Witch Hunt

by Cate Conte

  Ginny knew Mazzy. It was all starting to make sense now, if they were both magickal. I wondered how much Ginny knew about this feud between these families.

  When I let myself into my grandmother’s house twenty minutes later, I stopped for a moment, closing my eyes, just breathing in the familiar scents. They were fading, of course, but still there, on the fringes of every room, seeping into the walls. I moved to the living room, noting the chair I’d shown up in when I’d transported myself from the police station. It looked exactly as it had then, the white throw blanket over the back of it, but it could easily have been my memory.

  I went into the kitchen to fire up the kettle. It was still sitting on the stove. There was actually water left in it, as if Grandma Abby had been about to make herself a cup of tea. My eyes blurred as I emptied out the water and refilled it from the sink. The shock of her death was still as real as it had been when I’d gotten the news. Her friend Helena had called me, her voice broken and wrecked, and told me Grandma Abby had passed away in her sleep. That it had been peaceful.

  But there was no warning. She hadn’t been ill. She hadn’t even had a cold for as long as I could remember. She was going to come to my shop the next day and spend some time. She said she wanted to see me in action, maybe get some new stones, just be near her granddaughter and be proud.

  I’d been so looking forward to that visit. We hadn’t had one, a quality one, in a while. My fault. I’d been too busy with my shop, and my life. I knew Grandma Abby would wave away these regrets, tell me to stop being silly, that I was young and vibrant and had a life to lead, for goddess’s sake, and that we spent loads of time together.

  But we hadn’t, lately.

  I brushed the tears away, set the kettle on the stove, and turned on the burner. I hunted through her cabinet for her favorite chamomile tea, and put one of the silky bags into a mug to wait for the water. Then I leaned against the counter and thought about my grandma as a witch.

  I couldn’t even get a picture of it in my head. While I wasn’t picturing her like the pointy-hatted hags riding a broomstick with their black cat across a full moon, like the images Fiona had shown me, I had to admit I wasn’t sure what to make of the concept. I understood more than most people, given the circles I ran in. The metaphysical world was a wide one, and I encountered a lot of different beliefs. I knew enough about things to be dangerous. I knew paganism, Wicca, and witchcraft, while intertwined, did not have a singular meaning, and it was way more complicated than that. I knew some people considered tarot cards “witchy.” As a fledgling tarot reader, I knew that was a short-sighted assessment, and tarot had nothing to do with religion. I knew about mediums.

  But what I’d seen and experienced the past couple days, well, that was something else entirely. That was magic. It was the stuff of movies and fantasy novels, and I was expected to just sit back and believe it while nodding and smiling at my new mother.

  Anger flared in my chest as I thought of it. The teakettle began a low whistle, jolting me out of my head. I poured the mug, set the kettle back on the burner, and walked through the house. At the bottom of the stairs, I paused. I’d told myself I was coming here for comfort and familiarity, to be close to my grandmother again. But I’d known all along what I was going to do.

  I took a breath and headed upstairs.

  Someone had made Grandma Abby’s bed.

  Had to have been Helena. She was the one who had found her, after all. I couldn’t imagine what a shock it must’ve been for Grandma’s oldest friend to arrive for their daily coffee date and find an empty kitchen, never mind the shock of her subsequent search of the house. She would’ve known Grandma hated an untidy house. I wondered if she’d gone to the hospital with Grandma’s body, or if they’d even bothered taking her to the hospital. If not, Helena would’ve stayed and gotten things to where Grandma would’ve wanted them.

  Helena had tried to call me a couple of times since the funeral. I hadn’t called her back yet. I’d told myself I needed to be in the right headspace, and things had been too busy. Really, I knew I’d been avoiding it because it would make it real in a way a wake and funeral just didn’t.

  I stared at the bed for a few minutes in fascination. I’d been thinking of it as a weapon all this time—like it was the thing that took Grandma Abby from us. But it wasn’t the bed’s fault. And here, in its presence, well, it was just a bed.

  I took a deep breath and moved into the room. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, or what I’d even find. I just knew it had been an unspoken rule as a child to never go through Grandma’s things. And as I got older, it had never been a question of whether the rule had changed. Not that I’d ever felt she was keeping things from me, just that she valued her privacy.

  Had it been because she never wanted me to find out her secret?

  I thought about Helena, and the group of women Grandma had spent all her time with. There were six of them, and they did everything together. I remember as a child watching from my bedroom window on certain nights as they all gathered and made their way to the field behind our house, loaded down with bags of supplies. Some nights when I couldn’t sleep, I would kneel with my chin on the windowsill and watch them walk through the grass, barefooted and arms linked, up over the hill in the backyard until I couldn’t see them any longer.

  I’d been so curious about what they did, and so desperate to go. I’d asked Grandma Abby about it a few times, and she’d hugged me and told me maybe when I was bigger.

  “We go out to look at the moon,” she’d said. “There are certain days when the moon is very powerful, and it can help make you more powerful. We like to go outside and soak that in.”

  As I got older, she’d taught me everything about the moon and its cycles. I’d learned that the nights they gathered were on the new moon, and again on the full moon. Once, they’d brought me, but I got the feeling they’d changed up their normal practice because I was there. Not wanting to intrude on their special times, I hadn’t asked again. And as I got older and learned the moon, I developed my own connection. I respected it. It’s why I called my store The Full Moon—both as a nod to Grandma Abby and because I’d come to love and respect the cycle as much as she had. Now I understood that maybe there was more to their evenings in that field than just a social gathering. Were Helena and Grandma’s other friends witches too?

  They had to be, I decided. Even though she had her feet in this world, it seemed she kept her other world close. I wondered why my dad had chosen to turn his back on that world.

  I left her room and went down to my old room. It was still the same too. Grandma Abby told me she’d keep it for me, in case I ever needed it. And that being here, being home, would fix everything.

  Being home would fix everything.

  Buoyed by that, I moved into my room and began going through my drawers. Nothing in the dresser, as I’d left it. My nightstand, though, still had some of my original crystals. Some old journals. Someday I’d have to sit and read them.

  I moved to the closet. Empty, except for some old clothes that definitely needed to go to Goodwill. But on the top shelf, which I was almost too short to reach, I struck gold.

  I pulled down a book. An old-school book, like something out of a museum, with embossed gold lettering on the front. But it was in some other language, because I had no idea what it said. I went to open the book, but I couldn’t lift the cover.

  I stared at it, frustrated. Maybe it was so old the pages had all stuck together. I pulled at it as hard as I dared, not wanting to wreck it.

  But it wouldn’t open.

  I wanted to throw it across the room, but I resisted. Then I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the top. I pulled, and it came out easily. I almost couldn’t handle it when I saw Grandma Abby’s familiar, flowery script. The paper looked old, like she’d written the note a long time ago.

  Dear Violet,

  If you’ve found this book, then what I’ve tried to shield you from per your fath
er’s wishes has found you, and I’m not around to stop it. But don’t worry, my love. This isn’t the worst life you could have. You’ll find the answers you need in this book, but only once you have embraced your destiny. I can’t wait for the day I see you again.

  Love, Grandma Abby

  I blinked and read the note again. The book had answers, but I couldn’t access them because I hadn’t embraced my witchiness?

  Was she kidding me?

  CHAPTER 47

  I must’ve fallen asleep on my old bed, because I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. I reached for it. It was still in my pocket. No wonder my hip was sore.

  It was Todd. “Hey,” he said.

  I tried to clear the sleep from my voice. “Hey.”

  “Want to have dinner tonight? It’ll have to be a quick one. On my break.”

  I frowned. What kind of an invitation was that? “I don’t think so,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

  “Vi—”

  “I’m kind of busy right now. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, and hung up. I needed to figure out some of these other problems before I could let myself get too worried about Todd.

  I swung my legs off the bed. I’d gotten the best sleep I’d had in days in the—I checked the clock—half hour I’d sacked out on my old bed. I tried the book again, but it still didn’t open. Guess I wasn’t any closer to accepting my destiny.

  I put it in my tote bag, along with the note, and headed back downstairs. My head felt a little clearer, although I still had no good answer about who Carla’s killer was.

  I wondered if my shop was cleaned up yet. Or how to approach Fiona.

  In the end, I decided I was starving. I’d skipped lunch and hadn’t even gotten any fries after I left the protest. I locked up the house, got in my car, and headed back to North Harbor. I’d pop into the deli and get a sandwich, then go face up to whatever had happened in my shop.

  When I got to the deli, I saw Ginny Reinhardt sitting alone in a booth in the back. I checked my watch. It made sense. She’d probably finished her shift here and was eating before she went to work at Todd’s bar. Without thinking, I went back and slid into the seat across from her, shrugging off my coat as I sat.

  She looked up, surprised. “Hey, Vi.”

  I studied her face. She didn’t look distraught or anything, which meant maybe she hadn’t heard about Mazzy yet. They’d seemed friendly enough at the protest for her to be sad about what happened if she knew it. Even if she didn’t know about what had happened to Mazzy, maybe she could tell me why Mazzy had been in my store.

  “You know Mazzy Witherspoon,” I said without preamble.

  She looked surprised, then wary. “Yeah. Why?”

  “How do you know her?”

  When Ginny hesitated, I sighed. “Come on, Ginny. I know you’re a witch.”

  Relief put a smile on Ginny’s face. “You do? Which means you know—”

  “Yeah.” I cut her off. “I can’t talk about that now. I need to know about Mazzy. She was in my store today. After the protest.”

  Ginny frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “So you didn’t hear?”

  She was staring at me now, and she looked frightened. “Hear what, Violet?”

  “That she’s been Genied,” I blurted out, then flinched and looked around, dropping my voice. “In my store.”

  Ginny’s face had gone so pale I thought she might pass out right in front of me. “Ginny?”

  It hadn’t really occurred to me until that moment that it probably wasn’t a good idea to break the news like that. To me, the concept didn’t mean much, despite Fiona and Josie’s grim description of it. It still seemed like something out of a sci-fi novel. But I learned pretty quickly that it was all too real for some.

  “What do you mean?” Ginny’s voice had dropped to a whisper. Her hand clenched the side of the table like she was clinging to a life raft.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Josie and Fiona said she’d been Genied. And the police couldn’t see anything.” I wasn’t sure all of that made sense, but she seemed to grasp exactly what it meant. Without a word she grabbed my arm and pulled me out the back door of the deli, not even giving me a chance to grab my coat.

  She stood there for a moment, leaning against the door, obviously trying to collect herself before continuing this conversation.

  Shivering, I hugged myself. When I thought I might freeze before she spoke again, I broke the silence first. “Do you think it has something to do with her BS article that I called her out on? I told her to print a retraction. Was it about that?”

  “Wait a minute. What article?”

  “The article in The Fairway Independent. About fake psychics and energy healers.”

  “She was working there too? She really wanted to be a famous journalist,” she said softly. She didn’t seem to feel the cold at all. I think she was kind of in shock.

  “Ginny.” I grabbed her arms. “Focus. Where else was she working?” I remembered Fiona saying she worked in both realms.

  “For the Magickal Minute. In the . . . other realm. And I think that someone didn’t want her writing about you,” Ginny said grimly.

  “What was she writing about me?”

  “I’m not sure, but my guess is an exposé on who you are, now that the barrier between you and our world is broken.”

  “But why?” I asked, exasperated. “Who cares?”

  Her expression was a mixture of How-can-she-be-this-clueless? and some level of pity. “Because you’re the heir apparent, Violet. And some people who really want to see the balance of power shift don’t want that.”

  I leaned against the wall, forgetting all about the cold. It was one thing to hear this from Fiona, and even Josie. But to hear it from Ginny, who had no skin in this game that I could see, made it seem more real.

  “So who would’ve done that to her?” I asked.

  Ginny bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know. And that’s what makes it really scary.”

  I let that sink in, then grabbed her arm. “Let’s go in. We’re going to freeze out here.”

  She followed me back to the booth and sat, still seemingly in a daze. I felt bad for her, but there were still things I needed to ask her.

  “Did Todd know Mazzy?” I asked.

  Something passed over Ginny’s face that I didn’t like one bit.

  “She came into the bar sometimes,” she said.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And was there something going on between them?” I asked bluntly.

  Ginny’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. “No. No way, Vi.”

  “Then why did he lie to me about knowing her?”

  She frowned. “When did he do that?”

  “Monday morning. The first time she came into my store. He was there. I swear they knew each other, but he denied it.”

  She shrugged. “You’d have to ask him that. I’m not in his head,” she said.

  I took a deep breath. I’d been avoiding asking this question, but I couldn’t hold it off any longer. “Was Todd at the bar on Monday night?”

  I didn’t know if she would be straight with me. She worked for Todd, after all, and my guess was that she made a crap-ton more money at the bar than at the deli slinging grilled cheese sandwiches and omelets.

  But the question didn’t seem to throw her off. She thought about it. “He was working,” she said finally. “I know he had a meeting off-site. I don’t know who with,” she added before I could ask. “But it was slow, so it was only me and one other guy on. Two people called in sick and he didn’t bother getting replacements.”

  I leaned forward. “Slow?”

  She nodded. “Really slow. Only a few people all night.”

  “Do you remember who was in?” I remember Charlie telling me he’d been there that evening.

  She thought some more. “That guy who worked with Carla was in there. I remember that. He looked so down and
was drinking a lot.”

  “Andrew?” Something about that seemed off to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “Yeah. I remember thinking he never came in that early to pound down some beers.”

  “Like what time?”

  “Around five, I think. He left an hour, hour and a half later? In a big rush like he’d just remembered he was late for something.”

  “What about Charlie?” I asked.

  “Charlie Klein?” Ginny shook her head. “No, haven’t seen Charlie in a while.”

  “You’re sure,” I said slowly.

  “Positive. Hey, Vi?” She grabbed my hand.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mazzy . . . wasn’t a bad person. She was just really ambitious.” Her eyes dropped to the table again. “I’m sorry she was giving you a hard time.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ginny. And hey,” I said, trying to sound positive. “Fiona said if they catch the person who did it and get them to reverse it, she’ll be okay. Right?”

  Ginny looked at me like I had three heads. “Right,” she said, but didn’t offer anything else.

  Still, I could tell there was more to the story.

  CHAPTER 48

  Thursday felt like snow.

  It had been three days since Carla’s murder. Four days since my life had turned upside down. And whatever answers I’d found had just brought up more questions. And there was apparently some bad witch out to get me. I felt a little shiver as I stood at my window that morning overlooking my town. Was I in danger of being Genied too?

  Of course, I couldn’t let that worry me. I mean, it still sounded rather absurd when I thought about it. But that puddle of slime on my shop floor . . . I shivered a little.

  But I couldn’t let that sideline me. My poor business had taken a beating this week, but I was determined to right things. And the healing circle was tomorrow night. I was really looking forward to it, despite everything.

  As I was leaving, I realized I hadn’t seen the black cat lately. I wondered if that was because he’d found his home, or if there was another reason.