Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  Pointing at Muriel, I mouthed at Sweets, “You know her?”

  Wide-eyed, Sweets shook her head emphatically.

  “Come on, girls, don’t be shy now. Follow me.”

  Curious now, we followed the woman inside. Her home decor was what I’d call eclectic, bordering on packrat. Crystals hung from every square inch of the ceiling, even dangling from the curtain rods and over the doorways. Framed portraits of cauldrons, witches, and black cats adorned her walls, and every nook, cranny, and shelf was stuffed with figurines of the same. Books were stacked high in piles around the room, some open atop the piles, as if she’d been reading and then abruptly stopped to open another book.

  The house smelled a bit of mulberries and vinegar, a rather odd combination, and it burned my nose slightly. We followed her into the kitchen, where lit white candles covered her counters and sat atop her refrigerator and on some open shelving. A pot of something boiled furiously on her stovetop, sending spit spraying and sizzling on the burner.

  In the middle of the room, a long farm table sat atop a large sunny yellow rug, and on the table sat five coffee mugs and a large box of donuts.

  Muriel gestured towards the table. “Sit, sit. The coffee’s done. How does everyone take theirs?”

  Sliding down into a seat, Jax grinned happily. “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

  Halfway to the coffeepot, Muriel froze and looked over her shoulder. “You’re the smart one of the group, I can tell.”

  We all broke out into a round of laughter at the unexpected barb, letting a bit of the uneasiness out of the air.

  While Jax frowned, Muriel grabbed the coffee and walked over to pour her the first cup. “Oh, I’m just teasing, Jax.” She patted her on the back gently. Then, as if something hit just her, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose. When she opened her eyes, she looked down at Jax in surprise. “You’re the last of the group to get your powers. A brand-new witch! How lovely.”

  That put the smile back on Jax’s face. “My powers get stronger every day. Watch this.” Jax flared out a finger and pink electrical energy shot out, wrapping its fibrous pink tentacles around Muriel’s coffeepot. Using her magic, Jax set about pouring coffee into each of our mugs.

  When she was done showing off, Muriel squeezed Jax’s shoulder. “Very good. Now, the trick is not to let it show.”

  Jax put the coffeepot down on the table and frowned up at the elder witch. “Not to let it show?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Muriel gestured with her fingers. “The pink.”

  Alba let out a noise. “Haha. See, Shorty? What’d I tell ya? It’s embarrassing.”

  Muriel tipped her head from side to side. “Now, Alba, I wouldn’t say it’s embarrassing, per se. I’d say it’s quite impressive, but it’s a tell. We witches aren’t very fond of tells. Maybe here in Aspen Falls, tells are all right, but out in the real world, where witches aren’t as widely accepted, we’d rather keep our powers a little closer to the vest. You don’t want to show your hand, do you?”

  Jax shrugged uneasily. “I guess not.”

  Muriel grinned. “Trust me. I’ve been doing magic for many, many years and I can guarantee you, you’ll know you’ve mastered magic when no one even knows you’re doing it. In fact, sometimes I don’t even know when I’m doing it.” Chuckling lightly, she sat down at the table with the rest of us and used her magic to retrieve a laptop from the other end of the table. “Now. Ladies, help yourselves to a donut, have a cup of coffee, and how about we give that video a watch?”

  ❖

  “Well, that was a bust. The video didn’t show us anything!” said Alba.

  I felt the disappointment as much as Alba and the rest of the girls did. Muriel’s video had shown us next to nothing, except a blurry figure leaving a trail of destruction behind. We’d all truly hoped that the video would’ve been the nail in our pumpkin vandal’s coffin.

  Muriel paused the footage and looked at the five of us curiously. “Now how in the world can you say that? I think it showed quite a bit.”

  Jax sat up a little straighter. “It did?”

  “Maybe we should watch it again,” suggested Holly, skipping a glance around the table.

  Muriel smiled. “Yes. Let’s watch it again. This time, watch it like a witch.”

  Watch it like a witch.

  What in the world was that supposed to mean?

  Muriel rewound the footage and played it back again. It was dark, so the video was grainy and very difficult to make out what was going on. Across the street, a light-colored figure appeared on the screen. It moved lithely, as if it were gliding, then stopped and threw a pumpkin off the neighbor’s porch with such speed and force that it almost seemed theatrically faked.

  A second later, the odd figure came zooming across the street to Muriel’s yard. But even though it was closer, it was impossible to make out any features. It was simply a solid, almost white color that moved in a blur. It took only a moment to swipe the pumpkins from Muriel’s porch, smashing them onto the grass, and then, in a flash, it was gone—like we’d been watching the footage at high speed.

  We all looked up at her.

  She smiled broadly as if all the answers had just presented themselves and she was only waiting for us to regurgitate them. “Well?”

  I exchanged looks with my roommates, curious if any of them had watched it like a witch and come upon an answer.

  Holly was the first to throw up her hands. “You couldn’t even see their face. I have no idea who that was.”

  When no one else jumped in with an answer, Muriel sighed. “No, you couldn’t see a face. That’s just it. Think like a witch, girls. Think!”

  Long moments passed before finally it hit me. I nodded excitedly. “We couldn’t see a face because there wasn’t a face.”

  Jax wrinkled her nose. “How could they not have a face? Were they wearing a mask?”

  “If they were wearing a mask, Shorty, we would’ve seen it,” said Alba. “They didn’t have a face because they were able to hide it.”

  “And who can hide their face?” asked Muriel.

  “Someone magical?” asked Sweets.

  Muriel grinned and pointed at her. “Someone magical. Girls. Don’t you get it? The video doesn’t prove who’s doing the pumpkin smashing, but it does tell us that whoever’s doing it has the magical ability to hide their face!”

  Alba’s head bobbed as if the pieces were finally coming together. “So we’re looking for another witch.”

  “Or a wizard,” Jax added.

  “Can we watch it one more time?” I asked. Now that we better understood what we were looking at, I wanted to watch it one more time and see if there was anything else we’d overlooked.

  “Of course we can. We can watch it as many times as you’d like.” Muriel rewound the footage and played it back three more times. Each time we all pointed out new details that we hadn’t noticed on the first or even second watch.

  “See how fast they move?” Alba pointed at the screen. “That’s totally gotta be because they’re magical.”

  “How did we not think of that before?” I asked, shaking my head, slightly embarrassed that the great “Witch Squad” had missed all those obvious details. We were off our game.

  “The same reason the police didn’t think of it either,” said Muriel.

  “One of your neighbors mentioned you’d shown it to the police,” said Alba. “What did they have to say about it?”

  Muriel grinned. “Oh, they were baffled. But I wasn’t about to share my suspicions. They just watched it a couple of times and then chalked up their inability to figure out the culprit to grainy video footage.”

  “Why didn’t you want to tell them your suspicions?” asked Jax.

  “The same reason I suggested you learn to use your magic without the flashy pink tentacles.” Muriel stood up and walked over to her counter to put on another pot of coffee. “Look, girls. You’ve got to understand. Aspen Falls is quite progr
essive when it comes to paranormal figures in the community. But like all places in the world, you just never know who to trust. One person might be progressive, but the next person could be out to get people like us.” She clicked her tongue. “Sadly, I don’t trust the police anywhere. Who I do trust are my fellow witches. Which was why I was thrilled to sense you were coming.”

  “Well, then, I understand why the police didn’t think of the culprit being a paranormal being, but why didn’t we think of it?” I asked.

  “Because just like they did, you had your mind made up that it was teenagers. That’s the problem with our justice system. That’s why certain groups of people—often teenagers, people of color, paranormal beings—we’re all natural targets. If the police have labeled you as a suspect, then it’s really hard to prove to them that you’re innocent.” She sighed. “Look, girls. The police came into my house thinking they were looking for teenagers because all the neighbors swore up and down it had to be the rowdy teenagers on the block. But even when my video didn’t show a single teenager on my porch, they didn’t stop for a moment to consider other options.”

  I sighed, feeling rather guilty for how harshly we’d treated both sets of teenage boys as well as the Mullens family. Then I looked at the paused video screen again. The paranormal being was on the far-left side of the screen, having just finished smashing the pumpkins on Muriel’s porch. On the right side of the screen, barely visible, was something small, almost invisible in the pixelated darkness.

  Frowning, I pointed at it. “Muriel, can you zoom in on that side of the screen? Right there.”

  “Sure.” She clicked the buttons on her keyboard, zooming the video.

  “It’s a hand!” gasped Jax.

  “And a foot,” I said, nodding. “Someone else was there.”

  I put my hands down on the table. “Girls. I know Muriel doesn’t trust the police, but we know one person on the police force we can definitely trust, and I think it’s time we paid him a visit. What do you say?”

  Alba stood up. “I say let’s do it.”

  8

  “So we know it’s probably not kids,” said Sweets as she drove us towards the Aspen Falls Police Department that afternoon.

  “And there are two of them,” said Holly.

  “And whoever it is is magical,” added Jax.

  “The problem with that is there are so many magical people in town that it could be anybody. Literally. With the Paranormal Institute here in Aspen Falls, half the town’s got magical abilities,” I said.

  “We gotta think like cops,” said Alba. “Motive, means, and opportunity.”

  “Motive,” I repeated, nodding. “Yeah. Who would have the motive to smash a bunch of pumpkins all over town?”

  “That’s easy,” said Holly, lifting a shoulder. “The Beasleys have the most to gain.”

  “The Beasleys!” gasped Sweets from the front seat. “Bite your tongue, Holly Rockwell, the Beasleys are saints!”

  “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think, Sweets?” asked Alba. “The woman makes a mean spiced pumpkin punch, I’ll give her that much, but saints?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, wagging my finger. “Holly might be onto something. The more pumpkins around town get destroyed, the more people shop at their pumpkin patch.”

  “And there were two people in that video,” Jax pointed out, though she didn’t sound very happy about it.

  Sweets shook her head. “No way. I don’t buy it. Mrs. Beasley would never.”

  “She didn’t have to. Her husband could’ve been the one. She could’ve just been along as a lookout or something,” suggested Alba.

  Sweets pulled into a parking spot at the police department and shut off the engine. “Girls, the Beasleys allow free school tours once a year. People like that aren’t going to go vandalize those same children’s homes. I can’t believe you think it’s the Beasleys.”

  “I didn’t say I think it’s them,” I was quick to say. “I’m just saying, if we’re talking about motive, they’ve got a pretty good one.”

  “Does anyone know if either one of them is magical?” asked Jax.

  When none of us seemed to have an answer for that, we all got out of the car and went to the front desk, where we asked to speak with Detective Whitman. Minutes later, we stood in front of his desk.

  “Well, what brings the Witch Squad out to see me on such a beautiful October afternoon?” Leaning back in his chair, the burly, dark-haired police detective crossed his arms over his chest.

  “We’re investigating the pumpkin smashings going on around town,” said Alba. “Our house got hit last night.”

  Detective Whitman sighed. “You too, huh?” Then his head bobbed. “Yeah, I got calls this morning from a few houses in your area. I’d heard there were more houses hit.”

  “Are you close to figuring out who’s doing it?” asked Holly.

  Detective Whitman lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I can’t really comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  Jax frowned. “Uh, that’s not fair. We always help you when we can.”

  He lifted a brow in Jax’s direction. “Fine. Information is a two-way street. You tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  I exchanged a look with the girls. When they all gave me a little nod, I looked at Detective Whitman. “We think it’s someone magical.”

  He sighed. “I was just looking at another porch cam video that got sent to me this morning. It does appear that way. They move too fast to be just plain old human.”

  “Have you looked into the Beasleys at all?” asked Alba.

  “Alba!” gasped Sweets. “I told you, I don’t think it’s them.”

  While Alba threw up her hands, Detective Whitman sat up a little higher in his seat. “You have reason to suspect the Beasleys too?”

  I tipped my head to the side. “Too? Wait. You think it might be them?”

  A little sigh escaped his lips. “I got an anonymous phone call this morning. Someone told me the Beasley’s have been having money problems and that we should look into them.”

  Alba’s head bobbed. “See? They’ve got motive all right.”

  “But that doesn’t mean it’s them,” said Sweets. “Lots of people have money problems. They aren’t going around smashing pumpkins because of it.”

  “Lots of people don’t make any money off pumpkins, Sweets,” said Alba. She looked at Detective Whitman. “So. Do you have any plans to try and prove it’s them or not?”

  He gave a nod towards his door. “Shut my door, would you?”

  I took a step backwards and closed it.

  “Actually, I do have a plan in the works. Tonight is the fire department’s annual costume party fundraiser. Everyone knows the whole town turns out for it, leaving lots of houses and pumpkins unguarded. We’re putting a sting in place. I’ve got people over at the Beasleys’ right now, letting it slip that there will be a ton of new pumpkins over in that new Willow Acres development on the outskirts of town.”

  “But what if it’s not the Beasleys?” asked Sweets.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got people spreading it all over town. Whoever’s doing it will hear, and I’ll have police officers just waiting in the wings to catch whoever’s responsible.”

  “Oooh, nice. Count us in,” said Alba, nodding her head.

  Detective Whitman held up a hand. “Hold up now. We can’t raise suspicions. It’s business as usual for the five of you. Got it?”

  “But…”

  “No, I’m serious. If whoever’s doing this catches on, this isn’t going to work. And if they see five witches roaming around in that neighborhood, they’re gonna know something’s up.”

  “Detective Whitman’s right,” said Holly. “The Beasleys know we’re witches. If they see us there, they’ll know we’re up to something.”

  Jax nodded somberly. “Don’t worry, Detective Whitman. You have my word. The girls and I will stay miles away from that neighborhood.” She turned an
d smiled at us. “Besides, we have a party to go to tonight!”

  9

  “I’m not wearing this, Jax,” Holly hollered from her bedroom down the hall.

  “Actually, I don’t mind it,” Alba hollered back from her bedroom.

  “Figures.”

  Jax squealed, and the next thing I knew, my door burst open. She poked her head into my room. “What do you think, Mercy?”

  I stared down at the overalls. “I mean, I guess it’s okay. It could be worse. I could be lettuce.”

  Jax clapped her hands together excitedly. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet! Hurry up and get dressed and come downstairs!” She closed the door behind her and I heard her footsteps pounding down the stairs.

  I stepped into the khaki-colored coveralls, fitted the belt around my waist and slid on the elbow pads. After pulling the backpack onto my shoulders, I went downstairs, where I found our two other roommates—Alba’s husband, Tony, and Flynn Prescott—there with the girls, waiting for me.

  “Looking good, Red!” Flynn grinned when he saw me coming down the stairs. “Jax, Sweets, I gotta hand it to you. Best costume ever!”

  Jax giggled happily. “Oh, Mercy, you look great. In fact, we all look great!”

  “It’s so big.” With her nose wrinkled, Holly looked down at her own coveralls. “You couldn’t have gotten mine fitted a little? I feel like I’m wearing my grandpa’s clothes.” Though the coveralls were baggy, she’d left the top three or four inches unzipped and wore what we called her miracle bra, exposing an overabundance of cleavage.

  Alba rolled her eyes. “Ghostbusters aren’t supposed to look sexy, Cosmo. They’re supposed to look badass.” Alba pulled her prop proton gun from the backpack-sized particle accelerator hanging over her shoulders and pointed it at Tony. “Freeze, ghost.”