The Witch's Strength_Cozy Witch Mystery

by Iris Kincaid

  She knew how to get the hospital. It was only about a half-hour walk, which, come to think of it, was very appealing. Moving her legs, pumping her arms—it was exactly what her body had been hungry for. And the sights, the sounds, and the wind across her face were exactly what her soul had been hungry for. Even though she had some kind of alarming mystery to figure out, she never lost sight of how glorious her new freedom was.

  What an adorable, artsy neighborhood Bethany lived in. Colorful porch arrangements, whimsical gardens, birdhouses, and a remarkable number of dolphin, octopus, and shark replicas adorning walkways and murals. Then Gemma soon realized that it wasn’t only Bethany’s neighborhood—the entire town of Oyster Cove was an explosion of art. They were so many statues and mosaics that Gemma felt the temptation to run her fingers over. Exercising her tactile senses was still a thrilling novelty. But she couldn’t risk breaking anything. And her imagination was starting to run wild. What, exactly, had happened to her in this operation?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ruby had told Dr. Svenson that Gemma was waiting for him in his consulting office. The young assistant couldn’t help tagging along. She had seen the jaw-dropping side effects that accompanied the transplant of Lilith Hazelwood’s other organs. Whatever was happening to Gemma, Ruby didn’t want to miss it.

  Gemma looked at the doctor accusingly as he and Ruby settled into the small office.

  “Is everything okay? You look good. Are you feeling fine?” The doctor inquired.

  “What did you do to me? Am I a bionic woman?”

  The doctor laughed. “That is a very old show. I’m surprised that you even heard of it.”

  “Am I Will Smith in I, Robot? Have you replaced some of my body parts with robotics?”

  “Such strange questions. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  “I need to know the truth. Am I Robocop? I won’t be mad if that’s what you did. If my brain is inside a really strong, powerful robot shell, I’d be cool with that. I just need to know.”

  “Where would you get such a silly notion?”

  With one quick stride, Gemma was in front of the doctor, and with one arm, she grabbed the front of his medical jacket and lifted his body into the air.

  “Oh, wow!” Ruby gasped. “She’s really, really strong.”

  “I can see that,” the doctor said. “Why don’t you let me down now?”

  “Right after you explain what you did to me,” Gemma said, very determined.

  The doctor sighed. “Your donor was a very powerful witch. The most powerful one, in fact. I have transplanted several of her organs. And all of the patients developed certain abilities of the witch. Her vision, her clairvoyance . . . and apparently, you have her strength.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”

  “Can you think of another explanation for why you can hold up a grown man with one arm, when two days ago, you could not hold up a spoon?”

  Gemma was stumped. “Are you sure I’m not Robocop?”

  From the look on the doctor’s face and the look on Ruby’s face, it became glaringly clear that he had just told her the truth. She slowly returned him to the floor.

  “I know that it’s a strange idea to get used to. But only a transplant with the witch’s body could heal you. Nothing else. I knew that there would be some side effects, of course. But getting you back to this state of health and independence and having a future . . . it was worth any cost. At least, I hope you agree.”

  Gemma sat back down again. A witch! She had the powers of a witch?

  “It’s not so bad,” Ruby assured her. “There’s nothing wrong with being strong, is there?”

  “As long as you don’t turn into a bully,” the doctor said, straightening his collar.

  “I . . . I keep breaking things. I pulled the car door right off. I squeezed a tall, thick glass and shattered it in my hand.”

  At this, Gemma actually held out her hand for emphasis and then noticed the first time that her hand didn’t have a single scratch on it. Now that she came to think about it, there hadn’t been any blood. Strange.

  “You have to learn how to touch things very lightly, carefully. It will take some practice. You have to focus. You’ll have to remember your strength at all times. But . . . people get very alarmed at the thought of witches. It is best that this secret is kept to this little circle of trusted friends,” the Dr. said.

  “But people will notice. At some point, they’re going to notice that I’m stronger than I should be.”

  “Oh, I know. You should join a gym,” Ruby said. “Start training like a heavy-duty bodybuilder. It will help people to make sense of why you’re stronger than you look.”

  “Cheer up, my dear,” the doctor ordered. “Strength is a gift. Part of you may be witch, but you are still all human. That is much better than being Robocop.”

  Dr. Svenson and Ruby were so matter-of-fact about this staggering revelation that Gemma could feel herself coming to a calm resignation. Maybe having witch powers wasn’t such a bad thing. Still, she was just the tiniest bit disappointed that the doctor hadn’t informed her that she was a Robocop.

  *****

  The next few days were filled with physical and psychological adjustments. Gemma had to learn how to hold and touch and move with a major restraint that she continually had to remind herself of. But when no one was around, it was fascinating to test her strength, even though she had absolutely no idea of what possible practical use she could put it to.

  One practical benefit—she was able to move around all the living room furniture while Bethany was at work. She would later lamely explain that helpful neighbors whose names she couldn’t recall had given her a hand.

  Walking around town, Gemma tried to keep a low profile. Dr. Svenson had said that it was probably a good idea to keep the witch powers under wraps, and she was inclined to agree. It would freak people out to know how strong she was and why. Still, she had her slip-ups.

  Walking past a green soccer field, a wayward ball landed next to her, and a large group of boys exhorted her to kick it back to the game. Which she did. But it blasted way over their heads, out to the horizon, and disappeared behind distant trees. Oops. “Sorry!”

  But it wasn’t her extraordinary strength that was the true miracle. It was just wonderful, ordinary human life. She delighted in the things that everyone took for granted and that she herself, in her teenage years, had taken for granted. Eating was a daily treat. Next to talking, it was just about her favorite thing. Or it was probably a close tie with walking.

  Running into the restroom at a large diner, Gemma encountered a young four-year-old girl as they simultaneously washed their hands at adjoining sinks. The girl turned to Gemma with a proud grin.

  “I went to the bathroom all by myself.”

  What adult but Gemma could understand this heady achievement. “Me too!” she told the girl. The two of them high-fived each other as the girl’s mother looked on, puzzled, not sure what to make of this odd exchange.

  *****

  Ruby’s advice of signing up at the gym seemed like a very good idea. In addition to offering an explanation regarding her strength, it was a completely new experience, of which Gemma couldn’t get enough of. She had never been inside a real gym before, although she had seen many of them in the movies. This was the smaller of Oyster Cove’s two largest gyms. It consisted of a large sprawling weight room, a compact, almost claustrophobic aerobic room, with treadmills, ellipticals, and stair machines packed tightly together, and a small sociable stretching area.

  There were about half a dozen women there, but the clientele was overwhelmingly male, particularly in the free weights area. Gemma was cheerfully signed in by the owner, Otto Ramsey, who offered to give her an orientation on the spot. That was just what Gemma had hoped for, and she had brought along gym clothes just in case.

  Otto was a very friendly, good-natured guy, proud of his gym, and sporting the biggest biceps that Gemma had ever seen.
He dutifully showed her how to use the aerobics equipment and got her going on the treadmill, just so she could get familiar with it. He kept slowly increasing the speed, keeping a sharp eye out for when Gemma reached a level that was too much for her. To his great surprise, her endurance was off the charts.

  “So, you must already work out pretty hard. You go running?”

  “No. But that sounds fun. Maybe I should go running.”

  “Are you on some kind of a team? Basketball? Play tennis? No? Well, you are seriously well-conditioned. Come on. Let me show you the weights.”

  Inside the weight room, the gym rats glanced briefly in Gemma’s direction, but most of them were pretty absorbed in their own workouts.

  “Okay, we’ve got machine weights here and free weights. I’ll give you a demo on everything. The free weights are definitely better, but for a lot of them, you’re going to be needing a spotter, and also, you may need someone to help you take some of these weights off and put some lighter ones on for you.”

  He had Gemma lie down on a flat bench that had been recently vacated by a very large guy.

  “See, this is going to happen all the time. The weights here are way too heavy for you, and they’ve got to be switched up. But don’t worry, I’m always going to be here, and I’ll always be happy to take care of that for you.”

  “Hey, Otto, could you give me a hand over here?” one of the men called out.

  “Sorry, Gemma. This’ll just be a minute, and I’ll be right back with you,” Otto said.

  As she waited for Otto and looked around the gym, she noticed an arrestingly attractive man who was finishing up his workout on the leg press, and who ducked his head shyly under her curious gaze.

  As he walked out the exit, she heard someone say to him, “Hey, Professor, nice workout. Say hi to Dax for me.”

  “He wanted you to know that he’s up to three push-ups,” the professor responded in a heart-stopping, sexy British accent. “When he can do five, I’ll bring him in so he can show off.”

  And with a brief glance in Gemma’s direction, the professor made his exit. Geez, what were the odds of crossing paths with him again? Absentmindedly, Gemma gripped the bar above her and pushed it up into the air, as she had seen the others do. Then down, up, down, up. And then she noticed that all the clanking and clattering and grunting and chatter around her had come to a complete halt. Glancing around the room, she could see that every eye was fixated on her. Gingerly, she returned the bar to its original spot.

  Otto walked over with the strangest look on his face.

  “I guess I should have waited for you,” Gemma said.

  “You just bench pressed 300 pounds.”

  “Is that . . .” Gemma was about to say “good.” But from the fact that everyone was staring at her, clearly, that was not the case. “Is that bad?”

  “Women can’t lift that much. Most men can’t either.” He looked her over, up and down. “You don’t look like a bodybuilder.”

  “Well, I guess I’m just a lot stronger than I look.”

  “No kidding. You are a serious talent. Ladies in this town are worried that their biceps will look like mine if they lift heavy weights. I wish they could get a load of you. Say . . . I hope you don’t find this too pushy, but maybe we could get a cup of coffee one of these days . . . if you have the time. And if you like coffee. And if your schedule is filled up, I completely understand.”

  This sounded suspiciously like a date. Woo-hoo! And not even two weeks off life support.

  *****

  Lorna became a very comforting source of information and companionship. Today, the two young women found themselves at a patio table right outside one of Oyster Cove’s tastiest bistros. They enjoyed some tall, tasty iced mocha lattes. Ping-Pong and Bella played nearby.

  “And it doesn’t make you feel strange . . . different . . . to be a witch?” Gemma wondered.

  “I do feel different, but in a wonderful way. It makes me feel special. It feels as if this is who I was meant to be. I think you might feel the same way, very soon. And while you may not be able to share this secret with others, you can still share your gifts with them,” Lorna said.

  “So, what do witches do all day?” Gemma asked.

  Lorna laughed. “Go to work. I’m a full-time librarian. Gillian and Delphine are both artists. Wanda . . . well, she’s the Mayor. Even witches have bills to pay. I’m afraid you’re not going to escape that. But beyond all that, what having witch powers means . . . It makes life a bigger experience, in big ways and small.”

  She reached over to a dried-up flowering vine trailing the bistro’s wall, and with a touch of her hand, the petals sprang back to life and bright vivid color. Gemma gasped.

  “Will I ever be able to do that?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Delphine. How’s your latte?”

  “I never drank coffee before.”

  “Never?” Lorna marveled.

  “I was eighteen when I started getting sick. I hadn’t started drinking coffee. I wasn’t really looking forward to it, but . . . this tastes so yummy. Everything tastes yummy. I can eat now. And it’s so wonderful, I feel like eating all day long.”

  “That sounds lovely. Although I doubt anyone’s going to pay you for it. I think you’re still going to be needing a job.”

  “I know,” Gemma moaned. “I don’t want to be a drain on Bethany’s resources. I have to carry my own weight. I need to earn money. And now that I have my life back, I need to figure out what to do with it.”

  “So, what do you want to do? What is that you really dream about doing with your life?” Lorna prodded.

  “All those years, when I couldn’t move, the thing that hurt the most was knowing that I was going to live my entire life and die, and it wouldn’t have mattered that I had ever been here. That’s what I want the most, I guess. To do something that matters. To help people, I think. To know that my being here, my life, made a difference.”

  “Now, you just need to find a job that lets you do all that,” Lorna said.

  “Is somebody looking for a job?” A mischievous masculine voice boomed from behind them.

  Lorna leapt up from her seat and gave her buddy, Officer Finn Cochran, a big hug.

  “Back from the honeymoon, finally. That was a very long trip.”

  “And exhausting. Snorkeling. Kite surfing. And regular surfing. Limbo contests. The conga lines. Oh, yeah, we let them give us the Hawaiian honeymoon special. I think we went to seven luaus. And we must have seen every single island.”

  “Kite-surfing! I hope you have pictures.”

  “Okay, confession time. I didn’t do the kite surfing so much as I cheered it on. But nothing was going to talk Margo out of it. That wife of mine is a little too fearless for my own good.”

  “It sounds as if the former FBI agent and a brave-hearted witch would add up to a really high-adrenaline honeymoon.”

  Finn raised an eyebrow and looked at Lorna pointedly. He hadn’t expected her to mention the witch thing in front of a new person.

  “Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. This is Gemma Keating. She is also one of Dr. Svenson’s recent transplant patients,” Lorna explained.

  “Ah-hah, I see. This little club keeps getting bigger and bigger,” Finn noted.

  “Gemma, this is Finn Cochran. He’s a cop, and his wife Margo is . . . one of us,” Lorna continued.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “You ladies don’t mind if I join you? I hope I’m not being too nosy, Gemma, but, uh, might I inquire as to your talents?”

  “My talents?”

  “Yeah. For example, Lorna here specializes in love spells, amnesia spells, flower revival—is that what we would call it?—and dermatology. She’s quite the Renaissance woman.”

  “Really? Love spells? So, if I were to point out some guy, would you be able to make him . . . ?”

  “Gemma. You’re not gonna need it,” Lorna said with a wink.

  Finn nodded. �
�I don’t mean to be inappropriate, because I’m a happily married man, but she’s right. You’re not gonna need it.”

  It was the nicest compliment that Gemma had gotten in . . . ever, actually.

  “So, what’s your thing? What tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

  “Tricks?”

  “What are your strengths?”

  “Hmm. I guess that would be . . . strength.”

  “Yeah, yeah. What’s your strength?”

  Gemma shrugged shyly. “Strength is my strength.” In response to Finn’s puzzled look, she added, “I’m very strong. Very.”

  “Oh yeah? Show me what you got.”

  Gemma looked around her. There wasn’t anyone close by. Then she looked around for something heavy to lift. She figured lifting was better than breaking. But also, it’s a lot more conspicuous. The chairs they were sitting on were made of wrought iron. She took the spare chair from the adjoining table, turned it upside down, and bent one of the thick, sturdy metal legs with a quick flip of her wrist.

  Finn whistled. “Nice. Very, very nice. Now that is something I wouldn’t mind having on my speed dial.”

  “I can bench press 300 pounds,” Gemma added. “Although, I really shouldn’t have. I don’t want to be too conspicuous.” She bent the chair back into shape and returned it.

  “I can think of so many times when that’s going to come in handy,” Finn said approvingly.

  “I guess. I did just help to move around the furniture in my friend’s apartment.”

  “Yeah, so you planning on opening your own moving company?” Finn teased.

  “No, that’s really not the kind of big difference I wanted to make in the world.”

  At that moment, an excitable young waiter ran out of the restaurant. “You will never believe what’s on TV right now. This car just exploded on the freeway, right outside town. You’ve got to see it.”

  It was a gruesome prospect, but the young man urged them to have a look. All three of them went inside and witnessed the spectacle of a car ablaze, surrounded by horrified witnesses, with the fire crew just arriving.

  “Man, what makes a car do that? Do you think it was some kind of manufacturing defect?” The young waiter wondered. “Because I need to get a new car, and I need to find out what model this car is so I know what to avoid.”