Some Like It Witchy

by Ani Gonzalez

  Fiona laughed. "Can't hurt. And I never say no to sugar."

  They walked toward the bakery's neon sign, like moths drawn to a flame.

  Fiona giggled. "The first thing I ate when I arrived in town was one of Patricia's apple cider donuts. Everyone said I had to try one."

  "They're classics," he said, holding open the bakery door. "But they may not have them at midnight."

  Laurie, Patricia's helping hand, stood behind the counter, typing on a laptop.

  "Hi, guys," she said, looking up. "What's your pleasure?"

  Gavin frowned. "No writing next to the deep fryer, Laurie. We've talked about this."

  "Oh, for Pete's sake, Chief," Laurie replied, glancing at the donut maker. "It's on the other side of the room and it's turned off. I just finished the last batch for the night."

  "Then we're just in time," Fiona interjected, elbowing Gavin in the ribs. "Two bags of mini-donuts, please. And extra powdered sugar in mine."

  "Mine too," Gavin added, bowing to the inevitable.

  "Coming up," Laurie said, grabbing two pink-and-orange striped bags from under the counter. "By the way, Fiona, that box next to the door is yours. They delivered it here by mistake."

  Fiona glanced at the rectangular package on the floor. "Sorry about that. People get confused."

  "Does this happen often?" Gavin asked.

  Fiona nodded. "Often enough. Wicked Wicks is six seven eight Main Street and the bakery is six eight seven. The numbers are wacko."

  "That could be changed," Gavin mused.

  "Don't," she exclaimed, alarmed. "They'll try to make it a marketing gimmick. They were trying to turn us into six six six Main Street, Satan's Own Shopping Strip."

  He laughed. "I heard that. It sounded like a horrible idea."

  "It was." Fiona grimaced. "I don't want to be known as Lucifer's official candle maker. I have enough problems as it is."

  "Freshly baked," Laurie said, handing them two bags of warm donuts. "And hold on one second..." She walked over to the freezer and took out two glasses full of creamy white liquid. "Here you go. You can be our guinea pigs."

  That did not sound promising.

  "What is this?" Gavin asked, examining the contents of his glass. It appeared to be a vanilla milkshake with red candies sprinkled on top.

  "It's Patricia's new recipe," Laurie replied proudly. "She calls it the Witch's Nightcap. It has milk, vanilla ice cream, almond extract, and other additives to help you sleep. Patricia wants to spice up the night shift and see if she can bring in more customers."

  Gavin gave his drink a suspicious glance. "What do you mean by additives?"

  "An herbal extract with a teensy-tiny little drop of valerian," Laurie explained. "It's harmless."

  Fiona took a tentative sip, then smiled. "It's delicious."

  Gavin tried it. The chilled cream was sweet and light. Fiona was right. It was rather tasty.

  "Why the red candies?" he asked, taking a long sip.

  "That was my idea," Laurie said. "Nightcap, get it? It looks like a nightcap mushroom."

  "Oh." Gavin drank his milkshake without another word.

  "Thanks, Laurie." Fiona grabbed her glass and donut bag and headed for a table. He followed her, still not saying anything.

  By the time they sat down, he couldn't hold it in anymore.

  "What is she thinking?" he hissed. "Nightcaps are poisonous mushrooms."

  "I know," Fiona said, giggling. "But the shake is good. I'll have a talk with Patricia and ask her to ixnay on the candies."

  "Please do that," Gavin replied. "This reminds me of the time Caine wanted to have a Krampus party at the elementary school. It took all of our efforts to dissuade him."

  "Krampus?" Fiona asked, frowning. "Isn't that a scary Christmas demon?" She vaguely recalled reading about a coal-black demon that kidnapped children, but surely Caine wouldn't...

  "That's the one."

  They spent a good hour chatting about crazy Banshee Creek ideas. Fiona was easy to talk to. By the time they'd finished the donuts and shakes, Laurie was closing up the bakery.

  "Night, night, guys," she said, picking up their cups and bags. "Don't let the bedbugs bite." She frowned. "That's an idea. Maybe the red dots should be bedbugs."

  Gavin stifled a groan. Fiona kicked him in the shin.

  "Thanks a lot, Laurie," she said, picking up her box. "See you tomorrow."

  They left the bakery, Fiona carrying her unwieldy package.

  "Can I carry that for you?" he asked as they walked.

  "Thanks," she said, handing it over. "It has a perishable label on top. Do you mind if I stop by my store and leave it there? It's on the way."

  "That sounds like a good idea," he said.

  The box wasn't heavy, but it was large and difficult to carry. They reached Wicked Wicks and Fiona opened the door and turned on the lights.

  "You can put it there," she said, walking behind the counter and opening a drawer. "I should open it in case I need to refrigerate it or put it in water."

  She took out a pair of scissors and quickly snipped the coarse strings around the package.

  "It looks very fancy," Gavin said, noting the star-shaped stamps on the brown wrapping paper and the intricate knots used.

  "Yes," Fiona said, struggling with the bindings. "It's from a store in Vermont. They specialize in rare plants and herbs and their packaging is very pretty." She pulled at a stubborn knot. "But it's a pain to open."

  "I can see that," Gavin replied, watching her struggles. "Here, let me help."

  She stepped back, letting him handle the knots. "I don't often buy from them because they're dreadfully expensive. In fact, I haven't ordered anything from them recently."

  "Maybe it's a present," he said, noticing that the address label read 687 Main Street, which was actually the bakery's address. But it was clearly addressed to Fiona.

  Fiona grinned. "Perhaps I have a secret admirer."

  "Could be," he answered, not liking the idea. He had, he admitted to himself, become very fond of Fiona. The prospect of competition did not please him.

  The box finally opened, revealing long branches with green glossy leaves. Each branch held a small plastic water container. A pale pink flower had fallen from one of the branches. Gavin picked it up and held it to his nose.

  A light, floral scent invaded his senses.

  Fiona frowned. "What is that?"

  Gavin looked at her intently, taking in her confused mien. "You don't know?"

  She shook her head, reaching for a stem. "I've never seen it before. Is it a type of jasmine?"

  "No," Gavin said, examining the wilted flower in his hands. "Although it's related. It's oleander."

  She dropped the stem as if it burned, and stepped back warily.

  He carefully put the flower back in the box.

  "And it's poisonous."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "NERIUM OLEANDER," Kat read. "Known as oleander or, in Spanish, adelfa. Mediterranean plant, highly resistant to drought, with pink, white, or even yellow flowers. The Latin name derives from Nereus, god of the sea, and the Spanish name is inspired by the nymph Daphne. The plant is featured in mosaics dating back to Roman times. It is the official plant of the Japanese city of Hiroshima, as it was the first shrub to grow after the atomic explosion."

  Fiona frowned at her friend. "I know what it is. What I need to know is why someone would send it to me."

  Kat closed the book she was reading. They were in the botánica, preparing to open their shops. The day was rainy and cold, which matched Fiona's mood perfectly.

  Kat looked splendid in red slacks and a white shirt adorned with an intricate necklace made of red, orange and black beads. Fiona wondered if there was any significance to her friend's choice of attire. Black and Red, she knew, were the colors of Changó, the god of war and fire.

  Was Kat preparing for battle?

  Fiona regarded her own fluffy green sweater and jeans ensemble. Nothing could be less w
arriorlike. That was on purpose. People who could make furnaces explode were better off avoiding conflict. And fire deities, along with fire magic, were a big no-no.

  But maybe she should change her strategy. People were sending her poisonous plants. This was getting serious.

  Deadly serious.

  The reddish gleam of Kat's beaded necklace caught her eye, and she found herself enthralled by the shifting orange and red colors. She felt her power rise.

  It would be easy, so easy.

  "It could be a mistake," Kat noted, breaking the spell. "The shops are new, and people get the numbers wrong all the time."

  "I considered that," Fiona answered, steadfastly ignoring the tempting red gleam. "I called up the store and they said they didn't know who purchased them. All they had was my name, but I didn't do it, and you didn't do it, and yours is the only shop that would be likely to. The bakery is certainly not planning any oleander cookies or cakes."

  "I should hope not." Kat shuddered. "Well, I didn't buy any oleander. It's not very popular as a magical herb because of the toxicity." She glanced at the box Fiona had left on the counter. "I wouldn't order it from the Vermont store in any case, and I certainly wouldn't get the expedited shipping. Their prices are ridiculous."

  "Highway robbery," Fiona agreed.

  "But it doesn't matter." Kat shrugged. "You could have ordered it and messed up the address. I could have ordered it and messed up the address, or even used the wrong address, knowing you would bring it to me. The point is, we're both under suspicion."

  "I know." Fiona considered the box. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

  "Me either."

  They stared at the box in silence. The branches looked perfectly innocent with their glossy, dark leaves and pink flowers. The whole package was, Fiona had to admit, quite attractive.

  Too bad about the whole toxic, illness, dying thing.

  The door chime tinkled, and Luanne walked in with a pink-and-orange striped cardboard box containing four cups of coffee, and her trademark tote bag that read "Madame Esmeralda. Your Future is My Business." She was wearing jeans and an amber-colored peasant top, and looked preternaturally cheerful with curly red hair bouncing around her shoulders and a bright smile.

  "Hi, gals," she said merrily, showing off the coffee cups. "I thought you could use this."

  Fiona didn't ask how her friend knew about the oleander. Luanne just knew things. Instead, she accepted the treat greedily. She'd rushed to the botánica to discuss the package with Kat, and hadn't had time for her morning fix.

  Luanne distributed the ghost-logoed cardboard cups, then glanced down at the box and its contents.

  "So this is it," she said, nose wrinkling. "It looks pretty."

  "Looks can be deceiving," Fiona muttered, sipping her coffee.

  The dark brew quickly restored her composure. She had friends, she had brains, she could handle this.

  At least she hoped so.

  Luanne's eyes widened. "You're not getting rid of it, are you?"

  Kat crossed her arms and regarded her resident fortune teller. "Why shouldn't we get rid of it?"

  "Sean is going to want it," Luanne explained, blowing on her hot coffee. "You know, as evidence."

  Fiona groaned. "That's what I was afraid of."

  The delivery must have something to do with Alicia's death. That thought had haunted her all night, and Luanne's comments seemed to confirm it. Whether it was due to Luanne's romantic relationship with the sheriff or her tumultuous relationship with the time stream didn't matter. Luanne had the inside scoop, no doubt about it.

  "You have nothing to worry about," Kat said fiercely. "Your fire starters had no oleander in them. The police will figure that out."

  Luanne nodded. "They'll get the lab results later today. But your products won't be the problem."

  "Oh, just spill it, Luanne," Kat exclaimed.

  "It's the bowl, isn't it?" Fiona asked at the same time.

  "What bowl?" Kat asked.

  "Gavin asked me about a bowl they found among the ashes," Fiona explained. "It was metal, with wax, and was surrounded by symbols. He thought they might have bought it from my shop, but I don't sell anything like that."

  "Well, that explains why I was getting all those cups cards," Luanne muttered.

  "It sounds like a ritual vessel," Kat mused.

  "What's that?" Fiona asked.

  Kat rubbed her chin. "You use it to present an offering to the goddess, like cakes or flowers. Usually people carry it around the casting circle as part of the ritual. It's nicer than just plopping a floral bouquet on a table."

  "Would you use it to carry oleander? For the Beltane festival?"

  Kat shrugged and spread out her hands in a gesture of cluelessness. "I wouldn't. In my tradition, the flower is sacred to Oyá, the goddess of death. But someone else might. The nymph, Daphne, was associated with Apollo, the Greek sun god. That might be enough of a link to bring it into a ritual."

  Fina peered at the box. "As branches?"

  Kat nodded. "You can use branches in purification rituals. People strike themselves with them or use them to lash at other members of the coven. It drives off evil spirits." She tapped her chin. "I think Alicia LeFay was one of the proponents of ceremonial flagellation. She used it in a Samhain ritual not long ago."

  "With oleander?" Fiona asked.

  Kat shook her head. "No, rowan branches, I believe." Her brow furrowed. "No one would use oleander. Even if you don't ingest it, just touching it could cause an allergic reaction."

  "Maybe they didn't know what they were doing?" Fiona asked.

  "I doubt it," Kat answered. "Oleander is famous for its poisonous properties. Napoleonic soldiers died after eating pork laced with oleander. Kids have gone to the hospital after munching on its leaves or flowers. It's got quite the reputation."

  "I didn't know about it," Luanne interjected.

  "You thought my dried Chinese bat flower was a spider," Kat said. "And you screamed like a lunatic. You don't count."

  "The flower looked creepy," Luanne muttered. "And it moved."

  "The thing is," Kat continued, ignoring her friend's comment. "No one would use oleander branches in a ritual. You'd have to take too many precautions. Plus, there are lots of better alternatives out there."

  "Maybe they thought it was something else," Luanne noted. "I wouldn't know oleander if it came up and bit me in the butt."

  Kat considered that. "That's a possibility. What does the card in the box say, Fiona?"

  Fiona reached into the box, took out the card, and read it. "Laurel Rose, newly cut, guaranteed fresh."

  "I hate that store," Kat said. "They never give you the ordinary names for anything. They always pick the obscure. Laurel rose was the medieval name for the plant."

  "It sounds pretty," Luanne noted.

  "And harmless," Fiona added.

  "It's anything but," Kat said darkly.

  They drank their coffee, trying to figure things out. Had the oleander been a mistake? Or was someone trying to tell them something?

  "You say the chief told you there was a bowl," Luanne mused, sipping on her drink. "When exactly did he tell you that?"

  "Last night," Fiona answered absently. "At the Mangy Owl."

  Kat's brows went up. "Wait, you two went on a date? A real one?"

  "At a bar," Luanne added, matter-of-factly.

  "It wasn't like that," Fiona replied, a tad too quickly. "He wanted to know about my fire starters."

  "Sure he did," Luanne said. She leaned toward Kat. "Fire starters...that's code for nookie?" she whispered to the botánica owner.

  "I heard that," Fiona replied. "And it's not. He just wanted a list of ingredients."

  Luanne smirked. "Patricia said that Laurie told her that you and Gavin showed up right before closing time, drunk as skunks and thick as thieves. You guys ate all her donuts, criticized her precious milkshakes, and left, giggling and kissing."

  "Her milkshake
s are named after deadly fungi," Fiona exclaimed. "And we didn't kiss."

  "No?" Kat asked archly. "Why not?"

  "Probably the deadly fungi milkshake," Luanne replied. "It doesn't sound romantic."

  "He's very good-looking," Kat continued. "And I hear he doesn't get out much." She paused. "Socially, I mean."

  Luanne nodded. "He's a crabby Cancer. They're shy. But Sean says he's never seen Gavin this excited about someone."

  "He was just asking questions about Alicia's death," Fiona said, exasperated. "I'm a suspect, remember?"

  "Right, they always take their suspects to the Mangy Owl and feed them burgers," Luanne mocked. "It's the newest interrogation technique. Straight out of Guantanamo."

  "It was nachos," Fiona muttered.

  "Honey, you didn't get the extra peppers did you?" Kat exclaimed

  "Of course I did," Fiona replied. "They're the best part."

  "On a first date?" Kat looked horrified. "Oh, Fi, what am I going to do with you?"

  "It wasn't a date," Fiona ground out.

  "Capricorns can be a little stubborn," Luanne noted. "That's not always a good match for Cancer, but it can be managed. I'm going to do some charts for you guys. That will help you out."

  "We don't need help," Fiona replied. "And we don't need star charts."

  Luanne gave her an enigmatic smile. "Oh, trust me." She took her computer out of her bag. "You do."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE CLANGING of the weights had grown louder over the past half-hour.

  Gavin tried to ignore it, clenching his teeth as the lifted the dumbbell. The gym that Fire & Rescue shared with the sheriff's department was always noisy. The room was small and the equipment had not been updated in decades. There were no quiet, efficient weight-training machines, just a few free weights and a couple of old treadmills. Their one splurge was the new, high-tech stepping machine in the corner. Going up stairs was a key skill for Gavin's team.

  The back-to-basics theme was echoed by the barebones decor. The cinderblock walls were covered with mirrors and posters demonstrating proper stretching techniques. A galvanized aluminum bucket held ice and water bottles, and clean towels hung from hooks. It was a no-frills facility, which meant there were no distractions and Gavin could focus on his workout.