Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

In all his years of ghost hunting, Connor had never been so committed to discovering the truth about a ghost’s past. He sat angled on the antique brocade love seat, his hands clasped between his knees and his focus riveted on Holly as she read the diary of a woman who’d been dead a hundred and fifty years. Her hair was falling over half her face, and he thought she was the most beautiful and bewitching (bewickeding?) woman he’d ever laid eyes on. How the hell was he supposed to move on to his next show and leave her behind?

It didn’t matter how—the point was he would , and if her ghost problem was solved it would help ease his conscience.

Holly cleared her throat and continued reading.

June 12, 1820

Thomas caught Councilman Miller sawing down the apple tree in the middle of the night. ’Twas an ugly scene. Councilman Miller wished to take the tree to the council to “prove” that it was unnatural and so was I. He promised Thomas that if we did not sell the land, he would see me burn, and my dear, dear Thomas nearly murdered him on the spot.

After Councilman Miller left, I sat down and wrote him a letter, begging him to cease his witch hunt. He has drawn in my neighbor, Mary, and she has vouched that I am a witch in a letter to the newspaper, but the editor is Thomas’s cousin, and he refused to publish it. I fear what my husband will do if Councilman Miller does not halt his crusade against me. In the end I did not send the letter, simply because I do not think it will make a difference.

June 13, 1820

After much thought, I have planted the remaining seeds from the apple that cured my husband, this time by the babbling brook near the original tree. Once grown, the trees present as any other, so I do not think Councilman Miller will be able to use them against us. Besides, it is none of Councilman Miller’s business what we do on our land—which will remain our land. I will not be cowed into silence because of a hateful man’s threats. I almost wish to see the look on his face when they grow overnight.

September 20, 1820

Councilman Miller has been trying to turn the town against me. He is rich, powerful, and without conscience, so he has been successful in many ways, and I have become ostracized, as has Thomas. Thomas does not care. He looks upon those who avoid us with scorn and disgust. I have never loved him more.

In other ways Councilman Miller’s mission has failed. He has accused me of witchcraft and has pointed to the apples and my husband’s recovery as evidence. He has even blamed the torrential rains in May on me (I could not move the weather if I tried; that power belonged to my sister). So while many have turned their backs, there are other, more despairing souls who have begun visiting on the sly, asking me to heal their illnesses.

It began with a woman who was desperate for relief from a burden she could not carry without dying herself. I cursed one of the apples and gave it to her against my better judgment—for kindness from people like me is never appreciated or returned. After that, news spread among the women, and slowly more and more have come to me.

I think Thomas knows, but he does not say anything to me. I am not sure he wants to know the truth of what I am and what I do.

October 15, 1820

Councilman Miller is dead, and his son claims it was me who killed him. In fact, it was the evil in his own heart.

Holly’s eyes met Connor’s over the top of the book, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her hands trembling so finely the pages quivered. Connor wanted to hold her, but he wasn’t sure if she would appreciate the gesture in front of her family, so instead he gave her an encouraging smile, because in truth he was trembling a little himself.

A young woman, Anne, came to see me for a mysterious illness. I did not know what ailed her, so I cursed an apple to kill whatever evil resided in her body. I believed it harmless to Anne because she has the purest soul I have ever met.

I had the apple in a basket with a little white cloth covering it and was about to walk to Anne’s house when my husband called for me. I set the basket on the steps in the dooryard and went to him. By the time I returned, nearly an hour had passed. I opened the front door and found Councilman Miller standing at the bottom of the steps, wearing his calling hat and fine coat. I presume he’d come to attempt to blackmail us again but instead had seen the apple and eaten it! He, a councilman who holds the public opinion that women are second-class citizens because a woman could not resist the forbidden fruit!

I gasped in horror as he finished the apple and held the core in his hand, his clear eye glaring evilly at me, and I knew in that moment he would die. Councilman Miller is evil inside and out, more rotten to the core than any apple that falls from a tree. Indeed, a moment later he began to tremble and then shake. His eyes widened, and his body stiffened and he said, “Y-y-you poisoned me, Witch! I shall have my vengeance.” And then he could speak no longer.

Oh, it was such a hideous sight! I despise Councilman Miller, but I do not wish to harm others, and as his body convulsed and foam collected on his bluish lips, all I could think was that I had interfered too much. If I have children, I vow that I will teach them to live small lives and use small power. The cost otherwise is simply too great.

When Councilman Miller was dead on the ground, I kicked away the apple core and called for Thomas. Councilman Miller’s son blames me, but the evidence of seizure on the body is clear enough that I have been vindicated by the doctor.

Even though Councilman Miller is gone, I still feel his presence in the orchards, malevolent and hateful. I will attempt to banish him to the other side, but I fear his spirit may find its way back. He is not a man who will ever attain peace.

The entire room sat in silence for several moments before Missy broke it by saying, “Well, damn.”

“Yeah, damn,” Connor agreed. As was the case more often than not, the truth was far more complicated than a simple guilty verdict. Yes, Autumn had cursed the apple to kill, but it had been intended to help another woman, not meant for the councilman. The councilman had stolen the apple and eaten what was not his, and because he was so bitter and hateful, it had killed him. Neither he nor Autumn was completely in the clear, but if Connor had to lay the blame at one person’s feet, it would definitely be the councilman’s. Autumn had been operating with a good heart; the councilman had acted with greed and spite.

“What do we do?” Holly asked him as she gently closed the journal. “Is this enough to release Councilman Miller’s spirit?”

Connor rubbed his temples. “We can try. The truth might be enough to set him free.”

“It’s not a truth you can share on your show.”

“No,” Connor agreed. “We will have to reenact it for the camera, with altered facts.”

Missy had recovered some from the exertion of revealing the text of the journal, and was now sitting between the aunts, her knee bouncing with impatience. “How do we get the ghostly apple gobbler to show up again? It will be so scary if he does. I might need someone big and strong to be at my side.” She blinked innocently across the room at Erikson.

Yeah, right. Missy could hold her own against a ghost as well, if not better, than either he or Erikson. Her ancestor had proven that when it came to true evil, Wickeds were more than a match.

Connor studied his brother to see how he’d react to the obvious come-on. Erikson was a ladies man to the core. While Connor had had a few stilted relationships over the years, Erikson was all about whirlwind fun. Except Missy was not someone Connor wanted Erikson sleeping with. Connor did not need that kind of complication coming between him and Holly.

To his surprise, Erikson was smiling at Missy, but without any of his usual flirtatious heat. “Good thing you have Winter,” he said, his gaze turning to the fierce redhead sitting on the arm of the couch. “I just watched her knock out a full-grown man without breaking a sweat. A ghost will be nothing.”

In typical fashion, Winter’s expression was difficult to read. Connor could not imagine a set of twins with more opposite personalities than Missy and Winter.

Missy sighed. “It’s true. If Win can scare all her teachers into giving her A’s, then she can scare Councilman Miller back to hell.”

Aunt Rose’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t do that, did you, Winter?”

Winter glared at Missy before muttering, “I couldn’t help it if some of the teachers felt intimidated by my presence.”

Erikson gave a bark of laughter, and Holly grinned fondly at her sister before returning her focus to Councilman Miller. “So how do we get him to come back around so we can tell him the truth? You Grimm brothers are the resident ghost hunters. Surely you have some ideas?”

“What made him show up the first time?” Erikson asked.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s been on the property since the power surge—”

“Power surge?”

Holly nodded. “Connor figured out that the ghost sightings started four years ago, after Aunt Rose’s masking potion stopped working. He and I think the sudden surge of power was enough to allow Miller back into our plane.”

Erikson glanced between Connor and Holly. “Potion?”

They spent the next few minutes catching Erikson up, and when they finished, he was fidgeting with excitement. “Your theory isn’t half bad. A burst of supernatural power could provide a temporary pathway for the ghost to slip between planes, like a blast of air pushing aside the curtains between worlds.”

“Well, how do we get him back to where he belongs?” Missy asked. “Power-burst his ass again?”

Connor’s gaze fell on Holly’s mouth, where she was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “I think Holly is the key.”

“Me?” Holly squeaked.

“He thinks you’re Autumn. Ghosts don’t live the same linear timeline as the rest of us. To him it may feel like a matter of days since he died, and it’s possible you look enough like Autumn that he believes you are her. When he saw you at the fire, just as he first saw her the night of June first, 1820, it triggered him.”

“Ooh, so Holly can be bait!” Missy cried. “Shall we reenact the fire? Dance around a cauldron? Gallop in circles on broomsticks?”

She was joking, but it wasn’t the worst idea. “Miller was convinced Autumn truly was a witch,” Connor said, sharing a look with Erikson and shrugging. “Playing into his misconceptions might actually draw him out.”

Winter scowled. “You have to be kidding.”

Erikson seemed to enjoy the idea of the women dressing in Halloween-store witch costumes and holding broomsticks more than he should have. “Got any pointy hats?”

“This is offensive to our kind,” Holly said with a sniff, “and offensive to Witches too. However, if pandering to his stereotypes and hate will get us an audience and a chance to boot this loser back to where he belongs, I’ll do it.”

That’s my girl, Connor thought. Always stepping up to the plate and doing what needed to be done.

And hell if those three words didn’t resonate with him the rest of the day.