Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance Book 3) Page 18

  He looked up then and smiled, his eyes gleaming. “My Fair Lady?”

  She smiled back. “Oh my God, yes! Say you have it?”

  “Duh. Only every single song.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled over the screen. After pressing a button with flourish, the beginnings strains of “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?” echoed in the cellar.

  “Turn it way up, would you, Eddie? I want to really feel it.”

  He did as she requested, smiling fondly at her, likely remember they shared a love of Broadway show tunes.

  “All I want is a room somewhere!” she belted out.

  Sweet mother of pearl, B-bop. Make it stop! You’re eviscerating Rex’s legacy. He’s weeping, just openly sobbing in his Earl Gray. Do you hear him? He’s inconsolable. Wait there while I get him a tissue.

  She fought a hysterical giggle, but she sang louder as the digging became more urgent. “Oh, so loverly sittin’ abso-bloomin’-lutely still!”

  Almost there, Bernie! Just—a—little—more!

  She heard the strain in Fee’s voice—and then he really was there, sneaking up behind Eddie, rearing back, preparing to jump just as Ridge, and a dog wearing a sweater that looked identical to one of Flora’s, poked their heads through a hole in the corner near the wine rack.

  Dirt fell in clumps from Ridge’s head and shoulders as he quietly pushed his way through with the dog hot on his heels.

  Wait. A dog?

  As she sang louder, Bernie shook her head at Ridge and used a finger to point upward at the guillotine she was attached to. “Far away from the cold night air!”

  Ridge winced before he grinned at her and blew a kiss—and just seconds before he gave Fee the signal.

  He shot his hand upward and Fee launched himself at Eddie, sinking his claws into his back, sending the book flying before Ridge bulldozed into Eddie’s chest, knocking him into the wall.

  The dog with the sweater shook in violent shudders, its fur falling away as Bernie watched in horror. Bone crunched, even above the music, its paws flexing and stretching until a shape began to take form.

  Bernie’s eyes widened. “Calla?”

  Calla rolled her head on her neck, pushed her collarbone back into place and lunged for Bernie. “Listen to me, Bernie! Don’t move. I’ll have you out in no time flat!”

  As she worked to free Bernie, wrenching away the guillotine blade then popping the chains as though they were made of nothing more than string, Ridge and Eddie fought.

  Fee howled and clawed his way to the top of Eddie’s head, making him scream his discontent.

  Ridge knocked Eddie to the ground with a punch so loud, so sharp, it echoed above the music. Eddie crashed to the floor, landing facedown, his head cracking against the ground and bouncing back up.

  Ridge moved away from him and toward Bernie, his chest heaving.

  But Eddie wasn’t out cold—not by a longshot.

  With her arms finally free, Bernie caught sight of the detonator for the bomb just as Eddie was stretching his long fingers to reach for it.

  Ridge must have seen the distress in her eyes because he turned and roared, “Nooo!” and made a dive for the cylinder, but Eddie was quicker than she’d have given him credit for.

  As Ridge arced in the air, his intent clear—to land square on Eddie—Eddie rolled at the very moment Ridge made contact with his body, jamming a knife upward into Ridge’s gut.

  As Calla tore the last of her restraints away, Bernie rose on her knees, pushed herself to her feet and screamed, “Ridge! No, no, no!”

  She propelled her body forward just as Eddie shook off Ridge and made a final attempt to scramble for the detonator.

  “Calla, get Fee! He’s got a bomb! Go back through the hole!” she screeched over the music.

  Calla moved so quickly, Bernie’s head spun, scooping up Fee and diving for the hole as Fee bellowed his protest.

  “Bernie! If you go, I go with!” he hollered, but it was muffled to her ears, indicating Calla must have successfully gotten him out.

  And then she was scrambling, too, at the sight of Ridge’s blood, cringing at the crimson drops on the knife Eddie had in his other hand, seeing red, infuriated by the idea he would continue to breathe if she didn’t stop him.

  Throwing herself over Ridge’s prone body, she clamped her hand over Eddie’s, digging her nails into his flesh just as he fumbled with the detonator, his thumb so close to the red button her fear almost stopped her from doing what needed to be done.

  Killing Eddie.

  For killing her parents—for hurting Ridge.

  Closing her eyes to keep the sweat from dripping into them, she yanked the knife he’d used on Ridge from him with a growl of rage and raised it high, just as Eddie pressed the button.

  The knife plunging into his chest collided with the sound of the explosion.

  * * * *

  “Dig!” Bernie heard someone scream.

  “Clive, goddamn it, stop looking at Winnie’s ass and dig, you old fool!”

  Flora. That was Flora!

  And then there was dirt, falling in her mouth as she struggled to open it, a heavy weight on her chest that felt like an elephant preventing her from moving.

  “Clive Atwell, are you looking at my backside, mister? I will yank your ear right off your head just like your mama used to do, buddy!”

  Winnie—it was Winnie!

  She coughed, spitting at the crumbles of rock and debris on her tongue.

  “I hear her! Dig, Depends Patrol, dig!”

  Fee. He’d made it out. Thank God.

  “I swear on Madonna, that bastard’s going to rot in my prison for the rest of his immortality! I’ll play Debbie Gibson ’til his ears bleed!”

  Baba Yaga?

  What the hell was she doing in the mix?

  “Bernie?” a voice muttered, weak and strained.

  Ridge? Oh God! He was alive? “Ridge!” she managed to spit out.

  “We got him, Bernie. Just hang on!” someone else yelled.

  Bernie was finally able to manage a sitting position, a coughing fit racking her as she forced her body upward. And then the sun. Ungodly hot and beating down on the top of her head in the way she’d come to love.

  As her eyes cleared, she groaned. Enormous piles of dirt scattered the landscape of the farm, debris from the cellar and barn strewn from one end to the other.

  “B-Bop! Thank God you’re alive!” Fee was the first to tackle her, jumping into her arms and rubbing his cheek against hers with a soft purr. “Fuck and hell, Bernie, that was badass! I felt that magic of yours all the way out here!”

  Felt her magic?

  It didn’t matter. He was okay. She pulled him close to her chest and hugged his squirming body hard before setting him on the ground. “Oh Fee. Thank you. Thank you for talking me down in there. You’re the flashlight to my darkness, buddy.”

  “Water, Gussie! Hand me the water!” Cool water splashed down over her head and face, dripping to her chin as Flora came into view. She wiped at Bernie’s face, her own a mask of worry. “Girl, you gave me the fright of my life!” Pulling her tight against her, Flora squeezed her hard. “Thank goddess you’re okay. That was some damn spell, girlie. Remind me never to get stuck in yer craw.”

  “Ridge,” she whispered, hoarse and raw. “Where’s Ridge?” As her vision cleared and her mind began to play back the images of Eddie, she scrambled to rise.

  But Gus clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Muscle-head’s all right. He’s just got a little cut. You sit now, and let us dig ya the rest of the way out.”

  She lifted her aching arm and gripped Gus’ hand, pressing it to her wet, muddy face as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Doris? Where’s Doris. She helped Eddie. Oh, God, she was pinned to the…ceiling.” The horror of that made her shiver all over again.

  “We got her, Bernie!” Greta called out.

  Relief was momentary—until she remembered one of the most important things of all. “The book! Where is
the book?”

  “Swiped it on my way out, honey. Everything’s fine. Promise.” Calla squeezed her arm before she set about using her hands to dig right beside Bernie. As she scooped handfuls of dirt with alarming speed, the outline of Ridge’s body became clearer.

  A moan to her left made Bernie jump, but then a foot came into her line of vision.

  Eddie? Eddie was still alive?

  No. That was no good. He’d killed her parents. He’d almost killed Ridge and Fee and Calla. Unacceptable!

  Pushing everyone out of her way, she took a good look at Eddie before she grabbed a handful of his blond hair. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed down at him, giving his head a hard shake. “You killed my parents, and now you have to die! And it’s going to hurt, you slimy fuck! Oh my God, I’m going to rip your goddamn balls—”

  Greta’s whistle sounded, loud and hurtful in her ears. “Sutton! At ease!”

  “Bernie!” Ridge pushed himself up and wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her to him with a grunt. “Stop, honey. Stop. Let Baba have him.”

  She turned in Ridge’s arms and cupped his face with her hands and sobbed, “I thought you were dead. I thought we were all dead. I’m so glad you’re not dead!”

  Ridge hissed when she brushed against his abdomen, the ugly stain of blood covering the lower half of his shirt.

  Her hand went to the wound, covering it as tears streamed down her face. “I thought you were dead.”

  Ridge rocked her. “Shhh, it’s okay now, honey. Don’t cry. You did it. You saved us all.”

  She still wasn’t quite sure she understood how she’d saved them all, but she didn’t care. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Ridge rocked her harder and chuckled. “I’m okay. Just a scratch. My ears? Not as much.”

  She stiffened, reaching for his ears to find them still attached to his head. “What is this gibberish?”

  “A request?”

  She leaned back in his arms. “Now, Cowboy? You have a request now?”

  “Please don’t ever sing again.”

  Fee bounced around her and Ridge, his tiara wobbling on his head. “God bless America!”

  Everyone began to laugh, but then she realized the magnitude of what had just happened. “How did we survive that? Eddie hit the button on the detonator. I saw him.”

  “Your magic, of course, Bernice,” Baba Yaga replied, smooth as butter.

  But she wasn’t up to any of Baba’s lectures today. She’d shut up and put up for far too long.

  Bernie moved away from Ridge with care to avoid his wound and rose to her feet, mud dripping from her hair and plopping in clumps down the front of her shirt. “I got a bone to pick with you, lady!”

  Winnie rushed up behind her and gripped her shoulders. “Respectfully, of course. Right, Bernie?”

  Her gaze narrowed, her eyes taking in Baba in all her ’80s fare. “The hell! Eddie is a psychopath, and you wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Not a single word! I told you I had no idea I was a witch, and you laughed at me. Everyone laughed at me! So how do ya like me now, Baba Yaga?” she yelled, pounding her chest for affect while everyone around her gasped.

  But Baba didn’t become angry. Rather, her beautiful face lightened and she smiled. “I know, Bernice, and I like you just fine. Will you let me explain?”

  “‘Will you let me explain?’” She mimicked Baba’s words with a roll of her neck.

  “Bernie girl, I’m gonna demand that you shut it right this second, or I’ll shut it for you,” Fee ordered.

  But Baba still didn’t lash out. “It’s okay, Fee. Bernice has every right to be upset, but I’d ask that you save your frustration and anger with me until after I explain.”

  Like she could explain away ten months of Kotex slippers and mushy green beans? Bernie said nothing, but she nodded her head, her propensity toward caution settling back in.

  Baba held out a hand to her, her eyes still smiling. “Come with me, Bernice. Let’s walk.”

  Winnie gave her a nudge. “Go, honey. Let’s fix this once and for all.”

  Ridge stood and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Go, pretty lady. I’m going to get patched up and we’ll meet back on what’s left of the front porch so I can have a beer with my favorite witch.”

  Her heart skipped a beat of happiness, but she simply nodded, taking Baba’s hand.

  Baba tucked it under her arm and pulled Bernie away from the rubble of the explosion. “I’m so sorry, Bernice. I’m so sorry for your parents, for what happened to them. I want you to know that was out of my control entirely, and had I known, Eddie would be dead. But there’s a method to my madness. The day I got you back to prison, I knew you didn’t know you were a witch.”

  Disbelief almost left her speechless. Almost.

  “You knew? Why would you lock me up then? If you knew what I was going through? How could you make me serve time for something I didn’t do?”

  “Because it was the safest place to keep you, Bernie. Eddie couldn’t get to you if you were, in fact, an unwitting party to all this, but I could still protect you from him while I figured out what he wanted with you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Baba held up a finger to quiet her.

  “Listen to me, Bernice, please. I had to act fast when I found out about you. When I saw the video of that dirtball in the bank, I saw the book in his hand. Any witch can recognize it from twenty paces. He was easy enough to identify as a warlock with that tattoo of his. I just couldn’t understand how or why you were involved. My intention was to question you at county, but once I got closer to you, I smelled your magic. I sensed you were a shifter, but I wasn’t entirely sure.”

  “Surprise,” she muttered.

  Baba sighed into the hot breeze. “Yet, I couldn’t understand how I had no knowledge of your existence and why you hadn’t shifted to get yourself out of county. So I made an executive decision and wiped everyone’s memories clean, including the police, and brought you back to Salem with me. And that’s when I concluded you had no idea you were a witch or how important your powers truly are. That also meant I had to do some digging into Eddie, and I needed time to do it. So I bought some by keeping you near.”

  Months of frustration spilled out of her mouth. “Then why didn’t you just tell me at that very moment? Why did you treat me like a criminal?”

  Baba gave her an admonishing look. “Would you have listened? Did you ever listen? Were you at all receptive to us? You went along for the ride, but I knew you still didn’t believe. I couldn’t let you loose on the humans, knowing what I knew.”

  Bernie sighed, wiping her forearm over her cheek. “Okay, that’s fair. I was pretty messed up, and I’ve done my fair share of damage in the past because I didn’t know. But imagine thinking you’re a human then finding out every disaster in your life can be attributed to blood magic you didn’t even know you had.”

  Baba pulled her to the bench under the pecan tree and motioned her to sit, patting Bernie’s hand. “You were a mess, Bernice. But I needed you somewhere safe while I investigated this Eddie. I’d hoped while you were with us, you’d learn about who you’d become. Yet, day after day, month after month, you refused, which made you reckless if we sent you back into the human world. And we certainly couldn’t afford to have Eddie find you again.”

  Bernie winced at the memory of her prison stay. “I didn’t want to be a witch. I was pretty freaked out.”

  “And pretty stubborn. Neither here nor there now. When I realized no amount of prison time was going to change your mind, I decided to send you here. To Winnie. To the people of Paris. I knew they would help you to accept who you are, and there was a modicum of peace in that for me.”

  “Why risk sending me here, where I was unprotected, on the off chance Eddie’s interaction with me hadn’t been innocent?”

  “This is going to sound crackers, but you were the biggest case of failure to thrive I’d ever seen. Sending you here was a small risk compared to l
etting you continually suffer in prison. Things had been quiet for so long, with no sign of Eddie, I thought surely he’d gotten what he wanted and maybe, by some crazy coincidence, you were just in the mix by mistake after all. That maybe he knew nothing of your true status. Of course, we continued to look for him because that book is very dangerous in the wrong hands, but I truly thought you were marginally safe.”

  “And he managed to find me anyway.”

  Baba shook her head, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry, Bernie. But you were getting further away from us rather than closer. I knew once you were here, you’d tap into this incredible power you have with Winnie’s help, and you’d use it. You were alone for so long, Bernice, and none of us knew about it. I wanted you to flourish, find acceptance, learn, while I dug around to find out how this all happened.”

  Those words warmed her, reminded her of one of several reasons she’d decided to dig in her heels and really try to do this witch thing—her need to belong.

  “P/s, I already know how this happened. Eddie told me all about it while I had a guillotine ready to fall on my head,” she said sarcastically, still not quite ready to forgive Baba for leaving her to suffer One-Eyed Lorraine.

  “Then you must also know, Marie Haversham was one of the kindest, most nurturing white witches alive, and what she did to save you, while totally against every rule ever written, she did it out of tremendous love. For you. For your mother. It was an enormous risk. She knew the kind of collateral damage she was up against, being the keeper of that book.”

  Tears stung her eyes at the mention of her mother and this mysterious woman she’d never know, and whom Eddie had come upon by dumb luck.

  Baba used tender fingers to wipe her tears away. “Seeing Eddie with the book could only mean one thing—he’d known Marie. Somewhere, somehow. So I traced his every move since her death as we searched high and low for him, and that’s when I found out about her relationship with your mother. The rest was a bit of a puzzle your friends here in Paris solved all on their own.”

  She’d never be able to thank them enough for finding her. “And the book? Am I the new guardian of the book? Because you might want to rethink your strategy on that. I do set barns on fire, you know.”