Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

T hree days later, Greer sat around a table with these people who were so revered in the paranormal world and wondered what the hell was taking his coven so long to contact him.

As he passed the bowl of sumptuous stuffing, chock full of apples and sausage, he didn't know what to think. It wasn't as though a silly thing like a phone could keep them from reaching him. In fact, he was surprised Soledad, their coven's leader, hadn't appeared out of thin air once Gwinnifer's magic was unleashed.

Surely, the universe had revealed her magic was alive and well. He'd smelled it clear as day. Or maybe only he could smell it, because Gwinnifer was his blood? He wasn't clear on this glitch. He'd never heard of anything like this happening before.

Still…nothing. Complete silence. He'd worked his way down the list of witches in his coven, but it had been quite some time since he'd been in touch with any of them. Maybe they'd written him off as a disenfranchised soul?

He wouldn't blame them. After his mother's death, he'd withdrawn from the people he'd been surrounded by all his life. They'd tried to reintegrate him into their world, but it hurt to be with them when…

You could only shut people out for so long before they got the message.

Greer shook off the haunting memories of his mother, taken far too early. Before she could see him marry, have children, become a grandmother. He wondered if there'd ever be a time when it didn't still feel as though it had happened yesterday.

"Greer! Pass the roast chicken, and quit bogarting the green bean casserole. Magic lessons make a werewolf hungry!" Marty shouted from the other end of the table with a grin.

He liked these people (and their food). He liked their sense of family, of community. He liked that they'd opened their home and welcomed complete strangers to stay with them. He liked that even though they fought, and often, they were as loyal as Labradors. It was evident they loved each other, and when the need arose, they worked in harmonious sync.

Except when they played Pictionary. He didn't even know people still played Pictionary, but wow, had that been a ruckus over Marty not grasping the picture Nina drew for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest .

To his eye, it couldn't have been clearer what the vampire was drawing, but when Marty had guessed everything from Chicken Little all the way to Black Swan , Nina lost it. But even then, Wanda was there to mediate, and it was over as soon as it started. He liked how they moved right along without missing a beat or holding a grudge.

Not to mention, they were Robbie's biggest cheerleaders. If she stumbled during a spell, they soothed her with hugs and encouraging words. Rather, Marty and Wanda did.

Nina cracked wise and slapped her on the back from time to time, and Arch always made a batch of Robbie's favorite cookies —white chocolate macadamia—to keep her energy high and her motivation strong.

But what Greer liked the most?

Robbie and her heart-shaped face, her full pink lips, her soft blue eyes, and her willingness to learn how to use this magic thrust upon her.

Greer liked a lot about her. It had happened fast and furious, like nothing had ever happened to him before.

She was insanely attractive, even with patches of her hair burned off. He liked how she related to the women, now that she'd warmed up a bit. There'd been a moment or two after meeting Carl where Greer didn't think she was going to be capable of absorbing any more paranormal species.

But Carl? Carl was the gentlest broccoli-eating, duct-taped-together guy he'd ever met. You couldn't help but love Carl. Once the shock had passed, Robbie fell in love with him, too.

Carl, on the other hand, immediately loved Robbie and her cats, though he was still a little skeptical of Hervé. Just last night, Greer had found them together in the library, reading quietly, the cats cuddled in their laps, Hervé leaning against the hearth of the fireplace.

Darnell gave him a thump on the back, jarring him from his thoughts. He really enjoyed Darnell. He was funny and optimistic and level-headed, and he reminded Greer of how much he missed his friends.

How much he'd isolated himself since his mother's death. He missed his old life, and he hadn't realized how much until spending time with these people.

The demon's dark eyes peered at him from beneath his baseball cap. "How you doin', man? You okay bein' in a houseful of opinionated women?"

"Hey." Nina nudged Darnell with a grin. "Be careful there, demon. A whole lot of opinions in this room can take your ass out."

Darnell chewed on a dinner roll brushed with a honey glaze and chuckled his hearty, throaty laugh. "I ain't sayin' it's a bad thing, now. Just sayin', Boss."

Greer smiled. "I'm good, thanks. Appreciate how you've all let me stay here while I help Robbie adjust."

Darnell winked. "That's just what we do, man. Always room for more in the fold."

It was a good thing there was room, because his coven sure wasn't helping much. Yes, he'd been out of the loop for some time now, but something as urgent as this, something as urgent as Gwinnifer's magic stored, in of all things, a planchette—still a viable, working entity—should have the coven scrambling to figure out how to handle this.

Yet, the silence was deafening. So what did that mean? Were they hiding from him? And if so, why?

He was even ready to own up to the fact that he'd dug up Gwinnifer's grave. He'd take full responsibility for it—he'd left a voice mail to that effect, to more silence.

For now, all he could do was focus on helping Robbie with her new life. He had no reason to believe the magic she'd inherited would be taken away. The only thing to do was move forward until further notice.

He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and sat back in his chair, smiling at Archibald, who'd prepared delicious meal after delicious meal since they'd been here. He and Tottington, both being manservants—the title they'd given themselves—had been spending a good deal of time together, sharing stories about their jobs and their love for the women they served.

"Arch, that was outstanding. I haven't eaten this well in a very long time. I appreciate you including me."

Arch held up his wine glass and saluted Greer with a wide smile. "It is my deepest pleasure, Master Greer. Nothing brings me greater joy than a full stomach. Mine included," he said on a wink.

Greer chuckled. He was plenty full all right—between the constant fresh batches of cookies and cinnamon buns, or the thick roast beef sandwiches for lunch on marbled rye bread with horseradish cream, he was going to need a crane to lift him out of here when it was time to go home.

Home . The word made his chest tight. It was a lonely place where he ate, worked, slept…and not much else. He went to the gym. He grabbed the occasional coffee at his local café, but he'd been in a bit of a funk for a long time now.

Being here with these people, sharing their meals, working with Robbie, had given him a purpose he didn't know he'd been missing.

Teaching Robbie the art of witchcraft, especially with magic as powerful as Gwinnifer's, left him glad to get out of bed each day—even if he did it in one of Nina's guest bedrooms with carousels, unicorns and the biggest pink canopied bed he'd ever seen, decorated for Marty and Wanda's children.

"Hey, Greer?" Wanda called out from the other end of the table. "Can I get you to give me a hand with something?"

"Shouldn't we clear the table first?" he asked, reaching for his plate.

"I'll get it." Robbie offered with a smile that never failed to make him smile, too. "You go ahead. We'll meet back in the murder basement for another magic date when you're done, yes?"

Nina laughed as she helped Robbie gather plates. "Gotta love the newb callin' it the murder basement, Ass Sniffer. There's no shakin' it now. It's official. Murder basement, it is!"

Carl chanted, "Murrrder…base…ment. Murrder b-basemeent!" Leaving them all laughing.

Wanda dropped a kiss on Carl's forehead and rose from the table. Greer followed her out to the living room, where she waved her hand at Nina's velvety red couch, indicating he should sit.

She looked pretty serious, so he sat, waiting until she sat opposite him, pulling a pillow to her lap. "What's up, Wanda?"

Letting loose a long exhale, she looked him directly in the eye. "Any word from your coven or about this Siobhan woman?"

When Robbie had told them what her neighbor said about the woman who'd lived in her apartment before her, he almost instinctively knew his grandmother had been involved. Somehow, that poor young woman's death had something to do with Gwinnifer storing her magic in that planchette.

His lips thinned as he shook his head. "First, I couldn't find anything on Siobhan. Not on social media, not anywhere, and I'm not having much success finding a connection between her and my coven. I even looked up any incidents at Robbie's apartment building and didn't find a single mention of a body found there—which suggests magic was involved. Like maybe an erasure spell. Either way, I can't say for sure if she was a witch or not, but it wouldn't surprise me if my grandmother somehow got hold of her, drained her, and left her magic stored in the planchette."

Wanda visibly cringed. "If what Robbie's neighbor says is true, that poor girl. What a horrible thing to happen. But why did your grandmother store her magic there?"

"I can't make the connection between them, either. Maybe Gwinnifer knew the coven was onto her? If I knew the exact date, or one close enough to when this happened to Siobhan, that might help. But Robbie called Mrs. Campisi, and she can't remember the exact time frame. And since Siobhan's death, the apartment building itself has changed hands several times, which means we can't get answers from whoever rented Siobhan the apartment."

Wanda wrinkled her nose. "Okay, so for now, that's a bust. What about your coven? Any word?"

Greer stiffened. "No. Nothing—and I don't understand it at all."

"It's pretty strange, I'll admit. I asked January for some advice about it, but she said she couldn't comment on the rules from other covens and what happens in an instance like this. However, you'd think after leaving them all those messages, and knowing Robbie has Gwinnifer's magic, they'd at least acknowledge you."

If he were honest, he'd have to admit it stung a little. In fact, Soledad's last words to him before she left him to steep in his grief were, "We're always here whenever you're ready, Greer."

"That sure would help, but what else can I do until I hear otherwise except teach Robbie how to use the magic, so no one ends up hurt?"

Wanda clucked her tongue, putting her folded hands in her lap. "So Robbie just keeps your grandmother's magic, no harm, no foul? That feels off. Yet, I can't say why. It just feels like this is much too easy. Take it from someone who knows, an accident of this magnitude is never this easy, Greer."

His sigh rasped its way out of his throat. "I know what you're saying is true. I've heard the stories about you and OOPS and the battles you've fought on behalf of your clients, but…"

"But…you haven't really been connected with your coven in a very long time, and you think maybe they're simply avoiding you? Then why don't you go to them and ask in person? We'll go with you, Greer. We'll keep Robbie safe, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that I'm worried they'd hurt Robbie. We're peaceful witches, Wanda. Well, most of us, anyway. I don't even think they'd turn me away if they saw me. The problem is…I can't find where they live."

Wanda's eyes went wide with surprise. "Say again?"

He raked a hand through his hair. This is what he'd worried over since he'd sought out Robbie. "Our village, Moonfall Cove, is protected by magic so no one will find us, or it could be 1692 all over again. You know what it's like to live as a paranormal in the real world. Well…we created a place where we don't have to. It's protected by very powerful magic, no human can get in, and only our magic—my coven's, that is—allows you entry."

Wanda inhaled sharply. "Well, you've already left dozens of messages for them. Are you're afraid if you bring Robbie to Moonfall Cove, and she uses her magic, they'll turn you away because it's your grandmother's magic? Maybe that's why they're not answering?"

"Maybe. I mean, I don't know. They can certainly sense an outside force using magic. We haven't tried a locator spell yet, but it appears as if it's the only way I'm going to be able to get in touch with them. I need her to be much stronger before we do that."

"Okay, so we put that on pause, but this thing with you and your coven, this has been going on since just after your mother's death, correct?" Her words were gentle, but he saw the suspicion in her eyes.

January clearly knew enough about his coven to know about his mother. Though, what happened wasn't exactly a secret among witches, white or not. He'd been surprised Wanda and the gang didn't know already about it.

"Yep," he said softly. "Since her death. I don't know if that's the reason no one will get back to me, but I do wonder if that's not part of it."

Wanda frowned, folding her hands on the decorative pillow. "Would they really abandon you, though? Why have they shunned you?"

"They didn't exactly abandon me, Wanda. I…I drifted." An understatement if there ever was one.

Wanda looked at him for a moment before she said, "I think you know what I'm going to ask next, don't you?"

He sure did. "You want to know why I'm estranged from my coven."

"I do," she whispered. "We all do."

"Am I wrong when I guess January's probably told you a bit of what's happened with me?"

She looked directly at him. "You're not."

Fuck. He had to tell her. Of course he had to tell her. So he did.

His throat grew tight as he shifted on the sofa, but the words fell out of his mouth like a waterfall. "Gwinnifer killed my mother."

Wanda gasped, her eyes going wide. "Oh, Greer. She told me something awful had happened, but she didn't specify. How awful…" She reached out to him, gripping his fingers with her warm hand. "Do you mind telling me what happened?"

"Like I said, Gwinnifer was a horrible person. She ruined so many lives that she deserved to be expunged…but what I didn't tell all of you was that she also tried to kill me , and my mother died protecting me. I have no magic, because Gwinnifer stole it from me."

Wanda's mouth fell open. "I…I don't know what to say, Greer. What can I possibly say to tell you how sorry I am?"

He held up a hand. "I don't want you to say anything. I've come to terms with what happened, but I can't let go of the fact that my coven didn't tell me what Gwinnifer had done—to me or my mother. And to make matters worse, I don't remember any of it myself."

Wanda's silence screamed at him. What did someone say when you told them your grandmother tried to kill both you and your mother?

He held up a hand. "Let me explain. After she drained me nearly dry and killed my mother, I was in a coma it appeared no magic could cure. When I came out of it, I had no idea what had happened to me, and rather than tell me the truth, for fear it would impede my recuperation, my coven didn't tell me anything. For a long time, I couldn't even speak to ask for the details about what had happened to me. All I could remember was that my mother was dead."

Wanda squeezed his hand harder. "And they didn't offer any explanations…?"

Those days after he'd awakened were a blur of high-powered potions, people coming and going in his hospital room, and confusion. He'd been in and out of consciousness and weak as a newborn baby for months afterward.

Clenching his jaw, he fought the rage that always tried to overwhelm him when he thought about his mother's death. "No. They were afraid it would slow my recuperation. During the time I was laid up, they tried and convicted Gwinnifer and ruled she should be expunged, but I didn't know the final straw, what made them decide to expunge her, was Gwinnifer killing my mother. I didn't even know I had no powers left until the day of her funeral, which I insisted on attending even though I was still in a wheelchair, because I wanted to see her put in the ground for her misdeeds."

Still weak, Greer had watched as they'd lowered Gwinnifer into the ground and closed her casket, and as awful as he'd felt seeing that, taking part in the coven's ritual of sending her off into the hands of the universe, he'd felt relief.

Relief that her legacy of horror, all the accusations he'd heard all his life, accusations that haunted him, had been laid to rest.

Until he heard why she'd been put in the ground.

Wanda blinked, putting her hand to her throat. "So how did you find out about what she'd done?"

Greer scoffed bitterly. "I overheard a conversation between some fellow coven members, gossiping about how glad they were she was gone. Here's the thing. No one could ever prove Gwinnifer was killing people for their essence, stealing their youth, until they caught her trying to steal mine. But my mother's life was sacrificed in the process. It took her death for anyone to finally realize Gwinnifer was a danger to the entire coven."

Wanda and her sympathetic eyes. "Greer… Oh, Greer, what a horrible thing. I'm so sorry. I never would have pushed had I known."

He held up a hand. "It's only right you know, and Robbie, too. She should know my magic is gone, and why. She hasn't said a word about it. She's never even asked if I have any magic of my own."

He identified hard with Robbie's hatred for her mother. He fully understood what it was to feel the devastation of that kind of disappointment.

"I don't know that she's thought that far ahead, Greer. She's early in her change, and she comes across as the type who puts her heart into everything she does. She's focused on learning how to live her life now. But I admit, we did wonder why you didn't open your grandmother's grave with your own magic."

He looked down at his work boots, nodding. "It's a painful subject."

"I get that, and I respect it, and you for telling me. I even understand why you're angry with your coven for not telling you firsthand what happened between your mother and Gwinnifer. You shouldn't have heard it through the gossip mill, but it's been a while since your grandmother's death. Have you thought about giving them another chance?"

He had. He thought about it every day. "I think a lot of how I feel has to do with feeling like an outsider now. I've mostly gotten past the deception about my grandmother, but I have no power anymore, Wanda, and I never will."

"And that hurts," she whispered softly. "Of course it hurts."

Like Hell. "It does. It's awkward and uncomfortable. Sometimes, it's harder to be with them than be without them because of it. Gwinnifer left me a legacy of shame I can't seem to shake."

"But it's not your legacy, Greer. It's Gwinnifer's. You didn't do anything wrong. You have every right to feel the way you do, but none of what your family has done is on you."

While he nodded, it didn't make him feel any less ashamed. "I guess I'd better talk to Robbie. She's been riding this train right alongside me, learning and doing her best to keep a stiff upper lip while she stumbles through this without saying a word. I owe her explanations." Greer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I got caught up in the community of it all. You're all so…"

"Loud? Foul-mouthed? Boisterous? Annoying?" she asked on a wide grin.

He laughed, relaxing into the chair a bit. "I won't deny you all have your quirks, but your friendships, the paranormal-ness of it all, if you will, reminds me of how much time I've spent outside the circle."

"You miss being with people like you. Say no more. Community for us, connection to those like us, is everything. So much has changed since we became paranormal, it's almost hard to believe the way we now all mingle with each other. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"If those tapestries in the murder basement are any indication of what it used to be like, I think I understand."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. "Those things. Ugh. Nina's husband Greg is a huge collector and as you know, he's been alive for centuries, so we have some choice pieces that he refuses to give up, to our utter dismay."

His laugh was filled with irony. "I get it. I have a poster of Farrah Fawcett you'll pry from my cold, dead hands before I let someone take it."

Wanda laughed out loud, a pleasant tinkling sound. "So you've been around a while, huh?"

"In human years? I'm relatively young compared to most witches, at seventy. If we go by today's standards, my mother had me later in life. But yeah, I've been around a while."

Wanda slapped her hands on her thighs. "Immortality is a kick, huh?" She rose from her place on the opposite end of the couch and pointed to the dining room. "Go talk to Robbie and explain. You can tell everyone else later, if you'd like. No pressure. But I feel as though this poor woman's been dealt blow after blow without the chance to catch her breath. Hearing your grandmother is responsible for your mother‘s death and you've lost your powers is just a couple more things she has to digest. But know this—I'm so sorry about your mother, Greer. I'd bet she was as lovely as you. I know she'd be proud of how you're trying to help Robbie."

Wanda gave his arm a squeeze and then she was gone, her light floral perfume following her.

Greer sat for a minute, catching his breath. That was the most openly he'd talked about his situation ever. He swallowed hard, fighting off the grief he'd been fighting for so long now. His mother had been lovely. Kind. Warm. Fun. And she'd fought to the literal death for his life.

Now he had to explain that to Robbie.

He'd bragged about how much she'd like being a part of a community he'd shut out of his life—a community that wouldn't even call him back.

And that made him feel like a total dick of a hypocrite.

"Master Greer!" Arch called, skidding around the corner of the archway to the living room, his blue tuft of hair flapping. "You must come now! Mistress Roberta is missing!"