Twenty-Sided Sorceress 3 - Pack of Lies (18 page)

Freyda became the new alpha of alphas, Alek told us later. Aurelio and many others pledged their blood to Wulf’s sword, but some of the alphas left without pledging and there was still a great deal of suspicion around who had sided with Eva or not.

It seemed the future of the Peace was still in the air.

Eva was dead, assumed vaporized in the explosion. Wulf’s body was now sealed beneath the depression I’d created with my power, though I guessed it had been vaporized as well.

I told my friends my version of events, leaving out the weird experience in the middle of the explosion. I didn’t know what to think of it. My power felt normal after a day of sleeping and eating vast quantities of Rosie’s French toast. No strange warmth, no sudden desire to inhale flames.

Haruki’s memories lurked in my mind, his knowledge waiting for examination, but I had had enough of fire for a while and left them there. I left my shop closed for a few days, too, choosing to stay at the Henhouse.

I pretended it was because I needed to recover and make sure all my friends were healed, but the truth was, I was afraid to resume my life, afraid of what might happen now that people knew what I really was. I didn’t believe for a moment that what had happened at the Den would stay quiet among the supernatural residents of Wylde.

It was Harper, as usual, who made me go home and return to work. Harper who nagged me into resuming my normal life.

My shop felt musty, but aired out after we propped the door open for a while. It was Thursday morning and nobody came in, which wasn’t unusual. The college would open for classes in just over a week, so I figured business would pick up then. I didn’t mind the quiet.

Harper was camped out in her chair, playing
Hearthstone
and swearing at the RNG gods. I sat up on my stool, a full box of unopened
Magic: The Gathering
booster packs in front of me, debating if I should just open them and sell the individual cards to keep the packs intact. I kind of wanted the mindless work of sorting them, and the little bits of happy discovery that came from each opened pack as I looked to see what the mythic or rare card was.

“Shouldn’t you have the blinds down, just in case that assassin comes back?” Harper asked, glancing at the front windows and open door.

“He’s not coming back,” I said. I’d neglected to tell my friends about Haruki and how it had ended. There had been too many other things to say, and the moment had passed. No one had asked about the assassin all week, either.

“Wait, you sound really sure.”

“You could say I’m dead sure,” I said, giving her a grim smile.

“Okay, back up, when did that happen?” Harper slapped her laptop closed and sat up straighter.

I sighed and told her the full story. Or almost anyway. I tried to leave out the part at the end.

“You stopped off on Sunday morning and had a ninja battle? And you seriously didn’t think it was worth telling me about?” She shook her head at me. “Crazy lady.”

“I killed a man,” I said softly. “I didn’t really want to talk about it.”

“He’s not the first man you’ve killed,” Harper said with a shrug.

I flinched. “I more than killed him,” I told her.

Understanding dawned on her face, and she took a deep breath. “Good. You need more power to stop Samir, right? Why not use the tools you are given?”

“This doesn’t remotely bother you, does it?” I searched her face but she only looked back at me with open, honest eyes.

“Some people need killing,” she said.

“Easy for someone who has never killed to say.”

Harper went very still and then shrugged far too casually.

“What?” I said. “Azalea! Who did you kill? When?”

“Someone who needed killing,” she said. “You want the story, I want cake.” She pointed at the door.

“Cupcakes okay?” I said, taking pity on her. She looked profoundly uncomfortable, and I understood the feeling. Talking about murder wasn’t a comfortable thing.

“Lemon, please,” she said, relaxing a little.

I grabbed my wallet and walked next door to Brie’s Bakery. The nice weather was holding and the morning sun sparkled off the display cases. The bakery smelled amazing as always. It was too late in the morning for the coffee and paper crowd and too early for the lunch crowd, so I almost had the place to myself, and there was no line. Two regulars sat at a table in the corner far from the door by the window, playing checkers and eating fruit tarts.

I walked up to the front and contemplated the cupcake selection while Brie finished loading a fresh tray of Danishes onto a shelf. There was lemon today, but I wanted chocolate. Or vanilla. One of each? Oh, the difficult choices in front of me.

“Hey, Brie,” I said when she turned around. “Two lemon and two vanilla with chocolate frosting.” I pointed at the cupcakes.

“No,” she said.

I straightened up and looked at her. Her normally cheerful face was cold and hard, all warmth missing from her eyes. Shit.

“No?” I asked, confused.

“You are not welcome here,” she said. Her eyes flickered to the two customers at the table and she lowered her voice, adding, “Sorceress.”

My confusion melted away into unhappy anger.

“I’m the same person I was yesterday, or last week. Or these last five years,” I said.

“I will not clasp a snake to my breast,” she responded. “Now leave. You are banned from this place.”

A snake? What
? I backed away. “Brie,” I said, trying to think of words that would help, that would stop the hatred pouring off her. The air crackled with magic, her usual warm, healing power turning bitter and sharp to my senses.

“Do not make me call the sheriff and have you arrested for trespassing,” she said.

The two regulars stopped their game and looked up at us with wide eyes. We were starting to make a scene. I realized there was nothing I could say or do that wouldn’t just make things worse, so I turned and left.

I walked the dozen steps back to my shop in a daze. The door chimed as I entered and Harper looked up.

“No cupcakes?” she asked, seeing my empty hands.

“The cupcakes were a lie,” I said, trying to joke through the tears that threatened.

“Jade,” she said, not fooled for a moment. “What happened?”

“Word is out,” I said. “As I knew it would be. Small town. Brie banned me for being a sorceress. She’s afraid of me now.”

“But you’ve lived right next to her for, like, half a decade.”

“She called me a snake,” I said. “Like I was just waiting to bite.”

“She’s an idiot. I am never eating her pastries again. Ever. And neither will the twins or my mom or anyone else I know, once I tell them about this.”

“Harper, that isn’t necessary. Sorcerers don’t have the best reps, you know that. She can’t be sure I’m not a danger to her.” Her fierce protectiveness made me smile and pushed down the sadness inside.

“Fuck that. I bet that is all Samir’s fault anyway. You don’t deserve this shit.” She got up and wrapped me into a bony hug.

“Thanks, furball,” I said, hugging her back. It was good to have friends.

I sent Harper to get sandwiches an hour later, not quite ready to go back outside. I was pretty sure the sandwich guys at Pete’s Deli were human, but better safe than hungry.

I was in the back part of the store, dusting off the painted display miniatures when my door chimed and my wards hummed, warning me of magic. The scent of cloves preceded the woman into my shop. I walked to the counter where she waited, recognizing the head librarian. I couldn’t recall her name, however. It started with a P, I thought. She was middle-aged, with brown hair laced with grey pulled up into a tidy bun. She had on jeans and a teeshirt that read “Books are Grrrreat” over the picture of a goofy-looking tiger.

“Afternoon,” I said, though I had the feeling from the sharp scent of her magic that this wasn’t a social call or her wanting games or comics for the library.

“I’ll make this brief,” she said, wrinkling her pale nose as though my shop smelled like dirty laundry. “You are not welcome in this town, sorceress. I require you to leave as soon as possible.”

“Um, no?” I said, standing up very straight. I resisted the urge to summon my magic and push back on the power she had clearly readied and brought with her. A protective spell, I was guessing. I was willing to bet it was no match for what I could throw at her. But petty escalation wasn’t going to help my new PR issue. “I’ve lived here in peace for five years. I’m a business owner.”

I didn’t mention I actually owned the whole building, including the bakery next door and Ciaran’s Curios. Both Ciaran and Brie leased from me, though neither knew it. I’d bought the building through one of my fake names and figured I’d let that part stay a secret.

“We allowed you to stay because we thought you were just a young witch. You did not bother to introduce yourself to the coven, but we considered that ignorance on your part, not secrecy.”

“Coven?” I said. “I had no idea there was a coven.” That meant there were at least twelve others. Great.

“We are more powerful than you might believe,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Do not think you can come after us. Our power will never be yours.”

“I don’t want your power, I have my own, thanks.” I dropped all pretense of politeness and glared at her. “I’m staying right here. Live with it.”

“You have thirty days to leave. After that, we will make life very, very unpleasant for you,” she said, her mouth pressing into a tight pink line.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

“Thirty days,” she repeated. “Or else…”

I started to ask her “Or else what?” but was interrupted by Ciaran.

The leprechaun who had been my friend and neighbor for half a decade filled the doorway of my shop and clapped his hands together sharply, drawing both my and the witch’s attention.

“Peggy Victoria Olsen,” he said in a booming voice that was completely at odds with his short, stout stature. “You will not threaten my friend. Leave. Now.”

“Ciaran, do you know what this woman is?”

“She is my friend,” he said. “You have no power here, Peggy. No authority. Go. I am not so much a gentleman that I won’t make you leave by force if I must.”

Peggy the witch librarian sniffed loudly and turned on her heels. She stomped past Ciaran, who moved aside just enough to let her pass.

I wanted to hug him, but settled for thanking him profusely in Irish.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, accepting the offer of a seat in Harper’s chair. “I do not care what you are. Only who.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve known this whole time, haven’t you?”

He winked at me and tugged on a springy red curl near one of his oversized ears.

“It’s a poor leprechaun I’d be if I couldn’t keep a secret or three,” he said. “Ah, there is Miss Azalea with your lunch, I think.” He stood up. “You are welcome for tea anytime, Jade Crow.”

“As are you, Ciaran Hayes,” I said formally, offering my hands.

He took them and squeezed briefly. Then, exchanging a greeting with Harper, he breezed back out my door with the same energy he’d entered. I felt a deep relief that he was still on my side.

“What’d Ciaran want? Don’t tell me he’s banning you, too?” Harper said as she put the bag of sandwiches down on the counter.

“No, he’s still my friend. The librarian, on the other hand…” I sighed.

“Mrs. Olsen? What did she want?”

“She’s a witch,” I said. “And she’s given me thirty days to leave town.
Or else
.” And with that I collapsed into giggles, because it was better than crying or screaming.

After staying at the Henhouse for a few nights, it felt strange to be alone in my apartment again. I took a long bath and then put on a season of
Clone Wars
. I needed something fun to distract me from the events of the day. At least no one else had come in and threatened me or banned me from their business.

I picked up the folded copy of the
Wylde Gazette
I’d grabbed from the counter in the store where Harper had abandoned it. The front-page article was about the Lansings. They had been reported missing on Tuesday by Jed’s sister. Last night they had been found, following a huge search effort. Their car had apparently gone off the road and caught fire in one of the more twisty parts between here and Bear Lake. The bodies had been so burned that the cops refused to confirm it was the Lansings, but the VIN on the car matched, so the paper was comfortable reporting it.