Page 103 of Last Witch Attempt
“You have to. That’s the only way this is going to work.” I was careful with the next part. Careful, but blunt. “Magic may create a line, but that doesn’t mean one side of the line is better than the other.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I apologize.”
“We both have adjustments to make. We have to start with the fact that the naiad isn’t the enemy.” This brought my last item this morning. “We have another problem. There’s a warlock working with the construction team. We need to find him, because he’s the reason all of this happened.”
Steve’s eyes bulged. “Now there’s a warlock on top of everything else?”
I sat in my chair and smiled as Landon handed me a glass of tomato juice. “Welcome to Hemlock Cove. Things are about to get crazy.”
25
TWENTY-FIVE
Explaining the difference between witches and warlocks to Steve was challenging. He actually jotted down a few notes. Still, he remained confused.
“What about psychics?” he asked as he sipped his coffee. “How do they play into this?”
I shrugged. “You rarely run across anyone claiming to be solely a psychic. Many paranormals have a variety of psychic abilities.”
“Including those you see at carnivals and festivals?”
“You mean tarot card readers?”
He nodded.
“I can’t say they’re all frauds. Actually, a lot of them are. Others are witches with psychic abilities. Some are … bigger than that.” Briefly, my mind went to Poet Parker, who traveled with Mystic Caravan Circus. She was an example of a psychic with other abilities. It had been more than a year since I’d met her, and in that time, she’d grown into something extraordinary. I only knew that thanks to Scout. They had a past and had only recently found one another.
Much like the others, however, Poet’s secret wasn’t mine to tell.
“This is a lot to take in,” Steve admitted.
“It’s only the tip of the iceberg. You can’t learn it all at once. I’ve been learning for thirty years and still don’t know all of it. I doubt I ever will.”
Aunt Tillie’s hand shot into the air. She was in a much better mood now that we had a plan, even if we hadn’t ironed out all the details.
“You don’t know everything either,” I challenged her.
She sniffed. “I know things. I know a lot of things.”
“Yeah, yeah, you could know things professionally.” I waved her off and focused on Mom, who was poring over the list Chief Terry and Landon had come up with. “Recognize any of those names?”
“I think I can rule two out,” Mom replied. “Donnie Schofield is Rebecca Harrison’s son. She married Rich Schofield. They don’t have a magic bone in their bodies.”
“We’ll take anything we can get,” Landon encouraged her.
“Brett Durbin is another you can mark off,” she supplied. “I saw him at the Valentine’s Day Festival. The only thing magical about him is that he’s not dead. He’s a raging alcoholic. He’s not your warlock.”
“It’s interesting that he was chosen for a project this big if his problems are obvious,” Landon said. “What’s he do?”
“He’s a plumber,” Mom replied. “He works with Chet Milliken.”
“He’s on the list too,” I noted. “Could he be our guy?”
Mom hesitated. “That wouldn’t be my first instinct, but I can’t be positive. He could be one of the guys who was swayed to kill the naiad.”
I slid my eyes to Chief Terry.
“I can’t tell if anyone is magical,” he protested.
