Table of Contents
Dedication
Title Page
More Titles
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Thank You!
Presidium Titles Coming Soon
About Auburn
About Amanda
Copyright
Amanda says:
This book is for Auburn.
You're a spoiled wench.
You're crazy as all the hells.
It's why we're friends since I am too. But
I get to be the Queen Captain of both the crazy train
and the rocket it morphs into. And you can suck it.
I love you, Sub-Lieutenant of Madness.
Auburn says:
This book is brought to you by two lunatics and
their insane plans. All of which were instigated by Amanda.
If she is Queen Captain, I am the Emperor of Evil.
Love you too, Freak.
More Titles from Auburn and Amanda
Presidium Titles
Inept Witches
Inconvenient Murder
Moonlight Murder
Bewitched Murder
Prague Murder
Paris Murder
Presidium Murder
Presidium Vignettes Volume 1
Rue Hallows Mystery
Hallow Graves
Haunted Ink Mysteries
Mississippi Street Specter
Auburn’s Other Titles
The Immortals: A Vampire Fairytale
Goodbye Love
Roanoke Vanishing
Maya Vanishing
First Watch
Haunted Ink Mysteries: Mississippi Street Specter
Amanda’s Other Titles
Compelled By Love
Bewildered By Love
These Lying Eyes
Song of Sorrow
The Destruction of Prince Xavier
CHAPTER 1
One True Love
“Ingrid, I think we should do something witchy. You know, like successful and witchy.” The pair of them stood in their bookshop trying to avoid cleaning up after the last encounter with ghosty mcghost.
“Like what? I’m game for whatever. Especially if there is wine and coffee involved. Maybe a massage. Or a hot guy?”
Emily folded her arms across her chest and stomped her feet, “Ingrid. Make up with Gabe already please. No amount of witchiness is gonna replace your make out sessions with the hot sheriff.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes. “I’ll make up with him when I’m good and ready. Pick a spell, Em. I don’t want to talk about Gabe. Or making out. Or hot guys. Geez.”
Emily chewed on her bottom lip and scanned her memory bank. “You brought up hot guys. I’ll punch you in the throat. Okay, how about we try to learn how to do a locator spell?”
Ingrid arched her eyebrows but didn’t bat a lash at Emily’s threat. They were common enough. Suspicion did, however, color every line of her face. Her eyes narrowed as she asked, “What do you want to locate?”
Her tone was doubtful, but her eyes were eager. Ingrid needed a distraction from her Gabe-heartbreak nearly as bad as they needed to exorcise this damn ghost. Emily knew her best friend took every chance to not actually think about the sheriff--the fact that she loved him, that he loved her, and that she was running scared. Sure, Ingrid had a stupid amount of baggage from her first husband. But she needed to recognize that Sheriff Hotpants aka Gabe Tate was not her dead husband, Harrison. Emily rummaged through the dusty shelves until her fingers met the rough leather of the heavy tome that was filled with magic spells. “Here it is.”
She ruffled through the pages, searching for a locator spell. “Here. I found one.”
“Humanas Localus?” Ingrid asked doubtfully. “Locating humans? Is that what that means?”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. Do I look like I speak Latin? I just wanted to do a locator spell because Auntie had to do one for us before.”
“Good point, Em. I was trying to give you a chance to sound smart.”
“I believe I told you I’d punch you in the throat. So, we will just repeat this spell, say three times? Yes, three times. That seems like a good witchy, magical number with mystical powers. Give me a name of a human we want to find.”
“I don’t want to find a human. Humans are useless doves,” Ingrid pointed out. “The only human I care about is at least half-jerk dove. I don’t want anyone else.”
Emily made a mad face. “I’m not a jerk dove.”
“You know who I mean. That stupidly attractive sheriff.”
Emily rolled her eyes dramatically to be certain Ingrid noticed. “You are causing your own problems there, Ingrid. Just make up already and be done with it.”
“I don’t want to talk about my true love. Let’s talk about yours instead.” Ingrid’s eyes lit up making Emily immediately nervous. Before she could comment, Ingrid snatched the leather book from Emily. Ingrid took Emily’s scarf from around her neck then took Emily’s hand in hers and sliced her thumb.
“Ow,” Emily screeched, pulling her hand away. Ingrid ignored Emily and caught the drops of blood with Emily’s scarf.
“My scarf. That’s my favorite scarf. Whatever you are doing had better work.”
Ingrid smiled, winked, and then began chanting the locator spell. “Humanus Localus, help us to locate Emily’s true love.” Emily watched her repeat the nonsense three times while spinning in a circle with one thumb in her ear.
“Um, Ingrid. Why is your thumb in your ear?”
“Well, there is a Latin word in this spell and I can’t tell if it is thumb or ear so I figured I’d incorporate both just to be on the safe side. I mean, some witches get naked to do a spell. What’s a little thumb in the ear?”
“Oh.” There was nothing else to say. And she had a point. The whole naked thing irritated Emily too.
The tail of the ruined scarf lifted, as if by magic, and pointed to the door of the shop. Ingrid giggled.
She must be losing it if she is now giggling, Emily thought. I need to get Gabe to take over this hot mess, stat. She sighed and followed Ingrid, who had already raced out the front door. In strappy sandals, sundress and no coat—despite the rainy fall evening.
The scarf continued to lead the way and they followed it down Main Street. They passed the sheriff’s office where Gabe was just leaving. Emily, and everyone looking noticed Ingrid not so discreetly flip off the hot man who had ticked her off during their last murder investigation. Emily smiled to herself. It was good that Ingrid was still enough of herself to publicly insult the Sheriff of Sage Island.
“Ingrid, what if this scarf is leading us to New York City or Rome? Are we going to walk the whole way? Maybe we should get the car.”
Ingrid flicked her wrist dismissively. “Nah, if it leads us to the ferry then we’ll go back for the car and our passports. I’ll bet you it is going to lead you to deputy dumbass. I just knew he was your future snuggle dovey.”
“Oh, please. I would say he seems like a nice enough guy, but he was dumb enough to fall for Tia Sullivan’s stupidity. I don’t think I can love a man who could be that gullible. Maybe a quick fling, though. One of us should be getting some action and you are clearly too stubborn for it to be you.”
“Ew,” Ingrid said. “You’re a sick, mad dove.”
They approached the entrance to the cemetery and the scarf led them throu
gh the wrought iron gates that were in serious disrepair.
“Isn’t there some sort of cemetery humane society that should keep our cemetery’s nice? Doesn’t this town have any respect for the dead?”
Emily snorted in answer to Ingrid’s question. “Humane Society? Really? Maybe a conservation society? That sounds more appropriate. I’ll look into it. If not, let’s start one. I agree that our cemetery should be the nicest place in town. Someday we’ll be dead and I know that I’d like the resting place for my mortal shell to be badass.”
Ingrid nearly tripped over a broken section of sidewalk. “Your mortal shell? For the love, Emmy, my dove. You need a hobby. You are using nonsense words.”
They wandered through the cemetery, past rows of concrete headstones, many covered with moss. “It’s not nonsense. Look at all this moss. Is this how you want to linger once you kick the bucket? I would think you of all people who doesn’t like the outdoors wouldn’t want to be left out here to grow mold after you die.”
“I’m not going to be buried in a cemetery. I’m going to buy a mausoleum. It will have gilded things and sparkly jewels. My resting place will be posh.”
“Posh? Now who is using nonsense words?”
“Marble floors, like all the uselessly rich. Before you start saying I’m a snob, I have already figured out to be a humanitarian about my burial. I will donate 80% of the mausoleum’s space to the homeless. Seems like the least we can do, right? They may have a crappy life, but they will rest in luxurious peace.”
Emily grunted, watching the scarf lead on and only half way listening to Ingrid’s privileged ways. Not that she completely disagreed with her. Giving the homeless a nice burial would be pretty cool. “Okay, you can bury me there too. Does it make you wonder if maybe the spell we did is leading us to our doom or what not? Also, I am pretty sure they’ll have to import the homeless, I don’t think Sage Island has any.”
Ingrid shrugged. “At least we will be conveniently located in this cemetery. Except I am not being buried outside. I need to call my lawyer ASAP and make those arrangements. If I leave it to you, you’ll just bury me in the deep blue sea.”
Emily laughed, slowing down as the scarf lost it’s shape and drifted down by Ingrid’s side. They had arrived at Emily’s true love's final resting place.
“Ingrid, I won’t be burying you in the deep blue sea. Unless it’s death by drowning. Which I may have to do to you if my one true love is already dead.”
The tombstone they stood in front of was covered in moss and hard to read.
Ingrid started cleaning it off. “Now, listen. I wouldn’t normally want to touch this nasty moss, but I figure it is the least I can do for my best friend’s true love.”
Emily leaned closer to read the writing on the grave. “Elmer Joseph Wallace. Born August 12, 1887. Died October 15, 1975. Uh, well, my true love died last century. And he was born the century before that. So that’s not depressing.”
“Even worse. His name was Elmer. Trust me, you are better off single for life than married to someone named Elmer. Talk about a yuck name. There is no way you could be happy having to wake up and say good morning to Elmer every day of your life. Perhaps it is time you consider joining a convent now that you know you are doomed to a life of loneliness.”
Emily slugged Ingrid in the shoulder. “Shut it, Ingrid. Obviously the spell didn’t work. So surprising. Let’s head back to the shop. I want to research the whole humanitarian cemetery thing. Then I want to get out of town. You promised, remember? We solved Sheldon’s murder. We have earned a vacation. Somewhere that doesn’t involve death, okay?”
"You have no sense of fun, but I am cold." Ingrid turned and led the way out of the cemetery. Mary, their teenage friend, and her stepdad, the Gallery Guy, approached them. How they hunted them up on Main St. just as they stepped through the cemetery gates, Emily didn’t know.
“Ingrid,” Mary called out. “Emily, I had a dream and I need your help.”
•••
Emily insisted on making tea, without magic, for Mary and her stepdad, Gallery Guy. He had an actual name, but Emily couldn't remember what it was. He'd been Gallery Guy since she'd inherited the building and its occupants from her dead aunt. Ingrid raised a brow, but Emily wasn’t bad at making drinks. Ingrid just had a gift. Every once in a while, though, Emily insisted on making them. But, the Earl Grey lattes, laced with vanilla syrup, were pretty good. Everyone knew that you didn’t have to use magic to use an espresso machine.
They could, of course, ask Gallery Guy and Mary what they wanted. Why anyone in their right minds would ask them for help, Emily did not now. Unless they wanted money, but Mary wouldn’t ask for that.
And where was the fun in just asking them what they wanted?
It was far more fun to watch Gallery Guy’s eye twitch, so Emily grilled Mary about the ghost instead. That was what was keeping Emily up at night. She wanted the ghost gone before Prague or Paris or whatever. It needed to be gone so they could look forward to coming home. Only after stupid amounts of shopping, spa visits in the actual Alps, and possibly some sort of European fling.
Just knowing the ghost would be waiting for them irritated her. Her husband, the dickhead, had been murdered in the store. He inconvenienced them first with his corpse and then with the spirit that would not go away. It was worse, for sure, than the ghost of her uncle who’d kept feeling up Ingrid after they inherited his stupid car. That had been easy—goodbye Camaro, goodbye ghost. That was Mary's brilliant idea and it earned her a cozy spot under Emily and Ingrid's sometimes nurturing wings.
This sucked. Stupid dickhead. Stupid, stupid dickhead. She would hit him so hard if he had a body.
“Do you think you know something about our ghost?”
“Not this again,” Gallery Guy snarled.
“Dad!” Mary said.
“Quiet you,” Emily said, shoving a cookie at him.
Ingrid raised a brow and crossed her legs. Emily could see her friend checking out her toes. She just bet Ingrid was going to pull out her camera, and… Yep. She took a covert picture of her toes and Emily well knew who was going to get that picture.
Poor Sheriff Hotpants. He really was totally unprepared for the madness of Ingrid.
Mary spoke up as Ingrid tucked her phone away. “Um… Well, not that much. Except, I’ve seen ghosts before. I think I can sense something with dead people. That’s actually why I came to you.”
“Did you get hit upside the head recently?” Emily leaned forward as she asked, “Or maybe got hit by lightning?”
“Have you always been able to see ghosts?” Ingrid’s phone slide in and out of her fingers as she waited for the reply from Gabe.
Just how long would it take for him—oh, but there it went. Emily decided that she would steal that phone and read everything.
Focus, Em, she thought. Oh, that’s right…ghosts. This kid could see ghosts. It figured. Her hair was black and purple, and it looked normal and right on her. If Emily went black and purple, it would look like her head got bruised. People who looked good in goth colors would obviously be the ones able to see ghosts.
“You’re weird.” It had to be said. “But, what can you sense?”
“I can’t quite explain it. But with your bookshop ghost, I feel like I know what he wants.”
“Which is what?” Emily asked. “What could that cheating piece of dickheadery possibly want from us?”
“Revenge.”
“Oh that’s just great,” Ingrid sniffed. She examined her nails and said, “Well, maybe he should want it.”
“Um, no,” Emily said. “Why would he want revenge? He cheated on me. Not the other way around.”
“Yes, but eventually we’re going to exorcise him.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay. But, what kind of revenge?” Emily asked.
Mary shrugged. “That I don’t know. I just get a feeling from him. Like he is searching for payback. I’m not sure from who.”
Emily and Ingrid
both let out a deep sigh and spoke at the same time. “Dickhead.”
Emily wanted to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell us about your dream. We’ll figure out what my idiot ex wants later.”
Is he your ex though? Because he died before you were divorced, Ingrid pointed out.
Emily didn’t deign to answer.
Mary swallowed and said, black and purple hair swaying, “This dream won’t leave me alone. You have to help me. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Mary, we could go to a professional.” Gallery Guy said, “I can’t see how these two will be able to do…”
“Please, dad.”
“Mary, they’re idiots. Even I know they’re bad at witchcraft.”
“They’re my friends,” Mary snapped.
The two looked at each other and Gallery Guy caved, but it was clear that he wasn’t happy about it.
“Okay,” Ingrid said, “be a good dove, tell us what your dream is about.”
Mary took a deep breath and Gallery Guy rolled his eyes. Emily made a mental note to kick him in the junk for being a dick to his daughter who was so obviously troubled. “What’s so frustrating about it is that I only get little bits. Terrifying bits but not enough to tell really what’s going on. My mom is in the dream. And I think she is trying to tell me something. But I can’t tell what. It seems important.”
Emily nodded and waited for Mary to keep going. “There are trees. Fruit trees, I think. Maybe apples. I don’t know, there isn’t any fruit but some blossoms are on the trees and they smell amazing. I can hear the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. The sun is just rising, but I can still see the moon. And it’s so full. Like day and night at the same time. My mom…I see her face. She seems afraid, but I can’t tell if she is afraid for me or for herself.”
Mary paused and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Ingrid filled it with her gentle questioning, surprising Emily with her sincerity. Not that she didn’t know Ingrid had a soft spot, but lately she was snarky and kind of mean because of the Gabe situation.
“Mary, what happened to your mom?”
Bewitched Murder (Inept Witches 3) Page 1