Page 64 of Witch and Tell

I let out my breath and drew in another. I focused. From faraway, the cottonwoods on the Kirby River smelled sweet, and the damp earth of its banks had an almost metallic fragrance. Although I’d inhaled these scents often over the years, I’d never experienced them as deeply as I did now.

I’m here, I said silently.Come to me.

Then I sat back and waited.

I bolted upright at the sound of twigs crackling under footsteps. Sam?

“Josie. Is that you?” It was Lise. “What did you do to your hair?”

I let out a sigh of relief and stood. “You came. It worked.” I plucked my velour sweatshirt and released it. “I’m in hiding. Pro tip: black hair isn’t great for redheads.”

“I was at the café and had the distinct impression you were here and wanted to see me. It was bizarre. I could literally smell you here—the moss, the pine needles, even Rodney’s fur.” She pulled fingers up his tail, and he nuzzled her hand.

“Magic is weird that way.”

“It felt urgent.” Lise lifted a white paper sack. “I had Darla pack up the rest of my meal to go. Want part of a grilled cheese?”

“Yes, please.”

“They’re looking for you in town, you know.”

“You came, anyway,” I said.

“You’re not a murderer. It’s your Aunt Beata, isn’t it? She’s behind it.”

I patted the fallen tree trunk next to me, and Lise sat. Rodney jumped up, too, to nose around the food. I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast, and that had been skimpy. Even cold, the sandwich was delicious. I picked out a morsel of cheese to feed Rodney.

“People always talk about how good cat fur smells,” Lise said, “but it smells even better than that, like narcissus and . . . love.” She inhaled. “Emotion furls off you in ribbons. Old leather, saffron. A hint of tarry vetiver. Smells like despair.”

“Impressive. I don’t even know what vetiver smells like,” I said.

Rodney crawled into my lap and purred. He must have been in heaven with two witches so near. He twisted so I could pet his belly, and the star-shaped birthmark where his fur was thin—a twin birthmark to mine— showed.

“Do you feel compelled to use your ability for anything?” I asked.

Lise finished her half of the sandwich and wiped her fingers. “I don’t know. I can’t even master muting the scent. It can be too much, and then all of the sudden it fades.”

She would figure it out. Eventually. “You hit it on ‘despair.’ Beata wants me in prison, and she’s made a plan to make sure it happens.”

“Why didn’t she leave town once you freed her magic?”

“She wants to know I can’t bind it again. Rodney, leave that alone.” He’d been trying to stick his head in the takeaway sack. He looked up at me with awho, me?glance. “If I’m in prison, I can’t interfere with her. She’s plotting to make sure I’m not only arrested for Tyrone’s death, but convicted, too.”

“How’s she going to do that?”

I explained about Byron and the key to Tyrone’s room at the Wallingford Guest House. “The key is proof that Byron killed Tyrone. They were on the run from the police. They killed a man in Baltimore. Tyrone may have considered turning himself in, and Byron couldn’t have that, so he killed him. Byron overlooked the key. If he remembers and gets rid of it, there goes my proof that he’s the murderer and I’m innocent.”

“And if Beata gets it….”

My waft of despair had to be pretty strong by now. “Right. The sheriff is getting a search warrant. I need to get that key before Beata plants it in my apartment for him to find.” I didn’t feel the need to burden Lise with my personal difficulties with Sam at the moment.

“You want my help,” Lise said.

“I need it. I’m too new a witch to handle Beata on my own.”

She tilted her head. “You’re a new witch? Then what good am I?”

“Between us, we command more magic than either of us alone. We’ll need to rely more on instinct than experience.” That and Grandma’s grimoire. “Besides, Beata will come to the library to hide the key, and the library is full of books. I can use their energy as fuel.” Simply thinking of the trove of magic, my body warmed.