Black Arts, White Craft by Hailey Edwards

18

The dream of leaving for the mountains in four hours turned out as mythical to us as Bigfoot, who preferred to go by Sasquatch, was to humans. The paperwork took forever, so did the repetitive questioning, and I was glad to sign a lengthy statement if it meant returning to my hotel room to check on Colby, who I had been forced to leave alone with the grimoire. Even with exacting Bureau formalities observed, I doubted we had heard the end of this, given our last two cases had involved rogue agents who hadn’t survived to speak for themselves. Those were the reasons we gave for deciding to leave for Samford in the morning.

Rather than the coffee shop down the street, which participated in a local farm-to-table program.

Thick-cut pepper-crusted bacon, free-range eggs, and creamy chèvre were calling my name. All served on flaky croissants baked each morning, with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice or a mug of hot coffee.

Clay had been in real danger of licking the screen as we skimmed the menu, and I wasn’t far behind him.

That was how we spent our night, just like the good ol’ days, plotting our route home via food stops.

That was after Colby and Asa fell asleep on the couch watching Pacific Rim on the boys’ side of the hall.

Left to our own insomniac devices, Clay and I retreated to the girls’ side to binge his all-time favorite—The French Chef. The last episode was going off when Colby zipped through the door, Asa on her heels.

“Good morning.” Asa slid his fingers through my hair. “I see you two entertained each other last night.”

The way he scratched my scalp with his blunt nails had me ready to purr for him.

“We watched ten hours of Julia Child,” I said, sinking into his touch, “in preparation for breakfast.”

“Oh, oh, oh.” Colby landed on my shoulder. “Can I get a shot of salted caramel syrup when we stop?”

With her looking on, the pleasant warmth pooling low in my belly froze hard enough to skate on.

“Sure thing.” I scratched her back. “Play your cards right, and I might even get you cinnamon sugar too.”

We had a long drive ahead of us, so it wasn’t spoiling her to pick up her version of a to-go meal.

Much.

A sign if there ever was one that I shouldn’t be a parent. I was so happy when we made up after a spat, I had a bad habit of smoothing things over by indulging her more than usual. I know, I know, but that was more reason why I was auntie material.

I was all about the instant gratification. Not the long-term repercussions.

Huh.

Framed like that, the big picture of how I dealt with problems in my life came into focus more than I would have liked to admit. Like blocking calls from a man who would simply appear one day if I didn’t answer him within an allotted amount of time.

Most everything was already packed and ready to go from the night before. All we had left to do was load the SUV, pile in, and head home sweet home. And then hope against hope Nolan wasn’t about to face justice, Black Hat style.

* * *

We rolledinto Samford under the cover of darkness, which worked for what I had planned.

It was late enough I shouldn’t have to worry about Mrs. Gleason until the morning. None of the lights were on in her house, and her rocker sat empty. Since she wasn’t on patrol, our butts ought to be safe.

Asa parked off the main road, and the three of us ghosted up the driveway, as stealthy as possible.

Colby, in hairbow mode, quivered against my scalp. “Do you smell that?”

The guys inhaled but shook their heads. I didn’t bother. If they couldn’t pick it up, I didn’t have a hope.

“What you got, Shorty?” Clay kept his eyes on the trees nearest the house. “And is it dangerous?”

“Sugar,” she breathed. “Lots of it.”

Leave it to a moth to ferret out the sweet stuff.

“That’s what he was tossing in the yard?” I tried to wrap my head around that. “Granulated sugar?”

Salt, sure. That made a certain amount of sense. Sugar? That made none whatsoever…

…unless you were attempting to lure a moth with a sweet tooth outside the wards.

A hummingbird feeder with a nectar might have tempted her, but I wasn’t going to offer him any tips.

Within sight of the house, Asa inclined his head. “I smell him.”

“I don’t sense any magic.” Clay scratched his bare scalp, as his wigs were still boxed to avoid more smoke contamination. “None.”

“He’s been camped out for days,” I reasoned. “That gave him plenty of time to set a circle.”

Though he must either be a gifted practitioner, or his circle was old enough its signature had faded, if Clay couldn’t sense it. As a creature animated by magic, he was more sensitive to it than the rest of us.

“The smell is human,” Asa countered. “A human who hasn’t showered in days.”

“You take point.” I scanned the area. “Your nose will be faster than my security feed.” I put my hand on his arm. “Just don’t shift until we know what we’re up against, okay?” I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. “We need to keep this low-key until we determine who and what we’re dealing with.”

A shadow passed over his features, there and gone before I could peg its cause, but I had a good guess.

“Hey.” I yanked on his arm. “You smell a human. That’s why we need to be daemon-free. If this goes south, I’ll be the first to welcome your other half to the party.”

With a lightness to his movements, he slid out of my grasp to begin his hunt.

The three of us spread out, keeping to the deepest shadows, which meant we would be all but invisible to a human. If that was what we were dealing with. Veering away from the house, Asa prowled into the backyard, weaving through the trees.

A silent gesture caught my eye, and Asa pointed to the same spot where Nolan had been hunkered down since I left. As far as I could tell, he was totally oblivious to our arrival. He lay on his stomach, in the grass, with a tripod set up in front of him. One with a fancy telescoping lens. He swept it left to right, panning the yard and the house.

For a human, he was remarkably quiet and still, but I suppose that came from years of stalking wildlife.

The three of us stopped a yard away from him, silently conferring, and came to the same conclusion.

Nolan Laurens was plain vanilla human.

“Hey, Nolan.” I kept my voice conversational. “Whatcha doing?”

A surprised yelp burst out of him, and he flopped onto his back, caging his head in his arms for protection.

“That’s not going to help you.” I looked him up and down. “Why are you on my property?”

Arms lowering, he stared up at me as if he were seeing a ghost instead of the owner of the land where he had been squatting without permission.

“Just taking some pictures.” He eased up slowly, demonstrating more techniques he must have learned in the field about how not to spook wild animals. “The area is so lovely.”

As someone who grew up down the road, he’d had plenty of time to document Samford. I wasn’t buying this burst of nostalgia.

“The girls think you’re in Africa.” I cut through his BS. “Also? My property is wired for surveillance.”

Expecting Clay to step in, I was surprised when Asa came to my side without the usual slouch he used to ease others’ worries. The effect on Nolan was immediate. His knees shook, and I worried for his bladder.

“You’re trespassing.” Asa flashed a police badge. “You are aware that’s illegal?”

“You’re Rue’s cop friends.” Nolan blasted Asa with a smile that trembled around the edges. “I appreciate everything you did—”

“Why are you spying on Rue?” He made no effort to diminish himself. “After everything she’s been through with her ex, I’m sure you understand why it concerns us to discover a strange man hiding out here while she was gone.”

“Whoa.” He raised his hands, palms out. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?” Clay folded his thick arms across his wide chest. “From here, it looks like enough to bring you in.”

The color drained from Nolan’s cheeks, and he took a healthy step back before his gaze dropped to the thousands of dollars in camera equipment he would never see again if he bolted. He relaxed his stance and kept his hands where we could see them. He fought the twitch in his legs, proving he was a man used to facing his fears and knew better than to run from them.

“The girls told you I’m a wildlife photographer.” He addressed his defense to me. “Okay, well, they sent me a picture when you guys were moving Hollis Apothecary from your kitchen to the shop.” He wet his lips. “Hear me out. There was a moth. This huge white moth. I couldn’t tell if it was in the house, the glare was terrible. Either it was resting on the glass inside the living room, or it was right outside.”

A sour taste filled my mouth, and I could have kicked myself for not seeing it sooner.

Power increased as it reached back through generations. Nolan was Arden’s uncle, therefore he had more magic than her. Enough he could see through the wards to spot Colby in the window. Enough he had groped the ward without realizing what kept repelling him. Enough to cause me big problems.

Goddess bless, what a mess I had made.

On the heels of that revelation came another. The shock of awareness when I shook Nolan’s hand wasn’t a glitch in the bracelet. It was my instincts warning me I was in the presence of another witch. He wasn’t powerful enough to warrant that kind of buzz. So maybe the bracelet helped, a one-two punch I misinterpreted at the time.

“I thought you were here for Arden,” I said flatly, “for both the girls.”

But their abduction must have only been the tipping point in his decision to verify the photo’s authenticity.

“I am.” He pulled a hand through his greasy hair. “I thought—”

“—you would put in an appearance, raise their hopes, then ditch them to pursue your real goal.”

With my hectic schedule, he could have been creeping around the edges of my property for days before he pulled his prodigal-returns act with the girls. He must have hoped to finagle an invitation to the house under the guise of seeing where the girls had worked for so many years, using his charm to grease the wheels. Then the case lured me away, and he got an even better deal. Carte blanche on my property.

And, as a bonus, he could have asked the girls to call him with a heads-up when I started home for any number of flimsy reasons. Such as making an empty promise to honor our missed breakfast date in the future.

“I saw this moth in South America, a white witch moth, and it was huge. More than a foot across. They’re gray and white, with a zigzag pattern on their wings.” He sliced his hand through the air. “Never mind. Not important. The point is— There are no moths native to the US, let alone Alabama, that size. And it was snow white.”

“Can I see the picture?” Asa held out his hand. “I would like proof that what you say is true.”

“Sure. No problem.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery. “There. See?”

Asa accepted the phone, waved Clay over, and they pretended to compare notes.

“The moth is outside the house.” Asa glanced over at Nolan. “It’s an optical illusion. It was closer to the camera than you might think. The glare makes it hard to tell, but the moth was maybe four feet from the lens. With the house behind the girls, who are standing closer, the moth is in the middle distance.”

“I thought that too,” Nolan gushed, “but I had a friend analyze the photo who—”

Unable to hold it in a moment longer, I blew my top. “You did what?”

“—says it’s definitely not in the foreground. It’s in the background, with the house.”

“You set up camp to stalk…a giant moth?” Clay’s laughter rumbled through the night. “Seriously? That’s what you want to go with?”

“Do you know,” Nolan asked, “what a discovery of this caliber could do for my career?”

“Yeah, make you a laughingstock.” Clay wiped tears from his eyes. “I thought you were a serious wildlife photographer, but you’re a cryptozoologist wannabe. You’re out here in the sticks, hunting Moth Man.”

“During your stay, have you seen any evidence of this moth?” Asa arched an eyebrow. “Even once?”

“No.” Nolan rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen it.” He turned to me. “Please, Rue, let me stay. I won’t get in your way. You won’t know I’m here. I’ll camp here a few more days, to be sure, then you never have to see me again.”

The insanity of this situation caused me to forget, but now I remembered. “Mrs. Gleason shot you.”

“I know how she operates. I’m wearing a Kevlar vest.”

“She shot you in the butt.”

“Yeah.” He twisted around and lifted his shirt. “I had a fix for that.” His butt was totally flat. A pancake. I gave him a once-over when we met, and I would have remembered if he suffered from pancake buns. “I shoved an insert down the back of my pants. I still had to pick buckshot out of my lower thighs, but it would have been worse without it.”

“Mrs. Gleason does have a thing for shooting people in the butt,” I admitted. “She shot Clay too.”

“She shot her husband three times.” Nolan dropped his shirt and faced us again. “Granted, she only mistook him for a prowler the once. The other two, she caught him having an affair with members of the Yard Birds. Former members, I should say.”

If I was going to keep living in Samford, I had to research Alabama’s Stand Your Ground laws.

That, or pray cadaver dogs were never sent to investigate our shared property line.

“Even if I didn’t mind,” I began, “and I do, the girls would see it as a betrayal on my part if I sided with you and your cover story. I would have to tell them, and I’m not going to heap more stress on them by explaining how you lied and used them. That means you have to go.”

A muscle ticked under his left eye. “It’s only a few—”

“I’ve been stalked, hunted, and surveilled for too long.” That much was the truth. “I don’t want to jump each time the moonlight hits your camera lens or get woken up by my surveillance app when you get too close to the house. I want a normal life, and a guy hunting a moth in my backyard is not normal.”

“Gather your things.” Clay snapped his fingers at Nolan. “I’ll escort you off the property.”

“Good night, Mr. Laurens.” Asa passed Nolan his phone. “I hope you appreciate how lucky you are that Rue doesn’t press charges. Given recent events, people in this town are overprotective of her just now.”

About to open his mouth and dig his hole deeper, Nolan froze when Asa flowed like smoke to his side.

“You don’t get to claim insult or injury for what was done to Arden or Camber. They endured it. You didn’t. You can’t play that sympathy card. Not when you’ve just admitted you came back, not because of the girls’ tragedy, but for your own selfish purpose.”

Mouth twisting with a too-human snarl, Nolan took a step toward Asa. “I didn’t say that.”

“Does this sound familiar?” Clay pressed a button on his phone, and Nolan’s voice spilled out into the night. The whole conversation. With lines plenty wide enough for the girls to read between. “This is a confession. We’ve got you on trespassing. Worse, we’ve got you attempting to use the girls to get your way after you admitted you didn’t come back for them.”

As damning as it was for Mrs. Gleason, I wasn’t too worried. It was much worse for him.

“You recorded that on my phone,” he realized, staring at it like he was holding a snake.

“I wanted you to have a copy. I texted it to Clay, Rue, and myself.” Asa smiled, and Nolan shrank from it. The step his anger allowed him turned into a retreat. “Do we have an understanding?”

“You’re blackmailing me?” He choked on a shocked laugh. “You’re cops.”

If he knew who he was really dealing with, he would shake their hands for getting off with a warning.

Then again, if he knew who he was really dealing with, we might have to kill him to get rid of him.

“We’re not blackmailing,” Clay said. “We’re suggesting. That you leave. And don’t come back.”

Turning to me, who he must have pegged as the weak link, he begged, “But the girls—”

Nolan had a whole family here in Samford, but he defaulted to the girls every time. He had weaponized them, used their victimhood for his own gain, or tried to, and I was done playing nice.

“The girls haven’t seen you in seven years. You’ve basically missed one-third of their lives. You don’t visit or invite them to visit. They’re used to your relationship being transmitted over FaceTime.” I nudged his knapsack with my toe. “In point of fact, they have no idea you’re here. None. Because you lied to them.”

“It’s your fault Arden wakes up screaming in the middle of the night,” he hurled at me, fists clenched at his sides. “It’s your fault Camber is a shadow of her former self. You did that to two bright, smart, funny girls.”

“You’re right. I did. They got caught in the crosshairs of my life, and I regret that more than you can ever know.”

Owning up to my mistakes confused him a bit, but he pressed on. “I’m Arden’s uncle. I have the right—”

“Look, I’m tired, I smell like smoke, and I’m out of patience. You could have asked for permission before assuming my relationship with the girls granted you the right to be here.”

A low rumble left Asa’s chest as he sensed my annoyance. Or perhaps it was the daemon itching to get out and rip off Nolan’s head then scream at it in his signature finishing move. Right about now, I was game for some cork popping and cathartics.

I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch. I’m a white witch.

Murder was wrong.

Granted, Nolan was trespassing…

No, no, no.

I loved the girls too much to take one more thing from them. Even if it was an uncle who put himself above his family, above the law, and above common sense.

“Clay,” I said before I got mean, “be a dear and escort Mr. Laurens to the end of my driveway.”

“Come on, buddy.” Clay slung an arm around his shoulders. “We’re friends, right?” He all but dragged Nolan down the road. “Let’s you and me have a talk about boundaries and what happens when you cross them.”

“What about my equipment?” He struggled to break free. “It’s my life. My livelihood. You can’t keep it.”

“We’ll have it shipped to your hotel, on our dime, assuming the address you email me is out of state or country. Consider it an insurance policy.” He strong-armed Nolan farther down the drive. “Or, if you prefer, we’ll drop it with Arden and her mom, and let you sort out the mess you’ve made. Let you make amends before you vanish on your family for another seven years.”

The fight drained out of him then, but I didn’t trust the hard set of his jaw when he fell in step with Clay.

Once they got a safe distance out, I leaned my shoulder against Asa’s. “He won’t let this go.”

I knew the type. He was a hunter. He might shoot film instead of bullets, but he lived for the rush of discovery, taking the perfect shot, doing what few others could, and then raking in the acclaim for it.

“We have a week to set up deterrents in case he returns.” Asa wrapped an arm around my waist. “We won’t let him expose Colby. Or hurt the girls through you. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“What happened to the girls was because of their connection to me. He wasn’t wrong about that.”

“He also used their pain to capitalize on an opportunity for himself. He didn’t come here for them.”

I noticed he didn’t say it wasn’t my fault, and I appreciated that. I liked that he didn’t lie to make me feel better or make excuses for me that wouldn’t change a thing.

Bottom line: I wanted a normal life.

To make that happen, I had brought normal people into my life to learn their ways.

Because of that, I had put normals in the path of paranormals, and that only ever ended one way.

Maybe if I had loved the life Colby and I built in Samford less, I would have moved on and spared this town from my problems. But I had put them on the map by coming out of retirement, and I owed these people protection from whatever may come.

Never in a million years did I think saving Colby would spin so far out of control. I didn’t regret it. Not for a second. She was, literally, the light of my life. But it’s like the saying goes…

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

David Taylor might be dead, but he seeded Black Hat with unrest before he got vaporized, and that meant Colby was at a greater risk than ever.

“Let’s fetch the SUV.” I forced myself to straighten. “Mrs. Gleason will come looking if it’s still there in the morning. Usually, I would trust her to remember what you drive, but she’s always got a hair-trigger when I’m away.”

Between the three of us, we were going through SUVs like tissues, but the entire fleet was identical.

Hand in hand, Asa and I strolled to our current ride, which required a wash ASAP to rid it of telltale gore. Clay stood in the center of the road, legs braced, watching Nolan hoofing it, daring him to try something.

“There are no fancy ride share apps in service this far out in the boonies.” I considered his options. “He’s got a long walk ahead of him, unless he cons whoever dropped him off into picking him up, and I bet you a dollar he paid someone at his hotel to drop him off with a smooth lie to avoiding driving his rental.”

The neighbors would tell his family if they recognized his ride, or him, and he didn’t want to risk that.

“Is it safe now?” Colby whispered from on top of my head. “Is he gone?”

Quickly, to prevent any escape attempts, I let myself into the SUV, and the guys joined us.

“Stay put,” I rushed out as I slammed the door. “We need to keep a low profile the next few days.”

A tickle across my scalp told me her wings had wilted at the sentence I had handed down.

“You’ve got Ace and me for a week.” Clay leaned forward. “Are you telling me we can’t have fun, even if we have to stay indoors?” He shook his head. “And here I thought you were the mighty Orc Bane.”

“You really mean it?” Hurt underscored her fragile hope. “You’re staying?”

“Nothing in this life is certain but death and that homemade is always better, but I’ll do my best.”

“Okay.” A breeze stirred my hair as his intentions registered. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Across from me, Asa smiled a little smile. I was grateful he didn’t mind Clay being Colby’s obvious favorite. I got the impression he appreciated any distraction that let us spend more time together.

Alone.

Warmth spread through my cheeks as I imagined having Asa under my roof for a whole week with nothing to occupy our time…except each other.

After Asa parked the SUV, I collected the grimoire from the floorboard and walked Colby into the house. While she powered up her gaming rig, I locked the grimoire in the safe, then stepped out to help unload.

Clay skirted us, carrying his wig boxes, cooing under their lids about the tender care they would receive.

As soon as he entered the house, Asa pinned me against the open rear hatch with his hips.

“Yes?” I tilted back my head. “Can I help you?”

“I would like to kiss you.” He searched my face, his eyes going soft. “Do I have your permission?”

Unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I managed, “Yes.”

He leaned down, his scent washing over me, filling my head. He brushed his nose against mine before he glided it over my cheek, along my jaw, nuzzling until he could inhale the vulnerable spot beneath my ear.

Fever warm lips brushed over that delicate skin when he spoke. “Thank you.”

Withdrawing in a rush, he loaded his arms with luggage and left me standing there on wobbly knees.

Seconds later, Clay returned for his bags, read my sorry state, and clucked his tongue. “Told you so.”

“I don’t understand daemons.” I glared at the front door. “He asked to kiss me, but then he…”

I flung my arm toward the house, making it plain Asa got me hot and bothered then split.

“Try smearing frosting on your lips.” He winked. “Or maybe chocolate sauce.”

“You are the worst,” I huffed, still tingly all over from how Asa left me. “The absolute worst.”

“I told you to leave Ace alone, and you chose to hear it as I hope you and Ace bone.”

“I can’t help myself.” Heat lit my cheeks like beacons. “He does this, so I have to do that.”

“Have you considered turning the tables on him? You do this, so he must do that?”

The lightbulb moment he inspired blinded me for several seconds. “You might be on to something.”

What better time to turn the tables than during his weeklong Thanksgiving stay?

Asa thought he had seven days to cash in his smooch voucher, but I bet I could punch his ticket in one.

Let the games, and the turkey basting, begin.