Right Witch Wrong Time

by K. M. Waller

  Not that they didn’t try. Bless any police officer doing his best to keep up with a supernatural being.

  I scrambled through to grab the file folder, ignoring the time-appropriate clothes and other items in the box.

  I flipped to the first page. A murder of the headmistress at Miss Cackle’s School for Girls.

  School for girls?

  Disappointment coursed through me. Um, nope. My only rule with assignments was that I didn’t work around a large group of kids. The spiked hormones and constant state of roller coaster emotions led to empath migraines.

  I shut the folder and tossed it in the box. They could take this assignment and give it to a nurturer. In fact, another agency witch, Mariana, seemed ten times more suited for this assignment than me. She liked kids. She had several. We called her the “mom” of the group. I held back a chuckle. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d sent her something her way that she didn’t want.

  With a final harrumph and after slapping a few bits of tape across the box’s top to seal it, I dropped it on the floor.

  The resounding thud would be enough to travel through the cosmos and deliver my message to the Agency: request denied.

  Chapter Two

  Without a second thought to the box and assignment, I left Seth to lock up and strolled down the block to the corner of 1st Avenue and Pierce Street. I stopped at the sub shop along the way and grabbed a sandwich for my feisty familiar.

  Lily Rose squatted behind St. Vincent de Paul’s Catholic Church against their freshly painted white brick wall. Several homeless residents settled in for the evening near her and down the alley. Some snuggled deep into sleeping bags while a few others sat crossed-legged and finished their meals provided by the church’s ministry.

  “I brought you a sandwich.” I handed the paper-wrapped foot-long to her.

  “Tuna?”

  “Would I bring any other kind?” I scooted down the wall and sat beside her while she nibbled.

  She pulled back the bread. “Can you say a spell to add some mayonnaise?”

  “I’m not conjuring magic in the open for extra mayo.” I glanced down the alley. “The homeless community has grown a little over the past few days. Any new paranormals we should worry about?”

  “Not really but someone has to keep an eye on the regulars so I’ll be more this form than cat until it thins out a little.”

  While Lily Rose preferred cat form over any other animal, I knew for a fact she could shift into something way scarier if needed. Like a lion, tiger, or bear scary. Regular shifters couldn’t change without the enchantment of the full moon but familiars lived by a different code of magic.

  She’d shown up on my thirteenth birthday when my witch powers bloomed and she’d been my paranormal instructor, protector, and mentor ever since then. I’d never tried to guess her age since she’d had the same amount of grey hair and wrinkles since we’d first met twenty years ago.

  I nudged her shoulder. “You have a good heart, Lily Rose. When you want to that is.”

  She let out a little hiss. “Don’t tell anyone. I got a reputation, you know. The baddest cat in the alley.” She eyed me for a few beats. “Are you gaining weight?”

  And back to her abrasive self just like that. I didn’t answer her question.

  “Anything I can do for you before I go home?” More than once I’d offered to give Lily Rose a room, but she preferred to live on the streets. When I’d been younger I’d gotten away with having her live with us in cat form. That had to end once Momma Carla noticed the black cat never seemed to age.

  She swallowed a large chunk of sandwich. “Nope. Thanks for the grub.”

  I pushed up and away from the wall but stood there for a few seconds as the assignment box worked its way back into my thoughts.

  Lily Rose kept her focus on her sandwich and raised an eyebrow. “Spit it out. I ain’t got all night.”

  “The Agency sent me a package today.”

  “When to this time?”

  “1985, but I declined it.”

  Her cat-like eyes rounded with surprise, the street lamps reflecting in the green making them appear even bigger. “That’s a first for you. Although I think you should decline them all and take up with a coven where your powers will be useful. Like putting mayo on an old woman’s sandwich.”

  “The Agency is my coven,” I reminded her once again. “But the 80s aren’t my specialty. And it’s a murder at an all girls’ school. You know I don’t do kids. They know that too.” I ended my mini-tirade on a huff.

  She shrugged. “Maybe one of the dippy-do-da assignment givers forgot. Anyway, they adore you over there at that place or you wouldn’t keep getting the jobs. Your success rate makes them look good.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I appreciated Lily Rose’s vote of confidence in my abilities. Most likely, they’d send me another assignment more suitable by the end of the week.

  She coughed roughly into her hand.

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Smoker’s cough or hairball?”

  She sniffed. “Shut up and go home to your hunk.”

  I waved and made my way down the sidewalk toward our apartment. Seth and I lived four blocks away from the gym where Lakeland became less business and more residential. Many times we’d considered moving to the suburbs, but we didn’t need the space and I liked having a community pool I didn’t have to maintain.

  I opened our front door to find Seth in the kitchen, the contents of the assignment box spread out before him.

  “Hey, Nu.” He held up a banana clip, his shoulders bouncing with a chuckle. “I don’t know how much you pay for this monthly subscription, but they have outdone themselves this time. You even got a cassette player and mixed tapes.”

  Oh snap.

  “You brought my box home.” My attempt to keep a waver out of my voice failed miserably.

  He jumped out of the kitchen chair and pulled me into a bear hug. “I’m sorry. I know this is your thing and you like to go over it first before sharing the details with me. Are you mad?”

  His touch accentuated his apology. I sighed into his embrace. “Who can be angry with such a sweet lug?”

  After all, I was the one doing all the lying. Seth was a great detective, but I was even better at keeping secrets. I’d had many years of practice.

  He released me and rubbed my arms. “It was sitting there open on the office desk, so I figured you’d already been through it all.”

  “Really?” I’d most certainly left it on the floor and re-taped it shut. Apparently, the Agency wanted me to take a closer look at this murder. I pulled away from him and pushed the pictures around on the table until they faced my direction. A group photograph with girls in polo shirts with a matching emblem caught my attention. I held it up to the light.

  Mother of witches!

  “Hey, sweetie, do you know how you can make this up to me?” I pulled the picture to my chest and plastered on a fake smile. “I’d love it if you’d pick up some lo mein from Hot Wok. Chuck got a call from the hospital and had to leave. We didn’t get to eat. Can we go over the case together when you get back?”

  “Sure thing.” He grabbed his car keys and wallet from the table by the front door. “Be back in a jiff.”

  I kept the smile in place until he shut the door behind him. Then I turned the picture over and read the names of all the girls listed. There were first names only. My breath hitched with the coincidence. Oh, who was I fooling? There were no such things as coincidences. I rushed to the bedroom closet and pulled down a picture box from the shelf.

  When I’d left the foster care home, the main coordinator at the time had given Momma Carla the only picture I’d ever seen of my real mother. She’d in turn given it to me straight away, and after years of sleeping with it under my pillow and holding it daily, the edges were dirty and worn.

  My mother who looked to be sixteen or seventeen in the photo stood there in the same polo she wore in the group school picture. In mine, she stood with
her hip against a brown Ford Pinto, her smile wide and her eyes holding the secrets of the universe.

  In the school picture, she frowned deeply, and it looked as if the camera had caught her in the middle of an eye-roll. There was no mistaking the two girls were the same.

  My mother. I read the names again and they appeared to be in order. That would make my mom’s name Jennifer. I’d never really known since the state sealed my files at the request of an unknown family member. Once, at my request, Chuck had made some inquiries with his medical contacts. He’d been told nothing more than my mother had died during childbirth.

  Until now, all I’d had was the one picture.

  I glanced at my watch. I didn’t have much time before Seth returned with our food. I tore out the door and ran the four blocks to St. Vincent’s. Lily Rose was no longer in the spot behind the building. The streetlights from the front of the building barely cast enough light to see into the alley.

  “Lily Rose?” I called out softly. I tiptoed a few steps into the alley. “Psst. Lily Rose?”

  Someone in the alleyway grumbled in protest. Maybe she’d changed her mind and shifted to cat form.

  “Here, kitty-kitty!” That would tick her off enough to bring her running. If there was one thing Lily Rose didn’t stand for it was being treated as if she were a common pet.

  “Hey, lady, shut up,” a man yelled. “It’s lights out.”

  Dark meant lights out and bedtime for those living on the streets. They’d be up before dawn with breakfast on their minds or the intent to move on to another location.

  I sighed, the frustration building in my chest.

  Someone tapped me on my shoulder from behind and I jumped a step forward with a squeak. The two taps had been enough to set off my empath powers. This person was beyond annoyed. I turned to find Lily Rose glaring at me, less than an inch or two away from my face.

  “Follow me,” she said, her voice low and gruff.

  We left the alley and sat down on the front steps leading to the doors of the main chapel.

  “What in all of catnip’s creations are you doing back here?” The lines on her forehead deepened as her scraggily brows pushed together.

  “My mom. My real mom.” I thrust the pictures toward her and into her hands.

  She held them up, eyeing each one closely. “So?”

  “This picture came from the assignment box.” I tapped the school one several times.

  “The one you declined?” Her voice held a sense of wonder. She handed me the photos and tucked her hands under her chin, propping her elbows on her knees. She stared off into the darkness. “Interesting.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “I think it means they’ve finally given you a real challenge.”

  “How so?”

  “You solve every single case they hand you without mussing your hair. Try a case where you might have a chance to meet your birth mother. That’ll wreck your cold-as-ice concentration.”

  Cold as ice, huh? “I’m not worried about solving the case. Won’t meeting my mom make a ripple in time or mess up the space-time continuum?” I went over the Agency rules in my head. None said I couldn’t come in contact with family as long as I didn’t tell them who I was or when I was from.

  Lily Rose quirked an eyebrow. “The Agency wouldn’t give you this assignment if they thought it would. And your cover and the time-travel spell should protect any time anomalies from occurring. Whatever is meant to be is always meant to be. But failure… that would be a first.”

  “I’ll solve the case.” I mentally brushed aside her doubts. My forehead had beaded with sweat from the run, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “The assignment is less than a year before I was born. I could see my father too. I could see the coven I come from. Find out why they ditched me. I’d have answers to so many questions.”

  She rested a hand on my knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. A gesture very unlike her. “Take care to regulate your expectations and prepare for disappointments. The reality is always worse than the fantasy.”

  I glanced down at my watch. Seth would be home with the food within minutes. “Thanks, Lily Rose. Stay safe.”

  She pulled a cigar out of her pocket and chewed the end.

  My run back to the apartment didn’t go as quickly as I’d hoped, and I found Seth inside setting our food out on the table. If he thought anything about my weird disappearance, he didn’t mention it.

  “Out for a run to burn calories before filling up on the lo mein,” I offered anyway. With my heart rate still blasting from the run and the connection to my mom, I followed the advice I’d given Suze earlier. Deep breaths, in and out slowly. After three more, I washed my hands and pulled down two plates.

  “Chopsticks?” Seth asked.

  My hands were still a little shaky. “I’ll go with a plastic fork tonight.”

  “I can’t get my mind off this newest case you received. It’s almost as if the small-town police didn’t want to solve the murder. They messed up the crime scene from the get-go.”

  “Oh, really?” I settled into the chair across from him and scooped lo mein onto my plate.

  Even though I hadn’t told him to get egg rolls, he knew they were my favorite indulgence. He plopped one on my plate and wiped his hands with a paper napkin. Careful not to get any food on one of the pages from the file, he held it up by the edges. “From what I can tell, the town’s police department which consisted of only a chief and two officers didn’t wait on the state police before they moved the body. Plus, they allowed the locals to contaminate the main crime scene. Some kind of weird vigil with candles is what the state detective put in his report.”

  Possible vigil or from a paranormal perspective, it could be a possible witchcraft ritual meant to ward off all the bad energies that comes along with a violent death. Had my mother been a part of that ritual? Were the girls at the school all witches? Like a small-scale American version of Hogwarts or something cool like that.

  I dug around through the items spread out between us until I came to the sealed envelope. In all my excitement, I hadn’t checked my cover identity. Thankfully, Seth had left this for me to open. I cracked open the sealed top and shook around the contents. A driver’s license, a summary of the identity, and an official letter from a job placement agency. I skimmed the cover summary and almost squealed with happiness. Gym teacher. I’d be a gym teacher at a witch’s school for girls and I’d get to meet my mom.

  “Is that more on the case?” Seth asked. “I didn’t open it because I almost thought it could be the answer to who committed the murder.”

  Oh, right. The murder of the headmistress. I closed the envelope and tucked it under the edge of my plate, quelling my excitement to a respectful manner. Someone had lost their life. “It’s the bill for this month’s cold case. Trust me when I say you don’t want to see it.”

  His lips pulled into a half-grin before he shoved in a mouthful of noodles. While he focused on the food for a few minutes, I paid more attention to the crime. A local newspaper clipping displayed the headline Woman Found Slain in Woods Behind School. The article summarized the victim.

  Local and state police are looking for any information into the brutal slaying of Sarah Turner, a 38 yr old resident of Heckle and the headmistress of Miss Cackles school for girls. Turner was found with what appeared to be multiple stab wounds by a group of students in the early hours of Monday morning when she’d been missing from school property for several hours.

  Heckle was a little incorporated town at the edge of the next county over that changed its charter to be unincorporated in the late 90s. The population had dwindled too much. But in 1985 it still had its own mayor and police department. I flipped over to the next article behind it released about a month later.

  A month after Sarah Turner’s body turned up in the woods behind the all-girls’ school and police are no closer to finding her killer.

  I skimmed down to read a few quotes.
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  Rebecca Zagat, recently promoted as new headmistress had this to say, “We’re deeply saddened by this tragedy but for the sake of our girls we must move on.” When asked if she felt unsafe knowing the killer might still be close by, she responded, “We’re taking every security measure to ensure the safety of our girls.”

  Hmm. Recent promotion. Could professional jealousy be a possible motive? A witch on witch power struggle?

  There were a few more articles tacked beneath as the press tried to renew interest in the case and asked for the public’s help with reporting any possible information to the state’s tip hotline.

  According to my cover, I’d be going in a few hours after the discovery of her body. It would be fresh on the townspeople’s minds and easier to get information about Sarah’s movements over the weekend. Easy enough.

  Seth flipped through the file, his focus on the police statements and coroner’s reports. “Hmm.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s a discrepancy between the local and the state coroner’s reports. The notes say the state detective didn’t trust the local’s manner of death.”

  “On the stabbing being the reason for death?”

  “No. That there was even a stabbing. They agreed that blood loss is the cause but differentiate on the manner. The county coroner thinks they were animal bites near the throat while the state coroner has them listed as stab wounds.”

  “Who would you trust more?”

  “Neither. I’d want to get a look at the wounds myself.” He shuffled through the file. “No picture of the deceased’s body or closeups of the wounds.”

  There wouldn’t be. After I time traveled, I’d either run into the body or someone who’d seen it firsthand. “Well, I guess that stops the looky-loos from taking the pictures and posting them on the internet.”

  “Probably for the best,” he conceded, a frown forming between his eyes.

  Seth would never admit how much he missed being a city detective. He’d worked robbery/homicide for ten years before he’d walked in on a liquor store holdup during his off-duty hours. The perpetrator had recognized him as a cop and tossed a few bullets in his direction before he ran out with twenty dollars’ worth of vodka.