Stockings and Spells: A paranormal cozy mystery (Vampire Knitting Club Book 4)

by Nancy Warren

  I looked at Sylvia and Gran, who had been away and, presumably, not part of the conversation. "What do you think?"

  Gran smiled her sweet smile. "I think it would be lovely to be involved in a knitting shop again, even if it was only a temporary one. Though, I suppose, I wouldn't be allowed to sit in the booth and sell things."

  The very idea made my skin break out in a cold sweat. Gran had been well known in this town before she passed and I had trouble as it was keeping her out of the shop in the middle of the day, when she tended to sleepwalk. We couldn't have her selling scarves at the Christmas market. People from her former life would be bound to notice.

  Sylvia glanced quickly at me and then reached over and patted Gran on her shoulder. "We'll need you to manage all the inventory, and, I know it's a lot to ask, but perhaps you could also do the accounting."

  Gran, who'd looked downcast when she realized she wouldn't be on the selling floor, brightened up at the idea of being so useful. She nodded. "Yes, that's an excellent idea, Sylvia. I'd be happy to manage the back end of the enterprise."

  I couldn't think of any more objections. The ones I had were vague and unformed. I wished Rafe were here, and wondered why he wasn't. Even Meri looked excited at the idea. "I have heard much about this holiday called Christmas. I look forward to seeing it with my own eyes."

  I nodded. "I'll see about getting a booth. Though, we could be too late." In fact, the more I thought about it, I imagined you had to book booths months in advance.

  Once more they all glanced at each other and looked sheepish. Alfred said, "Actually, you already did."

  I felt my forehead wrinkle in puzzlement. "I did what?"

  "You may have already made the application and filled out the forms. I believe you've already sent the committee a deposit."

  I couldn't be bothered to get annoyed, what was the point? Clearly, they were using me as the front for this enterprise, and clearly I was going to let them. I rolled my eyes. "All right. Tell me what I have to do."

  "You have to go tomorrow to the stallholders meeting."

  "Were you planning to tell me?" If I hadn't been needed to show my face at this meeting, I wondered if they would have just gone ahead and had this knitting booth in my name, without informing me. They all spoke at once assuring me that they would never do anything I didn't like, but I wasn't too sure.

  Rafe came in, then. He sauntered in the front door, in spite of the fact that I had locked it. When he walked into the back room his eyes immediately sought out mine. His wintry gaze lightened. "Good evening, Lucy."

  I nodded. "Hi, Rafe."

  The other vampires all greeted him and then Alfred said, "We were just filling Lucy in on the details of our chalet at the holiday market."

  He nodded. "You finally told her."

  "We always intended to. The moment was just never right."

  Rafe settled into an empty chair beside Clara, a sweet older vampire who'd been turned in the 1930s. "Have you decided on a name, yet?"

  He pulled out his knitting, what looked like a sweater, made of black cashmere. It looked so soft I wanted to stroke my fingers over it. Instead, I went back to attacking my blue chunky wool.

  "We’re having trouble deciding on a name. I thought perhaps, Yule Knits. Clara here came up with Yuletide Treasures, Mabel suggested Christmas for Ewe.”

  “What do you think, Lucy?"

  As long as they weren’t calling themselves the Vampire Knitters any name was fine with me.

  Silence Buggins, who was never one to be silent for long, said, "I think Victorian Handcrafts, would be a very nice name. No other age has been as good as mine." She simpered, "Or we could call it Silent Knits."

  Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Sounds like quiet lice."

  I could see a fight beginning to brew. All I needed was for them all to lay claim to why their particular era was the best. I said, before anyone else could speak, "You're all timeless. Why not Timeless Treasures?"

  Sure it was probably a cliché, and there must be a million shops with a name like that, but this ragtag bunch of undead knitters were indeed timeless, and they were certainly treasures.

  "I like it," Alfred said.

  Clara nodded. "It has a nice ring to it."

  Silence pouted for a moment, then sighed as much as her corset would allow her. “Fine.”

  "All right, then," I said. "I'll go to the orientation tomorrow. Is there anything else I should think about?"

  Rafe said, "You might see if you can secure a chalet that's out of the path of any direct sunlight."

  "Right. I'll do my best."

  Chapter 2

  I could tell that the group was excited to have a communal project. They'd always been fast knitters, but they began to turn out items with astonishing speed. I encouraged them all to make the long knitted stockings because I had a feeling they were going to be a popular item. Some of the stockings were just multicolor stripes, some decorated with buttons, others featured Santa and the reindeer, snowmen with black button eyes and red pom poms for noses, trees and stars, nativity scenes. I had to put in huge orders for wool just keep up with them.

  Sylvia and Theodore decorated the booth and decided where and how most of the products should be displayed. Naturally, I came along to help, and I think we were all pleased with the results. Theodore hand-painted the sign that said Timeless Treasures and Gran and I set the prices. We wanted them low enough to be affordable, but not so low that anyone would be suspicious of the motives of the sellers.

  I stayed up extra late the night before the holiday market opened, so I could walk over with Gran and look at our booth in the middle of the night. I opened up the stall and turned on all the lights and when we stood back, it looked like a snow globe, lit up in the night. She clapped her hands. “Oh, that is so pretty.”

  From the first day of the Christmas market, my prediction turned out to be true. The sweaters, the scarves, the mittens and the hats were all popular, but the oversized knitted stockings were by far the most purchased items.

  Since Gran couldn't be seen in the city that she’d lived and died in, and I didn't want her to feel to left out, I encouraged Silence to be Gran’s deputy in keeping up production and organizing the stock. In fact, with most of the local vampires involved in the project, and no need for more than two of them in the booth at any one time, there were always going to be plenty of vampires left behind. The flat upstairs became an impromptu knitting factory, beginning in the evening when they got up and going through the night.

  The market opened on the first Friday in December. I couldn’t wait to close my shop and walk over to Broad Street. Meri came along, keen for yet another new experience. It was wonderful to see the historic street lit up and bustling with shoppers. When we got to Timeless Treasures, Rafe was standing outside the booth, as though he were shopping. Since he was well known as an antiquarian book expert and he taught occasional lectures at one of the colleges, he’d decided that it would look too odd if he were seen to be selling knitted goods at the market.

  There were several other customers, and they weren’t pretending. Two older women were picking among the extra long Christmas stockings. From how much inventory was already gone, on the first day, I could already tell the knitting booth was going to be a success.

  Rafe and Alfred both greeted us, then Alfred leaned across the table and said, “Those long stockings have been selling very well, Lucy. The AB positive, over there, bought three of them,” he said, pointing to a stout woman currently munching on a bag of roasted chestnuts.

  “O negative, who’s scowling over the wooden toys over there, dithered and said he’d think about it. Then, when he came back, the two he liked were gone.”

  Alfred had a sensitive digestive system. He was allergic to garlic and fussy about blood type, but even so. I eyed him with suspicion. “You’re having me on. You can’t smell someone’s blood type in this crowd.”

  “Oh, can’t I, Miss A Positive?”

&nbs
p; Okay, maybe he could. “Well, make sure you stay well fed,” I said in a low tone. “From the blood bank.”

  Rafe was chatting with Clara, but I saw him keep glancing across to the chalet facing ours, where a young woman sold handmade soaps, oils, and lotions. The sign over her booth read Bubbles. At first, I wasn't sure what he was looking at. Finally, I moved closer. "Did I get the orientation of the booth wrong?" Was he worried about the direction of the sun?

  He shook his head. Glanced across again with a puzzled expression on his face. "That woman looks familiar, but I can't place her."

  I looked at her more carefully. She was probably about thirty, with long, straight hair that was dyed to a copper gold color. She was pretty, with big brown eyes and a somewhat sad expression. She didn't seem to have a helper and was kept busy with a steady stream of customers. She was definitely a stranger to me. "Are you one of those people who never forgets a face?"

  His eyes gleamed with humor. "In six hundred years? Trust me, I’ve forgotten more than a few faces."

  I wondered if one day he'd forget mine, and felt a jolt of sadness.

  "Maybe she was a student of yours, or her family had a book valued by you."

  He shook his head. "I remember all my students. I'm sure I've never actually met her. In fact, it could simply be that she reminds me of someone."

  Meri seemed fascinated by the market. I started to explain how it worked, but she stopped me with a laugh. “This reminds me of the souks at home. Many people selling wares all collected in one place.”

  “Exactly.” It must be nice for her to see something so familiar, and low tech.

  I was about to suggest that we take a tour when I looked ahead, and my heart sank.

  “Double, double, toil and trouble,” I muttered under my breath, watching the three witches walk toward me. If they hadn’t already seen me, I’d have dived under the table to hide.

  “Quoting Macbeth before dinner?” Rafe asked. “That could put you off your food.”

  “These three will do that all on their own.” The three witches were my cousin, Violet Weeks, her grandmother, Lavinia, and a powerful witch named Margaret Twig. They came up to the booth and Margaret said, in her flat, Canadian accent, “The holiday market is booming, I see. How’s business in the knitting booth?” Then she chuckled, looking from me to Rafe and back again, “My, that rhymes with kissing booth, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you want, Margaret?” I asked. Ms. Twig did not make social calls. Certainly not on me.

  She glanced around and then lowered her voice as she leaned closer. “Just making sure you remember the Winter Solstice celebration. Yule is a very significant date on our calendar.”

  I couldn’t believe she was suggesting I turn up for another witching event. I glanced at Violet and Lavinia to see if I was being punk’d but they both nodded as though they actually wanted me there.

  “Have you forgotten what happened at Samhain?”

  “Everyone has accidents, dear,” my great-aunt Lavinia said soothingly.

  Rafe, of course, was listening to every word. “What happened at Samhain?” he asked. “All you said was it was boring.”

  The three witches burst into mirth. “Boring?” Margaret Twig finally managed. “I’ve never been less bored.”

  “I’m bored now,” I said with an edge. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  But Rafe had sniffed out a good story and he wasn’t going to let it drop. “Please. I’m six hundred years old. I’m so rarely surprised.”

  Margaret was only too happy to oblige. “On Samhain, we invited Lucy, as the newest member of our coven, to give us a little demonstration of her magic.” Her sparkling blue eyes were wet with tears of laughter. “She showed us all right.”

  The three witches went into another frenzy of cackling. Honestly, put those three around a cauldron and they’d brew up some seriously deadly potions using nothing but their evil cackles.

  Rafe merely waited, knowing she’d tell him when she had herself under control. “We were at the standing stones, you see. In fairness to Lucy, it’s a very powerful area on a very powerful night. She treated us to a little display.” She turned to me. “What was it you were trying to do?”

  It was a spell I’d practiced and practiced. I still didn’t understand how it had gone so wrong.

  “I was trying to lift the hat off your head and send it home, back to the closet or drawer where you keep it.” I’d been quite pleased with that spell. While practicing it, I’d managed to tidy my house and shop by magic. It seemed time efficient. Besides, I hated cleaning.

  “What went wrong?” Rafe asked. I could see a slight grin trying to break out on his face in anticipation of whatever was to come.

  My cousin Violet couldn’t wait for Margaret. She blurted, “She uprooted one of the standing stones and sent it flying through the air.”

  Rafe’s eyebrows rose. “Was that the UFO that several people in Oxfordshire reported seeing?”

  “Yes, it was,” Margaret said, glaring at Violet and taking back control of the story.

  I had to explain. “Margaret, you were standing in front of the stone. My magic somehow got confused.” I still wasn’t certain how it had happened, but I’d been watching Margaret’s hat—not a pointy witch’s one, but a purple felt fedora—telling it to go back to where it had come from, when the earth trembled and a massive stone that had been rooted in that spot for millennia, shot off like a rocket and flew through the air. “And it’s not funny. That stone must have weighed tons. It could have killed someone.”

  “In fact, it weighed nearly forty tons,” Margaret said. “I know because I helped move it back.”

  “You found this stone?” Rafe asked.

  She sent him a patronizing glance. “I’m also a powerful witch. But I can control my magic.”

  “Where was it?”

  “The stone? About eight miles away. In a gully.”

  “But that information could be of geological interest. Doesn’t it suggest to you that the stone returned home? That could be where it was quarried.” He looked far too enthused. All I needed now was for some eager archaeologists to turn up on my doorstep.

  “Can we please not turn the most humiliating night of my life into a teaching moment?”

  “That is not accurate, Lucy,” Meritamun said in her precise, clear voice. “You said when you found your betrothed in the act of carnal embrace with another woman that that was the most humiliating evening of your life.” She looked genuinely puzzled. “It is not possible for two evenings to be ‘the most’ humiliating. One must take precedence.”

  I tried not to lose it on Meri. She was only trying to learn the ways, and vocabulary, of the current era. “Remind me to explain about the girlfriend code,” I said to her. “Also, Cone of Silence.”

  Obediently, she reached for her notebook and wrote down what I’d said, for our next lesson.

  “Anyway, dear,” Great Aunt Lavinia said to me, “Do come to the Winter Solstice. We’ll be blessing the returned stone.” She glanced at the other two witches. “Naturally, you won’t be asked to do anything.”

  “Not even bring a shared dish for the supper afterward?” They’d told me it was customary.

  They glanced among themselves. “The coven would prefer that you didn’t.” She glanced at Meri and said, at her most gracious, “And do bring Meritamun. She’s most welcome.”

  I expected them to leave, having delivered the message, but they hung around for a bit, exclaiming over the stockings and pawing the merchandise. I could see Lavinia and Margaret nudging each other. Finally, Margaret straightened. “Lucy. Lavinia has a suggestion for you.”

  “It was your idea!”

  Margaret rolled her blue cat eyes. “Fine. We think you need another assistant in your shop.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. She’d just mocked my attempts at spell casting and now she wanted to give me business advice? I was so stunned it took me a second to form words. I strove f
or politeness, so discounted anything that contained such words as None, Of, Your, and Business. I ended with, “Meri is an excellent assistant.”

  “Of course, she is,” Lavinia said, giving Margaret the side eye. “We’re a little worried, that’s all, that with you having such unpredictable magic, and Meri being out of touch with modern witchery, something could happen that would negatively affect the coven.”

  She really said ‘negatively affect’ like my puny actions were up there with climate change and global election rigging. Since I was speechless, support came from an unexpected quarter. Meri said, in her clear, precise way, “Lucy is in the business of selling wool, not spells. She is a very good mistress, fair and kind.”

  I was trying to curb her habit of calling me her mistress, but at least she’d stopped standing up and bowing whenever I walked in the room. Progress happened in small steps.

  “Of course, she is, dear. But we’d like to suggest Violet come and work with you, as well, just to keep an eye on things.”

  My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. My cousin Violet, who’d pretty much challenged me to a witch’s duel over our family grimoire, was not someone I trusted completely. Having her working for me seemed like a dodgy proposition.

  “Violet’s got excellent qualifications. She’s a good knitter and has plenty of retail experience.”

  Violet hadn’t said a word, so I turned to her. “Do you want to come and work for me?”

  She shrugged, looking like she didn’t much care either way. “I could use the extra money. Besides, now that you’ve got this market stall, it looks like you’re going to have to leave Meri alone in the shop quite a bit. I already know she’s a witch, and I can help teach her about things.” She looked at me full on. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

  I really could use the extra help. And it would be nice not to worry about Meri every time I stepped out of the door. However, I didn’t want them to think I was a pushover. I did my best to look steely and tough. “Very well. But only for the busy holiday period. After that, we’ll see.”