Curse Me Under the Mistletoe

by Kennedy Layne

  “I told the others I’d grab their drinks,” Orwin said behind me, causing me to close my eyes in acceptance that my moment of bliss had evaporated just that quickly. “Pearl’s right, you know. Your bad day started when you saw Vanessa, because you immediately jumped to conclusions. They’re just friends. Nothing more.”

  “Knox should have called one of us the second he left the Booneville residence,” I murmured, not wanting the older couple in front of us to hear our conversation. They were busy ordering those blueberry scones that Orwin had taken a liking to, so their attention was thankfully elsewhere. “Please just catch me up on the Wilkes. Debbie was Norma’s partner? How did we miss that?”

  I wasn’t criticizing Orwin’s research in the slightest. I’d had a hand in putting together the dossier, too. There had been no mention of Debbie Wilkes’ name on any of the paperwork associated with the knitting store. I waited for Pearl to jump into the conversation, but there was nothing but silence from her.

  “I should have rephrased my text to you,” Orwin said, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses when he took a step forward to stand directly beside me. “Debbie wanted to be Norma’s partner, especially since Norma had plans to travel after Edgar’s retirement. The business emails that I’m reading through basically say that Debbie quit after Norma didn’t hold up her end of a verbal agreement.”

  “You hacked into the knitting shop’s email server?” I asked, wondering if Pearl wasn’t right about the inevitable black van that was bound to show up in our rearview mirror. “Don’t answer that. What does she-wolf—I mean, Vanessa—have to do with this case?”

  It was our turn to give our order, so I waited for Orwin to relay what the others wanted before adding my own caramel macchiato. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, because the barista explained that they only served flavored coffee, but that I could walk down to the café to get my preferred beverage. Let’s just say I ended up with an espresso once again.

  “I could have sworn I sent those details to you in a text,” Orwin said with a frown, lifting his phone and opening up his messages as we waited at the pickup counter for our drinks and his blueberry scone. “Hmmm. I guess I forgot to include that bit of interesting information.”

  “Interesting?” I asked, unable to stop myself from glancing at the table in the corner. Vanessa had chosen to sit next to Knox, who just so happened to be staring at me. His dark gaze was regarding me carefully, so I managed to force myself to give a half-smile in return. “I thought she was simply a casual acquaintance who Knox happened to look up since we were back in this area.”

  I do remember that Orwin and I had ventured this far north when we were traveling to find Piper, whom we had originally thought might be able to cure me of this hex. Unfortunately, we’d discovered that her gift didn’t work on curses of this nature. I also had an inherent sense that this so-called interesting information wasn’t going to brighten my day.

  I’ll explain this as delicately as I can, dear hexed one—the she-wolf claims that Edgar Booneville is her uncle. I’m going to need that spot of warm cream you offered.

  Chapter Five

  “I think you better start at the beginning,” I said pointedly to Vanessa once we were all sitting down at the large table in the back of the bakery. It was technically two tables we’d pushed together, but it accommodated us comfortably while affording Pearl a small hiding place to enjoy her spot of warm cream. Unfortunately, eating and drinking was not something she could do while invisible. “Are you telling me that Edgar Booneville was a victim of lycanthropy?”

  If that was truly the case, then we’d been going about this murder mystery all wrong. I hadn’t been aware that mistletoe was poisonous to werewolves. Then again, I hadn’t believed that Ammeline Letty Romilda was anything more than an urban legend.

  I believe I might be in need of one of my own knock-knock jokes, dear hexed one.

  Pearl didn’t like surprises when it came to witchcraft or the supernatural. She believed her two thousand years on this earth provided her with a wealth of information, thereby granting to her a certain measure of superiority, basically sitting on a pedestal like most domestic cats expecting to be granted fealty by their humans.

  Orwin gave me a pointed look that told me not to get Pearl started on being the superior species. I would have laughed if this were any other time, but we were faced with a dilemma where the supernatural realm was about to cross over into the lives of several humans. This type of situation was inherently dangerous for everyone involved.

  “No,” Vanessa answered with a sad smile that told me just how fond she was of her dearly departed uncle. “Uncle Edgar was entirely too human. My grandmother was human, also. She’d fallen in love with my grandfather, but he died soon after my father was born. Some vampires had gone rogue and were passing through town. They were eventually dealt with, but not before there was a casualty.”

  I can breathe a little easier, dear hexed one. No need for that knock-knock joke you seemed in such a hurry to tell me.

  “And your grandmother then remarried?” Piper asked, shooting Orwin a smile when he’d set a packet of sugar next to her tea. “How did she manage to hide the fact that your father was a werewolf? You’re bound to the curse of the full moon, right?”

  Technically, the curse didn’t take effect until the werewolf reached puberty. I understood where Piper was leading this conversation, and even I couldn’t fathom how it was possible to keep such a secret from friends and family. Unless, of course, Edgar’s mother had shared her husband’s lycanthrope secret with her immediate family.

  You might have just given me a touch of indigestion, Miss Lilura. I do hope that the late Mrs. Booneville hadn’t been so careless with the lives of her husband and son.

  “Yes, my father’s line is bound by the curse,” Vanessa answered, wrapping her hands around the cup of coffee. Knowing that it was rare for a lycanthrope’s body temperature to run low, she’d done it more to give her hands something to do while sharing with us her family history than to keep them warm. “My grandmother succumbed to the will of my father’s pack. Our leader believed that my father would be safer amongst that side of his family. A decision was made that my father would be with the pack on the week of the full moon, and an arrangement was made. Uncle Edgar had no idea that his brother was a lycanthrope, and it stayed that way until his recent untimely death.”

  I hadn’t expected to feel so much sorrow for Vanessa as she shared her family history, but I couldn’t even imagine the frustration she felt in having her hands tied when it came to the inherent need to become a predator in this instance. She was fighting her basic instinct to hunt and avenge a murder.

  We cannot allow that to happen, Miss Lilura.

  “I didn’t know that Edgar Booneville was a relative of Vanessa’s until I saw her walk into the family home this morning. On her way out, she caught my scent,” Knox admitted, leaning back into his chair. “All Vanessa wants is justice, but this isn’t pack business. For their safety, I suggested that she leave this in our hands. It’s what we do, owning a private investigation firm and all. We will deal with the perpetrator.”

  Mr. Emeric’s code of honor is shining through once again, dear hexed one.

  That was Pearl’s way of telling me that I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about why Knox hadn’t remained at the Booneville residence. I shot back my espresso to give me the strength to get through the remaining few minutes we’d need to gather information, wanting this case over with now more than ever. Humility was a bitter pill.

  “Vanessa, do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your uncle?” Orwin asked, undoubtedly attuned with my thoughts seeing as he was sitting directly across from me. “We have several suspects, and most are on the list due to his profession. He recently retired, but I can only imagine not without making a few enemies over the years.”

  Who would have thought that contract law would attract so many foes?

  “Gracie Lynn,”
Vanessa replied without hesitation. Her dark brown hair fell over her right shoulder as she continued to give us details. “She confronted Uncle Edgar at the diner last week, and she even made a threat on his life. That woman is no more witch than I am a vampire. She gathers her information from being in the right place at the right time. She keeps her ears open and reads people’s body language well. She then drops hints as if she has a sixth sense, but it’s all in how she words her sentences that keeps people on the fence on whether or not to believe she’s the real thing.”

  I do like this she-wolf’s sense of humor, Miss Lilura.

  Orwin tapped the top of his phone, alerting me to the fact that he was using his new software to gather a brief synopsis of Gracie Lynn’s background. The online search would no doubt be completed faster if Orwin established a link to his laptop, but his phone would have to do for now.

  “Vanessa, that still doesn’t explain how the poison got into Edgar’s drink,” I pointed out, not seeing how Gracie Lynn could have snuck into the Booneville residence on the day in question. “We know that your uncle didn’t leave the house on Sunday from what was reported to the police.”

  Thank you to Mr. Cornelia, whose technological skills are splendid. Have you thought about why you are so obsessed with those little green men, alien hunter?

  Pearl always managed to antagonize Orwin at the absolute worst time, but I had to admit that it was fun to watch his reaction. We really didn’t have time to waste, though.

  “Are you suggesting that Gracie Lynn somehow managed to sneak into your uncle’s house without anyone noticing? How could she have known when or if anyone would use that particular decanter?” I asked skeptically, not sure that Vanessa had thought through her theory. “You realize that Debbie Wilkes and her husband had just as much motive as the town’s fortune teller, right?”

  “Not only as much motive, but did you know that Roger Wilkes stopped by your uncle’s estate the day he was poisoned?” Orwin inquired, tapping his phone once again. “He’s already been questioned by the police, and even your aunt backed up his claim that the two of them spoke civilly about the verbal agreement made between Norma and Debbie. He was also nowhere near the library where the decanter was sitting.”

  “Debbie Wilkes might have been upset that Norma didn’t want a partner, but the reason she quit was—”

  “Incoming,” Knox murmured, having lifted his coffee cup to cover up the fact that he was letting us know someone was approaching the table.

  Oh, dear. We might have some explaining to do, dear hexed one.

  “Vanessa, what are you doing here?”

  The sudden appearance of Abigail Lincoln, Norma’s much maligned daughter, had all of us sipping our drinks, waiting patiently to hear the upcoming exchange. I met Knox’s gaze, which seemed somewhat apologetic over our circumstances. He knew very well that I didn’t like to have my back to the door after my run-in with Ammeline, but Vanessa had taken the chair next to him. Telling her to move would have come across as oddly rude coming from a stranger.

  That hasn’t stopped you before, dear hexed one. Methinks that you didn’t want our resident werewolf to get the wrong idea…or would it be the right idea you’ve tried to camouflage in vain?

  It was a good thing that Pearl had finished her spot of warm cream, because I had a strong urge to knock it over. She might be Piper’s familiar, but she treated me like an older sister would in these types of situations.

  You can’t slide one past me, dear hexed one. You secretly love that I consider you family.

  “Abigail, these are my friends. They were just passing through and wanted to give me their condolences.” Vanessa had been smart to keep the reason for our visit vague. “I told Aunt Norma that I was coming into town. I could have brought you something back.”

  “I appreciate that, but Mom wanted me to stop by the shop and make sure that Julie had things covered with the new shipment that arrived this morning.” Abigail was a pretty woman in her forties, and it was clear from her red nose and bloodshot eyes that she’d had an emotional time of it as of late. Understandable, and her willingness to help her mother out went toward her character. “I see you told them about Mom’s sale at the knitting shop.”

  Abigail was talking about Piper’s large bag, which she’d hung from the back of the chair.

  “She did,” Piper agreed, but gracefully managed to slip in our cover story so that it meshed with what we’d been telling everyone around town. “Although my grandmother actually met your mother at a knitting convention years ago. We’re sorry for your loss.”

  “I appreciate that,” Abigail said with a sad smile. “It was nice meeting all of you. Vanessa, are you heading back to the house? Patrick is waiting for me in the car and was going to drop me back off with Mom, but he really needs to go into work to tie up some loose ends.”

  I must admit that Mrs. Lincoln seems very genuine. My sweet Piper might need to slide her name down a slot or two on the suspect list. I couldn’t imagine this woman wanting to kill her father.

  “Of course,” Vanessa replied automatically, scooting back her chair. She slung her purse over her shoulder, picking up her cup in the process. Surprisingly, she leaned down and kissed Knox on the cheek. “Knox, would you like to come with me? We can meet everyone else later for dinner after they’re done shopping.”

  Oh, dear!

  Orwin coughed discreetly, while Piper’s blue eyes widened to the point that I was afraid she might actually lose an eyeball. I blamed Pearl for this, because she was the one who’d planted the idea in everyone’s head that there was something more between Knox and me than friendship and our mutual adversary.

  We all agree that thou doth protest too much, dear hexed one. It is not a crime to want more than friendship from someone you admire.

  It was a crime to strangle a familiar, though.

  I find no humor in your vile thoughts whatsoever, dear hexed one.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Knox already had his seat out a bit from the table, so he didn’t have to move it to stand up. “We’ll catch up with all of you later this evening.”

  And that is what we call karma, my dearest colleagues.

  I really tried not to roll my eyes. It wouldn’t do for Knox to think my exasperation was due to him leaving with Vanessa.

  “We’ll walk you out,” Piper said, picking up her tea with the intention of meeting Patrick. Orwin had already grabbed the bag with her knitting purchases, all the while having his nose practically pressed to his phone screen. He must have gotten a hit on Gracie Lynn. I’d be interested to know the woman’s backstory. Right now, we all needed to regroup. “I have to say that your mother’s store is…”

  I remained at the table, though I did get up so that I could switch seats. Facing the front of the shop so that I could see who was coming and going had me a bit more comfortable. Piper and Orwin would be back so that we could talk over strategy. For some reason, Vanessa didn’t believe that Roger or Debbie Wilkes had anything to do with Edgar’s death. I believed those email exchanges regarding the verbal agreement for Debbie to become partner still needed to be explored.

  I’d just taken the seat that Piper had vacated when I sensed someone approaching, yet the slight hum of electricity I always felt when Knox was near told me that he’d returned.

  “Do we need to talk about this?” The way Knox phrased the question had me wishing that I hadn’t had that second round of double espresso. “Honestly, I never thought I’d run into Vanessa again, and I certainly didn’t know her background.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied, trying not to grimace as I sounded like one of those memes on social media that Orwin was always showing me. “I’m relieved she doesn’t know about us. I mean, not us, but the source of our hexes. I don’t—”

  Knox leaned over the table and wrapped his large hand around mine. I’d like to go on record that I believed myself to be the most rational woman on the face of the planet. I never panicked when the walls were
closing in, and I handled myself with grace when backed into a corner. Once again, I’m putting all blame on the fact that I had a second round of a double shot espresso.

  “I would never share your story with someone else,” Knox replied genuinely, keeping his tone low so that this conversation remained between us. His golden gaze was focused solely on me, waiting for my reaction. “I hope you know that.”

  It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it? I’m relatively sure that the heat between the two of you just baked up another batch of those blueberry scones that Mr. Cornelia fancies.

  “Knox, keep in touch throughout the day,” Piper said, having been close on Pearl’s heels, but not close enough that she’d heard what Pearl had said. Piper hooked her bag from the knitting shop on the side of the chair again before setting her tea back down. “See? I told you that Lou wouldn’t throw away your coffee.”

  The fact that I hadn’t noticed that Knox left his coffee behind told me that I was off my game. It was a good thing that I had done a proximity spell to alert me if Ammeline was within a hundred miles of my location. At the rate I was going today, she could have been the one to walk up to the table without me even realizing it…and if Pearl mentioned that aloud so that Piper could overhear, I wasn’t going to be responsible for my actions.

  Duly noted, dear hexed one.

  “I’ll keep in touch, and you do the same,” Knox agreed, answering Piper while doing that annoying thing where he studied my reaction. My hand felt rather cold after he reached for his coffee and turned on the heels of his rugged military boots. He’d stored away his favorite brown leather jacket for a winter one that was lined with shearling, but the coat still seemed to have been handmade just for the width of his shoulders. “Piper, I could use a scarf to go with this jacket.”