by Lilly Graves
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” I chew my full bottom lip in thought. What can I tell Julian? He knows of my secret shifting abilities. Does that mean I can or should tell him everything?
“What is it?” he asks.
“Julian, I have more secrets.” My brow furrows.
“Come here.” He walks to The Coven’s Cup, a quaint little cafe, a section of its patio blocked off with an ornamental wrought-iron fence.
We take a seat at a tiny table for two. There are a few other people sitting outside today, but Julian thoughtfully chose a spot in a corner out of earshot of the rest. Still, that doesn’t stop a couple of the women from looking over at us. Just about everyone thinks Julian is the hottest bachelor in Mystic Cove. They’re probably wondering if we’re on a mini date or something. Jealousy is surely bubbling around me.
Halacious, or Hal, owner of The Coven’s Cup, comes over. He’s wearing a brown apron sporting the logo of a mug within a silhouette of a witch hat. “What can I get you two?” Big and tall, and in his fifties, he sports a head of shaggy orange-red hair over black eyebrows.
Julian gestures with a hand for me to go ahead and order. I am not familiar with this common breakfast routine, and I didn’t enjoy the one cup I did try the other day—coffee, black— so I hem and haw, rubbing a fingernail. “I’m not sure.”
Remembering the chocolate cake I’d just devoured last night, my mind lights up with a thought. “Oh, hot chocolate! Can I have one of those?”
“Whipped cream, a shot of caramel?” Halacious asks.
“Whipped cream, please!”
Julian orders an espresso, nothing more, nothing less. Our orders come out not long after. The detective sips his drink and looks off in the distance under brooding eyebrows. I swirl my drink with a spoon and then bring some to my mouth, blowing.
CeeCee returns to my mind, and how she had said Hal was one of the treasure hunters. Who else did she list? That’s right—Marney of Marney’s Moon Pies and Levinia of The Lens of Time photography studio. I do some quick math. Levinia wouldn’t have been around town at twenty-one years old. She was in hiding, pregnant with twins, spreading rumors that she was a runway model in Paris. Hm.
Anyway, CeeCee had said lots of people were seeking the treasure. Sigh. Finding the killer could be like trying to find a needle in a humpback. They have those here—humpbacks. Like the whale, not someone ringing our bell tower.
Where was I? Coming out of my thought bubble of randomness, I realize Julian is staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He clears his throat just before a shriek steals our attention.
A short balding man in suspenders comes running out of Marney’s Moon Pies, grabbing what’s left of his hair. Marney exits the store with worry-filled eyes. People on the sidewalk are gawking, and she waves a washcloth at them, “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just a bad vision.”
We all continue to stare.
“It happens sometimes.” She shrugs and takes off sprinting after the man. “Let me give you a refund!”
“I wonder what he saw,” I say.
“Wasn’t good,” Julian answers.
“Have you ever tried one of those?”
“Just once. Not interested in trying again.”
“Why not? Are you nervous about what you might see?”
I can tell I hit the nail on the head. He glances away, brow furrowed, not replying.
“You are,” I reply. “But you’re a detective. You see the dark side of life daily for your job. You dissect every aspect of it.”
“It’s different when it comes to your own life. Some things you just don’t want to know.”
For sure he saw something he didn’t like. It’s not okay for me to dive into that. It’s not my place. So instead I sip from my spoon the warm brown liquid.
Right as the chocolate hits my tongue, I know it’s a treat I’ll be coming back for more of, but as I continue, my stomach just isn’t in the same good mood as my mouth. It’s upset, softly turning. A sadness is creeping over me about my own life. I never got to meet my mother, because she was murdered.
“You said you wanted to talk to me about something? Some secrets?” He sips his espresso.
I set down my spoon. “My mom was Raven Wildes.”
“Raven Wildes. The Raven Wildes who we all know from here?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t from relatives back East?”
Once I start talking, I can’t stop. There’s an avalanche of information I want to get off my chest. Julian is my only—what would you call it? I wouldn’t even say we’re friends at this point. Murder brought us together. A mutual interest in solving a case. But he knows my secret, that I can shift. Other than my aunts, I’ve got nobody else to vent to.
“No. Look, I can explain everything, but my stomach isn’t really in the mood for this right now.” I tap my hot chocolate. “Is it okay if we go somewhere else?”
I lead Julian to a plank stairway at the end of Wildes Road, near the marble bell tower. It’s a long walk down bleached grayish steps, dusted with dark sand, and etched into the charcoal cliffs. Down below rests the cove that our town is named after. It’s a beach of large, clustered rocks cloaked in jagged mussels. Wet from constant sea spray, the scene glitters up at us through swaths of fog.
It’s beautiful in a dark way.
As we slowly head down, I go into explaining things to Julian and he listens with an expression that’s cool as ever. He’s not a very demonstrative person, to say the least. Once in a while he offers a light nod.
It takes the whole walk down the steep slope of steps to get into explaining my existence: how I came to be, what The Afterlife decided for my fate. I even threw in my kooky meetup with my fairy godwitch Annabelle. Since Julian knows about my secret shifting ability, I feel safe letting him in on everything. Plus, if anyone can help me with this case, it’s him.
I shove my hands deep into my mother’s gray wrap and step along the shore in her Doc Martens. Julian is in black shiny dress shoes, but they have rugged soles, which is perfect for this little trek. A lone sailor is riding the ocean’s deep, fishing for tuna or salmon, who knows. No one is hanging out in the cove. We have it all to ourselves. It’s no surprise either. This cove isn’t ideal for sunbathing or jogs, being perpetually overcast and the terrain rough around the edges.
The lighthouse stands at the other end of the U-shaped beach, blue and white, with no working light anymore. As we near, its blemishes come into view: faded, chipped paint, and a look-out point wrapped in a rusted rail. Three puffins are perched up there, watching us.
The breeze is picking up, ruffling through our dark hair, mine being a pixie hairdo and Julian’s a bit longer than mine. A seagull caws. The crashing waves as its backdrop sound like rolling thunder.
I peer up at the tall and foreboding structure. “This is where it happened. It wasn’t an accident. Somebody pushed her.”
“I’m sorry.” Julian stares into the spot of rocks where Raven’s body had once lain.
I’m quiet for a long moment, surprised by a tear that wells up and trickles down my cheek. I wipe it right away, looking away from Julian. I don’t want him to see me cry.
A warm hand rests on my shoulder, and I slowly turn to the warlock. Those hazel eyes are sympathizing with me.
“The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. I’m just processing—”
Julian pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me. My head goes straight to the crook of his neck. It’s nice and warm. His back feels strong through his black dress shirt. We’re silent for a long moment as I enjoy the connection I feel to him.
As I release a sigh, a tingling starts buzzing within. Rats, not right now! My body wants to shift. Reluctantly, I pull back.
The warlock eyes are narrowed. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Thanks for that—”
“It was just a hug.” He shrugs.
Okay. I don’t know what’s going on in the brooding detective's mind, but that’s my cue that we’re back to strictly business. I’ll ignore the tiny pang at my heart.
I pull out the sketch of shops from my back pocket. “Look at this.”
He takes it to analyze. “Tom’s Dodd’s Treasure.”
“You know about it?”
“It’s my job to know everything about Mystic Cove.”
“It was in my mom’s jewelry box. She has almost everything needed on this list of ingredients.” My aunts already shared what little they know. I decide to ask him what he’s heard to corroborate information. “And what do the shops down Mystic Cove have to do with anything?” I flip over the paper in his hands. “And then there’s this poem. Is that part of a spell?”
“Yeah, it’s a spell that reveals a secret treasure. Tom hid some phrases in some of the shops. I can tell the X’s mark where phrases have already been found.”
“How can you tell that?”
“Because, just quickly eyeballing this, my memory already recalls that the toy store and hair salon are confirmed places where phrases were found.”
“So, the blank ones are where the last line of the incantation could be found.” I eye the blueprint with him. “The Mystic Cove Mirror is one of those places where the last line might be hiding. Interesting.”
“Or it could mean that it was searched and nothing was found.”
“I can start there, at least. It’s the easiest since Aunt Willow owns the place. Oh, all the furniture is out of there right now too. Could be the perfect time.”
Julian folds the paper and sighs. “The spell is a crock. Tom Dodd wasn’t even of the witch community. He was a builder who probably thought it was funny to mess with our ancestors.”
I snatch the paper from him and stuff it back in my jeans. “A crock or not, following my mother’s footsteps could lead to clues to her murder. And if I find treasure along the way, even better, right?”
He clenches his jaw. “Chloe, people wind up dead seeking treasure. Your own mother was murdered. I can’t have you put in a position to lose another one of your lives.”
“These are my lives,” I tap my chest angrily. “You can’t tell me what amount of danger is too much for me.”
“You died twice during the last case.” He growls, “Two times.”
“Well, I’m not going to die this time around.” I cock my head.
“I’m not going to help you get yourself killed. End of discussion.” He casts one last glance at me. “Leave it to me. I’ll figure it out. I promise.” He stalks away, down the shore, back to Wildes Road.
My eyes sting just before welling up with tears. Looking at the rumbling of the sea, I say, “Now what?”
Raven slid me the note. It means she has faith in me. She knows I can help solve her case. I’m not going to give up. I’m tougher than I seem. But now what’s my next step?
CeeCee knows something but is keeping a tight lid on it, so she’s no help there. Julian doesn’t want me involved, once again, so he’s no help either! What more can I do?
Something, or rather someone, my aunts spoke of comes to mind. Raven’s past boyfriend, Sylvester Moon. He, more than anyone else, would know what Raven was up to before her death. My aunts said he went to Shady Pines, the mental facility. Desperation is bubbling within. That’s where I’ll go, then. I take a deep breath.
Several minutes later, Sebastian spots me waiting at the Wildes Road bus stop. Trotting over with his furry stub of a tail pointed straight in the air, he asks, “Hey, where are you off to, bubble bum?”
“Shady Pines,” I blurt, crossing my arms.
“Finally decided you should turn yourself in to the experts, huh?”
“Hardy har har.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m on other business, for a story for The Mystic Cove Mirror. You wouldn’t understand, but do you wanna come along for the bus ride?” I’m more teasing than anything. Sebastian has lost not just one, but two of his nine lives, and both times it was from getting hit by the bus.
The sound of my city ride rumbling around the corner of Nightshade and Wildes has Sebastian’s blue eyes go big with dread. “Gotta go.” Bounding away, he calls back, “Don’t forget to write home!”
Chapter 5
Through my cracked-open backseat window, salty fresh sea air competes with the bus’s pungent, black smog. I hack a little and think about moving seats, but they’re basically all taken. And I really don’t want to sit next to the shoeless man picking at the cracked soles of his feet.
I turn my attention back to the scenery. You won’t find palm trees along the Oregon coast. Lining the curving roads are pine trees tightly packed, soft sunlight shining through the branches. I always felt independent as a cat, but this ride takes it to a whole new level. Nobody knows that I conjured up a bus pass to enter. Nobody knows that the only other time I traveled this far on my own was in the night sky on a broomstick. I soak up the experience, trying to imagine what my life would have been like if I were born a witch, as intended.
My mind drifts to Detective Julian Pierce. Something about the warlock draws me in, beyond those deep hazel eyes and that head of perfectly disheveled dark hair. I don’t like to think my fascination with him is simply because I’m like the rest of Mystic Cove’s swooning witches. I like to think that I’m different. I just know that beyond all the grief he gives me about interfering with police work, a part of him is intrigued by me.
But maybe I’m reading into things too much. He had said that my magical energy was stronger than any he had sensed from anyone before, and that could be the extent of his interest. That I’m something different in town.
I sigh. Either way, nothing can really happen between us when he wants to keep pushing me out of his world of investigative work.
It takes just more than fifteen minutes to roll up to a large iron gate with a metal S and P overlapping the center in an intricate design. The bus doors screech open and I step off the back steps. Nothing else is around but weeping willow trees amidst the pine trees, some crows flapping and cawing off a high branch.
The bus has a stop solely for the mental facility, wow.
Beyond the gate is a pebble drive up to the large Victorian facility of creepy cool gothic undertones. While staring at it, overcome by an eerie sense of awe, a squeaky little “Help me” catches me off guard. I turn to see Sebastian plastered to the back of the bus in dread.
“What in the world?” I utter.
Just as the driver shifts into gear, the surprise stowaway peels off and drops to the side of the road. The bus rumbles away, leaving a plume of gray exhaust in its wake.
Panting, Sebastian eyes his dirty white and gray fur in disgust, and then licks at a blackened smog spot. “Despicable,” he mutters between his cleaning.
“I’m confused. That was the back of the bus.” I point at it now in the distance. “So, you didn’t get hit. How...”
“So, I hitched a ride,” he snaps back.
“But you’re deathly afraid of busses!”
“Ya think?” he squeaks, still feeling shaken up.
“Then why did you do it?”
“I realized what you’re up to.” He steps forward, his tail standing straight on his rump. “This isn’t about an article for The Mystic Cove Mirror.”
I clasp my hands together and bat my eyes. “In a roundabout way, it kinda is!”
Sebastian starts circling me with an accusatory look in his blue eyes. “Nova was talking to me last night. I know everything. Now you’re running off to solve another murder and will get yourself killed.”
“I am not going to get myself killed. If all you’re here for is to chastise me, then you can hop the next bus and leave.”
“Wrong, I didn’t just come here to chastise you—although you should not be here, you should go home, this is not okay—I came here to protect you.”
Now that’s hilarious. Sebastian? Protect me? I can’t help it. I burst into laught
er.
The Manx tilts his head and looks up at me with narrowed blue eyes. “Don’t laugh when there’s nothing funny. You’re about to go into a mental facility and talk to a dangerous patient.”
The truth is Sebastian’s not only a pampered pussycat, but he can’t do magic… like at all. I can see how determined he is, however, so I don’t want to totally hurt his ego. I sigh with a smile and kindly retort, “Shut the spell up, because I’m going in.”
I walk through the gate, down the pebble driveway, up large stony steps and pull on the double door handles, but they’re locked.
Sebastian is at the steps the next second. “You think they have this place open for just anybody to waltz in and out of? Like I said, there are dangerous patients inside. It’s on lockdown for a reason.”
I spot an intercom and press the button. BEEP.
“Shady Pines. Visiting or staying forever?” an elderly lady’s voice, full of ominous doom replies,
I press the button and say, “Visiting.”
BEEP. “Are you suuuure?”
I scrunch my brow and reply, “Uh, yes, I am definitely sure.”
“Let’s leave, right now!” Sebastian pipes in.
Too late. The door creaks open and a short lady who looks to be in her eighties, or even nineties, is standing there. She’s wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s outfit: a white hat with a red cross on it, white dress, white stockings and matching clomper shoes. She isn’t smiling. Head Nurse Maggie, a name badge says.
Sebastian puts a paw to my ankle. “I’ve seen this very scene in a few horror movies. Do not enter.”
I step over the threshold, entering. Sebastian reluctantly follows, but the creepy nurse puts up a hand and says, “No cats! Shoo!”
“I’ll be back,” I say to Sebastian who slowly turns to go. Just before the doors automatically close, I catch him drawing a paw across his neck, warning me, once again, that I’ll be dead meat for going.