Page 19 of With This Witch
He drives away, feeling an overbearing sense of loss, like he left behind a piece of his heart in the parking lot.
* * *
Lachlan arrives at the Wilks estate at exactly 7:59 p.m. As he walks up to the house, he sees Petra standing at the door, looking down at her phone. She raises her head and smiles at him as he approaches. As the clock on her phone flips to eight p.m., the door to the estate swings open, Sloan Wilks greets them formally. “Welcome, Councilor Grace and Miss Rose, to the Wilks estate. We are happy you could join us tonight.” She ushers them inside and takes their coats, handing them off to the butler, who has just appeared as if from thin air.
Sloan gestures for them to follow her as she moves into the house’s interior. Lachlan looks around in awe of the grandiose nature of this home: the large open-floor plan with cream and gray marble surfaces, the grand staircase, the ornate chandelier hanging in the main entry, and the oversized family portraits. Sloan notices his impressed gaze. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it? But my family, like the Roses, has been around for a long time, and this house has been here just as long. Each generation has done updates and renovations, which I think helps it be a nice blend of history and modern times.”
“It’s a lovely home,” Lachlan responds politely.
Lachlan and Petra walk side by side, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand in what he hopes is reassurance. Petra turns her head to him and smiles before facing forward again. He places his hand on the small of her back, letting his thumb caress her bare skin exposed by her backless dress. He can feel her shiver at his touch.
They follow Sloan through the house and spy even larger, ornate rooms along the way. Lachlan is pretty sure he even saw a door to a movie theater along the way. As they continue to meander through the home, it seems she’s taking the scenic route to either show off the estate or to confuse them so they won’t be able to escape. Either option seems possible.
“Welcome to the grand library,” she finally says, extending her right arm forward and stepping to the side for them to go in ahead of her.
It’s as if a fairytale has come to life. The space itself extends three floors with staircases on either side leading up to the floors above. The back wall alone features built-in cherry wood bookshelves that must be at least twenty feet tall, bursting with books. Lachlan notes the various ladders leaning against the shelves. He half expects woodland creatures or animated furniture to emerge, offering assistance. The room is full of people, ranging from council members to community influencers and bigwigs; he spots Councilor Clellugs and Councilor Amare huddled in a corner in what appears to be a heated discussion, as well as various business owners floating around the room as they mingle.
Sloan quickly excuses herself, leaving them alone. Petra, needing some liquid courage, moves toward the bar, and Lachlan, curious about their collection, begins perusing the shelves. He removes a leatherbound book from the shelf, and as he opens it, a finger trails up his arm.
“Hello, Councilor Grace,” the owner of the finger says.
Francesca Wardwell. Like the Wilkses and Roses, she’s part of an old Leeside witch family.
Lachlan clasps the book in both hands, turning his body away from the offending touch. “Good evening, Miss Wardwell. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Francesca smiles in a way he assumes is meant to be seductive, though it comes off as constipated. “I was hoping to have a few minutes with the most handsome demon in the room. And please, call me Franny. All my friends do,” she says, batting her eyelashes.
“Are you well, Miss Wardwell? It looks like you might have something in your eye.”
“Pardon?” she sputters, running her finger under her eye. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. There must have been some dust in my eye. Thank you for your concern. I am happy to see you here tonight.”
“Were the Wilkses not expecting me to come? This room is full of council members and community leaders. It seems natural that I would attend, especially as I was personally invited.”
“Were you not wondering why they have asked for your presence?”
“I have no reason to think there are any hard feelings between us. While a council member, I have not had the pleasure of crossing paths with the Wilkses in my regular council duties,” Lachlan responds, trying to determine where this conversation is headed.
“Well, I welcome you to the house on behalf of the Wilkses and hope they do not disappoint. Can I get you a drink from the bar?” Franny asks.
“I would love a scotch neat, please.”
“Any preference for distillery?”
“Whatever you think is the best.”
“I know just the one. I will return shortly.”
Lachlan nods as Francesca turns on her heel and leaves. What a strange encounter.
He wonders if this is nothing more than a song and dance to try and impress him and the rest of the council. To highlight that Petra doesn’t have what it takes. The Wilks family has money and influence, it’s clear by the gamut of attendees, yet they don’t seem to realize that Petra doesn’t need an ostentatious house.
Francesca returns with Lachlan’s drink, handing it to him and snapping her fingers to produce a folded piece of paper.
“Here is your drink, Mr. Grace, and I also have this for you,” she says, slipping the folded paper into Lachlan’s open hand.
Lachlan looks at Francesca and tilts his head, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinizes the witch before him.
“Thank you for the drink,” he says warily, taking a sip. A part of him wonders if he’s about to be poisoned but also feels it would look bad for the Wilkses if he suddenly dropped dead. “Should I be concerned about what is on this paper?”
