Witching There's Another Way: A Cozy Mystery (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 4) (15 page)

Chapter 25

The eighth cave was somehow smaller than Bailey remembered when she filed into it with the Frances, Chloe, Aiden, and Avery. Aria took Isabelle to the Sheriff’s station after she’d been urged to admit she ran away. It was safer that way, and she seemed to understand that.

Thomas was in tow, led by Chloe. Now that the Faerie magic that he’d apparently been connected to was cut off, his defenses were gone, and Chloe was using some kind of magic on him that she refused to explain to Bailey. “Some things are a burden to know,” she said, and left it at that.

Now, they stood before Rita and Anita, both of whom looked on Thomas Hope with more pity than Bailey had ever seen in anyone’s face before.

There was very little discussion, no judgment or tribunal. Whatever Thomas’ fate was, it was a forgone conclusion for everyone in a position to mete it out. The crones weren’t hopelessly cruel, though. Or, at least they didn’t think they were.

“Release him,” Rita told Chloe.

She nodded, and a moment later Thomas blinked as though waking from a dream.

He stared around at them, and then up at the open ceiling of the cave. “It’s real,” he whispered.

“We sincerely hoped that you would never see this place,” Rita said, her voice thick with sorrow.

Thomas sneered at her. “I just bet you did. Is this where you did it? Where you took my family’s magic away?”

“We never meant to do that,” Anita said. “We didn’t know that Esme was pregnant when the binding was laid.”

“Would it have changed anything if you did know?” Thomas asked.

Rita shook her head slowly, as did Anita.

Thomas looked away from them, and leveled his gaze on Avery. “You’re going to let them do this to me, then?”

“Thomas,” Avery said, emotionless in the wake of his shutting down to avoid the pain of it all, “you misused your gift, however small it was. It wasn’t your fault that your magic was bound from birth—but it was your choice to make a dangerous deal and endanger the lives of children, and all the rest of us. You knew what the consequences would be if the Faeries made it through.”

Thomas snorted. “You know, I came here with a ring. It’s in Aunt Rita’s house. Side table by the couch, near the kitchen. Top drawer. I thought… well, it doesn’t matter now.”

Bailey wanted to slap the man. Staring down the barrel of what would almost certainly be a permanent judgment, he just had to take one more shot before he went.

Avery didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away, and left the cave. “I’ll be outside when it’s done.”

Bailey met Aiden’s eyes, and a second later he followed.

The crones and the coven ladies stood in a circle around Thomas. Bailey wasn’t asked to leave, but she wasn’t invited to help, either. She wasn’t sure she would have wanted to. Yes, what Thomas had done was unforgivably wrong, and there was no prison that could reliably hold him—or a court that would convict him for enchanting thirteen children and trying to bring about the end of the world—but she couldn’t stomach the idea of carrying out his sentence herself.

Chloe put her hands on Thomas’s temples as the other witches raised their hands and began to chant softly. It was a spell Bailey didn’t recognize, but she could feel at least some of it’s effect. Chloe’s presence in the world, in Bailey’s mind, grew exponentially.

“It’s not fair…” Thomas muttered, and then closed his eyes. A moment later, it was done.

Frances and Aria caught Thomas as he slumped to the ground, and Rita stood over him for a long moment, mourning. “Take him back to the house,” she said. “He’ll leave town when he wakes up. And… give my condolences to young Avery.”

Rita and Anita turned together, and Anita put her arm around her sister as they made their way into the cabin.

They took Thomas back to Rita’s old house. He slept the entire way, which wasn’t unexpected. Chloe told them he’d sleep for twelve hours or so, having strange dreams while his mind worked to fill in the new gaps of his memory. “When he wakes, he’ll be a bit confused but otherwise fine,” she said.

“Will he remember me?” Avery asked her.

Chloe grimaced, and shook her head.

Avery sighed. “Good.”

When they arrived at Rita’s house, Aiden and Avery worked together to get him into bed, and then Bailey tended Avery’s burned hands.

“You did impressive work,” Aiden said as she slathered ointment onto the burns and blisters and wrapped them in bandages. “I can’t really express properly how proud I am of you, Avery.”

Avery didn’t answer right away. He only nodded slowly, and gave a weak smile.

“Why did they burn?” Bailey asked.

“The purpose of the wand,” Avery said, “is to contain and channel magic. Without that containment, it runs wild.”

“Wizards don’t cajole magic into working for them,” Aiden added when Bailey looked confused. “Not like witches. We have to tame it as it comes up. Frankly, lesser wizards would have lost fingers. It’s possible to burn a finger to the bone.”

“Did you know that could happen?” Bailey asked her friend as she finished wrapping the last bandage.

Avery shrugged. “There wasn’t much choice. A few fingers in exchange for thirteen kids… seemed like a fair trade.”

“More than that,” Aiden said. “The Wild Hunt… well, it would have been more than the children that suffered. You acted bravely.”

“Sure,” Avery sighed. He glanced toward the stairs, where they’d carried Thomas to his room. “Um… I’m going to stay here tonight. Make sure Thomas is okay tomorrow. Or, later today, I guess. What time is it?”

“Well past three,” Aiden said. “Try to get some sleep.”

“We’ll see.” Avery looked down at his injured hands, and then reached out to hug Bailey.

She took it, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Bails,” he said.

They left him then, to rest and, Bailey suspected, to grieve in peace.

Piper’s call came just a few minutes later. She’d been contacted by the hospital as soon as the children woke up, as had all the parents. When Bailey answered her phone, Piper was barely coherent with joy.

“I don’t know what you did,” she sobbed, “but I know you did something. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I just don’t know what I would have done…”

Bailey comforted her friend, and promised to visit later to check up on them, and when Piper hung up, the exhaustion of the past days finally caught up to her, politely waiting for this moment to come crashing down on her shoulders.

She leaned heavily against Aiden’s car, and closed her eyes.

“We came very close to the end,” Aiden said softly beside her, after he joined her.

“Yeah,” Bailey sighed. “I know.”

“Bailey, there’s something I think I should tell you.”

Bailey groaned, and shook her head. “Not now. Please. I don’t think I can handle anything else. Can it wait?”

She looked up to see him wracked with what was probably guilt—though, given that she was starving and ready to pass out it wasn’t easy to see straight much less read his expression.

Finally, though he nodded. “It can wait. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Bailey agreed. “Or maybe next week. I think I could sleep for a week. And eat this town out of food entirely.”

“I’d have to agree with that. There’s no where in town to get a bite this hour, is there?”

Bailey shrugged. “Do you have anything in the pantry at your place?”

Aiden’s lips parted as though to answer, but for a moment he simply hung suspended there, looking scandalized or hopeful or some combination of the two. “Ah…”

And then Bailey kissed him. Not because some magic spell had to be fooled into taking them both across some dimensional wall, through a crack the size of a quarter—but because she wanted to. She’d wanted to for a long time and for several sweet seconds she let herself forget about the prohibitions, about the rules and ancient traditions, about Faeries and Thrones of dead witch queens. For those few seconds, she let herself be concerned only with herself, and with Aiden.

They parted, and reality settled back in. Aiden rubbed the back of his head self-consciously, and Bailey let the disappointment weigh her stomach down. Of course, it could never work. She knew that. So did he.

And yet, he leaned forward and kissed her back anyway.

“Come on,” he said, when his lips left hers, “I think I can make us something to eat.”

“Good,” Bailey breathed. “I’m starving.”

There wasn’t very much real estate to sell in Coven Grove. Most of the buildings that were classed for business were downtown and had resident local businesses in them that had been part of the community for anywhere from ten years, right on back to the founding of the township when it was just a street with a few rickety shacks to either side. People sometimes sold their houses, and when they did someone quickly came along and bought it up from out of town; but people had a habit of staying in Coven Grove once they were here so that didn’t happen very often.

Because of this, Linda Mackey was Coven Grove’s one and only real estate agent. If property was bought or sold in Coven Grove, it crossed her desk. This wasn’t by any effort on her part—no one else had jumped into the market, and why should they? As far as real estate agents went, Linda didn’t make that much money and never really needed to. She made enough to live comfortably in Coven Grove, though not enough to travel.

Despite the rarity of these events, Linda was a professional, and she kept professional hours from nine in the morning to five in the evening every day. She had an office above one of the shops downtown, her little sign hanging cheerfully over the entrance to the little stairway that led up to her business office, “Coven Grove Real Estate Specialist, Linda Mackey.” The picture on it was fifteen years old and taken on perhaps the best hair day she’d ever had, but she didn’t update it. It was important to have a professional look. Plus, she hadn’t changed her hair or makeup in that long.

Still, she never expected anyone to walk into her office. If there was property for sale, she knew about it long before it came on the market.

Which is why she was so startled when a tall, silver haired man with the most feminine features she had ever seen strolled through her door, silent as a breeze, and stood smiling at her from the entrance. “Are you,” he asked with a voice as smooth as caramel and just as sweet, “the real estate agent?”

Linda recovered herself as quick as she could and nodded enthusiastically, standing as she did. “Y-yes… that’s me. I’m Linda Mackey. Pleased to meet you. Are you buying or selling? Please, have a seat.”

The man approached. He was wearing a white suit that made his eyes, the palest blue she’d ever seen, seem even paler as he watched her. Around his neck was a silver chain with a tiny flute hanging just over his white silk tie. “I’m buying,” the man said. “Or, I’d like to. I’m certain you’re the person to help me with that.”

“
I think I’m about the only person that can help you in this town,” Linda said cheerfully, and shook the man’s hand before they both sat. “Are you looking for commercial or residential property?”

“
Both, if possible,” the man said. “I’ve always dreamed of having a little shop with an apartment over it, you know? La vie Boehm, if you will.”

“
Oh, I… see. Well, I’m afraid at the moment there’s nothing in Coven Grove that quite fits that profile but—”

The man very casually, and with a wide, confident smile, drew something out of his pocket and laid it on the desk between them.

It was a solid gold bar, just a few inches long, and about an inch thick. While Linda wasn’t sure of the current exchange rate, at a guess she imagined it was worth about three or four thousand dollars.

“
I’m happy to buy someone out,” he said. “Well over the… what’s the term? The market value. Say… thirty percent?”

“
Thirty percent over market?” Linda asked, incredulous.

The man drummed his fingers on the desk, his lips pursed with thoughtful consideration. “Yes, you’re right. Make it fifty percent. There’s a little shop across from the bakery in town that looks utterly delightful.”

“
The wine shop?” Linda blinked, tearing her eyes away from the gold bar in front of her, and pulled the lower drawer of her desk out to flip through files. She found it, one-twelve main street, and looked over the most recent estimate of it’s value. She grimaced, and slid the open folder over to the strange man. “That property is worth about a million and a half. At fifty percent over market… after fees and such… you’d be looking at about two point… three million or so.”

“
Ah,” the man said, looking over the paper in a cursory way. “I see.” He stood from the chair, smoothing his suit as he did, and turned to leave.

“
Sir,” Linda said, because she was an honest woman, “you… you left your, ah… gold bar. But, perhaps I could show you some other properties if you have a budget?”

He turned, surprised, his thin, perfect eyebrows lifting slightly. “Ah, no. Forgive me. That price suits me fine. But I’ll need to retrieve more capital to meet that price. I only have so many pockets, you see.”

Linda’s heart pounded in her chest. She had a good mind for numbers. At three percent… that was almost seventy thousand dollars for her commission. She tried to speak, but found that nothing suitable came to mind.

The man smiled at her, and gave a slight bow from the waist. “I’ll return shortly,” he said. “Please do make the arrangements.”

“
I… alright,” Linda stammered. Before the man left the office, she came to her senses. “Oh, sir? I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name.”

He turned to her again, at the threshold of the office, and smiled with large, white teeth. “Ah, do forgive me. I’m not in the habit of giving it out casually. My name is Mr. Dove. Amadon Dove. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Mackey.”

Linda nearly laughed. A man in white, named Mr. Dove? But, then, Coven Grove was often an odd little town. “You’ll fit right in here, Mr. Dove,” she said. “Welcome to Coven Grove.”

“
Yes,” Mr. Dove said cheerfully. “I think I’ll like it very, very much.
”