Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance Book 3) Page 17

  “But what does that mean for Bernie now, Flora?” Ridge asked, fighting his soaring frustration.

  Flora slapped her thigh. “Didn’t Fate say something about Bernie sick in the hospital and blood?”

  Winnie’s mouth fell open; clearly she was on to something he was missing. “Oh my God, Ridge. If Marie was Bernie’s mother’s friend, and she was a blood witch, she must have saved Bernie’s life!”

  Then it all fell into place. Marie Haversham had spared Bernie with her blood magic—going against every white witch law known to their kind, because she’d turned a human into an immortal in order to save her. Blood witches were a rare, often hunted breed of witch.

  And whoever had Bernie wanted her blood magic.

  Which meant…

  “Wine!” Fee yelped again. “Wait…” he murmured. “Damn it, B-Bop, stop panicking enough to let me into your head!”

  Ridge held his breath for what felt like hours until Fee asked, “Where the hell is there wine in Paris? Wait—damp. It’s damp and dark and there’s expensive wine.” He paused altogether now, as though he were listening intently to something they couldn’t hear.

  It was all Ridge could do not to shake the answer out of Fee while his tail swished and his tiara trembled atop his black head.

  “Witches?” Fee asked.

  “What?” Winnie yelped.

  “Who the hell is Finn?”

  Like a bolt of lightning, Ridge knew where Bernie was. “My storm cellar!” he yelled, snapping his fingers and disappearing.

  * * * *

  “You killed my parents? You son of a bitch!” She fought to stay alert, stay focused on Eddie.

  “Collateral damage, I’m afraid, Bernie. I had to find that book. The time was approaching when you’d come into your own special brand of magic, and I couldn’t finish what I’d started if I didn’t have the book.”

  The book. The book. The book. “Why did Marie have this book?”

  Eddie’s face remained calm, almost passive, as her hysteria swelled upward. “The book in question is given to the most powerful witch in the Blood Coven for safekeeping. The blood witch who guards the book is, at all costs, to watch over it in order to ensure no one uses the book for ill gain. Who would have thought gentle, kind Marie was the reigning blood witch? But when Marie saved you, she used her blood magic and a spell she recited from the book. I saw all this merely by accident, of course.”

  “Which begs the question, why didn’t you find out where the damn book was before you killed her, Genius?”

  Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “Remember I mentioned my impulsivity? Things went too far that night with Marie and I rather lost control…Before I knew it, she was dead. But I learned from my mistakes.”

  “And why would you think my parents had the book?” God, just saying the words tore at her heart.

  “It was a last desperate guess after searching for it for decades. Never in a million years would I have considered Marie would actually leave the whereabouts of that book with humans. But then it occurred to me that maybe, by some crazy fluke, they might have some information about where she kept her personal affects. By that time, I’d already broken into your apartment and come up dry. The next logical choice was your parents’ place. I would have left well enough alone, you know. But they came home while I was prowling through their house. I couldn’t leave them alive as witnesses when they’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. But I left them nice and comfy in their bed. You understand my dilemma, right?”

  A sharp wave of disgust rushed through her, making her clench her teeth.

  “Of course, that was all before I realized you knew nothing about your being a witch, and that’s how I came to the conclusion Marie never told your parents what she’d done.”

  This was diabolical. “So you only asked me out because of this book…”

  Eddie gave her a look of apology, his eyes searching hers. “I’m such a cad. I ended up having to do everything backward because of that damn book. So, I courted you, thinking maybe you’d hidden the book somewhere. Or maybe there was some small hint about its location that you kept trapped in that bungled little brain of yours. Boy, was I wrong.”

  Jesus, she felt like a complete idiot. All the messes she’d been in, every disaster she’d wreaked, and Eddie knew exactly what was happening to her the entire time.

  “My life was such a mess for so long…” she murmured, regretting the words the moment they left her mouth.

  He barked a laugh, the first sign of true animation on his face. “That’s an understatement. You were a disaster. As you bumbled your way around, I figured I already had half the equation on lockdown—meaning you—and finding the book was just a matter of time. For as long as it took, I’d have dangled you along.”

  And then a thought occurred to her. “How did you finally find the book, anyway?”

  “Ahh, that’s where Doris comes in; she’s an amazing private detective—an unsuspecting human, looking at this case of the mysteriously missing book with human eyes and human resources. Naturally, being witches, everyone was sure Marie had hidden the book on top of Mt. Fuji or someplace equally exotic. Interestingly enough, Marie’s method was far less complex than any of us ever guessed.”

  The bank. Marie had hidden the book in a place most witches wouldn’t consider worthy of looking. “You mean like hiding the book in an obvious place?”

  Eddie winked. “You got it. It triggered the memory of a conversation I’d had with her once about hiding her prized possessions in a human world. The rest was easy. Finding old bank records was a breeze once I found Doris.”

  “How did you get her to go along with something like this?”

  “The same way I got you into my bed, Bernie. My charm. What I lack in powers I make up for in charisma. I just promised her we’d spend the rest of our lives together. Easy-peasy.”

  His matter-of-fact answer made her stomach roll again. But then her eyes flitted about the room in panic. “Where is Doris?”

  Eddie snapped his fingers, illuminating the ceiling of the storm cellar. “There,” he replied, as if she’d asked him where something as mundane as the salt was.

  Doris was pinned to said ceiling, her mouth literally sewn shut, her limbs clamped with iron cuffs, but thankfully she appeared to be unconscious.

  “Forget her. She’s useless. I sent her in on bingo night and she blew that attempt to nab you by turning tail and running over a little devastation spell. I’ll handle her when the time comes.”

  Bernie scrunched her eyes shut and forced the image of Doris from her mind. She swallowed hard, fighting the next wave of hysteria. “Didn’t anyone miss this book, if it’s so damned important?”

  “Oh definitely. It became one of the great unsolved mysteries in our world. It’s a little like the Holy Grail in the human world. I have to admit, knowing who the next keeper of the book was made it very difficult to stay out of all the barroom speculation about where it could be. No one would have listened, I suppose, me being from a weak line of witches. Still, I wanted bragging rights. I wanted everyone to know that I knew who the most powerful blood witch was, but you know how that goes. Sometimes it’s better to be smug on the inside.” He circled his chest and smiled.

  Her mind continued to race with questions despite her precarious position. “That day at the bank…”

  Eddie nodded, his smile widening. “Was all a fluke. I didn’t think so at the time, but I got lucky when you caught me with Doris and demanded half the rent on the very day I planned to steal the book. So, I figured why not speed up the process? The original plan was to get the book and you, all in one fell swoop. But I had no idea you could shift, too, Bernie! You shifted into me! It was incredible! But then the police arrived and I had no choice but to shove you into the vault and run, leaving you holding the bag. Thus delaying my diabolical plan until your parole.”

  Which begged the final question: “Exactly what the hell is in this book, Eddie?”

&nb
sp; His sigh was wistful and full of wonder. “The answer to everything, Bernie. Everything. If you own the book, you can do anything, and then you’re not such a weak warlock after all.”

  So this was a play not just for power, but respect.

  Her frustration was reaching a new level, one that kept pushing her toward the edge of an invisible cliff. “Stop damn well talking in circles and explain what this book has to do with me! Why do you need me and the book?”

  Eddie steepled his hands under his chin. “Let’s not rush things, huh? I’m the kind of bad guy who likes to relish his coup. I’ve waited a very long time for this day. All through your adolescence and well into your blundering adulthood.”

  She shivered at the very thought of him watching her. Railed against the idea that he’d let her suffer, let her isolate and hide herself from the world when he had this kind of knowledge.

  Bernie clenched her fists, digging her heels into the dirt as the chains protested with a rattle. “And I’m the kind of hostage who likes a good payoff. I’m not making the connection between the book and me. I’m the alleged keeper of the book, but I don’t have the book. You have the book. How do I relate to this book of everything, Eddie? What made you wait all this time to faux-date me? I’ve been legal for years.”

  He held up a finger, his eyes twinkling. “This next bit of information is a very important piece of the puzzle. As a blood witch, you don’t come into the kind of power that I want until your third decade of life. Which, as you’ve seen, is pretty impressive power.”

  Well, if you counted setting barns on fire, trashing trucks, and Violet’s loss of hair as impressive, then sure, she got it.

  His words were so soft, so hushed; so incredibly calm, she shivered. This man wanted whatever she had, and he was about as cold-blooded as one could get in his efforts.

  “Get to the point with the whole mess about books and murder and blood witches! What do I have that you want?”

  “Marie’s blood, running through your veins, of course. The most powerful blood in the history of witches.”

  “And that means?”

  His next words chilled her with their measured calm. “That means, as it stands, you’re now the most powerful blood witch. Marie’s successor. And now I need your blood, Bernie—to become a blood witch, to be able to use the book of spells. Well, to be specific, I need your heart. I have to cut it from your chest and cease its beating as I recite the magic spell.”

  Ahhh. Light bulb moment.

  Chapter 15

  Ridge launched his phone at the ground in frustration just after they all landed in his pasture, a mere few feet from the storm cellar.

  Winnie’s eyes flew to his, lined with worry. “No Baba Yaga?”

  Ridge clenched his fist, fighting not to drive it into the nearest inanimate object available. “When can anyone ever reach that woman? She needs a damned assistant!”

  Flora patted his back with reassurance. “We got this, Ridge. We have a plan. Follow us.” She stalked off toward the pecan tree located not twenty feet from the storm cellar.

  Ridge ran after her and the pack of seniors. “No, Flora! I can’t let you do this. I won’t risk y’all ending up hurt. Whoever this Eddie guy is, he’s got a plan, and I’d bet this damn farm he’s got all avenues covered. We don’t know what’s behind the cellar doors.”

  Winnie gripped Ridge’s arm, stopping him under the tree. “Listen to me, Ridge, if he has that book, and we don’t get both it and Bernie the hell out of there, he’s going to kill her. I’m no weakling when it comes to magic, you know that. With all of us combined, we’re a damn powerhouse.”

  Ridge shook his head, for the first time since his father’s death, damning him for his strict rules. It was going to end up costing him Bernie.

  Not gonna happen.

  “No, you don’t understand. Remember, my father has this whole place under a spell. You can’t use anything more powerful than a culinary spell or at best a vanishing hex.”

  “But then doesn’t that mean this loon Eddie can’t use magic either?” Clive asked, his wrinkled brow furrowed.

  Glenda-Jo shook her silver-white head, tucking her customary shawl around her shoulders and swatting the back of his head. “He has the book, Clive! The. Book! Weren’t you listening, old man? That daggone book trumps everything! And you don’t need magic to cut someone’s heart out!” she yelped, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh hell’s bells. I’m sorry, Ridge.”

  Ridge lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair. After hearing all about this Marie Haversham from the seniors, and her spell book and how it tied into Bernie, he’d almost lost his morning coffee.

  Winnie and the seniors’ faces fell. “Shit! I forgot about that damn spell.” She turned to look at the group, her voice hinting at her desperation. “Does anyone have any clue what kind of spell prevents us from using our magic? We have to get in there!”

  Gus was the first to speak up, his weathered face wrought with concern. “Then we’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. No way am I lettin’ my girl get whacked today!”

  Ridge was desperate. He knew Bernie was in the cellar. His stomach revolted at the idea that he’d done his morning chores while she was likely locked up in there. And now, he was just twenty damn feet from getting his hands on her.

  “What’s the old-fashioned way, Gus? I’m all out of ideas, my friend. If we can’t use magic to get in there—then what?”

  Flora pushed her way through the group, a devilish smile on her face. “I think Gussie’s on to something. Calla’s not magical, is she? Isn’t that cellar floor made of dirt?”

  Ridge nodded, Flora’s train of thought giving him hope. “It is. Damn, Flora, you’re a genius!” He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her hard.

  Calla immediately rolled up her sleeves with a wicked grin. “I like the way you think, Miss Flora! Okay, so cough up all the extra clothes you bunch of troublemakers have on your persons. As much as I love you guys, the hell I’m gonna let you see me naked after a shift.”

  * * * *

  Okay, spells. Think spells, Bernie. Picture that book in your head, the one Ridge had you read twice, and remember. Remember the words. There’s a way to get out of this. You can find it.

  But all she could picture was Ridge in her head. Laughing when she recited a word in Latin incorrectly. Running his finger down the tip of her nose when she got something right.

  And the seniors and Calla, and Winnie, Daphne, BIC, little Lola, Benny Junior, Fee and Orchid. Their faces flashed behind her closed eyes as Eddie, clearly done stringing her along, had gone silent and was busy preparing whatever spell he needed to complete his wish to become a blood witch.

  Don’t hide, Bernie. You’re giving up. Don’t give up. No more hiding—you’re a witch, loud and proud. Sing it, sister!

  Like a clap of thunder, she remembered most of the words to a discharge spell.

  If she could just somehow make the chains set her free, she could definitely take Eddie.

  But if you use the wrong words, that guillotine’s headed right for the top of your head. And don’t forget the bomb…

  Maybe she should just start spewing the words she knew and the rest would come to her?

  No, Bernie! There has to be another way. You have so much to look forward to. Don’t give up!

  She warred with the voices in her head as Eddie raised the book and lifted a long match.

  Her mind raced. Freeze time. Could she freeze time? That would solve everything.

  Bernie! Bernie, are you there?

  Her eyes flew open as she scanned the now fully lit storm cellar. Fee?

  It’s me! Listen to me, Bernie, listen close. Clear your mind, Peaches. Clear it of everything but my voice. Help is on the way—we’re almost there!

  No, Fee! Stay out. He has this whole place rigged. Do not open the cellar door! It has a bomb attached. If Eddie hears you guys fiddling with that door, everyone’s doomed. Get as far away as p
ossible, Fee! If anyone else is with you, tell them to get the hell out of here!

  The hell! I’ve already lost one witch in my lifetimes; I ain’t losin’ another, Pook. Now stop flapping your gums and listen to me and don’t forget your powers are mostly useless here. Just sit tight and keep Eddie busy. Make some noise. Talk to him. We need a distraction!

  Shit! Her powers, aside from simple spells, were useless on the farm. How could she have forgotten?

  And then she heard it—scratching. No, digging. Were they digging their way in here from the ground up?

  Eddie’s head popped up as if he’d heard it, too, but then he shook it off and went back to his book of everything, busying himself with mixing a potion that smelled like Gus’ feet when he took his sweaty shoes off to wade in the creek.

  Wait. If magic didn’t work on the farm, how was Eddie going to make this spell complete?

  She repeated her deduction to Fee. If magic doesn’t work here, Eddie’s screwed. All we have to worry about are the guillotine and the bomb.

  No! He has the book, B-Bop. It trumps all else. And despite your powers, your heart isn’t magical. He needs your heart to make his transformation complete.

  Right. The cease her beating heart thing. Her stomach jolted and her mouth went dry.

  Bernie, forget everything else. It’s time to taunt your captor. We’re gonna make a little noise here, so distract, distract, distract! Oh, and Hot Pants says heyyyy, gurl!

  Bernie fought a girlish gasp.

  Ridge had come for her. That was all she needed to know as images of their night together zipped through her mind. She wanted a shot at a possible future with him, and by hell, she wasn’t going to let Eddie steal all the things she’d gained since coming to Paris—especially Ridge.

  “Hey, Eddie?”

  “Yes, Bernie?”

  “Do you have your phone with you?”

  “Thinking of calling 911?”

  “As if. Why would I want any interference with my death? I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind putting on some music? Sort of like a last-request thing? You know what I like, right?”