We watch Angelo take Bilda from the room, then Jones says, “We need to stop your father.”
“The way she talked, all I have to do is stay away from him.”
“He locked you in a dungeon,” Rain reminds me.
“I wasn’t paying attention, then,” I answer. “Now I am, so he won’t get by with that again.”
She snorts quietly. I turn to Jones. “That ring - is the protection spell strong enough to keep his magic away from me?”
He shakes his head. “No - I don’t have that kind of power. Angelo does, though.”
The last thing I want to do is ask Angelo for a favor, but I suppose I’ll have to in order to deal with my father and free my mother. Besides, I’m trying to save his island, so he shouldn’t get too huffy about it.
“OK, so we need to stop Dravo from taking over Jagged Grove, and find out who killed Sabrina and Aries.” I look from Jones to Rain, not sure of myself at all. “You guys will help me, right?”
I have their attention. “Do we have any ideas why Dravo would want the High Priestesses of Quellan Coven dead?”
Angelo steps back into the office just in time to answer. “I told you, I don’t think these things are related.”
“Angelo, do you honestly think that my mother killed these witches? Honestly?”
He’s shaking his head. “I can’t imagine why she would.”
“Then help me figure out who’s really doing it, so that she can be free again.”
“I’m working on it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jones and Angelo both insist that I go home and get some rest, but I’m afraid. It helps that Angelo is no longer gunning for me, but I still don’t like the idea of Dravo’s men finding me and putting me back in his dark, dark dungeon.
When I voice my concerns to Jones, he thinks for a moment, then says, “Let’s go. I have an idea.”
I don’t miss the darkness that crosses Angelo’s face as he watches us leave.
As it turns out, his idea involves a tent, a sleeping bag, and a picnic basket full of food. I watch as he gathers things from his house and then says, “Come on, we’re going up the mountain.”
I’m not good at camping, mostly because I don’t know why anybody would purposely make their life harder, even for a few days. I like electricity and showers. I like going to the fridge for a snack. Jones, on the other hand, is practically humming with excitement. What does he think will happen when he has me alone on Mt. Savage?
“I hate the idea of leaving Mom alone in a cell.” I gasp the words, because we’re halfway up the trail and my lungs are burning in protest.
“It’s the safest place for her right now, I think.”
I’m not so sure, but it helps that Angelo admitted his belief in her innocence.
Up on top, I sit flat on the big rock and look out over the gorgeous view while Jones fiddles around behind me setting up the tent. I let my eyes travel from one end of the island to the other, and wonder how I’d feel if Jagged Grove were no longer here. The answer comes immediately, and surprises me.
Sad.
I would be so sad if all of these people were suddenly homeless, or worse. I would be sad for Angelo, who worked to build the island into what it is, and I would be upset that Mom would lose this place just as she became attached to it.
A spiral of bright light climbs the sky on the colony end of the island. It startles me, but it’s beautiful. “What’s that?” I ask Jones, pointing.
He looks at it with a small smile. “Remembrance. The Quellan Coven is holding a ritual for their fallen members tonight.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say, so I stay quiet and watch the lights.
Jones finishes with the supplies and then comes to sit down beside me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly and takes my hand.
“Just...everything, I guess. Do you think Dravo will try to take over even without our magic to back him up, even if it means destroying Jagged Grove?”
“He’s an arrogant man, from what I can see. It’s possible. Are you afraid of him?”
I think about this. I think about his dungeon, and the too-smooth way he has of addressing me. I think of how he kidnapped my mother. That last one makes me angry, but I can’t deny that the fear is still there.
“Yes.”
Jones looks out over the water below and shifts a little in his spot. It’s getting darker, and I notice him searching the sky. When he spots the dim shadow of the moon in the purple expanse, he relaxes.
It reminds me that we are different, and it reminds me that being with Jones - as nice as it is - could be dangerous in its own way.
But somehow, I’m not afraid, sitting here with him. I lean in until our shoulders meet and drop my head onto his. His particular smell wafts over me and I sigh.
“You know I’m right here beside you, don’t you?” he asks finally.
I nod. He can feel it.
“And you know I’ll do everything I can to help.”
I nod again.
He turns his head and kisses the top of mine. My heart does an odd little flip-flop, as usual, but this time I don’t wonder what would happen if we got together. I don’t wonder about the logistics of a witch dating a werewolf.
Even as I think this, I realize that I’m finally thinking of myself as a witch, and it finally feels like it fits.
When he lifts my chin and kisses me, I’m not surprised. His warm breath on my face feels good, and our lips fit together perfectly. I sink into him and feel his arms shield me from this crazy world. I want to stay right here and let him have what I’ve been denying him for months now, but instead I push away and go stand at the edge of the rock. I look out over the ocean and let the quivering in my body subside.
When I come back to sit beside him, I don’t feel any of awkwardness. I feel like I’m right, and Jones is right, and that we are exactly right for each other, but also that we need to wait.
Later, he makes me a sandwich. We drink some wine and talk about unimportant things, like how the night is cooler here on the mountain, and the breeze from the water makes it downright chilly. And how Rain and Glade are adjusting nicely, and they would be upset if something happened to Bilda. We talk about Feena’s new lease on life and how Jones feels a little left out now. We listen to night birds call to each other in the forest below us and wonder if there are bats close by, hunting for mice.
We don’t talk about what happens if Dravo gets his way and takes control of the island. We don’t discuss who might be behind the murders of innocent witches, or how the killer might strike next. Those things are all around us, threading tension into our voices, but we don’t speak of them in the thickening darkness.
Enough is enough, and we both feel it. For one night, we will be casual. All hell might break loose tomorrow, but right now we get to enjoy each other. I lay with my head in his lap, looking out over the water and listening to the deep timbre of his voice until my eyes close on their own.
The fire is still glowing when he lifts me up and carries me to our sleeping bags, but I can’t wake up enough to ask him what we’re doing. I just close my eyes again, feel him lie down next to me, and drift back to sleep.
I wake up twice during the night. The first time, I need to move because my hand, tucked under my cheek, is asleep. The second time, I’m being nudged and I can hear someone quietly saying my name.
“Mm,” I moan, not wanting to open my eyes.
“Trinket, wake up.” I try to ignore it, but my mind is shoving me toward awake.
The voice isn’t Jones’s.
“Trinket. Wake. Up.”
I open one eye and see Angelo’s face close to my own. Then I realize that Jones’s arm isn’t around me anymore. The other eye opens.
When he catches my gaze, Angelo says, “Bilda’s gone, Trinket.”
I groan. What happened to my night of rest? Why is Angelo even here...
“Wait. What?” I sit up fast as his words
sink in. “Where is she? How did you lose her?”
Angelo doesn’t look like he’s slept. “I’m afraid Dravo has her again. She disappeared from her cell around an hour ago.”
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Almost five.”
I groan. “I thought you were going to protect her, Angelo.”
“I screwed up, OK?” Behind me, Jones gets the fire going again and it blazes up, illuminating Angelo’s face.
He looks distraught. Not just upset, not just irritated or even angry. He looks absolutely destroyed at this turn of events. “I’m sorry.”
My heart goes out to him. “We’ll find her. Get her back.” I fight my way out of the big, poofy sleeping bag and stand up. At least I still have my clothes on. “Do you think she’s back in the dungeon?”
He shakes his head. “I doubt it. He probably won’t let her out of his sight now.”
My respect for my mother is growing, and especially my respect for her magic, but worrying about her is my default position. “Let’s go,” I say, before realizing that I’m barefoot.
I glance at Jones and he grins and points to my sneakers, lying near the corner of the tent we didn’t use. I smile back, thinking that I might enjoy this camping thing after all.
Angelo watches us with a kind of edgy irritation. “We need to hurry,” he says.
“And do what?” Jones counters. “What’s our plan here, ASS man?”
“We need to find May. She’s the only one we haven’t talked to about this situation, and she might have more answers than we expect.”
In a way, I hope she does. In another way, I hope she doesn’t know anything at all about Dravo or what he’s up to. On a purely selfish level, because I’d like to get to know her one of these days.
I’m ready to go when a new thought stops me. “Angelo, why don’t you just arrest Dravo and bind him? Wouldn’t that be the simplest thing?”
He grimaces. “I can’t. He hasn’t officially done anything that I can prove.”
“He kidnapped Bilda. And me.”
Jones’s voice cuts into our conversation. “He can’t, Trinket,” he says quietly.
Angelo shoots him a look. Jones continues, “Not by himself, anyway. Dravo plays by his own rules, and if Angelo tried to arrest him or stop him, Dravo would have no problem killing him or anyone else to maintain his freedom.”
“What if I help?” I ask. “Could we arrest him if I lent you my power?”
“Yes, but I won’t risk your life to try. Let me deal with Dravo. You worry about Bilda.”
“It’s kind of hard to separate them in my mind right now, Angelo. She’s with him. And you know what I keep thinking?”
“What?”
“If she got the best of him before, what makes us think that she won’t do it again?”
“Before?” Jones asks. “When?”
I’m not sure of the time frame, but I tell him about the finger I found, and manage to do it with minimal shuddering. “So apparently she won, once upon a time.”
“I always wondered what happened to his hand. That’s gross.”
“I know. I’m the one who found the thing.”
“Wonder why she did it?”
I shrug, and Angelo clears his throat. “Can we move this conversation forward? I need your help.” He looks from me to Jones. “Both of you. We need to get Bilda away from Dravo safely and stop him from before he gets his hands on Trinket at all.”
“I agree,” Jones says, looking me up and down in a way that makes my cheeks heat up. “We can’t lose our healer.”
I turn toward the trail. “I’m going.”
“Wait - going where?” Angelo catches my arm.
“To stop him. Evidently it’s me he wants, so I need to fix this mess.”
“Uh, not sure that’s a great idea?” Jones says.
I turn to look at him. “Why not? You guys are always telling me that I have more power than I think, and right now I feel like ripping his head off. What’s more powerful than that?”
Angelo chuckles in spite of the consternation on his face.
“I’m going.”
“Then let us come with you. You’re going to need the help.”
“Hurry up.”
I don’t wait for them, but it is nice to know that they aren’t far behind. Now I can turn my attention to Bilda.
Chapter Sixteen
Angelo’s men are waiting at the bottom of the mountain, an entire contingent of them from the looks of it. Darkly dressed, serious men, but several of them have that fiery shifter energy like Jones. They watch me march past them, but don’t follow until Angelo catches up and gives them their orders.
When he catches up with me, Jones not far behind, I ask, “Is that wise? Having them along, I mean?”
“I think so - these are my best men.”
“I know, but will half an army signal that it’s time for war in Dravo’s mind? If I go alone, he won’t even be on guard. If they come, he’ll know something is up.”
Angelo considers what I’m saying. Jones gets it immediately. “She’s right. Unless you want to do this head-to-head, we need to be careful.”
“I’ll keep them at the edge of the forest, near the end of the path. That will be close enough.”
I nod, then ask another question. “Can you guys tell me about Dravo’s power?”
Angelo answers. “He’s ascended from one of the most powerful wizards, his line going back to the fourth century, I think.”
“Wow.”
“Yep - that’s a lot of time to hone his skills. Rumor has it that he made a pact with a demon named Trilion a long time ago - half his heart for half his power.”
I don’t know a lot about demons, but I understand their power is immense. “And this demon wanted a heart?”
Jones is saying my name, but I’m trying to remember something I heard.
“Trinket.”
I sigh. No thinking with these two squawking. “What?”
“Trilion. Angelo, you did say his name was Trilion, right?”
“Why does that sound so familiar?” I ask, still trying to work out where I’ve heard it before.
“May,” Jones supplies. “Remember? She said that Bilda’s first husband...,”
“...was a demon named Trilion,” I finish for him as the answer lights up in my head. “I remember now.”
Angelo looks confused. “Bilda was married before Dravo?”
“According to May, she got mixed up with a demon - Trilion - when she was really young, and there was a huge family uproar. She said that when Bilda finally came home, she was given to Dravo, so that he could keep her in line. Is that right, Jones?”
“I believe so.”
“A heart for his power. So you think Dravo has power, and the demon has part of Dravo’s heart?”
“Metaphorically speaking, I guess. I’m taking ‘heart’ to mean the ability to love Bilda, not his actual, physical heart.”
“That’s nuts,” Angelo mutters.
I agree, and it makes me feel weird to think of my mom with men in that way. Warlock, demon, or human. She’s my mom.
We start down the path that leads to the colony, with Angelo’s men not far behind. The birds we heard on the mountain aren’t here, and the quiet is eerie behind our footsteps. “So, his power is more of the demonic kind? What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means - because he has a demon’s power and a human heart - that he can manipulate the elements any way he likes. He can even lock them, if he wants.”
“Lock them?”
“Make it so that no one else can access the energy to perform magick.”
Ouch. This is beginning to sound more difficult than I ever thought. “So how do we stop him, if he controls the elements in his environment?”
“I don’t know,” Angelo says softly. “We may not be able to at all.”
“Surely you and your men have run into this sort of thing before...what about the woman who turned
you into a pencil?”
Jones snorts.
Angelo ignores him. “She didn’t have this kind of power, or this kind of evil inside her. She was just grumpy. Dravo is dangerous. We’ve tried binding him before, but it never works for more than a day before he finds a way to defeat the restraints.”
“Maybe a day is all we need,” I say, thinking. If I’m as powerful as everyone seems to think I am, then I might be the key to keeping Dravo in check. It can’t hurt that I’m related to him by blood, or that it’s possible that I have some demon blood inside me, too.
That might be my strangest thought ever.
I’ve only recently come to the point where I can use my magick at all, much less comfortably. How do I confront a demon’s power, when I can barely control my own?
I think about how I accidentally killed that boy in high school by letting my power get too powerful. The reports of his shredded heart were all over the school. Could I do the same thing to Dravo if I had to?
I’m considering this when I hear a muffled scream. I freeze midstep and peer into the surrounding woods, dread filling my gut. “Mom?” I call, but Angelo claps a warm hand over my mouth. I shake free but take the hint and remain silent. Beside me, Jones moves a step closer, until his arm brushes mine.
The scream does not repeat, but the trees feel more ominous now. “What was that?” I ask.
“Not sure,” Angelo mutters. “Stay put.” He walks to the edge of the path and then a few steps into the trees. I’m holding my breath, and if another scream sounded I would probably jump out of my skin. But there is only silence.
Angelo waits a few beats and then turns back toward us. “Maybe it’s a party.”
“Or the coven meeting?” I ask. “Do those things go on this long?”
Jones and Angelo both shrug. We turn back onto the path and keep walking, Angelo’s men just far enough behind that I have to strain to hear their footfalls. It’s comforting to know they’re there.
I’m about to step out onto the street in the colony when something flashes by me so fast that I miss it. I screech and jump back, but it’s already gone. Something hits the ground with a grunt and then another short scream. Angelo takes a step. Stops.
Evicted Witch (Jagged Grove Book 3) Page 13
