Witch it Real Good

by Dakota Cassidy

  I let him lead me inside, much, it seemed, like I let him lead me everywhere else tonight, but I was still a little in shock from being used as someone’s target practice. The soft lights of Christmas settled all around me as I plopped down in the plaid chair in front of the fireplace, the one I’d sat in earlier this morning.

  A cup of piping-hot tea appeared before me just as my coffee had at breakfast, but I noted when I reached for it, my hand was trembling.

  Hal conjured me an ice pack for my lip, her blue eyes concerned as she sat on her haunches and brushed my wet hair from my face with a small towel. “Oh, Stevie, are you all right?” she asked softly.

  I flapped a hand at her. “This is nothing,” I said on a chuckle. “I literally broke my rear end once when someone was chasing me.”

  As I watched her eyes widen, I remembered it had been a long while since we’d had this kind of excitement, which could probably explain why Win’s eyes had been twinkling. Once an adrenaline rush, always an adrenaline rush, I suppose.

  Hal sat opposite me, her creamy skin smooth and unlined in the firelight, but her eyes were stormy.

  “Am I hearing right? Did I hear Belfry tell Atticus someone was shooting at you?” Hal asked in disbelief, her voice shaking. “Why didn’t I hear anything? Why didn’t Atticus hear anything?”

  “A silencer,” Win said with a grim expression. “Or a suppressor as we in the business call it. Whoever it was, they used a silencer.”

  Hal’s eyes went wide. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to call the sheriff. This is ridiculous! No one should be hunting anywhere near my property, and if I find out who it is, I’m going to hex them with halitosis times infinity or something equally as horrid!”

  I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding, Hal. I don’t think that was someone hunting. I think that was someone shooting at us.”

  Hal’s eyes narrowed. “At you? As in, aiming the gun with your death on their to-do list?”

  “Yes,” I murmured on a gulp.

  Win hovered over us, his eyes filled with concern. “I’m afraid this is likely about me, Hal. Please accept my deepest apologies to have darkened your doorstep with the ghosts of my past. If you’ll just snap your fingers and send me back to Ebenezer Falls, I’d be most grateful. I won’t have you and yours in harm’s way due to me.”

  Hal hopped up from her chair and eyed Win. “Hold on. Let’s not do anything rash here before we talk this out. What makes you think it was someone trying to kill you, Winterbottom?”

  “That was no hunter,” Arkady insisted, his tone harsh. “I know sniper. I see him stalk you and my malutka, Zero, just like the ones I see in all my career. Do not mistake this for hunter.”

  “A sniper? If that’s true, he was an abysmal one, good man,” Win protested with a sarcastic laugh. “He was all over the place with those shots.”

  “Dah, Zero, he was not good shot, but he was aiming for you, following you like we used to do in old days. I see this very clearly. You cannot tell me otherwise.”

  “Did you see what he looked like, Arkady?” Hal asked, her face now chalk white as she clenched her slender fingers together.

  “Even with all the beautiful lights outside, he stay in shadows. I can only see he has dark clothes on. Maybe he is six feet tall. I do notice one thing, though.”

  I looked up at the ceiling. “And that was?”

  “He does not have on gloves, which is stupid mistake in this weather, but I am close enough to see he is missing right index finger. He use middle finger on right hand to shoot rifle.”

  “So definitely a man?” I asked, my senses on red alert.

  “Dah, malutka. He move like man. I do not doubt I am right.”

  Win ran a hand over his stubbled face and sighed. “Well, he was definitely shooting at us with a rifle. I’d know the sound anywhere, suppressor or not.”

  “So because of your experience, Arkady, I’m going to trust you know what you’re talking about and you obviously have a bird’s-eye view from all the way up there,” Hal commented, her brow furrowed with concern. “But we’re really sure this was an attempt on your life, Win?”

  He explained what happened this morning with the car while Arkady chimed in from time to time, and that was when I decided I had to be honest about what happened earlier today in town.

  “There’s more. I have a confession,” I whispered hoarsely, my lip throbbing, my upper body and thighs aching.

  “Dove?”

  “Malutka…” Arkady warned.

  But I shook my head. “If someone really is trying to kill Win, we need all the information, Arkady. He deserves to know everything.”

  Instantly, Win’s face became fraught with worry. I know that face. I know when he’s concerned something could happen to me.

  Taking my hand, he knelt in front of me and caressed my fingers. “Talk to me, Stephania.”

  I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to vomit, but what choice did I have?

  “I think I saw Miranda today. When Hal and I were in town, I bumped into a woman on the sidewalk, and I’m telling you, she looked just like Miranda.”

  Win sat back on his haunches and eyed me with skepticism. “But you’ve only seen the one picture of her, Stephania, and it certainly wasn’t a very clear nor close-up shot.”

  Oh, misery, here we come. I knew I was going to have to defend myself for this very reason, but my gut was my gut, and my gut said that had been Miranda.

  So I dug in my heels. “But I’d know that red hair anywhere, Win. It was the exact color of her hair in the picture of the two of you by the Eiffel Tower. And she looked right at me. She knew me. I know she did. I swear to you, it was her. She took off much too quickly for it not to have been her.”

  The silence in the room was as thick as the clam chowder Maine is famous for.

  Win rose then, straightening his strong legs and blowing out a pent-up breath, but his eyes went dull as he planted his hands on his hips.

  “As preposterous as her being in Marshmallow Hollow sounds, you planned to share this with me when, Stephania?”

  I blinked, a little astonished at his condescending tone before I found my voice, purposely ignoring his question. “Well, hold on one second there, pardner. I’ve learned a great deal from you. I’ve learned to observe people, I’ve learned to pay attention to even the most minute of details, and I’m telling you, even though I’ve never seen her in person, or terribly clearly, I’d bet a limb it was her.”

  Win lifted his chin and raised a haughty eyebrow. “And you think because I’ve given you a lesson or two in the science of observation that you’re now an expert?”

  “Do not take that tone with my malutka, Zero,” Arkady said quite harshly, if I do say so myself. “We make executive decision together, and we decide not to tell you until Stevie can ask questions of the shop owners who might see Miranda. I will not allow you to be meanie-butt because she is trying to do right thing.”

  But I rose, too, and held up a hand to Arkady. “It’s okay, Arkady. I’ll take responsibility for this.” Then I turned to Win, whose lips had gone thin and disapproving. “I kept this from you because I wasn’t sure my gut was enough proof. But now that someone’s tried to kill you twice, I’m pretty sure it makes sense. Do with that what you will. You can be angry, you can pout, you can accept the fact that I made a choice not to upset you because Miranda’s such a sore spot and you’re finally back on your feet enough that I didn’t want to knock you off them again. I just didn’t want to make a fuss before it was necessary.”

  Win ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “With the evidence you present, you don’t suppose someone taking potshots at me is something I might wish to prepare for?”

  I lifted my chin and crossed my arms over my chest. “And do you suppose I knew there was anything to prepare for, after you poo-pooed the notion that someone was trying to hit you with their car? You would have called me crazy for th
inking that woman I ran into today was Miranda. Much the way you insinuated moments ago when you mentioned how preposterous it was for her to be here in Marshmallow Hollow,” I shot back, with a roll of my head on my neck while doing my best imitation of Win’s British accent.

  “Forgive me for questioning the validity of Miranda’s appearance here in Marshmallow Hollow. Certainly, you know her better than I,” Win drawled, making Belfry gasp and Hal’s eyes widen.

  “Zero! I will ask you once more to take great care with your words to my malutka or I will dress you up!”

  “Dress you down. It’s dress you down,” I corrected my Russian defender before I narrowed my gaze at Win, fighting the urge to wag a finger under his nose. “And forgive me for trying to make sure I knew what I was talking about before I upset your apple cart. I don’t have to stand here and listen to you go all know-it-all Super Spy. Know what that means, buddy? In essence, it means for the moment, you can suck it, International Man of Mystery.”

  “Stephania,” Win began in that all-too-reasonable voice of his, as though I were the crazy one for taking issue with him telling me it was preposterous of me to have seen Miranda.

  “If you know what’s good for you, and if you know anything about me, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom, you’ll know that today is not the day to talk to me as though I’m some dolt.” I turned to Hal with a small smile and squeezed her hand. “Hal, please accept my apologies for this awkward display. I’m going to bed before I say something I’ll regret—or challenge Mission Impossible Man here to a cage fight. Good night.”

  With that, I turned on my heel and headed down the hallway to my bedroom so I could scream into my pillow rather than throat punch the love of my life.

  I think this could be declared our first official fight.

  Over, of all things, what essentially boiled down to a woman.

  A lying, deceptive, beautiful flame-haired woman the man of my dreams had once been madly in love with.

  What. Ever.

  Chapter 9

  “Steeeevie B, it’s time to wake up,” Belfry crooned, rubbing his snout against the shell of my ear.

  But I swatted him away like I’d swat a fly. “Not now, Bel,” I whined. “I’m tired. In case you’ve forgotten, someone tried to kill us last night. Whoever it was may not have been very good at it, but they sure did a fine job of making me feel like a semi dragged me down I-Five.”

  “Yes, now, Boss. Right now. Mom and Dad are fighting, and I hate it when they fight. So get up, it’s time to make nice with the ex-spy so we can figure out who wants to whack him and settle this mess.”

  I groaned and pulled the pillow over my face, my voice muffled when I said, “He seems to have that all sewn up, our resident spy does. He doesn’t need me to help him figure out anything because I don’t have my super-sleuthing certificate. Now go away. I’m not in the mood for a pep talk. I’m sleeping in and letting the real spies handle this.”

  Bel pushed his way under the pillow and snuggled against my ear, blowing a raspberry against it. “No, little lady. No, you’re not. We have no time for pettiness and spite in this relationship. Haven’t I taught you better?”

  I pulled the pillow from my face and cuddled my cheek against my tiny friend. “Wasn’t it you who taught me revenge was a dish best served cold?”

  “Yep. That was me. But that was only when the other person deserved it. Not when it comes to Winterbutt.”

  I clenched my teeth together to avoid screaming. “Don’t you dare stick up for him, Bel. Don’t you dare! He was rude to me last night, diminishing my accomplishments by making them sound meager to make a point, and he was rude in front of the people hosting our stay. I was mortified. It’s not bad enough we brought this mess to Hal and Atticus’s front door, but to have an argument in front of them is just awkward and rude.”

  “Uh-huh. That was rude. So rude. Believe me when I tell you, I’ve already read Winterbutt the riot act for the way he behaved last night in front of Hal, and I had to talk him out of asking Hal to zap him back to Eb Falls so he can go confess to Dana and keep you guys out of danger.”

  Humph. There was no winning my heart this morning with talk of the sacrifices Win was willing to make as though he were foregoing something as vital as a lung.

  He was a jerk to me because obviously his feelings for Miranda are still raw. No matter how he feels about her, he can’t be rude. Unacceptable.

  “Did he tell you his crazy idea to expose you to Dana as proof we’re telling the truth?”

  Bel clipped my ear with his wing. “I’ll have you know, that was my idea, Princess. When he was fretting over you and your safety, when he was worried about you not being able to go home without Dana breathing down your neck, I told him we had proof. I’m your proof.”

  I blinked in shock. “Bel, I can’t let you do that! I won’t. Imagine what people would do if they found out I have a talking bat. No! No stinkin’ way.”

  “Do you think Dana Nelson—Dana “Mr. Integrity” Nelson—is going to sell me to the highest bidder?” He scoffed a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous, Stevie. Jeez Febreze. What’s going on with you? I feel like you’ve lost faith in everyone lately. Dana’s a good guy! Yes, he’s a stickler for the rules, but he’s your friend, Boss. And ’scuse you, I can do as I please. If keeping you and Win out of the hoosegow by telling Dana about me is the only way, I’m doing it. The point is, it wasn’t Win’s idea.”

  I couldn’t even fathom that kind of reveal at this point—no matter whose idea it was.

  “Okay, fine. That’s a discussion for another time. As to Miranda, I know what I saw, Bel,” I insisted, snuggling deeper into the comforter and Whiskey’s warm body, lying beside me.

  Bel brushed the hair from my ear and whispered, “I’m sure you know, and I stan you and your belief you saw Miranda.”

  “Stan me?”

  “It means I ride-or-die you a million percent. I learned it on Twitter. It’s what all the kids are saying.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Stay off Twitter, buddy. You’ll only get yourself in hot water with all the outrage,” I warned jokingly as I tucked my arm back under the blanket and closed my eyes with a happy sigh.

  Despite our predicament, for the moment, I was safe and warm and my room smelled like vanilla and cinnamon eggnog. This was my happy place.

  But Belfry nudged me with an annoying poke. “Nope-nope, girlie. You have to get up, find a cute snow bunny outfit, and go investigate what you saw yesterday. You need to talk to some of the shop owners in town about Miranda. Can’t do that if you’re lying around here like the Queen of Sheba, can you?”

  I reached for him and scooped him into my palm. “Win really tried to get Hal to zap him back?”

  “He did, but she absolutely refused. Hal said she’s as much a part of this as anyone now—because whoever wants Win dead knows he’s staying here, and that means the bad guy knows your surprise sister knows our Spy Guy. Even if you guys leave, who’s to say the killer won’t show up and try to kill her because they think she knows where Win is? She said she felt safer with you guys here. And to be honest, Boss, she makes a valid point. She’s sort of all the way in, like it or not.”

  I hated to admit it, but it did make perfect sense. There was safety in numbers, and now that we’d exposed her to our life on the lam, we’d pushed her into a corner.

  “Boy, we’ve really overstayed this welcome, huh, Bel?”

  “I think Hal’s just happy to get to know you, Boss. I don’t think she considers someone trying to murder Win an inconvenience just because it happened here. How could you guys have known someone was going to try and whack him? It’s been quiet for months.”

  I sat up and sighed, still a little ticked with Win’s reaction to what I’d said last night, but less so after talking it out with Bel. As I stroked Whiskey’s velvety-soft ears, I said something out loud that I’d been feeling for a long time.

  “You know, Bel, I almost hope it turns out to be her. I’d
like to have this over and done with once and for all.”

  “Which part? The part where Win gets whacked or the part where once and for all, you stop reacting emotionally about Miranda where Win’s concerned?”

  “That’s not fair. I can’t help being emotional, Belfry. This is my life we’re talking about, too. She could ruin it.”

  Bel hopped off my shoulder and onto Whiskey’s back to give him his daily morning massage.

  As he kneaded his spine with his tiny feet to rouse him, he asked, “You don’t really think Win would consider taking her back, do you, Stevie? Even if she didn’t murder him, or she really didn’t sell out both him and Von Krause to some lunatic for thirty mill, and she’s as innocent as innocent gets, he loves you now. I don’t doubt that for a second. It wouldn’t matter if she offered him a billion bucks and a floating castle, Win loves Stevie. Remember, hashtag Stewin?”

  I kept forgetting about the fact that Miranda had sold Von Krause’s location to someone for thirty million dollars while Win had been undercover. She knew he was going to be with Von Krause. So maybe her hands weren’t dirty by doing the actual killing, but they still had some grime on them if she told someone where he was.

  And after all that, it still didn’t explain why Miranda was physically there that night with the man with the tattoo on his hand. All she had to do was sell the information. Whoever paid her could have sent someone in to kill Win. Right? Wasn’t that how stoolie’s and hitmen worked?

  Maybe Win’s recollection was all wrong?

  Why didn’t that make me feel better, and why was I so stinkin’ insecure? Ugh. I despised myself today.

  I looked down at my hands in guilt, now folded neatly in my lap. “I guess I don’t think that either, but he has to have some remnant of feeling left for her, Belfry. I mean, he bought the house from her estate after she died because he wanted to be closer to her, for cripes’ sakes. It wasn’t just a passing fancy. So what if he finds out she didn’t rat him out or kill him, and then he has to deal with the fact that he shouldn’t have hated her all these years? Then what?”