Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (23 page)

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of the rain and late night traffic filtering in through the window. But I knew it wasn’t going to last; soon Ronnie would lower the boom, and we’d be arguing again about the chocolates and whatever it was that I was doing that she didn’t yet know about.

Right on cue, as if she could hear my thoughts, Ronnie set her fork down, balancing the tines on the edge of the take-out container so she didn’t leave a smudge of marinara on my table. She cleared her throat, wiping her mouth with the makeshift napkin. “So, I’m sorry I flipped out earlier, but you know why I did.”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, putting my fork down. I picked up my glass and took a sip, enjoying the bite of the chilled wine. “You also know that I wouldn’t do something like that lightly.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ronnie said with a bob of her head. “I probably should’ve asked what you were doing rather than screaming like that.”

“That would’ve been nice,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her. Ronnie stared at me with those big eyes, clearly unsure if I was being serious or just giving her a hard time. After a few moments, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and a stifled laugh burst out of me. Ronnie smiled awkwardly before she chuckled. And, just like a soap bubble, the earlier tension burst into a million tiny pieces.

“So you wanna tell me now?” Ronnie asked. She tucked one foot under her and reached for her wine, holding the cup in both hands to warm the red liquid. “I see you got the last ingredient. How is Morty doing?”

“Oh, he’s the same warm ray of sunshine he always is,” I said, making Ronnie snort. “I did it for a trade to find out if Theo has Roane and if she does, where.”

Ronnie made a noncommittal sound. I know she was just trying to find a safe middle ground. She didn’t like what I was doing, but she could see why. I really didn’t have it in me to argue with her about this again.

“I swear, this is a one and only time kinda deal,” I said, setting my glass on the table. “It’s not some sort of new business arrangement I’m starting.”

“Famous last words,” Ronnie mumbled, unable to stop herself. She stared at me over the rim of her glass, waiting to see if I was going to rise to the bait.

I nodded at her. “Maybe, but I actually mean them.”

“Good.”

“So can we let this go and move on?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 12

I was pouring three cups of tea when the knock at the door cut through the apartment, loud enough to drown out the newscaster on the television in the living room. I was starting to wonder if people knew how to simply knock without pounding on a door anymore.

“Just a moment,” I called out as I set the kettle back on the stovetop. Unstoppering the glass bottle by the sugar cellar, I poured a measured dose of the truth serum in one cup, stirring it four times clockwise. I had picked that tea specifically because it was the last ingredient needed in the serum.

“
Proloquor re vera
,” I whispered on the last revolution as I pulled the ceramic spoon out of the pale tea. The liquid swirled in a tiny vortex as the spell activated before coming to a stop, the surface of the tea as placid as the deepest lake.

I picked up the tray and walked into the living room, sidestepping Artemis as he tried to twine around my ankles. I shooed him away with a flick of a foot, not coming close enough to actually kick him, but he still spat at me before turning tail and sauntering into the dark bedroom. Setting tray on the coffee table, I made a mental note of which cup was the doctored one, before I hurried to answer the front door just as my guests knocked again.

It was nearly three o’clock in the morning, and Fletcher had called me half an hour ago to check on the progress of the chocolates. They were ready and already in a container to be taken away and out of my apartment, so long as Tate had the information I needed. Fletcher assured me he did, but I wasn’t going to simply take his word on it. As soon as we hung up, I started making the tea, resolving to make sure that Tate told the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as the humans say.

“Come on in,” I said as I held the door open, standing back to let the two vampires in. I took comfort knowing I could revoke the invitation at any moment if things went sideways. Fletcher stepped inside easily, but I watched as Tate had a moment of difficulty before he was able to force himself across the threshold. I eyed the tiny sliver of the protection talisman peeking out from the runner before I looked Tate in the eye.

He shifted his shoulders, trying to shake off my stare before he hurried to Fletcher’s side. I closed the door, deciding against throwing the locks; if I needed to rescind Tate’s invitation, I wanted the door to be able to swing open easily as he was thrown out.

“Gentlemen,” I said, waving to the living room. Fletcher moved first, followed by Tate. Both men sat on the couch, putting the center cushion between them. “Tea?” I offered as I picked up the two cups, holding them out, careful that Tate was offered the spelled cup.

“I’m fine,” Fletcher said as Tate said, “No.”

“It’s a sign of good faith in the witch community to take tea,” I insisted, reaching closer with the cups. “Be a great insult to me if you didn’t share a cup.”

It was total bullshit, but it got them to take the cups from me. Fletcher nodded as I picked up my cup, and we both took a sip. I stared at Tate and waited until he finally took a sip. He gave no indication that the tea tasted funny to him, and I breathed a little easier knowing I’d stirred the difficult potion correctly. But I needed to ask him a few test questions to be sure. I grabbed the television remote on the side table and lowered the volume.

“Tate,” I said, drawing his attention to me as he took another sip. “When did we first meet?”

“Tonight, in my apartment,” Tate said robotically. Fletcher furrowed his brow at me, but I ignored him.

“What color is my hair?”

“Black.”

“Where is the vampire lair?”

“The Esterwyn Hotel.”

“Where does Theo sleep?”

“What are you—” Fletcher started to ask, but I held up a hand to stop him. Tate wouldn’t remember me asking him these questions, but if Fletcher made a fuss, it would break our connection and snap Tate out of the trance.

“In the bottom most floor under the Esterwyn Hotel,” Tate replied.

“And how many floors down is that?”

“Five.”

I studied Tate for a moment and decided that I had asked enough test questions. That last one was a big deal and that he had answered me easily enough told me my truth serum was doing its job. It was very tempting to ask him more, steal Theo’s precious little secrets, but Fletcher was already staring at me as though I had kicked his puppy, and I didn’t want to betray him anymore. We may have just met, but he had done me a fair amount of favors already. I didn’t want to repay him with treachery.

“Wonderful,” I said, leaning forward in my chair to set my cup on the table. “Drink up, Tate.”

Tate did as he was told, taking a large swallow of the tea before blinking slowly at me.

“Tell me, Tate,” I said, lowering my voice into a more soothing register. “Did you speak with Theo tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask her if she had Roane, the Prince of Dunhallow, in captivity?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she tell you?”

“She has not kidnapped the fairy prince,” Tate said, his voice still robotic and stilted.

“Toads,” I whispered, my hands clenching into to fists as I fought not to punch the arm of my chair. I blew out a breath, telling myself to remain calm, and asked, “Does she know who has taken him?”

“No,” Tate said simply. I almost cursed again, but he spoke again, stopping me by saying, “But she is eager to find out.”

“Why?” I asked, leaning toward him.

“Because you want to know.”

“So what?”

“Theo would do whatever she can to thwart you,” Tate said.

“Why?”

“Because Owen still loves you,” Tate said, and I heard Fletcher make a noise of surprise. I held up a finger to forestall anything he might say.

“So she’s looking for Roane so that she can get to him before I can?”

“Yes.”

“Just so that my life will be in danger from the Dunhallows?”

“Yes.”

“Bitch,” I said through gritted teeth. “Has she found out any clues or any leads to Roane’s whereabouts?”

“No.” That simple word loosened a knot in my chest. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, my fingers curling into the fabric of the arms as I tried to slow the pounding of my heart.

“Mattie,” Fletcher’s soft voice reached out to me, but I didn’t want to answer him. I didn’t want to look into his questioning eyes. I didn’t want to know what he thought of me now that he knew what a tricky witch I could be.

“We’re done,” I said, throwing myself forward to stand. I took the nearly empty cup from Tate and gathered up the tray.

“Mattie,” Fletcher said again, his voice a little harder as he got up and followed me into the kitchen. I set the tray down, picked up the container of Euphoric Chocolates, and held it out to him.

“A full batch, as promised,” I said. Fletcher blinked at me and then looked at the box, his brows drawing together. “Didn’t think I’d come through on my end, huh?”

“No, it’s not that,” Fletcher said, but there wasn’t much conviction in his voice. “What you just did, to Tate?”

“It was just a little truth serum,” I said, stepping forward and pressing the box into Fletcher’s chest, forcing him to take it or let it fall. “He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would tell me the truth.”

“You put him under a death pact,” Fletcher said, his voice pitching.

“So what?” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have told me half-truths or lied by omission. I was just making sure he kept his end of the deal.”

“You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“Look, I have had enough dealings with vamps to know better than to just trust you people,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest, my fingers digging into my arms. I suddenly wanted them to leave, like right now.

“Oh, so we’re all the same, huh?” Fletcher shook his head at me, and I felt a knot forming in my chest when he looked away from me. “Whatever. Well, you got what you wanted. Probably should hurry up from the sounds of it.”

He turned, the buckles down his pants sending glints of light as he moved, and went to get Tate out of the living room. I opened my mouth to stop him, but the words wouldn’t come. I glared at him as he moved Tate toward the door. He glanced over his shoulder at me. I saw disappointment in his eyes and I suddenly hated him a little bit. And I hated myself a little bit more.

“Might want to rescind the invitation,” Fletcher said as he opened the door.

“Tate, you are no longer welcome in my home,” I said once I found my voice. Tate’s body went rigid and he marched out the door like a marionette being danced off stage. Fletcher stood there a moment longer, waiting for me to rescind his invitation, but staring into his brown eyes that hadn’t yet lost their humanity, I found I didn’t want to rescind his invitation.

“Fletcher,” I said, stopping him just before he stepped through the door. I rushed forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. I was a little relieved when he didn’t shake it off. “I don’t think you’re all the same.”

“It’s fine, Mattie,” he said, his voice low and he still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“No, Fletcher,” I said with a shake of my head, my fingers curling into his arm. “I mean it, and I’m not rescinding your invitation.”

Fletcher nodded before he turned away, pulling his arm out of my grasp. I watched as he walked down the hallway with Tate at his side. I closed the door, this time setting the locks and freezing spell into place. I was cold and there was an ache deep inside of me. It was a familiar feeling, one I had every time I thought about that night, waking up alone, after Owen had left me for Theo. I hardly knew Fletcher; it was stupid to feel this way. What was I? Some dewy-eyed teenager?

“Snap out of it, Mattie,” I said, scrubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “No more vampires.” I started for the kitchen to wash the dishes and then decided against it, but I did take a minute to stopper the bottle of truth serum before putting it away, hiding it in the cabinet above the fridge. It had been a painfully long night and sunrise wasn’t too far off, but if I went to sleep now, I could wake before sundown and maybe get the jump on Theo and find Roane before her. Tate said she was only looking for him to thwart me, but the Dunhallows had Owen, and I was sure that was part of her motivation. Even if that motivation was to be Owen’s rescuer instead of me. I wasn’t interested in being Owen’s rescuer. I was just trying to save my own neck.

Unfortunately, in order to save my own neck, that meant I would save Owen as well. That didn’t matter; I just needed to focus. A pain was starting to form behind my eyes as the exhaustion started to pull at me, making each step more difficult than the last. I managed to remember to shut off my television on my way to the bedroom, cutting off the cheery chatter of the newscasters talking about the mysterious lottery winner. I found Artemis curled up in the middle of my bed. I crawled in, not bothering to change out of my regular clothes. I grabbed him and pulled him to the pillows with me and held onto him like a little girl and her doll.

“Prrrow,” Artie mumbled, finding a more comfortable position to sleep in while remaining in the circle of my arms. I buried my face in his fur and breathed in his smell. He purred and I felt the healing fingers of his familiar magic caressing me, taking me away.

I dreamt of Owen and the second time we’d ever met. He had gone back to Ronnie’s shop, looking for me after he’d failed to banish the spirit that was haunting him, but I wasn’t working. Ronnie, thinking he was like any other customer, told him where I lived, so when he knocked on my door that night, I was more than a little surprised.

“Blue-eyes,” I said by way of greeting. He looked as charming that night, dry as a bone, as he had soaking wet the night before. His hair was a rich golden blond with a little bounce to it, not quite as long as I had thought when weighted down by rain.