A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (18 page)

She smiled. Apparently, I was amusing.

I, however, found no humor in this situation whatsoever.

“You’re just a busy little bee. Busy with the wedding coming up. Busy helping Elodie Keaton. Busy”—she shimmied her hips—“getting busy with the chief of police?”

What was it with her fascination with Nick?

Her eyebrows snapped together. “And busy spying on me and Sylar?”

I felt a guilty flush sweep over my neck.

With a determined look in her eye, she took another step closer, tottering on impossibly high heels. When she reached out to jab me, she suddenly let out a cry and pulled her hand back. She cradled her hand.

I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but was more than a little relieved that I wasn’t going to have to break out the self-defense skills Nick had taught me. Though, I had to admit, I kind of wanted to rip the hair right off her head and wondered, absently, if that made me a bad person.

She hissed like a wounded feral cat as she eyed the bag. “You may be protected right now, Darcy Merriweather, but let me tell you this: If you don’t keep that pert little nose of yours out of my business, then there’s not enough protection in the world that will keep you safe. Stay out of my way, little girl. Keep your mouth shut about Sylar; quit the job at the Keaton house so the police can do their jobs; and back off of Nick Sawyer. Do you understand me?”

Had the agate protected me by somehow zapping Dorothy? If so, there was no way I was going to let her borrow the agate as Evan had suggested. I kind of wanted Ve to wallop this trollop.

When I didn’t answer, Dorothy jabbed a finger in my direction. “You’ve been warned.” She stomped away in her high heels and slammed the back door behind her.

Behind me, I again heard the rustling. I’d had enough. “Really, Vince, if that’s you, just come out already.”

I spun around to find a tall man standing at the trailhead. Slashes of sunlight spilled across his handsome features.

He wasn’t Vince.

This man was older, mid-to-late forties, I guessed,
with black eyes, olive skin tone, the barest hint of silver in his black hair. He had an aristocratic nose, high cheek bones, and a friendly smile. He wore a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie—and he wore it well.

“Who—who are you?” I asked.

He bowed. “Andreus Woodshall, and you are quite welcome.”

My first thought was that he didn’t look like Dracula at all. Well, maybe a handsome Dracula, but certainly not a creepy one.

I tipped my head. “Welcome for what?”

He nodded to the bag.

I held it up. “The agate ball?”

“More specifically, the protection spell I placed upon it when I realized that the woman was going to accost you. The ball itself doesn’t have that level of power without the help of other elements.”

“Like magic?” I asked. I’d forgotten he was a Charmcrafter, and I hadn’t realized that Dorothy was a Crafter—she had to be if she knew she’d been blocked by a protection spell.

He nodded in acquiescence.

“Well, then yes, thank you. I really didn’t want to kick her ass.”

His eyes flared; then his head tipped back and he laughed.

I blushed. “Sorry. I’m out of sorts right now.”

“Quite all right, considering what just happened.”

“You saw it all?”

He nodded.

“Have you been following me?”

He tipped his head. “No. Why would you think so?”

I didn’t have even the slightest bit of apprehension around him. No goose bumps. No hair rising on the back of my neck. Nothing. “No reason.”

As he studied me, it felt like his gaze was going right through me, burning with its intensity. It was as if he was trying to see what was at the very core of my being, what kind of person I was, with one look. Yet I still felt no malice. It was a strange sensation. One I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Again, I shifted. “How did your son know my name earlier?”

Smiling wanly, he said, “You were hired to work at the Keatons’ house. I’m very interested with anything—with
anyone
,” he stressed, “going in and out of that home. And therefore, so is Lazarus.”

“Walk with me?” I asked. I wanted to get away from Third Eye.

His arm swept out with a flourish. “After you.”

Limping only slightly, I headed up the small path leading to the trail. “Why are you so interested in the Keaton house?”

His voice rumbled behind me. “The Anicula, of course.”

I was surprised he confessed so freely. Glancing back at him, I let out a small cry. Here, in the shade, his features had changed. Long gone was handsome, replaced with sinister. Beady eyes, hollow cheeks, sharp little piranha teeth.

A chill swept down my spine, and I picked up my pace.

“Darcy?”

We emerged from the path into the sunshine. I spared a glance. He was handsome again. I shuddered, not sure what had just happened. “I’m okay. Uh, stubbed my toe.”

He walked stiffly beside me, like a ramrod undertaker, and I wondered how far he’d take his honesty. “Did you steal those opals this morning from Patrice Keaton’s lawn?”

“Would I do such a thing?” he asked, nodding his head in the affirmative. “I felt as though there was no
other option. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw the opals on the ground. For years, I’ve tried to get into that house to look for the Anicula, and to have the stones laid out as such…It was too good to be true. I acted quickly, but alas, none were what I was seeking. I will return the merchandise to Elodie at once.”

I latched on to something he said. He’d
tried
to get into the house. “You’ve never been in the Keatons’ house?”

“Not once.”

“You haven’t been breaking in every time the Roving Stones are in town?”

His eyes widened. “No.”

I stared at him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he said, “Do not be misled. I would have broken in—if I could. I cannot.”

“Why?”
Someone
had been breaking in.

“There is a spell cast upon the house that prohibits my entrance.”

I stumbled a bit and he grabbed on to my elbow to steady me. “A spell cast by whom?”

“Geer Keaton.” There was venom in his voice.

“I don’t understand,” I said. There was a lot of that going on today. I wasn’t liking it one bit.

“The Anicula belongs to my family,” Andreus said.

We were walking under a shady stretch of the path, so I made sure to keep my gaze averted. However, a jogger happening by must have taken a look at him because she let out a yip when he bade her a “good afternoon” and she sprinted at an Olympic pace past us.

I knew just how she felt.

Andreus seemed to take no notice.

“The Anicula’s enchantment was a wedding gift from my great-great-great-grandfather to his bride,” he said. “It has been in my family for generations. That is, until Geer Keaton, the grave robber, stole it.”

“Really?” It seemed too outrageous to be true. We had stepped into the sun again, so I felt safe looking at him.

“Really. I have been trying to recover it since.”

“Geer dug up a grave? Literally?”

Humoring me, he smiled. “Literally. We were friends you see. Best friends. Years and years ago. A lifetime, it seems. In high school, right here in the village.”

Geer, Patrice, Yvonne, and Roger…and now Andreus. All had gone to school together. Were all bound by the Anicula in some way?

“Our families were close. Geocrafters and Charmcrafters practically go hand in hand. Geer had heard the legend of the Anicula. He knew it had been buried with my grandmother. When her mausoleum was broken into, it didn’t take much deduction to figure out that it had been Geer behind the crime.”

A squirrel darted across the path. Two more joggers went by and a young woman with a baby carriage. It was just another day in the village to most. To me, I couldn’t help feeling that my life was about to take a turn. Whether for good or bad remained to be seen.

“Especially,” he added, “when Patrice suddenly broke up with Roger and started dating Geer. Patrice and Roger had been due to get married after graduation. They were madly in love. Soul mates.”

I stopped walking and looked at him full-on (thank goodness we were in a sunny spot). “You’re saying that Geer used the Anicula to steal Patrice from Roger? That he
wished
it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

He started walking again, and I followed.

This explanation revealed to me Roger’s infatuation with Patrice and also Yvonne’s dislike of her.

“Immediately after the theft, Geer had a spell commissioned
that kept me from entering his home. He made sure to never bring the Anicula out of the house. I have a feeling it’s still inside.”

“You don’t think it was stolen, as Patrice claimed?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“But you don’t know for certain?”

“No, I don’t know, but I will do just about anything to return the Anicula to where it belongs.”

“With your grandmother?” I asked. “Or with your family, in general?”

I really wanted to know. Because I could feel myself falling for his woe-is-me story of injustice. If it was true, it was horrible what Geer had done. But if Andreus wanted the Anicula back so he could use its power…

“With my grandmother. She wanted the power to be buried with her, never to harm anyone else. She was a wise woman.”

I wanted to believe him, I really did. But I didn’t quite.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

“I would like your help in convincing Elodie to return the Anicula to my family if she has it.”

I didn’t think that would be a problem after her proclamation earlier. We’d reached the turnoff path to As You Wish. “There’s one problem with that.”

“Which is?”

“Elodie doesn’t know where the Anicula is, either. She says she hasn’t seen it since she was a little girl, maybe four or five, and she believes it was stolen, as her mother claimed.”

“Four or five?” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Is that so?”

“It’s what she said. Why? You don’t think so?”

“What I think, Darcy, is that she is lying to you.”

G
odfrey Baleaux, Cloakcrafter extraordinaire and owner of the Bewitching Boutique, was in the process of pinning my maid of honor dress and had already poked me three times. “Ow!” Make that four.

It was only four o’clock and I felt as though this day was never going to end. I’d already dropped off the agate ball with Ve, who looked slightly better, asked Archie to keep an eye on her, and then hightailed it to Bewitching Boutique.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, his white hair tickling the back of my neck as he worked on my sleeve. “My nerves. They’re shot. So tell me again. Andreus didn’t elaborate as to
why
he thought Elodie was lying?”

We’d been through this three times already. Coincidentally, each time was accompanied by a pinprick. I checked for blood on my shoulder near the sleeve he was working on and said, “He told me to ask Elodie.”

Only a tiny pinprick of blood, thank goodness. Anything more and I was sure to faint dead away. He handed me a handkerchief and I pressed it to the spot.

Harper caught my reflection in the dressing room mirror and said, “If Elodie already told you she hadn’t seen the Anicula in years, I doubt she’s going to fess up to making any recent wishes.”

Pepe, working on Harper’s hem, made a
tsk
ing sound. His whiskers twitched. “Quite true.”

“I’ve been trying to think of why she would lie.” Our dresses were really quite lovely. Amethyst in color, cocktail length, and fitted (or would be soon) in all the right places. Mine had cap sleeves while Harper’s was strapless.

“I can think of a reason,” Harper said.

We all looked at her expectantly.

Smiling, she tapped her chin, pretending to be in deep thought. She was enjoying the attention—a rarity for her. Usually she shied away from anyone paying her any kind of interest. Of course, talking about a murder case was also a rarity—one Harper, a forensic nut, reveled in. Not the murder—but the solving of the crime.

“She absolutely does not want anyone to know what she wished for. And admitting to seeing the Anicula might precipitate a conversation about her
using
the Anicula.”

I didn’t want to ruin her moment, so I kept it to myself that I’d already figured out that, if Andreus was right, Elodie probably made a wish she didn’t want anyone knowing about. It was
what
she wished for that I wanted to know. “What kind of wish wouldn’t you want people to know about?”

Godfrey guffawed. His jowls jiggled. “Many, many things.”

“Like?” I pressed.

“Weight loss, for one,” he said. “I would want people to believe I did it on my own.”

Pepe eyed Godfrey’s belly. “Obviously not a wish you’ve made recently.”

“You’re a fine familiar to talk,” Godfrey countered with a touch of humor in his voice. The two were always bickering, but most of the time it was a friendly give-and-take. Most.

Rubbing a paw over his chubby belly, Pepe said, “Touché.”

“Has Elodie lost a lot of weight recently?” I asked.

Both shook their heads. I was back to square one.

“Money,” Harper said. “I wouldn’t want people to know I wished for money.”

“Well, Elodie doesn’t have any. At least not until she sells her mother’s house and its contents.” I turned slightly so the light would catch the shimmer in the dress. It was stunning.

Pepe had finished with Harper’s dress, and she slipped behind a curtain to change into her street clothes. “Well, there goes that theory.”

Godfrey groaned as he knelt to pin my hem. “My word,” he gasped. “What happened to your knees, Miss Darcy? Oh! And your ankle?”

I peeked down. “The ankle I twisted when I ran after the Peeper Creeper trying to break into—or as it turns out, break out of—the house this morning, and I skinned my knees when I fell off a trash can this afternoon behind Third Eye.”

The curtain slid open from the dressing area, and Harper came out with a look of astonishment on her face. “And what were you doing behind Sylar’s shop?”