Dying for a Vacation: The India Kirby Witch Mystery (Book 4)

by Sarah Kelly

  Mama Josephine made no reply, but seemed satisfied enough with the answer when India tried to read her facial expression. She took the stone from India and bent over laboriously. After dipping her fingers in a glass of what looked like oil she straightened back up and rubbed the slippery liquid all over the stone. Then she placed it carefully in the bag along with India’s lock of hair hair. After a moment of muttering under her breath, she crossed over to a table, took a pinch of white powder and sprinkled it inside the bag. At first India thought it was salt, but as some of it fell to the ground, it billowed into a tiny dust cloud and she realized it was too powdery to be.

  Then Mama Josephine pulled the drawstring with one swift movement, and the bag was closed. She handed it to India. “Knot it three times. Tight.”

  “Powers of High,” Mama Josephine said, so loudly it startled India and she lost her knot. “Powers of High.”

  India guessed those were different words to use for The Energy Luis always talked about. She finished the third knot and handed the bag out to Mama Josephine. The elderly lady took it from her and placed it in between the four candles flashing in their jars. Then she took a saucer of another white substance and sprinkled a circle around the candles. India watched, wondering what it all meant.

  “Listen,” Mama Josephine said sternly, though when India looked at her, Mama Josephine’s eyes stared right through her. “A shield I form, blessed by thee. No harm can pass!” She clapped her hands dramatically. “No harm can pass! No death can sting! Threats, begone!”

  And though India did not know what was going on, she felt ever so protected. Mama Josephine’s voice was coarse and wavered up and down as she tried to raise it loud, but it was immensely comforting, somehow.

  “India,” Mama Josephine then said, “you will walk in circles of light. But what you have given out, of course, must come back to you.”

  Then she fell silent. They stood there for a moment in the dancing light and shadows, looking toward each other. Suddenly India smelled the herbs from outside, ever so strong. She felt like she was in a dream. “Pick up the bag,” Mama Josephine said. India stooped down to the center of the circle and did so. “Put it in your pocket. Keep it there at all times. Or you will regret.”

  “Thank you,” India said.

  A tiny mew came from outside the door. India looked back at Mama Josephine’s eyes, now burning purple, then everything went black. When the world reappeared she was indeed outside the restaurant. She patted her pocket and the bulk assured her that everything was real. Still, she was more confused than ever. What had that all meant?

  She looked up to see Xavier sitting alone, looking out over the sea, sipping a beer. Her heart lurched with affection and guilt. She imagined herself in his position, and imagined she’d feel so cut out of the loop, so disconnected. More than anything else, so confused. As her legs carried her toward the restaurant, her brain buzzed like crazy as she tried to come up with a strategy. What would she tell him? She barely even knew what that had all been about with Mama Josephine. It was a mystery to her. And how she longed to share that mystery with Xavier.

  “I ordered,” he said flatly when she reached his table. He avoided her eyes. “That chicken roti you like. And fries and salad.” He pushed a can and glass across the tablecloth. “And a Diet Coke.”

  India sat next to him instead of the seat across the table. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She poured herself a serving of diet coke and the fizz bubbled up. Its hissing sound was loud in their silence. Surprising herself, India wished he’d get mad, or ask a million questions, or act frustrated. Anything but this. And when she looked over at him, she could see nothing but hurt in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to punish her with his silence; he genuinely did not know where to begin. She wanted to reach out and hug him, but then wanted to respect his feelings. And it weighed so heavily on her heart that she could say nothing at all. Confusion reigned supreme at their table. India checked her phone to see the time – she had only been gone twenty minutes, which was a relief.

  Eventually Xavier said, “Any more theories?”

  “No,” India said. “This one’s got me stumped.”

  “I called the hospital,” he said, still not looking at her. “They said he’ll need extensive working before he can talk. Much less walk.”

  India shook her head and then buried it in her hands. Why did such bad things happen to such good people? “I feel so bad for his family right now.”

  “Me too.” Another long silence stretched out between them. India was glad when a waitress brought them out some garlic bread. It was something to do, and she tore off tiny strips and popped them in her mouth. She felt her chest tighten with emotion. “So,” Xavier said, finally looking toward her. “Are you going to tell me where you were?”

  After the most painful, deep sigh of India’s life she whispered, “I can’t.”

  Xavier shook his head and screwed up his eyes. When he opened them again they had a determination in them India had not expected. “I need to know. I need to know what’s going on in the life of the woman I’m going to…”

  “The woman you’re gong to what?” India said.

  “I just need to know,” he said firmly.

  India managed to gain some strength from his turn. “I can’t tell you. I want to, but I can’t.”

  “So what, do you have a secret life or something?” His voice rose with hurt.

  India looked around and saw people looking in their direction. “People are looking,” she said quietly, her voice breaking.

  That look of betrayal, that look that made her heart sink, rose up in his face again. He shook his head. “And that’s what you care about right now?” He kept shaking his head, again and again, looking like he was going to burst with the pressure. “India, I can’t do this. I just can’t do this. When you’re ready to tell me, come and talk to me. Until then, I can’t pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not. You did this two years ago when we were at my parents’. Just disappearing. And now you’re going off with some lady and she says you know Luis. Who is Luis?”

  India stared down at the garlic bread, which was blurring through her gathering tears. “Xavier, I wish I could tell you, really.”

  “So do I,” he said heavily, standing up. “I’m taking my food and going back to the hotel. You should get a taxi back when you want.”

  “But—”

  “But what?” He sat back down again, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you know what this is doing to me? You’re keeping something from me, India Kirby. Don’t pretend like you’re not.”

  And it was true. All India could do was gaze into his hurting, betrayed, frustrated face, and wish everything were different.

  ***

  Once India had finished her chicken roti, she rang the hotel to send a taxi for her. To keep herself from bursting into tears, she had to focus her mind on the case. In truth, she felt like she was losing her touch. She felt so far away from all the pieces fitting together. More than ever, she felt a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she had to go talk to Mikey. She seemed the most open of all of them, and if India could just get a little more insight into the friendship group’s past, perhaps she could work out just how much motive each of them had. Of course, she had not discounted Tony. And reluctantly, she could not strike Fitzgerald’s name off her mental list of suspects for the murder. Perhaps he had been the one to drown Charlie, and the push into the volcanic waters was a revenge attack. She had heard Freya saying she’d heard police on small islands were always using super outdated equipment and found it hard to keep up with murder investigations. So perhaps one of the bachelorette party who somehow knew Fitzgerald did it had heard that and decided to take matters into their own hands. But as soon as India came up with that theory, she felt frustration build within her. Conjecture, she told herself, as she watched the waves beat upon the shore. Pure conjecture. She didn’t really know anything.

  So on the taxi ride back she resolved to f
ind Mikey right away and try and get some information out of her.

  Being that the resort was so small her hunt around didn’t take long. She studiously avoided going anywhere near Hummingbird Cottage, wanting to steer clear of Xavier for as long as possible. She just didn’t know how to make everything better without telling him about her powers, which she just couldn’t do. Catching sight of Mikey sunbathing by the pool, India walked along the stone path until she approached her sunlounger. Mikey had huge dark sunglasses on and lay back deathly still. It was impossible for India to tell if she was awake or asleep.

  “Hey,” India said, taking the sun lounger next to her.

  Mikey startled awake. “Huh? Oh, hello, India. I was sleeping.”

  “Oops, sorry.” India lay back, trying to look as casual as she could, just like they were two friends aimlessly chatting.

  “It’s all right,” Mikey said, her voice suddenly turning serious. “I don’t think… well…”

  “What?”

  “It was a terrible idea for us to stay on here,” she said. “We pretended like we could celebrate Charlie’s life, but it’s just not working. I mean, to die in such a horrible way. And we’re all looking over our shoulders. And…” She looked around, then pushed her shades down her nose. “I know this is bad to say, but some of us feel that… well, maybe… Let me put it this way. If Fitzgerald isn’t the murderer, and Tony isn’t, and it’s not some random person. And it’s not you, or Xavier. Then, it’s…”

  “One of you.”

  “One of us,” Mikey said, her voice turning into a squeak. “I mean, I know it’s not you or Xavier, and I don’t think it’s Fitzgerald. I just hope it’s Tony.” She frowned, watching the sunlight dance on the pool surface.

  “You don’t sound very sure about that.”

  “I’m not.”

  India felt her pulse quicken, but she pretended she was relaxed. She put her arms behind her head and looked up into the sky. “I promise I won’t mention anything to anyone. But do you have any idea who it might be? Any suspicion?”

  “Are you crazy?” Mikey said, rolling over to face India. “I can’t… I can’t even sleep at night. I’m just lying there, paranoid, that someone’s going to come in there and murder me. I suspect everyone. Jazz, Sam, Freya, Fitzgerald, Tony, you, Xavier, the waiters, everyone. When it gets dark, my mind just goes crazy. I mean, of course you didn’t murder him, but I still worry about it. It’s like my head’s gone haywire. If there was a flight out of here right now I would take it. But we’ve already paid and they’re expensive, and there are so many transfers. And I hate traveling at airports alone. I’ll have to stick it out. It’s only two more nights,” she told herself in a soothing tone. “Oh, and sorry for suspecting you.”

  “It’s okay,” India said gently. “I know how it is. Feel like you can’t trust anyone. Like everyone’s hiding something.”

  “Exactly,” Mikey said, her voice quavering. “Ugh.”

  India hoped she wasn’t being too direct, but the question had lingered in her mind for so long by then. “You know before… at the spa. You guys said something about Freya and Charlie. History between them. Do you think that’s relevant?”

  Mikey looked sick with worry. “I don’t know. Yes. No. I… I just can’t tell.”

  “You look like you want to get it off your chest. And to be honest, I want to know. It’s good to know everything, even if it seems insignificant. Even the smallest details can mean something.”

  Mikey shook her head. “This is no small detail. I’ll tell you. But please don’t think it means Freya killed her. It could be something totally different.”

  “Oh, no,” India said, “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions like that. Don’t worry.”

  Mikey pushed her glasses to the top of her head and looked India dead in her eyes. “Freya and Charlie were the best of friends in the first couple of years of high school.”

  “Okay.” India hadn’t expected that at all.

  “But…” Mikey looked around again. They were alone by the pool, and it seemed almost eerily quiet. “You know, as best friends do, they told each other their secrets. And Charlie probably told her something stupid like she’d wet herself when she was a kid or something. But Freya told Charlie something very close to her heart. Something that could tear her whole world apart. That she was a lesbian.”

  “Okay,” India said, nodding.

  “Now, I know it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to you or me, but to a 14 year old girl with a very strict Christian family – I mean, they wouldn’t even let her get a mobile phone or pierce her ears or shave her legs – it was enormous. And then one day when Charlie and Freya argued over something stupid like who had taken someone’s chocolate bar, Charlie decided to get serious revenge. So she got all our year group together and told them that Freya was a lesbian. Then she called up Freya’s parents and told them, too. Freya was like… crushed. More than crushed. Inconsolable.”

  India shook her head. “I can imagine.”

  “It gets worse. Her family actually kicked her out. Can you believe it? Kicking your own 14 year old daughter out? And they said she could only come back once she’d got these what they called silly notions out of her head. She stayed with me and my family for a while.” Mikey’s eyes brimmed with tears. “She was just never the same after that. She used to be so happy and bubbly and the kindest person ever. And then… she just changed. Like she didn’t trust the world anymore. All her guards went up. She stopped talking. And over the years she’s got a bit better, but recently she had a break up and seems to be spiraling downwards again. Her relationship with her family is just about non-existent. She was even talking about… well, ending it. I just hope…”

  “She didn’t get so angry she could…” Even India struggled to finish the sentence. “Kill?”

  “She’s just not in her right mind,” Mikey said. “Drinking a lot. She gave up cigarettes and now she’s taken them up again. I know she would never want to hurt anyone deliberately, but, you know, when people get in a really bad place, they might… well, do something stupid.”

  India nodded, wondering if it were really true, that Freya had suddenly snapped and killed Charlie.

  “That’s where all her problems started, after all,” Mikey said. “With Charlie. And yet she always claimed she didn’t hate her. Maybe she just suppressed it, and it all came… well, spilling out. I really hope not, but you never know.”

  India nodded, feeling a wave of sympathy for antisocial Freya. “You never know.”

  “And another thing that’s been bugging me,” Mikey said. “Charlie said she knew who it was Dan cheated with, and that it was someone in our circle. And that she would tell me if I didn’t tell anyone else. That was the night before she got… killed. It’s obviously not Freya, but it could be our other friends Georgia or Helen. They couldn’t get the time off work to come. But…” She looked around again, like her friends were lurking in the shadows. “I think it might be Jazz. Imagine that, cheating with your own sister’s fiancé. Well, maybe…”

  “Maybe Jazz overheard?” India said, her eyes widening. “And…?”

  Mikey shrugged, looking like she was about to cry. “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER 9

  India didn’t eat at the restaurant that night. She didn’t have the appetite for another full meal after her chicken roti, and eating without Xavier felt so wrong she felt she might burst into tears. So she went to the little food store they had on site, that mostly staff used, and picked herself up a packet of crackers, a Sprite, and an oatmeal snack bar with chocolate chips. Well aware it was the least nutritious dinner she could have possibly chosen, she ate it while wandering slowly back to Hummingbird Cottage, a new realization dawning on her: she was being forced into a choice.

  For so long, she’d been able to keep the magic part of her life a secret. Other than the going missing incident in Mississippi, she’d managed it pretty well, she thought. But now her hand was being forced. Xavier, t
hough he didn’t know it, was asking her to make a choice – him, or her magic powers. And instantly, her heart told her what she wanted. Him. As she walked past the other Creole cottages, dragging her flipflopped feet along the path, she almost berated herself for her decision. She’d always considered herself somewhat of a feminist, never being the type to be needy for a boyfriend to prop her up. But this was different. This was true love. A life without Xavier was not a life worth living, as far as she was concerned.

  And yet… could she really give up her powers? Would there be other consequences? Luis had warned her repeatedly about letting the cat out of the bag. Bad things would happen, he’d said, but when she’d pressed him about what such terrible events would befall her, he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know. She’d be stripped of her abilities, he knew that much, but he wasn’t too proud to admit that, though many levels above her, he was still a baby in the magical world. He’d only practiced for thirty years, and he had his own mentor who’d been active for nearly one hundred. And even they weren’t even close to the top of the pyramid. Some people knew they were witches and consciously built up their skills lifetime after lifetime, for thousands of years. They held secrets that the average person wouldn’t even dare to dream about.

  Despite all of this, India knew what she had to do. There was no way she would lose Xavier, no matter what the cost. He had become her safe home, her harbor in stormy seas. And she knew that she was that for him, too. There was only one thing to do. Tell him.

  Normally any big decisions she’d have run by Luis, by pinging him a message across the astral network. But this? She knew deep down in her very bones that it was right. And though her stomach churned with the thought of losing her powers and becoming ordinary once again, it was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make. For the love of her life.

  ***

  But by the time India got back, Xavier was asleep. It was only eight o’ clock, but it got so dark in Grenada so quickly they’d taken to getting up at around six and heading to bed early. India paused by his bed to watch him for a moment. His black eyelashes were clumped together in wet clusters and she knew he’d been crying. The only time she’d ever seen him cry before was when his beloved Jamaican grandfather had died the previous year. Otherwise he was stoic and upright. Sometimes she wished he would cry more. “You’ve got to let it all out,” she always said. He’d laugh and say, “Let what out?” which annoyed her no end. “Life,” she’d say. Still, he talked about his feelings with her more freely with every year that went by, and she was glad of that.