by Cindy Stark
Her breaths came fast from that last sprint.
She placed a hand over her midsection like an expectant mother protecting her baby to ensure the tome she’d tucked beneath her shirt was still safe and secure.
She still had no idea why she’d needed to bring it, but if Mr. Kitty had been around for hundreds of years, maybe he knew a thing or two.
She stopped short at the front door, not sure how she’d get inside. She rang the doorbell and knocked loudly a few times just to make sure she wouldn’t be walking in on anyone, but no one answered.
She should stop. Go back. It wasn’t too late.
For half a second, she convinced herself that was the right thing to do, but in her heart, she knew there could be no turning back.
She lifted her hand to test the doorknob. A loud hiss erupted from the trees, and she froze. She turned slowly, expecting some airborne hex to come flying her way and chop off her head or shoot her in the heart. She should have figured Glenys would set a ward to be sure no one could waltz right into her private space.
Instead, she found a fat ginger cat stalking her way, and she lost it. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here? You nearly scared me to death, and I don’t have nine lives like you.”
Mr. Kitty strolled from the trees as if he was out for a casual afternoon walk. Instead of approaching her, he headed down the drive, past where she’d left her bike, and disappeared.
“Aargh!” He would literally be the death of her.
She gave the doorknob one more glance and then hurried to follow him. A quaint white gazebo sat in the back corner of Glenys’ yard, beneath a canopy of trees. She counted five herb gardens flourishing back there with all shades of green leaves and several with purple or white tiny flowers.
But that darned cat was nowhere in sight.
A sinking feeling descended upon her. He wouldn’t…trick her, would he? Play a practical joke? He wouldn’t tell her to secure an ancient book to her stomach, peddle across town, and then laugh as he watched her try to break into the house of the most powerful witch in town.
She had been foul-tempered with him a few times, but—
A loud click came from the direction of the backdoor, and she shifted her gaze there. The noise sounded an awful lot like a lock disengaging. She couldn’t string words together that might explain what she already knew.
To prove it, she strode to the backdoor and turned the handle. Inside, she found a sassy ginger cat sitting by the polished, cherrywood kitchen table with a smirk on his face. She snorted in disbelief. “I don’t want to know how you did that.” Okay, maybe she did, but…
She closed the door behind her and turned to him. “If you’re so smart, now what?”
He dropped his gaze to her stomach, and she realized the book had grown warm against her skin. A buzzing began in her ears, and she looked around the charming room with its intricate crown moulding, moss green walls and sheer ivory curtains for the source.
Mr. Kitty straightened his tail and crossed the hardwood floors toward the hallway. At this point, she’d be silly not to follow. Her cat might drive her insane, but he’d never steered her wrong when it came to serious stuff. She hoped.
At the end of the hall, just off a small bedroom decorated with a green and brown Boho feel, he stopped. He sat and glanced up at her expectantly.
Clarabelle’s book vibrated with the same intensity as the noise in her ears. “It’s here, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Glenys’ book.”
He lifted his chin in an affirmative gesture.
But where? She searched the creamy walls, wooden floors and mouldings, but nothing stood out. She took a few backward steps and noticed the humming dropped slightly. Forward, it increased.
The spell book was a darned homing device for the other tome.
She dropped to her knees near the opened bedroom doorway and searched in earnest, looking at each crack between the floorboards, along the mouldings, and then into the bedroom doorway.
Near the bottom of the doorframe was the tiniest crack. The tome next to her stomach buzzed like a thousand bees. Holy harpies.
Her fingernail barely fit into the gap, and she wrenched it toward her. The painted piece of wood fell into her hand. Her heart thundered, and she glanced into the narrow space.
A small book, covered in red leather, waited like a newly-discovered opal amidst handfuls of clear quartz. She reached for it and pulled it free from its hiding space.
The tome wasn’t the same as her grandmother’s but similar.
Mr. Kitty meowed his approval, and she spared him a glance. “Thank you, kind sir.”
For the first time ever, he purred, and she nearly fell back on her bottom in surprise. She smiled and cracked open the book, flipping to the last pages where she’d found the dark spells in her grandmother’s book.
As she searched, an eerie sensation slithered around her, and she shivered.
Then she found it. “Obliteration,” she whispered. This had to be it.
A loud crack of thunder ripped through the air startling her. Rain hit the roof overhead, the drops of water sounding more like a spattering of pebbles.
She’d seen this spell in Clarabelle’s book but hadn’t realized they’d meant to use it against the whole town. That was some crazy thinking, and now Glenys wanted to do the same?
She located the same spell in her grandmother’s book and compared the two. Some of the components were the same as Clarabelle’s, but others had been written where there had been blank spaces in her book. Several that Clarabelle had were missing from this one.
Glenys’ book also appeared to have the second half of the spell, and Hazel wondered if there were more than two books with information. Though Glenys had mentioned she’d love to find Clarabelle’s book, so maybe they were the only ones.
Either way, Charlie had been correct in what Belinda had told him. If Glenys was ever able to possess Clarabelle’s book, she would have the capability to destroy the town, and she would have killed Belinda to keep her plan a secret.
Now what?
This time, she did sit back until her bottom hit the floor. She needed to find a way to tell Peter.
But short of Glenys confessing, Hazel couldn’t see any possible way to make her pay for her crime. And she highly doubted Glenys would say a word…
Unless she was forced to confess.
Clarabelle’s truth-telling spell.
The answer to her question sat closer to her heart than she ever expected. Pulling off the spell without tipping off a super powerful witch might be more than she could handle.
But she had to try.
Twenty-Two
Hazel pedaled straight into town, the wheels of her bike coasting over wet streets. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started, though the ominously dark skies threatened more. The air was alive with electric tension and smells of Mother Earth. She inhaled deeply, letting it fuel her intentions.
She parked her bike against the brick wall outside Cora’s Café. She put on her brightest smile before she opened the door and walked in. The restaurant was buzzing with customers in for the Tuesday fried egg and ham special, and it took Hazel a few seconds to find Cora helping customers at the far end of the café. Though her heart flopped like a fish on land, she waited patiently for her friend to finish and make her way back to the counter.
“Hi,” she said as Cora approached. “Sorry to bail this morning.”
Cora shook off her apology with a shake of her head. “Everything okay?”
Hazel sighed. “Yeah, just a personal issue.”
Cora gave her a knowing “oh”, and Hazel let her assume what she would.
“Hey, I need to stop by the bank this morning and wanted to take Glenys her favorite morning drink as a friendly gesture. Do you know what she likes?”
Cora leaned closer to Hazel. “Planning to check her out?” she whispered.
Hazel lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I do need to take in my loan applicatio
n for the old house on Hemlock, but…” She gave her a sly smile. She couldn’t very well say she wasn’t going to ask Glenys anything, but she didn’t want to draw attention to her actions.
That information brought a smile to Cora’s face. “Oooh, the Hemlock house. You’re finally going to buy it.”
“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “I really love it.”
“Awesome, and yeah, I know what Glenys likes to drink.” She snorted. “Sorry that it’s not any of your teas.”
Hazel shook her head and smiled. “I just have to accept that not everyone is as smart as we are.”
Cora laughed. “That’s right. Give me just a second to get it for you.”
Her friend didn’t question her further when she gave her the coffee, and Hazel headed out into the forebodingly overcast day.
Hazel’s pulse continued to hum as she stepped inside the bank, but from fear this time instead of from the spell books.
Glenys came out to greet her dressed in a slim-fitting black skirt and jacket, wearing a friendly smile on her face. Hazel opened her senses, searching for the warmth from her previous visit. It was there, but when she dug deeper, she found holes where there shouldn’t have been any.
“Good to see you again, Hazel. Sorry that I still haven’t made it into your teashop. After Grant’s death, I haven’t been very social.”
“I understand.” She gave her a no-worries smile and held the coffee toward her. “I hear you like coffee better, anyway. Fresh cup straight from Cora’s, just the way you like.”
“How nice.” Glenys eyed the cup with pleasure. “I guess this means we’re still friends despite the coffee-tea thing.”
Hazel snorted. “Of course. Hey, I stopped by to drop off my loan papers, but I also need to speak with you for a minute.” She held out the application as proof.
Glenys took the signed document and placed it on Lachlan’s desk as they passed. Inside her office, she closed the door behind them.
“You seem to be full of energy today. How are things going for you?” Glenys asked.
She hadn’t thought that Glenys might sense the tomes now hiding in her bag. “I’m great. You?” If Glenys detected her own spell book, Hazel didn’t know what she’d do.
“Perfectly awesome. Thank you so much for helping to put Timothy behind bars. I’ve felt much safer since then.”
She wouldn’t if she knew how easy it had been for Mr. Kitty to break into her house.
Glenys slid into the chair behind her desk. “I know it won’t be permanent until after the trial, but I have faith he’ll be locked away forever.”
Hazel sat and waited for Glenys to take a drink before she pressed forward, hoping her words would mask any odd taste. “That’s actually the other part of the reason I’m here. Peter needs to talk to you.”
Glenys seemed shocked. “To me? Why?” She frowned and took another sip.
Hazel released a weighted sigh. Here goes nothing. “I gave him the document you gave me, but he said they wouldn’t be able to use it in court without your presence. Something about the person bringing forth the evidence needed to be present, or it wouldn’t be admissible. I knew you were desperate to have Timothy behind bars, so I eventually told Peter it was you.”
Glenys’ features hardened and displeasure radiated from her. “I thought I made it clear that I couldn’t have my name involved.”
Hazel widened her eyes in innocence. “Yes, I know, but Peter promised he wouldn’t bring you into this at all until he talks to you. He’s a very discreet man, so you don’t have to worry.”
She snorted. “Unless he belongs to the other team.”
Hazel shook her head, keeping an earnest gaze locked on Glenys. “I’m positive he doesn’t.” Though she wished she really could be that certain.
“Just a short, five-minute conversation,” Hazel continued. “In fact, we could go right now if you’re able to get away. I don’t know how particular your boss is about you coming and going as you please.” She prayed pushing that ego button would help get her moving.
“Of course, I can leave when I want. I’m the bank manager.”
Uh-huh. Hazel held up her hands in a sign of calming peace. “A few minutes is all it will take to clear this up, and Peter can tell you directly what your options are as far as coming forward. Maybe he will know a way you can worm out of going to court.” With her personality, that also ought to tempt Glenys.
“But it’s raining, and I paid a lot for this suit.”
“No, it stopped a few minutes ago. If we go now, we should be good.”
“Okay, fine.” She opened her drawer, removed her purse, and stood. “Let’s fix your ridiculous blunder.”
Hazel wanted to say that the only blunder had been Glenys thinking she could get away with murder. “Wonderful. Why don’t you bring your coffee? Maybe it will help ease my stupid mistake.”
Glenys gave her a nasty smirk. “Maybe so.”
As they left the bank, Hazel offered a silent prayer to the Blessed Mother, hoping she hadn’t screwed up the truth-telling spell and that Glenys had drunk enough of her spiked coffee for it to work. If Hazel recalled correctly, she hadn’t had to wait long for it to work when she’d tried it on herself.
Margaret seemed surprised when Hazel walked in with Glenys in tow. “Morning, ladies.” She flicked her gaze between the two of them.
“Hi, Margaret. Is Peter available? It’s important we talk to him this morning.”
Instead of sending Hazel back as usual, she stood. “Let me check.”
Hazel’s heart thundered as Margaret strode to Peter’s office, her bright green tulle skirt swishing as she walked.
There were so many ways this could go wrong. Glenys’ annoyance rolled off her in waves, multiplying her anxiety.
Margaret walked back with a smile. “He’s available. Go ahead and go in.”
Glenys’ heels clicked smartly as they crossed the reception area to his office. Hazel stepped in first and gave him what she hoped was a heads-up smile.
Peter stood and welcomed them to have a seat with a gesture of his hand and then he closed his office door. “What can I help you with?”
Hazel barely let him finish his sentence before she replied. “Glenys is here to talk about the document I gave you, the one with Timothy’s signature.”
“Yes,” Glenys interjected. “I don’t understand why I have to be present when the evidence is introduced in court.”
Peter focused on Hazel with the smallest telltale sign of confusion in his gaze. “Well, Glenys, having you in court and being able to say how you acquired the evidence gives it more legitimacy.”
Hazel fought to keep her relief from showing as she gave thanks for Peter’s brilliant mind.
Glenys shot Hazel with a glare. “What if I refuse?”
Peter shrugged. “We could subpoena you.”
Angry tension erupted in the room. “You don’t understand. This could ruin my reputation,” Glenys said.
“Maybe you could tell us how you ended up with it?” Hazel suggested, needing to test her spell.
“I stole it.” Glenys’ expertly-outlined eyes grew wide in horror. She turned to Hazel, her features blasting fear. “You didn’t.”
This was it. The moment she could push forward and make Glenys confess, potentially exposing her own heritage to others. Or she could choose to let it go, move back home, and pretend everything she’d learned and experienced in Stonebridge had never happened. And hope that Glenys didn’t hunt her down and sacrifice her.
Blessed Mother, how she wished she could choose the latter. She shivered as though frozen to the bone. She had to do this.
“I think you know more about Belinda’s death than you’re saying, don’t you?”
Twenty-Three
“Yes.” The answer to Hazel’s question shot from Glenys’ mouth. Color drained from her face, and she stood. Her gaze darted toward the door.
Before she could make her escape, Hazel jumped to her f
eet and blocked the way. Glenys snarled and, without warning, charged Hazel. She caught her around the midriff and tackled her to the floor.
Harsh, angry whispers rushed from Glenys’ mouth, and the protective medallion Cora had given her heated and singed her neck. Curses, Hazel realized. Deep in the throes of fear, Hazel scrambled, trying to get free from Glenys’ pummeling fists.
Then suddenly, Glenys magically lifted from her body. She screamed and flailed as Peter hauled her backward. More curses poured from Glenys’ mouth. Peter let out a surprised grunt, and his face grew red, though Hazel couldn’t see what Glenys had done to him.
She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the struggling couple. Peter managed to keep her in a tight hold despite shaking muscles and sweat dripping down his face. Instinctively, she covered Glenys’ mouth with her hand, stopping Glenys’ angry spells aimed at him.
Glenys struggled to bite her, and Hazel relinquished her hold when she nipped the underside of her forefinger.
“Stop it, Glenys,” she yelled. “It’s too late! You’re caught.”
Glenys panted. “You can’t stop me.” She started another string of ancient-sounding words.
Hazel glanced frantically about the area, searching for anything that she could use as a gag. She swiped a paper from Peter’s desk and shoved it into Glenys’ mouth. The more Glenys cursed and struggled to speak, the more Hazel stuffed it between her lips, until Glenys could only mumble.
She tried to spit out the wad, but Hazel held it in place.
A rapid knock sounded at the door, and Margaret thrust it open. “Is everything—”
She paused as though stunned, her gaze jumping to each person in the room.
Glenys moaned against Hazel’s hand and struggled to free herself from Peter’s grip.
“Tape,” Peter demanded in a breathy voice.
Margaret hurried forward and ripped off a long piece. Hazel released Glenys long enough to run it from cheek to cheek. Margaret and Hazel repeated the procedure, securing more pieces of tape until Glenys’ face looked like a badly wrapped package.