Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1 (6 page)

“They have a bakery here,” she says to me, pointing at a pink and yellow sign down the road. Or street. Whatever it is. She’s like a little kid, practically bouncing up and down while Angelo watches us with satisfaction on his face.

I even manage to smile back at him a little.

Charming, I think, is the word I would use to describe Jagged Grove. Small shops that seemed to have everything from groceries to herbs to magic spells - no thank you, that’s what got us into this - line the main street. Everything looked clean and freshly painted, cheerful against the dark backdrop of Mt. Savage in the distance.

“Come on,” Angelo says, holding out his hand for Bilda to grasp, “I’ll show you around.”

As we walk - on cobblestone streets, no less - he explains that the town is divided into a square grid, with stores and offices along the main drag and residential areas flowing out from that on smaller, messier streets and lanes. Even further out, there are wild areas and a natural ecosystem.

What I notice the most, though, are the people. Most of the folks we see on the street look like normals. But my witchy sense is tingling and I know that all of them are supernatural, like us. It’s weird, because back home everyone is spread out and I don’t feel that very often. For instance, mom and Aunt Louise are witches, but as far as I know they are the only two true witches in Harte and I would only feel it if I walked nearby.

See, all supernatural beings have an energy, and different kinds have different flavors, for want of a better way to explain it. Other witches, for instance, have an energetic aura that makes me think of peaches, of all things, while shifters have a darker, hotter energy that reminds me more of bonfires. Or maybe volcanos. You get the picture.

As we move among the townspeople, I’m feeling all of those things, along with something new. Something that feels...sensual. Like silk and water.

“What is that?” I ask, muttering mostly to myself. Nobody answers, mainly because Bilda is still pointing out the sights and Angelo is trying to keep up with her and explain. They probably don’t even notice it, anyway.

“Your office will be two blocks up,” he says to me when he falls back a little.

Bilda turns huge eyes on me, and I realize I forgot to tell her about the deal I made with Angelo.

I look from her to him, unsure, and see him shake his head, just barely.

“You have an office?” Bilda asks. “For what?”

“I’m, well...” I hesitate. “I’m going to try - emphasis on the try here - to do some healing magic. These people don’t have a healer right now.”

She claps her hands, and it occurs to me that she’s acting a little dottier than is even normal for her. “That’s wonderful! I always knew you would come around.”

“It’s not-.”

“Let her have her fun,” Angelo says in a near-whisper. It sounds like an order. “She’s happy.”

I nod. He’s right, she is happy - happier than I’ve ever seen her, maybe.

As we walk I notice that we seem to catch the attention of almost everyone we pass, and then a small, cautious-looking man comes up to us directly on the sidewalk in front of the beauty parlor. He’s almost exactly my height, and I can see black hair peeking out from under the brim of the hat. His face and hands - one of them holding a Styrofoam cup - is pale. It doesn’t help that he is wearing tails and a green top hat, but they both look pretty worn.

“Angelo!” he calls out in a voice that’s deeper than I would have guessed he could produce. Then he throws his arms wide and comes toward us, but his eyes are fastened on Bilda.

“Hello, Blakely. How are you?”

“Wonderful!” He turns to me. “And this must be our new healer.”

“Word travels fast around here,” I say, mustering as friendly a smile as I can and shaking his outstretched hand quickly.

He gives me an odd look from under the brim of his hat. “You don’t seem very happy to be here.”

“Give her time, Blakely. This is all pretty overwhelming.”

Blakely bobs his head. “I understand. It is a shock at first, but you’ll never find a better friend than Angelo here. He’s the best. So is Jagged Grove, once you get past its eccentricities.”

I’ll have to take his word for it. “Well, it’s good to meet you. Do you own the beauty shop here?”

He laughs and waves a hand, but he is already looking at Bilda again, eyes twinkling. “Oh, no. I’m at the knick-knack shop down the street. I was just going for a glass of lemonade at the Crystal Cup.”

The Crystal Cup?” I echo. “Sounds fancy.”

“Best seafood in town, and the only place to get really good service, if you ask me. The Salty Hog is just a hole in the wall, compared to the Cup.” He leans in close. “That’s where the riff-raff hang out.”

I open my mouth, but don’t know what to say to that. Angelo rescues me. “Well, Blakely, I need to get these ladies settled. We’ll see you soon.”

Before we can get away, Blakely turns to Bilda. “Hello, my lady. Aren’t you a pretty one?”

She pauses, mouth open, and then I see a blush creeping up from the collar of her simple blouse. She giggles sweetly when he takes her hand and kisses her fingers, and I swear I think she’s about to curtsy, too. Instead she says, “I’m Bilda,” in the funniest little voice and bows back at him. It’s like watching a movie from the thirties.

I’m watching all of this with a sort of fascinated grin on my face, and when I catch sight of Angelo I see that he’s grinning, too.

My mother, a
pretty one?

I mean, she is pretty, in a sixty-eight year old kind of way, but she’s also my mom. I study Blakely more closely and see that he’s probably her age. Is she going to end up with a boyfriend?

Angelo’s gaze is more calculating now. Before I can say anything, he says, “Blakely? I just had the perfect idea.”

Blakely and my mother both turn to him.

“Why don’t you show Bilda around, while I take Trinket here to her new office?”

“Uhhh...” I look at Angelo suspiciously.

But Blakely is already standing taller. “It would be my pleasure.” He turns to Bilda. “If you’re agreeable, of course.”

“I’m not sure that’s -,” I start, but Blakely waves away my impending protest.

“I promise I’ll take good care of our newest town treasure,” he says. Mom giggles again, and I glare at her. Discreetly. She ignores me. “She can go with me to lock up my shop and then we’ll take the grand tour. What say we meet at the Cup in...two hours? Make it three? Is that enough time, Angelo?”

“Three is perfect, and that’ll be great, my friend.”

I stare at him. He just said that my new office is two blocks away. Why will this take three hours?

I watch Blakely take my mother’s hand and lead her away. They do look cute together, with his fancy-ish clothes and her ankle-length skirt flaring a little in the breeze. He’s leaning close and whispering something into her ear.

She looks fine, so why do I have a bad feeling about this?

“Come on, let’s go,” Angelo says, taking my arm and steering me down the street after them. “I’m anxious for you to meet Maggie.”

I resist for a minute, remembering the odd silky energy I was feeling earlier, right as Blakely showed up. “Angelo? What kind of supernatural is Blakely?”

His pressure on my arm keeps me walking. “He’s the vampire I told you about, actually.”

I stop dead. That’s what the slick, sensual feeling was, the one I didn’t recognize. “You let my mother wander off with a vampire?”

“Shh,” he says, wincing a little when two pretty teenage shifter girls turn to stare at us before moving on. “It’s no big deal. Blakely is a nice man.”

I want to kick him in the shins. “Can you swear to that on my mother’s life?”

“Yes. I can.” He lets go of my arm and rubs his face with both hands. “Listen to me, Trinket. Jagged Grove is a peaceful place, and the people here aren’t criminals. I’ve checked out every resident here personally - it’s part of my job. Does that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, and to my surprise I suddenly feel bad for him. He’s trying. He really is, and I’m forgetting my promise to try and look on the bright side.

“But he’s a vampire.” I look after them, but they have disappeared.

“He also loves dragons, has the coolest shop in town, and likes to practice his macramé skills.”

“A vampire that likes to macramé?”

“Yes. Stop pigeonholing people, Trinket. Stop judging this town before you even know anything about it. Please?” Somehow, he’s looking all sweet and sexy and sad at once as his eyes search my face.

I don’t say anything, but my shoulders slump. I should try, but I’m so afraid of never getting my life back, or even anything close to it. I didn’t know about the deal when I wrote Clay a goodbye letter, so as far as he knows I’ve just gone away indefinitely. To Paris. Tawny and Aunt Louise got the same story, so technically our former lives are in ruins, never to be recovered.

So what am I fighting about? I have to be here for a year, and I don’t want to spend it hidden away or giving myself ulcers and bad skin by being all stressed out. I square my shoulders and heave a sigh. “OK. Show me this wonderful town, Angelo. Lead the way.”

He doesn’t do anything at all for a second, though, and when he does it surprises me. Instead of walking on down the tree-shaded sidewalk, he reaches out a hand and cups my chin, gently making me look him in the eye. “Thank you,” he says. “I promise it will get better.”

And then I’m all warm and trembly again. And twice as ashamed of myself.

I
spend the rest of the walk to my new office smiling at everyone we pass. Just a polite, friendly, practice smile, the kind strangers give each other on a particularly nice day, but it feels odd to me. First of all, I’m not used to being near so many supernaturals. Most of the people we pass are shifters, but I also sense a few witches and even one sorcerer in the mix.

I’ve grown used to keeping my head down, rushing around, and never making eye contact with strangers. Raleigh is a friendly city, but it’s a city. Lots of crazy people mixed in there, too.

I’m going to have to fit in here, for Bilda’s sake if nothing else. As much as she frustrates me, she’s my mom and she deserves to be happy, too. Hopefully she can find new friends who will distract her enough to keep her out of trouble. Hopefully. She might even love it so much that she doesn’t want to come home. I’m not sure how I feel about that, even though twenty-four hours ago I was contemplating putting her in a home.

I just need to keep my eye on the ball, get her settled, and get through this year as quietly and quickly as possible. Also, until this problem landed in my lap, I didn’t realize how suspicious and closed off I’ve become, so I can maybe work on those things while I’m here too, and go home a better person. At least it’s a plan, and I always feel better with a plan.

Angelo walks along with me, quietly pointing out interesting places and people. In spite of that small affection, I feel like he’s pulling away from me. Which is a surprise, because I didn’t realize I felt close to him in the first place. I guess it makes sense, because he’s been the one constant in the turmoil of the last two days.

I look over at him and he gives me a smile, pointing off to our left. “That’s Killswallow Park,” he says. I look to see a tree-lined open area that’s tucked in between a candy store and a bookstore that seems to specialize in ancient grimoires. Two halflings are having a picnic in the shade of a huge oak tree. One of them, with lovely long white-blonde hair, looks up and waves when she sees Angelo.

“You seem to be a celebrity here,” I remark.

“I like to think I’ve helped people,” he says quietly, waving back at her.

“How so?” This isn’t snarky, I’m genuinely interested.

“Most of the people here were sort of lost when the Agency found them. They were using their magic, but not to be devious. They just wanted to...spread their wings, I guess, but it was causing all sorts of unintended trouble.”

“Sort of like how people with mental disorders self-medicate? They were...what? Self-magicating?”

He smiles at my joke. “Maybe. It’s hard to be a supernatural in the modern American world. They didn’t fit in where they were, but here they’ve found a place to be themselves. I like to think they are happier now.” He looks me dead in the eye. “Contrary to whatever you think about me, I’m only trying to do what’s best for everyone involved.”

I open my mouth to argue, but then stop and think about what he’s saying. What if I had had to heal my mother in front of all those people without Angelo there to smooth it over and come up with an explanation? That could have been a disaster that ruined our lives, too. The press coverage alone would have blown our secret wide open and made life a living hell for us.

“I see,” I say, and I’m really beginning to, because once I shut my mouth and use my brain instead, I’m actually pretty smart.

Not that I’ve acted like it lately. I swallow hard. “Angelo?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hateful, and I promise I’m normally not like this. I just - this is a shock, OK?”

He chuckles. “You think you’ve been bad? Honey, I’ve been turned into a pencil.”

“A...a what?”

“A pencil. We picked up a witch out on Oklahoma who really didn’t want to leave her three Chihuahuas behind. She got so mad that she turned me into a pencil for fifteen minutes before my guys talked her down. Trust me - you aren’t all that bad.”

I laugh at this, I can’t help it. “That’s crazy. Why...” I gasp, “Why wouldn’t you let her bring her Chihuahuas?”

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and says one word that shuts me up. “Wolf-shifters.”

My laughter dies. “Ooh. Yeah, that would have turned out badly.”

“I ended up letting her bring one. She found out that we have to allow familiars, so she claimed one as her spirit animal.”

Speaking of which, “I hope Bumper isn’t too upset with all this moving. He likes his privacy, too. We’re introverts.”

“My guys will take care of him. They’re good about stuff like that.”

I nod right as he stops in front of a skinny brick building and says, “Here we are.”