A Witch Too Hot

by Paula Lester

  “With Dewman? Was he showing you around the place because you showed an interest in buying it, sweetheart?” He leaned forward a bit when he asked the question, and she fought hard to resist the urge to step back.

  Instead, she leaned a fraction of an inch closer and looked right into his good eye. “No. I wasn’t with Desi. I didn’t see him, or anyone else, go upstairs. I went up to look for a bathroom and then did some exploring until I stepped in a puddle of water. That’s the end of the story. Oh, and I’m not your sweetheart.”

  Lloyd shoved a hand in his pocket, pulled out a toothpick, and stuck it in his mouth. He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he leaned back and turned to Graham. “Did you see your girlfriend go upstairs?”

  If Graham objected to the term the sheriff used for Cas, he didn’t show it. He shook his head. “I went outside with Ray. By the time I got back, Cas had come back down and told you she’d found Dewman and you’d gone upstairs.” He held a hand out to Cas. “She’s cooperated with your questions, and it’s time for me to get her home. She’s had a long day.”

  Cas grabbed her purse and let Graham lead the way. She scooched around Lloyd, who again, didn’t move aside. Seemed to be normal behavior for him.

  “I’m going to figure out who’s responsible for this.” Lloyd’s words stopped them short, and they turned back toward him. Auburn had sunk into a chair with head buried in her arms, shoulders shaking as she cried.

  “I would certainly hope so, Sheriff,” Cas said. “That is your job.”

  He chewed his toothpick and stayed silent, and Cas turned away, heading for the door. She measured her steps, so it wouldn’t seem like she was running away from the lawman. Every ounce of energy she had went into making sure her body didn’t quiver or show weakness.

  When she got outside and heard the door click behind her, Cas slumped against the side of the building and took several deep breaths. Graham placed a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled at him. “How did I manage to become a murder suspect again?”

  Graham grinned and led her into a big parking lot where only a few cars were parked, including his big Chevy. He opened the passenger door and gave Cas a hand up before climbing into the driver’s side. He turned the key, and the truck roared to live. Cas remembered Echo and felt a moment of panic. It would be next to impossible to find the cat. She didn’t like the idea of leaving him but couldn’t think of an alternative. Besides, he knew how to take a courser home.

  As he pulled the Silverado onto the street, Graham touched Cas’ leg lightly. “I’m sorry about all the drama back there.”

  She shrugged, looking out the window. It really had been a strange, eventful day.

  “How about we plan another date? Just you and me this time. No big party with a bunch of politicians and attitude-laden law enforcement officials. I’ll take you for a hike, how about that? Then dinner afterward.”

  She grinned and snuck a look at him. His dimple was showing because he was beaming at her, and she felt the day’s irritation begin to drain away. “That sounds nice,” she agreed.

  He nodded once. “You do look great tonight, though.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced down at the dress and saw Desi Dewman’s upside down face. “I meant to take this off earlier,” she said, unclipping it and shoving it into her purse with a small jolt of sadness. She’d only known the man since that morning, and he was a typical pushy realtor with political aspirations, but it was still strange to think that he’d been killed. “I guess the pool of potential new sirens is smaller now.”

  Graham nodded. “Yep. The council is going to want more people to enter, there’s no doubt about that.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Cas’ eyelids were getting heavy.

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “Hitting the sack does sound awfully good right now,” she agreed with a chuckle. Suddenly, she remembered something. “Hey, what was that all about with Ray Feldspar and Sheriff Lloyd?”

  Graham lifted a shoulder and let it fall, staring ahead at the road. “I don’t really know. Ray was too worked up to talk about it much. I just walked around the grounds with him and discussed the weather until he calmed down, and then I went back into the lodge. I was worried about leaving you alone too long and missing our rendezvous at the carving station.” Suddenly, he hit his forehead with a palm. “You didn’t eat, did you?”

  She shook her head, and her stomach interjected with a loud growl to verify that it was feeling neglected. “I have some leftover soup at home. I’ll have a bowl before I go to bed.”

  “I’m sorry. This date was a total bust.”

  “That’s okay. Just make sure our hike and dinner out is fantastic, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you. Oh, and don’t text me that I need to take myself to the hiking trail, okay?”

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  He pulled into Cas’ driveway and went around to open her door. He helped her down and then pulled Cas into his arms for a kiss.

  They held hands as Graham walked Cas to the front door and waited until she went inside. She stepped into the foyer, closed the door, and leaned back against it, smiling.

  It may have been a bazaar day filled with irritating messes to endure, but that kiss had made it all worth it.

  Still smiling, she went to the kitchen to warm up her soup, thinking about how glad she was not to have to listen to anyone talk about the siren election anymore.

  Chapter 7

  It took Cas a few seconds to realize she was awake and a small black cat sat on her chest.

  She groaned and pushed Echo off. “What are you doing?” She buried her head under the pillow to hide her eyes from the sunshine making its way through gaps in the curtains.

  “Thought you’d want to see this.” She heard a rustling noise and peeked out to see the cause. The edge of a newspaper poked its way into her peripheral vision. Sighing, she rolled back over and sat up. Echo dropped the paper on her lap. He’d already done the spell to open the supernatural pages in the back.

  She rubbed her eyes to clear the residual morning fog and peered at the paper. As it came into focus, a three-dimensional picture floated above it, hovering an inch above her legs. Cas gasped as she gazed into the pleasant and smiling face of . . . herself.

  She jerked out of bed, sending the paper tumbling to the floor. Snatching it up again, she studied the headline associated with the picture: New Witch, Cascade Lorne, Enters Siren Race Amid Questions About Her Safety.

  The article went on to describe the circumstances under which Cas had inherited her substantial powers quite late in life.

  “What the . . .? I am not running for siren. Who wrote this?” Her eyes scanned the paper, but she didn’t recognize the name on the byline. That wasn’t surprising. Juniper Crossings was the only person she knew at the Crystal Springs Gazette., She was an editor who also moonlighted as a greeter for witches just coming into their power.

  Echo sat on the bed, appearing unperturbed. At least he wasn’t filthy, but he swayed a tiny bit as though dizzy. “It seems as though someone in town wanted you in the race for some reason.” He lay down the rest of the way, putting his chin on his paws. “You’d better go to the Courthouse and see what there is to find out.”

  The Courthouse. Cas remembered Siren Shiloh asking her to stop by the huge building in downtown Crystal Springs. Either Shiloh or the High Council had information on a possible mentor. Maybe Cas could find out more on the nonsense about her nomination to run for siren.

  “I’m going to take a shower and then head over there. Do you want to come with me?”

  Echo didn’t respond other than to twitch a whisker and settled in for a cat nap. She sighed. It would have been nice to have him call a courser so she could get to the Courthouse quicker. But he wouldn’t be pleasant to deal with if she forced him to wake up and take her. She’d just have to do it the old-fashioned way and drive her old beat-up silver Dodge Intrepid.

  As she showered and got dressed, Cas thought
about how nice it would be once she’d found a mentor, had some basic training in spell-casting and control, and could call herself a courser whenever she wanted to. Then she chuckled to herself. She’d managed to live fifty years without even being aware that ley lines or coursers existed, but now, it felt slow and vintage to drive around.

  Once in the car heading toward Crystal Springs, she had to admit that it was kind of nice to be out for a drive. The trees were changing colors, and she sang along with the radio and let her thoughts wander. Before she knew it, she was pulling into a spot outside the Courthouse, a thirty-story gothic building that took up about five acres right in the middle of the downtown area. She grabbed her purse, locked the car, and headed inside.

  Though she’d been there many times, Cas still lost her breath when she stood in the impressive lobby, all ivory marble and grey stone with ceilings so high she could only catch a glimpse of them. People milled around, moving here and there, and she had to step aside to avoid being smashed into by a suited man who was staring at his phone while he walked. She took it as proof of getting used to her new magical community that she didn’t bat an eyelash at the fact the phone was floating in front of the man instead of being held in his hand.

  Cas crossed to the edge of the room and stood on an off-black round tile which rose skyward. When it stopped in midair, she stepped off onto a small platform and headed down the short hallway. Her tennis shoes made tiny squeaking noises on the emerald marble floor.

  When she got to the doorway leading to the High Council’s lobby area, she took a deep breath and steeled her nerves before entering. Sure enough, Waverly sat in the middle of the room behind a tall desk. Cas blinked when she saw the woman, who’d exchanged her bright blue hair and makeup for a lovely, glittery shade of gold. The hairstyle of two-inch spikes sticking out everywhere was the same, and she wore her trademark bored expression.

  “Hi, Waverly. I came to see Siren Shiloh.”

  The receptionist didn’t look up from her magazine. “She’s busy this morning. The first petition starts in about fifteen minutes.”

  Cas narrowed her eyes. “She asked me to come this morning, so if you tell her I’m here, I’m sure she’ll want to see me. And if you wait until later and tell her I was here but you sent me away, I’m sure she won’t be happy.”

  Wavery finally glanced up, and her nose wrinkled like she’d gotten a whiff of something stinky. “Ms. Lorne. We can’t seem to free ourselves of your company.”

  “I feel the same way.” She batted her eyelashes.

  Rolling her eyes, Waverly pushed a button on the desk, and almost immediately, the form of a man floated through the wall and moved to hover just behind the receptionist. The ghost wore his normal blue and green plaid bowtie and grey suitcoat. His body ended just past the pants’ hem. His semi-transparent ebony hair was slicked back and shoulder-length. He regarded Cas through round glasses. “Ms. Lorne,” he acknowledged.

  She nodded. “Hi, Denzel. Did they give you Dustin’s job?”

  The previous executive assistant to the High Council hadn’t turned out to be a good man. In fact, he’d turned out to be a murderer.

  “I did get a promotion after he was sent to Sitegard.” His voice was monotone as always. There was no indication he felt any kind of way about Dustin’s fate or his own new position. “What can I do for you today?”

  “She says Siren Shiloh asked to see her.” Waverly’s attention returned to the magazine. The sound of its pages whipping under her fingers was loud in the otherwise empty, marble-floored room.

  Denzel consulted a clipboard that looked solid enough, flipping a page with a weathered-looking hand. “Yes. You are on the list of approved guests for today. Come along. Siren Shiloh doesn’t have much time.”

  Cas resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the gold-haired receptionist on her way past. Waverly ignored Cas anyway.

  Denzel may have been able to float through, but Cas was stuck opening and closing doors. She followed his spectral form down a secondary hall to a closed door with a silver nameplate that read Siren Shiloh Newberry. He gestured for her to knock, and Shiloh’s pleasant voice on the other side of the door invited them in.

  The siren’s private office reflected what Cas knew of the woman’s personality. There were piles of papers threatening to topple off a cherrywood desk on one side of the room. Crystals and geodes covered almost every flat surface and even hung from the light fixture.

  “Ah! I’m glad you made it, Cas. Thank you, Denzel.”

  The ghost nodded and floated out the door.

  Shiloh turned in a circle. “Where did I put that file?” She tapped a finger on pursed lips. “Ah! I remember.” Crossing the room, she pulled a lavender folder out from under a matching geode. When she turned back toward Cas, she giggled and said, “I color coded it!”

  Cas couldn’t help but chuckle. Shiloh was her favorite siren—she’d been the least willing to recommend death or prison when the High Council considered what to do with Cas and her new powers. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier. I guess I slept in a bit.”

  Shiloh sat on a silver, S-shaped chair that was a smaller version of the one she used in council chambers. She opened the lavender folder. “That’s to be expected. I heard you had quite a shock at the Fling last night.” The siren reached for a pen but it shot out of the cup-holder and fluttered out of reach on a pair of glittery pink wings. “Come on! I only have to write a couple of sentences and then you can go back to sleep.” Shiloh tried to snatch the pen from the air, but it dodged out of her reach.

  Shiloh scowled at it. “I know you’ve felt overworked lately, but once everything calms down, I’ll get a second pen to help you. Now come on!” On the last word, she managed to snatch the pen out of the air. It struggled for a second before it seemed to go limp, folding its wings to take on the appearance of a regular fountain pen.

  Shiloh puffed air at a piece of hair over her eye. “It’s so hard to find good help these days,” she muttered, scratching away at the paper in front of her with the pen.” Glancing at Cas, she said, “I’m sorry to be so busy this morning. It’s all the siren election stuff.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about that. The article in the Gazette this morning about me running was totally incorrect. I don’t know who their sources are, but they were wrongo-bongo, indeed.” Cas shook her head and fake laughed. “I’m sorry about the mix-up, but if you could just take me off the roster, I’d appreciate it.”

  Shiloh’s head snapped up, and she gave Cas a piercing look. “We can’t just take you off the roster.” She sounded as though it was the most preposterous request anyone had ever made of her. And, having had only a small taste of the types of things brought before the council, Cas knew that was saying something.

  The siren sighed and stuck the pen back in the cup, where it shuddered, fluffed its wings, and then seemed to settle. “I suppose you don’t know much about elections yet, so I’ll give the basics. Any witch can run for siren as long as they’re nominated by a citizen of our community who is in good standing. Once nominated, the candidate may only withdraw during the public debate.” Her eyes moved to the doorway, where Denzel floated in.

  He dropped a pink file in front of the siren. “You’ll need this.” He turned and floated out again.

  “But I have no idea who would nominate me,” Cas said. “I’m barely even a witch—how could I do a good job on the council?”

  Shiloh shrugged and reached for the pink folder. “All I know is a nomination to the election is a magically binding contract. That’s why you can only withdraw under certain circumstances—namely during the debate. The contract is meant to dissuade people with less than noble intentions from running.” She opened the file and ran her finger down a page inside as she read. “As for who nominated you, that will be listed in here . . . Ah!” She tapped the page once before closing the folder and looking up. “Dzovag Livings is your sponsor. And it seems he paid off your annual dues as well.
So, you are officially a witch of Crystal Springs in good standing.”

  If Shiloh had said the Easter Bunny had nominated her, Cas couldn’t have been more surprised. Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t form a coherent thought to respond to the siren.

  Dzovag Livings, until the previous evening, had never been anything but nasty to Cas. He was a developer who didn’t seem to care who he trampled on while making as money as possible. Why in the world would he have nominated her for siren?

  “Listen, I want to talk to you about Desi Dewman before you go. Sheriff’s preliminary report says he drowned. You were the one who found him, right?”

  Cas had trouble changing gears in her mind. But it was obvious Shiloh didn’t know any more about her nomination or why Dzovag would have sponsored her, so she forced her mouth closed and dragged her thoughts over to the siren’s question. “Um. Yeah. I did. I stepped in the puddle left by his drowning, but the room he was in was totally dry.”

  Shiloh nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “Drowned in a dry room, yes. That’s what the sheriff said.” Her faraway look focused in on Cas. “You know, I find it odd how involved Lloyd seems to plan on being in this matter. Usually, he does everything he can to bow out of what he considers to be witch business.”

  Cas nodded, having experienced that character trait of the sheriff’s before.

  “But he seems hellbent on finding Dewman’s killer. He sent some deputies over here this morning to drop off his preliminary report and tell us Lloyd’s plans to start issuing subpoenas to witches who were at the Fling.”