Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1 (11 page)

“Well, he does if you’re friends with him, but otherwise you can get it over at the Salty Hog. Or just go up to his front door and ask. He’s a really nice guy.”

“I’ll do that. Just not today. I came to thank you for breakfast, and for welcoming my mother this morning.” I don’t mention that I gave away his breakfast in favor of donuts from Imala.

He’s leaning forward, elbows on the table. “My pleasure. She seems like a sweet lady.”

I open my mouth to contradict him, then realize that I’ve been doing too much of that lately. “She is. She raised me all on her own and she did a good job of it, I think.”

“Where is your father?”

I shrug. “Not sure. She says she lost track of him when I was a kid.”

“That sucks.” He runs a hand through his thick hair.

“No loss. I didn’t know him.”

“Was he a normal?”

I nod. “Yep. My mom told me that one of the reasons he left was because he didn’t like her going out so many nights a month for rituals. Said it was a real sore point between them.”

“That sucks,” he says again.

“You say that a lot.”

“Only when it’s true.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest again.

I look at him as I finish my coffee and decide that I like him. He has an easy way about him that makes me feel comfortable in his presence. Exhibit A being I haven’t spoken about my dad in years, yet here I am chattering with a total stranger about my origins.

Also, it doesn’t hurt that he’s sexy as all hell.

“What about you?” I ask. “How did you end up in the fabulous resort known as Jagged Grove?”

“That is a story for another time, my dear. Would you like to meet the mayor himself?”

I set my now-empty cup down. “Sure. Take me to your leader.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call him my leader.” There is that flash of annoyance again.

We both stand and he takes my hand in his own big, warm one. He laces our fingers together, and it occurs to me that my hand hasn’t been held by a man in a long time. Clay and I have reached the point in our relationship where affection has sort of fallen by the wayside, and we haven’t really done anything to fix that. Jones’s hand feels good.

We step out onto the porch again, and the sunshine feels good on my face and arms.

“Oh - never mind. He’s not home.”

I sigh. Small towns are so...small. Everybody knows everything.

“Let me grab some things for your mom and I’ll walk you home instead. I put together a care package for her. It’s just in the next room.”

He lets go and I start to go after him, but then decide that it would be best for me to stay put. Then again, I miss the warmth of his hand.

“Did you know that Maggie was murdered?” I blurt out, when he comes back. “My whole office smelled like the mayor’s booze.”

His face goes dark for a second. “Is that the official word?”

“Nope. In fact, it’s the word I was sworn to keep to myself until Angelo gets this whole thing figured out. It seems safe to tell you, though.” I need to shut up. I can
feel
that I need to shut up, but my mouth just keeps running.

Then another thought strikes me. What if Jones is the murderer?

Nah. He wouldn’t be so good looking. When he takes my hand again, he smiles.

I say, “I can see why you are the one to watch here in Jagged Grove.”

He freezes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, everyone tells me that you’re the heartbreaker in this town. I can see why.”

I think I just said that out loud.

Yep. He’s laughing. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Trinket.”

“Oh, I don’t. In fact, I don’t believe anything that anyone is saying.” I give him my meanest look. “Even you.”

This time his smile is gentle. “Good.”

“A woman named Imala came to visit us this morning. You know, a welcome-to-the-neighborhood kind of thing.”

“Imala’s a sweetheart.” He puts down a bag that I didn’t notice before and takes booth of my hands to help me down his front porch stairs. “She’s a good friend to have around here.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask. Something about the way he worded it is wrong. Or awkward.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer me, though, because a female voice is yelling, “Yoo-hoo. Jones? Over here!”

I look up to see who it is, and Jones grumbles something under his breath. Walking quickly though the grass toward the pond - and us - is the pretty Wisp. I notice that even stomping through the grass, she manages to walk gracefully in her high heels. I hate her already.

OK, not really, but she does seem very perfect in her yellow dress and sweetly bobbed hair.

She barely glances at me as she comes to stand in front of Jones. “You were supposed to come and help me today.” I’m amazed at how she can sort of pout and purr at the same time. Any minute now, she’s butt her head against Jones’s arm for attention and lick her hand.

Am I really this mean?

Yes. I should do better.

I stick out one hand in the general direction of Wisp. “I’m Trinket. It’s nice to meet you.” I try to smile.

She flicks her gaze toward me and ignores the gesture. “We all know who you are, sweetie. Most of us just don’t care.

“Wisp!” Jones looks at her. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. She’s another one of Angelo’s stragglers. You know how he is...” Her voice goes all plaintive when she talks to Jones. “And now you’re taking up where he left off, I see.”

While she’s talking, I notice something important - Angelo’s name makes her eyes go soft. When she talks about him, a definite sparkle appears. She becomes even cuter, if that’s possible.

But what do I know? I’m just a straggler. I really want to glare at her for that remark, but I avoid the impulse.

“I’m welcoming our newest citizen to Jagged Grove, if that’s what you mean. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m walking Trinket home.”

Finally, she turns to me and looks me up and down, then tucks her hair behind her ear. “You need to introduce yourself to my father as soon as you can. He’s the mayor here, and has a right to know all of his constituents.”

He has a...right? ...to know me? That sounds so condescending that I’m not sure how to respond. At the same time, something in my brain finally clicks.

“Wisp? Are you jealous of me? About Angelo? Because-.”

“Listen to me, you little stray. I am Wisp Callahan, and I’m practically the queen of Jagged Grove. I am jealous of no one, especially a little stray like you.”

She’s growling, and even Jones is taken aback. He pulls me toward him a little.

“You need to run back to whatever hole you crawled out of and stay there, before I decide to make your life a terrible, long-forgotten joke.”

I’m too stunned to even answer, so I just watch as she turns on her heel and stomps away, back across the lawn toward her house.

After a while I turn to Jones with an eyebrow cocked.

“Ummm...”

He shakes his head, still watching her as she disappears into her front door. “I don’t even know.”

I do. I know exactly why Wisp exploded like that - new girl, threat to her crush, possible threat to her...kingdom? “Queen? Really?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Are her and Angelo together? Because I can reassure her that I have no interest in Angelo whatsoever. She can have him.”

He takes my hand again and we start toward my house. “That seemed a bit much, even for Jealousy, I think. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Some women can get downright violent when they think their turf is being threatened.”

“But Wisp isn’t like that, or at least I’ve not noticed it before.”

"Some women are also very good actors. Is she with Angelo, Jones?”

He shakes his head and something that’s not quite a smile crosses his lips. “She’s engaged to Scott Trevine.”

“Who is that?”

“The mayor’s right-hand-man. Deputy Mayor is his official title. Son-in-law is coming next. If Jagged Grove could be said to have a power couple, Scott and Wisp would be it.”

“But she’s crushing hard on Angelo. What’s that about?”

He looks at me like I’ve cast a hand fast on him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No. It’s really not. It was all over her face, Jones.” Men can be so dense.

He doesn’t say anything else until we’re at the back door of my house. Then he stops and turns to me again. “Please keep that theory to yourself.”

“I will.” Because that has worked great so far.

He hands me the bag. “And please give these to your mom for me. I need to take care of a few things.”

I nod and watch him turn away, but then he spins back to me again, digging into his jeans pocket for something. “Also, I made this for you. Will you wear it?”

I take the small burlap mojo bag he places in my hand, and I can feel the pulse of his magic. It’s sensual, a lot like Blakely’s aura, but cleaner and much more exciting. It practically sparks in my hand. “What is it?” I ask.

“For protection. My own recipe.”

I nod. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s an alchemist, too. In fact, I bet he’s incredibly talented in lots and lots of areas.

I clear my throat and slip the bag over my head to hide my embarrassment. I’ve got to get my thoughts under control. A floral scent wafts upward into my nostrils, along with something else that I don’t quite recognize. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. We’ve got to keep our newest lovely safe, if only to torment Blakely.”

That stops me. “Is he dangerous? Because my mom seems to like him, and-.”

“No, no. He only misses the taste of fresh blood sometimes. He’s got it under control, though. I was just joking.”

“Oh. OK. What about the bag? Why do you think I need protection?”

He looks away - toward Wisp’s house, I notice - and then back to me again. “Just a precaution. I’ve got to run.”

I nod again, but then have an idea. “OK, well. Thanks.” I pick up the bag of stuff for my mom and then, on impulse, say, “Would you like to come for supper tonight? Around seven?”

His smile hints at surprise. “I’d love to, but can I get a rain check? I’ve already made plans.”

Now I’m embarrassed, and annoyed because I wanted to pick his brain about the other residents of Jagged Grove. “Of course. You’re a popular guy. Let me know when it’s a good time for you.”

I’ll just have to find someone else to give me information.

I
’m coming in the back door and wracking my brain over how to make friends when the front doorbell rings. I hear mom open it and then call my name as I set her gifts down on the counter and walk through the sunny kitchen into the living room. It isn’t lost on me that my palms are tingling.

The first person I see is Blakely. He’s standing beside my mother and possessively holding someone’s hand. That someone is familiar, but it takes me a few seconds of staring to place her.

“Feena,” I say. She looks surprised that I know her name. Or at least she would, if she didn’t look like she was about to pass out. “What’s wrong?”

She opens her mouth, but Blakely answers for her. “She isn’t feeling well. Probably just a bug, but I asked her to come to here, just in case.”

His eyes shift away toward my mom, but not before I catch the fear there.

“Why here?”

His head snaps back in my direction. “Because you’re supposed to be our new healer, remember?”

Oh, yeah. I’ve been denying that part of myself for so long that it didn’t even cross my mind. Now that it has, I feel all clammy - except for my palms, which are growing hotter.

“I don’t... Uh, OK. What’s wrong with her?”

He glares at me. “If I knew that, I probably wouldn’t need you.”

Feena seems to be ignoring us all and just standing there with her chin on her chest and her hair in her eyes. Angelo told me that she is a very powerful witch, but from here it doesn’t look like it to me. Her energy is weak, almost fluttering.

“Please,” I say. “Have a seat.” I gesture toward the sofa and push a hope into the world that this is nothing serious. Maybe I can help without making things worse.

When Feena is seated on the edge of the cushions, she looks up at me and I almost gasp at how beautiful she truly is. I never would have guessed. Her eyes are as green as the trees, and her cheekbones frame a perfectly heart-shaped mouth. Even pale and withdrawn, she could win beauty pageants and put runway models to shame. So how did she get to this point?

I push her stringy black hair back over her shoulder and look into her eyes. The first thing I see is despair, so deep and strong that it takes my breath away. She’s looking at me as if she’s about to crumble into a million pieces and blow away with the wind. I take both of her hands and try to block the sensation of Mom and Blakely watching me.

When I lay her palms face up and flat on her knees and then place my own palms on tops of them, making a connection, I’m hit with so much pain that I almost fall backward. It’s like a runaway train in my chest and I come very close to pulling away from her.

Then I notice that I can see her aura. That almost never happens - it isn’t one of my gift, and I’ve only been able to do it a few times. Her aura is a sickish pink color and thin enough that I have to concentrate to even see it properly. I want to cry.

I’ve only seen an aura like this once before, when a friend from my fifth-grade class invited a bunch of us home to her house for a sleepover. When I got there, that aura was the first thing I noticed. It belonged to her mother Sheila, who later died of cancer. I remember how badly I wanted to make her better, but I was too young to know what to do then.

This time I’m just too scared.

Sheila’s aura had more of a greenish tinge, but otherwise it was no different than the one I’m looking at right now. I sigh and squeeze Feena’s hands, then let go and turn to Mom. “I need you two to leave us alone, but don’t go far.”

I’m shaking, because I have no idea what I’m doing. What if I somehow make it worse, even though I have no idea how cancer can get worse? I feel Feena watching me as I wait for them to leave. Then I turn, kneel down again, and smile at her.

“How long have you known?” I ask.