A Stake With a View (You Are The Worst Witch! Goodbye!) (A Wicked Good Witches Paranormal Romance Book 6)

by Starla Silver

  He parked, and they got out, investigating the area before heading to the old tree in White Pines. All appeared quiet. Michael led them on a path into the woods. The trees were not thick, and thinned even more after a short distance. They stepped up onto a crest and peered down into the Howard’s old picnic spot. The possible entrance to the power source. The location of his mother’s bones.

  The crest continued to their left until it hit a granite ridge that jabbed down into a creek bed. To their right was the old tree; the suspected entry to the Heart of the Isle, the mystical power source the Howard Witches had protected since the Isle’s inception.

  They looked for signs of activity, but so far, saw or heard nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I’ve never seen this tree before,” said Lizzy. “It’s rather remarkable, and yet not.”

  “Assuming and yet not assuming at all,” agreed Michael. “Perfect place to hide a secret magical entrance.”

  The tree was not tall. It could not have been seen from any great distance. But was old, and thick. It grew out of an embankment, its roots a mass of tangles that sprawled around the base, almost like a protective barrier.

  “You’ve never been in White Pines, even before you were a ghast?” asked Michael.

  “No. This wasn’t a park then,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m ridiculously old, remember?”

  “Oh, right. Dumb of me. Sorry.”

  “So where exactly is the doorway? I see nothing that resembles any sort of entrance.”

  He shrugged. “All I know is it’s here somewhere and somehow, my mom and dad found a way in. Obviously it doesn’t look like an actual door... but it is here…”

  “It looks like a knotted mess. On purpose, you think?”

  “Maybe. Definitely keeps people from getting too close.” Michael shot off a text to let Charlie, William and Melinda know they’d made it, and all was quiet.

  Afternoon sun beamed down. It was a hot day, humid too. July was the hottest month on the Isle. Michael wished they’d brought more supplies than just the potions they had on hand, and bottled water, but they’d been in a hurry. At least they had plenty of shade and water from the creek nearby if they needed to cool down.

  “So, Lizzy, you ever been in a battle before?” He needed to talk. The silence did nothing for his nerves, or Lizzy’s. The overwhelming amount of emotions surrounding him lately had been draining.

  “Yes. I have,” she answered. “Not an all-out war like my family and yours had seventy years ago. But before I was turned into a ghast, we had our share of battles. Our families worked together back then. Not unlike we are today actually. Howards were always in charge, but we were more than happy to help whenever it was needed. And there were a lot more of you back then. Frankly, I don’t know how you keep up.”

  “Apparently, we’re not doing a very good job,” remarked Michael. “It’s so weird to think that you worked alongside our ancestors... before William even came to the Isle.”

  “Many lifetimes ago...” she recalled sadly.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael found himself saying. “I haven’t been very accepting of you being on the Isle.”

  “I’m over it,” she replied with a shrug.

  “You’re extremely forgiving. After everything you’ve gone through... how?”

  “I decided if I ever got the chance to get my body back that I would not waste the opportunity. No regrets. No holding onto the past, dwelling on what I’ve lost. If I allowed that to happen I might as well just curl up and die because it would keep me from living now. I won’t waste my second chance feeling bad for myself.”

  “That’s a wise way to look at things.”

  “I say it like it’s easy, but it’s not. I have my moments and I’m sure I’ll have a few more. I’m glad to have Lucas and Riley though. It’s like having a family again. If I’d come back and been alone, I’m not sure I’d be handling it as well. And I’m much happier when I have someone to boss around.”

  Michael laughed.

  His smile dropped, his face going blank. There was a vehicle approaching.

  “Probably nothing.”

  But he jumped up at the ready, just in case. Lizzy did the same. They shot each other anxious glances when the vehicle came to a stop and the engine turned off.

  “Do you think Feyks drive?” wondered Lizzy.

  “No idea, but Eva Jordan does,” said Michael, taking a battle stance.

  “I thought she was supposed to be out of it, healing, because of William’s blood?”

  Michael shrugged. He’d take no chances.

  He aimed his palm toward footsteps now heading in their direction. Lizzy was about to do the same when they heard whistling.

  “Huh?” mumbled Michael.

  A silhouette forged over the crest.

  Michael breathed out in relief. “Grace.”

  “Hello there,” the gruff woman called out.

  “What on earth are you doing out here?” asked Michael, his heart beat slowing back to a normal rhythm.

  “Mack,” she explained. “She stopped in to refill her thermos and told me what was happenin’. Figured you guys’d need some provisions.” She lifted her arms, which held a basket filled with coffee, sandwiches, and pastries.

  “You’re a life saver!” exclaimed Michael.

  “Ah hell, think nothin’ of it,” Grace said. “Happy to assist our local witches do what they do.”

  Michael took the supplies and set them on the ground. Grace looked at Lizzy. They hadn’t met yet.

  “Hi,” Lizzy smiled, holding out her hand. “Lizzy Deane.”

  “Wow, what a sight. Just look at ya. The famous ghost girl of Suicide Light,” jabbered Grace, shaking her hand in greeting.

  “That’s me,” reeled Lizzy.

  “Well I think you held the title long enough for the story to stick around,” Grace winked at her. “Welcome back to the land of the livin’.”

  “Um. Thanks. Glad to be back in the land of the living.”

  Grace turned to Michael. “Never thought I’d see the day a Deane and a Howard workin’ together. Guess maybe I had to see it with my own eyes. Nothin’ personal of course,” she aimed at Lizzy. “Just strange times to be on the Demon Isle.”

  “Frankly, Grace, I’m not sure where we’d be without their help right now,” admitted Michael. The café owner tossed gazes back and forth between them for a moment. “Something else?” he questioned, taken aback by her sudden quietness. She wiped her hands nervously with the apron she donned.

  Fear. She was afraid… Michael sensed it. He guessed she was not the only one. Word spread fast amongst the locals… no help from Grace on that count, he jested silently. You needed local gossip; you went to the Wicked Muddy Café and talked to its owner.

  “We don’t know how dangerous it’s going to get, Grace,” he answered her silent question. “We hope to contain it. I don’t want to start any panics, but things are tense, right now. More tense than they’ve been since…” he trailed off.

  “Since my relatives started a war…” Lizzy finished for him. “You don’t need to pretend it didn’t happen on my account. I’m just as horrified by it as any of you.”

  Grace nodded kindly at Lizzy. “I understand. Mack filled us in on the basics of what’s happening. Not to get anyone riled up of course. But this is our home. As messed up as that can be…” she chuckled. “We’d sure hate to see dark magic of any kind return to the Isle.”

  “Same here,” agreed Michael. Shit is getting a little too real, even the locals are getting nervous. God, I hope we can contain this problem.

  “Okay then. I’ll um… let you two get back to your jobs. It sure is nice to meet ya, Lizzy. And Deane or not, any friend of the Howards is a friend of mine. You be sure to come into my cafe anytime you like. I own the Wicked Muddy.”

  “Oh, I know that place. My brothers can’t get enough of your coffee. Apparently mine sucks.”

  Grace chuckled. “You guys just holler if ya ne
ed anythin’ more.”

  “As much as this is appreciated,” said Michael, “it might not be safe to come back.”

  Grace let out a throaty chortle. “Won’t hear nothin’ of it. Us locals may be a bit out of our element, and a wee bit nervous about things, but we’re hearty bastards. You can’t beat us down so easily.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Grace.”

  “Truth is, Michael, we’ve been doing some talkin’.” She glanced at Lizzy. “Your return here has caused quite a stir. I don’t mean that in an offensive way. It’s just prompted some interestin’ conversations, brought up all the old stories. Rememberin’ our sordid history. We’re thinkin’ it’s high time we start pitchin’ in around here. After all, it is our home too, and we want to keep it that way.”

  Lizzy didn’t take any offense. On the contrary, she thought their actions sweet, and loyal. “The locals in my day never had the open-mindedness you have today. They either had no idea what was happening or had every excuse in the book to explain the odd stuff that happened on the Isle. It’s sort of sweet, really. Everyone offering their support.”

  “I like you,” decided Grace. “And once I do, well that’s just it. I do from that day onward.”

  Michael chuckled. Lizzy had passed Grace’s likeability test.

  He was also at a loss for words though. He’d always known many of the long time generational locals and their families were aware that the Howards were witches, and that the supernatural and magic did exist. But they’d always just gone about their lives. Allowed the Howards to do their jobs, mostly in peace. Now and again seeking out their assistance.

  But never did he even think about involving the locals in their work, in any fashion. It was dangerous enough for witches with powers. It could be deadly, fatal even, for regular folk to get involved. Still, the offer of solidarity meant more than he’d expected it to. He suddenly didn’t feel so outnumbered.

  “You be safe out here now,” said Grace. “I’m off. Got to get back to the cafe.”

  “Thank you, Grace,” called out Michael. He wished he could think of something more profound to say, but nothing else other than thanks, came to mind. Grace’s silhouette disappeared and a minute later her car started and drove away.

  “I think there’s hope for this place yet,” whispered Lizzy softly.

  Michael tossed her a questioning look.

  “I just mean, I’ve seen this island at its worst, and what I feel was its best.”

  “Back in your day?”

  “Yes,” she answered, pouring him a coffee.

  “Was it really so different back then?”

  “Yes, and no. The job was the same. But there were more people around to do the job. There was a comradery that hasn’t existed in a long time. Even just within your own family, and then adding our numbers... it was much easier to have a normal life in between all the supernatural stuff.”

  “I have no idea what that’s like.”

  “You three and William are doing the same job that twenty of us or more used to do at any given time.”

  “That many? I guess I knew that, it’s just hard to imagine.”

  “Ooooh, I don’t know that this is but I LOVE it,” Lizzy suddenly blurted out.

  Michael shook his head at her sudden turn. “It’s a bismark. They bake a rectangular shaped donut, cut it down the middle and then sandwich jelly and crème in the center.”

  “My new favorite,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

  “You know what, hand me one of those. I haven’t had one in ages.”

  Michael’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Melinda. “She says all’s quiet on the home front.” He texted back, “Same here, will check in again in a couple hours.”

  “Heard from Charlie and William yet?” Lizzy asked, jelly and crème leaking out of the corners of her mouth.

  “No. Nothing yet.”

  “I hope the rest of this day stays as boring.”

  “I thought you didn’t like boring.”

  “Eh, I just didn’t want to end up working alongside William today. I tend to... push his buttons. Figured he needed to focus. So I gave him a break.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates that,” replied Michael. “I’ve been a little worried about William lately. Seems a bit off his game.”

  “Well that’s just because he’s in lo...” Lizzy realized she was about to say something she should not and squeezed another bite of bismark into her mouth.

  Michael’s phone buzzed again before he could ask what she was trying to say.

  “Oh, good. Emily made it home from the bookstore. ‘Cooking dinner. Making extra for anyone that wants to stop in, if you have the time, or need.’”

  “She should bring some out here,” suggested Lizzy. She was well into her second bismark.

  “Actually, I’m trying to keep her out of harm’s way. Seems like when she’s around me she’s just a magnet for trouble.”

  “I’ve known a few people like that,” said Lizzy. “Some people just attract it.”

  A spiral of ice surged through his veins.

  Please don’t let Emily be a magnet.

  He read the rest of Emily’s text silently.

  ‘Dad and I are going to marathon some TV show he’s been begging me to watch with him. Figured it was the perfect day for that. Miss you. Be safe. Love you.’

  She’s home. And safe. He repeated this to himself before texting back a reply.

  “Em, have fun with your dad. I don’t know as I can get away, but if so, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Love you. Dying to wrap you up in my arms. So glad you’re home.”

  He took a swig of coffee, the hot liquid sinking into his stomach. It brought with it a sensation he could not shake.

  Unease.

  Like it had just settled over the entire island, dooming them all.

  CHAPTER 8

  “There she is,” said Charlie, nodding in the direction of the D.E.S.I. Reporter, Courtney Jessup.

  “Looks as though they are preparing to speed off somewhere,” noted William. He used his vampire hearing to listen in. “Another sighting. Heading out to investigate.”

  “I wonder if the Feyk are really still this active, or if people are just faking it at this point to get on TV?”

  William grunted an incoherent retort.

  “Let’s hope this pans out,” said Charlie. “We don’t have any time to waste. We need to capture a Feyk, and fast. How do you think we should approach this? Approach the reporter?”

  William cast Charlie a sly look before flying off.

  When he caught up, William was staring intently into the cameraman’s eyes, telling him to sit quietly and say nothing.

  The reporter, Courtney Jessup, came darting around the corner of the van. “Hey!” she shouted. “Who are you and what...”

  William grabbed hold of her shoulders gently and gazed deeply into her eyes. “You will answer each question I ask, truthfully.” The reporter nodded that she understood, a glazed look crawling across her face. He let go of her.

  “Are these sightings real, or are you making them up?”

  “Real,” she replied.

  “Have you witnessed one of these strange looking men yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Where was the last reported sighting?”

  She blinked, seemingly to figure out how to answer. William waited.

  “There were three, at once. One in a back alley downtown, one on a beach at Mermaid Point and one by a tourist while out fishing.”

  “Where was this tourist fishing?”

  “On a boat.”

  Charlie let out a chuckle.

  William cleared his throat. “Where was the boat located?”

  “In the water.”

  “Where in the water?” he asked, losing his patience.

  “Just off shore, at the backside of White Pines.”

  “That’s where the old fort is,” whispered Charlie. “It would be a choice hideout. Tourists can’t
get there right now. The road’s in disrepair and blocked from use.”

  William continued to question the reporter. “Did this tourist see this strange looking man at the old fort near the back of White Pines?”

  “Yes…” her answer came out as more of a question.

  “Can you elaborate?” grilled William.

  “Yes, he did. But it wasn’t a man. It was men. Many of them.”

  “I see. And how did he discover these men?

  “With his eyes.”

  William scowled.

  “A little out of practice...” mused Charlie.

  William tried again. “How did this tourist’s eyes find the strange looking men?”

  “Using binoculars.”

  “Why did he need binoculars?”

  “His eyes can’t actually see that far. He was on a boat. Fishing. Too far away off shore.”

  William ignored the laughter slipping out of Charlie’s mouth.

  “Is this where you’re headed now? To where this tourist was fishing?” he asked the reporter.

  “Yes.”

  “You will not follow this lead,” William told her firmly. “You will go to Mermaid Point, instead.”

  “Yes.”

  “In thirty seconds time you will continue to Mermaid Point and you will not remember any of this conversation.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you will not remember this conversation?” checked William.

  “Yes.”

  “I think it’s all good, William,” said Charlie.

  William turned to the cameraman and gave him the same directions as the reporter.

  He and Charlie skedaddled out of sight.

  “So if the Feyk are hiding out at the old fort, how are we going to get there?” Charlie asked.

  “No idea,” answered William. “But at least we can confirm that Courtney Jessup is a mere human. My persuasion would not have worked, otherwise.”

  “You call that working?” said Charlie, wearing a smirk.

  “We got what we needed, didn’t we?” retorted William.

  “I’m not sure that’s any relief. She was narrowing in on the Feyk as a mere human reporter. Going to get herself killed if she’s not careful.”