He meant magic, of course. Bailey had told him about her ‘experiment’ with Gavin, and vented now and again about all the oddities and intricacies of magic, though he claimed not to understand half of what she said.
And of course, he’d been justified in saying it. Bailey was already thinking of how she could fix the problem as quickly as possible; but he was probably right.
“Okay,” she said. Then Sheriff Larson took her father away.
Bailey turned a hateful glare on Deputy Jackson. “How can you think this?” She asked. “How could you possibly think my dad could do a thing like this? Look at him! He’s seventy years old, Seamus.”
Seamus rubbed the back of his head, and looked to Avery for support, perhaps, but Avery wasn’t giving it. He was every bit as furious as Bailey was. “We didn’t make any assumptions,” he said. “Really, Bailey; I don’t want to believe it either. But we found his pen... well... it was the murder weapon. And it only has Ryan’s prints on it. Now maybe there’s more to the story, but we don’t know it yet and you know we have to act on that. There’ll be a full investigation, though. I promise we’ll look at every possible lead.”
There was nothing she could say. She almost thanked him for the reassurance, but the words on the tip of her tongue turned out not to be words of thanks at all. So she kept her lips sealed. Seamus tipped his hat, and got into the passenger side seat of the sheriff’s car.
Bailey looked at her father through the window of the back seat. He looked calmer than she was, though he wasn’t feeling it she knew. He mouthed that he loved her as the car pulled away.
Bailey and Avery stood there and watched the car leave toward the county jail. Her father would wait, in a cell, for his hearing and for the investigation. Bailey had seen them, once. They were spare, concrete floors and metal benches with uncomfortable cots. Not the sort of place a seventy-year-old man would be healthy for long.
She turned to Avery, and didn’t need to say what was on her mind. At least not until she recalled what she’d felt before, when she’d lost control. She stopped in front of him, and looked him hard in the eyes. “When were you going to tell me you’re learning magic from Aiden?” She asked.
Avery didn’t seem surprised. Probably he had felt her when she ran up against his shields. He only sighed. “Eventually,” he said. “I wanted to right away. But Aiden has this thing about keeping secrets. Wizard stuff. I wasn’t even sure it was something I could do.”
Bailey closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I want to talk about this. I guess it makes sense. But, later.”
“I imagined that was the case,” he said. “What should we do?”
“We should clear my dad’s name, for starters,” she said.
Avery nodded slowly, patiently. “Yes, okay; that. But, what do we do first?”
“First,” Bailey said, walking past him and into the house, “we find out everything the sheriff’s department knows. Then we do our own investigation with tools they don’t have. I’m not leaving any of this to chance.”
Chapter 9
Bailey and Avery left the house minutes later, unconcerned about looking as though they just woke up—Bailey wore a ball cap, and gave Avery one of Ryan’s old fedoras to wear. She didn’t intend to waste a second if she didn’t need to.
They drove into town, and Bailey directed Avery to park in front of the bakery. It wasn’t open yet, but the women were inside, visible through the windows and the glass pane on the door, doing the daily business of getting the place open. She’d intended to march in there and start hashing out some strategy—some magic that could help find the real killer. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
One of those women was her mother. She was certain of it. Maybe it was Aria. She was always especially kind and gentle with Bailey; maybe she felt bad for having abandoned her.
Then again, Francis was hard on her, constantly pushing her to ‘think like a witch’ and while it did get under Bailey’s skin now and again it was clear she only wanted Bailey to meet her potential. Just as any mother would.
Chloe had always been particularly fond of Bailey, though that was true of Aria as well. She had been the one to take Bailey aside and tell her about magic, and her future as a member of the coven. She seemed to leave much of Bailey’s education to Aria and Francis, though; and Francis in turn left much of it to Aria.
She supposed she could just ask them.
But not now.
“I changed my mind,” Bailey said quietly. “Let’s see if Aiden can help.”
Avery drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and watched the ladies inside the bakery.
“Any thoughts?” Bailey asked.
After a moment, he shook his head. “No. But I think you’re right. It’s one of them. A coven, here in Coven Grove. I mean... it does make sense. But it’s still surreal. They’ve been here this whole time. Does Aiden know?”
Bailey shook her head. “But I intend to tell him. I’m tired of secrets. If we all worked together, probably things like this wouldn’t happen. There’s some kind of history between wizards and witches, but I don’t know what it is and no one will tell me.”
“I hear that,” Avery sighed. “Getting anything out of Aiden is like pulling teeth. I get that I’m the apprentice and it’s up to him how fast I learn but, I’d know what questions to ask if I knew what it was I was supposed to be learning, you know.”
“You have no idea,” Bailey groaned. “Give Aiden a call.”
He did. Aiden was already at the office, and they met him there. Avery waited until they were all together to tell Aiden what had happened.
When it was out, Aiden gave Bailey a pained look. “I’m so sorry, Bailey. I never imagined.”
“That’s because it didn’t happen,” Bailey said. “You don’t know Ryan; he couldn’t have done this. Though, for the record, I did tell you that having Professor Turner here was a bad idea.”
Aiden’s jaw twitched. After a moment, he nodded once. “You did. So, what did you have in mind?”
Owing to the lack of police cars in the area, it seemed that at least this time the murder hadn’t occurred at the caves. “What I have in mind is finding out what really happened. I was hoping you might have some... spell, or something that would help.”
He regarded them both for a heartbeat, and then turned away. Bailey and Avery followed him into his office where he sat down and pulled from inside a desk drawer a small notebook. He flipped through it a page at a time and finally clucked his tongue and tapped a page. “Right, there is one possibility I can think of. We’ll need to go to the scene, though. Where it happened.”
“Which means we need to find out,” Avery said.
“Shouldn’t be hard to find.” Bailey stood, and waved the two men after her as she left. “It’ll be the place with all the tape around it.”
By now, Coven Grove was beginning to wake up in earnest. It was a Saturday—Bailey hadn’t even realized what day it was, she’d been so distraught and confused and hurried—and it happened late. When it did, however, the general buzz of gossip and news directed them to the Hotel. There was only one in Coven Grove.
It was called the Merry Fisherman Hotel, and had been around forever, as far as Bailey and Avery knew. Because it was the only hotel, however, most people simply called it ‘The Hotel’. And, sure enough, one of the rooms was taped over with yellow police tape. The ambulances were gone, but the Sheriff’s department still had people on site.
And Gloria was there. She was hovering around the edge of the place with her pad and pen, craning her neck to get a look inside like a vulture. Now was not a time to do any magic, then. Not while Gloria was looking on.
“So, what now?” Avery asked, watching the woman from the driver’s seat. “We could distract her. Draw her away from the scene. How long does the spell you’ve got in mind take?”
“A few minutes to set up,” Aiden said. “After that, it depends on what exactly happened, now much of an impression it made
on the local enteric field. The state of the morphegenic fields of the victim and the killer. The angle of the sun and moon when it happened. It’s hard to say.”
“Is the local temporal impression susceptible to solar decay?” Avery asked.
Aiden didn’t answer right away.
“I know about you and Avery,” Bailey muttered. “And I don’t care.”
Aiden cleared his throat. “Yes, it is. But the sun is still low, and behind the door, so it shouldn’t have had much of an effect yet. We probably have until after noon. At that point, we’ll only have a few minutes.”
“Then we should split up,” Bailey said. “If Gloria sees me here, she’ll have no end of questions. You two work out a distraction and see what you can find in the room. I don’t care how you do it. Be careful what you say to Gloria, though.”
“Of course,” Aiden remarked.
Avery shot him a look, and then rested a hand on Bailey’s arm as she reached for the handle to the passenger side door. “Where are you going, then?”
“To the Sheriff’s department to check on my dad,” she said. “And to poke around heads at the coroner’s office.”
“Want us to drive you there?”
“It’s not far,” Bailey said. “And you need to keep an eye on Gloria for an opportunity.”
She looked from one man to the other, but couldn’t think of anything else to say and didn’t feel much like saying anything. When they both gave her a nod of agreement, she got out of the car, and took off at a brisk pace toward the Sheriff’s office.
Coven Grove’s Sheriff’s department was comprised of two buildings. The original Sheriff’s office, which was nearly a hundred years old, built in a colonial style that was part of the mismatched design of the town; and the newer, red-brick addition that was the city jail. Once upon a time, there had been five cells inside the Sheriff’s office that were rarely used. At some point, however, the county had funded a proper jail, as the county jail was no longer large enough for the incoming population of criminals and miscreants.
Coven Grove’s jail was largely unused, save for the occasional hard lesson for a teenaged vandal or a safe place to sleep off a late night drinking binge after someone was caught driving drunk or passed out on the street, and those events were rare as well.
Now, in one of those oft-unused cells, Bailey’s father was probably waiting for something to happen, helpless to change his fate by his own actions.
She steeled herself when she pushed through the front door to the main office, and very carefully brought her gift into focus, listening to the thoughts that echoed through her mind from the people here.
Most of it was useless. Everyone was shocked, of course, at another murder taking place so soon after the other. What was this town coming to? And Ryan Robinson of all people. Bailey’s blood nearly boiled when she heard the thoughts of some of the deputies who already believed he’d done it. Weren’t they supposed to be objective? Weren’t they supposed to collect all the evidence, and leave a conviction to the courts?
When she nearly reached across the counter to slap the middle aged woman behind it with awful, triangular glasses that belonged in the sixties and something just this side of a bee-hive on her head—Darla Simmons, she was pretty sure the woman’s name was—Bailey pulled her gift back a little. It was too much like hearing people talk blatantly, out loud, about Ryan’s ‘obvious’ guilt.
Darla was already wondering what would happen to poor Bailey now. She looked sympathetic, and Bailey felt bad for being angry with her, but not bad enough to quit it.
“Bailey,” Darla said gently. “You’re... uh, Ryan’s not done with intake just yet. He won’t be able to take visitors until he’s, you know... booked.”
Bailey’s voice was cool and calm when she spoke. It took some effort. “I’m not here to visit with him just yet, although I do want to see him as soon as I can. I’m here to speak with the investigating deputy and if possible the coroner.”
Darla blinked at her. “Bailey, dear... I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Bailey asked.
“Well you’re a civilian, darlin’,” Darla said. It was the most obvious thing in the world, wasn’t it?
“If I was a journalist you’d let me ask questions,” Bailey countered. “It happens all the time. Unless there’s another suspect, right?”
“Yes,” Darla said patiently, “but you have to have credentials for that.”
Bailey simmered quietly. She had to find out something. The frustration of being so helpless, even when she knew she wasn’t, was maddening. She could feel her temper rising. It wasn’t fair. There should be at least one person on her father’s side, one person who was willing to look at this all as a mistake, or a set up, or just a strange series of circumstances. One person who was willing to believe he was innocent, and if it wasn’t going to be one of them then it was going to be her.
Darla’s thoughts were leaking into Bailey’s head. Poor girl must be just beside herself. Maybe we could put together a little something and take it by her house. I could make my green bean casserole; I bet she’d like that.
Bailey snapped. “I don’t want your casserole,” she hissed. “I want you to let me speak with someone who can give me details about what happened to Professor Turner so that I can clear Ryan’s name.” There was a sudden spike of pressure behind her eyes. A cluster headache that lasted only a second, but made Bailey wince before it faded.
“I suppose,” Darla said slowly, with a gloss of confusion over her eyes, “James might talk with you... under the circumstances...”
Bailey rubbed her temple, but began to relax. Darla moved as if in a dream, though, and typed something into her computer before she handed Bailey a lanyard with a ‘guest’ badge hanging from it.
“Just show that to James,” she said. “And return it to the front desk when you’re done.”
“Okay,” Bailey muttered as she slipped it over her neck. She watched Darla suspiciously, as though she might change her mind. “Thank you,” she said. “Sorry about losing my temper.”
“What’s that, dear?” Darla asked. Then she blinked, and looked down at her keyboard. She began to stir a moment later.
Bailey wasn’t sure what had happened just then, but she wasn’t going to wait and find out. She’d talk to Chloe about it later. For now, she’d take what she could get. She went to find the coroner.
Chapter 10
Avery watched Gloria for about ten minutes after Bailey left them. The woman bounced from one deputy to the next, and seemed to be getting more and more frustrated about their answers—or their dismissals; it was hard to tell at this distance.
“So,” Aiden said, “you told Bailey about your apprenticeship?”
Avery glanced over at his teacher, who’d moved to the front seat to watch for a good moment to do whatever it was he intended to do, and sighed. “You know she can read minds, right?”
“I taught you how to prevent that,” Aiden pointed out.
“When Ryan was arrested, she lost control,” Avery said. “It happens to her when she gets frazzled. If I hadn’t been shielded, she wouldn’t have found out. So, technically it’s your fault for not thinking ahead. How was I supposed to know she’d recognize your handiwork?”
Aiden only grunted, and watched Gloria harass another deputy. She was waving the little badge that hung on a strap around her neck and it looked like she was shouting. She’d been going down hill, that one, ever since Martha died.
“Besides,” Avery said, “I don’t see the reason to keep it from her. She’s my best friend. She’s like a sister. It’s not right for us to keep things from one another.”
“Magic will demand that you keep a great many secrets, Avery,” Aiden said quietly. “You have to be able to keep them.”
“It’s not like I wrote her a dissertation on wizardly arts,” Avery said, rolling his eyes as he did. He considered Aiden for a moment. “And besides, you’re terrible at kee
ping your own secrets.”
Aiden eyed him, concerned about something. So, he was keeping a great many secrets, was he? Avery tucked that away. “It’s obvious you’re interested in Bailey. And I can assure you, she’s interested in you.”
His teacher relaxed visibly, and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Witches and wizards... we just can’t.”
“Why not?” Avery asked. Gloria was fuming as the deputy she’d been yelling at turned away from her and left her in abject fury, alone.
“It’s a long and complicated story,” Aiden said. “Not something I can explain right now while we have a job to do.”
That was fair enough—on the timing issue, anyway; it seemed to Avery there wasn’t any aspect out of all of this that wasn’t ‘long and complicated’. He dropped it for now, but earmarked it for discussion later. What two people could be more right for one another than a witch and a wizard? What were the other options?
“I think that’s our chance,” Aiden said, pointing.
Gloria was on her phone and wandering to the far end of the hotel parking lot. She was doing a lot of hand waving at whomever she was speaking with. Maybe her boss, Trevor, if that’s the arrangement they had. Now that was complicated—everyone knew they were more than just professional associates.
Aiden produced his wand from nowhere—a trick he hadn’t yet taught Avery but presumably would when Avery had a wand of his own—and muttered a spell while he twitched the wand this way and that in an intricate pattern that left a faint glow in the air.
The spell finished, and the sigil before him flashed softly and then vanished.
A moment later, the two deputies on duty shifted uncomfortably. Then they began to squirm. Finally, they exchanged glances and then marched stiffly but quickly away from their posts.
“What did you do?” Avery asked. Whatever the spell had been meant to do, he hadn’t recognized the elements involved.
“Better not to speak of such things in polite company,” Aiden muttered. “We have perhaps ten minutes.”
Witching The Night Away Page 6
