Just Your Average Small Town Cult (Lainswich Witches Book 14)

by Raven Snow

  Rowen looked to her cousins to find them both already looking to her. “I don’t think we’ve heard of any cults in Lainswich.”

  “I imagine you wouldn’t have,” said Julia. “That’s the thing with secret cults, isn’t it? They’re secret. Of course, if you were in a secret cult, I suppose that’s what you would say.”

  “What evidence did Mr. Waite have?” asked Rose. “What made you believe that he was telling the truth about being in a cult?”

  “Before he got murdered you mean?” Julia hesitated. “All I can tell you is that his evidence was… convincing.”

  “Wait,” said Margo. “You’re not going to tell us what he told you?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.” Julia spoke like what she had just said shouldn’t have been surprising in the least. “I’m still in charge of Channel 2 news, you know. I can’t just give up all the details of my biggest story.”

  “Then why come here and tell us anything at all?” Margo demanded.

  “Because I was afraid! You would be too if you were the only loose end. I don’t want whoever came after Edward coming after me. Now, as far as anyone who might be watching me knows, you lot and Ben know as much as I do.”

  “That’s reckless,” said Rose.

  “A good way to get a leg up on this story without anyone being wiser, though,” Rowen conceded.

  “A good way to get yourself killed more like.” Margo crossed her arms. “Don’t be stupid, Julia. Tell us what you know.”

  “I know there’s a cult and that Mr. Waite intended to grant me an interview about it. He was going to try and get someone else to come forward with him, but I don’t know if he ever actually got around to that. Maybe it’s what got him killed.”

  “So Edward was killed before he could do this interview of yours.” Rowen considered that. “Why did he want to come forward at all?”

  “It was going to be a special,” Julia explained. “Something like that would be big news around here. Edward would get a big paycheck. I would get my views. Everybody wins.”

  “Not Edward. Not now,” Rowen reminded her. “He got murdered. And, it seems to me, like you’re more than a little scared for your own safety.”

  Julia couldn’t deny that. “Well, if they tailed me here, hopefully I’m not on their hit list anymore.”

  “Either that or you’re on it with us,” Margo grumbled. She clearly didn’t appreciate any of this. “You owe us.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” Julia snapped right back, kicking off a back and forth argument that Rowen ignored. She looked to the window instead, at the closed blinds. She wondered if there was indeed someone out there watching the house. She didn’t sense anyone, but she seldom did if they were at a great distance. Could there really be some sort of underground, secret society at work in Lainswich? It felt unlikely but, then again, Rowen had seen her fair share of strange things around here.

  ***

  There wasn’t much else to get out of Julia. She had given them their story then attempted to leave, having already used the Greensmith girls for her purposes. Rose made sure to have a word with Ben before she left. Poor Ben. As satisfying as it was seeing him tell Julia he had to take her in for questioning, Rowen felt bad they were putting even more work on his plate.

  “What now?” asked Margo once Julia was gone.

  “It’s late,” said Rose. “Now we get some rest. Tomorrow, we go have breakfast with the rest of the family.”

  Rowen didn’t like the idea of waking up early enough to drive to the Greensmith household. All the same, she nodded in agreement. That did indeed seem like the best place to look for answers next.

  Chapter Four

  Rowen invited Eric along for breakfast, but he opted out. She couldn’t blame him. If she could swap swinging by her aunts’ house in the morning for a few hours of more sleep, she would have. As it stood, this needed to be done, and going by in the morning was her best chance to do it. So Rowen threw on a blouse and some jeans that flattered her curves. She pulled her thick hair into a ponytail that meant business and got going.

  Rose was already parked out front when Rowen pulled up. That wasn’t really a surprise. That girl was almost always on time. Margo’s car was parked there too—not because she had arrived early, but because she had been there since the night before. She stayed in a trailer parked in the yard. Sometimes Jasper stayed with her. It was difficult to say whether she was already inside the house or not. It was hard to be late to a place where you lived in the front yard, but Rowen was sure her cousin could manage.

  She went to the front door and knocked. The knocking was just a formality. Rowen still had the key from back when she had lived there, not so long ago. It felt wrong to just barge in now that she had moved away, though.

  It was Aunt Lydia who came to the door. “This morning just keeps getting better and better!” She pulled her niece into a hug. “How wonderful of you to surprise us all for breakfast.”

  “We just saw each other yesterday,” Rowen reminded her, giving her aunt a hug back. It was always like this with her. Aunt Lydia had a flair for the dramatic.

  “And did that husband of yours join you?” asked Lydia, peering past Rowen like he might be coming up the stairs behind her.

  “He had a late night. I let him sleep in.”

  Lydia gave a huff and rolled her eyes. “Rose said the same thing about that man of hers. You know, if your fellas don’t like us, they can just say so.”

  “They don’t dislike you,” Rowen sighed, following her toward the dining room. Sure enough, Margo was the only person missing. Aunt Nadine was already seated at the table, seated between her husband Peter and daughter Peony. Rose sat next to her new stepfather, Reginald. Uncle Norman sat at the head of the table. He was already eating a biscuit, something that earned him a glare from Lydia. The food was already on the table, and there was plenty of it. Rowen wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her aunts had been expecting them. That was just about the only explanation for it. She took a seat across from Reginald. “Everything looks delicious.”

  “Thank you,” Nadine said, softly. In many ways, she was the exact opposite of her sister. She tucked a strand of wispy hair behind her ear with two delicate fingers. “I just woke up early this morning in the mood to cook… Did you happen to see Margo on your way inside?”

  “No, but she knew Rose and I were coming by for breakfast this morning. I wouldn’t wait up for her.” Rowen went ahead and grabbed herself a biscuit like Uncle Norman had. “Pass me the bacon?”

  Aunt Lydia frowned. “Peony, would you be a dear and run out to check on—”

  “It’s fine,” said Uncle Norman, handing Rowen the plate she had asked for. “We’ll save her something. Let’s eat.”

  Lydia relented. Norman was Margo’s father, after all. “So what’s the happy occasion?” she asked instead, spooning some scrambled eggs out onto her empty plate. “Who do I have to thank for this nice family breakfast?”

  Rowen looked to Rose, debating whether or not she should say. Rose gave her a little nod. Why beat around the bush? It was why they were here. “Edward Waite,” she said.

  “Oh?” Lydia passed on the eggs, trading them out for a bowl of grits. “And who is this Edward Waite fellow?”

  “A man who was murdered yesterday,” said Rose.

  Everyone looked up from their plates. That clearly hadn’t been the answer they had expected. “And what does that have to do with us?” asked Nadine, her eyes wide.

  “Well, it seems that the deceased might have been a member of… some sort of cult.” Rowen directed her attention to spreading apple butter on her biscuit. She didn’t much care for all eyes being on her. “Rose, Margo, and I were wondering if any of you might know something about that.”

  “A cult?” Norman put his fork down. “What kind of cult?”

  “The sort that murders people.” Rowen didn’t think she could divulge much more than that without risking Ben’s job. Who knew who Lyd
ia would go gossiping to? “Have you ever heard of something like that here in Lainswich?”

  Lydia huffed. “Witchcraft and cults aren’t interchangeable, young lady. You, of all people, should know that. We don’t murder people or associate with those who do.”

  Rowen could feel her heart sinking in her chest. “I didn’t think it could hurt to ask.” She really hadn’t planned on getting shut down so quickly.

  Reginald cleared his throat. “My, ah, brother and I might be of service,” he said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. He and his brother were both rather short. Sitting up straight didn’t provide him with much more height.

  “We might,” Peter agreed with a nod.

  Both brothers had been interested in the occult long before moving to Lainswich and marrying a couple of Greensmiths. It was their interest in the occult that had brought them there in the first place. “We’ll take any help we can get,” Rowen assured them.

  “Which they can provide after breakfast,” Lydia amended.

  Rowen thought solving a murder was a smidge more important than breakfast, but there was no point in arguing with Lydia. She dug into what was on her plate instead. A home cooked breakfast at the Greensmith house was definitely something she had missed since moving out.

  “Tina and I found some stuff in the library archives,” said Peony, changing the subject like they hadn’t just been talking about a man getting murdered.

  “Oh?” Lydia’s expression brightened. “Is it anything you can bring to the shop?”

  “I might be able to make copies of it,” said Peony. “It’s mostly articles and census records and junk. That is what you wanted, right?”

  Aunt Lydia nodded. “At the very least I would like to have that for our family’s own personal records.” It’s important to keep a record of your past, I think.”

  Peony shrugged, like the history part of things didn’t matter nearly as much to her. “I’ll head to the library and work with Tina again today then,” she said, addressing Rose.

  “That’s fine,” said Rose. “But it really shouldn’t take you all day to make some copies, should it?”

  Peony shrugged. “I don’t know how long these things take,” she said, meaning she was going to spend as much of the day with her good friend Tina as possible.

  “Well, try not to let it take too long, will you?” asked Rose. “Between the tricentennial and the murder, there’s a lot to do.”

  Someone knocked on their door then, getting everyone’s attention. At first, Rowen’s mind jumped to Margo. But, of course, it couldn’t be Margo. Margo would have just let herself right in. No, this had to be someone else. Rowen took a deep breath. Any time someone interrupted a meal like this, it was never a good sign.

  “I’ll get it,” said Aunt Lydia, standing. She headed for the front door, Rowen and her cousins following. The person on the doorstep knocked again. Their final knock was cut short as Lydia opened the door wide.

  It was all Rowen could do not to groan out loud. The person on the stoop was exactly the person she had most wanted it not to be. Rowen made a point to stay back behind her cousins as Aunt Lydia went in for a hug.

  “Tiffany!” Lydia squeezed her sister tight. “This day has just been full of happy surprises. I had no idea you were coming.”

  Tiffany returned the hug. “I couldn’t miss the tricentennial, could I?”

  Rowen was surprised her mother had even been able to remember the tricentennial was coming up. Tiffany was the sort of “free spirit” that didn’t pay attention to calendars. She wore flowers in her graying auburn hair and torn jeans. All of that wouldn’t have been so bad if part of her free-spirited nature hadn’t meant never staying in one place. It was because of her roving nature that Rowen had been raised, primarily, by her aunts and Grammy. Rowen had mostly come to terms with that. For a long time, she had been resentful of her mother for abandoning her. Even in her adulthood, Tiffany had a tendency to come and go as her whims took her. She would never be the touchstone Rowen wanted her to be. She would never feel the least bit ashamed of that fact either. It was likely because of the latter that Rowen wasn’t thrilled to see her mother on the Greensmith doorstep yet again.

  Tiffany, on the other hand, lit up when she spotted her daughter. “Rowen!” she sang, pushing past her sister and nieces to sweep Rowen into a hug next. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been too long.”

  It was a good thing her face had been pressed to her mother’s shoulder. That way no one could see her rolling her eyes. She returned the hug with a stiff one of her own. “Good to see you, too.”

  “You have good timing,” said Lydia. “We all just sat down to some breakfast. Fix yourself a plate. The attic is still free, so obviously you can make yourself at home up there, if you like. How long do you think you’ll be staying?”

  “No idea.” Tiffany stepped to one side of the hallway as someone else entered through the front door.

  It wasn’t just Rowen being uncomfortable now. Everyone had gone quiet. The atmosphere had grown chilly. A tall and lanky man came in, a drawstring rucksack slung over one shoulder. He had dark hair and sharp cheekbones. His grungy green t-shirt and jeans made him look a bit like a junkie. “You guys gotta be the Greensmith family, right?” He grinned. In contrast to the stained clothing, his teeth looked pearly white. His gaze zeroed in on Rowen. “And you must be Tif’s daughter.” He made a straight line for Rowen and swept her up into a much tighter hug than the one that had just occurred with her mother. When he stepped back, he kept his hands on her shoulders. “Aww. Look at you. You look just like your mom said you would.”

  Rowen didn’t like this level of intimacy one bit. She liked the idea of Tiffany bringing home another boyfriend even less. Every other time she had brought someone home, they ended up being a murderer. It was like she had some kind of magical knack for it.

  “That’s Rory,” said Tiffany, motioning to the man.

  “Do you have any plans for tonight?” asked Rory, still looking straight at Rowen.

  “Me?” she asked, still very much wanting to put some space between herself and this man.

  Rory laughed. “Of course, you. You’re my stepdaughter now. We should get to know each other.”

  Rowen could only stare as she tried to wrap her mind around what this man was saying. Stepfather? Surely not. Surely, she had misheard. “You and… You and my mother are…”

  “Married,” Tiffany said for her. “We’re married.”

  There was a long and awkward stretch of silence. It was Lydia who finally broke it. “Well, congratulations!” It didn’t particularly sound like she meant it, though.

  Tiffany took it as the entire family blessing their union anyway. “Thank you,” she said. “I know this all seems sudden. It was sudden for us, too. We met at an outdoor concert. I was terribly thirsty and this knight in shining armor bought me a seven dollar bottle of water.”

  “Couldn’t just leave a pretty girl like you to die of dehydration, could I?” Rory turned his attentions from Rowen to his bride.

  “Oh, you.” Tiffany gave him a playful nudge. “Anyway, we got to talking and, as it turned out, he was from Lainswich too! What are the odds of something like that? We both figured it had to be a sign.”

  That made Rowen even more suspicious. She looked the man up and down and caught her cousins doing the same. Even Lydia was wearing the barest of frowns, like she knew something was wrong with this interloper but couldn’t put her finger on it just yet. “Well, I’m sure we can find a place for you at the breakfast table as well. Do you want to take your bag upstairs?”

  “It can wait. I’m famished, to tell you the truth,” said Rory.

  “We spent the last few nights with his family in Tarricville,” Tiffany explained. “We left first thing in the morning to try and get here in time to surprise everyone. I had a hunch my Rowen might be here.” Say what you would about Tiffany’s personality, she was a formidable witch. Her intuition was rather impre
ssive.

  “Well, I won’t be here much longer,” Rowen said, quickly. “I should get going to the office. There’s some paperwork Eric and I need to finish up.”

  “What about breakfast?” asked Tiffany.

  “It’s fine. I’m full. I ate a little something on the way here.” It was a lie. All of it was. Rowen didn’t want to sit down at the table with her mother and… a stepfather. It was a struggle not to cringe at that word even now.

  “What about Reginald and Peter?” asked Lydia.

  “I can always talk to them later.”

  “Are you free later tonight?” asked Rory.

  “I’m busy. Between the tricentennial and the murder, I have a lot of work on my plate.” Rowen forced a smile at her mother and Rory. “I’ll see you guys later.” She gave them both a small wave before slipping out the door. Thankfully, no one came after her. Either they knew she needed her space right now or they were willfully ignoring how angry she was about all of it.

  Rowen took a deep breath once she was in her car. She took a deep breath and attempted to center herself. She got a few good, deep breaths in and out before it turned suddenly into a long string of swears. How was it that her mother kept finding these new and exciting ways to disappoint her?

  Chapter Five

  “If there’s somewhere else you need to be, you can go,” said Eric, peering at his wife from around the papers he was stapling. “You know that, right?”

  “Well, sure. I figured you would appreciate my help, though.” Rowen took the papers from her husband before he even had a chance to put down the stapler. She went to the filing cabinet to file them away.

  “I do,” Eric assured her. “And I love having you around, it’s just… I don’t have a whole lot to do here, and I know things have to be hectic at the Inquirer.”

  The mere mention of the Inquirer made Rowen cringe. All she wanted was to de-stress. Was that so much to ask? Solving a murder sounded like the opposite of a stress-free situation. Sure, she could help out at the Inquirer, but what if she let slip something she wasn’t supposed to write about? What if she got Ben in trouble? No, right here in the Greensmith investigations office was where she would rather be. “I’m good. Thanks.” She closed the filing cabinet drawer.