by Nancy Warren
Stockings and Spells
Vampire Knitting Club Book 4
Nancy Warren
Stockings and Spells, Vampire Knitting Club Book 4 Copyright © 2018 by Nancy Warren
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
ISBN: 978-1-928145-56-1
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Also by Nancy Warren
About the Author
Introduction
A Holiday Market
With crafts, toys, hot chocolate
And a killer!
The Vampire Knitting Club decide to take part in Oxford’s Holiday Market, selling exquisite hand knit scarves, sweaters and gift items. Their most popular item is the hand knitted Christmas stocking, brightly colored and extra long to squeeze in a few extra small gifts.
But when a sales clerk in another booth is found strangled with one of the stockings, Lucy Swift and her undead detectives are on the case, determined to find out who would do such a terrible thing. And why.
Life at Cardinal Woolsey’s knitting shop, in Oxford, England, is as colorful as the most garish Christmas sweater.
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Praise for the Vampire Knitting Club series
"THE VAMPIRE KNITTING CLUB is a delightful paranormal cozy mystery perfectly set in a knitting shop in Oxford, England. With intrepid, late blooming, amateur sleuth, Lucy Swift, and a cast of truly unforgettable characters, this mystery delivers all the goods. It's clever and funny, with plot twists galore and one very savvy cat! I highly recommend this sparkling addition to the cozy mystery genre."
Jenn McKinlay, NYT Bestselling Author
This was such a well written, fun story that I couldn’t put down.*****
Diana
Fun and fantastic read*****
Deborah
Chapter 1
The December day dawned bright, or as bright as a December day can dawn in Oxford, England, in December—which is to say, not very. Winters in our part of Oxfordshire were cloudy and cold which was, no doubt, why so many vampires chose to live here. Between the network of tunnels that ran underneath the city, and the number of cloudy days, they rarely had to worry about the sun.
Winter was when my vampire knitting club was happiest.
I was dressed nearly head-to-toe in garments hand-knitted by my undead friends. On my head was a stylish red cloche hat that kept my ears warm, circling my neck was a red and blue scarf featuring a complicated geometric pattern and on my hands were matching mittens. I’d bought my navy blue coat, but beneath it I wore a gorgeous knitted dress. Even my black stockings were done by hand, though I think that was mainly Sylvia showing off.
My high-heeled boots tapped over the cobblestones in front of Cardinal College on Harrington Street. There weren't many students hanging around on the frozen-crisp grass, they were all inside, presumably at lectures or studying somewhere warm.
I dodged a few ambling shoppers as I hurried to Cardinal Woolsey's, the knitting and yarn shop that I inherited when my grandmother died. Or, sort of died, as she was now an enthusiastic member of the vampire knitting club.
I’d left my new assistant in charge of the shop while I went across the street to Frogg’s Books where I’d put in an order. After puzzling over Christmas gifts for vampires who owned everything they could possibly want, I’d settled on newly-released books.
I didn't like to leave my assistant alone in the shop for too long. Her name was Meritamun and she was an Egyptian witch who’d been trapped in a cursed mirror for three millennia. As a result, she had missed a lot of developments in the world. She was convinced, for example, that everything operated by electricity actually had a spirit trapped within it. I'd caught her trying to release a spirit from the microwave just last week. I’d been popping corn and she’d become so convinced the tiny explosions were the witch banging on the door to be let out that she’d magicked the door open.
I was still finding stray kernels of popped corn, like little ghosts, hiding in the dish drainer, the cutlery drawer and under the fridge. At least Nyx, my black cat, had enjoyed the experience. She’d decided that microwave popcorn was a cat toy in disguise.
Meri was deeply suspicious of the cash register in Cardinal Woolsey's, and the electric lights, but otherwise it was a pretty old-fashioned place. She couldn't knit, but then, neither could I. We were both taking lessons from the vampires. I’d hired Meri as my assistant because she had nowhere else to go. However, now that we'd been working together for a few weeks, I’d grown extremely fond of her.
She was always patient. I suppose being stuck in a mirror for three thousand years would teach patience. She loved the color and texture of wool. I really thought she was happiest sitting quietly with her knitting. With the modern world being so loud and confusing, I could understand that.
Unfortunately, December was a busy month at Cardinal Woolsey's as knitters rushed in to pick up the supplies they'd need for their gift lists. I was surprised that knitting had so many procrastinators. I suspected there would be many a pair of knitting needles clacking together into the wee hours of Christmas morning.
As I approached my little shop, warm satisfaction washed over me. The front window brimmed with a colorful display of sweater kits—appropriate as a gift for the knitter or as a project to be hastily completed by Christmas. There was an array of snuggly sweaters for those without the time or inclination to actually knit something. My favorite part of the display was the four hand-knitted Christmas stockings hanging in front of a painted fireplace complete with licking orange flames. The artwork was courtesy of Theodore, one of the vampire knitters, who, apart from being a former policeman, had painted sets for amateur theater productions. And, curled up in front of the fire, almost as though she could feel the warmth, was my black cat, and familiar, Nyx.
I'd put twinkly lights all around the window and the painted fireplace so my shop looked festive and inviting.
When I walked in, the place was bustling. Meri was trapped in the corner with a young, intense man. As the door closed behind me, she sent me a glance of appeal, and I went straight over, ignoring three other customers who all seemed to be browsing. Before I could ask how I could help, the guy turned to me. "I'm looking for a knitted iPad cover and she says she doesn't know what I'm talking about. An iPad cover. How complicated is that?"
Of course, I’d talked to Meri about computers in general, but we hadn't had time to go through every permutation from the smartphone to the tablet. I smiled, soothingly. "I'm afraid we don't have any knitted iPad covers, or any patterns to make them. It's a good idea, though."
Now,
he looked even more annoyed. "Why couldn't she just tell me that?"
"She's from Egypt," I said, as though that explained everything.
He shook his head. "I think they have iPads in Egypt."
Not in the middle Kingdom.
After that very dissatisfied customer had stalked out, I turned to Meri, who looked flustered and anxious. "Don't worry. You're catching on really fast."
She nodded, gratefully, and headed to the cash desk where a customer had a sweater kit and a knitting pattern book she wanted to buy. It would be a nice, smooth, easy purchase, exactly what Meri needed to get her confidence back.
She might not be a knitting genius, or conversant with every kind of computer on the planet, but Meri was surprisingly good with customers. She’d been a servant to a lesser wife of one of the pharaohs, so she was used to serving, and she did it well. When she’d finished with the customer, she came to me with the notebook she always carried. In it, she’d write questions for me, or reminders of things she’d learned. She had a good memory and listened intently, so I knew she’d catch on eventually, she just had a lot of catching up to do.
It wasn't always easy, as Meri lived in my guest room upstairs and we worked together. However, she was a much more experienced witch than I was, so, while I could help her to navigate the modern world, she was trying to help me settle into being a witch.
We were busy for the rest of the day, and afterwards we went upstairs to the flat above the shop. For our dinner I’d bought kebabs and was making a spiced rice dish I’d found online. I tried to cook things that would be familiar to Meri, or at least not make her turn away in horror as she had the first time she saw black pudding. After dinner, she read the local newspaper as she liked to know what was going on and she could ask me about anything that was confusing. Which was quite a bit.
Since the vampire knitting club was meeting that night, I decided to stay in and practice my own knitting. Even though my former assistant, Eileen, had turned out to be a soul-sucking demon, she had helped me improve my knitting. She got me to begin with a simple square. I was on my third square now and one of these days I was going to complete a square that didn't look as though it had been attacked by moths. Or hungry lions. Or turned into every geometric shape but square. I don't know how I dropped so many stitches and why I could never find them. I think even the endless patience of the vampires was beginning to run thin.
The buzzer on the house phone went off about eight o'clock that night, indicating there was someone at the door. It was my grandmother and her best friend and maker, Sylvia. They came in both wearing smart new outfits. Sylvia, who in life had been a stage and screen star in the 1920s, always looked glamorous. But my grandmother always looked like a quintessential grandmother. And she still did. She wore her white hair coiled neatly in a bun, her lined face was as kind as ever, but I was pretty sure that if I looked inside her coat, I would see a designer's name on the label.
"How was your trip?" I asked, holding out my arms. I hugged first my grandmother, and then Sylvia. "I didn't expect you back so soon."
Gran hadn't had much chance to travel in life. She’d been widowed young and had run Cardinal Woolsey's for more than fifty years. Now that she was undead, she had the time and some very rich friends who also liked to travel. She and Sylvia had been in Paris and Rome.
They were full of news. "We had the most wonderful time. The shopping there is simply amazing. And vampires there don't have a friendly knitting shop like we do. We really think it's time for you to expand. Start a franchise."
I shook my head. "I appreciate that you'd like to attend vampire knitting club meetings whenever you travel, but I can barely manage one shop. I don't think I'm ready for more."
They glanced at each other as though my response was exactly what they’d expected. Gran patted my hand. "Just think about it."
I felt that there was more coming but for now they let it be.
I took their coats, and a quick peek confirmed that Gran was indeed shopping the designers these days. Then, we all settled in the living room on the chintz chairs and the comfy couch. Sylvia turned to Meri, who’d already moved on from single-colored squares and was knitting a scarf. Her stitches were more fluid and even than mine. I tried not to be jealous. With all she’d been through, I should be happy she was enjoying knitting. "How are you getting along, dear?"
Meri was not one to blow her own horn. She cast her eyes down to the floor and said, "Lucy is very patient with me. I make so many mistakes. There is much I do not understand."
"She's doing a wonderful job," I said. "And, as soon as she is more used to this millennium, she’ll be an incredible assistant."
It was not lost on me that the assistants I'd hired had turned out to be disasters, while the one I'd freed from a cursed mirror, turned out to be the best choice.
“And how was Samhain?” Gran wanted to know.
I’d finally gone to one of the coven’s events which took place at a circle of ancient standing stones not far from Moreton-Under-Wychwood. “Fine,” I said airily. Gran would find out soon enough what a disaster my first witch social gathering had been, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her quite yet. Instead, I changed the subject back to what they’d seen on their travels. A much safer topic. I wished I was a powerful enough witch that I could erase the evening from the memories of all who’d been there that night.
At ten o'clock, the four of us went downstairs to join the vampire knitting club in the back room of my shop. About fifteen vampires showed up, either coming up through the trapdoor from their underground apartment complex, which was accessed through the tunnel that ran under my shop, or walking in through the shop door. They were happy to see Sylvia and Gran and, after everyone was settled and the knitting needles were flying at warp speed, the crochet hooks travelling so fast they looked like tiny firework displays, I settled to my own knitting. These knitters, who had been practicing their craft for hundreds of years, would put any modern knitter to shame. Still, they very kindly encouraged me, and I kept trying.
We always chatted and gossiped while we worked, but I could feel a strange suppressed energy in the group. I had a feeling they had something on their collective minds, but, I decided not to ask. Probably, whatever it was, I didn't want to know.
We knitted on.
Finally, Alfred said, "Lucy? There's something we want to discuss with you."
Yep, here it came. I'd seen them glancing amongst themselves and clearly Alfred had been nominated to bring up whatever subject they were keen to discuss. "What is it?" I asked.
"We've been thinking, we'd like to have a booth at the Oxford holiday market, this year."
I was so surprised, I dropped my knitting. I think a stitch or two came off the needle but I couldn't worry about that now. I picked up my square. For some reason, it looked like a bent triangle, something like a taco chip in shape. I glanced around at all the eager faces looking at me. "You want to do what?"
Alfred chuckled. "I thought you’d be surprised." He held up his hand, like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. "Think about it. We have so many knitted garments piling up, we need to get rid of some of them. Also, look how popular our knitted Christmas stockings have been. We've got plenty of goods to stock one of those nice little chalets in the center of town."
"But who’s going to sell the stuff?" I asked.
He looked at me as though I were stupid. "We will, of course."
I don't know why I thought this was a terrible idea, but I thought it was a terrible idea. The vampires stayed out of sight, slipped quietly through this ancient city in the shadows. The Oxford holiday market brought shoppers from far and wide and they’d be in the middle of town.
I looked around. "Have you ever been to one of these markets? Do you know how crowded they get?" I didn't want to bring up the notion that all that hot pulsing blood so close to them might be too much of a temptation. They lived off a private blood bank, but I had to assume that it tasted
better fresh. Plus, didn't they have an instinct to kill?
Alfred looked a little hurt, as though he'd read my mind. "We want to help."
"Help who?"
"We want to inspire people to take up handicrafts. In the time we’ve all roamed the earth, people have moved faster and faster, worked longer hours. Now, with modern technology, everyone is ‘connected.’” He put air quotes around the word ‘connected.’ He shook his head. “I worry about people today. They have so much stress and so little leisure time. Knitting is relaxing, and, we’ll give all the profits to charity."
I knew that every generation pretty much thought the next one was doomed. I didn’t realize it worked in vampire world as well. It was sweet that they cared about the stresses of modern human life and wanted to alleviate them. Frightening, but sweet.
They could have gone ahead and got a booth without me, but, I suspected they needed my help. So, I reminded them that I was busy running my own shop.
Alfred waved that objection away. "You won't have to do anything, Lucy, just rent the booth in your name, and be the contact person."
Dr. Christopher Weaver, who ran the private blood bank, said, "And, perhaps, you could help with publicity. For instance, you could hang up our poster in your shop window."
They had a poster? "You're serious about this?" I looked around. "Does Rafe know what you're planning?"
Rafe Crosyer was their unofficial leader. I considered him a friend, but he could be very high-handed, and they would never take on an enterprise like this without his tacit permission. They all nodded in unison. "Oh yes," Alfred confirmed. "Rafe is solidly on board."