“Do what?” He jabbed at the air with his staff.
“How’d you do all of this?”
“I found the book,” he said. “The witch’s book. You know she didn’t even miss me when I escaped. I think she let it happen. She knew what I was capable of.”
“And how you’d find the book?”
“It fell on my doorstep, you could say. I used it to make the potion. I’d heard the witch threaten to use it one day—one day when she felt her side of the bargain wasn’t such a good deal.”
Hal struggled, trying to shove his way toward me. “That tick didn’t even know I existed. He didn’t know that’d been nourished for years on my blood. He treated me like a lowlife when it was him that was lower than low.”
“Why didn’t you stop there?”
“Stop? I couldn’t stop. The book urged me forward. I used it to spell your phone. I used it to guide the mind of that idiot kid who lives down my street. He was always trespassing, always looking for trouble. So, I gave him some. He’s useless now. This isn’t.”
Hal threw down the staff and pulled out the gun.
“It worked on a werewolf,” he spat. “I’m sure it’ll do okay on a witch.”
I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t have time to do anything other than react. To remove the threat—cereal eating, not so innocent, power hungry Hal.
The idea wasn’t much of one. I just had to copy what had already been done to him, probably a thousand times. Just like Nell Baker.
Sure, it was probably a temporary solution. Perhaps he knew how to counter the spell. But in a pinch against a man with a gun, every second was precious.
I wished that I knew how to go invisible again. But no matter how much I willed it to happen, it didn’t.
I only had this one chance.
This one shot.
An owl hooted in the distance, reminding me that I wasn’t actually alone. Maybe someone was watching over me somehow.
My mom.
“A rat with wings, a rodent that sings,” I chanted without thinking.
“He deserves this fate,
for breaking the gate.
For being a brat,
turn Halitosis Hal into a bat.”
The transformation happened in seconds. Even in bat form, he beat his wings wildly, flew high, and attempted to dive bomb my head. Trish’s spell held.
“Hoo, hoo.”
The owl swooped down, talons and wings in the pale morning light. It grasped bat-Hal tightly and was off, disappearing into the wood.
31
The Wrong Doug
“Pause. Now, rewind. Play.”
“Dave, I’ve already told you the whole thing twice.”
“But Willow hasn’t heard it.” Dave motioned to the deputy hovering by the doorway.
“She was the first one I told.”
“It’s true.” Willow smirked.
“Listen,” Dave said, “I’m on a lot of pain medication. I can hardly tell you apart from the other you.” He gestured to me with the finger attached to some sort of monitor. “There’s dueling Willows. And there’s three of Trish. Can’t you just humor me?”
“Come on, Constance,” Trish nudged me, “it’s not going to hurt anything.”
“Except my voice.” I rubbed my neck. Then I explained it one more time from the moment Dave had transformed into his wolf form to the moment I changed Hal into a bat—and he’d probably been eaten by an owl.
“And you like owls?”
“My mother liked owls.”
Groggy and medicated, Dave recollected little of the previous night. Trish and I convened at his hospital bedside at the urging of Willow while Gran and Stevie had chosen to stay behind at the bookstore, searching the various texts she had on hand. They’d resolved to help find and retrieve Brad from whatever plain of existence Hal had sent him to—it’d be easier if we had the book he’d mentioned. But after a thorough search of his squalid house, and several summoning spells, neither Trish or I could find it.
Shaken from this morning, it took all of my energy I had to focus. And the rest of my saliva to recount the story again.
“So, you’re saying it was Hal the whole time?” Dave eased back onto the pillow of his bed.
“I think so.”
“And he was Nell’s first,” Trish added. “I think the timeline makes sense. You remember when his mother died?”
“I remember,” Dave said. “And I remember thinking it was all sorts of fishy. But I wasn’t yet the sheriff. I didn’t have a lot of pull.”
“Wouldn’t Nell know he went missing?” Willow asked.
“She did,” I told them. “He said as much. He said she didn’t care. And that she knew was capable of.”
“So, he’s the one that wrote that story and sent it in for Jade’s podcast.”
“Nell did have a screw loose,” Trish said. “I never thought it went this deep.”
“I never met the woman.” Dave shook his head, grimacing slightly at the pain in his shoulder.
“Probably not true,” Trish replied, “Nell had this spell that made everyone forgot about her a few minutes after talking to her. It got on my nerves, so finally, I found a counter-spell.”
“Well, it’s a little late to worry about her,” Dave said. “And probably too late for Hal. Not much I can do without him here to answer a few questions.”
“We could exhume his mother’s body just to find out a bit more history,” Willow said. “Match his mother’s DNA with the blood stored in the freezers.”
“Good idea, Deputy. And speaking of exhume, I’m guessing we need to release a certain someone.”
Willow nodded. “Just say the word, and I’ll put the paperwork through.”
“The word,” Dave said.
She rolled her eyes.
“What about the boy?” Dave asked. “The one who shot me.”
“I found him last night—right where my vision said I would,” Willow said. “He’s in a room down the hall, cuffed to the bed. Just in case.”
“Good thinking,” Dave agreed.
“If y’all don’t mind,” he said, “can I have a minute alone with Constance?”
Trish and Willow left the room. I scooted closer to Dave’s bed. I had the sinking feeling of getting pulled over again. His injuries were at least partially my fault. Hal was after me, not him. He was after my power.
“None of this is your fault,” Dave said point blank. “None of it.”
“But I—”
“No buts. I did this to myself. Had I not tried the daylight potion, I wouldn’t have changed quite like I did.
“You what?”
He shook me off. “It was an experiment. A dumb one. On a regular night, I would’ve been able to talk to you. But the combination of that false full moon and the potions lasting effects, well, it wasn’t my brightest idea.”
“You dumb dumb werewolf,” I scolded him.
“Can this dumb werewolf get another date? Maybe one that won’t end in mayhem.”
“You promised me last time,” I trailed off.
“Okay. No promises this time then.” He smiled.
I left him to get more rest.
With Hal out of the picture, there was no rush on his recovery. He’d have to heal before I let him help me with my quest to find out more about the Faction—if I let him help.
With the turmoil I’d already put his family through, I wasn’t eager to do so again. But I’d resolved to find out what happened to my mom. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d somehow been watching over me in my duel with Hal.
On my way to the stairs, I passed green hoodie’s room. The name on the chart outside his door read Doug.
Poor Doug.
He was just a pawn.
That night, we spent at Bewitched Books, drinking a glass of Cyrus’s red wine and reading through old spellbooks. But we got no closer to finding anything about my lost familiar.
I actually missed having a snuggly raccoon i
n bed.
The night ended with a new episode of the Creel Creek After Dark podcast. I hoped to hear nothing new from the wonder twins, Athena and Ivana—or at least nothing about the Midsummer Festival or the craziness surrounding it. Trish was already talking about wiping minds around town just in case her worst fears were realized.
When my eyes finally slid closed, I fell into a dream-filled sleep. The images churning like the ocean in a storm. In one, there was Hal changing back and forth to a bat. Why had I picked a bat? I’d wondered it all day. Did I even know that owls ate bats? Surely, not.
Then I realized why—he’d killed a vampire, and in my head, the change seemed apropos.
The dream shifted to one with a raccoon, then another with a shadow of a man, or not a man, what looked a lot like a man with feathered wings.
I woke to the sound of my father’s voice, a faraway sound.
I must’ve left my laptop open waiting for his call.
32
Creel Creek After Dark Episode 47
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. With me, as always, is the lovely Ivana Steak.
Ivana: That’s right, I’m Ivanna Steak. And can I just say, it’s been a weird few weeks?
Athena: In a place like Creel Creek, that’s saying something.
Ivana: I know, right.
Athena: Today’s episode is a follow-up to episode 44. That’s right. This week, we received another anonymous story.
Ivana: A true story.
Athena: Is it really?
Ivana: You know what I believe?
Athena: No, what?
Ivana: I believe we have to find our own truth. That’s exactly what this podcast is about. Finding the truth here in Creel Creek.
Athena: Without further ado, here is Exit the Hunter by author unknown.
The Hunter left Creel Creek feeling satisfied. They’d be back. And with them, they’d bring more pain to those unconventional residences of the town.
With the vampire gone and the wolf incapacitated, the witches were the next on the list. But the witches were always the last to go.
From afar, the Hunter had watched the new witch come into her powers. At first, she’d known nothing. No magic. No history.
And how fair a fight would that be? the Hunter wondered.
Given time, the new witch had proven herself. Time and again, she’d proven more than capable. She’d learned to use her magic to protect herself, to protect the town. And she’d taken on a warlock.
Soon enough, the fight would be even. And that’s when the Hunter would return.
Also By Christine Zane Thomas
Witching Hour starring 40 year old witch Constance Campbell
Book 1: Midlife Curses
Book 2: Never Been Hexed
Foodie File Mysteries starring Allie Treadwell
The Salty Taste of Murder
A Choice Cocktail of Death
A Juicy Morsel of Jealousy
The Bitter Bite of Betrayal
Comics and Coffee Case Files starring Kirby Jackson and Gambit
Book 1: Marvels, Mochas, and Murder
Book 2: Lattes and Lies
Book 3: Cold Brew Catastrophe
Book 4: Decaf Deceit
About Christine Zane Thomas
Christine Zane Thomas is the pen name of a husband and wife team. A shared love of mystery and sleuths spurred the creation of their own mysterious writer alter-ego.
While not writing, they can be found in northwest Florida with their two children and schnauzer, Tinker Bell. When not at home, their love of food takes them all around the South. Sometimes they sprinkle in a trip to Disney World. Food and Wine is their favorite season.
The End
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And be on the lookout for Constance and the gang in
Never Been Hexed: Witching Hour Book 2, Available Soon.
Midlife Curses Page 19