A Hillcrest Witch Mystery Collection Read online

  “Well, yeah. But he’s safe.”

  “Is he?” Cora asks. She lifts a brow and looks pointedly at me. “I feel like, at least for one of us, he’s a very dangerous visitor.”

  “Dangerously tempting,” Marley adds, wiggling her eyebrows my way.

  Annie clears her throat. “Ladies... I do like talking about handsome men, but if we don’t progress with our witch abilities, we may encounter beings that are more than just dangerously good looking,” Annie looks very grandmotherly as she peers around the table at us through her reading glasses. “I don’t like it that the portal is open, and we’re still so inept. It makes me feel like a sitting duck.”

  “Me too,” says Marley. “I’ve been having a strange feeling lately. Like trouble is brewing.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Then it’s really time for us to put this spell together. Maybe once we’ve done the Power Spell, I’ll be able to figure out who killed Joe, and we’ll be better prepared as guardians of the portal.”

  “Well put,” Annie says. “Now, what are we going to do about this secret key ingredient nonsense?”

  “Ug,” Marley says.

  “That,” Cora says.

  “I have no idea,” I add in.

  There is one part of the Power Spell that has been hanging us up for weeks. Months, in fact. We can’t seem to get past it. It’s slowing us down more than even the dragonfly wings or the satchels. Actually, we would have figured those roadblocks out much sooner, if we’d been more motivated. But our motivation was zapped by an item at the bottom of the list of ingredients, that has us stumped.

  It has been stealing the wind from our sails, since we started the cycle.

  For the hundredth time, I read over the instructions for the Power Spell.

  Cycle One.

  The Power Spell

  The first cycle of magic that you will embark on in your initiation into witchcraft consists of learning about the power within you. In order to do so, follow the steps to this power potion precisely.

  Remember—these objects are only symbols for what is occurring within you. As you combine them, reflect upon what they represent (as outlined below). Once you have gathered and combined these powerful symbols from the richness of Mother Earth, you will then wear them in a satchel around your neck until the spell is complete.

  You will know when the Power Spell is completed.

  A feeling of power as you have never experienced before will be born inside of you. It is impossible to express this in words. You will know it when you feel it.

  Once again, remember to follow these instructions with precision. This is one of the cornerstones of witchcraft. Always remember the three p’s: Patience, Precision, and Playfulness.

  Ingredients:

  ½ tsp. Earth (dry, fine dirt works best. From your location is preferable). This represents your connection to Mother Earth—a great source of strength.

  3 Dragonfly wings—three sets. This symbol represents your ability to change, adapt, transform, and realize your true Self.

  ¼ tsp Ash—This represents your inner fire.

  The fur of a feline - three hairs, at least three millimeters in length, to represent the fearlessness of a lion.

  Secret Key Ingredient—this depends on the witch. Every witch has his or her own specific, individualized Secret Key Ingredient. No one can tell you what yours is. You must intuitively figure it out. Once you have figured it out, write it down in your Book of Shadows and meditate upon it for twenty-one days after the spell begins to function. You will feel your power increase as you marinate in your special, secret key ingredient.

  Directions.

  Grind dragonfly wings with a mortar and pestle for three minutes, until they form a fine powder. Mix in the sand. Next, add in your ash*. Add in the feline fur. Pour the contents into your satchel.

  It is important that you wear this around your neck—even while you sleep—until the magic begins to work. Enjoy the results!

  *Note: This ash should be prepared ahead of time, by burning a piece of paper on which you have listed your biggest fear.

  I look up. The other women are also staring at their copies of ASBW, puzzling over the words.

  “Well, at least we already made our ashes,” Marley says. “That step’s done. I’m worried about this whole Secret Key Ingredient thing. What if I can’t figure mine out, and I’m stuck wearing this ugly pouch full of cat hairs and dirt for the rest of my life?”

  “I’m not going to do that,” Cora says. “This is grossing me out as it is. Dead bugs, cat hair... I don’t even want this to be in my house, let alone around my neck. If this doesn’t work in a few days, I’m going to throw the whole thing out.”

  “It is going to work,” I say, resolutely. “Everything else in the book has been true for us, right? We’ve all experienced things that we didn’t know were possible, before.”

  “True,” Cora says.

  I continue. “We can’t give up now, you guys. We’re just starting out with all of this. We’re on cycle one, of thirteen! If we start losing faith now, there’s no way we’re going to finish with all the cycles. We’ll be stuck in this kind of in-between phase—caught in between being a human and being a witch.”

  “It’s like being in puberty,” Marley says grumpily.

  “I hated puberty,” Cora says.

  I continue. “If we don’t trust the book, we’re never going to become the witches that we’re destined to be. This is the beginning stages, of course it feels weird. But if we keep doing what it says, we’ll get to experience it working. It’s like the book says, words can’t explain what it will be like to step into our new lives. We’re going to have to feel it. And that means following the steps and trusting that it will work.”

  All of us nod.

  Cora rummages in her bag, and pulls out a mortar and pestle. “Who wants to go first?” she asks.

  I remember back when my mom was alive, and we used to make ice-cream by hand. We used to take turns turning the handle to spin the cream and sugar within the metal contraption. For the next half hour, I’m reminded of those evenings with my mother.

  Annie, Cora, Marley and I take turns grinding up our dragonfly wings, and then mixing in dirt, ash, and cat hair. By the time I put my own ingredients into my pouch, I’m feeling very nostalgic. I’m grateful for the women around me. If it wasn’t for them, the memory of my mother would make me feel lonely. Now, I feel like I’m surrounded by family.

  When I place my new necklace around my neck, I have a feeling of excitement.

  The last part of the spell involves holding hands around the table. It is dark now, and Annie has lit a candle in the middle of the table. The flame flickers across my friends faces. I’m filled with a pleasant feeling of warmth, sisterhood, and gratitude.

  We recite the incantation that’s printed below the spell directions, in unison:

  “Witch sisters from high,

  Witch sisters from low

  Help these new witches

  Declare it is so

  Witch brothers with eyes

  Witch brothers with heart

  Help these new witches

  Thrive from the start

  The power within

  Will soon be evoked

  The power among us

  So soon will be yoked

  As each of us harness

  our magical powers

  The magical seconds

  become magical hours

  The magical hours

  turn to magical days

  And each string together

  to form magic that stays”

  When our recitation ends, I feel that I can’t let go of Marley’s hand, nor Cora’s. There is a charge running through us. It zips in from one side of my body, flows through me, and out towards Cora. I have goosebumps all over my arms

  Then, the candle flickers out, all of a sudden. At the same time, the energy flowing through my hands stops, and I feel unstuck. I let go of my friends’ hand
s, just as they let go of mine.

  “Must have been a draft,” Annie says. There’s a stream of wispy smoke curling up from the candle.

  “Yeah, must have,” Marley says. She sounds as shaken as I feel. The lights behind the counter are on, so it isn’t entirely dark in the cafe, but still, the candle going out just as we finished reading aloud felt spooky.

  I wonder if anyone else noticed the feeling of energy in their hands, but I’m too spooked to ask. I have the distinct desire to talk about something that doesn’t involve witchcraft. I’ve traveled about as far out of my comfort zone as I’m prepared to go, tonight.

  “Well, we didn’t get much knitting done, did we?” I say.

  “Nope,” Cora says with a nervous laugh. I can tell she’s spooked too.

  Annie begins tidying up, and we all start to help.

  As Annie consolidates baked goods onto one plate, she says. “Well, Penny if you want any help getting your sweater started before our next meeting, just stop by the cafe.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’m not sure how far I’ll get with it. I’m going to be pretty busy with the Haywater case.”

  “Let me know if you need a detective sidekick, Penny,” says Marley. “I’m free tomorrow.”

  “And I can see what I can dig up about Melanie’s divorce papers,” Cora says.

  “I’ll keep my ear to the ground, at the cafe,” Annie adds.

  “Thanks guys,” I say. “I really appreciate the help.” I give my necklace a pat. “Maybe this spell will kick in soon and give us a boost, too.”

  After saying goodnight, we part ways.

  By the time I ride my bike home and reach my apartment, it’s seven thirty. Chris is working late, so it’s just Turkey and I for the evening.

  To make up for keeping Turkey up last night with loud music, I give him extra Finicky Feline Feast on top of his dry food. Then, we both go to bed early. I read for a half an hour, and by eight thirty, my heavy eyelids are drifting closed.

  Hopefully I’ll get a good night of sleep. I want to be on top of my game tomorrow. I’m not sure if I’ll track down Ralph or pay a visit to Bess at the Antique Haven. Either way, I want to be feeling sharp.

  Who knows? I could crack this case tomorrow.

  I know it’s probably wishful thinking, but what’s wrong with making a wish now and then?

  If I can cast spells, I sure as heck can make wishes. Wishes are easy: there’s no assembly required.

  With one hand on my necklace and a last look at the stars outside of my window, I fall into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, I wake up bright and early, from a vivid dream about soaring above the clouds. As my eyes adjust to the bright morning light, I can still see the puffy white clouds in my mind’s eye.

  I haven’t had a dream that vivid in a long time.

  After pulling myself from bed and shuffling to the living room, I put the three hundred dollars that Cliff gave me into an envelope and promise myself that I’ll deliver it to Sherry O’Neil before the day’s end. I also make a grocery list and vow to get grocery shopping checked off my to-do list as well. I’m tired of living on dry choco-puffs and black coffee.

  I haven’t done laundry in over a week. Since I’m feeling well-rested and productive, I load up the washing machine.

  It turns out that I get a little bit overzealous, and throw pretty much my whole wardrobe in. This makes it hard to get dressed, but after digging into the very back of my closet, I manage to find an outfit that will work. It’s comprised of clothes I used to wear before I lost a bunch of weight with weekly Zumba sweat-sessions, so everything’s a bit baggy, but it will have to do. One good thing is that the black cable-knit dress is nice and cozy, which will feel good given the crisp fall weather.

  I’m still wearing my little pouch of spell ingredients, and I tuck it safely beneath the cozy dress. I finish the outfit with my leopard-print framed fake glasses, so that I’ll feel smart throughout the day.

  By nine, I’m heading out the door.

  I haven’t yet decided which lead to pursue—talk to Ralph or check out Bess’s Antique Haven—but I figure I’ll get started with a visit to my office. There I can collect my thoughts, and hopefully I’ll run into Sherry as well. It would be nice to check off the ‘pay rent’ box on my to-do list.

  I haven’t quite reached my office when I start to sense that someone is watching me. I roll to a stop and put both feet on the ground before carefully look over my shoulder.

  This is because I’ve gotten into accidents before, when I look over my shoulder while riding. I’m not the most coordinated person in the world, and when I try to turn around while riding, I tend to turn the whole front tire with me—which isn’t good. I’ve fallen more than once.

  When I finally manage to look behind me, I see Chris. He’s in his police car, creeping along silently behind me. As I turn, he leans out the window. “Hey there cutie,” he says.

  “Chris! You scared me.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” He parks the car and gets out. He’s dressed in his police uniform. He looks so handsome in the navy blue cargo pants, button up shirt, and official badge. As he approaches my bike, he says, “I saw a pretty girl on a bike, and I couldn’t help but follow her.”

  “Do you do that often?” I ask, feigning distaste. “That’s creepy.”

  He grins. “Nah,” he says. “I only follow you. Heading into your supply closet?”

  “Office,” I say, glaring. “Yes. Are you working a day shift? Want to hang out tonight?” I’m thinking about another make-out session on the couch. Nothing helps a stressed PI unwind like a good make-out session. Nope, I didn’t learn that in Speedy’s Online Private Investigator Licensure Program. I discovered it all on my own.

  Chris seems to be thinking about our habitual late-night activities as well, because he grins. “Sounds good to me,” he says knowingly. “I’ll bring over some beer.”

  “And pizza,” I say. “Don’t forget the pizza.” I need a back-up plan, in case I don’t make it to the grocery store.

  “On it,” Chris says. Then, his joking demeanor fades. He becomes more serious. “Hey,” he says. “I was thinking about what you said... about me not having respect for your PI business?”

  I can’t quite recall saying that, but I’ll take his word for it. Chris is always acting like I’m clueless when it comes to fighting crime. Maybe it’s because I once shot his arm, back when I was a student in his class at police academy.

  “Yeah?” I say, prompting him to say more. “What were you thinking?” I ask.

  His blue-grey eyes are gazing at me, full of sincerity. “I was thinking that wasn’t very nice of me. I’m your boyfriend. I should be supportive of you. So... I got you something.”

  “You did?” For some reason, I still get heart-palpitations when Chris talks about being my boyfriend. I think it’s because for so many years, when I was younger, I fantasized about Christopher Wagner. Now, it’s like that young teen who still lives inside of me can hardly believe we’re actually dating. She’s in there somewhere, pinching herself to make sure she’s not dreaming.

  Chris walks to his cop car. I get off my bike, and stand, waiting for him to return. My heart continues to flutter.

  What in the world did he get me?

  The fluttering sensation in my chest increases when I see a little box in his hands.

  It looks like a jewelry box.

  Did he get me a necklace or something?

  Or worse... a ring?

  Or—I feel like I might pass out now—an engagement ring?

  Does he want to show his support by proposing to me? My mouth turns all cottony and dry, and I feel like I can’t swallow. No. It can’t be an engagement ring. That would be insane. It can’t be.

  Could it?

  What if he asks me to marry him?

  What would I say?

  I’m having trouble breathing. I stand stock still as he returns to me, with the little b
ox in his hand.

  Without fanfare, he holds it out to me.

  He wouldn’t do that if it was an engagement ring. He’d be down on one knee. Or does that only happen in the movies? Maybe this is a Chris-casual proposal. ‘Yeah, I’ll bring over pizza and beer. Oh yeah, and hey, by the way, want to be my wife?’

  Oh, great. Now I feel nauseous.

  “Penny?” Chris says. “Are you going to open it?”

  I’m just standing here, holding the box in one hand, and my bike in the other. Carefully, I lean my bike against my hip and place both hands on the box. I take a deep breath. Please, don’t let this be a ring, I pray. Then, I pull off the lid.

  Thank Goddess. It’s not a ring!

  It’s a little silver key.

  I lift it up, and morning sunlight sparkles off it. “What is this?” I ask.

  For a brief instant, I wonder if he’s going to say something cheesy, like, ‘It’s the key to my heart,’ or something. But that’s not like Chris. He’s not really the romantic type.

  His grin broadens. “It goes with these,” he says, reaching into his cargo pocket and pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Woah!” Now it’s my turn to grin. I was nervous about receiving jewelry from Chris, especially the kind that would fit on my left ring finger. But handcuffs? This I can handle.

  I reach for the cuffs.

  “I thought it would be good for you to have a pair,” Chris says. “It’s wrong of me to belittle what you do. Hopefully, you’ll never have to use these, but if you’re ever doing surveillance for a job and witness a felony, you might need to do a citizen arrest. You should have the right tools.”

  “Thank you,” I say, in utter awe. Now I have a gun and handcuffs. How official do I feel? Very! One of these days I’ll get around to ordering some business cards. I have been saying that for the past five years, but I’m feeling very confident that it’s going to happen soon.

  “Do you know how to use them?” Chris asks.

  I’m examining the cuffs. “It can’t be that hard,” I say. “Right? I just slap them on the person and like, lock them up somehow?”

  Chris shakes his head. “It would be nice if it was that easy. But if you were to use cuffs, it’s because you’re in a really dangerous situation. You’re detaining the person while you wait for the proper authorities to arrive and you can bet they’re not going to just sit there nice and pretty while you restrain them. You need to know the body mechanics of getting someone into the right position to get the cuffs on.”