Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (4 page)

“Yeah,” she agreed. Ronnie dropped her eyes for a moment as she thought about what I said. “Just don’t do anything rash, and if you need help, please ask me.”

“Okay,” I said and reached out with my free hand to pull her into a hug. “Thank you.”

Chapter 3

My apartment was warm and cozy for the first time in months. I had a fire burning in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows through the room. There were brownies baking in the oven, and the gooey chocolate scent permeated every room. I watched the five smooth stones in my mini caldron absorb the sleep spell I had mixed, their color shifting from blue to lilac. Satisfied I had cast the spell properly, I picked up two mugs of tea and walked to my kitchen table where my customer, Whelan, was waiting.

“Here you go,” I said, sliding the spiced tea in front of him. He gave me a closed lip smile. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look sickly pale.

“Thanks, Mattie,” he said as he circled his slender fingers around the warm mug. Whelan was a human, nineteen, and a classically trained pianist. You wouldn’t know it from his inky black hair, matching eyeliner, multiple facial piercings, and the safety pins that decorated his black clothing. His usually sharp Mohawk, possibly sporting a second, neon color, hung limp around his ears.

“So, how long has it been?” I asked, taking the empty chair beside him and tucking one leg under me.

“Since I last slept?” he asked. I nodded and took a sip of my tea. So far he hadn’t tasted his. “Feels like forever, but it’s been about a week.”

“And you went to a doctor?”

“Yeah,” he answered, making an unflattering noise. “Jerk wouldn’t do anything for me. No drugs, no advice, nothing. Just told me I had to get some natural sleep, said I should just relax.”

“Helpful,” I said. I didn’t really understand human doctors. Some just drugged up their patients for any little thing, while others turned their patients away with drivel like Whelan got.

“Very,” he agreed. “I mean, what did he think I was doing? Trying to sleep on a bed of nails?
Relax
. Guess that’s what they teach you in medical school. Probably just thought I was some strung-out druggie.”

“You think he thought you were just looking for drugs?”

“The way he acted? Yeah, I do.” He shook his head again then asked, “So, you think these will help?” He nodded toward the counter where the cauldron sat.

“They should.” I set my cup down and hopped up from my seat to check on the stones’ progress.

“What are they?”

“Sleep stones,” I said as I stirred the water with a ceramic spoon. “You’ll take them home and put one under each corner of your bed, between the mattress and box spring is best so they don’t move, and one in your pillow.”

“Won’t it fall out?”

“Yeah, you’ll have to actually cut open your pillow, put the stone into the stuffing, and then sew it back up,” I said. The stones were ready, so I gathered them up and placed them into a black velvet pouch. “You can sew a stich, right?”

“Yeah,” he said as he stood. His untouched tea sat on the table.

“So yeah, no incantation or anything, that’s all done. Just put them where I said and try to quiet your mind when you lay down.”

“Easier said than done,” he said as he took the pouch from me.

“Put on some music or the television. Something to fill the void, but won’t take any attention from you,” I said. I hefted the cauldron and spilled the potion into the sink. The light purple water looked like grape juice as it swirled down the drain.

“Good idea,” Whelan said as he stuffed the pouch into his leather jacket pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

“Twenty,” I said as I reached for the salt to clean the cauldron.

“Mattie…” His tone told me he didn’t believe me.

“Twenty is fine, Whelan,” I insisted. I knew he didn’t make a lot of money at the music shop and the music scholarship didn’t cover all his costs.

“Twenty,” he repeated, and I watched as he pulled two twenties out of his wallet and tucked them into my money jar before I could argue with him.

“Whelan,” I said as I headed toward to the money jar to give back one of the bills, but he held up one of those beautiful hands to stop me.

“We all gotta eat, Mattie,” he said and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Seeing me on short notice in the middle of the night is favor enough.”

“Middle of the night is middle of the day for witches, you know that,” I said as I turned back to finish cleansing my cauldron.

“Right, I’m forgetting things lately,” he said.

“Sleep and you’ll get better.”

“Thanks again,” he said and he made his way to the front door, giving Artemis a scratch as he passed the couch in the living room.

Just then, the oven timer went off. I called out to stop Whelan, “If you wait, you can take some brownies with you!”

“Save me some,” he called back without stopping. “Oh, excuse me,” I heard Whelan say as he opened the door. “Mattie, you got another customer!” My heart lodged itself in my throat; I hadn’t told Whelan I was screening my customers after the whole fairy messenger thing in Ronnie’s shop.

I hastily wiped my hands off on my jeans as I looked around the kitchen for a weapon. I could smell the brownies. If I didn’t get them out in the next few minutes, they would burn. What the hell was up with this night?

My knockout powder was in my bedroom, not really the smartest place to keep it, and I silently cursed myself as I listened to the footsteps coming through the living room. Even the iron nails I bought at Ronnie’s shop were sitting on the coffee table, way out in the living room. Just before they came around the corner of the kitchen, I grabbed my herb knife and clutched it in my right hand as I called power to my left, feeling the swirling magic twining around my fingers.

My mother had been your everyday kitchen witch, rather gifted with brewing and casting, but my father was the one with the extra helping of powers. He was a telekinetic and a telepathic. He used to joke that his ability to read minds kept him out of the dog house for most of their marriage. Useful though it may have been, I was glad to have only inherited his telekinetic abilities. People were crazy, and I didn’t want to know what was really going on in their heads. But I liked my telekinetic powers. I liked them a lot.

Then Owen stepped around the corner. I nearly dropped my knife and the power I had summoned shot from my hand and stuck the kitchen floor, leaving a scorch mark on the linoleum. Owen blinked at me before his eyes went to the knife in my hand. He lifted his hands in front of him, showing me they were empty. The light caught the silver thumb ring on his right hand, the ring I had given him all those years ago.

“For the love of toads, Owen!” I breathed, pressing my empty hand on my chest, trying to slow the beating of my heart. I started to set my knife on the counter, but something stopped me. I dropped my hand back to my side, keeping the knife clutched in my hand.

“Hey there, girl,” Owen said. A nervous smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t call me that,” I said a little too quickly.

“Right, sorry.” He dropped his eyes and shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable. I watched him, waited for him to explain what he was doing there after two years of no contact. He was paler than I remembered. His skin was too white, I could even see the blue veins at his temples. His lips had always been pale, but those were not the lips I remembered kissing. The only thing familiar was his unkempt blond hair, hanging down around his face, making my fingers twitch with the need to push it back.

“So,” he finally said, “how are you?”

“Seriously?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” he asked, more than a little confused, which just pissed me off.

“
How are you
?” I demanded. “You took off without so much as a ‘screw you’ and two years later you show up and ask me how I am?” I crossed my arms, careful to keep the knife flat on my arm as I stared at him.

“Well, I, uh,” he stuttered.

“Just tell me what the hell you want,” I demanded.

“All right,” he said and drew himself up to his full height. I watched as he folded his emotions in. Even his face changed, closing down and stealing the sparkle in his blue eyes. I felt my stomach twist with confusion. Watching him close down gave me a sense of satisfaction, but I was oddly disappointed too.

He turned away from me and walked over to my kitchen table, taking the seat Whelan had sat in just moments ago. He set his right foot on his left knee and leaned back, completely at his ease, which just pissed me off even more. He propped his right elbow on the table and started to spin his thumb ring with his forefinger.

“Oh please,” I said, venom dripped from my voice. “Have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he said calmly and nodded at me. I gritted my teeth and slammed the knife, point first, into the cutting board on the counter.

“All right, let’s have it,” I said, waving a hand to hurry him up.

“An envoy from Dunhallow visited you today,” he began, glancing at me, but I didn’t give him any indication that he was right. “He asked for a favor, and you turned him down.”

“No,” I interrupted. “He made a demand of me for something I don’t do. I offered to do something else. He said it wouldn’t fly with the Lord and Lady.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “You need to do what they asked of you, Mattie.”

“Excuse me?”

“All they want you to do is to find someone,” he said. Owen dropped his foot to the floor and turned in his seat to look at me full on. He braced his forearms on his knees, leaning forward and making his messy blond hair swing forward, framing his face.

“So they say.” I shook my head. “I don’t deal with the fae, Owen. They’re sneaky sons of goblins; they say it’s just a missing person, but what happens if I can’t find him? Or if I do and the guy is already dead? Do you really think they won’t punish me for that?”

“And you’re not the least bit worried about what they’re going to do to you if you flat out refuse?” he asked.

“Of course I am, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Take the job,” he said bluntly.

“It’s not a job, Owen,” I argued. “They think I owe them because that damn troll caught Rae of Dunhallow, so even if I do agree to do this, they aren’t going to pay me for my time.”

“So what?”

“So what? Are you kidding me?” I threw my hands up in the air and turned away from him. “Owen, I almost didn’t make rent this month because business has been so slow. If Jimmy hadn’t asked for that seeking spell, I’d probably be crashing on Ronnie’s couch right now.” I turned back to him. There was a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. His dark blond brows were raised slightly and the line of his mouth was softer. It was a look that would’ve melted my heart two years ago, but now, it just made me angry. I didn’t need his godforsaken pity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it had gotten so bad,” he offered, and I could tell he was getting ready to shift his body to stand so I held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t need pity, Owen. I’m fine. The holidays are coming and business always picks up by then, but I can’t be wasting precious time looking for a missing person when I could actually be working.” The smell of burning chocolate brought me back to the oven and I hurried to take out the pan of brownies before they were ruined. As I set them on the counter I could feel Owen’s eyes still on me, but I wasn’t ready to look at him yet.

I turned back to the herbs I had been chopping before Whelan came over and pulled my knife out of the cutting board to set back to work. Owen’s eyes stayed on me as I moved about the kitchen, preparing love potions. I didn’t have any new orders, but eventually I would have some, and it was better to have the potions done. Well, mostly done. I couldn’t add the final ingredients until I knew who the intended couple was.

“Mattie,” he said my name so softly that for a moment I could feel his breath on my skin – feel his arms around me – and wanted to turn to him. Damn vampire tricks. I gripped the potion bottles in my hands so hard they shook as I composed myself. “The missing person is Roane.”

“Toads,” I cursed under my breath and set the bottles on the counter by the stove. “The prince is missing?”

“Yes, that’s why they’re so angry that you gave the troll a seeking spell to catch their daughter.” I could hear the hope in his voice that I was finally going to agree to this.

“Let’s get something clear,” I said, rounding on him again. “I had no idea who Jimmy was going to try to catch. He just said he wanted to catch a fairy. Do you really think I would’ve agreed if I had known the particular fairy he had in mind was a princess?”

“Mattie, they don’t care.”

“Why do you?”

“What?”

“Why do you care so much if I do this or not? Why are you here trying to get me to do this anyway?” We stared at each other, and I watched as he debated whether or not to lie to me about why he was here. I could see his thoughts race through his eyes, taking too long to think of an answer. I stared him in the eye and challenged him to lie to me.

“Fine,” he said and pushed to his feet. “I happen to know that if you choose to refuse to help them, they’re going to hold you accountable for his disappearance.”

“What? How can they do that?” I waved my hands around me, indicating the apartment at large. “Where would I have him hidden? They know I don’t have him. Why would I?”

“It doesn’t matter. You helped catch Rae. You’re the perfect scapegoat. They’ll make an example out of you, hoping that’ll make the real kidnappers come out or make a mistake so they can catch them.” He spoke so fast his words nearly ran together and he was taking steps closer to me, his hands held out.

“Hasn’t the kidnapper made any demands yet?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head, his hair shifted around his jaw. “They’re probably just keeping him and using his magic.”

“Oh,” I said softly. That hadn’t occurred to me. If they could imprison him, then they could get him to grant all their wishes with his magic and they wouldn’t need to demand a ransom.