Witch it Real Good Page 5

  I was only just absorbing the Christmas wonderland in the great room when, from another room, a buzzing sound whizzed in my ears, bringing with it a multicolored speck of movement. And then a dry, surprisingly deep British voice said, “I see you’ve arrived back from your jaunt in the soggy Pacific Northwest with guests you neither called ahead to inform me about, nor gave me due notice to prepare for. Timely as always, Halliday.”

  Hal rolled her eyes at the speck of color as it landed on her shoulder. She reached for it and held it up in the palm of her hand. “Everyone, this is Atticus The Stuffy. Atticus, meet everyone.”

  I grinned from ear to ear as I peered at him. He was beautiful—with a green metallic back and red throat—even if Hal called him stuffy. “You’re Hal’s familiar, the hummingbird. How lovely to meet you.”

  “A ruby-throated hummingbird,” was the haughty reply from a voice so deep, he sounded like the British version of Lou Rawls. “And I prefer guide, thank you ever so.”

  “He prefers snobby,” Hal joked as she dropped a kiss on the disgruntled bird’s head. “We’ve been together a long time, haven’t we, Atticus?”

  “For what seems a millennium of hijinks,” he responded dryly.

  “Mate!” Win greeted him with a deep chuckle. “A fellow Brit, eh? Where from, chap?”

  Standing up straight, Atticus let his feathers ripple, showing his glorious colors. “Stratford-upon-Avon, where all civilized Brits hail, of course.”

  “Ah, the birthplace of Shakespeare,” Win said with a jovial smile. “I know it well.”

  Hal sighed, holding Atticus up to her face and giving him a stern look. “Stop being such a weenie, you snooty little beast, and greet our guests properly. This is my half-sister Stevie, her friend Win, and her familiar Belfry. Say hello and say it nicely, please and thank you.”

  “And the thing with four legs and more hair than our vacuum can ever hope to handle? Its name?”

  Whiskey, as though he understood the hummingbird was asking about him, jumped up and laid a wet slurp on Atticus’s long beak, making the tiny bird sputter.

  “Have you considered breath mints, chap?”

  I laughed and apologized. “This is Whiskey, and the turkey pecking at the braided rug is Strike. I’m sorry we’re putting you out on such short notice, Atticus, but it’s a pleasure to meet you nonetheless.”

  He harrumphed a deep rumble. “So you’re the product of another of Hugh’s vacation trysts?”

  Hal gasped, her lips thinning as she eyed the bird. “Atticus! Don’t be a jerk!”

  But I barked a laugh and held up my hands. “It’s okay, Hal. Guilty. That’s me, Atticus. One of Hugh’s love children. I wonder if there are more of us?” I joked.

  “You know, I can’t say I’d hate having a brother,” Hal said, then she set Atticus back on her shoulder and clapped her hands. “Now, let’s get you guys settled, yes? I’ll give you the tour of the rest of the house tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s sleep. You must be exhausted. While I go make sure your rooms are ready for you, feel free to roam.”

  But I almost wasn’t hearing what Hal was saying. The windows in her kitchen—where another fireplace with white stone sat—had caught my eye, drawing me to the scenic landscape just beyond the panes of glass.

  “Ooooh,” I breathed, transfixed as I walked toward them. “You were right. It’s amazing, Hal.”

  The windows faced the ocean, which I couldn’t see as clearly as I’d have liked due to the darkness, but I could see the drop-off of the bluff the house sat upon, where barren trees swayed in the cold wind and a white picket fence with an arbor stood at the end of what appeared to be a path.

  And the snow. Oh, all that was white and glistening under the buttery moonlight, I could see the snow. It stretched right to the end of the property, where the edge of the cliff began, white and sparkling, fluffy and clean, stealing the very breath from my lungs.

  The stars shone brightly, glazing the white blanket with a soft golden hue. I pressed my palm to the freezing-cold windowpane and sighed.

  Win came up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders and pulling me backward against his chest. “It’s truly magical, eh, Dove?”

  I sighed again, this time closing my eyes, relishing this moment with Win in a place so beautiful.

  “It truly is. I’ve never seen so much snow, have you? Never mind. Stupid question, right?”

  “Never stupid, Dove. I have indeed seen my share of snow. Alaska, Siberia, Iceland, the Alps, and of course, Antarctica. But never with you, and never have I seen it through your eyes. It changes everything for me.”

  I pulled his hands to my waist and tucked my arms under his hands, smiling as I lay my head back on his broad chest. “I suppose when you’re chasing a bad guy armed with a nuclear bomb across a tundra of knee-deep snow, a different perspective can be expected.”

  He chuckled. “You are so right. Now, I think Hal is correct in saying we need to get a good night’s rest and strategize tomorrow for our return to Ebenezer Falls.”

  All the worry, all the fear that had weighed me down earlier, returned to my chest like a heavy elephant, pinning me to the ground.

  “What strategy could we possibly come up with that will change the fact that Dana saw you, Win. He saw you. How can we ever hope to live any kind of life if we have to keep hiding you?”

  Win turned me to face him and said the words I dreaded—the words I knew he’d say if it ever came down to being caught.

  His eyes were intense as he looked at me, almost frightening me. I’d known Win for quite a while now, but I was still adjusting to seeing him physically—when he was sad, when he was happy—or any emotion in between. I’d always gone by his tone of voice because it was all I had.

  Yet, as he stared down at me, his near perfectly sculpted face so grim, I grew fearful.

  “Stephania, when it comes to keeping your good name in the clear, if there’s ever a chance you might somehow become mixed up in my misdeeds, I’ll seek other alternatives. There will never be a time I’ll allow your life to be sullied by me.”

  I swallowed hard, my eyes filling with the tears I couldn’t fight. “That’s crazy, Spy Guy, and you know it. We’re in this together. It was my spell that started this. It wasn’t your misdeed. If you weren’t so determined to find me that day, you wouldn’t have run into Dana and you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  He tipped my chin up with his fingers, using his thumb to caress my skin. “If it weren’t for my determination to get back here to this plane, you wouldn’t have had to cast a wayward spell, Dove. Had I stopped to truly think of the consequences of giving my real name to Dana Nelson, we wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be in the process of creating a new persona once Mandrake has finished my identifications. What I did was careless and foolish.”

  “Well, how could you know we’d end up finding a bunch of crazies who sell body parts of their customers? It was too random to be believed.”

  “Still, I never would have made that mistake when I was a spy. I never allowed myself to become carried away.” He shook off the memory and gripped my shoulders. “Regardless, Dove, this began with me, and it ends with me.”

  I cupped his strong jaw, tweaking his cheek with my fingers and striving to achieve an optimistic expression.

  “No, this might have begun with you, but it ends with us. All of us. Together. Somewhere.”

  “Ghost intrusion again. Dah, Zero. Stevie is right. We are team. Always. We will find a way to fix. I will think hard on this while you sleep. You fight too long and too hard to get back to earthly plane and my malutka. I will not give up. You will not, either.”

  Bel poked his head out from behind my hair. “What the guy with the kooky accent upstairs said. All for one and one for all. Always.”

  Tucking my head into his shoulder, I didn’t say anything else. Mostly because I didn’t now what to say. But as I tried to keep my hot tears at bay, I sent out a prayer to the universe that we�
��d be able to perform a miracle.

  Because that’s what it was going to take to convince Dana that Win wasn’t a criminal.

  Chapter 5

  I tiptoed down the long, wide hallway from the guest bedroom, my feet frozen and covered in sheetrock dust from the work being done on Hal’s house. It was as silent as a tomb, and I didn’t want to wake anyone.

  Hal had said the factory she owned closed during the month of December. I took that to assume she’d probably enjoy a good sleep in. I also figured the least I could do, after the way she’d saved our hides, was to make breakfast for her. I’ve become quite proficient at scrambling eggs and making coffee, thank you very much. Besides, I couldn’t sleep.

  I’d spent all of last night thinking up ways to get Dana off our backs, but I was coming up dry. Win had been at Vera Brothers. So had I. The problem was, Dana had seen Win in that daggone sweater. He was a credible witness to Win’s existence. If the Vera brothers could find a way to pawn some of what they’d done off on Win, I don’t doubt they’d try.

  At the very least, the police would want to question Win, and then the cat would surely be out of the bag. Win, by all plausible, believable rights, shouldn’t exist, and he couldn’t exist with Balthazar’s criminal record. There was no chance of assuming Balthazar’s identity. Not if Win wanted to stay out of prison.

  Then there was the hospital to consider, where Win had assumed Balthazar’s body. What if someone began to dig deeper and discovered in theory, Balthazar was still alive? There were a host of doctors and nurses to attest to the fact that he’d left the hospital—alive. Also, Win had Balthazar’s fingerprints and—

  Panic began to settle in the pit of my belly and take hold, dragging me on a roller coaster of speculation. I needed to stay out of the realm of “what ifs” and gather myself.

  Blowing out a breath, I snuck around the corner and entered the kitchen, only to let out another breathy sigh as I tucked the soft throw blanket I’d snatched from the end of my bed around my shoulders. All my troubles were instantly washed away at the beauty of this winter wonderland.

  Truly, this house was everything Christmas. Every corner, from the tops of every sparkling white kitchen cabinet glazed with an amber antique finish, to the butcher block island countertop and surrounding white quartz counters, there was at least a little bit of something Christmasy. It was simply breathtaking.

  Evergreen boughs lined the tops of the endless lengths of cabinets, with tiny twinkling lights dotting their green surfaces.

  Each of the five windows in the breakfast nook facing the cliffs and the ocean had a strip of plaid ribbon hanging down the middle with small boxwood wreaths secured at the end of each length. More pine swags swept the tops of the amazing crown molding window frames, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.

  A rack with Christmas-themed mugs sat near a red coffeepot, and as I trudged toward it—coffee, as anyone who knows me, being my second love language—I sighed with happiness, and for a moment, I forgot why we were here.

  Hal, fully dressed in a pair of gray, fuzzy knee-high boots, a white thermal shirt layered under another plaid flannel shirt and jeans, strolled into the kitchen, her hair in a shiny ponytail, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her hand around a mug of something steamy.

  “Morning, Stevie. How’d you sleep?”

  “In that amazing sleigh bed and all those pillows resembling clouds? Are you kidding me? It was scrumptious. Thank you, Hal.” And then I spread my arms, almost speechless. “This house—this house is magical. Pure magic.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone, but it takes a little magic sometimes to get it all done—or I’d be here until next Christmas trying to finish all the decorating. That’s why I start the day after Thanksgiving. Now, come sit by the fire with me and have your coffee while Atticus fixes breakfast.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Atticus cooks?”

  Hold on. My familiar didn’t cook. How did I get that end of the stick?

  She led me to two puffy, red buffalo-plaid-checked chairs with still more throw blankets and pillows, by an equally warm, if not smaller fireplace in front of a round ivory pedestal table with black wrought iron-backed chairs with matching plaid cushions.

  “He does. Sort of. He, like me, can conjure things. So, he conjures breakfast. The most important meal of the day, according to him. I’m always too busy when the factory is open for business, I don’t have time for cooking much of anything, but my little Napoleon insists I have something warm in my belly to start the day. So we have an agreement. He cooks. I eat something other than a granola bar.”

  “But isn’t that using your powers for personal gain?”

  Atticus was a familiar. Surely, he practiced the art of discretion and taught his charge the same. Or maybe Belfry was full of hooey? Jeez, I was beginning to wonder if Belfry had been pulling my leg all these years, because he sure didn’t make me breakfast.

  “It’s an egg and an English Muffin, Miss Cartwright. I’m not conjuring succulent filets and Beluga caviar. Such frivolity would be personal gain. An egg? Hardly,” Atticus drawled in his deep tone as he buzzed into the room with such speed, it was difficult to keep track of him.

  “No need for formalities, Atticus. You can just call me Love Child—or Stevie, if it’s easier,” I joked.

  I’m pretty sure I heard Atticus snicker, though when he answered, he was all manners and dry, stuffy tones. “Love Child, ’tis then. Now, how does one’s love child prefer their eggs?”

  Now I snickered. “Scrambled, like my life, please and thank you. Oh, and I’m happy to help, if you’d like to do it the old-fashioned way, Atticus. I’m not only a love child, but I’m also a powerless witch who has to make her breakfast with no otherworldly aid.”

  He buzzed toward me, staring me in the face as his tiny wings whirred, suspending him. “Hah! Totally unnecessary. As sure as the queen bears the name Elizabeth, I’d rather be flogged than touch a greasy pot or pan. I do not do dishes. Ever.”

  “Or floors or toilets or any number of menial labor-ish things,” Hal teased, running an affectionate finger over the top of his head.

  “Can’t you just use your magic for that, too?” I asked.

  But Atticus scoffed and tipped his tiny yet long beak upward. “Hal does those. I did teach her the value of a chore. We’re not heathens, Stevie,” he said, looking down at me before he zipped off.

  I sank into one of the soft plaid chairs and gratefully accepted the coffee that appeared on the small table in front of me with the snap of Hal’s fingers, sighing with pleasure as I took my first sip.

  Hal leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and giving me a thorough once-over with her blue gaze.

  “You look so tired, Stevie. You’re fooling no one if you think I believe you slept last night—even in the sleigh bed. How can I help make you more comfortable?”

  “You’ve helped enough by bringing me to this amazing place and giving us respite while we sort this out. I don’t want you involved any more than you already are. Now, how about we find a place I can pick up a change of clothes? We didn’t exactly have time to pack and we’ll need a fresh change or three.”

  “I think we’d have to go into Bangor for something you’d find to suit your tastes. We only have a vintage clothing store in town, and an Army and Navy store. That means overalls and carpenter’s jeans and lots and lots of flannel. You up for a mini road trip?”

  Sipping at my coffee, I shook my head with a smile as a plate full of fluffy eggs with toast and blackberry jam on the side appeared on the table with little pomp and circumstance.

  “No, no. That’s not necessary, Hal. You say vintage, I say point me in the direction. Also, I’m not opposed to anything overall-ish. I used to wear them all the time.”

  Her smile was warm. “Then Stig’s Army and Navy it is, then we’ll hit Gelsea Mae’s Vintage afterward, and maybe we’ll grab a little lunch at the café in town. They have the most amazin
g turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sandwich on whole wheat you’ll ever eat. Let me just get a couple of things done and run a brush through my hair while you grab some breakfast and we’ll hit the road.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Hal.”

  As she took her leave, I sat by the fire and had a bite of eggs from my plate, inhaling the scents of cinnamon and eggnog, wondering where Win was. Maybe he was still sleeping.

  Yesterday had been an exceptionally long day for someone who still struggled with some physical ailments from his host body’s accident. I couldn’t blame him if he slept in.

  “C’mon, buddy!” I heard Belfry call out from the direction of the living room. “Get your fluffy butt in here and dry off before that buzzy, flying bucket o’ stodgy catches you!”

  Whiskey came tromping into the kitchen, covered in balls of wet snow stuck on his fur with his tongue hanging out, clearly exhilarated from a run outside.

  “Ugh! Whiskey!” I yelped, dropping my fork to grab him and make sure he didn’t track snow through the house.

  “I got him, Boss,” Bel chirped as he flew by me and circled the braided rug, a tiny red and green scarf around his neck. “C’mon, beasty. Sit over here. We had a good run, didn’t we, buddy?”

  Whiskey panted at Belfry and if dogs smiled, mine surely had a grin plastered across his face as he settled on the braided rug.

  I reached down and stroked his damp head. “Did you love the snow, buddy?”

  Bel whistled. “Man, did he ever. It was all I could do to get his wayward butt back into the house. This is what a dog like him was meant for, right, big guy?”

  Bel’s words made me sit up and look around. “And where is Strike? Honestly, Bel, it’s like I woke up in this Christmas wonderland and I totally forgot I have pets and responsibilities.”

  Bel chuckled a laugh. “Strike’s out in the barn, happy as a clam, eating chicken feed and snuggling up to—are you ready for this—a reindeer, Stevie! A reindeer named Karen. I told Hal you were gonna have a litter of kittens over that.”