“Well damn it,” Hazel said, setting down the phone after looking the photo over.
They looked at her expectantly. That had been too emphatic to be anything but a realization of something.
“The bones bear the mark of a necromancer. She was killed by death magic.”
Ingrid, Emily, and Gabe stared at Hazel blankly.
“All witches,” Hazel sighed. “Are born. Normal people like Gabe could learn to use magic, but they are never as talented. Witches like Emily and Ingrid could be powerful since they’re born to it.”
Ingrid and Emily bumped fists.
“Of course,” Hazel said after shooting them a mocking glance, “They’d have to study and use their abilities and not embrace their status as the worst witches this island has ever seen.”
“Rude,” Ingrid and Emily said in unison.
Gabe cleared his throat and carefully didn’t look at anyone.
“And,” Hazel continued as if they hadn’t spoken, “They could learn to use death magic, but that skill wasn’t born to them.”
“What?” Emily interrupted, “Are you talking about?”
Hazel sighed and her eye twitched a little. Ingrid assumed that meant they should know what the heck Hazel was going on and on about. Especially as her eyelid continued to flutter—just a little.
With a deeper sigh, Hazel lectured, “Magic runs through everyone. Humans, witches, necromancers, shifters. We all have it. We can all learn different types of it. Some of us have born talents, and we can be better at that type of magic. Ingrid could learn to shift, technically. But she’d never be as good and fast as a born shifter. Emily could learn death magic, but she’d never be as good, as fast, or as powerful as a born necromancer could be.”
“Okay,” Gabe said, nodding like he got it.
Ingrid looked at Emily, who shrugged. Just talking about this was making Ingrid’s head hurt. She just didn’t care.
Except for the murder part of it. That sucked.
“Necromancers are special. They can do regular magic. But they can also do death magic. The person who killed Jill Martin used strong enough death magic that you can be nearly certain that the magic user was a necromancer. Thankfully for the coven, those on the island who can practice necromancy are very limited.”
“Ooooh,” Ingrid adjusted her seat as Emily demanded, “Who can do it? Death magic sounds perfectly violent enough that I might want to learn how to do that kind of magic.”
Hazel shook her head, tossing Emily a dirty look, as she said, “I, really all the elders of the coven, don’t care for the necromancy craft. However, it isn’t any more inherently evil than other magics.”
“Will you tell me who?” Gabe asked. He knew that Hazel might say no, and he was hiding whatever he was thinking. A part of Ingrid wanted to give him a thumb’s up as if to say, “Good job buddy. Your cop face is spot on.”
Ingrid glanced at Hazel wondering if they could trust her. Gabe didn’t entirely and that made Ingrid wonder. But no, Ingrid thought, Hazel was a fountain of integrity. She wouldn’t hide a murderer even if it were Emily. Though if Hazel thought the murder were justified, she’d probably help somehow. But she wouldn’t pretend to help and then lie.
“Mary, of course,” Hazel said, holding up a finger with each name, she held up another digit. “And her mother.”
“Wait, what?” Ingrid and Emily asked.
“Mary can see Owen in your bookstore. Of course, she’s a necromancer.” Hazel’s withering scorn should have bothered them. But they were just so used to it. Plus they knew they could be dense as light posts.
“Autumn. Her daughters.”
“It was Autumn,” Ingrid and Emily said together.
“She killed Mary’s Mom,” Ingrid said fervently. "She's a foul cold dove, and she needs to go to jail, though all other prisoners will need to be released for their safety."
“Let’s arrest Autumn,” Emily added, turning to Gabe. “Throw the book at her. Please.”
“Pretty please,” Ingrid added, nodding frantically.
“Ingrid will sleep with you again if you do. I promise. It'll be the sexiest thing she has ever seen.”
“This is serious,” Hazel scowled at them. “And I’m sure Autumn didn’t do it.”
“We are serious,” the friends replied in unison. Man, Ingrid thought, the coven would be so much better without Autumn. Ingrid might even learn a new spell or two just to show Hazel the level of gratitude for getting rid of Autumn.
Hazel sighed and then said, “Cleo and Toni both have the ability. But I’ve known them their entire lives, and they’ve never pursued the craft.”
“Would you know if they had?” Gabe asked as he made notes.
“Probably,” Hazel replied. “I have a pretty good handle on what everyone in the coven is researching and trying. I couldn’t tell you the details, but when a person is learning to speak to birds, they don’t have the time to raise the dead.”
Ingrid blinked.
Emily froze.
“Raise the dead?” Gabe asked, looking up from his notes.
“Anyone else hearing the opening notes from Dawn of the Dead in their head?” Emily asked. “Maybe there are zombies running loose on Sage Island. I could so get behind zombie hunting.”
Ingrid nodded and then said, “Anything is possible on this island. Have you noticed how it seems like this quaint little town came straight out of a Stephen King novel? We should rename it Horror Island. I’ll go to change.org and start a petition. In the meantime, I’m bulk ordering machetes, axes, and just so much ammo.”
Ingrid rose to make coffee. Discussions about raising the dead meant more caffeine. And booze. Definitely booze. This was just all too much. She needed a nap. And a new bed. She must remember to order a new bed when she ordered the weapons and a stockpile of food.
“Mary’s grandparents are on and off the island a lot,” Hazel said. Her ability to ignore Ingrid and Emily was irritating to say the least and Hazel hadn’t reacted at all.
Ingrid was kind of terrified and Hazel wasn’t helping at all. She just kept going on and on. I mean. Did she want to know who could raise the dead?
Hazel didn't seem to notice Ingrid's impending panic attack. “They’re certainly Necromancers. Pretty well-known ones. Powerful ones.”
“Their names, please?” Gabe typed the names into his phone.
“You need help,” Hazel told him. “This is all about magic.”
He nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”
“I could call in some people to help you. Professionals,” Hazel said.
“No,” Gabe said a little too quickly. “I’m not having anyone else poking into murders around here. I don’t need any more professional witches. I can work this with a little local assistance.”
“I’m not investigating a murder with you,” Hazel told him, bluntly. “I have no desire to do so. If you haven’t noticed, I have a coven of misfit witches who need to be reined in.”
“Surely someone--,” Gabe started, but Hazel cut him off.
“Ingrid could help you.”
“What?” Ingrid’s shock rolled through her whole body.
“Ingrid’s terrible at magic,” Emily said, squinting at her aunt as if to see if she’d been possessed. Not that Emily would be able to tell of course. Ingrid wasn't even sure if it was possible. Was possession a thing like shifters? Or a thing like the moon being made of cheese? She really wasn't sure what was fiction and what wasn't given that she was a witch.
Technically speaking.
“Even Ingrid could tell if someone was using magic on you,” Hazel told Gabe. “Probably.”
Ingrid thought it over and then shrugged. Maybe. If she were focused. And not drinking.
“Are you trying to make them makeup?” Emily leaned forward to look closer at her aunt’s face. “Are you match-making?”
“I can’t involve Ingrid in another investigation,” Gabe protested as if he hadn’t told Ingrid he needed her.
>
Stupid Ingrid, she thought, he had probably meant for this conversation right here and that was it. She sighed as the truth settled over her. He didn’t really need her help or trust her that far. She couldn’t blame him.
“Killers kill people,” Gabe said. “It would be dangerous. I am not putting her in danger.”
Oh yeah, Ingrid remembered, feeling a little better. Yeah. She didn’t want to actually face another murderer. Two was more than enough for any witch.
Or woman.
Or person, really. It was more than enough for everyone. Ever.
“Well I doubt any of my other witches will help you,” Hazel said, “And you’ll need it. None of them would even consider helping you when you’ve been sleeping with that one. They’ll be like children whining, “Why can’t Ingrid do it?” And let’s be straightforward here Gabe. Ingrid is the only one, other than Emily, who doesn’t actually have anything else to do.”
“Hey,” Ingrid protested. “I could totally have responsibilities or plans or something. You doves don’t know everything about me.”
Hazel and Gabe didn’t even glance Ingrid’s way.
“I thought you were trying to win her back,” Hazel added.
Gabe cleared his throat.
“He doesn’t want to drag Ingrid around with him and piss her off while he’s copping,” Emily said. “Responsible-Gabe isn’t sure Lover-Gabe will be able to recover from boring Ingrid to death or infuriating her again. Especially when she’s being all delicate and wounded over Harrison. Man, that Harrison is like a bad rash that just won’t go away. Dead and still cropping up ruining everything.”
“Hey,” Ingrid protested.
“You need time with her,” Hazel counseled, touching Gabe’s hand and squeezing it.
“She is right here,” Ingrid said.
“To win her trust. She needs to know that you can both love her and respect her and also be frustrated that she’s sometimes without the sense of a 3-year-old. That even with her utter lack of responsibility and your surety that she will never change and become even remotely responsible, you will always love and want her.”
Ingrid cleared her throat. Mean. This was mean.
Hazel poured Gabe more of the coffee Ingrid had made, still pontificating on Ingrid’s trust issues.
“Gabe, she needs to be able to see that she has so many wonderful qualities.”
Okay, now Ingrid’s eyes were starting to burn.
“She is lovely and kind.”
Gabe nodded.
But Hazel carried on, “Ingrid doesn’t play games and she is loyal to a fault.”
Gabe nodded again.
“And because of those things, you can’t help but adore her.”
“Standing in front of you,” Ingrid added, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the way they were shattering all of her insides.
“Plus,” Emily said, helping Ingrid snap herself back together. “She’s needy for you. Enough time around all that testosterone and manliness and she’ll probably just jump you.”
“Okay,” Gabe said, “Let’s do it.”
Ingrid rose majestically and said, “I might have other plans and responsibilities. I might be unavailable to cavort around on a murder investigation.”
The three of them laughed at her.
Holy holy, Ingrid thought, they were all jerk doves.
•••
“Let’s go,” Gabe said. He was carrying a sandwich that Hazel had made and seemed to have no idea that Ingrid was irritated.
“Well isn’t that commanding,” Emily said with a smirk as she knew full well what was going through Ingrid’s head. “All manly and in charge.”
Ingrid simply raised a brow at him. The jerk.
“Please,” he added, taking a large bite of the sandwich.
He might look pretty, she thought, but that didn't make her easy. She was a grown woman. With possibilities. Or responsibilities. Or something. She was the captain of her fate.
The maker of her decisions. The...
“Somehow,” Ingrid said, “I don’t feel…”
Emily flopped onto the couch and pointed her toes at the ceiling stretching her legs casually. Even as she poked the argument, “As if he’s taking you seriously? He’s taking you as seriously as a 3-year-old wielding a butter knife.”
“Exactly,” Ingrid said, leaning back and crossing her legs. “People need to stop comparing me to a three-year-old. Especially people who want to get into my pants.”
“You guys realize there’s a murderer afoot right?” Gabe took another bite of the sandwich glancing back and forth between the two friends.
Ingrid did like it when he was unflustered by their ways. And the way the light seemed to caress the angles of his face. And the glint in his eyes that told her that he was thinking about her.
“Did you just say afoot?” Emily lifted a pillow from Hazel’s couch and tossed it at Gabe’s head—using her magic.
“A murderer, killing people,” he said, sidestepping while eating another bite of the sandwich.
“Please,” Ingrid said. “Jill Martin has been dead for like five years. Probably more. I mean…surely this is already a cold case? Hand it over to someone else and have another coffee. Don’t they have clubs of…amateurs that work on cold cases?”
“Only on TV,” Gabe sighed.
Ingrid grinned at him, raising her eyebrow again simply because she knew it got under his skin. She rotated her foot, flashing him her toes. Somehow the first text she’d sent him of her toes had become a thing between them. But she wasn’t thinking about them. And maybe there wasn’t a them. If she and Emily carried on with this, they’d give both Hazel and Gabe an eye twitch today.
“Seems to me,” Emily added, “the only reason to work this case is to get to Prague sooner. We have plans for European men.”
Gabe shifted and then crossed the living room to sit next to Ingrid.
“European men are greasy,” he said.
“Only in the movies,” Ingrid replied. “Stereotypes are juvenile and rude.”
“Except when they’re complimentary,“ Emily said. “European men are suave and handsome and cultured and better than small island men.”
“I thought you guys cared about Mary,” Gabe tried.
Ingrid and Emily made faces at each other.
“We do,” they said.
“Then we need to get her dad out of jail before I have to book him on murder charges.”
“Jerk,” Ingrid said. She wasn't sure if she was referring to Gabe or Gallery Guy. Possibly both.
Yeah, both.
“We could solve another one together,” Emily said. Ingrid knew she was just tormenting Gabe. They could. Probably. They’d figured out two other murders. What was one more?
“Gabe needs our help,” Ingrid replied. “He’s a babe in the woods and there is magic afoot.”
“You’re afoot,” Emily replied.
“You’re a hooker,” Ingrid snapped back.
“You’re both perfect and wonderful,” Gabe said without any sincerity. “Please?”
“He did say please,” Ingrid told Emily.
“And he wants you back,” Emily said. “You can think on it while he’s dragging you around not letting you truth serum people.”
“Man,” Ingrid said, eyes widening. “He will totally take all the fun out of investigating.”
“No breaking into people’s house,” Emily said.
“You’re going to get arrested for real if you keep that up,” Gabe said, seriously. Shifting. “Even if I don’t do it. Kevin would. And we have 3 more cops on this island.”
“Ooooh,” Emily replied. “Maybe he'll send that chubby Officer Griffith to chase you down. Gabe has put his sheriff pants on. You better get moving or he’ll cuff you.”
Ingrid smirked.
“Hooker,” Emily gasped. “No one wants to know about your naughty times.”
Gabe cleared his throat and Ingrid rose.
“Don
’t crash the Land Rover. It makes me happy with it’s not-haunted ways.”
“I thought I’d just take it to the graveyard and invite the spirits to possess it. Or maybe take it on a drive through the woods and look for dead body cooties,” Emily replied, rolling her eyes.
Ingrid opened her mouth to tell Emily all of the things, but Gabe took her arm and tugged her behind.
“You’re in trouble now,” Emily mouthed.
Ingrid mouthed back something that sounded like witch.
CHAPTER 4
A Deadly Reading
“Emily, before you go, I’d like a word.”
Emily eyed the Land Rover, wondering if she could make a break for it before Hazel got her hooks in. Then she remembered her aunt was a badass witch who was only moments ago talking about raising people from the dead.
“Yeah, I’d like a word also. About this raising peeps from dead…I think I’d like to hear just a bit more about that if you don’t mind.” Emily arched her eyebrow accusingly, not actually in the mood to ask nicely. Raising the dead, I mean, come on. This was getting to be ridiculous. It was like the Walking Dead around here.
“Necromancy is not exactly evil, Emily, but there are some things you should know. I saw that gleam in your eye when I said anyone can learn to raise someone from the dead.”
“While I recognize that I don’t take magic very seriously, I don’t really like being in the dark about things like dead people coming to life. Feels like maybe someone should have mentioned that?”
Hazel rolled her eyes and spoke sternly. “Someone did. Many times. You just weren't listening.”
Emily shrugged, letting the irritation pass. It was sort of her own fault that she didn’t know more. But if there was going to be zombies cruising around the streets of Sage Island, it might be time to take magic more seriously. Just a little, though. She didn’t want to commit to anything she couldn’t take back. “I suppose that’s fair, Auntie. What did you want to talk about?”
“I would support your interest in any kind of magic, but necromancy seems—dangerous for you. Let me read your future in the cards. There is something not quite right about your aura and I'm certain your aura has something to do with the mischief in your eyes.”
Bewitched Murder (Inept Witches 3) Page 4