Cold Cases and Haunted Places

by Trixie Silvertale

  “Oh yeah? What makes you think that?”

  “There are catnip plants nearby. I could smell them while we were over there. He probably put them there himself.”

  That seemed like a very Gallows-wise decision. It was easy to picture him sitting back on his haunches in front of the catnip plant with a toothy smile on his face.

  “To the forest we go,” I announced, throwing the truck into drive.

  “What were you up to today, anyway? I know Fatima was with Ash. I hate to bother her, but I know the council is putting on the pressure to find a remedy to help the familiars…” Goldie trailed off as I rounded a corner. Her usual cheerful and sassy demeanor had definitely been knocked down several pegs.

  I gave her the rundown of my run-ins with The Coop’s neighbors. When I got to Rachel, Goldie sat up straight.

  I slowed at a stop sign and looked over. “What’s wrong?”

  Her gold eyes searched mine. “You don’t think that’s weird? When I say she carries that thing around everywhere, I mean it. She’s lived there for a long time and ever since, she’s always carrying the squirrel.”

  I frowned. “I mean yeah, that sounds a little off, but I don’t see what it could have to do with any of this. What am I missing?”

  Goldie shuffled in place. “I’m not sure. I just feel like something’s out of place there and maybe we should check back in with her. Then if you want, we can help look for Gallows. I don’t think it will take them long to find him, though. I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one who knows about the catnip in the forest.”

  I seemed to recall a cave hidden from plain sight by the lake that no one knew about, but she had a point. “All right. But I don’t think she’ll have much to say. Especially about the whole squirrel thing. Call it intuition.”

  Goldie shook her head. “There are no coincidences in this town. You’ve said so yourself. So if she doesn’t have much to say… we might have to do some sleuthing of our own.”

  I pretended to wave a flag. “Yay. I don’t know if our need to investigate everything says more about this town or our friendship.”

  “Probably a little bit of both. That’s why we make a great team,” she said, puffing out her chest.

  The clouds hung heavy in the darkening sky, threatening to unload. It was just cold enough for it to go from rain to sleet, and I was not in the mood to catch pneumonia. Parking a block down the road from Rachel’s was Goldie’s idea. She thought that it was best to take a peek around the house before trying to talk to her again. Maybe I was just cold and grumpy, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was worth our time. Or the loss of feeling in my fingertips.

  Whatever we did, we needed to hurry up.

  Rachel’s bright purple row house was cute in its own way, but desperately needed new windows. One of them was cracked while another one had a half-broken window sill around it. Even still, it was full of what Nan would call ‘potential.’

  “Remind me to ask Fatima if there’s such a thing as a spell to make you invisible, because I could really use it right about now,” I whispered to Goldie as I slipped into the narrow space between the left side of the purple house and the right side of The Coop. I was barely able to extend my arms out without touching both walls.

  “Let’s head to the back,” she whispered before flying over the roof to the other side.

  “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to squeeze yourself through an alley of garbage like a sausage busting out of the casing,” I said, knowing there was still a chance she could hear me with that predator hearing of hers.

  It was impossible to miss the swearing coming from one of the back windows of the house. Goldie had dropped down to an empty milk crate underneath the partially open window, her eyes just as wide as mine.

  Rachel did not sound very pleased in there.

  Goldie beckoned with her wing and I came to stoop under the window next to her. Rachel groaned so loudly I thought someone was hurting her. Just in case, I slowly rose up until I could just see into the house.

  Rachel was facing away from the window, thankfully. But her arms were tense at her sides as she leaned over her small dining room table. “No, no, no! That’s not right either!”

  I couldn’t quite make it out, but there appeared to be a large wooden bowl in front of her, carved with runes and letting off sparks. I motioned for Goldie to lean over and watch too.

  “This doesn’t look good, whatever it is,” I hissed at her.

  “We need to take a closer look.”

  I hated when she was right. Sometimes it meant trouble for us.

  Slipping past the front door was easy as it was thankfully unlocked. But I had no idea what to do next. Rachel was a very jumpy looking person, and with all the magic swirling around everywhere, I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to startle her.

  Goldie, however, had a different point of view.

  “Rachel? What are you doing in here?” Goldie squawked at her, hovering in the kitchen doorway.

  So much for the element of surprise.

  Rachel’s eyes were wilder than the frizz of hair in a halo around her head. She pulled away from the table to reveal the runed bowl full of sparking gas. It was like seeing a mini thunderstorm in a bowl.

  “I tried to fix it but I just can’t! I don’t know what happened!” She backed up, nearly tripping over her own feet. “All I wanted was one of my own.”

  Cast aside on the floor of the kitchen, was the stuffed squirrel, now charred and missing most of its tail. Suddenly it clicked into place.

  “You wanted a familiar,” I said softly over the din of the roaring cloud of gray gas. “The magic backfired, didn’t it?” Goldie had been right to come check here first. In the back of my mind I reminded myself to thank her at some point.

  Rachel’s face was sallow and miserable as she nodded. “I’ve tried to fix it, I swear.”

  Goldie didn’t seem quite as forgiving. “Do you know what you’ve done, tampering with magic like this? My friends are now lost inside their own heads!”

  But Rachel shook her head, flipping to a few pages back in the moldy spell book. “No, no they’re not! This memory spell should help that. But I can’t seem to figure out how to make it work.”

  Goldie and I looked at one another. We knew exactly what to do. Or more like who to call…

  Minutes later, the knock at the door was barely audible, but I cracked the door open just enough to see Fatima’s dark eyes on the other side.

  She rushed past me holding a small stack of books and a bag I knew contained an assortment of items she used to perform non-traditional types of magic.

  “When did this happen?” she shouted to Rachel.

  “Half an hour ago!”

  Fatima turned her attention to the magic pouring backwards from the bowl up toward the ceiling and pulled out several items from her bag. Her hands were a flurry as she worked quickly to mix up a paste of some kind.

  She held up her mortar to us. “This should help stick the magic to something more solid. Then we can release it back to where it belongs.”

  She drew in a deep breath and gazed up at the swirling gray cloud above us. “Memories back in time, place them back in the mind. Back in the minds of those who own them, those who control them, those who hold them.” Her hands shot up and it looked as though Fatima had turned the cloud into something corporeal, hooking into and dragging it down with her long fingers.

  The cloud seemed to squeal, piercing my ears, but it succumbed to Fatima’s will and somehow all ended up in the rune-covered bowl.

  She stirred the cloud around with a ladle until the paste mixture was nearly clear. She held the bowl high over her head and shouted one word. “Go!”

  The haze of gas that shot out of the bowl disappeared around the corner of the room with a bang, leaving me and Rachel wide-eyed.

  “Did it… work?” I asked. Nothing felt different, though I wasn’t sure what to expect anyway.

  Fatima sl
umped forward against the back of the chair. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  The three of us anxiously made our way outside. The change may not have been obvious inside the house, but outside was a different story.

  Seemingly coming from all over the place, all types of animals started coming out of the woodwork, stretching toward their favorite hangout spot.

  “Did you feel that too, Chrissa?” a husky said to a beagle.

  The beagle nodded, shaking her ears out. “It was like we were back in that sleep curse. Wait… we weren’t, were we?”

  Rachel, who had been very quiet as the animals came forth, sniffled. “Thank you,” she said, looking between me and Fatima. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  I nodded. “It’s okay. The point is that it seems like we reversed the spell and maybe everything can go back to normal again.”

  Fatima took Rachel’s hand in hers. “The Special Council doesn’t need to know what exactly happened. We’ll keep our promise. But please, if you are looking to work with this kind of powerful magic… I’m sure you know where I live. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

  Rachel dabbed at her tears and hugged Fatima. “I don’t think we have to worry about that. I’m never using that terrible book again.”

  The kitchen table at the library was much livelier than I’d ever seen it. Fatima, Ash, and Goldie were all here, discussing Fatima’s saving of the day. For which she took no credit, of course.

  “And would you believe it—the familiar magic must have really been smiling down on her,” Goldie laughed. “Rachel Kowalski now has a squirrel familiar.”

  The irony was beyond me at this point. “Wow. Well, if ever there was a creature for her… seriously, though. I’m happy for her. Sure, she went a little crazy, but this will be good for her,” I said.

  Ash and Fatima updated us on what the Special Council was told. The story had to be embellished a little bit since we’d promised Rachel we wouldn’t tell them exactly what had happened.

  “As far as I can tell, they bought it. Everything else seems cleared up to me,” Ash said as he passed out our plates.

  A sandwich sounded boring maybe, but Ash was actually quite the artisan when it came to a good BLT. Better than me, actually, though I’d never admit that out loud.

  Through the sounds of quiet munching, I found myself smiling. “I’ve got to say, it feels good to get to the bottom of this. Charming Springs without its host of talking animals just isn’t the same,” I said with a yawn. Man, when had I turned into such a granny? It was hardly ten o’clock and yet here I was. All I needed was a pair of my favorite pajamas and I’d be out like a light.

  “I agree,” Goldie said with a nod. “And I think this calls for a celebration! What do you three say to a round on me at Pokey Moe’s? It’s not like I can drink, so someone else might as well.”

  I winced at the very thought. Pokey Moe’s wasn’t the only bar in town, and I wasn’t really in the mood to slum it. “Why don’t we try somewhere else? Maybe somewhere that doesn’t require a tetanus shot beforehand?”

  Fatima and Goldie both snickered.

  “Ever the picky one,” Ash mused.

  I fixed the sweetest of smiles on my face. “I think you mean ‘ever the one with self-dignity.’”

  That earned me the wicked grin that Ash almost never showed. It was just crooked enough that some might think he was smiling sarcastically. But I knew him better than that.

  I pulled my flannel shirt tighter around me, the chill from the library’s drafty floors getting to me.

  “You never did tell us what the big headline will read,” Fatima said as she stood up.

  “I've been working on it, but I think I might have it.” I cleared my throat. “‘The Secret Behind the Hush Magic.’ With a deck—that’s the smaller headline—that says ‘Familiars Gain Back Their Voices.’ What do you guys think?”

  A round of applause broke out between the three of them, well, mainly between Ash and Fatima. Goldie let out a piercing call.

  “I think you have a winner there,” Ash said, leaning against the edge of the table. “Very clever.”

  It was silly, but Ash didn’t have that pull in him to fiercely defend everything I did—not like the other two. He was honest to a fault at times, so to hear his praise meant maybe even a little more. My cheeks burned.

  “I occasionally have good ideas. Though I think the real winner here is this one,” I said, pointing over at Goldie. “It was her gut that led us to Rachel’s. We might still be trying to piece it all together right now if it weren’t for her. So three cheers for Goldie!” I laughed and held up my sandwich.

  “Hip-hip!”

  “Hooray!”

  “For she’s a jolly good fellow…”

  Goldie pretended not to be affected by it, but there was no hiding the pleased look on her face.

  “Next stop: Pokey Moe’s!” she declared, to the rousing sound of booing.

  * * *

  The End

  Explore all of J.L. Collins mysteries: https://www.amazon.com/J.-L.-Collins/e/B07GXPVD9Y

  * * *

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  Deepwood is a cozy town, but every town has its secrets. As a witch, Edwina Gale has been tasked with keeping those secrets. But all her carefully laid plans unravel when the sheriff blackmails her into helping him solve a mystery, and she finds herself on the wrong end of magic gone awry.

  1

  Edwina Gale was not a witch to be trifled with, especially at six o’clock in the morning.

  “What do you mean, you’re out of maple bars?” She glared at the man standing before her. He was at least a head shorter than her, bald, round, and wearing a bubblegum pink apron with the words Pink Lady Donuts stitched across the front in gold letters. “Virgil, you know I can’t start my day without a bacon-topped maple bar.”

  Most people needed coffee to start their day. She required copious amounts of sugar, fat, and salt, aka a bacon maple donut.

  “Sorry, Edwina.” His ears turning pink, he focused on carefully placing a tray of Moscow mule donuts in the display case that stretched across the front of the shop. “We’re fresh out. I’ve got a few caramel old-fashioneds left.”

  She scowled. “Won’t do. Who got the last of them?”

  Virgil didn’t even pretend not to know what she was talking about. He sighed. “The chief. He took the last three.”

  And by chief, he meant Jeremiah Dekes, Chief of Police of Deepwood, Oregon. Her scowl deepened. “You gave the last of the bacon maple donuts to a mundane?”

  “Don’t say it like that.” It was Virgil’s turn to scowl. “They can’t help it. My mother was a mundane.”

  Shame washed over her. She wasn’t one to judge a person by their magic or lack thereof. She knew better. She tossed her iron gray braid over her shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

  “Yes, well, take this and be grateful.” He shoved a caramel old-fashioned at her.

  Virgil was probably the only person in the world who could talk to her like that and get away with it, though she had to admit she’d deserved it this time. Hangry was no excuse for being rude and inconsiderate. She was never entirely sure what Virgil was. Neither was anyone else. His magic was weird and mostly expressed itself through baking. Some claimed he was a leprechaun, but that was because he was short. She was betting fae.

  She thanked him for the donut and shoved half of it in her mouth before she’d even cleared the door of the Pink Lady. If she tracked down Dekes, maybe he’d have a maple bar left. Doubtful, but it was worth a shot. Almost of their own free will, her Doc Marten-clad feet turned toward the police station, where Chief Dekes was sure to be behind his desk, chowing down on her donut. She shoved the other half of the old-
fashioned in her mouth. It was good, but it wasn’t maple-bar-topped-with-bacon good.

  Pink Lady was situated on Main Street, a couple blocks south of the police station. Main was lined on either side with cute shops and cafes, and there were several popular antique stores which brought in hordes of tourists, especially during nice weather. Seeing as how this was the western side of the Cascades, and most people didn’t consider rain nice weather, that was only about three months out of the year.

  What none of those tourists realized was that Deepwood wasn’t an ordinary town. It was a place of magic and home to the magical, something most of the mundane locals didn’t even know. Those mundane locals included Chief of Police Dekes.

  The old chief had been wiccan. Not much magic in him, but he’d been descended from a magical bloodline. Edwina had approved, not that anyone had asked her. He’d been chief long before she’d arrived in Deepwood, twenty some odd years ago, after she retired from the military, but he’d been getting on in years, and he’d wanted to retire and move someplace sunnier.

  She never could understand why people wanted to be in places with less rain. It made things grow. Kept Mother Earth green. Personally, she lived for a good downpour. But again, nobody asked her.

  In any case, the new chief had been something of a shock to the magical community. Not only was he lacking any magic of his own, he didn’t have a clue magic existed. Dummy. That meant she had to work doubly hard for the Witch Council—the governing body of all witches in Deepwood—trying to keep magical mishaps and crimes under wraps. For a woman her age, it should be exhausting, but she found it invigorating.

  Technically at this hour of the morning, she should be opening her diner, but that was the joy of minions. Or employees—whatever you called them. She paid hers well, and they were reliable, probably because they were convinced she’d put a hex on them if they didn’t rise to her standard. Although she’d never put a hex on anyone, it suited her to let them keep thinking that. She had a reputation to uphold.