with Sal, as easily as they’d scorned me for allegedly killing one of their own, the flip side of it was, they’d welcomed me back into the fold with open arms. Casseroles and apologies were what Ebenezer Falls was all about, and I had plenty of the former in my shiny French-door chef’s refrigerator delivered just yesterday.
I’d been invited to several functions, bake sales, house parties, and any number of different celebrations once I recuperated, and I intended to start throwing myself back into the world again very soon.
For now, I was content to just breathe easier knowing Belfry and I had a place to hang our hats and I wasn’t going to die if I wasn’t a witch.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to hope someday, somehow, I’d find a way to rejoin my coven, but if this was my life for the moment, I’d take it.
Looking out over the wide expanse of what would eventually be the front lawn, but was now mostly mud, I smiled as Chester Sherwood waved to me from a horseshoe section he’d cordoned off with tomato plant sticks and string. He made his way to the front porch when he saw me, his stout body taking each step with forceful determination.
“He looks quite well, doesn’t he?” Win commented.
I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest and smiling fondly as Chester hiked up his signature red suspenders. “He looks great. I heard a rumor he was seeing Lavinia Stapleton, but she can’t seem to get him to commit to being her full-time boyfriend.”
“Maybe our message will help him let go?”
Smiling fondly, I bobbed my head. “I hope so.”
“Mornin’, Stevie!” Chester chirped, his eyes bright with the prospect of helping me design the front garden. “Ya look good, kiddo. Told ya that doc would fix ya right up.”
I grinned at him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “He did indeed. But forget me, how are you, Casanova? I hear you’ve been courting one Lavinia Stapleton.”
He blushed and tweaked my cheek with his calloused fingers. “She’s a fine old gal. Makes a helluva chicken casserole, too.”
I’d given my next words a lot of thought, about how I’d approach the subject of Violet, Chester’s deceased wife. I’d decided after his relationship with Madam Zoltar and his wish to believe in the afterlife because of his wife, he’d be okay with what I had to pass on.
“You know, Chester, I had a dream the other night. You know who was in it?”
“Better not be me. I’m too old for a pretty spry thing like you.”
Chuckling, I said, “If only I was forty years older, but you weren’t in the dream. Though, I think it had to do with you. Now, Madam Zoltar? She was in my dream. Clear as day, happy, smiling, wearing a really pretty caftan in teal blue with splashes of pink. Wanna know what she said to me in the dream? Because it was the funniest thing, and I’m not sure I understand it…”
Chester’s eyes showed interest when he nodded. “I sure like hearin’ she’s lookin’ well. What’d she say?”
I grabbed his hand and held it. “She said she wanted me to tell you that Violet is as lovely as you said she was, and maybe even prettier than you described. And then she said something I don’t understand. She said Violet told her to tell you, if she got to the lilac bush down by her father’s farm before you did, she’d wait for you.”
Chester took his white hat with the brown band around it off his head and held it at his heart, his eyes faraway. “She really said that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Squeezing his hand, I nodded and smiled, swallowing hard so I wouldn’t burst into tears. “She did,” I whispered.
Chester visibly gulped, using his shoulder to wipe at his eyes. “Used to meet her down there when we were courtin’. It was our favorite spot, and it’s where I proposed. It was our little secret place…nobody knows about it but us two…” His voice hitched, thick with emotion.
And that was how I knew I’d done the right thing.
Hopping up, I hugged him hard and he hugged me back. Then he set me from him, his hands at my waist, and said, “You’re a good girl, Stevie. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.”
“Told you I’d make you like me eventually,” I teased, dropping a kiss on his cheek before he wandered back down to the garden, a watery smile of wonder on his face.
Brushing the tears from my eyes with my thumb, I plopped back down on the steps and sighed.
“You’re a kind woman, Stevie Cartwright.”
“I bet you say that to all the people you’ve dumped in the middle of a murder.”
“Funny you should
mention murder, because I have a question about that night with Sal. Do you think you’re up to it?”
I didn’t shrink from the subject of Sal at all; I wanted to face it head-on so I could rid myself of the terror he’d instilled in me. I wouldn’t let him haunt me. “I’m up for it.”
“Who do you suppose called him to tip him off about the change in my will? My suspicions lead me to wonder if it was someone from Paris?”
That was the one thing I still hadn’t come to terms with, but I had my suspicions, too. “I have a horrible feeling it was Adam Westfield’s wife, Ann. He might not be here on this plane, but he’s a powerful warlock, Win, with plenty of ways to reach out. Because he’s instilled such terror in her, if anyone could talk that woman into doing something like that, it’s him.”
“So powerful he could get a message to her to do something that awful?”
“Well, you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you? And I’m not even a witch anymore. If what you say is true, and this experiment you were so vague about is what helped you contact a mere mortal, it’s obviously possible. If Adam had even an inkling Sal would come after me, if he sensed evil in Sal and a way to utilize it, he’d do it just because he wants the rest of my days to suck butt. But that also means you need to watch your back, Win. If Adam was responsible for Sal, if he can reach out in death, he can certainly get to you in the afterlife.”
“I don’t like hearing this, Stevie. That he can manipulate people from beyond the grave in such a dire manner is reason for concern. As for me? I’d love to see him try.”
“We have no way to know for sure. Just keep your eyes and ears open and we’ll revisit if necessary. Okay?” If I lingered too long on the kind of reach Adam Westfield did or didn’t have, I’d never get out of bed again.
“Done.”
“Okay, let’s talk happier stuff. Like my visit to the doctor.”
Win’s laughter, warm and husky, echoed in my ear. “So what say the doctor? Are we fit as a fiddle again?”
Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1) Page 18
