Gone With the Witch (26 page)

I managed to get to my knees, and as I slowly caught my breath, I looked for some sort of weapon, and saw nothing. Just the counter stools and dust bunnies. But . . . no. I was wrong. There was something. . . .

Samuel Beeson's cloak. It was right where I'd left it earlier—draped over the back of the stool.

“Grab the cape,” I told Harper as Ivy took her time coming down the hallway.

Harper looked as though she wanted to argue, but grabbed the cape. I quickly opened it and pulled it over Harper's and my heads, as if we were two little kids hiding in a fort we'd made out of bedsheets. I kept the seam of the cape gripped tightly. Here, within this mothball-scented fabric igloo, Ivy couldn't see us.

Ivy's footsteps stopped. “What the hell? Where'd you go?”

Harper looked at me, her eyes wide; then she smiled.

“Think like a Crafter,” I whispered, then added, “Now creep around in front of the counter.” We duck-walked that way.

Through the seam of the cape, I could see Ivy turning in a circle, looking every which way, the color draining from her face. She pressed on the floor where I'd been lying just moments ago as though testing for a trapdoor.

Sirens rose in the distance, and I wished Ivy would just leave. But she seemed intent on finding us as she walked back and forth, swinging the gun wildly.

Annie ran past her, keeping close to the wall, and ran straight toward Harper and me, meowing pitifully.

I'd forgotten that animals could see us, even with the cape.

Ivy focused on Annie. She aimed the gun at her. “I'll kill the cat!” she yelled. “You have three seconds! One!”

I loosened the seam of the cape and said to Harper, “Grab Annie!”

She nodded, and in a flash, Annie was tight against Harper's chest.

With a cry of alarm, Ivy's mouth dropped open. For a split second it looked as though she didn't know what to do—she was frozen, her eyes wide with fear. Then suddenly she bolted for the back door. I reached my hand out, grabbing her ankle as she passed, and she fell hard, hitting her head on the floor.

As she moaned and writhed, I hopped out of the cape and grabbed Missy's leash from a hook in the mudroom. I quickly went to work trussing Ivy up like a Christmas roast and said to Harper, “Quick! We need to memory-cleanse her before the police get here. It's up in my bedroom. Top drawer of my dresser.”

Harper darted up the steps two at a time.

She was back in seconds, the memory cleanse in one
hand, the family portrait I'd been working on in the other. She tossed me the small bag of memory cleanse. I blew the powder into Ivy's face and she went still, passing out cold in a cloud of glitter that would soon dissolve.

I sat back and took a deep breath of relief. Which didn't last long. Harper sat on the bottom step of the back staircase, staring at the drawing. Her lower jaw was trembling as she turned the drawing toward me and pointed. “Is this Mom?”

As always, my gaze went straight to my mother's face. This time, however, I zeroed in on my mother's eye, at the vibrant blue eyeliner.

Eyeliner that suddenly reminded me so much of the blue that rimmed the mourning dove's eye.

I sucked in a breath as the truth hit me hard and fast like a sucker punch.

“I'll always be with you.”

In that moment, I immediately knew that the nightmare I'd had last night hadn't been a nightmare at all.

It had been a
memory
.

That day at the scene of the crash, as paramedics kept her earthly body alive with chest compressions in an attempt to save her unborn baby, my mother's spirit had already been released. Above the wreckage of twisted metal, she had become a familiar, taking the form of a mourning dove. She'd flown over to me, to try to comfort me even then.

“I'll always be with you.”

I hadn't put it together before, because I hadn't been thinking like a Crafter. I hadn't been thinking the impossible was possible. I had never even considered that the Elder might be a dead woman. A spirit. A familiar.

I jumped up, ran upstairs and grabbed my cape from my closet, then dashed back down the steps, going
around Harper, who was still staring at the drawing. I quickly jotted a note and left it on the counter. I took the drawing from Harper and dropped it to the floor.

“Hey!” she protested. “What're you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

I grabbed Harper's hand and Samuel's cloak from the floor. “Come on!”

“What? Darcy! We can't just leave—”

I pulled her out the door. “We have to go right now!”

“Where?” she demanded.

“To see our mother.”

H
arper gripped my hand so tightly my fingers were going numb as we jogged down a wooded path that led to a place I'd been many times, but Harper had never seen at all.

“Why did she never say anything?” Harper said, her voice thick. She wore Samuel's cloak.

“She couldn't say anything. Craft law, remember? Witches have to live in the village a year before knowing the Elder's true identity.”

“Family should trump Craft law.”

I personally agreed, because, well, she was our
mother
. “But that's what makes her a good Elder, no? That she is safeguarding our heritage, even at the cost of her own personal happiness.”

Stubbornly, Harper said, “This is no time to get philosophical with me, Darcy. How much farther is it?”

“Not far,” I said.

“Do you think Aunt Ve knows?”

“She knows. It's probably been killing her to keep the secret. A lot of our friends probably know. Like Archie and Godfrey and Pepe and Mrs. P. All were sworn to secrecy.”

“Craft law stinks.”

“Without it, our world would be chaos. It's a small sacrifice to make for the greater good. You're all about the greater good, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled.

We walked in silence for a moment, before Harper said, “Do you think she'll like me?”

I slowed to a stop and faced my sister, our hands still linking us together. My heart nearly broke in two at the tears shining in her eyes. “Like you? Yes, she'll like you. She
loves
you.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“How?”

“Harper.” I jiggled our connected hands. “Please, just this once, don't look for the explanation, the answers. Just
feel
, okay?”

“Aren't you angry?” she asked, a cry of injustice in her voice. “She's been gone all these years.”

“I'll always be with you.”

Shaking my head, I said, “She hasn't been gone. She's been with us. We just didn't know it. Not consciously, anyway.” I was beginning to suspect that there were going to be plenty of times I'd look back on my life and realize she'd been there all along.

“Same thing.”

“No, it's not.”

Harper huffed. “It
feels
like the same thing.”

“It wasn't her fault that she had to leave.”

Harper's jaw worked side to side. “I know. I
know
. It's just that . . . I missed her.”

I pulled her into a hug, and she squeezed me the way she used to do when she was scared of strange noises in the night. “Me, too.”

Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. “Do you think she's mad because I don't want to be a Crafter? I mean, she's the Elder, for the love!”

“No, I don't think she'll be mad.”

“Are you sure?”

I pulled back and looked at her face. “Positive.”

“I'm choosing to trust you,” she said, her cheeks flushed.

“Have I ever lied to you? Well, about anything really important?”

Her bottom lip pushed out as she thought about it. “I seem to recall something about the Easter bunny. . . .”

I tugged her hand. “Come on.”

“Is she even going to be there? She might still be at the house. She . . . she saved our lives.”

She had. If she hadn't banged that window . . . Emotion clogged my throat. “I'm sure she will be. She probably knows we're on our way because she was watching us.”

“Do you think she watched us when we were little too? In Ohio?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

I didn't begrudge Harper's endless questions. She was scared to death. A part of me was, too. What if I was wrong? What if the Elder was just . . . the Elder?

I shoved the what-ifs out of my head and took my own advice to
feel
.

The Elder was my mother. Tears built in my eyes, blurring the path. I recalled all the times I thought she'd sounded familiar. All the times her laugh turned my heart to mush. All the times I'd screwed up and felt as if I'd been disciplined by a parent. Even her name, Deryn, meant “bird” in Welsh. Then there was that telltale blue eyeliner.

I should have figured this out sooner.

But I wouldn't dwell on that now. Or ever. I was too happy to know the truth.

I couldn't possibly be angry that I hadn't known she had been with us all these long years.

I knew it now. That was the important thing.

It was a gift. A miracle, really.

“Oh my good gosh, is this the longest path ever created?” Harper moaned.

“We're almost there. See that rock?”

“The one that looks like a piece of cake?”

I nodded. “It's just past that.”

“Then come on,” she said, yanking my hand as she sprinted ahead of me, Samuel's mothball-scented cloak flapping in my face. “Come on, Darcy!”

I held tight to her hand and couldn't help laughing.

She glanced back at me and started laughing, too, as we raced along, jumping over roots and rocks and anything standing in our way.

At the cake rock, we slowed as the grassy meadow came into view.

“This is it?” Harper whispered, sounding let down.

“Just wait.” I kept hold of her hand as we walked into the field.

“Seriously, this is disapp—”

Harper's words died on her lips as the weeping tree in the middle of the meadow lifted its branches. Sunlight burst through the clouds, blasting golden beams onto green stems that spiraled upward out of the ground, and unfolded to reveal dazzling wildflowers.

It seemed to me that the colorful blooms were even brighter and more abundant than usual. From the top of the tree, a mourning dove lifted up and took flight, circling and swooping, and I thought my heart might stop from how hard my chest was being squeezed with raw emotion.

The bird landed ten feet from us, flexed its wings,
then disappeared in a cloud of sparkle and smoke. When the smoke cleared, I gasped.

In the bird's place was our mother, barefoot and dressed in a white gauzy dress that billowed around her in the breeze along with her long brown hair.

It didn't even seem the least bit odd that her bare feet didn't touch the ground.

She was floating.

Literally floating
.

With fine lines around her eyes and silver sparkling in her hair, she looked simply like an older version of the woman I loved so much. And even though I had known Harper took after her, the resemblance in person stole my breath. Her petite stature, the shape of her eyes, the wide forehead and narrow chin.

Then she smiled . . . and in that instant I saw myself in her, too.

“Hi,” she said tentatively.

“Hi . . . ,” I said, pushing the word out of my dry throat. “ . . . Mother? Mom? Mum? Mummy? Elder? Birdie?” I rambled, not sure what to call her.

She smiled. “I rather like Birdie, but here in the meadow, just call me Mom. Like you always did. I've missed the sound of it so much. Outside of here, always refer to me as the Elder unless we're certain we are with those who know my identity.”

As she spoke, I realized she'd been disguising her true voice from me nearly a year now. This voice, the one she was using here and now, was as I'd always remembered. It must have been incredibly difficult for her to keep her identity a secret from me.

“Mom,” I said, testing it out. It felt strange to say it aloud after all these years. Strange, but not wrong.

I glanced at Harper. Tears streamed down her face. I squeezed her hand.

“I thought this day would never come,” our mother
said. “It just about killed me. Well, you know. If I weren't already . . .” She laughed.

At the sound, I almost fell to my knees from the reaction it caused within me. To hear it straight from her lips, to see it, caused my chest to hurt as if I were having a heart attack. My throat tightened, my legs went weak.

She added, “I'm truly not one for patience. Just ask your aunt Ve. I'm working on that. It's an endless endeavor.” She held out her arms, inviting us to her. “Come here, my darling girls.”

I let go of Harper's hand and gave her a nudge. She stumbled forward, then stopped. Forward. Stop. Then my mother floated forward, toward Harper, and the hood of the cloak fell backward off Harper's head as she rushed to meet her halfway. Harper threw her arms around our mother's waist and squeezed her as tightly as she had done to me just a few minutes ago.

My vision blurred as I saw my mother cheek to cheek with Harper, running her hand over the back of Harper's head as she cooed and soothed. I wanted them to have this moment. I'd had seven years with my mother, whereas Harper had had none. They had a lot of time to make up for.

We all did.

Above Harper's head, my mother's gaze met mine. She waved me over, holding out an arm to invite me into the hug.

I tried to stay cool and calm as I took one step, then another. Before I knew it, I was running. As graceful as an out-of-control bowling ball, I fell into them both, knocking us all to the ground. Mom laughed. Then I did. But Harper just kept clinging to her for all she was worth.

I didn't know how we were doing it, holding on to this . . . spirit, but I wasn't going to question it. I was certain there was still a lot more we had to learn about
this new development in the months to come. But we'd figure it out. In time.

Together.

Our mother being back in our lives was more than a gift.

More than a miracle.

It was magic.

*   *   *

The following weekend the village green was packed with people attending the first of the summer community block parties planned by the village council.

I had figured the event would be bittersweet, though my reasoning as to why had changed.

Originally, I thought that tonight we'd all be sad as we said good-bye to Reggie Beeson before she moved away. . . .

Instead the party was bittersweet because she wasn't here at all.

Even though she had been arrested on theft charges and was currently out of jail, released on bond, she had opted not to stop by. By all rights, she should be here tonight, but she was too embarrassed to attend.

I didn't blame her, but I felt for her nonetheless.

Archie had griped and grumped when he found out that Reggie had been behind his attempted abduction, but surprisingly he had opted not to press charges, which Terry complied with. Surprising because Archie was normally a vengeful kind of bird.

If he'd found it in his heart to fully forgive her, then I hoped one day I could, too.

I had time to work on it. For the foreseeable future, Reggie wasn't going anywhere. Glinda had been right about the villagers not pressing charges—but the other victims of Reggie's little crime spree had. She was to stay put until her legal matters were settled, which might take a while. Until then, she vowed to win the villagers'
trust once again, and Vivienne Lucas had promised to help every step of the way.

The first of those steps being that she was the person who'd paid Reggie's bond.

The second was that Vivienne had decided to take over the Furry Toadstool.

She had signed a new lease and purchased from Reggie the shop's Web site content, its excess inventory, and its mailing list. Vivienne claimed she been wanting to expand her dog-walking business, and taking over the Furry Toadstool was the perfect segue.

The amount she was willing to pay for all those things hadn't been disclosed, but I had the feeling it was enough for Reggie to travel comfortably once she was out of legal trouble.

Not that Vivienne would miss the money. Her divorce was on a fast track, and Baz wasn't contesting it—or the prenup—at all.

Vivienne would be free of him soon . . . and a lot richer for it, in more meanings than one.

I'd heard through the grapevine that Baz had already left the village and was currently shacked up with a nurse he'd met at the hospital. To say he moved fast was putting it mildly. When asked why he hadn't told Natasha that it was probably Ivy who'd been stalking her, he simply said he hadn't wanted Ivy to get into trouble. That he cared for her too deeply.

There were some in the village who commented that he had gotten what he deserved.

I wasn't sure. I had begun to think he should have gotten worse.

I didn't like that much about myself, so I didn't think about it too much.

The moon was high in the clear sky, and stars twinkled as music floated through the air, mingling with a gentle sea breeze.

“Darcy!”

The shout nearly knocked me over, and I grabbed on to a folding table for balance.

“Sorry!” Harmony said, sidling up to me. “Didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to say thank you for the painting. I love it so much.”

“It was all Angela's doing, not mine.”

“Thank you,”
she said again with a smile.

I smiled, too. “You're welcome.”

She glanced around. “Not quite the party we had all planned for, is it?”

“Not quite.” I watched Nick spin Mimi around the dance floor. Mimi had plans to spend the night at a friend's house, and Nick and I had some late-night plans of our own.

“Aside from the Midsummer Ball,” Harmony said, “I bet the next big shindig will be your wedding.”

I glanced at her. “I'm not even engaged!”

“I'd bet a dwarf goat and mini donkey you will be soon.”

Eyeing her suspiciously, I said, “You're not just trying to pawn them off on me, are you?”

She laughed. “No. Don't tell Angela, but I've become rather attached to them. It's kind of amazing that Glinda found the two wandering around together, and that no one's claimed Scal as their own.”

“Scal?”

“Scalawag, the donkey.”