Witch at Last: A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 3 (The Jinx Hamilton Mysteries)

by Juliette Harper

  Tori bit into a chocolate-covered doughnut, chewed for a minute, and then said nonchalantly, “Oh, not much. Myrtle just told me I’m next in line to be head Alchemist up in The Valley.”

  I swear to you, she waited until I was swallowing to drop that little bombshell. I coughed so hard, Tori had to lean over and pound my back. Rodney hung on for dear life until I could sit up straight again.

  “Hey,” she ordered, “no choking. I’m not in the mood to do the Heimlich and you're upsetting Rodney.”

  When I could finally breathe, I apologized to the rat, slipped him a piece of jelly doughnut, and demanded to know if Tori was pulling my leg. It wouldn't have been the first time she came out with something outrageous just to enjoy my reaction.

  “Nope,” she said. “It was a total ‘into every generation is born’ moment. Seems like the scrying test was more than just to find out if I was evil. The amulet was an alchemical Breathalyzer. I blew over the magical limit.”

  “And that means what?”

  A wide grin split her face. “It means we’re going to The Valley to meet the wizard.”

  “Alchemist,” I corrected.

  “Uh, no,” Tori said. “We’re actually going to meet the wizard first. Barnaby Shevington is still Lord High Mayor.”

  My jaw dropped. “But wouldn’t that make him ancient?”

  “About 475 years ancient,” Tori said, snagging another doughnut. “Myrtle spent a lot of time trying to explain the whole time thing to me including talking about the moms. They kinda left some stuff out, Jinksy.”

  “Well,” I said, “they did say they wanted Myrtle to tell us the rest of the story. What’s the gist of it?”

  “The whole part about them not being powerful wasn’t really true,” Tori said. “You know how Myrtle and Fiona keep telling you that you’re the strongest witch in generations? Well, they thought that about Kelly, too, but then the thing with the cheerleaders happened and she and my Mom bailed on them.”

  “Taking us with them,” I said slowly.

  “Exactly,” Tori said, “but from what I can tell, when we accidentally figured out how to combine our blood at the cemetery, we proved we can handle this mega ‘blood magic’ stuff that makes us the real deal they’ve been looking for.”

  “To do what?” I asked.

  “Myrtle was kind of vague on that,” she said, “but she did tell me I’m supposed to be the next alchemist and she wants you to meet Barnaby Shevington.”

  “Tell me again how this guy is still alive?” I asked.

  “According to Myrtle,” Tori said, “time in The Valley moves slower, so the people who live there don’t age at the same rate we do.”

  “So what happens to us when we go there?” I asked.

  "The rules of their time stream apply to us."

  Well, that was better than Botox.

  With the way the morning was turning out, a second doughnut seemed more than in order. After I gave Rodney a bite, I leaned back in my chair and looked at Tori speculatively. "You know none of this can be a coincidence, right?"

  "You mean Brenna showing up potentially powerless right after we find out there's a door to a hidden magical valley in our basement and we’re both part of some kind of witch dynasty?" she said.

  As usual, we were on the same page.

  "So what do you think she's up to?" I asked.

  "I have no idea," Tori said, "but I agree with Myrtle. Brenna is just letting us know she's here. If she wanted to torch our butts with a ball of fire or storm the basement door, she would have done it already. That is if she’s even able to do it."

  Since we hadn't seen anything to suggest that anger management was Brenna's forte, that made me feel a lot better, as did the idea that she was no longer an evil sorceress but just a plain ordinary evil human.

  "Okay," I conceded, "so that explains why she's out there in plain sight. She knows we're not going to do anything to her with the whole town square watching us."

  "Right," Tori said. "Powers or no powers, I think she's playing some kind of long game."

  It was my turn to frown. “What do you know about playing the long game?” I asked. “For that matter, what is a long game?”

  “Myrtle is teaching me to play chess,” Tori said, grinning. “A long game is when you’re thinking a whole lot of moves in advance of what you just did. You give up a piece and it looks stupid, but you have a bigger goal in mind three moves down the road.”

  Don't ever underestimate Tori. My girl is smart. She is gonna rock the whole Alchemist thing.

  “So you’re saying Brenna just wanted to rattle me,” I said.

  “And behold her success,” Tori replied.

  I eyed her suspiciously. “What’s with all this Zen calm? Have I missed something?”

  Tori grinned. "Uh, yeah," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, we are moving up fast in the bad-ass witch club ourselves. All I've got to say to Brenna is, 'Bring it.'"

  Which made me remember I hadn't told Tori about my vision of the coven yet. When I finished describing the women to her and repeated what Johanna said, I was surprised to see Tori's eyes shining with tears.

  "Doesn't that make you incredibly proud, Jinksy?" she asked. "I mean, we're part of this whole awesome legacy. Us. Can you just imagine all the things those women must have done in their lives? Everything they achieved and overcame. Doesn’t it make you want to know them?"

  Trust me, if I could have crawled straight into my vision and sat with Johanna, Myrtle, and the coven, I would have. Of course, I wanted to know them.

  "The awesomeness is why I'm not as freaked out as I was last night," I said. "Even with finding out Brenna is back, I'm feeling a lot better."

  "Does that include lack of freakage about Chase?" Tori asked gently. "’Cause I really think he's one of the good guys."

  I nodded, coloring a little. "I know," I said. "I saw him out front when I was on my way to get the doughnuts. I told him it was going to be okay. I don't know how, but it is."

  Tori flashed me a wicked and thoroughly approving grin. "Well, girl," she said, "he is one seriously hot tomcat."

  Heat rushed to my face. "Stop!" I ordered. "You're as bad as Festus."

  "Not even close," Tori said. "I killed half a bottle of Scotch with that scoundrel after the meeting broke up last night. He can tell stories that would put a preacher in his grave."

  "I have no doubt," I said. "This morning he wanted to know if I was going to scratch his ears."

  Tori snickered. "He likes belly rubs, too."

  "STOP!"

  She laughed out loud at that, and I swear to you, Rodney giggled.

  "So, while we're doing the whole disclosure thing," she said, "Amity is a witch."

  Of course she is.

  What the heck, I snagged the third doughnut.

  Tori explained about Amity's entrance following my exit and how she had remained undercover during the Brenna incident on orders from Myrtle.

  "Since you've got the freaking-out thing under control," Tori said, "I thought I better give you the heads up that Amity will be there tonight."

  "I appreciate that," I said, and then something occurred to me. "How do Amity and Chase get into the basement anyway?" I asked curiously.

  "Their basement doors open to the same dimension," Tori said, which touched off another round of explanations.

  It made sense that the basement was part of the place "in between." There was no other way to reconcile the size of the space in relation to the footprint of the store.

  "You found out about all of this after I left last night?" I asked. "Was I gone that long?"

  "If you want to keep up with the class, Jinksy, you better can the dramatic exits," Tori advised. "We're in Honors Metaphysics these days. No cutting out."

  Since I had apparently missed Time Theory 101, Name That Alchemist, and a drinking game with an alley cat, it was good advice.

  "So did Myrtle say what happens next?" I asked.

  Tori s
hook her head. "She said we need to go up to The Valley, but that we had to wait for you to get on board. Which I'm guessing you are now."

  I was onboard all right. No more letting someone else drive my train.

  10

  For the rest of the day, I continued to follow Beau's advice. I did normal things. That didn't stop me from stealing glances at the clock, but I did manage to stay sufficiently occupied so that I didn't jump out of my skin every time the bell on the front door jingled.

  I won’t try to convince you that I didn’t think about Brenna, but I didn’t obsess about her. Sometimes the greatest power a person has over you is their ability to get inside your head. If nothing else, I could deprive Brenna of that victory.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only deprivation I caused that day. At least half a dozen times during the afternoon, I glanced out the window only to find Chase watching me, while pretending not to watch me. He always managed to disguise the watching -- talking to someone on the street, pretending to study the newspaper in his hand -- but he was watching.

  I don’t mean to imply he was going all creepy stalker boy on me. I knew he wanted to have a conversation. I wanted to have the conversation. But there was just too much going on. “Too much” being the operative phrase. Too confused. Too overwhelmed. Too busy trying to put the pieces together. He had to make do with a smile and a wave. It was really all I had to give him at the moment, but I hated having him standing out there feeling on the edge of uncertainty all the same.

  It helped that the espresso bar stayed full all day. At some point in the afternoon, as I was going back and forth dusting shelves, I realized we had suddenly acquired several chess sets. Two of our patrons were bent over game pieces dressed as Union and Confederate soldiers, while another pair waged a strategic battle between the University of North Carolina Tarheels and the Duke Blue Devils.

  A third board sat off to one side untouched. The pieces were hand carved bits of musical notation. The bass clef king towered over the treble clef queen. Quarter notes stood by as bishops next to quarter rest knights and sharp rooks. A row of eighth-note pawns guarded the front line for each side.

  Piano lessons. Four years.

  Intrigued, I bent closer and looked at the designated columns. Instead of the alphabet, I found the labels C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C. It took me a minute to realize what I was seeing. The notation on this board was based on the C-major scale. Very clever. And apparently overwhelming for our clientele, since no one had approached the beautifully crafted little battleground.

  The next time I went behind the counter, I said to Tori, “Great picks on the chessboards.”

  She looked up from drying a tray of cups. “I thought you bought those,” she said.

  “No,” I replied, “I didn’t. I used to play a little bit with my dad, but not in years. It hadn’t even occurred to me that chess sets might go over big with the customers. That musical board is gorgeous, by the way.”

  “Huh,” Tori said, staring out over the tables. “Maybe it’s Myrtle’s doing since she’s teaching me to play. And, yes, the musical board is beautiful, but it’s the funniest thing. When I came out this morning, all the major pieces were on the table pushed over to one side. There were just a few pawns on the board itself.”

  “You mean like someone had been playing?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said, “the way the pawns were arranged couldn’t have been from play. They were all lined up in columns. That doesn’t happen in a game.”

  Before we could talk about the mysterious chess sets, two of our older customers, who were already coming in every afternoon regular as clockwork, got into an argument over the legality of a move.

  As we watched them bicker, I said to Tori, "We have to put in a regular coffee pot."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because if we're going to be giving free refills, they'll break us on the good stuff," I answered. Just then, the man wearing the John Deere tractor cap snatched it off and smacked his opponent over the head.

  "You boys play nice," I commanded in my best authoritarian waitress voice.

  They both shot me sheepish looks and resumed their argument at a quieter and less physical level.

  Tori laughed. "I see your point," she said. "I'll order one tonight, and a good supply of some normal, cheap, highly caffeinated coffee."

  There were no more chess-related confrontations for the remainder of the afternoon, but in addition to the old men camped at their game boards, we had a steady stream of customers. When 5:30 rolled around, I had to gently, but firmly kick the last of our newfound regulars out. They were good-natured about the eviction, promising to see me tomorrow.

  I made a mental note to go down to the corner the next morning and buy several newspapers to leave out on the counter -- and some sharpened pencils in case some of the guys liked to work the crossword puzzle or that Sudoku thing that makes absolutely no sense to me.

  My mental shopping list brought a smile to my face. We were creating a truly enjoyable atmosphere in the store, one of our own making, not something inherited from Aunt Fiona. The sense of accomplishment felt good, and it represented something blessedly normal. The very thing Beau Longworth told me I needed. He was right.

  "What time did you tell Myrtle we'd be downstairs?" I asked Tori as she wiped off the counter in the espresso bar.

  "She said to just come down when we were ready," Tori answered, draping the towel over the edge of the sink to dry, "but I think we better have something to eat first. Lord only knows what’s in store for us this evening. Come on. I've got some tuna fish and rye at my place. I'll make sandwiches."

  "Cool," I said. "I'm just gonna run upstairs and feed the cats."

  Fifteen minutes later, when I tapped on Tori's door, she was setting our plates, a bowl of chips, and two sodas on the table. "How's the herd?" she asked.

  "The usual," I said. "Yule tried to dig to China in the litter box again. Winston left a hairball in the middle of the living room rug. Zeke was sound asleep on his back in the windowsill. And Xavier destroyed another roll of toilet paper."

  "Ah," she said, "life with cats. Maybe you can get Chase to reason with them."

  It hadn't even occurred to me that Chase probably could talk to my cats in felinese. Or maybe he already had and that was why the cats loved him so much.

  "I'm not sure that's a conversation I want to initiate," I said, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. "Those furry felons know too much about me." Then, almost as an afterthought, I said, "Have you seen Darby today?"

  "Not since I asked him to tell Myrtle you wanted everyone to get together again tonight," she said, joining me. "He was so excited, he popped out of sight without a word. Then he popped back in to give me Myrtle's answer. I haven't seen him since."

  It wasn't long before we learned why our resident brownie was so charged up. As soon as we finished eating, we walked downstairs and found everyone waiting for us with backpacks and walking sticks no less. I was amused to see that Festus was sitting on top of what must have been Chase's bag, half dozing inside a mesh compartment apparently designed for his riding comfort.

  I looked at Amity, who was stuffing a sketchbook and pencil case in the front pocket of her pack, and said, without preamble, "You could have told me, you know. It would have made things a whole lot easier.”

  She smiled and shrugged. "That's what I said, but Myrtle and Fiona had other ideas."

  Gesturing towards the pile of gear, I asked, “What's with all this stuff?”

  Darby's hand shot up. Most of the time he dressed like a garden gnome but without the pointed cap. Today he was wearing lederhosen and an alpine hat. When I nodded for him to go ahead and answer my question, the little guy bobbed up and down with so much enthusiasm, I was afraid the flapping of the plumed feather in his hat band would lift him straight off the ground.

  "We are going to The Valley, Mistress," he said, breathlessly. "I am going to see my friends for the
first time since Master Alexander asked me to guard Mistress Knasgowa's grave."

  Well, that explained his fancy dress.

  Taking in the extent of the luggage, Tori said, "Uh, exactly how long is this visit supposed to last?"

  Myrtle, who was perusing the bookshelves to the left of the fireplace, pulled a volume off the shelf and said brusquely, "A few days."

  When she saw the stunned look on our faces, she added, "Don't worry, I had Darby pack your things. If everyone is ready, we should be leaving."

  Without so much as a word, the others started picking up their packs, only to pause uncertainly when I said in a firm voice, "Hold the phone."

  I meant what I said about that business of driving my own train, and this was the perfect time for everyone else to get that message loud and clear.

  Myrtle regarded me with a perplexed expression. "Is there a problem?"

  "Yes, there is," I said. "First off, none of you bothered to ask me about this excursion. Second, what about the store? And my cats? I can't just pick up and be gone several days without warning, never mind that we really need to talk about the fact that Brenna Sinclair has set up shop on the square."

  When Myrtle drew down the corners of her mouth and seemed prepared to lecture me, Chase hastily jumped in.

  "In this time stream we'll be back before morning," he assured me. "There's too much to see in The Valley to just come and go in a few hours. You'll like it, Jinx." He paused, and then added, "I'd like to show it to you."

  Aw, man! So not fair. Here I was prepared to dig my heels in and set my own metaphysical schedule, and I had a good-looking man offering to show me the sights in a secluded, magical valley. How the heck was I supposed to say no to that?

  I made a show of thinking about the invitation. The rest of the group shifted uneasily, and Myrtle fixed me with a thoroughly disapproving gaze. Festus, however, wasn’t buying it. I heard him make that hacking pre-hairball cough I knew only too well, interspersed with the words "mush" and "nonsense."

  Shooting the old tomcat a warning glare, and making a mental note to ask if we could have two clocks in the basement -- one set to Valley time -- I relented on all points but one.