Witchy Trouble (Witchy Fingers Book 1)

by Nic Saint

  “It’s mine,” grumbled Edelie, after listening to her sisters with rising indignation. “I decided to put up one of my paintings to hide the hole.”

  Her two sisters stared at the curious work of art. “Whatever you do, honey, don’t become an artist,” was Estrella’s advice.

  Edelie merely grumbled something and swung the painting on its hinges. It revealed a sizable hole, big enough for a big girl like herself to crawl through. She’d spent many a happy afternoon in there, enjoying the company of some dear friends like Tolkien, Stephen King, and Neil Gaiman, and had come to think of it as her own personal space. Bringing her sisters here felt wrong, somehow, but then there were more important matters to deal with right now than her personal feelings, so she led the way into the wall, Strel and Stien not far behind.

  “It’s dark in here!” Estrella remarked. “How do you see where you’re going?”

  “The miracle of electricity,” she said dryly and flicked on the lights. A few scattered old lightbulbs flickered to life, and provided scant illumination.

  “Are there any spiders in here?” Ernestine asked suspiciously. “Or rats?”

  “Spiders? Rats? Where?!” Estrella cried.

  “Just follow me,” Edelie said morosely, climbing the ladder-like structure hammered into the outer wall. The outer wall was brick, and the inner mainly consisted of plaster on wood with some bricked-up parts. And between the two walls there was a crawling space large enough for a grown person to move around in. Why they’d constructed the house like this she didn’t know, but it was way cool, and part of the reason she loved this house so much.

  She moved up out of the basement level, and they were now crawling along the hallway. Her favorite spot was the attic, since no one ever went up there, and a small room had been constructed where she liked to curl up with her books whenever she didn’t feel like seeing people—which was often.

  “How much further is it?” asked Ernestine as she spat out dust. Being the last one, each time her sisters hit a patch, some drywall or splintered wood rained down on her, which, Edelie could imagine, wasn’t a lot of fun.

  “Almost there,” she said, panting a little. The steps that consisted of wooden planks nailed into the wall were worn out, and from time to time she had to press her back against the inner wall while negotiating the steps lest she tumbled down and took the others along with her. Luckily on each floor wooden beams and brick foundation provided a welcome resting spot.

  The others joined her, and the threesome took a break from their acrobatics.

  “So where’s Gran’s room?” Ernestine whispered as she tried to peer through the wall.

  “Over there,” Edelie whispered back and moved to the left, careful where she placed her feet. She glanced through a small crack in the wall and saw they were still in the corridor. She could see the landing and the balustrade. Moving along, she sidestepped some electrical wiring and pointed it out to the others. They didn’t want to get electrocuted in here!

  Finally, she’d reached Gran’s room, and she peered through an opening in the wall. She gasped a little at what she saw. Gran was playing with a pile of diamonds, the biggest one the size of an egg, the smallest ones still the size of a fingertip. And all the while, as she rolled them through her fingers, a small smile was playing about her lips, and she was humming a little tune that sounded eerie to a degree. The worst part? It was a man’s voice!

  She quickly made way for the others, so they, too, could catch a glimpse of Gran, and they seemed just as startled as she was by this weird person in there who was as far removed from their grandmother as could be.

  At least they’d solved one mystery: there was no man in Gran’s room, it was Gran herself.

  Watching the others watching Gran, her eyes dipped down to the wooden beams that shored up the second floor, and suddenly she saw a mouse, staring back at her with its beady little eyes, nose twitching and whiskers moving!

  She almost yelled out, for she was not a mouse person. At all! She wanted to get out of here, right now, but her sisters were in the way. And she couldn’t tell them to get a move on either, for on the other side of the flimsy wall—just plaster and wallpaper—some… creature was counting its diamonds!

  Sweat broke out on her brow and dripped down her face as she was locked in a staring contest with the tiny white mouse.

  Then, suddenly, she thought of something. She was a witch, and according to Tavish Mildew a pretty good one, if only she focused her skills on her chosen—or rather unchosen—profession of being a witchy thief. And wasn’t getting rid of mice part of a thief’s job description? She wasn’t a thief yet, but she thought it just might be! So she focused on the mouse, and made a slight gesture with her hand, whispering, “Disapparato.” There was a soft pop, and the mouse suddenly increased in size, now as big as a chihuahua!

  Oh, God, that was so not what she had in mind! She wanted to make the mouse disappear! She made another move with her hand and suddenly the mouse was joined by about a dozen of its colleagues, all staring up at her with curious eyes, and then suddenly more and more mice started pouring from the cracks and fissures in the walls, raining down onto her head and crawling into the neck of her sweater, their tiny feet tickling the bare skin of her back!

  With a horrified cry of terror, she lashed out frantically, and stormed forward, bursting through the wall into Gran’s room, crashing through like a screaming banshee, the entire mice colony dangling from her hair, her ears, her clothes… “Get them off!” she screeched. “Get them off me!”

  Gran, if she was surprised, didn’t show it. All she did was quickly tuck away her diamonds and stare at her granddaughter popping in for a visit, bearing gifts in the form of about a thousand mice!

  “Edelie!” she cried. “What in heaven’s name…”

  “I’m sorry, Gran,” she yelled as she jumped up on the woman’s dresser. “I was passing through and this… bunch of critters decided to join me!”

  Gran seemed to enjoy the sudden intrusion, for she grinned widely, displaying a fine set of dentures, and yelled, “Estrella and Ernestine, why don’t you join us?!”

  The two sisters sheepishly crawled out of the wall. They were as surprised as Edelie to find their grandmother clapping her hands with glee.

  “Now that you’ve managed to destroy this room, I think it’s time to finish the job!” the woman yelled. “Ernestine. Estrella. Edelie. Tear out those walls and let’s turn this crappy old house into something nice and funky!”

  “What do you mean?” Edelie asked from her perch on the dresser. The mice had finally deserted her and were now disappearing back into the wall.

  Gran gave her a slightly crazed look. “I’m sick and tired of this ugly old dosshouse and this dreary old room. Let’s turn my room into a game room!”

  “But Gran!” Ernestine cried. “You can’t do this!”

  Was it just Edelie’s imagination, or had Gran grown a few inches? She seemed to dominate the room, her head almost reaching the ceiling now.

  “Turn this room into a game room, Ernestine,” bellowed Gran. “That’s an order. And when you’re done, start on the garden.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Pool, Jacuzzi, garage, and add in some old-timers while you’re at it.”

  “Old-timers?”

  “Cars, dear. Fill that garage up with cars for your dear old granny!”

  “But how are you going to move your cars in and out of the garage?” Estrella pointed out an aspect that had been puzzling Edelie as well.

  Gran grinned evilly. “Through the kitchen, of course. Let’s do some remodeling while we’re at it! Let’s turn the downstairs into a driveway and move the kitchen, parlor and living room up to the second floor.”

  “But where are we going to sleep?” Ernestine asked, wide-eyed.

  Gran jerked her thumb up. “On the third floor, of course.”

  The three sisters gasped at this. The third floor was where Gran’s ‘office’ was, where countless witches ove
r the course of time had made their home and had honed their craft. It was full of bookcases loaded with spell books and witchcraft manuals, all manner of witchy widgets lying around.

  “But you can’t!” Edelie cried. “That’s our heritage!”

  Gran’s eyes were glittering dangerously, and Edelie now saw that they were black as obsidian. “Watch me,” she said, her voice dropping an octave.

  Chapter 29

  Sam was going over the evidence again. He’d put pictures of the victims on his computer, and was studying them intently, a hard look on his face. All of them had been beautiful, successful, full of life, and now they were all gone. It was depressing, and even though after years on the force he considered himself a tough son of a gun, he still felt the impact. The invisible choker, he thought grimly as he watched the long procession of grizzly pictures, was one smooth killer. And they had nothing on the guy. Nothing.

  Then he noticed Pierre had snuck up on him, moving noiselessly as usual.

  “Sam,” he said, “I think I might have found something.”

  A flicker of hope alighted in the back of Sam’s mind. “Something?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s relevant, but…” Pierre hesitated. One of his traits was that he was deferential and unassuming to a degree. People sometimes asked why Sam put up with him, as he rarely spoke, and even then it was in hushed tones. But he liked the guy. He was the opposite of brash and annoying. Quiet, modest, and sweet-natured. And sweet-toothed, of course. Furthermore, he was quick and efficient and highly conscientious about his work. He was the ultimate administrator, always making sure the paperwork was in order, all the T’s crossed and I’s dotted. Above all, Sam liked his energy. Self-effacing and easy to get along with.

  And sometimes, like now, he managed to take him completely by surprise.

  “Show me what you got,” he said.

  Pierre handed him an old file folder, then shrugged. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”

  He stared at the file folder. It was some old murder case from fifteen years ago. But when he studied the file, he immediately noticed the similarities. The woman was beautiful, twenty-five, and successful in her career as an art curator. And she’d been murdered by strangulation, the coroner completely stumped about the murder weapon. Almost as if it was an invisible cord.

  He locked eyes with Pierre, who looked almost apologetic. “This guy’s been at it for fifteen years?”

  In response, Pierre handed him a dozen more files. To his surprise, Sam found they dated back even further, some of them going back forty years!

  “This is all I could find, but I’m sure there are more,” Pierre said. He tapped the top file. “Ties to the occult. All of them had the coroner stumped. Looks like they’re grouped in clusters, every five years or so. Like the guy goes on a killing spree, then lays low for five years before starting again.”

  Sam’s eyes were drawn to a file that listed a double homicide. Twenty years old, involving a man and a woman. When his eyes fell on the names, he did a double take. Abra and Merrill Flummox. “This can’t be,” he muttered.

  Pierre chuckled. “Yeah, I saw that. What are the odds, huh?”

  Sam snapped open the file and started to read. Before long, the worry that’d niggled at the back of his mind about the Flummox sisters and their grandmother’s association with Ronny Mullarkey increased tenfold. Abra and Merrill hadn’t merely been into the supernatural, with Abra allegedly dabbling in witchcraft, but there had been rumors of burglary, though nothing had ever been proven. Merrill Flummox himself had been arrested a few times before he got married. Several counts of B&E, even as a juvie. And now here was this Ronny Mullarkey, also a burglar, and best friends with Cassandra Beadsmore, Abra Flummox’s mother… What the heck? He suddenly made a decision and quickly rose from behind the desk.

  “I gotta run,” he announced, snatching his jacket from the chair.

  “Want me to tag along?” Pierre asked.

  He eyed the man for all of two seconds, then nodded, and the two cops quickly made their way out of the office. Something fishy was going on, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this ASAP.

  Chapter 30

  Edelie watched her grandmother in shock. “You can’t destroy the third floor, Gran,” she said. “It houses decades of witchcraft—some of it going back to Fallon Safflower herself!”

  “Well, time to give it a good cleaning, then,” Gran smirked. She was still growing, Edelie saw, and now her head was almost flush with the ceiling. She suddenly stabbed a finger in Ernestine’s direction. “You haven’t shown me any magic tricks yet, dearie. I’m starting to think you’re not a real witch.”

  “I am a real witch,” insisted Ernestine, stung to the quick.

  “Well, then, why don’t you show me?” challenged Gran. “You can start by leveling that ugly greenhouse and putting down a nice big slab of concrete.” And with these words, grandmother’s head breached the ceiling, and the three sisters watched as she cackled loudly, looking around with glee. “Just like I thought! This place needs a real good cleaning!” she screeched.

  Suddenly it started raining spell books and witchy manuals and broomsticks and even the pointy hat that used to belong to Fallon Safflower!

  “Gran!” Ernestine yelled. “Stop!”

  But Gran wasn’t to be deterred, as she kept rooting around, candles and incense and pentagrams and stuffed toads and glass orbs all raining down.

  “She’s destroying the house!” Estrella cried.

  “We have to stop her!” Edelie added.

  The three sisters eyed each other hesitantly. “But how? We’re no match for Gran,” Ernestine voiced the thought they all shared.

  “We have to! She’s destroying everything!” Estrella pointed out.

  They stared up at the ceiling, where Gran was still rooting around, their heritage crashing down all around them as she seemed to be enjoying herself tremendously, a booming laugh echoing through the house.

  As if on cue, the three sisters raised their hands, and shouted out, “Verisimilinasci!”

  The spell was supposed to show the true nature of a person, and Edelie hoped it would bring out whoever was hiding inside Gran, whether man or beast. Instead, it seemed to tickle the witch, for she tittered loudly.

  “That was fun!” she screeched, peering down into the room at the three girls at her feet. “Do it again! Give me more of that delightful witchcraft!”

  “Verisimilinasci!” the three sisters yelled again, waving their hands just so. And then suddenly it happened: Gran’s face simply exploded! Pieces of skin and bone and blood splattered the walls, and instead of Gran’s face now suddenly the face of a man appeared. His features were long and ended in an intricately groomed beard that accentuated a cruel thin-lipped mouth, now curled up into a vicious smile, black eyes glittering dangerously.

  “Well, well, well. Looks like you three are witches, after all,” he said softly, then suddenly reached out a massive hand, trying to snatch them up.

  Uttering startled screams, the triplets managed to evade him, however, and disappeared back into the wall, clambering down as fast as they could.

  “Who’s that?” Ernestine cried.

  “That must be Joshua!” Estrella yelled.

  “He looks mean!” Edelie added her own two cents. She was bringing up the rear, which was not a good idea, as Joshua’s claw-like hand was reaching into the space between the walls, causing big chunks of straw, stucco and brick to rain down on top of her. When he brushed her head, she screamed and lost her balance, slipping and tumbling down on top of her sisters.

  “Hey!” Ernestine squeaked when Edelie dropped down on her head.

  “Hey!” Estrella squealed when two sisters dropped down on her head.

  In a flailing mess of arms and legs, the triplets crashed into the basement, rolled from the hole in the wall, obliterating Edelie’s nice black painting, and sat coughing and sputtering for a moment, trying
to figure out how many bones they’d broken. Quite miraculously, they discovered, they were still in one piece, and quickly stood and dusted themselves off.

  “We have to stop him!” Ernestine said between two coughs. “This Joshua, or whoever he is, is not going to destroy Safflower House!”

  “Or us,” Edelie added.

  “Or Gran,” said Estrella.

  They stared at each other. It was a thought that hadn’t occurred to them. If Gran was Joshua, then where was the real Gran? Or had he taken control of her and their spell had killed her? That was a horrible thing to consider. That their miserable witchcraft might have killed their own grandmother!

  “I don’t think she’s dead,” Ernestine finally said.

  “How do you know?” Edelie asked miserably.

  “I can feel it in my heart,” she said, tapping her chest.

  The three of them looked much the worse for wear. After their journey through the walls, pieces of plaster were stuck to their hair, and blood streaked their white faces. But in spite of all that, they were determined.

  “You’re right,” said Edelie with a nod. “I can feel her, too.”

  Estrella was checking her ruined clothes. “So where is she?”

  “She can’t be far,” Ernestine opined.

  “Unless that Ronny guy buried her somewhere!” Estrella pointed out.

  It was not a very comforting thought.

  “Maybe that’s why Joshua wants to destroy the garden. Gran is buried somewhere out there!” Edelie added.

  “Gran is still alive,” Ernestine repeated. “I can feel it. And she’s out in the garden somewhere.”

  “I’ll bet she’s in the greenhouse!” Edelie suddenly shouted.

  “That’s why he wants me to put a big slab of concrete on top of it! To bury Gran once and for all!” Ernestine agreed.

  “We have to find her,” Estrella decided. “She’s the only one who can stop Joshua.”