Page 10 of Silk Skullduggery (Haven Hollow #40)

Maybe it was a symptom of having a teenage child, but Poppy was always sending these little, annoying pictographs in her texts. And I’d have to spend way too much time deciphering what I was reading—like understanding hieroglyphics.

The message was odd enough in and of itself, but not a single little floating heart? Something was wrong.

I stepped back out of the great room before any of the others had even noticed I was there. I only went as far as the hallway before I was dialing Poppy’s number.

It took three rings for her to pick up, and I was already planning out what I would do if it went to voicemail, because I was ready to drive over to her farmhouse if she didn’t answer. Maybe the text was a coded message meant to alert me to something?

But then the line picked up and a dull, almost unidentifiable voice croaked, “Hello?”

“Poppy? Is that you?” the phone creaked in my grip. I’d never heard her sound like that before.

The little laugh that slipped out had my pulse slowing back down to reasonable ranges. That was definitely a Poppy laugh.

“Yeah, it’s me. Who else would it be?”

“You just—don’t sound like you.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry about not being there tonight, Wanda, but I’m feeling really sick. I think it’s the flu. My whole-body aches.”

“Hmm, sounds like the flu,” I said, like a liar, because I was a witch and had never even had a sniffle in my life that wasn’t brought on by a crying jag. “Do you need something?”

“I should be okay.” I heard cloth rustle as she shifted, and then a low groan. “Finn is making me soup, so we’ll see how that goes.”

It was incredible how someone could sound cheerful and dubious at the same time.

“Tell him to call me if you need anything for any reason. I’m sure I could find someone to drop something off, if need be.” I folded my arms, trying to sound aloof.

“I could try to make it.”

“No,” I nearly barked. “You just rest. You wouldn’t be of any use here anyway, not in your condition.”

“Thanks, Wanda,” she said, and her tone was actually sincere instead of sarcastic. Intolerable. “Andre is going to come by and give Finn a hand with things while I’m resting. I think we’ll be okay.”

Well, that was alright, then. I knew Finn would do his best. He was as gratingly compassionate as his mother, but he was still only fifteen, a veritable infant. He couldn’t be expected to do it all himself.

Andre was alright. He was human, but he was also a Magician, and another one of those disgusting do-gooder types. He was also Poppy’s soulmate, literally, so I supposed that he might actually be good enough for her. I was keeping an eye on him, though, because Poppy hadn’t exactly had the best luck in her love life to date, and I wasn’t about to stand back and watch her get hurt. Not while I was around.

Though, if the universe itself thought Andre was her match, well. I’d give him a chance.

“Alright,” I said, and I absolutely did not sound reluctant. “But I’m only a text message away.”

The laugh that echoed down the line was weaker than normal, a bit threadbare, but still Poppy. “I’ll remember.”

I hung up the phone and stowed it away. Honestly, friends could be so needy. It was always something or another. The urge to go and physically check on Poppy was as strong as it was annoying.

Imani passed by the door to the great room and caught sight of me. “Oh, Wanda, there you are.”

“Here I am.” I stepped back into the room and faced the gathered coven. Well, most of it.

“Vhat eez eet you need us for?” Olga gently took her yarn away from Franz, who gave a creepily high-pitched little giggle. She set the rest of her knitting down to focus.

Betanya had turned towards me, too, Maverick was leaning against the fireplace mantel, looking brooding and Byronic, and I absolutely would have made fun of him for it on any other day. Sadly, I had other things to worry about at the moment.

I hefted the plastic shopping bag in which I’d stashed what was left of the silk when I’d grabbed it from the shop. “I need you all to help me take a look at something.”

***

There was something so special about doing a full circle ritual. Maybe it was the gravitas of the fire, of being outside with the night sky overhead and the moon looking down on us. The breeze in the trees in the back yard, or the incense that Betanya had tossed into the fire, mixing the smoke with a heavy sweetness.

Maybe it was just that, when I first became a Blood Witch and was kicked out of the Crescent Circle Coven, I thought I might never have this again. A coven was a huge part of being a witch. We were always stronger together, and the coven bonds meant that we could boost one anothers power, in times of need. A coven meant community, teaching, guidance, support.

At least, in theory.

That was the ideal. That was what I’d wanted to build in my own coven. In practice, most covens had a tendency to devolve into vicious backbiting, jockeying for power, and a whole lot of prejudice.

So, it meant a lot to take my seat by the fire, and have the others sit with me; a former Blood Witch, a disgraced teacher, a current Blood Witch, and even a Blood Warlock, alongside Imani, who was powerful in her own right and could have gone to any coven she chose, but she came to us because she believed in what we were trying to build here. It meant everything.

It was still hard for me to ask for help. For a long time, admitting to not understanding something was to open myself up to ridicule, or even a loss of status in the coven. I was the High Witch, but here I was, going to the others because I didn’t have one clue what the spell was going on in this town.

Trust. That was what it came down to.

So, I gently took the silk, what was left of it anyway, from its plastic bag, and I laid it on the bare earth by the firepit.

Mostly, everyone looked confused. Maverick, who had at least some idea of what was going on, made a face like he smelled something rancid.

“Wow.” He shook his head at the sad little pile of silk scraps and threads. “How much did Rowe pay for that again?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled, and cleared my throat. “The short story is that he bought the silk at an auction. I cut it for a pattern, and it started decaying and falling apart within seconds. Before that, it was enchanted with protection magic. So, I want to know what is up with it and why this happened.”

I hesitated. I didn’t know anything, that was the problem. I had suspicions, but they were just shy of ridiculous. Why would an ancient piece of cloth be connected to a curse that was killing people in town? It didn’t make any sense, and I didn’t have any proof, except for an odd bit of magical sensory issues.

I didn’t want to sway anyone with my theories.

But they also couldn’t help without all the information.

This honesty stuff was irritating as hell. I blamed Poppy.

“There’s more.” I chewed my lower lip, rolling the skin between my teeth.

Maverick’s brows flew up at the tell, and I forced myself to stop. I didn’t need him knowing how anxious I was about this.

The wind picked up, and the fire guttered before flaring up. I had to slap my hand down on the silk to keep it from blowing away. The sticky feeling of the threads made me want to go wash my hands.

It was about trust.

With the moon shining down, gilding the grass and trees in silver, it was easier to breathe. Out in the yard, backing onto the forest, it was easier to relax, to pull the night air into my lungs, and bask in the presence of the Goddess.

“Maverick knows about this already, at least partly.” I paused, picking my words carefully. All I had were hunches, after all. I didn’t want to present all of it like it was facts.

“There have been two deaths in Haven Hollow so far, and I can’t get into the specifics about those deaths because it’s an active investigation,” I hurried to add when Maverick opened his mouth to protest. He was very protective of his job of acting as Taliyah’s magical backup. Then again, it was as rare for Taliyah to trust someone, really trust them, as it was for me to.

Maybe rarer.

“The point is that two people have died, and a third came very, very close to it. I have reason to believe that the deaths, and the almost death, are related. And I can’t help but be extremely suspicious that the first death happened on the night that I first cut into the silk.”

There were a lot of puzzled looks around the circle, and people exchanging glances. Maverick’s eyes were narrowed, and he watched the pile of silk like it might jump up and bite someone. When the shadows cast by the fire flickered, his fingers flexed like he was ready to cast.

What a sad state of affairs my life was when the fact that Maverick believing me instantly made something soft flutter in my chest.

Get it together, Wanda.

Betanya frowned. “What makes you think the two things are related?”

It was a very neutral question. She wasn’t being dismissive, which was a relief. I still had the reflexive feeling of defensiveness when an older witch questioned me, but Betanya was obviously just asking for clarification. That was fair enough.

“This is going to sound stupid,” I warned them. “I know that. Even I think it’s foolish. But I had a chance to look over the young woman who was almost the third victim, and the magic was this sticky, greedy, clinging thing. Getting it off her was like peeling strand after strand of spider web off a fly. And, well…”

I pressed my hand down onto the silk again, and when I Iifted it, my palm still flat towards the ground, a bunch of the loose threads had stuck fast, only letting go when gravity got the better of them.

Olga made a face, and Franz crept a little closer. The raccoon gave the silk a sniff, sneezed, and ran and hid behind Olga.

Betanya frowned, pensive.

Imani glanced around the circle before turning back to me, her face serious. “Well, then. Shall we get started?”

Something inside me that I’d been holding tense relaxed at her words. I looked around the circle, meeting everyone’s eyes, and nodded.