Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(82)

They had agreed that the situation was dire. Sage had confirmed that the stopping of the clocks marked the arrival of the witch’s bane; the same phenomenon had preceded her husband Neil’s death. Something would have to be done right away, or the consequences would be deadly for Justine.

The two women were intrigued and even incredulous that Priscilla’s grandmother and great-aunt had managed to cast a powerful spell from the Triodecad.

“Had anyone consulted us,” Rosemary had said pointedly, “we could have explained why a longevity spell was a bad idea. However, the fact that they were able to pull it off at all is impressive.”

“I should have consulted you,” Jason admitted, “but I was hell-bent on forcing things to turn out the way I wanted. Obviously I’m asking too late—but what went wrong?”

“Even if one is able to ward off the witch’s bane,” Rosemary had explained, “that won’t make it disappear, it only attaches to someone else. Which is what seems to have happened in this case. The longevity spell redirected the bane from you to Justine.”

“How do we put things back to the way they were before?”

A discomforting pause had ensued.

“I’m afraid we can’t,” Sage had said. “Things can’t ever go back to the way they originally were. There will be differences. I think we may be able to lift the longevity spell, but that is no easy thing to accomplish. Longevity is a unique category of magic. High magick. There are risks.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“Significant risks.”

“I want to go ahead with it.”

“You could die,” Rosemary had said. “And since you have no soul, that would be the end of your existence.”

“But Justine would be okay? She would be safe?”

“She would be safe,” Sage said. “I don’t know about ‘okay.’”

They had decided to consult the coven. It had been unanimously agreed that they would participate as a group in the lifting of the longevity spell, and that above all it had to be done fast. They would meet at Cauldron Island and perform the ritual at Crystal Cove, at the old abandoned schoolhouse where they had conducted many successful rites and ceremonies in the past.

No one in the coven had objected to Jason’s request to keep Justine out of it. There was no way in hell that Jason was going to put Justine in the position of having to make an agonizing choice, or trying to sacrifice herself for him. Protecting her from that was the very least he could do.

His thoughts were dragged back to the present as someone knocked at the front door of the lighthouse. The first witch … covener … had arrived.

Following Sage into the main room, Jason saw Rosemary welcoming in a middle-aged woman, slender and tall, with artfully styled red hair and a fine-boned face. Her Stevie Nicks rock-glam vibe was enhanced by a crushed-velvet skirt, a skintight top overlaid with a delicate macramé vest, and studded wedge-heeled boots.

Rosemary and Sage both went to embrace her, and she laughed in apparent pleasure at seeing them.

As soon as he heard that distinctive throaty laugh, Jason knew who she was.

Looking over Sage’s shoulder, the woman caught sight of Jason. The amusement died from her expression. The atmosphere chilled. Her eyes were crystalline and smoked with heavy makeup, her gaze unblinking as she approached him.

“Jason Black,” he said, reaching out to shake hands, then curtailing the gesture as he saw she wasn’t going to respond. “I’d hoped to meet you under better circumstances than this. But it’s a pleasure to—”

“You can hardly do anything worse to a crafter than steal her grimoire,” Marigold said crisply.

“I gave it back,” Jason pointed out, careful to strip all defensiveness from his tone.

“You want credit for that?” Marigold asked acidly.

Jason kept his mouth shut. There was no way he or anyone could blame her for disliking a man who had put her daughter’s life in danger.

He studied her, seeing hints of Justine here and there: the slim and leggy build, the shape of the jaw, the skin as perfect as bone china. But Marigold’s face, for all its beauty, had a masklike quality, a façade that concealed the propulsive bitterness of someone whose worst fears about the world had been confirmed.

“As I understand it,” Marigold said, “you hired a pair of hillbilly crafters to perform a complex spell, and surprise, surprise … something went wrong.”

Rosemary answered before Jason could reply. “The spell was cast very competently. In fact, the strength of the spell is the problem.”

“Yes. The witch’s bane has been transferred to Justine. Does she know about what’s happening tonight?”

“No,” Jason said. “She’d only try to argue with me. It’s my fault. My responsibility. I’ll take care of it.” Jason paused before adding sincerely, “I appreciate you coming here to help, Marigold.”

“I didn’t say I would help.”

Rosemary and Sage wore identical expressions of bemusement.

“I have one condition,” Marigold continued. “I’ll only do it if you promise never to see or speak to Justine again. I want you to disappear from her life.”

“Or what?” Jason asked. “You’d let your own daughter be taken out by the witch’s bane?”