The Rhinestone Witches Omnibus: Books 1-3

by Addison Creek

  “This is where my family always wanted to be. On top of that, I have a good relationship with the graveyard residents. Skeletons are actually a lot of fun once you get to know them,” Michael said.

  Lowe shivered a little bit. She did not appear to agree with his assessment. “I think it’s creepy.”

  “My owls like it as well,” Michael added.

  “Now, I’ve told you all kinds of information. I’ve been open about my business. Are you going to tell me what exactly is going on?”

  Lowe sighed. “We think feathers and pearls are being traded illegally, and the illegal trade might have led to my friend’s death and someone else going missing.”

  If we expected a big reaction from Michael, we were destined to be disappointment. He basically didn’t react at all.

  “Don’t you want to know more?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “Owl feathers and other potion ingredients are dangerous business. Why do you think I mostly stay here and don’t go out? If you’re trading with Vixens, that’s even worse.”

  “Right. Well, we just wanted your input. Thank you for providing it,” said Lowe, shocked by his reaction. She dug in one of her pockets and pulled out the small trinket box. “A token of our appreciation. We know your time is valuable.”

  Michael’s eyes literally lit up. There was probably more light in the Bleak Area from Michael’s expression than there had been in years. He reached forward.

  “For me?” he asked, in a sort of wonderment.

  “Yes, thank you again,” said Lowe, surprised again by his reaction.

  “This is unicorn dung, is it not? I shall treasure it,” said Michael. He looked like he meant it.

  “We don’t need to take up any more of your time,” I said, feeling that we had gotten as much out of this first visit as we were going to get. “Maybe we’ll go and speak with this Potter fellow and see if he might be able to shed some light on what happened.”

  “You do that. I’m sure he’ll be positively delightful,” said Michael.

  “You haven’t met him? You don’t exchange owl care tips?” I said.

  Michael wrinkled his nose. “I don’t meet people often. He has never come here. He probably wouldn’t dare. His grandfather stole his first owl from my grandfather. That’s how his family got his start. I don’t intend on forgiving him for it.”

  “That sounds complicated,” said Lowe.

  “No, an illegal owl feather trade, coupled with an illegal trade in pearls, that’s what’s complicated. Possibly overshadowed by Vixen murders. The story of a young owl stealing from a rival family is quite simple. If I ever see him I will kill him,” said Michael.

  “Then who would take care of your owls when you go to prison?” I asked.

  Again Michael shook his head, apparently not the least bit concerned. Maybe he threatened to murder owl rivals all the time. Maybe that’s why there were so few in Twinkleford!

  Okay, I was getting ahead of myself a bit.

  “The good news is that I don’t think that will happen,” said Michael. “Potter knows better than to ever come here. I highly doubt the sheriff would arrest me. Like you just said, no one else could take care of these owls if he did, and that would be a disaster for Twinkleford.”

  That actually isn’t what I had said, but I decided not to argue. Instead, we told him we should get going. “Feel free to come back,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t poison the tea next time.”

  So Michael was perfectly aware of why we hadn’t accepted his tea. Lowe was about to argue with him again, so I grabbed her arm and propelled her away. There was no point in digging the hole any deeper.

  Once were outside, I was surprised by how late it had gotten. It wasn’t dinnertime yet, but it was close. But the sun was still high enough to make it hot, and I immediately started sweating, which was very annoying.

  “We should get home. Bethel is going to wonder where we are,” I said.

  Lowe agreed, and we were on our way. As we left, I couldn’t help feeling eyes on my back.

  Chapter Ten

  We made our way back through the cemetery. Now that we were on our way out, I noticed the smell of fresh earth mingling with the heavy air. There was a new grave nearby.

  I increased my pace.

  Lowe hadn’t noticed, and she just kept walking. As we were leaving the cemetery, I slowed my pace to look back one more time. The figure had straightened and turned. Staring back at me was a beautiful woman whom I had never seen before. She looked old, not young, but I could tell that she was powerful. I wanted to stop and say something, but she quickly turned away and I lost my chance.

  “Are you coming?” my cousin asked.

  I hurried after her and we made our way through the Bleak Area. Back in the center of downtown, Lowe stopped to buy a loaf of bread for dinner. The trolleys were full with the end of the day work crowd.

  Once we were off the gray and brown trolley and walking home through the trailer park, I asked my cousin, “Why didn’t the trolley stop at the Crown Borough?”

  Lowe snorted. “They don’t usually take the trolley. They’re too rich. It would be a sign of desperation for them. The trolleys usually stop there at the start and end of the work day for the sake of the folks who clean for Crown Borough residents. I guess just not this time.”

  As we rounded the turn to our own cottage I saw Lisa and Lucky standing outside, chatting with Bethel. With a big floppy hat on her head and a wicker basket over one arm, my grandmother looked as if she had been working in the garden. Several cats were milling around her. Poking out of the basket was an array of fruits and vegetables.

  When Bethel saw us she grimaced. “Where have you two been?”

  “We could say the same to you,” I said.

  “You could, but I wouldn’t if I were you. As the grandmother it’s my job to keep track of you two. Not the other way around,” she said sharply.

  “Well, you three enjoy dinner. We’re going inside now,” said Lucky with a smile. The two ladies waved at us and disappeared into their home. I notice, not for the first time, that the grass was overgrown and the whole place looked like it might fall down. I wondered why they didn’t get somebody to fix it, then I told myself it was probably because they didn’t have the money.

  Without a backward glance, Bethel headed toward the house. We trailed after her and the cats scampered into the garden. I had the distinct impression that we were in trouble.

  By the time we got inside and took our shoes off, my grandmother had made it into the kitchen. Her bonnet was on the table and she was already chopping vegetables. The kitchen view was of the back field. In the distance I could see several unicorns grazing.

  “Is everything okay?” Lowe asked tentatively. We were both hot, and I was hoping to have headed up to take a shower by now. Given how angry Bethel seemed, it looked like we weren’t going to get the chance.

  “You tell me,” said Bethel, without looking up. She was an experienced vegetable chopper, moving through the onions as if they were nothing. I didn’t know how I should feel about the fact that my grandmother was so good with a knife.

  “We’re fine. Thank you for asking,” I said.

  My grandmother glared up at me. “Where were you?”

  Lowe and I exchanged books. We hadn’t discussed this portion of the evening. To lie or not to lie. Apparently in Twinkleford that was always the question.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Bethel warned.

  She can read our minds as well!

  “We went to see Michael Fieldcorn. He’s an owl feather trader in the Bleak Area,” said Lowe.

  My grandmother stopped chopping. Whatever she had expected us to say, it wasn’t that. For a split second I thought she was less angry than I had expected her to be. At least we had caught her off guard, the first line of defense. Keep her moving and keep her footing unsure.

  She resumed her chopping and asked, “And what exactly were you doing there?”

  “W
e had it in our heads to find out about owl trading,” said Lowe.

  “How very interesting and enterprising of you,” said my grandmother dryly.

  “We thought so,” said Lowe.

  “How is Mike?” she asked.

  “We don’t really have a frame of reference. He seemed fine, though. About the only one around here who isn’t worried about the Vixens,” I said.

  My grandmother threw her head back and cackled. “Of course he isn’t worried about them. He would have to leave his property for them to be a danger to him. I don’t think he intends to do that any time soon.”

  “Why would he have to do that to be in danger?” I asked.

  Bethel took the onions and threw them into a large pot on top of the kale that was already in there.

  “He would have to do that to be in danger because of how well protected his house is. His father buried feathers everywhere. His grandfather before him buried feathers. The most dangerous sort. If Michael’s home is ever attacked, the attacker had better be very careful. I can’t possibly imagine that it’s worth the risk of layers of generations of magic and potions. His house is as well defended as any in the entire town. You’d have to be crazy to try and attack his owls,” she said.

  “So how does he know when friends show up?” Lowe wondered.

  “I can’t imagine that he has any,” Bethel shrugged.

  “Can you tell us more about the pearl trade in Twinkleford?” I asked.

  Without looking up from her dinner preparations, my grandmother said, “No. I cannot. If you want to know more about something like that you’ll have to do a crystal ball reading yourself.”

  I would have thought she might direct me to the library, or maybe even a newspaper archive. Instead, she was directing me to do magic. Unsurprisingly, as a new witch, this was not a direction I had thought of going.

  “I don’t have a crystal ball,” I pointed out, hoping this reminder would get her to just tell us something. We had already had a very long day. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could make it. All I wanted was to sit back and hear a nice story about illegal potion ingredients.

  Yes, times had changed.

  But my grandmother had no intention of being helpful. “There are some extra crystal balls in attic that you can use,” she said.

  Across the table I saw my cousin’s face pale. She dropped her spoon and looked up at Bethel’s back.

  “I don’t think I’ve been up there just yet,” I said, frowning at my cousin. What was her problem?

  “The staircase by your bedroom should do the trick,” said my grandmother, with a finality that told me the conversation was at an end.

  “Okay,” I said. Bethel continued to make dinner.

  After dinner I made my way upstairs, but instead of stopping at my bedroom I continued down the hall.

  Why I thought it would be a good idea to go into the attic in the dead of night I didn’t know. I had always had mixed feelings about attics. I didn’t mind one that was new and shiny and had been turned into a game room, like the one at my dad’s house. Attics that were old and cramped were a different story.

  The back stairwell was so narrow that the door looked more like it led to a closet than to another level of the house. I had opened it once before, looking for a fresh towel, but when I’d seen the dark abyss of the old wooden staircase beyond the door, I had quickly shut the door with a loud creak.

  The one good thing about living in such a house, and walking up such an old staircase, was that everybody knew I was coming. Whatever mice were in the attic were duly warned to watch out. Also, the noises meant that nobody would be able to sneak up on me if I was up there by myself. I’d know someone was coming from a mile away.

  At the turn of the stairs was another door. This one was a bit wider, though it didn’t appear to fit the space terribly well; there was a six inch gap between the door and the floor. In other words, plenty of room for anything to crawl through.

  I was already getting the creeps. Walking through a cemetery was bad, but this was almost worse. On top of everything else there were cobwebs hanging from every available surface. So far this town had seemed blissfully empty of spiders, but the feeling that my spider-free life would be over once I went into this attic made my feet climb more slowly. All the spiders in Twinkleford were probably having web-making parties in Bethel’s attic as I inched closer.

  I pushed the door open and saw a black room beyond. Steeling myself and hoping that the spiders had already run away, I ran my hand against the wall. Rough old wood met my fingertips. I kept feeling, trying to be careful not to get a splinter, which would have been the last thing I needed.

  I found a switch at last and quickly turned on the overhead light. This too was old, its cover caked in a film of grime and dust that made the light dimmer than it should have been.

  The attic smelled like any very old house smells. The air was filled with dust, and in this one an extra level of musk met my nostrils. The ceiling sloped and looked creepy. Cobwebs hung from the beams, the spiders probably just out of sight, waiting to drop.

  This was exactly the kind of attic I hated most, old, creepy, empty in a weird way despite being filled with mysterious boxes. Nobody spent any time up here. All that happened was that somebody came up the old stairs to leave another box and then went back down again. I felt like little critters could easily decide it was their home, and from then on they’d be lurking behind the many stacks of boxes that covered the floor.

  Really, there were probably more mice in this attic than there were in the entire rest of the house combined. I wondered if I was supposed to bring them a cheese offering to get them to let me pass. Where was Spunk when I needed his initiative?

  Knowing that I was being unreasonable, I still kept a close eye on my ankles. Just in case.

  “Need any help?” a voice asked from behind me.

  I screamed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lowe had come scampering up the stairs, but I’d been so absorbed in the creepiness that I hadn’t even heard the creakiness. Eyes wide and staring, I pulled myself together as best I could, reminding myself that she lived in the house too. She had every right to be there and scare the bejesus out of me.

  Lowe looked around and said, “That expression on your face, anyone would think you’d just seen a Vixen.”

  “This is almost worse,” I said.

  She looked confused.

  “I hate creepy old attics,” I murmured.

  “I don’t think anyone really likes them,” she acknowledged. “Besides, there are generations’ worth of stuff up here, and I’m sure no one knows what might actually be lurking in these boxes.”

  It was a bigger space than I’d have thought the house could offer. Despite the sloped roof, there was still plenty of room for boxes, stacks of old games, old bedding, stuffed animals, and countless other things that would have been part of the household over the years. My stepmother Blossom would have thrown it all away. She wasn’t the sentimental type, and she had no use for memories unless they were going to get her to her hair appointment on Friday.

  I had a feeling that Blossom had made an exception for Bailey’s wedding mementos. I could see the spacious, imposing, impersonal living room in my dad’s house in my mind’s eye. By now Blossom had probably covered every spare inch with memorabilia from Bailey’s big day. I shuddered.

  Back to the present, though. In all of this mess, there was one thing I wasn’t seeing. I hadn’t moved very far from the door for fear of critters, but I could see most of the stuff from the doorway.

  “Where are the crystal balls? Maybe in boxes under other boxes?” I asked.

  Nothing was labeled or organized. This was going to take forever.

  When Lowe didn’t answer, I glanced back to find her looking upward.

  “Do you know where the crystal balls are?” I said.

  She glanced at me and nodded. “Actually, I do.” She pointed upwards.

  My ey
es followed where she was pointing. All I saw was the ceiling.

  “On the roof?” I asked, bewildered. This place was strange, but I hadn’t noticed a lot of globes glimmering on the shingles.

  “The crawl space. Bethel put all the important magic stuff up there,” Lowe explained.

  My mouth dropped open. “Thieves definitely won’t make it up there. If I go up there I might not make it down. Is the woman mad?”

  “Maybe, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. She wanted to hide all the supplies. She has always thought that the Rhinestones could be in trouble if the Council decides to pick a fight with us. We control the unicorns, but that only goes so far. Gran never wants to be caught napping, so to speak,” Lowe explained.

  “Right. I see,” I lied. I didn’t see at all. There was no scenario where I thought it was acceptable to stick anything in a crawl space that I would have to then retrieve. It was as if Bethel knew, I thought bitterly.

  Where was Ethel when I needed her? My sister was still in hiding, and I couldn’t help but wonder where. She was never around for long enough so that I could figure it out.

  “Okay, let’s get this horrible day over with as quickly as possible,” I grumbled.

  Lowe made her way to the wall. Through the gloom I saw a ladder, rough and unsafe-looking, nailed into the boards. I glared at the ceiling again. If we climbed up several rungs, we’d be able to grab a string and pull a trapdoor open.

  “Hey, mice! We’re coming up! Get off the trap door! Please,” I yelled.

  Lowe turned around and gave me a bemused look. “You’re pathetic.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I know.”

  She climbed up the ladder and pulled open the trapdoor. I stood back just in case. Cobweb was not my color.

  The door swung down easily, and once again all I could see was inky night. Lowe just kept going up the ladder, brave girl that she was.

  “Can you just get it for me?” I called after her.

  Then from somewhere up above, with ceiling slats between us, she called, “No. You have to pick which one you want.”