Everything hit Calla at once. Everything. “So that’s why Nash didn’t remember me. But what does that have to do with what Fate said?”
“Who gave you this dress, Calla? I thought I’d hidden it away where no one could find it, and then I kept forgetting to burn it to rid it of the spell.”
The panic she sensed in Winnie was panicking her. Winnie was fighting hard to hide it, but Calla smelled her fear. But she still didn’t understand. “Kirby. Kirby gave it to me. She helped me pick it out.”
Winnie gasped, clapping the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, Jesus! I can’t believe I did this. I was in here with the girls one day, reorganizing the closet for donations, preaching rehabilitation, and using my past poor choices as examples. I told Kirby and Renee about the dress—we laughed about it. But I never in a million years thought…Shit, shit, shit!”
“What?” everyone yelled in unison.
Winnie began to pace the floor of Nash’s bedroom, biting her lip. “Kirby is troubled in more ways than you know. The actual time she served was for breaking into a warlock’s house. But as Baba always does, because she cares about the people she confines, she dug deeper into Kirby’s past while she was in prison. And she discovered something else, something buried. I’m not supposed to break confidentiality, but her files say she had a run-in with someone once—became too attached, for lack of a better word—to the point of frightening the person she was so fixated on. But no harm was ever proven, and the incident certainly wasn’t to this extent.”
“‘The incident’?” Calla demanded. “Define ‘the incident’.”
Winnie shook her head, rubbing her temples. “She allegedly sent some letters to someone, and when this person rejected her, she, according to what I read, freaked out—showed up once or twice at their place of business. But she never, ever hurt anyone! The elders of the Council chalked it up to a childhood crush.”
Calla licked her dry lips nervously. “Okay, so she’s not dangerous.” She sent a fervent prayer skyward that at least that much was true.
“Baba put her through some rigorous testing before she even allowed her to leave solitary. She never would have sent her here for rehab if she were violent because of the children. The women here aren’t hardened criminals. They’re mischievous—they abuse their magic for their own gain. And since Kirby’s been here, she’s been so great. How could I have missed something like this?”
But then something hit Calla like a bolt of lightning—all at once and hard in the gut. “I didn’t stop to think about it while we were doing the reenactments, but Kirby knew every detail while we were staging it. I mean, right down to how I was standing when Nash first kissed me.”
Kirby’s words shot through her brain. No, Calla, lean more on your left foot…
Daphne’s finger shot up in the air. “And as I recall, she was pretty precise about the first time Nash saw you again at the center.”
“Nash. She’s obsessed with Nash?” It all made sense. If he didn’t remember her, Kirby still had a chance with him. “Where is Kirby, anyway?”
Gus’ eyes widened, and his next words were laced with fear. “Haven’t seen her since we were out on Nash’s land.”
Dread filled her stomach, making her legs weak and her hands shake. But what Fate had said still wouldn’t let go. How did Kirby’s alleged obsession with Nash fit the words “one day”? “How will we find him? It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Winnie glanced at Ezra. “I need Greta with me, Ezra. Can I count on you to stay here and keep watch on the house and the girls?”
Ezra bobbed his head. “Always. You just look out for my girl.”
Winnie tugged his beard. “Always.” The she snapped her fingers, making her magic wand appear, the dress still in her other hand. “Boys and girls, gather ’round! I’ll need all your power, and we have to connect at just the right time.”
Daphne and Greta made a circle around Winnie, with Gus, Clive, and Flora placing their hands on each of the women’s shoulders
Calla held up a hand, poking her head between Clive and Flora. “Wait! Can this hurt anyone?”
“Don’t you worry about us, girlie. Just sit back and watch the show!” Gus cackled.
Winnie eyed everyone, holding up the dress and her wand. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”
She hurled the dress in the air, raising her arm high and pointing the wand at the pink fabric as, almost in slow motion, it flew upward and fluttered, the soft material billowing.
Winnie began to chant in what Calla was almost sure was Latin—the words picking up rhythm and speed. Daphne and Greta chimed in while the seniors mumbled something indistinguishable.
Sparks sizzled red and orange in midair, appearing then disappearing. The room shook, a quaking Calla felt in her chest. The air in the room evaporated for a moment then whooshed around them like the winds of a hurricane, almost knocking her over.