Eastwind Witches Volume 1: Books 1-3: Paranormal Cozy Mystery

by Nova Nelson

  As color filled his cheeks and his gaze darted to the customers closest to us who were most likely to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind the counter, a smile turned a single corner of his lips, and I knew my excuse was an effective one. “Yeah, okay. I wouldn’t want that. We can work on it tomorrow. Jane looks like she was sat on by a dragon-shifter, so I’ll send her home and cover for her tonight.”

  “Do you ever sleep, Tanner Culpepper?”

  He laughed and stepped away from me. “Only when I’m tired.”

  I untied my apron, folding it and wrapping the strings around the middle. “You must have endless energy, then.”

  As he walked past me, he leaned close and mumbled, “Endless stamina, too.”

  My jaw fell open, as he walked casually as ever toward a table full of fairies who’d just sat down. “Don’t forget the burgers for you and Donovan,” he called over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

  Chapter Nine

  Donovan popped the last lukewarm cheese fry in his mouth. As I’d suspected I would, I regretted letting Grim eat all my loaded fries on the walk over from Medium Rare.

  Neither Donovan nor I spoke while we ate at his low living room table, and I assumed that was because neither of us wanted to. Not while there was a sunrise burger getting cold and, oh yeah, we didn’t really like each other.

  He took our empty boxes to be composted and returned a moment later with a heavy tome bound in cracked black leather, and a small cauldron. “I have an idea,” he said.

  “Great, I’m all for ideas.”

  “I found a spell that I think will help focus the channeling so we can ask specific questions and get answers.”

  “Oh wow. Sounds perfect. Good work.”

  He glanced up from the book, no doubt making sure I wasn’t being sarcastic. I wasn’t.

  Flipping open to the page, he pointed at the title.

  “I don’t know what that says,” I admitted. It was in ancient runes. Or what I suspected was ancient runes based on my limited exposure to it over the past months.

  I half expected him to say something like, “typical” or “when are you going to learn how to do basic things?” but he said nothing along those lines. It was as if his enthusiasm had stomped out his bitterness.

  “It translates roughly to ‘conjure quest.’ I’ve never used it myself because it specifically requires a Fifth Wind witch to be present for it.” He giggled excitedly. “Man, oh man. Probably no one alive in Eastwind today has tried it. I can’t wait to see that know-it-all Oliver’s face when I tell him I’ve gone on a conjure quest.”

  “Ah yes, there’s the bitterness I know and love.”

  “Listen, you’d feel the same way if you had to sit in classes with him for years, watching him answer every question exactly by the books.”

  “You’re probably right. So, what do we do for this conjure quest thing?”

  He inhaled deeply, blowing it out in a whoosh. “Right. It’s a complicated spell, and, fair warning, it requires blood.”

  I leaned back, my hands raised in surrender. “Nope. I’m out.”

  “Oh come on. Don’t tell me you’ll rush headfirst and blind into the Deadwoods but you’re afraid of blood.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that at all. It’s that Ruby has expressly forbid me from doing any spells that involve my blood until we’ve trained more. She says they could be more powerful than I can handle.”

  “She’s absolutely right. Now, are you in or out?”

  I thought about how haggard Deputy Manchester looked when he’d walked into the diner that afternoon. What had started as a simple annoyance was quickly spiraling out of control into a town crisis. Who knew what came next? “Fine. In.”

  A mischievous grin spread across his lips. “I thought so.” He chuckled. “Tanner doesn’t appreciate this side of you, you know. Not like he should.”

  “What side?” I said, taken aback by the sudden mention of Tanner.

  “The reckless side. He wants you to stay safe. He might even be okay with it making you miserable in the long-term.”

  “Now you’re just talking out of your a—”

  “I like it, though,” he said. “That is, as long as you don’t get me killed. Oh, speaking of which, just so we’re clear, if you do get me killed, I’m one hundred percent haunting you until the end of time.”

  “That’s just uncalled for,” I said. “I’m not going to get you killed. You’re going to get you killed. For fang’s sake, take a little personal responsibility for your own death.”

  He reached out from his place on a cushion right next to mine and grabbed my hand firmly. My gaze darted from where our hands touched to his face. What did he think he was doing?

  Then he pulled his wand from his waistband. “This will only hurt a little bit.”

  “Are you going to do it, too?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course. But you first, so I know you won’t chicken out.”

  “I’m not going to chicken— ouch!”

  A crack opened up along the pad of my thumb where he’d touched his wand. As the blood began to collect, he lifted my hand over the tiny cauldron and squeezed my split skin, draining five drops of blood from it as I sucked in air against the pain.

  Once he let go of my hand, I made to suck on my sore thumb, but his hand shot forward and pushed mine back down. “You don’t want to do that,” he said, his intense blue eyes boring into me underneath dark and serious eyebrows. “Here.” He touched his wand to my thumb again, and the cut closed up, though the pain still smarted.

  He added his blood to the cauldron next, followed by a few drops of the spring water from the center of the table.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “Almost.” He looked past me to the dark corner where Grim had settled himself. “Grim, can you come here for a second?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What do you need with Grim?” I asked.

  “The spell calls for a toenail off a dead animal. So unless you want to go find a dead animal, or kill one yourself, Grim is our best option.”

  Grim growled low. “Screw off. I’ve never felt more alive.”

  “Come on, Grim. It’s just a toenail. Yours have gotten frighteningly long lately anyway. They’re making you walk funny.”

  “That’s because I don’t have twigs and sharp rocks breaking them off as I hunt in the woods. Now that I’m domesticated, it’s your responsibility to trim them.”

  “Okay, that’s not going to happen, but I can take you to Echo’s Salon and have them do it.”

  “Talk about things that are not going to happen.”

  “Just come over here,” I said. “At least we’ll have one down and … how many more would you have left?”

  “You seriously don’t know how many toes a dog has?”

  “Does he not know his name?” Donovan suggested.

  “He knows his name,” I snapped back. “Grim. We’re not going to the Deadwoods if you don’t come over here.”

  With a laborious grunt, he lifted himself from the corner and lumbered over, begrudgingly offering his paw to Donovan. “This guy probably knows all about preening.”

  “Are you seriously stereotyping him because you still think he’s gay?”

  “No, I’m stereotyping him because his house is immaculate and he’s dreamy and smells nice.”

  Grim was right on all counts. Well, not the dreamy part. Nope. I mean, maybe if he weren’t such a jerk to me and lightened up a little bit. Sure, then I could see how some other girl might find him dreamy. Especially with those piercing eyes, that full head of messy mocha hair that begged for fingers to run through it …

  “Okay, all done,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  Grim retreated to his corner again.

  “We’re ready for the conjure quest. Oh, wait. One more thing.” His eyes fell to my chest. “You’ll need to take it off.”

  No. He couldn’t be telling me to undress in fron
t of him. Did he really think I’d fall for that? Human or witch—men were all the same when it came down to it, and I’d seen enough in my time not to naively take the bait. “Not a chance.”

  He sighed exasperatedly. “Nora, there’s no way this will work while you’re wearing that.”

  “Unicorn swirls,” I spat. “It worked last time just fine.”

  “Nooo …” he said, side-eying me like I was crazy. “You took it off last time. It’s designed to keep you from channeling, Nora. You have to take it off if you—”

  “Ohh! The amulet? You mean the amulet.”

  His wide eyes made him resemble a spooked horse. “Yes. What did you think I meant? Did you think I was trying to get you to—”

  I waved him off, shaking my head. “Nothing, nothing. Just a little slow after the burger.” I reached down the front of my shirt and grabbed the staurolite amulet. “Let’s never speak of this again, please.”

  “Um, sure.”

  Once I’d set it aside, he placed the cauldron on the ground between us, wet his hands and indicated I should do the same. We clasped hands firmly then, and he said, “You’re going to have to take the lead here, since you’re the wind responsible for channeling. Think of three questions you want answered, and be sure to only ask one at a time.”

  “Do I ask it aloud?”

  “No, just in your mind.”

  “Okay. I have them.”

  “Now we need to time our breathing. Breathe in when I squeeze your hands, breathe out when I release. Once we’re in sync, I’ll begin the incantation.”

  I let my mind relax, focusing only on Donovan’s hand grasping mine and the feel my chest rising and falling. Before long, we breathed together, long, deep inhales and slow exhales. The energy cycled between us, and I started to lose track of where my body ended and his began as the circle strengthened. And as he muttered the incantation, I felt it all around me. Through me. Then I focused on my first question.

  What is the entity causing this damage around Eastwind?

  The darkness behind my eyelids lit up, scenery blowing by me as I rushed forward. Only, I wasn’t me. I was the thing again.

  It cut through town, up the cobblestone streets, past stores I frequented, arriving at the ivy-covered stone archway into the garden center. It didn’t stop there, though, blowing past in the pre-dawn darkness, and soaring over the rows of sleepy and lethargic cacti. A high pitch squeal rose up from the plants, and I knew what was happening beneath.

  And then I could see it. I was outside of the thing, Donovan standing next to me. The dark entity circled over the plants, sucking water vapor up into itself like steam disappearing into a black hole.

  I could almost make out a form, too. While the back half was nebulous, swirling like a thick black smoke, the front resembled the body of a woman, her arms outstretched ahead of her, grasping at air as she soared.

  I recentered my mind on my question. What is the entity causing this damage around Eastwind? Then we were standing in a strange field. The greenery seemed like something out of Erin Park, only it was another place. Somewhere entirely different and not of this world. I was sure of that. On the far end of the flat space loomed a giant wall of impenetrable jungle.

  And then the soldiers appeared.

  Two armies facing off, a two-hundred-yard stretch of green the only thing separating them as they marched toward each other. One side dressed in bloodred armor had nearly double the manpower. But the other side, wearing a hodgepodge of grays and browns, had its own special weapons.

  Floating just ahead of the front line of the outmanned army were two massive floating figures, one white and wispy as a cloud, the other deep blue with a form that wobbled slightly. They hovered in place until the head of the small army shouted. Then the blue being rushed forward against the oncoming forces. The sky darkened as clouds formed above the red army, swirling, thickening, until the storm broke. The ragtag army remained dry, unaffected by the rain.

  The blue form danced in the sky, and as its movements whipped faster, the intensity of the storm pummeled the advancing red army. It slowed them, blurred their vision, but it didn’t stop them.

  Then the wispy white figure took its place beside the blue and began a dance of its own, and as it did, I had to grab onto Donovan to keep from being blown off my feet by the conjured squalls. Then the winds changed, hitting the red army headlong, preventing each of their steps forward from yielding any progress.

  Until one of the men of the red army, crawling on his hands and knees, his uniform more detailed and ornate than the others’, managed to separate himself from the back. He drove a longsword into the earth to keep from blowing away as he knelt and bowed his head.

  A shriek pierced the sky, causing both the white and blue entities to pause in their dance. The rain stopped. The winds calmed. Both armies stood frozen, as did Donovan and I, looking around for the source of the horrific sound.

  There it was, tearing out of the jungle, cutting through the air like a rocket. The black entity. And below it, the green fields shriveled, their water vaporizing and disappearing into the mass, just like at the garden center.

  It immediately engaged the blue and white beings, and the three fought in a midair swirl of fury while below the armies charged. So caught up in the scene unfolding ahead of me, I almost didn’t hear Donovan shout for me to ask the next question. Already? But I wanted to see how this battle played out.

  He was right, though. I could feel it. I’d seen all I was meant to see here. So I asked the next question.

  Who summoned that entity to Eastwind?

  With a wave of vertigo, I was transported to the Outskirts, the Deadwoods only fifty yards behind me as I stared ahead at Medium Rare, the early afternoon sun glaring overhead. What day was it?

  The door burst open and at first, I couldn’t make out who was leaving—the image was blurry. I went through my list of suspects. Was it Seamus? Or Sebastian? Or maybe someone else entirely who I didn’t even knew held a grudge against me? Either way, I felt like whoever this was, he or she was also the answer to my second question.

  Then two figures emerged, heading toward us, one taller with dark hair, the other short and round with strawberry-blond curls.

  “No,” I breathed. “Those numbskulls? Really? It couldn’t be them.”

  They came within feet of where we stood, but didn’t spare us a glance. “Stupid stuck-up witch,” mumbled the dark-haired boy. “Thinks she’s hot stuff because she can yell at us in public. Of course everyone will take her side. They always take the woman’s side.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Duncan,” muttered the short one. “If Mancer hears about that, we could be suspended. You know how they get about harassing elder witches.”

  “Please, she’s not an elder witch. Way I heard it, she’s not even a real witch. Just some death-obsessed wannabe.” He punched his friend. “What’s with you, Tybalt? You let a woman humiliate you in front of everyone and you just roll over and take it? I didn’t know you were such a pixie.”

  “I’m not a pixie!” demanded Tybalt. “You’re a pixie!” He punched Duncan in the arm.

  Duncan snarled. “They’re all going to think we’re a couple of pixies if we don’t do anything about it.”

  Tybalt rolled his eyes. “What could we do about it? We’re not even allowed to use wands yet.”

  “Not allowed and not able are two different things. I have an idea. Follow me.”

  They ran off down the street toward Fulcrum Park, and when I wasn’t able to follow, I knew it was time for my final question.

  How do we stop it?

  Our surroundings went dark around us, all except for an object hovering a few feet off the ground twenty or so yards ahead. I took a step forward, and Donovan’s arm bolted out, blocking my way.

  “It won’t hurt me,” I said.

  “You don’t know that. Just be careful.”

  He lowered his arm but followed his advice, approaching with caut
ion. Light radiated around it, and once I was within feet of it and realized what it was, I almost laughed. “It’s just a book.”

  “You say that like books can’t kill you.”

  I arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware of that danger, no.”

  “Well, they can.”

  “Great. Add it to the list of things in this town that can kill me.” I leaned over the book without making contact and tried to read the cover. It was worn and brown, and I only detected glimpses of gold lettering that might’ve once reflected boldly, spelling out what in the world I was looking at. “I think the answer is in this book.”

  “That’s a safe bet.”

  Okay, so if the answer to my question was in the book, what was I waiting for? I pushed aside my newfound bibliophobia, and grasped the cover.

  As soon as I did, the book disappeared, and we stood at the entrance of the tree tunnel again.

  “For fang’s sake,” I said. “Not this again.”

  Then my stomach did a flip. I was falling. I was falling straight down into nothingness, and Donovan was falling beside me.

  And then I hit the ground. I was back in Donovan’s living room.

  And lying facedown on top of him.

  I groaned but couldn’t yet move as the world spun around me. “I’m gonna vomit,” I moaned.

  “Please get off of me before you do.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Ugh,” he moaned. “I think I might vomit, too.”

  And just like that, I found the strength to roll off of him.

  We lay on our backs, panting, regaining control of our stomachs like the adults we were.

  Finally, Donovan broke the silence. “Duncan and Tybalt. Were they talking about you?”

  “I think so.”