If the Broom Fits Page 2

  “Why?” Katrina asked.

  “She was killed,” I said. “Apparently her boyfriend strangled her.”

  “What?” Katrina looked over my shoulder at the paper. “Oh my God, that’s terrible.”

  I nodded. To make matters worse it didn’t sound like the case against her boyfriend was very strong. There was no history of violence—not that that proved anything—and they couldn’t place him at her house at the time of the murder. His prints were there, but they were dating, so that only made sense. Maybe they had more on him than was in the paper. “We should send flowers or a plant or something.”

  “I agree,” Katrina said, already picking up the phone and calling the florist shop, which probably wasn’t open. With all the snow we’d been getting, nothing was open.

  I went to the backroom to look through recycling for older newspapers that might have more information. I must have missed the story in all the Christmas craziness. I grabbed the stack of papers from the top and carried them back to the front. Kat and I went ahead and opened up the store, not because we expected customers, but just in case. Mostly though, it was because we could walk to work and it gave us something to do. Leslie had left with Frost early this morning and we had been house bound for what seemed like forever. Plus we needed to take down the Christmas decorations—the most depressing part of the holidays.

  Just the thought of Leslie and Frost hanging out together made me shake my head. There couldn’t be two more opposite people in the entire world. I would have bet my firstborn that Frost would kick Leslie out before the end of the driveway, but obviously she’d let her tag along.

  I made it through two weeks of newspapers. Some issues were missing—Katrina had probably used them to pack away decorations. The best I could tell Emaleigh had been found just a week earlier. The police couldn’t have done much of an investigation in that time. Maybe they had something really damning on the boyfriend. I returned the papers to the recycling bin, doctored two cups of coffee and took them back up front.

  “What’s with all the snow?” I watched the white flakes pour from the sky as I set Katrina’s cup on the counter. “This is like weird, right?”

  “I don’t know. ’tis the season,” she said, taking down the wreaths and mistletoe.

  “I guess.” It seemed like more than we usually got, but then again when wasn’t the weather wacky?

  “How are we going to get your magic back?” she asked like it wasn’t a big deal.

  I froze with my mug of coffee half way to my lips. Nothing like tearing off the Band-Aid without warning. “I don’t know.” I forced myself to take a sip.

  “But you want it back, right? You don’t want to stay like this?” Katrina pressed.

  Did I want it back? I wasn’t actually sure. Part of me hated feeling weak and useless. Who wouldn’t? But another part of me didn’t mind the break. I could still cast spells with the coven. I just didn’t have any significant power of my own left. Which also meant I was now super unattractive to any future dark witch who might want to possess me—and that was a definite bonus.

  “Jess?”

  “What?” I said not looking at her.

  “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  I nodded. “Sure, I know.”

  And technically that was true; it wasn’t my fault. I did know that. I never would’ve killed those people or any people. It wasn’t who I was. It was the spirit of the dark witch that did it, but she used me to do it. The one thing that couldn’t be denied or excused was that I had been there with her the whole time and I hadn’t been strong enough to fight her. What business did I have going up against things I couldn’t control and beings I couldn’t fight? If I’d been as I was now, I wouldn’t have had the arrogance to mess with dark magic and I wouldn’t have been possessed. And those people might still be alive.

  But not to worry, it wasn’t my fault.

  “Good. Then I think we should use this lull in customers to figure out how to get it back for you.”

  Surely there was a better use of our time. “We should probably work on inventory.”

  Katrina shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Maybe we should adopt a pet. Don’t you think the store could use a dog?”

  “Actually, that would be kind of awesome, but stop distracting me. Unless you don’t want it back.” She nudged me hard.

  “No, of course I do.” That’s what they all wanted to hear. They all wanted me back as I was, but I wasn’t sure I could ever be that person again. I would try, though. For them.

  “Good, then it’s settled. I’ll go get the books.”

  I sighed the moment she left the room and stared outside. The only other window lit on the whole street was the Chronicle’s building. I glanced down at the byline on the story about Emaleigh. Donavan Cassidy. Maybe he knew more about what happened to her than had gone to print.

  I grabbed my coat before I could think about it and headed out into the snow, leaving Katrina to find the spell on her own. I crossed the empty lane with my chin tucked to my chest against the harsh wind, then pushed open the door to the brick foyer and shook myself off. The newspaper’s reception area was small, yet nice. The walls were brick and the chairs looked soft and inviting. The art on the wall was probably fine too.

  A man in a blue button down with rolled up sleeves came from the back. “Can I help you?”

  “Maybe. I’m looking for more information about the girl who was murdered recently. I’m new in town and missed the news when it happened. I just saw the article in the paper today. Is Donavan Cassidy here?”

  “In the flesh.” He offered me an ink smudged hand. “And you are?”

  “Jessica. I’m one of the owners of Enchantment.” I pointed across the street.

  “Right,” he said. “The magic shop.” I could almost hear the eye roll in his words. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Great, actually.”

  This time he did roll his eyes. “Figures. No one wants real news. They’d rather buy fortune telling cards and make up their own.”

  Okay, I’d obviously hit one of his buttons by accident. “I think there’s room for both in life. I have a subscription,” I said. “I read the news daily rather than try to divine it.” I smiled at him.

  “Do you want a parade?” he said.

  Never mind being nice, this guy was an asshole. “Maybe it’s not the news they don’t like,” I said. “Maybe it’s you.”

  He looked back at me with a hooded expression. “What did you want to know exactly?”

  That was a good question. There weren’t actually specifics that I knew to ask. I just felt like there was more to the story. “I want to know more about what happened. This is a really small town to have a murder.”

  “Actually two women died.”

  “There was a second murder?”

  He nodded. “Well, not officially. Emaleigh would be the second if the local police didn’t have to put out an APB just to find their own ass. Another woman died on New Year’s Day. I guess you don’t read the paper too closely.”

  “It was a holid—you know what, I don’t have to justify myself to you. Just sell me the papers with the articles and I’ll be on my way.”

  He sighed. “It’s been a long night. Not that that is an excuse or anything. Come, sit down, I’ll talk to you about it. Do you want anything to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “Just the papers.”

  He disappeared to the back and returned with three newspapers and handed them to me. “No charge,” he said.

  Thanks.” I put two dollars on the counter to cover the cost and tucked them into my coat before slugging back across the street. So much for Donavan Cassidy being a source of information. The chip on his shoulder directly interfered with his ability to hold a civil conversation.

  Katrina was at the doorway watching my return. She pushed the door open as I stepped up. “Where did you go?” she asked.

  “I s
aw a light on at the Chronicle. I went to see if they knew anything else about Emaleigh.”

  She headed to the counter and I went to the old orange couch we’d set up for people who wanted to hang out and took a seat.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re purposefully trying to avoid finding this spell?” she asked.

  “I’m not. I just feel there’s more to Emaleigh’s story and I want to know what. I want my magic back, yes—but this is a murder so it sort of feels more important.”

  “You’ve always been obsessed with the macabre. Like unnaturally so. I can’t watch half the movies you do. I’d crap my pants.”

  I laughed. “Not obsessed. Just a healthily curious with extremely high tolerance.”

  “Debatable.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “You can look at those anytime. Let’s do this. You said you would.”

  “Fine,” I said, picking up a couple books she had obviously borrowed from Selene and Cheney given their age and pristine condition.

  “There’s nothing in Gram’s Book of Shadows,” she said. “But one of these texts might have a clue about where we should start looking.”

  “Right.” I flipped the first page open. “And what if there is no way? Then what happens? What do we do? Do I stay in the coven as I am or do I leave to make room for a more magical witch?”

  “Bite your tongue,” she said. “Under no circumstances will I ever let you leave this coven. You’re stuck with us until the bitter end of time—but that’s irrelevant anyway. We’ll find a way. We always do. Now get the cookies. We have lots of work to do.”

  I laughed and strode to the breakroom where we had a healthy supply of sweets and popcorn. I spread assorted goodies on the coffee table. Kat came over with her coffee and books and we got to work.

  I understood completely where she was coming from. I would have said the same thing to any of our existing coven members if they tried to leave, but I didn’t want to hold them back. The best-case scenario was that I’d be a liability to them. Worst case, I’d get one of them killed. And that wasn’t an option.. Maybe that’s why I was dragging my feet about looking for the spell. It would either make or break me. The moment we knew whether or not I could ever have magic back was the moment real decisions had to be made. Decisions that would impact the rest of our lives.

  If the answer turned out to be no, I had a lot of thinking to do. The coven wasn’t like it used to be. We started as a group of friends hanging out and drinking together and occasionally doing some harmless magic. And we still did that. I mean we weren’t dead or anything. But things were more intense now—our magic counted—and being with Selene, the Queen of the Fae, had put us on the map in a major way. And everyone’s magic had grown so much it was hard to get through a day without casting at least three spells. It was just a whole new way of being, and without power, I wasn’t sure I fit in anymore.

  Plus, the Abyss knew of our existence now. People would come after us. We had to be strong and ready at all times. We were sort of unofficial guardians between the Abyss and the human world because someone had to be. If the humans had to remain in the dark about the paranormal world, who would protect them if not us? No, there really wasn’t room for weak links in our coven.

  I scanned the index, looking for a place to start. Removal of magic seemed as good a place as any. The coven had taken my magic so the dark witch couldn’t fight them and would have no reason to continue to possess me. So maybe if I saw how they did it, there would be a spell to reverse it. I flipped the book to page 273 and scanned the spell all the way to the fine print.

  “Once a subject’s magical ability is stripped and completely removed, they may never magically regain the same ability (see page 407). Trying could result in your own binding as the spell bounces back from the intended. This spell should be used only in the most severe cases. It is a last resort as it cannot be undone.”

  Well, it looked like we were off to a fantastic start.

  I flipped to page 407.

  “After a witch’s powers have been removed the same ability can never again hold to the witch. It is possible for her to learn new abilities and rebuild strength unless all magic was completely wiped away. Do not relinquish magic lightly. Even when done of free will, it cannot be regained.”

  I flipped the book shut, rubbing the spot on my chest that felt tight. It was hopeless. I should have held onto denial longer.

  “Did you find something?” Katrina asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing in here.” My voice was thin and wispy. I picked up the next book, though I didn’t have the heart to open it.

  I was never going to get my magic back. How was I supposed to tell the rest of them that?

  3

  FROST

  I narrowed my eyes at the opening gate. Too convenient was never a good thing. Was it a spell? Had they been enchanted to only open for me? If so, Leslie’s trap theory was sounding more and more likely. I craned my neck side-to-side, looking for a caretaker or anyone who could have opened the gate, but as far as I could see there was no one else here.

  “It’s not a trap,” Orion’s baritone voice came from the other side, though I couldn’t see him.

  “Why don’t you come out here and talk to me?”

  The snow and wind picked up, making a cloud of white that was impossible to see through. I pulled my wool hat down further on my head and held my spot. The end of my nose tingled with cold and my sinuses burned. I had been around enough witches not to be impressed with this little display of strength.

  “I’m waiting,” I yelled into the wind.

  It died almost immediately. Directly in front of me, but still on the other side of the invisible line in the driveway, was Orion himself, as attractive and unfazed by the cold as ever.

  “You’re a testy little hobbit, aren’t you?” His eyebrows pulled together. “I thought you were satisfied with your answers? What brings you out here?”

  I glared at him over the hobbit remark. “I changed my mind. I want to know more.”

  A smiled melted over his lips. “Of course you do. But be careful what you wish for.” He walked off with long easy strides.

  I waved my hand over the line where the gate would have been. Nothing felt strange. The gates groaned back to life and began to close. Leslie scrambled out of the car and we stepped through just before they closed again.

  “What about the bags?” she said.

  I shook my head. “We’ll try to get them later.” My gaze was still glued to the unmarred path to the house Orion had taken.

  “So I take it that was the spirit guide?” I didn’t bother answering. “I get Grandma Erma and you get a L.L. Bean catalogue. How is that fair?”

  I started forward. “You had parents. I had the clothes on my back. How was that fair?”

  She hugged her arms around herself a little tighter, probably to keep from reaching out to me. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Just stay by me. I have no idea what to expect in here. We have to be ready.”

  We took the porch stairs slowly, eyeing the structural soundness of the old house. The wood on the steps felt strong and firm. There was no give under my feet. How was that even possible in a house that had sat empty for thirty years?

  Someone had been taking care of the house and farm and it wasn’t Orion. If he could only come back to earth during winter storms, someone else had to be doing most of the work around here because nothing about the house looked in disrepair. “Better yet, stay a few steps behind me,” I told Leslie.

  I peeled off a glove from one hand, preparing for an attack. The cold bit into my skin and numbed my fingers. The doorknob was coated with ice that clung to my gloved hand as I turned it. Unlocked. I pushed it open with my shoulder.

  I stepped just over the threshold. “Hello,” I called out.

  “Tell me what changed your mind?” Orion purred in my ear, but when I snapped around, he wasn’t there. Only Leslie was—too clos
e. I could have accidentally touched her. “I said to stay back,” I snapped.

  She backed away, holding up her mittened hands. “Is this far enough or should I wait in the snow?”

  I took several deep breaths. “Just let me check the house then you can come in.”

  “Fine.” She bounced up and down, rubbing her arms.

  I went back inside, scanning the rooms for Orion.

  “I want to know everything you know about my mother.”

  “Why? You already said you didn’t want to help her.” His voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

  “I don’t. That’s not why I’m here. I want to help myself. And if she really was a good person who made bad decisions like you claim, then I think I need to know that. But I also need to decide that for myself. I can’t just take your word for it. So tell me what you know.”

  He sat on a chair covered in a dusty white sheet. “Winter Darkmore. Diviner, dark arts practitioner, and all around life of the party. ” His voice ebbed and flowed with the wind outside as if it was all part of him or he was part of it, making me remember Leslie was still waiting on the porch, probably freezing to death. “You know that’s how it always starts. Good intentions and wanting to save yourself.”

  “What does?”

  “The road you travel may not be too dissimilar to hers.”

  “That’s because she put me on this road.” I crossed my arms. “So that’s it? That’s all you know about her? I know more about my coven’s cat than that.”

  He laughed heartily, suddenly appearing in front of me. “You have her impatience. Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

  I glowered. “I have. I want to know about her and what happened. Also who else is here? Who’s been taking care of the house? I don’t want any surprises.”

  “Let’s take a look.” He reached out and grabbed my ungloved hand with a knowing smile. I waited a beat for him to die (even though logically I knew he wouldn’t). Why couldn’t I feel him like the other undead creatures? It wasn’t that I couldn’t sense him at all; his presence was just more subtle and easier to miss. The one piece that identified most other undead unequivocally was missing: I couldn’t control him. I could feel that truth in my marrow. No matter how strong I was, I‘d never be able to possess him. It was both disconcerting and comforting. It meant we didn’t have to be enemies.