A Drop of Witch (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch Page 9

  “Mom? Do you want dessert?”

  She took a sip of her water and set it back down. “If we must.”

  Damon looked at me uncertainly.

  “I’ll just give you a minute to decide,” Kayla said and excused herself.

  I took a deep breath. “Mrs. Tellinger... have I done something to offend you?”

  Finally, I got a reaction from her. “Offend me?” she scoffed. “Offend me? Your very presence offends me.”

  I felt my eyes growing wide and willed them not to give away too much, like how painful this evening had been.

  “I thought that when I wrote to you—”

  “When you wrote to me you failed to tell me who you were.”

  “Oh.” Warthogs.

  “My son had never mentioned you before your letter and now I know why. Had I known you were the daughter of Eli Fortune, I never would have agreed to come.” Her blues eyes darkened to a stormy black.

  “Mom, we talked about this. You said you’d give her a chance.”

  “She’s a witch,” Renee said. “What chance should I give her?”

  “Not all witches are bad,” I said, anger crushing every other feeling that tried to surface.

  “That’s what I’d expect a hag to say.”

  “Hag?!” I cried, rising from my seat.

  Several people around the restaurant shot me an inquisitive look. A few people looked offended. Grayson was watching from a distance, Kayla at his side. She was whispering something to him, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether he should step in.

  “I will never allow my son to marry a witch. I don’t care how good she’s supposed to be.”

  Marry?

  Did she just say marry? Damon and I hadn’t even talked about marriage. Did she know something I didn’t? I looked at Damon, who was spreading his arms between us, afraid we might start taking swings at each other. Why wasn’t he defending me? The second she called me a hag, he should have stepped in.

  “Mother,” Damon snapped.

  Renee looked at her son with pity. “She may have fooled you, but she can’t fool me. There is only one kind of witch in this world. A bad one.” I felt her eyes burn into me. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you apart.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

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  M y head was spinning as I left the restaurant after Damon and his mother. Damon hadn’t tried to stop her when she headed for the door. He’d pulled me aside.

  “Guess that didn’t go so well,” he said.

  “I guess not.” I could tell he wanted to say, “I told you so,” but he bit his tongue.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said.

  “Are you still mad about yesterday?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “After what just happened, I think it was probably luck that you weren’t there when she arrived.”

  “She didn’t know I was a witch?” I asked him. “Didn’t you ever mention it? Or me?”

  His expression hardened. “You saw how she reacted, Ava. Of course, I didn’t mention you.”

  I bit my lower lip, trying to hold back the hurt expression attempting to form on my face.

  “I better get out there,” Damon said. “She’s waiting.” He didn’t even kiss me goodbye, just went to chase after his mom and leave me to pay the bill.

  Eleanor had loaned me her car for the day. I parked it in a lot off Sweetland Beach and got out. The air was cool, and breathing in the salty ocean fragrance cleared my head. I wasn’t anxious to get home. I knew Eleanor and Trixie would want to know how it went. Even my father would ask questions.

  “She hates me,” I muttered as I took off my shoes and tossed them aside. I wiggled my toes in the sand, enjoying the feel of it as it squished between them.

  I tried not to blame Renee. I mean, she didn’t know me. Until I’d written her, she apparently hadn’t even heard of me. I wasn’t sure what hurt more—that Damon didn’t contradict her when she called me a hag or that he’d never even mentioned me to her. I wished I could block out the whole afternoon. Just erase it all from my memory. Especially the part where Damon left the restaurant with her instead of me.

  I tried to understand. It was his mom. How was he supposed to take my side over hers? Still...

  And what was all that stuff about marriage? Was that just her imagination or had Damon confessed his true thoughts to her? If he asked me, what would I say? It pained me that the first answer that sprang to mind wasn’t a resounding, “Yes.”

  “You look way too serious for an afternoon like this,” a man’s voice said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I looked up to see William Carney smiling at me as he pushed his hot dog cart down the beach. A sign reading Water and Hot Dogs rose from the side. He saw me eyeing it. I’d barely touched my lunch, and my stomach began to rumble.

  “I’ve got ice cream, too.” He smiled. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s sweet and it’s cold. Old-fashioned chocolate or vanilla.” He studied me carefully for a minute. “I’ve never seen anyone walk away with an ice cream and still look sad.”

  “Do I look sad?”

  “You did until I mentioned ice cream.”

  I smiled. He opened the top of his cart and pulled out a chocolate ice cream bar wrapped in paper.

  “On the house,” he said, handing it to me. “You can’t beat free Fudgesicles.”

  “Thanks.” I tore the wrapper off and placed it in a nearby garbage can. The second I bit into the rich, creamy chocolate, I felt better.

  “Feel like talking about it?” William asked. “One thing I’ve learned combing these beaches and chatting with tourists is how to listen.” He leaned in close. “Tourists like to ramble.” He winked and looked around as if checking to make sure no tourists had overheard him.

  “Thanks, but it’s something I need to work out on my own, I think.”

  “As you will,” William said. “I’ll be down by the pier if you change your mind.”

  I watched William as he strolled toward the dock where the ferry from Florida’s mainland came in. It was on this very pier, only six months before, when I first set foot on Heavenly Haven. Actually, it wasn’t so much setting foot as falling in. I hadn’t been looking where I was going, and I’d stepped right off the pier and into the ocean. When I came out of the water, I’d seen Damon for the first time.

  Damon, who I’d never see again if I was killed.

  “William!” I called suddenly, chasing him down. He stopped several yards ahead of me.

  “Change your mind already?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I huffed as I finally caught up to him. For a middle-aged man, he sure could move fast. “You know everything there is to know about this island, right?”

  “Right you are,” William said genially.

  When I’d needed to find Goblin Territory and no one would tell me where to go, it had been William who’d finally given me directions. In fact, William knew almost as much about this island as Melbourne. Only he was a hundred times more likely to talk about what he knew.

  “What can you tell me about an old ritual...” I bit my bottom lip, trying to think of how to phrase what was running through my head. “A really old ritual that takes place around the time of the Wolf Moon?”

  “The Wolf Moon?” William asked, frowning. “Well, there are a lot of old rituals that take place around then. The Wolf Moon is very powerful. The first full moon of the new year, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said impatiently. “But this ritual isn’t just old, you see, it’s ancient.”

  “How ancient?” William asked seriously.

  “It goes back to Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor. Maybe even before that.”

  He paused, scratching his fingers on his chin like he was thinking. “What does this ritual do?”

  “Restore lost powers.”

 
; “Powers, you say? Can it restore life?”

  “I think so. But there needs to be a sacrifice. Someone’s soul must be taken and...” I gulped... “consumed.”

  William’s eyes widened.

  “You’re speaking of the Raine Ritual.”

  “The Raine Ritual?” I asked.

  “Yes, I believe so. It’s ancient and very dangerous.”

  “How does it work?”

  “The wizard performing it must make several sacrifices and use the blood from each to claim his reward.”

  “Use their blood how?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear any more.

  “I’m not sure. I think they drain it and save it for later.”

  “Do you know how the victims are chosen?”

  “They have to be people who fit specific archetypes.”

  “Archetypes?”

  High school psychology class came rushing back to me. Psychologists considered all people to be dividable into categories. Another word for the categories might be stereotypes, except these categories had nothing to do with race, religion, or anything else. They were based on human psyche. Some people liked to argue that there were many archetypes, but there were just twelve that symbolized the most basic human desires. Each archetype carried certain traits inherent to the people in its group.

  “I don’t know them all. There’s the Jester, the Magician, the Orphan...” He shrugged. “That’s all I can remember.”

  “The Jester?” I asked, thinking of Paisley. Could that be it? The Jester archetype was considered a fool and a prankster. Was Paisley killed because she fit the right category?

  “Thanks, William. You’ve been a lot of help.”

  “If you see Mayor Singer before I do, tell him that I’m still holding those steak knives for him, would you?”

  “Sure thing,” I shouted as I ran back to my car. If I hurried, I could make it to the Sweetland Library before they closed.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

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  Detective Hudson had been surprised when I gave him Mayor Singer’s invitation to the New Year’s party, but not as surprised as my father and aunts had been.

  “First, you invite him to sleep in our house, now you’re asking him to go to the mayor’s gala with us?” My father had shaken his head. “Have you lost your mind? I thought you hated him.”

  My cheeks colored, and I turned my head so my father wouldn’t see.

  “Hate is a rather strong word, don’t you think?” I had asked, then hurried upstairs before he could ask me any more questions.

  When I finally made it downstairs, I was carrying my purse and a larger bag containing the book Damon had given me for Christmas and one from the library discussing archetypes. Aunt Eleanor had left an hour earlier with Sheriff Knoxx, so it was Trixie who looked me over now.

  “Ava, don’t tell me you’re taking those books with you.”

  “I am.”

  “It’s a party!” she cried, her eyes bulging. Her blond hair had been pulled up into a French twist and then secured with bobby pins that shined like disco balls. Her dress was all shades of pink and yellow. She looked like a sunlit flower.

  “I’m with your aunt,” my dad said, stepping into the room. “You need to relax a little.”

  “How can I relax when Polly’s trying to kill me?”

  “She hasn’t actually tried anything, yet,” my father said.

  “And she won’t. Not with me there.” A man’s voice, deeper and more lyrical than my father’s, carried from the other side of the room.

  I hadn’t even noticed Colt standing there until he turned to face me. My jaw dropped open. I willed it shut but it just hung there. I caught Trixie’s expression from the corner of my eye; it wasn’t far off from my own. Even my father seemed awed by the man standing before us.

  Colt was wearing a navy blazer encrusted with gold cuff links shaped like a witch’s broom. They almost matched the witch’s broom necklace I wore that had belonged to my mother. A crisp white dress shirt lay open at the collar. He wore dark jeans that added a laid-back air to his otherwise sophisticated ensemble. It looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ.

  “Hi,” I breathed.

  “Hi.” His eyes took in everything about me. “You look wonderful.”

  I was wearing a sparkling gold dress that touched the floor. A small slit ran up the side, exposing my calf, and I’d piled my hair into a loose mass of curls that draped over my head like a chandelier.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Colt replied. “Otherwise, I’d have had to set up even more cameras outside the party.”

  I laughed, but he didn’t laugh with me. “Did you really set up cameras around The Golden Goose?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said and offered me his arm. I took it and followed him to his car.

  We drove separate from my father and Trixie. Colt insisted on it in case we had to make a quick getaway. “When someone’s casting spells at you, there isn’t time to wait around for a set of car keys to materialize.”

  By the time we got to the party, Colt had talked me into leaving my books in the car. I figured that if someone as stoic and by-the-book as he was thought I should loosen up, I had better do it.

  When we got inside, I was glad I’d listened to him. The place was jumping. Mayor Singer was already drunk. He waved as we came in and called out from the dance floor, where he was twirling Tazzie so fast she looked like she was getting dizzy.

  “Hello, Ava! Glad you could make it!”

  I smiled at him and searched the room for Damon. He’d called to tell me he was coming. His mother would stay at his place and watch the ball drop on television. I was glad she wouldn’t be here. I didn’t need her spoiling the evening.

  Couples spun around the room as a live band played old Sinatra songs. A giant ball—an exact replica of the one they had at Madison Square Garden—hovered over the dance floor. Grayson’s restaurant was almost unrecognizable. The tables and chairs had been stored away and long buffet tables had taken their place. The room was at least three times the size of its normal capacity. At least half of Heavenly Haven had shown up here. The other half were either on their way or sourpusses who refused to let go of the rivalry our towns shared.

  After pouring through the book that Damon had given me at Christmas, I knew that if Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor were alive today, they would have thought the rivalry between our towns was stupid. The legend went that Patrick Mistmoor had killed Sara Sweetland in a fit of rage shortly after their wedding night, throwing her off the cliff at Whisper Crossing. A statue of an angel stood over her grave today. Patrick, overcome with guilt, flung himself off the same cliff days after his wife’s death.

  I used to believe that legend when I first came to Mistmoor, but now, I wasn’t so sure. The second part of the legend was that Sara Sweetland’s family had been cursed when she stole Patrick from another witch. That didn’t sound like Sara, from what I knew about her, but the curse made sense. According to the book, Sara had a child before she died. Her own death had been a result of saving that child from the curse.

  “Ava,” Colt said, startling me out of my trance. He was holding his hand out to me. “Would you care to—”

  “Damon!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up. Damon had just come into the room. The suit he wore fit him like it had been tailored just for him, and his eyes shined at me from across the room. Colt’s hand dropped back to his side.

  I crossed the room to him, watching as other girls walked past eyeing him like he was a bowl of frosting.

  “Hi, I was afraid you’d changed your mind,” I said. I went to kiss him but he gently stopped me. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” I asked. He seemed nervous.

  Then I saw what was wrong. Damon’s mother stepped into the roo
m. She was wearing a long black dress like she was attending a funeral.

  “You brought your mother?” I asked, surprised. “I thought she was staying home.”

  “She had a change of heart,” he said, grimacing.

  “Oh, well... I’m sure Mayor Singer will be delighted to have another guest. I’d better get away from you before she goes nuts.” I started to move back toward Colt, who was watching me from the opposite side of the room. He looked upset.

  “Wait. My mom has something she wants to tell you.”

  Renee Tellinger made her way over to us. Her thin lips smiled as she nodded cordially to me.

  “Ava, dear,” Renee said.

  Ava, dear? Was she drunk?

  “I wanted to tell you how dreadfully sorry I am about the other day.”

  “Y-you are?”

  “Of course. My son tells me he cares for you a great deal, so I’ve decided to keep an open mind regarding your relationship.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Damon was beaming at me as if this fixed everything. He either didn’t see or didn’t want to see the hateful look his mother was flashing at me.

  “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, taking Damon’s hand.

  His mother’s right eye twitched but she said nothing. The band struck up a slow song, and Damon held me close as we rocked together. It was approaching midnight fast. The ceiling over us glittered. I let myself relax in Damon’s arms. When the band struck up a fast tune, he spun me out, and we made our way around the dance floor.

  I nearly smacked into Eleanor, who was dancing with Sheriff Knoxx. By now, word had spread about their engagement and people stopped to congratulate them. They couldn’t have looked happier. Trixie and Melbourne were struggling through a dance in the corner of the room. She was much better than he was, but they were both smiling as he did his best to keep up.