Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection

by Kerry Adrienne

  “So, they aren’t just picking on us because we are witches?” Ellen asked.

  “No, they are following evidence. Someone left those messages. They even took a voice sample from me the day they told us about Mrs. O’Conner. They didn’t want us to know about the threats,” Esmeralda said.

  “Because we’d protect each other?” Iris asked.

  “Probably. I want to know who threatened Mrs. O’Conner. Someone went to a lot of trouble to find her phone number. To find her address. They were at her house. I need to be sure that we don’t have a snake in our midst. We don’t threaten people. We don’t hurt people or wish harm on them.” I made eye contact with many around the room, hoping I could discern the guilty party…if they were here.

  “You really think they’re among us?” Esme asked.

  “I don’t know. We must wait out the police investigation. That means bad publicity for the café. Mr. O’Conner has been protesting outside daily. And we must hope that the medical examiner has a clear cause of death. I don’t like waiting. I’m not very patient,” I said.

  “We know that,” Violet said.

  “What can we do?” Aunt Mandy asked.

  “We could cast a spell on Mr. O’Conner to keep him at home,” Esme suggested.

  “No, we’re not doing spells on innocent people unless it’s absolutely necessary. That could backfire and make us look guilty, as well.”

  “It’d make us look like witches,” someone from the crowd joked.

  “Cute. But since someone did something bad in the name of witches, we should find out who. That’s my first priority because I need to know I can trust my coven.” I’d worked on the spell most of the afternoon. There was a family spell book in the back. Most witches used standard spells, but I liked making my own.

  I opened my hand and a red ball of light floated from my palm.

  “What’s that going to do?” asked an older witch.

  “Find the guilty party. Whoever threatened Mrs. O’Conner will have the red light hover over their heads,” I said.

  When I pulled my hand away, the ball of light darted around the room, reading all the individuals. It zigged and zagged briefly near every woman in the room. Finally, it darted out the window.

  The twins ran to the window. “It’s gone,” they said.

  “Damn. Did you put a tracker on it?” Esme asked.

  “No, I just wanted to rule out us,” I replied sheepishly. I was good at spells, but sometimes, I wasn’t as good at thinking things all the way through. But Esmerelda had a hundred years on me.

  “Well, it wasn’t anyone here. But the police won’t accept a spell as proof, anyway,” Ellen said.

  I smiled. “True, but I feel better. I know some of you are out to defend Wicca and paganism. You want to make more of a statement. I’d understand if Mrs. O’Conner’s threats upset you. We have the freedom of religion. We also have a responsibility to the paranormal creatures out there. The magical world must be protected. At least I feel like we have that obligation. If you don’t, there are other covens focused on more traditional Wiccan things. But we don’t want witch hunts, vampire hunts, or werewolf hunts. Can you imagine what big game hunters would pay to hunt a werewolf?”

  “You’re giving the humans all the power,” Ellen said.

  “No, I’m not forgetting our history,” I replied.

  “Then, why are you keeping a hunter in your basement? Protecting them and the werewolves is a bit of a contradiction,” said one of the members.

  “I understand it’s hard to reconcile for some people. Some people believe vamps and weres should run wild. If they kill, it’s their nature. But they are sentient beings capable of making choices, and choosing to kill is a crime. I won’t tolerate it. If they kill too many humans, we’ll be at war. The humans will hunt all of us down. Hunters have controlled the killing vamps and weres for centuries. It’s not a perfect system, but it works. Sometimes, a hunter is caught on tape, and the police want to charge them. So, we’re helping one. He was severely injured. Right now, the police are watching us, so moving the hunter is not an option. Once the case is resolved, he’ll move on. You have my word—I’m not running a bed and breakfast for hunters.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose as tension built behind my eyes.

  “Maybe the café wasn’t a great cover for this. Maybe a yoga studio?” Aunt Mandy suggested.

  Esme shook her head. “Yoga is too much of a trend. You’d have to change out the main offering. Pilates is more in, now.”

  “Fortune telling?” Iris suggested.

  “The gypsies have that market sewn up. You don’t want them for enemies,” I said.

  “Candles and incense,” Violet said.

  Ellen stood. “Coffee and tea is good. We do a great business, and people talk. They talk on their phones and to their friends about anything. And we baristas listen. We know who hates Trump and who secretly supports him. Who never orders anything with the witch themes—those tend to be the strict bible thumpers who like our coffee but not the theme. Most people don’t care. But we get all sorts of people in here for coffee. If you go to something more new age, you lose the people we want to keep an eye on. We need to be more Harry Potter.”

  “Harry Potter was protested in some areas,” Esme said.

  “But the vast majority of kids and parents approved. It was full of witches and werewolves but made people feel good. We can do that,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “A Harry Potter party?” I asked.

  “Maybe for Halloween. I think we can revamp the wall by the front door. That plaque dedicated to the fallen witches in the 1600s that tells people about the history—it’s good, but it might be in the wrong place,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “Hide the truth and put out the happy fake version?” Esme asked.

  “It’d probably work. Move that plaque behind the counter. Move some of the cute witches from TV and movies around, so it’s a mix.” Iris nodded.

  “Right. What if we made up a quiz? Which witch or wizard are you? They fill out a quiz and turn it in for a free small drink and the results.” Violet pulled out her phone and made notes.

  “Sounds like an app,” I said.

  “Exactly. What, you thought paper?” Iris rolled her eyes at me.

  “Never. So, campier funny witches. More ‘Sabrina the Teenage Witch’ and less Maleficent. Maybe Esme could sit on the counter in cat form and crack jokes like Salem?” I teased.

  “We’ve veered off the goal of this meeting.” She glared at me.

  “You’re right, we have. I’m sorry. The café is a cover for working with paranormal beings. Trying to keep the peace with humans by keeping an eye on them. Keeping them close rather than pushing them away. A little rearrangement of the pics can’t hurt. I like that app idea. Maybe we have the TVs in the main lounge play Sabrina, Bewitched, the Harry Potter movies, and so on. Hocus Pocus, Practical Magic. There are plenty of those shows and movies out there. Get the DVDs cheap and have theme weekends. It could become a thing. I get sick of news and morning talk shows that go on all day.”

  “But in the morning, people are watching the weather and traffic,” Ellen added.

  “True. So, the TV over the baristas stays on local weather, traffic, and news during morning rush. But the rest can play. Heck, Charmed. Get all of Buffy and Angel. I don’t want the staff to get sick of repeats. Mix it up, cute and light. Nothing too dark. We have the TVs on, but people generally ignore them.” I looked around.

  “This is more of a business decision. Which is good. But the coven is under suspicion by cops,” a member spoke up.

  I had skipped over that a bit. “That’s true, and the police might contact you to find out where you were and what you were doing. Don’t be afraid. Tell the truth. No one here did it. I trust my spell worked. But understand that we’re not about attacking anyone. Any human. That’s not going to help this situation or our overall goals.”

  “So, what do we do?” Iris asked.

  “Esmeralda
and I came up with another spell. We’re going to find out, now, if Mrs. O’Conner’s death with natural or not. Then, I’ll know best how to proceed.” I set out the medium-sized cauldron.

  Esme filled it with core ingredients and stirred. “It’ll only work if we have something that belonged to Mrs. O’Conner. What do you have?”

  I smiled and pulled a little plastic bag from my pocket. “Hair from her daughter’s coat. I grabbed it as I left her house.”

  “That’ll work?” Aunt Mandy asked.

  “The daughter belonged to her mother. We just have to phrase it right.” I nodded to Esme.

  “You can do it,” Esme said.

  Great, no pressure! “Life and death. Good and evil. I ask for the truth to be revealed. Was the mother of this woman taken by nature or killed by mortal hands?” I dropped the hair in the mixture.

  A puff of smoke later, and the brew turned red.

  Chapter 11

  “Red means?” Iris asked.

  “Not natural,” I replied.

  “Green would’ve meant natural,” Esme added.

  “She was killed. We didn’t do it, but she was killed by someone’s actions.” I leaned slightly on the table.

  “Or inactions,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “Now what? The police won’t take that as evidence. Even if they would, we don’t want them to think it’s us,” Ellen said.

  “Agreed. We keep it quiet since it means nothing to them,” Violet said.

  “We don’t want them to take it as a confession from anyone. Whoever made those threats screwed us over, but the police aren’t on a witch hunt.” I sat down.

  “Now, we wait?” my aunt asked.

  I shook my head. “I have a list of where Mrs. O’Conner was, more or less. Work at the library and her garden club. The twins have been stalking her social media and her friends. So, I’ll fill in the blanks.”

  “You’re going to solve the murder?” Esme asked.

  “Someone has to. They’re looking in the wrong places or they think it’s just natural causes. We know it’s something more. Her daughter admitted that Mrs. O’Conner could be harsh and had some enemies. It’s worth talking to people,” I said.

  My aunt frowned. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I agree. You need to stay out of it. Let the police spin their wheels and figure it out. It’s not us. It’s not our problem,” Esme said.

  “Yeah, we can call the cops on Mr. O’Conner every time we see him. Just wait until we get the test results and the cops do whatever,” Ellen said.

  “So, let someone get away with murder? That’s not right either,” Violet said.

  “It’s not a paranormal crime or problem. That’s what we should be involved with,” Esme said.

  “But this case threatens our coven and our work. If it comes back with evidence that someone hurt her, we could be first in line as suspects. I’d rather know who else might’ve had a grudge or a motive. I’m going to discreetly ask some questions and see what comes up. I can’t do nothing. If you don’t like it, tough. Meeting adjourned.” I walked down the stairs.

  * * *

  I was at the library when it opened with a to-go carrier full of coffee. The staff was happy, and it broke the ice.

  “This is a nice treat. What brings it on?” Mrs. Drew asked.

  Mrs. Drew was the head librarian and skeptical. She was a bit younger than Mrs. O’Conner but not much.

  “Well, Mrs. O’Conner was a regular customer. I know she worked here. I just wondered if anyone knows what really happened. She left my shop in good health, if not happy about an order mix-up,” I said.

  “And that spill. She was so upset. Her husband brought her a new set of clothes from home,” said Audrey, a redheaded part-timer.

  “Accidents happen. I just wondered if she seemed ill to anyone else or things got worse,” I said.

  “The police have been here,” Mrs. Drew said. “We answered their questions.”

  “I understand. It’s just been bugging me. We’re waiting on test results. But Mr. O’Conner is so angry. He blames my shop, and I’m just trying to figure out why or what we can do,” I replied.

  A few of the women just shook their heads and went back to work.

  “Maybe we should speak alone,” Mrs. Drew said.

  “Sure.” I followed her into her office.

  “If you’re trying to throw suspicion onto us, it won’t work,” Mrs. Drew said.

  “I’m not trying to throw anything. The police seem to think it was natural causes. It’s Mr. O’Conner who seems to be pushing to find someone to blame. I know Mrs. O’Conner was fine when she left my shop. I’m just trying to narrow down when she started to show signs of illness or whatever I can find out,” I replied.

  “I’ve known the O’Conners for a long time. If there is reason to think something else happened, I’m sure Mr. O’Conner has his reasons. I don’t know them. But Mrs. O’Conner was very upset about the coffee spill. Once she changed, she seemed fine. She left for a lunch with a friend of hers about noon. Nothing was wrong with her,” she said.

  “That’s good. So, nothing happened here to upset her. Nothing weird. No arguments. No enemies?” I asked.

  “Of course not. She’s worked her part-time for years. We have a nice calm group of people who love books. That’s all,” Mrs. Drew said.

  “Do you know who she had lunch with?” I asked.

  Mrs. Drew shook her head. “A friend. They went to the Italian place on the corner. She came back and worked until about two. That was it. She never complained of anything. Being tired or her food disagreeing with her. I’ve seen her get a bit ill in the past if she misses a meal or needs a bit more insulin, but she was on top of it and had all her stuff with her always.”

  “So, she’d been ill before. What happened? I mean, what if she couldn’t take care of herself?” I asked.

  “Audrey also has diabetes, so she knew how to take blood sugar. And depending on the results, it was either she’d need juice or insulin. But Mrs. O’Conner was so on top of her condition it was never necessary. She only told us because of her grandson. He has Type 1, as well. She made us all take a first aid class and gave us her own class on diabetes. We do a summer program with a lot of kids and some after school programs, as well, so she wanted to know her grandson was safe, even if she wasn’t working that day.” Mrs. Drew sighed sharply.

  “I understand her caring about her grandson. Kids don’t want to take care of themselves. But I’m sure she taught him to be responsible,” I said.

  Mrs. Drew tilted her head in a way that said she didn’t fully agree. “He isn’t so young. Eighth grade, I believe. He resents being sick. Avoided talking to her when he would come for programs. But what kid wants their grandma fussing over them when they’re with their friends?”

  “I understand. But you ladies aren’t nurses. It’s good to know what you can do, but it’s dangerous to mess with someone else’s medication. I don’t think I could do that unless it was family,” I admitted.

  “I agree. Luckily, we haven’t had that issue come up. The point is there was no sign of her being ill at all that day. She was cold and couldn’t get warm, but a lot of people were saying that. It was bitter cold, and the wind whipped through people,” she said.

  “It is a serious winter. If that’s all you remember, I’ll get out of your hair,” I said.

  She sipped her coffee. “That’s all. But thanks for the morning java,” she said.

  “Sure.” I grabbed my purse and headed out of her office.

  Audrey was sitting behind the desk. For some reason, I paused and wanted to chat with her a bit. She didn’t make eye contact, so my instinct said there was something to talk about.

  “Hi, Audrey. Mind if I ask you a couple things?” I asked.

  She looked around and shrugged. “Mrs. Drew probably covered it all.”

  “I know. The big stuff. She mentioned you were also a diabetic and knew how to test blood and all of that. So, y
ou might notice even better if Mrs. O’Conner had any signs that she wasn’t feeling great when she was at work that day. Or if I missed something,” I said.

  Audrey shook her head. “She was fine. She generally wanted to be left alone and even more on that day.”

  “Just a bad day?” I asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “She and I didn’t really get along, so she didn’t confide in me.”

  “Mrs. Drew made it sound like you were her diabetic backup,” I replied.

  “That was her way of forgetting about it. Mrs. O’Conner always picked on me for my eating habits. She was rail thin, and I’m not.” Audrey blushed.

  She was a bit plump, but I could see Mrs. O’Conner being a bit critical. “She picked on you?”

  “If I ate better, exercised more—I could get rid of my diabetes. She never could. I don’t know why it was such a big deal to her. I’ve always had bad asthma, and it made even gym glass hard.” She sniffled.

  “Don’t feel bad. I know she said some harsh things to me and my baristas, at times. But all that proves is she was unhappy and took it out on others. Did she have any real enemies here?” I asked.

  “Well, she picked on me. Everyone else just avoided her. Mrs. Drew would be the closest thing to an enemy, but that was just Mrs. O’Conner resenting that they didn’t give her the top job,” Audrey said.

  “But she only works part-time,” I said.

  Audrey nodded. “She wanted the top job and full-time work. Her husband was retired, and he was older. He was on Medicare, but she wasn’t sixty-five yet when the job was decided. I think she is, now. Anyway, she wanted it for the benefits. But when they talked to the staff, no one wanted to work for her. Mrs. Drew is strict and dull but fair and not critical.”

  “Much better. So, Mrs. Drew would have no reason to hurt her,” I said.