Convicted Witch: Jagged Grove Book 1 Page 3

  He gives me a withering look. “You know I never agreed to that. I can’t. It’s a one-way ticket, Trinket.”

  I nod, but in my head I’m disagreeing as hard as I can. I will figure a way out of this, and I will be back home soon. With Bilda, with my life intact, and with a great, fictional story about some undisclosed adventure.

  He pulls out a desk drawer, reaches in and hands me a legal pad and a pen. I take it without looking at him and then leave the room. Ray is standing just outside the door, probably listening and definitely guarding. It finally hits me - hard - that there really is no way out of this, and that I’m walking away from everything I’ve built in the last eight years.

  I tell myself that I will not cry, but by the time I find my mother waiting quietly in another room, it’s too late. She smiles sadly as I fall into the ugly green chair beside her.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she says quietly.

  I want to lash out at her, but at the same time, the memory of almost losing her is too fresh. I reach over and pat her hand. “It’s OK. I’ll figure out this mess and then try to get us home soon.”

  She nods, but looks away so that I can’t see the doubt and fear in her eyes.

  She doesn’t deserve this.

  I don’t deserve this. I will fix it.

  And the magic thing? I used it tonight because I had to, but that will never, ever happen again. Angelo may know I’m a witch, but he doesn’t know what kind of witch I am and he’ll never know what happened that terrible night when I was sixteen and too powerful for my own good.

  Five

  “What the hell is that?” Angelo yells over the wind. He cocks his head and stares at the cage I’m hoisting over the rail of his boat.

  “My familiar. Surely you are familiar with familiars -.” I grin. “- having to deal with witches and all.”

  “An owl?”

  I ignore that and yell back, “A speed boat? Seriously?” I get Bumper secured and then pull a shivering Bilda to my side and glare at Angelo, trying not to be distracted by his long, tanned legs in cargo shorts.

  “It’s not my fault that the portal is in the middle of the South Atlantic, Trinket.”

  We’re standing on a private dock behind a big house in Beaumont, with the sun glaring down on us. Under other circumstances, it would be a beautiful, perfect fall day - not too hot and no bugs to fight. I love the ocean, but not right now. I gather my wind-whipped hair in my free hand so that I can glare at him better, but it doesn’t work very well. “She can’t swim, you idiot. She’s scared.”

  I nod my head at my mother, huddled against my side in a jacket that is miles too big for her. A gift from Ray, who drove us here to meet this jerk. I’m still pissed at him, even if my anger is misplaced. He’s a nice, big target.

  The jerk shrugs casually. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I really, really hate you, Angelo.”

  He grins at me and turns to rev the powerful engines of the gleaming white boat, making any further complaints impossible. “All aboard!” he yells at the top of his lungs.

  Someday I’m going to kick that man so hard in the-.

  “I don’t want to go!” Bilda says into my ear, pulling me down six inches to her level.

  I nod, but there is not one damned thing I can do about this. Besides, even if this whole mess isn’t exactly her fault, she’s the one who got us onto Angelo’s radar. “I guess you shouldn’t have turned Miranda into a crow, then.”

  Angelo has already made it clear that we can go peacefully, or we can go in handcuffs. Peaceful isn’t the word for what I’m feeling toward him right now, but it’s better than handcuffs. My stomach can’t handle much more of this grinding stress.

  Giving her a quick hug, I edge her toward the side of the dock and then let go long enough to jump on board. The boat rocks a little, making her gasp, but I encourage her with a smile until she grabs my outstretched hands and follows suit.

  I get her seated and buckled in, and then turn toward the front of the boat to see Angelo standing at the wheel and look forward, away from me. For just a second, I let my eyes be drawn to his fine, fine ass. Then I shake my head and make my way up to stand beside him at the windshield. “How long will it take to get there?” I ask.

  “We’ll take this boat out about a hundred miles to meet a cruiser - you’ll like it a lot better. It’s much more stable.”

  “Why? I mean, why not just bring the cruiser in to get us?”

  “Too many questions. We can’t actually file a float plan with the Coast Guard for a sailing vessel that disappears halfway through the voyage.”

  “Disappears?” I look over at him. Oh, yeah - the portal, or whatever.

  He nods, but doesn’t answer.

  I glance back at a very green-tinged Bilda and hope Angelo thought to pack a few barf bags. Bumper glares at me from his cage, upset that I’ve disturbed his rest. I blow him a kiss, and he closes his big orange eyes and turns away.

  Bumper has been with me since the night I killed my then-boyfriend, a little over eight years. He’s the one who found me in the woods that night, crying, and he’s the one who understood that I was trying to help when everything went wrong and I accidentally exploded the heart I was trying to restart. He just appeared, swooping down from the tree I was leaning against, and bumped me on the shin with his head. I don’t know how he understood, and I don’t know how I knew, but his comforting presence saved my sanity that night. It was like we had a psychic link or something. Bumper knows all of my secrets, and he knows why I don’t practice my healing magic. He loves me anyway.

  Angelo pulls away from the dock and we’re on our way. I can’t help thinking that if only this were just a fun trip instead of the end of my life, I might enjoy it. Instead, we are leaving everything behind, limited to only two boxes and two suitcases each. At first I didn’t think I could do it. My whole life, distilled down to two boxes and two suitcases? I managed, mostly, and it was easier than I thought, even with Ray breathing over my shoulder the whole time to make sure I didn’t contact anyone.

  I ended up having to leave behind most of my pretty boots, and I will never, ever forgive Angelo for that.

  It takes just over an hour for us to lose sight of the shore completely, and then it hits me again that I’m not going back. The realization has been coming in waves of despair, but until now I’ve been able to work through them. Not this time. I fall into the seat behind me and start to cry, not able to care if Angelo sees me or if I’m upsetting Bilda.

  The sea is rougher out here, jostling the little boat violently sometimes, and each time I hear Bilda cry out, but I can’t summon the energy to go back and comfort her. She’ll have to manage on her own for now.

  A part of me, the very small part that isn’t furious or heartbroken, is glad that I’m with her so that she won’t have to face this alone.

  We are well into hour two when I look up and see a flash of white from the corner of my eye. Staggering to my feet and holding onto the seat back for balance, I see another flash. I make my way carefully to the front of the boat and tap Angelo on the shoulder. “What is that?” I yell into his ear, regretting it instantly because his cologne smells all musk and yummy.

  He turns to where I’m pointing, and then yells back, “Hold on.” I do, and just in time because he’s turning the boat in the direction of the flash.

  It takes longer to get to it than I would have guessed, and when we do I see that it’s another boat, one that seems to be even smaller than the boat we’re on. I guess that it’s a sailboat, pretty and yellow, because of that tall mast thingy sticking up from the center of it, but I don’t really know. I don’t know a damned thing about boats, actually.

  I do know what panic looks like, though, and the woman on the front part of the vessel is waving frantic arms and showing plenty of it. As we slow, Angelo leans toward me. “Good eye, Trinket. That was a flare - they’re in trouble.”

  I nod, but keep my eyes on the woman. She reminds me
a little of Tawny, mainly because of her red hair and freckles, but she’s much taller, and she’s sobbing. We pull up alongside.

  “My husband - you have to help me!” She screams, dropping her arms a little so that it looks like she’s reaching for us now.

  “What happened?” Angelo yells back, leaning in her direction.

  “I think he’s having a heart attack.” Her face is ghost white, and the fear in her eyes pins me in place. Angelo puts both hands on my shoulders, turns me toward the back of the boat and points to what I thought was a cooler underneath Bumper’s cage. “Get the first aid kit from that box. Now,” he barks, then turns back to the wheel. I move fast, being careful because he’s trying to maneuver the boat closer. Bilda’s eyes are round as she watches us.

  Bumper clicks at me when I move his cage. It’s a sound I’ve never heard any other owl make, unique to him. I have no idea what it means, except that he only does it when I’m bothering him. Maybe it’s his way of cussing.

  Then I feel his nudge, a little tickle in my mind that tells me something’s up. I look at him, but he just blinks back and then closes his eyes.

  The first aid kit is right on top, and I bring it back to Angelo as he’s straddling the space between the two boats. “Good. Come on.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already gone to the other side. It takes me a few seconds to figure out what he did and follow, but then I’m in the woman’s boat. She grabs me in a huge hug, which freaks me out for a minute, and starts to cry harder. I pat her on the shoulder and try to peel her off of me, but she isn’t letting go.

  “You have to calm down,” I yell over the rumble of our motor and her screeching sobs.

  There is a reason I call myself an introvert. I’m really not good with people.

  Her husband is lying sprawled in the floor of the boat, amidst a bunch of netting and other debris, and he isn’t moving. Angelo has pushed his shirt up and is giving him CPR, but it doesn’t seem to be working. His skin is kind of white and purple. Not good.

  Angelo motions me over. “Use their radio to get the Coast Guard.”

  I stare at him, and then the radio mike dangling at the front of the boat. “I don’t know how,” I try to explain, but he’s already got his attention back on the man.

  I turn back to the woman. “We have to call the Coast Guard,” I yell into her ear. She nods.

  “I don’t know how to do that - you’ll have to show me.” I brace myself as a wave washes under the boat and rocks it.

  Giving her a concrete thing to do seems to help. She stops crying so hard and moves around the small space where her husband is still nonresponsive, then finds a button on the radio and pushes it before collapsing into a huddle on the floor near her husband’s head.

  I don’t know what else to do but sit beside her, but then I feel a familiar tingle under my ribcage.

  Nope. No way.

  Not going to happen.

  The tingle gets more insistent, and my fingertips start to glow. Not much, but still noticeable. I shove my hands into my jeans pockets. Too late.

  Both Angelo and the woman are staring at me. “This is bad,” Angelo says. “Can you...?”

  I’m shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”

  “He’s going to die if you don’t, Trinket.”

  The woman starts sobbing again.

  I feel helpless. I don’t want to let a man die, but the last time I tried to heal a heart it all ended horribly. “Please, Angelo? I can’t. What about the Coast Guard? She pushed that button thingy, so I guess that...what, calls them or something?”

  “It will take them time to get here. This man has no time. None.” His face is a mixture of distress and frustration. “If you don’t help, he’ll die.”

  My entire chest is pulsing with energy now, drawing me forward an inch at a time. When I get close enough that I can whisper to Angelo, I say, “If I do help, he might die.”

  He stares at me for a second, just shaking his head, and then an expression of full on disgust crosses his face. He turns away, back to the man.

  Why did that look hurt so bad? I try to explain. “Angelo, I accidently killed the last heart attack victim I tried to save.” I’m speaking low, so the woman can’t hear me. “I mean, he might have been fine. He might have survived before I intervened. It was a mistake, but I-.”

  All in one fluid motion, Angelo twists around to me, grabs my wrists in his hands and jerks me forward until my palms are covering the man’s cold, clammy chest. I cry out and try to pull back, but it’s too late. The magic inside of me rushes through my body, going to work.

  It’s bad. This man is almost gone, so close he can probably see the other side. I feel him using the energy from that spot I call my life force, drawing it rapidly through my palms and into himself. He’s using a lot of it, actually, so I try to slow him down and regulate the current, but it’s not happening. My hands glow bright against his skin, brighter than I’ve ever seen before. Somewhere inside of him, his dying body senses salvation and is grabbing all that it can.

  I’m just trying hard to not explode his heart with too much current at once.

  When he shudders and screams, I jerk my hands away, falling back into Angelo’s arms. His wife dives past me, oblivious to everything but her breathing, moving husband, and sobs against his chest. I don’t know if she saw the green glow or anything else, but at least she’s distracted by him and not staring at me.

  I collapse back against Angelo and cry, too, out of sheer terror, relief, and an adrenaline rush that is blowing me away.

  Six

  Someone is shaking me, and I open my eyes to see the looming face of Angelo, my new arch-nemesis. I groan and close my eyes again.

  “Thirty minutes,” he says softly. I wait for his warm hand to leave my shoulder, but it doesn’t, so I try to shrug it off.

  That doesn’t work either, so I growl, “Go away,” in my meanest voice.

  “Can we talk?” He moves, and I know he’s sitting down on the edge of the bench seat behind me. My headache was so bad after healing that man that I had to lie down, so he moved Bilda to the captain’s seat up front and ordered me to sleep.

  I can tell from the sound of the engines that we’re idling. “No.”

  “Please? I apologized about fifty times. I don’t know what else I can do besides offer you a deal.”

  My ears perk up at this, but I don’t let on. Maybe I can make him feel guilty enough that he’ll just turn the boat around and take us home.

  “I don’t deal with crooks,” I say. My voice sounds more tired than mean, though.

  “I’m not a crook. I was helping, Trinket. Can’t you see that?”

  This pisses me off and I push up from the seat and try to kill him with my eyes. “Help? You mean it’s OK for you to steal my power and help, but it’s not OK for my mother to use her power - freely - to help her friend feel better? That seems damned convenient, Angelo.” Since eyeball murder isn’t working, I flop back down and turn away from him.

  “I know. OK? You’re right.”

  “Then take us home.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then shut up and leave me alone.”

  I’ve already considered pushing him overboard and stealing the boat to run away, but then we’d just die out here because I don’t know how to work a boat. Then I thought about holding a gun to his head and forcing him to take us back, but his gun isn’t on his hip and I can’t find it anywhere on board. I even looked in that cooler thing when I put the first aid kit back, but there was nothing in there but sandwiches.

  My last thought before I fell asleep was to push that button doohickey on the radio, get the Coast Guard out here, and accuse him of kidnapping, but then this whole mess would come to light and my life would still be a shambles.

  All that’s left is pouting, and I’m doing that as hard as I can. It’s not working, because he’s still sitting here instead of driving us home.

  “I thought about your
deal,” he says. “I think it’s a good idea, especially because of what happened today, so I called in to talk to the director.”

  I turn toward him again. “I thought you were the director.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m agency head. I spoke with the director.”

  I roll my eyes. “Bureaucracy at its finest. Let me guess - you have forty-two vice presidents, too.” I don’t know why it irks me that his agency is just another bloated government program, but it does.

  “That doesn’t matter. Will you just listen to me and stop being so...weird?”

  This gets me up. I see Bilda watching us over her shoulder. She looks intrigued. Angelo looks nervous. “You want me to stop acting weird? Seriously?” My voice is going all shrill, but I can’t help it. “You don’t think this whole situation just screams weird, Angelo? How about let’s drop you on a deserted island in another dimension and see if you think it’s weird? How about that?”

  I’m poking him in the chest with one sharp fingernail now. “Let’s make you write goodbye letters to your...wife, or whatever, and tell her you’ll never see her again, but that’s OK, because some ASS has decided that you don’t have any rights. Would that be weird enough for you?” I’m so mad that I literally can’t see.

  And that’s when he kisses me. Softly, just a brush of his lips on mine. It’s enough to startle me, but not enough to calm me down, so I punch him in the chest. Behind me somewhere, Bilda gasps.

  “Ow!” He rubs where I hit him. “Why would you do that?”

  “One - I’m in love with somebody else. Two - you’re an ass, like I already said. Three - I don’t care how sexy you are, you cannot manipulate me like this. Keep your lips off, Mr. Angelo whoever-you-are.” I’m so mad that my voice is shaking. He’s trying to calm me down with a kiss?

  His smile is slow. “You think I’m sexy?”

  “Shut up.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but you were about to lose your mind there for a second.”

  “I am losing my mind.”

  “Will you just listen to me?”