A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (12 page)

I could see him up ahead, wheezing, and I realized he was an older man. As shafts of sunlight pierced the branches overhead, it made the silver in his hair sparkle. He was slowing down, and I was gaining on him.

My chest burned as I picked up the sound of nearby flapping. I looked up and saw Archie soaring overhead.

“I thought you might want some backup,” he called.

It was never a bad idea to have eyes in the sky. Especially after I looked back at the trail and realized that the
man was nowhere in sight. I jogged ahead to where the trail split. I didn’t know which way he had gone, and the earth was too packed to see footprints.

“Do you see him?” I yelled to Archie.

“Negative! The canopy is too thick. Hold up. I’ll circle around.”

I bent at the waist and tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t believe I’d lost him! I’d been so close. As my adrenaline wore off, I could feel the throbbing pain in my ankle. I’d twisted it good when I’d hurdled that fence.

It wasn’t long before Archie was back. “He’s gone. No hide nor hair.”

Great
. “Thanks for looking.”

He bowed. “It was the least I could do.”

Slowly, I limped my way back to the house. All told, I’d probably been gone only five minutes or so. As foot chases went, it was rather lame.

Archie flew back into his cage as Missy ran in circles around my feet, sniffing my legs. She was agitated, and I scooped her up to calm her down. After a minute, I felt her heartbeat go back to normal and I set her on the grass.

“Come on,” I said to her. “Let’s go in. I need to get cleaned up.”

I also planned to give Nick a call. He needed to know what had happened. Maybe he could find some fingerprints along the back of the house or footprints in the yard.

Missy bounded inside ahead of me, and I kicked off my running shoes in the mudroom and peeled off my socks to drop in the laundry room. As soon I stepped into the kitchen, my feet started sliding out from under me. Arms flailing, I searched for something—anything—to grab on to in hopes of breaking my fall, but nothing was in reach. My left leg went one way, my right the other.

I landed with a thud and a small “
Eeee
” in the center of the floor. A floor that was slick with water.

Ve came dashing in wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. She glistened with wetness. “Darcy! Oh, thank heavens you’re here.”

I glanced up at her from my splayed position on the floor and suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. Nick Sawyer stood right behind her.

Wonderful
.

“Are you all right, dear? What are you doing on the floor?” She kept one hand firmly on her bathrobe lapels and held out the other for me to take. As I levered myself off the floor, I noted that she looked slightly better than she had in a while. Her eyes were bright and there was natural color in her cheeks rather than a feverish blush. Damp tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks and her neck, and a sloppy bun drooped atop her head.

“I slipped on the wet floor.”

Ve looked down. “Oh my. I’m afraid that was my fault. When I heard the ruckus outside, I leapt out of my bath and came straight down. I’m afraid I must have taken most of the bath water with me.”

I could tell Nick was trying not to smile—he was nibbling the corner of his lip and his cheek was twitching.

Missy was giving him lots of distance. I didn’t understand what was going on with her lately. She definitely seemed upset with him.

“What’re you doing here?” I was fascinated with the way his teeth clamped his lip and forced myself to look away from his mouth.

“Ve called. Thankfully, I wasn’t too far away. What happened?”

He looked at Ve, who shrugged. “All I heard was Darcy yelling and Archie squawking like a siren. When I didn’t see them in the backyard, I figured it had to be something bad.”

I noticed the large puddles on the stairs that needed to be sopped up as soon as possible before someone took a spill and broke a neck. At the top of the steps, Tilda stared down at us with a look of dismay. Her tail swished ominously.

“Darcy?” Nick asked.

I recounted what had happened. Nick’s already dark eyes turned stormy. “I’ll take a look around.” He carefully navigated the puddles and brushed past me, going out the back door.

Ve sneezed and suddenly she looked unwell again. “I need to get some clothes on. I’m starting to get a chill.” She headed for the steps.

“Wait!” I said. “Let me dry them off first.” I wasn’t sure how she’d made it down without slipping. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

“I’m fine. I keep telling you that.”

I grabbed a towel from the laundry room and dried each step. “I know what you’re saying, but I can tell it doesn’t match with how you’re feeling. You’re a lousy liar.”

“I’ll be fine, Darcy dear.”

I swiped. “I talked to Cherise this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t act so innocent,” I said. “You know what she told me because she told you the same thing.”

“There’s nothing to be done, no matter how we look at it. What will be, will be.”

I grudgingly admitted she had a point. Nothing could be done if others were involved—except perhaps if we discovered who they were and why they were after Ve. But we could be more aware. “I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, Darcy dear. Neither do I.”

At the top of the landing, I dropped the towel on the floor and pushed it around with my foot, ignoring the way my whole body now ached from that fall. There was
more water than I thought possible, leading all the way to Ve’s private bath. Tilda did her best to trip me up as I cleaned, twining herself around my legs.

I heard voices downstairs as I finished mopping up Ve’s bathroom floor. I had to smile as I glanced at her towel bars—all covered with drying nylons, colorful bras, Spanx, and one lone paisley silk handkerchief. She didn’t believe in putting delicates in the washing machine.

As I came down the steps, Nick was talking to Ve in the kitchen.

“Bad news,” Ve said solemnly. All the color was gone from her cheeks.

“What?” I asked.

“Ve says this window was locked earlier.” Nick pointed to the window above the kitchen sink.

I nodded. “I locked it myself last night.”

As I looked at it now, though, the sash was lifted high and the screen had been pushed out. “He tried to break in?” I asked.

Nick shook his head and locked eyes with me. “No, Darcy. He didn’t break in…. He broke
out
.”

A
n hour later, Nick was done processing the kitchen and yard and strongly suggested that Ve and I vacate the premises for the time being.

We were still trying to figure out how the intruder had gotten into the house in the first place. The front door was always locked, and I’d locked the back door on my way out that morning. Other than the window, there was no sign of entry in or out, but the sill had to be a good five feet off the ground. No way to climb in without help—and there was no evidence that a ladder or some other booster had been used.

It was strange. Very strange.

I was ready to pack my bags, but Ve vehemently refused. She said she had a plan, which kind of scared me more than the intruder in the house. Okay, not really. But it was close.

Nick promised to have officers increase their patrol of the area and left.

I was quite proud of myself for not begging him to stay.

Sitting at the kitchen island, I stared at the window, which was once again locked tight. The screen was still pushed outward, and Nick’s supposition that the intruder had probably heard voices in the yard and was
scared off—dive-bombing out the nearest window—kept playing through my head.

What if I had been a few minutes later? What if I hadn’t stopped to chat with Archie? What would I have walked in to find? I shivered.

My stomach free-fell at the thought that Ve had been upstairs alone. Vulnerable. While someone was down here…lurking. Waiting. It made my skin crawl.

Ve was still in her bathrobe and she fluttered about the kitchen, setting various supplies on the countertop. A few candles, a sage smudge stick (sage branches wrapped in string), a handful of gemstones. She looked frazzled, pieces of hair sticking out, her bun coming undone. There was a wild look in her golden blue eyes, and I couldn’t tell if it was from her fever or her feverish determination to accomplish her task.

“Can I help?” I asked.

She clasped her hands under her chin and surveyed her supplies. Finally, she said, “I could really use an agate sphere.”

“Agate? The stone?”

“A banded one.”

“Why?”

“For my protection spell, of course.”

Oh, of course
. First recantation spells, now this?

“Agate offers the most power against our enemies,” she said.

Well, I was all for that. “And where does one find an agate sphere?”

She separated the stones on the counter. Small marbles of amethyst, bright yellow citrine, and jade. “The Charmory. Could you run over?”

“I’m fairly sure it’s closed today, what with what happened to Patrice and all.”

Ve’s eyes closed. “Have mercy. With all this hoopla, I forgot all about poor Patrice. Let me think. Let me think.”

Missy was napping in her dog bed, and Tilda was swatting at the sage.

Ve suddenly snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. The Roving Stones. Someone at the fair is bound to have a banded agate sphere.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh, Darcy dear, those Stoners have everything.”

Smiling, I said, “I’ll keep that in mind and see what I can find.”

Ve said, “Could I ask another favor while you’re out?”

“Of course.”

She held up a finger and trundled off down the hall to the office. A moment later she was back, a piece of paper in hand. “Jonathan Wilkens faxed over the final wedding menu this morning. He needs our approval by noon. Could you run this over to Third Eye and get Sylar’s go-ahead?”

I took the note. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Take your time. We can’t cast the spell until midnight.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s the witching hour, Darcy.”

Of course.

I gathered up my wallet and tote bag. “I’ll leave Missy here with you. She’ll scare off any potential intruders.”

We both looked at the small dog, who sleepily raised her head and yawned. A small pink tongue stuck out. Way out.

“I’ll hurry,” I said.

Ve laughed. It was music to my ears. She’d been so sick lately that there hadn’t been much humor.

I headed for the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. P is stopping by later with some soup.”

“Lovely,” Ve said. “And, Darcy, for the agate?”

I didn’t like how she wouldn’t quite meet my eye. “Mmm-hmm?”

“There’s one vendor in particular who’s bound to have it.”

“Who?” I asked, even though I knew. I just
knew
.

“Andreus Woodshall.”

Of course
.

Archie’s cage was empty as I walked out the back gate. I glanced at Terry Goodwin’s house. It was a simple two-story red-shingled gambrel with cozy window dormers. A flagstone path twined to the front door, and a picket fence lined the yard. Hedges had been neatly trimmed, perennial gardens bloomed throughout the yard, and it made me wonder who kept up with the landscaping. Because as long as I’d lived next to the man, I’d never laid eyes on him.

A sign dangled from a lamppost that read Terrence Goodwin, CPA, but I’d never seen a customer go inside. In fact, the only person I’d ever seen enter the home was Dennis Goodwin, Terry and Cherise’s son.

Interesting
. Several people told me Terry was an “interesting” man, but would never elaborate. As I walked past, I noticed that as always, the drapes had been pulled tight. It reminded me suddenly of Patrice Keaton’s house, and I couldn’t help but wonder what lurked inside Terry’s home.

It might just be time I paid him a friendly visit. Say hello. Maybe bring him some brownies or something. No, not brownies. Tartlets. After all, since I was going to learn to make them tonight at the Sorcerer’s Stove, I might as well put that knowledge to work.

I looked both ways before crossing the cobblestone street, headed for the green. Glinda Hansel’s pink village police car cruised past. She gave me a finger wave and kept on going.

It reminded me that I wanted to find out more about her mother and what she had to do with Ve and Sylar.
Why would she have any reservations about attending the wedding? Was there a history there?

Honestly, after Sylar had been accused of murder, I’d thought I knew pretty much all there was to know about him. Widower, philanthropic optometrist, casual gambler (he liked to occasionally bet on the dogs), and generous with jewelry (but had poor discretion with inscriptions).

But obviously I was missing something. Maybe something big. Maybe not. I had to find out which, because it might be important to what was going on with Ve’s health.

On the village green, I looked around. Ve had told me that Andreus Woodshall’s stall was called Upala. I limped my way through the maze of tents (among those: Gemtastic! Hot Rocks, Gold Diggers, Natural Elements, Geode Dude), looking for the right one. Some vendors were already hard at work, pitching their merchandise to anyone who walked by. Others simply sat back, allowing their products to speak for themselves and customers to come to them.

I tried not to get distracted by all the shiny baubles. A few steps ahead, set slightly apart from the other tents, I finally spotted a fluttering gold banner stamped
UPALA
. Three of the four tent walls had been rolled up, leaving the rear wall down, and I could see the back of a man inside the booth as he chatted with a customer.

Tall, dark-haired, trim. Sounded like the description of Mr. Macabre.

So far, I hadn’t gotten the willies, so I proceeded with caution.

Oh-so-slowly, I approached the stall, pretending to be fascinated with the dozens of displays. It was easy to pretend—the displays were gorgeous. There was a rainbow of color splashed in front of me. The table nearest me was full of vintage tiered stands that showed off jewelry of every kind. Antique silver boxes held loose stones and gems. On the table opposite me, I could see clusters
of crystals and minerals like amethysts and citrine, among others I didn’t recognize. Blues and whites and greens. They were stunning.