by Nova Nelson
Dead Witch Walking
Eastwind Witches 10
Nova Nelson
FFS Media
Copyright © 2019 by Nova Nelson
All rights reserved. FFS Media and Nova Nelson reserve all rights to Dead Witch Walking. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or author. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design © FFS Media LLC
Illustration elements by Kerry McQuaide
Dead Witch Walking / Nova Nelson -- 1st ed.
www.novanelson.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
You’re Invited …
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter One
I sorted silverware slowly and meditatively on the countertop at Medium Rare and thought about death. Nothing new, really.
Except today was an anniversary of sorts, and I wasn’t sure if I should be celebrating.
One year before, to the day, I’d died.
While death itself is rarely cause for celebration, dying was arguably the best thing that had ever happened to me. I’d died and gone to Eastwind.
Not quite Heaven, but from what the angel sheriff had said about that place and the fact that she was here and not there, I suspected I’d landed in the better of the two spots.
I didn’t have any celebrations lined up, per se. I had a date later that night, but I was fairly certain Donovan didn’t have a clue about the anniversary. Only two people outside of myself were likely to be aware of it. One had disappeared through a portal three months before and the other was not actually a person in the strictest sense of the word.
“It just seems right,” Grim argued from his place on the floor by my feet, “that we would commemorate this day with a full breakfast platter.”
“Grim, it’s already ten o’clock. I had breakfast hours ago. You were there.”
“Fine, then. You don’t have to partake in the celebration.”
“It’s not even your deathiversary.”
“You’re right, but it’s still an important day for me. It was one year ago today that you crashed the Deadwoods and forced me into servitude.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll be sure to send flowers.”
But, heck, what would it hurt if I gave Grim an extra helping today? He’d stuck with me, albeit begrudgingly on the whole, for a year now, saving my hide from all kinds of supernatural scrapes and paranormal dust ups. And he was there for me when it counted.
We’d never spoken about what had happened in the Deadwoods, right after the portal had shut—how he’d helped me back to the house, stuck by me, even given me a well-timed and much-needed nuzzle during the days that followed. And now, months later, we’d gone back to how things usually were between us. But I didn’t forget his small kindnesses.
Grim Goodboy had lived up to his last name.
But telling him that would only agitate him, so I kept it to myself.
When I returned a few minutes later with a full breakfast of over-easy eggs, bacon, and sausage (I skipped the pancakes because I knew from experience that it would only lead to a constipated and grumpy hellhound in my life) and set it on the floor, there was a small rustle in his thick, black fur. Then the little round head of a munchkin cat emerged, sniffing the air.
“You better share with Monster,” I said.
“More like she better share with me. If only you could hear the threats from this one if she doesn’t get her way.”
“You love it.”
“Won’t disagree with you.”
Monster wobbled out from the warmth of Grim’s fur and approached the plate, going straight for the broken egg yolks. When I say “wobbled,” I mean it. In the three months since Grim and I had taken Tanner’s abandoned familiar under our wings, we’d outright spoiled her. And it turned out our weapon of choice was food. When Grim gained ten pounds, there was no way to tell with his over-all bulk. But when a little thing like Monster did… well, it showed.
If Tanner ever comes back and sees her like that…
I cut off my thought. He wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t. I ran through the logic again in my head, hoping this time it would sink in: even if I found a portal, bringing him and Eva back into Eastwind would upset nature’s balance. We could never have our circle in the same realm again without dire consequences. We’d seen those play out, and they weren’t pretty. We were lucky no one in Eastwind had been killed when that portal ripped open and all those nasties crawled out, but I couldn’t imagine that such good fortune would strike again.
Tanner is gone.
It had become a bit of a mantra of mine, and I was glad to start needing it less and less. As much as I hate clichés, I guess what they say about time healing wounds is true to some extent. But with the one year anniversary of when I entered Eastwind, stumbled out of the Deadwoods, and wandered right into Medium Rare stirring up those old memories, it felt like a losing battle to not think about him.
That soft grin, those hazel eyes. The smell of his fresh-baked cherry pie filling the dining room…
The bell above the door tinkled and I snapped out of my reverie. I was supposed to be working. The silverware had just been a filler while my tables were eating, but I’d wasted enough time now.
I’d hired on a couple of new servers who were friends of Greta’s from school—Daphne and Benito—but they were only so-so. I’d had to comp so many meals because of their careless mistakes, I was thinking about turning the place into a charity, some kind of soup kitchen, but with queso.
If only Eva was still around…
I missed her for a lot of reasons, the least of which was her help around the diner. How many times had she given me common sense advice while she worked here? And in a way that made it clear she cared and wasn’t just trying to shut me up. That in itself was a kind of magical ability, and add it to the long list of those I didn’t possess.
Deputy Stu Manchester approached the counter, hiked up his belt, and grunted as he slid onto a stool. “Morning, Ms. Ashcroft.”
“Morning, Deputy. The usual?”
He nodded once, and I put in the order for a short stack of cherry pancakes then fetched him his coffee.
I brought him over a glass of water, too. It was about as much as I could do to encourage him to take care of himself. His short-lived attempt to eat right and get in shape for dating had suffocated under the crushing weight of being the only deputy in Eastwind once again. Who was I to deprive him of carb-loading and tablespoons of sugar in his coffee?
“How was the shift?” I asked.
He grunted before taking a long sip of water. Little droplets clung to the ends of his mustache as he pulled the glass away. “Not great. But you know, as I was writing up a report about Gladys Weatherbee’s missing flowerpot, I realized that it was a year ago today that Bruce Saxon was murdered.”
“Right.”
Oof. In my self-absorbed state, I’d forgotten that there had also been a murder on my deathiversary. That meant both Bruce Saxon and I shared a deathiversary. Cute.
Happy deathday, Bruce.
“And then,” Stu went on, “as I was thinking on the particulars of that case, I remembered that it happened the day you came into town.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Don’t tell me you’re reopening the case with me as the main suspect.”
“Of course not! But this must be a big day for you. One year in Eastwind.”
I smiled. “I guess so.”
“It’s a big day for Eastwind, I can tell you that! Life around here hasn’t been the same since you dropped in.”
When I arched an eyebrow at his ambiguous sentiment, he cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that Eastwind is better for it.”
As much as my cynical side wanted to drop a steaming pile of unicorn swirls on his statement by saying, “As long as you’re not Tanner or Eva,” I couldn’t do that to him. Giving compliments didn’t come easy to him, so I wouldn’t discourage it.
“Thanks, Stu. I’m glad you didn’t arrest me a year ago today.”
He bowed his head and gave a little wave before testing the heat of his coffee with a small sip.
Anton rang the bell in the kitchen to alert me to an order up, and I quickly retrieved Stu’s breakfast and set it in front of him. He began inhaling it immediately.
“Don’t choke to death,” I said. “Ted looks pretty comfy over in that booth. I’d hate to put him to work.”
The deputy crammed his mouthful into his cheek to speak around it. “If I’m lucky, I’ll get two hours of uninterrupted sleep tonight before some emergency owl comes pecking at my bedroom window. No time to waste with eating.”
Poor guy. “I’m sure you’ll find someone new to hire on soon.”
He look a long drink of coffee to help mash up his mouthful, then he swallowed and said, “If not, I’m gonna have to go through back channels to hire a doppelgänger of myself just so I can get some peace and quiet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like the most logical solution. Nothing I love more than knowing the town’s deputy is overworked to the point of considering criminal activity.”
He grunted but otherwise seemed unbothered, so I grabbed the coffeepot from the cradle and made the rounds for refills.
The place was a little emptier than usual for this time on a weekday, but it happened like that sometimes. There was no explaining it. Some days it was slammed on a Tuesday, and others it was nearly empty on a Saturday.
But every day the back corner booth was occupied by our resident grim reaper. That never changed. And if it did, I might become a praying woman, because surely it would be a bad omen. “More coffee, Ted?”
He’d been staring through the window toward the Deadwoods when I’d approached, and he snapped his hooded head around toward me with a start. “Huh? Oh. Heh. Hi, Nora. You scared me.”
I scared a grim reaper? Life achievement unlocked, I guess.
“Looked like you were thinking hard about something,” I said.
“Not thinking. Sensing. As you know, they’re not the same thing.”
“O-kay…” Proceeding with caution seemed wise here. And yet, against my better judgment, I asked, “What were you sensing?”
“Impending death.”
Chapter Two
“Death,” I echoed. Of course.
“Mm-hmm.” Ted lifted up his empty mug to get my attention, and I filled it up. “A death presence of some sort,” he continued. “Not sure what it is yet. It’s still a great distance away, but it’s coming closer. In fact, it’s almost here.”
I scrunched up my face, absorbing Ted’s forbidding statement. Don’t keep prying, Nora. Don’t do it. Because maybe if I didn’t stick my nose in it, it wouldn’t become my problem to fix.
Unlikely. “So when you say ‘death presence,’ what exactly do you mean?” I was already kicking myself as the words flowed out.
He shrugged. “Can’t say yet. It starts out as a little tickle under my tongue. Then it usually gets stronger until I can feel it in the soles of my feet. Maybe it’s just an impending murder, and I can sense the murderer concocting the plot—murderous thoughts can create a death presence, but there are so many of those flying around this little town that it takes quite a lot for me to sense one above the clatter of the rest. Maybe a grim was just made in the Deadwoods. I sensed a death presence when you came to town. And then there’s always the possibility another reaper has decided to pay us a visit.”
“Another reaper? But I recall you telling me two reapers in the same realm is catastrophic.”
“Oh, it is.” His coffee was still scalding, but he sucked it down anyway. “So let’s hope it’s not that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah, here’s hoping. I guess, um, just keep me updated if you decide it’s something I need to know about.”
“I wouldn’t bother you with it, Nora. Besides, it would be more a matter of interest to Sheriff Bloom in any of those cases. Well, not the grim. But as long as it stayed in the Deadwoods, who cares?”
I bet Grim would care. Though he’d never admit it, the slobbery thing clearly enjoyed being unique in town.
After excusing myself from Ted, I took a few more orders, sat a few more tables, and said hello to a few more regulars. Minutes and hours flew by like they often did. Medium Rare had the ability to warp time. Sometimes it slowed down to an intolerable crawl, and others it felt like I’d skipped over entire days.
Before I knew it, Stu had left for home to get what little shut-eye he could wrangle, Ted had finished his last cup of coffee and returned to the Deadwoods, and Jane had arrived for her shift as manager.
She took her apron from the hook by the kitchen door and slung it over her neck.
The dinner rush wouldn’t hit for another few hours, and the lunch rush had already subsided. Only two tables were sat in the entire place—at one was the insomniac werewolf Hendrix Hardy, whose coffee consumption I’d long suspected influenced his inability to sleep (although occasionally he would nod off in the booth for short bursts only to wake with a start and a snort), and in the other sat a small group of Coven witches.
They were newcomers. Very few witches wandered this far into the Outskirts. It was, by and large, werewolf territory. But after the battle in the Eastwind Emporium on Halloween, a lot of small changes had started to take place, including the occasional witch stepping out of his or her comfort zone. These three had been among the first to venture this way—perhaps they thought it was safe to come to a witch-run establishment—and they’d returned almost weekly in the off-hours. And every time, they spoke in hushed tones as if conspiring against some king or queen only to erupt into wild laughter. The telltale signs of delicious gossip.
“Got plans tonight?” Jane asked, tying her apron in the back.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
She looked stunned. I didn’t appreciate it. “Really?”
“Yes. Why ask the question if you’ll only believe one answer?”
“A little small-talk isn’t a crime.”
“You hate small-talk.”
She conceded with a tiny nod. “You’re right. I dunno what got into me.”
I could have stopped there, but I actually did want to talk about my evening’s plans. And Jane was probably the only person whose advice I trusted about it. “I’m going to dinner with Donovan.”
She bit ba
ck a smile and one of her brows broke free and shot up. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“And what?”
She sighed impatiently. “And how do you feel about dating Donovan only three months after the man you were in love with slipped through a portal to another realm?”
“About as you might expect. But what’s weird is”—I leaned closer to her behind the countertop—“I’m kind of nervous.”
She chuckled. “And to be clear, this is your first official date with him.”
“Yep.”
“Didn’t you two decide to give it a go back on New Year’s Eve?”
“We did. It’s been weeks. And, you know, we’ve been talking here and there, but we’ve both been working a lot, and we work opposite hours.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Mm-hm.”
“What?”
“I don’t buy that.”
“What part don’t you buy? You’ve seen me here. Ever since… ever since I’ve been the only one in charge, I’ve had to work crazy hours.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been the only one in charge since Tanner took a job with the sheriff’s department. This is nothing new. Plus, you shut this place down at night now, so there are fewer hours to spread between everyone. And, you know, if you really want to spend more time with Donovan, you and I can switch shifts. You’re the boss, you can just make that decision, and I’d be more than happy to comply.”
I grunted. Jane’s blunt honesty was always the best medicine for me, but it was generally a bitter one. “Fine. You got me.”
“Why are you avoiding him, really?”