Chapter 21
Ophelia tacked up another blanket over the long floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the front of the Witchery’s third floor.
She frowned at the thick black smoke that had begun to drift through the deserted streets and dim the sunlight above.
That wasn’t from the vampires, but she was pretty sure it didn’t mean anything good.
The shadows it was creating were going to be a problem.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Felix said, staring at his phone.
He and the rest of the coven had trickled in, taking turns holding the ward over the town.
Currently, that was Ms. Pao, Aggie, and Sweets.
The rest of them had spread out, two to a floor, shoring up the Witchery’s defenses and keeping watch.
Which left Jena, Felix, Mr. Sheffield, and Matilda to argue—sorry, debate—the most ethical way to read entrails.
Ophelia didn’t know why they bothered. She wasn’t an expert, but she was pretty sure Matilda was.
Granted, ethics probably didn’t figure into whatever method she was describing that made the rest of them so pale.
Whatever. Ophelia didn’t care. She was willing to bet Chambers didn’t either, and if he had, they wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.
The rest of them should just let her have at it.
The sour little witch peeked over Felix’s shoulder at his phone’s screen and snorted. “So much for you killing the dragon.”
“What?” Jena squawked, leaning close. Her face went whiter.
Ophelia and Mr. Sheffield followed suit, all of them stared agog at the reel someone had posted of a dragon decimating the woods outside of Havers. Jesus, you could see smoking skeletal remains of vampires as it winged past, kicking up the haze its destruction had created.
“No way,” Felix breathed. “It was solid stone.”
“And now, I’m betting it’s a gargoyle,” Jena said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Wow, I did not see that coming.”
Felix cocked his head at the screen, humming. Whoever was recording had zoomed in on a vampire writhing in flames. “No. But I can’t say that I’m mad about it.”
“You will be when the fire spreads,” Matilda muttered. “Wind’s blowing it straight toward town.”
“I might be able do something about that,” Mr. Sheffield murmured, bending to pick up a piece of chalk. “Felix, if you’ll assist me in augmenting the ward?”
He frowned, but went with him to join the circle of witches.
“I can’t believe Aggie didn’t see any of this. She must’ve,” Jena muttered, looking at Ophelia like she knew something the witch didn’t.
“Well, she did say she wasn’t telling you anything until—”
Jena’s eyes flashed. “I’m not naming my kid after her.”
“Fine, but I still think she’s got a reason for it, and after meeting her, I’m betting it’s a good one. Probably. I mean, unless she’s just fucking with you.” That was also a strong possibility.
The witch glowered at Ophelia. “You’re not helping.”
“Yeah, I know,” she huffed. “Give me something to do, I’m about to lose my mind.” Her anxiety was edging on full-blown panic with Gideon out there. If she didn’t have something to keep her busy, things were gonna go downhill fast.
Jena chewed her lip, glancing between the circle of witches and Matilda cackling as she set up a makeshift altar.
Ophelia really didn’t want to know what all those long pins were for.
By the look on Jena’s face, she was already well acquainted and wasn’t a fan.
She sighed. “Yeah, I get that, but there’s not really—”
A muffled scream came from downstairs, and their attention snapped to the steps.
“Are they inside?” Ophelia’s hand rose to her collar.
“I didn’t feel anything breech the ward,” Jena said, moving closer to Ophelia, her eyes wide. “But that sounded like Mrs. Hill.”
Something thumped below them and a man shouted.
“And that was Rick Kleppet,” Matilda said, joining them. She’d pulled a pouch from her pocket and loosened the drawstrings.
“S-should we go help them?” Ophelia licked her lips, hoping the answer was no.
Jena shook her head. “We need to protect the circle. If the ward goes down, whatever’s outside it will roll over us.”
Shuffling footsteps sounded in the hall below, then slowly began to climb the steps. Jena pressed closer to Ophelia’s side, and Matilda stepped in front of them, her eyes narrowed and her lips moving soundlessly. She reached into the pouch, a ruddy glow spilling from its mouth.
A grizzled head popped into view, and Jena sighed. It was that big warlock with the bushy beard that’d been downstairs with them earlier.
“Gregory MacKey, you stop right there,” Matilda shouted.
He glowered at her from beneath his grizzled brows and kept shuffling forward.
Oh, dear God— “He’s been compelled,” Ophelia rasped, edging back.
“Idiot,” Matilda snarled, hurling a fistful of power at him and yelling something in a language Ophelia didn’t understand. The cloud rolled over him, and he fell to the side like he’d been poleaxed, the floor beneath them jumping as he hit.
“Holy crap,” Jena said. “What did you do to him?”
The little witch shrugged, wiping her hand on her pants. “Roofied his ass. He’s a little bit bigger, but if my ex-husband’s anything to go by, he’ll be out for the next few hours.”
Jena’s brow raised. “And which ex-husband was this?”
“You mean which one it wasn’t,” Matilda corrected primly, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Why pretend to have a headache when you can have peace and quiet instead?”
Ophelia snorted. “And you just carry around a bag of that stuff with you?”
“Well, it’s not gonna do any good in my sock drawer. I’d say check his pockets, but the only thing we’re gonna find in Greg’s wallet are coupons for frozen vegan burgers.”
Jena pinched the bridge of her nose. “When he wakes up will he still be compelled?” she asked Ophelia.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Great.” Jena chewed her lip, glancing at the steps. “Then I guess we better get something to tie him up with from downstairs and check on Mrs. Hill and Rick.”
Okay, so she said that, but Jena wasn’t moving toward the stairs.
“Oh, for the love of God, when did you turn into such a pussy?” Matilda slapped a hand against Jena’s chest as she pushed past them and kicked Greg’s arm aside on her way down the stairs.
“There might be some rope in the hall broom closet,” Jena called after her.
She buzzed her lips. “Damn it. Matilda’s right, I am being a pussy, but I keep thinking that I’m going to turn around and my father’s going to be there.
He scares the shit out of me, Ophelia, and it’s not…
it’s not just me I have to think about.” She frowned, rubbing her abdomen.
Ophelia grimaced. Crap. Was this where she was supposed to say something reassuring?
Damn it. She had nothing. “Um, yeah. Unfortunately, if Greg or whatever his name is made eye contact with a vamp, I’m going to bet they had him open the drapes downstairs in the shop.
It’s a public space. If they’ve got a shadow walker with them, we’re screwed. Who was on the first floor with him?”
“Um…I can’t remember. I think Otis and Mr. Rondo are in the basement.” Jena went pale, and her throat bobbed. “Oh shit. Luna Birdsong was with Greg.”
Ophelia vaguely remembered the tall, twenty-something witch from earlier. She hadn’t said much, just kind of sat to the side hiding behind her hair and let everyone else talk.
“She’s a newer member.” Jena’s eyes pinched shut. “We have to go down.”
“What about the circle?”
Jena glanced over her shoulder and exhaled slowly. “Matilda can handle things when she gets back. We’ll check on what’s going on downstairs, and then make sure Luna’s okay,” she said it like she was convincing herself, then— “You wanted something to do right?”
“Yeah. I did…” But this sure as fuck wasn’t it. Goddamn it. Ophelia followed Jena to the steps, warily eyeing Greg. Whatever that stuff had been, it’d knocked him out cold.
The second floor was creepily quiet. They tiptoed down the hall. The warlock with the long nose was on one of the couches, bent over with a cloth to his head. Matilda was by the door, crouched over the woman with the pink sweatsuit. Her neck was not at a natural angle.
Matilda looked up at them, furious. “She’s dead.”
The warlock let out a heaving sob. “I didn’t think anything of it when Greg came upstairs. It happened so fast… God, what are we going to tell her family? The twins are only six.”
Jena wiped tears from her eyes and just shook her head, a hand over her mouth.
“We’ll figure it out later,” Matilda spat. “Help me get her onto the couch. Rick, take this rope and go upstairs. Greg’s out, but lord only knows if he’s down. Poor man’s gonna be a mess when he finds out what happened, big oaf’s never harmed a fly.”
Jena nodded in teary agreement, and Rick sniffled his before staggering from the room.
Ophelia swallowed the guilt gnawing at her.
It wasn’t her fault, she knew it wasn’t, but she couldn’t help but feel responsible.
She helped Jena and Matilda carry Mrs. Hill to the couch and lay her out. They stood there for a moment, somber.
“Well, her death’s not going to be a total waste,” Matilda muttered darkly, karma sparking at her fingertips. She pulled a little sickle knife from her belt and sliced off a hank of Mrs. Hill’s hair. “I feel a curse coming on—and it’s a doozy.”
“You’re not going to get any argument out of me.” Jena blew out another breath. “Ophelia and I are going down to check on the rest of the coven. You have a handle on things up here?”
“Oh, I’ve got them all right.” Matilda cackled, leaving them.
“I’m guessing she’s your bad witch?” Ophelia asked, more than a little afraid of the tiny woman.