“There are far worse things in this world,” the Otter King huffed. “All you need is a few days at the Spring of Heilun.”
“Spring of what?” Mara and I asked in unison.
“The Spring of Heilun,” the Otter King said, annoyed. “Am I to believe that neither of you have heard of the most famous magic spa in the world?”
He took in our confused faces and sighed deeply. The sound of it was thunderous and more than a little intimidating.
“It is a magical spring on the isle currently known as Iceland,” he explained, “and it is the best place to go for conditions such as yours. The hulders there will have you feeling all better within a fortnight. I wish I could accompany you...I am overdue for a trim and it would be good to see Gudmunsdottir again...” he trailed off wistfully.
A mystical spring that could cure black magic ailments sounded good enough to me.
“You should go!” I said. “With Mara.”
“Hold up,” Mara protested, sounding a bit more like herself again, “who said I was going at all?”
“You will go,” the Otter King growled, “or else this corruption within you could spread. It will take hold in your town, turning friends into enemies and laughter to screams. And because, more importantly, there is a honey-and-salt scrub at Heilun that is most pleasing. You must try it while you’re there.”
“I cannot go,” he continued, “because I must remain to introduce myself to your new water-witch. A good first impression is important.”
“You might as well go,” I said gloomily, “because we’re not even close to finding a water-witch.”
The Otter King tilted his head and blinked at me.
“What of the one in town?” he asked.
Mara and I looked at each other, then back at the Otter King.
“There’s no water-witch in town,” Mara said. “Not that we know of, at least.”
“There is most certainly a water-witch in town,” the Otter King rumbled. “I am surprised to discover that you are unaware of this.”
“How do you know this?” I asked eagerly. “What’s their name?”
The Otter King shook his head, splattering us with droplets of cold lake water.
“I am a creature of water,” he explained, “and I have served many water-witches throughout the centuries of my life. I can sense them from afar...though I have yet to meet this one.”
My enthusiasm was only slightly dampened. This meant that there was a water-witch nearby...one of the tourists, perhaps? If we could find them, we might actually be able to complete the Lammas ritual in time.
“Which reminds me,” the Otter King continued, “What has become of the water-witch Lily?”
“She turned herself into a frog,” Mara said matter-of-factly. “And now she’s stuck like that.”
“She lives in a tank at my house,” I added.
The Otter King nodded approvingly.
Chapter 12
“Here’s the deal,” I told Tessa the next morning. “There may or may not be something super evil at work here.”
We were sitting on the curb outside Happy Blendings, sipping Pumpkinless-Spice Lattes from the Goodbeans Cafe, watching the Harvest Festival vendors prepare for the day’s festivities.
“Great,” Tessa said. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Mara is experiencing unwanted telepathy and she’s hearing some dark stuff,” I continued. “Which definitely sounds like black magic. Mara thinks it’s because there’s some sort of evil presence in town, but the Otter King reckons it’s just symptomatic of her black magic infection.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think...but what I know is that there is black magic at work. Maybe on Mara, maybe elsewhere. Recent events make me inclined to think that Mara is onto something.”
“Recent events...you mean the murder?” Tessa cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Of course,” I said. “We know there’s someone...or something capable of murder here. What if some of the black magic from the Windermere safe escaped and is corrupting the town?”
“That...would be very bad, yes,” Tessa nodded. “But I haven’t sensed black magic anywhere...or on anyone. Have you?”
“Nope. But that doesn’t mean it’s not here. We still don’t know what was in that safe. If something got out, we could be looking at goblins, hollowmen, vengeance spirits...”
“...Capless Cavaliers?” Tessa suggested. “Allie told me all about her friend Genevieve's theories.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“It’s a silly story,” I said, “but there might be something to it. This town has been through a lot...could be there’s an angry spirit of some sort who’s been awakened by black magic. It’s been known to happen.”
“I knew this was going to be the best Harvest Festival ever,” Tessa sighed, standing up. “I’ll have Allie search around the witch forums to see if she can dig something up. But this is coven business, nothing more. Whatever we do, we’re not getting involved in another murder investigation!”
“Of course not,” I said, getting to my feet. “We wouldn’t want to put the Gallaghers out of their jobs.”
Something flickered across Tessa’s face, something she dismissed with a quick shake of her head.
“Well...it’s back to the trenches for me,” she declared, straightening her apron. “There are tourists to feed!”
She gave a mock salute and strode off across the street towards the Good Eats Grill.
I learned two things during the nine hours Happy Blendings was open that day. The first was that no amount of pleading can stop David Ortiz, motorcycle enthusiast and smoothie artist extraordinaire, from singing along to every single ABBA song on the Wednesday shop play list. The second was that the Harvest Festival crowd had really taken a liking to the whole “Capless Cavalier” thing.
The vendors had already started capitalizing on the legend. The corn-on-the-cob booth had started selling corn husk dolls with jack-o-lantern heads carved from tiny, decorative gourds. The Fry Everything Once booth was advertising a Cavalier-themed special (ghost pepper fries) and even Patty’s Pies offered a limited-time special on “headless hand-pies”.
I would have written it off as harmless (if tasteless and ill-timed) fun were it not for the fact that tourists and locals alike had started talking as if the vengeful Capless Cavalier was real. Some even sounded frightened, expressing concern that there would be subsequent killings in the days to come.
I did my best to act as the voice of reason for those who visited Happy Blendings, all the while going over what Tessa and I had discussed that morning. It wasn’t unheard of for a vengeful spirit to manifest in association with things that had played a significant role in their mortal life...if the “Capless Cavalier” did exist, the Harvest Festival was certainly a sore spot for it. Perhaps the rumors weren’t too far off...
I stole away to the storeroom during a quiet moment after the lunch rush. I collapsed into the office chair, dug my phone out of my apron, and scrolled to Ada’s name in my contacts.
“What’s up, Sam?” Ada answered after the third ring. Her tone was pleasant but her voice was strained with exhaustion.
“Hey...are you doing alright? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine,” Ada yawned, “busy day, is all. To what do I owe the phone call?”
“I have some questions about the murder.”
“Sam...”
“Before you say anything,” I interjected, “I know this is police business, but something’s come to our attention...the coven’s attention, that is. We think there may have been something supernatural involved in the murder. Black magic.”
“Don’t tell me you’re on this ‘Capless Cavalier’ nonsense now...” Ada warned.
“Of course not!” I objected. “Well...maybe. I’m not sure. You know how Mara’s magic lets her pick up bits of conversation from around town?”
“Yep. And I’m just going to pretend I d
idn’t hear you implicate Miss Gale in what is essentially magical wiretapping.”
“Much appreciated. Anyway, the whispers have changed. They’re not just conversation anymore, they’re thoughts...bad thoughts. We think there could be black magic at work in town.”
There was a moment of silence and then Ada let out a long, ragged sigh.
“It just never ends here, does it?” she groaned. “Alright. What do you want to know?”
“You’re the best. First of all, do you have any leads? Suspects?”
Ada snorted.
“Only one. Several witnesses have confirmed that they saw Mr. Crane arguing with someone the night he was murdered. We’re almost positive that they were the last one who saw him alive.”
“Whoa...” I breathed. They were further along in their investigation than I’d thought. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
“Oh,” Realization dawned on me. “Well. Did you do it?”
Ada chuckled.
“That’s about where we are now,” she said. “What else are you curious about?”
“This is going to sound silly,” I warned, “but Genevieve Welles claims that a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend saw a jack-o-lantern by the body.”
“That’s right.” Ada said. “A big one, carved upside-down, with a pointy smile.”
I sat, stunned, for a moment.
“You mean that’s not just another rumor?”
“We weren’t going to publicize that information right off the bat,” Ada explained. “We didn’t want to create a panic over some low-life murderer with a flair for the dramatic.”
“That’s reasonable,” I agreed. “Anything else strange or unusual about the circumstances surrounding the murder...or body?”
“Well...the autopsy report was interesting. It confirmed our suspicions that Mr. Crane died of blunt-force trauma to the head...but there were no signs of a struggle. And no obvious murder weapon, either. I would almost think it was a surprise attack, but he was found in the middle of an open, empty pumpkin patch. It would be impossible to sneak up on someone there. His car was parked nearby and the one set of footprints leading from it match his shoe tread, so we believe he was there of his own volition and wasn’t placed there postmortem.”
“So we have a bludgeoned body, a jack-o-lantern, and...that’s it?”
“That’s it.” Ada confirmed with a sigh. “And Chief LaChance is trying to get my attention, so I’d better go. Let me know if anything comes up on the supernatural side.”
“I will,” I promised. “Thanks for everything, Ada. Good luck.”
Chapter 13
I called an impromptu coven lunch meeting the next day. To ensure that we wouldn’t be interrupted, I gave David the afternoon off, politely chased Phineas Lichen and a handful of hungover tourists out of the shop, and turned off the Open sign.
Tessa and Allie were the first to arrive, dragging between them a chafing dish loaded with roasted sweet potatoes and parsnips, mushroom gravy, sourdough baguettes, and crispy fried cauliflower.
“There was supposed to be autumn ratatouille,” Tessa said apologetically, “but we ran out of smoked eggplant.”
“I may someday find it in my heart to forgive you,” I said, tearing off a large chunk of still-steaming bread and dipping it into the gravy.
Naomi and a frazzled-looking Mara arrived just as I was finishing a batch of “witching hour” smoothies. I only made these for coven gatherings and the recipe was always changing, evolving to accommodate the mood, season, and dynamics of the coven.
Today’s smoothie was a dark, rich blend of fresh raspberries, cocoa powder, almond milk, frozen bananas, chia seeds, and cacao nibs. I poured out five glasses, garnished each with a sprig of sweet basil and some grated chocolate, and set them on the two tables we’d pushed together to accommodate the five of us.
“You’ve all heard the news,” I said, taking a seat between Tessa and Naomi. “The Otter King has detected a water-witch in town.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Naomi said. “This town has already seen two murders this year. The last thing we need is to miss the Lammas ritual.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet, mom,” Mara warned. “We still have no idea who it is. And we can’t exactly start asking around.”
“So how do we figure out who it is?” Tessa asked. “I’m not familiar with any witch detection spells...if there even are any.”
“Witch hunters use an enchanted needle,” Allie piped up. “They prick people with it and if they don’t feel it, they know they’re a witch.”
“That’s...barbaric,” Naomi frowned.
“We’re not going to resort to witch hunter methods,” Tessa shook her head at Allie. “Where do you hear this stuff?”
“The internet,” Allie crossed her arms defiantly. “There’s also this other thing they do, called the Trial by Water, where they—”
“—I think we get the gist,” I cut in before she could go into detail, “and I don’t reckon a Trial by Water will work on a water-witch.”
“Oh...probably not.” Allie admitted.
“We could try a scrying spell,” Naomi suggested. “That might at least put us on the right path. But I will need to go all the way out to Savannah for the ingredients...it wouldn’t be ready until Friday night”
“That’s cutting it close,” I said, “but it’s the best we have right now. If you wouldn’t mind getting that set up, Naomi?”
“Not at all. I will leave as soon as we’re done here. I was planning on making the drive out there anyway for a new cauldron.”
“She melted a hole through the bottom of her old one,” Mara said quietly. She was huddled in her chair, face half-hidden by a large scarf, visibly shivering. She hadn’t touched her smoothie. “She was trying out some new recipe to treat my supposed infection.”
Naomi scowled.
“Now that that’s decided,” I said quickly, “there’s something else we need to discuss. The murder.”
Tessa sighed. Allie sat up excitedly. Mara and Naomi looked at me questioningly.
“I think there might be something to this Capless Cavalier stuff.” I said. “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. If any black magic escaped from the Windermere safe before we got it locked up, there could be any number of evil things running amok in Goodsprings.”
“There are,” Mara said darkly.
“Possibly,” Naomi put an arm around her daughter, “but don’t forget what the Otter King told you. The horrible things you hear could just be the infection playing tricks with your mind.”
“If there is black magic at work out there,” I continued, “that would explain the presence of a vengeful, murderous spirit.”
Allie’s hand shot up in the air eagerly.
“You’re part of this coven. You can speak up whenever you feel like it,” I told her, amused.
“Thanks, Aunt Sam,” she said breathlessly. “So I’ve been doing some research on this Capless Cavalier guy. I couldn’t find any mention of the legend in the town history books, but guess what I did find?”
She looked around at us expectantly.
“Out with it, kiddo!” Tessa cried after a few tense seconds.
“Well,” Allie said excitedly, “I found a book that talked about the old Harvest Festival horse race. The one from the Capless Cavalier stories. The book mentioned this one guy, Charles Harrington, who won the race, like, ten years in a row. But it said he vanished the night before his eleventh race. He was never seen again, but get this...they found his cap discarded in the middle of the road the next day.”
“Wow,” Tessa said, “That’s actually...something. Good job, sweetheart.”
“It’s more than something,” I said. “This means there might actually be historical basis for the Capless Cavalier. If the stories have some truth to them and he was murdered during Harvest Festival, it could be that he’s returned for revenge...”
“...All juiced up on black magic.” Tessa no
dded. “Which is...just awesome for us.”
“Where was this road?” Mara spoke up suddenly, her eyes narrowed. “The road where they found his cap?”
“The book didn’t say,” Allie replied, “but a kid was the one who found the cap on their way to school. So I think it could be by the old schoolhouse, maybe?”
“Brilliant,” Mara said, sitting up straight. “We should go tonight. Put a stop to this evil before it has a chance to spread.”
“Absolutely not,” Naomi said sharply. “You’re not fit to do so much as a mending spell, let alone go out gallivanting and ghost hunting. I’ll go.”
“Except that if you’ll be in Savannah.” Mara reminded her.
“Tessa and I can handle it between the two of us.” I said before Naomi could retort. “And I have no intention of hunting down any ghosts...not tonight, at least. We will just head out to the old schoolhouse and see if we can sense any black magic in the area. Nothing exciting.”
“Can I come?” Allie asked eagerly.
“Absolutely not,” Tessa said, echoing Naomi. “You’re not getting anywhere near black magic. Not while I draw breath. Besides, don’t you have a float you need to finish up tonight?”
Allie slumped back in her chair, muttering sullenly. Happy Blendings was silent for a moment as we all sat contemplating our next moves.
Outside, a distant crackle of thunder announced the approach of another storm.
Chapter 14
Tessa and I set out from the Good Eats grill just before midnight. The afternoon’s rainstorm had mellowed into a light mist that had coated Main Street in a sparkling layer of dew. This had, unfortunately, done nothing to deter the Harvest Festival crowd. Tessa maneuvered her car through the poncho-clad crowd, honking and hollering the whole way out of town.
We drove eastward from Goodsprings proper, passing freshly-harvested fields and orchards on our way to the old schoolhouse. Tessa turned off onto the ill-kept dirt road that cut between the pumpkin patch and the peach orchard and drove until the farmland on either side of us turned to forest. The road curved into a tunnel of overgrown trees and Tessa had to constantly swerve to avoid roots, fallen branches, and the occasional squirrel.
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