The Witch's Strength_A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Iris Kincaid

  “But yes, you have a great capacity for self-healing, and it is something that you can transfer to others. When you do make that gift to others, it will weaken you. You will lose your strength. But take heart, my dear, because it is only temporary. Before you lay your head on your pillow tonight, there’s every reason to believe that your strength will have been restored.”

  Gemma breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you. That’s wonderful to know. This Lilith Hazelwood. It sounds like you know a lot about her. Can you tell me about her?”

  “Yes. Tell her all about me, Delphine. And do it properly this time. Tell her of the unforgivable way in which I met my demise. And tell her that she has an obligation to me, to bring my killer to justice. For, wasn’t it my body that restored her back to her life?”

  “I will do my best, Lilith. Knowing how she used to be, she may, indeed, feel a very great debt to you.”

  “Lilith was killed by a bolt of lightning. That may be an everyday occurrence in the world of commoners. But for a witch like Lilith . . . it was most certainly a weapon crafted and guided by the dark arts. She was undoubtedly killed by a fellow witch. Although we do not know why or who. Lilith’s spirit is still with us. She won’t be able to move on until she is able to uncover her assassin and to receive justice.”

  “What do you mean, is still with us? Are you saying that she’s a ghost? Really? Can you see her?”

  “And hear her, yes.”

  “What does she say?”

  “She expresses the hope that some of the people who benefited from the powers of her body will be able to give her some assistance.”

  “Of course. That’s the least I can do. How can I help?”

  “For now, keep your eyes and ears open. Particularly regarding the witches in this town.”

  “How will I know who the witches are? I mean, you don’t look like a witch.”

  “As happy as I am to be witch, I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment. But there are some in this town who will make the skin crawl on the back of your neck. They don’t hesitate to make themselves known.”

  “You know, there was this woman yesterday who was staring at me, giving me the creeps.”

  After Gemma had described this woman as best she could, Delphine guessed that it was Zelda Beale.

  “What does she want from me?”

  “You now represent something much larger than yourself to the witches in this town. You represent Lilith Hazelwood, and . . . she was not without enemies.”

  “Why? Why did she have enemies?”

  “Because none of them could match my powers. Because I could have crushed any one of them into the dust. Because they envied my magnificence, my supremacy, my legendary pinnacle of achievement.”

  Delphine struggled to keep a straight face. “I’m not gonna lie to you. Lilith was a piece of work.”

  Lilith sputtered. “How is that helpful?”

  “Humility is far more endearing. I know you are little acquainted with it, so you must take my word for it,” Delphine returned. “Take heart, Lilith. You may have found an ally.”

  *****

  Thankfully, Delphine knew what she was talking about. Gemma’s strength returned by the time she arrived home. And the following morning, she was ready to flex her muscles again at the gym.

  As luck would have it, Roland Carmichael made a beeline for her as soon as she entered the weight room.

  “Excuse me. We met outside the daycare center yesterday, with my son, Dax.”

  “Of course. Hope you’re both doing well,” Gemma said, sensing some agitation on his part.

  “This feels like a fairly ridiculous question. But did you tell him that you are Wonder Woman?”

  “Yeah, that does ring a bell. We did discuss my being Wonder Woman.”

  “Why? Why on earth would you tell him such a thing? He’s too young to know the truth from a lie. This puts me in the very awkward position of having to explain to him that he can’t necessarily believe what people tell him. Which is a very confusing thing at his age.”

  “I don’t know if I would call it a lie. I mean, is Santa Claus a lie? Is the tooth fairy a lie? Or the Easter bunny? Or Punxsutawney Phil? Those are just fun things to believe in when you’re young, and I think it really feeds their imagination. Maybe one day, Dax will write novels. Or video games. Or movies. Or maybe he’ll be a scientist because he’s able to imagine wild and undiscovered things. Sometimes, imagination is your . . . lifeline. The only thing that keeps you going. But, what’s a superhero, anyway? Someone who is strong and helpful. Which I am, more or less. So, it’s not that outrageous, is it?”

  “He is also under the impression that you saved his life. Did you tell him that?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then why would he say that?”

  “Okay, the puppy’s leash came undone and the puppy ran into the street, and . . . you know how kids are. Dax ran into the street after it. And there was a car coming, and I pulled Dax out of the street before anything could happen. So, I think that’s probably what he was talking about.”

  Roland stared at Gemma in horror. “Oh, good God! I . . . I don’t know what to say. I seriously don’t know how to thank you. What was I thinking? I should never have left him for a single moment. I just thought he was so preoccupied with the dog that he wouldn’t budge. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Here I am, scolding you, when you saved my son’s life.”

  Gemma wasn’t sure she deserved all that praise. But if it went hand-in-hand with a friendly change of attitude, she’d take it.

  “Dax says that he forgot to thank Wonder Woman for saving his life. He’s right next door, if you don’t mind. Just let me know when you finish your workout and we can walk over afterward, yes?”

  “Sure.”

  Gemma had to caution herself against mooning over this handsome Brit. His only interest in her was her assistance to his son, but as much as Gemma looked forward to seeing little Dax again, she knew her primary exhilaration today was knowing that she would have another encounter with Roland Carmichael.

  An hour later, they entered the daycare center together. Gemma waved at a dumbfounded Bethany, who, like the rest of the other young ladies staffing the center, looked at Gemma and Roland with thinly disguised envy.

  Dax gave Gemma a big hug. “Thank you, uh . . . Gemma, for making sure I didn’t get squashed by the car.”

  “Dax, it was my pleasure.”

  “I know,” Dax said, adding with a whisper, “You must save people all the time.”

  “All right, Dax. Let’s let your new friend here get on with her afternoon, and you and I could go in the parking lot to do a little bit of reading.”

  “Gemma, where are you going?”

  “Oh, I was just at the beach yesterday and it was so lovely. I think I’ll head back there.”

  “Yes, the beach! Daddy, let’s go to the beach with Gemma.”

  “Dax. It isn’t right to invite ourselves into someone’s private afternoon. Besides, aren’t you looking forward to finishing our story this afternoon?”

  “Well, there’s no law against reading at the beach,” Gemma teased. “And actually, Dax, I would love the company.”

  “Yay. We’re going to the beach! We’re going to the beach!”

  “Apparently so,” Roland said, outnumbered.

  *****

  As they strolled along the water’s edge, pants rolled up and bare feet being splashed by the cool water, Dax squealed with excitement. He pointed toward a man who was lying patiently on his back while his three children exuberantly covered him up with sand from foot to neck.

  “That’s what I want to do to you, Daddy. Can I? Can I cover you up with sand?”

  “Certainly not. The sand is too hot, I’m not dressed for it, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t enjoy it one bit. But there you go. There are some buckets for sale over there. Why don’t we get one and you can make yourself a little sandcastle?”

  That wasn’t nearly as mu
ch fun as burying a human being in sand, but Dax would settle for the consolation. As he began his digging, Gemma and Roland settled down nearby.

  “I suppose the reading can wait until we get home. But I really do want to start on the alphabet with him. You would think that they would be working on that in daycare. But all they do is play. Followed by more play. So, the last thing in the world that he needs when he gets out of daycare is even more play, don’t you think?”

  Gemma raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  Roland sighed sheepishly. “Oh, who am I kidding? I’m just crap at playing. It’s not how I grew up. I have no idea what to do. His mother . . . I suppose playing would have been her specialty if she had stayed. But she left, right after he was born. He was premature, you see. It was touch and go for a while. And she thought that he would always be sickly and that she wouldn’t be able to handle it. So . . . she left.”

  “And you stayed.”

  “Yes, well, at first, returning to England was out of the question because he was too fragile for the flight. And his doctors were fantastic and I already had a job. So, yeah, I stayed.”

  Gemma nodded thoughtfully. “Your job. What do you do?”

  “I teach English literature at the community college.”

  “Really! So, you get to read and talk about good books all the time. Nice gig.”

  “It is, actually.”

  “What are you on right now?”

  Roland chuckled. “Vacation. When school starts back up, we’ll begin with David Copperfield.”

  “I haven’t been read that one.”

  “People think of it as a big heavy classic to slog through. It’s actually very funny in parts.”

  “No doubt. But, you weren’t planning on reading that to Dax anytime soon, where you?” She could see from the guilty look on his face that it was precisely what he was going to do.

  “I believe in challenging young children. Perhaps not with Dickens. Although he had two British parents, Dax is just so thoroughly . . . American.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “So, I thought perhaps, some Hemingway.”

  “Maybe take a few steps back. Have you heard of Horton Hears A Who?”

  Dax approached, pouting. “It doesn’t look like a castle.”

  “That’s because you need a moat,” Gemma noted. “And some of those castle-y things on the top. I don’t know what they’re called. But your father’s British, so he probably grew up in a castle. He’ll know.”

  “I can see that you like play almost as much as Dax does. All right. Let’s take a look.”

  Dax was thrilled to have the assistance. After the three of them were finished, it did sort of look like a castle—if Dr. Seuss had written about castles. Afterward, they decided to stretch their legs with a long walk along the water’s edge. Roland wanted to know what Gemma’s favorite books were. She had several recent selections, all read to her by Bethany while she was on life support, which now felt like a previous life.

  After about twenty minutes, they came across an alarming scene. From a distance, it had just looked like kids playing around. Up close, they could see that a dolphin was lying on the beach, several feet from the reach of the waves, and the children were frantically filling up buckets with water and trying to keep it wet.

  “Poor creature. Probably swept in on a rogue wave. There’s got to be some kind of animal service. I’ll call 911,” Roland said.

  After a few moments on the phone, he shook his head. “They’re going to need some equipment and a whole bunch of people to get the dolphin back in the water. And there are no buildings nearby to pinpoint this location, so I’m going to run up to the street so I can tell them exactly where we are. Will you . . .?”

  “Of course. I’ll keep an eye on Dax.”

  Roland took off at a fast sprint. The kids looked at one another sadly.

  “Is the dolphin going to die?”

  “Not if he gets back into the water,” Gemma said.

  “But are they going to come back in time with help?”

  Maybe not. The dolphin was getting very weak. And the kids were getting increasingly upset. Some of them were crying. Gemma looked around—not an adult in sight. Time to throw caution to the wind. She wrapped her arms around the dolphin and lifted it up, amidst loud cries of surprise, then walked into the water up to her waist and gently lowered the dolphin into the waves. She could feel it gaining strength, and even joy. Or was that just her imagination? After a moment, it bolted away, and Gemma returned to the shore.

  The children were squealing with glee. “How did you do that?”

  “Do me a favor. If anyone asks, I didn’t do that.”

  Dax nodded wisely. “Yeah, it’s a secret.”

  The kids looked at one another. Since when do adults tell you to keep something secret?

  “You can talk about it to each other, but not to adults,” Gemma added.

  The kids grinned—they liked the sound of that.

  Roland came running back, confusion written all over his face. “What happened?”

  “Another rogue wave,” Gemma said, amidst the children’s giggles. “A big rogue wave came and washed it back into the ocean.”

  That sounded highly implausible. And these kids were way too amused. “Is that the truth?” Roland asked suspiciously.

  “What are you insinuating? Are you trying to say that we ate that dolphin?” Gemma deadpanned.

  That was greeted by big guffaws from the kids. “Ate the dolphin! That’s a good one.”

  “Certainly not. I’m only saying . . .” At this point, Roland knew it was time to give up. “Hmmph. American humor.”

  As Gemma, Dax, and Roland began walking back to the public beach, Gemma glanced back over her shoulder and watched the kids leaping and cheering. They had just seen a superhero.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zander Knox’s memorial service was so sparsely attended that the church felt freakishly empty. There were, all told, about a dozen people gathered to pay their respects, which felt conspicuously unpopular for a man being laid to rest in his own hometown. The body was not on display, of course—it had been charred beyond all recognition. There was a large urn of Zander Knox’s ashes at the front of the room.

  “I think he burned a lot of bridges,” Finn said to Gemma. “He didn’t see his family very often. And apparently, he made a lot of business promises he didn’t keep. And even the people you see here—I’ve already talked to a few of them, and things were not all sunshine and roses.”

  Present at the service were Zander’s two childhood friends, Neil Donovan and Hugo Shipley. The three of them were very tight right through high school, but afterward, Hugo seemed to have had a falling out with the others. Neil, on the other hand, had actually gone into business with Zander on some kind of import/export deal.

  “Neil’s ex-wife is here. Her name is Joy Radcliffe. Not especially full of joy on this occasion. I wouldn’t say that she looks sad though. She looks mad,” Finn noted.

  Indeed, she did. Joy spoke tersely to ex-husband Neil, and he seemed equally irritated with her.

  Then there was Zander’s girlfriend, Erica Jewell, in her mid-forties, bawling next to her son Edison, who was about college-age. There was also another man with them, Ty Santos, trying to comfort Erica. Across the room, another mourner was giving Erica some competition in the bawling department—a pretty but distraught teenager.

  “I don’t know who that is, but I guess Zander did actually have a few friends,” Finn said.

  “She’s a bit young to be the friend of a thirty-five-year-old man,” Gemma said. “Unless he was a teacher or something.”

  The young girl appeared to be alone. But she was soon joined by a forty-something man, wearing mechanics’ overalls. By his age and his possessive manner, he appeared to be her father. He did try to pull her away toward the exit, but the girl refused to leave. The most unnerving mourner present was the creepy woman who had stared at Gemma so intensely on the st
reet after she had rescued Dax. How could she possibly be a friend of Zander? And far from being in mourning, she seemed to regard the whole occasion with amusement.

  Neil Donovan read the eulogy. “There’s no friend like an old friend. We were the Three Amigos, weren’t we, Hugo? Friends till the end. Nothing has been more important to me in my life than the loyalty of these two guys. And now, one of us is gone.” He looked pointedly at Hugo. “Now, it’s just us, buddy. Us two amigos.”

  Hugo nodded uncomfortably.

  “Hugo looks like he’s not all that happy here,” Gemma noted. “I think we need to find out why.”

  “I like the way you think. Unhappy people have always got a good story to tell,” Finn said. “I’m going to put you in charge of that story.”

  “What . . . what does that mean?”

  “I mean, get that guy’s story. By any means necessary.”

  Gemma felt a little thrill. So much responsibility. She was actually going to help solve a murder!

  *****

  Gemma and Finn received permission from Zander Knox’s attorney to attend the reading of the will the following day, at which Hugo Shipley would undoubtedly be present. She wondered whether there was good news or bad news in store for him, or would he be as indifferent as he’d appeared at the memorial service?

  With a free afternoon, Gemma decided to take a stroll down the boardwalk. She loved window shopping along the jewelry and craft stores. No shopping sprees for her, however, as she had already returned the credit card back to the kind Dr. Svenson. Although, he had still insisted on slipping her a few hundred in cash – it was like having a sweet grandfather. But largely, Gemma was living on roommate Bethany’s generosity, a situation that she hoped to rectify in the coming weeks.

  A slight disturbance about 100 feet in front of her pulled Gemma’s attention away from the entertaining window displays. A young man was barreling through the crowd at breakneck speed, and a middle-aged woman was screaming at him and chasing him frantically. As he got closer, Gemma could see that he was clutching a woman’s purse. Oh, no, not on her watch.

  Gemma planted herself directly in his path, and as the purse snatcher attempted to run past her, her arm darted out and grabbed the purse. He was holding it very tightly, but Gemma’s grip on the purse was like he had run into a wall. It brought him to a quick stop. He tugged wildly and angrily at the purse, which Gemma hung on to with absolutely no effort or strain.