Part 31 (2/2)
”Was Peggy a witch?”
Owen blinked. ”How'd you know that?”
”You'd better tell him,” Becca said.
Raye connected the dots. The revival of an ancient witch-hunting society, their purpose to raise their leader from beyond, with a recipe that involved dead witches, branding, fire, blood, sacrifice.
”Peggy was attacked,” Owen continued, ”then branded, but she wasn't burned.”
”The car was on fire,” Becca said. ”Whoever attacked her probably lit it up and took off, then Peggy crawled out.”
”Fat lot of good it did her. She should have run over the long-haired b.i.t.c.h instead.”
”Brown hair?” Raye asked. ”Down to her hips? Big woman-six feet, solid?”
Owen nodded.
”Mistress June.”
”Wait a second,” Becca murmured. ”Did she have her arm in a sling?”
”Peggy didn't mention it,” Owen said. ”I doubt she'd have been much good at the killing with one arm. Why?”
”A woman with long, dark hair was watching me from the crowd after someone tried to kill me.”
”You weren't suspicious of a woman that size?” Owen asked.
Becca shrugged. ”She was sitting on a car and had her arm in a sling. So no.”
”She's probably been here since she ran out of New Bergin,” Raye said. ”I'd hoped she crawled under a bush and died, but that almost never happens.”
”Why would she?”
”My fiance shot Mistress June.”
”Why?”
”She was trying to kill me.”
”She thinks you're a witch too?” Owen asked.
”That's one way of putting it.”
”How badly was she shot?”
”Not badly enough,” Raye muttered. ”She's here. She's still killing people.”
Raye plucked a paper sack from the exam table. ”I'm staying at the Harborside Motel.” She pulled a card from her pocket and set it on the table. ”Here's my number.” She paused in the doorway. ”If you see Mistress June again, run.” Then she was gone.
”You stay.” Becca pointed at the wolf. ”I gotta go talk to my parents.”
”Now?” Owen was almost as amazed at that as the idea of her telling a wolf to stay. Except the animal did, sticking her nose under her tail and closing her eyes.
”Right now.” She shooed Owen and Reggie out the door. ”If you want, I can come to the cottages afterward.”
Owen led her toward his pickup. ”Your name is on the witch-watch list.” Beneath his palm she tensed. ”I'm not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”
”Just because someone tried to kill me doesn't mean-”
”I heard about the ring.”
She didn't respond.
”The crazies think you're a witch. There'll be no convincing them otherwise. I learned that much from my mom.”
Once in the pickup and on the way to the farm, I wrestled with what to say. There wasn't much I could tell Owen without sounding as insane as his mother.
”Who is she?” he asked.
Reggie sat between us, his huge head and solid body a comforting barrier. I leaned into him, and he nuzzled my hair.
Love her.
”Who?” I asked, one question for both guys.
”Raye,” Owen said.
Pru. That was Reggie.
h.e.l.l. That was me. I didn't have time for puppy love. Which might actually produce puppies. Cubs. Cub-puppies.
”Raye La.r.s.en. From New Bergin.”
”I know what her name is, and that she's involved in this mess somehow. But who is she, Becca? It can't be a coincidence that she's your clone.”
”Maybe it's witchcraft.”
”Ha-ha.”
I scrubbed my fingers behind Reggie's ears.
Good. More. Yes.
I had to tell Owen something. I chose the best option from a whole lot of bad ones.
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