Page 52 of Witch and Tell

Worse, she might seek to lock me up for good so that I’d never have the chance to try to stem her magic. It would be child’s play for her to finish the job and frame me for Tyrone’s murder. As long as I was in prison, she’d be free to destroy lives wherever she landed. All along, her plan had been to make me need her, convince me to release her magic, then lock me away so I couldn’t recapture it.

Twigs snapped, and I spun to see Lise Bloom step out from a copse of firs. Or was it? Wary, I held my breath. Lise had an unusual glimmer about her, an aura she hadn’t shown before. Could this be Beata in another form?

However, unlike Beata, Lise walked unsurely and breathed unevenly. The air around her crackled.

“Josie?” she said at last, her voice wavering. “What just happened?”

Then I understood. This had happened to me almost two years ago. “Did you feel a big snap, like someone released a giant rubber band in your gut?”

Eyes wide, she nodded.

“You feel like you’ve lived under a veil your whole life until now?”

Again, a nod.

“You’ll be all right.”

Lise dropped to the log where Rodney had sat earlier. She rubbed her face and inhaled deeply. “Oh, my. Everything smells so . . . so rich. There’s something else, too.”

When I cast the spell to summon a witch, I must have drawn her as well as Beata. She hid while I talked with Beata. Lise was a witch. That’s what I’d sensed in her. My spell releasing Beata’s power had released hers, as well.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Worry, like leather and vinegar. And something much darker.” She lifted her head and breathed deeply. “Can a person smell evil?” She looked straight at me. “What just happened between you and that lady?”

This was too much. I’d released the power of two witches, one with dark magic and one who had no clue what just happened. And I knew it was about to get much, much worse.

I looked at this newly minted witch, a woman whose magic was even greener than mine. Then I had an idea.

“Let’s go back to the library,” I said. “I have a lot to tell you.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Lise and I sat in Old Man Thurston’s office. I didn’t want to take her to my living room upstairs. Even with the curtains pulled shut, knowing Sam was sleeping just across the garden was too much to bear at that moment. My kitchen, although on the other side of the house, was cramped.

The office was cozy and dim, and I felt Old Man Thurston’s hardworking energy here, even if he wouldn’t recognize the room now. Someone, likely Mona, had turned face-out a handful of children’s books featuring cats. The books murmured sleepily as I lit a candle. Electric lights would feel too harsh after the night’s magical upheaval.

“Tell me,” Lise said. “What happened back there?”

“Lise,” I told her, “you’re a witch.”

If I was expecting shock or glee, I was disappointed. She sat calmly, as if she’d been waiting years for this explanation. “I see.”

“Leo was right,” I said. Rodney jumped on the desk between us and offered his head to Lise to pet. “I’m a witch, too, but I’m relatively new to my magic. What you saw out there was me making a gigantic, horrendous mistake.”

“You released the magic in someone else.”

I nodded. “When I released her power, I must have released yours, too. She’s my great aunt, and a powerful witch on her own. She’s not a good person, though, and she uses her magic to ruin lives.” Out of respect for my grandmother, I didn’t go into details. “My grandmother cast a containment spell to limit her power. Unfortunately, I broke that spell.”

And signed my own death warrant. I was under no illusions now. Beata would spend a few hours drunk with her new energy, but it wouldn’t be long before she’d return to finish me off.

“How do you feel?” I asked. “This must all be overwhelming.”

Lise nodded slowly, but she hadn’t needed to tell me she was swimming in a world of questions and unusual sensations. Her intent yet distant stare said it all.

“It’s like someone turned on the lights,” she said, “when I hadn’t even known I was living in the dark.”

Boy, did that sound familiar. “How is it expressing itself? For me, it’s about books. I’ve always loved reading, and the source of my magic is books.”