by Cindy Stark
TWICE HEXED
Teas & Temptations Cozy Mysteries
Book Two
By Cindy Stark
www.cindystark.com
Twice Hexed © 2018 C. Nielsen
Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan
Inspire Creative Services
All rights reserved
License Notes
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This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Welcome to Stonebridge, Massachusetts
Welcome to Stonebridge, a small town in Massachusetts where the label “witch” is just as dangerous now as it was in 1692. From a distance, most would say the folks in Stonebridge are about the friendliest around. But a dark and disturbing history is the backbone that continues to haunt citizens of this quaint town where many have secrets they never intend to reveal.
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Prologue
Stonebridge, Massachusetts 1687
A brisk autumn breeze stirred the dried leaves around Clarabelle and her three friends as they sat in a circle, hidden from view in the deep woods. Their fathers would take a whip to them if they knew what the four fifteen-year-old witches did once they’d slipped from view. But, it was common knowledge that the power of one could be enhanced by like-minded souls if they bonded through magic.
Genevieve with her curly auburn hair glanced at each of them, her expression serious. The power of the forest burned in her bright green eyes. She leaned closer to the center of the circle although no one was around to overhear. “I overheard Mr. Bayley tell my father that his wife’s distant cousin was tried and hanged in England.”
Eliza, the naïve one in the group, gasped. “How horrifying. I had hoped the rumors weren’t true.” Clarabelle had always been jealous of Eliza’s willowy figure, luxurious hair the color of wheat, and blue eyes. But, what Clarabelle lacked in the looks area, the Blessed Mother had made up for in strength and magic.
“Oh, they are true,” Lily said and tossed a long, dark braid over her shoulder. “They want all witches dead. Be aware. If it is happening across the ocean, it will happen here, too.”
Clarabelle narrowed her eyes at Lily’s attempt to frighten Eliza. Out of all of them, Lily tended to thrive on the dramatic. Just last week, Lily had talked of a toad twice the size of her father’s fist. Clarabelle had seen that toad, too, and Lily’s exaggeration was more than extreme.
“Stop,” Clarabelle said. “You don’t need to scare us. We understand. We have to learn stronger magic.”
Genevieve and Eliza agreed with nods of their heads, which sent waves of irritation and anger rolling off Lily. Clarabelle raised the invisible shields she’d created in her mind to protect her from the emotions of others.
Lily narrowed a harsh gaze toward Clarabelle. “Mock me now, and we’ll all pay for it later.”
“I’m not mocking you,” Clarabelle reassured. “In fact, I found my mother’s spell book and memorized a truth-telling spell. Do you want to try it?”
Genevieve and Eliza looked at each other with hesitant gazes as though waiting for the other to react.
Lily nodded in approval. “Let’s do it.”
“Is it a blood spell?” Eliza asked, her voice innocent and sweet. If it hadn’t been for Clarabelle and the other two, Eliza would have led the most boring and safe life ever.
Knowing how some of her friends would react, Clarabelle had specifically chosen one that didn’t require blood, though it tended to lean toward the darker side. “No blood. It’s easy and simple.”
She pulled out a small container of milk, another of vinegar, and a pouch of sugar, ingredients she’d smuggled into her gathering bag before she’d left the house.
Her friends eyed the items. “Is that it?” Genevieve asked.
Clarabelle nodded and met the gazes of her three friends with a confident one of her own. “If we don’t practice, we can’t learn.”
“Let’s draw sticks to see who goes first,” Lily said and quickly gathered four short twigs from the grass behind her. She curled a fist around them, evened the tops so they looked the same, and held them out to Clarabelle.
One by one, they pulled twigs and measured, leaving Eliza with the smallest. Her eyes grew wide with uncertainty.
“Don’t worry,” Clarabelle reassured her. “It can’t hurt you.”
Eliza swallowed and nodded.
Clarabelle explained the ratio of milk, vinegar and sugar as she poured the latter two into the milk container and swirled it. She set the container in the center of the them before taking Eliza’s and Genevieve’s hands. The other two held Lily’s hands, completing the circle.
“Repeat after me. Whether truth be sweet or sour, let it pour from thy mouth this very hour. I call upon the powers that be, bring forth the truth, so mote it be.”
Her friends repeated the words, and the air around Clarabelle vibrated with electricity. She lifted the container and held it out to Eliza.
Eliza hesitated for a moment and then succumbed to their peer pressure. She glanced at each of them and lifted it toward her lips. She sniffed it, met their expectant gazes, and then downed the contents.
They all froze as they waited for the spell to take effect.
“Do you feel any different?” Genevieve asked.
Eliza shook her head. “It tasted funny, but that’s it.”
Lily snorted. “I doubt it worked.”
Clarabelle fought to tame the fire inside. “Maybe we should check before we decide.” She lifted a challenging brow at Lily.
A brief smile touched Genevieve’s lips, and she shifted her gaze to Eliza. “I know. Have you ever held hands with Thomas Williams?”
Touching of any kind with the opposite sex was forbidden by the church until a couple was married. But Clarabelle and her friends knew Thomas had been a long-time admirer of Eliza, and they’d often wondered if Eliza and Thomas had broken the rules.
A vivid blush darkened Eliza’s cheeks, and her eyes grew wide. “Yes,” she said softly, even as anger rippled from her.
Lily shot Clarabelle a grudging look of respect, fueling Clarabelle’s ego. Clarabelle turned to Eliza. “Have you ever let him kiss you?” she asked in a teasing tone.
Desperation joined with Eliza’s anger. “Yes,” she said between gritted teeth, earning her a surprised chuckle from Lily.
“This isn’t funny,” Eliza complained. She got to her knees, but Lily grabbed her arm before she could stand.
“I haven’t had my turn,” Lily said. “Have you ever let Thomas touch you somewhere...private?” she asked sweetly.
Clarabelle flicked her gaze between her two remaining friends. “I think we took that too far.” She’d never wanted to hurt her dear friend.
Lily snorted. “Oh, please. We all must sacrifice if we want to learn. Besides, knowing what I do now, I actually think more of her.”
Clarabelle, too, had been stunned by her declaration. Eliza wasn’t what she seemed. Clarabelle shifted her gaze from Lily to Genevieve and wondered what secrets they might also harbor.
The sound of a gunshot ringing at a close distance brought them all to their feet, and they scattered in different directions.
To be caught gathered in the woods put them all at risk.
One
Current Day
Hazel Hardy hugged her jacket tighter around her as she hurried from her teashop along the cobblestone sidewalk of Main Street, small town Stonebridge, Massachusetts, to the cozy café down the block. The quaint town had enjoyed a very mild March, but as the month drew to a close, it seemed the Blessed Mother had changed her mind.
Ominous metal-gray clouds and a blustery wind warned of the high possibility of drenching rain. The weatherman said it would arrive some time that afternoon, which was why she’d decided to run to Cora’s Café to make her delivery before the worst of the Nor’easter hit.
She neared the café door and caught a glimpse of a small sign tucked against the front window. It stated they proudly served Hazel’s handcrafted teas, and she smiled. Her new partnership with Cora was working out very well. The town had accepted her as one of their own and many had gone out of their way to support her and her budding business.
If they knew the truth, that this same town had once persecuted her ancestral grandmother for being a witch, things would be much different. To this day, many of the prominent families in Stonebridge still feared and despised witches. If they discovered Hazel’s identity, they’d likely run her out of town…or worse.
At least according to the police chief. And she had no reason to believe Chief Peter Parrish would exaggerate or lie.
Hazel gripped the café’s doorknob and pulled, struggling to open the door against the strong winds. When she managed to get inside, the door pushed closed behind her as though warning her to take shelter and not leave until the storm had passed.
A few of the long-time residents sat in the old-fashioned eatery, enjoying the fried ham and scrambled egg special Cora always served on Tuesdays. A touch of cinnamon clung to the coffee-stained air, making her stomach growl.
“You had breakfast,” she mumbled in return.
“Hazel,” Cora called out from behind the counter and tucked a pencil into her blond, messy bun. Her smile was warm and welcoming as always, and it deepened the smile creases in her cheeks. By the time Cora was an old lady, the creases would likely be permanent wrinkles, but she’d be beautiful anyway.
Her friend deserted her spot behind the counter and approached. “You didn’t have to come today. Not with the Witches’ Wrath about to hit.”
Hazel shrugged and pointed at the more-hardy citizens of Stonebridge. “If they’re not worried, I’m not.”
She hadn’t experienced one of the town’s epic storms yet, but she’d read about them in a book on the town’s history that she’d borrowed from the library. Hazel wasn’t sure if she believed what the author had written, but she claimed several of The Named, including Hazel’s grandmother, had created the mother of all storms back in sixteen-ninety-something to punish the town during Ostara, the Spring Equinox.
The crazy storms had been happening this time of year ever since.
“The winds will knock over a few trees.” The middle-aged Dotty Fingleton piped up from her seat in a nearby booth that she shared with her sister, June, and her teenaged daughter, Sophie. The family’s tree had roots growing back to a wealthy ship merchant who helped settle the town. “Then it’ll dump some snow and be done, Cora. Same as always. I doubt it will be a big deal.”
Before Hazel had learned otherwise, she never would have guessed Dotty and June were sisters. Dotty wore her bleached blond hair piled on top of her head giving her a sexy but disheveled look, and she preferred a younger-style of clothing.
June, on the other hand, embraced her age as far as clothing went. She kept her hair dyed red and closely cropped.
Dotty’s daughter, Sophie, was a spitting image of her mother, thirty years younger, and probably just as much sass as her mother had had at that age.
Cora wiggled her pointer finger in contradiction. “Not a big deal? You’re forgetting that one year when we got three feet of snow and it knocked the power out. We couldn’t do anything for five days.”
June nodded in agreement with Cora. “She’s right. We all should be tucked safe in our homes long before two o’clock when they predict the storm will make a direct hit. I know I will be.”
Dotty’s daughter rolled her eyes, obviously used to her mother and aunt arguing.
“Whatever happened to your adventurous spirit?” Dotty asked as she lifted her coffee cup. “You’ve let old age steal it from you like we promised we never would.”
June snorted and waved off her dig. “Oh, go eat worms. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hazel held back her grin, still not used to the old-fashioned, quirky phrases that many of the town’s residents tossed out from time to time. Chief Parrish, the nightly star in her dreams and daily pain in her butt was one of the worst offenders. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but sometimes those silly, odd words found their way straight to her heart.
Hazel lifted the large shopping bag, boasting her teashop’s logo on the front, and set it on the counter. “Four large tins of Majestic Mint and another two of spiced chai.”
Cora’s eyes widened in excitement. “I hope this isn’t eating into the customers who come into your store for tea and a chat.”
Hazel shrugged and sent her a warm smile. “Not at all. Besides, as long as they’re drinking my tea, I don’t care where they’re getting it.”
“Spoken like a true businesswoman.” Cora slipped around the side of the counter and tucked the tins below it. When she straightened, she had a small brown bakery box in her hands. “I’ve had another idea, too.”
The contents of the box piqued her interest. “What do you have there?”
“Cookies,” Cora said with enthusiasm shining in her eyes. “I wondered if you’d place these complimentary cookies in your shop. I had a few of these business cards printed that you could sit next to them. I hope to attract more of the summer visitors.”
Hazel glanced at the cards that stated if they visited Cora’s Café and presented the card, they could get another free one to take home for later, plus ten-percent off their café bill.
“That’s so smart. One taste of your chocolate chip or snickerdoodle cookies, and you know they’ll be in here begging for at least a dozen more. They’ll probably stay for lunch or dinner, too.”
Cora beamed. “That’s what I’m hoping. I really need to cash in on the tourist season to keep my bottom line out of the red. Last year’s sales weren’t so great.”
“Really?” She’d be so sad if Cora went out of business because she couldn’t make ends meet, and she vowed to eat there more often.
The sound of a loud crash coming from outside snatched their attention.
June stood so she could see out the window. “There goes Elmer’s sign, tumbling down the street.”
Hazel’s anxiety kicked up a notch. “Hope that doesn’t happen to my store.”
“Me, too. But at this point, all we can do is hope for the best and ride out the storm.” She gave Hazel a carefree shrug. “Besides, Elmer’s sign was barely hanging up as it was.”
True. As soon as she left the café, she’d ask the Blessed Mother to protect them all.
With her worries slightly eased, another idea popped into Hazel’s mind. “What if y
ou bake cookies and brownies for me to sell in my shop? We can still do the complimentary cookie, but this way might catch those who don’t intend to stay long enough to eat. Also, it will allow me to live up to the temptation part of Hazel’s Teas and Temptations. Packaged cookies don’t create frenzied desire like your cherry macaroons.”
She ought to know. She’d eaten enough of them over the past few months.
Cora drew her brows together in thought as though she was working out the logistics of it. “I think that might actually work…”
Then Cora’s face brightened. “Thanks, Hazel. You’re the best. Have I mentioned that I’m super glad you moved here?”
“Only a thousand times, but I don’t mind. I’m glad to be here, too.”
She would continue to be happy as long as no one in town learned of the witch blood flowing through her veins. If they believed Hazel was what they termed a normal person, they’d be quite content to let her stay.
She shuddered to think of what might happen if anyone found out otherwise.
“So…” Cora said, dragging out the word. “How’s Peter?”
Two
Hazel wanted to groan in frustration, but that might encourage Cora’s interest in her so-called love life. Instead, she pasted an innocent look on her face and leaned against the café’s counter. “Chief Parrish? I don’t know. Did something happen to him?”
“No.” Cora’s gaze turned sly. “I heard you two were dating.”
She snorted. “Uh, that would be a negative. We are definitely not dating.”
Not that she hadn’t dreamt of it, but dating the town’s chief who despised witches could only end in disaster. She’d caved to her emotions and held his hand one time, and now, she couldn’t forget the feel of him. Dating would only make that worse.