A Total Witch Show, page 3
But he was coming for me? How the you-know-what was he going to do that?
It had taken Win months to possess a body, and he wasn’t exactly a weak man. His ghostly skills had been quite impressive. But Sal was an idiot.
How was he going to “come for me” unless he meant to haunt me? Which wouldn’t be so hard if he found the right connections on whatever plane he’d ended up on—especially due to my connection to the afterlife.
“Tell me, my sweet Dove, why are you so reluctant to have your powers back? You appear almost vehement about the idea. I understand you’ve become adjusted to this life, and your life is a happy one, but being a witch is part of who you are. You told Dana that yourself. You even threw down the gauntlet and told him to accept you as you are or move along. Talk to me about how you’re feeling. What is it you fear?”
I had said that to Dana, and it was true. Being a witch was part of who I am, but I’d become something more than my powers. I’d grown into a different person.
Shrugging, I took a sip of the delicious wine. “I fear resentment toward my coven. Not a single soul stood by me but Winnie and Bel. No one. That was a bitter pill to swallow because it means our alliances, our friendships, weren’t as deep as I’d thought.”
“But surely they feared the wrath of Baba Yaga should they contact you? Surely they feared a similar fate to yours as outcasts?”
A tear stung my eye. “Winnie didn’t…”
Win nodded with a slow bounce of his head. “A fair assessment.”
It might be fair, but saying the words aloud made me realize how selfish it was to ask my coven to risk the lives of their families in order to save me. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.
Yet…The betrayal still felt very real.
“But it isn’t just that,” I insisted “They’ll want me to come back to Texas. They’ll want me to join them again to keep the coven strong, and I don’t want to leave my life here, Win, or our house—or you.”
“Should you choose that path, surely I can go back with you?”
I grabbed his hand and tried to visualize Win in the Texas heat with a cowboy hat. “Yes. Yes, you could go back with me. But would you want to leave the life we’ve built here, Win? The house, the garden club. Dana and your rugby dates, Sandwich, Chester?”
His blue eyes softened and he smiled. “I would if I were with you.”
I leaned over the dining room table and kissed him square on the lips, cupping his chin with my hand. “You really are the best, but it’s not what I want. No one wanted me when I was weak and helpless, but they’d sure want me if my powers returned.” I paused a moment before I said, “You know what? I almost hope my magic never comes back. Yes, being a witch is—or was—who I am, but I’m also a medium, a business owner, a dog and turkey mom, a friend and a fiancée. All those things are here in Eb Falls.”
“Here’s something to think about, what about your sister Hal, in Maine? She’s not part of a coven and no one is pressuring her to be a part of one.”
Covens were intricate business, some more intricate than others. “Not all covens are the same. There are plenty of witches who live solitary lives outside of covens, and then there are covens like mine, who like for you to stick close.”
Win wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked thoughtful for a moment. “What of Dita? Your mother? She doesn’t live in Texas.”
I snorted. “For all the changes my mother’s made in her life recently, it doesn’t make up for the shenanigans she managed when she was part of the coven when I was a child. They weren’t sad to see her leave, believe me. But the minute I could leave Eb Falls, I did, and they welcomed me with open arms. Until they didn’t.”
Win sighed. “I hate that you’re so torn, Dove, but wherever you go, know I’ll always go with you. Always.”
I looked around at our kitchen, remembering the disaster this house had been when I first took Win up on his offer to find Madam Z’s killer and live in what we had once called Mayhem Manor.
I honestly thought the entire place would have to be mowed over by a wrecking ball, but with time and Win’s meticulous eye for detail, he’d turned it into a magical place.
Now it was beautiful, with white marble countertops and white cabinets, the beautiful shiplap on the wall in the dining area, the Italian blue and white tiles behind the stove and the pizza oven.
It felt like home. My home. Our home. So if Bel had smelled magic, if Whiskey and Spike were afraid of me because my scent had changed, they’d just have to get used to it, because I wasn’t leaving here.
“Boooossssss!” Bel called out as he flew in from outside, something hanging from his wing. It swung wildly as he soared into the kitchen and landed on the table, his fur wet.
I grabbed my napkin to dab at his fur and asked, “What’s going on, bud?”
“Look what I found out by the mailbox!” he said, his tone full of pride.
I looked down at the table to see what looked like an ID card. Picking it up, I flipped it over and read, “Larch County Corrections. Security Enforcement Officer. Dale Rainwater.”
“Larch County Corrections?” Win said. “Isn’t that where Charles, your stepfather Bart’s son, got life for killing his father?”
A few years back, my mother Dita had come to show off her newest husband Bart at our housewarming party, having no idea he’d end up dead and his son—half warlock, with visions he’d spent all his life trying to understand…a son Bart never knew existed—would kill him.
And suddenly, clear as day, like a bolt of thunder zapping me, I’ll never forget as the police took Charles away, how he’d screamed, “He’s coming for you, Stevie, and he’s going to make your death a living Hell!”
Um, eep.
CHAPTER 4
“Maybe Dale Rainwater is Charles’s security guard? Do they assign certain people to prisoners? How does that work?”
“No, Dove. In most cases that’s not how it works. Though, I’m certain there are some guards better with temperamental inmates than others, but what I fear you’re saying is somehow Sal got through to Charles, and Charles passed the message onto Dale, yes?”
My lips thinned. “It makes sense. Otherwise, why would Sal choose Dale, a stranger, to pass on a message? The same message Charles had passed on to me not long ago? So yes. I think Sal has weaseled his way into Charles’s head, and Charles, passed the message on to Dale.”
Win looked thoughtful for a moment. “I thought your Baba Yaga was going to take care of him? Surely, if he has powers, he shouldn’t be with the general population? He could wreak all manner of havoc.”
“She disabled his powers.”
“She can do that?” Win asked in wonder.
Baba Yaga… Just her name was making me angry right now. “She can. They weren’t terribly strong to begin with due to the fact that he was labeled a troublemaker and no one ever taught him otherwise because no one knew he was half warlock. But she can’t stop someone from getting into someone else’s head if she’s not aware. If Sal got into Charles’s ear, which is how I think poor Dale got involved, who knows what he said.”
Win peered out the windshield at the gray day. “That makes perfect sense. Charles and this prison are the only connection to Dale and you.”
“Exactly. It was a roundabout way to go about it, but it’s the most plausible answer. Plus, Dale said exactly what Charles said to me that night he was arrested, and I’m betting Sal’s taking great pleasure in reminding him.”
“Thus Sal is using Charles and Dale.”
I ran my finger along the vinyl of the seat and nodded. “Likely.”
We sat for a moment, silent and contemplative before Win said, “You do, of course, realize you’ll never get inside the prison, don’t you, Dove? As lovely and charming as you are, you must be on an approved list, especially when one is in maximum security.”
I sat in the passenger seat of my car and gave my handsome beloved a cocky smile. “Said the spy who managed to get into Buckingham Palace.”
He gripped the steering wheel, his strong hands flexing, one eyebrow raised. “So you’re going to scale the prison walls with rope and spiked shoes to get inside?”
I studied my cute flared jeans and black-heeled boots. I was so proud of this outfit due to the fact that in total, it had cost ten dollars, that’s including the herringbone blazer.
“I’ll do no such thing, and I’m not scaling anything, Tom Cruise. I’m just waiting for Dale’s shift to be over and then we’re going to have a chat about why he’d punch me in the face, then tell me Sal owed me one and that he’s coming for me. How does he even know Sal? It has to be through Charles, who’s still an inmate. Unless Sal was in prison here in the states or he knew Dale somehow?” I turned to look at Win. “I mean, do you know anyone named Dale Rainwater—any relation to you, per chance?”
Win gave me a grim look. “No, Mini-Spy. No one I know, and Sal had no prison record here in the states that I’m aware of.”
I clutched the card that identified Dale as a security officer and cocked my head. “Maybe he is related to you and you don’t know it. It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. Might I remind you of your brother Balthazar? Your twin? You didn’t know he existed.” I held the card in front of his face. “Look again. Don’t you see the resemblance around the eyes?” I teased.
Dale looked nothing like Win. Round-faced and dark-eyed, with a doughy double chin, he was the antithesis of Win—even as cheerful and pleasant as he appeared in his picture.
He chuckled his deep laugh. “Oh, Dove. Ever a delight. While it’s true I’m adopted, and I know little about my biological family, I highly doubt Dale and I are of relation. Also, I can’t promise I won’t throttle him. He hit you. With his fist. I absolutely won’t have such violence directed at my beloved.”
I reached upward to pull the car’s visor down and looked in the mirror. I really had a shiner, but I’ve had worse in my time. I’d managed to cover most of it with makeup, but it still stung like nobody’s business.
“You’ll do no such thing. Do you want to end up sitting next to Charles for life if things get out of hand? We’re just here to talk to Dale and return his ID card. I’m sure he’s been looking for it.”
Win turned to me, his black leather jacket crinkling. “Do you really believe Dale was under the influence of some evil spirit, Stephania? Really? If neither Sal nor Charles have any powers, how is that possible?”
I nodded. The more I’d thought about it last night as I tossed and turned, the more I suspected that was the case. Why would some absolute random stranger come to my house, threaten me so specifically, then hit me? There were other forces at work here, and if what Belfry said about smelling magic was true, maybe Sal was trying to reach me. Sal the malevolent.
“I don’t know. I only know, it’s not as hard as you think to get a message through. You know that yourself.”
“Then I shall keep my hands in my pockets, but I make no promises there won’t be carnage should the opportunity present itself. One wrong word and he’ll never forget he met Crispin Alistair Winterbottom.”
I patted his thigh and smiled. “Please remember your name is Christoph Alexander Winningham these days. Now, hush and behave.”
I thought of what I’d learned about Dale so far. I’d looked him up on Facebook, and while his profile wasn’t public, I could see a few facts.
Dale liked to bowl, shoot pool, and he liked a craft beer from time to time. He enjoyed tending his herb garden and was especially proud of the rosemary he’d grown this past year. He had a cat named Brenda, a little black and orange tortie who appeared to adore him, if the zillion pictures of her said anything about their relationship.
His musical interests lie in the grunge/punk rock area, he liked sci-fi shows and psychological thrillers, and he was, according to him, happily single.
And as far as I was concerned, none of that added up to him being violent enough to sock me in the face last night.
“Look.” I pointed to the exit on the left side of the institutional-looking façade, where men and women in uniforms began to pour out of the building. “The shift is ending. Dale should be coming out any minute.”
Win sighed. He wasn’t thrilled about confronting Dale Rainwater in the first place, so I expected nothing less. “I’m not overjoyed about this idea. I think we should call his superiors and report him.”
“And say what? Dale brought me a message from a dead guy then punched me in the face?”
Win shook his head. “You have a point. I have to say, I’m impressed with how you found out which shift he worked, Stephania. You’re becoming quite the spy.”
I smiled at him, but then my cheek hurt from my shiner and I had to stop. “It wasn’t hard. A friend sent him a post last week, asking if he wanted to grab a beer when his shift was over at three.”
“Still, your eye for detail is becoming finely honed.”
I heard the pride in his voice and it made me blush. I loved Win more every day, and his pride in me made me happy. I thought working together, living next to one another, being together almost 24/7, would put undue strain on our relationship, but since we’d worked out how we solved crimes together and found our roles, it had been pretty great.
My phone buzzed a text then. I pulled my phone from my purse. “Shoot, I forgot about Sandwich.”
“Sandwich?” Win asked. “What about him?”
“He likes a giiiirl,” I sang with a smile. “He asked if he could talk to me about it and I said yes. But it’ll have to wait for now.”
As we watched the men and women leave the building in their dark blue uniforms, I spotted Dale immediately. He lumbered toward a new-ish green Ford Focus, a lunch pail under his arm.
I hopped out of the car and called his name. “Dale? Dale Rainwater?”
He stopped just as he opened the car door, squinting into the gray, hazy day. “Yeah?”
I zipped around cars until I reached his, holding up the card. “I think I have something that’s yours.”
The first thing I noted, he didn’t appear to recognize me at all. And I do mean at all. There are actors and then there are actors, and he certainly didn’t qualify as an Academy Award nominee. He looked at us like any total stranger would, curious but blankly.
Then I saw relief in his eyes and he smiled, his round face scrunching up, his eyes almost swallowed by his red cheeks. “Holy spit!” he called out. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Miss…?”
I smiled and handed it to him, feeling Win come up behind me, his hand at my waist. “Cartwright. Stevie Cartwright.”
He clung to the ID as though it were the reason he breathed. “Aw, Miss Cartwright, you have no bloomin’ idea the kind of what-for I got from my boss this morning for losing this. It’s a lot of changing things in the computer and access codes and a whole rigamarole no one wants to go through. We’re supposed to guard these with our lives. Guess I didn’t do a very good job of it, huh?” He leaned against the doorframe of his car and looked at us. “Where the heck did you find it?”
Win and I looked at each other. Dale Rainwater appeared so surprised to see his ID card and us, I think we were as caught off guard as him.
Thus, as I approached the subject, I was cautious. “You don’t remember me, Mr. Rainwater?”
His eyes went a little dark and a little suspicious. “Do you work at the pet store? That was the last time I remember seeing it. I went to get my girl Brenda her special food. She has trouble with her digestion. I left work yesterday, went to the pet store and went home to catch the hockey game.”
Win’s cheeks sucked inward, one of those sure signs he was growing impatient. “I assure you, Miss Cartwright does not work at the pet store.”
Now Dale’s light suspicion went dark and heavy as he frowned. “Well, ain’t you Mr. Snooty? If you don’t work at the pet store, where’d you get it? Are you one of those groupies who hang around here, hoping to get in to see a murderer?”
“Are you familiar with Charles Rawlings? He’s a prisoner here.”
He blew out a breath, his cheeks puffing outward. “You are one of those crazy groupies. Listen, I can’t give you any information on prisoners. You’ll have to read the Internet or whatever you crazies do to get in to see these guys.”
“But you do know Charles,” I pressed.
His eyes narrowed, cold and annoyed. “I don’t know anything or anyone. So thanks for my ID card, but I gotta go. I don’t have time for this kinda nuttiness.”
Well, that was that, eh? He wasn’t going to share sensitive information, meaning it was best to move on.
Also, Win was going to lose his cool if I didn’t intervene. I put a hand on Win’s arm and said, “No, Mr. Rainwater. I’m not a groupie. I know of Charles Rawlings because I watch the news. And I don’t work at a pet store, though I wouldn’t hate a job like that. I found your ID at my house. I live in Ebenezer Falls. Does that sound familiar?”
He looked at me as though I’d grown ten feet and sprouted hair on my face. “I’ve never even been to Ebenezer Falls.”
“Then you don’t remember meeting my fiancé last night at our home, near our mailbox?” Win asked, his tone tight and terse.
As people wandered past us, giving Dale strange looks, he became even more uncomfortable. A bead of sweat formed on his upper lip and he drove his hands into his pockets. “Look, I don’t know who you nutballs are, but I’ve never been to Ebenezer Falls, and I definitely haven’t been to your house. I’ve never seen neither one of you before in my life! What kinda game are you playin’ here?”
His voice rose as his panic began to seep outward. Still, I tried to behave as calmly as I could and not attract any more attention. “We’re not playing a game, Mr. Rainwater. You were at our house in Ebenezer Falls last night. You brought me a message from someone.”
He made a face of absolute horror and distaste. “First I lost my ID card at your house, and now I brought you a message. What kind of crackpots are you? What do you want from me?” he yelped, making a few of his colleagues stop nearby.
