A Drop of Witch (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch

by Zoe Arden

  “You realize I can see you, right? I know you’re following me.”

  “Of course.”

  He smiled and started walking. I stood there a moment before following him since he was going the direction I wanted anyway.

  “I’m still mad at you, you know,” I told him.

  “I know.”

  “Did you talk to Dean Lampton?”

  Colt sighed. “Yes. First thing this morning.”

  “And?”

  “He wants to stick to the same protocol as before.”

  “I figured that. Dean Lampton’s an idiot.”

  The corners of Colt’s mouth twitched up. We walked on in silence for several minutes, until he started whistling.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Whistling.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a nice day out.”

  I looked up at the sky. “It’s gray and probably gonna rain again later.”

  “It’s all a matter of perspective. To you, it’s cloudy and dull. To me, it’s warm and the rain is bringing life to thousands of plants that inhabit this island.”

  “True...” I said, sensing a trick.

  “Just like from your perspective, I’m irritating, annoying, and frustrating.”

  “True again,” I agreed. “I like this game. How about we add selfish, crazy, and weird?”

  “Is weird such a bad thing?” he asked. “How many people on this island think it’s weird for a witch to be raised as a human?”

  I bit my bottom lip. He had a point. Most people on this island thought me and my family were a little weird. That didn’t stop them from buying our pastries. Though it did garner the odd look from time to time.

  “From my perspective, Ms. Fortune, I’m keeping you safe. I’m doing my job. I’m making sure that no one else in Sweetland Cove gets killed.” He hesitated before continuing, “I may have had to omit certain things to accomplish my goals, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Just a bad friend.”

  He cast a sideways glance at me as we approached the doors to Coffee Cove.

  “If I’ve hurt you, I’m truly sorry,” he said, offering me his hand. I searched his eyes for sincerity and found it in abundance. “Everyone makes a mistake.”

  Mistake.

  The word hung over my head like a noose. I’d made a giant mistake this morning with Damon. Even with the best of intentions, people could still mess up. Slowly, I reached out and shook Detective Hudson’s hand. It felt warm and inviting, just like his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I told him. “For some of the names I called you.”

  “Did you call me names?” he asked.

  “I might have flung a name or two out there in my bedroom last night.”

  “Well, Ms. Fortune, I’m sure I deserved it.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. And by the way, it’s Ava.”

  “Ava...” he said, my name lingering on his tongue like fine wine. I realized we were still shaking hands.

  I let his go and tried not to blush.

  I pulled open the door to Coffee Cove. “Are you coming in with me?”

  “More coffee?” he asked.

  “More questions.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

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  C offee Cove was packed. A separate counter had been set up for The Mystic Bakery, with a makeshift sign overhead announcing its presence. My father stood at the register, ringing up purchases. A stack of lucky cakes hovered nearby. He waved when he saw me.

  “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Eleanor looked up at the sound of my voice. “Oh, thank the witches. You came to help.”

  “Err, well, not exactly,” I told her. “I just had a few questions.”

  Trixie and Melbourne came out from the back, each carrying a fresh stack of muffins and cookies. “We should have done this long ago,” Melbourne told Trixie, who was looking at him like he was the most handsome man in the world. “Business is better than ever.”

  “Glad we could help,” Trixie said, batting her lashes. I wondered if she was even aware of how she behaved around him. Like a schoolgirl with a crush.

  “Trixie,” Eleanor said when she saw her sister. “Tell Ava she has to help.”

  “Of course, you do. You’re our only niece. That’s what you’re here for.”

  “There are some aprons over there,” Eleanor said, nodding to her left. “Come on. Get busy.” She was getting impatient. “You can ask your questions while you bake.”

  I decided she was right. There was no way I could leave them and my father in a bind like this. Not when the line for our pastries was almost to the door. I pulled the apron on and was shocked to see Colt—I mean Detective Hudson—pull one on, too.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I figured if I have to stay with you, I might as well make myself useful. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  Eleanor’s and Trixie’s eyes bugged out of their heads. I knew what they were thinking—Detective Hudson had never struck any of us as the “helpful” type. Bossy? Yes. Severe? Sure. But helpful? This was a new side of him.

  “Grab some more of the hazelnut softness cupcakes from in back,” my father barked.

  “Sure thing.” Detective Hudson said and disappeared in back.

  “Ava, go make some extracts,” Eleanor ordered, regaining her composure. She ran into the back, and I followed her.

  “Okay, first though, I need to ask you something.”

  “Fine, but make it quick.” She grabbed some flour and tossed it into a bowl.

  “Polly’s found a way to get her powers back.”

  Eleanor stopped stirring her brownie mix and looked at me.

  “You’re joking.”

  I shook my head.

  “Apparently, she’s found some sort of ancient ritual. One that involves... stealing my soul.”

  There was a loud gasp behind me, and I turned to see Trixie and Melbourne staring at me like they’d seen a ghost.

  “Did you say... your soul?” Trixie asked.

  “She did,” Colt said, coming out of nowhere and startling me. “I’m afraid it’s true.”

  “So, my question is this. Do you know any ancient rituals that could do something like that?” I asked.

  Eleanor shook her head. “Impossible. A ritual like that would have to go back a thousand years.” Her eyes flicked questioningly to Melbourne, who looked pale even for a vampire.

  “I don’t know anything about it,” he said, but his voice faltered.

  Trixie put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Mel, if you know something that could help...”

  He stared at the floor before finally lifting his eyes. “It’s an old ritual. Even older than I am. Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor fought against it for years while they were alive.”

  “Sara Sweetland?” I asked, my ears perking up. “You mean the ritual is over twelve hundred years old?”

  Melbourne nodded. “I’m not sure how much further back it goes, but at least that far.”

  “How are the victims chosen?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to discuss this,” Melbourne said, casting a wary glance at Trixie.

  “Of course, this isn’t really the appropriate place,” I said. “Maybe later after you close—”

  “You misunderstand. I don’t want to discuss this at all. Ever.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I mean, you didn’t take part in the ritual yourself... did you?”

  “No, but... it was a very emotional time in my life.”

  Trixie tried once more to placate him. “Mel, please. It might help.”

  “I said no.”

  He turned toward her, baring his teeth.

  Trixie recoiled from him, and the tension in the ro
om tripled.

  “I apologize for that,” Melbourne said, a look of horror on his face. “I would never... I haven’t... you don’t understand. The ritual you’re speaking of... I was going through an adjustment period. You can see how just talking about it this much upsets me. I must beg you never to bring it up to me again.”

  He turned and left the room, leaving us all shaken.

  “He was never going to hurt anyone,” Detective Hudson said. We all looked at him. “You can tell by the way his fangs were bared. If he really meant business, they’d have been much longer and grotesque. That was more of a fear-based bare.”

  “Fear based?” I asked. What did Melbourne have to be afraid of?

  Trixie nodded and smiled at Detective Hudson. I could tell she wanted to believe him.

  My father poked his head in back. “Where are those cupcakes?” he demanded. “We’ve got hungry people out here with a serious sweet tooth.”

  By the time Coffee Cove closed for the evening, we’d sold over two hundred lucky cakes, one thousand chocolate cream cookies, and eight hundred cupcakes ranging from vanilla highballs to chocolate creamsicle devotion. We were exhausted.

  “Thanks for helping,” I told Detective Hudson as we walked home together.

  “It was sort of fun,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “I liked having something to focus on other than murder.”

  I nodded. “Sugar has a way of mellowing a person out. If it’s got the right kind of mood extract, that is.”

  The rain was already falling by the time we got back. Eleanor, Trixie, and my father were just behind us.

  “Where’s your car?” I asked.

  “Other side of the block. I better go get it. I think I might’ve left a window open.”

  I wavered beside the door. “Sleep well,” I told him.

  “I can’t sleep. I have to keep an eye out.”

  “Sure. Of course. Well, at least stay dry.”

  He nodded. “See you in the morning, Ava. Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  I closed the door behind me and went to change for bed. The thunder was booming loudly by the time I crawled under my covers. I lay awake, staring at my window. A half hour later, a clap of thunder rang across the sky so loudly that it shook the house. I got out of bed and looked outside. I could barely make out Detective Hudson’s car in the darkness, but then a bolt of lightning shot out and lit the street up. I saw him plainly in the driver’s seat, watching our house. He looked cold. And alone.

  I hurried downstairs and slipped on my shoes, pulling a raincoat tightly around me as I opened the door. I ran across the street. Detective Hudson was already getting out of his car.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “Come inside,” I told him. “You shouldn’t be out here on a night like this.” The rain sprayed his face, but it didn’t hide his surprise. “Hurry up. I’m already getting soaked.”

  He smiled and grabbed a bag from his car, following me back to the house. I closed the door behind him and went to the closet.

  “Here’s some blankets. You can use the bathroom if you want. There’s one down the hall and one upstairs. Feel free to take a shower or get something to eat.”

  “Ava.”

  I turned to look at him. He was watching me with a tender smile on his face.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  I smiled back at him.

  “Goodnight... Colt. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

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  I checked Damon’s text message for the hundredth time.

  LUNCH WITH MY MOM. NOON. GOLDEN GOOSE. P.S. I’M STILL MAD.

  I told Colt I was meeting Damon for lunch and for once he didn’t say anything. He was too busy setting up our living room with security cameras and all kinds of magical COMHA devices I’d never heard of. Apparently, he’d already set up a lot of this stuff outside our house, but now that he had the chance to put it inside, too, he wasn’t going to waste it.

  The only thing I had failed to mention to Colt was that I was meeting Damon clear on the other side of the island. Heavenly Haven wasn’t big, but it was big enough that I knew Colt would never approve. He’d thought I was going to Coffee Cove, and I’d just let him continue thinking that. I figured that if I was on a need-to-know basis, he should be as well.

  On the drive over, I kept turning over what Melbourne had said the other day. Ancient rituals... murder... sacrifice... All dating back to the time of Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor. How did they tie into all of this? And if the ritual was as old as Melbourne seemed to think it was, then how in the witching world had Polly Peacock learned about it? Especially since she’d been stuck inside Wormwood. It didn’t make sense.

  I turned onto the restaurant’s drive and spotted Damon’s car already in the parking lot. Warthogs! Why could I never be early for my dates with Damon? I hoped he and his mother hadn’t been waiting long.

  The Golden Goose was an upscale restaurant so delicious it was actually considered neutral territory in the feud between Sweetland and Mistmoor. Felicity Redfern’s brother, Grayson, owned and managed it. It was his pride and joy. I was pretty sure he relished in knowing that his restaurant—and his alone—had the pleasure of hosting Mayor Singer’s New Year’s Eve party. It had been the logical choice when the mayor was making his plans. The Golden Goose was the only place that all his guests would be able to fit into, and even then, they’d still have to use an expansion charm.

  “Hello,” Grayson greeted me when I stepped inside. Grayson was twenty-six and tall, though not quite as tall as Colt. He generated an easy, amiable manner with whomever he came into contact with.

  “Nice to see you again, Ava,” he said, shaking my hand. “Damon and his mother arrived a few minutes ago. I’ve set them up at one of our best tables.” He winked at me. “Follow me.”

  My heart thumped as I followed Grayson. I was dying to see what Damon’s mom looked like. Was her hair dark like his? Did she give off the same rock star vibe? We rounded a corner and I saw Damon sitting with a woman who, had I not known who I was meeting, I would have sworn was much too young to be his mom.

  Damon was twenty-seven. This woman looked as though she was no older than forty, if that. And she’s human. No anti-aging spells for her, though I’ve heard those give mixed results anyway.

  “Ava,” Damon said, rising from his seat. His mother turned her eyes to me, and I saw the same startling blue that had always fascinated me about Damon’s eyes.

  “Hi,” I said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Hmmph,” his mother said, still sitting.

  I bit my bottom lip. Damon shot his mom a look. “You’re not late,” he told me. “You’re right on time. We were a little early.”

  Even though Damon had said he was still mad at me, he’d apparently decided to take up my defense against his mom. I shot him a grateful look and fought the worry creeping into the back of my head. His mom was looking at me like I was an assassin instead of her son’s girlfriend.

  “Mom, this is Ava. Ava, this is my mom, Renee.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tellinger,” I said, extending my hand. She looked at it like I’d offered her a dirty diaper. She reached out two fingers and shook it as quickly as possible, then wiped her hand on a napkin. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice. Damon did the same.

  “Um, I’m glad you could make it,” I said. “Did you have a nice trip out?”

  Renee sipped from her water glass, ignoring my question.

  Damon’s brow creased.

  “Her trip was fine,” he said.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” I picked up a menu, using it as a shield to protect me from the death stares Renee Tellinger kept sending my way.

  Our waitress came by a minute later to take our
order. “Hi, I’m Kayla. I’ll be your server today.”

  I recognized Kayla Singer right away, even though I didn’t know her well. She was the daughter of Mayor Singer and his wife, Tazzie. The gossip train was long enough to reach from Mistmoor to Sweetland, and it had informed me that she was dating Grayson Redfern. They had been hot and heavy for several months. Damon and I had been on again off again for a few months. I had to admit, I was a little jealous of Kayla and Grayson.

  “I’ll have a tonic and gin,” Renee said. “Hold the tonic.”

  Damon and I ordered sodas. Kayla went to grab our drinks and took our menus, leaving me vulnerable to Renee’s continued looks.

  “So,” I said, trying again to make conversation despite the death stare Renee was currently giving me. “Are you planning on going to Mayor Singer’s New Year’s Eve party while you’re here?”

  She said nothing, and I felt Damon kick her leg under the table. She gave him a look before turning to me.

  “No,” she said, then picked up a bread roll and began eating it.

  When our meals finally arrived, I was relieved. It gave us something to do. Despite my attempts at conversation, Renee clearly had no qualms about sitting in silence. Complete and total silence. At least now we’d have an excuse not to talk. Damon and I had spent the entirety of our wait time discussing the weather with each other. Renee hadn’t even chimed in on that.

  My food was delicious, but I had to force it down my throat. I’d ordered manicotti alfredo, and my stomach just couldn’t handle the richness of it. Not with Renee watching my every move. I finally pushed the plate away.

  Damon seemed to be having the same problem with his steak, despite being perfectly cooked. Renee was the only one who finished her plate. She’d ordered a salmon patty burger and French fries.

  “Should we get dessert?” Damon asked when Kayla broached the question.

  I glanced at his mom. “If you’d like,” I said. “You know me. I don’t turn down sugar.” I laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. All I received was Renee’s icy cold stare.