DARK, WITCH & CREAMY

by HANNA, H. Y.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said Caitlyn, trying to keep a straight face. The sight of the handsome and dignified Lord Fitzroy struggling to move his big goof of a dog was just too funny.

  A giggle escaped her lips in spite of her efforts; James caught her eye and gave her a rueful grin—then suddenly, they both burst out laughing. The sound of their laughter drew even more eyes from the crowd but Caitlyn didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like this.

  “How’s the kitten?” she asked at last, when they had both calmed down.

  “It’s doing fine—and in fact, ‘it’ is a he. A little boy. John, my stable master, thinks he’s about six weeks old, only just weaned. But full of personality. Everyone’s smitten with him—including me,” said James with a chuckle. “Funny, I never thought I’d have a cat. I suppose sometimes life takes you by surprise.” He gave her that lopsided smile, making her heart beat unsteadily. “You know, it’s strange to think that everything only happened yesterday. I never imagined when I took Bran for a walk that I’d meet you at the stone circle and then end up falling in love.”

  Caitlyn felt her cheeks growing hot. She looked at him shyly, a tremulous smile on her lips. “R-really? I didn’t… I didn’t think that you would also fee—I mean, you must meet so many girls and I’m not really the glamorous type—”

  “Er… I meant the kitten,” said James, looking embarrassed.

  Caitlyn flushed to the roots of her hair and squirmed. Oh help. She wished fervently for an earthquake and the ground to open and swallow her up—then she caught herself uneasily, wondering if that might really happen, considering what Bertha had told her about her witchy powers…

  There was a sudden loud rumble and Caitlyn jumped. But it wasn’t an earthquake. No, it was the sound of a throaty car engine. Caitlyn watched speechlessly as a gleaming red sports car slid into the village green and pulled up next to them. A beautiful girl with a deep tan, sun-kissed blonde hair, and designer shades sat in the driver’s seat. She was chewing gum and nodding her head in time to the throbbing bass that was blaring from the car stereo. She beamed when she saw Caitlyn and waved madly.

  Pomona jumped out of the car and ran over to give her a hug.

  “Hi, Caitlyn! Surprise!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Everyone at the village green was staring wide-eyed at Pomona, with her tanned limbs exposed by her skimpy yellow sundress and her wavy blonde hair pinned up with an enormous satin flower. She looked like a tropical bird of paradise that had flown into an English farmhouse chicken coop.

  Caitlyn groaned inwardly. She loved her cousin and was happy to see her but it was hard enough already trying to keep a low profile and not attract the attention of the villagers. Now with Pomona here, it was going to be impossible.

  “Pomie! What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were in London?”

  “We got cut off!” said Pomona, as if that explained everything. “I thought someone had come up behind you and, like, strangled you or something—”

  Caitlyn gave her an exasperated look. “Yeah, because that would be the natural thing to assume—as opposed to the phone just losing reception.”

  Pomona shrugged. “I had to check to make sure you were okay, you know? Besides, I was getting pretty bored in Oxford. I didn’t go back to London—I decided to hang around for a while. Anyway…” She stole a glance at James, a coy smile on her lips. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend, Caitlyn?”

  Caitlyn groaned again. Of all the people she had to be talking to when Pomona arrived, it had to be James Fitzroy! With her cousin’s overactive romantic imagination and penchant for matchmaking, she would never hear the end of it now.

  “Pomona, this is… er… Lord James Fitzroy.” She turned stiffly to James. “This is my cousin, Pomona Sinclair.”

  “Lord James Fitzroy?” Pomona squealed.

  James smiled as he took her hand. “I hope you won’t hold it against me, Miss Sinclair. Most people just call me James.”

  Caitlyn could see Pomona practically swooning at the sound of his sexy British accent. She grabbed her cousin’s elbow and hastily began dragging her away. “Er… well, we’d better go now. C’mon, Pomie, I must show you the chocolate shop—”

  Pomona ignored the attempts to move her, her eyes still glued to James. “Oh, please… call me Pomona,” she said breathlessly.

  “After the Roman goddess of fruits?” asked James, quirking an eyebrow.

  Pomona’s eyes widened and she giggled. “Yeah! How did you know that? Most people have no idea.”

  James shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. “I read Classics at Oxford.”

  Pomona sighed loudly in delight and fluttered her eyelashes at him. James looked slightly unsure. Caitlyn rolled her eyes. She wanted to swipe her cousin across the head.

  “Ahem… well, we mustn’t keep you any longer, Lord Fitzroy. I’m sure you’ve got important matters to attend to.” She looked pointedly at James.

  He raised his eyebrows slightly at her use of his formal title but didn’t comment. Instead, he gave them another of his heart-stopping smiles and said, “Right. Well, I’ll see you around. And remember, you’re welcome at the Manor to see the kitten anytime.” He snapped his fingers. “Come on, Bran!”

  He turned and began walking back towards the pub with the huge mastiff—for once obedient—following at his heels.

  “Omigod! He’s so hot!” squealed Pomona the minute he turned his back.

  “Shhh! He’ll hear you!” hissed Caitlyn, glancing towards James’s retreating figure. The tips of his ears were red. Oh heavens. He had heard. She was going to die of mortification.

  “So what? It’s true!” said Pomona. “Did you see those shoulders? And those eyes? And that accent… Omigod! I thought I was gonna, like, melt into a puddle when he spoke to me…” Pomona gave a dramatic sigh and clutched at her heart, pretending to go weak at the knees.

  “Stop it!” Caitlyn hauled her cousin back to her feet and started dragging her away from the village green, walking as fast as she could.

  “He likes you, you know,” said Pomona with a knowing smile.

  “No, he doesn’t!”

  “Yes, he does. He’s got it bad for you.”

  “Rubbish!” said Caitlyn, blushing furiously.

  “Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you? I know these things. I’m, like, an expert in lurrrve. That guy has fallen for you really bad. I would say that he’s got the hots for you, except that would be too crass for someone like James Fitzroy. He’s all classy and noble. He’s like—” She mimicked a high-pitched English accent. “He ‘holds you in high regard’…” She burst out laughing.

  “Shut up,” said Caitlyn, struggling not to laugh in spite of herself. “There’s nothing between James and me—”

  “Oooh! So it’s James now, is it?” said Pomona, chuckling. “So tell me—how did you guys meet? Did he come across you while riding his big black stallion—”

  “Pomie! This isn’t a Jane Austen movie, okay? I just happened to meet him by the stone circle, that morning I went up there—”

  “You never told me!” Pomona said accusingly. “You were hiding it on purpose!”

  “I wasn’t hiding anything!” said Caitlyn. “I just didn’t think it was important enough to mention. I mean, there was bigger stuff going on—like a murder.”

  “Honey, when you meet a man like that, it’s always important enough to mention. Even when there’s a murder,” said Pomona, grinning.

  They had arrived in front of Bewitched by Chocolate now and Caitlyn was relieved to see that the sight of the chocolate shop had finally distracted her cousin from the topic of James Fitzroy.

  “Ohhhhh…” Pomona inhaled deeply as the rich cocoa aroma wafted out from the store. “Omigod, that is like the most delicious thing I have ever smelled…” She walked into the shop and stared around at all the chocolate on display. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
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  Caitlyn smiled, feeling inordinately proud even though it wasn’t her shop. She couldn’t resist taking Pomona on a mini tour around the place and enjoyed watching her cousin’s eyes glaze over as Pomona tasted the various creamy, decadent flavours.

  “Stop, stop,” said Pomona at last, waving her hand. “I think I’m gonna have a chocolate overdose! I’m gonna explode if I eat anymore!”

  Caitlyn laughed and pulled her cousin through the doorway behind the counter into the rear of the cottage.

  “This is the kitchen where a lot of the pieces are created and—” Caitlyn broke off and stared at the huge black cauldron that was sitting in the fireplace at one end of the kitchen.

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes. No, she hadn’t imagined it.

  There was a large ladle in the cauldron, which was filled with melted tempered chocolate. Caitlyn remembered the Widow Mags telling her that tempered chocolate had to be stirred continuously, to keep it from solidifying. So the ladle was nothing unusual—what was weird was the fact that nobody was stirring it. The ladle was going around and around by itself.

  “Er… Caitlyn?” Pomona whispered, pointing at the stirring ladle. “What the…?” Then she gave a gasp and a squeal of delight. “Omigod, it’s true! The old woman is a witch!”

  She rushed over to the cauldron and stared down at it avidly, her eyes following the ladle around and around. “Omigod—I’m looking at honest-to-goodness, real-life magic!”

  “Maybe there’s some other explanation…” said Caitlyn weakly. “Maybe… maybe there’s a mechanism at the bottom of the cauldron which attaches to the ladle and sort of moves it around…”

  She trailed off as Pomona reached towards the ladle. Her cousin lifted it clear out of the swirling chocolate. It came up easily, dripping thick dark chocolate.

  “Not attached to anything—see?” said Pomona.

  She lowered the ladle slowly back into the cauldron and the two girls watched with bated breath. The ladle lay gently against the side of the cauldron for a moment, then—in front of their astonished eyes—it began moving around and around again, smoothly and steadily stirring the chocolate.

  “It’s true!” whispered Pomona, her eyes round. “It’s enchanted—it is magic!”

  Caitlyn looked at her cousin, amazed that Pomona could accept the concept of witchcraft and magic so calmly, so easily, when she herself had struggled with it so much. Why couldn’t she have Pomona’s easy faith?

  She thought again of Bertha’s insistence that she had the gift of magic in her blood, that she belonged to a family of witches… Could it be true? Did she dare believe it? Suddenly, Caitlyn felt a terrible longing to accept it, to embrace it. It would be so nice to feel like she wasn’t alone anymore, to feel like she wasn’t the only one who always felt “different”, to have a real family to belong to…

  Her thoughts churning, Caitlyn stared at the ladle going around and around. The more she stared at it, the more mesmerising it seemed. She took a step closer, feeling like she was being pulled towards the cauldron against her will. She leaned over and looked into the dark pool of rich, satiny chocolate. It seemed to get darker, deeper, the swirls smoothing out until it seemed like she was looking into a pool of dark glass.

  She saw her own reflection for a moment, then it faded, to be replaced by the vague shape of trees… The forest behind the chocolate shop, Caitlyn realised… the outline of the trees silhouetted against the night sky, and the hill stretching up to the horizon … and in the foreground… two figures climbing slowly up the hill…

  Caitlyn gasped as she recognised one of them. It was Stan Matthews—she remembered seeing the framed photo of him at Amy’s cottage the morning she had been invited for coffee. A dark figure walked beside him, a hand on Stan’s shoulder, urging him up the hill, towards the stone circle … Caitlyn frowned, leaning closer into the cauldron. Who was it? She could hear the rumble of their conversation—faint and muffled—like something coming from a distant room, through shut doors… Stan was gesticulating, talking, swearing, and the figure threw its head back and gave a deep belly-laugh…

  Then a wave of chocolate swirled across the cauldron, blotting out the vision… and the next moment Caitlyn found herself staring once more at just a large cauldron of melted dark chocolate.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Caitlyn stumbled backwards away from the cauldron, blinking and feeling slightly dizzy.

  “Caitlyn? What happened?” asked Pomona.

  “I… I saw…” Caitlyn gave her head a sharp shake, still not quite believing it. “I saw something in the chocolate…”

  “In the chocolate?” Pomona looked puzzled. She glanced at the cauldron, then back at Caitlyn. “What did you see?”

  Caitlyn gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It sounds crazy but I saw… I think I saw Stan Matthews walking with someone up the hill, towards the stone circle… I think it was the night he was murdered.”

  Pomona gave a squeal of delight. “It was a vision, Caitlyn! You had a vision!” She grabbed Caitlyn’s hand and jumped up and down excitedly. “Omigod, this means that you could have the power too. You could be a witch!”

  Again, Caitlyn was amazed at how easily her cousin accepted things. She wondered if she should reveal what Bertha had told her—about her witch heritage—then changed her mind. Instead, she said, “I thought people saw visions in crystal balls and things—not a bowl of chocolate!”

  “Well, anything can be used for divination, really,” said Pomona. “It’s true that crystal balls are often used but that’s only ’cos they have, like, a reflective surface. It’s not like they’re magic themselves or anything. In fact, you know the early witches used to use pools of water to help them see visions… and then later, they started using dark mirrors made of black glass or polished obsidian.” She glanced back at the cauldron of gleaming dark chocolate. “I’ll bet the chocolate took on the properties of a dark mirror! It doesn’t really matter what it is, as long as the witch has the gift of sight and can, like, channel her visions through the reflective surface.”

  “How d’you know all this?” asked Caitlyn in amazement.

  “I read,” said Pomona smugly. “You know how much I love reading about magic and witchcraft and pagan spirits and stuff like that.” She squeezed Caitlyn’s hand excitedly. “Omigod, I can’t believe that you could actually be a witch, Caitlyn! I’ve been trying to learn divination for years and never even come up with so much as a little déjà vu—and you go and have a whole vision the very first time. And about a murder, no less!” She gasped. “Did you see anything that could be a lead to the killer?”

  “I don’t know what I saw,” said Caitlyn, rubbing her forehead. “I… It was all really hazy and I wasn’t even sure at first what I was seeing… I saw Stan Matthews—I knew it was him—but the other person…”

  “Was it a man or a woman?”

  “I don’t know,” said Caitlyn helplessly. “It… it could have been either. I really couldn’t tell. It was just a dark figure.”

  “Hmm… well, maybe—”

  “Hullo? Anyone home?” a cheerful voice called from the front of the cottage.

  The two girls returned to the shop and Caitlyn was surprised to see David Allan poking his head through the doorway. His eyes widened with admiration when he saw Pomona and he became very flustered.

  “Oh! Sorry…” He fumbled with his briefcase. “I didn’t realise you were with a friend…”

  “This is my cousin, Pomona,” said Caitlyn with a smile. “She’s just visiting.”

  “Hiya,” said Pomona, giving him a wink.

  “H-h-hi,” David Allan stammered, dropping his briefcase. It fell to the floor and burst open, scattering papers and stationery everywhere. “Oh!” he cried, flushing. “Sorry… s-so clumsy of me!” He crouched down and began gathering the spilled contents.

  “Hey, let me help you,” said Pomona, kneeling down next to him.

  David became even more flustered, picking things
up several times and then dropping them again. “Oh… that’s… that’s really kind of you… There’s no need… Sorry, so clumsy of me…”

  “Boy, you’ve got everything here but the kitchen sink,” commented Pomona as she collected tissues, paperclips, packets of gum, pens, anti-bacterial hand gel, eye drops, disposable razors, discount coupons, and half an egg sandwich, and placed them back in the briefcase.

  “I… er… I’m on the road a lot… so I find it’s good to have things with me… to be prepared, so to speak…” David laughed nervously.

  “I’ll say,” said Pomona, holding up a condom packet and giving him another wink.

  David flushed even redder. “Th-those are not mine! I don’t know how they got into my briefcase! I certainly wouldn’t need… I mean, not that I don’t have the opportunity… er… I mean…”

  He looked like he was going to faint. Caitlyn was torn between laughing and feeling sorry for him. She could see that he was completely dazzled by Pomona—which wasn’t a surprise. Caitlyn had seen the effect her glamorous cousin had on men many times before, and someone as shy and simple as David Allan had no hope of resisting Pomona’s charms.

  When everything was finally restored to the briefcase and it was securely shut up again, David stood there, staring at Pomona with a rapturous expression, until Caitlyn cleared her throat and said:

  “Can I help you, David? I’m afraid the Widow Mags isn’t here.”

  He started and tore his eyes away from Pomona. “Oh! Er, actually… I really came for another cup of that delicious hot chocolate. I’ve never tasted anything like it. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He blushed as if admitting a guilty secret and glanced at Pomona.

  “Well, I’m not sure if…” Caitlyn glanced at the empty counter, where the old woman would normally be presiding, then, making a split-second decision, she said, “I’m sure the Widow Mags would be happy for me to serve you a cup. Why don’t you sit down?”

  She grabbed a mug from the shelf behind the counter and, remembering how the Widow Mags had done it, filled it with some of the thick hot chocolate that was bubbling away on the small cauldron behind the counter (she was relieved to see that this one didn’t have a magical stirring ladle).