Chapter 11 The Witch Next Door
THE WITCH NEXT DOOR
Our old apartment building looked different this morning.
Bo and I stopped outside and stared at the exterior.
“Something’s changed,” I muttered.
Bo sniffed the air. “I don’t know. I still smell the familiar bouquet of mildew and regret.”
“I smell glass polish.”
“The pixies cleaned the windows,” a voice said behind us.
We yelped and twisted around.
Mrs. Chen stood looking at us like we were idiots.
I clutched my chest, my heart still racing. Even my wolf hadn’t detected her approach.
“She’s like a ninja!” Bo whispered to me.
This had the witch’s eyes rolling.
“Why did the pixies clean the windows?” I asked once I got my pulse out of the stratosphere.
“It was their way of apologizing for the rooftop garden incident,” the witch replied dismissively.
Bo and I traded a glance.
“The one that no one wants to talk about?” I asked carefully.
“Yes, that one.” Mrs. Chen’s tone indicated the topic was terminally closed. She eyed me steadily. “You visiting Ellie?”
“We’re here to see you actually,” I admitted awkwardly.
The witch’s expression didn’t change. She proceeded toward the building entrance, her silence an invitation to follow her.
There was a suspicious stain on the floor of the lobby.
“That will be the subject of our next residents’ association meeting,” Mrs. Chen stated coldly when she caught Bo and I eyeballing it warily.
I could tell Bo was thinking the same thing. This had Mr. Kowalski written all over it.
We followed the witch up the stairs to apartment 1B with a mixture of dread and anticipation.
Mimi sat on her velvet armchair in the sitting room and watched our entrance with a look that said she considered herself superior to everyone in the room.
Bo plopped down on his rump and wagged his tail. “You’re looking very witchy today.”
Mimi blinked slowly. “And you look like your normal self, mutt.”
Bo’s tail accelerated. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that was probably an insult.
“Sit,” Mrs. Chen instructed, gesturing to a settee. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
Bo licked his chops, his eyes sparkling with hope. “You got any of those mean steak sandwiches?”
“You just had breakfast,” I told the Husky.
“I’m a growing dog.”
“I’ve got wieners,” Mrs. Chen said.
Bo swept the floor with his tail. “I like wieners.”
Mrs. Chen disappeared into the kitchen.
Bo settled at my feet and carefully avoided my pointed stare. His nose twitched at the various magical scents permeating the air.
“I can smell at least seven different kinds of herbs,” he reported. “And something that might be eye of newt.”
I smelled fifteen herbs and more gory things than eye of newt.
“There’s no such thing as eye of newt,” Mimi told Bo disdainfully. “That’s a myth perpetuated by humans who watched too many Halloween movies.”
Bo cocked his head. “Then what’s that jar on the shelf labeled ‘eye of newt’?”
Mimi’s tail flicked. “Marbles,” the cat lied.
Mrs. Chen returned with a tray and a couple of hot dogs that Bo wolfed down in the flick of a tail. The witch poured two cups of jasmine tea and offered me one before sitting in her chair.
“You’re here about the Lincoln sisters.”
It wasn’t a question. And somehow, that didn’t surprise me.
“You said to come to you if I ever needed information about old witch business.”
“I did.” Mrs. Chen’s gaze sharpened. “Let me guess. They’ve gone missing?”
I hesitated. “We think so.”
Mrs. Chen sighed. “I hate it when I’m right.” The witch fixed me with a loaded stare. “Tell me what you know.”
I described the stale magical signatures Didi had uncovered during her compliance checks, what we’d found on Maple Street and at the sisters’ clinics, and the visit to Coven Headquarters.
Mrs. Chen’s expression grew troubled. “Melody said that?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Chen’s mouth pressed to a thin line. “Then this is most assuredly old witch business. Older than most realize.”
My wolf stirred.
“What do you mean by that?”
Mrs. Chen set her cup down.
“The Lincoln sisters aren’t just powerful healers. Their family has held influence over the Amberford covens for generations. Their grandmother, Agatha Lincoln, was instrumental in establishing the current coven structure.” She paused. “Not everyone was happy about that.”
“You mean, unhappy enough to maybe hold a grudge even after all these years?” I hazarded.
“Yes. After all, power attracts enemies the way honey attracts bears.” Mrs. Chen paused. “There were two families in particular who never forgave the Lincolns for their rise to prominence.”
Bo’s ears pricked. I leaned forward.
“Who?”
Mrs. Chen hesitated. “The Marchefords and the Thornwicks.”
The names meant nothing to me or my wolf.
“I’ve never heard of them,” I admitted.
“You wouldn’t have.” Mrs. Chen’s voice hardened. “The Thornwicks were exiled from Amberford decades ago. The Marchefords had their coven status revoked and aren’t allowed to practice magic. Not even party tricks.”
Bo fidgeted nervously. “What’d they do?”
“They dabbled in forbidden magic. The kind that no respectable witch would touch.”
Bo’s ears drooped. He crept under the settee.
A chill ran down my spine as I recalled the sinister power we’d felt on Maple Street. “What kind of forbidden magic?”
For a moment, I thought Mrs. Chen wasn’t going to answer.
“There are certain… texts that have been banned by the covens for centuries,” she said finally.
“Books that explore the merging of different supernatural powers. Witch and vampire. Witch and demon.” Her mouth thinned.
“The Marchefords and the Thornwicks were caught attempting to use one such book to amplify their own abilities so they could overthrow the Lincolns.”
My mouth went dry. Human power struggles really were a walk in the park compared to supernatural ones.
“When the other covens found out what the two families were up to, they were stripped of their status. The Marchefords were allowed to stay in Amberford since they were tricked into committing the crime. The Thornwicks were banished.” Mrs. Chen paused.
“Cordelia Thornwick, the matriarch at the time, swore vengeance on the families who voted for her exile, the Lincolns chief among them.”
My pulse quickened. “Could the Marchefords or the Thornwicks be behind the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance?”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Chen met my gaze squarely. “But old grudges have long memories.”
It was uncanny how I kept hearing those words lately.
Bo poked his snout out between my legs.
“We might be too late,” the Husky contributed in the macabre tone of a dog addicted to crime shows. “The Lincoln sisters may have already been composted without their consent.”
Mrs. Chen stared at my dog.
“Is it me, or has his vocabulary expanded considerably since your move to the Hawthornes?” the witch asked me sharply.
I resolved to have a word with Pearl at the earliest opportunity.
“And to answer the mutt’s question, that’s unlikely.” Mrs. Chen waved a hand. “Their magic signatures wouldn’t have just frozen if they were dead. They would have vanished. And your compliance department would have been the first to know.”
I chewed my lip. The witch was right. Didi would have been screaming it like a banshee from the rooftops.
“What are the Marchefords up to these days?” I asked curiously.
“They run a small woodcarving business in North Amberford. They stick to themselves, mostly. The other covens keep tabs on them.”
That pretty much ruled them out as our suspects.
“And the Thornwicks? Anyone know what happened to them after they were kicked out of Amberford?” I asked hopefully. “Like, maybe they started a coven in a new town?”
“They wouldn’t have been allowed to.” Mrs. Chen’s eyes glimmered with an intensity that made my belly knot.
“Covens share information from the East Coast all the way to the West. If the Thornwicks had started practicing magic again, they would have been reported. As far as everyone knows, they vanished off the map after their banishment. No one has seen or heard from them in decades.”
I stared. “Couldn’t they just have set up shop under a fake name?”
Mrs. Chen shook her head. “That’s not how it works. A family’s magical signature is unique. It cannot be changed.” She shuddered. “And the Thornwicks’ signature is pretty renown in these parts.”
There went my theory.
Bo crept out from beneath the settee. “Maybe they came back to Amberford and are, you know, lying low?”
“If they have, no coven has mentioned it.” Mrs. Chen wrinkled her brow. “And it hasn’t made any of the chat rooms.”
Bo emerged fully and slowly wagged his tail. “You mean, Hexbook?”
“I prefer The Cauldron.” Mrs. Chen sniffed. “Hexbook is too hippie for my taste. As for Witchboard, that place is a cesspit of magic wannabes.”
Mimi sneered. “Upstarts, all of them.”
Chat room preference was evidently a big thing among witches and their familiars.
“I’ve told you everything I know for now,” Mrs. Chen said, signaling the end of our conversation.
I rose reluctantly. “Thanks. This was helpful.”
Mrs. Chen escorted us to the door.
“The Lincoln sisters are good women,” she said quietly. “They’ve healed more supernatural creatures in this town than anyone can count.” The witch paused, her hand on the doorframe. “I hope you find them. Before whoever took them finishes what they started.”
The weight of her words settled over me like a shroud as I found myself back in the hallway, the familiar smell of mildew and old carpet rising around me.
Bo’s tail drooped. “That was super ominous.”
My phone buzzed as we made our way down the stairs. It was a text from Samuel.
Meeting ran long. Heading back now. Find anything useful?
I typed back quickly.
Maybe. Mrs. Chen mentioned a couple of names. The Marchefords and the Thornwicks. Do they mean anything to you?
It was a moment before he replied.
No. But I know somebody who might. Meet me at the office.