by Ruby Loren
They knew something about this murder that they weren’t telling me.
I sent my aunts out to do delivery rounds the next morning. They’d been helping me out around the shop and with the new delivery service I’d decided to offer for customers who struggled to get out and about - which was turning out to be a great money earner. It was also a great way to get rid of my aunts when I was feeling especially peeved by them.
Recently, they’d been out delivering nearly every day.
Wormwood was a town that took its time to get going in the morning. I stood enjoying the spring sunlight filtering through the shop window and watched the dust motes dance in the warm beams.
I’d taken Tristan’s advice to update the window display. Instead of the creepy picnic scene, complete with corn dollies that had all but disintegrated, the window now displayed a spring scene of quaint animals and a pretty tea set, with lots and lots of my homemade tea on display. I liked to think of it as a spring picnic in Narnia. It was a little light and fluffy for grim and grey Wormwood, but it was time that someone tried to brighten up the town a bit, and bright colours had never harmed The Bread Cauldron Bakery.
I smiled when I thought about its owner, Tristan Coltrain. Our relationship may be fake, but our friendship was very real. He’d been dropping by weekly to chat about his business plans and mine. It was great to have someone to talk to about our future world domination - someone who understood what it was like to have a business to run. Of course, Tristan was several steps closer towards actually achieving business world domination than I was, but things had been improving for me.
It was actually Bridgette Spellsworth who’d inspired the idea, I remembered with a pang. When I’d seen her last, I’d given her one of my own tea blends to try. She’d suggested it might be an idea to give free samples away. Since then, I’d costed out the idea and realised I could just about afford to do it. Tristan had agreed to put a sample box in the bakery and then, after the teas had turned into a real success, he’d created a tea menu with them. I now stocked the bakery’s cafe with five favourite blends and one monthly special of my choosing. This month, I’d opted for a spring blossom tea, featuring light floral flavours and herbs that imparted a sense of wellbeing unto the drinker. The tea wasn’t magic, it just made use of the traditional properties of the herbs.
The area I’d cordoned off in the apothecary as a tiny tearoom space was also doing remarkably well. Most mornings, I filled the chairs with people seeking a quiet cup of tea that didn’t result in a future being told at the end of it. Many had also commented that it was nice to drink tea that didn’t contain bits - courtesy of the loose tea leaves the fortunetellers liked to use. It just went to show that even if an idea doesn’t take off at first, if you believe in what you are doing and are willing to try different ways to make it work, things can surprise you.
Speaking of surprises, there was a bad one in store for me this morning. Natalia Ghoul, the high priestess of the Wormwood Coven, and no friend of mine, stalked into the shop.
“I want cypress oil, cedar oil, hemlock oil, and dried green hellebore,” she announced without even bothering to say good morning. Judging by the list of demands she’d just given me, she’d got out of bed on the wrong side today. I knew exactly what the herbs, plants, flowers, and oils were used for. Natalia had just given me a shopping list filled to the brim with revenge and ill wishes.
“No problem,” I said, gathering the bits together and keeping my face a mask of non-judgement. I was never quite sure where I stood on matters like this one. I didn’t sell any of the ready made hex bags that my mother had traded when she’d had the shop, but I did sell the supplies needed to do all of that, and worse, to my customers. It had been one thing when I hadn’t believed that any of it really worked and quite another now that I knew it did. At the end of the day, all I could do was remind myself that I was selling to adults, and just like someone selling alcohol or cigarettes, it was down to the buyer to make their own choices.
“This is all your fault,” Natalia hissed whilst I was packaging her purchases.
“Is it?” I asked, mildly interested about how she would justify her statement.
“If you hadn’t slithered your way into that new detective’s good graces, my coven would still be… my coven,” she finished, lamely.
I looked up at her in surprise. “They kicked you out?”
“They didn’t kick me out!” Two spots of colour appeared on Natalia’s pale cheeks. “We have been temporarily divided, due to a difference of opinions.”
“How’s Hellion?” I asked mildly.
Natalia’s eyes flashed at the mention of the high magician. He was an evil little man who, in my experience, had no redeeming features whatsoever. I was no fan of Natalia Ghoul, but even I struggled to see why she would be dating such a creep.
“Not that it is any of your business, but we are starting our own united, stronger coven. The others will soon change their minds.” She snapped her fingers, impatient for her purchases.
I thought I had a shrewd idea about how Natalia intended to make her coven change their minds… and it was in the bag I was about to hand over to her. If Natalia thought cursing her old coven was the way to persuade them to come crawling back to her, then she was going to find out the hard way that…
Actually, what did I know? Perhaps that was the kind of thing that did the trick when it came to convincing witches and covens.
“All your fault,” Natalia repeated, flinging the coins down onto the counter. Her eyes darted around the shop, probably looking to see if my aunts were here. They’d taken on Natalia before and had made short work of the ‘high priestess’. Just for a moment, I let my magical aura show and used witch sight. Natalia was keeping her own magic hidden, too, but I could see threads of dark purple leaking out around her. If my aunts were to be believed, there wasn’t much more to her than that.
Natalia took a step backwards and then tried to play it off like nothing had happened. I decided to enjoy it whilst I could. There would surely come a time when someone would test me to see if I could put my money where my magical mouth was and discover that I absolutely couldn’t. But for now, I was liking how impressive I could appear to be. It was just too bad I was really a flop.
“Detective Heathen is the one who sowed the seeds of discontent, not me - although, I’d wager they were already there.” I wasn’t sure why I was trying to argue my case with Natalia. It wasn’t as if she was suddenly going to want to be my best friend - or I was suddenly going to want her to be.
“Some people don’t know progress when it hits them in the face. I try to change one outdated and sexist convention in favour of a stronger union, and this is how I’m repaid.”
I nodded understandingly, doing my bit as the local apothecary owner. I may not like Natalia, but a part of my job was to listen to my customers’ ailments and try to find something that might help them… even if they didn’t admit that anything was wrong.
“I should double-bag this,” I said, turning around to add a second paper bag and a little something else - a tea bag sample of my ‘Confident New Me!’ tea. I was certain that Natalia would scoff at the idea that she needed confidence, but underneath all of her nastiness and ambitious nature, I was starting to sense that there might be something wrong. Why else would she have teamed up with Hellion, of all people? If she’d truly wanted to start an inclusive group on the grounds of it being less sexist than a traditional coven, he was the last person who should have been on the list. The man was a complete sleaze. Natalia was odious, but even she could do better than Hellion Grey.
“Here you go. Happy cursing!” I said, and then bit my tongue. That had been a little too cheery.
Natalia made a noise of disgust, grabbing her purchases, before spinning on her stiletto heel and strutting out of the shop. I glanced down at the floor and wondered how long it would be before she wore a hole in it with her high heels and repetition of this bad habit.
; Still… I’d done a good thing for someone I didn’t like.
I should award myself a gold star.
Or, because I was an adult, a cup of very strong black coffee with just a dash of cream.
I was just about to go and get it when an envelope dropped onto the shop’s doormat. I looked out of the glass door to see who’d put it through, but all I caught a glimpse of were brown bouncing curls as the woman walked away.
I turned my attention to the envelope on the mat, wondering why the visitor hadn’t just come in and handed it to me. My name had been written by what looked like a quill dipped in ink in a calligraphic style. The envelope itself was made out of a heavy parchment. It looked like a fancy invitation to a ball.
Or it might be a curse strong enough to take my eyebrows off, I thought, being no stranger to curses delivered in this way. I looked at it with witch sight to be sure, but nothing magical glowed. I didn’t feel crawly the way I usually did around really bad magic.
For all intents and purposes, it was just an envelope.
I picked it up and gave it a sniff. All I could smell was paper and ink.
“Are you going to lick it next to see what it tastes like? Just. Open. It. You’re killing me,” the disembodied voice of Hemlock called down from on top of the shelves where he liked to lurk, hidden from view.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? I thought you said you had a life without me?” I called up to him.
“Of course I do! I’m actually just on my way to meet up with my good friends… uh…”
There was a brief silence and then.
“I’m a fraud! A fraud! I don’t have a life. Even Hedge is more interesting than me.” The sound of loud attention-seeking cat sobbing ensued.
“There, there,” I said, looking away so he wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes. Or at least… I hoped I was looking away from the concealed cat.
“I saw that! You know how you could make it up to me? Leave the spell book that’s on your bed open on page 394. My lack of opposable thumbs make it impossible to turn the pages, even when I lick my paws.”
“Firstly, stop licking my spell books, and secondly, what’s on page 394?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes. Obviously.” Were we even having the same conversation?
“Just some cool cat stuff that you wouldn’t be interested in.”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “Hemlock, I’m going to see whatever is on that page when I turn to it. You may as well tell me now.”
“Fine. It’s a spell for retractable sabre claws.”
“Retractable sabre claws?”
“Like Wolverine has! I get to turn my toothpicks into shining metal blades of glory.” I saw movement on top of the shelves when Hemlock’s tail swished with excitement.
I considered what my aunts had said about not doing magic that would draw attention from anyone normal. “No,” I told my cat, knowing it was the correct answer. “Why is there even a spell for that?” I had to start reading these books.
“Because having retractable sabre claws is a good idea, that’s why. Also, you’re the worst. If you need me, I definitely won’t be pushing that book onto the floor and hoping it lands on the right page.” With an evil cat-cackle, Hemlock disappeared from the shelf.
“Hemlock, have you seen Hedge recently? He’s not around as much…” I called, but there was no answer. I shrugged my shoulders. My other adolescent cat, Hedge, led his own mysterious life, but at least he wasn’t trying to turn himself into a mutant cat.
My aunts arrived home just as I was wondering whether to interfere with the nefarious plots that were being hatched in this house.
“We’re back from the delivery round! Good news! The whole Richardson family is really unwell, so we have lots of new orders,” Linda announced. “If you add a little something magical to the herbal treatments, who knows? You could really drag this out.”
“Linda!” Minerva warned, before changing the subject. “That’s an impressive looking envelope in your hand.”
I looked down, remembering that I was still holding it. “Yes, it’s not cursed,” I said, and then finally, because there didn’t seem to be anything stopping me, I tore it open.
An equally expensive looking piece of paper was inside the envelope, with a message written in the same old-fashioned style writing.
“What does it say?” Linda asked, craning her neck to see over my shoulder.
I cleared my throat. “Dear Hazel Salem, you are cordially invited to join the Wormwood Coven.”
4
High Stakes
“That’s wonderful news,” Minerva said, looking delighted. “Congratulations. Your first coven!”
I frowned. “I was invited before. They tried to curse me.”
“This time it will be different. You could curse them, if you wanted to.” Linda smiled at me.
“I probably couldn’t,” I pointed out, “and I’m not even sure I’m going to go. Would you want to associate with a group of people who only like you because of your magical powers?”
My aunts both blinked. I’d forgotten I was talking to witches who generally judged others on their firepower.
“It will be good for you to associate with other witches in a safe environment under the guidance of a more experienced witch. It might help you in ways that we can’t,” Minerva said, trying to be the diplomatic voice of reason.
“At least Natalia won’t be there,” I said. Maybe things would be better without her. However, I didn’t know if her sister, Aurelia, had also left the coven. If anything, she and I were on worse terms.
“The high priestess is no longer with the coven?” The skin between Minerva’s eyebrows creased, before she anxiously smoothed it out again.
“She was trying to bring a magician into the coven. He was bad news. I think the others kicked her out.”
“If you do decide to go, be careful. Covens can become turbulent when there is a power vacuum and no one to fill it. Bad people have been known to rise to the top, and bad things can happen,” my sensible aunt warned me.
“I can’t think of anyone being in charge that I’d like less than Natalia… apart from perhaps her sister,” I mused. “How bad can it be?”
“Great attitude! Go get ‘em, witch!” Linda gave me the double thumbs up.
We all heard a loud thump from somewhere upstairs. A muffled voice shouted “Noooo! Not the hair extension charm again! Claws! I want sabre claws!”
“What’s going on?” Minerva asked.
“Hemlock’s dabbling,” I said, snitching on my cat without remorse. “Can you go and tell him not to? He respects you more than me, and he can’t give you any back chat.”
Aunt Minerva stuck her hands on her hips “Hazel, as a witch, it is your duty to keep your familiar in check. We will mind the shop for you whilst you go up and have a conversation with him.”
“Fine,” I said, knowing that Hemlock would find a way to punish me for being a party pooper. It would probably involve the destruction of something that I loved.
I arrived at the top of the stairs just as Hemlock was about to push the book off the bed again.
“Good, you’re here. Be a doll and find me the right page.”
I frowned at him. “Something’s different about you.” I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it…
Then he batted his eyelashes… and I realised.
“What did you do?!” My cat looked like he was wearing false eyelashes made for dolls.
“It wasn’t a hair extension spell. It was for magical eyelash extensions. Next time, I’ll read the title properly.”
“There’s not going to be a next time. We’re supposed to work together on magic,” I told him, picking up the heavy spell book and placing it in a drawer I knew he couldn’t open. “Let your ridiculous eyelashes be a lesson to you.”
“You mean you’re just going to leave me this way? I’ll be picked on! My street cred will drop to zero!”<
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I was already walking away when he said the very thing I’d been dreading all along.
“I’ll get you for this!”
“I’ll confiscate your treats if you do anything!” I called back. No matter how long I lived with my familiar, I was willing to bet that arguing with a cat would never fail to remind me that magic always came at a price. When it came to Hemlock, it was the price of my sanity.
I came back down the stairs to find the shop packed full of people.
“What’s happening?” I called to Aunt Minerva, worried that something terrible had occurred and people were seeking sanctuary in the shop. Or had one of my aunts poisoned a customer and this was a lynch mob here to drag us away?
“Vervain!” she shouted over the clamour. “Get more from the back of the shop!”
I turned around and walked into the stock room, none the wiser. Vervain was an anti-inflammatory herb that was also used to promote good gum health. Had the entire town of Wormwood suddenly made the decision to improve their dental hygiene?
I grabbed a big jar of the dried plant and headed back into the shop. There was a strange smell in the air… something that I associated with an old fashioned grocery store. It definitely didn’t come from anything we had in stock.
“What’s going on?” I repeated, when I managed to get through to the counter with the jar.
My aunt seized it and began dividing it into portions. In-between this work, she grabbed the fistfuls of money that were being thrust her way. Normally, this kind of situation would call for a celebration, but I wanted to know why half the town was inside the shop. As my aunt was being less than forthcoming, I used my eyes to see if I could figure out the answer for myself.
Most of the townspeople were holding shopping bags. I quickly realised that was where the smell was coming from when I saw the white papery exterior of a garlic clove. Okay, so everyone was doing some fancy cooking tonight. Then, as if mocking my unwillingness to accept what was really happening, a woman waved a crucifix around, using it to threaten her way to the front of the queue.