Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1 (15 page)

“He must have been a powerful man,” I say quietly. I can’t normally feel leftover energy like this.

“He was. In fact, Angelo hired a coven to bind him for a while once, just because he was growing powerful enough to basically take over Jagged Grove if he wanted.”

“Not that he wanted that,” Glade says behind me. I turn in time to catch him shooting Rain a look. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Good to know.” I suddenly feel uncomfortable in such close proximity to these two and need to step away from them. Reshelving the book, I shoot Glade my brightest smile. “Glade, I have a very important mission for you.”

He’s flattered in spite of himself, I can see. “You have knowledge of the best coffee shop in town. I need you to journey there by any means possible, obtain caffeine and bring it to me. Then, and only then, can we rule the world.”

He’s rolling his eyes and laughing as he leaves with some money I pulled out of my bag.

I turn to Rain with the new idea I thought up this morning. “Rain, I like you. I need you to help me with something.”

“What?” She eyes me warily and then glances toward the door after Glade.

I lean in as closely as I can. “Secrets,” I whisper. “I need all the secrets about all the residents you can give me.”

“What? Why?” She looks suspicious now. “I think you’re just supposed to, you know, heal them or whatever.”

I hold up a finger and say, “Ah-HA! I will do better than that.” She shakes her head and falls into the office chair, bored with my act.

I drop it and walk around to lean on the reception counter, so that I’m facing her. “Actually, I want to help them help themselves.”

“Here’s the deal - I’m not sure that I’m a very good healing witch. It’s been a long time since I’ve really tried, and let’s just say that it hasn’t always gone so well.”

“Oh, Great Goddess,” she says, but her chin is in her hand and she’s listening.

“Also, it takes something out of me to heal a person. Not much - mostly a sliver of energy - but enough that if I treat five or six people in a row I start to feel it. Understand?”

“So far...?”

“OK, here’s my plan. If you will share the secrets of our patients, I can help them not need me.”

“How does that work?”

“Umm, OK...I search for an example. “Let’s say that you know Berkeley has diabetes, but that he also has a secret stash of Snickers bars somewhere. Instead of eating all of them and coming to me fifteen times a week, I can know the secret of his sweet tooth and help him deal with it in a way that he won’t need to see me so much. It’s a win-win.”

Rain is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Trust me. It’ll work. Just tell me if you know secrets about our patients, OK?”

She sits up tall. “If I do, will you help us figure out who killed our parents?”

I regard her for a moment, then nod. “If you really think they were killed, the way I think Maggie was killed, then we should be able to figure it out, right?”

She nods. “And you’re the healer - you have access to all of their medical records.”

Ooh, I hadn’t thought about that. “I think my schedule is clear this morning, so I’ll get right on that.” I stand up and salute her, but she grabs my arm.

“I have another favor to ask,” she whispers, looking toward the door for a second.

“What?”

“The rumor is that you get to go home in a year.”

“Supposedly.” Word travels so fast here.

“I want to go, too.”

“You mean home? To...earth, I guess?”

She nods. “I’ve never been there.”

That’s right - she’s a third generation Grovian, as Imala calls it. I have no idea how to answer her.

Before I have to, I’m saved by Glade’s voice as he announces that the coffee god has arrived. As I rush to take a steaming cup, and get away from Rain, he says, “Why don’t you just use your magic to bring you coffee?”

I blink. I have no idea. He laughs at me and wanders into another room, so I get up and follow.

The door to the right of the reception area says exam room on it, and I see an old-fashioned medical table in the center, upholstered in navy blue vinyl. Along three of the walls - the three without a bank of windows - are miles of shelves, all covered with glass doors.

I walk closer to peer into the closest one and see about a million orange prescription bottles, the fat kind that great big pills come in. Instead of neatly typed drug names, though, I’m getting every herb, spice, and mineral known to man. One bottle, in a large but neat blue handwriting, even says
crushed crystal
. I stare at it, trying hard to figure out what that might be used for, until I hear Glade laugh out loud.

He opens one of the doors and pulls out another bottle like the one I was just looking at and waves it at me.

“What?”

“It’s pot,” he announces.

I stare. I don’t get it.

“Why would Doc have pot here?” he explains. “Almost everyone in Jagged Grove grows their own, and everybody you ask has their own secret ingredient.

“Everybody? Really?”

“Basically.”

Rain is nodding, confirming his story. I point at her. “See? Secrets.”

Then I muster my most suspicious face and walk out of the room.

The next door - and only other one, besides the bright yellow bathroom near the main entrance - is the doctor’s office. Well, mine now, I suppose. That thought doesn’t sit right in my mind though, as if the previous healer is trying to nudge me back out of his or her territory.

“Tough,” I say out loud, going to the windows to let some light into this room, too. “I want to go home, and I’ll walk all over your office to do it.”

A small crash makes me jump, and I turn to see a small yellow bud vase shattered on the floor. I shake my head and walk over to pick it up. “Really mature,” I mutter to the draft that has snaked across my shoulders. “Thanks a lot.”

The vase hasn’t shattered after all. Instead, it has broken into only five or six larger pieces, but there is something else in the rubble, too. A key.

I pick it up and stare at it. It’s really heavy, maybe made of silver, and it looks nothing like an ordinary key. Instead it reminds me of haunted mansions - the kind of big skeleton key with a loop on the end that I can fit three fingers into. A sizzle of energy tells me that it’s important somehow. “You wanted me to find this, didn’t you?”

No answer, of course, but Glade sticks his head in the door. “Who are you talking to?”

I’m not sure how to even answer that. “Myself, mostly,” I say, which is possibly true, but I don’t think so.

I think my office is haunted.

OK. I need to pause here, because while some witches have fabulous relationships with the dead, I’m not one of them. My healing powers felt very...powerful...before I stopped using them. Other people were even impressed with my abilities in that department. But I have never, ever in my life spoken with the dead, whether it be ghost or zombie or...whatever. It’s not my thing. That’s something my mother might do, but not me.

So how am I standing here, with Glade and Rain both staring at me, talking to thin air that I know - deeply - isn’t as empty as it appears? This makes no sense.

I shoot the twins a smile that’s trembling more than I can hide, so I bend over again to pick up the jagged shards of glass and toss them in the trash can beside the desk. Then I turn and survey my new office.

It looks just as comfy and old-fashioned as the rest of the place, all warm honey-colored wood and pale walls, like I’ve stepped into a doctor’s office from the forties. This room in particular has more wood than the others, because of bookshelves that line two walls and the thick window casings.

The desk is one that I would have picked out for myself - a monstrous, squatting thing with short fat legs and a football field worth of surface area. The chair behind it is more modern but still comfortable looking and upholstered in leather.

As I watch, it rolls away from the desk slightly, as if offering me a seat.

I back up.

Glade and Rain see it, too. Glade’s eyes are round, and when he turns his head to stare at me I see more questions there than I can answer.

Rain, on the other hand, looks less than surprised. She tucks her long black hair behind her ear and smiles slightly.

“You know what’s going on here?” I ask her. My voice is sharp enough that she jumps.

“No. What do you mean?” Her face goes dark.

“I mean, you feel the weirdness that is happening here, right? I can see it on your face.” When she doesn’t answer me, my voice gets even sharper. “Tell me.”

My hands are shaking, but I don’t know if it’s because she is obviously lying or because I’m not sure what to do about ghostly situations.

Before I can say anything else, Glade steps between us. “Don’t talk to her that way.” He shoots me a look.

“She knows something. Probably something I need to know.”

Rain is shaking her head. “I don’t, I promise. I just feel a friendly energy here. It’s nice. And the chair - I liked that.”

I look at her for another moment before nodding. “OK.” Then I glance at the chair again. “I’m going to - uh, I’ll be back in a few minutes, all right?”

They both nod, but they’re looking at the chair again.

I try to look nonchalant as I walk through town to our house. When I walk through the door Bilda is smashing things into a mortar. They smell good.

“Mom?”

She looks up and smiles at me happily. She looks so at home here.

“Do you have a minute? I might have a problem.” I frown. Problem seems like the wrong word. “Not a problem, exactly. Nothing is wrong. I just...can you talk to ghosts? Because I have one. I think. Or a really laid-back poltergeist. Something. Can you come?”

The warmth that floods her eyes when she stands up from the table breaks my heart, and I vow again to pay more attention to my lonely, beautiful mother. “Take me there,” she commands, grasping one of my hands in her own.

“So, you
can
do this?”

“It’s been a while, but I think so.”

I smile at her. “Thanks.” Then I have a thought. “Mom? Do I have any history - as a child, I mean - of communicating with ghosts? I don’t remember ever doing it, but this morning I sort of did.”

We step out in to the sunshine and she breathes deeply before offering me a sweet smile. “Sometimes. You had a penchant for finding the ones who needed to understand something more before they could cross over.”

“Oh.” I notice her grin. “Why is that funny?”

“It isn’t, I suppose. I just remember explaining to people about your imaginary friends. You were such a little firecracker.”

“Did I help them? The people who needed help?”

“No - you were four. You didn’t know any more than they did, really. You did bring them to me and insist that I help, though, so in a way I suppose it worked out.”

Necromancy. Not something I ever thought I’d add to a resume.

“You were always the most helpful child.”

“I’m guessing that goes with the whole healer territory.”

I’m surprised that Glade and Rain are still in my office when we get there. I’d half expected them to take off - it was a gorgeous afternoon and there are plenty of places I’m sure two teens would rather hang out.

“You guys can go on home if you like,” I say, after introducing Bilda. “Or...you know. Wherever.”

“There’s a storm coming,” Rain says. “We should all get home.”

“Oh.” I blink at her. “OK. Well, good to know. You guys go ahead - I’ll lock up.”

They just stand there, staring at me. “What?” I ask finally.

“We need to talk to you first.” Twin sets of green eyes are boring holes in my face.

“Can it wait, guys? I’m a little...”
About to scream
, I don’t say. “Tired. And overwhelmed. What if I buy you guys breakfast in the morning? Meet me at the Cup around eight?”

They nod reluctantly.

“Then we’ll come in here and get this place in shape for patients. I figure we’ll be ready to open for business by the end of the week, if you want to start spreading the word.”

When they’re gone, I relax a little. “They thought I was crazy earlier, talking to myself.”

Bilda had wandered into my office ahead of me, so I hurry after her. I doubt that ghost is harmful, but I don’t know for sure.

Bilda is leaning her hip on the edge of the huge desk and laughing softly, and she turns to greet me when I walk in. “You were right, Trinket. You have a ghost.”

I stand very still. What are proper manners in the presence of a ghost? How do I keep from stepping on something - or someone - that I can’t see? “Nice to...uh, meet you?”

A soft breeze ruffles the curtains. I look at Bilda.

She’s smiling. “She says it’s nice to meet you, too, dear.”

I look back and forth from her to the curtain. “Why can’t I hear her? You can.”

She lifts an eyebrow, and I feel silly. “Maybe if you had been practicing your gifts all these years, you could, too.”

“Fine. I’ll work on it.”

“Good.”

“Will you ask her about the key? I know she wanted me to find it, but I don’t know why.”

“She’s not a she. I mean, she is, but her name is Rachel. Be polite.”

Where had I heard that name before? I try to think, but this conversation is more important right now, so I let it go and concentrate on listening. Outside, the first hint of thunder rolls across the sky, drowning out any hope of hearing the answer on my own.

Bilda looks to see if I’ve caught it, but I just shake my head. The curtains are blowing again, but this time I think it might be from the wind kicking up outside, even though the window is closed. Great, the place needs insulation, too.

She opens her mouth to relay the information and the electricity kicks off. I suppose Angelo’s super-duper generator thingy isn’t any more impervious to random storms than the one back on earth.

More importantly, I still don’t know what the key is for.

“Her house,” Bilda yells at me over the next thunderous shaking. When I raise my eyebrows, she shrugs.

This doesn’t make sense. Why would a ghost healer want me to have the key to her house? Are there more patient files there? A special medicine? Someone else has probably already moved in, anyway. I doubt they want the newest stranger in town to have a key. I lay it on the desk.