A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery

by Heather Blake

  “I should get hazard pay,” he declared. “Drool. I’ll never recover.”

  I leaned against the wall and said, “Name your price.” His currency was usually easily affordable.

  “There is no price to cover the cost of my wounded pride.”

  “A James Bond marathon?” I tempted.

  He twitched. “How cheap do you think I am?”

  “Plus Broadway show tune karaoke. That’s my final offer.”

  He contemplated for a moment, then said, “It’s a deal. Just so you know, I would have settled for the James Bond marathon. That Sean Connery shivers me timbers.” He fluffed his wings.

  I opened the back door. “You’re a strange bird.”

  “Darcy darling, you have no idea. Velma, tell me if that hoodlum finds the immunity idol!” he called out.

  “I will,” she shouted back, sounding raspy.

  “Have the two of you been watching Survivor all day?”

  “No,” he said. “For a while we watched a Real Housewives of New York City marathon. Those women are a hoot. Oh!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Ve had a visitor.”

  “She did? Who?”

  “Sylar came by.” Archie leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Between us, she didn’t look too happy about what he was telling her.”

  “Did you hear what they were talking about?”

  “Are you accusing me of eavesdropping? I’m offended!”

  “Archie.”

  “Something about Dorothy Hansel.” He blinked. “Now, there’s a piece of work.”

  Tell me about it.

  “I didn’t hear the whole of the conversation, however, as I was hiding under the sofa.”

  It would have been hard for Ve to explain to Sylar, a mortal, why her neighbor’s macaw was watching a Survivor marathon with her. “Understandable.”

  “You may want to ask her about it.” He bowed again and said, “Call me if you need anything.”

  With that, he flew out the door. I closed and locked it behind him.

  When I went back into the family room, the TV was muted and Mimi was in full explanation about what had happened with the diary.

  I sat on the love seat and yawned. It had been a long day. One that wasn’t over yet—we still had to cast the protection spell at midnight. The agate sphere sat on the coffee table, and seeing it reminded me of Andreus Woodshall and what he’d said about Elodie.

  I didn’t know who to trust.

  For some reason, my instincts told me to believe what he said. But if I did, that meant Elodie was lying to me. And if she was lying to me, did that mean she knew more about her mother’s murder than she let on? I didn’t like thinking about that, but couldn’t help my thoughts from wandering to the falling out she’d had with her mother not long before she died.

  But…but if Elodie had something to do with Patrice’s murder, why would she hire me to look into what happened to her mother?

  That part made no sense unless she was innocent.

  Or was using me.

  I didn’t like thinking about that, either.

  Ve was saying, “It sounds as though a trip to see the Elder is in order. She will know how to deal with the likes of Vincent Paxton.”

  Tilda hopped down from the corner bookshelf and onto the back of the couch. She eyed Higgins as if contemplating how to displace him from her usual spot next to Ve.

  Good luck to her. Higgins was snoring.

  Mimi sat clutching her mother’s diary. “What’s the Elder like?”

  “She’s very nice,” Ve said at the same time I said, “She’s scary.”

  Mimi’s dark eyes widened, and Ve gave me a withering look.

  “What?” I said. “She is. In a benevolent way, of course. She’s kind and wise and…scares the bejeebers out of me.”

  “What does she look like?” Mimi yawned so widely her small hand couldn’t cover it. I wondered when her normal bedtime was. It was only nine o’clock now.

  “Actually, I’ve never seen her. I’ve only heard her. She hides in a tree.” I explained my trips to see the Elder. “Have you seen her?” I asked Ve.

  “Of course.” She yawned and petted Higgins’s head.

  Mimi and I stared at her, silently begging for more information.

  Ve smiled. “She’s beautiful.”

  This told me nothing. Ve thought every woman was beautiful.

  “You’re not going to tell us anything about her, are you?” I asked.

  “Not a thing. It’s not for me to tell. You both will learn when the time is right.”

  “Aw,” Mimi whined.

  “Aw,” I echoed.

  Ve tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  Tilda walked along the edge of the couch, her ears back as she stared at the mammoth dog on her couch. I had a feeling her claws were soon to make an appearance.

  When Mimi yawned again, I said, “We should get you settled in upstairs.”

  After that, I would ask Ve about Sylar’s visit—and what he had said about Dorothy.

  When I stood, I picked up a strange scent. Sniffing, I said, “Do you smell that?”

  Ve smiled weakly. “I can’t smell anything.”

  Missy had stirred from her spot on the love seat. Her fur rose and she growled low in her throat.

  “What is it?” Mimi asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

  I rushed into the kitchen. The scent was stronger in here—and much more identifiable.

  Smoke.

  I went to the kitchen sink, raised the window shade, and peeked out. “Fire!” I yelled, panic rising.

  I couldn’t see the flames—only their orange glow. It flickered around the house’s foundation. I ran back into the living room to find that Ve was up and holding an unusually calm Tilda. Mimi had Higgins and Missy leashed.

  “Go out the front door and call 911,” I said. “I’m going to grab the extinguisher and see if I can stop the fire from spreading.”

  Neither argued with me. As they hurried past, I spotted Melina Sawyer’s diary sitting on the coffee table. Shaking my head, I quickly picked it up and tucked it into my waistband. There was no way I was leaving it unattended.

  In the kitchen pantry, I grabbed the fire extinguisher we kept in case of emergency and rushed out the back door.

  The air was acrid and smoky, and I coughed as I rounded the corner, ready to do battle with the flames—and bumped into someone who was already extinguishing the fire.

  Sirens began to wail in the distance as the tall man turned and waved a hand in front of his face to clear the air.

  I blinked in surprise, sure I was seeing things.

  When I rubbed my eyes, the apparition didn’t disappear.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Darcy,” he said in an accent I couldn’t quite place. “Though”—he smiled—“the circumstances could have been better. I rushed over as soon as I saw the flames.”

  Maybe I’d inhaled too much smoke. I stepped backward, took a deep breath, and rubbed my eyes again.

  The image didn’t change.

  Elvis was in my backyard, wearing a fancy dinner jacket complete with a pocket square, tight satin pants, and slippers, and he was holding a fire extinguisher.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  In light of the fire, we packed up all necessary items (Ve’s lipstick, the dog and cat food, my stash of peppermint patties) and moved out.

  I would have told Harper we were coming, but she wasn’t answering her cell phone. She was probably still on her Vince stakeout, which must have taken her out of the village, because between the police force and the fire department arriving on our doorstep, there was no missing that Something Big had happened at As You Wish. It seemed like every villager had taken up residence on the sidewalk in front of the house.

  Now, an hour after the fire was out, everyone had dispersed except for Nick and the fire chief. Ve, Mimi, Higgins, Missy, and Tilda and I were trekking across the village green toward Spellb
ound Books with two rolling suitcases dragging behind our sorry group.

  Nick, poor Nick, had said he’d stop by when he was done with his preliminary investigation but agreed that it was best we didn’t sleep at home tonight.

  “You could have warned me,” I said to Ve.

  “How exactly?” She dabbed her nose with a white handkerchief. “It’s not exactly something that can be forewarned. You must experience it firsthand.”

  “A simple, ‘Terry Goodwin is the spitting image of Elvis’ would have sufficed.”

  And damn if he wasn’t. Okay, yes, a gracefully aged Elvis (not the chubby seventies version), but Elvis nonetheless, right down to the lip curl.

  Now I understood why he was such a recluse. Looking like he did, he’d be mobbed with curiosity-seekers wherever he went.

  Mimi said, “Who’s Elvis?”

  We both stopped and stared at her. “You’re not serious,” I said.

  Her eyes were wide and blank.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Ve said. “I feel old. Ancient. Is there moss growing on me?”

  The Roving Stones tent flaps were making strange noises again. It gave me the heebie-jeebies. “No, and keep those old bones moving.” The sooner we were settled in Harper’s apartment above the bookshop, the better I would feel. As soon as we started our little caravan moving again, I said, “We’re going to have to indoctrinate Mimi into the Elvis fan club, that’s all.” Never heard of Elvis…It was un-American, even for a twelve-year-old. “Should we start with the movies or the music?”

  Ve smiled and said, “I could go for a little Blue Hawaii right now.”

  It was the perfect distraction from the fact that someone tried to burn our house down.

  With us inside it.

  No, not someone.

  Dorothy.

  It had to have been her. After all, she had a history of being a firebug. Godfrey could attest to that. Plus, she was seriously ticked off at me. This little fire was probably another warning to me, especially since the fire chief said it had been started in such a way as to remain in the garden and not spread to the house.

  Inwardly, I seethed. The chief’s news didn’t make me feel any better. Mimi had been inside the house. If the wind had shifted or a spark jumped…Anything could have happened.

  The mama bear in me wanted to shake Dorothy until her teeth popped out.

  My jaw ached from clenching, and I forced myself to release it as we crossed the street and trekked down the alley behind the shops.

  My mind raced, plotted. This act of Dorothy’s would not go unpunished.

  Her fiery warning had backfired on her. It hadn’t scared me away. It had ticked me off.

  We rattled up to Harper’s back door. Thankfully, I had a spare key to her place. As I slipped the key into the lock, I was surprised to hear voices at the top of the steps.

  “Slow, slow! Gentle,” Harper was saying loudly enough to be heard over the music (the Beatles) playing.

  I swung open the door and Higgins charged in ahead of me, galloping up the steps, his tail wagging at full force. My heart suddenly broke for him as I remembered that this used to be his home. He and his former owner used to reside in this apartment before a murder case had shattered both their worlds. Nick and Mimi had adopted Higgins and given him a new place to live, but it was obvious he still remembered his old house.

  “What the h—,” a man started to shout. Then there was a loud crash and a scream from Harper.

  I rushed up the narrow stairs to find Marcus flat on his back underneath a bookcase.

  “Pzzt! Pzzt!” Harper shouted at Higgins, who was tearing around the apartment. His tail knocked over a lamp and the wine bottle on the table. Harper let out a small cry as red seeped into the carpet.

  Missy bounded into the room and started yapping. Mimi appeared next to me, carrying a hissing Tilda inside a cat carrier. Ve came in behind her, wheezing.

  “Honey,” I said. “We’re home!”

  Harper curled her tiny fists. “What is going on?” she yelled. She stomped over to her iPod dock and turned off the music.

  Suddenly, except for Ve’s and Higgins’s panting and Tilda’s hissing, it was deathly quiet.

  I bent next to Marcus. “Are you okay?”

  “Do you think you could get this bookcase off me?” he asked, looking pale.

  Mimi helped as I levered the heavy oak case off him. The bookshelf looked none the worse for wear, but I couldn’t say the same for Marcus.

  “That’s going to leave a mark,” Mimi said sagely.

  He sat up and surveyed the damage. Bruises were already beginning to form on his jaw and cheek. “I’m okay.”

  Harper dropped beside him and took his face in her hands, closely giving him a once-over.

  He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

  In fact, when she bounced up to get him an ice pack, he waggled his eyebrows at me. “Good timing,” he whispered.

  Yep. He was fine.

  Harper came back with some ice cubes wrapped in a washcloth. Gently, she held the compress to his cheek. “Look what you all have done. Why are you here? Haven’t you heard of calling?”

  I opened Tilda’s cage door to free her and she refused to come out. “I called. You didn’t answer.”

  Harper frowned and glanced at her cell phone on the coffee table. Next to two wineglasses.

  I lifted an eyebrow and gave her a smirk.

  She gave me the evil eye. “Marcus very nicely offered come over and do some heavy lifting.”

  “I see that,” I said.

  Ve laughed as she rolled her suitcase into the apartment and plopped onto the couch. Missy hopped up next to her, and Mimi sat on her other side.

  Marcus eyed the suitcases. “Are you staying?”

  His tone made it clear that we’d interrupted his plans for the night.

  “We’re moving in,” Mimi said.

  “You’re what?” Harper cried.

  Ve said, “Just temporarily, until we can cast that protection spell.”

  “And the arson investigator finishes his report,” I added. I headed to the kitchen to look for something that would get the red wine stains out of the carpet.

  “Arson?” Harper said, her voice high.

  “Someone tried to burn down As You Wish,” Mimi said nonchalantly as she checked her cell phone for text messages. “You didn’t hear the sirens?”

  Harper lost all color and looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so I took pity on her and explained everything. I finished with, “By the time I made it outside, Terry Goodwin had already put out the flames.”

  “You finally met Terry? What’s he like?” Harper asked.

  “Very ‘Jailhouse Rock’-ish.”

  Marcus laughed, then abruptly stopped and pressed the ice closer to his cheek.

  “What’s that mean?” Harper asked.

  “You have to see for yourself,” I said.

  “Ha!” Ve exclaimed. “I told you so.”

  I dabbed at the carpet with a damp cloth and laughed. She had been right.

  Harper shook her head. “I’m so confused.”

  The stain wasn’t budging. “Never mind that. I thought you were supposed to be following Vince?”

  “Vince?” Marcus asked. “Why?”

  “Long story,” I said. I was saved from telling it by a firm knock on the door downstairs.

  Higgins and Missy started barking and nearly fell over themselves to get down the steps. Tilda went back to hissing, and Harper threw her hands in the air. “Who now?”

  Ve rubbed her temples and said loud enough to be heard over the barking, “Do you have any more wine?”

  The knocker had been Nick. And he’d been very agreeable to talking outside of the chaos in Harper’s apartment.

  We were currently walking around the green, the dogs leading the way. It was late—almost midnight—and the green had cleared of all gawkers and emergency personnel.

  Nick’s polo shirt was half untucked, his p
ants wrinkled, the bags under his eyes starting to look like the suitcase I’d hauled to Harper’s.

  “You look tired,” I said, stating the obvious.

  He dragged a hand down his face. “It’s been a hell of a night. Four break-ins so far, then the call about the fire. The one night I let Mimi out of my sight…”

  I was suddenly feeling guilty. It was my fault Mimi was in danger at all. Well, kind of. Mostly it was psycho Dorothy’s fault. I had told him all about the threats, including the one about him, and he’d promised to look into them. “You know I’d do anything to protect her, right?”

  As he glanced at me, the moonlight bounced off his dark eyes. “I know.” He paused a beat, two. “What did Harper mean earlier when she said you’d make a lousy PI?”

  I didn’t like keeping secrets from him, but he really didn’t need the whole truth. “Elodie hired me to look into her mother’s death.”

  He swore under his breath. “You said no, right?”

  I bit my lip.

  “Right?” He slowed to a stop. “Darcy.”

  I blinked innocently. “Nick.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “You need a license, training….”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

  “I don’t think so. No.”

  We continued walking. Missy and Higgins were sniffing happily.

  Finally, he said, “Have you learned anything?”

  I bumped his shoulder with mine. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  His eyes flashed in the darkness. “Isn’t that saying, ‘I’ll show you mine….’”

  Oh. Well. There was that, too. My mouth went dry. “Work with me here.”

  He bumped me back. “How about you share yours, and I’ll share what I can.”

  I was grateful he trusted me enough to share what he could. “Deal.”

  “So?”

  “I haven’t really learned anything yet.”

  He laughed, and it echoed across the green.

  Smiling, I said, “Just little bits and pieces here and there. Most of which you probably already know. But I had a chat with Andreus Woodshall this afternoon that shed some more light on the Anicula.” I gave him a brief run-down of what Mr. Macabre had said, from the theft of the Anicula years ago to his statement that Elodie had lied to me.