Storm a-Brewin' Read online

  But she did. She dismissed my question with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, who cares. It came with the house.”

  Came with the house? I knew a lot of people were different in public than they were in private, but her current behavior ran completely counter to what I knew about her. The Hyacinth I knew never shut up, was proud of her elvish lineage, and would never put so little thought into the room of her house where she planned on entertaining guests. Was she sick?

  Or was she possessed?

  I looked for signs of possession, but the most obvious one was all but ruled out when I leaned forward to get a look at her eyes. Her irises were purple—I wasn’t usually that observant of eye color, but the deep violet of elf eyes is hard to forget. And when I checked hers now, I saw they were … deep violet. So, unless she was being possessed by the spirit of another elf, which seemed slim odds, it didn’t seem like she was possessed.

  Maybe James had found out about the affair. Maybe she was sulking because she was in the doghouse with her husband. Before I jumped to that conclusion, which also condemned Ansel, I decided to seek out other clues of a possible possession.

  When a person was possessed by a spirit, that spirit had access to the mind and memories of its host. Unfortunately, memory tended to be stored in a bit of a haphazard fashion in the mind, and while the spirit may eventually find the correct response, it could take a little time before arriving there.

  The trick was to ask the right question. That held for just about every situation in life, but especially for possession. The question had to ask for a specific piece of information the person didn’t already have at the front of their mind, so to speak, but it needed to be some tidbit they would normally be able to recall in an instant. For instance, if I’d asked Ruby the color of her favorite tea kettle (copper) or Tanner what stone was in the core of his wand (tiger’s eye) or Grim what was our rule about sleeping arrangements (only on the bed if invited, and then only at the foot of the bed so I can slip my toes underneath him, and under no circumstance is he to lick his privates in the small space). Those are all things each individual isn’t thinking about constantly, but if asked, they know exactly where to find the information. And it’s also not common knowledge.

  I tried to think of one for Hyacinth. Outside of our gossip at Medium Rare (her gossip, my listening and trying to find ways to extricate myself), I didn’t actually know that much about her, let alone anything that fit the criteria for checking on possession.

  And before I could settle on something, James returned with the tea. “Ah, here you go,” he said, more engaged and congenial than I’d ever seen him—no copy of the Eastwind Watch shoved in his face, no automatic “mm-hmm” when his wife asked him if he agreed with her.

  He set the tray on a low coffee table made of a highly polished tree trunk. As he began pouring for each of us, he said, “So, what brings you here tonight? I don’t suppose you’ve come by to tell us who the fifth witch of your circle is.” He grinned, and I looked over at Hyacinth who appeared alarmingly disinterested in the topic.

  Maybe she was high. Did Eastwind have drugs? Surely there was something like it over at the Pixie Mixie. Stella and Kayleigh Lytefoot were always so relaxed about everything …

  “Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said, pulling my eyes from Hyacinth’s bored expression to grab my teacup. It was only as I was bringing it toward my lips that I realized I really wasn’t in the mood for it, and I paused.

  I’d never been a fan of tea before coming to Eastwind. I was more of a coffee-all-day type of gal—it was necessary for the lifestyle I was trying to maintain.

  But I’d grown a soft spot for it in this town, and I wasn’t stupid; tea was seen as so much more than a drink here. It was a ritual. It was something you did with friends. Not unlike social drinking, except you didn’t make bad decisions after one too many cups of hot tea. Or if you did, you couldn’t blame it on the drink.

  But when I caught a whiff of the tea’s honey-sweet aroma, I decided I could suck it up, figuratively, so I could suck it up literally.

  It tasted even better than it smelled. A light rose hip base with notes of lavender and vanilla. “Where did you get this?” I asked. “I have to swap it out with the stuff Ruby makes.”

  “Glad you like it,” said James. “I can make more if you’d like.”

  “Oh, no thanks.” I’d almost forgotten why I’d come. It wasn’t to discover a new favorite tea. Although if this whole visit proved fruitless for my intended purpose, that would be a nice takeaway to make the walk in the rain seem worth it. I took another long sip, inhaling the flavor. “I came because I had a few questions, and, um, this is sort of awkward … The other day, did I see you—”

  He held up a gentle hand and nodded. “You’re wondering why I was following you.”

  “I’m more wondering why you ran.”

  I glanced at Hyacinth, who sighed heavily like this was all very burdensome.

  “It was Grim,” he said. “I’ve always thought he didn’t like me, and since I’m a werewolf, I can read canine body language well. From what I could make out in the rain, he was exhibiting very aggressive body language, and I was in no mood to have it out with a hellhound.”

  “Ah. Okay.” It made a flimsy kind of sense. At least, I couldn’t poke any major holes in it right away. I took another sip of the tea and added, “Then the next obvious question is the one you mentioned: why were you following me in the first place?”

  His friendly and open demeanor changed then, and he crossed an ankle over his other knee and stared down at his cup. “I’m, um, embarrassed to say this, but”—his eyes flashed briefly to his wife—“sorry, buttercup. I just don’t want her to think I’m a creep.”

  Hyacinth finally leaned forward to grab her tea and blew him off. “Say whatever you want. Doesn’t matter what she thinks, does it?”

  I jerked my head back, feeling like she’d just slapped me. This was a new level of rude for her. It was also a new level of bluntness. Hyacinth dealt in backhanded compliments and concealed jabs. But that, that was just mean.

  To James’s credit, while he didn’t chide her, he did have the decency to look embarrassed on her behalf. “I was following you from Medium Rare because I’d hoped you might be heading to meet up with the North Wind.”

  I didn’t have to ask which North Wind he meant.

  “We just bought this house,” he continued, “and it’s in quite a bit better neighborhood than our last and nearly twice the size. The reward money would have gone a long way toward helping us pay it off.”

  His apologetic cringe didn’t make me any less annoyed at what I was hearing. “You were ready to put me and four other witches in grave danger of a mob storming our homes because you can’t afford your mortgage?”

  He sighed. “I know, it’s so selfish. I’m so ashamed.”

  While his story seemed to explain why he followed me and, possibly, Hyacinth’s spying at Rainbow Falls, there was still the sticky subject of Ansel to address, not to mention the fact that Tanner said he’d seen me there the night before and I had no memory of it.

  It was only because I wanted more information from him that I refrained from chewing him out like he deserved. “I understand, James. I’ve had money troubles like that, too, and I’m a little embarrassed about some of the things I did.” It was a lie. Maybe I’d been poor as a teen, when I first left my horrible aunt’s house to live on my own, but it didn’t take a lot of money to be comfortable at that age. And even if it had, I wouldn’t have sold out my friends.

  You know, if I’d had time for friends.

  And then my life had passed in a flash of workaholism and money I didn’t know how to spend. And then I died. Not ideal, but better than trying to ruin five people’s lives for a quick buck.

  “Thank you for understanding,” he said, still staring down at his teacup.

  “There are a few more things I’m curious about,” I said, but before I could continue, I felt t
hat sudden urge that hit all at once, the kind only created by drinking too much tea.

  My bladder was set to explode. Was this how Grim felt ninety percent of the time?

  “Um, before I get into it … restroom?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He stood abruptly. “This way.”

  It seemed like an opportune enough time for a break. While his confession had certainly made things uncomfortable between us, we were on okay terms. However, things might get a little heated once I started asking Hyacinth why she was romancing another man in their new home, and doing that on a full bladder seemed ill-advised.

  The doors on either side of the hallway were all closed, except for one that was wide open. Inside was nothing but a mattress and some blankets on the floor. Surely, that wasn’t their bedroom. If I’d imagined a thousand different setups for Hyacinth Bouquet’s bedroom, none of them would have been that.

  But before I could consider it fully, James said, “There you are,” and pointed at the door at the very end of the hallway.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying not to give away how weird it was that he felt the need to walk me all the way down to the bathroom. Was he worried I’d snoop in the other rooms? Was there something I wasn’t supposed to see behind the doors we’d passed?

  But when I opened the bathroom door and began searching for a light switch to the dark space, I found out the hard way why he’d ushered me all the way down the hall. And it wasn’t what was behind the doors we’d passed.

  It was what I found when I opened the bathroom door…

  Chapter Nineteen

  I hardly had time to say, “What the spell?” before James shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled forward, but it wasn’t a magical shower or a sink or even a toilet that broke my fall.

  In fact, nothing broke my fall, not right away. As he pushed me forward, I tried to step forward to catch my balance, but where the floor should have been was … nothing.

  By the time my boot found the step below, it was too late to adjust my balance, and I slid feet-first down the wooden stairs into the pitch-black basement, landing hard at the bottom. My tailbone throbbed and I sucked in air once the pain from my twisted ankle registered.

  I managed to turn just enough to see James silhouetted in the doorway a moment before it shut and I was left in complete darkness.

  For a moment, I was too stunned to charge back up the stairs and kick the door down if need be. I was also worried about how things might escalate with James. If he was willing to push me down the stairs, what else would he do to keep me down here?

  And why was I down here in the first place? I must have found out something he didn’t want me to know. Or maybe I was getting too close to the truth. But what was the end game? Surely, people would come looking for me. Did he plan on keeping me down here alone until I died?

  Except, I wasn’t alone.

  “Nora?” came a deep voice I recognized immediately.

  “Ansel?” A few small windows toward the ceiling that opened to the grass outside allowed just enough light in that my eyes adjusted and I spotted the werebear’s bulky frame. He approached slowly, and I wasn’t sure if I was safe with him. I wasn’t sure about much anymore.

  “They got you, too, huh?” The question had a hopelessness behind it, like maybe they would get everyone eventually.

  “How long have you been down here?” I asked.

  Another man’s voice from the shadows said, “Not as long as me.”

  Okay, now I was confused. Because I could have sworn I just heard James Bouquet’s voice coming from the shadows.

  And sure enough, as I stepped deeper into the open space of the basement the dark shapes of even more huddled figures appeared, and the one who’d spoke was definitely James. And next to him … “Hyacinth?!”

  I could just make out the light-colored blanket she lay on next to her husband, who sat with his knees pulled toward his chest. “Yes, it’s me,” she said mournfully. “Not exactly the shape I like to be seen in, but there’s nothing for it. Oh, just wait until Willamena hears about the state I’m in. I’ll never live it down!”

  This was definitely the Hyacinth I knew. But how was she in two places at once?

  And then it clicked. “Fang’s and claws,” I hissed. “Those people up there. They’re not possessed, they’re—”

  “Doppelgängers,” came the small voice of Quinn Shaw from the wall behind me, making me jump.

  “Who all is down here?” I said, squinting. It was almost impossible to tell which dark shapes were people and which were lamps and old furniture.

  Ansel answered. “The four of us, you, and Darius.”

  “Hey, Nora,” said Darius Pine sulkily from a spot a few feet away from Quinn.

  “But how did you all end up here?”

  “I—I really can’t remember everything,” said Ansel. “But I do know I was on the way to Sheehan’s to apologize to Jane for being an ass, when James stopped me and …” He shook his head. “I think he invited me over to see the new house, and I couldn’t refuse …”

  “I never stopped you,” said James. “It wasn’t me.”

  Before I could ask how that was possible, Darius piped up. “Mine was basically that. Pretty straightforward. I ran into James and he asked me if I wanted to go check out his new place. And then …”

  “I told you,” said James, “it wasn’t me. Stop using my name.”

  “And how did you two end up down here?” I asked, addressing James.

  He frowned. “I’m not entirely sure. I think we’ve been down here for quite a while. Sometimes I think I can remember how it happened, but then it just doesn’t make sense. It’s all very confusing.”

  At least we agreed on that. “Next question, and this is a big one: why are you still down here?” I directed the question mostly to Ansel and Darius, both of whom had muscles to spare and could easily smash down the door, kick some doppelgänger hide, and run free.

  “Enchantment I think?” Ansel scratched his head. “Or maybe … Wait. Who said there was an enchantment again?” He scanned the rest of the captives.

  “I thought you did,” said Quinn. “I think I remember you saying you tested the door and it was enchanted.”

  “Nooo,” said Ansel. “I never said that.”

  “How is it enchanted?” I asked. “I thought doppelgängers couldn’t do magic.”

  Ansel didn’t seem to hear me as he turned a slow circle, as if looking for something he’d misplaced. “I think it was … wait. Where are we?”

  “The door can’t be enchanted,” I said again. “It must just be locked, and we have two werebears. Surely, we can …” Surely, we can … what? What had I been thinking just a moment before? I was already losing the thread.

  Oh yes. The door was enchanted. Or, no, wait. The door wasn’t enchanted and … really, the whole situation made less sense as the seconds ticked on.

  Why was this so confusing?

  “We’re in a basement,” I said, trying to keep things straight. “I think we are, at least.” I had a memory of being outside of the basement in a living room drinking tea and … then what?

  My bladder did me the service of reminding me. I’d had to pee, so I walked to the bathroom …

  Ansel yawned and returned to a mass of blankets against the wall under the slivers of window. “I think I’ll lie down just for a minute.”

  Man, that sounded good. My eyes were drooping, growing heavier. I knew I should fight whatever this was, but the reason for it was becoming fuzzier and fuzzier.

  Speaking of fuzzy, Darius Pine, curled on his side on an old sheet, crooked arm tucked under his head for support, looked like an incredible big spoon. Would he mind if I shared that sheet just for a little bit? I was so tired.

  No, Nora! This isn’t right! Something’s going on! Don’t lie down!

  I blinked my eyes and with some effort scrambled to pull the pieces back together, battling whatever influence was clouding my mind. I was talking with James and
Hyacinth upstairs—but they were down here now.

  Doppelgängers. Right. And we were trapped down here by an enchantment.

  Not an enchantment. Doppelgängers can’t do magic.

  As I snuggled down in front of Darius on his musty blanket (he hardly seemed to notice), the answer came to me. Unfortunately, by that time I wasn’t sure what it was the answer to: anyone can brew a potion.

  I reached behind me, grabbing Darius’s tree trunk arm and pulling it over me for warmth. Even as I could feel my consciousness lifting blissfully away, making room for the blanket of sleep, I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I knew it in my bones. My Insight was screaming, “You have to get out! Now!” But I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to. Or why.

  Darius grunted in his sleep behind me, and in my haze, I imagined it was Tanner nestling into my neck, sleeping hard after a long night on the job …

  And then I was out.

  Chapter Twenty

  I had the strangest dream.

  I dreamed I was in the pouring rain, facing up toward the clouds as the first beams of dawn broke through them in the distance. And in this dream, I could hardly move. My blood felt like lead, weighing down every inch of me. But I didn’t have to move, because someone’s strong arms were carrying me.

  And in this dream, when I looked up to see who it was, I smiled. The overwhelming sense of dread and despair that surrounded me disappeared as soon as I saw Tanner’s beautiful hazel eyes.

  But he didn’t smile back. A deep crevice ran between his dirty-blond brows as he looked me up and down.

  And he was yelling something. I couldn’t quite make it out. It sounded like …

  “Nora! Nora! Can you hear me?”

  I tried to speak, but no words came out.

  “Nora! Say something!”

  When he placed a hand on my cheek, and I felt the warmth against my skin, I knew instantly: this wasn’t actually a dream.

  Yet it still didn’t feel completely real.