Nefarious Nine: A Cozy Mystery (Teas and Temptations Book 9)

by Cindy Stark

Or…she might be willing to give up a year of her life and use the truth spell. She couldn’t tell Peter, of course, but doing so would be a small sacrifice to protect the people she loved, to heal the town.

  She caught Beatrice’s gaze and searched her eyes. “Are you okay if I talk to Peter about this?”

  Beatrice hesitated and then nodded. “Yes. It’s time. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Hazel stood and leaned to give the woman a sincere hug. “Thank you for this. I know it took courage.”

  She blinked back tears. “It’s hard to remain a coward when I have you for inspiration. Take care, dear. That storm is a-brewing.”

  Nineteen

  Hazel frowned as she stepped outside Beatrice’s house. The temperature had dropped considerably, and the winds had picked up, nipping at her cheeks with sharp teeth. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon like a menacing monster. She’d heard they wouldn’t get more snow until mid-week, but the weatherman must have been wrong.

  She slid inside her car and started the engine, grateful that she had warm, safe transportation home, unlike Clarabelle when she’d been alive.

  Her thoughts tumbled over what Beatrice had confided as she retraced her path home.

  Beatrice had been in love with Samuel. The idea seemed preposterous. The man was as evil as they came.

  But had circumstances made him that way? Had his upbringing colored his view of witches in such a negative way that he never would have been able to accept Beatrice?

  Sad if that was true.

  She considered a moment what might have happened if Peter had reacted to the news she was a witch in a similar fashion. Her heart would’ve been crushed, and she’d have been forced to leave town.

  Her life would not be what it was today.

  Hazel slowed as she turned a corner. Her car fishtailed the slightest, letting her know the change in temperature had frozen any remaining water on the roadways into black ice.

  When she was only a few minutes from home, she caught sight of a pickup truck bearing down on her little Honda. She frowned. The driver should know that having a four-wheel-drive vehicle didn’t make a lick of difference when driving on ice.

  “Idiot,” she said under her breath.

  The truck drew closer, and she flicked her gaze between the wintry road and the rearview mirror. “If you don’t like how fast I’m going, then go around,” she muttered. She wasn’t about to drive any faster.

  As the bright headlights crept closer, her annoyance flipped. She glanced in the rearview mirror again and discovered the truck was silver. Headlights kept her from seeing the driver clearly, but she knew.

  Samuel.

  And she was all alone on a deserted road.

  With her pulse racing, she reached to access the phone feature on the dashboard to call Peter.

  The truck slammed her back bumper before she could press the call button. Her car slid and fought to regain traction. She gripped the wheel and tried to keep her Honda on the road as it fishtailed, and the anti-lock brakes groaned in protest.

  Another bump sent her straight off the side of the road and into a tree.

  She hit hard.

  The airbag deployed into her face and chest, stealing her breath. An iron fist gripped her lungs and kept her from inhaling deeply. She scrambled to clear her mind.

  She needed to get out of the car. Needed to remember a spell. To curse Samuel. She would cut herself to get blood for a dark spell, if needed.

  She gripped the door handle with ice-cold fingers. Then Samuel’s evil face appeared on the opposite side of the driver’s window, and instead of flinging the door open, she fought to keep it closed instead.

  But his brute strength was stronger than hers, and the door flew open, exposing her to Samuel, the biting snow, and bitter wind. She turned and kicked at him, but he gripped her boots and tugged her from the car. The edge of the vehicle scraped her back as she fell, and she landed hard on her butt.

  She couldn’t recall any spells at that moment that might help her, but she opened her mouth anyway. “Wind and Fire, hear my plea…”

  He narrowed his eyes filled with hatred and shoved a hand into his pocket. A nasty grin revealed yellow teeth, and he pulled out a length of rope and bandana.

  She inhaled sharply. “Send your power straight to me. Knock this man—”

  He halted her words when he jerked her onto her stomach and stole her breath. Then he grunted as the spell hit home. He pitched forward, trapping her against the frozen ground.

  She filled her lungs as best she could. Words tumbled from her mouth as fast as she could get them out. “To his knees—”

  He growled and stuffed the bandana in her mouth. The scent and taste of dirt and grease choked her.

  She struggled, pushing at the gag with her tongue to remove it.

  He jerked one of her hands behind her back, and coarse rope dug deep into her soft wrists as he tied her. The dirty fabric fell free from her mouth.

  “Knock this man to his knees,” she yelled.

  Once again, he pitched forward onto her and screamed in pain.

  He recovered quicker this time and gagged her with the nasty bandana.

  Hot fear consumed her.

  She struggled against his weight.

  He stood, and she sucked in as much air as she could through her nose. He lifted her by her shoulders from behind, and she scrambled to get her feet beneath her. When she was on solid ground, she whirled and glared at him.

  Menace glinted in his eyes, and he chuckled. “Too bad you can’t curse me with a look.”

  She took a small amount of satisfaction from his bloodshot eyes, which had resulted from her curse.

  He reached for her, and she stumbled backward. He caught her before she fell and hauled her toward his truck. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Should have left town while you could.”

  She screamed that he wouldn’t get away with it, but only furious muffles came out.

  Samuel’s truck sat in the middle of the road where he’d left it, headlights blazing and engine running. She knew she had a limited amount of time to figure out how to escape, or this really would be the end of her road.

  And Peter…

  Her heart cracked. She couldn’t let him grieve another wife. He wouldn’t survive it.

  Instead of stuffing her in his truck, he lifted her and dumped her like a gunny sack in the truck bed. She landed hard on her left arm and cried out. Icy cold steel kissed her cheek and chilled her.

  He peered over the edge and grinned at her. “Don’t worry. You won’t be in pain for long.”

  He disappeared. The driver’s door slammed shut, and the truck slid into motion.

  Full-on terror gripped her.

  Samuel had killed before. She was sure of it.

  She had no reason to think he wouldn’t do so again.

  Using her legs for leverage, she managed a sitting position. Cold wind whipped around the truck’s cab and frosted her cheeks. If a car were to drive by, she might manage to catch someone’s attention. But all she could see now was a stretch of frozen, isolated road.

  She considered lobbing herself over the side, but even if her hands hadn’t been tied behind her back, she’d likely break something in the fall, if not outright die from the impact.

  She closed her eyes and silently prayed to the mother of the universe.

  Then thought of Peter. Dear, sweet Peter.

  It couldn’t all end this way. It wasn’t right.

  She hadn’t healed the town yet. She still had work to do.

  And Peter to love. For many, many years.

  She conjured an image of Peter in her mind and willed him to find her. She prayed to the mother that she would allow him to do so.

  The truck slowed, and Hazel shifted to catch a glance at the road ahead.

  She widened her eyes, tried to swallow, and gagged.

  Redemption Pond.

  He’d brought her here to die, just like the townsfolk had with C
larabelle all those years ago.

  Samuel paused to open the gate that would allow him closer access to the lake. He intended to drown her.

  Would he torture her like he had Fauna before he ended her life?

  Doing so would give Hazel more time, but for what? If Samuel threw her in the lake with her hands bound, she wouldn’t last long. No one would find her. Not before it was too late.

  Twenty

  The Patriots scored a touchdown, but before Peter could holler his approval, a wave of heart-stopping panic slammed him. Black fear, like he’d never experienced before, stole his breath.

  He jumped from his chair and glanced around, frantic to find the source of danger that threatened him. Premonitions like this happened to Hazel, not him.

  Hazel…

  He whipped out his phone and dialed her number. The phone rang and rang. By the sixth ring, he knew she wouldn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

  Peter grabbed a coat and his keys and dashed out the door to his police cruiser. He had nothing to go on but his gut instinct and the fact that Hazel had been headed to Beatrice Rutherford’s.

  His sirens and lights pierced the nasty weather, beacons searching for his love. He grabbed the mic from his dash and alerted all units to be on the lookout for Hazel’s car. If he’d have had Beatrice’s number, he would have called her directly. Instead, he asked dispatch to check with Beatrice and ask about Hazel.

  The call that came moments later saying Hazel had left well over thirty minutes ago punched him square in the gut. He pushed on the brakes in reaction to the news, and his car slid. It spun a full circle before it came to rest in the middle of the road.

  He covered his mouth and then rubbed the whiskers on his chin as memories of horror and grief reclaimed him. If Hazel was dead, he—

  No. She wasn’t gone. He could still feel the presence of her beating in his heart. Their woven tapestry as Hazel liked to call it provided him that blessed reassurance.

  She was alive, but in danger. He had to find her.

  But where?

  A call came through that one of his guys had found her abandoned car smashed into a tree with the driver’s door wide open off Filmore Road, near Union.

  Anguish lurched through him again, and he fought to keep a clear head.

  Filmore Road.

  He’d start there.

  Peter slowly turned his car on the icy road until it faced in the opposite direction. He accelerated with a slow and steady foot, until a ginger cat dashed onto the street. Then he slammed his brakes again.

  His car came to a full stop without sliding once.

  Peter threw open the door. Mr. Kitty leapt onto his lap and into the passenger seat.

  Peter’s heart twisted as he faced her beloved cat. “I’ve lost her, Mr. Kitty, and she needs me.”

  Look up.

  The words rang loud and clear in Peter’s mind, and he blinked in surprise. “You want me to look up?”

  The cat gave a firm nod of his ginger-striped head.

  Peter couldn’t spend a second pondering whether he’d just spoken with a cat, but the thought blew his mind. He didn’t question but stuck his head out the driver’s side window and glanced upward. “I don’t see—”

  And there it was. A small patch of blue amongst the angry, metal-gray sky. Just like Hazel had said happened with Fauna when she’d been in danger.

  Peter didn’t hesitate any longer. He slammed the door and threw his car into drive. Hazel’s magic had shown him the way, and he’d never question it again.

  Twenty-One

  Hazel repeated silent pleas for help as Samuel’s truck bounced over the uneven dirt road toward the large pond. When he parked in the same spot where they’d found Fauna half-beaten to death weeks ago, tears welled in her eyes.

  This couldn’t be it. She had too much to live for.

  Life couldn’t be that cruel.

  Her breaths came fast, and she feared she’d hyperventilate. She’d messed with things set in place long before her time, things that she hadn’t been strong enough to conquer.

  Samuel exited his truck and reached for her, but she rolled out of his grasp. “Don’t play games with me.”

  She shot him a look full of hatred. If he thought she’d make this easy for him, he’d need to think again.

  He strode to the opposite side of the truck, keeping his eerie eyes locked on her. The second he was close enough to grab her, she rolled again.

  He shouted an expletive and stalked to the back of the truck. He released the latch, and the tailgate fell open with a murderous clang. He climbed onto the tailgate with ease, and Hazel realized he was in better shape than he looked.

  Anger radiated from his eyes and buried fear deeper in her heart.

  She kicked at his shin. Made contact.

  That didn’t stop him from gripping her arm and heaving her forward. He dragged her to the edge of the truck, jumped down, and then pulled her along with him until she was on the ground.

  Adrenaline spurted through her veins, and she used it to fuel her actions. She clamored to her feet, knocking him back, and ran.

  He caught her two seconds later.

  She knew he would, but she’d had to take the chance.

  He tried to march her forward, but she dug in her heels.

  “You’re only going to make it worse on yourself.”

  She glared.

  In the end, he tossed her over a shoulder, knocking the air from her lungs once again.

  “Hazel Hardy, you are hereby accused of witchcraft in its most vile form.”

  She screamed against the disgusting fabric in her mouth and kicked her feet.

  He tightened the hold on her legs. “I sentence you to death by drowning.”

  When he reached the end of the wooden dock that extended into the pond, he dropped her at his feet, where she landed hard without her hands to soften the fall. Icy winds churned the freezing water that loomed nearby, increasing the panic inside her.

  Though she couldn’t speak actual words, she screeched behind the cloth and did her best to tell him exactly what she thought of his existence.

  He leaned over and loosened the bandana.

  She spit it from her mouth. “You will pay for this, Samuel Canterbury. For the rest of your days and beyond.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Prove to me you’re not a witch.”

  “I can’t,” she spit at him. “You already know I am.”

  “Exactly. One who must be sent back to hell.”

  If she could only send him there first. “Why didn’t you throw Sarah into the pond, too? I know you killed her.”

  He grinned. “I would have, given the chance. She died before I could. And Fauna escaped, but don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.”

  Hazel stared into the eyes of the vile murderer, inhaled a deep breath, and focused on the rope that bound her. “Release your hold. Relax your guard. Let the strength within you free.”

  He jerked the gag back into place before she could utter another word. “You all think you’re so powerful but look at you now. Your magic won’t save you. Do you know why? Because God and I won’t let it.”

  His actions were nothing God would approve of, she was sure. She struggled against the ropes binding her. They might not have released, but she wondered if she’d loosened them. Given time, she might be able to get free.

  Unfortunately, she feared she only had precious moments left.

  Samuel gripped the backs of her arms and tried to lift her.

  She used her weight and kicked at him until he dropped her again, sending another sharp pain through her right arm.

  He chuckled. “Fight all you want, witch. You will die today.”

  The sound of sirens bit through the thick air, and she widened her eyes.

  Peter.

  She couldn’t believe he’d found her.

  Samuel’s eyes turned black, and he growled. He scooped her into his arms and turned. She tried to scream as he tossed
her from him.

  Time froze.

  Then frigid water slapped her hard. A second later, it surrounded her with smothering quiet and welcomed her to a place she didn’t want to be.

  She knew the water off the edge of the dock wasn’t too deep, but by the time she landed on the bottom, it covered her head. Panic rocketed to a whole new level.

  She scrambled to stand, but without the use of her arms, she fell. She tried again, moving her body to balance herself, but that same movement came back and knocked her down.

  No. No. No…

  Desperation clawed at her. She wriggled her hands and repeated the spell over and over again in her mind, willing it to work. It had to. The rope seemed looser, but not loose enough.

  Peter might arrive to the scene on time, but he wouldn’t know where to find her. She’d be so close but so far away.

  The water around her grew darker. Air bubbles slipped from her nose, and her head swam from lack of oxygen.

  This was it. She’d die in the place where her grandmother almost had. She should have spent time that very afternoon reading the spell that had emptied the pond all those years ago.

  But she hadn’t. She’d thought she had time.

  Then the rope slid farther down her hand than it had before, and hope flared.

  She jerked hard.

  Rough fibers dug into her skin, but she didn’t care. The rope had moved. Perhaps the cold water made her hands smaller.

  She twisted her hands back and forth, inching her bindings closer to her numb fingers.

  When one hand slid free, triumph burned bright.

  She stood and swam for the surface.

  Her fingers touched wood, and she gripped the edge of the dock, holding herself above water. She ripped the bandana from her mouth, and glorious air stung her lungs.

  Bless the sun, moon, and stars. She never thought she’d see this earth again.

  She gasped several breaths and pushed wet tangles of hair from her face. Beautiful green eyes set in a bright orange, furry face stared at her. “Mr. Kitty,” she said breathlessly.

  He released a meow that stole her relief and put fear into her heart.

  Beyond him, several hundred yards away, Peter and Samuel tussled on the dried yellow grass near the barren trees. Peter fought to gain control, but then Samuel shoved off him and stood.