A Drop of Witch (Sweetland Witch Women Sleuths) (A Cozy Mystery Book)

by Zoe Arden

  “Fear based?” I asked. What did Melbourne have to be afraid of?

  Trixie nodded and smiled at Detective Hudson. I could tell she wanted to believe him.

  My father poked his head in back. “Where are those cupcakes?” he demanded. “We’ve got hungry people out here with a serious sweet tooth.”

  By the time Coffee Cove closed for the evening, we’d sold over two hundred lucky cakes, one thousand chocolate cream cookies, and eight hundred cupcakes ranging from vanilla highballs to chocolate creamsicle devotion. We were exhausted.

  “Thanks for helping,” I told Detective Hudson as we walked home together.

  “It was sort of fun,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “I liked having something to focus on other than murder.”

  I nodded. “Sugar has a way of mellowing a person out. If it’s got the right kind of mood extract, that is.”

  The rain was already falling by the time we got back. Eleanor, Trixie, and my father were just behind us.

  “Where’s your car?” I asked.

  “Other side of the block. I better go get it. I think I might’ve left a window open.”

  I wavered beside the door. “Sleep well,” I told him.

  “I can’t sleep. I have to keep an eye out.”

  “Sure. Of course. Well, at least stay dry.”

  He nodded. “See you in the morning, Ava. Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  I closed the door behind me and went to change for bed. The thunder was booming loudly by the time I crawled under my covers. I lay awake, staring at my window. A half hour later, a clap of thunder rang across the sky so loudly that it shook the house. I got out of bed and looked outside. I could barely make out Detective Hudson’s car in the darkness, but then a bolt of lightning shot out and lit the street up. I saw him plainly in the driver’s seat, watching our house. He looked cold. And alone.

  I hurried downstairs and slipped on my shoes, pulling a raincoat tightly around me as I opened the door. I ran across the street. Detective Hudson was already getting out of his car.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “Come inside,” I told him. “You shouldn’t be out here on a night like this.” The rain sprayed his face, but it didn’t hide his surprise. “Hurry up. I’m already getting soaked.”

  He smiled and grabbed a bag from his car, following me back to the house. I closed the door behind him and went to the closet.

  “Here’s some blankets. You can use the bathroom if you want. There’s one down the hall and one upstairs. Feel free to take a shower or get something to eat.”

  “Ava.”

  I turned to look at him. He was watching me with a tender smile on his face.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  I smiled back at him.

  “Goodnight... Colt. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  1 4

  * * *

  I checked Damon’s text message for the hundredth time.

  LUNCH WITH MY MOM. NOON. GOLDEN GOOSE. P.S. I’M STILL MAD.

  I told Colt I was meeting Damon for lunch and for once he didn’t say anything. He was too busy setting up our living room with security cameras and all kinds of magical COMHA devices I’d never heard of. Apparently, he’d already set up a lot of this stuff outside our house, but now that he had the chance to put it inside, too, he wasn’t going to waste it.

  The only thing I had failed to mention to Colt was that I was meeting Damon clear on the other side of the island. Heavenly Haven wasn’t big, but it was big enough that I knew Colt would never approve. He’d thought I was going to Coffee Cove, and I’d just let him continue thinking that. I figured that if I was on a need-to-know basis, he should be as well.

  On the drive over, I kept turning over what Melbourne had said the other day. Ancient rituals... murder... sacrifice... All dating back to the time of Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor. How did they tie into all of this? And if the ritual was as old as Melbourne seemed to think it was, then how in the witching world had Polly Peacock learned about it? Especially since she’d been stuck inside Wormwood. It didn’t make sense.

  I turned onto the restaurant’s drive and spotted Damon’s car already in the parking lot. Warthogs! Why could I never be early for my dates with Damon? I hoped he and his mother hadn’t been waiting long.

  The Golden Goose was an upscale restaurant so delicious it was actually considered neutral territory in the feud between Sweetland and Mistmoor. Felicity Redfern’s brother, Grayson, owned and managed it. It was his pride and joy. I was pretty sure he relished in knowing that his restaurant—and his alone—had the pleasure of hosting Mayor Singer’s New Year’s Eve party. It had been the logical choice when the mayor was making his plans. The Golden Goose was the only place that all his guests would be able to fit into, and even then, they’d still have to use an expansion charm.

  “Hello,” Grayson greeted me when I stepped inside. Grayson was twenty-six and tall, though not quite as tall as Colt. He generated an easy, amiable manner with whomever he came into contact with.

  “Nice to see you again, Ava,” he said, shaking my hand. “Damon and his mother arrived a few minutes ago. I’ve set them up at one of our best tables.” He winked at me. “Follow me.”

  My heart thumped as I followed Grayson. I was dying to see what Damon’s mom looked like. Was her hair dark like his? Did she give off the same rock star vibe? We rounded a corner and I saw Damon sitting with a woman who, had I not known who I was meeting, I would have sworn was much too young to be his mom.

  Damon was twenty-seven. This woman looked as though she was no older than forty, if that. And she’s human. No anti-aging spells for her, though I’ve heard those give mixed results anyway.

  “Ava,” Damon said, rising from his seat. His mother turned her eyes to me, and I saw the same startling blue that had always fascinated me about Damon’s eyes.

  “Hi,” I said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Hmmph,” his mother said, still sitting.

  I bit my bottom lip. Damon shot his mom a look. “You’re not late,” he told me. “You’re right on time. We were a little early.”

  Even though Damon had said he was still mad at me, he’d apparently decided to take up my defense against his mom. I shot him a grateful look and fought the worry creeping into the back of my head. His mom was looking at me like I was an assassin instead of her son’s girlfriend.

  “Mom, this is Ava. Ava, this is my mom, Renee.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tellinger,” I said, extending my hand. She looked at it like I’d offered her a dirty diaper. She reached out two fingers and shook it as quickly as possible, then wiped her hand on a napkin. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice. Damon did the same.

  “Um, I’m glad you could make it,” I said. “Did you have a nice trip out?”

  Renee sipped from her water glass, ignoring my question.

  Damon’s brow creased.

  “Her trip was fine,” he said.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” I picked up a menu, using it as a shield to protect me from the death stares Renee Tellinger kept sending my way.

  Our waitress came by a minute later to take our order. “Hi, I’m Kayla. I’ll be your server today.”

  I recognized Kayla Singer right away, even though I didn’t know her well. She was the daughter of Mayor Singer and his wife, Tazzie. The gossip train was long enough to reach from Mistmoor to Sweetland, and it had informed me that she was dating Grayson Redfern. They had been hot and heavy for several months. Damon and I had been on again off again for a few months. I had to admit, I was a little jealous of Kayla and Grayson.

  “I’ll have a tonic and gin,” Renee said. “Hold the tonic.”

  Damon and I ordered sodas. Kayla went to grab our drinks and took our menus, leaving me vulnerable to Renee’s continued looks.

  “So,” I said, trying again to make conversation despite the de
ath stare Renee was currently giving me. “Are you planning on going to Mayor Singer’s New Year’s Eve party while you’re here?”

  She said nothing, and I felt Damon kick her leg under the table. She gave him a look before turning to me.

  “No,” she said, then picked up a bread roll and began eating it.

  When our meals finally arrived, I was relieved. It gave us something to do. Despite my attempts at conversation, Renee clearly had no qualms about sitting in silence. Complete and total silence. At least now we’d have an excuse not to talk. Damon and I had spent the entirety of our wait time discussing the weather with each other. Renee hadn’t even chimed in on that.

  My food was delicious, but I had to force it down my throat. I’d ordered manicotti alfredo, and my stomach just couldn’t handle the richness of it. Not with Renee watching my every move. I finally pushed the plate away.

  Damon seemed to be having the same problem with his steak, despite being perfectly cooked. Renee was the only one who finished her plate. She’d ordered a salmon patty burger and French fries.

  “Should we get dessert?” Damon asked when Kayla broached the question.

  I glanced at his mom. “If you’d like,” I said. “You know me. I don’t turn down sugar.” I laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. All I received was Renee’s icy cold stare.

  “Mom? Do you want dessert?”

  She took a sip of her water and set it back down. “If we must.”

  Damon looked at me uncertainly.

  “I’ll just give you a minute to decide,” Kayla said and excused herself.

  I took a deep breath. “Mrs. Tellinger... have I done something to offend you?”

  Finally, I got a reaction from her. “Offend me?” she scoffed. “Offend me? Your very presence offends me.”

  I felt my eyes growing wide and willed them not to give away too much, like how painful this evening had been.

  “I thought that when I wrote to you—”

  “When you wrote to me you failed to tell me who you were.”

  “Oh.” Warthogs.

  “My son had never mentioned you before your letter and now I know why. Had I known you were the daughter of Eli Fortune, I never would have agreed to come.” Her blues eyes darkened to a stormy black.

  “Mom, we talked about this. You said you’d give her a chance.”

  “She’s a witch,” Renee said. “What chance should I give her?”

  “Not all witches are bad,” I said, anger crushing every other feeling that tried to surface.

  “That’s what I’d expect a hag to say.”

  “Hag?!” I cried, rising from my seat.

  Several people around the restaurant shot me an inquisitive look. A few people looked offended. Grayson was watching from a distance, Kayla at his side. She was whispering something to him, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether he should step in.

  “I will never allow my son to marry a witch. I don’t care how good she’s supposed to be.”

  Marry?

  Did she just say marry? Damon and I hadn’t even talked about marriage. Did she know something I didn’t? I looked at Damon, who was spreading his arms between us, afraid we might start taking swings at each other. Why wasn’t he defending me? The second she called me a hag, he should have stepped in.

  “Mother,” Damon snapped.

  Renee looked at her son with pity. “She may have fooled you, but she can’t fool me. There is only one kind of witch in this world. A bad one.” I felt her eyes burn into me. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you apart.”

  * * *

  1 5

  * * *

  My head was spinning as I left the restaurant after Damon and his mother. Damon hadn’t tried to stop her when she headed for the door. He’d pulled me aside.

  “Guess that didn’t go so well,” he said.

  “I guess not.” I could tell he wanted to say, “I told you so,” but he bit his tongue.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said.

  “Are you still mad about yesterday?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “After what just happened, I think it was probably luck that you weren’t there when she arrived.”

  “She didn’t know I was a witch?” I asked him. “Didn’t you ever mention it? Or me?”

  His expression hardened. “You saw how she reacted, Ava. Of course, I didn’t mention you.”

  I bit my lower lip, trying to hold back the hurt expression attempting to form on my face.

  “I better get out there,” Damon said. “She’s waiting.” He didn’t even kiss me goodbye, just went to chase after his mom and leave me to pay the bill.

  Eleanor had loaned me her car for the day. I parked it in a lot off Sweetland Beach and got out. The air was cool, and breathing in the salty ocean fragrance cleared my head. I wasn’t anxious to get home. I knew Eleanor and Trixie would want to know how it went. Even my father would ask questions.

  “She hates me,” I muttered as I took off my shoes and tossed them aside. I wiggled my toes in the sand, enjoying the feel of it as it squished between them.

  I tried not to blame Renee. I mean, she didn’t know me. Until I’d written her, she apparently hadn’t even heard of me. I wasn’t sure what hurt more—that Damon didn’t contradict her when she called me a hag or that he’d never even mentioned me to her. I wished I could block out the whole afternoon. Just erase it all from my memory. Especially the part where Damon left the restaurant with her instead of me.

  I tried to understand. It was his mom. How was he supposed to take my side over hers? Still...

  And what was all that stuff about marriage? Was that just her imagination or had Damon confessed his true thoughts to her? If he asked me, what would I say? It pained me that the first answer that sprang to mind wasn’t a resounding, “Yes.”

  “You look way too serious for an afternoon like this,” a man’s voice said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I looked up to see William Carney smiling at me as he pushed his hot dog cart down the beach. A sign reading Water and Hot Dogs rose from the side. He saw me eyeing it. I’d barely touched my lunch, and my stomach began to rumble.

  “I’ve got ice cream, too.” He smiled. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s sweet and it’s cold. Old-fashioned chocolate or vanilla.” He studied me carefully for a minute. “I’ve never seen anyone walk away with an ice cream and still look sad.”

  “Do I look sad?”

  “You did until I mentioned ice cream.”

  I smiled. He opened the top of his cart and pulled out a chocolate ice cream bar wrapped in paper.

  “On the house,” he said, handing it to me. “You can’t beat free Fudgesicles.”

  “Thanks.” I tore the wrapper off and placed it in a nearby garbage can. The second I bit into the rich, creamy chocolate, I felt better.

  “Feel like talking about it?” William asked. “One thing I’ve learned combing these beaches and chatting with tourists is how to listen.” He leaned in close. “Tourists like to ramble.” He winked and looked around as if checking to make sure no tourists had overheard him.

  “Thanks, but it’s something I need to work out on my own, I think.”

  “As you will,” William said. “I’ll be down by the pier if you change your mind.”

  I watched William as he strolled toward the dock where the ferry from Florida’s mainland came in. It was on this very pier, only six months before, when I first set foot on Heavenly Haven. Actually, it wasn’t so much setting foot as falling in. I hadn’t been looking where I was going, and I’d stepped right off the pier and into the ocean. When I came out of the water, I’d seen Damon for the first time.

  Damon, who I’d never see again if I was killed.

  “William!” I called suddenly, chasing him down. He stopped several yards ahead of me.

  “Change your mind already?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I huffed as I finally caught up to him. For a middle-aged man, he sure could mov
e fast. “You know everything there is to know about this island, right?”

  “Right you are,” William said genially.

  When I’d needed to find Goblin Territory and no one would tell me where to go, it had been William who’d finally given me directions. In fact, William knew almost as much about this island as Melbourne. Only he was a hundred times more likely to talk about what he knew.

  “What can you tell me about an old ritual...” I bit my bottom lip, trying to think of how to phrase what was running through my head. “A really old ritual that takes place around the time of the Wolf Moon?”

  “The Wolf Moon?” William asked, frowning. “Well, there are a lot of old rituals that take place around then. The Wolf Moon is very powerful. The first full moon of the new year, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said impatiently. “But this ritual isn’t just old, you see, it’s ancient.”

  “How ancient?” William asked seriously.

  “It goes back to Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor. Maybe even before that.”

  He paused, scratching his fingers on his chin like he was thinking. “What does this ritual do?”

  “Restore lost powers.”

  “Powers, you say? Can it restore life?”

  “I think so. But there needs to be a sacrifice. Someone’s soul must be taken and...” I gulped... “consumed.”

  William’s eyes widened.

  “You’re speaking of the Raine Ritual.”

  “The Raine Ritual?” I asked.

  “Yes, I believe so. It’s ancient and very dangerous.”

  “How does it work?”

  “The wizard performing it must make several sacrifices and use the blood from each to claim his reward.”

  “Use their blood how?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear any more.

  “I’m not sure. I think they drain it and save it for later.”

  “Do you know how the victims are chosen?”

  “They have to be people who fit specific archetypes.”

  “Archetypes?”

  High school psychology class came rushing back to me. Psychologists considered all people to be dividable into categories. Another word for the categories might be stereotypes, except these categories had nothing to do with race, religion, or anything else. They were based on human psyche. Some people liked to argue that there were many archetypes, but there were just twelve that symbolized the most basic human desires. Each archetype carried certain traits inherent to the people in its group.