Witching The Night Away

by Constance Barker

  “Any kind of notebook?” Bailey asked. “Or papers? Books? A briefcase or anything with materials about his research?”

  “Not that I recall,” Seamus said.

  Bailey stared at him. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd? He was an archaeologist. He was here to do research on the Caves. Was he just remembering it all in his head?”

  “I hope not,” Seamus said, “or it died with him.”

  “Where did it all go, Seamus?” Bailey hissed.

  Seamus only shrugged. “Maybe Ryan... or, I mean maybe the killer took it.”

  She had to catch her breath to keep from snapping at him for making assumptions like that. He had to work with what he knew. They all did. If she said it to herself often enough, maybe she’d be less angry about it. She supposed there was a reason that people in law enforcement weren’t supposed to investigate cases that were too close to home.

  “Right,” she said finally. “The killer took it with them. Just, try to think about that for a little while, okay? Whoever has the research is probably who actually killed Professor Turner. I saw Ryan when he came home last night; he didn’t have anything on him. No papers, no books, no briefcase or anything else. So if those things are out there, they’re with the killer.”

  Seamus seemed to be listening. He looked thoughtful. Bailey thought it was probably a good idea to have him thinking about it, at least—but she had no intention of waiting for him to follow up on it.

  She left him there, and returned her lanyard to Darla—she was surprised, and didn’t remember giving it to Bailey in the first place—and then beat a hasty exit before the woman started to ask any questions.

  By sheer luck, it seemed, she saw Avery and Aiden pulling into the station’s parking lot just as she got to the sidewalk. She waved them down, and got in the back seat.

  “So?” Avery asked, watching her through the rear-view mirror.

  “You first,” she said.

  “The killer took something off of Turner’s body,” Aiden told her.

  “And left the murder weapon on purpose,” Avery added. “It wasn’t Ryan; he’s too smart for that.”

  “I know it wasn’t Ryan,” Bailey said, offended that this was the thing Avery considered the indicator of his innocence rather than the fact that Ryan would never have killed a person in the first place. “And I know what the killer took. Or, at least part of it. Let’s go to the bakery. I need to talk with the Coven.”

  “Coven?” Aiden asked, turned to stare at her. “There’s a whole Coven here?”

  Bailey groaned, and rubbed her face. “Yes, Aiden. There’s a Coven. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

  Chapter 12

  Determined, as she was that they would all work together, Bailey couldn’t convince Aiden to come in and speak with the Coven ladies. Frankly, just now, she didn’t particularly want to speak with them either. But Aiden became very agitated when Bailey told him that the women knew about him. Why that should be, she couldn’t imagine and he wasn’t saying.

  Avery did come with her. “Maybe if I can get close, I can tell which one of them it is,” he muttered as they ascended the stairs.

  The bakery was open and running by now, and there were people enjoying high-calorie brunches and coffee on the porch and at the tables inside. Aria and Chloe both smiled when they saw her; they noticed Avery, very obviously, as well. Francis only threw a quick wave of greeting in Bailey and Avery’s direction, face a bit sour, and went back to decorating cupcakes.

  Bailey felt a bit guilty for it, but she really hoped it wasn’t Francis.

  If anything, she hoped that it was Aria. Aria was sweet, and patient. She never said a harsh word. Even Chloe had her moments when she spoke frankly about what Bailey should or shouldn’t be doing, and sometimes seemed frustrated when Bailey had her own ideas about how to be a witch. Aria, though, was always ready to listen and discuss.

  Bailey glanced at Avery, but he didn’t give her any hints as to what he was thinking or feeling.

  “What can I do for you two?” Chloe asked when Bailey approached the counter.

  Bailey spoke quietly, though there was no one else at the counter for the moment but her, Chloe, and Avery. “You’ve heard?” She asked.

  Chloe frowned, and then nodded slowly. “About the archaeologist? No one’s talking about anything else.”

  Bailey leaned in. “Chloe, they arrested Ryan for it.”

  Chloe gasped her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, no!”

  “He didn’t do it,” Bailey said quickly. “Someone set him up. They took something from the Professor. A little black book, with his research. Maybe other things, I don’t know.”

  Aria closed on them, concerned. “What’s happened?”

  “Ryan’s been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit,” Bailey said. “I need your help to clear his name.”

  Aria and Chloe very pointedly did not look at Avery.

  “I’m not sure what we can do to help, dear,” Chloe said, sounding genuinely confused.

  Bailey sighed. “Avery knows,” she said.

  Both women’s faces became impassive.

  “Oh dear,” Aria muttered.

  “Bailey... why would you...?” Chloe seemed hurt, as though Bailey had betrayed her. Aria did as well, but she also looked nearly terrified.

  “I trust Avery,” Bailey said, and took his hand. “But... so that it’s all in the open I... sort of told Aiden as well.”

  “And for the sake of being entirely honest,” Avery spoke up, “I’m technically his apprentice. So...”

  Chloe’s mouth worked, but no words came out. Aria’s lips were parted, her head shaking very slightly back and forth.

  It was at this point that Francis finally approached them, wiping her hands on a towel. “Let me guess. Something awful just happened.” She eyed Avery up. “I won’t have to guess very long, I think.”

  “Look this isn’t important right now,” Bailey said. “Can you help me or not?”

  “Aiden knows,” Aria whispered to Francis.

  “So? Wipe him.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said in response to Bailey’s question.

  Bailey, though, was staring at Francis.

  “Wipe him?” She asked. “What does that mean?”

  Aria waved her slender fingers at the question. “Nothing, Bailey. Don’t worry about it.”

  “She means wipe his memory,” Avery said. “Aiden told me about it. It’s why he’s locked up tight like he is. Me too, by the way.” This statement Avery directed at the witches.

  He folded his arms over his chest and glanced around. So far, no one was taking much notice of them. “I don’t know what you think about him or me for that matter,” he said, “but I think Aiden’s more afraid of you than you are of him.”

  “He’s not a complete idiot then,” Francis said archly. “You might be, though.”

  Bailey slammed her hands down on the counter, and now people were looking. She felt the attention of the whole establishment on her. When she spoke, it was very calmly, and very quietly. “Whatever drama is supposed to be between... us and them... it can take a back seat. Can we please go upstairs and discuss the problem that is right in front of us.”

  Francis opened her mouth to speak, but Chloe raised a hand to silence her. “You two keep an eye on the store,” she said. “I’ll take it.”

  Bailey and Avery both went to the end of the counter to come around back, but Chloe frowned, and shook her head. “Just you, Bailey. I can’t let Avery come up.”

  “Now listen just a second—” Bailey started.

  “No,” Avery said. “It’s fine. Just go, and let me know what happens. I’ll wait with Aiden. We don’t want to make any trouble.”

  Bailey slumped a little, but ceded her ground rather than digging her heels in, however much she wanted to. She didn’t like existing in two worlds like this. It put an invisible wall between them that she hadn’t built, and neither had he, and
she was worried that they would never be able to tear it down. “Alright. I won’t be long.”

  He hugged her, and left. Aria and Francis watched him go, and Chloe led Bailey through the back and up the stairs to the attic. She was calm, the whole way, but that changed when they were in the sound proofed room.

  Chloe rounded on her, furious. “Do you have any idea what you might have done?” She asked, her voice louder than Bailey was sure she’d ever heard it before. “What kind of danger you’ve potentially put us in? And the Caves?”

  At first, Bailey’s reaction was to cringe away, and apologize profusely. But, somehow, it just wouldn’t quite come. Instead, she planted her fists on her hips and glared at the woman. “Oh, excuse me—maybe if I had known exactly why it was a problem in the first place I would have avoided being honest with my friends about what kind of a life I’m living. What do you want from me, Chloe? You all tell me what you want me to do but never give me any reasons. What could my knowing the answers to these apparently critical questions possibly harm?”

  “Knowledge and wisdom—” Chloe started, for the millionth time.

  Bailey cut her off, “Do not arrive hand in hand, yes I know that, Chloe, thank you, but you don’t think that maybe in this case knowing the reason I shouldn’t have told Aiden about the Coven would be information that might serve to insure that I understand why it’s important and therefore work harder to keep our Coven a secret from him?”

  “It should be enough when we tell you that it has to stay a secret,” Chloe snapped. “Why do you defy me at every turn? Why can’t you just listen to me when I tell you how it has to be? I know better than you do, I’ve already made all of the same mistakes and paid for them more dearly than you can imagine, Bailey! I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did and give up what I had to give up!”

  The silence that followed was so profound that Bailey imagined she could hear Chloe’s heart beat on top of her own.

  “What did you give up?” Bailey asked quietly. She may as well have shouted it.

  “Too much,” Chloe said. She wouldn’t look at Bailey. “Too much that can never be gotten back.”

  Bailey waited. It seemed like Chloe was going to say something more, but she didn’t. When it became clear she wasn’t going to keep going, Bailey spoke instead. “That first night,” she said, and took a step toward the woman, “in front of the caves, when you first helped me control my gift. I saw... I thought I saw, in your mind, your memories... there was a baby.”

  “Bailey, please,” Chloe said, her voice tight.

  “I couldn’t have been very deep,” Bailey went on. “I know that now. So you were thinking about it just then.”

  “We need to work on clearing Ryan of the murder.” Chloe was trying to distract her. That was answer enough.

  “Chloe,” Bailey said, barely able to speak herself, “you’re my mother, aren’t you?”

  Chloe was very still. Her chest had stopped moving; she was holding her breath. Her eyes closed tight, and she turned her face away from Bailey. When she did exhale, finally, it was with a sob and once that dam was broken, the whole river came pouring out of it.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, pressing her hands to her face. “Oh, Bailey. My daughter. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Chapter 13

  When she was thirteen, Bailey had imagined meeting her mother one day. It was right after she’d learned she was adopted. She had fantasized a number of scenarios, but in all of them, there was a common theme. Her mother had left—she’d gone somewhere far, far away and when she was done doing, whatever it was she had left to do, she came back. Sometimes she showed up at Wendy and Ryan’s house, dressed like some intrepid explorer. Sometimes she arrived calmly, and sometimes she rushed in to claim Bailey as her daughter—there were adventures afoot, and Bailey was finally a part of them.

  Always, there was a good reason for why she had given Bailey up. Always, the reunion was joyful and tearful and all sins were forgiven. Always, always, Bailey had imagined that she would leap into her mother’s arms and they would finally be together.

  Never had she imagined that she would be so very, very angry.

  She trembled with it. Her lips moved with the unspoken words that were running through her mind, desperate to leap out and strike her mother. They were spiteful, acidic things that burned her from the inside out. They were accusing, hissing and spitting like angry cats with their claws out.

  She had been here the whole time. Worse, she had seen Bailey two or three times a week since she was eight years old. She had been there when Wendy passed away and wouldn’t that have been the time to step up? To say something? To tell her it was all going to be okay because Bailey still had a mother to hold her.

  And then they had discovered that they had the same gift of magic. If Bailey hadn’t been so blessed—or cursed; it was apparently still up in the air—then perhaps keeping the Coven a secret would have been a good enough reason not to speak up about it. That, at least, she could have come to terms with eventually, if she knew about it. But what reason could she possibly have had to keep it a secret after Bailey was involved and initiated? How long did she expect the truth to stay hidden?

  Wendy had often said that there was no worse time to try to have any kind of constructive discussion than when you were angry. It was better to table it for the time being, calm down, and gain back a little rationality. She and Ryan had fought frequently, though they never threatened divorce, and it was often Wendy to put up her hands and demand that they stop right where they were and take some time to cool down before revisiting whatever issue it was that had gotten between them.

  “Angry thoughts and words are the loudest for the same reason the least rational people tend to be the loudest,” she’d said. “They don’t have anything useful to say that people will listen to willingly; so they have to get louder and louder to be heard. Rationality has no need to cause a scene.”

  Bailey closed her eyes, realized they were brimmed with hot tears, and took several long breaths before she could finally speak. “I can’t think about this now,” she said slowly. “The man who went to the trouble of raising me is in trouble himself. He’s my priority. We can discuss this later.”

  When she opened her eyes, Chloe looked positively abject, but she nodded her head and wiped her own eyes. She might have been about to say something, and Bailey did very much want to know what it was, but she wasn’t confident that she would hear it clearly just now. She held up a hand, “Please, Chloe.”

  “Of course,” Chloe said. “You... mentioned a notebook? Something taken from the victim?”

  “Yes,” Bailey said. “It’s small, about this big, like a pocket notebook. Black leather cover. Worn.”

  “Worn like he’d had it for a long time?” Chloe asked. She went to the chest where the book of spells was kept and pulled it out. She laid it on the lectern nearby and opened it up.

  “Ages,” Bailey confirmed. “I didn’t get a very clear look at it at the time, but it was about an inch or so thick and it seems like he opened it to the middle.” She approached the lectern but stopped a few feet away.

  Chloe paged through the book, pausing to wipe her eyes again a few times before she found what she was looking for. “We’ll need something else that he owned,” she said. “Something of significant personal value.”

  “Is it the finding spell?” Bailey wondered.

  Chloe shook her head. “Finding spells are notoriously difficult to work, and often require triangulation, or they alert the person that has the object to the fact that it’s being looked for. They’re inelegant. This is a summoning spell.”

  “We need to know who actually has it,” Bailey argued. “Wouldn’t it be better to go to them?”

  “If they’ve thrown it away, dropped it, destroyed it, or otherwise don’t have it,” Chloe explained, “then you’re out of luck. This sort of spell brings the object to you by apparent ‘chance’. That way, no one is the wiser and you�
��ve got better odds that the person who took it will show themselves up.”

  “And if they’ve already gotten rid of it?”

  “Then it will find its way to us through some other series of events,” Chloe said. “I want to help, but we can’t take anymore risks with the Coven’s safety. This way is best.”

  Bailey wanted to argue further, but Chloe had recovered from her emotional, apologetic state from before. Now, she was a senior witch in the Coven again and she spoke with final authority, brooking no arguments.

  “If you say so,” Bailey said. “But I don’t have anything that belonged to Professor Turner. All of these belongings that were on him or in the room are in the evidence lock up at the station.”

  Chloe bookmarked the spell and closed the book. “Just you let me worry about that. Aria and I can get something suitable.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bailey asked. “Break in to the Sheriff’s station?”

  “I think this is one of those times where the less you know, the better it will be,” Chloe said. “Legally speaking.”

  “What will you do, turn invisible?”

  Chloe made a face like the word tasted bad. “Lord, no. Nothing as gross as that. Aria can charm her way into or out of anything, believe me. And I can... grease a few gears myself.”

  Bailey thought she knew what Chloe might have meant. “Earlier,” she said carefully, “when I went to speak with the coroner and the deputy who arrested Ryan, something happened with the front desk lady. Darla, I’m pretty sure.”

  “What exactly?” Chloe asked, brows furrowing.

  “Well I didn’t mean to, but I needed her to get me in,” Bailey said. “And then I got a headache, right here.” She pointed to her eye. “And then... she gave me a lanyard. She didn’t remember, later, that she had.”

  Chloe’s curiosity melted away and was replaced with concern. She rested hand on the spell book almost... protectively. “I see. You... compelled her. It’s an extension of your gift. Normally it takes many years for it to develop but in your case... Well, you’ve been under a great deal of stress lately. Especially today. It’s probably a fluke. But at least we know you have that potential.”