Barely Bewitched (3 page)

But not the way I need,
I thought unhappily. Confiding in him had been a big mistake.

After a couple minutes of watery protests, my head ached and my throat burned, but I did convince Zach that I was in no shape to go to his brother’s for a cookout. He got the food and beer from his truck and called Nadine to say we couldn’t make it. I lay on the couch while he broiled the steaks in the oven. Mercutio, who had caught the whole exchange from the top of the bureau, came to lie with me.

“I never should’ve told him,” I said under my breath.

Mercutio licked my face.

“What should I do? Pretend that—”

From the kitchen, Zach said, “Jo, don’t whisper to that cat. It’s creepy as hell. In fact, why don’t you put him in the yard for a while?”

The rift between Zach and me suddenly seemed wider than the Rio Grande.

I hugged Mercutio and set him on the floor. “Go play, Merc.”

Merc looked at Zach, hissed, and then scampered over to the stairs and bounded up them.

“Lots of people talk to their cats. I saw it on a website.”

Zach ignored this comment. “You want onions on your steak?”

“Okay,” I said in a calm voice, though I was feeling more and more like a prisoner in my own house.

Just get through dinner. When he sees you eating and talking and acting normally, he’ll decide you’re not insane, after all. Then he’ll go home, and you can be as crazy as you want.

I got up and set the table while Zach finished cooking. It’s never been in my nature to be sullen, but I was pretty darn quiet while we ate. Afterward, he turned the television on, and I realized that he wasn’t going to leave. He planned to keep an eye on me all night, which made me feel like the walls were closing in. I wiped my clammy hands on the dish towel and took shallow breaths.

I was not going to give up control of my life without a fight. Plus, I was planning to meet those wizards because I hoped I’d have better luck convincing the second teacher to let me out of the challenge thing. I couldn’t allow Zach to stand in the way of my getting there.

I needed an escape plan. Luckily, Zach wasn’t some stranger, some guard at a mental hospital. I’d been married to him; I knew his weaknesses.

“You know, I got ESPN,” I said as I rinsed a washcloth and my hands under cold water.

“You did? You didn’t have to do that, darlin’,” he said, but instantly hit the channel-changer button to take him there.

I laid the washcloth over the faucet and waited for him to get engrossed in some program analyzing football teams. That took about forty-five seconds from the time he turned it on.

“I’m gonna go wash my face,” I said, discreetly grabbing my purse.

He nodded, eyes still on the commentators.

I walked calmly up the stairs, but as soon as I rounded the corner, I hurried to my room, shutting the door behind me. Mercutio sat on my bed, watching as I packed an overnight bag.

“We’re getting out of here,” I whispered, tossing two days’ worth of clothes in the duffel.

I ripped a piece of paper from a notebook and snagged a marker to leave Zach a note. In big black letters, I wrote: “Dear Zach, You can consider us officially broken up. Love, Tammy Jo.”

I taped the message to the mirror. Let him chew on that.

I grabbed the rest of what I would need to be out all night, then opened the window and hooked the fire ladder on the sill. The end of it landed on top of a bush.

“Okay, let’s go, I said. “You want me to carry you?” I put my arms out. Merc ignored this offer and went to inspect the ladder situation.

“I’ll go first,” I said to encourage him. I slung the duffel strap over my shoulder and climbed out the window. Partway down, I stopped. “C’mon,” I said, holding out an arm for him.

He yawned.

“I’ve got to go. With or without you!” I whispered fiercely and continued my descent. I was just climbing out from the bush when a blur of fur caught my eye. Merc came down the ladder in two bounds with his body nearly vertical, head facing the ground. He sprung from midladder to the lawn in a move that would’ve had me flossing my teeth with the grass. I stood openmouthed for a moment.

“That settles it. They should’ve named you ‘Spidercat.’ ”

As cool as can be, Mercutio sauntered over to my little blue Ford Focus. In the spirit of great escapes, I rushed to the driver’s side and got in. I started the car, wincing at the motor’s noise, hoping ESPN in the house was loud enough to drown it out.

It wasn’t until we were two blocks away that I started to relax. Not that Zach wouldn’t track me down eventually, but I hoped by then he’d be over the whole “drag Tammy Jo to a shrink” plan. Because if he wasn’t, I would have to take steps.

Just because I loved him didn’t mean I wouldn’t go to court to get a temporary restraining order. Yeah, if I couldn’t get out of the magical challenge, I’d have to work on becoming a witch in every sense of the word.

Chapter 3

I turned off onto Duvall Trail Highway, which would take me to the Old Town area. Duvall was founded in 1874, and the historic part is protected from major development. As I ambled down the dusty roads, I passed Gruber’s, the old textile mill, and some cottages that the Duvall Historical Society used for tours. They didn’t have air-conditioning, so I’m not sure how much fun it was for tourists to stand inside them and get lectured to, but the iced tea and whiskey punch at the tour’s end were always popular.

I would be a little early for the meeting, but I wanted to get done talking with Jordan as quickly as possible so I could plan my next move. My best friend Georgia’s in-laws were in town so I couldn’t stay there, and I couldn’t really afford a hotel. Bryn’s house was plenty big, but that would cause too much trouble. I really had nowhere to go. It’s not easy to be homeless with a home, but I’d sort of managed it.

I got to Poplar Street and found the yellow and salmon pink Victorian that had been converted into the Yellow Rose Inn. I turned off my engine and eyed the big Harley Davidson motorcycle parked too near the fire hydrant. Whoever owned it might get a ticket if he wasn’t careful.

I was halfway to the front porch when the door opened and the Harley’s owner came out. I knew it was him by the worn black leather jacket, mirrored shades, and thick black hair that hung past his shoulders. He moved like he was a Mack truck that knew it was the biggest thing on the road.

He looked first at me, but then caught sight of Mercutio.
“¿Oce, qué tal?”

That surprised me. I didn’t realize that Merc knew Spanish. I took two semesters in high school, but I’m not what you’d call fluent. I did master the teacher’s recipe for Mexican cookies right off, though.

“Ven aquí,”
he said, but Merc didn’t come to him. Merc went straight up the nearest tree.

The guy stroked his goatee, sizing me up. I knew what he saw. Five and a half feet tall and a hundred and six pounds, wearing seven-dollar shoes with fuchsia roses on them. He probably thought he could huff and puff and blow me right down the street. I stood up straighter in my flip-flops.

“You the witch?” he asked.

“Well, actually, it’s not real certain what I’m gonna do with my life.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve only got a few days left.” He pointed to the tree. “That’s my cat. When you leave, he doesn’t.”

“Like always, that’s up to him,” I countered.

“Think so?” he asked, then he murmured a few words and a branch on the tree burst into flames. Mercutio darted farther up a limb to avoid the blaze. The flaming branch burned brightly for a moment, then turned to ash and crumbled from the tree.

To Merc, he said, “When she leaves, you stay.”

Mercutio swiped the air as the biker sauntered to his motorcycle and climbed astride. The engine roared to life, and he pulled away from the curb. I watched him drive down the block to the Whiskey Barrel, a bar and pool hall.

“You okay?” I asked.

Mercutio came down the tree trunk and pawed the ash before walking to me.

“Well, I don’t like him.”

Mercutio padded up the porch steps and sat on a wicker chair.

I squared my shoulders. Mercutio might act tough and nonchalant, but, at seven months, he was really still just a baby. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Mercutio licked his paws as I went to the front door. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

I walked into the cozy front parlor. It was chock-full of chintz-covered furniture and antique lamps. I found Jordan Perth sitting in a wingback chair with a crystal tumbler of liquor in his hand.

“Hello, Miss Trask. You just missed Incendio.”

Incendio. That figured. “No, we met.”

“Oh? Is he still outside?”

“He went down the street to the bar.”

He frowned. “Did you introduce yourself?”

I sat in a chair next to his. “No, but he knew it was me. He asked if I was a witch.”

“And what did you say?”

“Said I wasn’t sold on the idea.”

Jordan grimaced and leaned toward me. “Are you determined to end up dead?”

“Hmm. Let me think that over. That sure is a tough decision.” I glanced at my nails. “I wouldn’t say I’m determined to. No.”

Jordan chuckled. “Very amusing.” He took a swallow from his glass. “Would you like some brandy?”

“Nope.”

“Please yourself,” he said with a shrug. If that were my goal, I sure wouldn’t have been meeting him to discuss magic lessons. “I assume you know you’re from a long line of witches with earth magic. You remember the four elements, of course?”

“Earth, water, wind, and fire,” I said.

“Exactly. The Conclave sent me because I’m skilled in earth, with sufficient talents in air and water. Incendio Maldaron is one of the world’s most powerful fire warlocks. The two of us have to get you ready for a challenge that will utilize spells involving all of the elements. If the Conclave sent Incendio, it’s because you’ll need a complex fire spell to survive the challenge. You understand? You need him to teach you, but the man is a Class Eight warlock. If you act like you’re not committed, he’s not likely to invest himself, is he?”

“I haven’t even decided yet that I’m going to do this challenge thing. I think I need to talk to the person in charge. To explain that I don’t plan on being a witch as an occupation. Or even as a hobby.”

“Are you trying to be thick? They don’t care what you plan on doing. You’ve spell-cast, love. You’re already a witch and subject to the laws of magic. You don’t get to say that you don’t want to play. If ordered to, Incendio can set fire to your house with you inside. Is that plain enough for you?”

Yep, plain enough to give me a major case of nerves. I picked up my purse and dug through it until I found a lone Special Dark miniature hiding under my sunglasses. I offered to split it with Jordan, who declined with an impatient wave of his hand.

“So, if I face the challenge and live, and
then
promise not to do magic, will they leave me alone?” I unwrapped the chocolate and popped it in my mouth.

“After a fashion, yes. A witch or wizard can go inactive once initial licensing has been completed.”

“When are you supposed to start training me?”

“Tomorrow morning. You can join us for a drink tonight. Try to make a more favorable impression on Incendio.”

I looked at my watch. “Can I meet up with you later? Give him a little time to settle in?”
And to have a few drinks, which will hopefully make him friendlier
. “I’ve got a couple of things I have to do first.”
Like hide my ocelot from the wizard I’m supposed to suck up to.

“Other things that you feel are more important than your own survival?”

I crumpled the wrapper. “When did I meet you?” I asked with mock curiosity. “Right, I believe it was today. So you’ll give me a little stretch room, won’t you? I was in the middle of my regularly scheduled and kind-of-in-a-crisis life when you showed up out of the blue and said I needed to drop everything. Before I can get down to witch training, I need to take care of a couple things.”

“By all means, then,” he said dryly.

He’d been way more cheerful when I first met him. Guess he didn’t expect me to give him so much trouble, but trouble seems to be what I mostly get involved with these days. I left the inn, and Mercutio hopped down from the chair and walked with me to the car.

“Yeah, c’mon,” I said and looked around to see if anyone was watching.

He stood at the passenger door. I let him in and hurried around to the other side. “You’re going to have to lie low. I’m not sure what a Class Eight warlock can do, but it sounds pretty bad.”

I drove across town to the new strip mall that was just completed. The tenants hadn’t moved in yet, so the parking lot was deserted. It was only a couple blocks from Riverbank Park in Shoreside Oaks, the most affluent part of town. I parked my car behind the construction Dumpsters, so no one would spot it and tell Zach or mention it to out-of-towners. Yep, I was trying to hide things from my friends and neighbors because Duvall talks a lot, and it talks fast.

“C’mon, Mercutio,” I said. Merc jumped out. “I sure would like to know more about how you hooked up with that Incendio guy. Did you start off friends?” I asked.

Mercutio batted his whiskers hard.

“No, huh?”

I kept us just inside the tree line and tried to be as quiet as Mercutio, who didn’t make a sound as he padded through the woods. When we got to the park, it was dark. The metal tunnel-shaped shed that surrounds part of the dock was locked tight. Like a lot of stuff in town though, Zach’s brothers’ construction company had built it and they’d kept a key, since taking the paddleboats out at night was just their sort of fun. I reached under and behind the drain and found the tiny magnetic key holder that I’d seen them pull out one night when I’d been along for an after-hours paddleboat ride.

Once inside the shed, I found the big key for the chains around the paddleboats.

“You know I got the idea for this from you,” I told Mercutio.

I went to the back door, which led to the far end of the dock. I flicked off the light and closed the door behind us. “Bryn said you floated down the river on a raft, and that’s how you ended up at his house. I wonder how you came to be in Duvall in the first place though.”

I unlocked the heavy chain, freeing one boat, then relocked it around the others. Merc and I dropped into the seats of the loose boat, and I uncurled the twine rope that was tied to a silver hook on the back. I wanted to have it ready to tie up to Bryn’s dock when I got there.

I pedaled, and we backed up with a soft swishing sound. Then I turned the boat and pedaled forward. With the current, we moved quick as fish. We’d had a lot of rain in the past month, and the river was flowing fast.

We passed mansions. I checked out their beautifully manicured yards, full of big oaks and all kinds of flowering trees, rosebushes, and elegantly plotted patches of fall flowers. Some had statues and fountains. Some had tennis courts and swimming pools.

“In the summer there’s a net that blocks the boats from getting this far downstream. But the paddleboat rental’s closed now, so we can get through,” I told Merc.

The property and houses got bigger the farther we went, and the river widened. I heard Cider Falls in the distance. We passed woods again on the right, and I thought we’d reached Bryn’s property. As we whizzed forward, the forest came to an end and gave way to a beautiful lawn. I squinted, looking for his dock. It wasn’t lit, but I could see some light from the outdoor floods bouncing off the reflectors on the side of his speedboat.

I pedaled toward the dock, which I could finally make out, but the current was dragging us sideways. Fast.

“Uh-oh.” I gasped.