by Cindy Stark
Adorable, too? Hazel rolled her eyes, and then watched in stunned disbelief as Mr. Kitty walked toward the older woman and rubbed against her legs.
“Oh,” Mrs. Tillens said and laughed. “That feels really nice.”
She wanted to ask her cat why he couldn’t be that nice to her all the time. She’d love a lap kitty, but he’d made it clear that he set the boundaries of affection in their relationship. “I was just telling the little rascal that I need to take him home. I have errands to do, and he can’t come with me everywhere.”
She blinked behind her glasses and smiled. “Don’t worry, dear. I talk to my cats, too.” She glanced around. “Just not in public because… Well, you know why.”
Hazel forced a chuckle. “Oh, yes. I hadn’t thought of that. I should be more careful.”
Mrs. Tillens put a wrinkled hand on her arm. “I don’t really think you need to worry, dear. Everyone loves you and knows you’re not a witch, so it’s probably okay.”
She choked on an awkward breath. Then coughed.
Mrs. Tillens patted her back. “Are you okay?”
Hazel cleared her throat several times and then nodded. “I’m fine,” she squeaked.
“Might want to stop at Cora’s for some warm tea. That’ll help your throat.”
Hazel nodded and didn’t remind her that she also had tea brewing in her shop.
She pointed down the sidewalk. “I should go,” she managed.
Mrs. Tillens nodded. “You should. Have a lovely day. You, too, little kitty.”
Hazel scooped up her cat and strode down the street.
“Little kitty?” she whispered when they were far enough away. “She should try carrying you around. More like fat cat, I’d say.”
He hissed, and she laughed.
“Good thing I love you.”
He purred then, and something odd and wonderful opened in her heart. She’d never expected one of her best friends to be a cat, but here they were.
Hazel strode into the police station with her “sweet kitty” in her arms. Margaret glanced up from the computer screen and widened her eyes, her irises popping from behind cat-eye rimmed black glasses. She wore a classic pink suit like something Jackie O might have owned.
Peter’s administrative assistant stood and held out her arms. “Oh, my goodness. He’s so handsome. Can I hold him?”
Before Hazel could answer, Mr. Kitty pushed against her and leaned his head toward Margaret. “He’ll get cat hair on your clothes.”
Margaret waved away her concern. “Who cares? It comes off.”
Mr. Kitty pushed harder, and Hazel had no choice but to let him go. Once Margaret had him in her arms, he rubbed his face against her chin. Loud purrs reached her ears.
Hazel narrowed her gaze at him and swore he smirked. “Is Peter in? I need to talk to him.”
Margaret gestured with her head toward his office. “Go on in. Leave this sweet boy with me.”
Hazel snorted a laugh and turned toward Peter’s office. Mr. Kitty could sure be a ladies’ man when he wanted.
She poked her head inside the door, and Peter glanced up immediately. A grin spread across his lips and warmed her heart that had been in a chilled state ever since her encounter with Timothy and Samuel Canterbury that morning.
“Morning, Miss Hardy. What can I do for you today?”
Several things that might be inappropriate for the office crossed her mind, but she had other business this morning. She stepped in and closed his door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked before she could take a seat.
Knowing his reaction to her news, she’d thought to ease into it, but she should have known better. She couldn’t tell him the exact details of her encounter with Timothy and Samuel because he wouldn’t be happy knowing she’d been slinking around in the dark. But she had to say something.
“I met Samuel Canterbury this morning.”
His gaze darkened. “I see.”
She exhaled a slow breath, trying to calm her pulse. “He was out walking with Timothy.”
Peter nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“I get a really bad vibe from him, Peter. He scares me. I watched as they walked away, and I think Samuel might be the one who attacked Fauna. He’s the right height and stature, and he has a different gait. Like it pains him a little to walk.”
Peter studied her for a long moment. “War wound. Took shrapnel to his leg.”
“He scares me,” she repeated.
“He probably should. I’ve known for a long time that he’s not a good person. I just haven’t been able to pin anything specific on him, and I can’t arrest a person because I don’t like him.”
She nodded in understanding, and another thought slipped into her mind. “Peter? What if he killed John, too?”
Peter narrowed his gaze in confusion. “Why would he? They’re part of the same team.”
“What if I’m wrong, and it was John who attacked her? They might kill him if they thought he’d be caught and could possibly give them up, too.”
He paused and then huffed a sigh. “Well, there is that, too, isn’t there?”
Chapter Fifteen
Hazel tried to keep the conversation she’d had earlier with Peter out of her mind and handed a bag of two teas to a young couple who were visiting from Maine. “Thanks so much for your business. I hope you love the tea and come back again sometime.”
The woman with bright red hair slicked back into a ponytail nodded. “Oh, I’m sure we will. Your Happy Day tea is to die for.”
“Yeah,” the dark-haired guy agreed. “You might have to expand production if too many people hear about you.”
Hazel laughed. “I don’t know. I kind of like a smaller business with a personal touch.”
The woman nodded. “Same.”
The couple left, and Hazel glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes until she could close her doors.
She was exhausted. She’d gotten up far too early to do reconnaissance that morning and then she’d had the scare of her life. Since then, she and Gretta had had a steady stream of customers for most of the day. She’d hated to let Gretta leave a few hours before, but her grandmother had been suffering with a cold and Gretta needed to check on her.
Still, a busy day was a good day.
She glanced toward the three middle-aged women who discussed which was better, Majestic Mint or Blackberry Sage. One woman had decided to purchase both and a tin of Pineberry Bush tea.
While she waited for them to make their decisions, she straightened the cash drawer and paperclipped all the credit card receipts together. The bell on the door rang, and she glanced up.
Then lost another good five years off her life. If she had that many left.
Timothy and Samuel strode through her door, bringing a malevolent cloud along with them. Timothy was shorter and wider compared to Samuel, and he didn’t carry as much unpleasantness with him. She struggled to catch her breath and then smiled.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said far more brightly than she felt. “I don’t see you that often, Timothy, and now this is twice in one day.”
She called upon every stitch of bravery she might have had and stepped from behind the counter, leaving the last vestige of protection she had behind. She extended her hand toward Samuel. “I should have introduced myself this morning. Hazel Hardy, new resident to Stonebridge and owner of this small teashop.”
A dark glint flickered in his eyes, and he accepted her handshake. His large fingers wrapped around hers, and a burst of evil spilled over her like thick, dirty oil. “Samuel Canterbury. Long-time resident of Stonebridge. I can trace my family back to when the town had an infestation of witches here, over three hundred years ago. I’m mighty glad that most of ‘em have been destroyed.”
Her insides cringed, but she shook his hand. He was reluctant to let her go, as though holding on to her might tell him more than she wanted him to know.
She exerted force and slid her hand from his, keepin
g her smile in place. “Oh, my goodness. That’s a long history. I’ve always meant to learn more about my family, too. I find it fascinating.”
He narrowed his gaze slightly and nodded.
Unable to tolerate his disturbing stare, she turned her focus to Timothy. “Do you know which tea you’re looking for? Or would you like a recommendation?”
Timothy looked to Samuel, and Hazel caught him watching the three ladies. “We’ll browse,” he said without looking at her.
Timothy nodded in agreement, and they wandered away from her.
She inhaled a shaky breath and hoped Samuel hadn’t noticed her icy fingers. With all customers at the far end of the store, she disappeared into the back room to calm her nerves. “Blessed Mother, hear my plea. Send me protection, watch over me. I ask of this, so mote it be,” she whispered.
She knew she hadn’t performed an actual spell, but she hoped her prayer would safeguard her.
The voices of the women grew louder, and Hazel forced herself to walk back into the main area of the shop. The women each held three large tins of tea.
A slender woman with short black hair shot with silver slid her tins toward Hazel first and chuckled. “We couldn’t pick, so we decided to get all our favorites.”
Hazel grinned. “Sounds like a smart choice.”
She rang up the women but hesitated to hand the last one’s bag to her. Once she did, they would depart, leaving her alone with Timothy and Samuel.
The thought terrified her.
She could call for help, but that might alert them. She should have done it the moment they’d walked into her shop. Idiot.
The men approached not more than thirty seconds after the women departed. Timothy set a small container of lavender lemon tea on the counter between them, while Samuel studied her with dark, intense eyes.
It took nearly everything she had to keep her expression friendly. “Looks like you found what you wanted.”
Timothy nodded and reached for his wallet.
Samuel cast another look around her shop and then pinned her with his gaze. “Aren’t you afraid that some might equate all this tea-brewing with potion-making? That they might think you’re a witch?”
She choked, and her cheeks grew clammy. “I would hope not. I don’t see how one is like the other at all.”
He smiled then, a chilling expression that showed off yellowed teeth. “You play with herbs and such, don’t you? Just like they did.”
She struggled to hold onto the last of her composure, and then lost it. “Are you accusing me of witchcraft, Mr. Canterbury?”
He studied her for a long moment. Then lifted a shoulder and let it drop.
She narrowed her gaze, wishing she had a quick and ready hex to throw at him. But her future in Stonebridge rested on her ability to keep her cool. To act like a non-witch would.
She slid Timothy’s purchase toward him but kept her focus on Samuel. “I don’t appreciate your insinuation. The majority of the people I’ve met in Stonebridge have been kind, friendly folks. You, sir, are not. So, I’ll ask you to vacate my shop and not come back.”
Her pulse thundered loud enough to shake the walls, but she wasn’t backing down. Or acting like she was less than him.
She sensed his ire rise and prepared herself for the fallout.
Instead, Timothy placed a hand on his arm. “Sorry, Hazel. Samuel gets carried away with the witchcraft stuff. We’ll go and leave you in peace.”
She expelled a full breath, flicked a glanced at Timothy, and then nodded.
Samuel nodded once at her and then turned away.
She remained on guard until they left her shop. She forced herself to hold back tears as she moved to the front window and watched both men enter a silver pickup. A moment later, they drove away.
Violent shakes erupted throughout her body. She locked the teashop’s front door and rushed into the backroom as tears flooded her eyes. She’d never been so frightened in her life.
Chapter Sixteen
After Hazel spent her fear in tears, she tossed on a jacket and grabbed her purse. She needed Peter.
Or Cora.
Maybe Cora was the better person since she knew more about Samuel Canterbury. Cora would understand better than most what had just happened. Perhaps, Hazel should get a gun, too. Peter could help her pick one.
A spell could protect or prevent something bad, but nothing stopped a crazed man faster than a bullet. Peter would argue with her, but she’d fight back by saying Sarah might still be alive if she’d had one.
She stepped out the teashop door into the frigid evening air, surprised by the cold front that had rolled in while she’d been inside. An eerie hush had fallen over the sleepy little town. She locked up and hurried to where she’d parked her car early that morning.
The engine didn’t have time to warm before she parked in a lot near Cora’s Café. She exited her car and rushed toward the sidewalk. The glow of an overhead street light offered her the illusion of protection.
She relaxed when she reached the sidewalk. She turned toward Cora’s and barreled headfirst into a hard body. Then screamed.
A strong hand covered her mouth, and she glanced up at her attacker.
Victor stared at her with startled blue eyes. “Stop that. You’re going to scare the whole town.”
She tore his hand from her face and gulped in deep breaths. “Me? You stop that. You’re the one who jumped out of nowhere and grabbed me.”
He scoffed and took a step back from her. Her actions must have done a number on him because she’d never known him to lose his cool like that. “I didn’t grab you. I stopped you from screaming bloody murder for no reason.”
She stared him down for a long moment. “Maybe I have a reason to scream bloody murder.”
His features turned grave. He grabbed one of her hands and tugged her back toward the parking lot and into the shadows. “It’s happening, isn’t it? The prophecy. When all was said and done, you did choose me.”
When she realized what he rambled about, she dug her heels into the gravel parking lot, bringing them both to a halt. “You are the most delusional man I’ve ever met. The prophecy isn’t happening, as you call it.”
His gaze turned laser sharp. “Don’t trifle with me, goddess.”
She shook her hand free. “I’m not trifling with you. I just had the wits scared out of me, and I need to talk to Cora.”
He nodded. “Samuel Canterbury. He left your teashop minutes ago, and I followed him and Timothy back to the library.”
“You saw him?”
She couldn’t believe Victor had been outside the whole time.
“You told me to keep an eye on him. So, I did. He and Timothy didn’t do anything but talk to you, did they?”
She gripped his coat sleeve and realized he wore a lined-denim jacket like Peter’s instead of his usual leather.
She blinked away that thought. “They threatened me, Victor. At least, Samuel did. He accused me of witchcraft.”
Victor straightened to his full height. “That imbecile. I’ll kill him right now.”
“No.”
The word was out of her mouth before she realized it, surprising them both.
“No?”
She released a heavy sigh full of the fear and apprehension she’d accumulated over the past half hour. “I know I should let you, but… I don’t know. I feel like it’s not the time.”
He gave her a firm nod as though he understood what she didn’t. “Because of the prophecy.”
“No,” she said again, flabbergasted. “Well, maybe a little. But he has answers to things that have happened, and I want to know what he knows while he’s still on earth.”
Victor glanced at the street and then back to her. “A hex wouldn’t work anyway. I tried.”
It was his turn to surprise her. Though, really, she shouldn’t have been. “I told you to wait.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to wait when he’s a serious threat to you and the
others.”
Thoughts raced circles in her mind. “But it didn’t work?”
“Nope. Someone’s protected him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Timothy.”
“That’s my guess.”
She had no doubt. “Can we sit in my car and finish this conversation? I want to show you something, and I’m freezing.”
He grinned. “If you need me to keep you warm…”
She groaned and turned toward her car. “Oh, please.”
Once inside, she started the engine and turned on the heater, hoping it would warm up soon. Victor slid his powerful form into the passenger seat, looking out of place. A man like him was always in the driver’s seat.
But not this time.
She pulled the two photos Peter had given her from her purse and handed them to Victor. “These were found near John Bartles’ SUV after he committed suicide. Normally, I wouldn’t pay them any mind, but that place also happened to be almost the exact spot where we rescued Fauna from her attacker.”
Victor took them and studied the dead bird using the dome light in her car. “Interesting. Could be a spell.”
He moved the rock photo to the top. “This could also be used in a spell or by someone practicing for a spell. Or maybe someone in the coven came here to cleanse the area to help Fauna heal.”
She scrunched her brows together. “You can do that?”
He flashed her a charming smile. “Yes, we can.”
“But officers who were at the scene, none of whom were witches, are the only ones besides Cora and me who knew the location of Fauna’s attack.”
He shrugged and handed the photos back to her. “Just telling you what I know. The bird does concern me, though. Something about it looks odd.”
Her eyes flew wide. “That’s what I thought. Holy harpy. This is so much worse than a regular murder.”
“Says you and not the dead guy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
She pondered their conversation and then focused on him. “I suppose I should get home. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll follow you to make sure you’re safe inside.”