by A. M. King
“You have a natural inclination to want to help others. That is the first rule of witching. A true witch uses her power to heal, help and do no harm. Remember that.”
Febe nodded thoughtfully. “But wouldn’t that make me an outcast?”
Madam Techer grinned. “Quite the contrary, dear. You see many witches use their gifts in different ways. There are psychics. Some good and some who have misbehaved so they’ve lost their license to practice and have been cursed in the process.”
“Oh.”
“And some go into performance but that is frowned upon.”
“Performance?”
“Yes. Magic shows and what have you. Some use their gifts to do readings and set up shop, join the circus or showbiz where they won’t stand out so much. Some go into the arts and sciences. Some teach. Some go into medicine to heal patients and provide unbelievable comfort. Some go into medical research to help find a cure, but be careful of medical research.”
“Why?”
“We once had a witch who tested a drug to help cure herpes. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Neither was she at the end of that experiment.”
“Oh.” Febe gulped.
“Some of us are even hired by the FBI and other law enforcement agencies to work on cold cases,” she continued. “They help find victims’ missing remains while working with the forces on the other side: the wandering spirits of the victims who direct them to the site of their bodies.”
“Wow!”
This all seemed so overwhelming to Febe. But at least she knew she could use her abilities, her gifts to help others. That was reassuring. So much for that dreadful stereotype about witches flying on broomsticks, cackling at the moon with their ugly wart noses and tall black hats. The more she thought about it, the more she realized her aunties were right. They needed to help eliminate those harmful stereotypes and negative media portrayals of their kind. But one baby step at a time. If she ever went back to advertising maybe she could start by changing the way they were portrayed in Halloween corporate ads. Now that would be something.
“Just remember that your gifts can have unlimited use with normals.”
“Normals?” This was a lot to take in. Nothing about their conversation or about this lesson was normal. But Febe had to get used to this new way of talking now. She wasn’t just a girl from the city originally from a small town in Southern Ontario. She was a gifted witch. As crazy as that sounded.
“Yes, normals,” Madam Techer clarified. “Witches are known as magical folks and other human beings who did not possess or know how to harness their energies in a gifted way are known as normals or non-magical folks. And just an FYI, it is very hard for the two to mix, in terms of mixed relationships. The Council of Witches doesn’t encourage it as it can lead to unfortunate consequences.”
Wait a minute. Was she saying that interrelationships between witches and normal folks were prohibited? Well, that threw the idea of ever dating in the future out the window.
“Why’s that?” Febe asked.
“We’ll get into that at a later lesson, but for now, just think about what you wish to do with your gifts in the future.”
“I hope I can help the police solve the case of that columnist Darla Gosnik. I mean, seeing her body like that on the ground...”
“Yes, it was quite unfortunate what happened to her. She wasn’t very well liked.”
“I gather. She wrote some pretty strong words about a lot of people on her site.”
“She was one of us, but had her license revoked.”
“She did?” No one told Febe that before. Did her aunties know this?
“You seem surprised.”
“I am. Why was her license revoked?”
“Oh, it was a long time ago,” Madam Techer said. “She broke rules number twelve and thirteen of the thirteen principles of witching.”
“The thirteen principles of witching?”
“Yes, dear. Rules or principles. The term is often used interchangeably. We will go through those in the coming weeks.”
“Right. I’ll make a mental note of that.”
A smile of approval touched her lips.
“Out of curiosity, what are rules number twelve and thirteen?”
“Number twelve is to practice within the magical guidelines. There is power in words and one must use words wisely to bring goodness not evil to others. Number thirteen is self-love.”
“She broke those rules? How?” Febe was curious as to how this might have contributed to her murder. Perhaps there was a clue in there somehow, as farfetched as it sounded right now.
“If you have self-love, it is difficult to hate others. Love is something you can’t give if you don’t have it to begin with. It is not a vain type of love, either. It is a respectful love and the type that makes you want to treat others how you wish to be treated.”
“I see. I guess having a gossip column that dug up scandals about others wasn’t exactly kosher then?”
Madam Techer took a sip of her tea. “It’s unbecoming of a witch and counterproductive to the rule of do no harm.”
“One of the principles is to do no harm?”
“Exactly. Her fault was that she went too far, believing that she was helping by exposing other’s secrets, faults and weaknesses when in fact she was scandalizing them.”
“I take it you weren’t a fan of hers at all.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Febe. She hasn’t been very kind to my family either. She has written a few nasty articles about the Council, too and about my teaching practice, but witches don’t hold grudges.”
“They don’t?”
“And why does that surprise you? Please don’t tell me that you buy into the stereotypes of witches who are evil creatures.”
“Oh, no.” Febe bit down on her lower lip. “Not really. I mean...”
“It’s all right, dear. That’s not the only thing that is bothering you, is it?”
“No. I get the feeling that it was no accident that we stumbled on her body the other night when we came into Blackshore Bay. This terrifies me. I mean, was she killed because she was a witch or because of her scandal site?”
“Your aunts have probably already informed you that you need to be very careful. I think you should take that advice seriously.”
Febe swallowed hard.
“You see she was not killed because she was a witch. At least I don’t think she was initially.”
“You mean whoever killed her found out later?”
Madam Techer nodded. “I believe so. Part of the rules of witching is to master yourself, Febe. Perhaps that’s an area where you can accomplish more. You have a burning desire to use your abilities and normal gifts to solve problems, just as you did in bringing messages to your client’s customers in the advertising business.”
“Yeah, only this is murder.”
Febe looked up at Madam Techer, whose face was stone cold.
“Madam Techer, are you all right?”
The book on the table snapped shut. “This lesson is now over for this week. You will read over the first few chapters of the Witches Guide to Magical Spells by Inerva Hagspeed.
“Excuse me? Is that a book I can actually get from the library?”
“No, no, dear.” She sighed deeply. You will go the Ministry website and follow the link. Yes, we do use the Internet like everybody else these days.
Febe grinned. “I sense something’s wrong.”
“It is. We have company on the curb. I will be off now.” Madam Techer got up and gestured to Febe to leave.
“Um...Okay.”
When Febe glanced out the window, she saw below at the bottom of the hill leaning up against his police car, the handsome detective from the other night.
Oh, crap! Did he follow her there?
Chapter 17
“Detective Trey, right?” Febe said, walking down the steps from the house with her backpack slung over her shoulder toward the cu
rb where Detective Trey Heart leaned casually against his car.
“Yes, Ms. Summer, we need to stop meeting like this.” He gave her a cocky grin.
He looked so gorgeous with his tall muscular physique and chiseled cheekbones, beautiful eyes framed by long lashes. Why was it that guys always had the long, beautiful lashes?
“Yes, we must stop meeting like this,” Febe agreed.
Febe could feel the pitter-patter of her heartbeat but tried to ignore her body’s response to this Greek god like cop. Why on earth was she having this sort of reaction to him? She wished she could control her body’s responses like a spell. But chemistry was always tricky to control. Magic or no magic.
He was still a man and she needed to take a break from men right now. Especially after what Jonathan did to her. She would never be the same again.
Oh, wait. As Madam Techer said, tough times don’t last but tough people do. She’d get over that douche bag, but she still was taking a break from men.
Had the detective been following her? Did he suspect her of anything since she found the body with her sister? But then why wouldn’t he just come out and say it?
“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?” He gestured his chin to the house on the hill.
“Doing where?”
“Up there on the hill.”
Febe froze.
She couldn’t just tell him that she was taking magic lessons from a witch so that she, too, could get her witch license.
Think Febe, think. Don’t lie. But don’t blurt the truth, either.
You have the right to remain silent. Silent. Silent.
“I was just visiting someone. Is that illegal?”
He looked around her toward the house with an odd expression as if to say she was crazy. He then glanced back at her.
“You were doing what?” he said slowly and cautiously.
“I...um...was visiting someone.”
“Up there?”
“Yes. Up there. In the house.”
“What house?”
Febe turned around incredulously. “That house on top of the hill.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Ma’am, I’m going to ask you nicely not to go up there again. It’s way too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous. Why?” Her heart exploded into rapid beats in her chest. Something bad was coming, she just felt it in her bones. “Why?” she asked again slowly, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“Because since the house burnt down a century ago, it’s not really safe grounds.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Techer Sisters owned that place back in the early 1920s until it was burnt down to the ground with them and their butler in it.”
Febe’s body tensed.
Chapter 18
“So when were you going to tell me that Madam Techer was a ghost?” Febe demanded, her hands placed on her hips, an hour later after she left the Techer House on the hill and returned to the Summer Café. She hadn’t been able to wait to get her aunties into the office to confront them.
Aunt Eartha looked nervously to Vanity and then to Trixie. “I know we should have warned her ahead of time.”
“What on earth for?” Aunt Trixie said. “Then she wouldn’t have passed her first test. Her power of imagination is superior. We suggested she would see a teacher who lived in a cozy Victorian and that was what she saw. The old house as it stood before it burned down was real to her in her mind—in her reality.”
“But it isn’t magic, is it? In life people see what they want to see.”
“But many can’t see what’s not there. The Techer house was a burnt down skeleton of the original home filled with rubble and blackened furniture. It was never refurbished. But our dear Febe saw it as it was back in its heyday. Good on you, dear.”
“Okay, this is way too creepy for me. I am so not going back there.”
“Oh, but you have to, dear.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
When Detective Trey had informed her what the house was. She had slowly turned around and looked at it again. Only it wasn’t the nice-looking Victorian House with the red brick exterior and green window shutters. It was an abandoned piece of property with blackened bricks, decaying exterior, boarded up windows, black shutters and a peeling roof. It looked like an abandoned ghost house.
Holy crap. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
When she had taken a closer look, she had seen no white picket fence around the property, only boarded up wood with massive cobwebs.
The attic window where she saw Madam Techer’s sister – her sister’s ghost – staring out, was empty. There was no multi-paned glass there. You could see right through it to a dark inside and another window on the other side.
Thinking about that gave Febe chills right up and down her spine. Yikes.
What was wrong with her?
She was seeing things that weren’t even there.
Yeah, just like you saw a cool, handsome guy with a heart in your ex-fiancé, Jonathan, only to realize he was a real toad, not a prince.
What she had was a vision. The power of suggestion. A powerful imagination.
“But I don’t get it,” Febe said. “Why haven’t they, Madam Techer and her sister and butler, you know, moved on?”
Aunt Eartha and Aunt Trixie exchanged glances. “Well, you see dear,” Aunt Eartha said in a soothing voice, “they haven’t been able to because the people who torched their home when they were in it are still here.”
“What? But how? That was almost a hundred years ago!”
“It’s a long story, darling. We’ll not get into that right now. But rumors had circulated back then that Madam Techer was a witch and her sister, too.”
“But what about their poor butler?”
“Oh, that’s something we’ll talk about another time, darling. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I’d say they all were at the wrong place at the wrong time, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I guess you could say that,” Aunt Eartha said.
“Well dear, you need to go back to your lessons or you’ll never be accredited as a witch.”
“Oh, please. It’s not like she can practice out in the open anyway,” Aunt Vanity said.
“But she’ll need to be all that she can be.”
“This is not about joining the army, Eartha.”
“I didn’t say it was. Although, she will have many battles to face and having the magical ring will help her to focus her energies and to control and protect her reservoir. Right now, she doesn’t hold that protection. Besides, we need her to make up the seven witch circle by next year to fight the evil hunter.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
“Guys, it’s getting busy out there in the dining room. The staff is wondering why all the Summer sisters suddenly hid away in some secret meeting back here in the office.” Janvier stood at the door of the kitchen, her apron with the logo, “Summer Café. We’ll Make Your Day!” tied around her waist.
Febe always wondered who on earth thought of that logo for the company. She figured it had to be Aunt Trixie who came up with it.
“Very well, we’ll be right out.”
“Great. We’ll also need to order some sandwiches for the police station. They have a meeting for their community baseball team.”
“Oh, that sounds fabulous doesn’t it?” Aunt Vanity said.
“You will not be flirting with any officers of the law, Vanity,” Trixie warned.
“Who on earth said I’d be flirting with a man in uniform? You know how I feel about them.”
“What about them?” Febe asked.
“Oh, she went out with this Navy officer once. He broke her heart when he sailed out of her life.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He forgot to tell me he picked up women from every continent he went to.” She rolled her eyes. “Never again will I trust a man at sea. They’re like
the waves, up and down and wash away when the first sign of turbulence hits.”
“Okay.”
“So you will be going back to your lessons, right?” Aunt Eartha asked, hopefully.
“Well, we were discussing the case.” Come to think of it, no wonder Madam Techer wanted to help her find the killer.
“Good. Any ideas on who might have done this?”
“Well, we’re still far from the truth. Was Darla killed because she was a gossip or because she was a witch? We still don’t know for sure.”
Knowing the real motive of Darla’s death would make all the difference in the world.
Chapter 19
Commanderio stay!
Commanderio leave!
Commanderio stop!
Febe woke up in the middle of the night with a start. Her heartbeat raced in her chest and her neck was all sweaty.
Flying books and flying objects and handbags were coming at her, in the nightmare, from every possible direction, slamming into her and there was no way she could stop them.
No amount of commanderio worked. In fact, it got worse. She kicked her feet about under the sheets.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to sleep here,” a voice sounded in the darkness of the room. “Can’t a cat get any sleep without being kicked?”
“What? Oh, um...oh, no. Sorry, Ebony.”
“Hey, no worries. Since when did you start talking in your sleep? You okay?” Ebony sounded concerned but there was a hint of annoyance in her tone.
Febe really didn’t mean to kick her little kitty.
“I just had a nightmare, that’s all,” Febe said.
“That’s all?” Ebony yawned. “I think you’re possessed.”
“Possessed? Am not!”
“Are too.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Who do you think you are?” Febe was beginning to miss the days when her little feline was just that, a feline. Not a talking cat that spoke back to her whenever she felt like it, saying all sorts of ridiculous things.