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

by Freya Darcy

  I shut my eyes and I’m back in her head. Walking towards the noose. We raise our hand and she whispers something I can’t quite make out. Then, before my eyes, slowed now with my memory, the leaves and twigs and scraps of bark rise up and up to form the ladder.

  “She was a witch too,” I say. “Nobody took the ladder, she made it, with her own magic, then it must have let it fall away.”

  “Do you see her cast the circle?”

  “No,” I play back the memory again but if she did cast a circle I don’t feel it or see any sign of her doing it. “Maybe creating things like that was her gift, like my dreams. Can telekinesis be a gift?”

  “I’ve heard of it, but it would still take a lot of practise and power to create something like a ladder that could hold her weight. It’s likely she was using dark magic too. It would be stronger during times of high emotion, fear, anger.”

  I’m suddenly finding it hard to breath.

  “She was feeling all those things. But if she had all that power and still couldn’t defend herself against the other witch, what chance do I have?”

  “You have a better chance than any dark witch.” Jaz lowers herself so she’s perched in front of me and looks into my eyes. “Listen to me. You are as powerful if not more than this witch. Dark magic is a liar. It makes them think they’re more powerful than they are, but it doesn’t last.”

  “Oh good, because it feels pretty damn powerful. Oh, and one of them just used it to kill the other, and possibly her ex-boyfriend too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I ARRIVE AT PAINTED Cross Art Supplies bright and early Monday morning, and thanks to Jaz’s insistence, armed with an amulet to protect me from magical attack, a potion to bind another witch for a short period, and a vial of salt to create a quick magic circle.

  But in the brisk morning light, in the busy square, it’s hard to imagine myself coming to any harm. Of course, I couldn’t imagine finding two dead bodies last week either, so...

  “Look at you,” Delilah says, unlocking the doors and waving me towards the other side of a display that needs pulling out. “All bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

  “I always pay my debts,” I reply. “Besides I was going a little crazy knocking about in that old house on my own. It’s nice to have somewhere to go.”

  “Yes, I heard you’ve had quite the week. Two dead bodies and a Bigfoot sighting.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement but almost immediately she claps her heavily ringed hands and points towards the cash register. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  For the next hour, she teaches me everything I need to know about the shop. It’s actually pretty simple. Look arty, smile, and give correct change.

  “Now, when someone walks by you must always be either be serving a customer with a smile or creating something. Painting, sketching, moulding something with clay. Whatever inspires you, you must be doing that because nothing is more inspiring to an artist than seeing another in the midst of creation.”

  “You know, I haven’t been able to get this dream out of my head since the night I arrived,” I say before I even know I was going to speak. “That’s probably not really very artistic.”

  “Oh no! Some of our greatest works have started as dreams that would not leave us alone.” She selects a sketch pad and a pack of charcoal from the shelf. “You sit, and sketch, and mind the shop, while I go see that new superhero movie.”

  “Wait, what?”

  She winks. “Relax, there’s nothing to it and it’s always quiet on Monday. Besides, apparently in this one, Thor gets a new hammer.” She places a hand to her chest and sighs. “Only a monster would deny me such a sight.”

  She leaves with a waggle of fingers and the jingling of bells hanging from her blouse, skirt, and earlobes. I do not envy the movie-goer sitting near her.

  With a shrug I take a seat and start to sketch, mainly just getting a feel for the charcoal and the shop. I sketch the shelves, the picture of a handsome actor on the cover of a magazine laid out on the counter, then as my mind relaxes, I start to sketch the woods.

  I start with the trees and the shadows. The craggy trunks and thick branches heavy with wide pungent smelling leaves.

  But as I flip the pages to start over, I realize that I’m sketching a path, each image taking me further and further. I start adding the bells on page four, the ribbons on page five, and the ghoulish hanging dolls on page six.

  By page seven I want to stop, because now there’s a girl on the path, looking up at a noose hanging from a tree. Page eight looks exactly the same, only the leaves and branches seem to be lifting up and growing in front of her.

  Meghan created the ladder with her own powers. She was a witch too. But whoever was influencing her was stronger. So much stronger.

  The knowledge sends a chill through me because Meghan was clearly much more powerful than I am and yet she couldn’t protect herself against whoever was attacking her. I know what Jaz says, but do I really have a chance?

  The door opens with a jingle and I jump to my feet with a probably too wide smile.

  “Welcome!”

  The woman Payton had introduced as Vanessa doesn’t smile when she sees me. “Where’s Delilah?”

  “She had to pop out so I’m minding the shop. I guess I’ll be here a couple of days a week now.”

  Vanessa looks at me incredulously. “You have got to be kidding. She gave you a job?”

  “Well, the truth is that I’m exchanging time for art supplies.” I hold up the sketch book, remembering too late what my last sketch was.

  Vanessa frowns at it before her eyes widen and she snatches the book out of my hand. I cringe, just wanting to sink into the ground as this woman, who I’ve only met once flicks through the pages of my rough art, impassively staring at image after image of her friend walking towards death.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to take the book back. “Ever since I – you know – I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it. I thought maybe if I got it out of my head.”

  She’s staring at a page I can’t see and her hands are trembling. When she looks up at me there are tears in her eyes.

  “What kind of monster are you?” She hisses. “Meghan was like my sister. You didn’t even know her, but you think you have the right to...”

  She shoves the book back at me and marches out before I can even form the words for an apology.

  “I’m sorry!” I call out through the shop window but she’s gone.

  “By the end of the day, no doubt she’ll have told everyone how much I suck.” I fall into the seat with my face in my hands. “Who am I kidding, I do suck.”

  This is a small town and everyone seems to have known and liked Meghan. I should never have let myself sketch her like that, here where anyone could see. Who wouldn’t be upset by these images?

  I stare down at the rough sketch of Meghan three steps up the ladder, head tipped back to watch the noose as she got closer.

  “What is wrong with me?”

  BY THE TIME DELILAH arrives back, I’m starting to wonder if she expected me to close up the shop as the sun sinks lower in the afternoon sky.

  Somehow, I’ve managed to sell three canvases, some sets of brushes, and several different kinds of paint without offending or traumatizing anyone else.

  “You did well, Kismet,” she says. “Now help me pack up and you can be on your way.”

  I’m relieved that she doesn’t seem to have heard about my disastrous first customer or my completely insensitive sketches. But I feel like a fraud accepting her praise. The book of course is stowed away in my bag, hopefully never to be seen by another person.

  After we finish packing up and counting the money, I remember what she said about being friendly with my aunt.

  “I suppose you don’t know anything about the work my aunt was doing on the house, do you?” I ask.

  Delilah smiles, a wicked twinkle in her eyes. “I know she hired that live-in handyman.”

  “Y
eah, he’s definitely something,” I reply with a smile of my own remembering the image of waking to him outside my window, shirtless, chopping wood. “But it looked like she was planning some pretty major renovations. I think she wanted to turn the house into an inn or a guesthouse. But it looks like she died before she had the chance to get started.”

  “Well that’s even more surprising. Your aunt seemed to want less people around, not more.” She makes a face, clearly thinking. “I guess if anyone would know it would be her solicitor Mr Greystone. There would probably be a bunch of licences and other legal details before she could even consider opening up the house.”

  “What do you think of the Silverstone manor becoming a guesthouse?” I ask.

  “Well we definitely need another one during the holiday seasons. And I bet Payton and Derick would have some suggestions about how to keep the place in business in between. They’re always hosting some kind of Bigfoot, ghost hunting, alien watching event and are always complaining that there aren’t enough places for people to stay.”

  “I bet,” I say, laughing. “I’m pretty sure they’d love to sink their ghost hunting teeth into my aunt’s big old house on the hill.”

  Delilah points a finger at me. “Yours now. It’s your big old house on the hill now. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She gives me a palms-up shrug, the little bells on her blouse tinkling as she does.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I DON’T FEEL LIKE RADCLIFFE Wood has made a very good impression on you,” Derick says as he plonks three beers down on the table where Payton and I are sitting.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks and already someone’s brought me baked goods, coffee, and now a beer,” I say, clinking my glass to his with a chuckle. “I call that fine hospitality.”

  When Payton had called and invited me to have a drink at the Lamb ‘n’ Flag, I’d been reluctant. But sitting in the crowded bar, surrounded by happy chatting people. I’m glad I came out.

  My hesitation wasn’t because I didn’t want to see them, more that I was concerned a meeting would involve some sort of intervention. It’s killing me not knowing if Vanessa told them about my drawings.

  I’d gotten the vibe that they were friends. If she didn’t say anything, did that mean she’d forgiven me or was just silently fuming, waiting for the right moment to oust me as a freak?

  Maybe I should just get her number and call her. I definitely owed her an apology.

  “Earth to Kizz,” Payton says waving a hand in front of my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I say cringing. “It looks like I’m making a pretty lame impression myself.”

  “I think you’re allowed to space out once in a while after this last week,” Payton says rubbing my shoulder. “You’ve had a shocker.”

  “I don’t think I’m allowed to feel sorry for myself right now.” I take a drink. “I mean seeing two dead bodies wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, but they were strangers to me. You knew them. How are you two doing?”

  Payton and Derick exchange a long look.

  “We like to keep busy,” Derick says. “Radcliffe Wood is just one of those places where death isn’t a stranger.”

  “Okay, that’s creepy,” I reply looking from one to the other.

  “It’s just always been that way,” Payton says, taking a drink. “I wouldn’t say we like it but when you live in a town so close to the cliffs and miles of woodlands, it’s just something you learn to accept.”

  “Every other year there’s a missing kid or a run of mysterious deaths,” Derick adds.

  “They usually come in threes so don’t get too relaxed just yet.”

  I squint at them. “Why do you stay here if it’s always so dangerous?”

  They both blink at me. “Why do people live in the city where the crime and murder rates are three times as high?”

  My brow furrows as my mind flicks through not just the last few days but what I remember from childhood in this town too. Both my aunts and my father had died in this town. Was it possible my mother had moved us away for this very reason?

  Well, if I’m going to be living here, I’m going to need to do something about all the mysterious deaths. No way could I open a guesthouse under these conditions.

  Being a witch has got to be good for something and what could be more honourable than protecting my home?

  Right then the doors open, and a tall, blond woman walks in. When she turns in our direction I cringe recognizing Vanessa. On seeing me, her face takes on a cold expression and she walks past without so much as a word. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or just feel worse. I think I feel worse.

  “What was that?” Payton asks in a loud whisper. “She looked at you like she wanted to rip out your eyes.”

  “Yeah, she came into the shop while I was working. She really didn’t tell you?”

  Payton and Derick’s eyes get wide. “Tell us what?”

  I cringe and after another long drink tell them, mostly, about my sketches of Meghan, and Vanessa seeing them.

  “I just wasn’t thinking,” I say once I’m done. “I feel so horrible but just don’t know how to make it right.”

  “Well, sitting with us probably isn’t doing you any favours,” Derick says.

  I look from one to the other in confusion. “I thought you were all friends.”

  “Meghan yes, Vanessa no.” Derick finishes the last of his drink. “If it wasn’t for Meghan we probably never would have said a word to one another.”

  “To be honest, Vanessa is pretty religious and she never really approved of our esoteric interests.” Payton leans forward with a grin. “I think she thought we were a bad influence on Meghan. Trying to draw her into our web of devil worship or something.”

  Derick shakes his head and frowns at his glass. “But the joke was on Vanessa. Meghan was into that occult stuff long before—” His words cut off and his eyes flash to Payton’s.

  Okay, that’s weird. I want to ask them what they’re talking about but right then Detective Malcom Jameson stops at our table.

  He looks good. Clean shaven and freshly showered, his hair is still damp, and he smells of soap and an aftershave that makes my head spin a little. Maybe he’s here on a date?

  He greets Payton and Derick before hitting me with a smile that seems to brighten the dimly lit bar.

  “I was just about to get a round in before heading home,” he says, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “If you’re buying, we’re drinking,” Derick says with a salute.

  When Malcom goes to buy the drinks, both sets of eyes turn on me.

  “What?” I say, looking from Payton to Derick.

  “What?” Payton replies, incredulously. “What was that?”

  “Okay, I don’t’ get it,” I say. “He’s just being nice and he’s buying us a round of drinks. What’s so shocking?”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Derick says. “We are friendly, and he keeps a curious eye on our line of business, but he has never joined us for a drink, let alone brought a round.”

  Payton lets out a dramatic sigh at my blank expression. “He’s here for you.”

  “He is not,” I scoff.

  I turn to look and am not surprised to find him leaning casually against the bar and looking completely in his element. But just as I’m starting to like the idea of my friends possibly being right, Vanessa sidles in close and smiles seductively up at him. One perfectly manicured hand settles on his thick uniformed arm.

  “Case and point, he’s already looking elsewhere.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “It’s a good thing, actually. I just got out of a pretty crumby relationship so I’m really not in the market for—”

  Four beers appear on the table and Malcom takes a seat. “Not in the market for what?” He asks.

  “A dog,” I say too quickly. “My step uncle was trying to sell me a dog.”

  “Good thing too,�
�� Payton says, glaring daggers at Malcom. “He sounds like a dirty old hound who’s probably more trouble than he’s worth. OUCH!” She turns her glare on Derick.

  “It is a good thing, actually,” Malcom says, taking a drink. “This isn’t a great place for pets except maybe big dogs and inside cats. Small soft things that go wondering in the woods tend to get lost or worse.”

  “Hey there, princess,” Connor appears next to me and rests a hand on the back of my chair. “How’s the car running?”

  I feel Malcom stiffen slightly beside me. I can’t help wondering how many time’s Malcom has had to deal with Connor and the Dingo Boys. Does it bother him that we’re friendly?

  I look up at Connor and smile as I say, “Better than it did when I brought it. I feel like I owe you more money. You must have replaced more than just a few belts and tubes.”

  He shrugs. “I’ve always got spare parts laying around. In a town like this you need a car that won’t break down on you.”

  “Yeah, everyone keeps saying that.”

  “Everyone’s right.” He finally notices Payton and Derick and gives them a nod. “Detective,” he says to Malcom.

  The two stare at each other long enough for it to become uncomfortable. I can’t help thinking that they’re doing the man thing where they size each other up and try to warn each other off.

  “Well, this is fun and awkward. The man who almost arrested me and the man who fixed my car, together in the same place.”

  Connor chuckles and after throwing Malcom a mock salute, reminds me that I have his number and saunters off.

  “I should probably go too,” Malcom says, finishing the last half of his drink in one long chug. “Early start in the morning.”

  He barely looks at me, even as he shakes hands with Derick and Payton before striding out. Great, another person in this town who’s mad at me.