Witching The Night Away: A Cozy Mystery (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 3) (11 page)

 

Chapter 19

As the day broke, Bailey received calls from Avery and Piper looking for any good news. She told them about the chase, and that she’d recovered the notebook. Both of them promised to be there as soon as possible.

Bailey, however, didn’t wait for them to arrive.

“We have to get this to the sheriff as soon as possible,” she told Aiden and the coven ladies as she stuffed it into her jacket, still wrapped in the apron. “Before whoever had it has a chance to skip town, or come back for it.”

“I should go with you,” Chloe suggested.

Bailey bit her lip, mulling it quickly. Aiden raised an eyebrow at her from where he leaned against the counter, and gave a small nod.

“Alright,” Bailey said.

“Take my car,” Aiden offered. He tossed Bailey his keys.

When they’d gotten into Aiden’s car and pulled away from the sidewalk in front of the bakery, a tense silence took over for several minutes.

“Hopefully this will clear Ryan,” Chloe said.

“Why did you give me up?” Bailey asked. Probably she’d meant to say something else, but those were the words that spilled out. Once they were, she almost wished she could take them back.

Chloe took a deep breath, and then sighed it out with her eyes closed. “When I realized I was pregnant,” she said quietly, but evenly, “I also realized I wasn’t ready to be a mother. Not just because it was going to be hard but because I was only a few years into learning to be a witch and I had already broken so many, many rules.”

“I guess we have that in common,” Bailey said. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

Her mother chuckled lightly, and nodded. “Maybe it is. The women who taught us—Martha, as well as Anita and Rita and their sister Angeline, before she passed—they had all their children later in life, after they’d become the witches they needed to be to guard the caves. Supposedly, Martha had a child, a few years before me. She made the same choice, though I think it was for different reasons.”

“I know,” Bailey said. “A baby boy. Probably Aiden. That’s what he thinks.”

Chloe blinked, and turned to stare at Bailey. “Really? Aiden?”

“Yes,” Bailey said. “I don’t think he’s entirely certain, but he’s fairly well convinced about it. Is it possible?”

“He’d be the right age…” Chloe said.

“So, when witches get pregnant too early they have to give up their children? Is this some other tradition I haven’t had the pleasure of learning about yet?”

“No,” Chloe said. “There were other factors.”

“Like what?”

When she didn’t answer right away, Bailey provided a guess. “Does it have to do with who my father is?” She asked.

“It… does,” Chloe admitted. “You have to understand, it’s—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s complicated, Chloe,” Bailey snapped. “I’m not stupid, you know; just uninformed. And that’s your fault, by the way. Just tell me why. That’s all I want.”

“It’s because your father is a wizard,” Chloe said. “I had no business getting involved with him in the first place and when he left town and I realized I was pregnant, the coven feared that he would come back for you if he ever realized it.”

Bailey swallowed. Her throat was getting tight. “Was he a bad man, then?”

“No worse than any other wizard,” Chloe said.

“What does that mean?” Bailey asked. “Aiden seems like a good person, Chloe. I like him. A lot. What does it matter if he’s a wizard? Or if my father was? What is with this… feud, or whatever it is?”

“Witches have been the guardians and guides and healers of our world for thousands of years,” Chloe said. “We are trained carefully, slowly, over a very long time so that as our power grows, our wisdom grows with it. Wizards are different. They learn forms and formulas, and their magic comes to fruition too fast. Without wisdom to temper that kind of power, they can sometimes… become a little unstable. Misuse their power.”

“A long time ago, there was a witch queen. The last to sit on Medea’s throne.” Chloe stared out the passenger side window. “Liliana Morgase. She’s a legend now. She took a wizard as a lover and he betrayed her, and all of us. He stole a spell that connected all of us to the throne, and in the process, he destroyed the throne itself. It’s broken, now. Somewhere in Greece, last anyone knew. Since that time, we’ve been weaker. He never managed to use it, but it has substantially crippled the power we once were able to employ to help people across the world.

“And he did it simply because he wanted more power for himself.” Chloe sighed. “The Covens have asked the wizards to give us the spell back. For hundreds of years. They can’t use it, as far as anyone knows. They’ve refused to give it back because to them, magical knowledge is power. They’re afraid of what will happen if we take it back.”

“I can see why that might create some hard feelings between us and them,” Bailey said. “I really can. But it’s not a reason to make that choice for me, or for my father.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “I’m not being clear. That’s why I said it was complicated, there’s history to consider, and… the truth is, you’re of both worlds, Bailey. You have our magic. But there is a very good chance you have your father’s magic as well. And if he knew—if any wizard knew—then I was afraid someone would try to use you.”

“And you don’t think I could manage to not be used?” Bailey asked, incredulous. What sort of person did her own mother take her for?

“Now? Perhaps not,” Chloe said. “But you’ve shown a… a desire to gain more power. I know you don’t think of it like that,” she added quickly when Bailey protested, “but you’re in a hurry to gain something that should take a long time to gain. And maybe you are your own woman now—but if he’d taken you as a child? Raised you? Shaped you himself, for his ends? It’s entirely possible you would be able to work the spell that was stolen from Liliana Morgase, Bailey. And we couldn’t risk that. So, I did what I had to do to ensure that you were allowed to chart your own destiny.”

“Well,” Bailey said quietly. “So much for that, I suppose. Right?”

Chloe didn’t respond. She only touched Bailey briefly on the knee, and then stared out the window until they arrived.

 

Seamus Jackson looked at Bailey, and then the journal. He looked as though he thought it might bite him. “Bailey, we have to enter this as evidence. I can’t just… what you’re asking me to do is illegal. You know that, right?”

Bailey wrapped the journal back up. It was early, and most of the deputies on duty had worked over night. They were tired, and weren’t paying much attention, thankfully. Plus, with Chloe nearby maybe, there was magic involved. Bailey didn’t know.

“You would run prints on it anyway, wouldn’t you?” She asked. All she wanted was to be apprised of the results. Though she wasn’t especially keen on letting the department keep the journal; but it seemed like a necessary trade.

“Only if there was a compelling reason to believe that it figured as evidence,” Seamus said. “I have to fill out a form to get this done. It’ll have my name on it. The results will go to the sheriff, not to me.”

“Seamus, this is Ryan we’re talking about. My dad. He didn’t do this, and no one’s even looking for another suspect.” She bit her lower lip, and let the prospect of losing her father forever fully engulf her heart. Her throat tightened, and her eyes stung with tears. Real tears, even if they did serve a purpose. “It’s like this whole town is just turning its back on him. Even you.”

Seamus’ resistance crumpled. He slumped, and took his hat off to run his fingers through his hair as he glanced around the room. “Bailey don’t cry… look… maybe if I hang with the tech… it’ll still go to evidence, and the sheriff still gets the report but… I suppose I could give you a call about the results.”

Bailey wiped her eyes, and threw her arms around Seamus’ neck. To her surprise, he put his arms around her, too. He hugged her. Tightly.

“I believe in Ryan,” he whispered. “Okay? I do, I promise.”

Bailey let him go, and withdrew back to the chair. She was embarrassed, now; Seamus looked like she’d kissed him. His cheeks were red, and he wouldn’t quite look at her. “Thank you,” she told him. “You don’t know what this means to me, Seamus.”

“I think I probably do,” he said softly, and took the wrapped journal from her. He still held it like it was hot enough to burn him. “Just stay by your phone. I’ll call you so that, you know… there’s no record. I could get in so much trouble for this.” But there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Just call me as soon as you know,” Bailey said.

“I’ll go right now.” He stood, and then rubbed his neck. “You know, I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Bailey stood with him, and for a moment realized that maybe, Seamus Jackson still had more than a crush on her. Guilt tugged at her stomach. “I appreciate it,” she said. “I have to go.”

“Listen,” Seamus said before she could leave, “whatever the results are, you need to promise me you’re going to stay safe. Don’t go doing anything foolish.”

Rather than answer him with a promise she already intended to break, Bailey kissed him on the cheek. This, people noticed. She saw and felt their eyes. Well, they could look if they wanted to.

She turned and left him there before she got herself into any more trouble.

On the way out, Chloe seemed amused. Bailey glanced at her, caught the sparkle of humor in her eyes, and then shook her head. “Don’t,” she groaned.

“I didn’t say anything,” Chloe said. “Though if I were going to, I’d say that Seamus seems like a fine young man. That’s all.”

“Good Lord,” Bailey muttered. “Ten minutes as my mother and you’re already thinking of setting me up. You’ll be begging for grandchildren by this afternoon.”

Chloe made a dramatic gasp. “Oh, I hadn’t even thought of it. Grandchildren!” She drew the word out with exaggerated excitement. “You think you can manage six or seven?”

Bailey ignored her, or tried to. She couldn’t help smiling just a little as they got into the car and left to rejoin the others at the bakery.

 

Chapter 20

Everyone was gathered when Bailey and Chloe returned. Piper, Avery, and Aiden were seated at the corner table. Grovey Goodies was open for business, and there was a steady stream of morning customers that Aria and Francis were seeing to. Chloe quickly joined them. Before she got too busy, she brought Bailey a warm, gooey cinnamon roll and a latte.

Piper watched Chloe leave, and then turned her attention to Bailey. “So… how’s that going?”

Bailey shrugged. “Back burner,” she said. “Too much else going on right now. But… I’m trying to be open minded.”

Piper reached across the table and took Bailey’s hand. She squeezed it once.

“So,” Bailey said, “Seamus is going to get prints run on the journal. I would imagine that plenty of people have touched it, though. It won’t have been washed. And we’ll only get something useful out of it if someone on that list has a record. So, what next?”

“Normally the most likely candidates are those that knew the victim,” Avery said. “But Aiden and I have been talking about the old cases. The ones form the early 1900’s.”

“They bear a striking resemblance to the events that preceded the Creswell incident,” Aiden said.

“We think,” Avery added, “that it could have been an earlier attempt to breach the veil.”

Piper had apparently been caught up, because she nodded as though she understood what was being said. “How does instigating a bunch of murders help Tinkerbell break through to London, again?”

Aiden took a deep breath. “Local resonance is generally a stable field—” he began.

Avery cut him off as politely as possible, clearing his throat. “In layman’s terms,” he said, “when people are killed violently, instead of passing naturally, something happens to the area. You see it in hauntings, for instance. The barrier between this world and the others gets perforated, you could say.

“We think that the cases from the early twentieth century were probably an initial attempt to weaken that barrier.” He took out his phone tapped the screen a few times, and passed it to Piper, who scrolled through the article that was pulled up on it. “Back then, though, there were other active cave systems like the one here. And notice who gets mentioned over and over again in that article.”

Piper frowned and scrolled, her lips moving as she skimmed. She raised an eyebrow. “Rita and Anita Hope. The Hope sisters?”

“They’re the elders of the coven,” Bailey said. “Though you wouldn’t know it. I hardly ever see them.” She caught Avery smiling a little. “What?” She asked.

“Hmm?” Avery’s face smoothed. “Nothing.”

“Something,” Piper said.

He only shrugged. “Thomas Hope is visiting soon. Rita’s nephew. That’s all. I was just reminded.”

Though Piper and Bailey both shared a suspicious look, and Aiden appeared thoroughly confused, they let it pass for now. “Right,” Bailey said. “Well, so she was around during the early nineteen hundreds?”

“Funny thing about Rita,” Avery said. “You know she just sort of disappears from public record around 1970?”

“How old is she?” Piper wondered.

“Older than she looks,” Bailey said. She recalled Rita’s gnarled form. She’d been ancient for as long as Bailey could remember, in fact. “Or, maybe exactly as old as she looks.”

“If she was around during the last… incursion,” Avery said, “then she’s got to be at least a hundred and thirty years old. Figuring that she was an adult when it happened. Actually, Bails, her story is remarkably similar to yours.”

Bailey took the phone and looked over the article. Again and again, one murder after another, Rita Hope’s name came up, sometimes with Anita’s and sometimes alone. She’d found five murder victims over the course of just four years. She was even, it seemed, accused of being the culprit several times, but never convicted. All of the murders were solved. Except one.

“What’s this?” Bailey muttered. “The last murder was never solved?”

“Cold case,” Avery said. “Linda Meyer. She was found in the seventh cave.” He pointed to the phone in Bailey’s hand. “Cause of death unknown. She was perfectly healthy when she died. But it was still ruled a murder.”

“Why?” Piper asked. She leaned over to peer at the screen.

“Because she left a note,” Bailey said. “Saying that she was terrified someone was out to get her.”

“Someone likely was,” Aiden said. “But not someone of this world.”

“So we have to worry about people killing people,” Bailey said, “in addition to faeries killing people?”

Aiden only shrugged. “It didn’t happen that way in Creswell. I don’t know.”

Bailey’s phone rang. She nearly tried to answer Avery’s phone, and then handed it back to him. “It’s Seamus,” she breathed when she saw the name displayed. She answered, and pressed it to her ear. “Any news?”

Seamus’ voice was almost a whisper. “Good and bad. Bad news is that Ryan’s prints were on the journal. This might make his case more difficult.”

Bailey nearly spat. She hadn’t considered that. Turner must have let him look at his notes. “Alright,” she said, “what’s the good news?”

“Well… it’s more like neutral news? There were twelve other sets of prints. Only three came back with results, though.”

Slim odds. “Alright, so? Anyone in town?”

“Well turns out Mr. Turner had a record,” Seamus said. “An arrest in ‘92 when he and some students chained themselves to a historic building in Atlanta.”

“Another set belongs to a Richard Seles; arrested three years ago for grand theft auto. He was arrested in Idaho and extradited back to Florida, though, and he’s still there; I checked.”

“Okay,” Bailey said, “so who’s the last set of prints?”

“Our very own Gloria Olson,” he said. “In her case, she was brought in after failing to pay a speeding ticket in Multnomah County. But, we already spoke to her, and she was talking to Professor Turner about his research originally; she was going to write a story for the Coven Grove Daily about it. So, it makes sense that we’d find her prints, too. She had an alibi that checked out; she was with Mr. Sullivan, having dinner at Sandbar.”

Bailey sighed, and rubbed her face. “Alright. It was worth a shot, anyway. Thanks Seamus.”

“Yeah… so, what are you thinking now?” He asked.

She grimaced, and then waved a hand at the four concerned faces that watched her. “I’m thinking I may have to get a lawyer for Ryan,” she lied. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.” It sounded like he might have more to say, but Bailey hung up, and set the phone gently down before she threw it across the room.

“What did he say?” Piper asked.

“The only prints they could pull were Turner’s, Ryan’s, some convict in Florida who’s still in prison, and Gloria’s.” Bailey shook her head slowly. “There were other prints, but they didn’t belong to anyone with a record, at least, so… back to square one.”

“Not entirely,” Piper said quietly.

Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Well… it could be nothing,” Piper said. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions or anything but… well… there was something.”

Ten minutes later, they had a plan.

 

Bailey and Aiden stood in the entrance to the first cave. It was a little after noon, and the sun had risen far enough that the inside of the cave was in shadow. They were waiting patiently.

Trevor arrived first. Bailey smiled as he came down the path from the tour office, and Aiden waved to him. Trevor looked tired, Bailey thought. There were circles under his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “It’s been a difficult few days at the paper. Gloria wants to print a story about the Turner murder, but I’ve been fighting her on it.” He gave Bailey a sympathetic smile. “It’s about all I can do. I wish I could do more.”

“I know,” she said. “Thank you for that. Where is Gloria?”

“She’ll be along,” Trevor said. “I assume. When Aiden called, I thought she was going to pass out from excitement. You don’t know how long she’s waited to get this story.”

“I assure you,” Aiden said, “we’re just as excited. This will certainly put Coven Grove, and your paper, on the map.”

“I haven’t gotten the chance to offer Gloria my condolences,” Bailey said. “She was close to Professor Turner, wasn’t she?”

“She’d known him for ages,” Trevor said, nodding. “Yes. Terrible tragedy.”

“Terrible indeed,” Aiden said.

They were quiet a moment, expectant. Trevor glanced behind him. “I’m sorry she isn’t more punctual. I know you both must be busy.”

“We have all the time in the world,” Aiden assured him.

“So,” Bailey said, “you and Gloria?”

Trevor raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not much of a secret,” Aiden said. “I can’t blame you. Attractive young lady. Tenacious. She must be a handful.”

Trevor seemed to grow uncomfortable. “You could say that. Yes.”

“Aiden and I completely understand; boss and employee relationships are tricky,” Bailey said. “Sometimes I just wish we could go out in public without having to worry about people seeing us.” She took Aiden’s hand for effect.

“Yes,” Trevor said, noting the change. “I suppose it’s not entirely a secret, but, you know… it’s rather unprofessional. I’m sure you two know how it is. Gloria doesn’t mind, though. I think she likes having secrets.”

“Still,” Bailey said, “it would be nice to be taken out once in a while. You men, always so worried about what people will think.” She nudged Aiden with an elbow.

“It’s not entirely my fault,” Trevor said. “I’d be happy to take Gloria out. But you know it’s actually she that insists on staying in. I sometimes think she doesn’t want people to get the wrong impression. Our relationship is really more… casual than all that.”

“Oh,” Bailey said. “Whatever works for you two, I suppose.”

“Are you certain Gloria knows where to meet us?” Aiden asked.

“She does,” Trevor assured him. “But I suppose I can call her to find out where she is.”

He did, but Gloria didn’t answer. “That’s funny,” he said. “I talked to her not half an hour ago. Maybe she left her phone at home.”

“Maybe,” Bailey said politely.

Trevor looked around the caves. “So… what’s the deal here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I suppose if Gloria can’t be bothered to show up, we could always give you the story,” Aiden said.

“Gloria will still take the credit,” Trevor assured them.

“Well…” Bailey and Aiden shared a meaningful look. “Professor Turner apparently discovered something quite intriguing. But, not in the way we expected.”

“What’s that?”

Aiden sighed regretfully. “It seems,” he said, “that he discovered this whole cave system is, in simple terms… a hoax.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed.

“He told me himself,” Bailey sighed. “The day before… you know. Turns out that these paintings are in reality only a few hundred years old. He was planning to debunk the whole thing. It would have ruined the town, probably.”

“Funny,” Trevor said. “That’s… not what I heard.”

“Really?” Bailey asked. “What did you hear?”

“Some pretty wild ideas,” Trevor said. “Gloria told me about some of them. Faeries and Stonehenge and… I don’t know.” He tapped his foot thoughtfully, brows creased. “I can’t imagine she would have made it all up. She’s pretty serious about writing the story.”

“Let’s ask her,” Bailey said as Gloria descended the path. She looked positively ragged, and she walked with a slight limp.

“Everything alright?” Aiden asked when she made it down. “Had a bit of a fall?”

“It’s nothing,” Gloria said. “Twisted my ankle is all. What’s this all about?”

“These two seem to think that Professor Turner believed the caves are an elaborate hoax,” Trevor said.

Gloria narrowed her eyes at the two of them. “We should leave,” Gloria said. “I came to get you. Come on.” She tugged at Trevor’s arm.

“Why?” Bailey wondered. “Worried about something?”

“You know exactly what I’m worried about,” Gloria spat. “I know all about you. And all your friends. I know the truth.”

“Gloria,” Bailey said, “listen to yourself. The truth about what?”

“About you witches,” Gloria hissed. “I know everything, and I’ve already written the story. If anything happens to me, it’ll go to every major news blog in the country. So just you keep your distance.”

“Even if such an insane story were true,” Aiden said, “who would believe the word of a convicted murderer?”

Gloria and Trevor froze.

“You see,” Bailey said, “I know for a fact that Professor Turner didn’t tell either of you a thing about his research. He was going to give Ryan the exclusive because Ryan would be taken more seriously.”

“That must have made you pretty angry,” Aiden said sympathetically. “Getting scooped like that.”

“Luckily,” Bailey went on, “Professor Turner kept all his notes written down. You knew that, though, of course. And you clearly have read them.”

“And taken them far too seriously,” Aiden added.

“You forget the part where I heard all of you talking about magic and spells,” Gloria said. “I heard you. I’ll tell everyone. You don’t have a shred of proof that I did anything; it was your murderous father’s pen that was found at the scene.”

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