Witch of Mintwood Mysteries 7-9

by Addison Creek

  “Since she’s a witch, I suppose that’s good,” I said.

  “Yes, as a witch and as a normal responsible person as well,” said Sicily.

  We started walking again, and we’d been following the trail in silence for a long time when Sicily said something surprising.

  “You aren’t what we expected, you know.”

  “What did you expect?” I asked.

  “Someone more headstrong and scattered. Like your grandmother,” she said.

  “I suppose I can’t argue with either of those, although they aren’t the first descriptors I’d use.”

  “You’re right,” said Sicily. “Your grandmother was also kind and smart and curious. She had a great belly laugh. Unfortunately, she often used it when other people were speaking.”

  “My grandmother didn’t tolerate fools gladly,” I said.

  “She didn’t tolerate fools at all,” Sicily corrected.

  “I’d like to think there’s some way I’m like her,” I said.

  “Well, like her, you do seem to want to defend Mintwood,” said the old woman. “Which is good,” she added.

  “Did you know her well?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” said Sicily, the wide brim of her hat bouncing gently up and down in front of me. “She did tend to skip meetings when she was expected to be there, but when she wasn’t expected to be there she usually showed up. Witches don’t often like each other, but if one ever needed help desperately, the others would step in. Also, as a coven we had decisions that we had to make together. It required a level of compromise that your grandmother was never that fond of, but she always participated when she had to.”

  “What is the process like?” I asked.

  “You don’t know?” Sicily sounded surprised.

  “No one told me,” I said. “My grandmother and I didn’t really talk about it. Harriet isn’t around and Meredith isn’t that talkative.”

  Sicily threw back her head and cackled at that. “Meredith takes everything too seriously. As for Harriet, where has she gotten off to this time?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  I didn’t tell Sicily that I’d sent word to Aunt Harriet that I needed her to come back because I needed someone I could trust. The truth was, I needed all the help I could get.

  “Harriet is a good witch, but she doesn’t want to be tied down. It’s a good thing she’s not in charge of a town,” said Sicily.

  “I think she’s happy,” I said. “It’s nice when she visits, though.”

  “I’m sure,” said Sicily. “As for our process as witches making decisions, it’s simple. We discuss things and then we take a vote. For lesser items Rosalie and I usually make the decisions, because the other witches don’t want to be bothered. If we had to get everybody together to make every decision, we might actually all be friends.”

  “Okay,” I said, cutting off the lecture. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” We’d seen no sign of Scarlett, and the longer we walked the more I realized how unlikely it was that we were going to find any trace of her in this forest.

  Sicily looked around and her shoulders slumped a bit. She was clearly very worried about her granddaughter, and she’d been willing to grasp at any straw in hopes of finding her. But we had walked for quite a while and I was starting to think we ought to leverage our time better than we had been doing so far.

  “This is where I found her scarf,” said Sicily, pointing just ahead of where we’d stopped.

  We walked to where she pointed, and she pulled the scarf out of her pocket and held it up. It was a plain, practical cotton scarf.

  “Was it on the ground around the tree?” I asked.

  “It was on the tree,” said Sicily.

  “That sounds more intentional,” I said.

  “Why?” Sicily wondered.

  “If you’d found it on the ground, she might just have dropped it and not noticed. But if it was draped on the branch of a tree, either it was pulled off her neck as she ran through the trees, or she put it there on purpose.”

  Sicily nodded as if that made sense.

  “Shall we go off the path now?” I asked.

  It looked as if Scarlett had, so in order to find her we were going to have to traverse some rougher terrain.

  Scarlett’s grandmother quirked her eyebrow at me. “If you can handle it.” Without waiting to see what I’d say, she left the trail and started walking through the woods.

  I followed quickly, grabbing on to the nearest tree for support.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked.

  “No, I didn’t think much about it when I found the scarf,” said Sicily. “I wouldn’t have thought to leave the path.”

  That was a little hard to believe given how active Scarlett sounded, but I decided not to say so. I was here now, and we were looking.

  “Should we perform a spell?” I asked.

  “If we find something else of hers, then yes, definitely,” said Sicily.

  I had never performed a spell with another witch before, except for Aunt Harriet. It was going to be very strange if I had to do it with Sicily. I felt as if I would immediately be judged and immediately found wanting.

  So, good feelings.

  “What’s that up there?” I asked.

  Up ahead I could see something lying on the ground. It was partially covered in leaves, but that wasn’t surprising given the wind on this hillside and the movement of animals through the forest. A few leaves could get turned over in any number of ways.

  “It’s a water bottle,” said Sicily, hurrying forward.

  She was old and she couldn’t move very fast, but she got to that bottle in a hurry.

  “It’s Scarlett’s!” she cried. The canteen was red and had stickers pasted all over it. “I gave it to her, in fact. She’s had it for years.”

  “Don’t touch it,” I said.

  “I know that,” snapped Sicily. “I’ve been doing this for far longer than you’ve been alive.”

  I blushed. I had just ordered a senior witch not to do something obvious. Then again, supposedly I was the detective, so why was she getting so touchy?

  “It’s time for a spell,” said Sicily, sounding determined. She looked left and right and added, “I’m not even sure we’re in Hazelwood anymore.”

  “I don’t think there’s anyone else around, though,” I said. We were in a deserted area off the trail, and it had been a long time since we’d seen any other hikers.

  Having come to a tacit agreement, we both took out our wands.

  At first I thought we were just going to stand over the canteen, but Sicily started making motions and grumbling for me to help her sit. I took her walking stick and leaned it against the nearest tree, and she sagged to the ground.

  She sat cross-legged and looked up at me. I leaned my staff next to hers and sat across from her, also cross-legged.

  “Can you tell anything from the placement of the water bottle?” Sicily asked.

  I frowned and looked at it more carefully. “It’s in a bit of mud,” I said.

  Instead of telling me that was an idiot thing to say, Sicily got the connection.

  “When was the last time it rained?” I asked.

  Sicily frowned and appeared to think about it. “The morning she went out hiking,” she said. “That means it’s been here since the day she went missing.”

  We both looked further off into the woods, as if Scarlett would just be standing there ready to come back home.

  But we were back in denser cover, and I couldn’t see anything beyond the few trees in front of us. What I really wanted to say was that the water bottle had likely been dropped intentionally and had lain there ever since. Also, the fact that it was undisturbed suggested that Scarlett probably hadn’t come back this way.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” I felt the need to say to Sicily.

  “Of course she is,” Sicily sniffed. But she didn’t look so sure. “Okay, now for performing spells with the ne
w witch. What do you know of recall spells?”

  “I’ve tried a couple, but they haven’t gone back very far,” I said.

  “So if you were to do this on your own, you might not be able to reach back far enough?”

  I hated to admit it, but I nodded.

  “There’s no shame in being young,” she said. It was the first really nice and encouraging thing she’d said to me, and I appreciated it.

  “What do we do?” I asked her.

  “Watch me,” she said. “When I get to the outer reach of my powers you’ll know. That’s when you jump in.”

  The other witch closed her eyes and hovered her wand over the water bottle. This was the first time I had gotten a good look at her wand, and now I could see how beautiful it was. Mine was covered in colorful stones, while hers were all one color: purple. They formed tiny star patterns all over her wand.

  I was mesmerized by the color. The sparkling magic coming from her wand was a mix of green and purple as she slowly waved it in a circle over the canteen. I could hear her muttering under her breath.

  My spells always took a few breaths to work, and I was never sure they would until they did. Usually, I was working blind. Paws thought I should practice more, but I was doing all I could in the midst of a busy life.

  Sicily had no such problem. Her spell appeared instantly, and in the green and purple sparkles I saw the memory forming. Leaves blew backwards and light changed. People walked past, and so did all kinds of animals. “This path was taken by a girl a couple of days ago. This is her water bottle. Show me.” Sicily seemed to be talking to herself.

  I had never talked to my spells so directly before. Then again, they had never worked as well as this, so maybe I should start.

  Sicily’s spell sped up. The sparkles moved faster and the scene changed more rapidly.

  After a while I realized I was holding my breath. Releasing it in a gasp, I glanced at Sicily. Her eyes were still closed and her mouth was open slightly as she concentrated on her task.

  Suddenly the sparkles started to slow, even as the line moved faster. A frown puckered Sicily’s brow. For a split second I didn’t do anything, then I realized it was my time to jump in.

  Holding my wand above the other end of the water bottle, I started waving it in the same circular motion that Sicily was using.

  My magic was all green, but it mixed quickly and smoothly with Sicily’s. Hers was more sparkly and brighter, and I tried not to be jealous. She was old enough to be my grandmother, after all, and had a lifetime of experience behind her.

  Just then I saw the water bottle fall, landing with a slap in the mud. Then the image froze. I heard Sicily make a disgruntled noise as she tried to get the magic to go further, hoping it would show us just one more thing.

  I closed my eyes and thought of nothing but the spell. The wind in my hair, the circular motion of the wands, Scarlett missing, lost and maybe afraid. All these thoughts and sensations poured into my magic. The next thing I knew I could open my eyes, and there I saw Scarlett walking away.

  No, she wasn’t walking. She was running.

  But toward something or away from something else, I couldn’t be sure.

  Chapter Seven

  Sicily wanted to get going, but she was so drained by the spell that she couldn’t stand steadily right away. As we waited for her to regain her strength, I told her we could come back later, and she agreed.

  A little later, as we walked back down the trail toward our cars, I promised to bring my friends Charlie and Greer to help with the investigation. To my surprise Sicily agreed to that as well, but she also snorted. I asked her why she was so dismissive of my friends.

  “You’re not supposed to let human friends know about you,” she said.

  “Ah, I wondered when that would come up,” I said.

  “You told them you were a witch,” she said. “I hear they can even see ghosts now.”

  She gave me a searching look, as if to determine whether something so ridiculous was actually true.

  I considered not answering, but then asked myself what would be the point. “As a matter of fact, they can,” I said. “My grandmother left a collection of jewelry that allows it.”

  Sicily’s eyes flared, but she didn’t say anything more. This was the first time it had occurred to me to wonder why grandmother had so much jewelry designed to allow people who weren’t witches to see ghosts.

  “Your grandmother was a lovely woman and she died young,” said Sicily. “Shame.”

  My throat tightened. I had long suspected that my grandmother hadn’t died an entirely natural death, mostly because I had barely ever seen her ghost and she had been, as Sicily said, young when she died.

  “What did your grandmother’s ghost have to say, anyway?” Sicily asked.

  “I never saw her,” I said. “At least not right after she died, and only briefly much later.”

  Sicily gave me a shocked look and started muttering under her breath. “That’s very shocking indeed, shocking shocking shocking.” The old woman shook her head.

  “I thought it was strange as well. In fact, I had wanted to ask the other witches about it,” I said, “but there didn’t seem to be a good opportunity.”

  I didn’t say it to Sicily, but Harriet hadn’t been much help.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” said Sicily. “I suppose it could happen, but it implies . . .” She stopped there.

  “What does it imply?” I asked.

  Unfortunately for me, she refused to answer. We had reached the cars, and she said she really had to go. “I’m sure your grandmother died a natural death and is at peace now,” she said, although she didn’t look like she believed it.

  “And what about me bringing my friends here?” I asked.

  Sicily gave me another one of those smiles. “I think that’s fine. I hear Charlie is the brains of the operation anyway. Great articles in the Gazette.”

  I nearly laughed. Charlie had gotten credit for solving a lot of our cases recently. As the important reporter, she was expected to do a certain amount of investigating, and even to be good at it.

  “My granddaughter needs to be found. I don’t care if humans are the ones to do it or not.”

  With that the witch closed her car door with a snap and threw her old cane in the back along with the coffee cups and other clutter. Instead of driving off right away, she spent several minutes rummaging around in her car. Eventually she came up looking as triumphant as a cat who’d snuck onto a cream-filled counter. Through the windshield I could see her holding something: a pair of glasses.

  I stayed and watched until she finally sped away. I wanted to go right back into the forest and keep looking on my own, but I was too tired. It was time to head back to Mintwood.

  Greer had texted me to ask that I come by the bar pronto, and my phone had actually delivered the message. Apparently texts traveled freely in Hazelwood, which made it a tempting place to come back to all aside from finding missing young witches.

  Chapter Eight

  Greer’s truck was out front when I got to the bar. When I pulled the door open and went in, the interior was as dim as usual; daylight barely penetrated the grimy windows. I had to blink furiously until my eyes adjusted.

  When they did, what I saw was Greer behind the bar with the strangest look on her face.

  Then I saw who was sitting at the bar.

  The ghost, a woman in her sixties, turned around to see who had opened the door.

  “Another one who can see me?” she said.

  My eyebrows shot skyward.

  “Greer?” I said.

  “Don’t ask me. You’re the expert. I just pour the booze,” said Greer.

  “You can both see me?” the ghost tried again. She was sitting at the bar for all the world as if she wanted to order a drink.

  I swallowed hard and let the door clang shut behind me. I had found the library ghost.

  “Did you come here looking for me?” I a
sked. It was strange, given that she hadn’t done that in the year that had passed since she’d died, but I couldn’t worry about her ghostly history right now.

  “No, I came here looking for alcohol. I figured a bar was a safe bet,” she said.

  Vaguely, I wondered how she could have gotten to the bar in the first place; it wasn’t at all close to where her body had lain. But once again I told myself that Isabel’s wanderings in the past year were the least of my problems.

  I went over to the bar, introduced myself, and explained who I was and who Greer was. Isabel Gray was amazed.

  “I died last summer, didn’t I?” she asked.

  There wasn’t much I could say other than yes. “The investigation has only just begun. Is there anything you can tell us?”

  The ghost thought for a moment. Then she said, “My family was visiting. Bloody awful people. You know how it is. Two in the eye and one in the gut or something like that.”

  She snorted, and Greer and I exchanged glances.

  “I wish I could have one more of those drinks you’re making. Worst thing so far about being dead is that I can’t consume the good stuff. Although I suppose since I escaped that lot I won’t be driven to drink so much anymore anyway. Madness and destruction.”

  Clearly Isabel had more immediate concerns than her death last summer.

  The ghost woman sat on a bar stool as Greer looked on helplessly. She spilled over either side as she leaned on the counter, but she looked for all the world just as comfortable as she could be.

  “I found her here when I came to open up,” said Greer from behind the counter. My bartender friend was washing glasses and preparing them for the evening. “I was shocked.”

  “We both were,” said the woman. “I just came here for some peace and quiet! Didn’t think anyone would actually see me. I knew this town was strange, but it gets stranger by the minute.”

  “It doesn’t appear that your death was natural,” I said carefully.

  “Well of course not. I was healthy as an ox.” Isabel peered into an empty glass.

  I was glad that hadn’t come as a shock to her either.

  “Do you have any idea how many suspects we should be looking for in relation to your death?” I asked.