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

by Cindy Stark

  He pointed a revolver at Peter, and her husband froze.

  Instead of fear, Hazel could only sense Peter’s anger. He wanted Samuel to shoot. Wanted him to end his life.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Preternatural strength came from an unknown source, and Hazel was out of the water before she could blink. Though her limbs were frozen, she ran toward the two men with a speed she hadn’t known she possessed.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Samuel looked to her, his face aghast with disbelief and horror, and he pointed the gun in her direction.

  The first shot echoed through the quiet surroundings and whizzed close enough past her that she could feel its angry power.

  Odd-sounding, ancient words echoed in her mind. She could hear hints of her grandmother’s voice but others as well. May the light smite you…

  She didn’t question or doubt the source. Instead, she repeated the words forming in her thoughts.

  “May the light smite you, Samuel Canterbury. Set you free. Cleanse your darkened form, so mote it be,” she yelled.

  Brilliant white lightning illuminated their surroundings. Hazel shielded her eyes, and it crackled through the air. Powerful thunder boomed and shook the ground. Hazel fell to her knees, and the scent of ozone surrounded her.

  When she regained her senses, she found Samuel lying on the winter grass. Peter stood and raced toward him. Hazel scrambled to her feet and sprinted in the same direction.

  Peter held Samuel’s wrist and glanced up when she stopped next to them. A dark circle had been burned on Samuel’s shirt, directly over his heart. “Barely a pulse,” Peter said.

  Her insides sizzled and shivered, and she wondered if she’d been hit by lightning, too. She questioned her sanity when she thought to call for help, but then realized she was better off to let karma make the decision if Samuel lived or died. “Do you have your phone?”

  He pulled it from his jeans but made the call instead. Then he stood, tucked his coat around Samuel, and wrapped his arms around her. “Let’s get you into the car to warm you. There’s nothing more to do for him here. God can decide if he lives or dies.”

  A watery smile curved her lips. Even in times like this, their thoughts were the same.

  Twenty-Two

  Two days later, Hazel stepped inside Cora’s with Peter by her side. A rush of happy voices called out to her, and she widened her eyes in surprise. It seemed the whole town was crammed inside the small café.

  She turned to Peter with questioning eyes, and he shrugged. “I had no idea.”

  Hazel narrowed her gaze. “Really?”

  He snorted. “You know as well as I do that I can’t keep secrets from you. You have this uncanny way of figuring them out.”

  She grinned. “True.”

  “And after that show out at the pond, I want to stay on your good side.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You are my good side.”

  Cora separated from the crowd and hurried forward to hug her. “Welcome to your surprise party.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “It’s not my birthday.”

  “I didn’t say birthday surprise party. This is the town’s first ever we’re-grateful-you’re-alive witch’s party.”

  Fauna and Polly stepped forward, too. Both wore their traditional, elegant witch hats reserved only for special occasions.

  Hazel blinked in surprise. “What’s this?”

  Polly met her gaze and warmth flowed from her heart. “This is us. As we should be. You showed fearless courage and stepped in front of a firing squad. We should have had your back.”

  Fauna wrapped her in a fierce hug. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

  Hazel hugged her and blinked back tears. “Oh, Fauna. It’s okay. We’ve both endured some tough things but look at us. We’re okay. Certainly much better off than Samuel.”

  The younger witch pulled back and met Hazel’s gaze. “Will he live?”

  Peter cleared his throat. “He’s alive, but you wouldn’t recognize him. He doesn’t remember his name or much of anything. It’s as though his memories have been wiped clean. Without all that anger, he looks completely different.”

  Hazel wasn’t about to explain how all that had come about because she honestly didn’t know.

  Cora lifted her brows. “Do you think he’ll remember in time?”

  Peter shook his head. “Docs don’t think so. I doubt he’ll be a threat to any of you ever again.”

  Fauna gave a satisfied nod. “That’s good. Not that I’ll be here if he ever comes back.”

  Hazel’s heart sank. “No, Fauna. Are you leaving?”

  The younger witch played with the turquoise pendant she wore that Hazel had given her for healing. It matched the tips of her hair perfectly. “I’m going home. Two years ago, my father insisted I learn more about being a witch from an actual witch since he doesn’t carry the power, and he’s the only family I have left. He’s getting older, and I worry. I never meant to stay in Stonebridge permanently anyway.”

  Hazel drew her into another hug. “I will miss you so much.”

  Fauna blinked back tears. “Me, too. I will always think of you as my big sister. And you can come visit. Please say that you will.”

  “Of course, I will.”

  Polly took Fauna’s hand, clearly not happy that the younger witch was leaving, either. “We shouldn’t hog the guest of honor. Plenty of others want to offer good wishes. I must say, I’m shocked that so many have opened their hearts. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Hazel surprised Polly with a hug. “It seems it’s a good time to let go of the negative things in our past, Polly. Let’s be sisters like we were meant to be.”

  Polly nodded and blinked back tears. She turned away and towed Fauna along with her.

  Hazel glanced between Cora and Peter. “Wow. Definitely was not expecting this.”

  Cora grinned. “I don’t know why not. I always knew you could do it.”

  Hazel snorted and glanced at the crowd of people, all watching. Luca stood between Lachlan and his lover, Dotty, and lifted his chin in greeting. Hazel shot an arc of love in his direction. She couldn’t deny that the charming, supposedly-reformed thief held a special place in her heart.

  Her next-door neighbor, Anya, stood elbow-to-elbow with Father Orien. Whether the two realized it or not, a singular red aura encompassed them both, and Hazel wondered how she’d fare if she played cupid. She’d done well with Cora and Lachlan.

  Mrs. Lemon and Mrs. Tillens sat in a booth with dear old Mr. Fletcher, and Hazel made her way toward them. She greeted them with a smile. “Look at you three. A very handsome bunch.”

  Hazel met Mrs. Lemon’s gaze, searching for any animosity since her son Tony was still in jail for threatening Cora. The older woman blinked rheumy eyes. “Good to see you, Hazel, dear. I’m happy you’re okay.”

  She inhaled a tentative breath. “How’s Tony?’

  Mrs. Lemon gave a disgusted snort. “In jail where he belongs. I raised that boy better, and he should be ashamed.”

  Hazel reached out to squeeze her hand. “We can’t control others. All we can do is guide them with love and hope for the best.”

  A smile of gratitude blossomed on her lips. “Will the teashop be open tomorrow? Iris and I are running short on tea and need to stop by.”

  She glanced between two of her best customers. “You bet. I’ll be starting regular deliveries again, too.”

  Mrs. Tillens shook her head. “Oh, no. We wouldn’t hear of it. We look forward to our visits in town. We’ll come see you.”

  “Okay,” Hazel said with a laugh. “You come in tomorrow and pick a canister of tea. It’s on the house. But only for my favorite customers.”

  The older ladies giggled, and Mr. Fletcher glanced between them with a toothless grin.

  This town, and these folks did own her heart.

  Beatrice placed a hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “Excuse dear Hazel f
or a moment, please?”

  Hazel turned to her favorite seamstress and fellow witchy sister. Beatrice also wore her traditional hat decorated with greenery and deep red roses. “Beatrice. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “There’s someone in the back room who wishes to speak to you privately.”

  Hazel lifted her brows, but Beatrice gave no further information. Instead, she led the way to the area where Hazel and Cora had engaged in many furtive conversations in the past.

  When Hazel walked through the doors, she found Timothy waiting for her, and her mouth dropped open. His white shirt was tucked in for once, but his dark curly hair remained unruly and his glasses still sat halfway down his nose.

  “Hello, Timothy,” Hazel said in a wary greeting. Though Samuel might be out of the picture, Hazel knew Timothy’s loyalties weren’t with her.

  He nodded. “Hazel.”

  Hazel glanced between Beatrice and her nemesis. “Was there something you wanted, Timothy?”

  Beatrice placed a hand on Hazel’s elbow. “Actually, I believe there were some things you wanted to say to Timothy. He did show up to the party, after all.”

  Because he wanted to save face, Hazel realized.

  She nodded. “Actually, there are. Beatrice, would it be okay if Timothy and I had a private conversation?”

  The older woman grinned. “Of course. I’ll be close by, along with many of your friends.”

  Hazel appreciated the security and support.

  When the door closed behind Beatrice, Timothy shifted his stance, and Hazel basked in his discomfort.

  She held the power now, and he knew it. She wasn’t the timid newcomer seeking information about her ancestors like she’d been when she’d first come to town. “It’s good to see you here, Timothy, in support of witches. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

  By his expression, if nothing else, she knew that wasn’t true. But he remained quiet and didn’t argue.

  “There are a few things we need to get straight,” she continued. “First, you will cease and desist any negative talk about witches. When people come into the library, you will allow them to view all books. If you can’t say positive things about witches, then feel free to give them impartial information.”

  He clenched his jaw.

  She inhaled, enjoying this new sense of power. “The Sons of Stonebridge are no more. Do you understand? Samuel’s gone, and we both know he was the driving force behind all the nasty things that happened. I think you know what I mean.”

  Color drained from his face. “I had no idea what he’d planned.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Let’s just say you’re lucky you haven’t been charged with accessory to murder. But that doesn’t mean that can’t change.”

  He glared. “I want my stuff back.”

  She chuckled. “That’s not happening. First, Clarabelle’s diary is mine, and you should have never tried to keep it from me. Can I tell you? That makes me very angry. And since you deny being a witch, you’ll have no need of Lily’s spell book, either.”

  He opened his mouth but quickly shut it.

  “The notebook will be held in secret and never see the light of day as long as you behave.”

  She pointed a sharp finger at him. “But do not doubt that one minor infraction, and the whole town will see it. I believe there’s enough evidence in there to put you away for a very long time. As you can see, it’s in your best interest to be a model citizen for Stonebridge.”

  Timothy’s angry aura spilled onto his reddened face. “Are we finished?”

  She smiled. “Almost. I have one tiny suggestion. With all your spare time at the library, perhaps you should reread all those precious books. And this time, try to see things from your great grandmother’s point of view. Think about what it was like to be persecuted and hated for something that wasn’t her choice. After all, you have that same blood running in your veins, and we both know you’ve used witchcraft yourself.”

  “I did not—”

  “Don’t deny it, Timothy. Your energy was all over that box. Should I tell that to everyone in the café?”

  He seemed to shrink in on himself. “No.”

  “Good. Before you leave, I will know the name of the spell and what material you used to encrypt Clarabelle’s diary and Lily’s spell book. They are mine now, and I will have access to them.”

  He hesitated, and she sensed his urge to deny use of witchcraft again.

  Then he expelled a deep breath. “All you need to do is say Rumpelstiltskin.”

  She widened her eyes and snorted. “Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “What do you expect? I’m a librarian.”

  Despite his disheveled look, Timothy could be a clever guy.

  Hazel extended her hand. “From this point on, we move forward. For our sakes and for Stonebridge. Agreed?”

  He clamped his lips together but nodded. He gave her hand a half-shake and then turned to leave.

  A second after he was gone, Peter burst through the door. “Everything okay?”

  She stepped close enough to wrap her arms around him and then sighed. “Yes. I think everything is okay. Let’s go enjoy this party, and then I want to go home. I have a diary I want to devour.”

  Peter nodded and then kissed her. “Let’s do it, my beautiful witch.”

  Epilogue

  Clarabelle circled the room quietly, gliding near the ceiling so she could remain undetected. She watched her offspring as she sat curled on the couch next to the young one’s husband, proud of the fierce young woman.

  Finally, someone from her line had been strong enough to see the prophecy through. Her soul could rest.

  Hazel believed the cleansing she’d performed earlier on the house had set her old grandmother free from this plane of existence. And it had.

  But she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

  Tigernach, or Mr. Kitty as Hazel called him, glanced up from where he lay next to the fireplace. Clarabelle narrowed her gaze at the sleek black Sorcha who snuggled next to him.

  Her cat knew of her jealousy and narrowed his gaze in warning. But he couldn’t blame her. Tigernach had been the one true love of her life. The only soul to stand by her through everything. She didn’t want to share.

  But she knew she must.

  Or he’d growl and tell Hazel that she remained.

  She averted her gaze and continued to enjoy the freedom of circling without the dreaded weight of a tortured lifetime.

  Hazel glanced up from the diary and nudged her husband. “Look at this, Peter. It says Clarabelle gave birth in the dense forest not far from our house. A sweet baby girl. Lily was there to help her. She named her child Rose.”

  Peter wrapped an arm around Hazel and squeezed. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. With a woman that strong in your lineage, I should never have doubted you.”

  A smug smile crossed Clarabelle’s lips. She hadn’t been certain of anything at the time, but, yes. She’d proven to be a warrior and look what she’d created.

  Hazel glanced up at her husband. “If we ever have a baby girl, let’s name her Rose.”

  He kissed her head. “It’s a deal.”

  She grinned. “I love you, Chief Parrish.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Parrish. How about we put away the books for tonight and head upstairs. This is the first night we’ll have the whole house to ourselves, and I can’t wait.”

  She chuckled. “Very true. All of us have finally found peace. I hope Clarabelle is happy wherever she is.”

  “Me, too.”

  Peter stood and took Hazel’s hand as they left the room.

  Clarabelle swooped and smiled. She supposed she could give them that one night. Every couple deserved some sort of honeymoon.

  Tigernach shot a wary glance in her direction, and she released a soft giggle. She’d haunt the sassy ginger cat and his love instead.

  ****

  Continue reading for an excerpt from Murder and Moons
tones, Book One in the next series, Crystal Cove Cozy Mysteries.

  ****

  Dear Reader:

  Thanks for joining me on this fun journey. The Teas and Temptation books have been a true pleasure to write.

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  Cindy

  Excerpt from Murder and Moonstones

  Crystal Cove Cozy Mysteries

  Book One

  Opal Mayland was close. So close.

  Less than twenty minutes stood between her and Crystal Cove, Oregon, her childhood home. She tried again to calm the incessant itch to be out of her car, but it would not be quelled.

  For days, she’d ignored the miles and hours that loomed ahead as she had driven northward from Sedona, Arizona, where she’d spent the last six years learning her craft at the center of a powerful vortex. This morning, she’d woken super early so she could roll into town just after noon. Now, she was so close to home she could taste the salt on the late springtime air that blew in through the car window.

  Opal pressed harder on the accelerator, and the needle on the speedometer crept up. The late-model Mustang growled as its engine kicked in, and it eased into the next curve as smooth as the surface of a mountain lake.

  She smiled, loving the thrill.

  The never-ending black ribbon that wound through the lush forests of eastern Oregon toward the coast sped by a little faster. Rain speckled the windshield, forcing her to turn on the wipers every minute or so.