A Witching Well of Magic: A Cozy Mystery (Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 2)

by Constance Barker

  “Weighty with their own history and the stories that have gathered around them,” Aiden agreed. “It is true. I’d like nothing more than for the Caves to be more than they appear, I suppose. Perhaps I’ll be disappointed in the end. They don’t seem likely to give up their secrets to me any more than they have anyone else.”

  “Secrets aren’t such a bad thing,” Bailey said carefully. “If the secrets were unlocked, some of the mystery and excitement would be gone, don’t you think?”

  “That is a fair point,” Aiden admitted. He sighed. “It’s the eternal dilemma of mankind; driven by our curiosity, though we face disappointment at every new discovery and a lessening of the great mystery of it all.”

  Bailey realized that she loved the way he spoke. So eloquent and philosophical. She had to remind herself, again, that she was here to root out his secrets, not become enchanted by his conversation.

  She also realized he wasn’t going to give up anything particularly useful. Not intentionally, at any rate. She busied herself with her food again, as did Aiden. But as she did, she opened her mind, and reached out to his presence in it. Maybe if she was more careful this time. There was static there, again, just as before. Keeping her psychic distance, however, she could almost feel the shape of it all. Something vaguely cube-like.

  In principle, if she understood it correctly, a person’s mind couldn’t be entirely closed off. Bailey’s ability, like Chloe’s, wasn’t a unique quality of their particular mind, but rather a magical augmentation of something all people did naturally. There was, Chloe explained, a constant psychic exchange going on between people in proximity to one another or, in some cases, people who were very far apart, almost all the time.

  Learning to guard her own mind had been one of the first things Chloe had worked with Bailey on, but she had been careful to warn her not to close herself off entirely. “There must always be an opening,” she’d said. “You can’t function properly if you’re entirely boxed into your own head.”

  It was a two way street, of a sort. And yet Aiden seemed to be able to function just fine—so, Bailey reasoned, whatever defenses he had against her ability, there had to be crack somewhere; some pressure release system, some means of entrance through which the subtle communication of other minds took place.

  While Aiden began to talk about some of the ins and outs he’d discovered about running the tour business, she felt over the surface of the shape of his mind, looking for the way in, not pressing too hard lest she get another headache.

  And then she found it. She was actually so surprised she dropped her fork, and had to pick it back up. “Sorry,” she said. “Clumsy.”

  Aiden gave her a patient smile, amused a little, she thought. But he went on. “I doubt it’s terribly interesting,” he said, “but Poppy’s books were such a mess that I had to…”

  Bailey tried to keep up with what he was saying while she probed at the same time. It was like wiggling her fingers into a lock to trip the tumblers; a little to the left or right and she sensed the static growing slightly sharper again. There was more structure to it than she’d have expected; a kind of angular, winding passage, like a complex tunnel through a wall. Chloe’s defenses didn’t feel anything like this. Bailey supposed that was some of the difference between witch magic and wizard magic.

  And then, very suddenly, she was through. It was short lived. An image flashed in her mind—two people, a man and a woman, in a car. It was fuzzy, and seen from some distance away, and the colors were surreal and vibrant even though it was at night… and then there was a sudden jolt and the car was spinning and the world was spinning, and Bailey felt something slam shut inside her mind.

  It was like being snapped with a rubber band, one that was a mile long and fifty feet wide, right in the middle of her forehead. She flinched when she felt it and then gasped as the pain blossomed through her head like a vengeful flower.

  At the same moment, Aiden knocked his glass over.

  Bailey panicked. Aiden gave her a strange, penetrating look when she opened her eyes, and all she could think was that she needed to get out of there. Her head felt like it might split open. “I uh… I’m not feeling well, I should… I’m sorry, Aiden,” she stood from the table quickly, muttering apologies while Aiden stood as well.

  “Bailey, wait, please,” he said, but she was already on her way out.

  She glanced back once to see Aiden pulling his wallet from his pocket. She could make it to her car before he paid, and go back to the witches and suggest another course of action; anything. She couldn’t do this, and what was this dreadful pain and fear in her heart? It wasn’t hers; she knew it the way she would know a piece of clothing in her closest didn’t belong to her. It was Aiden’s, it had to be. Something about that vision.

  She was closing in on her car, had her hand on the door. She hadn’t heard Aiden coming up behind her, though, and when he put his hand on hers to stop her she jumped nearly out of her skin and twitched away. She’d been too slow; she was caught. What now?

  “Bailey,” Aiden said gently, “please. Just wait. Let me explain.”

  “Explain what?” Bailey managed to say. “You don’t have to. I get these migraines is all, I just need—”

  “You experienced a significant backlash from trying to overcome my psychic defenses,” Aiden said, patiently but firmly. “And I must say, it was an impressive feat; I didn’t know you were in there until you touched on that memory.”

  Bailey’s mouth worked. She couldn’t think clearly through the pain behind her eyes that was now so bad it made her teeth hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Playing dumb seemed the only reasonable course of action at this point.

  Aiden sighed, though, and leaned against her car. “You do, Bailey. If you’ll just give me a chance to explain—I think we have a lot to talk about. And, I believe it’s entirely possible you have the wrong idea about me. Just give me ten minutes.”

  She had an instinct to keep playing dumb, but at this point it seemed silly. So she sighed, and rubbed her forehead with both hands. “Fine,” she said. “Ten minutes. Talk fast.”

  Chapter 16

  At Aiden’s insistence, they did not talk in front of Sandbar. It took some convincing, but eventually Bailey agreed—talking about their respective secret magical worlds out in the open was probably a bad idea. As an alternative, he followed Bailey to the library, and then she led him around to the back entrance. They spoke in one of the three small private study rooms. The air inside was thick with the air conditioning off for the night.

  Bailey sank into the only chair in the room, and massaged her head. The pain was lessening, but only a bit. “Alright,” she said through it, “start talking.”

  Aiden took a deep breath, and looked around the room briefly before he leaned against the desk and folded his arms over his chest. “Where to begin…” he muttered.

  “Start with who you are,” Bailey suggested, only a little bitter. Mostly it was the headache talking.

  “Of course. Well, I’m who I said I was. Aiden Rivers. I really am from Seattle, recently, and everything I’ve told you so far is true.” He raised a hand for patience when Bailey opened her mouth to refute that. “I did, admittedly, neglect certain details. So did you, however.” He sighed. “I’m a wizard. As was my father.”

  “Why are you here?” Bailey asked. “Poking around the caves. Are there more of you?”

  “More?” Aiden gawked. “Heavens no. We’re not a terribly collaborative bunch. Aside from my father, I only knew one other, in Cambridge. One of the professors there. He was my principle instructor. There are cabals out there, but we don’t have traditional organizations like Covens, and such. I assume there’s a Coven here?”

  She wasn’t prepared to tell him that, so she only shrugged.

  “I see… well, you are certainly unusually strong for a witch, regardless. And clever. Not that witches generally aren’t, or anything,” he said hastily, “but naviga
ting shields like mine is quite a feat. If I do say so myself.”

  “I didn’t quite manage it without trouble,” Bailey said. She knew from experience by now that no amount of medicine would help her throbbing head. It would just have to run its course. “Your magic is different. Angular and… a little violent.”

  “I learned from a rather angular and violent teacher,” he said ruefully. He winced on her behalf. “I’m sorry. That must be terribly uncomfortable. If I’d known you were coming in sooner I would have protected you from it. I really would.”

  “Why are you even locked up like that anyway?” Bailey asked. “Who are you worried about getting into your head?”

  Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. “Well… to be fair, my caution was warranted. But, honestly, I didn’t know there was a coven here. I was guarding my mind against the Caves themselves.”

  Bailey was careful not to confirm or deny the presence of the Coven. “The Caves only affect people who intend to do harm.”

  At this, Aiden’s eyebrows knit together, and he shook his head slowly. “That is… not necessarily true. What gave you that impression?”

  Well, it was what she’d been told. “I’ve been around them my whole life,” Bailey said. “I know them.”

  “I’ll accept that,” Aiden said, tentatively, “but some rather nasty business happened there very recently. That sort of changes a place like this.”

  That did fit. Had Chloe and the others simply avoided telling her something that might frighten her? It was difficult to know who to trust on the matter. Aiden was, to his credit, being somewhat more honest. On the other hand…

  “To tell you the truth, Aiden,” Bailey said finally, “I really want to believe you. I do. But…”

  “But I am a stranger here, and I have acted suspiciously,” he provided. “Of course, I understand that and how it must all look. What can I do to convince you of my integrity?”

  “You can drop your shields, and let me see inside,” Bailey said. “Your mind can’t lie; not as easily. If you want me to trust you, that’s what I need.”

  “You may not like what you find there,” Aiden said quietly. “The vision you got a glimpse of is not the worst of it.”

  “All the same,” Bailey said.

  Aiden sighed, and wrung his hands a moment before he gave her a short nod. He did something, then, that she didn’t quite catch. It was some small but complex gesture with the fingers of his left hand; they flickered through several positions rapidly, and then he made a plucking motion over his right shoulder.

  He withdrew a slender wand from the air, about a foot and some inches long, and she could see now, at this distance, that it had a long, fine grain of rich browns and blacks. There was something inlaid into it as well—some other wood, maybe, or stone, in a complicated pattern of tiny symbols that wrapped around the length of it.

  Aiden was smiling when she looked back at his face. Was he smug? Bailey glowered at him.

  “Sorry,” Aiden said glibly. “You have to admit to being just a little impressed, though.” He winked.

  She was, but she wasn’t going to admit it in a million years. “I get it,” she said, “you’re a wizard. Don’t be so showy.”

  Aiden swallowed his smile. “Right. Well… just a moment, anyway.” He pressed the tip of the wand to his temple, and his eyes closed halfway as he muttered words Bailey didn’t catch.

  There was a feeling. A kind of unwinding, as though some subtle part of the atmosphere in the room had previously been drawn taut and was now released. She hadn’t even realized it was there until it was gone. “What was that?” she asked.

  “You felt it?” Aiden wondered. “Hm. Impressive. You must be quite sensitive as well as strong. Perhaps it’s the caves… you were born here, yes?”

  Suddenly Bailey felt like a specimen under the microscope. She gave Aiden a warning look, and he fell silent. He waved her into his head, though, the way he might have invited her through a door. “Enter, if you please.”

  This time, Bailey wasn’t taking any chances. Contact made the process that much stronger, and more stable, so she stood from her chair and came toward Aiden. When she was about a foot away she took his hands in hers, to his surprise.

  For half a second, their eyes met and Bailey had the strangest feeling that he might lean in and kiss her.

  For the next half second, she wanted him to.

  She cleared her throat. “It helps,” she said. “Contact, I mean. So. Just be still.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” Aiden muttered.

  Bailey ignored his smirk, and closed her eyes. It was a little like massaging a bruise at the moment, but she trained her attention on him, on their touch, and then like sinking into a pool of still water, she felt his mind open to her.

  “I can tell you’re here,” he said, or thought, at her. “You’ve got quite a… presence.”

  “What are you doing in the Caves?” Bailey asked out loud. She hadn’t gotten the hang of speaking mind to mind; it was different than listening.

  “I’m looking for clues.”

  “Clues to what?” Bailey asked.

  The information that came across was raw, unfiltered, and untranslated. Figures and diagrams and talk about rays and vectors and locuses of mystical convergence… “I don’t understand.”

  She felt him searching.

  “I want to know how the caves were constructed. Or, I should say, how to repair them when they’re broken.”

  “Why?” Bailey pressed.

  “I’m worried that Martha’s death may have damaged them, and I’ve encountered other abandoned convergences that are in need of repair.” That was true; she felt it, or at least felt his conviction. Something else, though—the weight in Martha’s name. It was familiar.

  “What do you know of Martha Tells?” Bailey asked. “Why is she so important.”

  Aiden let Bailey’s hands go. They dropped to her side, but not before she caught a glimpse of something. Something she knew instinctively. It wasn’t an image, or a word—it was simply a feeling. A hollow, empty, gnawing feeling of doubt and insecurity and unanswered questions.

  When Bailey opened her eyes, she saw the pain plainly on Aiden’s face.

  “Martha… you think she was your mother?” Bailey asked quietly.

  Aiden composed himself. “I have some evidence to suggest this is so,” he said. “I may never know at this point. Of greater and more immediate concern, however, is getting the missing stone back. I’ve been working on a means to locate it, utilizing the sympathetic connection between the caves and the stones. Until you pointed them out to me and I compensated my shields for it, I didn’t realize they were even there. It’s quite ingenious magic, really—”

  Bailey was watching him patiently, letting it run its course.

  Aiden cleared his throat, “Right. Well at any rate, I’ve worked out only part of the method. I’d despaired of being able to complete it on my own, but… well, you may be able to help me finish it.”

  “Method? What, you mean magic?”

  He nodded once. Of course; what else would ‘method’ mean.

  “I don’t know,” Bailey said. “My experience with magic so far has been… messy.”

  “And mine has been so clean as to be limiting. Our two magics, wizardry and witchcraft, they’re like two sides of the same coin. Order and Chaos. Creativity and Intellect.” He smiled. “I’ve had a pet theory for some time that they were never meant to be separated. That once, a very long time ago, wizards and witches worked together, their magic complementing one another’s to accomplish truly remarkable feats that alone neither one—”

  She couldn’t decide if he was only excited about the idea, or if he merely liked to hear himself talk.

  Either way, he focused again. “Right. Well, I mean to say that it will work better if we work together. And I am confident of what I have worked out. What’s more, we may not have much of a choice but to give it a try.”

  “Why is that
?” Bailey asked, eyes narrowing. She didn’t like the idea of ‘not having a choice’. It felt like manipulation.

  Aiden grew serious very quickly, though. “I believe that if the stone is taken too far away, the foundation of the spells that keep the Caves in cohesion—that is to say, that keeps them, ah, in one piece—may fail. If that happens, I don’t know that I can repair them, and I’m not sure there is anyone alive who could.”

  Bailey blinked, and then almost flinched at the implication. “What, you mean… they would, what, die?”

  “In a sense,” Aiden said cautiously, “you could say that, yes. If the stone is not returned, then the Seven Caves will die. Whatever magic they support in this region will disperse.”

  “How do you know?” Bailey asked.

  Aiden pressed his lips together tightly, a sad, thin smile. “Because, I am sorry to say but I’ve seen it happen before.”

  Chapter 17

  The death of the Caves. Bailey had a sick feeling in her stomach all the way back to the Tour Office. How could it have happened in the first place? Why would the Caves let that happen? Was Aria right about Martha’s intention leaking into them, or however it worked? And did the Coven even know that this was a possible consequence? They hadn’t seemed as concerned as they should have been, if they did know, but then again it was always hard to tell with them.

  Her headache faded to a dull, distant pain at least. By the time they got to the office, she could focus.

  Aiden arranged the papers she’d taken pictures of on his desk; the order seemed important, but she couldn’t tell why. They just looked like random geometric scribbles to her. Except… they weren’t, really. That bit looked similar to the pattern of the writing in the first cave… another looked like the angle of some of the constellations in another. There were several similarities, but they were all overlaid on one another.

  “What is all this?” Bailey asked.

  “The short answer,” he said, and Bailey hoped he meant it, “is that these are the two dimensional representations of a three dimensional shadow of a fourth dimensional complex that is, in a sense, the matrix of the intelligence of the Seven Caves.” She wondered if Aiden knew the definition of ‘short answer’.