Witching There's Another Way: A Cozy Mystery (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 4)

by Constance Barker

  “The Sheriff is already out,” Aria said. “The whole department.”

  Something brushed past Avery’s knee, and he looked down to see a blond haired little girl scootching past him to get to the glass case. She stood in front of it, staring at the goodies behind the glass, humming to herself.

  Avery frowned at that, but looked back up when Chloe delivered coffee and warmed pastries to the counter top. “Thank you,” he told her.

  Thomas took his cup of coffee and raised it in thanks.

  They took a table on the porch. It was too sunny outside. It seemed like it should have been overcast and gray, maybe even raining. Where was Oregon’s predictably dull coastal weather when it was appropriate?

  “Will we catch up with the Sheriff’s department later?” Thomas asked between bites.

  It was pointless, of course; Avery knew that. But simply abandoning the search would seem suspicious. He sipped his coffee and then nodded once. “Yeah. We can check in, see if they need anyone.” The boy in the lawn was still there, still picking at the same dandelion. There was a man seated at a bench on his phone a few yards away. The kid’s father, maybe.

  Thomas followed Avery’s gaze, and smiled. “I guess life goes on, doesn’t it? Even when something like this happens.” He touched Avery’s hand where it rested on the table.

  But Avery barely noticed. He was staring at the child. That intuition in his gut was suddenly stirring. Telling him… something. What? The boy picked at the flower.

  Avery looked into the bakery through the window near them. The little girl was still in front of the bakery case. She didn’t touch the glass, and she didn’t move. She only swayed slightly as she watched her reflection in the glass.

  “What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

  Avery didn’t answer. Instead he stood, and went to the boy in the grass. He knelt beside him, and watched him pluck at the dandelion. It was almost bereft of fluff. “What’s your name?” Avery asked.

  The boy didn’t look up. He just kept plucking, and humming. The tune was haunting, pretty—like nothing Avery had heard before. It seemed like a sad tune, dulcet and discordant.

  Avery looked to the boy’s father—he thought—and saw the man watching him. “How long has he been sitting here?” he asked.

  The man shrugged, and then came to them. “Whatcha doing, bud?” he asked his son.

  The boy didn’t respond. He only hummed, and plucked.

  “Michael,” the boy’s father said, “I’m talking to you.”

  No response. Avery’s heart began to pound.

  Dad knelt, and touched his son’s shoulder, his smile beginning to falter. “Michael? Hey, kiddo—look at me. Michael?”

  Avery stood, and walked back up the walkway to the bakery, and then inside. The little girl’s mother was already discovering a similar state, kneeling by her and beginning to get frantic.

  Chloe and Aria both looked at Avery. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “There’s a boy outside. Same thing. Humming and… in some kind of trance.”

  “What do I do?” The woman kneeling by the girl asked, panicking now. She looked up, as though Avery might have an answer, but he only shook his head and took a step back.

  “Call an ambulance,” Aria told Avery. “Get someone down here. There’s a boy outside? Where?”

  “In the lawn, out front,” Avery said, and stood aside as Chloe brushed past him to get out there. She had the same gift as Bailey, he knew—maybe she could see something in the child’s mind that would give some hint about what was happening.

  Thomas came in, hard faced until he saw the little girl. “What’s going on?”

  Avery shook his head slowly, and tried to suck in breaths that wouldn’t come easily enough as he approached the phone hanging on the wall behind the counter. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know… it’s the children. They’re… in trouble.”

  The intuition in his gut blossomed, fully formed. This was Faerie work. What’s more—he felt certain it was happening because Aiden and Bailey had gone through the door.

  He met Aria’s eyes before he dialed 911. She looked as terrified as he was. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper through a tightened throat. “What have we done, Aria?”

  Chapter 11

  Faerie wasn’t at all like Bailey had expected. The air felt thick with magic, but somehow lighter than the air from the other world. There was no friction to it. She felt it on her skin but it didn’t feel real. Like the memory of a breeze instead of the thing itself.

  It was the same with Wendy. It wasn’t really her. It couldn’t be—and like Ryan’s Faerie twin, her features were just slightly wrong; her chin just a bit too pointed, along with her ears; her eyes that same flat, painted look.

  “What is the meaning of this?” She asked in a whisper, staring at this Faerie version of her lost mother. She knew that it wasn’t Wendy. She knew that. But it didn’t stop her heart from aching.

  Aiden rested a hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Bailey…”

  With a great effort, she unclenched her fists. Both Faeries were watching carefully, though their smiles were wide and unfailing.

  “You… startled me,” Bailey said carefully. “I apologize for my ingraciousness. May I ask why you’ve chosen to appear… like this?”

  Ryan lifted a too-long finger and waggled it side to side. “That would spoil everything, I’m afraid. Come. Come! You’ve traveled a long way. Let us walk a little and visit.” He turned then, and trotted off toward town. Wendy dipped her head, and followed him.

  Aiden and Bailey hesitated a heartbeat, and then followed. Aiden bent his head toward her as they did. “They’re trying to rattle us,” he said. “Make us act rudely. Remember what the crones told us. We can’t afford to mess up.”

  “I know,” Bailey breathed. “I just didn’t expect…” she watched Wendy. She even moved like the woman Bailey remembered. “Who else is potentially here?”

  “It’s not her,” Aiden said. “This is all just appearances; Faerie games. Remember that.”

  “I will,” Bailey insisted.

  Wendy and Ryan slowed to let the their guests catch up. When they did, Aiden spoke while Bailey got a hold of herself.

  “If you wouldn’t mind a little chat while we visit the town,” Aiden said, “we’re here looking for someone. A little girl, named Isabelle. Have you by chance seen her hereabouts?”

  Ryan gave him a sly look. “There’s time enough for everything.”

  “There’s to be a fair!” Wendy said, and clapped her hands. “You’re lucky you came to town when you did. Here in Coven Grove, we have the most wonderful fairs.”

  Aiden withdrew a bit, and they walked in relative silence the rest of the way into the heart of Coven Grove. It was broken only by Ryan and Wendy’s humming. The tune was familiar—not the same as the one the little boy from the tour group had been humming, but similar in theme.

  “That music,” Bailey asked, “what is it? It’s very pretty.”

  Wendy glanced at her, and smiled. “You know the tune, Bailey-Bee. I used to sing it to you.”

  Wendy—the real Wendy—had done no such thing. Bailey shivered, and took Aiden’s hand again.

  To the smallest detail this town was identical—including the bakery where the coven ladies worked. However, although Bailey saw familiar faces among the people that wandered here and there—no one drove, and most everyone was barefoot—in the Faerie facsimile of Grovey Goodies the women were not twins to Aria, Chloe, and Frances. Not even close—they were familiar, Bailey thought, but drawn from among the thousands that lived in coven grove.

  “Not everyone fits in here,” Ryan muttered, and winked at her when Bailey’s frown showed her confusion. “Some are easy and some are difficult. You see?”

  She didn’t, but she nodded absently none the less.

  The women in the bakery might not have looked like the coven ladies, but they were similar in shape and had the same coloring. One was shorter, plump a
nd blond, like Aria; one was drawn and graying, with sharp features like Frances; the other was petite of frame and brunette with a hint of red, like Chloe.

  The Chloe-like Faerie offered Aiden and Bailey both muffins, which they took. They shared quick check-in with one another, and didn’t need to say anything to come to the agreement. Accepting any food here was a risky proposition. In some stories, Bailey recalled, eating food in Faerie was a one way ticket to trouble.

  Still, they smiled and gave their thanks, and Ryan and Wendy took them to a table to sit.

  “Does this place… does it always look like this?” Bailey asked as kindly as she could. “It’s very pretty. Is this what it really looks like?”

  Ryan chuckled, and waved a hand around. “Of course this is what it really looks like.”

  “Your eyes do work,” Wendy said, concerned. “Don’t they, dear?”

  Bailey shifted a bit, and avoided looking at her deceased mother. “They do, yes. Thank you for you concern.”

  Wendy patted her on the arm reassuringly.

  The door to the bakery swung open, and through it marched a heavyset man—was that supposed to be Sheriff Larson?—who surveyed the room and tipped his wide brimmed hat to Bailey and Aiden. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” Bailey said at the same time Aiden did.

  The Sheriff turned to the ladies behind the counter, who looked worried for some reason. They paused what they were doing as he approached. “Ladies,” he said.

  “How can we help you, Sheriff?” Faerie-Frances asked, her voice trembling slightly as she did.

  “I’m sure you ladies have spoken with Mr. Carson recently?” The Sheriff asked.

  “We have,” Faerie-Chloe said. “And we declined his generous offer.”

  “That is what I heard,” the Sheriff said slowly. “He filled me in.”

  “So why are you here?” Faerie-Aria asked.

  The Sheriff walked along the counter, and then the bakery case, trailing his fingers from one end to the other. “Just making sure there was no trouble I need to know about is all. I like to check in. Keep an eye on things. As the Sheriff.”

  Bailey noticed Ryan’s face twist just a little with something like irritation, but the expression lasted hardly long enough to catch it. A moment, later, the Sheriff turned to leave, checking a gold pocket watch as he did.

  “Someone wants to… buy the bakery?” Bailey wondered out loud, sharing her confusion with Aiden, who seemed to be just as confused. She looked at Ryan. “I’m sorry again, if I’m not understanding something but…” She couldn’t think how to phrase the question in a way that was sure to be inoffensive. Why did Faeries need to worry about buying and selling businesses in a place that was so obviously fabricated for her and Aiden’s benefit?

  From behind the counter, she heard the women talking quietly.

  “What do you think it means?” One of them asked. “The Sheriff? I bet he’s in league with Carson.”

  “Don’t be silly, Aria,” Faerie-Frances muttered. “Carson doesn’t need the Sheriff on his side. The bakery’s going downhill anyway. All he has to do is wait and we’ll have to close. We should have taken his offer.”

  “My mother and her mother ran this business,” Faerie-Chloe snapped. “I’m not going to just give it up because Carson waves a little bit of money around. He can wait, if he wants to; we could always turn it around.”

  Bailey noticed Ryan watching her, and her cheeks flushed. Did eavesdropping rate as impolite around here?

  Aiden fortunately caught Ryan’s attention before there were consequences. “I realize there is plenty of time ahead of us, and I think you for your generous hospitality. I must ask again, however, about the young girl we came here to find. It’s very important to us to know that she is… at ease, wherever she is. Is she here? In Coven Grove? In this town?”

  Ryan plucked a bit of muffin from the table, and put it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a long moment, and then looked at Wendy. The two smiled at one another and then turned back to Bailey and Aiden. “Of course,” he said finally. “After all, Coven Grove is her home, isn’t it? You will see her, perhaps. But…” He leaned forward and waved a finger around. “Only if you pay close attention.”

  “To what?” Bailey asked.

  Ryan smiled. “Everything. To the game.”

  “Forgive me,” Aiden said earnestly, “I didn’t realize. May I ask what game we’re playing?”

  Ryan leaned back in his chair, and tilted his head just to one side. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Come now, you really must start paying… attention.” He tapped the side of his nose, and winked.

  Chapter 12

  The paramedics came, but it took time. The children at the bakery weren’t the only ones.

  Once they’d taken the children, Avery watched the ambulances leave the curb with sirens blaring, carrying the children to the hospital and then went back into the bakery where the three coven ladies were whispering among themselves.

  “What’s happening?” He asked them.

  “Ave,” Thomas urged, “they don’t know any more than the paramedics do.”

  Avery stifled a comment, and kept his eyes on the women.

  Chloe glanced at Thomas before turning a meaningful look on Avery. Frustration was beginning to make Avery’s hands shake. “Chloe,” he said softly, “does it really matter? In the scheme of things?”

  “Does what matter?” Thomas asked. He sounded nervous. “What’s going on, Ave?”

  “It’s not your decision, Avery,” Chloe said. “It’s Rita’s.”

  “Aunt Rita?” Thomas asked, curious. He tugged Avery’s shoulder until they were looking at one another, and peered into Avery’s face for an answer. “What does Rita have to do with anything?”

  “Apparently nothing,” Avery muttered. He rubbed his neck, and then looked again at the women. “What am I supposed to do? Anita said—”

  “Anita?” Thomas asked, confused. “Aunt Rita’s sister? Isn’t she… I mean… would someone just slow down and explain this to me?”

  Frances scowled at Avery as he turned away from them. He put his hands on Thomas’ shoulders. “How old is your Aunt Rita, Thomas?”

  He stared for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s been old forever. Maybe in her nineties? Why does that matter right now?”

  “And Anita? What about her?”

  Thomas shook his head, “Honestly I thought she’d died a while back. But then, I’ve only met her a few times. She and Rita both came to mom’s funeral when I was still living here—you were there, you remember. But that’s pretty much the only time I saw Anita. So, she’s still alive?”

  “Yes, Thomas,” Avery said slowly, “she’s still alive.”

  “Avery,” Frances warned. “It’ll be no good.”

  He shot her a look, and took a deep breath. “What’s going on with the children,” he said when he turned back to Thomas, “it… it isn’t natural.”

  Thomas took a step back. He looked at the women, and then at Avery, and finally raised both hands. “Ah. Okay. And… you…?”

  “I need to help do something about it,” Avery said.

  After a tense moment, Thomas nodded slowly, and then turned to retrieve his coat from where he’d dropped it over a chair. He stood there for a long moment, and Avery’s heart seemed to have a hard time beating.

  “I’ve heard stories about Rita,” Thomas said quietly. “From my mother.” He pulled his coat on. “Just… do what you need to do. I’d rather be left out of it though. If that’s alright with you.”

  Stunned, Avery blinked a few times and then looked to Chloe for guidance. She offered none. He took a step toward Thomas who, at least, didn’t retreat again. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll… see you later on, then? If I can?”

  When Thomas didn’t answer right away, Avery bit his lip to keep from saying more.

  “I’ll be here,” Thomas said at last. “Just um… give me a call or someth
ing. Later. When you’re… you know, done.”

  Avery nodded, and reached for Thomas but the man left the bakery before Avery could take his hand.

  He turned to see three sets of sympathetic eyes; even Frances’, though she shook her head in disappointment. “Rita’s going to be furious.”

  “Rita can stuff it, then,” Avery said. “How do you all keep these kinds of secrets?”

  Frances snorted. “It doesn’t take much. No one believes in magic. Thomas’ mother was born without it, but she knew. It was her choice to keep her son in the dark about it; but it was his choice to stay there. It still is. Just you think on that.”

  Avery only sighed, and leaned heavily on the counter. “So, what do we do about the problem?”

  “Some time ago,” Chloe said as Avery led her into the Tour Office and from there into Aiden’s office specifically, “Aiden and Bailey worked magic together, in the caves.”

  “When Gloria took the stone,” Avery said. “I remember. It was just before I started learning from Aiden.”

  “How far along are you?” she asked.

  Avery took a seat in Aiden’s office chair and shrugged. “I don’t really know. It’s not like karate. I don’t get a belt each time I move up the ranks.” He pressed his fingers to the lowest drawer of the desk to his left, and focused. Intention, will, and commitment came together gradually before he spoke the formula for unlocking it. The words buzzed like bees over his tongue when he did, and there was a tight feeling under his fingers, like saran wrap being pulled too tight until it parted.

  He tugged the drawer open.

  “You don’t have a wand?” Chloe asked.

  Wary about telling her too much—Aiden had warned him that witches and wizards didn’t share secrets about their own magic with one another—he only shook his head. Making a wand was advanced, Aiden had told him, and would take place for potentially years, unless Avery showed some prodigious talent for wizardry which, so far, he hadn’t.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, drawing a heavy folio of loose pages from the drawer. “Everything Aiden’s got on Faerie magic. It doesn’t amount to much, but…”