Nail in Her Coffin (Devil's Witch Book 1)

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Chapter 12-Tracking the Truth

Patricia Gild ended up being the first person to greet us. More accurately, question us. They did find someone had in fact broke the ward around the cemetery. Which had a lot of the coven members on edge, most of them followed the trail of the ward over to the Silvets.

I don’t know why any of the Silvets would have bothered destroying the ward the coven put up. According to Patty, that’s where the coven traced its remnants. Any witch who breaks a ward can’t shake off the magic that pours out of it once broken-at least for a couple days at minimum. I’m surprised the necromancer didn’t at least get knocked out. Any normal witch who broke a ward that big would have died.

“Stella, do not interrupt me when I am questioning you,” Patty tells her daughter sounding enraged. I cross my arms, feeling self-conscious in the woman’s presence. “Did you or did you not directly disobey me and leave this house?” Patty repeats to her.

I stare at the floor, anywhere to avoid the witch’s accusing gaze as she looks between the two of us.

“We did. You admitted you didn’t care about us using ourselves as bait. What made you change your mind?” Stella says calmly.

Patty stands up abruptly. She shakes her head at us in disgust, tapping her foot impatiently as she checks her watch.

“I will inform you of your punishments later. You endangered the entire coven with what you pulled tonight. Stella, come with me,” Patty tells Stella, but Stella doesn’t move from the couch beside me.

“Now!” Patty shrieks.

Stella rolls her eyes, slowly standing up.

Her mother grips her arm and drags her with her over to the front door and into the chaos outside.

“Hey, wait a second!” Stella yells, but her voice is cut off when her mom pushes her outside and slams the door shut. Leaving me alone with her.

With a gulp, I stare up at the orange-haired woman.

“What I am about to tell you is for your ears only.”

“Okay, headmistress,” I answer, addressing her using the most respectful name.

“We believe one of the Silvets may be the necromancer. I need you to come with me when I question them. If one of them is the necromancer there will be a disturbance in their aura that only a witch’s sight like mine can detect. Their aura should react when being in close range with yours, which is why I need you to come along,” she says briskly.

She pulls her cloak tighter around her slim shoulders and then puts her black hood up.

“Come now,” she adds.

I get up quickly, following her out the door and hoping Stella is nearby.

Stella looks to be in deep conversation with another coven member on the porch, her back turned to us. Patricia sees my hesitation in following her and yanks my hand for me to keep walking.

The flashing police lights light up the entire front yard, the SUV car lights shine in our direction.

There’s way more police here than coven members.

Curious, I scan the crowd around us for the cop who turned up at the house with a warrant. Not seeing him, I continue following Patty into her car. Which happens to be all the way out at the end of the driveway.

“The police are here in case things turn messy, you never know when humans might show up. We don’t want them to get caught in the middle of our dealings,” Patty mumbles under her breath while pushing me into the back of her car.

Another witch steps into the passenger side seat and Patty gets in her side after whispering a spell for a ward to go around the car.

As paranoid as she may be, she is a pretty careful witch.


When we drove over to the Silvets, I watched silently from the car as the police came in and handcuffed them. I recognized Mr. Silvet and his two sons Darren and Jackson. I’m not sure if Mr. Silvet is married, but a young woman with braided black hair walks out behind him with handcuffs on like the rest of them. They live in a huge ranch house and it’s clear they are much more wealthy than the McCasters.

Then we drive off again, heading into town. We stop at the police station and Patty leads the way into the white brick building. She guides me into one of the interrogation rooms and gestures for me to sit down beside her.

One of the policemen shuts the door behind us and it closes with a loud click.

Our chairs are made of metal, so is the rectangular table sitting in front of us.

I don’t know why the coven made the police arrest all of them, just because the ward trail ended up at their house doesn’t mean the necromancer is necessarily one of them. Judging by how quickly the necromancer broke the ward and got away, the ward trail may have broken off from them way earlier than expected. For all we know, the necromancer could have simply passed by their house when the ward trail wore off.

“Don’t say a word unless I say so,” Patty tells me in a cold voice.

I nod my head. I hate how I have to appear to be on the side of the woman who has been practically holding me prisoner in a house for over a week now. As far as I know, I’m no more a criminal than the Silvets.

The first one to come in the interrogation room is Mr. Silvet, he enters the room and sits down on the chair on the other side of the table. Looking calm and collected, he rests his handcuffed hands on the table in front of him.

“Where were you tonight, Mr. Silvet?” Patty asks him getting straight to business.

“In my house eatin' dinner, which consisted of pig blood to be exact-farm -- raised and all by the hands of my family,” Mr. Silvet replies smoothly with a look of pride.

“Good to know. And the rest of your family, where were they?” Patty asks him.

Mr. Silvet smiles. “They were eatin' with me. My sons and daughter -- Jackson, Darren and Sonya that is.”

“What about your wife, Mr. Silvet?”

“She's in Paris right now,” he answers without missing a beat.

Mr. Silvet’s gaze lands on me as a slow smile grows on his face, goosebumps shoot up my arms. I squirm under his stare. When he shifts his gaze back to Patricia and I relax.

“Mrs. Gild, you really should not make it so obvious y'all are intimidated by my kind. I could sue y'all and ya entire coven for enterin' into my house without probable cause nor a handy-dandy warrant. I have friends in high places and ya, my dear, would not stand a fightin' chance against 'em in court,” Mr. Silvet says loudly with confidence.

As if right on a cue, a middle-aged man wearing a brown suit enters the room holding a briefcase. The cop behind him gives Patty an apologetic look.

“No, get him out. Let the others go too. We can’t afford to keep them here, but I want to talk with him a little longer,” Patty tells the officer and he ushers Mr. Silvet’s lawyer, who protests, back outside of the room.

“Maybe your family is innocent, but you better tell me why we found the cemetery ward broken and its trail leading to your house before I release you,” Patty demands sharply, slamming her fist down on the table.

Unlike me, Mr. Silvet doesn’t jump from her movement.

He fumbles with his handcuffed hands to pull something out of his jacket pocket, Patty watches his every movement like a hawk.

“Maybe this could be of some help,” Mr. Silvet offers, pulling out a small black videotape from his jacket.

Patty picks up the tape and walks over to the old tv plugged into the wall in the corner of the room.

“My house is on camera twenty-four seven,” Mr. Silvet adds.

“Bringing something like this just makes you appear more guilty,” Patty retorts while jamming the tape into the player.

She presses a round button on the tv and backs up with her hands on her hips.

The screen turns blue, then flickers with black and white static before a dark scene unfolds. In the top right corner of the video recording is the time which blinks, 3:00 pm. It’s a view of the roadside of their ranch from a camera above their huge five-car garage.

Patty fast-forwards the security footage until she sees the coven’s cars pull up at their ranch house.

“Useless...” she growls out, about to turn the tv off.

“Wait, rewind it,” Mr. Silvet says with urgency and with a scornful look, she does.

“There! Stop it there!” Mr. Silvet yells wildly. He points at the television. At the top right corner of the tv reads 8:00 pm, it would have been around the time we were at the cemetery.

A lone, beat-up looking red sedan zooms down the road passed Mr. Silvet’s house and when Patty fast-forwards the footage a few minutes, the coven’s cars and other police cars pull into Mr. Silvet’s driveway.

“Who was driving that red sedan?” Patty wonders out loud while calling someone on her phone.

“Who indeed,” Mr. Silvet says quietly. So quietly, that Patty must not hear because she is already in deep conversation on the phone with the police and doesn’t spare him a glance.

When she hangs up, she walks around the table and opens the door.

“I’m sorry, but you must understand I am just doing my job. You and your family are free to go. Uncuff him,” Patricia tells the police guarding the door outside.

“Splendid,” Mr. Silvet says with satisfaction when they take his handcuffs off. By the time he stands up, Patty is already out of the room storming down the hallway. Probably to find every owner in Wixton with a red sedan.

“There are worse things to be afraid of than her. Aren’t there?” Mr. Silvet laughs darkly to the cop showing him his fangs with a threatening hiss right before vanishing.

“Filthy scum of the Earth vamps,” the old officer murmurs while walking me out of the room.

It looks like everyone else is gone already, Patty must have left too. How does she expect me to get back to the McCasters? Maybe she doesn’t care.

“Sorry lady, but I’m pullin’ the late shift here tonight. You’ll have to call someone to pick ya up,” the officer informs me. He guides me over to the entrance of the police station and then walks back into the shadows of the office area of the police station.

Maybe I should just call Will, I don’t want to get Stella in any more trouble with her mom.

I step outside the station and begin to dial his number. However, I pause hearing loud rap music echo down the street headed in my direction. The music gets louder and louder. From how fast it sounds nearer, it must be coming from a car radio.

Sure enough, I soon see car lights at the end of the block, headed in my direction. The car roars, the driver testing the strength of the engine. As the car gets closer to the police station behind me, it slows down. It’s one of the cops I realize seeing the car is a police cruiser and I gasp when it stops in front of me, narrowly missing hitting the curb.

The music still is blasting and I take a step back, thinking the police officer may have to get out in a hurry if there’s an emergency.

The tinted window of the passenger side door slides down.

“What are ya doin' out here ma’am?” a familiar voice asks over the loud music.

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