Witch it Real Good

by Dakota Cassidy

  Bel cocked his small head and eyed me with a warm gaze. “Then he doesn’t hate her anymore. But he still loves you. He chose you. You chose him. End of story. It’s you, kiddo. It’ll always be you. That’s what.”

  Somehow, when Bel said it out loud, it made me feel more like a simpering fool than I liked. “I’m being a jealous jerk, aren’t I?”

  He giggled as he kneaded Whiskey’s back. “Well, jerk is a little far. Maybe we’ll just call you a little green-eyed and leave it at that. Either way, my faith in Winterbutt is unshakeable. Win loves Stevie. Stevie loves Win. Now Stevie needs to get her caboose out of bed, grab a shower, make kissy-face with Win, and get into town and start asking some questions. Because the truth is out there.”

  I giggled, too, feeling a bit lighter than I had last night. “You sound like you’ve been watching too much X-Files.”

  “Can you blame me? Have you gotten a load of that Scully? Hello, gorgeous.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pushed the covers off and dropped my feet to the floor. “So where is the International Man of Mystery this morning?”

  “Mr. Fancy Pants is in his room, and he asked not to be disturbed for a couple of hours. I think he’s trying to get in touch with that Mandrake guy. Though, he did go outside and follow the path of whoever tried to take him out last night, but the snow had covered up any footprints, and whoever it was, they didn’t leave behind any evidence but some shell casings. Which you know we can’t bring to the police. Anyway, Arkady’s with him now, but Win did ask me to tell you that he hopes you’ll have lunch with him this afternoon.”

  That was probably just as well. I needed some time to go talk to people in town, and I needed to do it without feeling hindered by Win and his blustering about how preposterous it was that Miranda might actually be here.

  “Is Hal up and about? I’d like to apologize to her and Atticus.”

  “Well, I know for sure Stuffy Pants is up because he was in the kitchen talking to Strike when he thought no one was around.”

  I winced as I slid off the bed. “Oh, dear. Was Strike eating the braided rug? Was he on the couch? Do me a favor, Bel. Keep a checklist of the things he destroys and we’ll of course replace everything.”

  “I don’t think that’s gonna be necessary. He was cooing to Strike like they were best friends while he fed him his favorite treat of all time and sang to him.”

  I looked at Belfry. “Strawberries? Where did Atticus get strawberries that are worth a darn at this time of year?”

  “He conjured them, Stevie, which makes the gesture all the sweeter. And not a cross word from him. I’m here to tell ya, Strike was eating it up and cooing at that dang hummingbird the same way he snarfs it up when you love-talk him. Seems Atticus has a soft spot he doesn’t want anyone to see.”

  My heart clenched. Strike was the sweetest thing ever. I’d have never believed turkeys were as cuddly as they are, but Strike loved nothing more than to sit with us and let us stroke his long neck, with special attention paid to his waddle.

  Sometimes, he’d literally climb up in my lap and do his version of a snuggle. He’d become as much a part of the family as Whiskey, and I was so relieved to hear he wasn’t burdening Hal, and especially Atticus.

  “Is he making the reindeer I have yet to see crazy? Or is he behaving himself when he’s out in the barn?”

  I really needed to get out to see the reindeer. I mean, hello. A reindeer. My Christmas-crazy heart went pitter-patter every time I thought about it.

  “Good as gold, I tell you. Good as gold.”

  I sighed in relief. “Phew. One less thing to worry about, and I’m so glad Atticus has warmed to him. Unfortunately, our poor boy Whiskey isn’t getting the same kind of love.”

  “Hah! If you hadn’t stomped off in a huff last night, you’d have seen Atticus slip Messy Marvin here a leftover porkchop and call him a ‘right fine-looking bloke.’ Atticus isn’t as fussy as he pretends to be. He’s kind of an old fuddy-duddy.”

  I leaned back and gave Whiskey a kiss on his head. “Well, well, I should have known. Who couldn’t love you?”

  Whiskey licked my hand before he sat up, ready to begin the day when Belfry called him. “Okay, beast, time for morning potties and your run. Only this time, no snowdrifts, hear me, pal? I’m gonna be pullin’ snowballs off your hide till kingdom come.”

  I smiled at them as Whiskey hopped off the bed, ready to play with his best friend. “Hey, Bel?” I said as I opened the bedroom door.

  “Yeah, Boss?”

  “Thanks for the advice. I love you.”

  “Likewise,” he chirped before he and Belfry were off.

  Sighing, I gave some deeper thought to what he said as I gathered my clothes for the day and headed toward the bathroom that connected to my bedroom.

  He was right. I was feeling touchy about the subject of Miranda, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to miss a clue, or worse, get someone hurt because I couldn’t find my objectivity.

  I sure hoped I’d find some. Maybe it was in the shower.

  Does objectivity shower?

  “Wow,” Hal gushed with a wolf whistle as I entered the kitchen. “How did you manage to make overalls and some ugly yellow galoshes look like they were made for the catwalk?”

  I giggled and curtsied, throwing my scarf over my shoulder in supermodel fashion. “It’s all about the scarf and layering, dahling,” I joked.

  Yesterday in town, I’d grabbed a couple of turtlenecks in various colors, a pair or two of overalls, and some of the cutest scarves I’d ever seen made by a woman ironically named Florida.

  “Well, you sure are good at it. Me? As you can see, not so much.” She spread her arms out to show me yet another flannel shirt worn over her thermal underwear and finished off with a pair of yoga pants. Her hair was piled on top of her head, strands of it falling down around her bare face, and her darkly fringed eyes were bright.

  But what Hal didn’t realize was that she was so adorable, so naturally beautiful, she could wear a sack cloth and still look good.

  And I told her as much. “You could wear a plastic bag with a belt and you’d still be gorgeous. Now, before we say anything else, I have some apologizing to do—”

  “Please don’t, Stevie,” she said in protest, grabbing my hand with a gentle smile. “Something really scary happened last night. It got tense. If you guys hadn’t been at least a little freaked out, I’d have worried. But listen, Atticus and I are used to scary things. No one’s shot at us yet, but I have visions all the time and they’re not always pretty. We’ve had a hairy encounter or two. So please don’t apologize.”

  I’d forgotten all about her visions, and that wasn’t like me. Especially since one had related to Win. “When you have these visions, do they feel real? Do they feel like you’re really there?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes faraway. “Sometimes, but more often than not it just stops me in my tracks because they pop up in front of me like a movie screen. Other times they’re ugly, and they frustrate me, and I use foul language because they frustrate me.”

  Atticus buzzed into the morning sunlight by the window and hovered in front of me. “She speaks the truth when she tells you she uses foul language, Love Child. A despicable habit I’ve tried desperately to break. Alas, to no avail. She still has the mouth of an unflushed toilet on a hot summer’s day.”

  I snickered, but Hal shook her finger at him. “You pipe down. Buttwipe doesn’t count as a swear word, and you know it. Plus, you have to admit, I’ve grown a lot since those days.” Then she waved him off. “Neither here nor there. The point is, my visions can sometimes be upsetting for me. You’re not alone in the mystery department. Atticus and I have been part of a few in our day, so I understand how things can get tense at a time like that.”

  Atticus flicked his wings harder. “Oh, she most assuredly understands, Stevie. When she refers to the crass use of buttwipe, she’s referring to what she called me, her loyal, loving familiar, when
things were tense. Can you even imagine?”

  Hal rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Atticus before she grinned. “I was fifteen and a snotty, rebellious teenager, Attie. Will you ever let it go?”

  He chuckled, low and deep. “Not for as long as I breathe,” he teased.

  She chucked him under his beak with a gentle finger. “Like I said, we understand when things get tense. We all handle a crisis differently. So don’t sweat it. As to your leaving? I won’t have it. I told Win this morning whoever wants him dead, if that’s what’s happening here, knows I know him now. If he or she tries to shake me down for some info, I’d kind of like someone to be around other than my mean old familiar, but I’m also in this for some answers, and I’d like to help. I promise you, if I find out it was someone local, heads will roll.”

  “I’m so sorry we’ve put you in danger. That’s the worst part of this for me, Hal. You’ve been so kind and such a gracious host and we’ve brought trouble to your doorstep.”

  “I sort of started the trouble, didn’t I? I mean, I’m the one who had the vision of the hand with the snake tattoo, right? How could either of you have possibly known someone was going to try and kill you on the other end of the country?”

  Rubbing my temples, I pictured that tattoo in my mind once more. “Speaking of that vision, when exactly did it happen again?”

  Hal drove her hands into her scalp and pulled the elastic band from her glorious hair. “Right after I met Hugh. He showed me a picture of you and Win and the rest of your gang, and it was like a fist to my face. It happened right then and there, which is how I knew it had to be connected to you guys. It was also a really good excuse to introduce myself. I mean, I sure would have done it anyway, but it might not have been as immediate.”

  “She bluffs, Love Child. My Halliday is as impulsive as the queen is British.”

  But Hal shook her head firmly. “But not this time, Atticus. I had reservations. Serious reservations. I mean, how do you knock on someone’s door and tell them you’re their half-sister?”

  I wandered out into the mudroom in search of my coat. “But have I told you? I’m really glad you did.”

  “Me, too,” she said with a smile as she followed me into the mudroom to get her coat.

  “Hey, do you mind if I borrow your Jeep?”

  She pulled her jacket on and grabbed a knit hat. “To go ask some of the merchants in town if they saw that woman Miranda you were talking about?”

  I gave her a sheepish glance. “Yes.”

  “I don’t mind as long as you take me with.”

  “Oh, Hal. I don’t want you involved any more than you already are. Please. I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

  What if someone was watching us? Whoever shot at us last night surely saw me. I’d really rather Hal weren’t around if he started shooting again.

  “Listen, the people in this town are used to me asking questions. I do a little of my own investigating because of my visions. They know me, and they’ll probably be more receptive if I’m with you. Also, I feel like I’m rubbing salt in your wound but…I’m a witch, Stevie. It’s an added layer of protection, and I’d far prefer to be with you if someone’s shooting at you than here at home doing nothing to protect you. My magic might be able to help.”

  Atticus buzzed in and lingered in front of us, his long, thin beak in the air. “There’s plenty to do here, Halliday Valentine. The toilets need a good scrubbing as a for instance.”

  She grinned at the tiny bird and stuck out her tongue again before she looked at me. “Like I said, let’s go ask some questions.”

  Hal blew a kiss at Atticus before she pointed to the door that led to the garage with a chuckle, and I wondered if the small hitch I heard in her voice was a touch of excitement.

  Because it sounded a lot like the hitch I got in my voice when I knew we were in the thick of a mystery and the games were about to begin.

  If I doubted at all that we were related before, I had no doubt now.

  So, let the games begin…

  Chapter 10

  Hal hooked her arm through mine and pointed at one of the shops as we crossed the freshly snowplowed street. “This is Tally Lazinki’s place. It’s a knitting store. The spot where you bumped into Miranda yesterday. If she was in here, Tally’ll remember. Believe me. She’s got an eagle eye and she loves to gossip. She’s harmless enough, but be warned, after I introduce you, every soul in Marshmallow Hollow will know about you within the hour.”

  I barked a laugh, the condensation puffing a cloud of cold air from my lips. “Boy, do I know that small-town mentality. Eb Falls is the very same way.”

  “Still, even with her love of gossip, I love Tally, and she knits a mean scarf. Also, her grandson works in our shipping department, and he’s a really great kid.”

  We were back in the center of Marshmallow Hollow in all its Christmas charm, the sun was shining and it was colder than Siberia, but peeking into Tally’s store, Knitters Delight, I grinned at skein after skein of rainbow-colored yarn tucked away in row after row of cubbyholes. Naturally, lights surrounded the store’s window and door, making the interior feel like a warm, welcoming hug.

  The picture window was decorated with a tree where Tally had hung handmade, knitted ornaments, and a big mechanical Mrs. Claus sat in a rocking chair next to it, knitting a scarf, while a fluffy white kitten sat in her basket of yarn.

  Before we entered the store, I took a look up and down the street, not just to get yet another glimpse of the amazing decorations, but to see if Miranda was anywhere in sight.

  I knew that was probably unlikely. She’d definitely seen me, and if she was in the business of avoiding me, she certainly wouldn’t be wandering around town, right out in the open.

  Speaking of, would an accomplished spy like Miranda skulk so openly? Would she make a mistake so big as to be spotted? Arkady had made a good point about a disguise, and running into her like that felt so off. Maybe she’d wanted to run into me?

  Maybe she didn’t know that I knew who she was?

  Or, a small, nagging voice in my head (Win’s, thank you very much) niggled, maybe it wasn’t her after all.

  I also looked for the car Arkady had seen yesterday, but not one parked anywhere in my line of vision matched the description he’d given or had the stick figure stickers he’d mentioned.

  So we were left with nothing but questioning the shop owners, and it was time I got to it.

  I pulled the door of Tally’s open and motioned for Hal to go ahead of me so she could make introductions.

  A cheerful jingle bell rang, sounding out our entry, and a spry, trim woman wearing a red and white tracksuit with a small knitted Santa brooch on the collar hurried out from the back room.

  Her dark hair was chin length with a flip at the ends and teased high at the back to give it height, her eyes sharp and twinkling brown. She welcomed us with a smile and a hug for Hal.

  “Hal! Great to see you! How are you, honey?” she asked as she gave her a hard squeeze, her Maine accent light and as adorable as she was.

  Hal hugged her right back then set Tally’s tiny frame from her and grinned. “I’m good, Tally. Really. Thank you for that scarf you dropped by the other day. I love it so much, I’m going to wear it to the Ice Carnival.”

  She winked up at Hal, cupping her cheek. “Got yourself a date? Maybe that cutesy-tootsey who lives in your guest cottage? Boy, is he a looker. Big, tall boy, he is. His mother sure did a fine job of feeding him his vegetables. Shoulda been a football player. Can’t believe he’s just a day trader. All that big man is wasted, sitting in an office chair when he could be sacking a quarterback. ”

  Hal’s cheeks went an adorable shade of red when Tally mentioned this cutesy-tootsey man who, strangely, my surprise sister had never said a word about.

  “Tally’s a big sport’s fan,” Hal explained, driving her hands into the pocket of her down vest.

  Tally raised a fist to the air and sho
uted, “Goooo, Pats!”

  I grinned at her enthusiasm. “Football is great, but I’m more interested in the man. A cutesy-tootsey man? Why haven’t we met him yet, young lady?” I teased.

  Now Hal’s cheeks went crimson. “He’s away on some kind of day-trading business until next week, and he’s not cutesy-tootsey. He’s Digby Dainty, and he rents the guest cottage from me.”

  Tally waved an admonishing finger. “Oh, but he is cutesy-tootsey, and he thinks you’re cute, too, Halliday Valentine. Don’t tell yourself otherwise. Now, who’s this, and why is she so durn cute, too?”

  I chuckled and held out my hand. “My name is Stevie Cartwright. Pleasure to meet you, Tally.”

  Hal looped her arm through mine again and said, “This is my sister, Tally. My half-sister, for anyone who cares to know the particulars. We just found out about each other, so I brought her to Marshmallow Hollow for a visit and to experience some of our Maine charm.”

  Tally cupped her throat with her hand, her eyes wide. “Your half-sister? Well, I’ll be dunked. But then, your mother always was a free spirit, wasn’t she, God rest her beautiful soul. Guess she finally told you who your dad was when they read that will?”

  Hal’s eyes clouded for a minute, and she nodded on a hard swallow. “She did. His name was in her will. So I looked him up.”

  Tally reached up and hugged her again, patting her back and dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Aw, honey. Sorry ’bout that. Sore spot, I know. Me and my big mouth didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers about Keeva. We loved her, too. She was good to this town. She created the jobs we needed just like your grandmother did. You know we all just want what’s best for you. I’m glad you found yourself a relation. But ya do know you’re never alone, right?”

  Hal nodded and gripped Tally’s hand. “I do. You have no idea how much that means to me—especially now with Mom gone.”

  Tally rocked back on her heels and drove her hands into her tracksuit with a wide smile. “So what can I do ya for today? Have we finally talked you into knittin’, Hal?