Chapter 12

Zzzt. Zzzt.

Bleary eyes opened to the sound of my cell phone buzzing against the slate hearth stones. The brain fog dissipated between one heartbeat and the next as I lurched upright, my whole body aching from sleeping next to the hearth last night.

Like the practice of grounding for a green witch, sleeping by a hearth for a hearth witch gave them a magical boost, as well as shrouded them in an extra layer of protection.

The warlock!

I'd come straight home last night, thrown ash wood onto the fire, and hadn't left the hearth since. And, it seemed, neither had Sawyer, the tabby tomcat awake but unmoving on the hearth's mantle. His amber eyes were fixated on the buzzing cell phone.

Coughing to clear the sleep cobwebs from my throat, I examined the number. It was the local area code, so… "Hello?"

"Misty Fields?" Cody's voice said tentatively.

"'Morning, Cody."

"I apologize for the early call," the old carpenter said, his suddenly professional tone immediately raising the hair on the back of my neck, "but I figured with you being a green witch an' all, you'd be up with the sun."

"Yes," was all I could to say. No pleasantries, no nothing. Just whatever to propel the conversation forward to get that other shoe to drop.

"Arthur's got the honey you needed down here at the shop. Best if you pick it up pretty quick. Can't have my customers getting distracted from buying my furniture, you know? Heh."

I wet my lips as the subtext hit me harder than I expected it to: He doesn't want to see you. Pick up what he promised you and get out of his life.

"You still there?" Cody asked.

"Yeah. I'll be right there."

"Thank you." The line went dead before I could even say I appreciated his call.

The cell phone slipped into my lap so I could scrub my face rather roughly with my hands. Of course Arthur would be mad at me—I run out on him again, and after leading him on too. Had I really almost kissed him? Ugh, that was something Cousin Lilac did, not Meadow Hawthorne. Meadow Hawthorne liked her books and potions and running around barefoot through the wilder places of the manor estate. She loved her family, knew her duty to them, and wasn't distracted by handsome lumberjack shifters.

Handsome lumberjack shifters who now wanted nothing to do with me. That unattachment was what I'd wanted all along, the freedom of no ties, so why did it hit me like a cinderblock to the gut?

Because you hurt a good man, that's why. You basically just kicked a puppy.

While part of me protested that Arthur Greenwood was definitely not a puppy, there was no sense in arguing with myself. I had what I wanted—a secret place in which to work, a plan to tackle the curse, and no distractions—so my world was all daisies and roses, wasn't it?

I dragged my hands down my face, unconvinced.

"You've got soot on your face," Sawyer said quietly. "Do you… want me to come with you?"

"No," I said, shoving to my feet and scratching his ears. "You've risked enough. Stay here, where it's safe."

"Now you're got soot on my face," the cat muttered, wetting a paw to start wiping himself clean.

* * *

Though the sunhad risen past the hills, a fog clung to the low-lying areas of town. The murky blue-gray shroud swirled as my car passed around the rotary, taking the southern spur to Cedar Haven. As I slowly pulled into the parking lot, mindful of the possibility of street-crossing deer, an unusual sight greeted me.

Stacked in front of the barn were five trees, recently felled and sap still oozing from their trunks and where their branches had been removed, each rotted black at their cores.

Cody Beecham was fretting, his back more hunched than usual as he paced back and forth, slapping his ball cap against his thigh. Halfway down the lengths of the trunks, Arthur, who I hadn't expected to see at all, was busy cutting a wedge out of a third tree with his chainsaw. He throttled back the choke as I stepped out of the car, kicking free the wedge he'd just cut and shaking his head.

The old carpenter looked like he was about to release a string of curses when he caught sight of me and hastily swallowed them back. He forced a brief smile and flapped me to come join him by the open barn doors where a crate of honey waited. Arthur watched me approach for only a second or two before revving the chainsaw and cutting a fourth wedge.

"What's going on?" I asked Cody above the noise, handing him a stack of bills for the honey.

The twiggy man helped hoist the crate into my arms and gestured to my car, indicating he would explain on the way. "Cut those trees down this morning and they're all rotted! Not one outward indication of disease, too! The boy's checking if it's just the bases or if it extends up the whole tree. Maybe we can salvage some…"

Cody glanced over his shoulder as the chainsaw quieted to a low rumble, apparently received a negative communication from Arthur, and muttered, "Bah!" Then he wrenched open the passenger door for me to load the crate.

"You know," I said quietly, "I do have a degree in infectious diseases in plants and trees. I could—"

"Not right now." Cody shook his head with a sympathetic look. "We'll log from a different part of the forest and see. Then… maybe."

"Sure. I understand. Um, tell Arthur thanks?"

The carpenter's nod was crisp. "Will do."

As I turned to close the passenger door, the two of us both jumped away from the honey crate, Cody shouting, "Jehoshaphat!" while I screamed, "Thistle thorns!"

A swarm of white bees had emerged from the gaps in the honey crate, powder raining from their buzzing wings as they flew after me. Stumbling away from the car, I flung up glowing green hands just as Arthur bellowed, "STOP!"

I didn't know if I was obeying him, or if something in my brain finally registered that these bees meant me no harm, but my magic winked out. These honeybees were moving slowly yet purposefully, not frantically with battle lust. Apparently I was a flower they were inspecting, or a fellow bee they were welcoming back to the hive, or a friend. Friend or not, I still shut my eyes and tried not to flinch as the sound of bee wings buzzed too close to my ears, as hundreds of tiny feet walked over my bare arms and shoulders.

I felt rather than heard pounding feet coming in our direction, the drone of honeybees dulling every sound not within my immediate vicinity.

"Found your missing bees, Arthur," Cody said peevishly.

Wind swirled against my face, my arms—Cody trying to blow them away with air currents made by his flapping hands. "Why won't they leave her alone?"

I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, a small whimper escaping past by clamped lips. Bugs and butterflies had never bothered me, but I'd never been swarmed by them either, let alone the stinging kind. The fear they would start inspecting the dark canals of my ears and nose very soon had me shaking. There was a sudden sting, almost like a reprimand for flinching. "Ouch!"

Then Arthur's hand was touching mine, and my fingers dug deeply into his flesh.

"Ladies," his voice rumbled in admonishment, "come on. Leave her— Shoo already!"

My mantle of white honey bees didn't dissipate.

"Miss"—while Arthur's voice was low and calm, it was meant for his bees. There was no affection in his voice for me—"I'm going to guide you to the hive. The other bees and their queen will call them home. Just walk; I won't let you fall."

With one hand in mine and the other gripping my elbow, Arthur guided me across the parking lot and up the worn path in the woods to his cottage. I felt the coolness of the forest when we entered the shade, smelled the tang of woodsmoke as we neared his home, heard the faint trickle of the nearby creek. So many steps to get here, yet Arthur's reassuring grip never faltered.

Then a drone much louder than the dull buzz around my ears consumed everything else, and I felt the tiny feet tickling the hairs of my arms and shoulders as the bees pushed off to rejoin their hive. Still, it took more than a minute to be fully free of them, for me to crack open an eye and unwrinkled my face from where it'd scrunched up.

Arthur dropped his hands and hurried to the wooden tower that served as the bees' hive, murmuring comforting noises and fretting over his bees like a mother hen would her chicks. With cautious, mincing steps, I slowly joined him to watch the bees.

The white bees were in the process of being greeted and cleaned by the normal yellow-and-black ones, and the whole hive was buzzing with what I assumed were "welcome back" noises.

"Why are they white?" I whispered.

"You can coat bees in powdered sugar to help dislodge mites or other pests," Arthur replied, straightening. "Apparently more than a few bees escaped during the treatment process and got confused, thinking the honey crate was their hive."

"So, your hive's sick?"

He gestured to the path leading to the parking lot, and only when I took his hint and started the return walk to my car did he deign to reply. "They were showing some signs of distress, so I was doing some diagnostics."

"Well I hope that was all that was affecting them." I rubbed at the spot on my forearm where the one bee had stung me. Pansy, probably, as she seemed rather smitten with Arthur. "Do you think it's related to the rotten wood?"

"I doubt it, but Cody and I can handle it. Or call in a professional."

I paused at the car, turning to face him. "Arthur, I can h—"

"Have a good day," he said, eyes fixed ahead as he strode back to where Cody was pacing in front of the rotten wood.

This is what you wanted, Meadow Hawthorne. No attachments. Besides, you'll be leaving Redbud soon anyway, once you break the curse.

My inner thoughts were one-hundred-percent correct.

My inner thoughts sucked.