Which Witchery Is That? Read online

  Grabbing one, she took a napkin from the holder on the table. “I’m going to get to work. See you at lunchtime. Mavis is bringing subs.”

  I sighed. My life was perfect.

  Gong!

  My head came up, my eyes fixed on the narrow door that led to the belfry. Monty scratched frantically at the bottom, whining as if his heart was breaking. The bell was ringing. Magic stung the air, bringing the hairs up along my arms.

  Gong!

  “What is it, Aggy?” Layla asked. “Do you hear something?”

  Apparently, she couldn’t hear it. “A summons,” I told her.

  Following Monty’s lead, I started toward the door.

  Gong!

  Aggy! A disembodied voice called out.

  I knew that voice.

  “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

  Aggy! Please! You need to help…ahhhhhhhh!

  Gong!

  The box of muffins slipped from my fingers, and I was running toward the belfry door. I yanked it open and nearly fell over Monty as he jumped in front of me and bolted up the narrow staircase, tail straight out behind him and ears pinned back. He was barking, the sound lost beneath the roaring in my ears and the pounding of my heart. “Wanda?!” I cleared the last couple of steps and lunged onto the belfry floor.

  Monty was standing a foot away from the top of the steps, the hair along his back spiked with alarm. A low rumble throbbed in his throat.

  I was vaguely aware of footsteps behind me, but I ignored them.

  My attention was caught on the vision hanging in the air in front of me like a hologram.

  Wanda was unmoving, curled in the fetal position. I could see the ringing bell and the other side of the belfry through her pale, grayish image. The teen’s fists were clenched, stretched out in front of her inert body. Her dark-rimmed eyes were wide with terror, unblinking. And as I watched, her lips formed two words I could barely hear.

  Help…me.

  5

  A Soul That’s Lost, A Frightened Plea

  “I don’t know where to look for her!” I yelled into the phone.

  A beat of silence met my outburst and then Bev’s voice, carefully calm, said, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I described the vision I’d seen in the belfry as panicked tears slipped down my cheeks. “She begged me to help her,” I finished, scraping my wet cheeks with my palms. “How can I do that when I don’t even know where to start looking?”

  “Her mother was a witch, right?”

  “I’m not sure. I got the impression she was, from what Wanda said about the night she was cursed. But she never really said.”

  I paced back and forth across the kitchen. I could feel Layla’s gaze on me, but I couldn’t look in her direction. I didn’t want to see the expression on her face. She’d come to me looking for protection. She was learning that I couldn’t even protect my council.

  “Okay, we’ll start there by going through the Witch’s Registry to find her.”

  “How will we know who to look for,” I said, battling the thread of hope Bev’s calm suggestion triggered. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt as if fate would dash any hope I had in the cruelest way. “We don’t even have a last name.”

  “No. We don’t. That will make it tougher for sure. But we know she had a daughter, and Wanda will make this easier. We know her age. We know her first name. And we know she has magical abilities. Historians are rare, Aggy. Coveted. There has to be a record somewhere of Wanda. I promise I’ll find it.”

  “I want to help.”

  “I know. I’ll bring you in as soon as I can. But you can’t enter the witch’s library. It’s off-limits to all non-witches. Trish isn’t even allowed inside.”

  Dang witches and their closed minds. I sighed. “Okay. But if you can’t find it, this might get ugly. I’m going to find Wanda, and if your coven gets in my way…”

  “Aggy, you need to trust me.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. I do trust you. Take Mavis too,” I said. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  I disconnected and resumed pacing, the weight of Layla’s gaze dragging down every step.

  “What can I do?” the lost princess finally said, her voice soft.

  I stopped and looked her way, feeling guilty for ignoring her and embarrassed that she was seeing me at my worst. “Unless you can help me find out where my historian is, nothing.” I forced myself to add, “But thank you for offering.”

  Layla was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, “I cannot find your young Wanda.”

  I blinked, surprised that Layla knew the teen’s name. “But I might know someone who can.”

  I placed my hands on the back of a chair and leaned closer. “I’m listening.”

  Layla’s copper gaze widened slightly. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her. “Historians are rare,” she began.

  I bit back an impatient response and simply nodded.

  “Records on them are scarce.”

  So far, not much help. I scrubbed a hand over my face, fighting for calm.

  Layla held up a hand as if to tell me to chillax. I almost smiled when I realized I was thinking in Wanda-speak. “If she were almost any other magical designation, there would be a record of her somewhere in this realm. But in this case…”

  “Please,” I interrupted. “I need you to get to the point.”

  Layla sighed. “Right. Earth speak. Fast and in short segments. I’ve seen your television shows.”

  Before I could stop myself, I snorted out a laugh. “You got me.”

  The ghost of a smile curved the corners of her lips. “Historians keep track of other historians.”

  That made sense. It made more sense than a witch’s library having information on a historian. “But Bev thought they’d have a record of Wanda and her mother…”

  “They won’t,” Layla interrupted. “Only another historian would have that information.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Do you know another historian?”

  “I do.”

  Against all odds, hope flared.

  “Getting to her will be…difficult.”

  Hope dashed against the jagged rocks of Layla’s words. It took my roiling belly with it.

  I dragged a long, slow breath into my lungs. “But it’s possible?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “Maybe.”

  Hope turned to mist and blew away on a stiff, cold wind.

  “Whoever it is, it’s worth a try.”

  She bit her lip.

  “What?”

  “This creature is not the friendliest.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll take my pretty stick with me.”

  Her frown deepened. She was no doubt wondering what I was talking about. But the belfry door slammed open, the handle crashing against the wall behind it.

  I spun to find the doorway empty. It didn’t stay that way for long.

  Bathilda fluttered through and took two fast turns around the kitchen, yellow eyes too wide. Normally sparrow-sized, she’d grown to the size of Ray, my raven.

  The bat refused to land, and as I tried to speak to her, she began to chirp, the sound frantic.

  “Batty, you need to calm down. You know I don’t speak bat. Talk to me in my head like before.”

  More frantic chirping.

  I shook my head, feeling my blood pressure spike from the bat’s agitated behavior. “Still don’t speak bat.”

  Bathilda flew into the mudroom, and I heard the scrape of wings against glass, followed by a series of soft thuds.

  Layla and I shared a look.

  “Is she slamming herself against the window?” Layla asked.

  That was what it sounded like. But if she’d wanted outside, she could have done that from the belfry. I walked into the mudroom. “You want out?”

  The bat smacked against the glass again, hard enough to crack it. “Hey!” I hurried over and opened the door. But Batty didn’t go outside. She fluttered around my head, makin
g me duck. “Stop it!” I snapped.

  “I think she wants you to go outside,” Layla said.

  Knowing the bat’s connection to Wanda, I gave in, stepping onto my little patio.

  And found myself staring at two enormous, horned devils. Magic surged before I thought about what I was doing.

  Seeing the energy snapping around my fingertips. The largest lost one tensed, his big hands lifting, claws exposed. The other one lifted his spear, but then slid his gaze to something behind me. I didn’t dare look away.

  “Matthew, Glenn, what is it?”

  The two big devils bowed their heads. “Princess, we’ve come to assess your welfare.”

  The smaller one of the two stepped around his bigger friend. Actually, calling him smaller was misleading. In no universe would he be considered small. He was probably seven feet tall, and I’d guess he weighed over three hundred pounds. I wasn’t that great a judge of other people’s weight, but the curved, goat-like back legs and bony, horned head had to weigh a lot.

  His more easily riled friend looked to be a foot taller even than he was, and was still glaring at me.

  “You’re at my home,” I snarled, still holding onto my power. “Stand down or leave.”

  A delicate hand landed on my shoulder. “You needn’t worry, Aggy. They are two of my most trusted warriors.”

  Batty fluttered past me and up to the belfry, curse her. She’d warned me about the intruding devils. But apparently, I was on my own for the rest of it.

  “I remember them from the Hellmouth incident,” I said, keeping my gaze locked on the bigger one. “But you asked me for protection. I don’t know who you need protection from. So, you’ll have to accept that I might need assurance when two of your people show up.”

  “Understood.” Her hand left my shoulder, and Layla stepped forward. “Stand down, Matthew.”

  He hesitated a beat longer until his friend, Glenn, I presumed, glared him down.

  “How fare you, my princess?” Glenn asked.

  “I am well.” Layla gave the big creature a smile. “My friend, Aggy has offered me asylum in her home.”

  Glenn nodded. “We will guard the perimeter.”

  I jolted at that. “Whoa. My council already guards the perimeter. I have someone who manages the grounds. You can’t stay here.” My first thought was that Ferral and Luke would be in danger with lost warriors on the property. Not to mention Niele. My second thought was the horse. Were Layla’s warriors on the same page with her about exterminating the veil-hopping equine?

  Matthew bristled again. “We will protect the princess.” His voice boomed across the yard, infused with power.

  My hand shot out and I warned Layla, “Heads up.” My staff slammed into my palm, and I snapped my arm to extend it to its full size. “You don’t make the rules here,” I growled.

  Layla quickly moved between us. “You have my word they will not go near your people, Madam Lares,” she said. “They are only here to make sure I am not attacked.”

  I hesitated, unsure how to keep resisting without admitting to the horse’s potential presence. “I’m not comfortable having them here.”

  Layla’s face fell. “I see.” She gave me a smile that seemed forced. “I will leave then. Thank you for allowing me to visit and for the food.” She spun around. Flanked by her two warriors, Layla started walking away. Her shoulders were square and her head high. She looked every bit the royal princess she was.

  I fought uncertainty for a minute, feeling guilty. “Wait.”

  The trio stopped and turned back. “Yes?” Layla said.

  “They can patrol the yard. But they are not to confront any of my people or any of the magical inhabitants of the Mystical Wood. Or any non-magic creatures in the woods or on my property who aren’t aggressive.” I was counting on the list of restrictions to cover the horse.

  Layla inclined her head. “Thank you.” She nodded at the two lost ones, and they moved away, instantly melting into the shadows. “They will accompany us when we visit the crone.”

  “The crone?” I asked, frowning.

  “Yes. The crone is the person I mentioned earlier. She is a magical historian, as well as a powerful healer.”

  I grimaced. “Why is she called the crone?”

  Layla’s expression was almost too neutral. Her smile was a bland curving of lips. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let us just say, she takes great pride in making herself unpleasant.”

  Awesome. Just what the current mess needed.

  Yo mama mama, I got ya in my sights. Yo mama mama, I got ya dead to rights. Yo ma…

  I punched the answer button. “Well, at least this ringtone has a good beat.”

  Mavis giggled. “I try. Listen, honey, I heard about Wanda. I’m so sorry. We’re going to find her, and it’s going to be all right.”

  “I hope so,” I told my overly-optimistic mom.

  “The coven is willing to meet tonight. But it has to be at your house if that’s okay. Wilhelmina’s twins have bad colds and, in Willy’s own words, They’re too feral for polite company.”

  “That’s fine. Is the sanctuary big enough to hold everybody?”

  “Oh, yes. There will actually only be five of us, six with Trish. We’ve lost several members over the last couple of years.”

  “Is there a story there?” I asked.

  “Definitely. But we’ll save that for another time. Right now, let’s concentrate on getting our sweet girl back.”

  “What do you need from me?” I asked.

  “The ladies will want to do some spells in the belfry to see if we can backtrack the curse and follow it to Wanda’s home.”

  “You can do that?”

  “No promises. But it works about half the time. It depends on how strong the curse is and how recently it’s been active. When was the last time Wanda was up there?”

  “Two nights ago.” Worry churned my stomach. “She didn’t show up last night.” It hadn’t concerned me at the time because Bev and Mavis had been working on removing the groundhog day curse from Wanda, and she’d been showing up at all different times. But looking back, I realized that she might have already been in trouble. Maybe that was why she hadn’t shown up. “We need to find her, mom. Fast. You should have heard the fear in her voice.” My own voice broke on the words, and tears slipped down my cheeks. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Don’t focus on bad things, Aggy. We need to keep our minds clear so we can work this out logically. That’s the only way we’ll be able to save her. Understand?”

  I did understand. But I wasn’t sure understanding would stop me from gnawing my own hand off like a trapped animal. “I’ll try.”

  6

  The Spell Will Help the Blind to See

  Layla left a few minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start. She said she’d be right back, and I figured she needed to talk to the devilish duo patrolling my yard.

  Mavis had arrived early and was putting food out on the kitchen table. We’d started setting the food up in the sanctuary but had quickly reconsidered when Monty helped himself to cheese and crackers from the too-low coffee table.

  I grabbed a roll of ham and Swiss cheese off the platter, stuffing it into my face. Flavors burst over my tongue, and little birdies flew around my head. “Oh my goddess, this is good.” I realized I’d forgotten to eat lunch, and my morning meal had long since left me. “Did you put it together?”

  Mavis shook her head, trying a small pastry filled with cheese and closing her eyes in pleasure. “Tilly’s offers party catering services. I haven’t tried the catering options before, but I’m starting to suspect she has magic. Everything she makes is exceptional.”

  “That’s the new bakery?” I asked. “The place where you got those amazing cookies?”

  Mavis nodded. “Which reminds me. I have cookies too.” She pointed to a big white box on the counter. “Can you put them on a plate for me?”

  “Happy to. I might accide
ntally break one, though, and have to eat it.”

  She grinned. “Break one for me too. I’ve been too busy to eat today.”

  We were finishing the last bites of our “flawed” cookies when the front door opened and closed. “We’re here!” Bev announced loudly.

  Monty ran, barking, toward the front of the house. A moment later, the coos and baby talk started. My little man was making new friends.

  I smiled.

  “Food’s in here!” Mavis called out.

  Several sets of footfalls headed our way, accompanied by the clicking of claws on the wood floor.

  Monty beat the procession of women into the kitchen, eyes bright and tail whipping. In true dachshund fashion, he immediately forgot his new friends when the scent of food wafted over him. Standing on his back legs, he pawed at the table in hopes that one of the women milling about in the kitchen would be overcome with his cuteness and shove food into his face.

  He wasn’t going to be that lucky. “Down, Monty,” I scolded. “Leave it.”

  The little dog reluctantly complied, retreating to his spot beneath the table and dropping his head onto his paws with an unhappy sigh.

  “Aw, poor baby,” said a curvy woman with flames of fiery red curls springing from her head and piercing green eyes. Her pale skin was a solar system of freckles, a testament to the fact that she was a true redhead. She stopped in front of me and stuck out her hand. “Wilhelmina Marks. My friends call me Willy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Lares.”

  I took her hand, finding it soft and a little moist. “Call me Aggy, please. I’m so happy to meet you. How are your sons? Feeling better, I hope?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Men are such babies. You’d think they were dying and all their limbs had been cut off. They refuse to do anything for themselves. Preferring to just lay around in bed all day, moaning and groaning. The floor and their beds are a sea of used tissues and dirty dishes. And the room smells like used magic and spoiled teenaged boy.” Willy shook her head. “I owe you an enormous debt for helping me escape.” Her eyes roamed over the food-laden table. “And for providing food that didn’t come from a can.”