Chapter 20 #2
It took a moment for Shanna to slip out of his fingers, as if she didn’t want to lose the contact. But she moved away eventually; to the end of the terrace, and then beyond onto the gravel pathway leading from the resort toward the lake.
Fifteen feet. She stepped further away. Thirty, fifty—a hundred.
Simon waited for the tug on his wrist, but it stayed undisturbed, his arm hanging limply by his side.
It felt wrong and right at the same time, and Simon’s legs twitched as if, subconsciously, he wanted to go after her. Don’t leave me. Stay.
Shanna came back. “It’s done,” she said. “We’re free.”
He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Well done, witch.”
When Simon woke up the next morning, Shanna wasn’t in bed next to him. He squinted for a moment, confused, before he remembered the bond was gone.
It was, in a way, the end of the journey.
He could return home now. Only three weeks ago, he wanted nothing else but to be free of the bond.
He wanted to rush back to San Francisco and brute-force his way back to the truth, if necessary.
But some time in between, those three weeks became timeless, and the memories of the time before New Zealand felt as if they were coming from years ago.
And he owed it all to Shanna. She’d more than saved his life, in a literal sense. She gave it a new meaning, too.
His stomach churned at the thought of the messy knot he still needed to untangle.
He hadn’t checked on his company since the disaster in Ross, but he should do so.
Perhaps he’d see no news. Perhaps Everett was only lurking at the moment, giving Simon a few extra days of vacation.
Time to talk with Shanna and ask her what she wanted to do.
Ask her if she’d want to stay his wife.
He turned over in bed and reached for his phone to check the news. He swiped away weather forecasts and clickbait titles about actors found doing scandalous stuff and searched for Aries. He’d already seen those articles, about the new line of phones and his death…
Will Dean Everett’s crucial presentation secure his title as Aries’s new CEO?
Simon shot up as his heart jumped into his throat.
***
Mom’s actions were harder to comprehend than the desires of some witches to reach for shadow work.
Shanna had been mulling over the clues since the early hours of the morning.
Now, the sun had risen, but she paid little mind to the terrace’s scenic view of the snowcapped mountains, melding against the pale blue sky.
Mom knew Shanna would one day come here. She knew she’d be with someone else—Simon. And she might have known about Chris, too; the letter referred to a solution to her curse, and that had to be Chris. Was that why she destroyed the bracelet? Because she knew Shanna wouldn’t need it?
The treasure hunt. The letters spelling WARM. There was no heat needed for the ritual, so what was that all about? Was it a coincidence?
And why would Mom send the postcards in the wrong order, leading them from Wellington to the south? It could have as easily been the other way around. It would have made more sense, sending the postcards as she went.
Unfortunately, even after reading her letter, Shanna wasn’t sure how much sense her mom made.
She leaned her head on the table, resting on the letter partially mangled from the kea’s bite.
Charlie had said those birds were extremely intelligent, and Shanna had seen it in the parrot’s eyes as it perched on her shoulder.
Too bad they couldn’t read or talk. She bet a kea would be able to figure out this puzzle.
“What are you missing?” she muttered to herself. She lifted up, staring at the letter as the writing blurred in front of her eyes.
The first letter of each of the postcard places, in the order they’d visited them.
That had to be intentional; that was why Mom nudged them toward Wellington first, correctly assuming they’d follow the trail to the south from the closest next place to the one furthest away, spelling WARM as they went, like a good, obedient swarm of bees, finding their way back home.
Shanna blinked. Mom said it was all for her. She left to eventually give freedom to her. Shanna.
She turned the letter around and scribbled the initials of the four places on the back. But in the forefront of Mom’s mind was her. She added her initial at the start.
SWARM.
Shanna tilted her head, staring at the word as if an explanation would pour out of it. The paper remained empty, but a memory flashed in her mind. The big, bold letters of The Witchy Swarm shop, the S turned into a sigil.
The shop closing after twenty years because its owner, Bella, a masterful witch—at least according to that clerk—was leaving.
Bella.
A memory from their adventure in Abel Tasman flashed in Shanna’s mind. The initials carved in the tree, A + B, Alfie and Bella. “Did you name your boat after one of the girls?” Shanna had asked Alfie. And he thought he did—but he couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember Bella.
She’s been there. She’s been there all along.
“Here you are.” Simon stepped onto the terrace. “Enjoying your freedom, huh?” His light smile couldn’t hide the worry flashing in his eyes, although at the moment, Shanna was too rattled to wonder where that worry came from.
Her fingers shook as she slid them across the paper. “I—I—I think I need to go.”
He sat down, frowning. “Where?” He reached for her hand. “Is something wrong?”
“My mom is still alive.” Her voice came out trembling, betraying how close to tears she was. “And I know where she is.”