Spell by Midnight (Witch of Mintwood Book 3)

by Addison Creek

  “I couldn’t find anything in the kitchen that looked like it related to wands,” said Greer. “Not a wand box or anything like that.”

  “I didn’t find anything in the bedroom, either,” I said.

  “Where should we search next?” asked Greer. She had gotten into the hunt and was clearly enjoying the adventure of exploring the house and my grandmother’s things.

  The two of us spent a couple more hours looking through the rooms of the old farmhouse, a task made more difficult by the fact that I wasn’t entirely certain what my grandmother’s wand looked like. Paws insisted that wands were a necessary part of any witch’s magic, but I had never once seen her use hers to perform a spell.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if she’d just left it on your bed with a note that said, “‘Here, have this’?” said Greer.

  “It sure would, but since she didn’t, I have to find it, and the sooner the better,” I said, biting my lower lip.

  “Do you think she had it with her when she died?” Greer asked.

  “I don’t think so. Paws said it’s in the house somewhere. I believe he’s spoken to the wand’s protector about it,” I said.

  After I said that I had to explain to Greer that there was a ghost protecting the wand whom none of us had ever seen.

  “So we might have to find the ghost to find the wand,” said Greer. “No idea how we’re supposed to do that.”

  “I don’t know how it’s going to be easier to find a magical elemental who can make himself or herself invisible, and whom I’ve never seen before, than it would be to find the wand in the first place. But I do think you’re right. It’s worth a shot,” I said.

  “Well, when you put it like that . . .” muttered Greer.

  Before we could discuss the missing wand any further, we were interrupted by a pounding on the front door.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, racing for the living room.

  When I opened the door, there was Deacon standing on the porch. His cheeks were bright red as if he’d been running, and his hair was a mess.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” I said, yanking the door open further to invite him inside. Obviously it wasn’t. Duh.

  By way of answer, Deacon stumbled into the house and nearly collapsed on the sofa. I saw him relax a fraction of an inch when Greer came in from the kitchen looking concerned.

  “No, everything is not okay. Not hardly,” he said.

  “What is it?” Greer whispered. She had gone pale.

  “They found out who the body in the silo belongs to. It’s bad,” said Deacon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Who?” Greer and I demanded together.

  “Can I have a cup of tea first?” asked Deacon.

  “Of course,” said Greer, rushing into the kitchen to get us all tea while Deacon caught his breath.

  “Sorry to barge in on you like this. I just didn’t know where to go,” he explained.

  “You’re always welcome here,” I said, and then amended it to, “unless Greer tells you otherwise.”

  Even in the state he was in, Deacon gave me a wry smile.

  “What’s with all the strange people around town anyway?” he said, making conversation while we waited for Greer to come back.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I can’t wait until they leave.”

  “Me too,” said Deacon.

  “Oh? Why?”

  It was clear he had a story to tell, but just at that moment Greer came back with the tea tray. She looked terribly anxious as she set it on the coffee table in front of Deacon without handing either of us a mug. With her hands clasped tightly in front of her she said, “So, what’s happened? Whose body was it?”

  My heart was pounding in my chest as I thought of Jasper and his connection to the silo. What if Deacon was here because Jasper was in trouble? What would I do then?

  When Deacon didn’t answer right away, Greer pressed on. “Is it someone who died recently? Are you under suspicion?”

  “No, not me,” said Deacon. “The person didn’t die recently, more like ten years ago. The name is Hank Smith.”

  “If the corpse was ten years old, what was the smell in the silo?” I asked. “I thought that was the dead body.”

  “Rotting cabbage,” said Deacon, shaking his head. “There was a pile of rotting cabbage in a corner that Jasper and I didn’t notice, because we were too busy noticing the dead body right in front of us. We don’t know how it got there, but someone must have dumped it down into the silo not all that long before the party.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” I said.

  “No idea. Vandalism, probably, but maybe someone was too lazy to throw it out,” said Deacon. “Anyhow, it’s the dead body that’s the problem, not the cabbage, as far as we know. Do either of you remember Hank Smith?”

  Greer and I exchanged looks, but it was clear that neither of us recognized the name.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to, but I thought I’d better check.” said Deacon. “He was a businessman who was trying to buy the property at the same time as my parents.”

  “And why did your parents get it and not him? Did he bow out, or what?” said Greer.

  “Something like that. He didn’t show up for a final meeting. His secretary said she thought he went to Europe for an extended stay. I had forgotten all about it,” said Deacon.

  “Are you telling me they thought he went to Europe, and instead he was dead in the silo all this time?” Greer was incredulous.

  “Yes, that’s the theory,” Deacon sighed. “The body had apparently been there for years, buried in a shallow grave. The only reason it was uncovered was because of all the rain we had recently.”

  It sounded like Hansen Gregory had known exactly what he was talking about at lunch. Charlie was going to be mad, and that was putting it mildly.

  “This is public knowledge?” said Greer.

  “It will be tomorrow morning. Detective Cutter wants to interview my parents. They’re pretty upset,” said Deacon.

  “I can only imagine,” said Greer. “This Hank Smith wanted the property, and then he died . . . or was killed. To think the body has been there all these years!”

  I shook my head and asked, “Do they know the cause of death?”

  “Yeah, that’s where everything gets tricky,” said Deacon.

  “He was killed?” I said. It had been pretty obvious all along that the person in the silo had been murdered, but we might as well get it out in the open. Detective Cutter had said so, after all.

  “He was hit over the head and fell into the silo. It looks like somebody then climbed down and buried him in a shallow grave. At least, that’s what the injuries are consistent with,” said Deacon.

  “That’s awful,” said Greer.

  Deacon nodded. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to my parents. They’re concerned and devastated. Obviously they didn’t have any idea about the murder. I just thought you’d both like to know.”

  “We did want to know; it’s been hard not to think about it. Thanks for coming,” I said. “Stay strong. Your poor parents . . .”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Greer offered. I could tell it took a lot for her to ask.

  Deacon looked ready to refuse, but then he didn’t. “Yes, actually, would you mind?”

  Greer looked at me and I shrugged. “Go for it!” I tried to tell her silently with my eyes. “This is more important.”

  Something was niggling at the back of my mind, telling me that it might be better if Greer left anyway. She had helped me all afternoon, she didn’t need to search any more right now.

  “Charlie’s probably going crazy,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Deacon. “The word is getting out. I’m sure Charlie’s busy writing already.”

  “She probably won’t be home until late,” I said, glancing out the window. The sun was just starting to set. The ghosts would be more visible soon. Wherever this special ghost was hiding, it was about to be primet
ime for me to find him or her.

  “Hey Deacon, did you have a run-in with the . . . out of towners?” I asked just before Deacon and Greer walked out the door. He’d dropped that subject when Greer came in with the tea, but I still wanted to see what he’d been about to say.

  “Yeah, a woman came by saying she was selling fans, the only thing is, she definitely wasn’t,” he said.

  With far more important things on his mind, he pulled the door shut behind him, but not before Greer and I exchanged concerned looks.

  After they drove away I went into the kitchen to wait. The problem of the witches would keep until later.

  I had a ghost to find.

  My plan was simple. I didn’t turn on any lights as night fell, I just watched the sky change and the ghosts stroll around.

  If I stayed still enough, I thought, maybe any shy ghosts on the property would think I wasn’t home and be less careful about how they moved around.

  I figured I’d have to wait for hours, but it turned out I didn’t.

  Suddenly a rabbit hopped across the lawn, making me sit bolt upright. I had never seen one at the farmhouse before; I figured Paws had scared them all off. But now, right when I was watching for something out of the ordinary, a white ghost bunny rabbit had appeared, his fluffy tail so pearly white it shimmered like snow under a glowing moon.

  I jumped out of my chair and hurried out the kitchen door.

  Charger had gone with Greer – the Grates loved dogs – so he wasn’t there to give me away.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bunny Rabbit,” I whisper-yelled. The bunny was almost to the bushes when he heard my voice. He turned around, his fluffy tail twitching.

  “What do you want?” he asked gruffly. Whew, it was in fact a male bunny. I had no idea how I knew it, but it seemed that my guess had been right.

  “I’m Lemmi,” I said.

  “I know who you are! I’m a rabbit, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry. My apologies. What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Tank,” he said. “My real name is Todd, but the other rabbits call me Tank.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tank,” I said. He was a rather large bunny.

  Tank’s nose twitched.

  “I haven’t seen you before,” I said.

  “You aren’t much of a witch,” he said.

  Geez, this sure had been a theme lately.

  “I found you tonight,” I pointed out.

  “I’m not who you’re looking for,” said Tank. “Well done, though.”

  “How do you know who I’m looking for?”

  “All the ghosts know. He’s inside. You should try the unused bedrooms,” said Tank.

  “Why are you giving him away?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t like bunnies,” said Tank. “We have a longstanding feud going on. Now that you’ve found me, I’m about to win.” And with that parting shot, Tank hopped away.

  “Nice to meet you,” I called into the darkness. There was no response.

  I wondered how Tank had managed to get Paws to leave him alone. Probably threats, I decided.

  Still, I was glad I had met him, because he had given me valuable information.

  Back in the house, I tried to make my way upstairs quietly. The creaky stairs had something else in mind, but my mission was urgent, so I forged ahead and hoped for the best.

  There were two hallways upstairs, one leading right and one left, basically dividing the second story of the farmhouse into two sections. Greer’s room, mine, and my grandmother’s were on one side, and the other was currently unused. My grandmother had outfitted the rooms in that wing as guest bedrooms and an “office,” which was basically a room where the biggest shelf was the floor, and the entire surface was covered with her “important papers,” including recipes from the 1970s and playbills from theater performances she had hated.

  I decided on the unused hallway.

  The first door on the right belonged to my grandmother’s office. I opened it gingerly, but there was nothing inside. Feeling bolder, I tried the next two doors, still with no luck.

  Feeling defeated, I went down the back stairway, which hadn’t been used in years, to get to the kitchen. I had just landed on the last step when a menacing voice stopped me cold.

  “Don’t move or I’ll kill you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I raised my hands to show that I was unarmed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a light and knew there was a ghost behind me. Throwing caution to the wind I said, “Are you protecting my wand?”

  Suddenly the feeling of danger evaporated. In its place was raw skepticism.

  “Your wand?” he demanded. “Who are you and what are you doing in the Witch of Mintwood’s honorable home?”

  Now I felt safe enough to look over my shoulder, and sure enough there was a ghost standing there. He looked to be in his late thirties and was in very good shape. He held no weapons, so I wasn’t sure what his threats were based on.

  “I’m Lemmi. I’ve been looking for you,” I said.

  The ghost’s eyes went wide.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “I’m a ghost,” he said, his eyes rolling to the ceiling.

  “No, you don’t say,” I said. “Why is it that I’ve never seen you before?”

  “I’m shy,” he said, trying to look bashful.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why were you hiding?”

  “I’m shy?” he tried again.

  “Tell me the truth!” I ordered.

  “Oh, phooey!” he added hastily. “I’m Gary. I’m the wand’s guardian.”

  “I thought so. I’ve been looking all over for it. Care to explain why you’ve kept it from me?” I demanded.

  “You can’t be trusted with a porch, let alone a precious magical wand,” he sputtered. Apparently he did know I was the owner of the house.

  “For the last time, the porch is fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Right, of course it is,” he muttered.

  “Where’s the wand?” I demanded.

  “Somewhere,” he said.

  “Somewhere like where?” Goodness, this ghost was tiring.

  “I don’t actually have it,” said Gary. The ghost’s eyes shifted. There was something strange going on here, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “You don’t! Who took it! I have to have it!” I shouted, feeling like I wanted to cry. “How long have you been guarding my grandmother’s wand?” I said, trying to calm down.

  Still he said nothing.

  “What are your duties as guardian of the wand?” I asked, trying a different tack.

  “You know, protecting stuff,” said Gary, shuffling his feet.

  I narrowed my eyes. Something smelled, and this time it wasn’t old cabbage.

  “How long . . . oh never mind!” I said.

  Gary’s mouth remained firmly closed. I was about to yell in frustration when a crystal clear realization washed over me.

  “Excuse me,” I said, marching into the kitchen. “I have a ghost cat to skin!”

  “Of course I’m really the wand’s guardian! I can’t believe you thought otherwise,” said Paws from his perch on his crate when he saw my face walking toward him through the living room.

  “How dare you lie to me! I trusted you!” I fumed.

  Gary was trailing behind me.

  Whoever he was.

  “I’m not laughing at you. Just in your general direction,” said the cat.

  “Give me the wand or I’ll kick you off the property,” I said.

  In case you hadn’t noticed, this girl was done playing games. Oh, yeah.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” But Paws actually looked a little scared.

  I opened the window. The cold air rushed in, but I ignored it.

  “Now,” I wiggled my fingers.

  In them appeared a thin brown stick.

  I had found Evenlyn’s wand.

  I spent the entire next day practicing spel
ls. The attack had shaken us all up, and I officially needed no further motivation to learn how to be a proper witch. Greer told me that since I was the only witch around, I could decide what kind of witch was proper. Charlie thought that was a terrible idea.

  Either way, I set out to practice with a newfound lease on spells. Gary and Paws were my guides.

  Basically, they sat there and laughed at me while I tried and failed to perform basic spells.

  Gary was especially concerned. “The cat’s life’s work is protecting that wand you’re waving around as if you’re about to break it,” he yelled.

  “This spell isn’t working,” I said. “Also, what do you care about Paws’ work?”

  “That’s not the way wands work,” said Gary plaintively.

  Gary looked like he’d spent his life practicing mixed martial arts. He looked, in fact, as if he’d be much more at home as the bodyguard of somebody famous than as the bodyguard of one random object.

  “Are you sure this is a beginner’s spell book?” I asked.

  “What’s the title of the book?” said Paws.

  “Spells for Beginners,” I said.

  “Look,” said the ghost cat. “You have to master this book and you have to do it now. Soon, the protection of the ghosts on this property will be broken, and the witches who are staying around town waiting to overrun you will overrun you. At midnight in a few days’ time. That’s no time at all,” said Paws.

  “Usually I would say cats are overly dramatic. In this case, he’s on point,” said Gary.

  I flipped through the beginner’s spell book. “Protection spells aren’t even covered in this book,” I pointed out. “Unless I’m misreading the sections . . . ?”

  “Protection spells aren’t for beginners; they’re more advanced,” said Gary. “You’ll have to stop waving that thing around as if you’re conducting an orchestra. Badly.”

  “How am I supposed to perform an advanced spell when I’m only a beginner?” I demanded.

  “If you had started when you first moved here . . .” said Paws.

  “I would still only be a beginner,” I huffed. “Other witches shouldn’t be attacking me already! All of you ghosts expect too much! I can’t do this all at once!”