“Oh my poor baby!” she wailed, and limped over to her injured cat to wrap him up in her arms. Maggie cuddled Bramble, neither of them able to enjoy the affection without a measure of pain, but they had survived, and that was worth all the pain.
“The spellcasting has stopped abruptly, my dear,” he remarked.
“Is that where you went?” she asked.
“Yes, I went to check the wards and they are all active again,” he reported weakly. Like Maggie, he was exhausted. “Whatever happened, the witchcraft has stopped, coincidentally just as you banished your assailant. Makes one think, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does. Makes a lot of sense that it stopped when I rebuked him, but do you really think Jaimie Kiernan is smart enough to be a witch?” she asked.
“No offense, my dear Maggie, but it doesn’t take a genius to learn,” he said. “Anyone can learn a trade, a recitation, or a spell. It doesn’t mean that Jaimie could not be a witch. In fact, being a skinny, dumb drug dealer is the perfect cover for being a warlock, I’d say. Nobody would ever suspect such an immature lad of being a powerful witch.”
“That is true,” she sighed, reaching for her phone. “It is still baffling, though.”
“Speak of baffling,” Bramble hinted, looking up through the window of the lobby.
As if by some miracle, the wind had diminished into a mere breeze and the clouds were subsiding. Even the thunder had gone to sleep and the lightning was gone. Clearly, it had been the act of witchcraft that brought it on, but Maggie and Bramble had no idea who it was, especially now that so many townspeople used the term so openly. It was as if they had finally acknowledged witches, probably because she was not the only one guilty of the craft.
29
Maggie called Carl, but his line was busy.
Unbeknownst to her, Sharon, her neighbor, had summoned the police as soon as she’d heard the clap of a body against steel. Since it had happened outside the Corey residence, Sharon had immediately assumed that someone had run over her friend Maggie. She called the cops, screaming at them to hurry, but soon after, she went to check and was relieved to see that the victim was a young man and not her pretty neighbor.
When the ambulance showed up to collect the heavily injured Jaimie Kiernan, they had to peel his ripped skin carefully from the tar. The elusive vehicle had struck him so harshly at high speed that his skin was entwined in the tarmac his body was dragged upon. The sight was quite gruesome and onlookers reckoned that the young man was lucky to have survived the impact.
Maggie watched the whole affair from inside her house, leaning on the wide windowsill to peer through the window that looked over the street. She was still in shock, unwilling to leave the threshold of her house for any reason. Maggie witnessed the ambulance taking Jaimie away and she genuinely did not care whether he was alive or dead.
One of the EMTs accompanied a police officer to see to Maggie’s wounds and a local veterinarian dropped by to have a look at Bramble’s injuries.
“My goodness, ma’am,” the vet gasped, “this is one tough kitty you’ve got here! Cats are normally extremely resilient, but this, wow.”
“How come?” Maggie asked.
“Well, I must say I now believe that cats have more than one life. This poor thing should have been dead on impact. The glass went through his pelt and flesh like soft butter, but somehow, his ruptured organs recovered in the short time it took me to get here!” the man marveled.
Maggie learned something new about her trusty familiar. He was by no means immortal, she thought, but had some kind of unnatural healing ability nonetheless. It was odd, because she’d never considered it before. Now Maggie had to pretend that her cat was just lucky. Even though she was tempted to tell the blunt truth and watch the vet freak out, she refrained from the naughtiness. It would be funny, though.
“That’s all from us, ma’am,” the officer informed Maggie. “The sheriff will be by to wrap up the evidence and such, so just stay put, ’kay?”
“Absolutely,” Maggie sighed. “I have no desire to leave anytime.”
When Maggie’s hands finally stopped shaking, she tried to make some sweet black coffee. Bramble was napping, thanks to some good sedatives the vet gave him, which left Maggie feeling so alone all of a sudden. The mess in the kitchen badgered her memory with the awful details, but she tried to ignore it until she at least had a breather. The hour that followed after everyone left felt like an eternity.
Just short of dawn, Carl showed up at her doorstep, but he had the good sense not to knock. It did not take a psychology major to know that people in shock from assaults were prone to panic and would be frightened by the sound of knocking or thumping. He did not want to send Maggie into a panic, not after what he’d heard had happened to her.
“Hey, Maggie,” he said softly from the direction of the door. In his official capacity, he was not allowed to show emotion, but his voice carried his shock and concern for his beloved friend. “Can I come in?”
“Carl?” she perked up. “Oh my God, Carl, it is so good to hear your voice!”
It warmed his heart to hear those words, but he had to make sure that she was emotionally stable. Her eyes welled with tears when she saw him, and Carl had to hold back tears at seeing Maggie bandaged, bruised, and blood-spattered.
“Oh my God,” he whispered when he saw her. “Oh my God, Maggie, are you all right?”
He wanted to touch her, but his large hands only extended close to her.
“I am okay, thanks,” she said, trying to smile. “You should see the other guy.”
Carl chuckled sadly. He was glad that her humor was still intact.
“I saw the other guy. Remind me never to screw with you,” he jested. “I just need to interview you and take some pictures of this mess. Good God, it looks like a slaughterhouse.”
Carl took Maggie’s statement and gathered enough evidence to put away Jaimie Kiernan for a very long time, if not forever. He could see that Maggie was still in shock and a little absentminded during conversation, but that was normal for someone who had just survived such a brutal attack. After he had done his official duty, he helped Maggie clean up the chaos in her kitchen. Carl did most of the work under Maggie’s direction, because she could hardly walk or move properly.
When they were done clearing up and cleaning what was left of her kitchen, Maggie and Carl sat down over a cup of chamomile tea.
“On the bright side,” he started, “it’s all over now.”
“Is it really, though?” she snapped unintentionally. “Is it ever really over, Carl?”
“Of course,” he assured her.
“You know, after tonight, I realized that I have more to worry about than an insane reverend capitalizing on local crime and repeatedly trying to drive me out,” she confessed. Maggie’s eyes were bloodshot, encircled by darkness, just like her demeanor. Although Jaimie had successfully broken through her wards, she still considered him a lower-level witch. He simply did not have the smarts to weave such intricate spells, she reckoned, but she could not exactly unload her opinion on Carl. In a roundabout way, though, she did enlighten him without chasing him off to reach for the crucifix. Carl understood though.
“I just feel that there is more to this town than a corrupt bigot on the pulpit,” she admitted. “Someone truly evil resides somewhere in this town, in plain sight, yet unnoticed. I am not going to lie, Carl. I am genuinely terrified of the prospect of such a dark and powerful wretch tracking me, targeting me, and causing deadly games in Hope’s Crossing. Someone who clearly wants me dead.”
30
Two days later, Donnie Kiernan went to church. After his brother’s arrest and subsequent accident, his heart felt heavy. Not even the destruction of his gas station shop could match the stress he had been subjected to since the last week when everything suddenly went awry. In his modest consideration, Donnie felt spiritually challenged and needed the support of his church and his counselor, the esteemed reverend himself.
“Reverend Mason?” he called into the open door of Reverend Mason’s office, but it was unoccupied.
“He is not here, Mr. Kiernan,” a lady said from the pews.
Donnie looked distressed at the revelation. “W-well, w-where is h-he then?” he stammered. The news of the reverend’s absence knocked him down hard and left him feeling utterly lost. “I, um, I really need his advice on something.”
The lady was the local verger, an old woman with piercing eyes that he had only seen once or twice before.
“He is off … on holiday,” she chose her words carefully, looking quite snide.
“Holiday? What on earth for? So suddenly?” he complained.
Donnie was a simple man, but he did not like her attitude. He was worried about their grand minister just leaving like that, without so much as a message.
“Will he be back?” Donnie asked.
“I’m sure he will be. This is his town, after all,” she croaked before carrying on with her chores. Donnie was upset, but he had no choice but to accept it and return home.
On the other side of Hope’s Crossing, the medical staff at the hospital was relieved that the hospitalized teenagers were finally well enough to be discharged. Carol and Billy recovered completely, but their parents had a bit of trouble, as did several other parents of the Green Demon mob.
The police department lodged an investigation for neglect on these parents, who did not take note of what their children were doing. Although these kids addicted to khat had recovered from their addiction, they were still responsible for a lot of problems in the wake of their spree. With damages incurred all over town as well as the burglaries and noise complaints, the parents were partially to blame for not restraining their kids.
“Wow, good to see the shop open again,” Sheriff Walden marveled as he stopped by.
“Of course. Onwards and upwards,” Maggie smiled. “I was not going to close up forever, you know. Besides, a girl has to make a living.”
Carl Walden beamed. He was delighted to see the pretty woman he adored again. She looked well rested and almost happy again, although he knew her too well by now. He knew that Maggie was still carrying the burden of her worries, especially that inconclusive matter she had spoken of. He wished that he could help her, protect her, and cheer her up, but she was stubborn in her ways.
That was the very reason she reopened Corey’s Herbs and Simples so soon after the horrid incident. She needed to keep her mind occupied and after learning how to rebuild the wards, she even dared lift the cloaking spell on her shop and allowed it to be visible to all again.
“I’ve been meaning to ask if you might be able to help me secure the shop on a more, ya know, concrete basis?” Maggie asked amicably, almost purring to get Carl’s attention.
“Of course. I know the best security companies,” he smiled. “Will get you in touch and I will make sure the shop gets stronger security measures as well.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” she chimed. “I will feel a lot safer, especially since that animal survived. As long as he is alive, I am …”
“Oh, he is no threat to you anymore,” Carl interrupted her.
Maggie’s face was frozen in bewilderment. “Excuse me?” she gasped.
“Yeah, got the news this morning, actually. I was still getting to that,” he declared. “Jaimie Kiernan died in hospital in Boston before Boston PD could question him. I guess now we’ll never know if he had an accomplice and we’ll never know who supplied him with Green Demon either.”
“Damn! I’d be lying if I pretended not to be relieved about this,” she confessed.
“Yeah, he never woke up,” he said solemnly. “As a cop, though, it is frustrating that we’ll never know everything about this case, not to mention we won’t get to watch that asshole rot in jail for the damage he did.”
Carl had come to tell Maggie a few things, but there was still one thing he had to work up the nerve for. He had to time it just right, especially with Maggie’s recent shock. Her state of mind would be pivotal to his success and right now, he was still working up to it. He reckoned, though, that it might be a good distraction for her.
You interrogate the meanest bastards. You intimidate cold criminals, but you can’t even step up to talk to a pretty woman you have known for quite a while now? Some man you are, his inner voice badgered him into a decision, but Carl was not ready. He felt as if he would never be.
The large teddy-bear-like sheriff cleared his throat and shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he fought with himself in his head. Maggie looked radiant, despite her bandages and Band-Aids. She grinned mischievously. As a woman, she was perceptive to these things, but she allowed the loveable sheriff to torture himself with something she was already aware of.
Maggie flicked her thick braid back and leaned forward on her counter, glaring at Carl with a glint in her sapphire eye.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she smiled, looking thoroughly entertained. Her hands were clasped together on the counter, her fingers playing lightly. “Just wondering what you are wrestling with in that head of yours.”
“You can see that?” he asked innocently.
“Aye, my good man,” she took a page from Bramble’s Book of Charm. “You know, sometimes, people just need to say things before overthinking …”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he blurted out, looking decidedly sheepish.
Maggie gave him a dainty applause and winked. “Took you long enough, Sheriff Walden. Took you long enough.”
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The Patsy's Patsy Page 16
