Some Like It Witchy

by Ani Gonzalez

  "And served in the Marine Corps." Kat wiggled her eyebrows. "Muscles galore."

  Luanne elbowed her in the ribs. "You're taken too, Mrs. Hagen."

  "Taken," Kat said, sipping her wine. "But not blind."

  "Amy's not blind either," Luanne commented, refilling her wineglass. "I'm predicting the downfall of the indomitable Miss Amy Chan, guys. Text me your guesses as to when it's going to happen, because the office pool is officially open. Don't worry, I won't participate." An impish smile crossed her face. "It wouldn't be fair."

  Amy Chan was the owner of the Pu Songling Chinese Restaurant. She was a Banshee Creek native and a no-nonsense businesswoman with big ambitions for her family's restaurant. So she'd brought in a highfalutin new cook? That wasn't surprising.

  "I hope the menu hasn't changed," Fiona said. "I was hoping for some crab rangoon."

  "Don't worry." Luanne waved her wineglass tipsyly. "You won't be disappointed."

  "If I don't get—"

  Fiona's response was interrupted by a loud banging coming from the floor below. Kat jumped, spilling wine all over her dress.

  "What is that?" she asked as she dabbed at the liquid with a napkin.

  Luanne tapped her foot. "I don't know, but it's got a good rhythm to it." She frowned and hummed a few bars. "This sounds familiar."

  "It's 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go' by The Clash," Fiona admitted. "I guess he's over his 'Bohemian Rhapsody' phase."

  "Who?" Kat and Luanne said in unison.

  The banging reached a crescendo. Luanne covered her ears.

  "If that's your neighbor downstairs, you need to have a stern talk with him," Kat said. "Maybe even call the sheriff."

  "It's not the tattoo studio," Fiona clarified quickly. "They've been fantastic."

  Justin, the owner of the tattoo shop, was a model neighbor. He was scrupulously clean, polite to a fault, and always willing to help out with both mundane and paranormal problems. He'd even designed her Wicked Wicks logo. She had no complaints about her downstairs neighbor.

  "The problem is that." She pointed an accusing finger at the rotund clay raccoon dog next to the front door.

  Luanne's eyes widened. "What is it?"

  Kat laughed. "The tanuki? It's a Japanese spirit. They like to imitate sounds and voices. They bring good luck, but are known to be mischievous. Is he trying to become a rock 'n' roll drummer?"

  "Well, it aspires to be a rock god." Fiona grimaced. "That's for sure. It's usually not this loud, though."

  Or this frequent. The tanuki had put on a concert last night and then again in the afternoon. Strange, it was usually not this active. Was it about to move into a new locale? She hoped not. She didn't want the tanuki in her candle shop, bothering her customers. The tattoo parlor clientele thought the spirit was cute, but her candle-loving clients liked it when things were peaceful.

  "It's really upset now," Kat agreed. "Justin came by to ask for advice because it's driving him nuts."

  "What happened?" Fiona asked, concerned. An angry tanuki could have a huge negative impact on her quality of life.

  "You know how you have to leave food for it?" Kat asked. "And it likes the wasabi and fish flavors the best?"

  "Yes, it's a foodie."

  "Justin found these new wasabi-flavored Cheetos in Eden Center," Kat continued. "Without thinking twice, he bought them and put them on the food bowl."

  "Wasabi-flavored crunchy artificial cheese things?" Fiona asked. "That sounds revolting. No wonder it's upset."

  "Actually, it's exactly the opposite," Kat said. "It loved them. The tanuki couldn't get enough of its noxious junk food. It positively devoured them. Justin had to buy them by the cartload and store them in the tattoo parlor."

  Okay, so maybe her tanuki wasn't such a foodie after all.

  "Is that why the first floor smelled so odd?" Fiona asked. "I was wondering about that."

  "The stuff is horrid," Kat said, wrinkling her nose.

  "So what's the problem?" Luanne asked. "Why is it angry now?"

  Kat sighed. "It was a limited edition flavor. It's now discontinued."

  Fiona put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no."

  Kat gave her a commiserating look. "Yep. We can't find it anywhere. Justin wants me to come up with a spell or ritual to appease it, but the tanuki doesn't want any spells. It wants Cheetos."

  "It's addicted," Luanne said.

  "What can we do?" Fiona asked.

  Kat threw up her hands. "Justin is trying to find the Cheetos—a grocery chain in Korea may still have them—and I'm trying to come up with an appeasement spell. If you hear of any wasabi-flavored snacks that may be as yummy as the Cheetos, let me know."

  Fiona glanced at her kitchenette. "Patricia made some snacks for the tanuki. I think she used wasabi and bonito flakes. It haven't tried them yet, but maybe it will like them."

  Kat's eyes lit up. "Do they look like Cheetos?"

  "No," Fiona admitted.

  Kat looked crestfallen.

  "But maybe she can turn them into cheese crips," Fiona continued. "How hard can it be?"

  "That's an idea," Luanne said.

  Kat glanced at her friend's empty wineglass. "A very drunk idea. I'm supposed to ask a renowned baker—someone who studied at the best culinary institute in New York—to make me some Cheetos?"

  "Yes," Fiona said emphatically. "'Cause I can't live like this."

  Luanne smirked. "Don't forget that you're going to have to come up with a spell featuring a crunchy, artificial-cheese flavored snack food. That's going to do wonders for your witch cred."

  Kat groaned.

  Luanne raised her wineglass. "To the great Banshee Creek Cheetos Hex."

  Fiona laughed and raised her glass. Kat rolled her eyes, but joined in.

  "To the hex," she said. "And to Fiona's date night."

  "It's not a—" The clicking glasses interrupted Fiona's denials.

  "It's totally a date night," Kat said. "I like the blouse. Gold and sparkly, a perfect tribute to Oshún, the goddess of love."

  Fiona froze. "That's it. I'm changing."

  "No, you're not," Luanne shouted. "You look great."

  "Don't worry," Kat said. "Gavin won't know what it is."

  "I have a white shirt," Fiona said, reaching for the pile of clothes on her bed.

  But her phone rang, and Luanne grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

  "Too late," the fortune teller said. "He's here. Grab her bag, Kat."

  Kat handed Fiona a small amber-colored bag with gold-chain handles. "Here you go." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, not quite yet."

  She grabbed the sleeves of Fiona's blouse and pushed them down so her shoulders were exposed. "There, now you're ready."

  "No," Fiona protested, as Luanne opened the door. "I want my tote."

  "Not dressy enough," Kat said as they pushed her out the door. "Have fun."

  Luanne smirked. "Oh, she will."

  "But—" The door slammed shut on Fiona's face.

  "Guys," she wailed. "You have my—"

  The door opened and a hand came out holding her phone. Fiona grabbed it.

  The door closed with a resounding thud.

  Fiona sighed, put her phone in her too-cute, too-sparkly, altogether-too-datelike purse and walked down the stairs to meet Gavin.

  Definitely not a date.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "FIRST DATE?" Amy Chan asked with a knowing smile as she handed them their menus.

  "Not a date," Gavin clarified quickly, sneaking a glance to see if Fiona had overheard.

  They were sitting at one of Su Pongling's lacquered red tables, perusing the restaurant's new dishes. The candle maker seemed fascinated by the restaurant's fancy new menus. She hadn't heard a thing.

  Good.

  He didn't want her to think this was a date. It was just a friendly meeting to discuss a horrible event that happened recently...

  alone...dressed up...in the swankiest restaurant in town.


  Hell, it really was a date, wasn't it? He'd even dressed up for it, putting on nice dark slacks and a dress shirt, even though he never wore dress shirts. He'd made reservations, for crying out loud. When was the last time he'd done that?

  It was definitely a date.

  Fiona, however, seemed oblivious. Or was she? She seemed to have dressed up as well. She was still wearing jeans, but her blond hair was loose over her shoulders and the gold top was stunning. It matched the small bag she'd hung from the chair. He knew little about women's wear, but he was almost certain that those little purses were dressy.

  So maybe she thought it was a date? That seemed promising, but also scary. What, exactly, did one do on a date? Presumably not discuss topics like death, poisoning, or murder.

  This was going to be tough.

  Unlike him, Fiona did not seem nervous. She was frowning at the menu, apparently looking for something.

  "Where are the crab rangoons?" she asked, looking alarmed.

  Amy sighed. "They're now 'delicate crab and cheese dumplings fried to a crispy, golden brown and served with a sweet and spicy plum sauce.'"

  "Sounds delicious," Gavin asserted. "Is that one of Eugene's new dishes?"

  Amy nodded unhappily.

  Fiona's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there goat cheese involved?"

  "Probably," Amy muttered. "Eugene loves goat cheese. He puts it in everything. The dumplings are good, though."

  "We'll take them," Gavin said firmly. "And a jar of the plum sangría."

  "It has dragonfruit syrup now," Amy warned.

  "I'm sure it's great," Gavin replied.

  Amy left, wearing a long-suffering expression on her face.

  "Do you know the new chef?" Fiona asked.

  "Yes," Gavin answered. "He's one of our new volunteers. Great guy, military training, very disciplined. Second-generation Korean-American. Speaks several languages. Impressive guy."

  The volunteer corps was one of Gavin' pet projects. Now that the town was becoming more popular, they would need more bodies. He'd already roped in Eugene and he was also trying to bring in Justin from the tattoo parlor.

  Fiona smiled. "A little too fond of goat cheese, perhaps?"

  He laughed. "Well, nobody's perfect. I think he worked in a fancy Chinese joint in Japan and at a place in Paris." He glanced at the menu, which had a surprising number of French words for a list of Chinese dishes. "He does fusion cuisine."

  "That sounds very sophisticated," she scanned the restaurant, which was decorated with Chinese ghost masks and lanterns. The walls were covered with ink drawings depicting various types of Asian supernatural creatures. The restaurant was named after China's answer to Edgar Allan Poe and the decor reflected that.

  "I'm not sure this is the right town for fusion cuisine," she whispered.

  "I think Eugene aims to change that."

  If Gavin had learned one thing during his short acquaintance with the chef, it was that he was a force of nature. If Eugene Lee wanted Banshee Creek to go upscale, the town would not be able to stand in his way.

  "Is he single?" she asked with studied nonchalance.

  "As far as I know," he answered, taken aback by her question. "Why do you ask?"

  A waiter came by with water, and Fiona covered her lips with her finger in a gesture of silence. When the waiter left, she leaned forward.

  "I'm told Amy's sweet on her new chef," Fiona whispered. "Luanne started an office pool to guess when Amy's going to give in."

  Gavin rolled his eyes. "They should rename this town 'Cupid's Hollow' or something like that. The matchmaking is even worse than the ghost hunting."

  Amy and Eugene? Now that was a combustible combination. Eugene was indomitable, but Amy was...Amy. If Luanne was right, sparks would fly.

  Fiona glared at him. "Very funny." She grabbed her glass of water. "Amy's a tough cookie, so I'm guessing by Halloween. What's your wager?"

  He thought about it for a second. Eugene was a pretty tough guy, if he was interested in Amy...

  "I say August at the most."

  Fiona almost choked on her water. "No way. She's stronger than that."

  "But, Eugene's—"

  His comment was interrupted by a rotund young man with glasses who was there to pick up a large order of take-out. His voice was so loud, it echoed through the restaurant.

  "Can you confirm that there are no peanuts in this?" he asked Amy, gesturing at the three large paper bags on the floor.

  "No, I cannot," Amy said firmly. "There are no peanuts in the recipes, and the utensils are washed between dishes, but I cannot rule out cross-contamination through our kitchen or via our suppliers. You shouldn't eat this if you're allergic."

  The guy stared at her angrily as she spoke.

  But Amy was not backing down. "I'll be happy to take the food back and give you a refund, but, I repeat, I can give you no guarantees."

  "It's not your fault," the young man sighed. "They never consider my health issues. We're going to spend all night going over tomorrow's ritual, but do they arrange for food that everyone can consume?"

  He paused, as if expecting an answer. Amy stared at him in confusion.

  "No, they don't," he said, answering his own question. "Good thing I brought my own snacks."

  "Very wise," Amy said, running his credit card through.

  He signed the check and left, laden with bags.

  "So that's the allergy guy," Gavin said. "Quite a character."

  The Salem coven seemed to be planning something big for tomorrow. They'd filled out all the proper forms, but he made a mental note to check their paperwork with DeShawn in the morning. These guys had already messed up one of their events with tragic consequences. He didn't want a repeat performance.

  "Manny's not so bad," Fiona replied. "Just extremely concerned about his health."

  Gavin's brows rose in surprise. Hadn't she just spent most of the day arguing that this guy was guilty?

  "He lied about the bowl," he said carefully. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize Fiona. This whole discussing-issues-over-plum-sangría-with-a-beautiful-girl thing was new to him, but he was really liking it.

  "He may have just wanted to call attention to himself," Fiona mused, pushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear.

  Gavin smiled. "Well, look at you, playing devil's advocate. I thought you were sure of his guilt."

  "I try not to jump to conclusions," she said primly.

  Gavin chuckled, remembering her contortions around the fire pit earlier today. She'd definitely jumped around then.

  The waiter brought their sangría and poured out two glasses.

  "What changed your mind?" Gavin asked, as Fiona reached for her drink.

  "Something Luanne let slip," she said, sipping daintily. "She said that the police were looking for financial transactions."

  Gavin nodded. "That's not surprising. They'd want to find out who sent you that package, for one."

  "That's what I thought," she said glumly.

  "His behavior is definitely suspicious. Why are you having second thoughts?"

  He was genuinely interested. Sure, the bowl thing had been pretty eccentric, but Fiona seemed to have real insights.

  She frowned. "I think it's because of the timing. If Manny had planned to kill Alicia, he would have sent the oleander to me before the Beltane ritual, not after." She looked at him quizzically. "Wouldn't he?"

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DIVINATION, FROM Plucking Daisies to Delphic Oracles...Hacking the Divine Matrix...Scrying for Fun and Profit.

  None of these titles sounded particularly useful, but Fiona lugged the heavy tomes to the library's checkout counter anyway.

  Any port in a storm.

  She felt a bit giddy carrying the books. It had been a long time since she'd attempted real magic, and she was practically giggling with excitement.

  Tinged with a streak of fear.

  But this was just scrying, backwards divination at that. Fire, b
y nature, was an element of the present, so she'd be unable to look into the future, like Luanne. Luckily, that didn't matter; what she was interested in was in the past.

  She was lucky she got to live in a town where the library had a reknowned divination section. Otherwise, she would have had to buy these books at the botánica. She wasn't sure she was emotionally prepared for that, and she was certain that her wallet wouldn't allow for that kind of splurge.

  Holly, the assistant librarian and Kat's sister-in-law, smiled as Fiona approached the counter.

  "Good morning," Holly said. "Hot date last night, I hear."

  "It wasn't a date," Fiona grumbled, as she handed over her library card.

  Forget the geomagnetic fault. The real Banshee Creek mystery was how fast gossip traveled through this town.

  "Didn't get a kiss, huh?" Holly continued. "Don't worry about that. I think Gavin is the old-fashioned kind."

  "I didn't expect..."

  Oh what was the use? Banshee Creek was incorrigible.

  Holly ran her books through, and Fiona put them in her plain, white tote. She had a Banshee Creek Library bag at home, a cute green and cream boat tote with the library's logo, which read "The Country's Most Haunted Library Since 1973," but she'd left that one at home.

  She definitely did not want to advertise her library haul. That's why she'd come early. The library had just opened and it was practically deserted.

  "Good luck," Holly said. "I've heard great things about that Hacking the Matrix book. Caine swears by it."

  The paranormies loved the book. Great, just great.

  "And don't worry," the librarian added. "You'll get a kiss next time." She reached under the counter. "Here, take this. People swear by it."

  The librarian scanned a pink paperback and put it in the bag. The title of the book was Rules of Dating: A Guide for the Perpetually Perplexed.

  Fiona rolled her eyes. Really, Banshee Creek? Really?

  She said goodbye to Holly and hauled her books out of the building. It was a short walk to her candle shop, a fact for which she was extremely grateful as her bag was quite heavy. Divination gurus, it appeared, were rather verbose.

  She entered the shop and placed the bag on the counter. It promptly toppled over, books tumbling out onto the floor. She bent to pick them up, then paused, hand hovering over Rules for Dating.