CHAPTER TWO

 

Five minutes later, on the second floor, Zoey’s moment of truth finally arrived. She knocked and heard the rush of tiny footsteps pounding toward the door. It opened, and there was Camille. She was surprised. And perfect and beautiful.

“I thought you were room service. We just ordered breakfast. But you must be here to see my daddy.”

“No. No, honey. I’m here to see you. My name is Zoey Proctor. Do you know who I am?”

The little girl drew back in disbelief and disgust. “That was my mother’s name. But she’s dead. And she was a really bad person, so she deserved to die.” Camille eyed Zoey with distrust. “That can’t be your name. Why did you say that was your name? Daddy! Daddy, come here.”

Zoey’s head was spinning. Camille thought she was dead. And she thought that she was a really bad person who deserved to die. She had been told all this by the person she was closest to. The person she trusted the most. The only parent she had ever known.

Dalton appeared at the door and was predictably thunderstruck at the sight of her.

 “You told her I was dead?” Zoey asked incredulously.

Dalton took a deep breath and cocked his head to one side, thinking furiously. “Yeah, but someone must’ve lied to me. Clearly, you didn’t die in prison the way I was told. But you did go to prison on a drug conviction. That part of the story is right, isn’t it?” he said, glancing down at Camille with the slightest hint of a smirk.

So that was how he was going to play it. She wasn’t going to be able to deny the prison accusation, and she wasn’t going to be able to explain the full story to Dalton’s doting daughter.

“I came to see my daughter,” Zoey managed.

“Camille is my daughter, and I don’t know if I want her to be hanging out with ex-cons. Baby, go to your room. We have some grown-up things to talk about.”

Full of shock and questions, Camille backed away from the door and ran to her room.

Dalton returned a disgusted gaze back to Zoey. “Early release, huh? See, if it had been me, I would’ve done fifteen hard years for sure.”

“It should have been you.”

“Is that what you think you’re going to tell her? You think you’re going to poison her against me?”

“All I want is to know her and spend time with her and give her a chance to know me.”

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you come back when you’ve gotten yourself a lawyer?”

“Dalton . . . I was early released because I have leukemia. It’s bad and it’s untreatable. That’s why I can’t wait weeks or months or anything. I need to spend what time I have with Camille. While I still can.”

It was hard to read the expression on Dalton’s face, but certainly, it was shocking, unexpected news for him. “That does change things.”

Zoey let out a small sigh of relief. Could it be possible that Dalton was going to be reasonable?

He continued, “There’s a big diner on Portsmouth Street and a bench in front of it. Be on that bench in one hour. We’ll meet there and talk things over.”

Zoey nodded gratefully and almost skipped giddily to the staircase. Though her weakness was ever-present, she felt the surge of adrenaline and energy that only intense hope can bring.

Downstairs, she shared the good news with Justine, who decided to make herself scarce. No need to scare Dalton off with too many ex-cons. They both hoped that by the time they rendezvoused at the motel room, that Zoey would have some good news to share.

Zoey tried to walk around town a bit, but it was no good. She arrived at the bench way too early and darted inside the diner for a take-out cup of tea. She was already pretty jittery, and coffee would have just been overkill.

After about twenty minutes, Dalton joined her but remained standing. “This place is too crowded. Come on. I know a better place.”

Zoey would not have minded just chatting right there on the bench, but maybe Dalton was hungry. She certainly wanted to be agreeable. They walked past a wide alley behind a long row of restaurants.

“Let’s cut through here. This is the fastest way,” Dalton said.

“So, did Camille say anything about me? She must’ve had questions. Dalton! You really can’t leave her with the impression that I deserve to die.”

Dalton turned to Zoey quickly, and she felt the most intense concentration of pain that she had ever felt since she had delivered her child. Her eyes followed the direction of the pain. Dalton’s hand was still grasped tightly around the blade of a large knife, and he twisted it viciously until Zoey screamed.

“You do deserve to die, for trying to take Camille away from me. But fate is already taking care of that. You have leukemia and you’re going to die. That’s just your destiny. That has nothing to do with me. This isn’t a murder. This is just me helping fate along, getting you out of the picture before you can cause any problems.”

He pulled the knife out, which should have felt better, but it sure didn’t. Then, he carefully wiped off the handle to get rid of his prints. By then, Zoey had sunk to the ground.

“You’ve served your purpose. You helped keep me out of prison. You gave me my beautiful daughter. Now I just need for you to do one more thing for me. And it’s actually better for you as well. Better than waiting and agonizing for a whole year. Just let go. Just let it happen.”

He tossed the knife aside and ran back in the same direction where they’d entered the alley.

Zoey’s first thought was, I was always afraid that this was going to happen in prison. The prisoners talk about it all the time. But then I get out of prison, and I still get stabbed. So unlucky. And then her final thought as she was fast losing consciousness was that she and Dalton could agree on at least one thing. Camille sure was beautiful.

*****

When Zoey opened her eyes, it felt as if a few hours had passed. She was obviously in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV, and facing a doctor’s back, who was rustling paperwork at the nearby desk. He turned around at the sound of her stirring. His hair was completely white, his face moderately lined, and his eyes were kind. He looked like a very good doctor.

“Do not overexert yourself, my dear. I’m Dr. Svenson. You have just received a blood transfusion to replace a very large loss of blood. How are you feeling?”

“Uh . . . okay. I . . . I . . . ” Where was the pain? She remembered it vividly, but at the moment, Zoey couldn’t feel a thing.

“You are very fortunate that one of the restaurant workers came out to the alley to throw away some garbage. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Dalton. My ex-boyfriend. He stabbed me. He tried to kill me.”

“When you are ready, we will call the police to take your statement. This is a very serious situation.”

“He has my daughter and he didn’t want me to be with my daughter . . . and I have leukemia.”

“Yes, leukemia. I figured out that much from your first blood sample. And I also took a second blood sample this morning, thirty-six hours after the transfusion.”

“Yeah? Isn’t it . . . a little early to be taking blood out of me so soon?”

“Well, the blood you received was from a universal donor. It’s very good blood. I knew that you would accept it. But we need to check again just to see if there are any . . . changes.”

Zoey didn’t know what kind of changes the doctor could possibly be talking about, and Dr. Svenson didn’t really want to be more specific right that moment. Zoey had just undergone a traumatic event. That was enough to take in. No need to tell her that her body was now filled with the blood of a fearsome and powerful witch.

Lilith Hazelwood was that witch, and her death had resulted in a multitude of clandestine organ transplants, all presided over by Dr. Svenson. Lilith’s body had been infused with such potent strength that all of her body parts had retained immense powers that not only healed the recipients but transferred a portion of Lilith’s astonishing abilities as well.

Dr. Svenson had come to expect that something of this nature would happen, although he was never sure exactly what form those powers would take. He could see that Zoey’s knife wound had already healed itself, and there were undoubtedly more surprises in store. But right now, the biggest priority was to make sure that the patient was well-rested and that her assailant had been dealt with.

“Could you please take this IV out?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be needing that anymore.”

Was it Dr. Svenson’s imagination or did the IV move as he was trying to remove it? “So why don’t you just get a little bit more rest, and then we can probably release you tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to wait until tomorrow. I feel fine. I feel . . . this is so strange. I actually feel good. Not about what just happened, of course. But . . . energetic. I want to walk around. Are those my clothes? I want to get dressed right now. Could you please hand me my clothes?”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You don’t want to rush things.”

Zoey held her outstretched hand toward her clothes. “Honestly, I’m good. I need my clothes.”

And just as the words were leaving her lips, Zoey’s clothes levitated from the chair that they had been neatly folded in and floated to her hand as if her hands were magnets and they were metal. Zoey’s and the doctor’s jaws both dropped.

“Oh, dear, this is going to be a difficult one,” the doctor said. “Normally, I want to have this talk with you much later. But I can’t send you home in this condition without letting you know what is happening. The blood that I gave you was from Lilith Hazelwood. She was a very powerful witch.”

“Not just a powerful witch. I was the most powerful witch in this entire region,” Lilith grumbled. Even in death, her ego was unabated and she expected to be given her due.

Lilith had died under sinister circumstances, and her ghost would remain a fixture in Oyster Cove until her murder had been solved and avenged. Lacking a body and having few living allies, she intended to make use of these human beneficiaries, these recipients of her organs, her body, her blood. They owed her their very lives, and she expected something in return. This Zoey Proctor was a promising candidate. Her recent assault had surely filled her with rage and vengeance, which would mean that she and Lilith would be on the same page.

“A witch? I don’t believe in witches.”

“Do you believe that your clothes came to you through the air, simply because you wanted them? Do you believe your own eyes? Lilith Hazelwood was a witch, and now that you have her blood inside you, it has changed you. It has given you some of her abilities. You now have the powers of the witch.”

It was absolutely too much deal with. “I need . . . could I get some water, please?” Zoey groaned, pointing toward the sink, which had a stack of plastic cups on its counter.

Before the doctor could stand up, one of the cups detached itself and hovered under the faucet. Then the right handle of the faucet rotated clockwise and the water filled the cup. The faucet turned itself off, and like the clothes, the cup of water floated straight to Zoey’s hand. She gasped.

“There is nothing more I can say to explain what has happened to you. I think you can see everything for yourself now.”

Zoey caught ahold of the cup of water then dropped it in shock. The water splattered over the tile floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I guess we need to . . . ” Then Zoey looked back over to the sink at the paper towel dispenser, which seemed to come to life as several paper towels pulled themselves out and made a beeline for the mess on the floor. Zoey and the Dr. watched wordlessly as the towels sopped up the mess and then headed to the nearest trash can to dispose of themselves. Zoey curled up in a ball on her bed and started rocking back and forth.

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”

“I’m going to call Delphine. She is much better at this kind of thing than I am. She will know exactly how to help you. Because she is a witch, you see. She will be able to answer all of your questions. I’m sure of it.”

A witch? Was Oyster Cove just full of witches everywhere? This didn’t sound like a very wholesome environment for Camille to be living in.

An hour later, Delphine Sykes had closed up her jewelry boutique and responded to the call for help. Although Lilith Hazelwood had been a harsh and difficult witch, Delphine was continually surprised at how likable her transplant beneficiaries turned out to be. She was always more than happy to help them navigate their way through this confusing transition.

Like Dr. Svenson, Delphine had a comforting grandmotherly presence. But she looked like the kind of grandma who spent her retirement on inline skates and skateboards. She was full of vibrant energy and hard-earned wisdom.

“Have you told her about Lilith, doctor?”

“A little bit. The details, I leave to you,” Dr. Svenson said. Lilith Hazelwood had done a lot of harm in her lifetime. He was going to leave those messy revelations in Delphine’s hands.

“You mustn’t be afraid, Zoey. Right now, you’re like a clumsy baby learning how to walk. Your first efforts will be about falling over and stumbling and falling over some more. Perfectly natural right now, when you have no control over this ability. You think about an object and it responds to your thoughts. Now that’s going to cause a lot of problems and questions out there in the real world if you make things fly through the air that really have no business flying through the air.

“It’s going to take practice, and it’s going to take time. I will try to help all I can. But it is a matter of mind control, and that is not generally a strength of commoners—that is what we call the non-witch population. But you will learn and you will improve. Because you must.”

“I need fresh air,” Zoey insisted. “I need to get out of here.”

Yet again, Zoey’s clothing responded her commands and floated into her hands.

“All right, I will let you go home,” the doctor agreed. “Although, a motel is not much of a home. But another night of rest can only help you. And tomorrow, you will speak to the police, and hopefully, they will be able to ensure your safety. Why don’t we leave it at that for now?”

Zoey nodded absentmindedly. Where were her shoes? Why, there they here, hovering right in front of her. She was an absolute freak show. A walking, talking freak. Too bad that wasn’t an actual profession, ’cause apparently, she was awfully good at it.

“All right,” the doctor said. “I will go get the discharge papers ready while you get dressed.”

At that moment, an enthusiastic young woman burst into the room, examining Zoey with undisguised fascination. It was Ruby Townsend, the doctor’s assistant, whose greatest preoccupation in the last couple of years have been witnessing the transplant heirs of Lilith Hazelwood discover their amazing new possibilities. She held the paper out to the doctor.

“Are those the latest blood tests?” he asked. Dr. Svenson looked over the results and let out a big sigh. “Sometimes, I want to go and lay a big wreath of flowers on Lilith Hazelwood’s grave. I’m that grateful to her.” He looked Zoey in the eye with unrestrained glee. “The leukemia is gone. Every trace of it.”

*****

Somehow, it seemed a bit unappreciative to celebrate the gift of health and long life with only a bottle of sparkling cider. But Justine had been insistent.

“You can’t go to the police station to make your statement with alcohol on your breath or any alcohol in your system. Ex-cons . . . we don’t make the most valued of witnesses, and you need to be ready for that. But, oh! I got some things on the way home that will go great with this. Some nice guacamole. Hummus. Chips. And these really nice garlic shrimp. Boy, it’s good to be off the prison diet.”

While Justine was rifling through the mini fridge, Zoey was in the mood for a little cider. Thankfully, Justine’s back was facing her when the bottle of cider decided to pour itself into the two glasses. How was she going to keep this secret away from her friend if this kept happening? But everyone at the doctor’s office had warned her to keep her new abilities on the down low. And as cool and supportive as Justine was, she would probably be ready to call an exorcist if she knew what Zoey was now capable of.

So, Zoey would have to keep her distracted if she saw something was about to move. She would have to try and grab things before they were able to float anywhere. It worked, more or less. Zoey enthusiastically grabbed her food and shoved it in her mouth before it had a chance to levitate to her lips. Better to display some questionable table manners than scary witch powers.

*****

At the police station, Zoey’s statement about the assault seemed endless. At a certain point, she knew that they went to retrieve Dalton for questioning, and she was anxious about what was going to happen with Camille.

“Where’s my daughter?”

The officer questioning her, Finn Cochran, was probably a sympathetic, kindhearted guy. But Zoey’s story was raising a lot of flashing red warning signs.

“Social Services is going to find a nice and safe place for her to stay while we get this all sorted out.”

“Why can’t she stay with me? She’s my daughter. Why can’t I have her?”

“Because we don’t know what to make of you, Ms. Proctor. You have a rap sheet that isn’t long, but it sure is disturbing. You were dealing some pretty nasty stuff. You have to take a drug test before you leave here, by the way. Eight years inside. Now, you’re not being accused of anything, and you don’t need a lawyer, but you have a serious credibility issue. No. The child can’t stay with either one of you right now. Not until we know that she’s going to be safe—it’s going to be foster care.”

This elicited an eruption of tears from Zoey. She asked for a few moments to herself so that she could make some emergency calls—to Justine, to Dr. Svenson, and Delphine, all of whom tried to calm and reassure her. Whatever happened, at least her child was being separated from Dalton, a drug dealer and attempted murderer.

By the end of the day, Dalton was under house arrest, confined to his hotel room. Zoey was shocked and angry that he wasn’t being tossed into jail. But just as Justine had anticipated, Dalton couldn’t be held on the word of a convicted felon who may have made false allegations of assault because of a custody dispute. In addition, thanks to Lilith’s healing influence, Zoey’s body showed no visible evidence of the stabbing.

Zoey watched with equal measures of relief and heartache as Camille was taken away by her temporary foster family, Dr. Svenson and his wife, Melody Glover. How they had managed to pull those strings, Zoey couldn’t imagine, but Finn Cochran could.

As soon as Finn saw the doctor and his wife in the company of Oyster Cove’s Mayor Wanda Macomber, he suspected that this domestic dispute had just taken a witchy turn. Wanda and her fiancé, Jeremy, had become close friends of his and his new bride, Margo. Which was to be expected, given that Margo and Wanda had both received transplanted Lilith Hazelwood organs, courtesy of Dr. Svenson.

“This is a surprise, Doc,” Finn said. “You going to be foster parents?”

“Well, the mother is a friend, and I would like to do her this favor.”

“Very thoughtful, but how did you swing that?”

“Well, it certainly helps to have friends in high places,” the doctor said, nodding toward Mayor Wanda.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Wanda explained. “They’re a doctor and a librarian, for heaven’s sakes. What could be a more wholesome household to put a child in?”

“Uh-huh. Is that how it went down?” Finn wasn’t buying it. He doubted that the doctor had been given custody of Camille Spitz based on his moral character. He also doubted that the mayor’s high status in town had been enough to do the trick. What he suspected was that Wanda’s special powers of persuasion had given this plan its advantage—in other words, her vocal cords, originally belonging to Lilith Hazelwood, now had the power to compel listeners to do her bidding. It was a power that she was careful not to abuse, but she certainly employed it for good causes.

“So, this Zoey is . . .” Finn wondered.

“Yes,” Wanda confirmed. “She’s one of us.”

Finn shook his head. “No. You can’t assume that. Maybe Lilith Hazelwood’s organs plus a good person equal a good witch. But Lilith Hazelwood’s organs plus an ex-con could very well equal someone who can’t be trusted.”

As the doctor and Melody led the little girl out, Camille stared accusingly at Zoey across the police lobby. She couldn’t possibly make sense of what was happening to her, just that she was being taken away from her daddy and that it was probably Zoey’s fault.

No matter how painful this was for her daughter, Zoey had to tell herself that it was necessary, and Camille would be safer because of it. But even knowing that was cold comfort. Her daughter hated her.