Something Wicked, page 22
My head pounded and my shoulder throbbed, the pain stealing away much of my focus. I suspected I didn’t have much time left. When I’d caught the glass at the diner, things had returned to normal speed very shortly after I put the glass back on the table, and while I had a slightly better understanding of what was happening now, I doubted I’d get a long time to change the present. I made my way over to Owen. It wasn’t easy to move great distances in frozen time, something I hadn’t noticed when I’d been in the diner and had only really been moving my arm. Maybe because I was only catching a glass and not moving my whole body several feet, but it felt like I was wading through molasses. The more I moved, the more a sharp pain presented in my temples as well. By the time I reached Owen’s side, it was a full-blown migraine.
I took the gun from his hand and threw it as far as I could, which wasn’t far, but at least he wouldn’t know where to start looking.
Time started to speed up then, the drops of rain being the first thing to escape my power. The lightning flash ended abruptly, making me blind in the sudden absence of all that light. And last, Owen began to move, a triumphant cackle dying on his lips as he slowly comprehended, first, that I wasn’t where I should be, and second, he was holding an empty hand out in front of him.
An instant later he realized I was standing beside him.
“You messed with the wrong witch,” I said, and hit him with my best right hook.
It wasn’t a hard punch, but it took him so much by surprise, he crumpled to the ground. Unfortunately, the intense pressure of manipulating space and time, not to mention getting shot in the arm, had taken its toll on me as well.
Owen hit the concrete, and I swayed, pinpoints of light dotting my vision.
The last thing I remembered before collapsing was the figure of a man in a khaki trench coat running across the parking lot toward us.
* * *
I wasn’t sure if hours had passed or minutes, but the next thing I remembered was being warm. Warm and dry, though my clothes were still soaked, it was no longer raining on me.
There was also something very warm vibrating on my lap. Bob.
I blinked several times before realizing where I was. I was wrapped in a rough wool blanket, sitting in one of the huge armchairs in front of the fire in The Earl’s Study. Blue and red lights bounced off the walls, but all I kept thinking was We don’t have any blankets.
The next thing I registered was Imogen hovering behind the chair across from me, a look of obvious concern straining her features. Kneeling in front of me was a pretty young woman in a navy-blue paramedic uniform, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun.
“Hey, there she is,” the woman said. “Phoebe, my name is Megan, can you follow this light for me?” She shone a flashlight in my eyes, and I blinked several times, recoiling from it like it had punched me. “I know—sorry—but just try to follow the light.”
I did as I was asked, my gaze trailing the glowing orb back and forth as directed. Bob lifted his head like he might hiss at her, but I put a hand on his back to let him know it was okay.
“That’s great, thank you.”
There were fresh bandages on my hands, and while I couldn’t see my face, something slightly scratchy was on my forehead, which I anticipated to be another bandage. I tried to lift my arm, but it hurt too much.
“Owen,” I croaked, my voice unexpectedly raspy. “It’s Owen. He killed Ox.”
“We know,” a familiar voice said behind me.
I tried to look over my shoulder, but turning my head was more movement than I could handle. Whoever it was came around me to stand behind Megan, obviously trying to stay out of the way.
“Rich.”
I remembered the flash of khaki trench coat running toward me. The coat he was currently wearing, still dripping water onto the floor.
“I heard the gunshot and came out to see what was happening. But by the time I got there, you’d already knocked him on his butt.”
“He shot me.” This, I realized, sounded incredibly stupid since Rich had just said he’d heard the gunshot.
“Lucky for you he had terrible aim,” Megan chirped. “The first shot grazed your left arm—didn’t even need stitches, though you’re likely going to have a pretty gnarly scar there, I’m sorry to say. I bandaged it up, and you’ll want to go to a doctor in a day or two just to make sure it’s not infected, but you got really lucky, Ms. Winchester. Two shots at such a close distance, and he somehow missed you with both. You’ll be sore tomorrow, but if you take it easy, you’ll heal up in no time. I want you to go to the hospital immediately, though, if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, you understand? I’m expecting your friends to keep an eye on you for the next few days too.” She gave warning looks to Imogen and Rich, who both nodded.
“Friends,” I mumbled stupidly, sinking into the chair with a soft smile. “I have friends.” The fire felt incredibly nice on my face, but the scratchy blanket and wet clothes underneath were not going to make it easy for me to drift off peacefully.
Wet clothes.
I sat bolt upright, and Bob dug his claws into my leg to hold on. “Where’s my purse?”
Imogen disappeared and came back with it a moment later, handing it to me. It was damp but still intact. I peeked inside, and all the papers were exactly where I’d left them, untouched by the rain. I let out an audible sigh of relief.
“He’s being pretty tight-lipped.” Detective Martin was on her phone as she entered the room, but then her attention pivoted to me. “I have a feeling someone here can tell me a bit more, though.”
I hugged my purse to me inside the blanket.
“I think I’m going to need a cup of tea first.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Two days later
“You have to understand,” Eric Garland said, his voice calm but with the slightest edge of worry. “We had very specific instructions from your aunt not to disclose anything about the real estate until you came to us. You see, she specifically structured her estate so that Mountain View was its own entity, and she wanted you to learn about it on your own.”
“Did she say why?” I could tell he was being ever so careful because he was a lawyer and wanted to absolve himself and his firm of any wrongdoing. Since Owen had tried to kill me only a few days earlier, in order to get his hands on some documents, I knew Eric and the firm were on pins and needles to absolve themselves of any liability in my near-death.
“She actually left you another letter.” He slid a thin envelope across the desk to me, Eudora’s familiar writing on the front, spelling out my name.
I opened it up, and Eric pretended to busy himself with other documents as I read.
Phoebe,
Darling, I hope you can forgive me for a little secrecy, but I promise I had your best interests in mind. You see, I’ve seen money do some incredibly foolish things to even the best of people, and in not telling you about the properties right away, I had hoped you would have enough time to settle in town and learn to love Raven Creek the way I did. The way you did as a child.
Buying the property was never about the money for me, I hope you can understand. George was dying when he sold it to me, and we both knew that when he passed, the properties would be sold to the highest bidder. He loved his son, but he knew the best way to care for Carl would be to keep the properties away from him so he couldn’t sell them off at the drop of a hat. For a long time, developers had been circling, hoping to put box stores and fancy chain retailers on Main. George and I knew that if that happened, it would be the end of everything that made our town special. One small business after another would be forced to close.
George was many things: a romantic, a dreamer, but he wasn’t a crude businessman. He could have sold those properties for at least ten times what I paid for them, but he didn’t. Instead, he made it a caveat of the sale that the revenue continue to help the town.
That’s why I established Mountain View, with the help of Eric. I do hope you won’t be angry with me for keeping this from you, but I needed you to know the town first, needed you to understand why it was so important we do things this way.
Mountain View is funded by the rent on the properties, which we haven’t raised since I bought them. We use some of the money to pay for repairs and upkeep on the properties, but the rest goes into a high interest account, and we use it for the town. There aren’t many who know where the funds come from: Eric, the mayor, and now you. I hope you’ll continue to do with it what I have all these years, but it’s your account now, and I know you’ll do what’s right for you.
Much love,
Eudora
I stared at the letter, stunned at the reality of what it told me. On paper, I was a millionaire. I was the sole owner, through an investment account, of a substantial swath of property in a prime location. In theory, I could sell it all and never work another day.
Then I thought about Leo, the things he had told me about Eudora’s committees and all the work she had done to improve the town year after year.
I folded up the letter and slid it back into the envelope, then put Eudora’s letter inside the thicker envelope with all the paperwork on the sale.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Garland, I would like you to keep these in a safe place for me.” I pushed the chair back and got to my feet, my joints still aching, and a small bandage on my forehead hiding the most visible of my wounds. “And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to keep it business as usual.”
Perhaps he’d been expecting me to say something else, because he looked momentarily surprised before breaking into a broad smile. “She’d be really proud of you, you know?”
I smiled back. “I sure hope so.”
* * *
Outside, the air was unexpectedly warm for mid-October. Businesses were busy decorating their storefronts for the upcoming Trick-or-Treating event that was hosted by the Chamber of Commerce. To make things safer for kids and easier for parents, businesses along the major streets all got into the Halloween spirit and got candy to give away to the kids.
Of course, I had some decorating to do at Lane End House too. There were so many seasonal items in Eudora’s basement, I couldn’t use them all at The Earl’s Study. A giant spider, in particular, had a place of honor over the front door of the house. Having spotted it in the basement recently, it occurred to me that my spider-themed dreams might have had more to do with decor than with any actual murderers. Now I was hoping the spider could remain a decoration rather than a star player in my slumber.
I hoped I could live up to the expectations Eudora had set for decorating. Now that she was gone, it was up to me to maintain the image of having the witchiest house in town.
Despite knowing that Owen was locked up, I still stuck to the main sidewalks to get back to the shop. I had taken the weekend off and gone to Barnesville to a walk-in clinic to get a doctor’s stamp of approval on my healing arm. It was my first day back at work since Friday’s scuffle, but if it had been up to Imogen, she would have preferred I take more than two days to rest. Too bad for her I couldn’t stand being at home—I needed to keep myself busy.
I’d opted to park in front on the street, though, as I was not entirely comfortable spending time in the alley alone just yet.
Much to my general disappointment, and Detective Martin’s as well, Owen had been arrested before anyone had a chance to attempt a break-in on my house, so if Dierdre had been planning to sneak her way in that evening, we didn’t have the opportunity to catch her red-handed. She’d also firmly denied knowing anything about Owen’s plot, or that he’d killed Ox.
I believed part of her story but knew she was more willingly involved than she was letting on.
Unfortunately, since Owen wasn’t saying anything to police to implicate her, Dierdre Miller was free to annoy the general public of Raven Creek for another day.
I approached the front of The Earl’s Study to see a familiar form draped against my car, arms crossed over his chest.
“How long have you been waiting there?” I asked. “Because the pose looks really cool, but if you’ve been standing there for an hour waiting for me, way less cool.”
Rich smirked. “I was just inside asking for you, figured if your car was still here you couldn’t have gone far. Looks like I was right.”
He was wearing the same khaki trench coat, and it made my heart skip a beat in an unpleasant way. I knew he had nothing to do with the murder, and everything Owen had told me about the plan suggested Rich was completely innocent of any involvement.
But the coat still bothered me.
“I’m going to ask you a weird question,” I said.
“I like weird questions.”
“Last week, early in the morning, did you chase after me when I was on a run? Wearing that coat?” I jutted my chin toward him.
His expression went from jovial to serious so quickly I had my answer before he even opened his mouth. “I wouldn’t say chase, but yes, it was me.”
When he didn’t offer any initial excuses, I just kept staring at him, hoping my face was impassive. I refused to be the first one to bend, even though there were a thousand follow-up questions I wanted answered. Primarily: Why?
He pushed himself off the side of the car and came to stand close to me. It was nice outside, but still autumn, so the proximity of his body immediately made me feel warmer.
I took a step back.
“I was on a job,” he said finally.
“A job to chase me?”
He shook his head. “No, but a job to keep an eye on you. When you spotted me that morning, I was sure you knew it was me, and I ran after you to explain, but you were too quick. My job was to make sure you were safe. At least until you figured everything out.”
I stared up at him, my mouth suddenly hanging open in a very unladylike way. “What did you say?”
“The job. Maybe not a job so much as a favor, but it was something I took very seriously. Your aunt came to me a few weeks before she died and said when you got here, you wouldn’t understand what you were, and she wanted me to make sure you were safe. She asked me to look out for you because she couldn’t.”
My brow furrowed. “And what am I, exactly?”
Rich pushed a lock of hair behind my ears and smiled. “Well, that’s easy, Phoebe Winchester. You’re the new resident witch of Main Street, aren’t you?”
Recipes
Amy’s Chocolate Hazelnut Latte
2 T chocolate hazelnut spread (such as Nutella)
2 shots hot espresso
1 cup steamed milk (or milk substitute of choice)
1-2 pumps hazelnut syrup (optional)
Put hazelnut spread in cup of choice, and pour hot espresso over the spread. The hotter, the better for your espresso, as it will be used to melt the spread. Use a small whisk or spoon to mix the espresso and spread together, then add 1-2 shots of hazelnut syrup, if using. Amy likes to add the syrup to maintain the hazelnut essence so it’s not too chocolate-forward. Then pour in your hot milk and serve!
Makes 1 latte
Eudora’s Famous Earl Grey Tea Shortbread
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 T loose tea leaves, ground*
½ tsp salt
¾ cup confectioner sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract (Eudora would recommend measuring vanilla with your heart rather than a spoon)
1 cup room-temperature butter, cut into cubes
First, grind your tea leaves. This will keep you from getting big chunks of tea in your cookies, but you still want to see the tea. Use a coffee or spice grinder, or a mortar and pestle if you have one. It should still be chunky, not a powder, but nothing so big it will get stuck in your teeth.
To a food processor, add flour, tea, and salt. Pulse ingredients together until blended. Add sugar, vanilla, and chunks of butter, then blend until the dough is combined enough to stick together. Put dough onto plastic wrap and roll into the shape of a log about 2½” in diameter. This should sit in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, but as long as overnight.
While you wait, preheat oven to 375°F, and put parchment paper on baking sheets. Enjoy a nice cup of tea.
After 30 minutes, remove dough log from fridge, and take off the plastic wrap. Use a sharp knife to slice dough into rounds that are roughly 1/3” (thinner cookies are crisper).
Bake for 10-12 minutes, but remove before edges become too golden.
Makes about 2 dozen cookies
*A note on tea: Although you can use any bagged Earl Grey tea for this and just cut open the bag, Eudora would recommend something a bit fancier. Ask your local tea shop if they have any special seasonal Earl Grey tea blends. The Earl’s Study favors one with freeze-dried strawberry in it.
Parmesan and Black Pepper Sourdough Biscuits
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt (use 1 tsp if omitting parmesan)
½ cup, or 1 stick, unsalted butter, cold and cut into small cubes
1 cup sourdough discard (best when unfed)
¼ cup grated parmesan cheese
Cracked black pepper to taste
This is arguably the easiest and most delicious way to make use of your discard.
Put your oven rack in the slot above center and preheat to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, salt, and pepper. Mix until crumbly (if you don’t have a pastry blender, a food processor works great for this step). The ideal amount of pepper will have black flakes speckled evenly through the pastry dough.
Add your sourdough discard and parmesan, and continue to mix until evenly combined.
Flour your counter, and empty dough onto floured surface. Form into a small disc roughly 1” thick. Depending on the number of biscuits you want, use either a 2” or 3” cutter.* 3” will yield about 6 biscuits; 2” will get about 8.
