Wisteria Witches (Witch Cozy Mystery and Paranormal Romance) Page 8

  “Beats me. Is it true Kathy's sons all play professional sports? How many are there?”

  The light changed, so we began crossing the street. Frank gallantly held out his elbow for me to hold onto. The man was fifty-five years old, was as fit as an acrobat, had hair the color of a pink flamingo, and wore a wardrobe to match. Nobody inside the library or outside on the streets batted an eyelash at Frank. Wisteria was pretty chill for such a small town. I wondered how the Wisterians felt about witches.

  “There are three sons,” Frank said. “The oldest are twins, and they've always been very active boys. The poor woman has washed more sweaty, grass-stained laundry than you or I can imagine. But now they've all flown the nest, and the boys' father is always out of town managing them, so Kathy's got the place all to herself and she's going a bit nutty.”

  “I don't know what I'll do when my daughter leaves home. Maybe wait a year and then move in with her.” I giggled. “She'd love that.”

  We reached the sidewalk, where he stepped up and gave me a serious look. “Kathy has taken to crafting,” he said solemnly. “With a vengeance. Don't be surprised if you get invited to a magical evening of bedazzling.”

  “Sounds almost as much fun as a bedazzling evening of magic.” I grinned at the joke that only I understood.

  “Laugh now,” Frank said. “It won't be so funny when all your sofa pillows are covered in rhinestones and you have to buy new ones.”

  “Now I'm afraid,” I said with mock seriousness. “Very afraid.”

  “At least she won't get rid of you,” he said. “Your job is totally secure, thanks to that glowing letter of recommendation from Zinnia Riddle. How are you two related? Are you sisters? I don't know her well, but even a guy like me takes notice of such a gorgeous redhead.” He looked me up and down. “And you look so much like her.”

  What did he say? My aunt gave me a job recommendation? I skipped to keep up with Frank's quick pace on the sidewalk. The man walked like he had long flamingo legs to match his hot pink hair.

  “Zinnia Riddle is my aunt,” I said casually. “And she forgot to mention that she wrote me a letter of recommendation.”

  I clenched my fists. She'd lied to me, that dirty witch. She'd pretended to be as shocked as I was that we were both in Wisteria, but apparently there'd been a letter. Her lie had been recorded on paper evidence, too.

  Was the letter the reason she'd been avoiding me? I'd phoned her several times over the weekend, but she hadn't returned my calls or Zoey's. Worse yet, she was one of those strange people who didn't have voicemail. And one of the times I called, the line didn't ring but emitted a buzzing sound instead. I hadn't heard a busy signal for so many years, I actually thought my phone was broken.

  When I finally did see her again, she was going to get a piece of my mind.

  Frank didn't seem to notice me clenching and unclenching my fists. Nor did he notice the swirls of dust and debris sweeping itself from the sidewalk five feet in front of us. I wasn't trying to levitate anything, but my emotions were apparently having an effect on the environment. I'd definitely need to work on controlling my powers.

  “It must have been a very good letter,” Frank said. “There were other applicants more qualified, and I do mean way more qualified, but Kathy was moved by your aunt's words. Almost like she was under a spell.” He chuckled. “Ain't life grand?”

  “Grand, indeed. I'll have to thank my dear, sweet aunt,” I said. “Thank her properly.”

  Frank gasped and stopped in his tracks. “I know! Chocolate. Nothing says thank you like chocolate.” He nodded at a narrow storefront we'd just walked past. “And these chocolates say thank you, and please, and let's have another, and oh you shouldn't have, and naughty naughty!” He winked and doubled back, skipping toward the door.

  I called after him, “I thought you had to visit the post office and the bank.”

  Frank waved one hand and declared, “There's no Monday chore in this world that can't wait until Tuesday.”

  The way he said it was utterly convincing.

  I followed him inside the chocolate shop. There were two other people inside the store, along with a heavenly sweet aroma. A woman with short, golden-blonde hair and an ample hourglass figure stood behind an array of confections. She was helping an attractive, dark-haired man.

  He said to her, “It's a welcome gift for a new neighbor. And also an apology.”

  The woman's eyebrows raised. “Chet Moore, you've never bought chocolates for a woman before. You must really like her!” She reached for a gold box shaped in a heart. “Shall I fill this up? What's her name?”

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Put that tacky heart box down. Give me that square box. The gray one.”

  The blonde looked around, seemingly confused for a moment. “Chet, do you mean this box?” She held up a gray rectangle. “This holds our supply of staples. You can't give the woman you like a selection of chocolates in what's obviously a container for office supplies.”

  “Fine,” he said grumpily. “Give me that other box. But not the heart one.”

  I quietly backed toward the door and signaled to Frank that I was going to wait outside.

  Frank wrinkled his nose and commanded, “Zara, stay!”

  I froze. Chet turned around in what felt like slow motion.

  “Zara?” Chet glanced from me to Frank, to Frank's pink hair, and back to me again. Then Frank. Frank's pink hair. Me again.

  I waved one hand. “Chet, go ahead and get the chocolates anyway. Don't let me ruin everything. I'll pretend to be surprised, I swear.” I bit my lower lip and glanced over the array of fancy chocolates. “I do love a good marzipan. And mint. Plus anything with nuts is always good. And I don't mind the fondants. Some people, like my daughter for example, take a bite of fondant and put it back because it's too sweet, but I say there's no such thing as too sweet.”

  “Marzipan?” Chet's eyes did the circuit again. Me. Frank's hair. Me again.

  I gave him an apologetic grin, still backing up. “I'm going to run out of here now. Frank, I'll see you back at the library. I just remembered I left my coffee in the microwave, and it's probably the perfect temperature right now.”

  I pushed open the door and left for the library, walking quickly, a huge grin on my face.

  Chet was buying chocolates for me. For me! Zara Riddle! The witch!

  Could life get any better?

  I got back to work and breezed through the afternoon. The patrons were all friendly and warm. The books didn't shelve themselves but felt lighter thanks to my mood. At the end of my shift, my feet weren't the least bit sore.

  I punched out my timecard with a thunderous KERCLUNK and waved goodbye to Kathy and Frank.

  Frank beckoned me over to his crafting table, where he was cutting shapes from construction paper for a display.

  “Those mountains are very pointy,” I said, admiring his work.

  “They're trees, but thanks.” He gestured for me to lean down closer and whispered, “Your beau is hanging out in the fantasy section.”

  “My beau? Frank, you're so old-fashioned for a man with pink hair and orange paisley trousers. Do you mean Chet? He's just a friend.”

  “We'll see about that,” he said. “How's Kathy doing?”

  “She invited me to craft night at her house, and I said I'd get back to her. Would you go with me?”

  “Depends on the size of the bribe.” He looked over my shoulder. “And… here he comes. Aren't you glad I stalled you long enough for your beau to work up his courage? One more minute and he'll be on us.” Frank flashed his eyes at me. “You're welcome.”

  “That pink,” I said, eying Frank's bright locks. “It's called Apex Predator Pink, isn't it? Only animals at the top of the food chain can risk being so bright and flashy.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Save your sass for your date. Take notes and tell me everything tomorrow.”

  I gave him a teen-quality eye roll and turned around.


  Chet stood there, his green eyes bright as he flashed me a smile.

  “I see you've got your purse,” Chet said. “If your shift is over, I can walk you home.”

  “I see your hands are empty,” I said. “Two can play the Sherlock game. What did you do with my chocolates?”

  He shrugged. “I got hungry and ate them. We can stop at the chocolate shop on the way home. I'll buy you everything in the store.”

  Behind us, Frank piped up, “In the heart-shaped box!”

  Chapter 14

  “I haven't been entirely honest with you,” Chet said.

  “You don't like marzipan? That explains why you made that face when I fed you the last chocolate.”

  We were walking through a park in the middle of the town, halfway home.

  Chet guffawed. “I only made that face because I've never eaten my weight in chocolates before, and I was going to explode.”

  “You did your best,” I said. “Thank you for the delicious treats, but you didn't need to apologize. I'm not bothered by what Corvin said at brunch. I've got plenty of other things on my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  I chuckled under my breath. All the sugar and chocolate I'd ingested was making my internal voice bounce around inside my head, threatening to bubble out in a gushing confession. Chet, I'm a witch! A witchy, twitchy witch! I promise not to cast any love spells on you… until I learn some.

  “My mind's busy with settling into Wisteria,” I said. “Plus librarian stuff. Lots of intense librarian stuff.”

  “I can imagine,” he said. “But about Corvin—do you think Zoey will forgive him for insulting her?”

  I patted my closed purse, where I had another box of chocolates for my daughter. “After these, she'll be happy enough to tutor him in the subject of his choice.”

  He kept looking ahead at the path, avoiding my eyes. “What do you suppose he meant? About witches and Pop Tarts?”

  “I think either he heard a rumor about Winona Vander Zalm or he's the one who started the rumor.”

  “Tell me what you know,” he said, sounding irritated.

  “I talked to another neighbor of ours on Saturday, a man named Arden. He's got a Labradoodle named Doodles. Sweet dog. He—Arden, not Doodles—told me Winona Vander Zalm electrocuted herself in the bathtub.” I punched Chet on the arm. “You told me she died peacefully. That doesn't sound very peaceful to me.”

  He rubbed his upper arm and increased the distance between us while continuing to walk.

  “That's what I wanted to talk to you about today,” he said. “We're opening an investigation. She did die by electrocution. I'm sorry I lied to you, Zara, but I didn't want you thinking about tragic things whenever you're enjoying a bath.”

  I stopped walking and stared at him in shock. “Back it up a sec. You're a cop?!”

  He stopped and glanced around the park nervously. Other people were strolling around with kids and dogs, but they weren't close enough to hear us.

  “I'm not exactly a cop,” he said.

  I leaned in and whispered, “Secret agent? FBI? Private detective?”

  He nodded in the direction of the densely-treed wildlife preservation section of the park. “Let's talk in private.”

  As he moved toward the darkness of the forest, the muscles at the base of my skull clenched, sending a blast of migraine-like pain through my head. I blinked away the stars. The pain left as quickly as it had manifested. Was that my Witchy Warning System? Some kind of supernatural alert that danger lay in the forest? Or was it the normal response to the overstimulation of eating a dozen rich chocolates?

  I rubbed the base of my skull and waited for another blast. Nothing supernatural happened. Chet was giving me a funny look.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked. “We can talk somewhere else if there's something about this forest that upsets you.”

  He had a purposeful tone, like he was trying to provoke a response. What was he up to? I mentally ran my current situation through my Zoey-simulator, where I imagined how I would feel about her doing a thing that I was about to do. Would I scold her for walking into the dark forest with a guy she barely knew? Probably. But Chet was our neighbor, not a stranger. Plus Frank knew I was with him, and since Frank was such a gossip, all my coworkers knew as well.

  Chet prompted, “Well?”

  “That little forest contains nothing I can't handle,” I said with a smile.

  “We're in the middle of a town,” he said. “The scariest thing in that forest is a raccoon.”

  “They can be rabid,” I said.

  “Duly noted. I'll be on guard for rabid raccoons.”

  He pressed his hand lightly against the small of my back to get me walking. We continued on the gravel pathway, taking the fork that led into the forest. The lush canopy overhead blocked the late-afternoon sun. I felt like I was crossing from day to night in a dozen steps.

  “Spill it,” I said once we were alone in the forest. “Tell me about this investigation career of yours.”

  “I don't work for the FBI or Homeland Security or even the Wisteria Police. And I'm not a gumshoe private eye. I work for an organization that prefers to keep a low profile, and my job is to look into unusual events.”

  “Unusual?” I asked.

  “Things that go bump in the night.”

  I barely restrained myself from jumping up and down. “The X-Files are real! It's totally a real thing! Are you a Fox Mulder or a Dana Scully?”

  He didn't even crack a smile. “The X-Files are part of the FBI, and I already told you I'm not FBI. And, more importantly, the X-Files aren't real. It's a TV show, like Wicked Wives.”

  “That's my other favorite show,” I said, gushing.

  “Never seen it,” he said. “Are there aliens?”

  “Yes, but mainly it's about regular housewives who are secretly witches. You don't believe in witchcraft, do you?”

  Slowly, he answered, “I have an open mind.”

  “How open? Are you secretly a warlock?” I grinned and let out a totally-joking laugh.

  “I'm not a warlock,” he said. “I'm something else.”

  “What are you?”

  He stopped walking and cupped one hand around his ear. “Did you hear that?”

  In the stillness, a branch snapped nearby, and then another. It hadn't been a branch on the ground, though. The sound came from the tree branches overhead.

  I looked up at the dark canopy of lush leaves. The pain at the base of my skull returned with a vengeance. Ouch. I pushed the pain down to a level where it wouldn't cloud my senses. How did I do that? I didn't know, and didn't have time to wonder. The canopy shivered as a dark shape flitted from one tree to another. Something was stalking us from above.

  “We're not alone,” Chet said.

  My throat hoarse, I croaked out, “Danger.”

  I crouched down and picked up a staff-sized branch from the side of the path. I turned to face Chet again but found only empty air. He was gone.

  I whirled around, calling out his name. My head throbbed. Had he run down the path? The section we stood on was straight enough that I could see the exit to the grassy park. He wasn't anywhere on the path.

  A dark form descended from the trees. My arms moved with minds of their own, and a pulse of blue shot from my fingertips. The throb in my head was the least of my concerns. I'd just shot lightning. From my hands.

  The darkness let out a horrifying squawk and came at me again.

  I repeated the hand movements and another blast of blue shot from my hands, brighter than before. This time, there was a kickback that knocked me off my feet. Down I went. The darkness expanded, covering me like a cloak.

  I made the gesture a third time, but everything felt wrong. Nothing but tiny sparks came from my fingers. The throbbing in my head became unbearable. I closed my eyes. I was tired. So tired. Did I hear wings? The air around me beat with what felt and sounded like huge wings. The wind swept dirt and grime into my nose and mout
h.

  I cracked open my eyelids just as my fingertips sparked once more with a damp hiss. The wind subsided, and all was still within my bubble.

  I opened my eyes all the way. Just beyond a shimmering wall, an enormous monster of a bird shrieked, its cry loud enough to make the pain in my head even worse. The bird's form kept changing shape, but its gold eyes stayed constant within its nebulous form. They were the largest eyes I'd ever seen on anything outside of a museum. The whole bird-beast was enormous. Its wingspan spread so wide I couldn't see both wingtips at once.

  The creature let out another cry, this one a scream. The luminous membrane between us shimmered and evaporated with a pop. Now the air was thick with the smell of forest—pine and sweet decay.

  I raised one arm and willed my magic to work. Come on, blue lightning! My fingertips grew hot, but nothing flashed. The battery for my witchy defenses had gone kaput.

  Another beast, this one gray and furry, launched from the ground beside me and flew through the air like an arrow of fury.

  It was a wolf.

  The wolf's mouth gaped, big white teeth flashing. It attacked the great bird with open jaws. Their cries mingled, becoming one chorus of rage.

  I cautiously crouched down and grabbed the stick I'd dropped seconds earlier. I wanted to break up the tumultuous ball of feathers and fur, but I couldn't get a clear shot with the stick, and I wasn't entirely sure which was my foe.

  Before I could smack anything, the bird beat its mighty wings and headed skyward. It clutched the snarling wolf in its talons. The two flew crookedly into the canopy, still snarling and screaming. Leaves and branches rained down as the beasts fought.

  And then, with one last angry shriek, the bird appeared in a patch of blue sky overhead, alone.

  Something dropped down to the ground beside me. The wolf. It was breathing heavily, standing on shaky legs, but it was alive.

  “Chet,” I said. “You saved my bacon.”