Hex Type Thing

by Amanda M. Lee

  “What did you find?” Galen sat on the floor several feet away, his eyes keen as he went through file after file. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, but there’s a bunch of correspondence here.”

  “Correspondence?” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “They’re emails that he printed out, exchanges between him and several witches. It was the witches who requested the festival. The correspondence started almost two years ago.”

  Galen abandoned what he was looking at and crawled over to join me. His hand automatically went to my back to start rubbing as he read over my shoulder. “Is there any mention of why they wanted the festival here?”

  “Just that they consider this place a nexus of power. I can see that. All the paranormal creatures that live here definitely make it feel magical. That’s on top of the fact that you have a cemetery where the dead rise and walk around every night. There’s nothing about this place that is ‘normal.’”

  “I’ve always thought normal was highly overrated.”

  “And I always thought I was normal until I came here,” I mused, thoughtful. “I was a pretty boring individual before I got that letter from May’s attorney. Then I came here and suddenly I was interesting.”

  Galen’s gaze was keen. “I think you were always interesting and you didn’t allow yourself to believe it.”

  “No, I was pretty boring.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He pressed his lips to my cheek. “It doesn’t matter. You’re the most interesting person I know now. Do you recognize any of the witches in this correspondence?”

  “Just one.” I handed over a sheet of paper. “I think maybe we should talk to her first.”

  “Bronwen,” Galen read from the paper. “That’s ... interesting.”

  “I don’t know that I would use that word, but I think it’s definitely worth checking out. Also, I found this.” I shook a different piece of paper. “This is an email exchange between Alastair and his accountant. Two weeks ago, he asked that all the money from the festival escrow account be moved to his personal account.

  “The accountant argues that’s not a good idea, that he could get in trouble over it if he’s not careful, but Alastair refuses to back down and demands the transfer,” I continued. “I don’t know about you, but to me, that seems to indicate that he always planned to run with the money. He was never going to try to create an event that people wanted to attend. He lied, did the absolute bare minimum so people would believe he was working on it, and then fled with the money.”

  Galen plucked the sheet of paper from my hand, his scowl growing more pronounced with each word he read. “Well ... that slimy bastard.”

  “We’re going with twiddle pants.”

  He ignored me. “He definitely had this planned. The question is: Was it a scam right from the start or did he realize at a certain point he couldn’t deliver what he’d promised and came up with the idea then?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might. For our purposes now, it doesn’t matter. He’s gone. I think we have to assume that he fled of his own volition. No one took him. He was covering his tracks and he’s in the wind.”

  “So ... how do we find him?”

  “First we have to ascertain how he got off this island. That means contacting the cruise line to find out if he got on the ship that left the night we found Salma’s body. Another ship arrived and left the day after, when I thought he was just dodging my calls. In addition to that, I think we need to talk to Bronwen. I want to know why she pitched this festival to him.”

  “It wasn’t just her. Others were involved. She was just one of several.”

  “We’ll start with her because she’s the one we know.”

  I wanted to clap I was so excited. “Can I go with you to question her? I promise not to be too much of a badass during the interrogation.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “We’re not at interrogation level yet. This will just be standard questions.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but I want you to let me handle the questions. You get a little too enthusiastic sometimes when it comes to pinning people on details.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “I’m just happy to be part of the team.”

  “You’re the most important member of my team.”

  “Oh, so sweet.” I smacked a loud kiss against his lips. “We need to go out the same way we came in. I want to see the shark shifter fountain one more time.”

  “Ugh. I knew you were going to say that. The thing is tacky.”

  “It’s awesome.”

  “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  “Sometimes I think that might be the story of our lives.”

  15

  Fifteen

  June was on the patio when we arrived, drinking her morning tea and reading the newspaper. She smiled and waved when she saw us, seemingly not a care in the world, and insisted we join her for breakfast.

  “I’m having doughnuts delivered,” she volunteered when Galen started shaking his head. “They’re from the bakery ... and they’ll still be warm.”

  He groaned. “You know exactly how to get to me, don’t you?” He pulled out a chair so I could sit before settling between June and me. “I guess one doughnut couldn’t hurt.”

  “I’m having two,” I announced, causing his eyebrows to wing up. “Hey, all that breaking and entering made me hungry.”

  “You broke into someone’s house?” June leaned forward, intrigued.

  “Alastair Herne’s place,” Galen replied, leaning back in his chair. “He’s missing.”

  “Missing?” June didn’t look surprised. “Maybe he fell into the volcano. If anyone deserves to roast to death in the fiery pits of hell, it’s Alastair. Of course, we probably won’t get that lucky.”

  Wait ... . “There’s a volcano?”

  June nodded. “That mountain you see in the distance. What did you think it was?”

  “I just thought it was a mountain.” My stomach twisted with mild unease. “How often does it erupt?”

  “It hasn’t erupted in more than two-hundred years,” Galen reassured me. “It’s dormant. Don’t get worked up about it.”

  That was easy for him to say. I’d seen enough movies to know that volcanoes could be unpredictable. “But ... can a volcano really be dormant?”

  “The witches on the island keep it in check,” June replied, grinning. “Perhaps you’ll be part of that team when you get a better handle on your powers. For now, you don’t have to worry. You really are safe.”

  Well, that at least was something. “I guess.”

  The arrival of the doughnut delivery derailed the conversation for the next five minutes. After that, all I could hear were a variety of yummy noises as we enjoyed our fresh doughnuts. I didn’t speak again until I’d inhaled one and was about to start on my second.

  “How are your witches doing?”

  “My witches?” June shrugged. “I don’t know that I would call them my witches, but they seem fine. I barely see three of them. They’ve been down at the festival during the day. Bronwen is in and out, but she’s pretty self-sufficient. I warned them when they called for accommodations that the hotel would be under construction and they would be on their own for food. They seemed fine with that ... and I couldn’t exactly turn down the money they offered.”

  “Have they said anything about the festival?” Galen asked. He had powdered sugar around the edges of his mouth, which only served to make him even more adorable.

  “They’ve said it’s not what it was billed to be. Why?” June’s eyebrows drew together. “Is that why you’re looking for Alastair? Has he done something?”

  “All manner of things,” Galen replied, his eyes briefly traveling to me as I licked my fingers. “Is it any wonder I fell head over heels for you? That is so ... classy.”

  I shot him a dirty look. “There aren’t any napkins.”


  He grabbed a stack from the other side of the doughnut box. I hadn’t seen them resting there, but wasn’t bothered by his continued stare.

  “Oh. Thanks.” I licked one more finger, the middle one, for his benefit and then grabbed two napkins. “Tell her about Alastair and stop staring at me. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

  He chuckled in response. “Yes, dear.” When he turned back to June, he was all business. “There are some things going on you should probably be made aware of. In fact ... if it was an emergency, how many people could we get into your hotel?”

  June looked taken aback by the question. “The hotel is a mess, Galen. It’s not open for business.”

  “I know that. Things are going to start deteriorating on that beach very quickly. If we can get some of those people into rooms, even if the restaurant isn’t open, that might defuse some of the problem.”

  “I don’t have a full staff,” June reminded him. “They’re off on paid vacation while the hotel is under renovation. I can’t call them back. That’s not fair.”

  “Why do you need the staff?” He sounded frustrated. “They can clean up their own rooms. Most of them won’t be able to pay anyway.”

  “Hold up.” June held up her hand, annoyance flashing in the depths of her eyes. “Are you saying you want me to open my hotel and not get any money out of the deal?”

  “Well, when you put it like that ... .” He shifted on his chair. “We’re in a real pickle here, June. Alastair lied about what he could deliver and the people on that beach paid thousands of dollars to be here. We can’t get them off that beach because there’s nowhere to put them, and the transport doesn’t return for days.

  “I tried calling the cruise line company yesterday to ask if they could get a ship back here before the next scheduled arrival and they pretty much laughed at me,” he continued. “They said that’s not how it works, they don’t just have ships hanging around to be called like taxis.”

  “Well, you can hardly expect them to voluntarily take a loss,” June argued. “That’s what you’re asking of me, too.”

  Galen didn’t immediately respond, instead shifting his eyes to the ocean. I decided now was the time for me to swoop in ... even though it would probably anger him.

  “Galen’s under the gun,” I explained, refusing to meet the murderous gaze he swung in my direction. “The DDA is going to blame him if something bad happens ... and we’re already dealing with Salma’s death. We have reason to believe that Alastair killed her, and now he’s missing. He’s the only one who can make things right financially with these people.”

  “I see.” June worked her jaw as she stared at Galen. “What is the DDA threatening you with?”

  “They haven’t come right out and threatened me just yet,” he said. “They’re playing it coy. Morgan St. Pierre is salivating to come after me. He’s still upset about what happened with the hotel, how his plans to take it over were thwarted when you found that treasure. Now there’s no chance he’ll ever get this place because you’ve paid everything off and are turning it into a premier destination.”

  “And you’re afraid he might be looking for payback,” June surmised. “You’re definitely in a mess.” She mustered a wan smile. “I’m fond of you, Galen. You know that. You’ve been one of my pets since you were a child. You and Booker are like my own children.”

  “But you can’t help,” Galen finished. “I get it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You didn’t ask,” June reminded him. “You insinuated, and you didn’t tell me how serious the situation is. Of course I’ll help you.”

  “You will?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Annoyance crested on a wave and cascaded over her features. “Look at all the things you’ve done for me over the years. Just recently you put yourself in the line of fire with the DDA to protect me. The only reason St. Pierre is even acting like this is because he’s put out. He’s an extremely poor loser.

  “I’ll help because it’s you,” she continued. “I would never turn my back on you, no matter what. I would think you’d know that by now.”

  Galen was sheepish. “I do. I just ... this is a mess. I don’t even know what to do. We’re spinning our wheels. I’m trying to confirm that Alastair left the island on the ship the night before the festival started — or the one that arrived the next afternoon, although we were already looking for him by then. It’s feasible that he somehow managed it. The cruise line keeps citing privacy issues, so I have the prosecutor chasing it.

  “Salma is dead and from everything I’ve been able to uncover Alastair makes the most sense as her killer,” he continued. “She apparently knew that he was lying and was trying to gouge him for money. He needed to buy time, so he killed her. It’s possible that he planned to remove her body from the beach but ran out of time because he wasn’t expecting Hadley and me to return so quickly.”

  “It sounds like you’re dealing with a lot,” June said. “I’m sorry. That’s very ... weird. Alastair is a jerk — I would never say otherwise — and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a conscience. That said, I also don’t think he has the stomach to murder someone.

  “According to the article in the newspaper, Salma was stabbed multiple times. Can you actually imagine Alastair risking getting dirty with someone else’s blood? I just ... that seems unlikely. He’s a total weenie when it comes to stuff like that.”

  “That’s true.” Galen rolled his neck until it cracked and absently reached for another doughnut. He was a stress eater. Unfortunately, he was under a lot of stress at the moment and there was very little any of us could do to fix that for him ... unless we could find Alastair. That was the key. “He’s our best suspect right now. Who else would’ve killed her?”

  “She was an unpleasant girl,” June replied, her gaze drifting to the hotel doorway, where Bronwen had appeared. I’d sensed the witch an instant before the hotel proprietress looked in that direction. “Come join us. I have warm doughnuts.”

  Bronwen beamed at the invitation and headed in our direction. She looked happy, sunny even, and the look she graced me with was enough to make me squirm. “Ah. It’s the intrepid witch with the hunky boyfriend. Are you back to try to invade my mind again?”

  My cheeks burned as I stared down at my doughnut. “I already apologized for that.”

  “What am I missing?” June asked, glancing between faces. “Is there a problem?”

  “No problem,” Bronwen replied, snagging the open chair between June and me. “I’m just teasing your friend. There was an incident at the docks when I arrived that was ... mildly entertaining.”

  Bronwen launched into the tale, causing me to make a series of faces as she breezed through it. When she was finished, June was laughing so hard I thought she might cry and Galen looked decidedly amused. I wasn’t happy with either reaction.

  “First, I was just testing my powers,” I argued. “I wasn’t trying to be invasive. Secondly … .” I trailed off. In truth, there was no secondly.

  “I would think that entering someone’s mind without invitation is invasive no matter how you look at it,” Bronwen pointed out. “As I said, I’m not angry. I appreciated the sexy look at your boyfriend. He’s a lovely specimen of the male form.”

  Now it was Galen’s turn to squirm with embarrassment. “Oh, good grief. Do we have to talk about it?”

  Bronwen ignored the whining. “You should be proud. You put a smile on her face. That’s all that matters.”

  “Ugh.” He slapped his hand to his forehead and snuck a glance at me. “I blame you for this.”

  Of course he did. That was his way. “You’re the one who likes to play that particular game. But there’s no need to dwell on it. I believe there are other things to dwell on ... like certain correspondence.” I tilted my head in Bronwen’s direction. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

  He shot me a dirty look. “Smooth. That wasn’t obnoxious at all.” He shook his head and then forced a smile for Br
onwen’s benefit. “So ... there’s this thing.”

  “So I ascertained.” Bronwen didn’t appear bothered by the shift in topic. “What ‘thing’ are we referring to?”

  “Well, we’re looking for Alastair Herne. He’s disappeared and things aren’t going well at the festival.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Bronwen said dryly. “Let me guess: He took off with the festival money and is on the run.”

  “Yeah,” Galen nodded. “That’s exactly what happened, and it’s a problem for multiple reasons, not the least of which is that he’s a suspect in a murder. We went to his house this morning, sorted through his things and found some copies of emails that were sent between you and him.”

  “So?” Bronwen didn’t look bothered by the revelation. “I didn’t realize it was against the law to write back and forth with a festival organizer.”

  “I’m not saying it’s against the law,” Galen countered. “The thing is, you were the one pitching the festival to him. Hadley told me that you only came at the last minute, but these emails were from almost two years ago.”

  Bronwen picked at her doughnut for a moment, anger flashing, and then sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I am the one who had the idea for the festival years ago. I contacted June first to see if she could help organize it, but she was buried at the time.”

  “You contacted June?” Galen shifted on his chair. “I don’t understand. Why would you contact June? I was under the impression you’d just met.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve been to the hotel before and interacted with June at various times. I’ve always been a fan of Moonstone Bay. I’ve considered moving here. June and I became close friends because of my visits. She’s kept up on my career. She’s a witch herself and always interested in the craft.”

  I glanced at June and found her smiling. “I didn’t know you were a witch,” I said. “I kind of wish I had. You might’ve been helpful.”