Witch Hearts (10 page)

“I thought I was gonna make the coffee.” His bleary face broke into a smile as he raised his mug at her in greeting. The thick stubble on his jaw only added to his morning charm.
 

“Yeah, sorry. I woke up and needed a jumpstart. Didn’t want to wake you.” She set her laptop on the kitchen table and walked to him to refill her own cup. He didn’t move away from her even as she maneuvered to get cream and sugar. Heat radiated off him and Ruby kept her hands firmly on her mug to prevent touching him. He sat down after she pulled a chair out for herself.
 

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked him.

“More than I thought I would. I haven’t slept this late in a long time. No dreams on my end, if that’s what you’re asking.” She opened her mouth to deny it, but he shook his head with a smile. “I know you’re not, but it was nice not to have any. I was afraid to sleep the last couple nights after that one I had of Courtney. Did you get any sleep?”

“Actually,
I
had a dream about Courtney,” she said. He raised an eyebrow at her. “We were in our ritual space, had a big talk.”
 

She recalled most of the dream to him, leaving out the parts Courtney had said about Ruby and Cooper being together. Her cheeks burned as she talked around them and she hoped he didn’t notice. She did, however, tell him all the details of Courtney's account of her death, talking quickly through it as she ignored his wince. When she finished, he sat there for a few moments, perhaps organizing his thoughts and questions.
 

“Have you had dreams like that before?” he finally asked her.

“Oh sure, but they’re not like yours and rarely that vivid. They don’t give me future events or anything. They’re more like…helpful hints. Or I’ll feel a sense of déjà vu sometimes.”

“Do you think Courtney was real? Or something your subconscious imagined?” He stirred his coffee, the spoon gently clinking against the ceramic mug.
 

“She seemed pretty confident that she was not only a “real” part of my dream, but that she’d be back as much as she could.”

“Why would she continue to haunt your dreams?”

“To make sure I was safe, for one. She heard the killer talking about witches and their power, about me.” Cooper's hands tightened on his cup and she plowed through. “She wants to make this guy pay. She agrees with your idea of killing him.”

“There’s no debate on that one, regardless of what she says,” he mumbled.

“You might want revenge, but she knows this guy is evil. She doesn’t want him going after anyone else or performing any more dark magic. He’ll keep doing whatever he wants until he reaches his goals, whatever those are.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“That’s everything she knew about him. At least, that’s as far as we got. I’m hoping to ask more questions next time and hopefully she’ll have more answers.”

“That’s it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What, you expect her to say more?” Ruby took a large gulp of coffee to hide her face. She didn’t want to accidentally burst into nervous giggles and give anything away. Courtney would have to haunt Cooper's dreams for him to hear her opinion on them.
 

“She always had a lot to say.” Cooper rolled his eyes.

“Nope, I think that’s everything important.”

“Uh huh. What have you been doing since you got up?” he asked.

Ruby filled him in on the news headlines and the articles she’d read and he grimaced.
 

“Does the public know he’s after witches?”

She shrugged. “Not that I can tell. The media doesn’t know yet, anyways, so the public doesn’t know. The coven was surprised when we told them, but I hope Phillips and whoever else is involved can keep that quiet.”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea for people to know.”

“Most people roll their eyes at us and think we dance around under the moon with candles, but if they think we’re a reason for a psychopath? If we’re a threat to their families or friends, it could become a legitimate witch hunt.”

“That might make them less scared, though, knowing they’re safe if they don’t practice Wicca.”

“Maybe, but is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

He grimaced. “No, I guess not.”

“And if they know we can do real magic? They might come after us anyway.” She shrugged.
 

He sat back in his chair and rubbed his jaw, his hand against stubble like sandpaper. “It’s not like we go around broadcasting who we are or what we do, though.”

“I don’t think it matters. They’ll try to avoid any attempts on their own lives.”

“You sure don’t think much of humanity.”

“You and I both know people are capable of terrible things,” she said in a dark tone. “Anyway, if the cops can keep that topic out of the media, I think that would be a huge help. If anyone catches wind of it, maybe they can pass it off as some silly rumor rather than a theory. Let them think the killer is a total wackadoo for even believing in witches.”

“But it’s not a theory,” he pointed out. “He
is
killing witches.”
 

“You and I and other witches know that, but the fewer people who know, the better. We’re already in danger, let’s keep it to the minimum.”

“We nothing,” he replied with a glare at the kitchen table. He looked up at her, his eyes like lasers. “
You’re
in danger. I want you to stop thinking of everything else for a minute and focus on you. Should we get you out of town?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “He’s not chasing me out. If he’s as powerful as we think he is, it won’t matter. He’ll find me no matter what.”

“So what’s your plan, then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far,” she admitted.
 

Cooper closed his eyes briefly before looking down at his coffee. “Maybe we form a plan, then. You know, in case he pops out from behind the bushes.”

“I need to have some spells ready. Maybe have vials ready to go, practice a little more to push myself.”

“You’re already pretty good.”

“I could be better. Looks like I’ll have to be; he got through my protection ward, the second best one I have, I might add, without any problem.”

“Second best?”

“The first one is on my armoire. I can barely get in it sometimes,” she said with a faint smile. “He tried but couldn’t break it, so at least there’s that.”

“Why do you have different levels of protection?”

“The one on my armoire requires a bit more on all fronts—concentration, herbs, blood. I don’t really want to cut my hand every time I leave my apartment.”

Cooper stuck his bottom lip out in thought and nodded. “Yeah, that seems fair.”

Trying not to stare at his mouth, she took a much too big gulp of coffee and burned the hell out of her mouth. She remembered something he’d said at the coven meeting last night.

“Why didn’t you tell me Courtney’s Book of Shadows is missing?” Her tone came out sharper than she’d intended and he grimaced as though he’d hoped she wouldn’t remember.
 

“I didn’t want you to worry. Kinda hoped I’d overlooked it, honestly. I searched her apartment and car, thought maybe she’d even left it over here.”

“No way. You know us both better than that.” A witch’s Book of Shadows was no college textbook; it was more like a diary, passed down from the previous generations. Ruby had never met any witch who allowed their book in the open where humans could see it.
 

Ruby’s own mother had passed along their Book of Shadows to her when she was twenty-five. Ruby had of course used it plenty of times in her life, learning magic from her mother and their ancestors, but it became hers when her mother remarried. Ruby’s father died from cirrhosis; two years later, her mother met a wealthy, normal businessman. Because of his aversion to magic, she denounced the craft and all that went with it, including Ruby and their Book of Shadows. The stepfather had written a rather large check to Ruby as compensation, though her mother had forced it on her as a weak apology. Ruby hadn’t spoken to her mother in three years and had no intention to break the silence.
 

A knock on the door startled them from the conversation and they looked at each other with blank stares.

“Expecting company?” Cooper asked.

“I haven’t even called the landlord yet.” Ruby made a mental note to fix that to get her locks changed. She got up and went to her door, peeked through the peephole to find a good-looking African-American guy in a police uniform. She unlocked and opened the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking up at what must’ve been six and a half feet of him.

“I’m Officer Marshall. I live on the basement floor of this building. Detective Phillips asked me to stop by and check on you,” he said, his voice a rich baritone. He held up his badge so she could see his proof of identity.
 

“Oh, right. Please, come in. Would you like some coffee?”

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. “If you don’t mind. Black, please.”

Cooper, who could hear the conversation from the kitchen, already had the officer’s cup ready when they sat down. The policeman asked a few questions about the night’s incidents and Ruby told him everything she’d told the detective.

Officer Ben Marshall took very detailed notes and although it was upside down to Ruby’s eyes, she clearly caught the word “armoire” in the mix. Her hand fluttered to the chain around her neck again; she couldn’t stop them from looking at it as it was technically a possible clue, but the whole idea made her nervous.
 

“I don’t think you’ll need to go down to the station,” Marshall told her. “I’ll take all of this back to Detective Phillips and save you a trip down there.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said, relief clear in her voice.
 

“Can I see the armoire?”

Ruby grimaced but nodded. They stood up and went into her bedroom; she pointed out the piece to Marshall and explained the small scratch. He took a photo with his phone and slipped his notebook and phone back into his jacket pocket.
 

“Since he didn’t break in, I don’t need to see the inside. But you told Phillips it was your grandmother’s jewelry in there? Do you know the value of it?”

“Um, okay, I should be honest since I’d hate to get killed by this guy because I didn’t tell you the truth.” Ruby took the necklace off, unlocking the armoire. “But you might find the contents a little strange.”

She opened the small doors and stepped back so they could all see the inside. Her modest altar came into full view. Her Book of Shadows sat in the center on top of a painted-on pentacle. The herbs, crystals, candles and cauldron she used sat to the left. A neat line of empty vials and containers stood on the right, waiting to be filled with potions. A tiny silver bell stood in the back corner. Her athame, a small sheathed dagger with a delicately jeweled handle, completed the questionable-looking picture. Ruby looked at Officer Marshall, whose face didn’t change or register any surprise.

“So you think this guy was trying to get your book?” he asked.

Ruby nodded. “Assuming you don’t think we’re crazy, practicing witches are very particular about where they keep their spell book. And if you believe it, some witches are known to sense and track down magic. I think he got in past my protection spell at the front door and sniffed down my altar, so to speak.”

“And he couldn’t get to it because he’d need a key? Why didn’t he break the lock?”

“That would be the even bigger protection spell I put on the armoire. Only I can open it, that I’m sure of.” She shot a nervous glance to Cooper, who gave her a shrug.
 

“I see.” Officer Marshall’s face remained calm and he stepped back without further questioning.

“You don’t need a photo or anything?”

He shook his head. “No, I think we’ll leave this out of the reports. Thank you for showing me, but since I’d rather not have anyone think you’re nuts, I’ll pretend I only saw the scratch.”

“That’s it?” she asked in surprise. “You’re not going to tell me I’m insane or ask to flip through spells or anything?”

He chuckled as he stepped away, motioned that he would be leaving. Ruby locked the armoire back up and they followed him out to her front door.

“Ms. Jackson, what you believe in is none of my business. If this is your religion, I’m not one to go around making fun of it. I heard rumors of the killer going after witches, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s one more serial killer with a messed up agenda. I’m going to do my best to keep you safe and if you think you can make a protection spell to help us out, who am I to say you’re crazy? I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Ruby and Cooper breathed a sigh of relief. She beamed at him, felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Thank you. That means more than you know. Your objectivity makes you a great cop.”

Marshall kept a straight face, but she could tell he was pleased. He cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m headed to the station to finish the report. I’ll make sure the landlord changes your lock. Here’s my number; don’t hesitate to call me or come downstairs to find me.”

With a sharp nod to them, Officer Marshall turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. Ruby shut the door and turned to Cooper.

“Well that’s a relief,” he said first. She nodded in agreement and he asked, “Now that that’s taken care of, what did you want to do for the rest of the day?”

“Thought I might reinforce my own personal magic bubble.”

“I could sit with you, give you some extra oomph. I think we’d make good magic together.”
 

Ruby bit back a grin at his suggestive tone, not sure if he was messing with her. His serious tone might say one thing, but the sparkle in his eyes reminded her of earlier years, of flirting and shared glances and missed moments.

“That might be possible,” she said.
 

“I could use a boost on mine too, so everyone wins.” He looked down at the floor before speaking again. “Courtney’s landlord gave me a call, wanted to know when he could get the apartment cleared out. I thought I’d sort through it tomorrow. There might be some stuff you still own or want to keep. Do you want to maybe help me out?”