All Delilah could think was, the only person Brandon had to protect himself from was me. All in all, she only felt lower. Still, she agreed to let Tristan look for spells, as he seemed pretty immovable on that topic.
He went into her living area, dragging her behind. She kept a lighter on the bookshelf just in case someone was there when she needed a flame and neither of them was up for even the momentary focus needed for a spark. Also, neither was in the mood for the effort of a good clean ritual. A battery sparked propane flame wasn’t really the way it should be done, but Delilah was beyond caring.
Tristan talked while he held the lighter to the bark and waited for the wood to catch. “The thing is, that receipt was paid in cash. Almost nobody pays in cash anymore. So I pulled up old cash receipts, since without a credit card number or an account I can’t really trace his purchases.”
Tristan let the stick burn until about half of it was engulfed in orange flames. The telltale greenish tinge at the center let you know it was real birch bark, properly culled. Then he blew out the fire, turning the stick into a billow of clean grey smoke. Still he waited. “There were a handful of other purchases in cash over the past week. Maybe he came in before the time Becky saw him, I really have no way of knowing, but there were several that showed basic set-up purchases. That would mean he’s been in more than once.”
She nodded. It all made sense. Really bad sense.
“I brought the receipts. I need them back, but I thought you might want to look at them, maybe you’ll see something I didn’t. Maybe you can scry and see if they are his purchases or not.”
Delilah shook her head no. She didn’t want to, it seemed she’d violated Brandon’s privacy quite enough. Still, Tristan insisted that he leave them, and that she return them. Then he set about covering her in the smoke.
It didn’t take three seconds to see that it was clinging. A fine sheen shrouded her everywhere with great globs clinging to her hair and legs. A mass swirled around her lower torso.
Tristan raised his eyes.
Delilah sighed. The fine sheen was from Tristan and herself—thin layers of safety spells and prayers for general health. A good witch did work like that. The globs were caused by beginners, by someone casting things they didn’t quite understand or control.
Delilah avoided the real subject. There was a new spell on her, one of the clearer, cleaner layers of smoke. “What did you cast on me, Tristan?”
“A protection spell.”
She snorted. “A day late and a candle short.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve been doing it every week since you were in the hospital.”
A tear leaked from her eye. She hadn’t been in the hospital since David and Jules died. All this time . . . They’d all been taught to do it themselves, keep themselves safe. Tristan would have known that she’d lapsed. “Thank you.”
“For what it was worth.” He indicated the blobs of birch bark smoke that were slowly sifting away.
She walked to the bookshelf and pulled down the incenser. She added sage and lavender and a sprinkling of poppy then lit the thing. It would help dissipate the birch bark smoke. While the smell of burnt black birch wasn’t unpleasant, it wasn’t exactly nice either.
Tristan said his good-byes and asked her again to check the receipts.
She smiled, having no intention of doing it. What was done was done. She’d have to talk to Brandon anyway, and she shouldn’t go off half-cocked because of some receipt that may or may not be his.
Still she was drawn to the slips spread out on the table. She held tightly to the one she knew was his, the list Becky had identified as being bought by the man she’d said was named Brandon. One by one, Delilah went through each of them, first eyeing them analytically. Then, when that yielded nothing, she pulled out a pendulum and asked if the purchase had been made by Brandon, even though she’d sworn she wasn’t going to do it. Each time the pendulum swung counterclockwise, indicating ‘no.’
Delilah gave up. It had been a waste of time and she wasn’t sure what Tristan thought she’d find anyway. She hopped in the shower again, to quickly rinse off the smoke she could still smell. It was likely all in her imagination, but she felt better after she did it.
She turned her face up to the spray while her scrubbie dangled from her fingers, and for some reason that yielded a thought. Tristan had that one purchase, just a while ago. The one he’d yelled at Yasmin about. The person who’d bought the set-up and the Almanac.
In her grasp, the scrubbie began to swing clockwise for ‘yes.’
Crap.
Chapter 35
Brandon was surprised to see Delilah waiting on his front porch steps. She was perched on the top step with her feet tucked up under her and she was staring off into space. She looked sweet and fresh and was definitely a welcome sight.
Yesterday had been a shock. He’d gotten up and gone to work only because he had to. There was too much to do, too much to make up from missing yesterday afternoon entirely. He spent the day wishing Delilah had work tonight, so she could do something to take her mind off the missing baby. But now that she was here on his front porch steps, he was happy she didn’t.
His brain told him he shouldn’t be so glad she was here. Baby or not, there was still a lot to work out. But, as usual, he couldn’t fight the rising tide of emotion in him.
Her clothes were different from what she’d worn the day before, and she was outside. So he guessed that she’d gone home, locking up behind herself, then when she came back she was locked out. He’d never given her a key. He thought about asking her to move in with him, but he didn’t know who those thoughts belonged to, so he made a point never to act on them. So here she was stuck on his front porch, untrustworthy, but somehow still welcome.
He parked his SUV in the back and trotted around to where she was. She seemed to be looking up for him, so she must have broken out of the spell she was in when he went right past her down the driveway. He smiled and sank down next to her, managing to keep his hands to himself. “Hey, Lilah. How are you holding up?”
She nodded, “Coming to grips with it.”
She looked back out over the sky. The afternoon was late, just sliding into the bright early part of evening. He heard Delilah take a deep breath but she didn’t say anything. Brandon joined her in her silence, just looking out across the street, at the cars going by. In the background were a few tall apartment complexes and large trees hid most of the city in the distance. While the view itself was enclosed, the sounds filtered in: the rumbling of tires on the beat up roads around the corner. Birds in the trees overhead. Front doors and car doors opening and closing. Brandon heard it all for maybe the first time.
Eventually Delilah smacked at her leg, clearly the little no-see-ums were coming out. Brandon broke the silence around them and suggested they go inside. He emptied his pockets just beyond the front door and started into the kitchen for a drink.
“Brandon.”
The word hung behind him, her voice sounded sad. But that didn’t take a genius. Turning, he saw her face matched the sound. She needed to be held, and he needed to hold her. He crossed the five feet to where she was, engulfing her in his arms, surprised when she stiffened. As though she didn’t want, or hadn’t intended to be hugged. After a moment she relaxed into him, making him feel better if not her.
She buried her face against him, but didn’t cry. Her arms hugged him around the waist, tight. After a few moments he felt her take a deep breath. Then she looked up at him and stepped back.
“Brandon, I’m a witch.”
He nodded. “I know.” The words were too simple for the relief he felt. For the flood of hope that finally she was opening up. That maybe they were getting on the right track at last.
But his arms were still loosely around her. Because of that he could feel that her body didn’t ease at the knowledge the way his did. Even so, her next words surprised him. “I know you know.”
When he blinked, she sighed
, then continued. “My brother owns Blessed Be. He and another regular saw you there. Buying birch bark sticks.” She laughed a little, in a way that was almost, but not quite, natural. “You way overbought. You only needed one. The store was out of stock for almost a week.”
He only nodded in return, still processing all of it.
Delilah gave him something he could work with though. “How did you know to go there in the first place? What tipped you off?”
“A school fair psychic, and some Indian man who wanted five bucks to tell me my fortune.”
“Seriously? What did they say?”
Brandon took a deep breath. While he was glad it was all coming out, that didn’t mean it was easy telling her everything. In fact, he’d expected a big confession on her part with little work needed from him. But he learned a long time ago with Delilah things often didn’t go the way he predicted. “The Indian man said I had spells on me. Then I saw the store and just walked in, hoping to find something helpful. When I went in, they asked if I was there for the beginner’s class. So I said yes.”
He shrugged.
Delilah laughed. Again it was almost natural.
“That means you met Yasmin. And you met my brother.”
Brandon nodded. “I wondered. It is LA, so there could be a million Tristans. But it made sense that it would be your Tristan running a witchcraft shop when already I knew his sister was a witch.” Almost embarrassed to admit it, he added. “I didn’t go back after I figured it out.”
Turning away, Delilah paced the room for a moment. She looked to be winding up to something. Brandon figured he knew her at least that well. He wondered what she was going to throw at him next, but wasn’t prepared for what she told him.
“I grew up as a witch. My folks were both Wiccan, us kids were raised that way. Juliet was the youngest and the most powerful. I’m so sorry about what I did to you. I know what it’s like to be cast on. To wonder if your thoughts are your own.”
She trailed her hand across the books that lined his shelf, over the few pictures he had framed. She looked small and sad and he was suddenly willing to forgive her anything. Her voice stopped him. Soft but strong, she continued her story, and Brandon became still, not wanting to do anything that would interrupt the telling. He needed to hear the whole thing.
“David and I got married when I was twenty-three. He died four years later. I just found out he and Juliet were having an affair when I decided to divorce him just a month before they died. I still have no idea how long the affair was going on.”
She took a deep breath. “I found out about them the last time by walking in on them in bed together.”
Brandon’s heart broke at the way her shoulders caved and her head shook back and forth just a little, like she was calling herself all kinds of stupid. But he didn’t interrupt.
“They acted upset. Juliet said she was sorry. While she was putting on her clothes she apologized, said it happened just the one time. David seemed shocked and a little confused, but Juliet waved her hand at him. I didn’t recognize the communication for what it was, I was in such shock myself. My head was reeling and I kept seeing that image of them in bed together in my mind.”
Her breath sucked in. “It never occurred to me that David would cheat. Or that Juliet would be the one he would do it with. But I kicked him out. Right there while he was still naked and Juliet was heading out the door. Just before she left, she told David she’d ‘take care of it’ and I can only guess now that meant me. But she couldn’t take care of it, because I threw his clothes into a suitcase and called the locksmith the second I bolted the door behind him.”
She sank down onto the couch now, as though there wasn’t enough energy to hold her up. Brandon stood motionless, the way you did when you saw a deer and didn’t want to scare it. He wanted this. Wanted to know all of this.
“I called Tristan. He intervened. He tried to make peace, but agreed Juliet was in the wrong and David was a snake. He tried to get me to forgive her since it was just the once. As the days went by, I did. I started to forgive her. I realized I was pregnant, and I began to think I could save my marriage. I thought it was the right thing to do. Tristan agreed to help me because it was what I wanted.
“Then I went to Juliet and found out she was pregnant, too. Which meant the time I caught them hadn’t even been close to the first time. That she was five months along meant she’d flat out lied to me. Then she cast on me, tried to get me to come back and forgive her, but I fought it.
“I went home, got out the birch bark and looked around the house. She hadn’t cast any spells on my house, and I thought everything was clean. But then I turned around and saw that the smoke was following me, in this big thick layer. Juliet had cast on me time and again. I still don’t know exactly how many times I figured out they were sleeping together and she made me forget each time.”
Delilah sunk her face into her hands, not quite in tears, but unable to deal with anything around her. Brandon was unable to deal with letting her sit there by herself. He sank down beside her, pulling her back against the cushions and cradling her in his arms. He was grateful she allowed the gesture. But he still didn’t have any idea what to say. After a few moments, Delilah went on.
“I undid her work. It took a while, but I peeled the layers and started remembering. I caught them together on at least three different occasions. Each time Juliet cleaned up the mess, meaning me. She was good; she got through my protection spells and she made me forget.
“I have no real idea if David was in love with her, wanted her, or if she’d worked him over, too. But when I remembered, I found out that David had on several occasions pressed her to make me forget. So he wasn’t innocent. And you can’t pull people that far.”
What? Brandon frowned down at her until she caught on and explained what she meant.
“You can’t make them cluck like a chicken. The ‘forget’ spells were welcome to me because what I saw was so painful part of me wanted to forget. Because I didn’t want it to be true. And if David truly wanted me and only me . . . well, Juliet wouldn’t have been able to get very far. Then again, my parents had died, one right after the other the previous year and I’d been in a shell myself. So maybe David had a good reason to stray.”
“Wait a minute.” Brandon grabbed her arms and hauled her around to face him. “I thought he married you. Is there something different and non-binding about Wiccan marriages?”
Delilah blinked. Maybe he’d handled her a little too harshly, but he was upset. “No. If anything a Wiccan marriage is supposed to be more binding.”
“Then what happened to ‘in sickness and in health’? He’s supposed to stand by you when you need him, like, oh, say, your parents die.” Brandon was surprised by the depths of feeling Delilah’s self-doubt caused him. He wanted to write it off to his issues with cheating, but honestly thought more of it was due to his issues with Delilah.
She shook her head, making Brandon sick at the thought that she was going to defend David’s behavior. “I wasn’t there really. I was so sad I was lost. So how was he supposed to maintain a marriage to me?”
“That’s the point. I don’t know how. And he didn’t have to either, but it was his job to figure it out.”
“Well he didn’t. And he paid for it.”
Brandon remembered the school fair psychic, telling him that Delilah’s past was dark. And something omniscient ran up his spine. “I don’t understand.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he was certain that he needed to.
“I told you, I saw David’s car coming up the street.” He could tell she was upset just at the telling. Her breathing had changed, but so had something else about her. She was going to get this off her chest. “I had just come out the front of the house. I needed fresh air to make up for all the work of undoing Juliet’s spells on me. I saw the car and I got so angry. I pushed them off the road.”
She got very quiet.
“Wait. You told me there was another car the
re. There wasn’t?”
“There was. It sideswiped them.”
“Then how did you push them off?” How could she possibly think she was responsible? Besides, a slip of a person like her couldn’t push a car.
She didn’t look at him. “Did you read that Almanac you bought? There’s a lot of information in there.”
He hadn’t read the whole thing, it was huge.
She offered up some wisdom. “A spell works best when it can take time, when things can play into it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. She’d gone from being sad to making very little sense.
“Like if I wanted the remote to be on top of the TV.” She pointed to where it rested on the arm of the chair. “Right now I would have to cast a spell that would lift it and move it there. Or teleport it. That’s a lot of energy. But if I cast the spell even a few hours early, or if someone was walking around here, then the remote would have energy to it. It would have almost wanted to be on top of the TV and someone would have put it there. Almost unconsciously.”
“That’s not what most people think of when they think of witchcraft.”
Delilah practically snorted. “Most people don’t have a clue. It isn’t moonlight dances and lightning from your fingertips. Hell, I never met anyone who rode a broom, and I know some damn fine witches.”
He had to laugh at that. “But you didn’t have time. I can’t imagine that you would have set that up in advance to kill them.”
“I didn’t. It was snap. But there was a car there, and I saw in my mind David going over the side of the rail a moment before the other car swerved for no reason.” She was getting more upset as she talked about it. “I did it.”
“Honey. Are you really even that powerful?”
She cried, silent tears running down her cheeks as her head tilted to the side and he felt something go through him. A feeling, a wind, something. She held her hand out to the room, as though to say ‘look.’
He’d kept a handful of the candles he’d bought, thinking they’d be good for light if the power went out. Every one of them flickered back at him. Even the little scent light for when he burned dinner, or when there’d been too much pizza and beer in the house the day before.
WishCraft Page 26
