Pawsitively Betrayed Read online

  Amber clenched her jaw. “And this article came out on Friday?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said.

  Henrietta had slipped into her coma on Friday evening. The exploding bear incident happened Saturday morning. Which meant Molly’s article had come out before Amber’s wares malfunctioned.

  The irrational worry Amber had aimed at this trio now shifted to someone else. Molly Hargrove had returned to Marbleglen a year ago after a failed stint at a big city tabloid. As much as Molly was disliked for her sketchy journalistic tactics, Amber had gotten the impression that even though the tabloid had gone under, many were surprised Molly had come back to Marbleglen. Molly the snake had been destined for bigger and better things. But what if the Molly running around town causing trouble wasn’t a Hargrove at all?

  That argument between Molly and Henrietta replayed in Amber’s head and she wished even more now that her memory-retrieval spell had come with volume control.

  Could Molly have had something to do with both Henrietta’s current condition and the malfunctioning toys that resulted in Amber shuttering her shop during the busiest season of the year? Or did Molly have a paranormal source?

  Amber did her best to concentrate on her float-decorating duties after that, but it was hard to calm her racing thoughts. Bianca and her father Simon showed up within the hour. Amber knew only because one of the young ladies beside Jesse had muttered a very dramatic, “She has arrived.”

  The Marbleglen half of the group in the float barn seemed to collectively take on a markedly “more work, less play” mentality, and the chatter went down a few notches almost instantly.

  Harlo and Bianca shared air kisses that they both clearly found equal parts necessary and revolting. It didn’t take long before the conversation got a bit heated, as Simon who stood behind Bianca wore a wide-eyed expression. Perhaps he wanted to hightail it like half of the volunteers had done last night in the wake of Harlo and Bianca’s arguing.

  “Oh dear,” Amber said. “Will, come with me. We need to diffuse.”

  Willow followed her without question.

  Harlo, with his back to Amber, said, “We managed just fine without you when you had—” he gave Simon a very obvious head-to-toe scan, “personal matters to attend to. If you have other obligations, love, I don’t have a problem keeping this operation … afloat.” He laughed at his own terrible joke.

  Bianca’s nostrils flared. Color had risen in her perfectly sculpted cheeks, making her jet-black hair look even darker somehow. “Oh, you would love that, Harlo, wouldn’t you? I’m sorry to break it to you, love, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Hi, Bianca!” Amber said in a too-loud voice that startled Harlo and Bianca both. Simon beamed at Amber from behind Bianca, whether due to being happy to see her, or just glad someone had broken the tension, she couldn’t be sure. Amber turned to Harlo and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted Bianca to meet my sister.”

  Harlo offered a small smile. “Of course. I’ll leave you all to it.”

  Bianca was still glaring after Harlo even as he disappeared around the back of the garden float. “Ugh. That odious man.”

  Amber was no more interested now in Bianca’s feud with Harlo than she had been last month, so she gestured to Willow instead. “This is my little sister Willow.”

  Bianca appraised Willow and then smiled. A real, genuine smile. “Well, aren’t you a doll!” Then her gaze drifted to the logo on Willow’s shirt. “Do you work at Hamish & Nicols?”

  “I do!” said Willow. “I work in the art department.”

  As Bianca and Willow fell into an easy conversation about design, Simon caught Amber’s attention and jerked his head behind him. She followed after him. Once they were halfway down the road, he stopped and turned to face her.

  “I haven’t been able to thank you in person for what you did for me,” Simon said. “I know I sort of forced it on you, but I needed another witch on my side. Imagining the rest of my life in prison—for murder, no less—” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was so dang scared. I—”

  Amber briefly placed a hand on his arm, which had its intended effect of cutting off his rambled apology. “I’m glad I could help.”

  “I also know Bianca can be … a lot,” he said. “But I can’t thank you enough for helping her, too. Her life as a non-witch in a hybrid town scarred her in ways I didn’t even know about until recently. Most people give up on her. I’m just grateful you hung in there—for both of us.”

  Amber flushed at the praise. “Like you said … us witches have to stick together, right?”

  With a warm smile, he nodded. “Absolutely. If you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

  Amber’s list of people she could trust was very short, and the constant threat of being blindsided by a Penhallow wasn’t helping. “Well … I did have a question …”

  He laughed. “Wasting no time, huh? I like it. What’s up?”

  She gave him a quick rundown of the events that led to her shutting down her shop. “Any ideas on how to craft a stronger clarity spell?”

  His expression turned thoughtful as he stared off into space a moment. “A tincture might actually work better than a spell. Tinctures often last longer. We Ricinuses usually lean in the kitchen witch direction. Let me see what I can throw together and I’ll give you a call.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Simon nodded, started to say something, and then stopped. He stared at Amber for a long moment. She realized then that she’d never considered the possibility that the Simon she currently spoke to now could be a Penhallow. Bianca would have no way of detecting a Penhallow or a magical signature. And there Amber had gone, blabbing away. The clarity spell she’d used before leaving gave her a level of security she possibly shouldn’t trust. It seemed unlikely that a Penhallow would have learned this much about Simon by now, including his intonation and mannerisms, but she also knew that she and her family had underestimated the Penhallows thus far. Damien and Devra sneaking around undetected for some time was proof enough of that.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, cutting into her thoughts.

  She hesitated a moment. “Sure?”

  “It’s actually why I tagged along with Bianca today. She said you’d be here.” He looked around; no one was in ear shot. Still, he moved a ways farther down the road. “I told you my wife had been a detective, right?”

  Amber nodded, immediately sensing where this line of questioning was headed.

  “Well, there’s a rumor going around that Kieran Penhallow—the witch you supposedly cured of his curse—escaped prison Friday night,” he said, scanning her face, clearly searching for a sign of whether or not any part of his statement shocked her.

  “I heard that, too.”

  His eyes doubled in diameter and he took a small, involuntary step back. “So it’s true? You really cured him?”

  “That’s what he told me when he called from prison a few days ago.”

  Simon whistled in disbelief, then laughed. “You mean to tell me that the same nervous woman who didn’t know the first thing about Magic Cache—a children’s game—is the same woman who was able to lift a curse that’s been plaguing the witch community for decades?”

  Her doubts about this being the real Simon mostly faded away and she shrugged helplessly. “I’m just as confused by it all as you are, believe me.”

  He laughed again. “This is wild!” After he pulled himself together, he asked, “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

  “Nope,” she said. “It sounds like he had help getting out. No one knows who that help is.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Well, I’ll keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Hey, uh …” she said, “the next time we talk, let’s have a code word to use. Just to help me make sure you’re you.”

  Simon nodded at this, as if it were a perfectly reasonable request.
“Jasper’s folly.”

  It was almost as weird as the word she’d given Chief Brown.

  They headed back toward the float barn then, Simon casting periodic, disbelieving looks Amber’s way. It made Amber recall what Aunt Gretchen had said after she’d found out that Amber had transported Damien and Devra Penhallow into a memory—and had left them there—with the aid of the ley lines below the abandoned neighborhood in the southern end of Edgehill. “I guess you just might be a legendary witch after all, little mouse.”

  Simon cast another look her way, laughed softly, and muttered, “This is so wild …”

  For someone who was supposedly equipped to end a legendary curse, Amber had never felt so inadequately suited for a task in her life.

  Chapter 7

  Amber and Willow made it back to The Quirky Whisker just after eight in the evening. Though this usually would be around closing time, sometimes during the hoopla before the Here and Meow Amber would keep the shop open a little longer. People still milled the streets late into the evening during festival week, and Purrfectly Scrumptious often stayed open until they were completely wiped out of inventory. There was still a line of a couple dozen people snaked out the door across the street.

  Amber sat on the counter of the dark shop and alternated between peering outside and watching Willow angrily pace the shop. Occasionally someone would approach the windows and cup their hands around their eyes to better see inside. It was often children. Children who stared longingly at the toys she had on display.

  When she saw a little girl get dragged away by her father, Amber sighed dejectedly and returned her focus to her sister. On the drive back from Marbleglen, Willow had mostly talked about how fascinating and intelligent Bianca was, so Amber wasn’t sure what Willow was currently so worked up about.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Amber eventually said.

  Willow came to an abrupt halt and whirled to face her. Amber wondered if this was about the trio of young people who had informed them of Molly’s article—Willow’s current venomous expression was the same as the one she’d worn earlier.

  “Am I a complete idiot to be upset about Connor ghosting me?” Willow finally asked.

  Oh. “When did you last hear from him?”

  “Not since I was last here,” she said. “So … two months, I guess? Things were going well, I thought. We went out to eat a few times and it was like high school all over again, you know? We get along really well—annoyingly well—and I thought he was feeling what I was feeling. Then I got that phone call that had actually been stupid Kieran Penhallow pretending to be Connor. When I called the real Connor, all happy about our supposed date, things got weird very quickly. And by weird, I mean nonexistent. I totally scared him off.” Willow huffed out a dramatic breath and gave her arms a little flail. “Is he actually dating Molly? She’s the worst.”

  Amber shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Molly hinted that they’re close, but Molly is … well, she’s Molly. She likes saying things solely to get a rise out of people. But they are working together a lot lately. Maybe it’s all professional.”

  “But maybe it’s not.” Willow threw her head back and groaned. The gesture seemed to run in the family; Edgar employed it often.

  “Have you tried calling him?” Amber asked.

  “Obviously!” Willow snapped. Then she sagged and frowned in Amber’s direction. “Sorry. I’m just frustrated. It was like this in high school, too. We’d flirt and hang out and just when I’d think it was going somewhere, he’d ghost me, and soon after, I’d find out he’d started dating some other girl. Red flag city, right? He’s just not that into me. He likes having me in his back pocket when he needs some womanly attention. I know all this. I do, I swear. But I can’t seem to get over the guy.”

  Amber had briefly been interested in Connor herself, but Jack had always had more of a hold on her even when she was doing her best to deny it. Amber wasn’t sure if Connor was in denial about Willow in the same way Amber had been about Jack. Even Amber could see Connor still had a thing for her sister, but he couldn’t seem to commit to going from friendship to something more.

  “Maybe it’s time for an ultimatum,” Amber said. “He needs to tell you where you two stand and if he really is with Molly. If this pattern of behavior is mirroring how he treated you in the past, it’s likely the same thing is happening again. His feelings for you freak him out and then he jumps into a relationship with someone else. Maybe his answer will give you closure or at least nudge you in that direction.”

  Willow’s shoulders somehow sagged further, and she trudged across the shop to hop up on the counter beside Amber. Their feet hung a few inches above the floor—Willow’s closer to the ground than Amber’s. Willow gently leaned against her, so their sides were pressed together. “I know you’re right. I just don’t want the answer. I don’t want confirmation that the one guy I’ve been hung up on for over ten years never wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him.”

  “It definitely sucks,” Amber said. “But it’s better to know than to wonder about it forever. You don’t want the ‘what if’ of Connor Declan hovering over every future relationship, do you?”

  Willow sighed. “He kind of already does.”

  “Right. You need answers either way,” Amber said.

  After a few quiet minutes, Willow hopped back off the counter and grabbed her phone. Seconds later, it was pressed to her ear. Amber wasn’t sure if she should scurry upstairs to give her some privacy. When Connor presumably answered, Willow shuffled off to a far end of the shop. Amber did her best not to overhear.

  “I’d rather it just be us,” Willow said, voice rising in volume and easily carrying across the shop. “Nothing against Molly, but you and I need to talk. Yeah, noon is perfect.”

  Willow kept her cool during the short conversation, but she remained firm. After she’d ended the call, she slowly made her way back to Amber. Between snapping at the trio who had been rude to Amber, and this emotional rollercoaster she was on with Connor, Willow looked drained.

  “Want to watch that episode of Vamp World where John Huntley is shirtless for, like, ninety percent of it?” Amber asked.

  When Willow looked up, she was smiling. “So, what, all of season three?”

  “Yes. The shop is closed; we’re basically on vacation.”

  “Deal,” Willow said, and headed for the stairs. “It’s just sad that you have the smallest screen in the history of the universe.”

  She sounded like Edgar. She briefly wondered what her grumpy recluse of a cousin was up to at the moment. He’d come over for a family hangout a couple of days ago, but he hadn’t answered any texts since. He was likely caught up in another of his days-long gaming binges.

  Amber and Willow watched Vamp World late into the evening. Even Aunt G joined, though she interrupted nearly every scene with, “Wait, who is that again?” or “Ugh! So much blood!”

  Once her aunt and sister went to bed, curled up on Amber’s bed with the cats, Amber lay on the couch and stared at the dark ceiling. Tomorrow at noon, Willow and Connor would be having lunch. Amber didn’t know if Connor and Molly had a standing lunch date, or if they’d had something special planned, but Amber thought it would be best if she called up Molly Hargrove in the morning to offer her own lunch invitation. It was for Willow’s sake, Amber told herself. If Molly was the jealous type, would she disrupt this lunch between Connor and Willow? Willow and Molly both would benefit from Connor finally making a decision about who he wanted.

  And if Amber just so happened to see “Molly’s” real face hiding underneath her Molly-disguise, Amber would at least know the identity of the Penhallow in town.

  Willow was a nervous wreck for most of the morning. She’d run through the talking points she wanted to cover with Connor during their lunch date so many times that Aunt G finally let out a muted scream and told Amber and Willow to take their “boy drama” downstairs so she could work on the toy inve
ntory in peace.

  It was like high school all over again.

  Before they descended the steps, Amber said, “I just realized that I haven’t had you two pick a code word yet.”

  Willow grabbed her shoes and purse and said, “Hmm. Logomark.”

  Amber shrugged. “And you Aunt G?”

  Casting her gaze to the ceiling for a few long seconds, Aunt G tapped her chin. “Ah! Voodoo lily. They’re gorgeous and striking. Like me. Now get out of here.”

  Amber and Willow laughed as they hurried down the steps.

  After Willow left for her date around 11:30, Amber went over her own talking points that she wanted to discuss with Molly Hargrove—namely, where Molly was getting her information, and what had she been arguing with Henrietta Bishop about.

  A quick search online of the Marbleglen Herald site revealed the office phone number. The receptionist quickly patched Amber through to Molly’s desk.

  “Molly Hargrove speaking.”

  “Hi, Molly. This is Amber Blackwood.”

  Amber could almost hear Molly’s eyebrow raise in curiosity.

  “Hi, Amber. What I can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to meet me for lunch,” Amber said.

  Molly let out a short little laugh. “You trying to keep me occupied so I don’t crash Connor’s lunch with your sister? If this is the best plan you two can come up with, I have to admit it’s a little pathetic. What Connor and I have can’t be broken in one afternoon.”

  Amber was tempted to hang up. “To be fair, what Connor and Willow have has lasted a lot longer than a few months. History trumps a flash in the pan.” She chastised herself for sinking to Molly’s level. It would be hard to get Molly to agree to get lunch with her if she started the conversation with insults. Willing herself to remain civil, she calmly added, “I’m calling about the article in Friday’s paper.”