The Witching Flavor (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch Page 7

  The sheriff paused when he realized we were all staring at him.

  "What?" he asked. "Do I have nettle juice on my face? I stopped off for a quick bite." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "No, you're fine," Eleanor told him. He smiled at her, his eyes dopey with emotion. Sheriff Knoxx was definitely smitten. "What are you doing back here?"

  "I forgot my dream bars." He walked to the counter and collected the box he'd left here earlier.

  "Sheriff," I cried, ignoring Eleanor and showing him my phone. "Look at this. I found it at Whisper Crossing."

  Sheriff Knoxx's face tightened. "I thought I told you not to go there alone until we figured out this Lucy situation."

  "I wasn't alone," I said. Eleanor and Trixie raised their eyebrows. "Snowball was with me."

  They both scowled. I wondered how my little buddy was doing. I hadn't been able to find her anywhere before I left. Even though I knew Snowball was more than capable of handling herself, she was still so tiny.

  "Anyway, if I hadn't gone, I never would have found these goblin prints."

  "Those aren't goblin prints," Sheriff Knoxx said, setting his face into a hard line.

  "They're not?" I asked, disappointed. If anyone would know, it would be him.

  "No."

  "What are they, then?"

  He hesitated. "Wild turkeys. They're all over the island."

  "I've never seen one," I countered.

  "Ava," Sheriff Knoxx said, his voice low. "Don't go looking for goblins. It's not safe. You don't know what they're capable of."

  I sighed. "Fine. I'm gonna go find my dad. Maybe he'll be able to offer a more objective opinion." I headed out the door before they could make me promise anything I didn't want to promise. Halfway home, I realized I was being followed.

  "Rocky!" I called. "Get over here."

  The wolfhound bounded up to me. "Hello, Ava."

  "Did Eleanor send you to follow me?" I asked.

  Rocky licked his paw.

  "Come on, Rocky. You can tell me."

  "Rocky knows nothing."

  I sighed and continued on my way. It wasn't Rocky's fault he wouldn't answer my questions. He was just being a good familiar.

  At home, I heard my dad snoring through his bedroom door. Good. He needed some sleep. I took a seat in the kitchen and looked at the prints on my phone again. They looked nothing like a wild turkey.

  My dad let out a loud, house-rattling snore. It shook something loose in my brain.

  Maybe I'm focusing on the wrong thing.

  The footprints hadn't been the only thing I'd found out there. I ran a quick internet search for "red rose petals." Hundreds of pictures came up at once, along with a zillion flower sites trying to sell me roses. It was impossible to maneuver through them all to find the info I wanted. Especially since I wasn't even sure what I was looking for.

  "Rose petals and witches?" I murmured, hoping that might yield better results. All it did was show me pictures of witches holding roses.

  There was a soft mew at my feet, and I felt something furry rub its head against me. I looked down and saw a mass of white fur and green eyes.

  "Snowy!" I cried, reaching down to stroke her head. She jumped into my lap. "I was worried."

  "Snowball does not want to worry Mama. Snowball is safe." She purred happily as I scratched under her chin.

  "Where did you disappear to?" I asked her.

  "Snowball followed the woman into the forest."

  My ears perked up. "You mean the blonde woman?" I'd only caught a glimpse of her and had assumed it was Sara Sweetland's ghost since I was standing near her grave. It wouldn't be the first time I'd seen her.

  "Not Sara Sweetland. Anastasia Peacock," Snowball replied proudly, straightening her ears.

  "Anastasia?" Was she going to follow me everywhere I went?

  "Did you see where she went after Whisper Crossing?"

  "Yes. Anastasia went to Coffee Cove to look at Megan. She looked at Megan a long time. Snowball thinks it is creepy."

  She head-butted my wrist, and I petted her head.

  That gave me an idea. "Tootsie! Rocky!" I called. They bounded into the kitchen.

  "Do you think the three of you could do me a favor?" I asked. The waited to see what the favor was. Smart familiars.

  "I want you to follow Anastasia Peacock. All the time. At least for the next few days. Between the three of you, you should be able to cover her."

  "And report back to Mama?" Snowball asked.

  "That's right. Report back to Mama. I want to know exactly where she goes and what she does. If Megan's in trouble, I want to know. I owe it to Lucy."

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

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  The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed. I'd actually slept well. Maybe it was because I finally felt like I was getting things pieced together. Goblin prints. Anastasia. The clues might not make sense just yet, but they were more than I had to go on before.

  I said a quick goodbye to my dad and aunts, who were all sitting around the kitchen table with heavy gray bags under their eyes.

  "Where are you going?" Eleanor asked.

  "Coffee Cove," I told her. She nodded silently, and her eyes fell closed. What's up with them?

  I hadn't bothered to ask my dad about the prints yesterday. When he'd finally woken from his nap, he'd seemed too tired to focus on anything other than his next cup of coffee.

  At Coffee Cove, the thick aroma of ground coffee beans filled my nose, lifting my senses. I was looking at the menu and thoughts of Trixie's beverage of choice—the Brass Monkey—flittered through my brain. It was, essentially, a vanilla latte with a kick. Brass Monkeys were the size of a two-liter soda and had enough caffeine to keep you awake for hours. Lucy had named them herself. She said they were hard as brass and the amount of caffeine in them would have you climbing trees.

  I didn't even see Damon until he said, "Hello."

  The voice startled me, and I realized I wasn't quite as awake as I'd thought. "Oh, Damon. Hi."

  We hadn't spoken since Lucy's search two days ago when he'd forbidden me to go to Whisper Crossing. Despite finally sharing our first kiss, things seemed to get tenser between us every time we met.

  The only other man I knew capable of creating similarly irritating waves of tension within me was Detective Colt Hudson. Of course, in his case, the waves never undulated beyond irritation. With Damon, they at least made it to his lips and the warmth that came with them. Besides, I hadn't seen Detective Hudson in months.

  Colt was in his mid-twenties and desperate to prove himself. The last time I'd seen him, he'd accused me of murder. Unlike Sheriff Knoxx, however, he had never offered me any sort of apology. It was something that still grated on me. If I ever saw him again, I planned to give him a piece of my mind.

  "How are you?" I asked Damon as we stood awkwardly together. Why did things always have to be so up and down with us?

  "Okay, thanks. Any news on Lucy?"

  "Not yet, but I've got a few leads I'm looking into."

  "You're looking into? Not Sheriff Knoxx?"

  "Well, I'm helping him out. Checking up on some of the little things while he works on the bigger stuff."

  "That's... great," he finally said. "Well, I should go. I've gotta get to work. I'll text you this week sometime."

  He headed for the door.

  Text me? Some time? Could he be any vaguer? He was blowing me off.

  "Damon!" I yelled, going after him. No one in the coffee shop batted an eye, thanks to the silencing charms around every table that offered an air of privacy.

  "Yeah?" he asked, his eyes staring into mine, daring me to question him. I gulped but my throat was dry.

  "What's going on? With us, I mean."

  He hesitated, licking his lips. "I heard about Whisper Crossing."

 
; "Oh." So that was it. He was mad.

  "I asked you not to go there."

  "No, you ordered me not to go there. Only I'm not a poodle. I don't take orders."

  He nodded, his dark hair bobbing lightly around his smooth white face. "That's what I thought you'd say."

  He turned toward the door again and this time I blocked his path directly. A few heads finally swiveled our way.

  "Damon, why are you so mad? You can't honestly expect me to do—or not do— something just because..."

  "Just because I don't like it?" he finished.

  I nodded.

  He let out a long sigh. "I know, Ava. Believe me, I know. Only that doesn't make it easier. I'm not in the same league as you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not a magician or a wizard or a... goblin." I blanched at the mention of goblins. "Yeah, I heard about that, too. Goblin prints, huh? Great." He kicked at the floor. "I can't protect you from any of that stuff. I can't even compete with it."

  "What in the roses are you saying?" I held my breath, afraid I already knew the answer.

  "I just need a little... adjustment period."

  "You mean space."

  "Adjustment period. To figure out where I stand with you."

  "Fine," I said. "Whatever you need." I just wanted him to go now before he saw me blubber like a baby.

  Damon opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it and closed his lips tight. I didn't stop him this time. He opened the door and walked out.

  "Love sucks, doesn't it?" Megan asked from behind the counter.

  I wiped my eyes, trying to hide the tears that had started to fall.

  "It's fine," I told her. "No biggie."

  She shrugged. "Did you want some coffee?"

  "I think I changed my mind on wanting any coffee."

  She shrugged again and leaned forward on the counter, propping herself up with her elbows. She dropped her head into her cupped hands and stared at the wall in front of her. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, hitting the counter. She looked... drunk.

  "Megan? You okay?"

  "Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

  "I'm a little surprised to see you here, actually. I mean, I was hoping to find you, but with Lucy and all..."

  "Yeah, well, Sheriff Knoxx is looking for her. What can I do that he can't?"

  I wasn't sure whether her blasé attitude stemmed from guilt and depression at the situation or something more sinister. Like... glee. But how could anyone be happy that their sister was missing?

  "You said you were looking for me?" Megan asked.

  "No. Yes. I mean, I wanted to ask you about something. About the other day."

  She waited, her eyes never leaving the wall. It was like she was watching a movie only she could see.

  "What about it?"

  "Did you happen to notice Anastasia Peacock in here?"

  "Annie?"

  It was the first time I had heard anyone refer to Anastasia by any other name.

  "I guess so," I said.

  "Yeah, she was here."

  "Did she say what she wanted?"

  "Caramel macchiato."

  "No," I sighed. "I mean, did she try to talk to you? Ask you any questions?"

  "You mean like you're doing with me now?" Megan's eyes finally left the wall and settled on mine. I wished they hadn't. There was a darkness in them that reminded me of Polly. Full of jealousy and hatred. "What exactly do you want, Ava?"

  "I just wanted to know whether Anastasia—Annie—has been... around more than usual lately. Maybe even following you."

  She lifted her head and straightened her back.

  "No."

  "Oh, well, okay. What about Lucy? Was there anything unusual about her behavior before she disappeared? Anything I might've missed?"

  "No." Her face had set itself a thin, hard line.

  "Are you positive? Anything at all might help. Even the most insignificant detail."

  Megan's lips buckled slightly at the corners. "She hadn't been sleeping well. She was having nightmares or something."

  I raised an eyebrow. "She was? She didn't mention that to me."

  "Well, I guess she didn't feel a need to tell you everything."

  The way Megan was snipping at me, I decided I'd be lucky to get anything out of her.

  "Okay, well, if you think of anything else, let me know, will you?"

  "Yeah, you'll be the first person I call." She rolled her eyes, and I tried to remind myself that she'd been through a lot.

  Her sister was missing and a friend of hers had died not more than six months ago. Poor Brendan. He'd had the biggest crush on Megan, and I didn't think she'd appreciated him until it was too late.

  Her current boyfriend, Tanner, seemed to have a bigger crush on Lucy than on Megan. No wonder she was snippy. Still, if she snapped at me one more time, I might just freeze her lips shut. After all, there was only so much snip a person could take.

  "Just one last thing," I said, holding my phone out to her. She groaned and this time I rolled my eyes. Talk about being dramatic. "Just tell me whether this picture means anything to you."

  I showed her the pic I'd taken of the snapshot Sheriff Knoxx had shown me. The one of me and Lucy together, where her face had been blacked out. The hex photo.

  "Where did you get that?" she asked, going white.

  "Sheriff Knoxx found it. He thinks someone might've hexed Lucy."

  "Oh, my roses." Her eyes were alight now. Her hands trembled.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown you this." I closed my picture gallery, sorry I'd upset her more than she already was.

  "Does Sheriff Knoxx really think that this photo had something to do with Lucy's disappearance?"

  I nodded, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah, but he's still not—"

  I looked up to find Megan's face drained of blood. Her mouth was hanging open like someone had wired it that way.

  "Megan? Are you okay?"

  "What have I done?" she whispered and ran out the door.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

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  "Megan!" I screamed as I ran down the street after her. Her dark hair trailed out behind her. The whole situation was eerily similar to the one I'd had with Anastasia not long ago. Why were people always running from me lately?

  "Megan, stop!"

  But Megan kept going. She ran past the Pixie Punk. Past the park where the search for Lucy had begun. And would have kept running if she hadn't finally tripped over someone's dog. The collie mix was being walked by one of the many tourists who permeated Heavenly Haven in the offseason. And the on-season. A human. If ever there was a reason to keep Heavenly Haven's witching community a secret, it was the human tourists. They gave humans a bad name.

  "Watch it!" an older woman with gray hair and a wide-brimmed hat said snidely as Megan fell on her face.

  Instead of helping Megan up, the woman bent down and stroked her dog's long, thick fur. "Is Buddy Whumkins all right? Did my wittle whumykins get hurt by that nasty wittle girl?" The woman glared at Megan as she picked Buddy up, struggling to hold him against her chest.

  "Next time pay attention to where you're running," the woman said and huffed off.

  "Megan," I panted, wanting to yell at Buddy Whumkin's mother, but also glad Buddy had gotten in the way when he did. "Why are you running?"

  Megan sat up, panting, too, and wiped her hands on her pants. She didn't rise, though. She just kept sitting on the sidewalk, watching that invisible movie again. I waved my hand in front of her eyes as tourists and locals alike wove their way around us. One middle-aged couple wearing matching Bermuda shirts and khakis paused to snap a picture of Megan.

  "Oh, my word, Bert," the woman said. "These island people are so colorful." She snapped another picture as Bert pretended to watch a bird fly by. Moments like the
se were the only time I wished Heavenly Haven wasn't the temperate paradise that it was. It was always a huge draw in winter.

  Megan finally raised her eyes to mine. They were filled with tears. Guilty tears.

  "Here," I said, holding out a hand to help her up. She stood on wobbly knees. As much as I wanted to yell and scream, the pain in her eyes was too much to bear. Anything I could have said she had already told herself a thousand times over. So I hugged her instead.

  "Tell me what you did," I whispered. "Where's Lucy?"

  She choked on the words. "I... I..."

  "Ssh, it's okay," I said, trying to comfort her. I needed her to be able to talk if I wanted to find out where Lucy was. "If you tell me, we can get her back."

  She took a deep breath and tried again. "I... I... I sent her to Jamaicaaaaa," she wailed so loudly that even the shop owners started looking at us funny through their store windows. I quickly ushered Megan down the street, my head already hurting.

  "You sent her to Jamaica?" I asked. That was literally the last place I would have suspected.

  She sobbed and nodded, nodded and sobbed.

  "At least I thought I did. But now I don't know," she wailed, almost incomprehensible as she tried to talk and cry at the same time. "Ididnmeentohurther..."

  "Megan, you have to calm down. You're not making sense. What do you mean you sent Lucy to Jamaica? Like on a plane?"

  "Uh-uh." She shook her head. Her nose was dripping. I reached into my pocket and gratefully found a clean tissue folded up inside.

  "I... I... I got this book myideabutsheeee..."

  I sighed, realizing I was getting nowhere fast. I steered Megan down the sidewalk, away from the crowds. A few minutes later, I yanked open a door and pushed Megan inside. She looked around the room.

  "Where are we?" she muttered.

  "Mystic Cupcake," I told her. She must have really been delirious if she couldn't tell that. The bakery's scent wafted through the air like sweet perfume. Eleanor had been making her pistachio pound cake with cherry chip luck infuser.