Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1 (2 page)

“I used a Sharpie, because I wanted them to match my hair.”

“It looks like a rash.” I peer closer, but she swats me away.

“I think it’s cute. Tomorrow I’m trying purple.”

“It must have taken you forever.”

“Ladies?” Angelo is looking at us with a single raised eyebrow.

“Sorry.” I face him again. “You were saying?”

He leans against the wall close to me, muscles every damned where. “First of all, you can rest assured that I’m not the mob. I’m actually the opposite - law enforcement.”

“Like...city police? Did my mom do something here in Raleigh?” She has express instructions to never come to Raleigh without me as her chaperone.

“No.” His eyes shift to Tawny again. “I’m with a fairly obscure agency that’s attached to Homeland Security.”

“Would he just spit it out already? I have no secrets from Tawny. Its fine, uh, Officer.”

He nods once. “OK. I’m the head of Abnormal and Supernatural Security.”

Shit. OK, I have kept one secret from Tawny. And Clay, and everyone else in Raleigh. I’m a witch. It’s not like I want to be a witch, and I don’t practice much beyond silly little things like decorating, because the last time I did I almost killed somebody. But there are no Witches Anonymous meetings that I know of, and it’s a bloodline thing anyway, so I just do my best to hide it and never, ever mention it to anyone who doesn’t already know.

“ASS?” Tawny grins at Angelo and then giggles. “You’re the head ASS?”

He frowns at her, but she’s doubled over, laughing too hard to notice. Evidently she’s too busy playing with the acronym to fully understand what he just said. He turns his gaze back to me.

“What your mother did today has caused a serious problem, Trinket.”

“I know.” Story of my life. “I’m sorry. I’m on my way to bail her out now and smooth things over with Miranda’s son.”

“That won’t be necessary, actually.” He pauses. “Did Bilda give you the full details of the...incident?”

Tawny has gotten over her funny fit and is watching us both closely now. I ignore her. “No - other than she almost hurt Miranda and that Miranda’s son was mad.”

“That’s a start.” The words sound heavy when he says them. “Let me fill you in.”

“Can we go sit down?” From the look in his eye, I’m sure that something terrible is about to come next.

We trail back to the living room and I sit in the wingback across from the sofa. He returns to his previous seat but leans forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them.

The afternoon light shining though the only window is fading into evening. “Should I call and tell the police that I’ll be late? My mother is expecting me, and she’ll be scared.”

Angelo shakes his head. “My agency has taken custody of Bilda. She isn’t there anymore.”

A slash of fear hits my heart, and I immediately feel guilty for being mean to her earlier. “Where is she, then? Is she safe?” As much as my mother gets on my nerves, I love her and worry about her. Mostly worry.

“She’s fine. I had one of the guys take her to Carlo’s.”

“Carlo’s? The Mexican place? Here in Raleigh?” I feel a small measure of relief that she’s not still in jail, but a shard of worry, too.

“Yes. She’s only a couple of miles away.”

My blood goes cold. “Do they know...I mean, she’s pretty slippery, and if she gets away from them...?” My mother’s sense of direction sucks, and if she gets lost wandering the streets of Raleigh, we might not find her before she gets it into her head to do something ridiculous.

He’s shaking his head, and I like the way his black curls brush the dark skin of his neck. I drag my eyes back to his. “My men are trained for this exact situation,” he tells me.

“What situation?” Tawny is sitting crossed-legged on the floor between us and leaning one elbow on the coffee table. “What are you guys talking about?”

I look at her, and suddenly I’m very tired. I just want to forget that I’m a witch, live a normal human life, marry a normal human man, and die a normal human death. No witches, no warlocks, no spells, no almost killing people - just a regular-person life. And I know I’ll never be able to do that, because Bilda is my mother and she will live for at least a hundred more years, just to spite me.

Angelo turns to her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Tawny. Trinket here is an important part of a sensitive ongoing investigation, and I don’t want to endanger you.”

Concern spreads across Tawny’s pert features and she stands up. “OK, but...” She looks at me, frowning, and takes my hand. “Please be careful, Trinket. You’re my best friend.”

“That was slick,” I say when I hear my door close.

He at least has the sense to look ashamed for lying. It doesn’t help that he’s cute when he’s embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but technically, my agency doesn’t exist and we really need to keep it that way.”

“Fine.” Not fine, but I don’t even know where to start with the questions. “So why are you involved with my mother’s case?”

He releases a deep breath. “Because your mother performed her little...stunt...in the center of Cranberry Glades Shopping Mall. There were at least two hundred witnesses.”

I groan. “She didn’t mention that part.”

“Right. Didn’t think so. Now we’ve got lots of people asking difficult questions, and no real answers to give them.”

“And your agency,” I resist calling it ASS, even though that is funny, “Has to come up with a plausible story.”

“Partly. We also have to make sure this never happens again.”

“How, exactly, do you do that? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I would love, love,
love
for this kind of thing to never happen again, but you aren’t going to like, kill her or something, are you? Burn her at the stake or drown her?” I’m only half kidding; there are still people in the world who would do that.

He shoots me a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, then? What?”

“I need to move her - and you - to a safe haven.”

“What kind of safe haven? Do you mean a witch protection program or something?”

“Kind of. She’ll be moved to Jagged Grove, where people of your...kind...are safe from the rest of the world.”

I really don’t like the turn this is taking. “And me? You said me.”

He looks uncomfortable. Good. “I’ll need you to accompany her, because her age and her abilities determine that she won’t be able to live alone.”

“You think she’s going senile, and you need me to watch her.”

“Basically.” At least he has the nerve to blush. Sexily.

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

I’m standing up and shaking my head now, because - thanks to my mother - my life is suddenly falling down around my ears. I’ve worked too hard to separate myself from everything witch, and this sexy, serious, calm as the clouds agency dude is threatening to take all of that away. I won’t let it happen.

I start to pace, just to stem the panic, but then turn on him and plant my hands on my hips. “Can you force me to do this?” I ask. “Just to be clear. Can you arrest me and make me go to this...Grove...place with her? Because I didn’t do anything wrong.
Angelo
.”

He stands up too, and looks down at me. Until this moment, I don’t realize how tall he is. He towers over me, and when the muscles in his forearms flex I get the impression that he could just pick me up and break me in half if he wanted to badly enough. When he speaks, his voice is measured and deep. “Not technically, no. I haven’t seen you use your powers, and -.”

“And you won’t. I stopped using them when I was sixteen.” Mostly. “I made a vow to never do those things again. So why are you punishing me?”

“I’m not trying to punish you, Trinket. But the truth is that your mother is a danger. Not on purpose. Not mean. But she is dangerous, and the United States of America needs to contain her before something bad happens.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve been ignoring my mother’s irrational actions for a while now, ever since she changed all the fire trucks in Harte to purple on a dare from Aunt Louise, but then accidently made all the ladders disappear. I figured that everything would work out, and she would stop this nonsense. But now I wonder if she’s got some symptoms of senility going on, too. The thought breaks my heart, but the evidence is staring me in the face.

That still doesn’t mean I have to give up my life for her. “OK. Is there some sort of facility I can put her in, while she’s there? Like an old witches home, or something? Because I have a lot going on right now. A lot. And there is no way in hell I can just waltz off to ....” I pause. “Where is this place anyway?”

“That’s kind of hard to explain. It’s on an island, but it’s also in another dimension.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“The island is on a different continuum from earth, to separate it from any...thing.” He’s struggling, and I’m getting it, but I’ll be damned if I let him off the hook. I cross my arms and stare at him, waiting. “It works just like earth, but it’s invisible to a normal human being.

“You’re kicking her out of earth? That’s mean.”

“Not out of earth, just...above it. A little. And invisible to the naked eye, like I said.” He looks up at me, distressed. “It’s hard to explain.”

I still don’t want to let him off the hook. “So - not a place I can travel to, like, I don’t know, Wyoming?”

He shakes his head.

“Is there Wi-Fi there?”

He sighs.

“You mean I can’t even email her? That sucks. She loves Facebook.”

“I know. We’ve been monitoring her since last year, when she gave one of her friend requests a wart and then denied them access to her page.”

I wince. “That would be my Cousin Tilda. They have a history.”

“I assumed.”

“OK can you take me to her, so that I can at least say goodbye?” It’s strange, the way I’m feeling right now. I’m not a fan of my mother’s antics, but I also don’t want her to go away forever. What would it be like, never seeing her again?

Bad. As nuts as she is, she’s my mother, and she has her good qualities. Like wanting to make poor old Miranda’s dream of flying come true. She always means well - except for the wart thing. And the fire truck thing - but she also always screws up somehow.

Once upon a time she was powerful, head of our coven back in Washington, and a pillar of the witch community. Everyone looked up to her. Then we moved here - thanks to my choice of college - and something inside of her broke. She missed her friends and our family, and she lost all the prestige that gave her self-esteem. I didn’t know it at the time, but she really depended on her support system. When I figured it out and tried to talk her into moving home, it was too late. Years. She was afraid to go back and be a nobody there, too.

In a way, this whole thing is my fault.

“Take me to her.”

T
he ride to Carlo’s is silent. I’m trying to find an answer that will please all of us while not having to give up my entire life, and Angelo is probably trying to figure out how to arrest me for something witchy so that I’ll have to go to that Jagged Cove or Grove place, whatever it’s called.

It’s fully dark and raining out now, and I count passing headlights through the raindrops while I think. Angelo drives a big, black, comfy sedan, exactly the kind of car an undercover agent would drive, and the radio is playing some soft pop station.

Somehow it feels like a date.

Date. The word sets off alarms in my head, and I almost scream when I realize I haven’t called Clay to let him know...what? How do I even explain this? He has no idea I’m a witch, or that my mother is a witch, so what exactly am I supposed to tell him?

I dig through my purse for my phone. “What?” Angelo says, glancing at me before turning his eyes back to the road.

“My fiancée. I forgot to call him.” I find the phone and scroll through the call log, looking for his picture. It’s a beach picture of us together, actually, one of my favorites. I imagine him standing outside of Maestro’s waiting for me in the rain.

He picks up on the first ring. “Honey? Where are you?”

“Clay, I’m so, so sorry. I...” What do I say that’s not a lie? “Something has come up with my mother, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get things worked out.”

His silence is nerve-wracking. Finally he says, “I know you care about her, Trinket, but she needs to be in a home. We’ve talked about this.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. No - we’ve fought about this. My mother is the one burr under our relationship saddle. “I know. I’m sorry...” Angelo is turning into the restaurant and he says, “There’s Ray and your mother.”

He says it low, but Clay hears anyway. “Who is that? Did I just hear a man’s voice?”

“I - yes. But Clay, it’s the police. They’re taking me to my mom at Carlo’s, here in town. Can we talk about this later? I promise I’ll call as soon as I can.”

“The police are taking you to a Mexican restaurant?” His voice is acid, and it’s killing me. I’ve never heard him sound like this before, although I have seen his jealousy rear its ugly head.

“That’s where they took her, and now we’re here.” I see my mother and another very large man - do they feed them steroids? - waiting under the restaurant’s striped awning. The man points a long arm at our car, and my mother takes off running - right into traffic. She looks panicky and spastic. “No! I gotta go. Can you just...? Listen, I’ll call as soon as I can.” I don’t even bother ending the call, because we are pulling into the lot now and my mother is right in front of a big delivery truck. I see its brake lights blink and then hold, but there isn’t time. There isn’t any time at all, and my mother is bouncing off the front bumper, sort of in slow motion, still staring right at me through the dim lights and the rain. Like the movies, except that this isn’t a movie and then I’m out of the car and running around the back of the truck to get to her.

She’s crumpled on the wet pavement, and she isn’t moving. She looks small.

I drop to my knees beside her and see that her head is bleeding. When I shake her gently and say her name, she opens her ice-blue eyes slowly and looks at me, but something about her expression is all wrong. Something bad. Everything else fades from existence.