A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery

by Heather Blake

  Missy sat at my feet, enraptured with the Roving Stones vendors moving about their tents and setting out their wares. As I found the number I was looking for on my contact list, I glanced around, hoping to see Starla and her mysterious date. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t wait to get the scoop from her later.

  I dialed Cherise Goodwin’s number, all the while hoping the Curecrafter would have an explanation as to why Aunt Ve still wasn’t feeling better. I’d once been “cured” by Dennis Goodwin, Cherise’s son, and I could attest firsthand to how miraculous their powers were. What was going on with Ve didn’t make sense.

  Cherise answered on the first ring.

  Birds chirped happily overhead as I said, “Hi, Cherise. It’s Darcy Merriweather.”

  “Darcy! I was just getting ready to call you. Is Ve any better this morning? I spoke to her last night, and she still seemed unwell.”

  My stomach was suddenly in knots. “Not at all. In fact, she seems to be getting worse. What’s going on?”

  There was a long pause before Cherise said, “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  In the subsequent silence, I thought about what I knew of Cherise. Once upon a time, Cherise and Aunt Ve had been married to my next door neighbor Terry Goodwin (not at the same time, thank goodness). Ve first, then Cherise. Both had divorced the man, which left me wondering why. My gaze slipped to his house. I hadn’t met Terry, a Numbercrafter, yet, though I had been told—many times—that he was an “interesting” man. I had no idea what that meant.

  Cherise sighed. “I cast a spell, Darcy. That it didn’t work is perplexing.”

  “Shouldn’t all your spells work?”

  “Of course, Curecrafters cannot cast spells that do harm, but there are other reasons why my spell might have failed.”

  Her voice held a note of alarm that had panic threading through me. I was almost afraid to ask, “Like what?”

  Missy suddenly growled low in her throat, snapping my attention away from my growing dread. She was staring across the green at all the tents, but her focus seemed to be on one spot in particular. I, however, couldn’t pinpoint what. Her ears flattened and she bared her teeth.

  Suddenly, goose bumps rose along my arms. I felt eyes on me. Staring. Assessing.

  I could barely focus on Cherise as she said, “Well, there could be another Crafter at work.”

  I scooped up Missy and set her on my lap. Whatever had caused her distress had passed. She flopped down onto my legs and set her head on her paws. Still on alert, I rubbed my hand over her head, her ears. My gaze swept the green, searching for anything out of place. I found nothing. “How so?”

  “If someone didn’t want Ve to get well and cast her own spell, a recantation spell.”

  “A recantation spell? What’s that?”

  “It’s basically a spell that nullifies my spell.”

  I was shocked. “And anyone can cast it?”

  “As with all spells, anyone who knows it can cast it.”

  “And who knows it?”

  “Just about everyone. It’s a common spell.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “But what about ‘do no harm’? How could a spell that makes Ve remain ill be cast? Doesn’t that go against everything Crafters stand for?”

  Missy lifted her head, yawned, and put it back down. I was still on edge. I could hear the brittleness in my own voice.

  “You need to look at the shades of gray, Darcy,” Cherise said. “Imagine this scenario. Someone out there, a Crafter obviously, believes Ve is better off being ill.”

  I couldn’t hold in a disbelieving laugh. “Who on earth would want that?”

  Her tone was serious as she said, “I can think of only one reason.”

  “Which is?” I really wanted to know, because I couldn’t think of one. Ve was clearly suffering.

  “If Ve remains under the weather, there will be no choice but to postpone her wedding. My guess is that someone doesn’t want Ve to get married. Someone who truly believes her spell is keeping Ve from making a big mistake. In that person’s eyes, there is no harm being done. And obviously, if the spell worked, then there really is no harm being done.”

  I let the repercussions of that statement sink in. What I deduced from what she said stunned me. “Does that mean Ve shouldn’t be marrying Sylar? That it’s a mistake?”

  “That’s the conclusion I came to.”

  “Wow.”

  “But…,” Cherise said.

  I almost didn’t want to know what came after that “but.”

  “As I explained to Ve last night when I called to check on her, there are two other reasons why the spell might not have worked.”

  I pulled in a deep breath. “Go on.”

  “One of my limitations is that I can only cure physical ailments, not mental issues.”

  “Are you saying that Ve might be making herself sick? That it’s all in her head?” Why also went through my mind, but I wanted to hear Cherise’s explanation. “How did Ve feel about hearing that?”

  Cherise laughed. “She mentioned how many people already thought she was a bit touched in the head.”

  Ve’s eccentricities didn’t go unnoticed in this small village.

  “The brain is a powerful organ. It is a theory that cannot be ruled out; however, I don’t believe that’s what we’re dealing with.”

  I was beyond grateful that Curecrafters weren’t bound to the Hippocratic oath—or to any HIPAA laws. “So what do you think we’re dealing with?”

  “Darcy, I think we need to be extra vigilant. If my instincts are correct, then there is a greater power than mine at work.”

  “What kind of power?”

  “An evil one. Ve could be in very real danger.”

  With Cherise’s words ringing in my head, I headed home to As You Wish.

  My thoughts were spinning. Was Cherise right? Was there evil at work? Or was it only a theory?

  I couldn’t shake the word “evil” from my thoughts as I opened the back gate. No wonder Ve kept saying she was fine. She probably hadn’t wanted to worry me.

  Too late.

  Archie, safely ensconced inside his outdoor cage (which he could easily escape), let out a high-pitched trill.

  I jumped and winced. Sarcastically, I said, “I don’t think that was loud enough.”

  “Smarty pants,” he said. “I was just trying to get your attention. I thought you were going to stroll on by without a single glance my way, and that would not do for my ego. You look to be a woman on a mission.”

  I let Missy off her leash and gave Archie the quick recap of what Cherise had said. “I just want to figure out what’s going on. I hate the thought that Ve might be in danger.” My mama-bear instincts had kicked into high gear.

  He dropped his voice. “‘Finding out the truth is only half of it. It’s what you do with it that matters.’”

  “The Secret Life of Bees,” I answered absently as I thought about the message behind the quote. I felt like he was telling me something I should pay attention to. I eyed him. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?”

  He blinked innocently, his bright black eyes shining. “Not at all.”

  Missy barked as if she didn’t believe him. I happened to agree with her. “Spill it, Archibald.”

  “I’m offended,” he squawked. “My integrity is of the highest caliber. I pride myself on my—”

  A twig snapped behind me. I spun around in time to catch someone hopping the back fence and running toward the Enchanted Trail. Someone who’d apparently been hiding in the backyard the whole time.

  Acting out of pure instinct, I yelled, “Stop!”

  The person—clearly a man—didn’t so much as break stride.

  Before I could think twice about it, I took off after him.

  Archie started mimicking a car alarm, then switched to a loud “whoop, whoop, whoop!”

  I’d clearly lost my mind, givi
ng chase. What was I going to do if I caught up to him? Bean him with my cell phone? I jumped the back fence and yelped at the way my ankle turned in upon my landing. My hurdling skills needed work.

  For a second, I lost sight of the man as he darted into the woods. I broke out into a full-on sprint to try to catch up with him. As I ran, skipping over tree roots and dodging branches, I realized I didn’t necessarily want to catch him. I only wanted to see who he was. I wasn’t a confrontation kind of girl. But I could dial 911 like no one’s business.

  In hindsight, maybe that’s what I should have done—before I lost my mind and gave chase. But now that I was running full tilt, I didn’t want to turn back. The man would be long gone before I could even dial. I had to see who it was….

  From what I could tell, he was about six feet tall, dark-haired, and fair-skinned. He wore only a pair of short shorts (that looked a lot like boxers) and a T-shirt. Was he the Peeper Creeper? And if he was wearing only boxers and a T-shirt, was the Peeper Creeper not a Seeker like I’d suspected but some sort of pervert? I didn’t even want to think about that option—and why he had been in our backyard—as I powered on.

  I could see him up ahead, wheezing, and I realized he was an older man. As shafts of sunlight pierced the branches overhead, it made the silver in his hair sparkle. He was slowing down, and I was gaining on him.

  My chest burned as I picked up the sound of nearby flapping. I looked up and saw Archie soaring overhead.

  “I thought you might want some backup,” he called.

  It was never a bad idea to have eyes in the sky. Especially after I looked back at the trail and realized that the man was nowhere in sight. I jogged ahead to where the trail split. I didn’t know which way he had gone, and the earth was too packed to see footprints.

  “Do you see him?” I yelled to Archie.

  “Negative! The canopy is too thick. Hold up. I’ll circle around.”

  I bent at the waist and tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t believe I’d lost him! I’d been so close. As my adrenaline wore off, I could feel the throbbing pain in my ankle. I’d twisted it good when I’d hurdled that fence.

  It wasn’t long before Archie was back. “He’s gone. No hide nor hair.”

  Great. “Thanks for looking.”

  He bowed. “It was the least I could do.”

  Slowly, I limped my way back to the house. All told, I’d probably been gone only five minutes or so. As foot chases went, it was rather lame.

  Archie flew back into his cage as Missy ran in circles around my feet, sniffing my legs. She was agitated, and I scooped her up to calm her down. After a minute, I felt her heartbeat go back to normal and I set her on the grass.

  “Come on,” I said to her. “Let’s go in. I need to get cleaned up.”

  I also planned to give Nick a call. He needed to know what had happened. Maybe he could find some fingerprints along the back of the house or footprints in the yard.

  Missy bounded inside ahead of me, and I kicked off my running shoes in the mudroom and peeled off my socks to drop in the laundry room. As soon I stepped into the kitchen, my feet started sliding out from under me. Arms flailing, I searched for something—anything—to grab on to in hopes of breaking my fall, but nothing was in reach. My left leg went one way, my right the other.

  I landed with a thud and a small “Eeee” in the center of the floor. A floor that was slick with water.

  Ve came dashing in wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. She glistened with wetness. “Darcy! Oh, thank heavens you’re here.”

  I glanced up at her from my splayed position on the floor and suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. Nick Sawyer stood right behind her.

  Wonderful.

  “Are you all right, dear? What are you doing on the floor?” She kept one hand firmly on her bathrobe lapels and held out the other for me to take. As I levered myself off the floor, I noted that she looked slightly better than she had in a while. Her eyes were bright and there was natural color in her cheeks rather than a feverish blush. Damp tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks and her neck, and a sloppy bun drooped atop her head.

  “I slipped on the wet floor.”

  Ve looked down. “Oh my. I’m afraid that was my fault. When I heard the ruckus outside, I leapt out of my bath and came straight down. I’m afraid I must have taken most of the bath water with me.”

  I could tell Nick was trying not to smile—he was nibbling the corner of his lip and his cheek was twitching.

  Missy was giving him lots of distance. I didn’t understand what was going on with her lately. She definitely seemed upset with him.

  “What’re you doing here?” I was fascinated with the way his teeth clamped his lip and forced myself to look away from his mouth.

  “Ve called. Thankfully, I wasn’t too far away. What happened?”

  He looked at Ve, who shrugged. “All I heard was Darcy yelling and Archie squawking like a siren. When I didn’t see them in the backyard, I figured it had to be something bad.”

  I noticed the large puddles on the stairs that needed to be sopped up as soon as possible before someone took a spill and broke a neck. At the top of the steps, Tilda stared down at us with a look of dismay. Her tail swished ominously.

  “Darcy?” Nick asked.

  I recounted what had happened. Nick’s already dark eyes turned stormy. “I’ll take a look around.” He carefully navigated the puddles and brushed past me, going out the back door.

  Ve sneezed and suddenly she looked unwell again. “I need to get some clothes on. I’m starting to get a chill.” She headed for the steps.

  “Wait!” I said. “Let me dry them off first.” I wasn’t sure how she’d made it down without slipping. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

  “I’m fine. I keep telling you that.”

  I grabbed a towel from the laundry room and dried each step. “I know what you’re saying, but I can tell it doesn’t match with how you’re feeling. You’re a lousy liar.”

  “I’ll be fine, Darcy dear.”

  I swiped. “I talked to Cherise this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t act so innocent,” I said. “You know what she told me because she told you the same thing.”

  “There’s nothing to be done, no matter how we look at it. What will be, will be.”

  I grudgingly admitted she had a point. Nothing could be done if others were involved—except perhaps if we discovered who they were and why they were after Ve. But we could be more aware. “I still don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I, Darcy dear. Neither do I.”

  At the top of the landing, I dropped the towel on the floor and pushed it around with my foot, ignoring the way my whole body now ached from that fall. There was more water than I thought possible, leading all the way to Ve’s private bath. Tilda did her best to trip me up as I cleaned, twining herself around my legs.

  I heard voices downstairs as I finished mopping up Ve’s bathroom floor. I had to smile as I glanced at her towel bars—all covered with drying nylons, colorful bras, Spanx, and one lone paisley silk handkerchief. She didn’t believe in putting delicates in the washing machine.

  As I came down the steps, Nick was talking to Ve in the kitchen.

  “Bad news,” Ve said solemnly. All the color was gone from her cheeks.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Ve says this window was locked earlier.” Nick pointed to the window above the kitchen sink.

  I nodded. “I locked it myself last night.”

  As I looked at it now, though, the sash was lifted high and the screen had been pushed out. “He tried to break in?” I asked.

  Nick shook his head and locked eyes with me. “No, Darcy. He didn’t break in…. He broke out.”

  Chapter Eleven

  An hour later, Nick was done processing the kitchen and yard and strongly suggested that Ve and I vacate the premises for the time being.

  We were still trying to figure out how the intruder had gotten
into the house in the first place. The front door was always locked, and I’d locked the back door on my way out that morning. Other than the window, there was no sign of entry in or out, but the sill had to be a good five feet off the ground. No way to climb in without help—and there was no evidence that a ladder or some other booster had been used.

  It was strange. Very strange.

  I was ready to pack my bags, but Ve vehemently refused. She said she had a plan, which kind of scared me more than the intruder in the house. Okay, not really. But it was close.

  Nick promised to have officers increase their patrol of the area and left.

  I was quite proud of myself for not begging him to stay.

  Sitting at the kitchen island, I stared at the window, which was once again locked tight. The screen was still pushed outward, and Nick’s supposition that the intruder had probably heard voices in the yard and was scared off—dive-bombing out the nearest window—kept playing through my head.

  What if I had been a few minutes later? What if I hadn’t stopped to chat with Archie? What would I have walked in to find? I shivered.

  My stomach free-fell at the thought that Ve had been upstairs alone. Vulnerable. While someone was down here…lurking. Waiting. It made my skin crawl.

  Ve was still in her bathrobe and she fluttered about the kitchen, setting various supplies on the countertop. A few candles, a sage smudge stick (sage branches wrapped in string), a handful of gemstones. She looked frazzled, pieces of hair sticking out, her bun coming undone. There was a wild look in her golden blue eyes, and I couldn’t tell if it was from her fever or her feverish determination to accomplish her task.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  She clasped her hands under her chin and surveyed her supplies. Finally, she said, “I could really use an agate sphere.”

  “Agate? The stone?”

  “A banded one.”

  “Why?”

  “For my protection spell, of course.”

  Oh, of course. First recantation spells, now this?

  “Agate offers the most power against our enemies,” she said.

  Well, I was all for that. “And where does one find an agate sphere?”

  She separated the stones on the counter. Small marbles of amethyst, bright yellow citrine, and jade. “The Charmory. Could you run over?”