Love Witch

by Tess Lake

  The waitress came to our table and took Marcus’s order and after she left he tapped his finger on my book.

  “Do you love the dear director so much that you’re reading his autobiography now?” Marcus asked.

  “Oh yes, that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s such a fascinating character and I want to be just like him,” I said, deadpan. “I was just reading it because I thought maybe it could give me a clue as to if there was anyone who hated him enough to poison him. But that list has a lot of people on it,” I said.

  “I think most of the theater community he’s ever worked with could certainly be called in for questioning,” Marcus agreed.

  I was about halfway through the autobiography and what I’d discovered was that Hans had made enemies everywhere he’d gone since he’d been a child. He’d quite modestly put this down to his genius, but even though the autobiography would surely have been written in his favor it was easy to read between the lines, especially now that I knew him personally. His arrogant ways caused him to make enemies and those enemies often did things to him, including one of them stabbing him. He’d been stabbed, had a bottle of wine smashed on his head, been shoved off a stage into an orchestra pit, and even at one point claimed to have a bounty on his head. His autobiography was a mixture of stories of disaster like this, and triumphs as he’d began to put on Shakespeare performances that were successful. In every scene and chapter, he was portrayed as the hero. There was an entire chapter devoted to his early twenties when he claimed he’d worked with a director who had failed to take care of safety on set and as a result, there had been an explosion and a fire in which six actors had died as well as three of the audience. After ripping the director to pieces, Hans had written that this event had given him a special appreciation for life and he was going to seize it and never give up doing what he was put on this earth to do.

  I had rolled my eyes many times during that chapter, noticing that he had completely forgotten that people had died in that incident, but somehow he brought the story right back around to him as the center of it.

  Marcus’s pie and drink arrived and he started eating. I’d already eaten mine and I had been reading, trying to find anything or anyone who might be a suspect.

  “Does it list his ex-wives in there? If anyone were going to poison him it would definitely be one of them,” Marcus said through a mouthful of pie.

  “I haven’t got to that part yet, but I’m sure it does and I’m sure he was the hero and they were the ones who couldn’t appreciate his so-called genius,” I said.

  We started chatting away about the play. Marcus had worked with Hans for the last two years as musical director, saying the same thing many did who worked with Hans: they did it because it was good for their career.

  “But I think this might be the last time on the merry-go-round. Having sandbags land on the stage and a director poisoned ain’t good,” Marcus said.

  I glanced out the front window and saw a familiar figure across the road. It was Henry G, costume designer. With him was Olivia, one of the other assistants on the play. They were walking down the street, Henry G waving his arms around and talking as he always did and Olivia gazing at him with puppy dog eyes. Marcus looked back over his shoulder at them and then turned back to me, raising his eyebrows as he did.

  “That poor girl needs to understand that she is not his type,” Marcus said.

  “Does she like him?” I said.

  “Have you seen the way she looks at him? She is in love but I don’t think she knows that Henry G would only be interested if her name was Oliver and not Olivia,” Marcus said.

  That familiar feeling returned, the one of slight anxiety mixed with intuition.

  “How long has that been going on?” I asked

  “I think maybe since we arrived in Harlot Bay? It’s fairly recent,” Marcus said.

  I sighed and tried to take my mind off it but I just couldn’t get away from the thought that Olivia’s love wasn’t real and was perhaps being influenced by supernatural means.

  Love potions are certainly nothing new to a witch and at various times we had experimented with them. Most witches quickly learn the truth: fake love is not as good as real love. The thing was that sometimes fake love became real love over time. Ethics aside, we try to avoid using love potions although the moms had dabbled, at times dosing food for boys that they thought we should date.

  It seemed this salamander had the same effect, causing love where love shouldn’t be and heartbreak was sure to follow.

  “I’m sure she’ll work it out and then she’ll get over it,” Marcus said.

  “Yeah, I hope so,” I said.

  “So who’s on your list of suspects?” Marcus said.

  “Well, I have the new director because he obviously benefits from taking over; virtually everyone who worked with Hans, including myself, who benefit from not having to be around Hans; and then of course there’s every single person in the history of time who’s ever encountered him who benefits by getting their revenge. So it’s a fairly short list and I’m going to crack this case wide open fairly soon,” I said.

  He finished his lunch and it was time for us to return to the theater. We walked back, passed by the protesters and went inside, Marcus heading back to the piano. I went out to the dressing rooms to see if any of the teenagers were around and found one of the doors closed. I grabbed it and pulled it open, expecting to find a smooching couple on the other side, but I only found Fox, one of the boys in the play. He was sitting in a chair, crying softly to himself, his eyes red.

  There had been a bit of this going on and although I could attribute some of it to the salamander the rest was just teenagers being teenagers.

  I closed the door behind me, pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

  “So what happened? Is it Amaris?” I asked.

  Fox nodded and tried to wipe away his tears but more kept coming.

  “I stole her something but she doesn’t like it,” he said.

  Oh boy, I thought. Was this how the moms had felt dealing with us? What I wanted to say was “What are you doing stealing things? Don’t you realize how absurd it is to steal something just because someone tells you that? And by the way, if someone tests you like that for love, you don’t want that love because it’s not love at all!” I didn’t say any of this of course because I knew he would immediately shut down.

  “Just try to focus on the play and soon it’ll be over and you’ll find someone else, believe me,” I said.

  This probably wasn’t the best thing to say either because it started a fresh burst of tears but then he quickly wiped them away and left the room. I was sitting there sighing to myself when a soft form brushed past my legs.

  “Two people in costumes up at the mansion snooping around,” Adams said.

  “Did one of them have crazy blonde hair and was wearing a plaid shirt?” I asked, sitting bolt upright.

  “I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention. I was sleeping and they woke me up but now they’re snooping and I want to sleep,” Adams said.

  He stepped between my legs and then when I looked under my chair he was gone.

  I quickly rang Mom but her phone went to voicemail. Either she was still busy at the house or she’d gone off to the bakery. Molly and Luce were hard at work and Aunt Ro and Aunt Freya were at the bakery too. I didn’t want to call the police so I rang Jack instead.

  “Adams just told me two people are snooping around Torrent mansion, do you think you can check it out?” I said.

  “Did he get a description?” Jack asked, his voice serious.

  “He’s a cat so his description was two people but I think I saw them across from the theater filming the protesters, and I saw them at the Mansion a couple of months ago. They stayed there. For some reason they were wearing disguises,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll get out there right now and see what I can find. I’ll let you know,” Jack said. The phone went dead, leaving me in the silence of
the dressing room.

  “Does anything else want to happen?” I asked the wall, throwing my hands up in the air.

  The wall didn’t answer but the piercing scream from the main part of the theater certainly did.

  Chapter 9

  “I think you should just quit,” Molly said, picking a piece of fluff off her black balaclava.

  “What kind of snake do they think it is?” Luce asked.

  “They don’t know officially but of course in all the chaos the teenagers still took photos with their phones and then looked it up on the Internet. It has stripes and matches exactly an Australian tiger snake,” I said. I adjusted my black top and then quickly checked myself in the mirror.

  “Director gets poisoned, sandbags falling and even with all the guards there, there’s still a snake let loose? Sounds like an inside job to me,” Molly said.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I said. I walked over to the kitchen table where Aunt Cass’s map of the storm drains was laid out. Tonight was the first night we were to go out to collect water samples. It was just past ten and I’d much rather be sleeping. My cousins, for some reason, seemed strangely eager to get down into the stormwater system although I had no idea why.

  “We need to make this fast because I am super tired,” I complained.

  It had been an extraordinarily long day. After the snake had appeared in the theater the police had been called and then an animal control officer who’d captured the snake. Then there had been more questioning, everyone talking to the police again and this time they wouldn’t let anyone leave until they had spoken to every single person in the theater, including all the private security. We’d essentially sat around for hours while the police interrogated everyone to see if they had any information as to where the snake might’ve come from.

  As far as I knew no one had cracked under questioning and admitted it was them. Thankfully no one had been bitten. The snake was more scared of us than we were of it, although you wouldn’t have thought so according to the screams. I briefly talked to Sheriff Hardy who had told me he was on the brink of shutting the whole play down in the interest of public safety. The director declared the show must go on which reminded me of the note that had been found beside Hans. Thus far the police couldn’t shut us down although it was fairly clear there was someone working with malicious intent.

  I told Jack about it and he too had echoed Molly’s sentiments. I should stop working on the play. Between people snooping around the mansion (Jack hadn’t found them) and everything else going on, continuing to work on the play wasn’t the safe move. I’d mentioned this to Kira, who had flatly refused to give up her position as Katherine. The fact was many of the other teenagers, although scared, felt the same way. Something bad was going on but it wasn’t going to stop them from putting on this performance they had rehearsed so long and hard for. For my part, although yes, I did need the money and I was a bit scared, I felt protective over Kira and the other teenagers. Lingering in the back of my mind was what Aunt Cass had said to me: there’s something strange in Harlot Bay. I had no real idea if this was connected to it or just one of those things that happened, perhaps exacerbated by the magical confluence that circled above the bay, but I guess at some point I decided that I would be involved and that meant I would stay working for the play, trying to uncover who had poisoned Hans, cut sandbags, and now apparently released a snake into the theater.

  Molly went to her bedroom and then returned with a small crowbar in her hands.

  “Oh, excellent, is that Aunt Cass’s crowbar?” Luce asked.

  “No, it’s the family crowbar. Why does everyone keep saying that?” Molly said, exasperated.

  “Big talk from someone who is sure to get cursed one of these days,” I said.

  “Pish and posh. She’s not going to do anything. I think she respects me more now,” Molly said. Since the dinner where all the boyfriends had been revealed, including Aunt Cass’s Art, Molly had been riding high on finally getting some sort of revenge on Aunt Cass, although it hadn’t entirely been revenge. Personally I think she was risking getting cursed, but there was a little truth to what she said. Aunt Cass did kind of respect those people who talked back and so for all we knew maybe she wasn’t going to do anything to Molly in revenge for the revenge for the revenge.

  We grabbed the map, the small glass vials and the extendable grasping claw that Aunt Cass had given us, and then drove Molly’s car down the hill.

  “This is going be exciting,” Molly said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “What is going on with you two? We’re going down into the stormwater drains, which by the way are icky and gross and the two of you seem really happy about it,” I said suspiciously.

  “Nothing is going on. We’re just happy to be helping to solve this mystery to find that salamander,” Molly said.

  “Poor little thing, it’s probably scared out of its wits,” Luce said.

  “You do realize the poor little thing is making love more intense and then it’s going to turn to hatred and people might kill each other because of this salamander,” I said.

  “It’s not its fault. It probably got lost away from its native habitat,” Luce said. We drove into town but instead of heading for the manhole cover near where we were to take our first sample, we drove to Traveler instead.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “We have to pick up Kira,” Molly said.

  “Kira is involved?” I asked. Molly unlocked Traveler, flicked the lights on and we went inside. I put the map down on the table and sat down, only for Kira to shimmer out of nowhere and shout “Rar!” The three of us squealed and Kira broke out into a cackling witch laughter.

  “Ha! Got you all,” she said, pointing her fingers at us.

  “You better watch it Stern. I could’ve hit you with a fireball,” I said, although I laughed myself.

  “Go right ahead. I like fireballs,” Kira said. “So, are we ready for some Torrent witch shenanigans? The next exciting chapter in the Torrent and Stern adventures?”

  “You want to come down into the stormwater system as well? You do know it’s gross down there, right?” I asked.

  “Nah I don’t want to but my grandma said I had to help you guys to find that salamander, that it is apparently quote ‘good for my magical education’ unquote, “ Kira said.

  “So Hattie knows about the salamander too? Is there some secret witch network operating?” I asked.

  “Witch internet maybe,” Kira quipped.

  “Okay, now that we’re here, it’s time to tell you that we’re not just going to be collecting water samples tonight,” Molly began.

  “Ha! I knew you two were up to something. What is it?” I said.

  Luce went out to the back room and then returned with a bag from the Magic Bean. From inside she pulled out half a sandwich and then one of Aunt Cass’s testing strips which was a deep pink heading towards red.

  “We went back and bought another sandwich for forensic analysis,” Luce said.

  “And do you know what we found? Magic.” Molly said.

  Luce handed me the testing strip.

  “What do you mean you found magic? What did you test with this?” I asked.

  “We tested the sandwich. We put the testing strip inside of it and it turned bright pink. They’re putting magic in the sandwich and they’re beating us and we’re going to close down and go broke and become homeless and lead terrible lives unless we do something about it!” Luce said, going slightly off the deep end.

  “Oh no, you’re about to propose that we break in aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Come on, it’s just a bit of light snooping and mild crime. We saw on the stormwater map there just happens to be a manhole that opens into the small private courtyard behind their shop. We figured we’d collect some samples and then maybe come up there and have a quick look that’s all,” Molly said.

  “O yeah, Torrent and Stern on
a breaking and entering adventure,” Kira said, a slightly wild look in her eyes.

  “No, this is a terrible idea. What does it matter if they have magic in their sandwiches? We don’t have any reason to break into their shop just to discover that,” I said.

  “Well, we’re the witches of Harlot Bay and it’s up to us to ensure peace and harmony and that magic is being used responsibly,” Molly said primly, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “Yeah, plus we really are gonna be in trouble if they keep selling magic sandwiches and we don’t get any business,” Luce added.

  “I don’t know, this doesn’t sound good,” I said.

  Kira tapped her nails on the map. “I know you’re hesitant Harlow, but they’re right. People dosing sandwiches with magic? That’s going into food that people are eating. Who knows what that could do? At the very least it’s a public health violation. At the worst who knows, maybe people are going to grow a third eye or something. As the witches of this town we need to have a look into this,” Kira said, sounding like a reasonable grown-up proposing a reasonable plan.

  “Okay, three against one, I’ll help you,” I sighed.

  We went quickly over the plan. We were going to grab some water samples where we were meant to, but then we’d take a detour, go up through the manhole cover into the small private courtyard behind the Magic Bean, then we’d use a magic unlocking spell to go inside to investigate. It sounded simple but then most of our plans sounded simple and most our plans came to some disaster of one kind or another.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Molly said.

  We left Traveler, turning the lights off and locking it up. We got back in the car and drove a few streets away (mostly because all four of us were completely dressed in black and probably looked highly suspicious lurking around the streets). Down a small side street we found the manhole cover that was our entry into the stormwater drains. Molly used the family crowbar to open it up and then we all slipped inside, pulling the manhole cover back into place above us. When we were underground Kira and Luce each summoned a light which lit up the stormwater drains. They pretty much looked like the drains where Jack and I had gone. They were grimy, wet, there was flowing water, and it didn’t smell very good.