Here Comes the Witch (A Paranormal Witch Cozy Mystery): (Main Street Witches #1)

by Ani Gonzalez

  She looked up as a familiar guitar refrain broke the silence. What was this song? She couldn't quite remember the band, but the title was on the tip of her tongue. She groaned as Caine started singing "Bad Moon Rising" in his characteristic baritone.

  She unrolled the fortune and read. Confucius Says, What You Don't Know CAN Hurt You.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "DID YOU know that the urgent care clinic put its phone number in all of the fortune cookies?" Kat asked Liam as she got into his truck. "It's printed on the back in bright red ink."

  He checked to make sure she put on her seat belt, then steered the truck out of the parking lot. The stupid wedding reception was over—at least for them—and he was eager to get to the house. "I'm not surprised. Their new safety awareness campaign is very aggressive. They're trying to keep the casualties down."

  He immediately regretted his choice of words. The last thing he wanted was to remind her that what they were doing was actually kind of dangerous.

  "I mean accidents," he clarified. "Work-related, inevitable, run-of-the-mill accidents. You know, happenstance-type stuff."

  Like ginormous light fixtures crashing down despite multiple supports and reinforcements. That kind of thing.

  His response made her laugh. It was a disturbingly appealing sound.

  "That's what I thought," she said. "People have gone out of their way to let me know that there have been no unnatural deaths in Banshee Creek for a long time." She grinned. "You mentioned it first. Then Amy backed you up. Caine even showed me a spreadsheet on his phone."

  Good. He owed the PRoVE generalissimo for that, even if paying it back would be a pain. It would probably involve installing a fake gargoyle on the PRoVE building's roof or something along those lines. The PRoVE jobs were always a pain.

  "So actual death seems unlikely," she concluded with another carelessly seductive laugh. "That leaves maiming, insanity, and dismemberment as the remaining risks, right?"

  Yeah, those. And a bride who was too attractive for her own good. That should be added to the list. One year living with a ghost, or a curse, or whatever it was that called the Hagen House home seemed easy next to the prospect of spending a single platonic night under the same roof as Katalina Ramos.

  What the hell had he gotten into?

  Kat's eyes sparkled. "I guess I can always take your sister up on her offer. She's a librarian. I bet her place is a lot more peaceful than the Hagen House, not to mention safer."

  "You'd lose that bet," he replied. "Ben, her four-year-old has a severe Lego addiction. Thanks to his creations, Holly's house is a hazard to life and limb."

  He wondered whether he should explain to her Holly's family situation, but decided against it. The fact that no one knew who Ben's father was wasn't Kat's business. His new bride wasn't, strictly speaking, family.

  "There's my car." Kat grabbed his shoulder and pointed at a small Japanese hatchback. He stopped the truck, ignored the tempting pressure on his flesh, and looked out. Her car was bright yellow and it had a New York license plate that read "4EVA BX." It was pretty old, but it was one of those subcompacts that, with a bit of care, could run forever.

  And for some reason, he was sure Kat was fanatical about car maintenance. The hatchback looked like a well-loved vehicle that had received a lot of tender loving care. He would have expected her to be more fastidious about cleanliness, though. The car was covered in dust streaks and mud. It was so dirty that tourists crowded around it, taking pictures...

  His thought trailed off as he realized that Kat was staring at her vehicle in horrified disbelief.

  "That witch," she exclaimed. "What did she do to my car?"

  She opened the passenger side door and leaped out, a mother hen scurrying after her errant chick.

  That's when he realized that the stuff covering the car wasn't dust. It was salt and some kind of grayish ash. The ashy streaks looked like letters or runes... He cursed under his breath as he realized that they were magical symbols.

  He quickly found a parking spot, hurriedly wedging the F-150 between a motorcycle with PRoVE decals and a Jeep Wrangler with a bumper sticker that read "I Brake For Sasquatch." Mission accomplished, he got out and sprinted to Kat's car.

  The crowd around her car had grown. A group of teenage goths were taking selfies and a tall guy dressed in a Hawaiian shirt was pointing at the vehicle.

  "It was gnarly," the man drawled. "She took out a bucket filled with a salt mixture and brushed it over the car. Then she walked around it, burning some sage and stuff."

  Kat glared at him. "Did she open it?"

  Hawaiian Shirt Guy looked offended. "Of course not. It wasn't her car."

  Kat's hands clenched. She really cared about her citrus monstrosity of a car. He felt a sudden urge to wrap her in a tight embrace and reassure her that her baby would be okay.

  But that was silly. Wasn't it?

  Hawaiian Shirt Guy scratched his head. "She must have been really worried about it. She brushed the sage over the salt. Man, that's like belt and suspenders type stuff. I wonder whose car it is."

  "It's mine," Kat said, through clenched teeth.

  "Whoa." Hawaiian Shirt Guy stepped back. "You'd better watch out, then. That's a really strong protection spell. Yolanda doesn't mess around."

  "I don't need a spell," Kat muttered. "My car is fine. Was fine."

  The guy shrugged. "Well, it can't hurt. She gave me this." He pulled out a pukka necklace with blue beads and a plastic mermaid pendant. "And I've won five surfing competitions wearing it. I don't even get swimmers' ear anymore. She's fantastic."

  Kat, however, didn't look like someone who thought this was "fantastic." She looked very much like someone contemplating violent vengeance.

  Welcome to Banshee Creek, Ms. Ramos. No, wait, Mrs. Hagen.

  "Where is she?" Kat hissed, turning toward the innocent-looking botánica.

  Liam put his arm around her. It was time to intervene. A confrontation with Yolanda wouldn't do them any good. Quite the opposite, in fact. Crossing Yolanda was unlucky. Your house may be overrun by frogs or you may develop a violent allergy to French toast. "Hold on. Let's talk this through."

  Kat turned to him, dark eyes flashing. "I don't need to talk this through," she hissed. "I need to have a little chat with the Wicked Witch of Northern Virginia."

  "She's not—"

  "She's meditating," Hawaiian Shirt Guy explained. "She always does that after lunch."

  Well, that was less than helpful. Rumor was that Yolanda's afternoon breaks were more like siestas than meditations.

  "Meditating?" Kat muttered. "I can't believe it."

  Hawaiian Shirt Guy ignored that. "We're going to the Chinese place to wait her out. You should come. Apparently there's a huge party going on. Some weirdos got married to break a curse or something."

  Weirdos? Great. Just great.

  "Thanks," Liam replied, still holding on to Kat's arm. "But we already ate. You folks have fun."

  With that the crowd slowly dispersed. Liam let go of Kat and took a breath.

  "I'm going to kill her," she muttered, glaring at the botánica entrance. "My car doesn't need a protection spell."

  Well, at least she wasn't bothered about the "weirdos" comment. He wasn't sure he agreed with her about the spell. The Hagen curse hadn't affected people in a long time, but property damage was another story. His eye-popping insurance bills could attest to that.

  "It can't hurt." He examined the vehicle. "And it seems to be just dust and salt. We can probably rinse it off."

  She arched a brow. "Without turning into brain-eating zombies or werewolves or something like that?"

  They stared at the car.

  "I don't think Yolanda would do anything harmful ... that could be easily traced back to her. Fire and Rescue would probably disapprove."

  She stepped forward and ran her fingers over the metal slowly. He tried not to picture those fingers grazing his skin.

  He did not succeed.


  But, sure enough, the powdery substance came off on her hand. She blew hard on the metal surface and the dust floated away.

  He cleared his throat. Carnal images popping into his head. "See? You can just wash the car."

  Kat snorted as she straightened. "Yeah, but maybe not until the next full moon. And then I'll probably have to scrub it down with holy water and a newt's tail or something similar."

  Was that a joke? A small one maybe? At least she didn't seem to be so angry anymore. "Forget the newt's tail. Yolanda belongs to PETA. She's rabid about animal rights."

  A smile tugged at Kat's lips. "Are you kidding? I thought the santeros were into animal sacrifices."

  "Not this one," he replied, relieved. "Although I think one of her vegan cupcakes almost killed Rusty. She's a terrible cook."

  Kat's smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "I bet Caine loved that."

  "He didn't. Caine loves that owl more than life itself."

  "That must have been epic then."

  He decided it was best to warn her. "Nope. No one fights with Yolanda. Even disagreeing with her is not wise."

  Kat fished her keys out of her purse. "What is she going to do? Send flying monkeys after me?"

  "No. It's not like that. Things just happen."

  He didn't know exactly how it functioned. It wasn't fireworks and disappearing bunnies, just things that happened. Mysteriously. Unaccountably.

  "The thing is, it works," he finished lamely.

  Kat rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She straightened and nodded toward her vehicle. "Hopefully nothing happened to my car and it still runs." She grinned. "Let's go see the famously cursed Hagen House. I'll follow you."

  He watched her climb onto her vehicle, then returned to his truck, remembering Walter's ill-fated Ford Ranger. He made a note to call Rafe at Virginia Vintage Motors. Yolanda seemed to fear that something would happen to Kat's car. It would be best to be prepared. A quick maintenance check wouldn't do any harm.

  Kat was wrong. Yolanda was not to be trifled with.

  And neither was the Hagen House.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE DREADED Hagen House was not what she expected.

  Kat stopped the car in front of it and stared. The pictures she'd seen of the house had all been from before the renovation when it was basically falling apart. She'd pictured the house as a stereotypical Scooby Doo haunted mansion, with dark gray siding, peeling paint, and cobwebs.

  Cobwebs everywhere.

  This stately center-hall Colonial with painted white brick and shiny black shutters was not where she'd expected to live. The portico, framed by fluted columns, was elegant but also inviting, with brass Williamsburg lanterns and symmetrical sidelights. The front door even had a brass pineapple knocker.

  Nothing about this house was creepy or scary. It resembled a movie set. You could stage an upscale wedding here, like in Father of the Bride, or even a Christmas party.

  Yes, Kat could easily picture the house all decked out for Christmas with a huge wreath on the door and the columns draped in cheerful greenery. There would be a snowman in the front yard with a top hat and carrot nose, and you'd be able to peek through the windows and see the lighted tree in the living room and the stockings hanging from the fireplace mantel.

  It didn't look like a haunted house. And it most definitely did not look like a cursed house.

  She pressed the accelerator and followed Liam's truck into the carport on the side. This would be the informal entrance to the house.

  The family entrance.

  She parked, picked up her purse and wedding bouquet, and got out of the car. Geez, the drive was paved with expensive cobblestone. That must have cost the earth.

  She heard the truck door slam and then Liam was by her side.

  "Your bags?" he asked, leaning closely and wrapping his arm around her. She was again keenly aware of his towering height and muscled body. The feel of his arm around her waist made her shiver.

  She instantly tensed. Shivers were bad.

  Liam seemed confused by her hesitation. "Are they in the trunk?"

  She eyed the bright red door that led into the house warily. "We can get the bags later. I'd like to see the house."

  "You look nervous. Are you plotting a grand escape?"

  "Of course not," she said, trying to sound sincere. "The place looks lovely."

  But a quick getaway was surprisingly tempting. The beautiful house had thrown her off-kilter. She'd been prepared for something, well, spooky. This upscale abode made her nervous.

  She followed him up the steps. "You did a fabulous job fixing it."

  "Thanks," he said as he opened the door. "The back was actually the hardest part." He paused, as if thinking. "Well, other than the gravity-challenged chandelier. That thing took forever."

  She walked into a large mudroom with a slate tile floor and bead board paneling. The wall had hooks for coats and cubbies for hats and gloves. She could picture children coming in, taking off their snow boots and hanging their backpacks on the pegs before running to the kitchen for hot cocoa.

  It was, all things considered, an incongruous image.

  "So this is new?" she asked as they passed a luxurious laundry room and a large pantry. She tried not to picture the grievous implications of a haunted washing machine. She made a note to check if there was a laundromat in town, preferably one without a murderous poltergeist.

  "Yes. This area was the servants' quarters. We tore it all down and put in new supports for the master bath addition. That was tricky."

  "I bet." Surprisingly, the pantry was not empty. A couple of boxes sat on a shelf. She reached up and took one. The label read "Banshee Creek Bakery's Devilishly Good Hot Cocoa Mix. So Good It's Positively Sinful."

  Apparently the house stager had also pictured red-cheeked children coming into the house to warm up.

  She put the mix back on the shelf and followed Liam into the kitchen. Well, kitchen wasn't the right word. The room was a food preparation palace with a gleaming double Viking stove the size of a Buick. The custom cabinets were white, the countertops were gray-veined marble, and the appliances were all stainless steel. The center island was the size of her Bronx apartment and a pair of huge glass pendant lights hung over it. The kitchen area opened into an enormous family room with a huge slipcovered sectional and a towering fireplace covered in quarried stone.

  Holy crap. It looked like a monochrome Julia Child version of Versailles.

  "It was a tricky expansion," Liam said, modestly. "But we got it done."

  "If I cross this room, do I end up in West Virginia?" she asked, trying to catch her bearings.

  She was exaggerating, but not by much. The room was big but still inviting, with fluffy pillows in gray and white, a gray Persian-style carpet and black and white photographs on the walls.

  Gray seemed to be the color theme for the Hagen House. Sure, it looked a bit impersonal—like a Pottery Barn catalogue—but it was still insanely impressive. She'd been expecting Better Homes and Hauntings, but this was Architectural Ghostly Digest

  Liam grabbed a crystal vase, took some fake greenery out of it and walked to the sink. "Here you go." He filled the vase with water. "You can put your flowers in this."

  She handed him the bouquet and watched as he undid the ribbons and placed the flowers in water. It was a surreal scene. Her fake groom putting her fake wedding bouquet in water in their new abode. The fact that the bouquet had pentagrams hanging off it didn't help.

  At least the water was real. Right?

  He finished with the flowers and turned, catching her examining the furniture. "We had the place staged for sale. That's why it looks so neutral."

  Geez, he was apologizing for the luxury couch? Sure, it was the color of a mangy pigeon, but it appeared extremely comfortable. "It's gorgeous. Can we keep it?"

  He nodded. "The furniture is rented on a quarterly basis. Once we sell the house we can send it back."

  Something very
much like a pang of regret hit her. The thought of selling the house was suddenly unwelcome.

  She shook it off. That was ridiculous. This wasn't even her house. It was Liam's and it was haunted, for crying out loud. She was here as a business arrangement.

  A hopefully very profitable business arrangement.

  "It's also insured," Liam continued. "In case of, you know, damage."

  "There's such a thing as poltergeist insurance?"

  "In this town there is." He grinned. "Do you want to see the original house?"

  She grinned. "Lead on, MacDuff."

  His brows raised in surprise. "All things considered. I think that's a very unfortunate quote."

  She laughed and followed him out of the kitchen. "'Damned be he who first cries...' Crap, I forgot the rest of the line. Anyway, let's go meet the enemy."

  They crossed a paneled dining room with intricate moldings. Yes, this was definitely the older part of the house. It was a lot more formal. Liam had lightened it up with new windows and the decorator had added a silvery coat of paint, but the room was still colder and darker than the family room.

  They crossed into the foyer, and she peered at the black and white marble floor.

  No sign of bloodstains.

  No sign of anything except furniture polish and potpourri, in fact. The room, with its sparkling floors and polished wood staircase, looked pristine. The chandelier was indeed massive, its many crystals sparkling in the afternoon glow. It was, she had to admit, a spectacular entry.

  Liam, however, did not seem impressed. He was staring at the wooden entry door, a concerned look on his face.

  "Did the ghost knock?" she asked, trying to figure out what was wrong.

  He looked up. "Oh, no. It's just, um, we may have skipped a step."

  "We skipped lots of them. We still have to see the living room and the upstairs."

  He shook his head. "No, not that kind of step. One of the wedding rituals."

  What? She hadn't realized there was a checklist for this marriage. They'd gotten the licenses and gone before the judge. Wasn't that enough? They'd had a wedding reception, for Pete's sake. She'd thrown a bouquet, eaten a wedding cupcake, and had her picture taken.