A Wedding to Die For- Wedding Bells and Magic Spells

by A. R. Winters

  “How many times have we been to this house now? Anyway, no magic this time. We’re just going to see if we can find Mom. If she does help us, we’ll need to go get more Wolfsbane anyway.”

  Kiwi let out a screech of complaint.

  “If we need it, we’ll send Mom,” I promised.

  Kiwi let out a happy squawk of acceptance at hearing he wouldn’t have to go back to Hazel’s house again. I felt the same way and just hoped Mom would agree to get her own Wolfsbane if she did help us.

  “Magic knife!” said Kiwi.

  “Hmmm,” I pondered. “I suppose I could take it. In case we do come under attack like Hazel thought. Though hopefully we’ll just be meeting the whole group of them!”

  I quickly grabbed the athame and some emergency rations in the form of two bags of cheese puffs, and we made our way downstairs and out the side door—there was no need to go out through the shop’s front door after hours.

  We walked around the building to where my car was parked, just a few yards up from the front door of the shop.

  Standing by it, with something in his hand, was a man.

  Is that...

  As we walked closer, I saw it was indeed who I thought it was.

  Jack.

  He looked up as we approached, and his face fixed itself into a frown.

  Uh oh.

  “Aria,” he said coldly, “I was just coming to see you.”

  “Oh?” I said, my heart aflutter.

  “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 26

  “Do we?” I asked him, shifting uncomfortably. “Can it wait? I have to find my mother. I need to talk to her.”

  He shook his head at me firmly, his expression brooking no discussion or wriggle room.

  “Aria, I need you to be honest with me. Will you do that?”

  “What!? Of course. I’m always honest!” When I said it, I actually believed it to be true; I do try to be honest, and it’s one of my deepest held traits. It even got me in trouble sometimes, especially with Mom who frequently tried to rope me into her little misadventures in bending the truth.

  “Aria. You promised you weren’t going to go to the Fletcher house again.”

  “I... did? I did,” I said, my face beginning to flush red with shame.

  “You did. Quite clearly. You told me you were going to stop chasing after the murderer and you weren’t going to go trespassing again.”

  He knew!

  “I’m sorry,” I said, meekly.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it any more, Aria, I’m afraid.”

  Doesn’t cut it? What did that mean? Was he going to arrest me? I couldn’t let that happen!

  “I did go there. I’m sorry, Jack, I’m really sorry. How did you even know? We didn’t do any harm...”

  “How I know isn’t the point Aria and you know that. I’m disappointed in you. I got an anonymous tip, and I didn’t believe it at first, but I did my duty, and I came to investigate—and now I found out it was true. You really did go back to that house, after you promised me that you wouldn’t.”

  I was shaking my head at myself, in shame and embarrassment. I couldn’t believe that things had come to this. It didn’t seem possible that anyone saw us, I’d hidden the car so well and we hadn’t seen or heard sight or sound of anyone but ourselves while we were there.

  “Jack. I’m really sorry. It was just people didn’t stop talking. It didn’t blow over. My business... my shop... my reputation...” I put my hands up to my eyes and rubbed them, trying to hide the two small tears that had started to escape while I willed my body not to produce any more.

  A brief idea crossed my mind. Perhaps I could persuade Jack to let it go, if I used some magic.

  I could just alter his intentions, just a little—encourage him to give me a warning instead of arresting me or whatever he was going to do. It wouldn’t be a big piece of magic, more of a suggestion really...

  No. I wouldn’t do it. It was bad enough that I had misled him and betrayed his trust. I couldn’t go using my magic on him as well. That wouldn’t be fair to him and it would violate some of my deepest held beliefs.

  “Jack,” I said, looking him straight in the eyes, “I understand I’ve been bad and that you need to... do whatever you need to do. But I’m worried about my mom. Really worried. Couldn’t you help me look for her, just for a short while, and then, you know, do whatever it is you need to do to me...” I said, unable to bring myself to say the word arrest.

  “What do you mean worried about your mother? Has something happened to her?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know! Maybe. You see, she’s always on her phone. Always. From the moment she’s awake to the moment she falls asleep at night, it’s in her hand or next to it. She doesn’t go anywhere without it. But she left it in the café!”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “Maybe she did just forget it? While I’m not saying she’s old, she is of a... certain age now.”

  Unable to withhold my grin, I took a moment to enjoy hearing my mother being called old. It would have been more entertaining if she had been there to hear it herself, of course.

  “I know. But the thing is, she never forgets it. She has certain ways to... remind herself if it seems like she’s going to forget it.”

  “What, like a magic spell?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Something like that,” I said. What I should have said was exactly like that.

  I knew for a fact that Mom had a simple ‘never forget’ spell on the phone, so that if she were ever more than a few yards from it, she’d immediately begin to feel a mental tugging to retrieve it.

  She never forgot it.

  “And so because she left it behind, you think she’s in trouble?” he asked.

  “Yes, but it’s not just the phone. It’s who she was with.”

  “Dare I ask...?”

  “She was eating lunch with Donovan, of course, but not just with him. Also with Rick and Nina, and that developer from San Francisco, and Mrs. Honeywell!”

  “Right. And why does that concern you?”

  I kicked at the sidewalk with my shoe, wondering whether I should get into it all or not. Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar, as they used to say.

  “They’re the main suspects, Jack. Don’t you see? Nina and Rick wanted to buy the Cypress Estate—and joked about him dying before we knew he was dead! And then there’s the developer. He wanted the estate to put in a resort. And Donovan! I don’t know how much you know about him, but suffice it to say he has big visions for Sequoia Bay and opening up the Cypress Estate to development is a big part of what he plans to do to this town.”

  “So they all had a motive to kill Fletcher, is what you’re saying?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “It’s purely circumstantial. It’s just motivation, and pretty slim motivation at that, Aria.”

  “I know! But it’s got to be one of them, it’s got to be.”

  “While I can’t discount the possibility, there’s no evidence to tie any of them to the crime that we’ve found. Motivation isn’t sufficient. If it were, you’d have me lockup Donovan, the developer, Rick and Nina, right?”

  I bit my lip. “Well, not arrest all of them. But investigate them! I’m sure it’s one of them, I’m sure of it.”

  Jack shook his head with a sigh. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

  “Please, please, can we check the house? They’re all interested in the property, and I bet they’ve gone there now. Where else would they all have gone to?”

  “Magical intuition?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Daughter’s intuition,” I explained.

  “Only because it’s you, Aria.”

  “You’ll do it?!” I said, clapping my hands together.

  “Do it! Do it!” shrieked Kiwi.

  “We’ll go to the estate and see if your mother or anyone else is there. After that, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you down to the station and process you for tre
spassing, Aria.”

  I nodded.

  “We had a tip, this time. I can’t just ignore it. You know I should have brought you in last time, but, well... you know.”

  “Okay. I understand. But let’s just find Mom first.”

  “Ugly lady!” shrieked Kiwi.

  Jack and I both laughed.

  “If she hears you say that, she’ll turn you into a feather boa,” said Jack.

  Kiwi opened his maw and treated us to a seagull screech.

  “Come on. We’ll take my car. Since we’re... you know...”

  Since we’re going to the police station after so that I can be arrested. Wonderful.

  Chapter 27

  “Look!” I said, pointing out the windscreen just ahead of us.

  There were three cars parked on the verge by the side of the road outside the locked gates of the Cypress Estate.

  "Looks like there are visitors," said Jack, his tone hard.

  "Looks like they might be trespassing," I said.

  Jack answered with a grunt.

  Would he have to arrest everyone for trespassing? While it seemed a little cruel on my part, it would make me feel better if I wasn't the only one being persecuted.

  "Wait here," said Jack as he hopped out the car to unlock the main gate. Jack was the only person with a key around here, it seemed.

  After some loud clanging and a bit of grating followed by the sound of metal dragging through gravel, Jack had the gates open again. He quickly jumped back into the car, and with a flurry of small rocks we drove our way up to the house.

  "What are they all doing in there?" asked Jack, seemingly to himself.

  As we went up the driveway, I began to get a funny feeling. A tickling on the back of my neck. This rapidly progressed into a sense of tightness and hostility, and then...

  "Oh!" I shouted.

  Jack slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a stop.

  "What is it?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

  Kiwi wailed from my shoulder. He'd felt it too.

  Someone had cast a banishing circle around the house to keep out any witches.

  If we had been walking instead of in the car I would have fallen to the ground, unable to progress. Instead, the car had forced us right into the barrier, where it was now weighing down heavily on me.

  "Knife!" screeched Kiwi.

  Barely able to breathe, I reached into my belt and pulled out my athame.

  "What are you doing?" asked Jack warily, his eyes locked on the magical knife.

  "Just... a second..."

  With a push and a shove, I forced the knife inside the magical barrier and gave it a twist.

  CRACK.

  The sound of what seemed to be thunder struck the car, and I saw Jack staring out the windscreen at the clear blue sky, peering up as if a cloud could have been the source of that magical crack.

  My athame had done its job. I had dispelled the barrier and we could go forward. The only problem was that whoever had put up that magical barrier would have felt its violent dissolution just as much as we had. And whoever placed it was a powerful witch indeed.

  I put the athame back into my belt.

  "What do you have that for anyway?" asked Jack.

  "For protection," I answered, after a brief moment of thought. Of course I used it for other magical purposes too, but protection was at least a partial truth.

  "Protection? There are plenty of better ways to protect yourself than a little knife, Aria. Maybe we can run over some of your options some time, and I can talk you through them."

  With a quick smile I nodded at him. "Sure thing."

  Was that a date? It sounded like a date. What a totally inappropriate time to ask me on a date! Mother missing and probably hanging out with murderers, while he's planning on arresting me as soon as we're done here. And he's asking me on a date! With weapons!

  "Can we go on?" he asked me.

  "Yes. Go ahead. But look out. They know we're coming."

  "Okay then," he said skeptically, slowly starting the car forward again toward the house.

  We pulled up to the front door and got out of the patrol car. The front door of the house had been opened and left ajar.

  "They've definitely gone inside," said Jack.

  "Trespassing! Trespassing!" screeched Kiwi from my shoulder.

  Jack gave the bird a curious look and I willed him to shut up. Too many situationally appropriate outbursts like that and Kiwi's cover would be blown.

  "Let's see what's going on," said Jack, his voice now the gruff disciplinarian again. "I wonder if anyone in this town knows trespassing is illegal."

  As we went passed through the doorway into the home, I felt us pass another wall of magic, though this one was spider-silk thin and not designed to stop people from entering, merely to serve as a warning to the witch who cast it.

  “That’s it!” I said entirely too loudly, my voice echoing in the old house’s hallway. Kiwi gave an inquisitive caw. “Jack! I’ve just thought of something! I think I’ve got it!”

  "What?" he asked.

  "The murderer! I think I know who it is!”

  He raised his eyebrows very high.

  "Well, who is it?" he asked.

  As I opened my mouth to I was interrupted.

  CRACK!

  "Oh!"

  "That sounded like a gunshot!" said Jack. "Wait here!"

  The sound had come from the basement, and Jack immediately flung the door open and began to descend the stairs.

  As well as figuring out who the murderer was, I also knew something else: I most definitely wasn’t going to “wait here.”

  Kiwi squeezed my shoulder tightly as we followed Jack to the entrance of the basement.

  “Here goes…” I said softly.

  Chapter 28

  It was obvious, when I thought about it. Why hadn’t I seen it earlier?

  The pentagram should have been the biggest clue, but then later on when we’d met the spirit, he’d basically spat the whole thing right out there, hadn’t he?

  “Murder! Murder!” shrieked Kiwi.

  Jack was storming down the stairs to the basement with heavy, thumping footsteps on the old wooden stairs.

  We followed close behind.

  I wasn’t about to leave Mom—despite her being an annoying old crone—to whatever the murderer had planned.

  I had a feeling that my magic was going to be more useful than Jack’s police badge or sidearm.

  Jack cast a brief look over his shoulder and grimaced to see me right behind him, but didn’t take the time to stop me.

  We hurried down the stairs into the brightly lit room.

  No one.

  The other room was, as usual, in darkness.

  “Over there!” I said, pointing.

  We slowed our run down to a walk and headed over to the room in which we had met the spirit. From inside, I heard some distinct whimpering from what sounded like a man, and sobbing from a woman.

  Coming from the brightly lit part of the room toward the dimness beyond, it was hard to see what we were getting ourselves into, until—

  “Don’t move a muscle!”

  Stepping out from the shadows the murderer appeared right in front of us clasping a gun she pointed at us with two shaky old hands.

  “You!?” cried Jack in surprise.

  “Me!” screeched Mrs. Honeywell. “Now get in there! Get in there right now! You too, witch!”

  Doing as we were told, Jack and I started into the darker room.

  I could see the source of the whimpering as we entered: Nina and Rick were huddled together, arms clutched around each other like timid children.

  Next to them stood Mom with an angry glare on her face, and Mayor Charlston and the developer were next to her, each of them looking equally annoyed by the whole state of affairs.

  “You’ve ruined it! All of you! Ruined it!” screeched Mrs. Honeywell again.

  “Why did you do it?” I asked her in bew
ilderment.

  She just shook her head in bitter anger.

  “How come you never told us you were a witch?” said Mom from across the room.

  “Half our power comes from remaining hidden,” said Mrs. Honeywell with a glare. “You don’t know, do you?” she asked us, looking around the room with contempt.

  “Know what?” asked Donovan with a serious frown.

  “Why I did it!” she screamed.

  After casting my eyes around the room again, I figured it out.

  “I know,” I said.

  “No you don’t,” she said with a contemptuous shake of her head. “You don’t know anything.”

  “Yes, I do. And I know, because I spoke to someone who tried to tell me.”

  “Ha! I knew you were lying. There’s no one who knows, no one!”

  “I spoke to your husband, Mrs. Honeywell.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Well, that would be a neat trick, dear, because he’s dead!”

  I locked my eyes with hers and nodded. “We know. You killed him,” I said. “And in fact, he’s buried right here in this very room, isn’t he?”

  There were oohs and aahs from across the room.

  “That explains it!”

  “Your own husband!?”

  “Well I never!”

  “But why? Why did you kill him? And why bury him here?”

  “Oh you want to know, don’t you?” said Mrs. Honeywell eyeing us distastefully. “One last tale from an old witch. Very well. I’ll tell you. My husband, Thomas,” she said the name with such bitterness I could almost taste it, “was a philandering, cheating, no-good, drunken old fool. I couldn’t put up with him anymore. So. I got rid of him.”

  “But why here?” I asked.

  She laughed.

  “I was clever there, wasn’t I?” she asked. She answered her own question by nodding to herself while the rest of us waited for her to continue. “The Davenports were away on a trip to Europe. They were having the house renovated, including having the basement finished. I knew the workmen were going to be laying concrete over all these pretty floors,” she said, waving her hands expansively, “and so, the night before the concrete was to be poured, I buried old Thomas here.”