“Times are changing. Dark magic draws closer. You know we’ve seen more dark ghosts in the past couple of weeks than we have in many years,” Josephine said. But she was cut off by a hissing noise from Meredith.
“Later,” said the witch who had brought me into this situation.
Josephine’s bright eyes flicked to me and she nodded. “You’re right. Don’t want to scare the newbie. Yet.” She grinned at me.
At her feet was a ghost cat at whom Paws was gazing, and not in a happy way. The animal was sleek and gorgeous. He didn’t remind me of Honolulu, who was graceful, but more of a racehorse ready to run. His silver eyes dismissed us and returned to watching his mistress.
I made for the darkest corner of the stone circle, relieved that I could sit out of the limelight. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The other witches started to stream out of the Cauldron Shop, all wearing capes of varying colors. Some were covered in decorative glitter while others projected a more laid-back approach.
The witches gathered around. Meredith Munn had moved away from me to stand with several others, while Josephine continued to sit alone in front of her cauldron with a bemused look on her face. From one of the other small shops the back door opened and three older witches came out.
I gave a start.
I recognized one of the three, the last to come out, as Dame Esmerelda Geraldine, whom I’d met at the Iriswood Country Club summer gathering. She hadn’t introduced herself as a witch, but after the fact I had discovered how powerful and important she was. The sky had actually changed color at her arrival in Iriswood; her presence was felt all over Maine.
All three of the older witches wore shiny black capes. The one in front carried an old leatherbound book and wore white under her cape.
My breath caught. This was the White Witch: the ruler of the witches, the boss, the real deal.
If only my grandmother were here to guide me.
As the three witches came to a halt in the middle of the circle, I found myself trying to melt into the tree next to me. Why didn’t my grandmother have a camouflage cape when I needed one?
Light was provided by several fires in beautiful grates and by all the twinkle lights strung up around the buildings and the trees. The whole thing had the feel of a back yard wedding or something equally cute and summery.
There had to be something in that, right?
The old woman holding the book came to a halt with her back to the lake. She gazed around the gathering and gave a toothy grin. “It’s good to see so many of you coming out in the summer.”
“Greetings, Madame Rosalie,” said a chorus of voices.
The old witch smiled in acknowledgment. Then she plopped the large volume she held in her hands down in front of her, opened it, and began to read the words carefully. Before she’d gotten through a sentence she interrupted herself and said, “My apologies, I forgot that we have a guest.”
For a horrible second I thought she meant me. Instead, she indicated Dame Geraldine.
“She’s come a long way to be with us tonight,” said Rosalie. She paused again, then said, in a completely different tone, “Now, down to business. Since this is the first meeting of our summer gathering, we have a lot to discuss. Let’s try to stay on track tonight, shall we? There’s no need to have another argument about giving coyotes manicures.” She glared at one witch in particular.
“I thought they might appreciate it,” said the witch defensively. She was pretty and well put together, with huge blond hair and lots of makeup. People like her always made me feel as if I might as well put a bag over my head and go out of the house that way. Since it was too late for that, I brushed my cape over my old shoes that didn’t match my outfit.
“They’re animals,” Madame Rosalie rasped. “If they want their nails done they can invent nail polish for themselves. I don’t want to hear any more about it. Now, the first thing we have to discuss . . .”
Interrupted again, this time by someone clearing her throat, she looked up with watery eyes and glared at Miss Munn.
Now it was time for me to be horrified.
Meredith Munn was pointing at me and trying to get Madame Rosalie to see me.
The old witch looked sideways at me. Her toothy grin reappeared, even wider this time.
My heart sank. She had seen me.
“I’ll thank you to remember, Meredith, that I am in charge here. I would not have forgotten our newest member.”
Her words seemed to give the other witches permission to stare at me, and once again twenty-odd pairs of eyes turned my way. I wished I could just yell at them to say something and stop staring.
“Who might you be?” the old witch asked me.
“She knows who you are,” muttered Paws darkly at my feet.
“Quiet, cat ghost,” said Madame Rosalie.
For what I was sure was the first time in Paws’ life as a ghost, he obeyed. His jaws closed with a snap. Everyone else waited. The little clearing was quiet except for the crackling of the fire.
“I’m the Witch of Mintwood,” I said.
“Evenlyn’s granddaughter. She had no use for these gatherings, unless she wanted something. Glad to see you’re improving on her behavior,” Rosalie said.
My mouth opened to say something argumentative, but I quickly closed it.
“You summoned me,” I pointed out.
“Everyone gets summoned,” Madame Rosalie waved that off. “Of course, not everyone flouts witching law, solves murders, has roommates, dates a witch hunter . . .”
At the last bit a loud gasp went up around the gathering. Now not only were the witches looking at me, but they were glaring.
“Want me to pee on Meredith Munn’s feet?” Paws offered.
“Can you still pee?” I said.
“Details,” said the cat.
“Who I date is none of your business,” I said hotly.
Madame Rosalie held my gaze, her old watery eyes not leaving my face for the longest time, her thin lips pressed into a small line.
We stared at each other. Something told me not to back down.
“You’re right. But if you continue to choose such unsuitable partners, there may come a time when it is everyone’s business,” said Madame Rosalie at last. A pair of bright brown eyes shot through me.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said.
Madame Rosalie didn’t respond. To her left, Dame Geraldine looked amused.
“Do you have such upstarts in your coven?” Madame Rosalie asked the guest.
“You have no idea, although the grandson of a powerful witch hunter is a bit of a new one,” said the Dame.
“Moving on,” said Rosalie. “We have three other matters to discuss. I’m afraid, Lemonia, that despite your best efforts to melt into the tree, two of them concern you.”
“Can we deal with the other matter first?” Josephine asked.
I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to give me a minute to catch my breath, but I was grateful either way.
“The latest Witch’s Brew should be ready in a couple of weeks. I would like everyone to come back that evening and assist in the bottling. We can also do some common spell practice,” said Madame Rosalie.
“What is this? Are you trying to make us all friends or something awful like that?” complained one of the witches.
“Who would want to be friends with you?” Josephine demanded.
“Quiet, you,” said another witch.
Soon the meeting had devolved into bickering, but Madame Rosalie didn’t appear to care. She simply set about picking something out of the few teeth she had left while she waited for the chatter to die down.
Eventually, I got tired of listening to it.
“Excuse me?” I said.
No one paid any attention.
“Excuse me?” I tried again.
“They aren’t going to listen,” said Paws.
“Doesn’t look like it,” I agreed.
“You h
ave to raise your voice,” said Josephine. After starting the fight, she had lapsed back into silence to enjoy her handiwork.
“Excuse me!” I yelled.
This time the witches stopped to listen. Even Rosalie looked startled.
“Don’t we have other matters to discuss?” I asked.
“Who invited her, anyway?” muttered a witch.
“Someone who was tired of listening to you,” another witch responded.
“Yes, there are two other matters. Scarlett, and the dark ghosts,” said Madame Rosalie.
At this, the third witch standing with Rosalie and Esmerelda sniffed and wiped a tear from her eyes.
“Would you like to explain?” Rosalie asked the woman.
She nodded, but she didn’t look at all eager. After a few moments that she spent collecting herself, she started to talk.
“My granddaughter Scarlett went missing, as almost all of you know,” she said with a barely perceptible acknowledgment that I had no clue. “She was just made the Witch of Hazelwood this past month. We know very little so far, except that one of her ghosts says she went out into the woods and that’s the last anyone saw of her. She’s so young!” The older woman blew her nose again.
“It’ll be okay, Sicily,” said Dame Geraldine. “Things like this happen. The witch rarely comes to harm.”
“Ellie could have gotten her,” Sicily said, sounding very upset.
Dame Geraldine repeated that it would be okay.
“We haven’t been able to find her,” said Rosalie carefully. “Spells aren’t working, and simply searching the woods isn’t either.”
Dame Geraldine bit her lower lip. “Have you all searched?”
“Yes, we went out last night,” said Sicily. “To no avail.”
“Which was why we added this agenda item, so we could speak to Miss Hubb about it.”
“What?” I said. “What does it have to do with me?”
“Aren’t you a detective?” asked one of the witches. Now her eyes were bright and she was downright curious.
“Um, no?” I said. Was I?
The witch’s shoulders slumped a little in disappointment, but the rest of them didn’t look deterred.
“We thought you were. Haven’t you solved a number of cases?” asked Madame Rosalie. The light dawned at last: this was why I had been called here, and called early.
“As a witch I’ve run into certain ghosts who needed my help,” I frowned around the clearing.
“Don’t be modest. There’s been murder galore in Mintwood,” said Meredith Munn.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I muttered.
“Then you’d be wrong,” said Paws out of the side of his mouth. Then he caught the eye of Madame Rosalie and clammed up again.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, but I had a feeling I already knew.
“We want you to find Scarlett,” said Madame Rosalie. “We need your help. Usually we wouldn’t ask such an inexperienced witch, but in this we believe you really might be more capable than the rest of us. Dame Geraldine said your work at the Iriswood Country Club was inspired.”
She sounded like she was talking more about painting than spells and mysteries.
I looked around helplessly until the Dame caught my eye. “You can’t really stand by while a witch is missing, can you?” she asked.
I shook my head. Of course I couldn’t. But what was I getting myself into?
Had Scarlett wondered the same thing before she’d gone into the woods alone?
“Very good,” said Sicily, suddenly all business and a little less sad. “If you could come by tomorrow, I’ll brief you on the situation.”
“Sure,” I said weakly. “And what was the other matter? Did you want me to buy land? Start a restaurant? Enter a boating competition?”
All the witches stared at me blankly.
Then Josephine fell backwards, her laugh pealing out of her.
“That was a joke,” she cooed.
“I don’t see the funny side,” said Madame Rosalie.
“All too true,” said Josephine, sobering.
“We also have to discuss the dark witches,” said Miss Munn, pretending to check her watch and glaring at me again as if I’d done something wrong.
This brought everyone’s attention back, and no one looked happy about it.
“Yes, they are a problem,” agreed the pretty blond witch, who stopped staring at her bright red nails long enough to say it.
“What do you intend to do about it?” Meredith Munn asked Madame Rosalie.
“We are working on a solution,” said Rosalie.
“You said that last time. All that’s happened since then is that Ellie has amassed more dark ghosts,” said Meredith.
“Not to mention Puddlewood,” I said, before I could stop myself. Paws’ flinching at my feet was the first big clue that I’d made a mistake.
“Puddlewood?” Dame Geraldine asked, her voice dangerously low.
“Where did you hear that?” Sicily demanded. Her voice wasn’t low, but I wished it had been.
“It’s a made-up town, is my understanding,” I said.
“That helped explain everything,” said Paws.
All the witches were still looking at me as if I had just introduced a T. Rex into the gathering and it was smashing cauldrons as I spoke. The image almost made me smile, but Dame Geraldine must have noticed a twitch in my face, because her eyes narrowed.
“Not exactly a made-up town,” said Madame Rosalie. Her old hands rested lightly on the large book in front of her as she looked out at the other witches. The rest of the gathering fell silent.
In light of everything that had happened to me, you would think I’d stop being surprised, but I was finding it just the opposite. The more I learned about the witchy world the more shocked I was.
“It’s a spelled landscape that could turn into a town if the right witch came along,” explained Dame Geraldine.
“Meaning what?” I asked.
“Meaning that if Ellie is saying she’s the Dark Witch of Puddlewood, all of this just got a lot more complicated.”
“The Dark Witch of Nonsenseville would be more accurate,” Paws breathed.
“I just don’t understand why,” I said.
“She’s gathering dark ghosts, is that correct?” Meredith ignored my question to ask one of her own.
I nodded.
“That’s what you have to deal with. She’ll have no power and no reason to need Puddlewood if we can just get back some of the dang ghosts,” Meredith said.
“She has a point,” said Sicily. “Ellie isn’t much of a worry on her own. If she takes over Mintwood, then we’d have a problem, but this young lady here seems like she can handle it . . .” She trailed off suddenly as if she was not at all sure what, if anything, I could in fact handle.
“I totally agree with the old one,” said Paws, indicating Rosalie.
“Don’t be rude,” I muttered to him.
“You’re right, I totally agree with that old one,” and he indicated Sicily instead.
“You’ll just have to take it one step at a time. There’s nothing we can do about it right now,” said Josephine. There was an edge to her voice, something more that she wasn’t saying. I wondered if she had wanted to take care of the Ellie problem before now but had been told it wasn’t an option.
But I knew she was right.
We were here now, and Ellie had the power she had.
There was no going back, we could only go forward.
I only hoped we wouldn’t get scalded.
“So, you all will help me with Ellie, and Betty, and Puddlewood, and all of that?” I asked.
“Pleading is so unattractive,” said Paws.
With all the witches looking at me, and none very kindly, I was getting progressively more nervous. Yet again on this witchy evening I had missed a crucial point. What this one had been was no more obvious to me than the last.
I shifted uncomfortab
ly as the younger witches waited for the honored three to say something.
Finally, Madame Rosalie spoke. “Witches are not in the habit of helping each other.”
My mouth fell open.
“But you just said that if Ellie takes over Mintwood it’ll be everyone’s problem,” I sputtered.
“Yes, but she hasn’t done that yet,” explained Rosalie comfortably.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“How am I supposed to know how to take on a dark witch with forty years of experience?” I cried.
“Don’t get hot under the collar,” Paws yawned.
“Why not?” I snapped at him.
“Then you’ll have a hot neck,” he said simply.
“We’ll help you,” said Sicily. And I couldn’t help noticing the looks of surprise on some of the other witches’ faces. “On one condition. You have to find Scarlett first.”
After the finer points of the meeting were agreed upon, like it was going to be their way or the highway, many of the witches returned to their chattering and their goblets. I now had an assignment—find Scarlett, the Witch of Hazelwood—but it was getting late in the evening. Or early in the morning. Either way it felt past time that I was in bed and Paws safely back at the farmhouse annoying the mice.
Before I left I tried to find Sicily to clarify exactly what magic she thought I was going to perform. Accomplishing the impossible never felt more possible than when I had a wand up my sleeve, but even this sounded far-fetched.
I wove my way through the sea of unfriendly witches.
“So, you’re Evenlyn’s granddaughter? I’m not surprised. She was headstrong and so are you,” Sicily said, looking me up and down when I reached her at last. She was sitting on one of the nicely decorated rocks, enjoying some of the bright red liquid out of a goblet.
“You knew her well?” I asked.
“Course I did. The coven is loose and we mainly keep to ourselves, but when you’re a witch alongside someone for . . . gosh nearly fifty years, you still get to know them. She was a battle-axe, your grandmother. It’s a shame she died.”
Something I had been suppressing for a while welled up inside me, the part of me that didn’t believe Evenlyn’s death had been an accident. Except for one brief sighting, I hadn’t seen her ghost, and that was very strange. Besides, as this old witch pointed out, my grandmother was still a battle-axe even though she had passed away. Axes get dull long before they disappear.
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