Spell on Earth (An Elemental Witches of Eternal Springs Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Leighann Dobbs

  “You’d better let me handle this, Zola.” Tommy moved forward again, and I planted myself firmly between him and the cooler. “Seriously. If there is some animal trapped in there, it sounds disturbed. Or maybe rabid. You shouldn’t be anywhere near it. Let me get a peek inside, and I’ll know what to do.”

  “No!” I put my hands on his chest and pushed as hard as I could, ignoring the sparks dancing up my arms from the contact. I prayed that now would not be the time the spell stink decided to make the truth bubble up inside me. Tommy would think I was nuts if I blurted out that there was really an evil gnome in the cooler. And I shuddered to think of what kind of punishment the coven would dole out for mentioning magic around a human. “Listen, I like the breakfast idea. I’ve got this. Really.” He gave me an uncertain look, but I continued to hold him at bay. “We need to figure out Lilly’s situation before they move her later today. Why don’t you go to the diner and get us a table? I’ll be there shortly, then we can have a nice meal and discuss everything, okay?”

  The gnome whapped against the side of the cooler, causing my scooter to rock precariously, and I kicked the dumb thing hard. Finally there was silence in the Yeti. Tommy continued to stare down at me for several long seconds, as if trying to figure out what was going on. I hated to do it, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I closed my eyes and muttered an amnesia spell so Tommy would forget all about the voices and thumping coming from the cooler.

  Thank brimstone, at last his stiff posture relaxed, and those big muscular shoulders of his sagged a bit. “Okay, breakfast. Sounds good.”

  I plastered on a smile. “Great. Can’t wait. Go on over to the diner and get a table. I’ll be there in no more than a half hour. Hurry, before the tourists fill the place up.”

  “But the tourists all eat at my place at the resort,” he argued as I turned him away.

  “You know what I mean. The townies, then. Everyone who lives on the island loves the diner’s French toast.” I gave him one final push toward the small downtown area. “See you soon.”

  He walked away, glancing back at me every so often as if double-checking to make sure I hadn’t changed my mind. I hadn’t. I waited until he’d safely disappeared from view before re-securing the cooler to my scooter and taking off for the forest. I hated lying to Tommy. He was such a nice guy, and I never lied to anyone. Well, except about my magic. But that was it, and that was only because we couldn’t talk about it, not to regular people anyway.

  As I sped through the empty streets of Eternal Springs I remembered the feel of Tommy’s hard warm chest beneath my palms, the steady thump of his heart, the smell of soap and woodsy cologne wafting around him. Maybe I should’ve kissed him to distract him from the stupid gnome in my cooler. That would certainly have distracted me.

  Twenty-One

  The gnome continued to curse and kick all the way to the forest. I almost tipped the scooter over twice, but thankfully, I made it without incident. I parked at the tree line and hauled the heavy cooler the rest of the way to Cottonmouth Copse by hand. Good thing the cooler had wheels and I was healthy, or I’d never have made it.

  I still had the lapis in my pocket, but I wanted to get rid of the gnome first. The sooner I dispensed with him, the better. I didn’t want to risk him kicking his way out of the cooler and running off while I was busy with the disenchantment. Once he was back where he belonged, I could drop the lapis in Blathering Brook and be done with spell stink.

  “Ha! Back again? I bet that spell backfired, didn’t it?” Agatha jibed as I pulled the cooler past the sarcastic trees.

  “What’s in the cooler? Spell stink?” Myra’s leaves shook as she laughed.

  “I’d give you a hand if I could,” Earl said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled at Earl and glared at the others as I kept pulling. The hole was just past the trees, and I was almost there.

  “Oh! I smell a gnome!” Agatha screeched.

  “Oh goody! I hope he gets away,” Myra added.

  “If she can’t even cast a simple truth spell, how in the world does she think she’ll wrangle a gnome into the hole?” This came from a particularly gnarled and nasty maple that rarely spoke. I managed to whack its trunk hard with the cooler as I passed and gave a satisfied smile as it cried, “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, that was an accident,” I said.

  “Was not!” the tree screamed.

  “Now, Byron, don’t just go assuming. Zola would never hit you on purpose,” Earl said.

  At last I reached the hole leading to the other side. Looking down at it, I had to say that it reminded me of a toilet made of leaves and dirt. It had a gnarled tree root rim and a central black hole leading down into the depths of the earth. It was closed now so no one could fall in, but I knew the incantation that would cause the hole to open up and “flush” the gnome down. I only hoped I’d be able to focus enough to invoke it with the trees heckling me.

  I wrestled the cooler upright then opened the lid to peer inside. A pair of black soulless eyes blinked up at me. The gnome sat in the corner, his stubby legs splayed out in front of him, apparently tuckered out from all the kicking and yelling. Or that was just what he wanted me to think. Gnomes are known to be cleverly manipulative.

  But something was odd. When I’d seen him the day before, he’d had a long white beard, bushy white hair, and a wrinkled face. Now the beard was gone, and he looked as young and fresh as a baby. How was that possible?

  “You go, Zola!” Earl’s yell of encouragement made me smile.

  The gnome snarled at me and tried to stand, sliding around in the cooler as if drunk. I squinted farther inside and noticed that the chocolate-covered sea-salted caramels I’d put in there last night were gone.

  That would explain it. Sugar turned to pure alcohol in a gnome’s system. He was probably smashed out of his gourd. Perfect! That would make it easier for me to get him into the hole.

  I cast a quick containment spell outside the cooler before parting the cobwebs to let him out. He tumbled out, his rubbery limbs cartwheeling. I reached down to grab him, and he yanked on my fingers hard.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, lovely lady,” the gnome slurred. “I’m blinded by your beauty.”

  “Ha!” Agatha yelled.

  I wasn’t going to fall for it. Gnomes aren’t beyond insincere flattery or any other trick to try to get away.

  “Nice try, buddy.” I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him up. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “No, I really mean it. Don’t bring me near that hole. I’m terrified!” His little legs peddled furiously in the air as I carried him toward the hole. He was heavy, and I felt my grip loosening with the motion of his struggles.

  “Uh-uh. You came out, and now you’re going in.”

  “No!” He kicked back at me, his foot connecting with my shin. I dropped him.

  Crap!

  He tried to scramble away, but I dove on him. His foul sulphur breath hit me in the face, and I gagged but kept my grip.

  He thrashed. He kicked. He spit. And then one kick landed right in the middle of my stomach, and I lost my grip. The wrapped lapis stone flew out of my pocket and plopped down atop the leaves right in front of him.

  “Aha! A disenchantment.” He snatched it and clutched it to his chest. “Let me go, or I’ll toss it in the hole.”

  What a choice. Be condemned to blurting out the truth forever or be punished by the coven for failing to send the evil gnome back. Not to mention all the destruction he’d wreak on the island first and then the rest of the world. It was no choice at all really. Despite the trees’ constant harping and the fact that my spells did backfire at times, I knew I could outwit the belligerent gnome and get my stone back too.

  The gnome was on his feet, holding the stone out in front of him and dancing drunkenly. “I’ve got your stoo-oone. Nah-neer, nah-neer, nah-neer!”

  He would have run if he was smart, but there was nothing gnomes delighted in more than tau
nting witches. He simply couldn’t help himself. He darted forward then back, lurching drunkenly on bare feet ten sizes too large for his three-foot-six-inch height.

  “Give it to me.” I reached for the stone.

  He hopped back, sliding slightly on the wet leaves. He dangled the stone in the air. “Are you going to let me go?”

  Stupid gnome. All he had to do was turn and run. But now he was right where I wanted him. He continued to dance about four feet from the hole. Behind him the leaves were wet and slimy from the moist air that belched from the hole from time to time. I simply had to get him to back up a bit, and he’d slide right in on his own.

  Ignoring the fact that Myra and Agnes were cheering the gnome on, I focused on my plan.

  “You can do it, Zola.” Earl’s half-hearted support was better than nothing.

  “You can’t get it. You can’t get it!” The gnome danced back and forth gleefully.

  I lurched forward, brushing my finger against the stone.

  “Hey!” He jumped back, his feet sliding, his black eyes widening. “Ooops!”

  He slipped and slid, his arms wheeling to keep his balance. The stone flew up in the air. In one motion, I leapt up, grabbed the stone, and kicked at the gnome.

  He flew backward into the hole, flinging his hand out at the last second and clutching onto the root around the rim. I stood above him, my foot hovering over his hand. One well-placed stomp, and I’d crush his chubby knuckles.

  “Wait!” He grasped the tree root tighter.

  “Go, gnome!” Myra yelled.

  “Let go.” I applied pressure with my foot. I’d rather he just let go. Hearing the sickening crunch of crushed gnome knuckles might ruin my appetite, and I was meeting Tommy for breakfast.

  “I’ve got a secret.” He peered up at me with an evil glint in his eye. His words were high-pitched, like a chipmunk, and slurred from all the sugar in his tiny system. Ha! I wasn’t falling for that. It was the oldest gnome trick in the book. But then he added, “One you want to know about. It involves chocolate.”

  “I doubt it.” I pressed harder. “In you go.”

  “I was there at the murder,” he said quickly then looked as though he was angry with himself for doing so.

  “Where?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “I was in the lobby of the resort the night that lady went face-first in the fountain.” He hiccuped before continuing. “I was salting the flowers. I saw who did her in.”

  My heart lurched, but I didn’t want to put too much stock in this little guy’s confession. For all I knew, he was making all this up to keep me from flushing him. He’d held onto the lapis, and even though it was supposed to be mostly disenchanted, maybe it still had some truth juice left in it. “Go on.”

  “It was a giant white bunny rabbit.”

  I managed to refrain from rolling my eyes—barely. Talk about drunk. Or maybe he was just a liar. Gnomes are notorious liars. But then I remembered the day I discovered Amelia’s body someone said that they’d seen a little man running around the lobby throwing salt everywhere. Still, that had been earlier, before the murder. But what if he’d come back later? Neither the killer nor Amelia would notice a little gnome lurking in the greenery. Nope, I could not trust him. Besides, it wasn’t a bunny that killed Amelia. It was time to get this done so I could get to my meeting with Tommy.

  I raised my foot and stomped.

  “Nooooooo!” The gnome slid into the hole like a greased bowling ball, his cries echoing up before being cut short with a screech. I looked in, and the hole burped up something gaseous that smelled like a dead mouse. I muttered the incantation, and the hole closed up.

  Well, that was a success. Now for the disenchantment.

  I brushed my hands off, grabbed the cooler handle, and made my way back past the trees toward Blathering Brook on the other side.

  “Nice job,” Earl said.

  “Anyone could have done that,” Agatha said. “The gnome was drunk. Hardly any sport at all.”

  Blathering Brook was a narrow stream that meandered through the forest. The water ran lazily over rocks and fallen tree trunks. It was only about six inches deep in most places. Very picturesque—at least that’s what the tourists thought.

  What the tourists didn’t know was that all the fish in the brook were drunk. Something about the water. They swam upside down, round in circles, jumped out and did all kinds of strange things.

  I knelt over the brook, the stone clasped in my hand. Even though I hadn’t felt the urge to blurt a truth in a while, I still needed to do this. Clasping the stone tight, I mumbled an incantation. A sunfish came to the top of the water, peering out at me with golden eyes. He leapt out, flipped in the air, then belly flopped back in and swam off.

  Okay, then, time to get this over with. I submerged my hand. The water was cool in a refreshing way. I watched my magnified hand as the pouch unwrapped and floated off, leaving just the stone. I tipped it out of my hand, and it sank to the bottom. The sunfish zoomed back, looking at it curiously then up at me again.

  I didn’t feel any better. Shouldn’t I feel something? My earlier worry about forgetting a piece of the spell surfaced along with the sunfish, who blew me a kiss. Hopefully I was wrong.

  I hauled the cooler back through the forest to my scooter, my mind uneasy at the gnome’s sudden age change and what he’d told me about the night of the murder. He’d almost seemed regretful that he’d mentioned anything. Could he have gotten some truth juice from the stone? But a giant rabbit? Impossible.

  That whole thing with the gnome getting younger seemingly overnight was weird. He’d eaten those chocolate-covered sea-salted caramels that Lilly had claimed were stale, though, and sugar affected them strangely. I’d never heard of it reversing aging, but maybe stale ones could do that. Maybe they made him hallucinate too.

  Or maybe he’d been hanging around the Fountain of Youth like Amelia and Lilly. Thoughts of Lilly sent dread spiraling in my stomach. She hadn’t exactly been telling the truth the whole time. She’d pretended she didn’t know Amelia and never visited the Fountain of Youth. But she was acting so calm and serene, as if she knew she was innocent and it was just a matter of time before she was cleared. Would she be acting like that if she were the killer?

  I secured the empty cooler to the back of my scooter and started the engine. Maybe between us, Tommy and I could figure out what Lilly had been hiding. I only hoped that, when we did, it would be something that cleared her and not something that put her away for life.

  Twenty-Two

  I arrived at the diner five minutes late. The din of conversation battled with the clanking of silverware on ceramic. The air was spiced with the smell of coffee and bacon. The cook yelled out an order number from behind the counter as I slid into the booth across from Tommy, the red vinyl seat squeaking as I settled into place.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said.

  “No problem. I was just making a list of suspects.” Tommy indicated a piece of paper with scribbles on it that sat on the table in front of him. “So did you get your plants set?”

  “Yep everything worked perfectly.” Why did I suddenly have the urge to blurt out something about the gnome? I craned my neck to look at the paper, pushing away the unsettling feeling that the disenchantment hadn’t worked. “So who’s on the list?”

  “The husband and the daughter, of course. Then I added that weird friend of hers.”

  I nodded. The same suspects I had. Except for one. “The husband didn’t do it. He has an alibi.”

  “He was at the mud bath’s, right?”

  “Yep.” The waitress came by and filled our coffee mugs and I picked mine up and took a sip.

  Tommy crossed him off his list. “I think what we need to do is figure out who doesn’t have an alibi.”

  “Are there any cameras in the lobby?” I looked at Tommy over the rim of my mug, already knowing that would be too good to be true. If there had been cameras, wouldn’t Buddy have looked at th
e video by now?

  He shook his head. “Nope. All the cameras are pointed at the desk. The fountain was on the other side. Buddy already reviewed the tapes from the desk camera but found nothing.”

  “I’m sure all of our suspects can claim to have been in bed at the time of the murder.”

  “Right. But the hotel has electronic key cards,” Tommy said.

  “Is there any way we can get that information to see who left their room?” I asked. “Has Buddy already done that?”

  “As far as I know, he hasn’t, because he already thinks he has the killer.” Tommy looked out the window, the hint of sadness in his eyes making my chest constrict. I put my hand over his. His eyes met mine, and I felt a zing of electricity. Words started to bubble up, and I snatched my hand away. Shoot, I was still feeling the spell stink.

  “I don’t know how to get access to that database. I only have access for the kitchen inventory. What about your buddy Dylan?”

  “Dylan?”

  “I noticed he’s rather fond of you and your three friends.”

  I shuddered to think about what Dylan’s fee would be for getting that information out of the database. A lot more than going paddle boarding, that’s for sure. “I don’t think Dylan would want to risk his job for that.”

  “Probably not. I’ll talk to Augie Taylor. Maybe he could do me a favor. He does love my chocolate cream pies.”

  The waitress appeared at our booth, pencil in hand and a big wad of gum in her unsmiling mouth. “Take your order?” she asked with about as much enthusiasm as someone cutting toenails.

  “Chocolate chip pancakes,” Tommy and I spoke at the same time and then locked eyes.

  “That’s my favorite,” I said.

  “Mine too!”

  The waitress stared at us, still unsmiling, chomping on her gum, her pencil poised over the order pad. “Cute. That it?”