by Cindy Stark
“Been sleuthing again?” he teased.
Guilt slammed into her, and she lifted her gaze to him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
His expression grew serious. “It can be when I’ve asked you not to.”
“I didn’t do anything dangerous or anything to compromise the case.” In fact, what she’d learned had all been very benign. She’d tell him enough to satisfy him and tempt him into looking further. “It might not even be true.”
He took her hand, forcing her to keep facing him instead of fiddling with her supplies. “Are you going to tell me already?”
And…she had him. She tried not to grin. “I heard today that Belinda might have had some damning information on Timothy Franklin. That she knew something about him that he wanted to keep secret. She might have even been blackmailing him.”
His gaze intensified, and she knew she’d piqued his interest. “Is that so? What exactly did she supposedly know?”
She wanted to blurt it out, but she couldn’t put Timothy in danger of being persecuted as a witch. “My source didn’t know. But if Belinda had been blackmailing him, that would make him a prime suspect.”
A dubious expression fell over him. “You want me to investigate a man based on a rumor that has no substance?”
She held tight to a frustrated growl and shrugged instead. She wanted so much to tell him everything. Then he’d understand. “I’m only passing along what I heard. If nothing pans out on anyone else, then investigating Timothy might give you a new direction with new information.”
He lifted his chin, and she could see by the look in his eye that he hadn’t completely dismissed her suggestion. “Who’s your source?”
She hated withholding information from him. “I can’t say.”
He narrowed his gaze.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. It was told to me in confidence, and I don’t break promises.”
He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face toward him. “You want me to trust what you say, but you can’t trust me enough to tell me?”
She shivered under his scrutiny. “Yes.”
He shook his head, but she could tell he wasn’t angry. “You must think you have me wrapped around your little finger,” he teased.
She bit her bottom lip and gave him a hopeful smile.
He waited several long seconds and then huffed, indicating his submission. “Fine. I’ll check into it.”
Happiness and victory swept through her. She stood on tiptoes and placed a flirtatious kiss on his lips. “While you’re at it, make sure to check into Grant and Quentin, too.”
He growled and pulled her tight against him. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re in collusion with the mayor because you sound just like him.”
She gave him a sheepish look. “Just trying to help.”
“Just so you know, Quentin is out of it. Rock solid alibi, but we did discover he’s been taking money from his grandfather, too.”
She scoffed. “The nerve of him to accuse Belinda while he was doing the exact same thing.”
“Agreed. The amount is awfully high, but, unfortunately, it’s still within reason for providing care for Virgil.”
That didn’t matter to her. “I still say he’s a jerk.”
The bell on the front counter rang, and Hazel widened her eyes. “I’ll be right there,” she called to Mrs. Tillens and Mrs. Lemon.
Peter nodded toward the exit. “I’d better go, too. Can I take you to dinner this week? Maybe Friday?”
Her heart squeezed. “I’d love that.”
He placed a steamy kiss on her lips before he stepped away, his departure leaving her wanting more. She fought to catch her breath as he walked into the main part of her shop.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said.
They returned his greeting. After the door chimed, they giggled, and she heard one of them whisper, “I told you he likes her.”
Hazel placed her fingertips against her heated cheeks and hoped they didn’t give her away.
Seventeen
Hazel walked down the grassy row between headstones, her gaze flicking from one to another. She glanced at Cora who had her eye toward a bird hiding in the trees overhead who sang to them. “I hope you didn’t think I was crazy to suggest this for our walk today.”
Cora met her gaze and smiled. “Actually, I kind of like it in here. Serenity fills most of this space. We have sunshine plus a slightly cool breeze, which is perfect. And the dates on the headstones never cease to amaze me.”
Hazel pointed at one nearby. “Fifteen hundred and sixty-one. That’s close to five hundred years ago.”
“It’s hard to imagine what Stonebridge might have looked like back then. When I see old black and white photos or drawings, there’s a part of me that thinks the colors during that time weren’t as vivid as they are now. But they were. The wild irises would have been just as brilliant of a purple. Some roses still as red as blood.”
Hazel tried to picture her town long-ago. “We’d have to knock down a lot of buildings to get it to look like it did back then.”
“And erect a few log ones.” Cora stopped and peered at a thin slab of rock that stood upright, if a bit tilted, in the grass.
Hazel silently read the name, birthdate and death date, all of which had been meticulously chiseled into the gray stone. Above the names, the chiseler had carved out a skull and crossbones with wings. “Seriously, though, don’t you find these kinds of headstones a little ghoulish, not peaceful?”
Cora nodded. “Funny that the images they used long ago to symbolize the physical death and spirit regeneration have now been transformed to be icons of rock bands and devil-worshippers.”
Hazel continued walking, and Cora followed. “People really need to learn their symbolism before they steal ideas from someone else.”
“No doubt.” Cora tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and glanced at Hazel. “Sort of like the pentagram on Belinda’s arm.”
A cloud of sadness descended upon them. “Yeah. Just like that.”
“I’ve overheard several people in the café mention it,” Cora continued. “Many are whispering about witches, which doesn’t bode well for us. Nothing like a group frenzy to screw things up for everyone.”
Hazel studied her. “You mean like what happened with the witches all those years ago. Do you really believe we could be in that kind of danger? Most people in town seem so nice.”
Cora scoffed. “There were plenty of nice townsfolk at the end of the 1600s, too, but that didn’t stop them from their heinous crimes. They believed they were justified and that it was necessary to protect themselves.”
“Such a tragedy.” She’d hoped times had changed and people had learned from their mistakes.
“Hey,” Cora said, her face brightening. “Do you want to see a witch’s grave?”
Hazel cast a quick eye around the graveyard. “Witch’s grave? They allowed that here?”
“Oh, yeah.” Cora tugged on her sleeve and led her to the back corner of the cemetery. A riot of wildflowers grew in the long grass surrounding the small headstone. Beautiful purples and yellows danced under the sunlight, spreading peace and beauty over the area.
But those flowers didn’t grow elsewhere in the graveyard.
Hazel knelt and brushed aside the long grass that hid most of the stone. A list of names, but no dates had been chiseled. “Wait. There’s more than one witch here?” She mentally read off the names, surprised to find Clarabelle’s with the rest.
She lifted her gaze to Cora. “Is one of these Glenys’ ancestor?”
“Glenys?” Cora seemed shocked. “Why would you ask that?”
“It’s okay. I know about Glenys and her grandmother, and she knows about me. She helped me at the bank the other day and made the mistake of trying to probe me. The pinch was so sharp that I called her on it before I realized my mistake. But no worries. By the time I left, we’d become friends.”
“If Glenys has
such a thing,” Cora muttered.
Hazel gave her a confused look. “She seemed very helpful and friendly. Offered to teach me some protective spells.”
Cora seemed dubious. “Maybe so, but let me give you a word of warning. Glenys can be friendly, but she will always, always put herself first.”
Hazel knew many people who functioned that way, and though it wasn’t a trait she admired, they were good people. “I’ll remember that.”
“Did she invite you to coven meetings?”
“Coven meetings? No.” A worm of wondering burrowed in her mind.
Cora gave her a precise nod. “Don’t trust her, Hazel. Plenty of those in the coven are searching for ways to even out the power in the group so she doesn’t have it all.”
Hazel shrugged, not wanting to doubt her new friend. “Maybe she wanted to get everyone else’s approval before inviting me, like you did.”
She snorted. “Hardly. It’s not in Glenys’ nature to consider others. If she thinks you belong, she’ll introduce you. She believes she knows what’s best for us all.”
Hazel had to ask. “If that’s true, then do you think she might be capable of murder? Maybe she thought that was what was best for all of us?”
Cora pondered that thought for a long moment and then sighed. “No, I don’t think so. As bossy as she is, she believes we’re all stronger together. Plus, the town drowned her ancestor. I don’t think she’d mock her death by killing Belinda the same way. She can be highfalutin, but she’s not a murderer.”
“Hmm…maybe not.” Hazel wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. The energy she’d experienced with Glenys had been friendly and strong. But she did trust Cora more. “I’ll be careful, then.”
Her friend pointed a finger at her. “You be sure you do that. And if you want someone to teach you a good protective spell, let me, okay?”
“Okay.” She still wanted to check Clarabelle’s book, but she might as well start with Cora since she was actually breathing and could offer better feedback and corrections if necessary. After her previous, mostly unsuccessful attempts at new spells, she wouldn’t mind some hands-on instruction.
Hazel returned her gaze to the headstone. “Why is Clarabelle on here? I thought no one knew what happened to her. Are her friends here, too?”
“The village did it to calm the townsfolk, I believe. They probably wanted everyone to forget that those witches had disappeared and make them think Satan had claimed them that day.”
“The people here must have been naïve and or crazy.”
Cora chuckled. “Many of them still are.”
Hazel stood and brushed grass from her hands and knees. She considered mentioning what she’d learned about Belinda blackmailing Timothy, but now didn’t seem to be the time.
Instead, she turned the topic to something happier. “A weird thing happened to me today. Actually, a couple of times recently. I was thinking about Peter, and he magically showed up. I love coincidences like that, don’t you, and feeling like we’re sort of synchronized somehow?”
Disbelief spread over Cora’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shrugged, confused. “No. Why would I?”
“Oh, Hazel. I feel like your mother did you a great disservice by withholding things from you. Or perhaps it was her mother before her.”
She didn’t like the uncertainty that Cora’s words inspired. “What do you mean?”
“That was no coincidence, silly. Witches, especially earth witches form bonds very quickly with those they like. Threads in your tapestry with him are already strengthening.”
Panic tightened her chest. “Threads in our tapestry? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“It’s a thing. I promise. Do an online search. All kinds of information on it.”
Not good. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? How do I stop it?”
Cora took her hand and infused her with a calming feeling. “It’s okay, Hazel. Relax. It’s a normal thing that happens when you fall in love. That’s why breaking up hurts so much.”
This was not happening. “I’m not falling in love.”
“Okay.” Her friend might have agreed in words, but her eyes suggested otherwise.
“I’m not. I swear.”
Cora gave her a knowing smile but didn’t continue to argue.
“Are we done here? I think we’re done here.” The need to escape was strong. She turned and strode toward the gate that led into the outside world, frustrated with her feelings. This was ridiculous.
After they’d left the cemetery, Hazel cast an angry glance at her friend. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Cora turned her palms toward Hazel. “I’d intended to if things grew serious, but you kept denying you liked him.”
“And then when I came clean?” she challenged.
“I still should have had time. Usually it’s months before things like this happen.”
Her heart threatened to explode from fear. “Things like this?”
Cora expelled a breath. “Most relationships take a long time for true, strong threads to develop. Yours didn’t.” She paused for a long moment. “Most times when things progress like this, it suggests you may have known each other in another life. That, or the stars are adamant that you be together.”
“Cora, we can’t be together.” The words exploded from her mouth, and she was grateful they were in a deserted part of town. “You know this. I’m a witch,” she said through gritted teeth. “And he hates witches.”
She placed a hand on Hazel’s arm, slowing their pace. “Yes, I know these things. But I also know the universe doesn’t make mistakes. You’re going to have to trust in that.”
Hazel started walking again and tried to regain control over her world. Her…and Peter? Not just fun and flirtatious? How could that ever be?
Eighteen
Hazel had just taken her first sip of Magic Morning tea when her phone rang. If that was her mother, she’d hear about it. For as long as she could remember, she’d insisted that mornings were her meditation time, and she didn’t want to be disturbed. Didn’t matter. Her mother always assumed what she had to say was more important.
She lifted her phone, not recognizing the unfamiliar but local number showing on her screen. She answered it with a wary hello.
“Hazel? It’s Glenys.” Her voice sounded breathless, almost desperate. “I need your help.”
The tone in Glenys’ voice ignited her panic. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Can you meet me at Clarabelle’s house? Like now?”
She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Of course. I can be there in ten.”
“Please hurry, Hazel. I think you’re the only one who can help me.”
Hazel ended the call and hurried to get dressed. As she drove along the tree-lined streets toward Hemlock, her mind tumbled with possible scenarios, but she couldn’t come up with anything plausible.
She hesitated to park by Clarabelle’s house for fear of what people would think, but if she ended up buying the place, then they’d know anyway. Still, she kept her car closer to the sacred grove than the house.
Glenys’ was nowhere in sight. No car, no person.
As she walked toward Clarabelle’s house, she opened her senses, searching for anything that might alert her to danger. She didn’t believe Glenys would harm her, but Cora had warned her to be careful.
Nothing came across for several moments, and then she picked up on a tiny thread of fear. As she reached the front porch, the emotion grew stronger, but still no sign of Glenys.
She tested the doorknob, but it remained locked. Hazel knew she could open it by a simple request, but she wasn’t so sure that Glenys could. Instead of choosing that option, she stepped off the porch and headed around back.
She found Glenys sitting on the back step with her arms wrapped tightly around her. She startled when Hazel approached, and a wave of fear nearly bowled her over. Dark shadows hov
ered beneath red-rimmed eyes, and her hair looked like she’d just climbed out of bed.
Hazel strode forward. “Glenys. What’s wrong? How can I help?”
Glenys stood and held out her hand. Hazel took it, accepting some of the fear present there. Glenys opened her mouth, but her words dissolved into anguished sobs. She tried several times before she succeeded. “G…G…Grant is dead.”
Hazel inhaled a shocked breath. “What? How?”
Glenys shook her head repeatedly. “I don’t know. He was at my house last night until late, maybe two or three in the morning. Then he said he needed to get home because he had a phone interview with a law firm in New York. I wished him good luck and kissed him goodbye.” Her voice faltered.
Hazel squeezed her hand and gave her a moment to collect herself.
Tremors vibrated from Glenys’ fingers. “They found him dead in his car still outside my house. I was only yards away when someone took his life, when he breathed his last breath.” She sank back to the porch step as if her legs would no longer support her.
The news left Hazel unsteady, too, so she sat next to her. She searched for words to console Glenys, but nothing that seemed appropriate surfaced.
“I’m afraid I’m next,” Glenys whispered.
Fear struck hard. “No.” She couldn’t believe that.
Glenys nodded emphatically. “The police woke me this morning to question me. Someone found him in his car and called them. I was outside when they removed his body. Oh, Blessed Mother.” She choked on a sob.
Hazel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Breathe, Glenys. Just breathe.”
Her body shuddered as she took several breaths before she calmed again. “I saw him Hazel. As they dragged him from his car. There was…there was an inverted pentagram on his cheek. Black as the night.”
Hazel covered her mouth with her hand as a similar image on Belinda’s body came to mind. She could see exactly where this would go. “They’ll say a witch did it.”
Trepidation radiated in her eyes. “Worse. I think I might be next.”
