Cupcakes, Crystals, and Chaos

by Jessica Lancaster

  Scowling, I pulled away to look her in the eye. “I do use my gifts, but there’s a difference between use and abuse.”

  Celine was the opposite, using her abilities as she felt fit, never thinking twice about the repercussions. It wouldn’t surprise me but her mother and my grandmother, Agnes wasn’t the type of witch to abuse her abilities either, I think social consciousness skipped a generation with my mother.

  “Anyway darling, I made dinner,” she said with an expected smile on her face, almost like she wanted to be congratulated on the effort. “It’ll be out of the oven in thirty minutes,” she said, gently guiding me through my own house with her hand behind my back. “Tell me about your day.”

  I didn’t know where to begin and as we entered the kitchen my thoughts were drawn to the pungent fish smell. Glancing to my feet, my eyebrows furrowed together. “Where’s August?” I asked.

  A smile grew across her perfectly red stained lips.

  “Mother?” I asked with a little more bass in my throat. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing, absolutely nothing,” she mumbled, moving around the kitchen counter. She flailed her hands above her head. “I mean, I hauled him away in the room upstairs. He’s bonding with Julian.”

  “Bonding,” I repeated, slapping the palm of my hand against my forehead. “What on Earth for?”

  “Family needs to bond; otherwise what type of family are we?” she said. “Besides, the smell overwhelmed him, and I didn’t want him getting in my fish pie.”

  I didn’t know what she knew about family, but whatever it was, she clearly didn’t follow the practices. “I’m worried for Julian more than anything, August is a cat.” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Cats eat birds. I’ve never heard of a bird eating a cat, have you?”

  Once again, she waved a hand at me. “Go sit in the dining room, we have a lot to discuss.”

  Never a good sign when my mother wanted to discuss something, the last time we had a discussion she’d persuaded me into giving her a lock of my hair for some spell. Once I was seated at the dining table, my mother carried in two mugs of tea.

  “Oh, what is it?” I asked, apprehensively accepting one.

  “I’ve not put anything in it,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just some Earl Grey.”

  She sat across from me and sipped her tea. “I was worried when you didn’t reply to my letter,” she said.

  “What could I say? I’ve not seen you in how many years, but you’re always welcome.”

  “I am?”

  “Of course, but I’ve had a very busy month.”

  “Busy?” she asked with a wink.

  “No, Mother.”

  In a deflated sigh, my mother placed her cup on the table. “Do you still own that little café?”

  “Yes,” I scoffed. “In fact, the reason I’m early is because something extremely traumatic happened today.”

  “It did?” she feigned a gasp. “Did your cake sink in the centre? It’s okay, bad bakes happen.”

  “No, no, no.” I pushed the teacup to my lips and sucked hard through my teeth. A relaxing wave washed over me. “A dead body was found washed on the docks. He had a crystal lodged in his throat, apparently. Then someone decided to smash the café window in some witch hunt.”

  “Isn’t that charming,” she said. “Didn’t they know I was coming? What a way to arrive, on the day of someone’s death.”

  I continued to sip my tea. “I’m sure they had you scheduled in.”

  “What type of crystal?” she asked.

  “Large enough to kill a man,” I said, closing my eyes briefly.

  A smirk passed my mother’s lips. “Well, I’ve heard some interesting ways people take energy, but never ingesting. Oh, actually—” she paused and tilted her head to the side. “There was a time when women I practised with would crush a crystal and add it to the teapot.”

  I’d heard of witches practice in such a way, but passing crystals no matter how small through your body was akin to nails on a chalkboard. A shudder ran through my shoulders. “The local detective even had the audacity to interrogate us, well, myself and the other witches.”

  “And why don’t you just—you know.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “Make it all go away.”

  “Because it’s a murder investigation,” I said, pushing the mug of tea aside to find the temples on my forehead. “How long as you staying again?”

  A hum broke the quiet. “Getting rid of me already?” she asked. “Joseph wanted me to stick around in London.”

  “He didn’t tell me you visited.” A sinking bubble of disappointment sat heavy in my stomach. “He tells me everything.”

  “I gave him a couple gifts, something to get him through the year.”

  “Mother.”

  “What? Gwen?”

  “What type of gifts?” I knew my mother, I knew her gifts rarely came without a clause.

  She shrugged, nudging the end of her scarf from her shoulder to her forearm. “A little magic never hurt the poor boy.”

  The woman knew every nerve to play, and she played them all well. I’d tried my hardest to keep my son out of magic, mostly because he could never inherit it, but also because it was easy to enjoy the perks of hard work without doing any of it at all.

  “And,” my mother said, snapping her fingers in the air. “I’ll only be here a couple nights.”

  There was a silver lining after all. “And where will you go after here?”

  She chuckled softly. “Oh, I bought Marissa’s house,” she said. “All cash. The last man I married was incredibly wealthy.”

  “You did what?”

  “Yes, I remarried, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you. In fact, it was an incredibly private affair.”

  “No, Marissa’s house!”

  She nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll be moving in once the van arrives with all my belongings,” she said. “I couldn’t well travel with all my possessions.” She tugged at the ruby earrings in her ears. “Expensive.”

  “Noelia didn’t mention you,” I said.

  Her shrugs gave off small defiant flairs. “Could be because I used one of my married names, Caldwell, or Harrison, Bancroft, perhaps, maybe even Dubois, you remember the French man from the coast. I doubt I can ever go back to Cannes again.”

  “Right, well, can you try and not get married while you’re here?”

  “I can’t make any such promise.”

  The thought brought chills; who exactly would she marry? I looked across at her as she smiled off into space while fiddling with an earring. “There’s going to be a service this evening for the man who died, and the chaplain is going to raise money for window repairs,” I said.

  “A chaplain?” she asked, a scowl on her face revealing everything she needed to about her thoughts.

  “The entire village will be in attendance,” I said.

  “I suppose a formal introduction to the village can’t be harmful,” she said with a smile. “We better be prepared. I mean, humans are okay, but they’re incredibly tiresome.”

  CHAPTER 4

  In the car journey to the local chapel my mother remarked on how the village hadn’t changed an inch since she last visited when I was still happily married, and my son had training wheels on his bicycle. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the car window, itching to transport herself and make an entrance.

  I pulled up outside the chapel into a tight parking space and sighed heavily at my mother. “Everyone will be here, please behave,” I said. “This is my village, I don’t need to give the people a reason to throw more stones at the café windows.”

  “Nonsense,” she waved a hand. “It’s my village too.”

  “Why exactly are you here?”

  “Oh, looks busy,” she said, pulling at the sleeve of her kaftan to view a watch. “We should be going inside if you don’t want us to cause a scene.”

  As I walked up the path with my mother at my side, I noticed the growing crowd ahead ready to spill ou
t of the chapel doors. Everyone from the village must’ve been here, and if that was true, one of them had to be the murderer.

  “I’m back,” my mother said, reigning her hands high as she entered behind me.

  A few heads turned, and whispers escaped mouths. My mother wasn’t dressed for the weather or the occasion.

  “Mother, come on,” I said, tugging her arm.

  Most people stood around, there wasn’t enough seating for the entire village, only those people who attended regular services. My eyes darted toward the coven of witches, congregating in the corner.

  “Gwen,” they said, looking from me to my mother’s stark coloured clothing. “Celine?”

  “I know, I know,” my mother said, walking into the small group. “How can someone as young as me have a daughter as old as her?” And like that, I was back to being Celine’s daughter, the butt of a joke.

  Allegra couldn’t keep her eyes from my mother. “We’ve met before.”

  “Oh, I remember,” she said. “You were all—” the smile on her lips dropped. “Much younger the last time I visited.”

  It wasn’t a complete shock to the other coven witches, they knew she was coming and they waited with as much anticipation as I had been for the bomb to drop on my doorstep.

  “And I’m the one you’re buying the house off,” Noelia said, standing forward from the group. “Like you asked, I didn’t say a word.”

  “You are?” Tana asked softly.

  “She is,” I replied. “So, my mother will be around a little while longer than usual it seems.”

  Celine waved a hand. “We’ll need a housewarming and you’re all invited. Well—” she looked around the room. “Not everyone.”

  A sharp echo of feedback struck the speakers in the chapel. My eyes found the alter at the front.

  “Testing, testing,” Bernard spoke into a microphone. “Oh, yep, it’s working.” He chuckled softly. “It’s not often I get to use this piece of technology.”

  More people continued to pile in through the doors as Bernard began the service. It was the quietest the entire village had been.

  “As you’re all aware, our small village of Cowan Bay has been shaken by an awful tragedy, and from everything going on, I wanted to spare a moment for peace, for reflection, I want us to think about how our actions affect others.”

  Detective Hodge stood beside Bernard on the stage. His fingers shuffling through papers, they could’ve been pictures or a long-winded speech he was prepared to give. My money was on the latter.

  A tug skewed my thoughts. Glancing to my side I noticed Betty and Alan Port, a couple in their late fifties and owners of the fish and chip shop, Fresh Fry. Betty was a short woman with her hair pulled tight into bun and lacquered firm with hairspray, while Alan, her husband was a giant at 6 feet 4 inches, he had a bald head but a thick moustache covering his entire upper lip.

  “We’re sorry about what happened,” Betty said, taking my hand and stroking it. “If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know.”

  She was sincere, giving off warmth and love. “That’s kind of you,” I replied. “I have insurance, so it won’t be a problem. I’m just shocked people would even accuse me, I’ve been part of this village for countless years.”

  She hummed, glancing up to her husband before settling her eyes on me again. “It has to be someone here, right?”

  I think the entire village was counting on that. “I can’t imagine who though.”

  “Well I don’t think it was you,” she said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure you could find out if you wanted.” She winked.

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, with all your—you know, powers.”

  I smiled, gently nodding at her. “It takes more than that, I mean, we don’t even know who the man is yet.”

  Detective Hodge took the microphone. “We still have no information on who the man is yet.”

  “Oh, spooky,” Betty said.

  “And to reiterate what the chaplain said, there will be a donation box on exiting for repairs to the Crystal Café and once again, this is not a witch hunt, so please do not harass anyone, and as an officer of the law, I must ask you respect the police and our procedure.”

  I joined the group again at my mother’s side.

  “You know I can whip you up another window,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Getting people to donate sounds absurd when we can do it for free.”

  I scoffed. “Mother, I have a business and excess to pay, my premiums are already high, given that we’re on the seafront and water damage is a growing problem, I’m paying far too much anyway.”

  “Darling, we’re witches.”

  Her words fell on the ears of other women, and like me they were trying not to abuse their abilities, even if I did see the twinkle in Noelia’s eye at my mother’s words pleading with us to use our gifts. Perhaps it was a generational gap.

  “Gwendolyn, a word,” Detective Hodge spoke, grabbing my elbow.

  I grimaced, leaving the other women in their circle. “Yes, Derick?”

  In his hands were pieces of paper; pictures. He flashed one in front of my eyes. “Have you seen this before?”

  Squinting at the brief glimpse, I pulled the picture in his hand. There were several images but only one he was willing to show me. “It’s the crystal.”

  “We have a geologist coming to examine it, but I wanted to know if anything like this has gone missing?” he asked.

  It was a large purple uncut amethyst crystal. Expensive by the looks of things, I would know if I had one go missing, in fact, any of the witches would’ve noticed if they’d lost something that large. “I can ask the others about it for you,” I said.

  “No need,” he added, “I can ask them myself.” He shuffled through the picture cards in his hand, pausing on one, a gold ring with a single crystal.

  “Did that belong to him?” I asked, placing a hand on the picture. The familiarity of the object touched me, but it wasn’t one of my gifts. I hadn’t been able to pull information from an image before. “It’s a wedding ring,” I mumbled, pausing before I said anything else. It wasn’t any ordinary ring, it was a ring that had belonged to my mother. If I remembered rightly, it was from her second marriage. “Never mind,” I added, removing my hand. “I probably shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

  As Detective Hodge walked off to corner another witch, I approached Oscar at the front talking with Bernard. They spoke with their bodies away from everyone else.

  I tapped Oscar on the shoulder. “Gentlemen, I don’t mean to intrude.”

  “Gwen,” Oscar said, “we were just talking about you.”

  Unnerved, I smiled at them. “All good, I hope.”

  “Absolutely,” Bernard chuckled. “Oscar was telling me about a donation he’d like to make but had forgotten his chequebook.”

  Oscar rubbed the back of his neck as he blushed. “It was meant to be an anonymous donation,” he said. “You’ve been incredibly kind to me, I wanted to repay that kindness.”

  “Oh, Doctor,” I said, waving a hand at him. “You are a kind man.”

  He smiled, the type of smile that filled my stomach in knots. I was a teenage girl again, waiting for the boy to ask me out on a date, although I’m not sure I would’ve been much fun, not while I felt the small community of witches I belonged to was under attack.

  I saw many other small business owners, Mary from the bed and breakfast, offering her support and even the services of her husband, John, who happened to be a handyman but wasn’t quite so handy with his arm in a sling.

  “That would be lovely,” I replied to Mary’s offer. “It might mean I have to cancel any future appointments until repairs are done and this whole thing has blown over.” Immediate disappointment washed over Mary’s face, like I’d advised her of an impending doom. “Of course, we can always use my house if it’s an important reading.”

  Mary sighed. “There’s just so much going on right now,
I don’t know my where my head is, and you seem to do a better job at fixing it on straight than phoning up one of those psychic hotlines.”

  I smiled and nodded. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about the business being fraught with fakes out to make money instead of helping people. Tarot reading and client work helped to keep the Crystal Café afloat.

  “Let’s get out,” my mother said, pulling on my arm. “There’s some man asking questions and putting a downer on the evening.”

  I see she’d met Detective Hodge. “Yes, let’s get back to see the damage August has done while I was away, especially since you confined him to spend time with Julian, and the Goddess knows Julian’s not the nicest to be around.”

  “Oh, Gwen,” she chuckled. “Julian takes a little getting used to.”

  They were some choice words I wished to use about Julian, but I refrained. My evening had been tainted by an image of a ring. “I do have something I wanted to ask you about,” I said as we left the chapel.

  She paused and let her head roll around her shoulders. “No more questions, I’m incredibly exhausted.”

  “But it’s—” and before I could finish my sentence she disappeared in a blink. “Important,” I finished, grumbling behind my teeth.

  CHAPTER 5

  Upon arriving home, the front door had been left open again, like she was inviting strangers into the house. The last thing I needed was someone to take her invitation and rummage through my belongings.

  “Mother!” I called out, slamming the front door.

  August jolted toward me from behind a plant pot in the corner. “Gwen, you’re back!”

  Kneeling, I wrestled my fingers through his fur. “I see she let you out.”

  “I managed that one all on my own.” He laid on his back. “I’ve been hiding ever since.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  Stood above me was my mother. “Yes?” she asked.

  “I told you I had some questions,” I said, standing to meet her eyes.

  She shook her head. “I don’t wan—”

  “They found the ring from your second marriage,” I said.