“Why? That guy has an iron-clad alibi. He was with the sheriff. They were fishing.”
“I know, but I want to be really sure to rule out every other possible suspect before I go around throwing accusations at a werewolf.”
Even though it was a Saturday, Blake guessed Frank would be in the office. Apparently, he was a workaholic. “Now’s your chance to get to see the ski lodge you inherited,” Blake said, rolling into a gravel parking lot. “Here we are.”
I surveyed the sprawling wooden lodge with a massive a-line roof and huge triangle windows that reflecting the bright blue of the autumn sky. “And to think two days ago, I was homeless,” I remarked.
Both Benjamin and Blake swiveled to look at me. “What do you mean homeless?” Blake asked, clearly concerned.
“Long story.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I just… am going through a transition.”
“You mentioned something about a recent breakup,” Blake ventured. “Is that part of your transition?”
“It is.”
“Are you happy?” Blake asked.
I hitched my purse over my shoulder. “Actually, I think I am.”
Blake smiled, lifting his sunglasses to the crown of his head. “That guy’s an idiot.”
“He kind of was,” I said, as we headed up the long path of the massive wooden doors of the Wolf Mountain Lodge.
Benjamin paced in front of the doors, getting impatience while I sorted through Martha’s collection of keys. I tried a few in the lock with no luck.
After five keys, I shook my head. “Sorry, guys. This might be awhile.”
“Might I suggest some magic?” Benjamin butted in, getting his cold wet nose all over my sweatshirt sleeve. “It would speed up the process.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Have you ever tried?” Benjamin said.
I rolled my eyes. “Considering I just learned I have magical powers yesterday, no, I haven’t even tried.”
“Tried what?” Blake asked, watching mine and Benjamin’s exchange.
“He wants me to use magic to find the right key.”
“It’s quite a simple spell.” Benjamin insisted. “Like the freezing spell, you don’t even have to use an incantation.”
“Ok, fine.” I shrugged. “Talk me through it.”
“First close your eyes.”
“Now what?” I said, closing my eyes.
“Hold the keys in your hand, and in your mind’s eye, see yourself selecting the right key and turning it in the lock.”
I opened one eye. “That’s it?”
Benjamin responded by nudging my arm again with his muzzle.
“Ok, ok,” I said, closing my eyes. I tried to ignore the fact that Blake was standing right next to me.
“Concentrate,” Benjamin urged.
“I’m concentrating,” I muttered. I imagined myself standing in front of the heavy wooden door with there was nothing around it—no lodge, no Benjamin, no Blake. Just me, the door, and the ring of keys. I stared at the keys in my hand, but nothing was happening. I started to get frustrated and self conscious.
Then, in my vision, I noticed a small floating ball of light. It grew larger, slowly taking the shape of a person. “Aunt Martha?” I whispered.
The woman nodded. Laugh lines framed her aqua-blue eyes as she smiled at me. She wore jeans and a pale purple sweater. I hadn’t noticed her outfit when she appeared to me before. “Yes, my darling, it’s me. And I need you to know that you can do this. You have the power of a hundred witches resting inside of you, just waiting for you to tap into. Don’t be afraid. Trust yourself.”
“How can I trust myself? I have no idea what I’m doing?” I asked, not wanting her to leave. I had so many questions.
“You’ll learn,” she said. “But for now, start by thinking about something that brings up a lot of emotion. You have so much emotion inside of you. Don’t be afraid to feel it. Use those feelings to unlock your magic.”
“I don’t feel all that emotional,” I said.
She tipped her head to the side. “That’s because you’ve been holding it in. Stop doing that to yourself, Natalie. You’re emotions don’t make you weak. They make you powerful,” she said encouragingly. “Perhaps you’d like to think of rejection you felt from your breakup, or the fear you felt when you first saw me in the basement. Or,” a knowing smile slid across her face, “you can try thinking about Blake.”
The mention of Blake created a instant fluttering in my stomach as strong as a cave of bats. Sure, I barely knew the guy, but seeing his face in my mind’s eye made me feel tingling bolts of lightning all over my body.
She must have read my expression because she laughed. “You see? You’re already doing it.”
With that she vanished, and I felt my body shaking.
“Natalie! Natalie!” Both Blake and Benjamin were yelling my name, trying to pull me out of my meditation.
“Guys, I’m trying to concentrate,” I complained.
“Well, stop concentrating,” Benjamin ordered. “And open your eyes.”
I blinked, focusing my vision, and gasped. The keys weren’t in my hand. They were in the lock and turning without anyone touching them. “Are you doing that or am I?”
“That’s all you, Natalie, and not just that,” Blake breathed. “Look around.”
I turned around and saw currents of electricity spiraling around us like tightly curled ribbons. But it wasn’t scary—it was beautiful.
I found Blake’s hand and gave it a squeeze, totally blown away by what I was seeing. The glowing currents weaved around the three us us, and began to fade away. The keys floated out of the lock and dropped to the wooden floor with a clatter.
The thick wooden door creaked open. Slowly, I bent t retrieve the keys, hesitating, uneasy about touching them after what I’d just witnessed. Gingerly, I scooped up the keys and cradled them in my palm. “What was all that?”
“That was… unexpected,” Benjamin said.
“How’d I do that?”
“You’re getting used to being a witch. You’re own personal powers are merging with many generations of Carolina witches. I will say, that kind of display of power is rare for someone so new.”
“So that’s good?” I raised a questioning eyebrow at the gray dog.
“It’s progress,” he said.
A chilly gust of wind tickled the back of my neck, and I swore I heard my aunt’s kindly whisper, though I couldn’t make out any words. “Well, we got the door open,” I pointed out. “Are we going in?”
“After you,” Blake said, pushing the door open all the way. “You own this place now.”
The inside of the lodge was old—that was clear by the moaning coming from the rafters every time the wind blew. The paint was chipped in some places, and the faded couches and creaky rocking cards needed to be replaced.
Across the room was a large wood-burning fireplace that felt downright cozy. Even with the lights off and the fireplaces unlit, I could just imagine how it would look when the snow piled up and the place was bustling with people in their brightly colored jackets and mittens. Families would gather together on the couches and sip hot chocolate while recounting stories from the slopes.
Don’t you dare fall in love, I warned myself. You’re selling the place, remember?
On the far side of the room, I noticed a door slightly ajar. A dim yellow glow slipped out from the crack. “I bet that’s the office,” I said.
“Hello, are you Frank Honeycutt?” I poked my head into the office and saw a wiry man with a tan, weathered face. His brown hair grayed around his temples. I might have guessed he was in his fifties, but maybe he was slightly younger. I couldn’t tell if those deep creases around his mouth and forehead were from age or long hours of hard manual labor.
He jumped at the sound of my voice, his eyes darting up to meet mine. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re not taking any more bookings until next week,” he said sternly. “And may I ask how
you got in here? I thought I locked that door.”
“You did lock it, but I had these.” I held up my set of keys. “I’m Natalie Miller.”
“Martha’s niece.” The anger vanished as a slick smile lit up his face. “I’m Frank Honeycutt, a pleasure to meet you.” He pointed to the chair on the other side of this desk. “Here—please. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
I sat down, and Blake and Benjamin filed in after me.
The room had two desks with two ancient-looking computers. A pair of skis leaned up against the back wall. A bin labeled “lost and found” was wedged in the corner and overflowing with mismatched mittens and broken ski goggles.
“Blake, glad to see you got back safe,” Frank said. “And I see you’ve brought the dog.”
I couldn’t help but notice, he didn’t seem too excited about Benjamin being here.
I smiled. “I expect we’ll be talking more in the future. Martha’s lawyer said we was going reach out to see if you were interested in buying this place.”
Frank’s smile grew. “I’m very interested. I’ve enjoyed managing this lodge for the last few decades, and I think I can really do it justice as the owner,” he said. “I’d do right by Martha, God rest her soul.”
I settled into the chair, crossing my leg. “The reason I stopped by was because I wanted to talk to you about a couple of your employees.”
His busy gray eyebrows rose. “Who might they be?”
“Ace Harris and Liam Evans.” I also wanted to ask about his wife, Ida Honeycutt, but I didn’t quite know how to go about that without making Frank defensive.
“What about them?” Frank asked. “Are they in some kind of trouble?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to get the full picture of what happened the day my aunt died.”
Frank leaned back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “Oh, sure,” he said. “What do you need to know?”
“What was Ace’s relationship like with Martha? Did he like her? Did they get along?”
“Absolutely,” Frank said, scratching his chin. “He’s a good kid. He has some issues with authority, but boys will be boys.”
“And what about Liam?” I asked.
Frank’s expression darkened. “Liam’s a great guy, and I got nothing bad to say about him. He keeps this place running. Martha, on the other hand, was always fighting with him. I guess if you’re Martha’s niece, you know that Wolf Mountain is kind of a different place.” Frank tipped his head toward Blake. “This one’s made a career out of writing about all the wacko woo-woo stuff that goes on here.”
“That’s true.” Blake plucked a black mitten off the floor and tossed it back in the lost and found bin.
“Why did Martha have against Liam?” I asked.
Frank’s eyes darted to Blake. “How much does she know about this stuff?”
Blake shrugged. “You can talk freely around her.”
Frank nodded once. “Well, Liam’s a bonafide werewolf. I wouldn’t have believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself.” The swivel chair squeaked as Frank shifted his weight. “And Martha, being a Wilder witch took it upon herself to be the magical police.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Frank stretched out in his chair, crossing his ankles. Flecks of mud sprinted off his work boots. “A few years ago, Martha caught Liam giving his blood to folks around here. She threatened him and told him he had to stop.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry—did you say ‘giving his blood’? Do you mean Liam was donating his plasma at donation center or something?”
Frank smiled. “No ma’am—actual blood. I’m not sure they’d take Liam’s blood at one of those places.”
Blake cleared his throat. “Werewolf blood has magical properties. It can rapidly heal a human body, it sharpens your senses, among other things.”
“Ew,” I said. “What do you do with this blood?”
Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Some people drink it. Some people inject it. I’ve heard of people putting it in cocktails.”
I wanted to gag. “Ok, that is the most disgusting thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Frank’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “You say that, but you just wait until you see a ten year old break a bone on the slopes or witness someone having a heart attack.” Frank pursed his lips. “I’ve seen a lot of injuries on this mountain, and I bet you almost everyone around here keeps a stash a werewolf blood, just in case.”
“Why was Martha so against it?” I asked.
Blake swiped a hand through his hair. “She was worried about people misusing it,” he said slowly. “If you drank too much of it, you ran the risk of temporarily changing into a werewolf. If that happens to you more than once, you might get stuck like that.”
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“It’s happened before, and it’s not pretty,” Frank said. “But I still think people should have the option of using the blood if they need it. I think the world of Martha, but she had a lot of opinions on how people should live their lives. She thought magic was only for the people born with it. Don’t you agree?” He directed the question to Blake.
Blake held his hands up. “I try to stay out of it.”
“Smart man.” Frank chuckled. “I try to stay out of it, too. Especially after what happened to Martha. I don’t know if Liam had anything to do with her death, but I’ll tell you one thing—if it really was an animal attack, it’s quite a coincidence.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Well, just three days ago, Martha found a few vials of werewolf blood in Ace’s backpack. Him and his friends were going to see how much they could drink before turning. Werewolf roulette, they call it. Martha confiscated the blood and she walked right up to Liam and slapped him across the face,” Frank said. “Liam still hasn’t been back to work.”
“Interesting,” I said. “But you took Friday, though, correct? You and the sheriff went fishing?”
“I try to cut out early on Fridays during the off-season. I’m the godfather of her little boy, so I make it a point to spend time with him. I make it up by working on the weekends.”
“And you were with Angie the whole time?”
“I was,” Frank said. “Until Ace showed up and told us about Martha. Angie left with Ace, and I took care of Chris until she picked him up from my house that evening.”
“Did you catch anything?” Blake asked.
“Nah.” Frank waved a dismissive hand. “I let the kid hold my pole. By the time Friday rolls around, I’m usually to beat. To be honest, I could barely keep my eyes open. ”
“Ok, I think that’s all I need to know.” I stood up. “Thank you so much for your time.”
“Happy to help.” He scooted his chair back into his desk and scribbled something on a scrap sheet of paper. Handing it to me, he said, “I look forward to talking to you more about the sale of the lodge. That’s my cell number right there, and if you can’t catch me here, you can try me on the office number.”
“I’l be in touch.” I shook his hand. “I know you didn’t have to tell me all of that, but I really appreciate it.”
Chapter 11
I stomped out to Blake’s truck, feeling my heart pounding in my head. “That blood-dealing, werewolf GQ model murdered my aunt,” I said once Blake started up the truck. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to lie right to my face at the bakery this morning. He wasn’t sorry for my loss—he caused it.”
Blake rolled up the windows and turned on the heat. Now that the sun had gone down, the air had an uncomfortable bite to it. “We don’t have enough proof yet.”
“You’re kidding, right?” There was no question in my mind—not after talking to Frank Honeycutt. I pulled out my phone, and I groaned. No service. How had I forgotten about that? “Do you have phone service right now?”
“Yes, hang on.” He leaned to the left and reached into his back
pocket.
I took his phone and bit my lip. “You should probably get yourself a new phone.” When he gave me a questioning look, I held it up, tapping my finger on the back logo. “Juniper Tech phones are super glitchy.”
Blake smiled. “Tell me about it—the ‘butt-dialing bug’. I’d switch, but Juniper is one of the only phone services that works up here.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I said.
“It’s the price we pay for living in the most beautiful place in the world.”
I pulled out the piece of paper Angie had given me last night and dialed her number on Blake’s cell. “You really like it here, don’t you?” I said, bringing the phone to my ear. “Even with all the werewolves and murders.”
“It’s home,” Blake said. “Nothing’s perfect.”
I plugged my other ear when I heard Angie pick up. “Hello, Angie? This is Natalie. I’m calling from Blake’s phone. I think I know who killed my—”
Without warning, Blake slammed on the brakes and snatched the cell phone out of my hand. Benjamin’s claws scraped against the inside of the door as he tried to keep from sliding off the seat. He growled as he scrambled to get his feet back under him.
For a moment, I was so shocked I couldn’t speak. I watched as Blake hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He stared at me incredulously.
“I’m giving Angie a lead so she can do her job and solve my aunt’s murder. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, I do. Like I said before, we don’t have any proof.” Blake gazed out the window, but I could see his cheeks turning red. “Just give me some time to figure all this out.”
“Figure it out? There is overwhelming evidence pointing directly to this monster. What more do you need—a signed confession?”
Blake shook his head as he steered the truck back up the winding mountain road. “It just doesn’t make sense. Liam wouldn’t kill Martha. The two of them had their differences, but I know Liam,” Blake said. “Trust me, he wouldn’t do it.”
Carolina Witch Page 8