After five minutes of checking doorways and alleys, I come up empty. But just as I turn to head back home, convinced I’ve imagined it again, I catch a scent that seems out of place. I slowly inhale to take in the woodsy scent fully. I’m not sure why, but my heart sinks when I confirm it isn’t coming from any of the trees lining the street. Instead, it smells exactly like Rule’s masculine soap.
He isn’t a witch, of that I’m sure. I sense none of the darkness inherent in witches, no discernible energy signature. So why is he so interested in me, especially when he didn’t act like most guys do around me? I was thankful for his lack of reaction at first, but now I wonder if his not being mesmerized by me is a confirmation that something is actually off about him. The same something that had made him hesitate and pull back at the library.
Only one way to find out. I let my sense of smell lead me down the alley to the next street over. As I exit the alley onto Front Street, the scent angles to the left and across, straight into a shop. The oval sign hanging over the front door says Wiccan Good Herbs. I edge into the darker shadows next to the buildings on my side of the street. From that vantage point, I watch as Rule walks behind the counter and gives an older woman a kiss on the cheek.
I close my eyes and search the building with my senses. There’s a slight vibration I can’t identify, and I don’t like not knowing. I fight the sudden urge to storm inside and seek out the source, to demand to know why Rule was following me. I’m sick and tired of questions and burn with the need for answers. I manage to keep myself from following through on the urge. Barreling headlong into the unknown doesn’t seem like the best tactic if I want to stay under the coven radar, if I want to stay alive.
I want to believe this is nothing more than a boy being attracted to me, but my instincts are insisting there is something else going on. And my instincts are rarely wrong.
“Tell me again why you’re dragging me to an herb shop,” Egan says as he parks the Jeep half a block down from Wiccan Good Herbs. “Haven’t I done enough with my fabulous computer mojo?”
I give him a squinty-eyed stare. “You’re backup. There is something wonky going on here, and I don’t want to walk into a trap alone.”
“So I get to walk into the trap with you. Some friend you are. I really am of better use alive.”
“Maybe we’ll find an herb here that can give you some modesty.”
“Modesty’s overrated.”
I roll my eyes and slip out of the Jeep. I’m halfway to the shop before Egan catches up with me.
“You sure you just don’t have the hots for this guy?”
I stop and turn toward him. “That might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me.”
He holds up his hands. “Sorry. But you need to let go.”
“Like you have?”
“Yeah.”
“You forget you can’t lie to me anymore,” I say. “I can sense when you’re not telling the truth.”
“Well, that’s annoying,” he says.
“How about we just both acknowledge that we miss them, and that we’re probably going to miss them for a long time?”
Maybe forever.
Egan looks like he’s going to respond then stops himself and redirects his gaze down the street. “Fine.”
As we enter the shop, my nose twitches with all the fragrances.
“Be with you in a minute,” a woman calls out from beyond a curtained doorway.
Egan wanders off to the left, looking as out of place as a dog at a cat convention. He picks up a jar candle.
“Says it is spelled for protection,” he says. “Maybe we should get one, or a thousand.”
“You don’t sound as if you’re a believer.” An older woman with her hair cut short and wearing long, dangling earrings materializes from behind the curtain. Okay, so she doesn’t really materialize, but she does move so softly she barely makes a sound.
I sense a sort of . . . hum about her, and I realize Rule had it, too. I just hadn’t been able to put my finger on what was different. I use a touch of my power to dig a little deeper, pulling back layers of energy. This woman’s is unfamiliar, not witch, not mortal human. It feels like it might be benign, but it’s odd enough to make me wary. She’s Wiccan, I presume, but not like any Wiccan I’ve ever encountered. They’ve always read like normal humans, but not this woman.
“That a candle in a jar can protect me?” Egan says. “Sorry, but no.”
The older woman smiles, and as she moves closer to us, I see that one of her earrings is made up of tiny silver moons, the other of silver suns. “There are a lot of things in this world we don’t understand. A little precaution never hurt anyone.”
Hmm, that sounded remarkably like what I’d been thinking.
Egan is on the verge of saying something else, but I shoot him a warning look.
“Don’t mind my brother,” I say. “He’s just grumpy because I made him come Christmas shopping with me.”
The woman offers a warm smile that for some reason makes me think of spice cookies and hot apple cider. Another layer in what I’m sensing is a very complex person. I wonder what she’s hiding, but I know she is hiding something.
“Then I’d best help you find some gifts,” the woman says. “What are you looking for?”
I do a quick scan of the shop, looking for Rule and some answers more than anything. But my gaze spots a display of soaps in the corner, and I walk toward it as I keep scanning the interior of the shop. “Maybe some soaps.”
“Oh, these are nice, made with goat’s milk. Very good for the skin, especially this time of year when everything is so dry.”
I only half listen to the woman talk about how the soap is made. The half that isn’t listening joins Egan in sensing out the place. There’s still that odd little hum in the air, but again, it isn’t something I can identify. Maybe all this Wiccan stuff has a hint of power about it, and this woman is just more practiced than the Wiccans I’ve met before.
“I’ll take two of the lavender and one of the cucumber and melon,” I say when the woman stops talking. Luckily, both Egan and I stashed away a lot of cash before we fled our covens. At least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.
“Excellent choices,” the woman says. She grabs the soaps and heads toward the front counter. “You two just in town visiting? Your accents don’t sound local.”
“Just moved here,” I say, wondering why everyone seems to be asking about where I’m from. Are Salemites just that curious, or am I sending out some sort of “I don’t belong here” vibe? I peel back another layer and sense that the woman’s question is more than idle curiosity. But why? Is it because of whatever she’s hiding? Does she sense I’m a threat to it?
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to know what this woman doesn’t want me to know.
“Well, welcome to Salem. I’m Fiona Day.” She looks at Egan and I as if expecting a reply.
“Jax, and Mr. Grumpypants is Egan,” I say.
“What interesting names.”
Before I can focus too much on Fiona’s interest in our unusual names, another woman comes through the curtain with a blue-and-white teapot.
“Oh, just in time,” Fiona says. “This is my daughter, Adele. She’s just made some peppermint tea. You two have some before you go back out into the cold.”
“That’s okay,” I say.
“Oh, I insist. Adele has a knack for making tea.”
Not wanting to protest too much, I accept a cup of tea then jerk my head toward the pot so Egan will do the same. I have to bite my tongue to not laugh at the sight of him with a dainty teacup in his hands.
I take a sip and let the warmth and minty flavor flow through me. But just as the tea hits my stomach, I detect something a little off with the flavor. What is that? Maybe a secret ingredient? This is, after all, an herb shop. My natural suspicion flares, but I push it aside. Despite the odd feeling I get around Fiona, she’s been nothing but friendly. Just like Rule.
> My stomach twists a little, and I wonder if I dismissed my suspicion too quickly.
“Are you okay, dear?” Fiona asks.
I force a smile despite the growing discomfort in my middle. It isn’t pain exactly, but it’s not pleasant either. More like that queasy feeling you get when you eat something that’s a little past its expiration date. Maybe it’s nothing more than a mixture that doesn’t set well on my stomach. At least I hope that’s all it is.
“Yeah. I just think maybe the tea wasn’t a good idea on an empty stomach.” I glance at Egan and notice he doesn’t appear to be on the verge of singing the tea’s praises either. In fact, I sense a frisson of his dark power seeping out. I see it in his eyes, feel it in the static in the air.
We have to get out of here before he does something that will bite us in the butt big-time.
I place my tea on the counter, pull out the money for the soaps, and extend it to Fiona.
The older woman stares at me for a moment, as if she’s waiting for something to happen, then smiles and accepts the cash. “Thanks for coming in. Hope to see you again soon.”
I nod and guide Egan toward the door. When I place my hand on his back, his body is vibrating. That stirs my own power, and not in a good way. A witch’s natural instinct when threatened is to lash out, but I remind myself I don’t want to be that kind of witch anymore.
We wait until the women inside can no longer see us before either of us speaks.
“What the hell?” Egan says. “I feel like my stomach is tying in knots and I could blast those women into Vermont.”
I glance back at the herb shop. “I think something more than peppermint is in that tea.”
“But what? And why?”
“I’m not sure we’re going to like the answer to either of those questions.”
“They’re not witches,” he says.
“No, but they’re not quite human either.” If I had doubts before, they’re gone. “Maybe the covens have part-supernatural lackeys.”
“To do what, poison the tea of any witches who happen to stumble into town?”
“Maybe they’re like guard dogs, helping keep the covens secrets hidden away.” I point back at the shop. “Because they’re hiding something. I felt it.”
Egan moans and grabs his stomach. “Well, hopefully they’ll still be hiding it tomorrow when I don’t feel like my stomach is eating itself.”
He seems to be getting the worst end of the tea deal, so I take the car keys and drive us back to the cottage. By the time we get there, I’m feeling better but Egan still looks a bit green. While he goes to the bathroom, I lock the cottage door and scan the night outside. Though I don’t sense any witches, real witches anyway, something is definitely tickling my senses. It bothers me that I can’t figure out what. That just spurs me to try harder, drawing on a bit more of my magic to feel out the night. But whatever it was is gone now. Nothing out there but dormant vegetation and a slight breeze.
I try not to feel sick as the sound of Egan making himself throw up comes from the bathroom. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long and is followed by running water and the sound of him brushing his teeth. When he finally emerges, the green tinge is gone.
“Feel better?” I ask.
“My stomach’s not writhing, but I can’t say I’m going to be a big fan of tea anytime soon.” He gestures toward the window. “See anything?”
I shake my head. “Something weird is going on though.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t think trying to poison your customers would be good for business.” He walks to the sink and fills a glass with water then takes a long drink. “It was a good thing we left when we did. I felt my grip on my power slipping.”
“I know. I felt it, too.” I pace across the room.
“Maybe they’re hunters,” Egan says before taking another drink of water.
I shake my head again. “I don’t think so. Hunters are more direct in their methods. Like when Keller’s dad shot me, determined to keep my evil presence away from his son.”
Part of me wishes Keller were here. I miss his kisses, his arms around me, his knowledge of the supernatural world.
“You know what. I’m tired of dead ends,” I say. “I’m ready for some answers.”
“You, me and everyone looking for the meaning of the universe.”
“Why, or even if, I’m a white witch might not be presenting itself, but I bet we can find out why Fiona and Adele felt it necessary to drug our tea.”
Egan leans against the kitchen doorway. “You’re just going to march up and ask them?”
“Yeah. I’m in the mood for a direct approach.”
Egan smiles. “I like it.”
When we reach Wiccan Good Herbs, I use a touch of my power to unlock the front door and stride inside, Egan right behind me. Without pausing, I walk behind the counter and straight into the room behind the curtain.
Adele and Rule jump up from a small, round table covered with herbs and sachets. But Fiona remains seated and doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by our entrance.
“I thought you might be back,” Fiona says.
“What did you put in our tea?” I ask as I stroll around the edge of the room. I spare Rule a quick glance, and gone is the chipper, friendly appearance he wore at the library.
“Shavegrass,” Fiona replies.
“Why?” I ask.
Fiona looks up then and meets my gaze. “We needed to know if you were witches.”
I stop and stare at her. “So you know about witches.”
“Yes,” Fiona says.
Egan approaches the table, his presence large and imposing in the small room. Rule moves to block him from getting too close to Fiona. “You’re gonna want to back away, dude,” Egan says.
“Not a chance.”
Egan gives him a grin that really does look wicked, and I sense the darkness churning inside him.
“Back away, Egan,” I say.
He doesn’t seem to hear me.
“Now.”
I feel him pushing down hard on the dark energy. He slowly backs away from the table, crosses his arms and stares at Rule.
Fiona pats Rule’s arm, and his erect posture eases.
“You two are a puzzle,” Fiona says. “That you were researching the Pherson family, and the fact that you had a reaction to the shavegrass tells me that you are indeed witches. But you’re not flat out writhing in pain as the herb attacks the evil. Have dark witches begun to mix with non-witches? I never thought I’d see the day.”
I glance at Egan, thinking of Keller and Toni. When I meet the eyes of first Adele, then Rule and finally Fiona, I know with absolute certainty that these three know about the covens.
“It seems we’re both facing some mysteries,” I say. “How do you know about real witches?”
“Because we are witches,” Fiona replies.
“No, you’re not. I’d be able to sense your energy signatures if you were.”
“Why do you have those energy signatures?” Fiona asks as she twirls a twig of some herb between her fingers.
“Because we’re witches,” Egan says, sounding exasperated.
“Because you’re post-Salem witch trials witches.”
I meet Egan’s gaze, and he looks as confused as I am.
“Not every witch family chose to accept the dark power,” Rule says. “Some of them fled, hid until the newly formed dark covens left the area.”
I stare at Rule, then at the two women. “Your family fled.”
“Both the Latimers, Rule’s father’s line, and the Brandons, my family,” Fiona says. “And a few others. The Phersons were not among them.”
I look at Rule and realize some of the oddness I’d felt from him at the library was because he wasn’t being honest with me. He’d deliberately “helped” me by directing me to documents and books he knew didn’t hold any information about my family or the covens.
I shake my head and shift my attention back to Fiona. “I’ve never heard a
bout any of this.”
“Of course, you haven’t.” Fiona turns in her seat to more fully face me. “I would imagine there are a great many things your family hasn’t been honest about.”
Though Fiona speaks the truth, I still feel the sting of the words as if I’m being lumped in with the rest of the Phersons. Their blood might run in my veins, but I’m not like them. That night at Shiprock, that bright white light enveloping me proved that. I have to believe that.
“Rule says you were looking for your family line here,” Adele says. “Why?”
I look at the woman, who I’ve figured out is Rule’s mother. I consider just how much truth I’m willing to share. After all, I don’t know these people or their motivations. But if they have information about the history of the covens I’ve never heard before, maybe they know how to defeat the covens. And that’s information I aim to get. I’ll just take it one step at a time and see what I need to reveal in exchange for new information.
“I want to find out if there’s a way to neutralize the covens so they can’t hurt anyone anymore,” I say. “At least not any more than a normal human.”
Fiona looks at Egan. “You feel the same way about your coven?”
I find I’m not surprised that Fiona hasn’t bought the story that Egan and I are siblings.
Egan hesitates before answering. “Yes.”
Fiona exchanges a look with Adele and Rule, then returns her attention to me. “If you’re telling the truth, we have similar interests.”
“We are,” I say.
“How do we know that for sure?” Adele asks, suspicion in her expression.
Annoyance flares within me. Even when I remind myself that she has every reason to be suspicious, my annoyance doesn’t dim. “Because if we were like any normal coven witch, you wouldn’t be alive right now,” I say.
Bane Page 3
