“Except we’re not talking about a firm tush or toned arms,” I say. “We’re talking a completely different body altogether. It’s hard to fathom how they do it.” I say.
“Well,” interjects Annie. “We’re witches. We don’t change shapes—we cast spells. So we’d better leave shapeshifting to the werewolves and get on with mastering our own craft. Our first attempts at the Banishing Spell were... not wonderful.”
“Disastrous,” says Marley.
“Incredibly haphazard,” says Cora.
I add in my two cents, before my coven sisters can get too down on themselves. “That was just the first try,” I say. “Maybe learning the Banishing Spell is kind of like learning to drive. You wouldn’t expect a fifteen-year-old to get into a car and be able to drive a car right away, would you?”
“No,” says Marley.
“Definitely not,” says Cora.
Annie shakes her head.
“Right,” I say. “You would show them where the blinker is, and the headlights, and how to turn the windshield wipers on. You’d have them practice going five miles per hour, and then ten...”
The ladies are nodding their heads.
I lift my copy of ASBW up off of the table. “That’s what this book is trying to tell us. We have to practice. We can’t expect it to go right the first time. We mess up, but then we try again. Patience; it’s one of our three P’s. Right?”
“Right,” says Marley.
“Well said,” says Cora.
“Penny, dear, you’ve done it again,” says Annie, reaching for my forearm. She gives it a little pat. “I was feeling discouraged, but now I’m excited to try once more.”
I grin. “Good. Because, ladies, I’ve had a horrible day so far. But being here with you makes everything okay. We can do this. I know we can.”
Annie slaps her thighs and stands. “I know just what we’ll practice on,” she says.
I stand up too. “What?” I ask.
“Not the ants, right Annie?” Marley asks.
“Not the ants,” Annie agrees. “This tangible object isn’t a living thing. Come on. I’ll show you.”
She once again leads us to the back of the cafe, into her little industrial kitchen.
Once again, she points to the shelf of baking goods. This time, however, she’s not pointing to the middle shelf where the honey container is still stored, ants and all. Instead, she motions towards the bottom shelf.
“My nephew, Tommy, bless his soul, was helping me make muffin batter this morning. He was reaching for the sugar canister, and he knocked over my fifty-pound bag of flour.”
As I focus on the bottom shelf, I see little piles of flour everywhere. If the bottom shelf of baking supplies was a ski resort, today would be a powder day. There are poofy pillows of the white stuff settled on every surface.
“What a mess,” says Cora.
“You’re telling me.” Annie shakes her head. “It’s going to take me a few hours to really clean this properly. So, why don’t we—”
“Banish the flour!” says Marley.
“Hang on,” I say. “We should be careful with our wording. And our intention.” I adjust my glasses, feeling like a smarty pants. “We don’t want to banish the flour; we want to banish the flour that spilled out of the bag onto the bottom shelf.”
“Good, Penny,” Annie says, tapping the scarf on her head. “You’re a brainy one, you are.”
I smile. “I just don’t want us to go and banish all of the flour from Hillcrest. I’m going to need a muffin once this meeting is done.”
I have my book in my hands, and I lift it now and begin flipping through the cycles. When I land on the Banishing Spell, I read the instructions aloud.
“Focus a beam of light on that which you wish to banish. Speak this magical poem, written below, with precision. While speaking this poem, move your hands, palms out, counterclockwise around the visual of the object.
“Your palms must be painted with a counterclockwise spiral symbol. Use charcoal, the juice of an elderberry, or another natural source of ink. In your mind’s eye, imagine erasing the banished object or being.”
When I finish, I look around at my coven. “What do you guys think?” I ask. “Are we ready for this?”
“I think so,” Cora says, her tone full of uncertainty.
“It can’t go any worse than my practice session last night,” Marley says.
“Well, technically, it could,” Annie says.
A heavy beat of silence passes over us. I speak up, trying to sound bright. “What should we use for paint?” I ask. “You know, for our palms?”
“I have some eyeliner in my purse,” says Cora. “Would that work?”
I lower my eyes to the pages of ASBW. “It says charcoal, the juice of an elderberry, or another natural ink,” I say. “Is your eyeliner natural?”
Cora shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s Maybelline.”
“I don’t think that’s natural,” says Marley.
“Did you use your eyeliner last night?” I ask.
Cora nods.
“Maybe that’s why it didn’t work,” I say. “We should probably try to stick to the directions as closely as we can.”
“I have some ash,” Annie says. “That’s the same as charcoal, right?” She sidesteps to the oven, and opens the door.
“I think charcoal is made from wood,” Cora says.
“Oh,” says Annie. “Well, this isn’t from wood. Bits and pieces of baked goods are always falling off and burning up on the bottom here. Let me see....” she looks over the countertops next to the oven and spots a spatula. Then, she uses it to scrape the bottom of the oven.
“I think that burnt up baked goods will work,” Marley says.
When Annie lifts the spatula up, out of the oven, it’s covered with a little pile of black soot.
“Blech!” Cora says. She folds her arms across chest.
Cora is one of the happiest people I know. Really. The one thing that will ever get her down is a mess. The woman thrives on cleanliness and organization. Because it’s so rare to hear her say anything negative, I know that this sooty practice is really getting under her skin.
“Come on, Cora,” I say. I step forwards and stick my finger into the soot. I use the black ashes to draw a spiral on my palm. “It’s not so bad. Marley, will you do my other hand? It’s hard to draw with my left.”
Marley steps forwards. “OOhhh!” she says, happily dipping her finger into the ash that Annie’s still holding out for us. “It’s like we’re finger painting! Or better... it’s like henna!” she gives a happy squeal as she draws a spiral on my right palm. “Now do me, Penny!” She holds up her palms.
I draw spirals on Marley’s palms, and then I dip my finger back into the soot. With a black finger, I approach Cora. “Your tu-u-urn!” I say, in a sing song voice, while wagging my soot-covered finger back and forth. I know Cora hates this.
She frowns. “Why does witchcraft have to be so messy?” she asks, before unfolding her arms and offering up her palms.
“Because,” I say. “Magic is playful. We’re playing.”
Annie sets the spatula down. Marley uses some soot to paint Annie’s hands.
“I like this,” Annie says. “But I don’t feel like we’re playing... I feel like this is war paint—and we’re getting ready for battle.”
“We kind of are,” Marley says. “We might have to do battle with a seriously dangerous werewolf tonight.”
With Marley’s words, the energy in the kitchen becomes much more somber. Instead of feeling like a group of kids playing, we suddenly start acting much more like warriors getting ready for battle, as Annie said.
Our nervous, giddy excitement turns to determination.
Soon we’re all in a straight line, facing the shelf of flour-covered baking supplies.
Annie has grabbed a candle from the racks of goods near the register. She turned off the lights in the kitchen, and as we stand in one straight line, she stri
kes a match and lights the candle.
Then, she holds the candle out so that it illuminates the bottom shelf.
I take a deep breath. “Okay,” I say. “Has everyone memorized the poem we have to recite?”
Silence.
Shoot. I was hoping my friends memorized the verses, and I could follow along. Judging by their silence, they’re just as clueless about the wording as I am.
“Guys?” I say.
“I didn’t memorize it,” Annie says.
“I didn’t know we were supposed to,” Marley says.
“I have it almost memorized, but not quite,” Cora says.
I sigh. “Okay. That’s fine. We’ll have it memorized by tonight. For now, let’s just... here, can you guys see this?” I hold the book up in front of me.
The ladies move in closer, until we’re all bunched up. The candle is mostly shining on the shelf, but a little bit of golden light flickers over the ancient pages.
“On three,” I say. “We’ll all say the poem together, while moving our hands. Does that sound good?”
There are hushed yes’s all round.
“All right.” I take another deep breath. Why am I so nervous?
I feel my heart beating fast. We have to get this right. “One....” I say aloud.
If we don’t get this right, we won’t be able to banish Zeke tonight.
“Two....”
And if we don’t banish Zeke, Hillcrest will be plagued by a murderous werewolf. It will be all our fault, too. I feel a ball of fear and doubt forming, in the pit of my stomach.
“Three,” I say.
Then, we all start to read.
“Banish, banish, banish,
Thrice times we banish thee
Gone for good, forever,
All before us that we see.”
As we voice the words aloud, my mind continues to wander. Why did I ever think that we can really do this? Why did I think that we can work magic? Why did I ever think that my coven sisters and I could become wise, powerful witches?
I’m a PI with five years of experience, yet I can barely solve a case.
We’re onto the next stanza.
“Banish, banish, banish,
With this witch hand, this heart, this mind
Gone for good, forever,
In your absence peace we find.”
As I read the words, I move my hands in a counterclockwise manner. I see that Annie, Cora and Marley are doing the same. All four of our voices are ringing out in the small kitchen, echoing off of the walls. Despite the noise, my mind continues to wander.
We begin reading the third and final stanza.
“Banish, banish, banish
From without, within, below, above
Gone for good, forever,
Not in hatred but with love.”
Even though I’m reading the words off of the page, and speaking them aloud, my mind is a million miles away. I’m thinking about how terrible of a PI I’ve been. No, I’ve not only been a poor PI, but I’m also a very poor student of witchcraft. I stumble around, figuring things out through sheer luck and very little real talent or brains. I’m an underprepared, unorganized, unmethodical, unintelligent—
POOF!
Suddenly, a white cloud of flour explodes off of the bottom shelf. I blink my eyes as it hits my face. I hear Cora deliver a shocked cry, and Annie gasps and then coughs. Marley is sputtering and spitting and when I dare to open my eyes, I see why. She’s trying to rid her mouth of clumps of white flour.
“What happened?” I ask.
Flour is still hanging heavy in the air. I wave my hand in front of me, blinking as I try to clear some of the flour away.
“An explosion!” says Annie.
“A flour explosion,” says Marley.
Cora gives another cry. She’s batting at her hair, trying to get the flour out of it.
“It’s everywhere!” I say. Then, looking around at my flour covered sisters, I start to laugh. I lift my hand and point to Marley. “You look like a ghost!” I say.
Marley lifts both of her arms and starts wiggling her fingers. She sways back and forth as she walks towards me. “OOoooo, Penny... I am the ghost of the Death Cafe. I’ve come to demand caramel double fudge brownies.”
“No!” I say, taking a pretend stand. My glasses are still so covered in flour that it’s almost impossible to see out of them. “You can’t live on brownies! You’ll get a stomach ache. You should only eat raw almonds.”
“I’m in helllll!” Marley coos, swaying dramatically.
Annie starts laughing too, and then Cora. The flour begins settling out of the air, coming to rest on every surface in the kitchen.
Annie’s laughter dies down as she looks around. “Well, now I really have some cleaning to do.”
“We’ll help,” Cora says. For the first time since we entered the kitchen, she actually sounds back to her usual chipper self.
Cora despises getting messy. Cleaning, however, is right up her alley. “Where’s the broom?” she asks.
“Over near the door,” Annie says.
Cora practically skips towards the door. I’ve never seen anyone so excited to start cleaning in my life!
Just as she reaches the broom, I see the kitchen door swing open.
I hold my breath. It’s still dark in here, and the candlelight flickers over the whitewashed scene. I’m almost sure it’s going to be one of Annie’s nephews that walks through the door, and our situation is going to take a bit of explaining.
I’m sure we look pretty weird back here.
All of our eyes focus on the door. To my surprise, it’s not Annie’s nephew who walks in.
It’s Silas.
Chapter Fourteen
Cora stands by the door, dumbstruck. Actually, I think we all are.
Silas has not caught us in our finest moment, to say the least. I watch as Cora tries to brush flour out of her hair while ogling the tall, handsome man.
It takes me a moment before I find my voice. “Silas!” I say. “Thanks for coming. We were just—er—practicing a bit of magic.”
“I see,” says Silas, as he looks around the little kitchen. In the flickering candle light, it must look like a kind of odd war zone, dusted with the debris of some sort of explosion.
“It didn’t go well,” Annie says sheepishly.
“To say the least,” adds Marley with a sigh.
I lift my chin. “We’re working on it,” I say.
Cora snaps on the light.
Suddenly, the room is much brighter, and our mess seems somewhat less catastrophic. It’s amazing what lighting can do.
I begin dusting off my shoulders. A showering of white flour sprinkles off of me, onto the floor.
“How did you find us back here?” I ask.
“The boy at the counter told me you had all headed in here, looking serious,” Silas says. “I waited out in the cafe for a while, but then I started to get nervous. Penny, you said that you’re working on the Banishing Spell, right?” Silas is picking his way through the kitchen now.
Cora, left behind at the door, watches him move. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she finds Silas attractive.
I catch her eye and give her a wink. She straightens up and tears her eyes away from Silas. Even with the thin coat of white flour that’s dusted over her face like foundation, I can see the blush that creeps into her cheeks.
“Right,” I say to Silas, who’s now at my side. “The Banishing Spell.”
“It’s a dangerous one,” Silas says. “It can go very wrong. I started to wonder if something had happened to you all back here. I worried that perhaps you’d translocated yourselves, or had some other kind of unfortunate mishap. I’m glad to see you all in one piece.”
Marley laughs. “One very messy piece,” she says, shaking her head. A cloud of dust billows out around her.
“It could be worse,” Silas says. “I’ve heard of witches who—”
“Silas!” I say, cutting hi
m off. I don’t think my already disheartened coven—or myself—need to hear any horror stories about the Banishing Spell. We’re already lacking in confidence as it is. “Do you think you could hand me that rag?” I point to a dishrag on the countertop, next to where he’s standing.
He reaches for it. “Sure...” he says, eying me.
I grab it from him. “Maybe now’s not the best time for idle chit chat,” I say. “We need to start making a strategy for tonight. Why don’t you tell these ladies what you told me last night—about how you think Zeke will attack those in leadership positions? We can strategize while we clean.”
“Oh... right.” Silas looks around at my coven. His eyes land on Cora and stay there.
Yep. There are definitely some sparks flying.
Cora reaches for the broom and starts sweeping. Silas doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he begins to speak. “Zeke is an Alpha Lux wolf. For him, violence is an act of dominance. He kills to make a point.”
I use the rag to start wiping flour off of an island in the middle of the small kitchen, while Silas talks. Marley is brushing flour off of shelving with her sleeve. Annie’s tackling the stove top.
Silas moves towards the door as he speaks. “Penny, you were saying that the town is going to have some sort of gathering tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” I say.
Silas leans down and grabs a dust pan. He then squats and places it on the floor next to a pile of flour that Cora’s been sweeping up.
Cora shoots him a smile as she starts sweeping flour into the waiting pan. “A bonfire dance,” she says, dreamily.
“That's right,” Silas says. “A bonfire dance. Zeke will wait until everyone’s gathered, and then he’ll go in for the kill—of the leader of the humans in Hillcrest.”
“Mayor Haywater,” I say.
Silas stands, and walks the dust pan over towards a trash can. As he empties the flour into the trash can he says, “He’ll want to make it public. He’ll want the humans of Hillcrest to know who the true Alpha is. And he won’t stop there. Next, he’ll go for the leader of this coven—the one who started the group.”
I feel Annie, Marley, and Cora’s eyes land on me.
“Penny,” Marley whispers.
“We can’t let it get to that,” I say. “We have to stop Zeke before he makes even one attack. Silas, do you think you could fight him?”
The Case of the Banishing Spell Page 15