Double-Sided Witch (Covencraft Book 3) (15 page)

He knocked sharply on her door, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. He knocked once more before trying the handle and finding it unlocked. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Jade had such a preference for demon magic, he doubted she ever used her keys anymore, relying on the security of her demon locks instead.

Paris poked his head in through the door. “Hello? Jade? Bruce?”

Silence.

Stepping in, he closed the door behind him. Nothing felt wrong or amiss, but the place did have an empty feel to it. Paris stretched his magic out, searching for Jade’s energy. He felt a slight pull from upstairs and called out again. After getting nothing in reply, he slowly made his way up the stairs.

He wasn’t trying to be quiet, but he wasn’t making an exceptional amount of noise either. Any minute now, Paris was sure Jade would pop out of one of the rooms upstairs.

Nothing happened. No Jade bursting out of a room. No yelling.

Although he did hear a thump from the bedroom.

Paris knocked and then opened the door slowly. He paused, feeling like a voyeur as he looked around her room.

A laundry basket was in front of the bed with some clothes strewn about on the mattress, but not the duvet or the pillows. Seeing some fabric peeking out from the closet, he stepped closer and pulled the closet door open. Inside he found the pillows and covering, bunched up like a nest. He glanced back at the bed and then the closet again, frowning, when it suddenly dawned on him. She was sleeping in the closet. But why?

Another ‘thump’ pulled Paris’ attention away from the closet and he turned back to the bed. Hearing the thump again, he knelt down, peering underneath the mattress.

Silvery-reflective eyes blinked back at him and he felt the lightening quick press of a wet tongue against his wrist.

“Hello, Bruce,” Paris said quietly.

“Pfffft.”

“Where’s your mistress?” Now that he concentrated on it, Paris realized the sense of Jade’s magic he’d felt downstairs was coming from Bruce. Paris squinted, trying to get a better look at the lizard. Bruce was curled around something, a box. Jade’s shoebox, if he wasn’t mistaken. Paris recognized it, having once seen Jade going through it, looking at a picture. At the time, he thought it was a picture of Jade as a young girl, but the girl in the photo had green eyes.

Green eyes like the shade Jade’s eyes had turned after she defeated Dex. Like the apple-green that had been in Bruce’s eye the other day. He thought back to the day he’d seen the picture.

              “It looks like you but… Her eyes are green. Yours are grey. I didn’t know you had any other family. A sister? That would explain why the demon couldn’t pull you through the portal when it tried. You didn’t say you had a sister.” He flipped it over. “‘Lily. Six years old.’”

              “I don’t. That’s… That’s just a photo. It’s me. It’s just…me.”

              “It says, ‘Lily’ on the back.”

              “I changed my name. So what? I have documents if you want to see.”

Paris leaned down further, peering at Bruce, trying to get a look at his eyes. As he hid under the bed, it was hard to see his irises and Paris was loathe to reach in a try to pull him out. Bruce’s tail, curled around the shoebox, flicked up and down. Paris hesitated, his eyes fixed on the shoebox.

“May I?” he asked Bruce. He wasn’t truly expecting an answer, but Bruce was an intelligent creature, moreso than just a simple house pet. He’d shown quite a level of intellectual capacity before. Bruce’s tongue darted out again, lightning fast and then his tail uncurled from the shoebox. Paris reached forward slowly, gingerly, in case Bruce changed his mind. His fingers settled around the cardboard and he pulled it out from under the bed.

If Paris opened it, he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a violation of privacy. Until he opened that box, he was still working within the parameters of ‘trying to find Jade.’ Opening her little shoebox was definitely outside of that task. He was in Jade’s house, in her bedroom, uninvited, looking at her things. But, he’d been avoiding his concerns for too long. Taking a deep breath, he flipped open the lid.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Paris opened the box with the same trepidation he would give to prying open an ancient sarcophagus, but there was no mad flash of light or billowing smoke. The first things he noticed were papers - scraps of things or handwritten notes. Some receipts. Some birthday cards. He carefully took one out and opened it, noting it had the obligatory reiteration of wishing a happy birthday to someone and then some initials scrawled at the bottom. He pushed some of the paper around slightly and found a small stack of photographs. They were old, or at least not very recent. Certainly taken before the use of digital photography was so prevalent. There were a lot of scenery shots, flowers, maybe vacation photos and then he found the one he’d seen before - a girl that looked like a young Jade but with green eyes. On the back of the photo, it said, ‘
Lily, six years old.’
Jade told Paris that she’d changed her name and he’d investigated it, finding paperwork that matched that assertion. Truth be told, he hadn’t looked closely at his findings. He had the feeling he needed to take a second look. There were other photographs of Jade in the box. Some from when she was older, maybe about eight or so, and then a couple more from what looked like adolescence. She habitually wore a solemn expression, never truly smiling. He spread the photos out on the floor and looked at each one carefully.

In some her eyes were green and in others, grey. It was hard to tell and if he hadn’t seen her eyes change to a striking, clear apple green himself, he would have said he was only guessing or it was a trick of the light in the photos. None of the other pictures had names or ages on the back. He picked up one of the middle ones, where she clearly had grey eyes. Jade’s eyes were serious and grim, focused on the lens of the camera with a haunted look. He picked up another one where her eyes had a greenish cast. Nearly the same expression, but not quite identical. That wasn’t surprising in and of itself - people wore different expressions all the time.

What did it mean?

Paris looked back in the box, saw some rocks and semi-precious stones. He recognized quartz, tiger-eye, amethyst and then a number of pieces of jade. He picked up some of the smooth, cold stones and turned them over in his hands, noting the distinct limey-green color in some and the darker, mossy shade of others. She had quite a collection, no doubt because of her name. He jangled the stones in his palm, hearing the click-clack of them as they rocked against each other. A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye had him turning his head. Bruce’s snout stuck out from under the bed. Paris tipped his head down and made eye contact. Bruce blinked once and shifted.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Bruce?”

Bruce blinked again and then rolled onto his side, presenting the scaly patch of skin on his neck, just as he had done in Paris’ office. Paris reached out and touched it, feeling the dry, cracked surface under his fingers.

“Yes, I can see it. But what does it mean?”

Bruce was silent as he continued to display the uneven patch of skin. Paris moved his hand from petting the afflicted area to soothing over the more supple part of Bruce’s skin, just under his jaw. Bruce closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. Paris looked back at the two pictures he’d lain out side by side. He was no closer to finding out where Jade was this afternoon, nor solving the mystery of her dual colored eyes.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Bruce gave him a dirty look, as if chastising Paris for disturbing his naptime. As he answered his phone, Paris bit back the urge to apologize.

“Paris here.”

“Hey, I was thinking,” began Callie without hesitation. “Why don’t we ask tech services to ping the GPS on her Coven phone? She might have that one on her or maybe it’s charged even if her personal one isn’t.”

Paris felt relieved at having a path forward. “All right. What’s her Coven cell phone number?”

There was a pause from Callie. “Why are you asking me? You should have it.”

“I don’t have it. Why would I have it?” Paris asked.

“Because you were the one that requisitioned it for her and took her to get it.”

At his long silence, Callie sighed. “Shit. You didn’t get her a Coven phone, did you?”

“It slipped my mind.” Paris pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know, you’re a good Coven Leader and competent at managing large groups of people and all the busy work that comes along with being in charge, but you’re shit at one-on-one management.”

However true the comment was, it still made him bristle. “Yes, well, I’m sure you can make a note in my performance review at the end of the year.”

“It’s no wonder she feels left out of things, Paris. She
is
left out of things. She wasn’t on the emailing list for weeks when she first got here and she didn’t know about the Coven Ball. And now you tell me she doesn’t have a Coven phone; which means she’s probably not getting all the social media updates and just… the back and forth that we have.”

“I’ll get her a phone.”

“Great,” Callie said, sarcasm in her tone. “It can sit on your desk until we find her.” Paris swore he could almost hear her roll her eyes. “Should we use magic? Is that an invasion of privacy? Maybe she’s somewhere she doesn’t want to be found? And it’s not like she’s missing, it’s just we don’t know where she is. But she’s an adult; we don’t have to know where she is. She could just be… shopping or playing mini-golf or at the library.”

Paris looked at Bruce, stretched out with his head sticking out from underneath the bed. His eyes were drifting shut drowsily. He was still awake but obviously sleepy. Bruce didn't seem to be in any mortal peril - he had the strange scaly patch, but he wasn’t violently ill. He was obviously concerned about something and trying to communicate it to Paris, but he wasn’t anxious or overly agitated.  He spared a thought for the demon Seth and his propensity for appearing in Jade’s pantry. He worried that Seth could have something to do with Jade not being around, but looking down at Bruce again, dozing off, he reasoned it wasn’t likely.

“I’m going to give it till the evening. As you said, she’s an adult. She’s under no obligation to tell us her comings and goings. Her things are here, as is Bruce, and nothing seems to be disturbed or out of place.”

“Okay. Well, Henri and I will keep an eye out and an ear to the ground. So, if we don’t hear anything by tonight, location spell?”

Paris nodded, momentarily forgetting he was on the phone and Callie couldn’t see him. “Yes, I’ll do a generalized one just to narrow down her whereabouts and at least rule out that she’s not in danger. But I’ll try not to disturb her privacy too much. As you noted, she may be somewhere she doesn’t want to be found.”

“All right. I’ll call or text if anything comes up.”

“Same here.”

Paris hung up and pocketed his phone, absently petting Bruce’s snout. Bruce’s long tongue zipped out and lapped at his wrist bone before the creature smacked his chops and then gave a long, deep sigh.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Paris wasn’t sure if he was talking more to Bruce or himself.

CHAPTER
NINE

By
eight o’clock that night, Paris was preparing a location spell for Jade. He and Callie periodically touched base throughout the day, along with Henri, and no one had seen or heard from Jade since yesterday. Paris was the last one to see her when he left her cottage on Friday night. As he gathered the materials for his spell, Callie chewed on the skin of one of her thumbs.

“Stop that, you’ll make it bleed,” Paris said quietly as he spread out his mortar, pestle and a map, weighting the four cardinal corners.  They decided to go with the assumption that Jade couldn't be too far away and so they used a map of the local and immediate areas accessible by car or train. Paris assumed wherever Jade was, she got their on her own. He hoped.

“Nag.” Callie pulled her thumb away from her mouth and dragged both of her sleeves down over her fingers. “I feel nervous. And dumb. Are we being dumb?” She hovered beside Paris’ shoulder, watching him grind the herbs.

“We’re simply being cautious.”

“She doesn’t have to check in with us. Still, it’s weird that her cell phone’s off.”

Callie was so close that Paris felt her breath on his arm. The only way Callie could be any closer was if he raised his arm and she tucked in under it. “Callie,” he said, looking at her pointedly about how close she was. He could hardly work with her nearly on top of him. 

“I’m just worried, okay?” Callie took a step back and then another one when he raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sure we’ll find Jade and she’ll be in town somewhere, curled up with a book.”

“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be doing the spell.”

There was a downside, Paris thought, to being friends with someone for as long as he and Callie. You knew each other too well at times.

The scent from the spell ingredients washed over him with a rush of memory - this was the same spell he’d used to originally find Jade, before they knew who she was. Back then, they knew only there was a witch somewhere, outside the Coven, bleeding out magic. He’d created the spell from a combination of older ones, tweaking the ingredients until he’d gotten what he wanted. This time, on a whim, he turned to his spice rack and searched out his cloves - not for their magical properties, but because Jade’s magic tended to smell like them. His mother had taught him to trust his magical instinct and as he ground the single clove into the mixture he’d already made, he could feel the spell settling into place.

As he had before, after grinding the ingredients into a fine powder, he smoothed out the map with his hand, imagining he was wiping the surface clean of all influence as he did. He paused and took a handful of the powder, holding it close to his lips before exhaling out sharply, blowing it into a cloud over the map. He focused his intent on Jade, expecting the cloud to react the same as it had the last time. Previously, when he searched for Jade, the powder hovered for a moment before snaking around lazily and then finally spiraling down and burning a small hole in the map at Jade’s location. He thought it might be perhaps faster now that he knew Jade, knew her magic and how it felt. 

To the contrary, despite Paris being better able to focus his energy and intent on Jade now that he knew her, the cloud of powder spun in a lazy ellipse, like a glass of liquid stirred quickly and then forgotten. Paris pushed at it with his magic, nudging it and the cloud moved in a sort of shimmy. In the center, a portion of the debris coalesced and gathered in on itself, amassing material. It broke off from the rest of the lazy, haphazard cloud, coiling in itself and zipping down toward the map, making a small, black dot at what was presumably Jade’s location.

Paris stared at the rest of the mixture he’d made, hanging in the air, spinning slowly. He nudged it again with his magic. It shouldn’t have separated out from the rest of the spell ingredients, but there it was, hovering above the map.

“What does that mean?” Callie asked, her voice quiet and small.

“I don’t know,” Paris replied.

The cloud of dust shimmied again and then fell out of the air, landing in disarray on the map.

“So, did it work?”

Paris checked where the spell had marked the map and quickly recognized the city Jade used to live in. “I think so. It looks like she went back home.”

Callie blinked a few times in surprise. “What? Like for good? Why? Why didn’t she say anything? Is she coming back?”

Frustrated at her questions, he said, “I know as much as you do right now, Callie.”

In the way that only people who have known someone a long time can do, Callie pursed her lips and replied, “Excuse me.” Her tone implied she wasn’t apologizing for anything.

Paris cleaned up his spell work, taking the weights off the corners of the map and folding it up, careful to keep all the dust inside the folds. He was concerned about the way the spell misfired. The only thing he’d done differently this time was the addition of the single clove, and while any addition to a spell could alter its efficacy, he’d felt a resonating ‘ping’ in his magic when he’d added it. He’d been sure that it would only enhance the spell, not cause it to partially fail. Paris’ magical intuition was rarely wrong, and when spells failed, they generally tended to fail as a whole, not just by bits and pieces. The powder split in two - half of it finding Jade and the other half falling apart.

“What are you going to do?”

Callie’s question pulled him back from his musings. “I’m going to go see her and find out why she left.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Paris paused in the middle of his spell clean up. He set the folded map down, careful not to jostle it too much and let the spell powder out. He fiddled with the mortar and pestle, picking the mortar up and wiping it meticulously with a soft cotton cloth. The weight of the mortar was heavy in his hands, the stone warm from his handling.

“I don’t have to. I just thought if you needed the support, or if you wanted me to talk to her, I could,” Callie continued.

Paris set the mortar down and picked up the pestle, giving it the same careful cleaning. “No, I think I should like to talk to her alone first.” He had the fear that Jade suddenly decided to leave the Coven. It wasn't like Paris to jump to conclusions or to borrow trouble, but he worried that perhaps he’d completely missed something, the same way he’d missed little details about bringing Jade into the Coven fold. Or perhaps his avoidance of dealing with whatever was wrong with her had reached some kind of critical mass. He wasn’t sure either he or Jade would want Callie there to hear what they may say.

“Okay,” agreed Callie.

He wiped down the counter, being more meticulous and fussy than he normally was, stalling for time.

“So, are you going?”

Paris looked up, seeing Callie’s expectant face. Her large brown eyes staring at him. He folded the cotton cloth and placed it off to the side. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

Callie nodded and then when Paris didn’t move, she bobbed her head at him.

“Now?” she prodded.

“Yes, now, of course I’m going now.” He walked out of the kitchen, Callie hot on his heels. He grabbed his car keys from the small counter next to the front door and his coat from the closet. He turned, seeing Callie on her smart phone, frowning slightly.

“It’s a long drive - the train would probably be faster. There’s one that leaves in an hour and half. Do you want me to book you a ticket?” She looked up from her phone, her eyes wide and helpful.

“Please.” He shrugged into his coat, flipping down the collar. Callie nodded and pressed a few buttons, nodding again after a moment.

“Done. It’s waiting for you at the station.”

“I’ll pay you back for it.”

She grinned. “I used my Coven account. I’ll get you to sign off on the expense report.” She winked at him. “It’s a Coven expense. You’re following up on a Coven member.”

As he and Callie left his house, Paris had once last thought.
I hope she’s still a Coven member.

#

After
taking the train from the Coven and then starting to pack up the apartment, Jade felt like a worn, frayed rug - flattened, washed out and thin. She couldn’t remember a Saturday that had been so long. Looking over her things while she packed had been comforting and disquieting. These were her creature comforts - clothes, trinkets, books. But they were also reminders of her life before the Coven. Both when she’d had Lily and then after, when Lily had been gone.

Jade gave up around one in the morning, hoping she was too tired to dream. She’d been wrong. She knew she was dreaming, but it had the tangible quality some dreams had - like everything was sharper and crisper than it should be.

They were in the closet. Jade tried to fit her long limbs comfortably in the small space without much luck. Lily was small again, a child, curled up against Jade’s side. Lily turned her face up to Jade and in the dark light of the closet, Jade could only make out her small features.

“Tell me about the lake.”

Jade turned away. “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t like the lake.”

“Why?” Lily pushed.

Jade pulled back from her, unwrapping her arm from Lily’s slight shoulders. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t. You avoid thinking about it.”

Jade frowned. “No. That doesn’t make sense. I only started thinking about the lake at the Coven. How could I avoid something I didn’t think about before?”

“That’s not true. The lake was always there.”

A low bass note thrummed in Jade’s head and in her gut. She turned and realized the back of the closet was also a door. The salamander charm around her neck went slightly hot and Jade held it between two fingers, fiddling with it. Lily’s hand reached up and turned the handle on the door at the back of the closet, even as Jade reached out to stop her. The door swung open and they were at the Preserve with Lily walking ahead of her. She was an adult now - an exact replica of Jade. It was eerie, like watching herself from behind.

Jade wanted Lily to turn around, wanted to see her face, even though it would be the same as her own. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what Lily looked like. All Jade had to do was look in the mirror. But there would be something so different about having Lily in front of her, real and warm, instead of only a reflection in silver and glass.

“Are you real? Or am I going crazy?”

But Lily didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. “Would it matter what I answered?” she asked, not turning around. “If I say I’m not real, then you’re going crazy. If I say I am real, you won’t believe me and still think you might be going crazy.” She kept making her way along the path, ducking under tree branches and pushing leaves aside, moving steadily forward like an unstoppable train.

Jade’s stomach turned over as she realized they were at the lake. They broke through the foliage and Jade stopped short, pausing even as Lily kept moving toward the dock. The planks of it stretched out impossibly long and thin - the perspective all wrong - as though it went on for too far. Lily walked forward, the dock swaying slightly under her gait. Even though she stood on the solid ground of the forest, Jade could feel each sway and swag of the old wooden planks in her bones, as if it were her own feet on the dock. She didn’t like Lily being so close to the water. Jade reached out a hand, opened her mouth to stop her, but no sound came out.

Lily turned around, standing at the edge of the dock, all at once far away and too close. When she spoke, her voice was clear and pristine - her words right in Jade’s ear.

“You’ve always known this place. I could see it in your mind. But you never talked about it.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Jade lied, feeling anxious and sick. “Come away from the edge.”

“Why?”

“You’re going to fall in.”

Lily shrugged. “I know how to swim.”

“I don’t!” Jade exclaimed.

The sun hit Lily’s green eyes, making them seem like they were lit from within, greener than ever. “If I jumped, would you follow me?”

“I… don’t know.” Jade couldn’t make her voice any louder and was terrified that Lily couldn’t hear the quiet words.

“Come and get me, Jade.”

Jade took a step forward as Lily turned away from her and then tipped forward, falling face down into the lake with a cracking sound.

Jade jerked awake, feet kicking out involuntarily, rattling the closet door. Last night she’d given up and had simply gone to sleep in the closet, feeling like if she chose to sleep there she could pretend that she was in control of it.

Another sharp sound rang in her ears and it took a moment to realize it was knocking on her apartment door. She pushed at the covers tangled around her limbs and stumbled out into the room. She’d left the bedroom light on and it was harsh against her eyes. She squinted at the clock as she passed it by. Seven in the morning. Freakishly early for someone to be at her door. Her hair fell in her face and she pushed it off to the side as she swung the front door open.

Paris stood there, looking like he was ready to bang the door down if necessary. His hair was sticking up, all out of place. He looked a little wrinkled, disheveled. She’d never seen him look so out of sorts.