Witches and Witnesses

by Lily Webb

  “After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least I could do to repay you.”

  He smiled and stood. “I’m sorry again for dampening the party, but I’m sure you understand that I need to attend to this.”

  “Of course, go. No need to apologize, just keep me posted.”

  “Thank you again. Hopefully, sometime this week this will all be behind us,” Heath said. I highly doubted that, but I kept my tongue in my mouth as he headed for the fence to take the side route out of the backyard where no one would see him leaving.

  At the last second, he stopped and turned. “Oh, I almost forgot to give you my gifts,” he said and reached for his wand in his robes again. He waved it and a massive pile of bottles, nipples, diapers, and formula appeared on the table beside me. “That should be more than enough to get you started,” he said and winked before he disappeared into thin air.

  Somehow, I knew the quiet over the last ten weeks was too good to last.

  Chapter Three

  Thankfully, I sneaked out the door for work on Monday morning before Grandma Elle woke up. As much as I appreciated her being back, I couldn’t stand the thought of her doting over me like she had been all weekend. Besides, between the enchanted necklace she’d given me and Umrea, my gargoyle guard who spent every night on my front porch and accompanied me everywhere, I didn’t think I had any danger to worry about.

  Unfortunately, flying to work had stopped being an option as soon as I realized I could no longer lift my leg high enough to mount my broom, so instead I walked — or, more accurately, waddled — there with Umrea.

  Though the walk wasn’t long, it still felt like an eternity when I had what amounted to a bowling ball strapped to my stomach. More than once, I’d considered asking Umrea to carry me the rest of the way to give my aching feet and calves a break, but somehow, I didn’t think she’d take well to the request, so I decided against it every time.

  “How are you this morning, Councilwoman?” Umrea asked as we stepped off my front porch, her voice like stones grinding against one another. Since learning of my pregnancy, the gargoyle had grown more talkative with me in the mornings.

  Normally, I didn’t mind — in fact, I appreciated the company — but given the fog I’d found myself in when I woke up thanks to a night of buzzing anxiety about Heath and his son and the twins doing boxing practice with my guts, chatting with her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Oh, you know, I’m fat, aching, and I have to pee every five minutes. I’m pretty much perfect,” I said, and she stared at me with her haunting eyes and a confused look on her face. No gargoyle had ever won an award for their sense of humor.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m miserable, thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you,” she said, puzzled by the conversation, but she seemed to have at least gotten the hint I wasn’t in the mood to gab.

  We struggled the rest of the way to the Town Hall in the center of Moon Grove in sweet, sweet silence, something I’d grown to savor more than ever before if for no other reason than I knew I wouldn’t get much more of it. Once I had two kids running around screaming and wetting themselves, I’d probably appreciate it even more.

  My small moment of serenity shattered as soon as Umrea shoved the towering, wooden double doors open for me. The other twenty-five members of the Council had already taken their seats atop a raised dais, each of their eyes locked on the three individuals standing around a small table in front of them: Heath, a wispy, unwell looking warlock that must’ve been Adam, and an otherworldly tall, fancily dressed individual with horns and a long, spindly tail.

  “Heath? What’s going on?”

  “Ah, Zoe. Good, I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he beckoned me toward his guests. He placed a hand on the other warlock’s shoulder, who flinched at the touch. “This is my son, Adam. And this is his lawyer, Virgil.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Councilwoman,” the lawyer said and extended a pale blue, clawed hand for me to shake.

  A bright yellow dandelion popped from his pinstriped suit pocket where he’d pinned it, and his jovial smile and crow’s feet in the corners of his feline yellow eyes distracted from the unsettling, sawed-off horns sprouting from his forehead. The leathery, spade-capped tail that protruded from his slacks swished behind him and cracked like a whip as he waited for me to say or do something.

  When I didn’t, Virgil chuckled and tucked his hand in his pocket. “Ah, I know that look too well. This must be your first time meeting a demon. My kind aren’t exactly common in your neck of the magical woods.”

  Nearly a year into my new life in Moon Grove, and I was still meeting new paranormal species. “Er, sorry, I was just confused.”

  Virgil smiled, revealing dozens of sharp, pointed teeth, and tapped one of his stunted horns. “Not to worry, we neither bite nor maul unless provoked, which is why we make perfect lawyers.”

  “Virgil, Adam, and I have spoken at length over the weekend and we’ve agreed on something that the Council has already voted to approve. Well, most of them anyway,” Heath said and shot a glance over his shoulder at the other members. I didn’t know who he meant, but I could venture a few guesses. “I’m sorry for voting without you, but you’d already pledged your support, so I thought it would be okay.”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind. So, what’s the deal?”

  “As we discussed, the Council has agreed to provide Adam immunity from prosecution if he’ll cooperate with our investigation into the Black Brotherhood and make a public statement denouncing the group and his involvement with it,” Heath said. “I’ve already scheduled a press conference for that reason for later this morning and sent announcements to the press.”

  “Oh, uh, wow. That moved quickly.”

  “The quicker, the better. Neither the Council nor I need this hanging over Moon Grove.”

  “Okay. So, when’s the conference?”

  “Ten A.M.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “That’s in less than an hour.”

  Heath smiled. “Yes, so time is of the essence. After Adam finishes making his statement, the gargoyles will take him to a secure area for detainment and questioning. You’re welcome to visit and ask him anything you might like. Given your recent skirmish with him and his associates, I’m sure you have questions.”

  I stole another glance at Adam and realized he looked nothing like his father. Where Heath radiated life and joy, Adam seemed like he had none of either quality left. His greasy brown hair dangled in a curtain down the left side of his face, concealing one of his beady, murky blue eyes. The other flitted anxiously in its socket, unable to focus on anything. It was hard to tell given his physical condition, but he looked almost as old as Heath, which I knew wasn’t possible. Life hadn’t been kind to Adam.

  So yes, I had several questions for him — namely, how on Earth had he survived our encounter? I’d pushed a massive stone column over onto him that had to have crushed his vital organs. Also, how had he gotten involved with the Brotherhood, and how did he end up a henchman for Derwin Moriarty, a lying Seer turned criminal?

  “For now, I think you’d better take your seat. I expect the press to arrive any moment now, and you know better than anyone else how much of a mess their camera setup can be,” Heath said.

  “Right, sure,” I said and headed for the stairs leading up the side of the dais in a daze. As I waddled my way up them, my energy depleted quickly, so I had to stop at the top to catch my breath.

  I hadn’t expected things with Adam to move so quickly, but Heath obviously had other plans, which begged the question: Why was he rushing? It couldn’t be good for Heath’s legacy to have his son gallivanting around as a member of the Black Brotherhood, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a family member of his had had their connections to dark magic exposed.

  I headed for my chair at the center of the dais next to Heath’s, careful not to knock anyone out with my ginormous stomach. Thank
fully, my chair was large and sturdy enough that I could collapse into it without fear of it breaking.

  Wesley Damon, an older warlock council member to my left, leaned over to whisper in my ear. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had an eventful morning like this, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s putting it lightly.”

  “I can’t speak for you, but this seems awfully rushed to me.”

  I bit my lip to keep from agreeing. Even though I disliked Heath’s approach, I had to resist Wesley’s gossip bait for the sake of unity. The last thing we needed in a time like this was for the Council to splinter. I cleared my throat and composed myself. “If the Head Warlock thinks this is the best decision, then I support him.”

  Wesley scoffed, and I caught a whiff of his morning coffee on his breath. “How diplomatic of you.”

  I turned to look him in his steely grey eyes and fixed him with my strongest look. “Diplomacy is what the people of Moon Grove voted us here to do, Wesley. Don’t forget that.”

  “I fail to see how making a warlock confess his sins to the entire magical world is diplomatic, but I suppose you and I will have to agree to disagree.”

  I mustered my most patronizing smile. “See? It’s not so hard. You’re already starting to get the hang of this diplomacy thing. I’m proud of you,” I said and faced forward to avoid looking at Wesley’s grizzled face any longer.

  True to Heath’s prediction, reporters had already started pouring into the chamber while Wesley and I sparred. The gargoyles guarding the door confiscated their wands and searched their bags before letting them inside — we couldn’t be too cautious anymore.

  Unsurprisingly, Marcel Desfleurs, an old friend and vampire photographer for the undead-owned Grave Times, was one of the first to arrive. He flashed me a pointy-toothed smile and waved while he got his camera mounted on a tripod.

  What surprised me, however, was seeing Flora enter with a young witch reporter I didn’t recognize. If I had to guess, she was probably a new hire at the Messenger and the higher ups had assigned Flora to accompany her to the event — just like Mitch had come with me to my first assignment in this very room when I worked for the Messenger.

  A smarmy looking middle-aged warlock in an expensive suit followed them inside, his hair all shining, gelled waves in the light from the candlesticks magically suspended overhead. I’d never seen him before.

  “Oh, dear Lilith, if Tate Kane, the unofficial spokesman of the pro-warlock movement, is here then this really will be good,” Wesley laughed. His name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it at first — until I matched it to the voice and realized Tate Kane was the anti-witch radio host I’d heard Derwin Moriarty listening to when I’d found him asleep in his shop weeks prior.

  Tate sat in the front row of seats fanning out from the dais and pulled a recorder from his inner jacket pocket. He rested it in his lap and adjusted the distinctive silver cufflinks that twinkled from both his suit sleeves. I shuddered to think how he’d sensationalize whatever was about to happen, but I knew he’d find a way. I saw in the way Heath’s body language changed that he wasn’t happy to see Tate either.

  But it was nothing compared to the way Adam seemed to fold in on himself when a witch his age entered the chamber and immediately locked her angry, watery eyes on him. She had a recently drowned look about her. Her face’s shade was a pale blue, her eyes were puffy and ringed by smudged mascara, and her locks of graying hair were stringy and clumped as if mermaids had braided them together while she floated below the surface.

  “Morgan…” Adam gasped, and Heath helped him sit down at the table they’d prepared for him to make his statement from.

  Wesley leaned toward me again. “That’s Adam’s ex-wife. Rumor is she divorced the poor slob after black magic got their son killed. You remember Seth, Heath’s grandson, don’t you? If I have my facts straight, I think you had something to do with that.”

  I didn’t reply, more because I couldn’t than because I didn’t want to. I remembered Seth too well — and the way his pale hand had hung out from under the sheet covering his body after blood magic had drained it of its essence.

  No wonder Morgan looked drowned; she’d probably been drifting in a sea of grief for months after losing Seth, and now she had to deal with the added anguish of learning her ex-husband had gotten involved with the same group that killed their son.

  Once again, my hand instinctively found its way to my stomach. I didn’t know what I’d do if one of my kids got tangled up in something as awful, and I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of losing either of them — and they hadn’t even been born yet.

  More reporters and members of the public continued to flood the chamber. I couldn’t take my eyes off Morgan, who sat directly in front of Adam and seemed unable to remove her boiling gaze from him. I couldn’t definitively read the look on her face, which was a mixture of anger, revulsion, and sadness, but I didn’t blame her for any of the feelings.

  Before I realized it, someone had taken every seat in the chamber. Heath nodded to the gargoyles at the door, and they pulled it closed to keep anyone from interrupting. The excited chatter among the attendees died immediately as the chamber darkened, illuminated only by the candles overhead. The silence grew so thick I heard the humming of the cameras below already recording everything in the room.

  Virgil sat down next to Adam. Heath placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and leaned down to speak into his ear. “It’s time, Son. Make things right,” he whispered, but I still heard it. I hoped no one else did, for Adam’s sake.

  Adam nodded and pulled several folded pieces of paper from his robes. He smoothed them out on the table and lifted them up with trembling hands. Every person in the room sat on the edge of their seats while they waited for him to speak, including me.

  “G-good morning, everyone,” he stuttered, his voice strained and cracking like he hadn’t spoken in months. As soon as I heard it, I knew it was the same voice of one of the men who’d attacked me in the dungeon under Derwin’s shop. Goosebumps rippled across every inch of my skin at the realization.

  I rubbed my arms to shoo them, but they returned stronger and my hands felt like ice, so I raised them to my mouth to blow on them — and froze when I saw the moisture of my breath in the air. Had the temperature in the room dropped, or was I that unsettled? I couldn’t tell.

  “My name is Adam,” he continued and paused again like he’d stumbled on his tongue. “A-Adam Highmore.” A collective gasp tore through the room, and Heath squeezed Adam’s shoulder to encourage him to keep going.

  Adam opened his mouth to speak further, but a draft of air surged through the room and seemed to steal the breath from his lungs as the candles overhead guttered and extinguished one by one, plunging the chamber into frigid darkness. The last thing I saw, Heath reaching for his wand in his robes, seared into my eyes as the darkness overtook them.

  “What’s happening?” Wesley asked, his voice full of fear. For once, I agreed. Anxious chatter stirred up among the attendees, and I heard Heath trying to calm everyone down, but it didn’t seem to work. People were already heading for the door, stumbling over each other and knocking over chairs in their rush to escape.

  “No,” Adam whimpered from below, sending a fresh round of goosebumps cascading down my spine. “Oh no, no, please, NO, I—AAAGGGHH!” His shout becoming a horrific, blood-curdling howl. A wave of screams came from the audience and I jumped from my chair with my wand drawn, ready to fire.

  Then, as suddenly as the candles had gone out, they burst back to life, flooding the chamber in warm light and returning the warmth that’d disappeared. I glanced down at the table in front of the dais and clapped a hand over my mouth at what I saw.

  Adam lay face down on the table, motionless, and Heath stood over him with his wand drawn. Virgil stared up at Heath, horrified, and suddenly the chamber erupted into chaos as the realization of what’d happened sunk in.

 
Heath whirled to face me as the gargoyles soared through the air toward him. “I didn’t do anything! I know what it looks like, but I swear to you Zoe, I had nothing to do with this! You have to believe me!” he shouted as the gargoyles descended on him and knocked his wand from his hands to twist them behind his back.

  Wesley stared down at the scene with his eyes wide and his skin as white as powdered snow. “What else does he expect us to believe?” he whispered through the fingers over his mouth, his voice vacant and distant.

  Light poured into the chamber as the doors flung open, and once the gargoyles had hauled Heath out of the room, panicked people streamed out, eager to get away from him and what they’d just seen.

  I stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe my eyes and ears. Virgil seemed just as stunned as me and sat still as stone, staring at Adam. Tate looked as if he’d just woken from an awful nightmare and didn’t know how he’d gotten there, while Morgan sat with what I swore was a smirk on her face.

  I should’ve done or said something to reassure everyone, but I couldn’t think straight. No matter how hard I tried to form an explanation, and no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that what I’d witnessed couldn’t have happened, I couldn’t deny the grim way things looked: Heath Highmore, my mentor and the one warlock I most looked up to, might have just killed his son.

  Chapter Four

  After hours spent waiting on pins and needles in my office, my desk phone finally rang. I knew it was Mueller, Moon Grove’s werewolf police chief, without having to guess.

  My hand shot toward the phone like a hidden animal might attack its unsuspecting prey, and I thrust the receiver to my ear so hard I heard it connect with my skull. “This is Zoe. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Zoe, it’s Mueller.”

  “Yeah, I gathered. Let’s skip the formalities, okay? We’re in crisis here, Mueller.”

  Mueller grunted, and I could picture him scowling with his droopy dog face in my mind. “Sure thing. Look, I gotta be honest, the story Heath is telling us isn’t all that convincing, but he swears what happened at the Town Hall wasn’t what it looked like. He’s already gotten himself a lawyer, and he’s refusing to tell us anything beyond his version of events. They’re, well, bizarre, to say the least. He wants to see you.”