by Elle Adams
“Good luck.” Mart floated along behind me as I picked up speed to catch up with the detective. “I’ll come in and laugh at you if I get bored.”
“Glad to have your vote of confidence.” I caught up with Drew and we turned the corner on the way to the coven headquarters. “Mart is not winning any prizes for being a supportive sibling.”
“Isn’t he?” he said. “What’s he doing?”
“Promising to laugh at me when I go to the coven meeting,” I said. “I’d like to say it won’t be that bad, but given how Mina treated me last time we spoke, I’m not expecting a welcome party.”
I’d be lucky if she didn’t show me the door there and then when the coven found out about my Reaper history. Could I get through a meeting without the subject coming up? Well, that depended on how far the rumours about the debacle at Mrs Renner’s house had spread.
Bracing myself, I entered the witches’ headquarters and knocked on Mina’s office door. A moment passed before she called, “Come in.”
I entered. The coven leader sat at her desk, same as before, and regarded me with an expression of absolute disdain.
“You again?” she said.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m here to ask if it’s okay if I attend the coven meeting tonight.”
“Why do you need to ask?” she said. “Anyone new to the town can come. Any witch, that is.”
I didn’t miss the emphasis she put on the word witch, as though to imply she was well aware I was half… not-witch. So much for avoiding issues with my Reaper side.
“I just thought I’d be polite,” I said, trying to keep my tone friendly. “See you later.”
I left the office and closed the door behind me. Then I re-joined the detective and we left the coven headquarters.
“No problems?” he said.
“Except her attitude, no. I hope the others aren’t as bad.” Given what I’d seen so far and heard about the coven’s members as a whole, though, I had my doubts they’d be welcoming to a half-Reaper with a reputation as a troublemaker. Still, if I wanted to get answers, I’d just have to grin and bear it.
“With any luck, this’ll be a one-off,” he said. “I appreciate you helping me out.”
“No worries.” The warmth inside me at his words almost made up for my dread at having to face a coven of witches in which I’d be the unquestionable outsider.
Almost.
It was with some trepidation that I returned to the witches’ area of town later that evening. I’d spent longer than usual picking out my outfit, opting for a flowery top and skirt rather than my usual dark, unobtrusive ghost-hunting gear. I even dusted off my only hat—literally, because I hadn’t worn it in several years—and put on my most witchy cloak so nobody would doubt that I belonged there. Tonight, I was all witch, not a Reaper.
“You missed a cobweb,” Mart told me as I walked out of the inn.
I gave my hat another shake before repositioning it atop my head. “Better?”
My brother floated beside me. “You look like you’re on your way to a Halloween party.”
“Perfect.” I left the inn behind and headed across the bridge, holding my hat with one hand to keep it from blowing away. “That’s exactly what I’m going for.”
“You want to impress Mina Devlin?” He snorted. “Personally, I’d use an earplug charm if you want to get through this meeting without strangling anyone.”
“That won’t win me any friends, Mart.”
He had a point, though. Coven meetings tended to consist of several hours of listening to witches who loved the sound of their own voices arguing about inane things like whether to build a new broomstick-only cycle lane or change the standard coven uniform from blue to grey. Most of the time, I couldn’t even pretend to be interested, but for the sake of learning the truth about Harriet’s death, I was willing to give it a try. If nothing else, I’d stay for the chance to socialise with the others and learn how things worked here among the witches of Hawkwood Hollow.
I made my way to the witches’ headquarters again, crossing my fingers that I wouldn’t be the first or the last to arrive, and headed for the designated coven meeting room. Twenty or thirty chairs filled the room, half of which were full already, and all heads turned in my direction when I walked in.
Then the whispers started. A witch wearing pink leaned over to speak to her neighbour. “She really did show up, then.”
“Thought she was a Reaper,” responded her friend.
That didn’t take long.
I was used to the stares and the whispers, so I ignored them and took a seat on the end of a row, just far enough away that I was within reach of the door without being pegged as antisocial. Maybe I should have taken Mart’s advice and cast an earplug charm on myself after all, so I didn’t have to listen to them gossiping about me.
The other witches filed into the room in groups until almost every seat was taken. They were an eclectic bunch, ranging from young to old, and most wearing some variety of the typical cloak-and-hat attire. At least I’d gone in the right direction with my fashion choices, but looking like one of them didn’t stop the whispers and judging stares. I might as well be a hare among rabbits.
Never mind the earplug charm. I should have just magicked myself invisible and sneaked in as a spy instead. Not that it was likely I’d have got away with it, considering the coven’s sharp-eyed leader.
Mina Devlin walked to the front of the room and faced the other witches. Her gaze flickered to me, and I fixed on a false smile until she looked away.
“We have a new guest with us today,” she said. “This is Maura.”
“Hello, Maura,” chorused the coven members.
Now they weren’t even pretending not to stare at me. Their expressions ranged from mildly curious to assessing wariness, as though they thought I might pull out a scythe in front of everyone. This is going well.
“Hello,” I said to the assembled witches. “I’m new in town, but I’ve had a hectic few weeks so far and this is the first time I’ve had the chance to come and attend a coven meeting. I hope that’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t,” said the older witch wearing pink attire, one of the witches I’d seen whispering about me. “We don’t want newbies.”
“She’s joking,” said her friend, an equally elderly witch wearing a mauve cloak and hat. “I heard you were a Reaper.”
Whispers spread among the witches like an infectious rash, as though they hadn’t already discussed the matter while they’d been entering the room.
“I’m half-Reaper, but I live as a witch.” Aside from the ghosts who regularly showed up in my life, that was more or less true.
“Is that why you have a spider on your hat?” asked the older witch.
Everyone else cracked up laughing, while I found myself hoping a ghost would float in so I could excuse myself to go and do Reaper things without bothering with this nonsense. Even if that would only draw more unwanted attention. Instead, I gave a weak chuckle, though their sense of humour left much to be desired.
After the novelty had worn off, the witches turned to the issue of the day: Seven Millimetre Boots.
“They oughtn’t have legalised them,” said the pink-clad witch, who turned out to be called Marie. “We can’t have young witches zipping around the countryside.”
“You did that all the time when you were younger,” her friend pointed out. “Before they banned Seven-League Boots.”
“Pity, that.”
The room dissolved into bickering, while I found myself wishing I’d used an earplug charm from the start. Or at least planned an excuse to get out without offending everyone and winding up on Mina Devlin’s bad side. Mart floated through the wall every few minutes to pull faces and otherwise clown around, but even he got bored eventually. I found myself wishing I’d scheduled an evening of ghost-hunting with Carey instead. Exploring a damp, flood-damaged house in search of lost spirits would be preferable to listening to another of Marie’s anecdotes
about her exploits as a young witch with too much time on her hands.
The blond witch on my right-hand side seemed as eager to get out as I was. She kept fidgeting and looking at the door, and when the elderly witch called her to attention, she jumped.
“Falling asleep there, Fran?” queried Marie.
“Leave her alone, Marie,” her friend admonished. “She’s had a difficult week.”
Fran… the name rang a bell. Hadn’t she been Harriet’s friend? If she’d dragged herself to a coven meeting expecting them to pay any attention to her plight, it seemed she’d come to the wrong place.
After the meeting finally dragged to a halt, the coven members voted to head down to a pub around the corner called the Crooked Broomstick. The dingy place smelled vaguely of mould underneath the potent smell of the magical cocktails which filled glittering glasses behind the bar, while damp covered the walls. Overall, the place looked as though it’d been dredged up from under the river after the flood without being restored to its former state. No fewer than eight ghosts occupied the bar, but the witches crowded in without paying any heed to their ghostly companions.
Marie bought a round of strong cocktails for the rest of the coven and started dropping loud hints that she wanted to hear everyone sing karaoke. A raised platform in the corner seemed to be designated for that purpose, but when one of the pimply teenage staff members spoke into the microphone, the buzz of static made everyone cringe.
At least the cocktails gave me something to do with my hands and helped me get closer to becoming blissfully unaware of how out of place I was for a bit. I spotted Fran sitting alone at the bar, her blond head drooped over her neon pink cocktail glass. Maybe I wasn’t the only person who felt like I didn’t belong here.
“Hey,” I said to her. “I’m—”
“Maura, I know.” She sniffed. “Not to be rude, but I’ve had a rough week, and I would like to be left alone.”
“I get that.” I cast my mind around to find a reason to talk to her about Harriet without causing distress. “I’ll buy the next round.”
“Hear that?” said old Marie in a carrying voice. “She just offered to buy us a drink.”
“I’ll take three,” called one of the other witches.
Great. It seemed I’d discovered the secret to gaining goodwill among the rest of the coven… spend an eye-watering amount on sparkling magical cocktails.
At once, the whole atmosphere turned friendlier, and Fran didn’t object to me taking a seat next to her. Two drinks later and she was talking openly to me about the countrywide Sky Hopper championships. Now that was more my speed, but I just knew that mentioning Harriet would bring our conversation to a screeching halt. I was not exactly socially adept when it came to dealing with people who didn’t see the dead on a regular basis, much less when it came to discussing such matters in a way that wouldn’t cause them to ostracise me.
Just when I was starting to grasp at straws to figure out a way to bring up her friend, Fran called to the others.
“Let’s have a toast to Harriet,” she said.
“To Harriet.” A dozen glasses clanked against one another, and a solemn atmosphere descended upon the gathering witches. I noted that Mina Devlin had neglected to attend this part of the meeting, though mercifully, the staticky noise from the microphone had died down somewhat.
Fran gave a loud sniff. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I heard.” I put on a gentle tone. “I’m so sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Her eyes brimmed over. “It’s so—sudden. I never expected it.”
A red-haired witch put a comforting arm around her as she conjured a handkerchief and sobbed into it.
“It’s such a tragedy,” said Angela, Marie’s friend, who’d taken a seat on the other side of me. “She had her whole life ahead of her.”
“I heard there was some kind of drama before her death,” I said delicately. “In the coven, I mean.”
She scoffed. “They do love to gossip, don’t they? Who told you that?”
“Um, I work at Allie’s restaurant and inn,” I explained. “There’s a group of wizards who hang out there. They’re the ones who found her body, so rumours started to spread the day after the incident.”
“Wizards?” she said. “Oh, them. They got jealous of our coven and decided to start their own to spite us. It wouldn’t surprise me if they started rumours to give all of us a bad name.”
“Would they really spread rumours about someone who died, though?” I said. “I’d have thought that would be in poor taste.”
She leaned in. “If they said anything about Fran and Harriet arguing, Harriet told her she didn’t appreciate her romantic advice. That’s all. Her death was a tragic accident, and that’s all there is to it.”
I finished up my cocktail. By now, I was feeling slightly unsteady on my feet, though not as much as Marie, who tried to stand up to do karaoke and then fell asleep on the stage, there and then. Two staff members escorted her from the premises, while I began gathering my own excuses to leave. I’d done quite enough mingling for one day, and if I drank one more cocktail, I’d never remember anything they told me anyway.
“Marie always overdoes it,” said Angela, shaking her head. “Cathy is going to love that. She’s on the night shift again.”
Wait. I knew that name. “Who’s Cathy?”
“New coven healer,” said the witch. “She works at the hospital, same place Harriet used to work.”
“I heard they used to be friends, too,” I said carefully.
Fran scoffed. “Before Cathy stole the position of coven healer out from underneath her, maybe.”
Was that the source of the drama? “Stole? What does that mean?”
“It means Cathy was scheming against her from the start,” said Fran in a thick voice. “The two of them both had their sights set on the new position of healer, and now Harriet’s ended up dead. I bet Cathy’s glad of it.”
“Fran, stop it,” her red-haired friend admonished.
“Does it matter?” She hiccoughed. “She’s not here. Not anymore.”
“Is there only one coven healer, then?” I turned to Angela.
“There is,” she replied. “When old Angie retired, both Cathy and Harriet wanted the spot, but Cathy already got the job before Harriet died, fair and square. Mina herself chose her.”
I looked around for the coven leader and saw no signs of her, confirming that she must have left early. For once, I didn’t blame her. There was definitely something odd going on among the witches, but it might just be typical coven shenanigans. Would they really commit murder over whoever wanted the job as the coven’s healer? Maybe, but the victim hadn’t even got the job, so it seemed irrelevant.
In the meantime, it was clear I wasn’t going to get any more sense out of anyone, so I made my excuses and left the pub, swaying with each step.
By the time I got back to the inn, I was in dire need of a good night’s sleep, preferably without any ghosts interrupting me. Instead, I found a group of drunken wizards being escorted from the inn by an irate Hayley.
“Go on, shoo,” she said. “And please try not to fall into the river on the way back.”
I ducked around the group as they left, grumbling amongst themselves. My own steps were a little unsteady, too, and I waved at Hayley on the way in.
“Damn those cocktails,” I said. “Marie can drink me under the table and she’s three times my age.”
“You were at the coven meeting?” she said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, I thought I’d check it out,” I said. “Ended up needing a drink or three to make it bearable. Are you a member of the coven?” Given her absence at the meeting, I’d guess not, but I’d assumed attendance wasn’t mandatory.
“No,” she said. “I left a few years ago, and I doubt I’ll be going back.”
“Nor me.” I’d leave the detective work to Drew in the future, thanks. And the drinking, too,
because it seemed I was more of a lightweight than I remembered. Then again, those cocktails were no joke.
Allie waited in the reception area with her arms folded across her chest. “There you are, Maura.”
I frowned. “What’s up?”
“That ghost of yours,” said Allie.
Oh, no. That’s what I got for leaving her alone for the evening. “What’s she done now?”
“I assume she’s the one who stripped off all the bedsheets in her room?”
“That might have been Mart,” I said. “Sorry I wasn’t around. I’ll go and look for her now.”
At least I wasn’t too drunk to climb the stairs, though I had to hang onto the handrail for balance at the tight corners.
“Had fun at the meeting, did you?” said Allie, with some amusement.
“Nope.” I pushed off the wall and approached my room. “I think I’d rather have dealt with the ghost instead.”
She chuckled. “I can’t say we didn’t warn you. Are you going to have to banish her?”
“I’d rather not,” I said. “If just because it’ll freak out the other ghosts in the area. Then we can say goodbye to ever turning this place into a haunted hotel.”
“You can do that, though?” she asked. “Make her leave?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like using my Reaper powers on ghosts who haven’t done anything to deserve being forced out,” I said. “Besides, most spirits here in Hawkwood Hollow are probably used to being allowed to stick around. I don’t want a reputation among the others.”
“You think all the ghosts will be afraid of you?”
“It happens.” It had never really bothered me before, but the coven meeting today had hammered home how woefully out of touch I was with the magical community at large. I didn’t need to alienate the town’s ghostly population as well as the living one. “I don’t want to rock the boat. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m not sober enough to pull off a banishment without something going awry.”