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

by Angela Pepper

  It took a few minutes for me to work through the grammar and the modifications. I was only a novice-level witch, but Zinnia wanted me to practice more, and I couldn't think of a better way than to find more instances in my everyday life to use magic.

  I cast the modified spell, throwing in a clause about beauty and symmetry at the last minute.

  The air sparkled with spell energy. The clothes in my closet began to shift left and right on the hanging rod. It was working! With a smooth swish, the sea of clothing parted neatly in two spots. The sparkles dissipated. I pulled out the highlighted items. My closet had suggested a sleek pairing of dark indigo jeans, boot cut, along with a bright-orange T-shirt the color of a traffic safety cone.

  “Bold choice,” I said to my closet.

  My closet didn't answer back, which was probably for the best.

  I pulled on the dark jeans and orange shirt then admired myself in the full-length mirror. I'd never worn the T-shirt before. It still had the tag on the label. I'd grabbed it during a big sale to bring my total up to the dollar amount required to get a discount on the whole lot. I'd never thought of the shirt again, but only because I had no idea how amazing it would look with the ultra-dark jeans. The color brought out the glow in my hair, and made my hazel eyes sparkle with amber highlights.

  I gave my closet the thumbs-up.

  “Nicely done,” I told the closet and myself.

  As I headed over to Chet's house, I did wonder if the closet spell had done what I'd intended, or simply picked a shirt that was most similar to a ripe cantaloupe. Did it really matter? I looked so good, I could feel my happiness radiating out, making the world a prettier place.

  I practically floated up the front steps to the Moore residence. The door was open, so I walked in. I hadn't been inside the house since entering it in ninja fashion, interrogating Chet, and then storming out. We'd bumped into each other a few times coming and going, though, and on Thursday he'd invited me to come by Saturday morning for what he described as a “Grownups' Brunch.”

  Zoey was already there, laughing. I followed the sound of her voice to the kitchen, which, unlike mine next door, had been fully renovated in the farmhouse-chic style, with polished concrete countertops and a huge sink, deep enough to use for dismembering bodies.

  I found Zoey at the industrial-grade chef's stove, making animal-shaped pancakes with Corvin, under the supervision of Chet's father. When I walked in, Grampa Don barely glanced up at me from his newspaper.

  “Head on through to the backyard,” Grampa Don told me. “That's where he's hoarding all the bacon and sausages.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and I took a minute to say hello to my daughter and admire her pancakes.

  As I was leaving the kitchen, Grampa Don whistled and beckoned for me to come closer to him. I smirked, remembering the sight of him in his underwear in that same kitchen, back when I'd been in spectral form two weeks earlier.

  I leaned over and whispered, “What's up, Grampa Don?”

  “Bring me some bacon, and I'll be your best friend forever,” he said.

  “Let me think about it,” I said, and I left the kitchen.

  I found Chet in the back corner of his yard, sitting at a wrought-iron patio table. Between the picturesque iron table, painted a bright aquamarine blue, and the lush landscaping, what I saw before me resembled a postcard from a fancy resort.

  “You've created paradise back here,” I said, admiring the greenery. He must have had the same size of yard as mine, but it was a different world. Whereas I had a jungle of unidentified vines, rotting wood that might have once been a picnic table, and stubby bushes, Chet had fragrant, blossoming trees, tidy perennials, and a burbling fountain with a pond. I knelt at the edge of the pond and dipped my fingers in, much to the excitement of a friendly trio of shimmering koi. “Aren't you guys adorable? What's that? Blub blub blub? Pleased to see you again, too! You're getting so big these days.”

  From his seat on the wrought-iron chair, Chet said, “Zara, you've never been back here before.”

  I stood up stiffly and joined him at the table. He was right. I'd peeked over the fence into his yard on occasion, but I hadn't met his trio of koi fish before. Chessa had. She'd bought him the fish, which had originally been a quartet, until a raccoon got one. I didn't share this insight with Chet. We were way beyond the cheap parlor tricks.

  “Her spirit seems to come and go,” I said. “I'm sorry I don't have better news for you, but our connection is weak.”

  “She's not going to ever wake up,” he said glumly.

  “I'm trying, Chet. If it's okay with you, I'd like to spend some time inside her house.” I paused, reluctant to continue, but I did. “I'd like to sleep in her bed.”

  His eyes flicked up to mine. “Alone?”

  My mind flooded with images of rumpled sheets and Chet, naked, rolling playfully and kissing my wrists, my shoulders, my neck. Him, over me, his breath ragged and urgent. The memory broke over me with a shockwave of bliss, and then it was gone.

  I cleared my throat and reached for the pitcher of red-orange juice. “Yes, alone,” I said.

  “Zara, I would do anything to get her back.”

  I choked on the juice I was sipping. Anything?

  His cheeks flushed pink. “I meant I could stay there with you, on the couch,” he said. “You didn't think I meant—”

  “Of course not.”

  I finished drinking the juice as I tried to banish thoughts of Chet's tanned skin, taut over rippling muscles, framed by crisp white sheets. I had to get Chessa's spirit back into her body, because being near her lover and unable to act upon her feelings was bittersweet, horrible torture. Why couldn't he have been a terrible, awkward lover? Why couldn't he be selfish and clumsy? Why did I have to know that he took his time, and within his patient arms, there was another whole world, in which time stood still?

  I held up my empty goblet. “Is there champagne in here?” I hiccuped.

  “We always have champagne at Grownups' Brunch,” he said.

  He refilled my glass, and I composed myself by looking over the food. There was a third garden chair pulled up to the table, and a third place setting.

  “That's sweet,” I said, nodding at the empty chair. And creepy, I added silently. Reserving a chair for the spirit of his fiancée was probably the right thing to do, yet it bothered me. Was he going to put pancakes on her plate? I tore my gaze away and returned to admiring the landscaped backyard. If I played my cards right and got him his fiancée back, he could show his gratitude by doing a similar makeover on my jungle.

  “We looked into the neighbor with the yellow boat,” he said.

  “Arden?” I leaned in and lowered my voice, just in case someone might be walking through the back alley at that moment. “Does he have an alibi?”

  “Not exactly, but I wouldn't expect him to. It was a year ago, and the man lives alone,” Chet said. “The DWM hasn't spoken to him directly, but he keeps his boat at a public marina. We had our best people examine the boat and the fishing spear for signs of blood.”

  “You have your own CSI crew?”

  “Something like that.” He looked up at the back of his house and stopped talking. Corvin had emerged from the back door with a platter of pancakes. He placed them proudly on the table. We both thanked the boy, and once we were alone again, Chet continued. “The trident was spotless. Completely clean of blood, human or animal. And when our psychic held it, she detected no trace residue of violence. To the best of our knowledge, that trident hasn't harmed so much as a minnow.”

  “Arden was sure he saw something out there, though.” I picked up my butter knife and pointed it at Chet. “No more wiggling around, Mr. Moore, or I'll send Zoey after you with her ninja skills. You're going to tell me what manner of creature Chessa is, right now, or I'm off the case.” It was a bluff, but he didn't need to know that.

  He gave me a cagey look. “What makes you think she's not the same as her sisters?”

&nbs
p; I used my magic to yank away the bite of pancake he was about to eat. I tossed the chunk to the grateful koi.

  He glowered at me and set down his fork. “The truth is, Chessa was very secretive. I never saw her in her animal form, and neither did anyone else at the Department.” He looked down at the ground, his expression sad. “I thought once we got married, she'd trust me enough to let me see her, you know? But now, I'm afraid it's too late.”

  “She must be hideous,” I said. “With swirling tentacles, and compound eyes, and three rows of sharp teeth.”

  Chet looked up just as the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. “Just between us, I did have a few nightmares to that effect.”

  “But she was found in her human state, right? And if she couldn't shift while injured, that means she was attacked in human form.”

  “Not all creatures are incapable of changing while injured. The ones who aren't regular animals will always revert to human after death. It explains why museums don't have any manticores floating in jars.”

  “There should be a handbook for all this stuff,” I said.

  He didn't say anything.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “There is a handbook, but it's classified.”

  He glanced over at the jungle vines from my yard that were growing over the shared fence.

  “That's my price,” I said. “If I get Chessa back, I get a copy of the handbook.”

  His eyes widened.

  “It's not up for negotiation,” I said firmly.

  He blinked and slowly nodded. “Deal,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I could hardly contain my excitement. Why hadn't I thought to demand a handbook before? Then I mentally kicked myself. Why had I made it conditional upon my success in retrieving Chessa? I should have demanded it in advance, as payment for my efforts regardless of the outcome, like a retainer.

  Meanwhile, Chet had resumed his efforts to eat. He stabbed at his dog-shaped pancake before shoving a big chunk into his mouth.

  “If only we knew more,” I said. “Can you get me the accident report?”

  He shook his head. “Stop focusing on her accident. I don't believe anyone was trying to kill her. With the way her arms were cut up, it's plausible she was drawn into a boat's propeller. Why look for malice when there's a perfectly logical explanation?”

  I pursed my lips, empathetically considering his position. Chet didn't want to imagine his fiancée being violently attacked by another creature. But being ignorant of reality wasn't going to get us anywhere.

  “She said it was a bird.”

  Chet cut his pancake into tiny pieces. “That conversation was partly you and partly her. The bird thing must have come from your own mind. You were confusing your memories with hers. Remember, you thought Rob and Knox were a threat.”

  “But what about the flying creature who attacked us in the woods? That really happened.”

  “There haven't been any attacks or sightings since that day. I told you, Zara. Strange things happen in Wisteria, and for every mystery we solve, a dozen go unanswered.”

  “Do Rob and Knox have alibis for the day of Chessa's attack?”

  “You mean her accident. Yes. They were up in the mountains, practicing aerial maneuvers, with Dr. Bob.”

  “And how well do you know this Dr. Bob? He kept hovering when we were visiting Chessa, like he was listening in.”

  Chet gave me a horrified look. He looked offended enough to storm out, except we were sitting in his yard. “Dr. Bob is the one who saved Chessa's life when we brought her in. He worked for hours and hours, sewing up her wounds and watching her vital signs. At one point, we ran low on blood for transfusions, and he donated some of his own. When he finally got her stabilized, the poor man fainted from exhaustion.”

  “Lucky he was already in a hospital,” I said.

  Chet watched me with narrowed eyes as I refilled my glass of mimosa.

  I tilted my head to the side and asked, “What about Charlize?”

  He gave me a dark look. “What about her?”

  “She seems possessive of you. There's more to your history than just being coworkers.”

  “We nearly dated,” he said. “Then I met her sister, and I knew Chessa was the one for me.”

  “How did you know?”

  He jerked his head back and blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Was it insta-love? Love at first sight? Did birds suddenly appear whenever she was near?”

  He scratched his head. “You witches have the strangest ideas. Honestly, I don't know how you come up with some of the ideas you do, Zara. The things that come out of your mouth.”

  Before we could dig into more things that came from my mouth, another person emerged from the back of Chet's house. She was petite and blond, wearing a white summer dress. The summer sunshine made the dress glow. Chessa? Making a rare visual appearance.

  One blond ringlet twitched like a snake. Chloe? She wasn't carrying a baby, and she didn't move the way Chloe did.

  “Charlize,” I said, getting to my feet. Now I understood whom the third chair and place setting was for. We'd just been talking about her. Speak of the devil, and she appears.

  Chapter 27

  Chet jumped up to greet the blonde.

  “Hey, Charlie,” he said, calling her by the boyish nickname he used for his coworker. “I see they let you out of your cage.”

  “Ha ha,” she said. “You're such a juvenile boy, Chet, acting mean to a girl in front of your friend.” To me, she said, “I'd never let them keep me in a cage. Cages are for domesticated creatures, and I'm wild.”

  I responded, “But are you housebroken?”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  I nodded at the bright aquamarine garden table. “That explains why Chet has us dining al fresco.”

  She tossed her head back in a silent laugh, her blond ringlets bouncing. She reached where I stood and offered her hand. “It's nice to finally meet you in person, Zara.”

  I didn't shake her hand. I could play nice with people from the DWM as a favor to Chet, or even as smart self-preservation, but I didn't have to touch anyone I didn't want to. Charlize had been rubbing me the wrong way since the moment we met, or longer. The first time I'd heard her voice on Chet's phone, I'd taken an immediate disliking to her. Why? I wasn't usually so catty. Charlize brought out my kitty claws. Was I feeling her sister Chessa's emotions again? I'd liked their other sister, Chloe, instantly. Then again, on the day I met Chloe, she had been offering me a free pecan shortbread sample.

  Charlize's hand hung empty in the air between us. The air hummed with suppressed supernatural powers, both hers and mine.

  “We've met before,” I said coolly.

  She batted pale eyelashes. Her makeup was light and flattering, just a dusting of sparkling gray eye shadow paired with delicate pink lip gloss that smelled like bubble gum.

  “I think I'd remember meeting someone like you,” she said icily.

  “I was horizontal then, being treated at your fancy underground hospital. You made your hilarious joke about flying cars.”

  Charlize looked at Chet. “She remembers that? She wasn't supposed to remember that.”

  “I never do what I'm supposed to,” I said.

  She took back her hand, unshaken, and walked around to take the third chair. She sat with a solid-sounding plop.

  “No, you don't,” she said to me without looking in my eyes. “You were supposed to bring back my sister, and now I hear you've been spending all your free time taking swimming lessons.”

  “Diving lessons,” I said. “And I'm taking them to be closer to your sister's spirit, because she keeps calling me to the...” I trailed off with a sigh. There was no winning with Charlize. I knew what she was like, from Chessa's emotions. Charlize could come around to logic eventually, but in her own sweet time. “Never mind.”

  Charlize stared at me with narrowed eyes the color of cold granite. There was a crackling sound, like ice breaking on a p
ond.

  I looked away quickly. She wouldn't turn me to stone, would she? Not in front of Chet. No, she'd get me alone somewhere, and then she'd take me out of the picture. I'd become a lawn ornament, then she'd have Chet all to herself. Once the pesky redheaded witch was gone, and her sister's spirit couldn't talk through anyone, Charlize would pull the plug on her triplet sister.

  Why was I so certain of this? Was it a warning from Chessa, or simply my own distaste for the woman?

  I sensed her staring at me, and I resisted my curious urge to stare back.

  “Zara, don't be shy,” Charlize said. “You're far more powerful than I am, anyway. Even if I did turn you to marble, you'd change right back again.”

  “Let's not find out.”

  Chet, who'd been quiet through our interaction, said, “Help yourself to the food.”

  “Don't mind if I do,” she said brightly, digging into the fruit salad. A pesky hornet was buzzing around the table, attracted by the bounty of food. Without warning, Charlize reached out and tapped the hornet midair. The insect crackled, turned to gray stone, and dropped to the table with a plunk.

  Chet chuckled under his breath. “Showoff,” he said.

  Charlize plucked the stone hornet from the table and tossed it over her shoulder, over the fence, and into my backyard.

  I stared after the stone hornet. Wait 'til Zoey heard about this! She'd always suspected the insect-shaped pebbles found in our backyard were more than they appeared to be.

  Charlize reached over toward me. My ears started ringing with danger. She casually stroked the sleeve of my T-shirt. The cotton fabric didn't change the way the hornet had. Even so, I suppressed the urge to shoot blue fireballs at the gorgon.

  “I love your colorful outfit,” she said sweetly. “I could never pull off an orange that bright. It would be garish against my pale skin. But you have such dramatic coloring, with your flaming-red hair and your bright eyes, whatever you call that color.”

  “Hazel.”

  “Is that actually an eye color, or just something people make up to pretend they're too special to be categorized?”

  “You got me,” I said. “I made up the color hazel. I really like words with the letter Z.”