It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery (21 page)

A raindrop fell, then another. “That’s strange. I could have sworn yesterday that she said she had a granddaughter.”

Vince shrugged. “She was married once before, a long time ago. I suppose it’s possible a long-­lost relative surfaced.”

Harper laughed. “We wouldn’t know anything about that.”

She was half right—­we’d always known about Aunt Ve. We just never really knew her until now.

As they ducked for cover inside the bookstore, I told Harper I’d be home in an hour or so. I waved and hurried off, trying to dodge raindrops.

A suspicion was growing in the pit of my stomach. About Mrs. Pennywhistle. About Alex.

I was so focused on my thoughts, I didn’t even see the man reaching out to grab me until his hand closed around my arm.

I screamed and threw a punch.

He evaded it.

“Darcy!” He shook me. “It’s just me.”

I stopped screaming and focused. It was Nick. And I felt every kind of fool for acting the way I did—­especially since I was expecting him to meet me.

He let me go. “Sorry I scared you.”

Again,
I silently added, willing my heartbeat to return to normal.

“I tried calling your name,” he continued, “but you obviously didn’t hear me.”

I leaned against the brick wall. Maybe my old boring life was just fine, thankyouverymuch.

His hair was damp, and rain speckled his light blue shirt. His eyes were kind, concerned. “You okay?”

I nodded, glanced around. “I’m surprised no one’s come running.”

“I’m not. You don’t scream very loud. It comes out as a little squeak.
Eee, eee
,” he mimicked in a strained whisper.

My face went hot. “I don’t believe you.” I’d been
screaming
. Loudly.

Hadn’t I?

Solemnly, he said, “It’s true. I can help you work on that.”

I thought of some of the ways how, and my face went from hot to burning.

He must have realized how suggestive he sounded, because he quickly added, “I give self-­defense seminars every few months. It might be good for you and your sister to attend one. You already have a good right hook.” He jabbed the air playfully. “We just need to work on the vocals.”

I turned my face up to the sky in hopes the rain would cool it. The drops were falling harder now. Faster. I didn’t mind in the least. I loved rain. Hated thunder and lightning, though, so when the first crack sounded, it prompted me to remember why I’d called Nick in the first place.

When I looked at him to explain, I found him staring at me. My mouth went dry at the hungry look in his eyes. A tingle started at the base of my spine and worked its way up, one vertebra at a time. The humid air seemed even thicker, the rain warmer.

His damp hair started to curl along the ends. I curved my hands into fists to keep from reaching out and catching a raindrop as it fell from his chin, to keep from touching him. My heart beat even faster now than when he’d scared me. A quick
whump-­whump-­whump
, a telltale sign of attraction. I liked Nick Sawyer. A lot. And by his look, he liked me, too.

His gaze had gone to my lips, and as he took a step closer to me, my heart screamed, “GET OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN,” while my mind screamed, “OH YEAH! GO FOR IT!” And these weren’t little
eee
,
eee
screams, either, but earsplitting cries, almost drowning each other out.

I closed my eyes, ready to fully ignore what my heart had to say. No doubt, I’d pay for that later, but at this moment, I didn’t care one little whit.

Suddenly, the sky opened. Lightning cracked nearby and I yelped as the hair on my arms rose from the electricity. My eyes popped open.

Nick was standing close. So close. He smiled. “That—­that was a scream.”

Thunder roared like an oncoming freight train. I grabbed his hand and ran toward Lotions and Potions, to the door leading up to Alex’s apartment. His eyes went wide as I took the key out of my pocket and inserted it into the lock. I pushed him inside and closed the door behind us.

The thunder trailed into a rumble that eventually faded away.

I fumbled for the light switch on the wall.

“Darcy?” Nick said in the darkness.

“Yes?” I could feel his body heat, pulsing in waves.

“Do I want to know why you have a key?”

“Probably not.” I found the light, flipped it on. “But I need your help. I don’t know where else to turn.”

The desire was gone from his eyes, replaced now with wariness.

I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad about that.

A little of both, I realized.

Dripping wet, I took a step away from him and explained everything as we stood in the tiny vestibule. His eyes had stopped widening after I told him about Evan’s rash, and his face had begun to turn stony when I explained about the wooden box. The color in his cheeks started to rise when I mentioned the intruder, and for a second there, I thought steam might actually come out of his ears.

Thunder crashed and I flinched.

“You know the thunder can’t hurt you, right?” he said kind of snidely. “The bark and the bite?”

I could tell he was trying to control his temper, but my nerves were frazzled and I wasn’t in the mood. “I’m aware. Thank you, though, for the lesson.”

When I saw the hurt in his eyes, I sighed, and swallowed over a lump in my throat. I’d never told anyone what I was about to tell him. “When I was seven, I went with my mother to run errands. We were driving when a summer storm popped up. Lightning hit the car, and we went off the side of the road. I was safely buckled in, but my mother hadn’t been wearing her seat belt because she was pregnant and the belt didn’t fit right.…” I swallowed hard over the tightness in my throat. “That was the day Harper was born, and my mother died. I’ve hated storms ever since.” I felt tears puddle in my eyes. “But I love the rain.”

His thumb brushed away a tear. “Why?” he asked softly.

“Because my mother loved the rain. When I was little, we’d dance in it, twirling and laughing.” I smiled through my tears. “When it rains, I remember that. I’m that little girl again, so filled with love for my mother, it’s like she’s still here. But storms, thunder and lightning?” I shook my head.

Gently, he pulled me into his arms and held me close.
I could feel his heart beating against mine as I rested my head on his shoulder. I’d forgotten how good a hug could feel. How good being held and comforted was.

“I’m sorry for what I said about the thunder.” The vibration of his voice rumbled through my whole body.

“You didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t excuse it.”

I pulled away. “I think it does.”

“Arguing with me again?” he asked, teasing.

“It seems to be a thing with us.”

He nodded and stared at me for a long second.

Then, as if remembering where we were, he glanced up the stairs and motioned for us to go up. “Tell me about this intruder.”

My steps squeaked and my drenched shoes squished as I climbed. I was getting awfully used to tiptoeing through strange houses at night. “Tall and lean. Definitely a man—­broad shoulders, narrow-­waisted. Strong, too, because he threw Evan off like he was a rag doll, but not overly muscular. He was wearing gloves, but he had big hands—­the box seemed tiny in them, though I know it’s not.”

“Height?”

“I was on the floor, so it was hard to tell. Around your height, I’d say. Six feet or so.” I turned and gave him a suspicious look. “Where were you an hour ago?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“At the pound, looking at dogs with Mimi. She’s enamored with yours and wants one of her own.”

We’d reached the landing. The door to the apartment was closed, just as Evan and I had left it. “Did you find one?”

“If Mimi had her way, we’d have ten. We’ve narrowed it down to four. We need to think about it, spend more time with each one.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “My ex-­wife was always the dog person, not me. I’m kind of out of my element.”

“Ex?” I asked without thinking.

He looked at me strangely.

“It’s just, ah, I thought you were a widower.”

His voice echoed slightly in the stairwell. “We were divorced for about a year before she died.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I wondered about his wife, what kind of person she was. If I would have liked her. I imagined I would. Mimi was wonderful, and his wife obviously had good taste in men, though they’d divorced. I wondered why. I didn’t want to sound nosy, though, so I simply said, “Judging by the way Missy acts around you, and the way you tolerate it, you’ll do just fine with a dog.”

I opened the door of Alex’s apartment and winced at the mess. Alex hadn’t had many possessions, but the intruder had left no stone unturned.

“Whoa,” Nick said as he looked inside.

We wandered in, taking in the destruction. He crouched next to a desk and looked through the mail scattered on the floor. “Bills, some overdue. And lots of letters from lawyer offices.”

I glanced at the stack and noticed Marcus Debrowski’s firm as the return address on at least three of the letters. I read one of them. It was a bill from Marcus. I frowned. He was representing her against class action suits? And also representing Sylar for her murder? That didn’t make sense—­it was a clear conflict of interest. Wasn’t it?

Thunder rumbled and my nerves jumped. I wished the storm would hurry up and blow through already.

“I’m not surprised,” I said, “if she was selling lotions that made people go bald and blister. That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” The kitchen area was open to the rest of the apartment and looked like this was where Alex made most of her products. There were vials
and herbs and bottles and tubes of every size—­most scattered on the floor. I noticed a vase of pink chrysanthemums had been knocked over onto the counter, and the water was seeping into a set of books. I picked my way through the mess and set the vase right, added water, and rearranged the flowers. I found a roll of paper towels and sopped up the rest of the spill. The books might be able to be saved if left to dry out properly.

“We need to call the police,” Nick said.

“I know,” I agreed.

“I wish I had brought gloves,” he said.

My nerves danced. I turned my back to him and mouthed my spell. I blinked twice and cast it.

When I turned back around, I fully expected him to have stumbled across a box of latex gloves. Alex had to have some around with all the chemistry she had going on in the apartment.

Nick was looking at my hands. “You, too. It’s going to be hard to explain why we were in here. And how we have a key.”

Anxious, I glanced around. No gloves. “Are you sure you don’t carry around a spare pair of gloves in your pockets?” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate.

He gave me an odd look. “I’m sure.”

“Can you check?” I asked with a laugh, hoping I sounded playful and not frantic.

Again the strange look, but he stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got nothing except my cell phone and wallet. Neither is going to help us right now.”

My stomach churned. Why hadn’t my wish worked? Was Nick a Wishcrafter? But no, he was in the picture with me that Starla had taken. Had his wish not been pure of heart?

He watched me as though he was waiting for an answer. I blinked innocently. “We can lie.”

Did Nick have a hidden agenda? Was there some reason
he wanted our prints found in Alex’s apartment? I couldn’t think of a single
good
reason why he would.

And suddenly, just like that, I realized how much I didn’t know about him. Other than my attraction to him. And that he seemed like a great dad. And that he was really, really handsome. And that he used to be a cop.

On second thought, that was a lot of information. All the marks of a good guy.

So why hadn’t the wish been granted?

He thought about it a second. “Sounds good. I’ll think of something to tell them. You should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The police will have questions better left to me to answer on my own.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. It was the outcome I’d hoped for, and I was beyond grateful he was taking care of it.

He nodded.

I was almost out the door downstairs, using the handrail so I wouldn’t fall in my rush to get out of there, when a sharp pain had me snatching my hand off the wood. I stopped, examined the splinter, and held my breath as I pulled it out. Thankfully, no blood. How something so little could cause such pain was hard to understand.

I glanced at the oak handrail and saw the rough spot, a small crack. I wondered how long it had been like that, or if it was caused earlier today by the wooden box smashing into it. I supposed it didn’t really matter and was about to get a move on when something caught my eye. I leaned down for a closer look at that rough spot of oak. Something had caught, snagged. I picked it up.

It was a bit of pink fuzz.

T
he storm lingered as I ran for home—­it was closer than Evan’s place. I’d call when I got there and let him know I’d pick up my car in the morning. And see if he’d found an antidote.

I really hoped so. I didn’t know how much more he could take. If the rash on his face didn’t stop spreading soon, he might be in very real danger.

Was it possible he
was
contagious?

I’d spent a lot of time with him recently, but I hadn’t had so much as an itch. But if Ramona’s, Mrs. P’s, and Vince’s rashes didn’t start showing for a couple of days, maybe there was an incubation period.

If the murder and thefts in the village hadn’t already driven the tourists away, I was sure any whisper of a medical outbreak would.

Nothing like a plague to create a ghost town.

I dashed along the walkway that cut across the green, hauling along faster than I had this morning with Starla, despite the fact that I was wearing black flats and not sneakers.

Flashes of lightning lit the sky every few minutes, followed by low growls of thunder. The storm was finally starting to ebb.

Soaked to the bone, I ran up the back steps and into
the mudroom and shook myself off much like Missy probably would have done.