Curse the Day (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  I struggled to come up with something worse, but I couldn’t. “Why do you need to hear confession anyway? You have no real authority.”

  “Because that’s how it works.”

  “You’re just a nosy, old cow!” I exclaimed. “You probably use this confessional to collect information about the other residents.”

  “I am a gnome, not a cow,” she said simply. “And your confession is putting me to sleep. Tell me why you’re here so I can move onto something more interesting. Like a nap.”

  “I found a draft of a petition in Gareth’s home office. He was planning to lodge a protest against the holy water used in the church. Did you know about that?”

  She hesitated. “I knew he objected to it. He told me as much when I ran into him at the Enchanted Garden.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My husband Frank’s garden center. Gareth was looking at azaleas, but he couldn’t decide which kind he wanted. He mentioned that he’d like the vampires to be able to enjoy the church social scene as much as everyone else in town, but that they considered the holy water a health and safety issue.”

  “Did he ask you to stop using it?”

  “He did.”

  “And what did you say?” Given the petition, I was fairly certain I already knew the answer.

  “I told him to strap on his big boy fangs and get on with life.”

  “In those exact words?”

  She paused. “No. I told him it simply isn’t possible to please everybody all the time, so why bother trying?”

  The more I learned about Gareth, the more I liked him. “But his request wasn’t about pleasing everyone. It was about making a community space accessible to everyone.”

  Myra blew a raspberry. “Poppycock. Spellbound is a big town. The vamps have plenty of places to congregate. Gareth didn’t need to get his fangs out of joint just because I want to keep the church sacred.”

  “Do you let witches come here?”

  “I let you in, didn’t I?”

  “What about werewolves?”

  “Of course. They contribute the best dishes to the potluck dinners.”

  Whether she was willing to admit it or not, Myra had a bias against vampires. “What did you plan to do if he filed the petition?”

  She leaned her arms on the ledge of the confessional, revealing her whole face. “Gareth was the public defender. He pissed off every judge in town at one time or another.”

  “So you didn’t see the petition as a threat?”

  She laughed and plopped down on the bench. “Not even remotely.”

  No motive for Myra then. “Thank you for your time.”

  “We host bingo every Wednesday night if you’re interested. I’ll add you to the mailing list. My owl sends calendar updates every Monday morning.”

  “Okay, sure.” Maybe if I spent enough time at the church, I’d be able to convince the other members of the community to ditch the holy water. A gesture in Gareth’s memory.

  “If you’re looking for reasons someone murdered the vampire, you might want to drop in on your neighbors.”

  “The harpies?”

  “The Minors are a bunch of screeching shrews. Gareth was risking life and limb by complaining about the calendar. I don’t know why Sheriff Hugo hasn’t arrested the whole family.”

  “What’s the calendar?”

  Myra groaned. “Every year, Miss Thumb-In-Every-Honey-Pot puts together a calendar featuring the hottest males in Spellbound as a fundraiser. This year she refused to allow the vampires to show their fangs. It was too erotic or something.” She laughed and slapped her knee. “As if there was any such thing. Too erotic? Can you imagine?”

  Abruptly, Myra pulled the curtain closed between us. I guess that was my cue to leave.

  “Nice meeting you,” I said, as I exited the confessional and immediately looked around the church in fear. What was the penalty for lying in church?

  I hurried out the front door before I could find out.

  On my way back into town from the church, Sedgwick intercepted me.

  You’re wanted in town.

  “Shouldn’t you have a note in your beak or something?” I asked.

  They gave me one, but I dropped it. Who needs a note when I can just tell you the message?

  I sighed. “What’s the message?”

  You are to meet Sophie and Begonia at Wands-A-Plenty.

  “Really?”

  Would I make this stuff up?

  I hurried the rest of the way into town. Sure enough, Sophie and Begonia were waiting outside of the wand shop. I was pretty sure they were more excited than I was.

  “Be sure to get a wand with a leather grip,” Begonia said. “They’re more expensive but well worth it.”

  “Doesn’t the wand need to choose me?” I asked.

  Sophie and Begonia cackled hysterically.

  “Where did you get a silly idea like that?” Begonia asked. “We’re not shopping for a unicorn.”

  Wait. There were unicorns here? Be still my heart.

  We entered the wand shop and the inside was exactly as the name suggested. Rows and rows of wands and nothing else.

  “He’ll need to measure your wingspan,” Sophie said. “Once we know your size, we can shop in the appropriate section.”

  An older gentleman with gray hair and round glasses emerged from a back room. “Why, hello. If it isn’t the new witch. What a thrilling development for Spellbound.”

  “This is Alaric, the owner,” Sophie said. “He’s a wizard.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alaric.”

  “Hold out your arms, please, Miss Hart,” he said from behind the counter.

  He was going to measure me from there?

  I extended my arms and watched as a measuring tape unrolled in front of me and extended from my left fingertips to my right. It floated over to Alaric who noted the numbers.

  “A size six. Just as I suspected,” he said.

  “That’s my size, too,” Begonia said. “I know where to take you.”

  We disappeared down one of the long aisles and I noticed a large number six hovering in mid-air above a shelf. There were too many wands to choose from in every color imaginable.

  “Grab anything you like and you can try it out,” Sophie said.

  “How can I try them out?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem safe.” Certainly not when I was at the helm.

  “There’s a safe zone, like a dressing area,” Begonia said.

  I chose half a dozen wands to take to the safe zone. It was a room behind a set of green curtains where I could practice with each wand and get a better feel for them.

  Sophie and Begonia served as my assistants, teeing up the next wand and handing it to me.

  “Ooh, I like that one,” Begonia said, cooing over the wand in my hand. It was a pretty celadon color with a beige leather grip. “If you don’t care for it, I may put it on my birthday list.”

  “You should get one with a different colored grip, Sophie,” I said. “Then you’ll remember which way to point it.”

  “I’m not allowed another wand until I outgrow this one,” Sophie replied.

  “This wand was her sister’s,” Begonia explained. “Except for her first wand, all the others have been hand-me-downs.”

  I pointed the wand at the dummy on the far side of the room. There were brown tufts of hair popping out of the dummy in all directions.

  “I take it the wizard isn’t a fan of werewolves,” I said.

  “They’ve trampled his roses one too many times,” Sophie explained. “That’s why there’s an ordinance now about when and where werewolves can turn.”

  “This wand feels a little heavy for me,” I said. “Next one, please.”

  Sophie handed me a Tiffany blue wand with a silver grip. “This is beautiful. It has to be too expensive for me.”

  “Never mind the price,” Begonia said. “The coven is paying. They always pay for first wands. It’s a rite of passage.”

>   I held the wand between my fingers and examined it from end to end. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever owned anything as nice as this.” I hadn’t made a lot of money as a public interest lawyer. In fact, I was still paying off my law school loans. I wondered what would happen to my debt now. My credit would be ruined if I ever managed to leave Spellbound.

  I took aim at the dummy and focused my will. “Step on a crack/suffer blowback.”

  The dummy blew backward and smashed against the wall. Sophie and Begonia gasped in unison.

  “That’s definitely your wand,” Sophie said, her eyes bright. “That was better than I’ve managed to do all term.”

  I stared at the tip of the wand. My palms were sweating so much I was afraid I might drop the wand.

  “I felt the energy,” I said. It was like a power surge.

  “I’ll bet,” Begonia said, and began gathering up the other wands. “Let’s get this one locked and loaded. I’m starving.”

  I took the wand to the counter. Alaric grinned when he saw my choice.

  “You have exquisite taste, Miss Hart,” he said. “This one’s a beauty.”

  “Thank you. It felt right in my hand, you know?” It truly did. Like it belonged there.

  “I understand completely.” He rang up the purchase. “I’ll put it on the coven’s tab.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll need to register your wand with the registrar,” Alaric continued, wrapping my wand in tissue paper and placing it in a decorative case.

  “Same with brooms,” Sophie added. “You’ll need a license, too.”

  “You have as much red tape here as we do,” I said.

  “When you’re all trapped under one invisible roof,” Alaric began, “rules and regulations become an absolute necessity for a civilized society.” He handed me a bag with the Wands-A-Plenty logo on the side. “Good luck with it, Miss Hart.”

  “Thank you very much. I’ll need it.”

  “With aim like yours,” Sophie said, “don’t be so sure. We should practice spells now.”

  “Can we practice after we eat?” Begonia asked. “I can’t cast anything on an empty stomach.”

  “Can’t seem to cast anything on a full stomach either,” Sophie teased.

  Begonia stuck out her tongue.

  “I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” I said. I needed the boost. “Can we go to Brew-Ha-Ha?”

  “I never turn down a peppermint twist latte,” Begonia said.

  The march began at sundown, just as we arrived in front of Brew-Ha-Ha.

  Begonia’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “This must be Gareth’s funeral procession.”

  We stood against the wall of the building and watched as a line of vampires passed by, each one dressed in a flowing red cloak. Leading the procession was Lord Gilder, but I recognized Samson, Edgar, and Demetrius at the front. With his chiseled features and perfectly sculpted body, it was hard to miss Demetrius.

  “Why red?” I whispered.

  “It’s their color of mourning,” Sophie replied.

  Demetrius caught sight of me admiring him and winked.

  Begonia gripped my arm. “Spell’s bells! Demetrius Hunt winked at you.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Begonia has a thing for Demetrius.”

  “It’s not a thing,” Begonia said hotly, but I noticed she couldn’t take her eyes off the sexy vampire.

  “I can certainly understand the interest,” I said. “He’s damned attractive.” Emphasis on damned.

  The line of vampires continued, with the coffin bringing up the rear. There were no pallbearers. The coffin seemed to be sustained in the air by magic.

  “Is the funeral typically this long after a vampire’s death?” I asked. In the human world, different religions had their own customs regarding when and how to bury the dead, so I guess it didn’t surprise me.

  “Lord Gilder has his own way of doing things,” Sophie whispered, as though afraid to be overheard. “A coven funeral would be completely different.”

  “And a werewolf funeral…” Begonia let loose a low whistle. “Let me tell you—that’s a party you want to attend.”

  I returned my attention to the long procession. “Where are they going now?”

  “To the cemetery,” Sophie said. “Then they’ll go back to Underkoffler’s for the rest of the night to eat and drink.”

  “What’s Underkoffler’s?” It didn’t sound like the name of a pub.

  “Piotr Underkoffler’s funeral home,” Begonia said.

  Sophie cringed. “Ugh. Don’t even say his name.” She leaned over to me. “Best to avoid him if you can.”

  “Believe me. I have every intention of avoiding the town undertaker.” I watched the back end of the casket as it disappeared from view. “Is it vampires only?”

  “The procession is,” Begonia said. “The party at Underkoffler’s will be open to anyone.” Her gaze flitted absently to the place on the cobblestone where we’d first spotted Demetrius. “Maybe we should go.”

  “I feel like I should out of respect for Gareth, but I can’t,” I said. “I have to prepare Mumford’s case for trial in less than a week. That’s what Gareth would have wanted.”

  Begonia chewed her lip, debating. “It’s probably not a good idea to hang out with a room full of drunk vampires anyway.”

  “The ones I met seem really nice,” I said. Of course, you ply enough alcohol into anyone and he can become a complete monster.

  “We’ll have to take you to the Spotted Owl one night,” Sophie said. “It’s owned by the hottest guy in Spellbound.”

  Begonia clutched her chest. “An incubus. His brother owns the Horned Owl. They’re both divine.”

  “No, Daniel is divine,” Sophie said. “The incubi brothers are panty melters.”

  “True,” Begonia agreed. “But Emma already knows how divine Daniel is, don’t you?” She hip checked me.

  “He is definitely…” I didn’t know how I wanted to describe him. “Not what I expected an angel to be like.”

  With the procession finished, Begonia pulled me inside the coffee shop. We ordered three lattes, mine with an anti-anxiety boost.

  “You know why Daniel’s fallen, right?” Sophie asked in a hushed tone.

  “Not exactly.” We took a table by the window. The place was practically empty, probably due to the late hour. Most people were having cocktails now instead of coffee. My body, as always, cried out for caffeine.

  Begonia leaned across the table. “He liked earthly pleasures too much. Refused to give up his vices.”

  “Did he have anything to do with the town’s curse?” I asked, remembering Juliet’s version of events.

  “Depends on who you ask,” Sophie said. “Some say he made the enchantress fall in love with him and then left her high and dry for his next conquest.”

  I hated to ask my next question, but I needed to know. “Is he still like that?”

  “I know there was some scandal with Mayor Knightsbridge’s daughter a while back,” Sophie said.

  Begonia slapped the table excitedly. “And there was a witch in our coven.”

  “Ginger’s older sister, Meg.”

  Begonia pressed her lips together. “That didn’t end well. Meg tried to curse him twenty ways to Sunday, but nothing worked. She was furious. I think she still is.”

  I thought about our trip to the pottery place and wondered how much of that was part of his ruse. Was he trying to lure me in?

  “He seems so sweet,” I said, taking a careful sip of my latte. I had a habit of scalding my tongue in the human world and tried not to make the same mistake here.

  “He’s very convincing,” Sophie said. “How do you think he manages to attract so many intelligent females in Spellbound? They all know better, yet they’ve fallen for him anyway.”

  “And what about Demetrius?” I asked. “Is he a player, too?”

  Begonia sighed. “I’ll play any game he wants.”

  “What’s stoppi
ng you?” I asked. “It’s not like he’s going to meet anyone from out of town.”

  Begonia smiled. “Except you.”

  Sophie sucked the foam off the top of her latte. “Don’t let Begonia’s dreamy expression fool you. Her list of potential conquests in town is longer than Santa’s naughty list.”

  “And how many on the list have you checked off so far?” I asked.

  Begonia stared into her enormous mug. “None,” she mumbled.

  “None?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

  Begonia’s pretty features twisted in a grimace. “What if I make a bad choice? We can’t escape a lapse in judgment here. Everyone in town will know and live long enough to never let you forget.”

  Despite the anti-anxiety boost, I felt my own anxiety creeping up on me. “So if I screw up Mumford’s case, no one in town will let me forget it?” Ever?

  Sophie gave me a comforting pat on the hand. “Don’t worry, Emma. You’re going to do well. The only one who thinks Mumford is guilty is Sheriff Hugo and that’s only because he caught him with the diamond.”

  “Sheriff Hugo thinks we’re all guilty of horrible crimes that we simply haven’t committed yet,” Begonia complained. “He blames everyone equally for the curse.”

  “Even those of us who weren’t born when the curse happened,” Sophie added.

  “It’s a shame he can’t see past the curse,” I said. “I’ve met so many nice residents already.” My conversation with Myra came flooding back to me. “Do you know anything about my neighbors?”

  “The Minors?” Sophie asked, and I nodded.

  “Why do you want to know about them?” Begonia asked.

  “I need to talk to them about Gareth,” I said. “And people seem to think they’re bad news.”

  Begonia swirled the remaining liquid around in her mug. “Not bad news exactly. Just a thorn in the side of the community. The grandmother is a real pill.”

  “Don’t get on her bad side,” Sophie warned. “And if you go, bring your wand.”

  Was there anyone’s bad side it was safe to get on in Spellbound? Probably not.

  “I’m going to see them in the morning before I meet with Mumford. I call it ripping the Band-Aid. The thing I want to do least in the day is the thing I do first.”