Ain't Love a Witch? (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 6) Read online

  The raw pain in her questions, the agonizing thoughts spoken aloud, almost made me double over.

  So I did what I do in some of Stephania’s darkest moments. I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. She can’t feel my arms per se, and I can’t feel her skin, but we can feel each other’s essence—somehow, our souls are connected in a way I can’t quite describe. It surpasses all our physical limitations and defies the rules of our worlds.

  “I’ll find a way to keep that from happening, Dove. Somehow, I’ll find a way,” I whispered in her ear. And I meant it. I didn’t know what it would take, but I’d find the answer.

  But she shuddered, her shoulders slumping as silent tears ran down her face. “I think it’s time we get the police involved. I’m hoping I have some kind of sway with them so they’ll at least let me know where Hardy goes—because they will take him—and I’ll have to admit I lied about where he came from. But I don’t have the resources to keep him safe anymore, Win,” she sobbed. “If I were still a witch, I’d figure something out. But I’m not, and I’ve never felt more mortal than I do today. I have to think of what’s best for him—what will keep him safe. I don’t know how I’ll explain him showing up here, but I will if it means he won’t get hurt. Maybe the police can actually open some doors we haven’t been able to find.”

  Damn the limits placed on me. Damn Miranda. Damn this infernal divide between the world of the living and myself! If I had but ten seconds with Von Krause, I’d annihilate him, obliterate him from this earth for causing Stephania so much pain.

  I wanted to rail against the injustice of this, scream and rage, hit something, hit someone.

  Yet, I also knew I needed to stay calm for her sake. To reassure her she was making the right choice—because she was, for all intents and purposes. She didn’t have the resources meant to keep Hardy safe.

  No amount of money, bodyguards, security, whatever, could help keep Heinrich Von Krause from his blood.

  “Very well then, Dove. I think you’ve made a solid choice. A wise choice. We can’t risk his safety because we selfishly wish to keep him here with us. Maybe the police do have some resources or information that might help us find out what happened to Inga.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, straightening her shoulders, ever the stalwart. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow, we go to the police. But for tonight, I’d like to spend some time with him if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all, Dove. Not at all.”

  As I began to slip away from her, she scooped a sleeping Hardy up and gathered him close, tucking him to her shoulder and sitting on the chair she loved to read in.

  And as the moonlight spilled into her bedroom window, and Stephania pressed her lips to the top of Hardy’s head, she held him close as he snuggled into her, safe, secure, loved, and tearing my heart from my chest.

  * * * *

  “Damn it all, Arkady! Why can’t I remember more of that day?” I complained.

  It was almost unbearable for me to see Stevie so broken, so riddled with pain. But I didn’t know what to do to ease her sorrow.

  “Maybe because it was bad, bad day and you had to keep it on inside. See what happens when you bottle it all up? You explode. Just like your American Dr. Phil says.”

  Resting my elbows on my knees, I hunched over on the bench, not even the cherry blossoms looking cheerful tonight. “She’s suffering, Arkady, and I can’t stand it.”

  Arkady nodded his head and sighed. “Da. She is, and I do not like when my spicy meatball hurts, but I don’t know what to do either. Do you really think it good idea to go to police?”

  “What choice does she have, chap? She’s right. She can’t protect herself, let alone him. She can’t keep a baby that’s supposed to be her cousins forever. She’s already lied to the police. I don’t know how she’ll explain her way out of that.”

  “We have predicament, Zero.”

  “I feel as though Inga was trying to tell me something with that note, and I’ve completely missed the biggest clue yet,” I said in frustration…desperation.

  “I do not understand her words of nature and spinach either. None of it make sense to me.”

  “Maybe there’s a way I can get back, Arkady? The way I did before?” A thrill of hope shot up my spine.

  “But you say yourself, you don’t know how to stay in the host body for very long time. How do you find someone dead on such little notice?”

  I closed my eyes and rolled my head from side to side. “The body doesn’t have to be dead. You do recall Adam Westfield’s last possession, don’t you?”

  But Arkady gasped and shook his head with a vehement gesture. “No, Zero! You could not risk it. Adam Westfield was a warwitch—he had special powers. What if you kill person when you do this? How would you live with this?”

  “He was a warlock, friend, and I don’t know if that gave him an advantage over me as a one-time mere mortal or not.”

  “But you would take chance? No. No, no, Zero. Is bad idea. Smell bad. Feel bad. Just bad. You cannot ruin someone else’s life for your own. You know what we call that in spy game,” he warned. “That is no good.”

  Yes, I knew. Collateral damage. That’s what we called it, and I can almost guarantee Stevie wouldn’t like it if I took the life of another in an attempt to save her backside. And she would need saving after the tales she’s fabricated.

  So I sighed in resignation. But I wasn’t giving up on other ideas. Just the one involving possession. I’d promised myself when I did it again, I’d do it properly and without the dreaded collateral damage.

  Yet, all this talk of possession made me wonder something. Arkady has said he wants nothing to do with earthly matters, but what if going back were more than some risky possibility?

  “Good man? I know you’ve said you’re done, but I wonder? Given the opportunity, a real opportunity, not just the hope of one, would you go back then?”

  Arkady looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine before he spoke. “Nyet. I have done many things for my country, Zero. You know this. So many bad things. But what I do, I do for good of my people. What I think is good for my people. But now, when the times are quiet here, I ask myself, Arkady Bagrov, were they for good of your people, or for good of men who want much power? Was I just pawn in big game? Not just for Russia, but for men in power everywhere? So I decide, I do not wish to live with so much bad anymore. I rest now. I like the quiet. I like sitting with you and having chats under tree on this bench. I like right here with beautiful flowers and waterfalls and people watching. I like that there is more good here than down there.”

  “You’re a good man, Arkady. A good man, indeed,” I said quietly, humbled by his astute observations. “Do you think you’ll ever cross over?”

  He shrugged his enormously muscled shoulders, his hair lifting in the perfectly temperate breeze that often blows on Plane Limbo. “Eh. I do not know. Maybe whatever is there would not have Arkady, because he has done bad things. Right now, I like this. I like my malutka, you, tiny flying thing, dog, even turkey. I like that I have family now. I have not had family in long time, Zero. What if my family is not in light? What if there is nothing in light? I had too much dark when I was alive. I like this light. This world we have now. So for moment, Arkady Bagrov is happy where he is.”

  Those chest muscles of mine grew tight once again, and I fought the close of my throat. “As I said, Arkady. You’re a good man, bloke. A very good man.”

  Chapter 14

  A somber mood pervaded the kitchen as Stevie did her best to be cheerful and bright for Hardy, but several times I caught her biting the inside of her cheek to thwart tears as she fed him his breakfast and attempted to keep the day as normal for him as possible.

  And it was breaking my heart—simply shredding it to pieces. I hadn’t asked what story she’d concocted in her head to tell the police, but I sensed she had a firm grip on a tale she’d spent all night devising—because she didn’t look
as though she’d slept a wink.

  The bright day belied the gloom of our moods as the colorful sails of boats passed the kitchen window and sunlight streamed inside in lemony shafts.

  Tucking the note Inga had left into her purse, presumably to hand over to the police, she took deep breaths as Hardy stabbed his Cheerios awkwardly, giggling when they fell to the floor and Whiskey lapped them up.

  “Hey, Boss?”

  “Yes, Belfry?”

  “You sure about this? Really sure?”

  She nodded her dark head firmly and gulped. “I am. I absolutely am. Hardy’s my one and only priority. But please don’t ask me any more questions or I’m going to curl up on the floor in the corner and cry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”

  Bel flew from the counter to her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. “Okay, Stevie.”

  “My malutka,” Arkady crooned. “I am hugging you so tight right now. You are smart, brave soldier.”

  Her shoulders bucked, but she gripped the countertop until the moment passed and she smiled a watery smile. “Thank you, Arkady. Thank you for trying to help me figure this out. Thank you both.”

  Then she went back to gathering Hardy’s essentials to ensure he’d have everything familiar with him when she went to the police station.

  And my heart cracked completely, tiny fissures tearing through my chest and exploding into infinite pieces.

  But Arkady gripped my shoulder and whispered strong and clear, “You will stay strong, Win. You will. For my malutka. Shake it off, Zero. Today you must shake it off. That’s an order.”

  So I did exactly as ordered. I straightened my spine and shook this ugly stabbing pain off and gathered my wits.

  For Stevie.

  We packed the car with Hardy’s belongings, all the while Arkady and I talking to him, telling him how wonderful we thought he was, and it will always remain one of the most brutal things I’ve ever done. Preparing to hand him over to strangers on a wing and a prayer.

  This agony was matched only by Stevie putting Hardy’s car seat in the back of her car and seeing her carrying him from the house as Whiskey whimpered at the garage door.

  As she climbed into the car, she cooed to Hardy, tears streaming from her eyes. “You’re going to be just fine, little man. I know it in my heart. We’re going to take you to the people who can help you best, but I promise you, if they can’t find your mom, we’ll be the first in line to take you right back home, okay? And we’ll eat spinach until we bust. I swear to you, a freight train couldn’t stop me from getting to you, because I love you, sweetface. I…love you—”

  She stopped short, her voice breaking, her words hitched and shuddering. But to this strong, brave woman’s credit, she started the car and backed out of the driveway.

  I caught a glimpse of the water, shiny sparkles of light dancing over its surface in the morning sun, the waves choppy and froth-tipped. It struck a chord in me—this exact day, this exact scene—and suddenly, everything went slow motion for me.

  My world tilted then, so hard, I reached out and felt the warm strength of Arkady’s hand brace me, his voice muffled in my ear.

  “Zero?”

  “Stephania!” I managed to whisper-yell as my head spun. “Wait! Wait! Don’t go to the police just yet. Pull over!”

  As Stevie did as asked, the world came rushing back to me in one fell swoop. I felt inflated, infused by a vivid vision in my head, so much so, I almost couldn’t spit the words out.

  “Stephania! Drive down by the abandoned mill. You know the one—by the cliffs at the edge of town, just past Enzo’s? The one that elderly gentleman used to own? Mr…” Bloody hell, I couldn’t remember the man’s name!

  Stevie frowned, her red-rimmed eyes reflecting their confusion. “Mr. Olsen? The guy who always hangs around the coffee shop and talks about his active senior sex life with Chester while they read the paper and eat too many cranberry bran muffins to increase their fiber intake?”

  A picture of the grizzled old man, hunched over his cane with a thick head of snow-white hair, popped into my head. “Yes! That’s the one! Go there, Stephania. He used to own that mill. Go to the mill, and listen closely as we drive. I think I know what Inga was talking about now. I can’t believe I didn’t remember before!”

  * * * *

  Stevie’s shoulders sagged as she stopped pushing Hardy’s stroller over the rocky surface near the old mill and plunked herself down under a large willow tree, taking a long breath of the tangy air.

  This particular area was desolate; still labeled private property after all the years since the mill had closed. Set high on the cliffs at the end of Ebenezer Falls, it was truly a serene spot, overgrown now from years of inattention that did little to mar its wild beauty. Wildflowers grew in patches, and the path leading to the old mill was overgrown with weeds, yet still charmingly littered with slate stepping stones poking through the greenery.

  Vast and isolated, this was where Inga and I had stopped before going back to Heinrich Von Krause’s tyrannical rule. At the time, when I was undercover, I offered to scout potential drop points for Von Krause and his crew, and this spot in Ebenezer Falls fit nicely due to its seclusion and easy access via the water.

  Yet, I never intended to tell Von Krause this place fit the bill. I’d actually told him we’d been off the coast of Oregon. I’d been in deep at that point, and I craved a moment of normalcy, away from the atrocities of Von Krause. A moment to deal with Miranda’s alleged death. Luckily, he’d trusted me by then, and more importantly, he’d trusted me with his daughter.

  Still, I admit, part of bringing Inga here to Eb Falls was to see the house in which Miranda had chosen for us to spend our lives together. So I’d always remember how close I’d come to having a life with Miranda. Masochistic? Maudlin? Maybe. But at the time, I wanted to wallow in my sorrow and, more than that, I wanted—needed—to feel close to Miranda.

  Finding the mill along the way was simply a lucky byproduct of our meandering drive, and could have certainly been presented as a potential location if we’d needed to feed Von Krause a false story to prove we’d truly searched for drop points.

  As I reflected on how different my world is now, I immediately focused in on the brightest spot, Stephania. She smiled at Hardy, who was, as per usual, his happy-go-lucky self, and nibbling on his fist.

  “Uncle Win is nuts, isn’t he, sweetface? Let’s just call him Mr. Crazypants from now on. Whaddya say? Does Crazypants-Spy work? Or is that too much?”

  Hardy giggled and reached for Stephania’s nose, tugging it.

  After a thorough search of the area, I heard her skepticism, but I wasn’t willing to accept it. “I tell you, Stephania, that note from Inga was undoubtedly a clue.”

  “Okay, then tell me what it means. Because I don’t see anything but the husk of an old, dilapidated wood mill, hollowed out after a fire.” She pointed across the wide expanse of rocky terrain mixed with grass to the mill Mr. Olsen had once owned. “We just walked all over and there was nothing, so how can this be the ‘long walk’ part of the clue?”

  “Argh, Stephania!” I threw my hands up and pinched my temples. “This is where we had the conversation about spinach whilst we took a walk along the cliffs. We had a long, almost heated debate about vegetables and Inga defended the merits of spinach almost to the death. For which I told her the only thing spinach was good for was the garbage bin!”

  “You don’t like the spinach, Zero?” Arkady asked, clearly perplexed.

  Stephania looked up at the cloudless blue sky, shading her eyes. “Yeah, Zero. You don’t like spinach? You, the connoisseur of all things stodgy and full of iron and vitamins? Have you lost your bloody mind?” she teased.

  “It make you strong, Zero—like Popeye!”

  My sigh was a ragged one. “No. I do not like spinach, it makes me gag, and no, that is not the point, you two!” I brushed the front of my suit in aggravation. “Now, stay on task, for bloody sakes. We’re here because I�
�m betting Inga left us a clue somewhere. I don’t have the faintest idea where, but it’s here.”

  Stevie tucked Hardy’s favorite blanket around him and rose from the base of the tree, smoothing her hands over her denim shorts. “If we’re going to do this, I’m taking him to Carmella’s so I can look properly. Not to mention, it’s pretty isolated out here. If something were to happen to me, he wouldn’t be safe.”

  “Good point, Dove. Let’s pile back into the car.”

  As we all headed back to the car and safely tucked Hardy in, Stephania speculated, “So, if we look at it the way you’re looking at it, the two of you took a drive out here, and this place means the ‘long walk’ portion of her note because you took a long walk together while you talked about the merits, or demerits in your case, of spinach.”

  I jabbed my finger in the air. “Yes! And Inga took a nap right there under that tree you just sat beneath, while I watched the sailboats and catamarans float by.”

  And thought about my life without Miranda in it, thought about the stabbing pain in my soul and how I was going to continue to move forward.

  Stevie parked five minutes later when we pulled into Carmella and Enzo’s wide driveway. “Hold any and all thoughts.”

  As Stevie trudged Hardy to Carmella’s welcoming front door with his various accoutrement, I continued to search my memories for something—anything to help us understand what Inga had done.

  Back in the car, Stevie sighed and started the car once more, heading back to the mill. “You got anything yet, Win?”

  “Not a bloody thing else,” I responded, disappointed in myself.

  The rest of the drive occurred in silence as Stephania gave me the space she thought I needed to think. When we arrived back at the mill, she scanned the quiet area as she got out of the car and headed back to the tree. “Um, okay. So this is somewhere you’ve both been. I get that. What else could this place mean to her and to you? Let’s talk it out.”

  “There must be a clue here somewhere, Stephania. There simply must, but I’m about as blank as an artist’s fresh canvas. I don’t know what else to add.”