Witch Ways

by Tate, Kristy

  “911 emergency,” a nasal voice responded.

  While Josh gave the address and tried to explain the situation, I sank onto the wooden steps. Glancing up, I noticed the basement door that had looked like it was engulfed in flames was merely a trick of stage lighting. I wondered how Andrew had slammed the door until I noticed a wire dangling from the knob and swinging in the air.

  Josh put his phone in his pocket and came to sit beside me. Draping an arm around my shoulder, he pulled me close.

  “I’m not a witch,” I told him.

  “What?” He looked as if I’d slapped him.

  “I’m not a witch,” I repeated. “I can’t throw fire, or make things burn.”

  Josh chuckled and held me tighter. He moved his mouth against my hair, and I wondered if he kissed me—making all thoughts of witchcraft disappear.

  I held very still, waiting for Josh to kiss more than my hair.

  Instead, he pulled slightly away. “Why would you say that? Do you think you’re in shock?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” Did I really want Josh to kiss me? Yes. Not here, not now, and not with Hugh Thornhill and Andrew lying in the pit only a few feet away.

  “How did you know?” I asked, my voice still warbly.

  Josh shook his head. “I don’t know what made me come back . . . I guess I wanted to drive you home. Then I heard you scream.”

  “But why come through the window?”

  Josh smiled. “It seemed like the fastest way to get to you.”

  #

  The Mysterious Murders of the Thornhill Theater

  By Evelynn Marston

  In the spring of 1982, Hugh Thornhill, the last surviving member of the Thornhill family and founding father of the Thornhill Thespians, pledged his undying love for Miss Lauren Silver before a crowd gathered for the inaugural show of the Thornhill Theater.

  The theater’s very first production, Love’s Labor Lost, starred Miss Silver and Hugh Thornhill. As Shakespeare himself wrote, “Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.” And so it proved true for Andrew and Hugh—because things went terribly awry.

  Andrew Aston also played a leading role in that Shakespearean production, and ultimately, he would play a villainous role in the death of both Miss Lauren Silver and Mr. Hugh Thornhill.

  For Andrew loved Lauren, and his bitter jealousy led to an argument that left Hugh Thornhill dead. Andrew buried Hugh beneath the Thornhill mansion and disappeared.

  One would think this is where the story ended, but more than thirty years later as the renovations to the theater began, Andrew knew the secret he had so long ago buried was in danger of resurrecting. He had hoped to return to the Thornhill Theater undetected, but as fate would have it, his plan was foiled by his first love, Miss Lauren Silver.

  Although the years had greatly altered Miss Silver, her vision and memories remained unchanged, and she recognized Andrew immediately. She knew of his deadly deeds, and she also knew why he had returned. She paid for this knowledge with her life.

  And now all who have read this article share her knowledge. Although Andrew Aston is currently awaiting trial in the Fairfield County jail for the murder of Miss Lauren Silver and Mr. Hugh Thornhill, his incarceration is not guaranteed, despite the mountain of evidence against him.

  Reader, beware, knowledge, as well as love, can be deadly.

  After English class, Mrs. Price requested I stay.

  My stomach flipped, and not because it knew lunch was going to have to wait.

  “Excellent article, Evelynn.” Mrs. Price motioned for me to take a seat.

  I pulled up a chair and saw my paper on her desk. I was surprised that there wasn’t one red mark on it. In fact, it looked exactly as it had when I’d first turned it in, which was surprising. Mrs. Price usually returned everyone’s papers covered with painful scratches of red ink. Had I finally written a perfect paper? And if so, why wasn’t there the familiar WELL DONE! scrawled across the top?

  My stomach flipped again.

  Mrs. Price slid her thick glasses up her nose. “You’ve demonstrated not only strong writing skills, but also a true nose for news and the passion that all great journalists need to ferret out a story and pursue it.”

  I flushed beneath her praise. “Thank you. So, I’m on the paper?”

  Mrs. Price held up her finger. “I’m afraid not.”

  “But you said I needed a great article . . . and you just called my article excellent!”

  Mrs. Price fished something from her drawer, stood, and carried my article to the waste bin. Seconds later, she flicked the small cylinder in her hand and my article caught fire. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air as flames licked away at my paper, making me feel sick.

  Memories of the last time I was in a school on fire flooded me while smoke and ash lifted in the air, mingling with the smell of the dry-erase board and dusty books.

  “That’s why what I’m about to say may surprise you.” She dropped the flaming article into the empty trash bin. “You’ll have to write another piece.” She tossed the cigarette lighter back into her top drawer.

  “But why?” I fought tears and disappointment, knowing I’d never find another story as compelling as Andrew and Lauren’s.

  “I’m sure you’ll stumble across another story, perhaps one less, shall we say, revealing?” She raised an eyebrow at me, as if to ask if I understood what she was trying to say.

  I absolutely did not understand what she meant.

  Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on her desk. “As you are fully aware, this school—this community—harbors a unique and talented collection of women. The safety of this community is dependent on discretion and trust. I’m afraid that publishing your article may raise unnecessary questions.”

  I sat back in my chair. “Because Lauren thought she was a witch?”

  Mrs. Price pinched her lips together, but didn’t say a word.

  “But she’s dead! Nothing I can say can hurt her!”

  “We have said too much already.” Mrs. Price pushed to her feet. “If you wish a place on the paper, you must find and write another article, a safer article. I hope, and trust, that in time you’ll understand. And learn to be more judicious.”

  I stood slowly, my thoughts reeling.

  “I know this must seem harsh, but I can’t guarantee you a place on the paper without a publishable article, and I will not publish an article that might garner suspicions and unnecessary questions.”

  “But I don’t even mention witchcraft, or anything . . .”

  She lowered her eyebrows, and pointed to the door. “You have until the semester break. I wish you well. You’ll make an excellent addition to our newspaper.”

  “Thank you?” I mumbled, feeling dismissed and confused. After gathering up my book bag and glancing at the smoldering ashes in the trash bin, I headed for the door.

  “Oh, and Evelynn,” Mrs. Price began.

  I turned around.

  “It’s not necessary to be a witch to be successful at this school, and in life, but it certainly helps.”

  Outside the door, I leaned against the wall, clutching my book bag to my chest. Down the hall and through the open cafeteria doors came the sound of laughter, clinking silverware, and talking—hundreds of students, each trying to be successful academically, musically, athletically, by studying, practicing, and sweating.

  She’s wrong, I decided. Every day I make the choice of whether or not to be a witch over and over again. Magic and witchyness don’t have to be the key ingredients. I can be my very best self on my own.

  * * *

  ***My Grandfather’s Clock, Henry Clay Work

  December

  “There is no place like home.” Bree, with her hair tied in braids, and a stuffed toy dog in the basket over her arm, took center stage and received a standing ovation. The old theater reverberated with thundering applause, and I imagined the house was pleased with the Thornhill Thespians, and that if Hugh and
Lauren were watching, they’d be happy, too—almost as happy as me.

  From my place in the chorus of the Munchkins, I could see the first few rows of the auditorium. Uncle Mitch, my dad and Maria, Marcus and Bianca, all sat beside the long string of Hendersons. Josh caught my eye. He held a bouquet of daisies, my favorite flower. I hoped they were for me, but I thought they might be for Bree.

  Dylan, lounging against the side-wall, ankles crossed, held a bouquet of red roses. Those, I knew, were for me. The spell on the scones had not worked, and nothing I said or did discouraged Dylan. He still insisted that we belonged together, although he no longer tried to kiss me, especially if Josh was anywhere near.

  Birdie was seated in the aisle behind Dylan. I felt her dark eyes watching me, waiting for something that would never happen. A fellow Munchkin grabbed my hand and tugged, reminding me it was our turn to take center stage.

  Like all the female Munchkins had been taught to do, I dropped into a deep curtsey and as I did, two ethereal figures caught my eye. Hugh and Lauren watched from the wings. Together at last, holding hands, they bowed low, and I knew they were there just for me.

  #

  A wind stirred through Evie’s room, searching. It ruffled the pages of open books, rifled through the papers on her desk, and shifted the clothes hanging in her closet. It skirted beneath the bed and twisted over the furniture, knocking over framed photographs and scattering pens and pencils. Finally, it found the book of spells on the floor beside the sleeping Amber.

  The pages, mostly blank, fluttered, but then fell still as the wind hushed. The book remained open to the third page where the last spell was cast and recorded. Finally, the ink dried and the words appeared:

  Rainbows, wildflowers, silent stars and musical winds

  Let peace settle your soul for the magic begins.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  It’s hard to express my profound gratitude to all the important people in my life who’ve been instrumental in my writing journey. I’m always afraid someone who has been key will be forgotten or overlooked. Often a novel will take me years and have a lot of stops and starts along the path to publication, but this one came fairly quickly, and so the important players are easier to name. First, a special thanks to Amazon and the Kindle Scout program. Witch Ways is a stronger, smoother novel because of the insights and suggestions of the Amazon editorial team. And thanks to my editor, Jan Abney, my talented cover designer and daughter, Bethany Barnette, my beta readers, Cynthia Strong and Linda Flynn, my Monday morning critique partners, Melanie Jacobson and Brittany Larson, my friends at Fictionaires, and as always, my husband, Larry who supports me emotionally, spiritually, and in every way imaginable. I’m blessed to have each of you in my life, and to have your help in making my writing dream a reality. And finally, but most importantly, I reverently acknowledge the God that gives me life, breath, love and the ideas that make all things possible.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Please look for Witch Winter, the sequel to Witch Ways, coming soon. If you would like to be notified of its release, please sign up for my newsletter on my blog at kristystories.blogpsot.com. The signup form is on the top, right hand side.

  If you enjoyed this novel, I would appreciate it if you'd help other readers enjoy it too.

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  Thank you!

  OTHER BOOKS BY KRISTY TATE

  http://www.amazon.com/Kristy-Tate/e/B005YF4ODA

  The Highwayman Incident: Celia and Jason must tread carefully, as what happens in the past can reverberate through the ages. Their lives, hearts and futures are caught in time’s slippery hands. (Book 1 of the Witching Well series)

  The Cowboy Encounter: When Becca Martin stumbles into the Witching Well, she finds that all of her medical training can’t protect her from the dangers of 1870 Colorado and the charms of Clint Warwick. (Book 2 of the Witching Well series)

  Beyond the Fortuneteller’s Tent: When Petra Baron goes into the fortuneteller’s tent at a Renaissance fair, she expects to leave with a date to prom. Instead, she walks out into Elizabethan England, where she meets gypsies, a demon dog and a kindred spirit in Emory Ravenswood. Can Petra and Emory have a future while trapped in the past? Or is anything possible Beyond the Fortuneteller’s Tent? (Beyond, book 1) A 2014 I HEART INDIES SEMI-FINALIST

  Beyond the Hollow: With a collection of the writings of Washington Irving in her hand and a prayer that the nine-pin playing ghosts that carried away Rip Van Winkle will give her drink of their ale, Petra Baron heads into another time defying adventure Beyond the Hollow. This is the second book in the Beyond series, where Petra is reminded that love is always timeless. (Book 2 of the Beyond series)

  Beyond the Pale: After their encounter with the Headless Horseman in the Sleepy Hollow cemetery, Petra Baron and her immortal boyfriend, Emory Ravenswood, find themselves thrust into the bustle of modern-day New York City, where the dangers are both living and dead. (Book 3 of the Beyond series) http://amzn.to/1yS76HN

  Ghost of a Second Chance: With the help of her grandmother’s ghost, Laine Collins unravels the mystery of her grandparents’ marriage and is forced to face a question of the heart—Can love live even after it has died? (Rose Arbor, book 1)

  The Rhyme’s Library: Blair Rhyme discovers crazy Aunt Charlotte’s dead body amongst the boxes of want-nots and what-evers in the library’s basement. Unfortunately, when she returns to the library with the police Charlotte is gone. Desperate to prove that she doesn’t share her aunt’s mental illness and that Charlotte really has been murdered, Blair tangles with a former lover, a disturbingly handsome stranger and a wacky cast of Rose Arbor characters. (Rose Arbor, book 2) A 2014 KINDLE BOOK REVIEW SEMI-FINALIST

  Losing Penny: A cooking show diva in hiding. A literature professor writing genre fiction. An admirer who wants more than the tasty morsels a cooking hostess is willing to share. A dangerous recipe for romance in the town of Rose Arbor. (Rose Arbor, book 3)

  Stealing Mercy: The night before the Great Seattle Fire of 1889, flames spark between Mercy Faye and Trent Michaels, leaving the life they know and the city they love in ashes. (Seattle Fire, book 1)

  Rescuing Rita: When Christian rescues the kidnapped Rita and witnesses a triple murder, he realizes that it’s a lot more interesting to hold a feisty actress than a hand of cards. But is she worth joining the cast until the ultimate final curtain? (Seattle Fire, book 2)

  Hailey’s Comments: A sassy but shy advice columnist flees to a sparsely populated island in the Puget Sound seeking peace and refuge, but instead finds mystery and romance. A 2010 AMAZON BREAK THROUGH NOVEL QUARTER FINALIST

  A Light in the Christmas Café: In L.A., Deirdre’s perfectly constructed life made sense—a lucrative, albeit boring, career and an adoring boyfriend. But when her beloved grandmother tumbles down the stairs, Deirdre returns to Lake Vista and picks up the apron strings at Rosie’s café. She believes her old, safe life can still be salvaged until she sees a mysterious light in the café’s attic, a light, that like her, doesn't belong. Or does it?

  Stuck With You: When Andie breaks Whit’s glasses, he offers to forgive her debt if she’ll pose as his date to his brother’s wedding. It's the perfect mixture of business and pleasure, until business threatens to get in the way of a happily-ever-after neither Andie nor Whit could have ever imagined.

 

 

 
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