Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,38

you. But after a couple of decades—”

“Decades?” Annette asked.

“—I knew I could trust her completely.”

“And she remembers the house without the gables even now?”

“Yes. Exactly like me.”

“It must be a witch thing,” Annette said.

Ruthie agreed. “Whatever or whoever Bead-uh was, it was bad enough that a charmling summoned a witch from her past to cast a spell on the house just to lock it up. And, Defiance, you did all of that while in a state of suspended animation.”

“After I changed Roane?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Annette said, obviously unsettled. “I think we should change the subject, being as Bead-uh lives right above us. Let’s watch Licked now. As a palate cleanser.”

Ruthie dove—a dive worthy of the Olympics—toward the laptop. She slammed the lid closed.

Annette barely had time to save her fingers from being crushed alive.

“You know what?” Ruthie said, taking the laptop from her. “How about we save that one for later?”

I looked at Annette. “Oh, hell no,” we said simultaneously.

Giggling like schoolgirls, we wrestled an old lady for a laptop that may or may not have porn on it.

“Okay,” Ruthie said through our giggles. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything!” Annette shouted, refusing to release her death grip on the laptop corner she’d claimed.

I had a corner too, but Ruthie had managed to retain control of two of the coveted triangles, making her the victor thus far. But the battle wasn’t over. “Defiance?” she asked.

“I promise. Anything. What am I promising?”

Ruthie tightened her hold, her knuckles white. “That no matter what you hear, you will not let this sway your decision to stay.”

I grinned. “Who says I’m staying?”

“You can’t leave now,” she said. “You have a gorgeous little boy to take care of.”

I almost gasped aloud. I did. Then again . . . “Samuel followed me here. Who’s to say he won’t follow me wherever I go?”

She sobered, wiped her eyes, and sat up, relinquishing controlling interest of the laptop to smooth her hair and dress. Vanity strikes again. “Because . . .” she said, a sadness coming over her. “Because of what this house is made of.”

I bolted upright. “I knew it! It’s the salt, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “This house was built with wood from several retired ships that spent years at sea, soaking in the salt and brine. Your ancestors repurposed before it was a thing.”

“Is that why they did it? The salt? The spirits?”

“It is. They used every kind of ship they could get their hands on. Wrecked merchant ships, a few fishing vessels, even a pirate ship confiscated by the government. But my favorite was an ancient Viking ship your ancestor bought from a tobacco farmer in Virginia.”

I leaned back against the headboard. “Percy, I knew you were cool. But daaaang.”

He hummed happily beneath us.

“Ruthie?” Another thought hit. “Could there have been spirits already attached to the ships before they became part of the house?” It made sense. Especially if the wood had come from shipwrecks.

“I would bet my life on it. Only I already lost it once, and I don’t want to tempt fate.”

“Is that why you can’t leave?”

Percy hummed again.

“Most likely,” Ruthie said. “And when a spirit somehow finds its way in, which is almost impossible without a host, it can’t get back out.”

“I’m the host. I brought Samuel in.”

“That’s my best guess, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” I thought about it for a bit but eventually promised, “I won’t let this video sway me either way.”

“Then I give you my permission to watch it. Just know, you may find it a little disturbing.”

“Phhttt.” I blew out a breath, reclaimed my precious from Nette, and opened it again. “Try not washing your hair for six months. I’m a rock. Nothing fazes me now.” I exchanged excited glances with Annette. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she said with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

Gawd, we were such pervs. I clicked on the video.

“This happened right before we said goodbye that day,” Ruthie said. “That’s the only reason Houston got it on video.”

Onscreen, Ruthie was bundling tiny me up. I was still groggy from being in what I assumed was suspended animation after performing the spell that changed Roane into, well, Roane. That meant it was soon after my mother had tried to take my powers. And Gigi had taken her life instead.

Ruthie’s movements were hurried as she tried to button my pajama top and slide on my bunny slippers. She was an emotional mess. How could she not be? Losing both her daughter and her granddaughter in a matter of days. Possibly hours. I