A Lying Witch Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  That fact rang over and over in my mind like a blaring horn.

  I sat there, staring at how close Max and Sarah were, my hands curling into harder and harder fists. It was a surprise steam didn’t start issuing from my mouth.

  Bridgette snickered and leaned over. “It’s not what you think, you know,” she said.

  I frowned.

  She smiled. “How new are you to this world, exactly?” she asked out of the blue.

  I blinked, showing just how new I was with my obvious innocence.

  Bridgette chuckled. “They’ve known each other for a long time, a very, very long time.”

  Just before my heart could sink as my worst suspicions were confirmed, I stopped. There was something about the way Bridgette had said very, very.

  “You know magic has consequences, right?”

  “Ah, yeah,” I answered.

  “You know Max, ah, forgets, right?” Bridgette said delicately.

  I nodded.

  “Sarah Anne doesn’t. Her magic extends her lifespan, stops her from aging, and stops her from forgetting,” Bridgette spoke softly, her voice only carrying to me.

  I balked. “She’s immortal? That’s not a consequence—”

  Before I could finish, Bridgette shot me a blank look. “No, she’s not immortal – she can still be killed. She just can’t age, and nor can she forget. And if you think that’s brilliant, then you’ve never faced a day you want to put behind you.”

  “… Oh,” I managed as I thought what she was saying through. Then I realized something else. My head ticked back, and I looked at Max and Sarah.

  “She’s his memory, a safe port in the storm. No matter what else happens in his life, Sarah will always remember,” Bridgette explained. As she did, she winced. Without shifting her gaze off me, she plunged a hand into the pocket of her jacket, grabbed out a dressing, pulled up her top, and placed it over her stomach.

  That’s when I noticed the massive wound right up the middle of her tummy. It looked as if someone had tried to slice her through.

  I jerked back. “Oh my god. You’re injured! What happened?”

  She chuckled softly. “Last night happened, remember? I used my magic – a heck of a lot of my magic – to fight off that faceless assassin. And this,” she gestured to her wound as she continued to change the dressing, “is the consequence of my powers.”

  I felt thoroughly sick as I stared at the gaping wound.

  Bridgette simply shrugged. “All magic has consequences. Nothing comes for free. And the more we use our magic, the more it costs. That’s why we have to stick together and help each other. And that’s why I’m seriously thankful for your help last night.”

  I smiled. Kind of. Because a question was looming in my mind: why didn’t my magic have consequences? Sure, it had consequences if I went against the curse, but I didn’t lose my memories or get sliced in half every time I saw the future.

  Before I could turn to Bridgette and ask, there was a loud, insistent knocking on the door.

  Bridgette frowned, jumped to her feet, raced over, and thrust the door open.

  A pale-faced young man stood there, shaking. “We’ve received a warning,” he said through a stutter.

  I watched Sarah press to her feet, one hand locked over the back of the chaise longue, her fingers stiff and white. “What? From whom?”

  My stomach suddenly bottomed out.

  Fagan.

  It would have to be from Fagan.

  I pressed forward on my seat, feeling my cheeks pale.

  The young man was holding something, and with another shake, he handed it to Bridgette.

  A deep frown cut across Bridgette’s face. She reached out, clutched the letter, nodded at the guy, and closed the door.

  She made eye contact with Sarah before walking over.

  The two of them stood in the center of the room, shoulders hunched as they stared at the letter.

  My heart was hammering in my chest, my breath caught in my throat. I was sitting there on the edge of my seat, unsure whether I should push to my feet and follow my curiosity, or follow my sanity and stay firmly seated.

  “What is it?” Max said as he pushed to his feet and walked over.

  “It’s from Fagan,” Sarah said, swallowing through her words.

  Max stiffened. Even from here I could practically hear his muscles twang.

  “Read it,” he demanded.

  Sarah hesitated then finally turned the letter over, opened it carefully, and pulled out a white, folded piece of paper.

  My stomach absolutely bottomed out. Hello, it felt as if someone had climbed inside my torso and dug the thing free of my abdominal cavity.

  I slammed a hand on my belly, pushing the fingers against the fabric of my rumpled shirt.

  Somehow I knew what that letter would say. No, it wasn’t my ability to see the future that was helping me out. Just my reason, just logic.

  It would be a demand, wouldn’t it? A demand for me. Give me up, and Fagan would stop hunting Sarah Anne’s witches. Or, fail to give me up, and he’d kill everyone.

  I felt my heart kick through my chest as I kept my hand crammed against my stomach.

  A second later, I heard Sarah hiss between her clenched teeth.

  Max swore, pushed back, locked a hand over his brow, pressed his fingers through his hair, and finally made eye contact with me. It was brief, though, almost as if he couldn’t bear to hold my gaze for too long.

  I sat there, as cold as the Arctic.

  Bridgette shook her head. “It’s a lie. He’s trying to bait us. There is no way—”

  “What does the letter say?” I couldn’t keep hold of my curiosity any longer. I placed a hand on the armrest of the chair and pushed up. I didn’t, however, let go of the armrest – I couldn’t. My knees felt like jelly, my muscles as weak as if I were a newborn baby.

  Nobody answered me. It was as if they hadn’t heard me. They all congregated around the letter, all as pale and drawn as each other.

  “What does the letter say?” I demanded once more.

  They ignored me.

  “He’s just baiting us,” Bridgette said once more, crossing her arms, taking several steps back, and shrugging – the move so tense it was as if her shoulders would tear through the old leather of her jacket. “There’s no reason to fall for this.”

  Sarah seemed incapable of answering.

  Max? He was looking at me. Not directly, just out of the corner of his eye. I could feel his gaze, though, feel his tension.

  I couldn’t take it any longer. I walked over, feet unsteady, but balance holding on long enough to reach their sides. “What does the letter say? It’s about me, isn’t it?” I managed.

  They all turned to look at me.

  “You saw the future?” Max pressed.

  I shook my head. “No, it just makes sense. Fagan wants me, and he’s worried you’re going to keep me from him. So it’s a threat, isn’t it?” My voice trailed off, becoming weaker and weaker, quieter and quieter until I sounded like nothing more than a squeaking mouse.

  Max managed to pick me up just fine. His expression became so grim, it felt like his lips would fall from his face. “Well I’m not going to let him get you,” Max said, probably intending his blustering voice to be reassuring.

  Problem was, it didn’t reassure me.

  I found my gaze locking on the letter. I caught sight of Fagan’s criminally neat, cursive handwriting. It sent a powerful wave of sickness crashing against my gut. It reminded me of how expertly he’d wielded that sword.

  I crammed a hand on my stomach and took several staggering steps back. Before I could fall, Bridgette was by my side. She shored up my stance by placing a hand on my back. “Don’t worry. There’s no way we’re going to give that bastard what he wants. He is overstating his capabilities.”

  “We don’t know that,” Sarah said. She turned to face Bridgette, a tear trailing down her cheeks. “We don’t know that. We’ve underestimated hi
m in the past. And because of that, we’ve lost six of our people,” her voice cracked.

  Though Bridgette usually looked strong, now she appeared weak as her shoulders dropped and her cheeks became slack.

  “There’s no way we could give Chi up,” Max suddenly snapped. It was the very first time I’d seen him show anything other than affection towards Sarah.

  She sliced her gaze towards him. “Of course not,” she said through a stuttering breath. “But we have to take this seriously,” she said as she gestured with the letter. Her fingers were wrapped around it so tightly, it would have taken a crowbar to pry them back.

  Silence pushed through the room. A silence that was thick and heavy with fear.

  I wanted to turn back, stagger over to my chair, and fall into it while I still could.

  I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t move. I waited for the sparks to return, to flash through my vision, to warn me that Fagan was hours away from killing me and there was nothing I could do.

  Nothing I could do.

  I felt myself pale, felt my breath lodge in my chest. Before I could keel over and faint, Max broke away from Sarah’s side and strode towards me. He clasped both hands on my shoulders, leaned down, and looked right into my eyes.

  The effect was like having an anchor tied around my stomach. I was no longer swept along by the tides of fear. I stood there and stared at him.

  “He’s playing, fishing,” Max said, pressing his teeth against his lips hard as he said the word fishing. “But we’re not going to bite. He would only send that letter if he was desperate. If he thought the witches could protect you. And they can.” As he spoke, he turned over his shoulder and made direct eye contact with Sarah.

  I wondered what their relationship was. I mean, I was assuming it was romantic because there seemed to be a great deal of affection between them. And yet, I couldn’t deny that right now Max was standing up for me.

  “He’s right. There’s no way we can give Chi up. Not only did she save my life, but can you imagine what Fagan would do with her heart?”

  It was a startling way to put it, and I found myself gasping.

  Max’s grip simply tightened around my shoulders, his fingers squeezing gently against the fabric of my blouse.

  I let myself lean into his grip as I struggled for breath.

  Sarah Anne cut her gaze from me, to Bridgette, to Max. Then she sighed, her shoulders dropping towards her chest. “You’re right. We have to track Fagan down,” she admitted in a tight voice.

  “How?” I demanded. A second before, I’d been overcome with emotion, but that didn’t stop me from asking this question. Because this question could save my life.

  “There’s only one way,” Bridgette interrupted.

  Sarah frowned, ticking her head towards Bridgette. “That’s going to be dangerous,” she said, obviously knowing what Bridgette was suggesting.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded once more.

  “A séance,” Max answered.

  He looked right at me.

  I looked right at him.

  “What do you want me to do?” I gulped. Though Max hadn’t asked me to do anything, there was something about the look in his eyes that told me this responsibility would fall on my shoulders again.

  I heard Bridgette take a pressured breath. “You’ve seen him recently, haven’t you? Fagan?”

  Warily, I nodded, even though it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to admit to the fact I’d met Fagan. It was that I didn’t want to conjure the memory of either times he’d stood by my face, laughing at my prone body.

  “Then you can help us locate him,” Bridgette supplied.

  “I can?” I stuttered.

  She nodded. She walked over, reached out a hand, and placed it reassuringly on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Once we know where that bastard is, we can stop him,” she said, voice punching out of her throat.

  Though earlier today I’d been worried about vigilante justice, as I stared into Bridgette’s eyes and let myself be soothed by her promise, my worries flitted away.

  Because Fagan had to be stopped.

  He had to be stopped. Now. Because I was running out of time.

  Chapter 7

  The next thing I knew, we were organizing a séance. I say we. I, of course, just sat there and did nothing. It wasn’t as if I knew any witches.

  In my head, séances consisted of naked witches dancing around under the moonlight.

  That’s not what I got.

  Once Bridgette and Sarah had made their hasty calls and gathered together their coven, they led me towards the back of the store.

  Sarah Anne reached underneath the collar of her sweet dress and pulled out a carved key.

  I recognized it as a transport key.

  “Bridgette, do you have the incense?” Sarah called out to Bridgette who was marching down the hallway behind us.

  “There is some in the warehouse.”

  “And chalk from the Isle of Wight?”

  “I’ve got some in my pocket,” Bridgette said as she came to a rest beside us and patted her pocket.

  Sarah Anne let out a tense sigh. “Then I guess we’ve got everything we need.” She made eye contact with me. “You should probably start concentrating on Fagan now. Remember absolutely everything you can about him. Every detail. It’ll help us do a location spell.”

  I gritted my teeth, even though I should probably have been asking questions like what a location spell was and how exactly I was meant to help with a séance if I’d never experienced one before.

  Sarah didn’t give me the opportunity to question. She whirled on her foot, brought up the carved key, and jammed it in the lock.

  There was a distinct grating sound as the door unlocked. Then she settled a hand on the handle, breathed in another tense breath, and opened the door.

  It swung open into a warehouse.

  Fortunately, this one was not covered with plastic, so my stomach didn’t have to kick with fear.

  The warehouse was relatively clean. It looked pretty old, too, from the turn of last century, if I was any guess. Instead of metal pylons holding up the large ceiling, they were made out of brick and carved wood. Though the concrete floor was cracked in places, otherwise it looked as if it had been meticulously cleaned.

  At first, it appeared as if there were soft, dimmed lights lighting up the room. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized there was a circle of candles in the middle of the room.

  About 100.

  Women and men were gathering, chatting in hushed voices. They stopped speaking as Sarah strode forward. Bridgette was at her side, and she peeled off, heading towards a basket that rested by the candles. It was chock-full of incense sticks. She called someone over, and they began lighting them one by one.

  So this was my first séance, ha? Though it was a stupid thought considering what forces were after me, I wondered when we’d start getting naked. Because it wasn’t as if I’d never been naked in front of Max, right?

  A totally inappropriate thought, I told myself as I clenched my teeth and watched the proceedings.

  Sarah continued to talk to the other witches in low tones, obviously instructing them on what was to happen next. Meanwhile, Bridgette lit the last incense stick then pushed a hand into her pocket, plucked out the chalk from the Isle of Wight, and began scattering it around in what looked like a random pattern.

  Max stood silently by my side, hands in his pockets.

  When Sarah was done, she twirled around, her summer dress twisting around her legs as she walked up to him. She pressed an awkward smile over her face. “You have to wait outside, sorry.”

  Max shrugged. “I figured.” He shifted his gaze towards me. “Just do what she says, okay? You’ll be okay.” With that, he nodded and walked out. He exited through the door behind me, but it no longer led to that funky café. Instead, it seemed to lead to a laneway right outside.

  I didn
’t want to be pathetic, but part of me wanted to call out, grasp Max’s arm, and hold him in place. Maybe somehow he figured that out, because he cast me a lingering look before the door finally closed.

  I shivered.

  Sarah pushed up beside me. “It’ll be okay – it’ll be over in a flash, I promise.”

  I turned to her. “Just what exactly is meant to happen, anyway? I’ve never been to a séance,” I admitted through a gulp. I turned over my shoulder, staring at the room. All the preparations had apparently been made, and all the witches were now assembling in place.

  The warehouse was large, and rather than congregate around the circle of a hundred burning candles, everyone spread out, occupying most of the room as they formed a wide, large circle.

  Sarah offered me a glum smile. “Max mentioned you’re new to this world. It doesn’t matter. Just follow what we say. When the time comes, I’ll ask you to concentrate on Fagan. That’s all you’ll have to do. Concentrate on a memory of him, what he wore when you last saw him, what he looked like, how he sounded, what he said. His facial features – anything that would help you recognize him. Okay?”

  It took me a long time, but I forced myself to nod.

  Sarah shot me a thankful smile then waved me forward.

  I was gratified that Bridgette took up position beside me. Sure, I barely knew the woman, but considering we’d saved each other’s lives, we were more connected than I was to anyone else in this room.

  I suddenly appreciated how drafty this room was as I stood there, still, watching the hundred candles shift and flutter in a driving breeze.

  They were kind of mesmerizing, and the more I stared at them, the more they managed to pull my mind off the horror of what would come next. For I did not want to concentrate on Fagan. Don’t ask me how, but part of my terrified mind told me it would just bring him closer.

  Sarah Anne took up position roughly on the other side of the room. By now, one of the witches had handed out robes, and everybody dressed in them apart from me. Sarah’s robes covered her sweet summer dress and her cute white heels, the dark color of the robe no longer making her look like the girl next door. Instead, she cut the commanding figure of a witch.