That Old Witch Magic (Wicked in Moonhaven~A Paranormal Cozy Book 2)

by J. D. Winters

  As I thought about it now, sitting in the Sheriff’s Station, I was not sure what it all meant. It didn’t really make any sense to me. But then I noticed Deputy Sheriff Tommy Decker had come in and was settling into a chair behind the reception desk. I got up and walked over.

  “Hi Tommy,” I said cheerfully.

  He gave me a wary look. “Uh…no. Whatever you want, it’s a no.”

  I widened my eyes innocently. “Why Tommy, I thought we were friends.”

  “Oh, we are.” He looked pained, leaning toward me and speaking softly. “Listen Haley, I like you and all. But you have always been trouble on wheels for me. Somehow you manage to get me to do things you know darn well I’m not supposed to do, and then I get caught with egg on my face. It happens every time.”

  I had to admit the truth was on his side. I had gotten him into trouble a few too many times. And I’d heard about things from high school days that made me cringe…and laugh a lot. But still, I didn’t like to think he was scared to have me around. After all, he came in handy at times. He often had keys to places I needed to go.

  “Oh Tommy, don’t worry. I’m not going to get you in trouble.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “But listen, about Bentley….”

  “No! No I will not sneak you in to see him. I will not give him a cake you bring in with a file in it. I will not hand him tiny messages written in invisible ink. None of that stuff!”

  I let out an exclamation of exasperation. “Calm down, Tommy. I’m not about to ask you to do any of those things.”

  “Good. Because I don’t have time for games. I’m going out to Bailey’s Farm in about five minutes. Have to serve a summons on the man.”

  “Oh.” I perked up. “That’s out by the Gremlin Wrangler’s place, isn’t it? Then you can give me a ride.”

  His face fell. “Haley,” he wailed at me. But I just smiled. I didn’t think anyone was going to turn him in for giving a civilian a simple car ride, when he was going that way anyway. And now I had a way to get to the Gremlin Ranch.

  Tommy’s cop car wasn’t exactly up to the standards I was becoming accustomed to with Bentley’s BMW and Alessandro’s Jaguar. But it was going to get me where I needed to go. And it had a handy screened off back seat for Toto.

  “Let’s synchronize our watches,” I said as we started off. “You can drop me outside of the Wrangler’s place and then pick me up on your way back. How long do you think it’ll take to serve the summons?”

  He looked at me resentfully, but I ignored it. I did feel a little guilty. Never mind. I would take him over a box of Krissy’s breakfast cinnamon rolls and everything would be forgiven.

  “It’ll take longer than usual,” he said. “I’ve got to serve one to Ted Bailey, and another to his nearby neighbor, old man McDonald.”

  I stared at him. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “No. His name is McDonald.”

  “And he has a farm.” I chortled.

  “It isn’t funny,” Tommy said. “The two of them are in the middle of a war over water rights and fences and such. It’s a real mess.”

  “And it’s going to trial, I guess,” I said.

  “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “So how long would you say you’ll be?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Okay. You have my number. Why don’t you just call me when you are on your way, and I’ll come out to the road.”

  He grunted reluctantly, then glanced at me. “What do you want to go out to the Wrangler’s for, anyway?”

  “I’ve got a few questions I want answered. And…” I hesitated, then decided to tell him. “My car’s been infected. I need someone to clean it up for me.”

  He made a face. “Why don’t you just…?”

  “Cast a spell? No way. I’m not going down that road.”

  “Okay. It’s your life. You can make it more complicated for yourself if you want to.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him but he didn’t see it. “So tell me about gremlins,” I said. “What exactly does the wrangler do with them?”

  “He runs a gremlin ranch. Actually, it’s more of a small folk preserve. He’s got other things besides gremlins. A whole passel of nasty little demons if you ask me. Anyway, he’s supposed to keep certain small folk well-housed and maintained but away from town, so they don’t tangle up town business with their shenanigans.”

  “Okay.”

  We stopped at a light and he turned to look at me.

  “I’ve got to tell you, those little folk are one of the things the Inspector was trying to eradicate. He was against keeping them at all. The Wrangler was fighting hard to keep his permit.”

  Well, that was interesting. No one had even hinted at that to me before. It seemed like almost everyone in town had a beef with the Inspector. How on earth was I going to sift through all that animosity and figure out who had killed him? And why was I so sure that Bentley was innocent?

  “Tell me who you think killed the inspector.”

  “Bentley.”

  I glared at him. “He didn’t do it. Try again.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. My second pick would be a mysterious stranger. Someone who came in from outside and did the deed, then high tailed it out of town. He’s gone now. We’ll probably never know who he was.”

  I groaned. “Do you have an actual mysterious stranger in mind?”

  “No.” He gave me a look. “That’s why he’s so mysterious.”

  I shook my head. “But that’s impossible to deal with.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. So let’s go back to Bentley.”

  “No!” I forced myself to calm down. “Listen Tommy. It isn’t Bentley, but I’m really worried about him. He really seems like something is scaring him. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

  “No. I don’t have a clue.” He said the words emphatically, then looked around the car as though he was afraid someone might be hiding there, eavesdropping. “Only, he’s a vampire,” he said, almost whispering. “So the answer to that is obvious.”

  I stared at him. “Not to me.”

  He gave me an exasperated look. “Okay, here’s the deal. Right out of the Academy, I worked in a haven town that was actually run by vampires. That was a trip, let me tell you.”

  “And some were good vampires,” I said hopefully. “Right?”

  He hesitated. “Uh, well…. I guess. For certain extremely loose definitions of good. But being in law enforcement, I mostly came in contact with some pretty scuzzy characters. But one thing was always true. If you arrested a vamp, you knew you were going to have to deal with his clan leader. Among vampires, there is a strict code. The clan comes first.”

  I frowned, thinking that over. “I didn’t know that.”

  He nodded wisely. “That’s why it’s hard to let them live in regular haven towns. Their first allegiance is never to the community. It’s to their clan.”

  “You mean—like their family? Like on a genealogy chart?” I was thinking of that strange piece of paper in Bentley’s wooden box.

  “Not quite. This clan isn’t made up of the birth parents and grandparents of the vampire. It doesn’t include a list of his children. It’s a record of the sire who turned the vampire from a human into a blood sucking monster.”

  I made a face. “Tommy!” I protested.

  “I’m serious. You know how that happens, right? How a vampire feeds on the blood of a human and if done just right, will turn that human into a vampire himself. Happens all the time. Then there are others that the sire vampire turned before or later, and they are all part of the same clan.”

  “I see.” Interesting, but I wasn’t sure what this had to do with Bentley. Sure there were some odd people listed on his genealogy, but nothing was said about turning people. Unless…I hadn’t been reading it very closely. That was always a possibility.

  “Listen Tommy. Since you know so much about vampires….what do they tend to eat?”

  He
looked at me like I was trying to trick him or something. “They suck blood of course. Everybody knows that.”

  “Yes, but…” I sighed. “Okay, do they ever use animals?”

  “For blood? Oh sure. But it’s definitely not their first choice.”

  I leaned in closer. “So did you hear about the clearing full of dead animals we stumbled into this morning? All with bite marks on their necks. Or I should say, fang marks.”

  He pulled over to the side. We had arrived at the Wrangler’s ranch. But he was engrossed in our conversation. He stared at me. “You were there?”

  I nodded. “I saw them all.”

  “Wow.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know what is going on there. It’s crazy.”

  “Are there other blood sucking animals around here?” I asked.

  He looked scared to answer that for a moment. Then he whispered to me. “Yes. There are. But their bite is very distinct from vampire bites. Shane would know the difference.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Shane is an expert on vampires. And that new guy, Alessandro, he knows a lot about them too. Why don’t you talk to him if you don’t want to talk to Shane about it.”

  I blinked. “Maybe I will.”

  “Might as well get in good with him from the first,” Tommy said guilelessly. “I think he might be taking over Shane’s job soon.”

  That brought me up short. “Why would he be doing that?”

  He shrugged. “Shane is always talking about making a transfer to the LA area. He went to college down there and he has a lot of friends in Beverly Hills. Moonhaven is kind of quiet for a guy like Shane.”

  I stared at him, suddenly realizing how much I didn’t want that to happen.

  He gave me an exasperated look, then jerked his head to indicate I should get going. “I’m late,” he said. “I’ll call you if you’re not out when I drive up.”

  “Okay.”

  I got out and opened the back seat door to let Toto out, catching his leash as he tried to zip past me. He was a dog full of joy—wild country full of little animals and delicious smells was his heaven.

  But I was still caught up in what Tommy had told me. Shane wanting to transfer to LA? Ouch. Now I had something new to dread.

  I watched Tommy drive off, then turned and looked at the Wrangler ranch. I had to admit, it looked better than I’d expected. One of those big arching entryway signs rose above the driveway and said, “Gremlin Ranch” in neon colors. The large wrought iron gates were easy to open.

  I walked right in.

  Chapter 9

  There were half a dozen things that popped into my head when the words "gremlin ranch" were said. A field where land gnomes grew up like cabbages, right out of the dirt. Maybe rows of metal cages where surly creatures that looked like babies but with beards and overalls crouched, chomping on cigars and looking out grimly through bushy white eyebrows. Maybe even like that place with all the short people in the Hobbit movie that I was dragged to by Rennie the other night.

  Instead, it was a distressingly normal looking ranch. There were fences, and pens, and all kinds of normal ranch things, places where animals would go. It looked more than anything like some kind of pony ranch.

  Except with no ponies. With no anything that I could see. The main house was far down the drive and there was a barn next to that. I guess all of the gremlins could be hiding in there. Maybe it was feeding time. What does a gremlin feed on?

  As far as I knew, the one who'd been camping out in my engine was still there, and had been for more than a day. Did he have break times, or was he always in my engine? Maybe it was a tag team, and more than one gremlin was in there, all wearing identical uniforms so the uninformed observer couldn't tell. Thinking about uniforms made me think of the strange little knit cap, the whole reason for coming out here. Because as far as I knew, gremlins, however much they looked like little people were actually little monsters. And we all know what monsters feed on.

  Monsters drink blood.

  Toto snuffled at my feet, then stepped forward, further into the ranch, until he reached the end of his leash and started straining against it. I didn't really want to move. It would be one thing if I could see just what I was heading into. Even if there were dangerous gremlins all about, I'd like to know where.

  So, dummy, I thought to myself, why not follow the little dog who is probably sniffing them out just this moment?

  I patted Toto on the back, and said, "Take it easy, boy. Don't go stuffing your nose into anything that can stuff back."

  He looked up at me, as apparently confused about what I meant as I was.

  "Nevermind, let's go in," I said.

  We walked a circuitous path through the ranch, getting off the driveway almost immediately, crossing back onto it and then heading right, away from the apparently empty pony pens and toward a part that just looked... weird.

  Whatever wasn't penned in and covered with black dirt in the ranch had green grass growing up out of it. It made the entire place look like a little slice of Ireland (but then, if that were the case there'd surely be leprechauns here, not gremlins, right? Maybe they were out back, dancing little jigs around pots of gold.) But in the broad space that Toto was leading me to, there was kind of a combination. Corner posts that were obviously laying out the dimensions of a pen were at four corners of a broad rectangle, but there was no fencing connecting them. It was maybe the beginnings of a pen, so it was still covered in grass, except at odd intervals, every few feet, where a patch of grass had been torn up, leaving bare earth. The patches were irregular, though all set in a vaguely circular pattern.

  "Hmm," I said stepping onto the penned area, "Was something digging this place up? Or burrowing from under--"

  The instant my foot set down between the posts, the grass disappeared like a trap door had been opened. I barely had time to pinwheel my arms once before I completely lost my balance, and catapulted down into the dark.

  I landed after just a few feet, and not on hard earth but on soft, churned up dirt. It was embarrassing, and weird, but not painful. I was about to start laughing at myself---when the hole I'd fallen through suddenly closed up, and I was in complete pitch darkness. Trapped, under the earth.

  Buried alive.

  I started to thrash in panic, but suddenly, I was held fast to the ground. Out of nowhere, dozens of tiny hands were pressing down against me, pushing me in place, holding me still. It all was done in complete silence except for the disconcerting, terrifying flapping of wings. Not the feathery beating of birds in flight, but the dry, eerie rustling of bat wings. I sucked my breath in and held it, listening hard, trying to figure out what was happening.

  Then, in the darkness, little lights began to glow. Like dimmed candle flames, but always in pairs, two little shimmering lights a couple of inches apart. Glowing eyes, staring at me in the darkness.

  "Fresh blood," a tiny voice said, inches from my ear. From all around me came the horrible sound of a dozen things sniffing me at once.

  "Fresh blood," another voice said, also tiny but lower and hissier than the first.

  "Hmph, I don't know," said a third, something like if a frog's croak contained words. "Got two legs. Not allowed to touch anything with two legs."

  "Then pull one off," the first voice hissed, reasonably. "A problem solved, and fresh blood for us all!"

  "Hmph, I don't know," that croaky voice repeated. "Brick'll get all cross again, like when we tried to get that baldy two legs the other day, the one who was carryin' on like he owned the place."

  Baldy two legs? Assuming this all wasn't my freaked-out imagination, was one of these scary Lilliputians talking about Inspector Cranston?

  But I digress. Actually, what was going on inside me during this quick little conversation was utter, pure, hysterical panic. I wasn’t moving. I think I was sort of frozen in place. I didn’t make a sound, even though my mind was screaming. I couldn’t wrap my head around what had happened right away. I
felt so helpless, unable to see, unable to move.

  I hadn’t been prepared for this. I mean, how often do you train yourself to be ready for the ground to open up and swallow you, while tiny beings with fluttery wings begin gnawing on your clothes while discussing how your blood is going to taste? And in the dark! It was pretty terrifying. How could I fight what I couldn’t really see?

  But that’s the thing about fighting. If you have to do it to survive, you do it. What choice do you have? Think you can’t see? Learn to feel your way. Think you can’t move? Try harder.

  So I lashed out. It was kind of a force of nature thing. All of a sudden I just roared and made a wide sweep with my arms, lifting them and grabbing anything I could get hold of. Now my hands were full of winged creatures, all of whom were squealing at the top of their lungs. I felt some teeth, some claws scratching at me, little limbs pummeling me, but what I had clutched in my hands felt like I’d grabbed a bunch of vicious parakeets. I had them now, and despite the painful biting, I wasn’t going to let go.

  It was an impossible situation. Who knows what would have happened if I’d been left alone there much longer. Maybe I would have flailed around until every one of those little jerks was crushed by the weight of my body and the attack of my hands. Maybe. But more likely, like Gulliver, I would have been out-lasted and defeated by the numbers.

  My rescue came with the shrill shriek of a whistle, accompanied by a loud voice saying something I couldn’t really understand. Suddenly the little people began to back off. They were still talking and yelling and buzzing among themselves, but they were no longer attacking me. I even let go of the ones in my hands. The ground above opened up again, and sunlight streamed in. I reached out quickly and pulled my body up, vaulting out of the trap, a sadder but wiser visitor. Flopping down to sit on a mound, I caught my breath and looked around for the man with the whistle, then reared back when I saw that it was a large gremlin. I started to rise, but he waved me back.