Witches of East End - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,85

Joanna and smiled.

"What do you want, my darling? My sweet? My dearest love?" she asked as she smoothed his hair.

"Want to fly," he said, looking longingly out the window. "Outside. Like you."

So that evening, Joanna conjured up a broomstick - she did not need it but it would be easier for Tyler to have something to hold on to.

They flew out of the hospital bed and to the stars, the boy's laughter carrying over the treetops.
Chapter forty
Twenty Questions

Since Freya had nothing appropriate to wear to a meeting with the police, it was her turn to borrow something from Ingrid's closet.

"There," Ingrid said. "Now you look innocent."

"We are innocent." Freya rolled her eyes. She glanced at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a cashmere twinset, a plaid skirt that hit her knee, and low-heeled shoes. "Everyone thinks so." She glanced at the cards that had arrived once the news had spread that the police were interested in talking to the Beauchamp women about their so-called magic.

Ingrid nodded. Many of their friends in town had sent notes of encouragement and love. There was a sweet note from Tabitha, a funny one from Hudson, and even though Sal was still in the hospital, Kristy had left a message on the machine earlier saying that if there was going to be a witch hunt, the Beauchamps were welcome to hide in her house until it blew over. They had nothing to fear; the town was behind them, unlike Salem, where they had been friendless and alone. It gave them courage to face the day ahead.

Forseti was waiting for them with his car. "Where's Joanna?" he asked, when he saw it was only Ingrid and Freya.

"It's better if she doesn't come with us," Freya said. She and Ingrid had decided last night that it would be better if they faced the questioning on their own. Joanna was too excitable and they did not want to upset their mother further; she was already inconsolable about Tyler's sickness.

At the police station, they were ushered into the same small interrogation room where they had waited before.

"Where's Matt?" Ingrid asked the detective who followed them into the room. "I thought we were here to talk to him."

"Detective Noble is out on another job," the detective replied with a smirk. "Shall we begin?"

Ingrid paled as she took her seat. Freya felt her stomach sink. The detective was a humorless type with a bad combover. He dismissed Forseti's handshake and did not look either of the girls in the eye. Freya recognized him from the bar. (His secret sexual perversion: watching high-heeled women crush the life out of small animals. Sick.)

Freya was up first.

"Miss Beauchamp, I have here a cocktail menu from the North Inn bar. Is this the one that you made?" he asked, sliding over the laminated menu.

Freya looked at Forseti, who nodded. They had gone over the routine several times now and she was prepared. "Yes," she answered. Admit to witchcraft, but emphasize theirs was a harmless magic.

"Allow me to read from this menu. 'Irresistible: Vodka, pureed cherries, powdered cattail, and lime juice. Not for the shy. Prepare to lose your inhibitions.' Can you tell us what this means?"

"It's a love potion," she said slowly.

"Obviously." The detective sneered. "And it's supposed to render the drinker - irresistible? How exactly?"

"The herbal remedies in it create a glow around a person; it heightens their pheromones - their attractiveness quotient, let's say."

"By magic."

"Yes, if magic is the word that means making the impossible possible. I bring out the magic that is inside a person and make it visible. The potion lets everyone see the best parts of the person, and therefore makes them more attractive," she said, using the carefully rehearsed words her lawyer had approved.

"So it works."

"Yes."

"Are there any dangers that could arise from being so attractive? For instance, could a person find someone so attractive it could lead to a loss of control on their end?" the detective mused.

Forseti coughed. "My client is not going to answer speculative inquiries like that one."

"Excuse me. Let me rephrase it. . . . How do you quantify its power? How can you be sure that it had no adverse effects on the unsuspecting public? Could this potion, for instance . . . drive a man to do something he might not do otherwise?"

The defense attorney glared at the detective and turned to Freya. "You don't have to answer that, either."

"I know," Freya said. "But I will. No, it could never harm