by Molly Fitz
“Touché, madame. Lucky for you, we’re already there.”
The car jerked to a stop, shocking me with how short this journey had been.
I widened my eyes at the sight of the sprawling brick building before us. It wasn’t just a single building, but a whole complex—and it definitely wasn’t a police station. I didn’t remember ever passing it before on my walks through town, either. Though it obviously wasn’t far from where I lived, judging from the short time between climbing into this cruiser and reaching our destination.
“I thought you were taking me to the station?” I said, crossing my arms across my chest in open defiance.
“This is the station, at least for our purposes today. C’mon. We’ve lost too much time already.”
I turned to stare at him. He didn’t look like your garden variety murderer-rapist-all-around-psycho, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. I refused to follow him blindly just because he wore a uniform. Uniforms could be faked, after all.
“Everything only just happened. How have we lost time?” I demanded, sitting firm. “And, no, I know better than to go into a strange building with a strange man. I’m staying right here.” Not that camping out in his strange car was any better, but still, a girl had to stand up for herself—otherwise who would?
“Okay, but if anyone asks, you’re the one who chose to do this the hard way,” Parker answered with yet another frown before exiting the car.
I watched as he marched around the car, came to my side, and then flung the door open. “Out,” he said firmly.
I opened my mouth to argue but let out a scream instead. My hands were moving to unbuckle the seatbelt, my feet to pull me from the car. I had told neither of them to do those things. “Hey,” I cried in a pathetic protest. “Stop it.”
“Follow me,” Parker said, obvious enjoyment now dancing in his light eyes.
My legs answered as if they belonged to him instead of me. The no-good traitors.
And into the unmarked office in the non-police building I went, thanks to my frighteningly bossy companion and inexplicably disobedient limbs.
Yup, this day just kept on getting worse and worse.
And that definitely didn’t bode well for whatever happened next.
4
We entered a chilly office space that sat dark and dim despite how brightly the late morning sun shone outside. Okay, so I might have slept in a little that day, but I was between books so it didn’t really matter.
“Your instincts were bang on,” Parker said to someone I couldn’t see. “Haberdash is dead. And I found this one at the scene.”
“Well, that doesn’t bode well for the rest of the day,” a smooth voice responded from somewhere deeper inside. Each of his words rolled directly into the next without taking any small breaks for breath. I’d almost describe it as serpentine, although that description wasn’t exactly right, either.
More than a little intrigued, I whipped my head from side to side but still couldn’t locate the speaker. “Who’s there? What do you want with me?”
The disembodied voice chuckled, and I thought I caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of the room, but just as quickly as I spotted it, the dark form had slunk back into the even darker shadows.
“Well, that certainly isn’t good. Take her to the conference room,” the voice instructed in that same overly polished manner. “I’ll summon the others.”
Parker placed a hand at the small of my back, and I wriggled away from him. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.
“Sorry,” he said, seeming genuinely apologetic. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Follow me. Um, please.”
My legs snapped into action, despite my mind screaming for them to stop, turn around, and run as fast as I could out the door.
I was a lifeless marionette in his hands, little Pinocchio before the fairy godmother brought him to life.
We walked down one hall, turned, and then walked to the end of another that opened into a large meeting room with a glass ceiling. I’d have been impressed if I weren’t already equal parts agitated and terrified.
“What do you want with me?” I demanded, searching Parker’s eyes, hoping that with the right expression I could convince him to let me go before any serious damage was done.
“Have a seat,” he said with what seemed like a sad shake of his head. I wasn’t buying that. If he was so sad about this, then he wouldn’t have kidnapped me in the first place.
My hands moved to grip the nearest chair and pull it back.
“You don’t have to,” Parker said suddenly, and my hands fell limply to my sides. “Unless you want to.”
“I’d rather stand,” I managed through gritted teeth. “Actually I’d rather go.”
I started toward the door.
“No!” he cried, and I froze in place. “I’m sorry. I know you must have a million questions, and you’ll get answers for all of them. Well, most at least. We just have to wait for—”
The door flew open and four people marched in, glancing briefly in my direction as they assembled themselves around the table. Most were much older than me or Parker. At least one of them looked like he was mere days away from celebrating his one-hundredth birthday. A long white beard hung limply against his chest, making him look a bit like Merlin in a business suit. Why would a one-hundred-year-old man need a business suit, and why would he be wearing it now? These were but a few of the many questions flying through my mind as I studied the new arrivals.
I had just peeked under the table to check out the footwear of a particularly well-dressed woman who appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties when a black cat trotted through the doorway and leaped up onto the table in one graceful, confident pounce.
“Now that we’re all here,” the voice I’d heard in the outer room began.
Of course, I didn’t hear what he said next, because an internal scream took over my brain as I realized that same smooth voice was coming from the cat. The cat!
And it’s not just that the cat was talking—he seemed to be in charge, too.
He placed one paw directly in front of the other and sauntered across the table, his glowing yellow eyes fixed right on me. “Well?”
“Well, wh-what?” I stuttered. I also struggled and strained, but nothing I tried released my legs back into my control.
“Are you the one who killed her?” The words danced out from the cat’s mouth, and I realized now why it sounded so strange. He didn’t need his tongue to form the sounds. That removed a lot of the wet breathiness out of speech.
“No answer,” he said thoughtfully. “Does that mean you plead guilty?”
“No!” I shouted. “Now let me go!”
The cat turned to Parker and waited.
The once-confident police officer appeared frazzled in the company of the demanding feline. “She was there when I arrived. I thought we could—”
“Make use of her until we find out who really did it. Provided it’s not actually she who committed the deed, of course. Brilliant idea, Barnes.” The black cat strolled back to the head of the table, and the people seated on either side murmured their agreement.
I still had no idea what was going on, but at least now I knew they didn’t plan to kill me. “Excuse me,” I piped up. “Make use of me how?”
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” the cat promised with a rather unfriendly chuckle.
With that, Parker rose from his seat and strode toward me with one hand extended as he shot me an uneasy smile.
The others rose from their chairs, too, and formed a line behind him, waiting for their turn to greet me themselves, apparently.
When I hesitantly returned Parker’s handshake, he said, “Welcome to the Paranormal Temp Agency. You’re hired!”
What? How could I be hired when I hadn’t even applied for a job?
Also, there was the small fact that I was most definitely not a paranormal person. I was normal with a capital N, and I didn’t like what was happ
ening here one bit.
5
I’d just discovered a murder, been kidnapped, and then offered a job by a talking cat. How much weirder could this day get?
I shook my head vehemently. “Sorry, I already have a job.”
“It’s not up for debate,” the cat hissed back at me. “Get her up to speed and fast, Barnes. My patience here is wearing thin.”
“Okay. Okay. Where to begin?” Officer Parker Barnes wondered aloud while I was left to wonder if he really was a police officer or if it had all been a ruse from the start.
“This time, you probably want to be sitting down,” he said, pulling out a chair for me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood firm. “I managed to survive the talking cat without passing out. I think I can handle whatever you’re going to say next.”
“Suit yourself.” He chuckled, but I thought I saw a flicker of respect cross his face. “Lila Haberdash was Beech Grove’s Town Witch, and now that she’s dead the position is open. In the meanwhile, it’s yours.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” I nodded my head adamantly. “There’s just one problem with that.”
“You’re not a witch?” Parker asked with one eyebrow quirked.
“I’m not a witch!” I shouted in confirmation, wringing my hands as I did. “So, thanks but no thanks. I’ll just be on my way.”
“Enough with this game already,” the cat snapped. “If you can’t handle her, I’ll just have to take over. Come here!”
I raced to his side against my own volition. I was really getting sick of all this mind control stuff.
The cat lifted his nose high in the air, leaving me with a perfect view of the small white patch at the top of his chest. Normally, I liked cats. Not enough to own one, mind you, but I liked them well enough when they were other people’s pets. This one, however, had recently risen to the top of my list of people—um, creatures—I didn’t much care for.
“You’ve been hired on to the Paranormal Temp Agency,” he told me with a twitch of his nose and a flick of his tail. “It’s not a job you’re allowed to turn down.”
“I think I know what I’m allow—”
“Stop arguing and listen. You will fill Lila’s old post as Town Witch until we’re able to uncover her actual killer to take on the role permanently. None of this is up for debate.”
“Why does finding the killer matter? Can’t you just put up a job advertisement on Spooks R Us or something?”
“Cute,” he said with a scowl. “You’re filling in for Lila, whether you like it or not. Help us find the murderer, and you’ll be off the hook sooner. End of story.”
Parker cleared his throat, then explained the part that still confused me most. “Magic passes to the nearest host when its original owner passes. So whoever killed Lila likely absorbed her magic—a magic which is grounded in Beech Grove and is meant for its designated witch.”
I stood still, considering this. Parker’s explanation made sense, but it also begged so many new questions. Mainly, what would have happened if no one else had been around? What if Mrs. Haberdash had died of natural causes and then her magic had found its way over to me, the sole resident of the guest house on the edge of her property?
I still didn’t like that I was expected to help clean up this mess when it had nothing to do with me. I felt sad for Mrs. Haberdash, of course. Even though she wasn’t a great landlady, she hadn’t deserved to be murdered. But I also didn’t deserve to be put in harm’s way, especially if the person who’d offed Haberdash decided to come for me next.
Maybe I still had a quick and easy way out of this, though. I raised my hand and pointed at the cat.
“Come to me,” I said, trying to push power into the simple command, the way I’d seen both the cop and the cat do.
Boss cat rolled his eyes. “Should I take this feeble attempt at magic as your confession of guilt?”
“No,” I mumbled as embarrassment burned at my cheeks.
“Even if you do have magic, which at this point I sincerely doubt, you still aren’t strong enough to command me. No one is. That’s why I’m the boss, and you’re the temp. Got it?”
“Whatever,” I answered drolly. “So I don’t have magic. That should be the end of this conversation, then. How can I fill in as the Town Witch without having any magic? Clearly, you’ve got the wrong woman here.”
“You’ll be granted everything you need to perform your duties, including some temporary magic.”
I bit back an argument. There was a lot wrong with this scenario, but also… I’d just been offered magic! How could I possibly say no to that?
“Fine,” I stated with a shrug instead. “Then I guess I accept. Can I please have my magic now?”
“Tonight at orientation. Eleven o’clock sharp.”
“Sorry, I sleep at night.”
“Not anymore you don’t.” The cat turned away from me with an irritated flick of his tail and faced the rest of his board. “Disperse.”
Everyone left except for Parker and me.
“Sorry to drag you into all this,” he said. “But take it from someone who knows, don’t mess with Mr. Fluffikins so much. Your life will be much easier if you show him some respect.”
I burst out laughing, but Parker only looked afraid.
Seriously though, what could a little black cat named Mr. Fluffikins even really do to me?
Unfortunately, I’d find out later that night.
6
After Parker dropped me off back home, I finally finished the shower I’d started what felt like a lifetime ago. Yes, it was still uncomfortably cold, but that discomfort helped me work some of the shock out of my bones. Actually, it was just what I needed.
As I toweled off, I made a mental catalog of the things I knew:
My landlady was a witch.
She’d been murdered.
Her killer was still out there.
Now I was expected to fill her emptied shoes.
That night I’d be given temporary magic.
And my boss was a talking cat.
I wrote fiction for a living—telling stories was my literal job—and still I couldn’t have come up with something quite this crazy, even if I’d tried.
In fact, if it had been up to me, I’d have chosen a much more worthy heroine to take my place, and instead of a jerky cat, I’d probably have written Parker into the authoritative role. It would make for an interesting office romance premise. Opposites attract, enemies to lovers… Yeah, it checked all the boxes for the makings of a good book.
Still, I guess that’s why people liked to say that life was stranger than fiction.
First that harlot of a PTA mom, and now this. What a riveting life I led.
Fully dried off now, I slipped into my favorite pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, then pulled on my running shoes. Did I ever run? No, don’t be silly. But it made me feel like I could if I had to, wearing shoes meant for that purpose.
Then again, if things went south with my training tonight, I might actually have to put the poor sneakers to use for the first time in their miserable lives. I shuddered. Best not to think about that.
Suited up in my inconspicuous casual wear, I headed outside and crept down the worn path to my former landlady’s main residence.
Imagine my surprise when I found I wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea.
A young woman wearing a black maxi dress with a floral printed cardigan, scuffed up combat boots, and a big floppy sunhat stood in front of the house staring up at a second-floor window. She was so immersed in her inspection that she didn’t seem to notice me approaching.
I hesitated. Would it be better if I turned back and pretended this whole thing had never happened?
It was too late for that, I supposed. I was a part of this now, whether I liked it or not.
And so, I raised my hand in greeting and shouted, “Hello there!”
The other woman startled so badly, she somehow managed to dislodge her hat, which th
e wind immediately swept up in a sudden playful gust.
We both ran after it, but a high up tree branch claimed it before either of us even had a chance.
The stranger bit her lip and turned toward me. “That was my favorite hat.”
“That was my favorite landlady,” I said, deciding just to jump into it as I motioned toward the now vacant house. “Did you know her well?”
“Not really,” the woman said with one last lingering glance toward her lost hat. Now that her face was fully exposed, I could tell she was even younger than I’d originally guessed. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d only just finished high school in the last year or two.
“I’m Tawny,” I offered with a warm smile. “And you are?”
“Nobody important,” she mumbled with another glance toward her lost sun hat. Her long black tresses blew in the breeze, giving her an almost ghastly appearance. “I really should be on my way.”
“Wait,” I cried, not entirely sure how I meant to follow that up. But I couldn’t just let her get away. What if she was the murderer? I owed it to my former landlady to find out.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded when she turned back to me with a resigned sigh. “Did you know Mrs. Haberdash was murdered?”
Her eyes bore into mine, direct and determined but also giving nothing away. I suddenly became very aware that I had confronted someone who could be lethally dangerous. Was this the killer? Did she have the magic that belonged to the town?
When she didn’t answer, I took a guess. “You did. Didn’t you? Know she was killed, I mean. But do you know why someone would want her dead?”
“It was a mistake coming here,” she spat, then turned on her heel and strode off so quickly I didn’t have a prayer of catching her despite having donned my running shoes.
“Wait,” I called after her again, but that nameless girl didn’t acknowledge me and didn’t turn back.
Well, shoot.