by Ani Gonzalez
It all made sense.
Except it didn't.
A familiar knocking sound interrupted her thoughts. Had the tanuki expanded to the candle shop? If so, she might have to break her lease. She couldn't have a hyperactive spirit in a store full of matches and candles.
Breaking her lease would be legally impossible in any other town, but Elizabeth Hunt, her real estate agent, had made sure there was a "paranormal activity that significantly interferes with commercial activities" clause in her lease. She'd thought it silly at first, but after a couple of months in Banshee Creek, she was grateful for it.
The noise did not recur, so she walked to the front of the store and returned to the kitchen with her tote full of books, one of the mirrors she used as decoration, and a bunch of silvery candles.
She leafed through the Scrying for Fun and Profit book until she reached the "Who's the Most Knowledgeable of Them All" section. She read the instructions quickly. Set the mirror...light the candles...concentrate...let it flow...
That sounded simple enough.
She put the mirror flat against the kitchen counter, and set the candles around it in a semi-circle. Last time, she'd only used one candle. This time she had five.
It was time to level up. It was risky, as the larger the flame, the higher the risk that her power would go haywire, but she had to get to the bottom of this.
She lit the candles and took a deep breath.
Concentrate.
Unfortunately, she didn't know what she was concentrating on. The mirror reflected her face, wide-eyed and anxious. She ignored the red spot on her chin that presaged that a zit was coming her way. That wasn't the knowledge she was here for.
Still, nothing appeared in the mirror, just her blue eyes ringed with a golden halo from the light of the candles.
Candles.
She focused on the flames, feeling the power surge through her, like a hot rush of magma.
Yikes, all this power from just a few small candles? The Banshee Creek geomagnetic fault must be acting like a huge battery, or maybe it was the fire festival. The Feast of Belenos would make her stronger.
This was a mistake, she was sure of it, but she couldn't stop now. The tide of power carried her along and she stared at the golden circle of flame in the mirror, as if hypnotized.
The golden ring reminded her of the sun emblem embroidered on Gwen's robe. The one she'd seen in her seashell scrying. The symbols had been confusing at first, but now she understood. The heart shape was not a symbol for love. It was literally a heart, a human organ. The arrow wasn't heartbreak, but a heart attack. The flowers were not oleander. They were the foxglove used to manufacture the poison.
And the sun emblem wasn't Manny.
It was Gwen.
Gwen was the killer, she was sure of it. But how could she prove it? She couldn't just walk over to the sheriff's office and say that a handful of shells had told her so.
She needed something better. She concentrated and the candle flames grew, making the vision stronger. A part of her brain looked on, aghast.
But the face in the mirror wavered, the halo growing until it took over the entire surface. Then it shrank, becoming the embroidered symbol on Gwen's robe. It was lying on a chair in a room. Next to it lay a bottle with a dropper top. It was full and had a vintage pharmaceutical sticker on it.
The poison. Of course, Gwen still had the poison. If Fiona could find the bottle, she'd be able to prove that Gwen did it.
Fiona focused on the bottle, the flames around the mirror leaping higher as she concentrated. The bottle in the mirror was full, so that was in the past. That was amazing. But she needed to know where the bottle was right now. It would not be full, so she tried to visualize that.
A brown bottle with a vintage apothecary sticker, partially or completely empty.
Where was it? Had Gwen thrown it away? The sticker was very distinctive. Even if Gwen disposed of it, it might be tracked back to her.
Fiona stared at the mirror, trying to see. The glossy surface had gone dark, as if the bottle was in a dark room or a bag of some kind.
Do magic mirrors have a zoom out feature? She leaned back, then forward. Slowly the image wavered and reformed. A dark figure, carrying a black bag, was walking down the street. She—it had to be Gwen, right?—paused on a doorway and looked around.
Fiona tried to identify the location as the figure reached toward a door. It looked familiar, though it wasn't so much a street as an alleyway. Was it near the park? It was in town, that was for sure. She'd recognize Banshee Creek's shoe-destroying cobblestones anywhere.
Fiona froze as she heard the door to the kitchen open behind her.
It was her alleyway. Gwen was here.
She launched herself against the door, but she was too late. Gwen slammed it open and pushed her way in. The coven leader's hair was as wild as her eyes. She looked angry and scared, a frightening combination. She held an intricately decorated staff in her hand. The ritual instrument was beautiful and also, it seemed, very heavy.
Gwen's mouth contorted into a snarl as she saw the mirror and the lit candles.
"I knew it," she growled. "It took me a while, but I figured it out." Her mouth bent in a crooked smile. "Betrayed by my own magic book. Who would have thought?"
"You killed Alicia?" Fiona asked. "You put the poison in the chalice?"
Gwen's eyes flashed angrily. "It's my coven. I've been de facto leader for years now, but Alicia wouldn't step down. The stubborn old hag should have retreated to her books and research ages ago, but she refused."
As Gwen spoke, Fiona looked around frantically for a weapon. All she had nearby were spoons and bowls. The scissors were all in a drawer at the other end of the room. She might reach them if she ran. Or she could reach her phone to call for help.
"And when she finally decides to retire," Gwen continued in an aggrieved tone, "she calls me and tells me that she wants Richard to lead the coven. Richard."
Fiona inched toward the scissors drawer. A low rhythmic, thumping noise echoed through the room. Great, her Japanese raccoon-dog spirit had moved into the candle shop. Fabulous timing.
"He's done nothing for years," Gwen ranted, not noticing the tanuki's activities. "And he'll continue to do nothing unless he's stopped."
Gwen grabbed a bottle from her bag. Fiona glanced at the cabinet that held the scissors. She was so close.
"But why Manny?" Fiona asked, trying to buy herself some time. "He didn't do anything."
"He saw the bowl," Gwen explained testily. "He was digging into the fire, inspecting the logs for possible allergens and he saw it. And I sent him to get the gift cars I used to order the flowers. I had to get rid of him."
Gwen smiled sadly. "And now I have to get rid of you too. Why did you have to intervene? You're not important." She glanced at the candles around the mirror. "But thanks for the fire. It saves me a lot of trouble."
She grabbed the bottle and threw it at the candles. Fiona stared in horror as the flames spread quickly over the wood surface.
"Kerosene," Gwen said proudly. "I saw it in some of your lamps. It will look like you had an accident while you were working."
At these words, Fiona acted. She leapt and made a run for the door. If she made it into the shop—
The staff hit her leg, and she collapsed to the ground, pain spreading through her limb.
"Oh dear," she heard Gwen say. "Looks like you also had a nasty fall."
Then the staff hit her head and all went dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"I JUST checked with the hospital and Manny is stable," Gavin said. "Looks like he got treated in time."
Sheriff Stickely sighed, leaning back. "Good news for a change."
They were in the sheriff's office. Sean was doing paperwork, and Gavin was...well, he was waiting for the adrenaline rush to pass. He should go home and get some rest, but he was too wound up, so he'd come down to get a Pop Tart from the vending machine. Breakfast and dinner,
so to speak.
Sean frowned at his computer screen.
"Something wrong?" Gavin asked.
Sean shook his head. "It's too neat. The note, the poison...It feels like theater."
"This isn't the big city, hotshot." Gavin shrugged. "It's Banshee Creek. Things are simple here." He unwrapped his dinner with a smooth motion. "Well, except when there's a poltergeist involved."
Sean laughed. "Oh, we got one of those too." He leaned in to check his computer. "Disturbance report in Main Street. One-six-block. Rhythmic thumping that sounds like Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit.'"
One-six? That was near the candle shop and Fiona's apartment. "That's the Japanese hedgehog thing trying out a new song. Are you going to check it out?"
If so, maybe he could tag along. Fiona might be up trying to deal with her paranormal critter. Perhaps she needed a hand.
"It's actually a raccoon dog," Sean said, turning off his computer. "And I have to check on it. We have a strict policy here. We answer all calls, no matter how weird." He reached for his hat. "Besides, we need something to put on the police blotter. Can't disappoint our fans."
The Banshee Creek Sheriff's blotter—full of calls regarding moon-worshipping devil monkeys and myriad mothman sightings—had gone viral a few months ago. It now had its own website and Facebook fan club, where enthusiasts tracked all new calls.
Sean put on his hat and they headed out. Gavin got into his trusty Volvo and drove out of the parking lot. Main Street was calm and quiet. The coven had headed to the Monster Hunter Motel and the streets were empty. The full moon lit up the sky like a Christmas ornament hung high up in the tree. A couple of stars peeked out here and there. He hummed as he drove down the street, "White Rabbit" firmly stuck in his head now.
He was mouthing the words to Grace Slick's solo when his radio buzzed.
"Chief?" the dispatch operator said. "Ten-seventy-code-two. Main Street one-six-seven. Engine called."
"Copy," he said. "En route."
Gavin frowned. One-six-seven was the candle shop, and that was the code for a fire alarm in an unoccupied building. He'd checked that alarm himself only three days ago, when they'd inspected Fiona's store. It shouldn't be malfunctioning. Had the rock'n'roll-loving hedgehog—no, raccoon dog—turned to arson?
He radioed Sean, who responded instantly.
"We have a ten-seventy on the candle shop," he said.
"Roger," Sean replied. "Ten-twenty-three."
That meant Sean had arrived.
"Suspicious person exiting building. May be a ten-ninety-five," Sean reported.
That was arson. In all his years in Banshee Creek, Gavin had never seen one case of arson. Why would anyone...
He reached the parking lot and got out of the car. There was definitely a fire in the kitchen. He neared the open door, trying to see inside. The engine would be here soon, and he knew better than to go inside a burning building in civilian clothes, but...
Was that a shadow on the floor?
He headed in and went for the fire extinguisher. It was next to the door, exactly where it was supposed to be. He grabbed it and aimed the foam at the flames. For a second, he thought the fire was too strong, but the can cut a large portion of it. He threw the extinguisher on the floor and picked up the unconscious woman lying on the porcelain tiles.
Heart pounding, he exited the building. Fiona's unconscious state was actually a relief. She would have inhaled less smoke lying on the floor.
Sirens heralded the approach of the fire truck, but through the wailing noise a steady pounding beat could be heard.
The tanuki was still playing its song.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FIONA WOKE up with a burning throat, a horrible cough, and an oxygen mask over her face. She took the mask off and looked around.
She was in a white room, unadorned except for a counter with a sink, a medical lamp, and a large poster inviting the reader to "Ghost Hunt Safely by Following These Tips." It was a long minute before she realized that she was in one of the sick rooms at the Urgent Care clinic.
Memories flooded back. The kitchen. Gwen. Fire.
She tried to get up and felt a sharp stab of pain in the back of her head.
She moaned in pain and Gavin instantly appeared in the doorway, a look of concern on his face.
"Easy," he said, pushing her back onto the bed. "You have quite the bump on your head, not to mention smoke inhalation and shock."
"She hit me," Fiona said, "with the ceremonial staff thingie. Isn't that like a sin or something?"
Gavin laughed. "I don't know, and I can't say I care either." He ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Then he bent down and kissed her, his lips cool against hers. The caress was short and sweet, over before she even knew it. She froze, trying to process what had just happened.
Then she started coughing, sounding like a cross between a congested pig and a boar with tuberculosis.
Gavin laughed. "Sounds like you're getting better."
"Really?" she asked, pounding her chest. "To me it sounds like I'm losing a lung."
He grinned and patted her shoulder. "You're not. You'll be fine. Do you want some water?"
"Yes," she replied, feeling parched. "But what about Gwen?"
"Sean caught her fleeing the scene. She tried to brain him with that staff, but he disarmed her. Good thing we had those SCA guys come in October and they ran us through some quarterstaff demonstrations. She would've gotten away otherwise. Apparently, she's pretty handy with that thing."
"Yes," Fiona replied, rubbing her head. "I can attest to that."
"She confessed to killing Alicia and framing Manny and Richard. Manny also woke up and testified that she put the oleander bowl in the fire pit and handed him the chalice to drink. Basically the same method she'd used with Alicia."
"Wait, she was going to frame Richard?"
"Yes, when she realized that Manny may survive his close encounter of the digitoxin kind, she panicked. She was planning to plant the poison bottle on Richard after she got rid of you."
"After..." His words made a chill go through her. "How did you know..."
Gavin's face grew grim. "I didn't. We were lucky that your alarms were up to date and the extinguisher was in the right place. If we hadn't already been on our way to the store..."
His voice trailed off. Fiona recalled the orange flames licking at her vintage wood cabinets. The old wood had gone up like kindling.
That was the last straw. As soon as her insurance check arrived, she was getting stainless steel. Like Gavin said, if they hadn't been on their way...
"Wait, why were you on your way to the store?" she asked.
"Sean got a disturbance of the peace call," he admitted. "Your tanuki business associate was getting in touch with its inner seventies rocker."
Fiona groaned. "I forgot it's in the store now. Oh, man. I hope Patricia figures out how to make spicy Cheetos."
Gavin looked confused. "Cheetos? What does that have to do with anything?"
Fiona let out a sigh. "Forget it. I'll worry about that tomorrow." She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Right now," she whispered. "I'd like another kiss."
And she got her wish.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
VIOLETTA SANTELLI stood in the glade, her ghostly skirt floating in the wind, and concentrated on the remains of the fire. A few ashes floated up, sparkling in the moonlight, but they quickly fell back to the ground.
"She can't do it," a voice said behind her. "She's not strong enough."
Violetta ignored the surly teenage ghost, and focused on the ashes instead. The stubborn specks, however, refused to move.
Violeta felt ghostly tears stab her eyes. She'd been powerful once, one of the strongest witches of her age. Now she couldn't even move dirt.
"Cut it out, Honoria," Cole Hunt said. "It just takes time." He smiled at Violetta. "Relax and let it flow. Try to tap into the geoma
gnetic fault. Feel its energy. Channel it."
Violetta nodded and followed his instructions. The ley line that crossed the town was a vein of magical energy under her feet. It she could just reach it...
A wave of streaming energy hit her, like a shock of freezing water. She froze, panicked.
Cole's eyes met hers. "Hold it, Vi. You can do it."
Violetta nodded and clenched her ghostly fists. The energy flowed through her, making her stronger. She raised her hands, noting that her fingers were glowing.
The ashes rose slowly, a few at first and then more.
"There you go," Cole said, smiling. "Nicely done."
"Okay," the teenage ghost with the "Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts His Cakehole" t-shirt said. "That was impressive. Where did you learn to do that?"
"Someone taught me," Cole answered. "A long time ago."
The girl raised a spectral brow. "Before..."
"Before I died, yes." Cole glanced down at the dirt Violetta had uncovered. "There are symbols down there, Honoria. They wrote them before they lit the bonfire. Can you see them?"
The girl bent down, her long white hair floating in the air, and peered at the dirt.
Violetta frowned. "The witches wrote them? But how? They couldn't..."
"They could, if they were influenced," Cole answered, energy crackling around him. "If Honoria is right, it can't come to the town, but it can—"
"Make others do its bidding," Honoria answered. "That's what it did. The symbols are his."
She raised her head and stared at Cole.
"The evil is back," she said. "And he's heading this way."
Cole nodded, his face dark. "We need help."
***
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, I'd love it if you took a moment and left a review. A full list of books is available on my website, www.AniGonzalez.com. If you join my mailing list you'll get updates on when the next Banshee Creek stories are published and the first two PRoVE novelettes, One Night with the Golden Goddess and One Night in the Mummy's Lair, FREE.