Something Wicked: A Witch Cozy Mystery Series (Any Witch Way but Murder Book 1)

by Freya Darcy

  “But you weren’t wrong.”

  “I also didn’t actually identify him by name,” I point out. “I just suggested it was the ex, Derick is the one who said his name.” I frown. “Not that I think Derick had anything to do with it either. But when I made the suggestion, he took a closer look and identified him. Both he and Payton were as shocked to see him in the river as the rest of us.”

  He just stares at me and I can tell that he’s not believing a word of what I’m saying.

  “I promise,” I say. “None of this is on purpose. I just have the worst luck, which I guess is a little hyperbolic seeing that I’m not the one who was found dead in either situation. But I honestly don’t know either of these people, I’ve just read too many Agatha Christie novels growing up and don’t know how to keep my mouth shut sometimes.”

  He crosses his arms and sits back, letting me speak. Damn, I know this trick. The cop stays quiet and the guilty party needs to fill the silence which usually ends in them either confessing or slipping up.

  Well, the joke’s on him. I always feel guilty for everything that happens in my life.

  “Look, how stupid a murderer would I have to be to set it up so I’m the one who finds the bodies both times?”

  The detective raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said that guy—” He checks the folder. “—Michael was the one who found the body.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  He stares blankly at me for another minute before his expression cracks. “Yeah. I was just being thorough. It looks like it was probably accidental. His alcohol level was through the roof and his car was found up by the bridge. It would have taken an experienced hiker from the area at least half an hour to get to where he fell in, from where you were.”

  “So you think it was an accident?”

  “Unless there’s something you omitted from your statement?”

  I shake my head. I dreamed he was having a heated argument with a woman and accusing her of being responsible for Meghan’s death, but otherwise, no. Pain makes me cringe as I bite down on my cheek to keep my mouth shut.

  “So, she dies in a maybe murder maybe suicide then her ex fiancée dies a few days later? That can’t be unconnected.”

  “Oh no, they’re connected alright. The question is whether they’re connected by the same murderer or simply a cause and effect from the first death.”

  “So, did he come back knowing she was dead, or was he hoping to make amends? Do we know how long he was in town? Are you sure, he wasn’t involved in Meghan’s death but couldn’t handle the guilt?”

  He holds up a finger. “First, we don’t know. Second, we’re trying to find that out, third, we’re not ruling out a murder suicide but right now we’re just gathering all the facts.”

  “It doesn’t feel like a murder suicide,” I say remembering how shocked at angry Robert had seemed.

  “Do you have a lot of experience in the field?”

  “Only what I’ve read in books, but usually the murder and the suicide are closer together, aren’t they?”

  He holds up a hand and tips it back and forth before saying, “To be fair it’s only been a few days since Meghan’s death and we’re still waiting for the coroner to get back to us with a time of death.”

  I bite down on my cheek again because I nearly blurt out that it must have happened sometime after midnight.

  Detective Jameson must see me cringe because he gives me a curious look. “Miss Silverstone, do you have something you want to tell me?”

  “No,” I say too quickly and he’s frowning at me again like he’s wondering if I am involved after all. “It’s just a feeling, you know? I can’t explain it in any way that won’t make you think I’m crazy.”

  This time he smiles. “Your aunt used to have those too.”

  I feel comforted by that, enough to ask, “Did you think she was crazy?”

  “No, some people just have good instincts. Here, we call it a gut feeling.” He leans closer, resting his arms on the table. “You got one of those, Kismet?”

  I press my lips together and nod. “It’s not about the man though, it’s about the ladder.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “The ladder? You mean the one that was missing at Meghan’s crime scene?”

  I nod. “I just don’t get it. If it was suicide or a murder that was supposed to look like suicide, the ladder should have been there. So either the murderer wasn’t very smart or...” I frown because I don’t like the other option. “Someone wanted her to be found hanging from a tree in the woods and furthermore, wanted us to know that she was murdered.”

  “Do you know what I think?” Detective Jameson says. “I think you should maybe let up on the crime books. This isn’t Silence of the Lambs.”

  “You asked for my opinion and I gave it,” I huff. “And for the record, I didn’t say it was Hannibal Lecter, I just said the murderer wanted other people to know it. It could have easily been some kind of message, like a mob hit or an unpaid gambling debt!”

  Okay, so I know how ridiculous that sounds but when I’m upset my mouth takes over.

  He seems to be thinking, one hand rubbing as his slightly shadowed jaw, no doubt feeling sharp stubble under his fingertips.

  “If we do have such a killer in Radcliffe Wood, I’m afraid you are the one who should be the most careful.”

  “Me? I only just arrived in town and didn’t know either of the people who died.”

  “And yet, you’re the one who found the bodies both times. If we are dealing with a murderer, he or I suppose she, might view you as a loose end. On the other hand, if, as you suggested, we’re dealing with someone more coolly psychopathic, you may not have found those bodies by accident. In fact, this whole thing might have been some kind of attempt to gain your attention, possibly your approval.”

  “What!” I shove back from the table. I’m mostly sure that his suggestions aren’t correct, but that doesn’t stop the cool fingers wrapping around my back and tickling at the back of my neck.

  “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” I say, pointing an accusing finger. “And you have the gall to call my suggestion ridiculous?”

  “You said you had a gut feeling, well so did I.” He holds his hands up in surrender and quickly continues before I can interrupt. “I didn’t mean to offend you or scare you. But you should be careful over the next few days, just in case. And here—” He pulls a card out of his pocket and scrawls down what looks like a mobile number. “This is my private number if you feel like you’re in danger or – you know, what to grab a coffee.”

  I stare at the number for a moment before feeling my face get hot. “Was that whole speech just an excuse to give me your number?”

  “No, of course not.” He clears his throat awkwardly and gives me a toothy grin.

  Slipping the card into my pocket I get to my feet. “Am I free to go?”

  He nods and I move for the door. “Seriously though,” Detective Jameson says, meeting my eyes, his expression serious. “If you want to forget the coffee, that’s fine. No hard feelings. But if you need help, call the number and I’ll come running. You hear me?”

  “I do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “YOU’RE HOME EARLY,” Jaz says in greeting when I finally return home. “I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.”

  “Found another dead body,” I reply. “But on the plus side, Connor has finished with my car early too and it works better than it did when I first brought it.”

  “Did you say you found another dead body?”

  “Yup,” I say with a sardonic grin. “Apparently, I’m some kind of cadaver magnet too.”

  “Ew, Kizz.”

  Jaz looks disgusted and I fill her in on the action as I change out of my cold, dirty camping gear and into my yoga pants and a loose T-shirt.

  By the end her many spider eyes are like saucers. “So, you really saw Bigfoot?”

  I point at my bag thrown thoughtlessly on the floor. �
�If you want to rummage through my bag you might find a baggie of his fur.”

  “Ooh!” She drops to the floor and starts pulling things out of my backpack till she finds the baggie. “Is this it?” She holds it up oohing and ahhing as she turns it this way and that.

  “I did mention the part about finding another dead body, right?” I say but I can’t help the amused smile when she opens it and carefully touches the fur.

  “It’s so coarse and thick.”

  “Yes, it really is a miracle. But I really need your help – As my familiar?”

  She gives the fur a final pet, then puts it aside and gives me her full attention. “How can I help?”

  I tell her, again, about Robert and his connection to Meghan and about the dreams I had.

  “I didn’t see the woman he was arguing with, but I feel like it was more than just the shadow of the trees. It was like her face was blurred like in those documentaries about the mafia.”

  Jaz paces for almost a minute, muddling over everything I’d told her.

  “It’s possible the woman in your dream was a witch. If she was using some kind of glamour it might have distorted the dream. Magic can distort visions like when certain electronics interfere with the computers on a plane or the signal on a television.”

  “Well that’s just annoying.”

  Jaz gives me her version of a palms up. “You also said that your first dream was full of strange imagery. We interpreted that as maybe being part of her unstable mind, but maybe it was being distorted by the magic being used?”

  AFTER SOME COFFEE AND a snack, I grab up a sketchbook and head for the attic garden.

  “Maybe if I can get it out of my head, my dreams will start making more sense.” Then after staring at the cauldron for a moment I ask. “Is there a potion or a spell that could help me remember the dream more clearly?”

  “Yes,” Jaz replies, climbing up to her swing just above the alter. “But we’ve barely begun your training. I’m not sure—”

  “I don’t care about the training. We can train later. Two people are dead, and Detective Jameson is worried that I might be the third if whoever killed them sees me as a loose end.” Looking up at my familiar I say. “I need your help. I promise, I want to train and understand my powers but they aren’t going to be much good if I’m dead, are they?”

  “I guess not.” Jaz swings thoughtfully. “There’s a memory potion that isn’t too difficult to brew.”

  “That sounds perfect!”

  “Hmm. Go over to the ingredients cabinet and find some rosemary and ground elephant bone.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jaz says, waving off my disgusted expression. “The bones were harvested from an ancient graveyard, not from poaching or hunting.”

  “Still though...”

  “Well what did you expect? Sugar and spice and all things nice?” She rolls her eyes at me then continues. “Rosemary has long been used for remembrance and everyone knows that elephants never forget.”

  “Fine,” I place the large jars on the bench near the cauldron. “What now.”

  “First things first, we need some strong potion water. It’s a little like holy water, but for witches.”

  Sounds a little loopy but what do I know?

  “I’m going to need you to cast the circle then summon some water into the cauldron.” Jaz narrows her many eyes at me. “Can you do that without drowning us?”

  “That depends,” I say, genuinely not sure. “Does it have to be fresh water?”

  “No, in fact salt water might be safer.”

  I poke my tongue and shut my eyes to cast the circle. Jaz was right, it was almost effortless the second time and within moments I can feel my magic crackling around me.

  “Wowza,” Jaz says but she looks more concerned than impressed. “Remember what happened last time. You need to pace yourself.”

  “I promise I will not summon another storm,” I say and cross my heart to show that I’m serious.

  Focusing on the cauldron I shut my eyes again and imagine the cliffs and the sea crashing against the rocks.

  “Allow me some water for my potion,” I whisper the words. I’m not even sure why but it feels right, and when I open my eyes the cauldron is half full.

  I can’t help laughing. “This is real,” I say to Jaz. “I mean I know we sort of did this already but...”

  “I know,” Jaz replies with a smile of her own. “Now to bless the water, you need to angle the cauldron, so the moon is reflecting in the water.”

  “How do I do that?” I eye the huge pot dubiously. “I don’t think I could even drag that thing an inch.”

  “You don’t have to drag it or move it anywhere, just angle it.” Then at my blank expression, Jaz rolls her eyes and points. “Look, there’s the moon. Just go and try and you’ll see what I mean.”

  I do what I’m told and let out a shocked cry when the cauldron does in fact tip and angle easily. It seems to be set on some kind of movable base.

  “That’s so cool,” I laugh, and angle it just right so the moon reflects directly in the centre.

  “Now repeat after me and try to really feel the words. Don’t just say them.” At my nod, she continues. “Goddess of the moon. Bless this water so that I might do good in the world.”

  I repeat the words and it’s like energy ripples through my entire body and I know that it worked.

  Jaz is grinning at me from her swing. “Ready to make a potion?”

  “Oh I’m not just ready. I’m ready-Freddy.”

  “First summon a small fire under the cauldron. Good. Now sprinkle three pinches of rosemary into the water. Slowly, take your time, let your magic feel it, smell it.”

  “This is fun.” Something about this reminds me of holidays with my aunt when she was trying to teach me to cook. Though I don’t believe she’s a ghost in this house, I feel her here in the attic garden.

  “Now add seven pinches of the ground elephant bone. Though the elephant is long gone, don’t forget to give thanks for the gift.”

  I sprinkle in the elephant bone and I swear I feel something large and old and intelligent circle around me before fading. Wow.

  “Okay, now this part will determine how powerful your potion will be, because it comes from you.”

  “I don’t have to drop in one of my eyes or chop off a finger, do I?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Jaz laughs. “No. It’s a memory potion, so it’ll need a piece of your brain.”

  For a second I think she’s serious but her high pitched cackling laugh is my answer.

  “You need to stir the potion clockwise while reciting something from memory. It can be a poem or if you can’t think of one a password or pin number. But is needs to be something remembered and it needs to matter to you.”

  Of course, my mind immediately goes blank but just before I’m about to give up and recite my pin number, a poem comes to mind and I smile as I feel the words whisper from my lips as though someone is whispering them to me:

  Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

  Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

  By the time I’m finished, I’m laughing and crying a little and I wipe my eyes before smiling up at Jaz in triumph.

  “You know a couple of verses would have done.”

  “Sorry, my dad and I used to recite that one every night, one line each.”

  “Well I think the potion is done,” Jaz points at where I’m still stirring.

  When I look, I can’t believe my eyes. The water has turned a luminescent silver and sparkles like diamonds.

  “Did I do that?”

  “You did,” Jaz says and I smile at the pride in her voice. “And it’s beautiful because you’re drawing your power from a place of love. That’s very important.”

  I’m still preening when she rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah, yeah, now use that ladle and take a sip. It’ll be strong so sit down after.”
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  “I have to drink it?”

  “Trust me, it’ll taste like your favourite drink. But don’t be tempted to take another sip, too much and you’ll end up overwhelming yourself with too many memories and we’ll never be done.”

  I summon my courage, then use the ladle to take a sip. It tastes like lemon and lime mixed with a little bitters. But Jaz wasn’t joking about the fast action. Almost immediately I feel dizzy and sit cross-legged on the ground.

  At first, it’s a bunch of stupid songs, some advertising jingles. But when I hone in on my dream from the night I arrived, my mind seems more than willing to oblige.

  I’m running. No, she’s running. Through the woods, branches and leaves whipping at her face and arms.

  There’s so much pain. Not physical pain but more personal. It’s like my heart is a painful lump in my chest and all I want to do is crawl into a hole and die.

  “Where are you going?” A nasty, hateful voice sneers inside our head.

  Who is that? It’s not me and it’s not Meghan either.

  “You’re nobody. Useless and stupid. Nobody will notice when you’re gone. Nobody will care that you’re missing. Nobody will search for you.”

  I sit up, breathing heard and never more certain of anything than I am about this.

  “Someone was in her head. I mean she was already hurting probably after finding her fiancée and whoever that woman was together. But it’s more than that. Someone was whispering to her, in her mind, telling her that she wouldn’t be missed, pushing her to climb the ladder and kill herself.”

  I shut my eyes and focus on the other details. “Bells, ribbons, and black burned dolls hanging by their necks.” Looking up at Jaz I ask, “What is that. Is it another kind of magic?”

  “Yes, it sounds like your dream was showing you elements of the ritual being used, and it’s dark and dangerous. Remember the other night when you lit the fire using your anger and frustration? Well this is like that, only whoever the practitioner is, she’s powerful and she’s carrying a lot of anger and Jealousy. If she’s not stopped soon she’ll kill again. This kind of power is both seductive and additive.”