The Halloween Spell

by Morgana Best

  I needed time to think, and it would take a lot of effort to chisel the charred mess out of the tray, so I decided to combine my troubles. As I dug furiously at the blackened, rock-hard remains of the cupcakes, I wondered about the consequences of the spell. I had purposefully avoided making it a love spell, as I considered it unethical to influence a specific person to love another. On the other hand, I hadn’t seen the harm in having people like each other more and treat everybody better. That had changed when I saw Kayleen. I learned exactly what it was like for somebody to have an unnatural liking for someone, and I wanted no more of it.

  I managed to excavate a single cupcake, throwing it away after briefly considering its use as a doorstop. I sighed once more as I started work on the next cupcake. I wondered if it was possible simply to burn them more so that they’d be easy to remove, but decided that I caused enough damage when I wasn’t trying to burn something. If I went out of my way to burn food, I would probably cause destruction on a global scale.

  The acrid smell of burned cupcakes permeated the house, and that was not exactly improving my mood. It was a constant reminder of my lack of cooking skills. I knew that I wouldn’t have burned this batch if Selena hadn’t distracted me, but it was still my fault for not simply turning the heat down or even off.

  After several minutes of hammering the next cupcake with a chisel, another knock on the door made me jump. I put the chisel down and walked back to the door, worried that it would be Kayleen again. I hadn’t even thought to check if she had left, so it was entirely possible that she was still standing at the door with that inane grin on her face.

  I winced in anticipation as I opened the door, but to my relief, I was met with the beaming faces of Camino and Ruprecht. Less of a relief was the fact that they were standing with their arms hooked together, and were wearing bizarre pumpkin onesies. Then again, I was yet to see one of Camino’s onesies that wasn’t bizarre.

  “Hello, Amelia!” they said in unison, still grinning widely. Whatever lingering optimism I had that they were simply happy, instead of under the influence of the spell, disappeared immediately.

  “Come inside,” I sighed. “I’ll explain what’s going on.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ruprecht asked, clearly confused. His pumpkin onesie was far too small for him, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was wearing one of Camino’s, no doubt under the influence of the spell. His belly and forearms were sticking out, and it looked as if it was making it a little harder for him to breathe. Camino, on the other hand, wore her matching pumpkin onesie with ease. I wondered if she had bought the other one especially for Ruprecht, or if she just happened to have an identical onesie sitting around.

  “I mean, I know why you’re both being so happy and friendly,” I said, though they were too busy blowing kisses at each other to listen. I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. “Would either of you like some coffee?”

  “Oh, I’ll make it!” Camino offered.

  “Oh, no, don’t be silly,” Ruprecht smiled. “Allow me.”

  I sat down heavily at the little table in the kitchen and rubbed my temples. Ruprecht made us all coffee as Camino tried her best to help him, despite the task not requiring a team. I let them finish, and waited until they sat down at the table with me to speak. I knew that if anybody could appreciate what had happened, it was these two.

  “Thanks for the coffee, but I need you both to listen to me,” I said sternly. Camino blew Ruprecht a kiss and giggled, so I cleared my throat loudly to get their attention. “The reason you’re both so, so…” I struggled for the words, and then continued, “how you are, is because I cast a spell this morning.”

  “What kind of spell?” Ruprecht asked, taking a deep sip of his coffee.

  “Selena Simpson showed up at my door this morning, and said that Aunt Angelica had to do a spell for her sister, Marina Mercer, every Halloween. It was a generational obligation. Remember, I called you?”

  Camino looked into Ruprecht’s eyes and giggled, while Ruprecht nodded. “Oh yes, Selena, such a lovely woman. I’ve never met her or even heard of her, of course. Angelica did speak of Marina. I do know all about her.”

  I grimaced and pushed on. “Selena insisted that I do a love spell, but I decided to make it a kind of ‘like’ spell, a happiness spell, instead. I figured it would be less dangerous,” I explained, hoping that they were absorbing the information despite being obviously distracted. “I cast the spell meaning to make one person, a man named Nick, feel happy about her. That was all I intended, but it seems it’s made everybody in town like everybody else and be overly happy.”

  Ruprecht and Camino took a moment to take it all in. Camino leaned forward and put her hand on mine. “You tried your best, dear,” she said, smiling. “Next time you’ll manage it.”

  I pulled my hand away and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “No, that’s not the problem. I’m explaining why you’re both behaving so strangely.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ruprecht asked. “We’re not behaving strangely.” He adjusted his pumpkin to hide his stomach. “The spell had no effect on anyone but this Nick person.”

  I didn’t know what to say or do, so I merely cupped my head in my hands again, wishing it would all just go away. What if I couldn’t reverse the spell? Would it reverse itself over time? How far had it traveled? There were so many questions, and I wasn’t particularly thrilled at the thought of discovering the answers.

  Suddenly, my stomach clenched tightly, and I thought I would throw up. I had forgotten all about Alder! He was just about to leave town on a case, and there was a good chance that the spell had affected him, too. If it had an effect similar to the one on Camino, Ruprecht, and Kayleen, then who knew what sort of trouble it could land him in? What if he fell for another woman because of it? Because of me?

  I could barely stomach the thought. I whipped out my phone and quickly called him, my nerves getting so much worse as I waited for an answer. He had said that he was working with the police on this case, and that it was dangerous. I had lectured him at length about not getting hurt. I’d had a bad feeling about it.

  Unfortunately, the familiar sound of his voicemail greeted me. I hung up the call and fought back the tears. I breathed carefully, trying my best to calm down. Panicking wouldn’t do anybody any good. If this spell were to be reversed, I had to do something about it. I couldn’t afford any distractions.

  Just as I finished that thought, my phone rang. I answered without so much as looking at the caller ID. “Alder?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Amelia?” a woman’s voice replied. She sounded like she had been, or was currently, crying.

  “Selena?” I asked. I was disappointed that it wasn’t Alder, but I had to know why she was calling me. More importantly, I needed to know why she sounded so upset. “How did you get my number?”

  “The police officer gave it to me.”

  “Police officer?” I thought she must be truly upset to ask the local police for my number. Or had I heard her wrong? There was a lot of background noise on the other end of the phone. “What’s wrong? Did the date not go well?”

  “No. It’s Nick,” she said tearfully.

  I frowned, wondering why the date had gone badly. Surely the spell had worked on him, too, so I couldn’t imagine that he had said something rude or upsetting.

  “He’s dead!”

  I nearly dropped the phone. “What happened?” I asked, more confused than ever. This was turning into a terrible day, and having Camino and Ruprecht make smooching noises at each other in pumpkin onesies wasn’t helping any.

  “I don’t know!” Selena spoke through tears. “He simply dropped dead! Nobody knows what happened yet.”

  Chapter 3

  I did the only thing I could do. I drove straight to the restaurant. It was normally only a five minute drive, but I got stuck behind a ‘hat driver’ as we call them in the bush. A ‘hat driver’ is someone who wears a wide-brimmed
hat, but more importantly, drives at less than half the speed limit and turns suddenly without indicating. This hat driver was driving an ancient red tractor in the middle of the road.

  After he turned off without indicating, as was to be expected, I passed a big events billboard with the title, Currently Happening in Bayberry Creek, and the rest of the sign was blank. That about summed it up.

  I slowed down on the approach to the restaurant and found a parking place easily enough. It was a Sunday afternoon in Bayberry Creek after all, and Sundays in small Australian country towns are hardly a hub of activity. And while Australians are a sporting nation, October was a black hole in the otherwise sporty scene. The football season had just ended, and most people were still smarting from their favorite team’s loss. The cricket season was only just under way, and cricket fever had not yet gripped the nation.

  I walked into the restaurant as the pungent fragrance of jasmine emanated from overgrown vines that clawed their way along the stone walls. I was not surprised to see that most tables were vacant, but I was surprised that people were still eating.

  Selena was standing at the back of the room, in an intimate corner, which I supposed befitted those having an affair. She was continually dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. I hurried straight over to her, wondering about the rancid smell.

  My heart sank when I saw Sergeant Tinsdell and Constable Dawson standing with her. “Why, it’s Amelia Spelled,” Tinsdell said. “I knew you’d be involved if there was a murder.”

  I was trying to think of something suitably cutting and witty to say, when he enveloped me in a large hug. I managed to extricate myself with difficulty. This was worse than I thought. The local police officers had been affected by my spell.

  “Is Thyme with you?” Constable Dawson asked.

  I shook my head. “No. What happened to the victim?”

  I shot a glance at the man slumped over a table in the dim corner, but I didn’t get a good look at him, not that I particularly wanted to do so. I absently wondered why the soundtrack from Life of Brian was playing as background music in the restaurant, and why Dawson was humming along with Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.

  “Poison, I expect,” Tinsdell said cheerfully, slapping Selena on the back. “If your friend murdered him, then she did a good job.”

  Dawson nodded approvingly.

  This was all too much. How did I manage to get myself into these situations?

  “I didn’t murder him,” Selena wailed. “I loved him!”

  “All murderers protest their innocence,” Tinsdell said with a wink. “Don’t worry, what’s the worst that can happen? If you’re convicted and go to prison, it’s not the end of the world. The maximum security women’s prisons are quite nice these days. They have televisions and ice cream. You’ll be out in ten or twenty years or so.”

  Panic rose within me, and I did my best to quell it. At least the officers wouldn’t investigate the case; that would be up to the detectives, thank goodness.

  “So what happened again, Miss Simpson?” Tinsdell asked her. “You said he just started to eat, and then he fell face forward into his food.”

  Selena nodded furiously. “Yes. Nick ordered his meal, and as soon as he started to eat, he fell forward. I thought he’d had a heart attack or had food poisoning, or something.”

  “Did he choke?” Dawson asked her.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said.

  The officers looked at each other. “Poisoned for sure,” Dawson said.

  “How do you know it was poison?” I asked them. “Couldn’t it have been a heart attack?”

  Tinsdell’s face flushed. “I don’t want to upset you with the unseemly details, Amelia. Let’s just say the victim had unpleasant symptoms of poisoning.”

  “We’re taking samples of all this most delicious food in this wonderful restaurant,” Dawson added. “Forensics will soon tell us what sort of poison you used.”

  “It wasn’t me!” Selena snapped.

  “If you say so,” Tinsdell said a placating tone, patting her on the shoulder again. “Do you know anyone else who had a reason to want him dead?”

  “What do you mean else?” Selena said. “I didn’t want him dead. I was in love with him.”

  “If it’s not an imposition,” Tinsdell continued, “could you please tell us everything that happened from the time the gentleman entered the restaurant.”

  Selena sniffled. “We sat down, and ordered our meal.”

  “How did he seem to you?” Dawson asked, scribbling away in his notepad.

  “Just normal, I guess,” Selena said with a shrug. When no one else spoke, she continued. “He ordered food and wine. When it arrived, he drank some of his antacid…”

  I interrupted her. “His what?”

  “His antacid medication,” Selena said. “He has a gastric reflux problem, at least I think that’s what he said it was. He always takes his antacid medication before lunch and dinner, twice a day, religiously.”

  The officers exchanged glances. Tinsdell nodded to Dawson, who checked the victim’s coat pocket with a gloved hand. He turned and nodded.

  “Leave it there for Forensics,” Tinsdell said. “Did anything else noteworthy happen? Anything at all, no matter how insignificant it seems to you?”

  Selena removed the tissue from her eyes. “Just before he, you know, lurched forward, he said his carrots were green. I thought that was strange because carrots are orange, of course.”

  The restaurant manager manifested at my elbow. “How lovely to see you, Amelia. I haven’t seen you lately. Officers, your orders will be ready soon. What table would you like? You could eat here,”—he gestured to the far wall—“to keep an eye on the victim. Amelia and Miss Simpson, you’re welcome to join them. It’s on the house, of course.”

  I thanked him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat at a restaurant where a man had just been fatally poisoned. I shot a look at Selena, who appeared to be thinking the same thing. “That’s very kind of you, but I must take Selena back to her motel. She’s had quite a shock.” I turned to the officers. “Oh, that is, if you’ve finished with her?”

  “Yes, of course,” both men said in unison, beaming at Selena. “Murder is a stressful and tiring business,” Dawson added.

  “Let me get you a bottle of wine,” the manager said to Selena, “to make up for your ruined dinner.”

  As soon as Selena and I were outside the restaurant and safely out of earshot, I turned to her. “They’re all affected by my spell,” I said. “The strong wind carried it all over town.”

  “That explains a lot,” Selena said tearfully, as a gust of wind hit us with full force and she clutched her wine bottle to her chest. “Do you want to come back to my motel room for a drink? It’s just there.” She pointed to a motel adjoining the bank, which in turn, adjoined the restaurant. “I’ve booked for the week. I had no idea you were so good at spells, that it would work so quickly.”

  I grimaced. I didn’t want to go to Selena’s motel, but I had no choice, given that she was upset. As she walked, she staggered, and I cupped my hand under her elbow to steady her.

  “It’s just my bad knee,” she said. “The doctor says I need to lose weight, but what with Nick and all, I’m afraid to say I’ve been comfort eating over the last few months.”

  I sat awkwardly in her motel room for longer than was comfortable, wondering how long I should stay, while she spewed forth venom about Nick’s wife, Clara, insisting she was the one who killed him. I surreptitiously looked at the clock on the brick wall, but that didn’t make time go faster.

  Chapter 4

  I woke up slowly, enjoying my fleeting moment of peace, before I remembered what was happening, and then it evaporated. I groaned, thinking about the spell. I thought that perhaps I’d be lucky and the effects would have worn off by now, but I knew that wasn’t at all likely. Still, it was nice to dream.

  I enjoyed a brief time with Willow and Hawthorn while drinking my c
offee, before driving to the cupcake store. I was relieved to see that the town wasn’t somehow overrun by zombies, as a small part of me worried that the spell would somehow cause more destruction than it had so far. Then again, it was a spell of happiness, so that seemed unlikely.

  My cupcake store was already open by the time I arrived. I opened the door and looked inside to see the shop nearly full to the brim with people. I panicked and checked my phone, only to realize that I was early. Why was the shop open? Perhaps more importantly, why was it so full of customers? I decided that it would be best to help Thyme, who was furiously serving the customers at top speed, and then figure out what was going on later.

  Camino, thankfully in her street clothes, was cheerily making lattés and cappuccinos. I had recently decided to expand my business by serving coffee, iced tea, hot tea, and cakes. The ‘showroom,’ as Thyme always called it, was huge, so I figured using the space would be a good way to grow the business. The idea struck me when Camino mentioned two things upon my recent return from my hellish time on Paradise Island: firstly that she was trained as a barista, and secondly, that she was awfully bored and wanted to return to some form of work.

  I spent the next two hours doing nothing but serving customers as quickly as possible. Everybody was incredibly friendly, and almost all of them were giving me more money than the cupcakes cost, and told me to keep the change. I had to empty the tip jar five times in the space of fifty minutes to keep it from overflowing. I didn’t even have time to consider that my spell had made people like this until somebody mentioned that they wanted to buy cupcakes for all their friends that day, which was probably what everybody else was doing.

  “It’s going so well, Amelia!” Thyme beamed, and I couldn’t help but smile with her. I was already exhausted, but it looked as I would have to serve while Thyme baked more cakes. Thyme and I had been too busy dealing with customers to speak to each other all morning.