Potions Eleven: A Paranormal Witch Cozy (Fair Witch Sisters Mysteries Book 2)

by Christy Murphy

"That's flattering," I said to my sister as I handed him my driver's license.

  "We have to ask everybody, ma'am."

  Was the word ma'am really necessary?

  "Here you go," the doorman said, and put a wristband on my wrist.

  "Is this an all ages night?" I asked.

  "Yeah, the wristband means you can drink at the bar," he said.

  "Be on the lookout for Wilder," Didi said when we got inside.

  "It's so dark in here and everyone looks the same." I looked around the club. Normally I didn't like being in nightclubs. But here, everyone seemed to be wearing big black wacky outfits, and there wasn't forced frivolousness everywhere. I kind of dug it. Maybe I was a closet goth.

  "This place is weird," Didi said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Normally when you're out, people are talking and laughing and having fun, but this is like a funeral reception," she said.

  "I was just thinking this place was fun," I said.

  Didi laughed at me. "That figures."

  The two of us split up and looked for Wilder. I decided to get a drink so I could blend in.

  "Hi!" someone said behind me.

  I turned to see a hot goth guy with piercing eyes and slicked back hair.

  "Hey!" I replied. He looked a little older than the other people here. "It looks like we're the only grown-ups here."

  "How did you know about the band that's playing here tonight?" he asked.

  I decided to pretend that I knew what was going on. One, I figured it would be better for our case, and also, he was really cute.

  "A friend told me," I said, deliberately keeping it vague.

  He laughed and smiled. "I see."

  I hadn't expected that reaction, but I'd figured if he was smiling it had worked. It struck me that this was the second time inside of twenty-four hours that I'd flirted with a guy, and it hadn't been a disaster. It was like déjà vu.

  "Hold on for second," Mr. Flirty said, reaching into his pocket and looking at his phone. It looked like he got a text.

  I waited and watched him while he returned the message. His hair was slicked back, which was an interesting choice for a goth, but it had a kind of Dracula vibe to it so it worked. Plus, he had the kind of jawline and bone structure that meant he could pull it off. If he went bald he'd still be handsome. Maybe even more so.

  "They need me backstage," he said. "Will you be around for a while?"

  "Maybe," I said, which may have sounded coy, but it was the truth. If we found Wilder soon, Didi would want to leave once we were finished questioning him. "So do you--"

  I was about to ask Mr. Flirty if he worked at the club when another dude approached us.

  "Wilder," Mr. Flirty said.

  My eyes snapped to the face of the person he was talking to. It was dark in the club, but it definitely was the kid we'd been looking for. So much for being here for a while.

  "Nightshadow!" Wilder said.

  "Don't call me that. It's stupid," Mr. Flirty said.

  "Nah, man. It's a cool," Wilder said.

  "You go by your regular name."

  "But my name is cool. Who's your friend?" Wilder asked, turning to me.

  "You know," Nightshadow said to me, "I never got your name."

  "Joy."

  Wilder and Nightshadow laughed.

  "Epic!" Wilder said.

  "Good one," Nightshadow said.

  "It's my real name. I like to think of it as sort of a personal irony," I said.

  "Even better," Wilder said.

  "Well, it's nice to meet you, Joy," Nightshadow said.

  "You, too, Nightshadow."

  He leaned over to get close to my ear. "Please never call me that again," he said. "I've got to get going. Hopefully you'll be around." He turned to Wilder. "Get her a drink on my tab."

  I watched Nightshadow leave. I needed to find out what his real name, because I couldn't call someone Nightshadow. Wilder flagged down the bartender.

  "What are you drinking?" Wilder asked.

  "Vodka and cranberry," I said.

  Wilder ordered me a drink. I scanned the crowd, looking for my sister. I couldn't believe I'd found him so easily. Those coincidences really helped a witch.

  "So how do you know Nighshadow?" Wilder asked, handing me my vodka and cranberry.

  "Just met him," I said, taking a big swig. I'd gotten a little sweaty walking from our cheap parking to the club, and the club itself was pretty warm. The oversized black sweater didn't help. "How about you?"

  "He's my SAT tutor," Wilder said.

  My brain was just registering what he said about that guy being his SAT tutor. No wonder flirting with him was so familiar. It was Gerald from the parking lot.

  "You look kind of familiar," Wilder said to me.

  If Gerald had recognized me dressed like this, then maybe my disguise wasn't all that disguise-y. I stalled by taking another sip of my drink. "Aren't you a little young to be using that line on me?" I asked. I figured it would be better to put him on the defensive.

  Wilder laughed. "I'm not actually in high school, you know."

  "Okay," I said, my brain not working as fast as I'd like. I needed to look for Didi.

  "I usually like younger girls," Wilder said.

  "Good for you," I slurred.

  I couldn't be drunk on just half a drink.

  My eyes locked onto Wilder's. He smiled at me, but it was a smart aleck smile. That spoiled jerk had spiked my drink! I tried to be angry, but my thoughts were too jumbled.

  Two thoughts ran through my muddled mind in waves. One was along the lines of "Mayday! Mayday!" And the other was simply, "Didi!"

  Dizziness swirled around me, and I found myself being led into the parking lot. It looked like we were behind the club. I spotted Gerald's white panel van. I needed to tell Didi they were both here.

  "What are you doing?" Wilder asked as I tried to head back into the club to find Didi.

  "Didi," I said trying to talk, but my mouth didn't work as well as I would've liked.

  "You're not going to get sick, are you?" Wilder asked, steering me across the parking lot.

  It took me a moment to realize that he had his arms around me. I was disgusted but also glad to have someone holding me up. It was hard to keep my balance on my own.

  I realized we'd gotten closer to Gerald's van. Hey! Wait a second! This creep-o kid was leading me to the van for nefarious purposes.

  Wilder opened up the back doors to the van. I tried to push him away, but my arms didn't work right. My entire body was like a wobbly boneless version of itself.

  He tried to push me inside. My butt plopped onto the floor of the van, but only half of me was inside. I felt something dig into my ribs as I hunched over, and it hurt. I sat up and touched where it hurt and felt something hard. My wand! I'd put it in the pocket of my black jeans and hid the top part with my sweater.

  Wilder was trying to push my legs into the van.

  I kicked, and I must've hit him somewhere, because he started swearing.

  "Stop moving your fat legs already!" he said.

  Fat legs! He'd spiked my drink and now he was going to criticize my legs. So bogus!

  My addled brain remembered the acne spell, and for some reason, I found it hilarious. I started laughing.

  "What's so funny?" Wilder asked, giving up on my legs and crawling into the van.

  I reached into my pocket, grabbed my wand, and muttered, "Bugas! Bugas!"

  Mom was right about spells--it's really about what's in your mind more than the words. Because what came out of my mouth was nothing close to those words, but even in the dark of the van, I knew it'd worked.

  "What the!" Wilder yelled, looking at the zits on his hands.

  I laughed even harder.

  He grabbed my hand and tried to snatch the wand from me, but I rolled over on top of his arm. He tried to get on top of me, but I fought him off.

  We struggled for a while, but I was too wobbly to fend him off
. He got on top and straddled me. My hand clenched around my wand, even though he had my arms pinned at their sides by my wrists. I kept trying to fight him off.

  "Stop it!" he growled, pushing one of my arms under his knees so he could get a free hand.

  He pinned my arm with his knees and raised his hand to smack me.

  "No!" I heard Didi command. Her voice was low-pitched and raw with rage. It echoed across the parking lot.

  Wilder screamed as electricity shot through him. I looked up and saw my sister standing outside the van with her wand in her hand. She'd totally Emperor Palpatine-d him with those bolts of electricity.

  "Get out of the van," Didi commanded.

  Wilder rushed out of the van and stood facing my sister with his hands up as if she were holding a gun.

  "Deeds, how did you find me?" My voice sounded normal, and I realized my mind was clearing. Had her magic done that, too?

  "I don't know," Didi said. "I came out because this morning I heard you, but not like out loud, kind of like when we were listening in on Mom's conversation with Alison. Like in my head, and you were calling for me. I knew you were out here, and when I got here I saw the van moving, and all I could think was, no, this can't happen. So I grabbed my wand and here we are."

  I nodded. We stood in silence for a while and then I said, "I found Wilder."

  Didi laughed. "Yes you did." Our attention turned to the jerk.

  "I see you've done a bit of magic," Didi said, noting Wilder's blemish-covered face and body.

  "He slipped something in my drink, but I remembered one spell."

  "I'm not sad that we don't know how to undo that," Didi said.

  "You two are witches!" Wilder screamed. Then he swore a few times and ranted about how he'd never thought any of the stuff Damien and the rest of their crew believed was true.

  "Shut up," Didi said, waving her wand.

  I wasn't sure if her magic shut him up or the threat of her magic, but it worked.

  "You won't remember this," I said, waving my hand and trying to use the push.

  "I won't remember this," Wilder said.

  Cool. My mojo had returned.

  "Tell us what happened the day Damien died," I said. It was time to get a confession.

  It’s a Mistake

  I hadn't noticed in my drugged haze that the band had started playing, which worked toward our advantage. It made it so the parking lot remained deserted. Since the van was open, and I didn't feel like standing, Didi and I decided to sit down on the edge of the opened van.

  "Are you feeling better?" Didi asked.

  "Your magic kind of sobered me," I said. "But there's still a little something. Let's do this so we can go home."

  Didi nodded and turned to Wilder. "How did you kill Damien?"

  "I didn't kill Damien," Wilder said.

  Darn. I'd hoped to close this case right here and now.

  "Okay, then who killed Damien?" Didi asked.

  "I don't know, you crazy witches! He probably offed himself," Wilder spat back.

  "Be nice!" I said, giving Wilder the push. I was angry, and I wanted to go home. "And tell the truth," I said, realizing that we'd just been asking the questions without me pushing him to be honest.

  "I was, ma'am," Wilder replied.

  I know ma'am was a nice thing, but it sure didn't feel that way to me.

  "Were you telling the truth before?" Didi asked.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Didi looked at me. She didn't like the ma'am stuff either.

  "You don't have to be nice," I said, waving my hand.

  "Good, you stupid witches," Wilder spat out.

  My magic must've been getting more refined, because I actually could feel the difference between pushing someone where they wanted to go and pushing them where they didn't. That push was a lot easier.

  "Why do you think he killed himself?" I asked. "And tell the truth."

  It didn't take much of a push to get Wilder to tell the truth, which was interesting.

  "I always hated that dude, and he's a loser. I do know why those chicks hung out with him. But I needed to be with those chicks. I guess he finally decided to off himself because he's just a worthless piece of--"

  "Elsewhere," I said with a push. Interesting. That took more than getting him to tell the truth.

  My hip sort of throbbed from the drugs, so I looked to Didi to continue our interrogation. Thank goodness we were sitting down.

  "What are you hiding from us?" Didi asked.

  I was impressed by her direct question.

  "Nothing," Wilder said.

  I looked to Didi, and I knew he was telling the truth. Between her ability to distinguish lies and my gentle pushes, Wilder was an open book. Too bad the book was more of a pamphlet, and a really trashy one at that.

  "What were you hiding from everyone else?" Didi asked.

  "That I'm not in high school. I just pretend to go to high school to get with the chicks," he said.

  Creep! Didi and I exchanged looks. We couldn't believe how much of a creep this guy was.

  "Any chick in particular?" I asked.

  "Poppy, I've wanted that girl since she was on the volleyball team with my sister."

  My stomach rolled. This guy was a first rate jerk.

  "If somebody did kill Damien," I started, "who do you think would've done it?"

  "Scarlet."

  "Why?" Didi asked.

  "She's a psycho," he said.

  Ugh. I hated it when guys said that about women. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

  "She had this big crush on me. So we fooled around a bit. Nothing major. But I guess she thought it was a big deal. The next day, I was finally getting closer to Poppy, probably because chicks get jealous of other chicks, and on some level Poppy vibed that something happened between me and Scarlet. So I've got my arm around Poppy, and then Scarlet's saying she's going to curse me and all kinds of other stuff. I didn't believe her, but she and Damien got into a fight about the use of magic. She always thought he was some kind of poseur."

  "Was their fight violent?" Didi asked.

  "Not right then, but she threw a drink on me."

  "How long ago was this?" Didi asked.

  "Last summer."

  "And so why do you think she'd still be mad at him now? Did something else happen?" I asked.

  "No, but chick's a psycho. She never even fooled around with me again."

  I rolled my eyes. The thing where guys treat women poorly, and then act like they're "psycho" when they get upset about being treated poorly, never ceased to annoy me.

  I looked to my sister, and she was disgusted as I was.

  "Are you guys the ones who broke into the grave?" Didi asked.

  "I was just along for the chicks," he said. "I don't really get into all that stuff."

  Man, this guy didn't know anything. He was just a creep. I turned to my sister. She sighed.

  "Should we call the police now?" Didi asked.

  "For what?" I asked.

  "He assaulted you," she said.

  "He didn't get far, and the pimples will take a while to heal. So we're even."

  "It's not about you. It's about all the girls that he might try to do this with next time," Didi countered.

  Darn. I knew my sister was right, but I didn't want to go through having to talk to the police.

  An idea popped into my mind. I looked over to Wilder. "You'll always treat women with respect," I said, giving him a push.

  Pain stabbed at my temples. I reached up, half expecting to find an arrow had struck me in the head.

  Wilder grabbed his head as well, and when he looked up, I could see blood dripping from his nose.

  I turned to Didi.

  "Pal!" she said. "Your nose is bleeding."

  I reached up and felt the telltale wetness. Looking down at my finger and seeing the blood felt so surreal. A fuzzy, almost floaty feeling engulfed me.

  The last two things I heard were my si
ster's voice asking me if I was okay and sirens.

  A warm hand slid over mine. The sensation comforted me. It took a moment for me to realize I was in a hospital bed. My thoughts attempted to arrange themselves, but couldn't quite get there. My eyes wouldn't open.

  I drifted to sleep. A gentle heat spread through my body, and I realized that it emanated from Mom holding my hand.

  How had I gotten here? My brain played back a snippet of the sound of ambulance sirens, and Didi's voice telling me to hang on.

  "Joy," I heard my Mom say, "You're going to be okay."

  Was that my memory or was she saying that now?

  Heat spread through my body some more. I'd been so cold before. An image of myself on a gurney being rushed into an ambulance and then the hospital flashed in my mind.

  A thought struck me. The push. It'd gone wrong. I shouldn't have done that.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I saw Mom staring down at me.

  "I told you she'd be okay," Mom said, smiling.

  "How are you, pal?" Didi asked, rushing over to my bedside.

  "I did something really wrong, didn't I?" I said, my stomach turning.

  "What happened?" Mom asked.

  "I had problems with this guy named Wilder," I started.

  "Your sister told me about that. What happened when you got the nosebleed?" Mom asked.

  "I was trying to push him. I wanted him to not be a creep towards women anymore," I said.

  "What was your thought just before that?" Mom asked.

  I struggled to remember. "That I wanted him to be nice to women?"

  "I don't understand," Didi said. "Why does it matter?"

  "Do you remember what she said when she did the push?" Mom asked Didi.

  "Something like he should always be respectful to women," Didi said.

  "That's not good," Mom said.

  "Why not?" Didi asked.

  Mom turned to me. "Did anything happened when you tried to push? Like in your mind, did you feel yourself connect or was it more of a swing and a miss?"

  I knew what Mom meant. During the interrogation, I'd felt a mental tap each time I pushed Wilder. But that hadn't happened when I tried to get him to be respectful of women. "It felt like an arrow had sliced through my temples, and then I ended up here. Does that qualify as a swing and a miss?"