Prelude to a Witch, Amanda Lee [ebook reader web txt] 📗

I shook my head. “No, but I’m going to find out. No matter how troubled Paisley was, nobody deserves to die like this.”

Chief Terry let loose a heavy sigh. “This is a mess.”

3

Three

Chief Terry stayed with the body to wait for the medical examiner while Landon and I made our way back to the Dragonfly.

“I really am sorry I had to bring you out here,” Landon offered in a quiet voice. “Terry didn’t want me to. I debated, but ... I felt it was important you see how she was staged before the medical examiner moved her.”

“You did the right thing,” I reassured him.

He linked his fingers with mine. “I don’t want you having nightmares because of this.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d brought up my bad dreams of late. It was clear he didn’t want to hurt me. I appreciated the sentiment but found it completely unnecessary. “I’m stronger than I look. Bad dreams won’t bring me down.”

“Bay, you’re the strongest person I know.” He pulled me to him for a hug right outside the door that led into the Dragonfly kitchen. “I just don’t like it when your dreams chase you.”

We had that in common. “It’s fine. Maybe what happened to Paisley explains why I’ve been having bad dreams.”

He pulled back to study my face. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve felt antsy the last week and a half. I thought it was because of Brian and Rosemary. What if they weren’t the reason?”

A scowl took over his face. “They’re reason enough to be upset. Don’t kid yourself on that front. I’m curious if you’re upset because you think you could’ve stopped this?”

“I really wasn’t thinking that. I guess maybe I should.”

He vigorously shook his head. “This isn’t on you. That’s not what I meant. In fact, I was saying the opposite. I hate when you blame yourself for things you can’t control.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Oh, please.” He slung his arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my forehead as he led me toward the inn. “I love you more than anything, but you always blame yourself for things you can’t control.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not.”

Everybody was in the kitchen, grouped around the small table opposite the counters. Somebody had put out quite a spread — doughnuts, cookies, cake and brownies — and Clove was elbow deep in sweets.

“It was horrifying,” Dad said. He hadn’t realized we were standing behind him. “I don’t understand why Landon feels the need to show her something like that.”

“Probably because Landon correctly ascertained that it was a ritual killing and we need to do some research,” I answered, feeling a small jolt of amusement at the way my father’s shoulders jumped.

“I didn’t realize you were back.” Dad hopped to his feet and glanced between us. “I thought you would be out there longer.”

“I don’t enjoy torturing your daughter by making her look at dead bodies for hours on end,” Landon muttered as he sank into one of the open chairs. “I wasn’t saying that,” Dad protested.

I growled, the sound cutting them off before they engaged in a full-on snipefest, and walked to the drawer at the end of the counter.

“What are you looking for?” Teddy asked, his brow creasing. “If you’re hungry, I can cook something for you – if you’re not interested in sweets.”

“If you are interested in sweets, you should get them now,” Thistle added. “Clove will devour them all soon.”

“I’m not hungry.” I flashed Teddy a smile I didn’t feel. “You guys had a notebook in here a couple weeks ago. I saw it when I was looking for something to jot down some information.”

“You need a notebook?” Teddy looked perplexed as he rummaged through a drawer until he came up with a yellow legal pad. “Will this do?”

“It will. Thank you.” I carried the pad to the table and sat next to Landon. “Can I have your pen?”

He removed it from his pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to draw the runes I saw.”

“I thought you were going to wait until I can get some luminol on those trees and take photos.”

“I’ll use that information when it comes through. Until then, I want to see if I can match the runes I saw on the trees with anything in the books we have.”

He rubbed my back before shifting his attention to my father. “I need you to tell me what happened this morning.”

Dad’s eyes were still on me. “It was just my normal routine. We go to that clearing once or twice a week to pick up after the kids who party there.”

“We should point out that nobody has been out there in almost two weeks,” Warren added, his eyes wide as he watched Clove scarf down a doughnut in record time. “Are you supposed to eat that much sugar?”

He obviously hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud because his cheeks colored when Clove fixed him with a death glare. “Eat whatever you want,” he said hurriedly.

Thistle’s smirk had Clove battling back tears.

“The baby is hungry,” Clove complained. “It’s not my fault that I’m eating for two.”

“You’re eating for ten,” Aunt Tillie countered, appearing in the doorway that led to the staircase. It was only then that I realized she hadn’t been sitting at the table. “You should be eating for one and a half. Per usual, though, you don’t think about what the future holds. You’re impulsive, like your mother, and you’re going to regret it when you have to drop fifty pounds in baby weight.”

Clove’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? I’ve only gained twenty pounds with this pregnancy.”

Even though I was intent on my sketching task, I jerked up my chin. “Twenty pounds?”

“In each thigh,” Thistle shot back.

“That’s not true!” Clove’s voice took on a shrillness I recognized as portending an imminent meltdown. If Thistle didn’t pull back immediately, Clove would make us pay.

Because she was Thistle, though, she refused to