To our amazement, it worked.
“See,” Trish said, pretending she wasn’t surprised herself. “It wouldn’t’ve worked if he hadn’t done some misdeeds. So, there’s that.”
“Everyone has misdeeds,” Dave argued. “That doesn’t prove he’s a killer.”
“Sorry, if I couldn’t think of a good rhyme for a killer,” Trish replied.
“Thriller. Miller. Filler.”
“Okay, I see your point. Let’s change him back. You’re welcome to ask him. Constance?”
“Why me?”
“Cause my magic won’t transfigure people like that. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
Dave smirked. “I bet you have.”
The sound of crunching leaves startled us. We turned to see Willow ducking under branches, climbing the steep hill on the other side of the cabin.
“Did I just see that possum turn into man?” she asked.
“It’s best if you don’t ask,” Dave replied. “We’ve got a big enough mess on our hands. Let’s get the humane society out here. And let’s forget any of this ever happened.”
“I’ve got something I want to show you,” Dave said as we climbed into his SUV.
Willow and some state troopers were taking care of the scene, letting the coroner do his job.
Trish clambered into the backseat. As soon as she closed the door, she realized there was no getting out—not without help.
“I don’t like this.” She tested the door. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“I don’t know.” Dave laughed, turning to me. “It seems kind of fitting, doesn’t it?”
I smiled. Trish and I were getting along well. I didn’t want to chance it with a bad joke.
“About as fitting as your mustache,” I quipped.
“Hey, now.” Dave scowled playfully, then ran his fingers along his mustache. “This is fashionable… if you’re a cop.”
“Or a 70s porn star,” Trish remarked.
Dave shook his head and asked her, “Are you coming with us or should I drop you off at the bookstore?”
“Actually, I should probably get back to the grocery store. Jade needs all the help she can get.”
“Make sure Hal gets a few days off,” Dave said when we turned into the parking lot.
In the rearview mirror, Trish rolled her eyes in trademark fashion.
“Poor guy’s been through the wringer,” Dave said. “It’s the least you can do after that knock on the head.”
“He’ll be fine,” Trish said.
“Oh, stop being mean to the poor guy.”
“Yeah, why are you so mean to him?” I knew why I didn’t like him. But Trish bristled every time she saw him. She couldn’t hide her contempt, like with Cyrus Tadros, so maybe it was a guy thing.
“Mean to him?” Trish scoffed. “I’m not mean to him. I just think he’s gross. It’s his own fault.”
“How is it his own fault?” Dave asked.
“The man eats cereal for every meal—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You know that’s not healthy.”
“He eats lunch in the deli,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, uncowed, “two meals a day.”
“Two meals,” I said, placating her. She may have been right. The times Hal had gone through my line, he had bought a lot of cereal—a crazy amount, on a buy one get one free deal.
“You can’t blame him.” Dave let out a sigh.
“What did you mean, he’s been through the wringer?” I asked.
Dave let Trish out of the car. She waved and disappeared through the automatic doors.
“I mean Hal’s had it rough.” Dave jumped back into the vehicle and the conversation. “He was a loner in high school. Yes, we’re the same age.”
Dave had Hal beat by a good ten years on youthful good looks.
“He lived with his mom until she passed, some years ago. I kind of lost track of him for a while, then I guess the insurance money ran out.”
“You mean he hasn’t worked at the grocery long?”
“About a year. Give or take.”
That surprised me. Hal had an air about him, like he’d been working there forever, longer than Mr. Caulfield—which was impossible.
“You’re probably wondering where I’m taking you,” Dave said nonchalantly.
He kept going, turning down back roads and up side streets, into a part of town I’d never seen.
Despite its small population, Creel Creek was a geographically large and sprawling “small town.” The only barriers to expansion were the trees, the distant mountains, and the utter lack of people willing to move here.
“It never occurred to me,” I said candidly. “Where are you taking me?”
A part of me hoped it had nothing to do with witches or dead vampires. But that part of me also I was kidding myself.
“That possum back there—he said blood several times. It got me to thinking. Maybe this all linked somehow. Not by a slayer, something else. See, both Willow and Trish have tried to conjure at the Caulfield place. You didn’t have your magic yet, so I didn’t bother asking. We found an odd room. You’ll see. There’s not much to it.”
“So, you’re taking me to a vampire’s lair?” My hopes fell to the wayside. “What kind of odd are we talking about?”
“You’ll see.” Dave could see my mind spinning. “Don’t worry. He didn’t live in a castle on a hill or anything.”
We reached a gated community and Dave punched in a code. The neighborhood behind the fence included a golf course and the nicest homes I’d seen in Creel Creek. So nice, it was hard to believe they belonged here.
The houses weren’t mansions but two-story brick homes on half-acre lots, most with pools in the backyard.
W pulled in and parked at a house in a cul-de-sac. Much like the others, but the grass wasn’t as green. And unlike the rest, it did have a turret. I smiled at that, castle or no castle.
It was late afternoon and the sun was sliding behind the mountains. It was getting darker and the house’s up-lighting had clicked on.
I expected to be ushered through the front door, but Dave went around to the side.
“It’s in the basement, which he walled off from the main house for some reason.”
“Is there a coffin?” I asked.
“You’d think so, but no.”
On this side of the house, the yard sloped down, almost level with the basement. It was only few steps down to a storm door. Dave fiddled with keys, found the right one, and slid it into the lock.
“Brace yourself,” he said.
Brace myself for what? I wondered, fully expecting a dark and dungeonlike room to do vampire things in. Vampire things, I rolled my eyes at myself. What does that even mean? Drink blood?
What I didn’t expect was to shield my eyes from the blinding white light when Dave flipped the switch.
Like the lights overhead, the walls and the linoleum floors were glaringly white. The room itself had the sterile vibe of a hospital. It smelled like lemon cleaner and rubbing alcohol. It all made sense when I noticed the gurney on the other side of the room. Beside it, there were two IV infusion stands. And opposite, a table with what looked supplies to draw blood. A deep freezer hummed somewhere.
“I wanted to preserve it as is,” Dave commented. “But it’s been difficult to keep other agencies out. I took one of the blood bags from the freezer and had it tested. It’s human, donor unknown.”
“He… he drew blood in here?” I was at a loss. I imagined a person on the gurney and a vampire jabbing them with needles, which I guess was better than doing it with teeth.
“Something like that.” Dave lifted the freezer lid, showing me hundreds of bags of frozen blood, ready to thaw. Frozen meals.
“Listen,” he let the lid close. “I’ve never been one to pry. I understand our nature—natures—are a bit unorthodox. It’s one thing to have an illegal blood bank and use it for nourishment, it’s a whole other to collect murderers, turn them into animals and keep
them locked up in squalor. But now, I’m—”
“You’re wondering if they were blood donors too,” I said.
“That’s exactly it,” he agreed. “You think you can, I don’t know, whip up a spell that confirms my theory?”
“I can try.”
But no matter what combination of words I used, or how apt the rhyme (Dave helped), nothing happened. No magic of any sort.
Thirty minutes later, we were still exactly where we started.
“Hey, it was worth a try,” he said, defeated.
“Maybe Gran can help,” I suggested.
“Maybe.” His eyes got shifty when he said it, I wondered if he had an ulterior motive for choosing me. After all, Trish was great at summoning spells—she’d taught me how to perform them.
Or Dave found me as interesting as I found him. Or maybe I was reading too much into things—which is kind of my modus operandi.
When we got into the car, my phone chirped.
“Hmm…”
“What?”
“A new episode of Creel Creek After Dark,” I told Dave. “I guess her alibi is ready for ears.”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you want to put it on, I’m game.”
He offered me a cable to plug my phone into the stereo system.
“You’re sure?”
He smiled. “Oh, I’m dying to hear what I’ve been missing.”
23
Creel Creek After Dark Episode 46
It’s getting late.
Very late.
The creeping dread of tomorrow haunts your dreams.
It’s dark out. Are you afraid?
Welcome to Creel Creek After Dark.
Athena: I’m your host, Athena Hunter.
Ivana: And I’m the lovely Ivanna Steak. Sorry that we’re whispering tonight. But as promised, today’s show is a doozy.
Athena: Or it should be. We’re live on location—sitting in the car—at the entrance of Creel Creek’s Armand Vineyard.
Ivanna: We’re waiting for the last employees to leave. Hence the whispering.
Athena: Now, some of you may be wondering what on Earth we’re doing at a vineyard because the picture in your mind is a quaint manor on a hillside surrounded by grapevines.
Ivanna: Paint the picture for them, Athena.
Athena: Well, it’s not anything like Napa Valley, I can tell you that much. There are grapevines—at least I think that’s what those are.
Ivanna: You mean those things surrounded by an electric fence?
Athena: Yes! It’s like they think the grapes might traipse off like cattle. Or, more likely, like they’re worried someone might try to steal them. I will say, the main gate is built of some pretty sturdy stuff.
Ivanna: It’s like we’re waiting outside the velociraptor paddock at Jurassic Park.
Athena: And that manor on the hill is—
Ivanna: Is straight out of my nightmares.
Athena: Ivanna, would you like to do the honors??
Ivanna: I think I already did.
Athena: Okay. Why don’t you tell our audience some of the vineyard’s history?
Ivanna: All right, I’ll try.
We know the vineyard has been in operation since the mid-1800s. It’s family owned, or it has been. That must’ve ended last month when the owner, Mr. Armand died. Don’t feel too bad— by the look of him he was probably a hundred and ten years old.
Athena: At least a hundred and ten. Okay, I’ll take it from here.
What our listeners must be wondering is why a vineyard would be locked up like this. They’re used to vineyards who do tours and tastings. Ours doesn’t.
Ivanna: Not technically true, Athena. They do tastings. Every Wednesday. By invitation only.
Athena: And we don’t know anyone who’s ever been invited.
Ivanna: So, tonight we’re inviting ourselves. Everything shuts down around nine o’clock. We’ve been here since seven and it’s nine on the dot. The last employee’s car just pulled out.
Ivanna: If only some intrepid person knew the gate code.
Athena: Oh, one intrepid person does. She eagle-eyed the employees punching them in from behind those bushes over there.
For the safety of our listeners, I won’t be sharing the code.
Ping. Ring. Ping. Ping. OOOOOOOONK!
Ivanna: Okay. We’re in.
Commercial break: This episode is brought to you by Armand Wines. Reds. Whites. And blends. All at affordable prices. Find us online or where fine wines are sold.
Athena: And we’re back. We spared you the unremarkable drive up to the house.
Ivanna: Cause we’re nice like that.
Athena: You’re nice. I’m not. I’m snarky.
Ivanna: Not that again. Let’s sneak inside.
Athena: With our incredible burglary skills, we—
Ivanna: The door was unlocked.
Athena: They didn’t have to know that.
Okay, I’m a little disappointed. There’s really not much to it. It looks like a winery. There’s a bar and a tasting room. The decorations are interesting. They remind me of—of ancient Egypt with some Paris flair and a little Rome thrown in for good measure. There’s also a residence attached to winery. Also unremarkable. The only thing left to do is visit the cellar.
Ivanna: The cellar? As in downstairs? As in, the basement?
Athena: I’m sure it’s just wine racks, Ivanna. She looks as if we might see a ghost, which is probably what our listeners are hoping for—we should give them what they want.
That reminds me. Today’s episode is brought to you by Creel Creek Vineyards. Fine wine for people willing to pay.
Ivanna: You made that slogan up yourself, didn’t you.
Athena: Totally. And they didn’t sponsor the show—not yet. If we take a bottle or two, then it’s almost like they did, isn’t it?
Ivanna: I’ll drink to that, Athena. Now, let’s get this cellar visit over with so I can get some beauty sleep.
Athena: Creak. Creak. Creak.
Ivanna: Athena! Are you making sound effects?
Athena: Well, the stairs aren’t as creaky as I thought they’d be. This Addams Family house is well maintained.
Ivanna: Almost like they care about the place and the wine they make here.
Athena: Oh, you think you’re cute. Wait… I don’t see any wine down here. It’s pretty much empty.
Ivanna: And dark. Very dark.
Athena: It’s empty, and it’s dark. The only thing down here is—that’s odd.
Ivanna: Is that what I—
Athena: More decor. It’s like the stuff upstairs. They must’ve moved it down here for whatever reason. Folks, it’s a sarcophagus, if you’ll believe it.
Ivanna: Fancy. It looks real. Do you think there’s a mummy inside it?
Athena: There’s only one way to find out.
Ivanna: But, should we?
Athena: Listeners want to know. We didn’t illegally enter this place and come all the way down here to skip a peek inside. Now, help me pry it open. I’m setting my phone down. Yes, our state of the art recording system is a phone.
Rustle. Rustle. Creaaaaaak.
Ivanna: Oh my God!
Athena: There is a mummy inside. It’s wrapped up head to toe. But it doesn’t look like any mummy I’ve ever seen. You know, like in the pictures.
Ivanna: What she means is it doesn’t look fragile. It’s not like a skeleton at all. It almost looks like an incredibly detailed Halloween costume. Like it could get up and—
Athena: You saw that, right?
Ivanna: Saw what?
Athena: It moved.
Ivanna: No, I was just saying. Oh, God. It did move!
Athena: Oh, my—
Rustling sounds.
Footsteps.
Panting.
Engine starting.
Engine sounds.
More panting.
24
In Witch I Get Fired
They ended the episode
with a recap. It was like a podcast version of The Blair Witch Project. Would an average audience member believe them? Did I believe them? And did they really break into the winery the night of Mr. Caulfield’s murder?
A couple of weeks ago, I would never for one second believe the winery would have a mummy in a sarcophagus. Now, my mind was more open. Witches, werewolves, vampires. Why not mummies?
“So,” I said.
“So,” Dave replied.
I smiled. “They broke into the vineyard. Isn’t that a crime?”
“Technically, yes,” Dave acknowledged. “But they didn’t take anything. The door was open. And Mr. Tadros hasn’t pressed charges.”
“Does he know they were there?”
Dave raised an eyebrow at me.
“You mean… He’s really a mummy, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.
“That’s my guess,” he agreed. “Not that he’ll come out and say so. I don’t think he’s used to all this.”
As if on cue, a low and dense fog rolled through the trees and onto the road ahead of us, about a foot high. It was dark, and the waxing moon hung low in the sky.
“Valley fog,” I said absentmindedly.
“Valley what?”
“Valley fog.” I motioned. “You know—from the mountains.”
Dave shook his head. The SUV’s wooshed through the mist. It swirled behind us like stirring cream into tea.
“Your grandmother hasn’t taken the time to explain much, has she.”
“I haven’t taken the time to let her. I’ve been out of the house every chance I can get.”
“As I understand it,” he said, “the fog is part of a spell. It’s to keep the locals from trying to figure things out. And it works, for the most part.”
This lined up things I’d learned from both Trish and Gran. And it made sense Mr. Caulfield was leery when Hal tried to explain the phenomena to me.
Lucky there was a meteorological explanation for it.
Except—except the spell wasn’t working for some reason.
“Jade and Summer,” I wondered, “they know something’s up. Don’t they?”
“It’s hard to say,” Dave said. “On one hand, this is a show, they’re entertaining people. How much they believe, is my question. We should be careful. We can’t let on that we think it’s anything more than entertainment. You understand?”
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