Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6) Page 3

  “When my grandfather calls I always try to answer, but I’m not always here. There’s also the rare occasion when I have an important reporter in my office [we small town reporters love flattery, so keep it coming]. My grandfather doesn’t want a cell phone and he also doesn’t want to call mine. I’m out of the office a lot, but my grandfather and I still see each other almost every day. We have separate jobs at the company, but there’s still a lot of overlap,” Jasper explained as we chatted over coffee, gazing at the stunning view of Babbling Brook Lake out his office window.

  Jasper’s latest project is at the Iriswood Country Club. “The Club is old and famous. We’ve worked with them before on small things, but nothing as big as this project will be. They haven’t wanted to change their original architecture, but now it’s become a must. With my grandfather on the board we offered to help, and of course the Club accepted. We’re very excited,” Jasper explained.

  In particular, the Wolf Corporation is excited about the chance to update the old boathouse. It hasn’t been used in years, but once Jasper Wolf and his grandfather finish with it the boathouse will be a state of the art facility and a Jadestone destination.

  I shook my head. Okay, so Jasper’s decision not to destroy the Babbling Brook Barn had been a one-off, and he was still looking to tear down historic structures for commercial gain.

  Steamed, I set the paper aside.

  One article said he was single and the next said he was resuming his historical building-destroying ways. Well, if he thought I was going to stand for all of that, he had another thing coming!

  Aunt Harriet was due to return to Mintwood any day now. Not that I missed her or wanted her guidance or anything, but I couldn’t wait, especially with the threat of the Witches’ Council meeting hanging over my head. A big part of me wanted to get it over with right now and not have to wait a month to go before the witches, but apparently I had no choice in the matter.

  The next night, for comfort, I walked out of the farmhouse, through the field, and up the little hill to where my grandmother was buried. Seeing her ghost had cheered me up, and I wished I could do it again.

  “What are you doing up here?” Paws asked. It was early evening as I sat down in the grass near Evenlyn’s grave.

  “Checking on Evenlyn,” I told him.

  As usual there were fresh flowers on the grave that I hadn’t put there. Whoever my grandmother’s wealthy benefactor was, he still hadn’t come forward, nor had we managed to catch him on his secret visits to her grave.

  The flowers were white and I leaned over to smell them.

  “It’s pleasant out here. Not as comfortable as the porch, mind you, but then again there isn’t the threat of anything falling down,” said the cat, doing his best to break the mood.

  “The porch is fine,” I growled.

  “You should have a contractor look at it. If only you knew one.” Paws pretended to think while I rolled my eyes.

  “Are you talking about Jasper?” I said.

  “No, the moon,” said Paws. “Yes, Jasper.”

  “He hasn’t said anything about it.” Part of me wished he would, and another part of me was relieved that he hadn’t.

  “Of course he isn’t going to say anything unless you ask. He’s polite that way,” said Paws.

  “Are you complimenting him?” I was skeptical any time Paws said anything nice about anyone.

  “Sure, it’s easy to compliment those Witch Hunters,” said the cat, grinning with all his teeth.

  “Jasper is a Witch Hunter?” I asked quickly.

  It had taken me a while to realize that Paws knew more about the witching world than he let on. He had hidden my grandmother’s wand from me and had known that a threat from the Witches’ Council wasn’t as scary as all that. But sometimes getting information out of him was like pulling teeth.

  “He comes from a family of Witch Hunters,” said Paws.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” I informed him.

  When Paws didn’t say anything I looked at him more closely. “You don’t know, do you? The great Paws doesn’t know something. I’m shocked.”

  “You can’t expect me to know everything all the time,” said the cat. He had started to circle the top of the little hill, sniffing at everything.

  “Sure I can,” I said. What I didn’t add was that he had so far.

  “The Witch Hunters are different,” said Paws. He obviously regretted having gone down this road, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook now that he had.

  “How are they different?” The issue of the Witches’ Council was fresh in my mind, but to me the Witch Hunter business was part of it as well. The more information I had about this whole world I was supposed to be a part of the better, and that certainly included anyone who might be hunting me.

  “Their ghosts don’t associate with other ghosts and they definitely don’t associate with witches. They keep to themselves. It’s hard to get information about them,” said Paws.

  “So they’re a mysterious secret society?” I said.

  “I think mysterious and secret are redundant there,” said Paws.

  “Don’t change the subject,” I said. “What you’re telling me is that we don’t know anything about Witch Hunters.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m telling you at all. We know a little bit, just not much,” said the cat.

  I sighed. “Okay, what do we know?”

  “We know that they hunt witches,” said Paws.

  He had me there.

  I looked out over the field. “That leaves a lot of unanswered questions,” I informed him. “We need to find out more.”

  “Why?” he said.

  “How am I supposed to protect the farmhouse if we don’t know more? What if we can get the Witch Hunters to go after Ellie?”

  “That sounds complicated. You grandmother didn’t like complicated. She mostly just tried to let things shake out and hoped for the best,” said Paws.

  “Grandma lived in a simpler time. She wasn’t worried about the Witches’ Council, and from what everyone has said Ellie was mostly not around. Now Ellie is somewhere nearby, and I seem to be the only one who’s worried about it,” I said.

  “Other witches might be worried about it too,” said Paws.

  “You think so?” I said.

  “Nah, actually, it’s unlikely,” said the cat. “Witches mostly keep to themselves. You’re probably on your own.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes while I digested the information I had just heard. Paws didn’t know anything about Witch Hunters. Harriet had known a little, in fact she had taken me to speak with their ghosts, though they hadn’t been exactly friendly. But the questions about Jasper still hovered in the back of my mind. Who was he, really? And did I even want to know?

  “Come with me,” said Paws, breaking into my reverie. He trotted away and I followed him back toward the house obediently. But the cat didn’t stop at the house; he was leading me toward the Beetle.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he hopped into the car, obviously expecting me to get in and take him somewhere. I glanced uneasily at the house, which we were about to leave empty since Greer was working and Charlie was having dinner with her parents.

  “Witch Hunters are everywhere these days,” he explained.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Paws didn’t answer, he just started directing me where to drive.

  We took a road out of Mintwood toward Caedmon, one I didn’t use much. The trees hung low and the branches felt like skeletons. The moon was barely visible through the trees, and I wished Paws hadn’t brought me out here at night.

  “You always have to watch out for Witch Hunters. Turn here,” instructed the cat.

  A chill went down my spine at the explicit caution from Paws. His attitude had been inconsistent, but it was no trouble at all for him to make the fear flare up in my heart.

  After we turned onto a dirt road, the driving became slow a
nd bumpy.

  The trip was reminding me that everything sounded loud when you were trying to be sneaky. The Beetle’s old engine thundered and the tires were heavy and grating. I found myself wincing and wishing for silence as we attempted to creep silently nearer to . . . wherever we were going.

  “Where on earth are you taking me? Are we still in Mintwood?” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. It would be just my luck to have a deer run out in front of me and make me crash the car in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a ghost cat for assistance.

  At this point I only kind of knew where we were, but I made an educated guess. “Is this The Bear Cove?”

  “Yup,” said Paws.

  I was shocked. “No one comes here,” I said.

  Trees closed us in from the left and from the right. The rolling of my stomach reminded me that just behind those shields were summer houses that I couldn’t see, but right at the moment I felt very alone. Since there was no light shining through any of the branches—such as, for instance, light through a living room window—there was indeed a chance that no one was out here tonight.

  Back when I’d been in high school kids had talked about Bear Cove in hushed tones. There were a few cabins that were rented to summer folks, but otherwise the whole place was thought to be haunted.

  “Are any of the cabins still even used?” I asked, fighting the urge to whisper.

  “Yes, but they don’t want you to know that,” said Paws ominously.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” I whispered.

  “You shouldn’t,” said the cat.

  “Why are we here then?” I asked.

  “Because you said you needed more information. Here’s everything I know. Witch Hunters are real and they’re looking for you. They also have a meeting place. It’s Bear Cove.”

  My mouth went dry and I risked a glance at the cat. “And you led me here? I don’t even have my wand.”

  I was suddenly nearly shouting, and the fact that Paws was still looking calm only increased my agitation.

  “You aren’t going to confront them, so calm down. You should always have your wand with you, though,” the cat chided me.

  “I just thought I was going to the back field,” I muttered.

  “Even there you should have it. What if Ellie stops by for a visit?” Paws asked. “You probably want to turn your lights off,” he added.

  “No way,” I told him.

  “But seriously. If you don’t, we’re likely to get caught,” he said.

  “I like how you say ‘we’ as if you aren’t already a ghost,” I grumbled. What he meant was that I was likely to get caught, and he had a point. That just wasn’t acceptable.

  Caught by whom was an entirely different question.

  In order to appease Paws and because I was getting more frightened by the minute, I turned my headlights off.

  Plunged into the deep dark of the Maine woods at night, I slowed the car to a crawl. The Beetle was still noisy, but at least the lights weren’t beaming around every turn announcing our presence.

  There was a thin patch between the trees were I could see a scattering of stars, but otherwise everything looked black.

  As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I tried to tell myself that there must be some reason why this was a good idea.

  “Here! Park here!” cried Paws, suddenly sitting forward. He was pointing to the right, toward the water.

  “Where? There’s nothing there,” I said, peering through the darkness. I really needed to clean my windshield.

  “That road,” Paws said. I skidded to a halt. A large tree was hiding the entrance to a dirt road. “You can’t even tell that’s there,” I scoffed.

  “You saw it and stopped. Now turn,” said Paws.

  I did as I was ordered, but I wasn’t happy about it. The car rolled to a gentle stop and I was relieved when I could shut the engine off.

  The dirt road was short and veered steeply to the right again. As soon as I started to turn, I saw a small ramshackle cottage at a bit of a distance from where we were standing.

  “The place looks like it’s falling down.” I was appalled.

  “You know no one comes up here anymore, right?” said Paws.

  “If we’re the only ones up here, why did we come?” I said.

  “We aren’t the only ones up here,” said Paws.

  Carefully I parked the car. My eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and I could just make out an overgrown path that led to the house. I followed Paws to the door, and at his nod I tried the knob. Despite the overall disrepair of the place, the door was securely locked.

  “We don’t need to go inside,” said the ghost.

  “Then why did you have me try the door?”

  “Would you believe it amuses me to see you fail at things?” said Paws.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Having failed to get inside the cottage, the cat decided that our next move was to peer over the bushes that extended from one corner of the building to see what was behind them.

  Lo and behold, behind them were several men in dress pants and black shirts, dimly lit by a small fire in a fire pit. They looked intense. Instinctively, I dropped lower behind the bushes that screened us from them.

  “Who are those people?” I whispered to the cat.

  “Witch Hunters. It’s open season on witches,” he said. He kept his voice low even though the humans wouldn’t have been able to hear him no matter how loud he shouted.

  I swallowed hard. “We have to find the witch who’s been terrorizing us,” said one of the men. They all wore capes and large brimmed hats, so I couldn’t see their faces.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a problem like this or a foe like this,” said another man. He sounded older and he spoke as if he knew he was in charge.

  “We must act,” a younger voice cried. “Otherwise it’ll be too late.”

  “Quiet, do you hear that? I don’t think we’re alone.” The one who seemed older than the others turned his head and looked straight toward where Paws and I were hiding.

  “We’re caught! I can’t take you anywhere! Why were you loud and yelling!” Paws was positively frantic, so much so that he did the most cat thing possible, he started running in circles chasing his own tail.

  Without a word I crouched lower and didn’t move. Without my wand, out here alone with crazy next to me, I didn’t stand a chance if they actually found me.

  The dark and hooded figure stared into the woods for a long time.

  “I don’t see or hear anything. You’re getting old,” said one of the young ones.

  “I am old, and I’ve survived this long by being cautious and not foolish,” said the suspicious one.

  “Yes, Fox, which is why we’re going to hunt the witch for the first time in such a long time,” the young one continued.

  Fox said, “Squirrel, we haven’t hunted in years for good reason. All has been quiet and the witches have not been a problem. Now that’s changing, and we must act.”

  Squirrel had heard this answer before and didn’t like it any better this time. “We should have acted long ago.”

  Ridiculous code names, I thought. But then I had to get back to listening.

  “It’s probably just a deer,” said Fox.

  “Probably,” said Squirrel. “And we have more important problems to worry about.”

  Deciding that there was nothing else for it, I lay down on my belly. The ground was cold and I felt dirt scrape against my palms, but at least now there was no way they could see me.

  Paws calmed down long enough to offer a caution, pointing out—rather unnecessarily, I thought—”If they walk over here they’ll step on you.”

  I glared at him.

  The men soon returned to talking, keeping their voices even lower than before.

  Unable to hear the softer voices and having stayed as long as I dared, I carefully began to push my way backward. It was slow going, and after a few good wiggles I wa
s forced to get back into a crouch, since moving through the forest backwards and on the ground turned out to be impossible. Or at least impossible to do silently.

  Just as I got up into a squat, the men went inside and I felt that I could get up and head for the Beetle safely, if I was quiet enough. Without hesitating I followed Paws out of the woods and back to the car.

  Okay, I’ll be honest, I ran.

  Chapter Five

  The night before felt like a dream, one where a crazy ghost cat could convince you to do something, and in a moment of foolishness you actually did it. Paws had taken me to some faraway lake where Witch Hunters gathered to discuss their trade, and those same witch hunters had almost caught me scrambling through the forest to get away from them.

  Neither Greer nor Charlie were any the wiser about our adventure, and I intended to keep it that way. If they knew I’d gone off in the dead of night and spied without them, Charlie would be downright angry, and Greer wouldn’t be thrilled either.

  I had learned something from the adventure, but I wasn’t sure it was enough or what good it did me. At least I knew that Witch Hunters hadn’t been trying to find witches lately, but given that they were getting organized again, that was scant comfort.

  Still, I couldn’t think about any of that at the moment anyhow. I had declared to my housemates that I wanted to get away from Mintwood and all the craziness, and I was about to do just that.

  By going to that bastion of normality, a wealthy country club.

  The day of departure had arrived. Charlie was walking around with the sun shining down on her blond hair while Greer carried a storm cloud overhead. She walked around slamming doors and setting cups down on the counter so hard I thought they’d break, and her bad mood was contagious. To try to protect myself from it I decided to get coffee with Liam before we left for the weekend, partly because I hadn’t seen him lately but mostly just to get out of the house. We had all gotten up so early that I felt like I had plenty of time.