Snowflake Bay Cozy Mysteries Boxset 1

by C Farren

  “Heal me!” Wren cried. “Quickly!”

  The angel ran to Wren and started to heal her. Thankfully it didn’t require much effort, and in seconds Wren was standing up. Her body was stiff, but she didn’t much care. All she wanted to do was punch Kerry in the face.

  And maybe kick her a few times in the ribs.

  “She’s gone!” Fiona shouted.

  The basement door slammed shut and the locks were engaged. Wren ran up the stairs and slammed against the door, trying to push it open. It was useless. The door was made of thick oak. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Flit out of here and stop her!” said Wren, panicking. “She’s going to set this place on fire and take us with it!”

  “I knocked the lighter out of her hand,” said Fiona. “She can’t do a thing.”

  The lighter was gone.

  Fiona nodded and flitted away. Wren staggered up the steps to stand behind the door, waiting. She couldn’t hear anything, no fighting, no talking, nothing. What was going on? Was it the thick door blocking all sound from upstairs?

  “Fiona?” Wren called. “Fiona?”

  Something hard slammed against the door. Wren stepped back in shock, almost falling down the stairs.

  “Fiona!”

  There was quiet again. Wren started to think Fiona had bitten off more than she could chew. Kerry was absolutely insane. She was capable of practically anything. What would a kind angel be able to do against a force like that?

  The lock on the door tumbled. Wren back away down the steps, expecting the worst.

  Please be okay, Fiona. Please.

  Chapter 32

  Fiona took a deep breath and flitted away. She appeared upstairs, behind the counter of the Metropolitan. She reached for the light switch and turned it on just as Kerry emerged though the back room door. She didn’t seem surprised to see her in the least. The girl was taking her first contact with an angel in her stride.

  “Do you think you can stop me, angel?” Kerry demanded. She held the lighter out and flicked it on. “You can’t stop me.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that, human,” Fiona snarled.

  She took a step toward Kerry, who threatened to drop the lighter. Fiona stopped.

  “Are you really an angel?” Kerry asked.

  “Of course I’m an angel,” said Fiona. “Did the wings give it away?”

  “Let’s make a deal,” said Kerry. She smirked. “I’ll leave Wren alone if you fly me out of here. Heck, I’ll leave everyone in this pathetic little town alone if you fly me out of here. Europe, preferably.”

  It was a deal she’d never agree to, and yet it would be so simple to accept it. They got rid of a killer, and Wren was safe.

  I can’t allow Kerry to get away with it. She almost killed my grandson.

  “Okay,” said Fiona, a sneaky plan forming in her mind. “Let’s do it.”

  The smirk on Kerry’s face was pure wickedness. Fiona was actually terrified. She’d met a demon once during her angel training and that hadn’t scared her as much as the look on this teenage girl’s face.

  “You’re not going to stick to the deal, are you?” Kerry asked. “Too bad.”

  The killer tossed the burning lighter into the air. Fiona screamed. Something blurred through the air and caught the lighter in their mouth. It was Gracie. She must have followed Wren all around town, knowing she was in danger.

  “Good girl!” called Fiona.

  “No!” Kerry screamed.

  Gracie ran under the counter. Kerry screamed at her.

  “Get back here you stupid cat!” Kerry shouted.

  Fiona knew this was her moment. She flew forward, her wings stretched out behind her, and tackled Kerry. The two of them fell back and crashed against the door to the basement. Kerry tried to punch her, but Fiona flapped one of her wings into her face. Fiona grabbed hold of her arm. She’d never flitted with another person before. She’d tried before with Wren but it didn’t work. She just didn’t have enough power or training.

  It has to work now. It has to!

  The two of them appeared on a tropical beach. Fiona pushed Kerry away from her as she clawed and bit like a wild thing.

  “Where am I?” Kerry demanded, spitting with fury. “Is this Hawaii?”

  Fiona shook her head. “This is a deserted island in the South China sea. Nobody ever comes here.”

  Kerry shook her head. “No. No.”

  “I’m not abandoning you to your death. There’s enough stuff growing here to keep you alive for decades. But you won’t ever be able to escape from here. Have a nice life.”

  Fiona turned away, unable to bare the look of horror on Kerry’s face. She flitted away.

  “PHEW,” SAID FIONA, standing in the open doorway. “She sure took a lot of punches.”

  Wren laughed and hugged Fiona. She’d never been so happy to see another person in all her life.

  “I thought she’d gotten you,” said Wren, trying not to weep. “I thought she’d killed you.”

  “She tried, but I had a little help.”

  They walked into the main area of the Metropolitan. Gracie was making twittering noises as she played with what appeared to be Kerry’s lighter.

  “Has my little girl saved the day?” Wren asked, rushing to pick up her precious cat. She gave her a few kisses on the head. “You’re so brave.”

  Gracie allowed herself to be cuddled and kissed and fawned over. Her cat loved the attention.

  “Where’s Kerry?” said Wren, suddenly concerned. She looked around at the shadows in the coffee shop, expecting her to pounce out at any moment.

  “I flitted her to a deserted island,” said Fiona. She showed no emotion in her voice. “She won’t ever trouble anyone ever again.”

  “That’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?”

  “It was the only thing I could think of in the heat of the moment. Besides, she’ll be fine. There’s plenty to eat.”

  Wren was torn. Did Kerry really deserve to be abandoned on some island? What would her family think of her sudden disappearance? How would Sheriff Fisher solve Delia and Everett’s murders now?

  I have to think of something that solves every problem.

  Kerry’s cellphone was on the floor. It must have fallen out of her pocket during her scuffle with Fiona.

  “I have an idea,” said Wren.

  Chapter 33

  The killer reveal was all over the local newspaper the next day. Apparently, Kerry had texted Sheriff Fisher, confessing to both the murder of her grandmother and father, and had then fled the county. The FBI had set up a manhunt for her and were confident she would be found in due course. Wren and Kerry knew otherwise. Nobody would ever find Kerry again.

  “How are you feeling?” Wren inquired.

  Fiona was still in bed, tired and aching from all the flitting she’d done the night before. She looked as pale as her angel’s wings and her hair was droopy and dry. Wren was scared she’d overdone it again.

  “I’m fine,” Fiona admitted. She coughed a few times. “But I won’t be flitting anywhere any time soon.”

  After sending Sheriff Fisher the text from Kerry’s phone, Fiona had flitted into Kerry’s bedroom and packed all her clothes into some suitcases and then flitted them to the island she’d abandoned Kerry on. She’d been excited to see her, half expecting a rescue, but she was to be disappointed.

  “How was she doing?” Wren had asked last night.

  Fiona had shrugged. “Complaining.”

  Wren wished there’d been another way to make sure Kerry paid for her crimes. They could have found a way to implicate her, find proper evidence, anything, but by then Kerry might have killed again or fled the country. At least this way she was partly held responsible. On her island she couldn’t hurt another living soul ever again.

  “You will check in on her from time to time?” Wren had asked. “Just to make sure she’s doing okay, or she’s not escaped?”

  “Of course,” Fiona had answered. “I was going to do th
at anyway.”

  Wren had so much work to do. She had to make up with Benedict and convince him she never sent those texts. It would be hard, seeing as Kerry wasn’t there to back up her story, but she had to do it. He was a great father, and she loved his drag queen side. He had to see that.

  She put her hand to Fiona’s head. Her skin was hot to the touch.

  “I actually think you’re ill,” said Wren, concerned. “Can angels get ill?”

  “They can, but not with anything that would affect humans,” Fiona explained. “I flitted too many times. I healed you. I overextended myself. I think... I think I’m turning into a demon.”

  “Stop being so melodramatic.”

  “Demons are made many different ways, but one of them is when an angel expends their power, their grace, thus enabling the demonic energies that swirl through the cosmos to enter their bodies. I think that’s what is happening to me.”

  She was being deadly serious. Wrens stepped back, half afraid, half concerned for her great grandmother.

  “What can I do?” Wren asked.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” explained Fiona. “I’ve called for help but nobody has come. I think they’ve abandoned me.”

  “They would never abandon you.”

  “They have!”

  A pair of horns briefly appeared over Fiona’s head. Wren screamed in terror.

  “You saw horns,” Fiona stated. “It’s time.”

  “No,” said Wren, controlling her heartbeat. She was terrified. Fiona’s skin was starting to turn red and blotchy, like she’d been left out in the sun for too long. “There has to be something I can do. I can’t let you turn into a demon.”

  “I love you, you know? I’ve had the best time of my life getting to know you. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  Wren started to cry. She tried to take Fiona’s hand but it was so hot the angel’s skin burned her fingers. The bed sheets covering Fiona were starting to steam.

  “I won’t let it end like this!” Wren screamed. “I won’t do it!”

  Another angel flipped into the bedroom. He was tall, with blonde hair, a square jaw, and an incredible muscular body. He was a vision of beauty.

  “She’s turning into a demon,” said the angel. She assumed he was Brock. Fiona had described him down to the last hair on his perfect head. “We have to be quick.”

  “She says there’s nothing you can do,” said Wren.

  “There might be something. I won’t let her turn into one of those things. I care for her too much.”

  He scooped Fiona up in his arms. His skin sizzled where her demonic skin touched his own, but he ignored the pain. He had eyes only for Fiona.

  “You love her, don’t you?” Wren asked him.

  “Angels are forbidden from loving each other,” he said before he flitted away.

  That wasn’t a no.

  There was Fiona sized scorch marks on the bed where she’d lain. All that was left of her great-grandmother were a few white feathers.

  WREN RECEIVED A RATHER frantic phone-call some time later that morning. She was still grieving the loss of Fiona, unable to settle on something to do. She’d fielded phone calls from Bill, telling her he’d caught some rats, and from Jenny, talking about Kerry’s confession, but she was too numb to care.

  “Oh Wren, you’re here!” her mom screamed on the phone. “You’re alive!”

  “Mom, what are you on about?” Wren asked, confused. “Of course I’m alive!”

  She suddenly remembered the suicide text that Kerry had sent her mom. The poor woman must have been frantic with worry.

  Dot said, “You sent this text...”

  “I was drunk. It had nothing to do with wanting to kill myself. I meant I was on the verge of giving up with the Metropolitan.” She hoped the lie was convincing, even though it was a little too close to the truth. “It was too much work and I was getting sick of it. But I’m fine now! It was just a wobble. I can handle it.”

  “You really scared me. I thought for certain you were dead.”

  “I really am sorry. Let me make it up to you. Do you want to go for afternoon tea in the city sometime this week? My treat.”

  “You know I love afternoon tea! You’ve got a deal.”

  Suddenly Wren didn’t feel so guilty about Kerry being abandoned on that island any more. Dot must have gone through Hell when she read that text.

  Wren realized she had a lot more amends to make. First off was Benedict. She put her wellies on and walked across the street. She hesitated for a moment by his door, wondering whether she was doing the right thing, before she knocked. He answered almost straight away. He must have seen her coming.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  He was wearing a badly knitted Christmas sweater that hugged his frame. There was a piece of thick red tinsel around his neck and there were bits of sticky tape all over him, like he’d been attacked by a rabid gift wrapper. She tried to hold in a laugh.

  “I think we said everything that needed to be said,” he stated.

  “That wasn’t me. It was Kerry. She hacked my phone, just like she hacked Paula’s Kindle.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She knew I was onto her for the murders. She wanted to keep me distracted. She also knew your daughter saw Everett kill his mother. She wanted to keep her quiet.”

  He looked really angry at first, but he managed to rein it in. “Wren...”

  “We may not know each other too well, but you know me well enough to know I’m not like that. I’m not homophobic or transphobic. I believe you’re a wonderful father and I love Bieber McIntyre. You have to believe me.”

  “I guess I never really believed that text anyway. It didn’t sound like you.”

  “But you believed it at the time.”

  “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  They stared at each other for several very uncomfortable beats. Wren wanted to cry. Everything was ruined now.

  “Things have changed between us,” she added. The realization deeply pained her.

  “We can work through it,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know we can.”

  Paula shouted for her dad.

  “I better go,” said Benedict. “We’re wrapping up gifts for everyone at the bar. Paula loves wrapping up things.”

  “It’s not over, is it?” asked Wren.

  “For now, maybe we should...”

  “Just until it feels right again.”

  He kissed her on the cheek and closed the door.

  I’m not having this. It doesn’t end like this!

  She knocked on the door again, louder this time. Benedict answered too quickly, like he was waiting for her to knock.

  “I was about to open the door again and come to you,” he said.

  She ignored him as he leaned in for a proper kiss. Paula was watching from inside the house, jumping up and down excitedly, but they only had eyes for each other. When it was over Wren couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

  “I’m not letting some manipulative murderer ruin this,” Benedict stated. “We go back to how we were before she tried to ruin things.”

  “That’s exactly what I was going to say,” said Wren. “I’m going to fight for us.”

  “Me too.”

  Wren smiled, staring into him. She knew she’d done the right thing. If she’d walked away they might never have reconciled. This time she wasn’t going to let mistrust and misunderstandings ruin her love life. She wouldn’t let him get away.

  “Can Wren stay for dinner?” Paula asked.

  The girl looked really happy. Unburdening herself of Kerry’s threats had been cathartic for her. Wren vowed to tell her where Kerry really was. The girl might need reassuring that Kerry could never threaten her again.

  “What are you having?” said Wren.

  “Hotdogs and fries,” said Paula. “They’re my favorite.”

  Wren smiled. “You know what? Mine too.”

  WREN WALKE
D ACROSS the road, on cloud nine. Dinner with Benedict and Paula had been perfect, better than any date she’d ever had. They’d eaten hotdogs and fries and watched Frozen with a giant bowl of fresh, warm popcorn.

  Everything is going to be perfect.

  When she entered her house, she found Brock sitting on her couch. He had both cats curled up on his massive lap and was stroking them gently. The TV was on. He was watching some sort of documentary about climate change.

  “What are you doing here?” Wren demanded. “Where’s Fiona?”

  “You should sit down,” said Brock.

  Wren feared the worst as she flopped into her armchair.

  “Fiona is in what we call a cleansing bubble,” Brock explained. “Her demonic form hadn’t totally taken over, and so we placed her in a cocoon of sorts so she could be blasted with heavenly energy. It sounds complicated, but it really isn’t.”

  “Will this return her to her normal self?”

  “It will, but it’ll take time, and when she’s finished, she’ll be weak. She’s susceptible now to demonic energies. They’ll latch on to her if she ever tries to flit or heal. She’ll be banned from using her powers ever again.”

  Wren nodded, understanding.

  “When will she return?” asked Wren.

  Brock shrugged. “I don’t know. It could take months. Meanwhile, you have me. I’m Fiona’s temporary replacement.”

  There was a mug on the coffee table. It didn’t have a coaster under it.

  Oh joy.

  THE NEIGHBORHOOD WATCHED as what remained of the historic Rickard’s toy store was demolished. A part of them was being lost forever. Everyone in town could remember visiting Santa in there, or buying their Christmas presents from Delia or her husband.

  The wrecking ball swung again, and Wanda paled.

  Wren shivered. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Chelsea is going to rebuild, and it’ll be as good as new,” said Wanda, trying to force a smile. “We’ll pretend none of this awful business ever happened.”