The Curse of Crescent Road

by Jessica Lancaster

  She paced around the box room, looking at the contents, even though she’d seen them before, she’d seen them hundreds of times before, I could see her cataloguing them all with her eyes. “We can never have too much.”

  “We’re not going to overdo the recipe, we don’t want a batch for fifty people, there’s only five of us.”

  She pulled up beside the table, tapping it twice with her forefinger. “It’s not inspiring confidence.”

  “We have just the right amount of ingredients necessary, we can double down on candles and crystals, but if we have to find more herbs it will put us at risk, the protection spell from the last full moon is already waning, which might be why you’re feeling antsy.”

  She paused in place.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “It will be,” she said. “Right, I best be off, I promised I’d volunteer at the charity shop.” She patted me on my shoulder. “Blessed be.”

  As Allegra left, I caught a glimpse of the café outside and a peculiar face I’d never seen before. A man stood at the counter. He had a thick head of brown hair and a jawline that could cut crystal itself. I wiped my hands down my blouse and combed back my hair with my fingers.

  As I walked behind the counter, I grabbed an apron and wrapped it around my waist. “You’re new around here,” I said to him as he stared behind me in oblivion.

  “Oh, oh,” he snapped alive. “Hello.”

  Behind him, I watched as Margery and Ethel pulled their faces into snarls, staring at the back of his head.

  “You must be the new doctor?” I asked, holding out my hand.

  He shook it. “And you’d be right,” he chuckled. “I’m Doctor Oscar Raymond.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Ethel spoke up from the back. “Rubbish.”

  I tried to pay it no attention, but the smile on my face gave it away that I’d heard, and it was quite humorous. “And you have a bit of a fan club.”

  “I’d hardly say that,” he said, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. “I doubt I’m on good terms with either of those women.”

  “Oh, well I’m Gwen Waterhouse,” I said. “I own Crystal Café, it’s my pride and joy, other than my son, of course, that goes without saying.”

  “Aw, how old is he?”

  “He’s at university now.”

  Behind his head, I watched as Margery and Ethel turned. “She’s divorced,” Margery shouted.

  Followed by immediate blushing. Thankfully, my tall twenty-two-year-old waitress, Abi interrupted us. “Here’s your coffee,” she said, handing him over a to-go cup.

  “Wonderful, thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you around, maybe next time I can stop for cake.” He nodded to the glass case which showcased all of the cakes I’d baked, it reminded me I had some baking to get done for the parish priest’s service.

  In a room behind the counter there was my baking studio, it was my home away from home, the place where I was at peace and mostly on my own, unless Rosie stopped by, she was the only person I let behind the doors.

  Pristine white and metal, it was almost sterile, but it helped whenever someone tried to call the health agency on me trying to get me shut down, and since opening the café, they’d visited at least a dozen times because of people tipping them off or reports of animals. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d never bring August down here, not to mention his fear of leaving the house.

  The parish church had a standing order, Monday, Thursday, and Sunday, each time I’d make them their favourite cake, a classic clean and sophisticated Victoria sponge with fresh cream and strawberries.

  I enjoyed making cakes I never usually made, often cakes people from the village suggested. The display case window was always stocked full with a selection of cakes to choose from, unless you arrived before closing when I’d be handing over free cakes all willy-nilly.

  A knock came at the door and through the frosted circle window looking into the room, I saw Abi’s face.

  “Yes?” I asked, parting the door slightly.

  “Bridget is here for the cake.”

  Bridget was the parish priest’s daughter, she had fair skin and straight brown hair that fell to her waist. As I walked through to greet her, she snarled, tapping her nails on the metal counter.

  “What’s taking so long?” she asked.

  Unlike her father, Bridget didn’t have the same open aspect to love, and the only people she did show some semblance of happiness to were the people who attended her church.

  I glanced at the watch on my wrist, pulling away the plastic hygiene gloves. “It’s only four, I thought he was coming by at closing?” I shut shop at 6 P.M. and I knew their service didn’t begin until 7 P.M.

  She tapped her nails on the metal once more. “No, he’s asked me to pick it up.”

  I nodded. “Then let me get you a box for carry out.” Before I turned, I noticed the flicker in her eye as they rolled to the back of her head.

  Once I was in the kitchen again, I waited behind the door to listen as she spoke.

  “I don’t really care for all this mumbo jumbo,” she said.

  “She’s really nice though,” Abi added, jumping to my defence.

  “Yeah, yeah, I don’t even know why you work for her.”

  I quickly dusted the top of the cake with icing sugar before placing it inside a white box. The top of the box was sealed shut with the café logo, it was something my son had whipped up on his computer.

  “She’s been a huge help to me,” I listened in as Abi spoke.

  “Alrighty,” I said, backing out of the kitchen carrying the box on my arms. “Here you go.” I handed it over with the palm of her hand touching the back of mine, the sense of disdain ran through her with great intensity, a glimmer of an image came through strong in the back of my head, it was of her throwing a stone at the café window.

  “How much?” she asked.

  It took me a moment to reply. “Your father has already settled it.”

  She nodded. “Good, bec—”

  “Oh, and Bridget, please don’t throw rocks at the window.”

  She scoffed and walked away.

  I turned on my foot to see Abi scurry out from behind me to the café floor.

  A couple weeks ago one of the windows was smashed, leaving a small crack that got larger over the days until I forked out over my insurance premiums to have it replaced.

  CHAPTER 2

  Taurus (21st April – 21st May)

  Your patience is wearing thin. You usually have a thick skin, not caring about what others say, but lately negative words have been gnawing at you. Remember to administer self-control and strength before you snap.

  I usually closed the café alone, Abi would leave around 5 P.M. and Ralph worked until 2 P.M. or once the lunch rush had finished, but Rosie often came along to help me clear out any cakes about to go bad, or cakes she would have been eyeing and prayed had gone bad.

  A tapping at the door startled me. I’d already turned the lights off with only the blue neon sign beaming in. “We’re closing,” I said, scrubbing at a counter with a cloth.

  The ding rang as the door opened and Rosie walked in without a second of hesitation.

  “What’s for my supper?” She asked, pushing clear of the yellow cone to mark where the flooring was wet. She pressed her nose against the glass counter and licked her lips. “Oh, and you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!”

  “Hey, Rose,” I said calmly at the sight of her. “Go on, tell me what’s happened.”

  “I met the new doctor today,” she said.

  “Funny, so did I.”

  Rosie worked part-time as a receptionist for the doctor’s office, she recently found herself covering for Caroline, a woman who’d become pregnant.

  “He’s a looker,” she laughed, stabbing her finger against the glass. “Is this one going out?” she asked, her fingers lined up against a piece of chocolate cake, there was only a single slice left.

/>   “He seems nice,” I said. “I had Margery and Ethel in today, apparently he’s doing his job.” I approached the shelves with a plastic plate in hand.

  “How is Caroline anyway?”

  Rosie shook her head. “Angry, as always, you know what she’s like, she came into the office today to complain that I was taking over her job and that she wouldn’t have a job once the baby came.”

  “I mean, you are,” I said with a smile. “This one?” I pointed to the cake with the metal tongs in hand.

  Rosie nodded. “I told her it wasn’t my fault she decided not to tell the man she was sleeping with she’d got pregnant, I mean, can you believe it, I didn’t even want children when I was married, let alone now.”

  Rosie also joined me in the divorcee club, the best of friends, I was sure the reason her relationship crumbled was partly because of me, I mean, Rosie was friends with the village witch, no man wanted a woman with more power than them.

  I handed her the cake. “Want me to put some cling film around it?”

  She shrugged and grabbed the plate. “Nah, it’s fine,” she said. “Apparently, she’s been giving Marissa hell as well, trying to get her to curse me and the lot.”

  A clatter fell as I dropped the tongs on the counter, it startled us both. “That’s awful, did Marissa say that?”

  “No, Caroline did.”

  The palpations in my chest were quick to leave. “That’s absolutely crazy, I’ll see her tonight. It can’t be too bad otherwise she would’ve mentioned something.”

  Rosie hummed in agreement as she shoved the cake in her mouth, taking large bites out from the side.

  Cowan Bay was a crazy place to live at times; a place of powerful energy. The energy had driven me here, a beacon calling out, and it just so happened the same was true for the other women in the coven. There were many more people around here years ago, but once the witches moved in, everyone moved out, and there can only be one coven in any one place. You know the saying, too many cooks.

  Marissa was the earth witch of the coven, a woman of great earthly connection. She lived close enough for me to check on her each night, taking her a slice of cake and filling her in on the day’s gossip. Her cottage was much smaller than mine, only a two-bedroom, but the majority of her property was made up of a large greenhouse on the back.

  Her house was alive with light and crawling ivy. I admired it from the comfort of my car, feeling out the passenger seat with a hand. Handbag, check. Book of shadows, check. At the rustle of a plastic bag, I pulled it close. Cake, check.

  “Gwen,” she called out, jumping from her front door. Marissa had a thick head of frizzy red hair and a stick thin frame where she draped over heavy black fabric. “I hope you brought cake,” she chuckled. “I’m starved.”

  “Ah, I have.” I held the plastic bag high. “Cheesecake.” I approached her as she enveloped me in a hug, wrapping her arms around my torso. I felt the immediate warmth emanate from her body.

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the bag.

  “Why haven’t you eaten?”

  She shrugged before turning to lead me into her house. “I’ve been extremely busy, not to mention the full moon is coming, I feel depleted.”

  Marissa had a cat, a female red tabby called Laurie. She brushed up against my legs as I walked through the door, it was a blessing for a witch’s familiar to take to you, but I was a witch, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.

  We walked through to the kitchen of the small cottage. Most of the house was messy, the kitchen had been turned on its head with herbs and spices scattered around counters and her book of shadows opened wide with a coffee stain at the centre of a blank page.

  “Working on something new?” I asked, gesturing to the empty page.

  She nodded and made room to place the cake. “I’m trying,” she said.

  “Anything I can help you with?” I asked, trying to get a nosy look at the book but it was only a brown splodge there.

  “It’s for a client, working on a strong anxiety tea.”

  I guffawed, a strong instinct. “You shouldn’t need that, unless you’re trying to sedate a witch,” I laughed. “Unless you’re trying to sedate one of us.”

  Marissa made her way to her book as she slammed it shut. “Want some cake?”

  It was unusual of Marissa to be cagey, especially when she gave me a huge wave of crushing energy. Of course, I didn’t believe she was trying to sedate someone inside them coven, that would only hurt her, but we all had recipes for helping humans with anxiety and stress.

  “I’ll take a tea if you’re offering,” I said.

  “Sure,” she said, waving a hand. “Sure, take a seat.”

  I took a seat at the table in the kitchen and watched as Marissa scurried around cleaning away mess. It wasn’t unlike her to be messy, she always had several things going on at any one time, I’m surprised half the potions she made and advice she gave wasn’t laced with a warning, but she was surprisingly accurate with everything. This was why Marissa was the earth witch in our group.

  After Marissa calmed and we sat, I drank a tea while she had a coffee and ate cake.

  “What do you have planned for tonight?” I asked, adding a sugar cube to the tea.

  She hummed, stirring a spoon against the base of her cup. “Too much,” she chuckled. “I’m always doing too much.”

  I smiled. “Naturally.” I reached out across her table to touch her hand but she pulled away. “Don’t spread yourself too thin, Allegra has been feeling some kind of way and I don’t want her to drive herself crazy.”

  Marissa stopped stirring the coffee to tease her fingers through her bushy hair. “She’ll drive us all crazy.”

  “That much is true,” I said as we shared a smile. Of all the witches, I was the closest with Marissa, we both had children of a similar age, and we were both single cat ladies trying our best not to conform to the mould. I sipped the tea. “Delicious, are these fresh?” I asked, referring to the gentle blend of herbs.

  She stared back to her coffee as she released a slight hum. “The greenhouse is being a temperamental bugger, but no, these aren’t fresh.”

  I waved a hand at her. “Surprising, especially from you,” I said. “You still use the turquoise stone water, right?”

  She scoffed. “Of course, Gwen, this isn’t amateur hour in a witch’s kitchen.” A smile touched her face again. “I think it might be Laurie, letting in the pests again. Sometimes it takes me days to find those dead rats.”

  It was lucky for me that August refused to leave the house.

  “I can hear you, you know,” Laurie said from beneath the table.

  “Hush you,” Marissa said.

  Sipping the rest of the sweet tea, I glanced at the clock on her wall. It was 6:49 P.M. I pushed back in the chair, straightening the arms of my top. “I must be off,” I said. “August will be pining at the door when I get home.”

  “Blessed be,” she said.

  “Blessed be, Marissa.”

  Driving into my regular parking spot in front of the house, the headlights of the car revealed deep scuff marks in the pebbles. Quickly I gathered my belongings into my arms and rushed inside, unlocking the door with a flick of my wrist.

  “August?” I called out.

  The black furry ball came charging at me from the kitchen.

  I closed the door and hooked my bag on a peg. “What’s going on?” I asked, kneeling at August by my feet.

  “There was a dog,” his voice trembled.

  For the second time this evening my heart raced through my body. I found myself settled and calm once I knew what it was he was so worried about, of course, a natural enemy of the cat, which is the dog, and is the perfect explanation for the scuffing.

  I closed the door behind me, standing up straight. “It’s only a dog,” I remarked. It was easy for me to say, but also the house was locked and there was very slim chance of August making it outside.

  “I tore through the litter
box,” he said as I marched through to the kitchen with my book of shadows pressed against my chest.

  There were two litter trays in the house, one in the spare room upstairs and the second in the corner of the living room. I stopped on my heel. “Where?”

  August slunk away through the door to the living room.

  I followed him into the large room, it wasn’t often used, which is why it was perfect for his litter tray. The litter tray had been flipped upside down and clumps of ashy litter scattered across the flooring and lower wall. Thank the Goddess it was wood and not carpet.

  “August,” I sighed, backing out of the room. “Learn to control yourself.”

  “I was scared.”

  “Scared?” I grinned. “It’s just a dog.”

  I went into the kitchen to place my book, I needed to clear the ammonia from my nostrils before I could even think about doing anything else.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his back up against the side of my legs.

  “It’s fine, I mean, it’s not, but I’ll fix it.”

  I had a quick fix, magic, well I wasn’t going to get on my hands and knees for something I could do with the click of my fingers. Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed through to the living room.

  This type of magic was practical, somewhat telekinetic in spirit, but there was a lot more to it. I squeezed my eyes together for a moment as I pictured the room how it had been, completely clean and rid of dirt and filth, even picturing my favourite lemon smelling cleaning supply in mind. “One, two, three.” I clicked both my fingers once.

  The room was back and my nostrils where filled with lemon. Using magic, any type of it burned energy, it was why I wore a pentagram necklace, it had been blessed with an abundance of energy, the type that kept me in check.

  “I’ll feed you now,” I said to August as he meowed at my feet. “Anything else you want to tell me? Did you destroy any other part of the house while you were at it?”

  He didn’t respond, only left my feet to the kitchen where his bowls were. He had enough material in the house to scratch up a mess, but he also had a lot to play with in the spare room, that’s where I’d relocated his scratching posts to, even if it did drive me up the wall at night when he decided he couldn’t sleep.