Chapter 9 Coven Call
COVEN CALL
An hour later found me riding shotgun with Samuel and Bo in the back of the Bentley.
“Is that Pinevale Funeral Parlor?” the Husky said, ears pricking as we passed a somber building with large grounds and a discreet sign.
Samuel’s fingers tightened reflexively on the Bentley’s steering wheel. “Yes.”
Bo wagged his tail enthusiastically.
“That’s where Lord Chudwell’s head popped off and I caught it,” he huffed. “Do you remember? And then the vampire lady screamed and kicked it across the room and—”
“We remember,” I said flatly.
Bo licked his chops. “Those were good times. I wonder if they fixed the dent in the floor where he landed.” His tail thumped against the door. “Think they’d let me visit?”
“We’re not here to sightsee,” Samuel declared coolly.
“Also, next time we meet Lord Chudwell, please don’t reminisce about when you had his head in your mouth,” I added sharply.
Bo avoided my eyes in the rearview mirror.
Samuel cut his eyes to me. “He did that?!”
“When we bumped into him at Bean Me Up last week. Virgil had to do damage control.”
Samuel looked over his shoulder and pinned the Husky with an accusing stare.
“Fine.” Bo slumped in the backseat. “I won’t mention the Decapitation Episode.”
“How about you not capitalize that incident for starters?” Samuel snapped.
West Amberford got creepier the farther we drove into it.
The pleasant suburban roads gave way to narrow streets lined with gnarled oaks and Victorian houses that looked like they’d been built by people who’d decided to take the Gothic theme one step too far.
Iron fences surrounded overgrown gardens.
Smoke curled from chimneys crowded with sinister weather vanes.
Curtains twitched in windows as we passed.
“Boy am I getting eldritch vibes,” my dog declared in a ghoulish tone.
Samuel raised an eyebrow. “Since when does he use words like eldritch?”
“I blame Pearl,” I said sourly before surveying our surroundings with a wary eye. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
“Yeah. We’re almost there.”
The Amberford Coven Headquarters sat at the end of a cul-de-sac and was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence that looked designed to keep things in rather than out.
The building itself was a sprawling Victorian mansion, all dark wood and pointed gables and windows that seemed to watch our approach with disapproval.
My senses prickled when I felt the magic radiating from the place.
Bo pressed his nose against the car window. “I smell tea and misery.”
Samuel rolled his eyes, parked, and killed the engine. “Just in case it wasn’t clear, we’re here to ask questions, not start a war.”
I couldn’t help but feel his warning was directed at me.
“When have I ever started a war?” I asked defensively.
He just looked at me.
“That was one time,” I protested. “Okay, twice. But there were extenuating circumstances.”
He sighed and climbed out of the car. I followed, Bo on my heels.
Samuel pressed the buzzer on the gate pillar.
A curt voice issued from the speaker. “State your identity and business.”
“Samuel Hawthorne and Abigail West, here to see Melody Flowers.”
There was a pause. The gate opened with an ominous creak.
The grounds were immaculate, hedges trimmed into severe geometric shapes and pristine lawn devoid of stray leaves. A stone fountain sat empty and silent in the center of the courtyard. Not a single flower bloomed in the whole place.
All in all, it was as cheerful as a vampire’s tax audit.
The front door opened before we could knock. A young witch with a pointed hat, glasses, and a no-nonsense expression appeared in the doorway, a tablet in hand.
“Mr. Hawthorne. Miss West.” She dipped her head briskly. “Miss Flowers is expecting you.” Her gaze dropped to Bo. Her expression grew guarded. “You didn’t mention the dog. Is he a familiar?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“No,” Samuel said.
“I might be part werewolf,” Bo contributed.
The witch squinted. “Which part?”
Bo eventually got put down as a service animal on the visitor’s list and we proceeded inside the building, the Husky protesting under his breath.
The foyer was all dark wood paneling and velvet drapes in deep greens and burgundy. Portraits of witches who appeared to have been weaned on pickle juice stared down at us from the walls. The air smelled of dried herbs, old books, and something sharper.
Magic layered so thick it made my wolf’s hackles rise.
Witches in the main hallway stopped their conversations to stare as we walked past them, a few whispering behind their hands with evident surprise. One elderly witch clutched her pearls like I might bite them off her neck.
Bo’s nails clicked nervously on the hardwood floor. “Why is everyone looking at us?”
“Werewolves don’t usually visit Coven Headquarters,” Samuel said quietly.
“I wonder why,” I muttered, catching a particularly venomous glare from a witch with silver hair and a face like she’d been sucking lemons for decades.
A black cat sat on a side table and watched our procession with unblinking yellow eyes as we approached a sweeping staircase. The hairs rose on my nape when I felt the animal’s stare bore into my neck. My wolf growled softly.
I slowed and looked over my shoulder.
The cat had vanished.
I frowned.
“Everything okay?” Samuel asked.
I hesitated. “Yeah.”
Bo stared at the spot where the cat had been.
So, it hadn’t been a figment of my imagination.
Our escort led us up the stairs and down a corridor lined with more disapproving portraits that seemed to track our movements with their painted eyes. She stopped at a heavy oak door that bore the sign Coven Headquarters President and knocked twice.
A familiar, silver-toned voice tinkled in response. “Come in.”
The door swung open on its own.
The office was smaller than I expected and was packed with bookshelves, crystals, and various witch paraphernalia I couldn’t identify. Melody Flowers rose from behind a desk cluttered with papers and candles and a cooling cup of tea, her smile overly bright and welcoming.
“Samuel. Abigail.” Her voice was warm honey. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Though she appeared calm, the fae-witch could not disguise her slightly elevated heartbeat, a fact I was certain Samuel picked up on too. My wolf suddenly straightened, her interest piqued.
My vision flickered before I could fathom why.
Melody’s facade shifted, like a mask being peeled back. Beneath it, the fae-witch was pale and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed.
It, whatever it was, only lasted a moment.
I blinked. Melody’s expression was perfect and fully composed once more.
Unease prickled my scalp. This was new.
My wolf’s silence was all the explanation I needed.
This had to be related to my newfound powers.
Samuel shot me a puzzled look when he picked up on my emotions. He focused on Melody and addressed the fae-witch in a carefully neutral tone.
“Thank you for seeing us on short notice.”
“Of course. Please, sit.” She gestured to two chairs that looked antique and uncomfortable. “Can I offer you some tea?”
“We’re fine,” Samuel said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Something glinted in Melody’s eyes. She sat back down and folded her hands on the desk, her smile serene.
“What can I help you with?”
The faint scent of her annoyance reached me then. She wasn’t happy to see us.
“The Lincoln sisters,” I said steadily, deliberately ignoring the fact that I had likely just seen past Melody’s glamour. “They’ve been gone a while. We’re wondering when they’re coming back.”
Melody’s smile didn’t waver.
“As I’ve told the Alliance, Maude, Viola, and Petunia are on a well-deserved vacation. They’ve served this community for decades. Surely, they’re entitled to some rest.”
I caught the slight tension in her shoulders.
That was a lie and everyone in the room knew it.
Samuel decided to take off the gloves.
“How about we cut to the chase?” he said flatly. “The Lincoln sisters’ clinics are abandoned. All their staff have vanished. And somebody cast Forgetting spells on the neighborhoods where their health centers are located. That’s not a vacation. That’s a problem. An ugly one.”
Tension thickened the air.
Melody bristled. “That’s impossible. You must be mistaken.”
I frowned. “About what? The fact that they’ve vanished and no one seems to care? Or the fact that someone is making sure no one asks any questions?”
The fae-witch’s expression turned blank again. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Abby.”
Her voice had lost its honeyed warmth.
“I think you do.” My tone hardened. “Somebody used some pretty nasty magic on their place on Maple Street. Ancient magic, to be precise.”
Melody’s gaze darted nervously to the door, as if checking to see if anyone might be listening outside. That was when I caught it.
A faint, oily wrongness clinging to her like a second skin.
Her floral perfume and the sharp trace of her fear swiftly overshadowed it.
“You’re afraid.”
Melody flinched at my quiet words, her fear-scent spiking so sharply even a human would have noticed it.
Bo’s ears pricked. Samuel’s expression sharpened.
I leaned forward, tension coiling through my belly. “You know what happened to the Lincoln sisters, don’t you?”
Melody swallowed, her composure cracking a little.
“We’re not supposed to talk about them.”
A fraught silence fell in the wake of her mumbled words.
Samuel lowered his brows. “What do you mean by that?” my alpha asked carefully.
Her eyes met ours. For a moment, her glamour slipped entirely and I saw the woman underneath it.
Melody appeared exhausted and frightened beyond her wits.
“Look, I never wanted their seat.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean, on the Alliance. I was asked to take over. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Samuel and I traded an uneasy look.
“Asked by whom?” Samuel said.
The fear-scent intensified. Melody shook her head.
“I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“Then help us understand,” I pressed.
Melody laughed then, the sound brittle and edged with something close to hysteria.
“You’re werewolves. You solve your problems by biting them.
Unfortunately, this isn’t something any of us can bite our way out of.
” She stood abruptly, startling us. “This meeting is over. I’ve told you everything I can.
Now, please leave. And forget about the Lincoln sisters.
” Her voice grew flat. “Believe me, it’s in your best interest.”
Samuel rose, his expression unreadable. I followed suit.
“Unfortunately, the Alliance won’t see it that way,” Samuel pointed out coolly.
Melody lifted her chin. “That’s the Alliance’s problem.”
I met her stare steadily, my mind racing. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach us.”
Melody’s jaw tightened.
We were almost at the door when she spoke again.
“The covens have long memories. And some witches have longer ones still.”
I turned to look at her. She stood behind her desk, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“What does that mean?”
Melody remained mute.
We left the building in tense silence, an invisible cloud following us on the way out.
“She looked terrified,” I told Samuel quietly as he pulled away from the building.
“I noticed.” A muscle jumped in his jawline. “The question is what’s frightening her enough to stay silent.”
“Or who.” I frowned at the gloomy Victorian houses sliding past. “One thing we can be sure of now. She’s not the one behind the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance.”