3-Book Series Bundle: Wisteria Witches, Wicked Wisteria, Wisteria Wonders - Cozy Witch Mysteries

by Angela Pepper

  “Long day,” I said with a sigh, putting my arm around my daughter's shoulders.

  “I'm sorry you didn't get to shift into anything,” Zoey said. “It must be disappointing. But I'm also not sorry, because I genuinely prefer my mother to be human shaped, and not just because we can borrow each other's clothes.”

  I hugged her close to my side. “And I'm sorry that your name turned up on that scroll, whether it's been on there for hundreds of years or it's all part of some nefarious scheme to get me working for the DWM. I'm sorry you got dragged into this.”

  I felt her shrug. “It's been a slow news week for me.”

  “Got anything you want to talk about? I've missed having dinner with you every night this week so far.”

  “I'm fine,” she said with an air of martyrdom.

  We made our way along the narrow trail between the oceanfront mansions and back through the alley.

  After a few minutes of easy silence, she stopped walking, looked up at the sky, and said, “Wow.”

  I gazed up at the sky as well. There weren't many streetlamps in this area, and the ones we had were shielded at the top to prevent light pollution. Above us, in the dark sky, were sparkling stars. So many stars. The longer I looked, the more appeared. I pointed out the major constellations.

  Zoey knew the stars as well as I did—if not better—but she humored me and didn't interrupt.

  Once we started walking again, she asked, “What if this is everything? As good as it gets? What if the whole point of us coming here to this town, and you getting the Spirit Charmed or Soul Catcher powers, was so that you and I could go to the beach and watch the sun set, then view the stars on the way home?”

  “I take it you're not furious with Chet anymore.”

  “We had fun tonight. First, I got to use my ninja wire, and then, you should have seen the look on Mr. Moore's face when I found him in his den and told him to start talking.” She laughed. “Then you came storming in, looking like you were about to shoot blue lightning! I almost felt sorry for the guy.”

  “That was pretty dramatic.”

  “The Riddle girls know how to party.”

  I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “I had fun with you tonight, too. We make a great team.”

  Chapter 23

  On Thursday at work, I rested my elbows on the counter for all of a few seconds, and my mind dashed off someplace else.

  The calm, soothing ocean.

  Oh, how I longed to swim in its murky depths. I dreamed of its secret waters.

  When the sudden sound of a dropped book startled me out of my reverie, I wondered, was the ocean also dreaming of me?

  It was a silly thought, but I'd felt something. The pull was mutual.

  All morning, no matter how many cups of coffee I drank, my thoughts kept slipping away. My shift couldn't be over soon enough.

  I was so distracted by the ocean's hold over me, my whole recommendation routine went haywire. I actually suggested a nihilistic dark comedy to a patron looking for a breezy summer beach read, and a kinky billionaire sex series to a book club of octogenarians.

  “Bold choices,” my boss, Kathy, said when she found me groaning to myself with my head in my hands.

  “The sarcasm, it stings,” I whimpered.

  Kathy blinked behind her horn-rimmed glasses. “Zara, I meant what I said. You gave those two patrons what they really wanted.”

  “I did?”

  “Both of them walked by our display tables marked Beach Reads and Book Club Winners, just to ask you for a personal recommendation. You're some kind of librarian empath who picks up on people's true desires. You have a gift, and this is your true calling.”

  I took my head out of my hands. “Either you're paying me a compliment, or your sarcasm is seriously next-level stuff.”

  She wrinkled her pointy nose and pushed up her glasses. “You're doing well here, Zara. It's not time yet for your official three-month review, but I wanted to give you some positive feedback. You clearly have found the right path in life. You're a woman who knows exactly who and what she is.”

  “Thanks,” I said, stifling laughter. If Kathy knew I'd taken an extra-long shower that morning, trying to get enough water on me so I could change into a sea creature, she wouldn't be saying that. “Please let me know if there's any way I could be of more help to you.”

  She glanced around to make sure we were alone. We stood together by the New and Notable table, where I'd been making sure it was well stocked with high-demand titles.

  She came closer and said softly, “What's the deal with Frank?”

  “In what sense?”

  “Not the obvious. We're all well aware of that, because he's constantly telling us. I meant, why is he spewing random flamingo facts at everyone? This morning, he told me about how both the female and male flamingo produce crop milk for their young, from their necks. It's blood red and contains traces of blood. The man is obsessed.”

  “Oh, that's all my fault,” I said.

  “How so?”

  “I, uh, came up with a great theme for the Children's Summer Reading Program. We're doing birds. Our theme for the kids this summer is birds.”

  She clasped her hands together and made a hooting sound. “We can wear costumes for special group events!” She looked up at the ceiling and scratched her head. “I'll have to start planning now, so I can think long and hard about what kind of bird I would be.”

  “Really?” Was Kathy's sarcasm truly next level, or did she genuinely have no idea how much she looked like an owl? Did she not have any mirrors? Surely she had glimpsed her owl-like features in other reflective surfaces. She had to be trolling me. Had to be. If I was a librarian empath, she was a librarian with sarcasm skills so next level, even she was unaware of them.

  She made a soft hooting sound and looked up at my hair, smiling. “Zara, with your red hair, you should be the Northern Cardinal. In that species, even the females have red plumage on their feathers. Not that I object to you dressing in the manner of a male bird. We're a very progressive library. I'm just trying to save you from the ordeal of attracting the wrong sort of attention from the WBS.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I knew about the DWM, but the WBS sounded equally ominous. Something twinged in my mind. Call it witch's intuition.

  Kathy excused herself and went back to her head librarian duties, leaving me wondering.

  Later, I did a search on the computer. WBS stood for the Wisteria Bird-Watching Society. Officially, anyway. They had a website, but the text was suspiciously vague about their meetings and activities.

  Just before closing, I brought the organization to Frank's attention. He was also intrigued.

  “We could go undercover to a meeting,” he said. “Find out if WBS secretly stands for Wisteria Bird Shifters.” He bookmarked the website on his phone. “Or I could ask Rob and Knox when I see them tonight. We're driving up to a remote location to practice shifting and flying.”

  “Lucky you,” I said.

  “I know.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Did you see them up close in their bird forms? They're majestic, and much larger than their natural bird counterparts. In their monster state, they're practically mythical.”

  “Monster state?” It didn't sound like a term you'd use to describe yourself or your friends—not unless you were a fan of that singer, Lady Gaga, whose legion calls themselves Little Monsters.

  Frank waved a hand dismissively. “They call themselves monsters, so it's not offensive to use that term.”

  “How can people who call themselves the 'good guys' claim to be monsters?” I shook my head. “I don't know if you should be hanging out with those guys. Chessa might have been attacked by a giant bird, and she was paranoid that someone within the DWM was working against her.”

  Frank kept grinning at me. “Jealous much? You can come along if you like. There's a lake in the mountain, where you could go for a dip. I could keep an eye on you in case you grow fins or scales or”—he made a
loose undulating gesture with both arms—“flappy snake tentacles.”

  “Thanks, but I'll keep trying with the ocean before I hit the freshwater.” I twisted my sea-glass bracelet on my wrist. “I've got a good feeling about tonight.”

  “Don't get yourself drowned.”

  “I could pick up a pair of those inflatable arm things they put on kids. Water wings.”

  Frank smirked. “You, in water wings? Now you're tempting me to change my plans. Are you sure you don't want my help with this thing? Especially since your no-go beau has shown his true Machiavellian colors.”

  “What did you have in mind? Another summoning of the Spirits of the Deep?”

  “I could paddle along in a dinghy while you flail around in your water wings.” He looked past me, at the patrons using the rows of public computers.

  “Have Rob and Knox told you much about Chessa? She had the power to make men fight over her.” I pointed to my head, even though Frank was looking at the computer section and not me. “I've had flashes of visions, her memories. Mostly about how she drove one man in particular crazy.”

  Frank's attention snapped back to me. “As in...?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately.” I reached for one of the bottles of hand sanitizer we kept on the counter and put a glob on my palms. Since becoming a witch, my skin had been stronger in everyday life. Either the alcohol in the gel no longer stung my paper cuts, or my paper cuts healed immediately. I tried to focus on the antiseptic scent rather than wallow in the intimate memory that was now playing in the back of my mind—Chet, opening a bottle of champagne at the beach, on the evening of their engagement. It was springtime, just months before her accident. Her emotions were shooting high and low, off the charts. I could feel her excitement, fluttering in my own chest. Chessa wanted to tell him something, but she had to keep the secret just a little while longer. She had to make sure she had a secret to share.

  And then, just when I wanted to stay inside the memory and learn more, the sunset scene on the beach dissipated.

  Frank hadn't noticed me zoning out.

  “All I know is Rob and Knox weren't in love with Chessa,” Frank said. “According to them, she did have an effect on men, but knowing about it took away some of the power.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “They did say something weird.”

  “How weird?”

  “People keep using the word worship. Chet worshiped the ground she walked on, and the communications departments worshiped her cryptography skills. Plus Knox called her a goddess.”

  “Her sister Chloe did claim they were descended from the gods.”

  “That settles it, then.” Frank took the bottle of hand sanitizer from me. “Now that you have all the details, go ahead and raise a goddess from the dead. Get right on that, Zara Riddle, and I'll go confiscate the bag of chips that was opened sixty seconds ago at computer number three.” He sniffed the air. “Barbecue chips.”

  * * *

  That Thursday evening, I went to the ocean for the third time that week.

  This time, I was ready to raise a goddess from the dead, because I was wearing my lucky underwear. Or at least the same black underwear I'd been wearing on Monday.

  Once again, Zoey waited patiently on the shore as I waded into the water.

  Once again, nothing happened.

  I returned to shore with my head hung low.

  “We're too early,” Zoey said. “Maybe it only happens at sunset.”

  I slipped on a loose beach cover-up, and we laid out our picnic dinner. I was too nervous to eat much, but I pecked at the sesame noodle salad, buckwheat pancakes, sweet and sour meatballs, dill pickles, peanut butter cookies, and miniature wax-coated cheese balls.

  Zoey looked over the empty takeout containers. “Not hungry at all, huh?”

  “You shouldn't go swimming on a full stomach.”

  She offered me the last cookie, but I declined. She took a bite. “How does it work? Where does the food go when a shifter changes into an animal?”

  “Beats me,” I said. “Adult flamingos weight about six pounds. I don't know where the rest of Frank went, let alone his stomach contents. It's magic.”

  “The physics of magic,” she said. “We're very lucky that we know the truth about the world.”

  “Very lucky,” I agreed.

  * * *

  The sun was setting when I tried again to merge with the sea.

  I walked deeper than before, until my toes didn't touch the ground and I had to tread water. I took a breath, held it, and stilled my legs, sinking under. I opened my eyes underwater. I released the air in my lungs as a slow, steady stream of bubbles.

  Nothing was changing. I stayed submerged as long as I could before I burst up again, gasping for air.

  A dog was barking.

  I rotated around to see my neighbor, Arden, paddling in his yellow boat with his brown labradoodle standing at the bow. In shadowy profile, the dog resembled one of Neptune's wooden angels, a carved nautical figurehead. Sailors in Germany and Belgium believed in spirits or fairies called Kaboutermannekes, who dwelt in the figureheads to protect the ship from rocks and dangerous storms. If the ship sank, the water fairies would guide the sailors' souls to the Land of the Dead.

  I wondered, was Chessa one of the Kaboutermannekes? Was she trapped between the land of the living and the dead with no spirit to guide her through?

  The dog barked again.

  “Hello, Doodles,” I called out, waving.

  Arden paddled the boat over to where I was treading water. “Are you caught up on something under there, Zara?” He chuckled. “Has a gigantic clam nibbled on your foot?”

  “No, but that would be some giant pearl if it did!” I swam to meet him and reached a point where I could stand instead of treading, my toes on top of a boulder.

  “That would be quite the pearl!” Arden laughed, and his fluffy eyebrows came together like two caterpillars meeting on the side of a bald, pink mountain. “How's the water tonight?”

  “The water's n-n-n-nice,” I said through chattering teeth.

  Arden glanced around, then leaned over the side of his yellow boat as though concerned someone might overhear us. “Why are you out here? Is this some sort of therapy thing? If it is, then I should give you some privacy.”

  “I suppose you could call it therapy,” I said lightly. “I'm certainly learning a lot about myself during these sea excursions.”

  “To each their own,” he said.

  I reached up and gave Doodles a chin rub, his brown curls sticking to my wet fingers. “So, what is it you two do out here? I don't see a fishing rod in your hands, or a tackle box in your colorful boat.”

  “We're monster hunters,” Arden said proudly.

  Something in my mind lurched, like a car braking for a red light. Maybe it was just my imagination, or seaweed, but it seemed like something swished against my legs right at that moment. My whole body shook, more than just a shiver from the cold.

  I stammered, “M-m-m-monster hunters?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We hunt sea monsters.”

  “Like the Kraken, or the Loch Ness Monster?”

  He chuckled and answered in a cartoonishly thick Scottish accent. “I'd love to catch us a Nessie, but I'm afraid we're a long way from Scotland, lass.”

  “Is there a sea monster associated with this particular area?”

  “Nothing that has a name. And I doubt we'll ever get to use this.” Arden pointed to something in the bottom of his boat. I stood on my tiptoes in the water and peered over the edge. At his feet lay a long rod of metal, tipped with three barbed hooks. My body shook again.

  Carefully, I said, “Looks like you've got a pointy trident there.” My heart pounded in my chest while my senses screamed danger! Evenly, I said, “The traditional weapon of Poseidon, or Neptune, god of the sea.”

  “That's right. You know your sea gods!”

  “In Hindu mythology, it's called the trishula, the weapon of Shiva, the creator, destroyer, a
nd regenerator.” I clenched my jaw to stop my nervous flow of facts.

  “I'm afraid this is just a plain old trident from a camping and fishing outlet.”

  “Are you planning to do some spear fishing?”

  He lifted the trident and struck a pose with it upright. “This is mainly for show,” Arden said through a chuckle, his gray eyes crinkling with mirth. “If Doodles and I do find any monsters, we'll probably just take pictures.” He gazed at the horizon. “I've seen things out here that can't be explained. Haven't caught one of the beasts in a picture yet, but some day.”

  “What does it look like?” I'd taken a few steps back from the boat. My senses tingled with danger. I could use a combination of telekinesis and spells to protect myself, but it was wise to put some distance between me and the pointy trident.

  “I can't describe it.” Arden patted Doodles on the head. The dog whined and rested his chin on his master's knee.

  “Tentacles? A blowhole? Shiny scales?”

  “No, I really can't describe it, because the memory turns into a black hole. It's the absence of memory that alerted me to it. Spans of time I couldn't account for. The thing wipes your memory right after you see it. That's why people around here don't know.”

  “Maybe it's for the best. My aunt always says secrets revealed are trouble unsealed, which makes me think of Pandora's box. Some things are safer when they stay buried.”

  “Oh, I reckon one of these days I'll catch something,” Arden said. “Then I'll be sure to come by your house and show you the proof.” He looked right at me, his gray eyes in shadow. “Speaking of houses, how are you liking the Red Witch House?”

  I let out a high-pitched laugh. “I'm thinking about painting it a different color, so people will stop calling it that.” I splashed the water to give them a cheery wave, and I started moving toward the shore. I could have started swimming, but I felt more comfortable upright, where less of my body mass was visible on the water surface. “See you around.”

  “Be careful,” Arden warned. “If you're just going to walk around like that, you should watch your step.”