A Hillcrest Witch Mystery Collection

by Amorette Anderson

  I feel myself pouting. It is too early for this conversation. I don’t want to have it now. Or ever.

  “Can you just let me eat my breakfast?” I ask, my telepathic tone rich with annoyance.

  Turkey continues. “Penelope, I know that at times you feel that your mother abandoned you, and that without her, you can’t—”

  “Turkey!” I transmit. “Please. I’m not in the mood for a therapy session. Not today, of all days. I have enough going on. Mayor Haywater’s life might be in danger—not to mention my own. If we don’t deal with this Lux wolf tonight, Hillcrest is going to be in big trouble.”

  “Fine,” Turkey says. “But I think you’d be in a much better frame of mind if you dealt with your feelings for Christopher first, before you attempt to save Hillcrest. You’re lacking in clarity right now, and you’re going to need all of your clarity and focus if you’re going to feel strong enough to deal with Zeke tonight.”

  Ugh. He’s right.

  “I know that you want to use the Banishing Spell tonight,” Turkey says. “It’s the logical thing to do. But it’s going to be a lot harder to put all of your focus on the Banishing Spell while you’re so worried about the state of things between you and Christopher.”

  I want to ignore my cat. I want to eat my toast and jam in silence, and then rush head first into my day, pushing all of my feelings for Chris off to the side.

  But Turkey’s right.

  My emotional confusion is going to keep bubbling up, taking up a part of my energy all day.

  Turkey can see that he’s wearing me down.

  “I bet he’s home right now,” Turkey says. “You could walk over there and tell him what’s on your mind. That’s the right thing to do.”

  I lift my toast. It would be so much easier to ignore Turkey. I could just eat the rest of this toast, and—

  “You know it’s the right thing to do. I’m your familiar, Penelope. I’m a part of you. I’m only saying what you’re truly feeling, deep within you.”

  Drat! I lower the toast, and push my plate away.

  “Fine!” I say. “I hear you. I’m going.” I reach for my fake glasses, which are lying on the counter, and slide them into place.

  “You’ll thank me later,” Turkey says, as he follows me to the door.

  I don’t know about that, I think as soon as I step out into the chilly morning air.

  I cross my arms over my chest, and march towards Chris’s door.

  At least, in my mind I’m marching. In reality, I’ve got more of a slow sort of shuffle going on.

  I inch my way towards Chris’s door. When I reach it, I ball my hand up into a fist and lift it to knock, but then I pull it down to my side again.

  I don’t want to do this.

  Not one little bit.

  Not a even a smidgeon.

  I’m wimping out, fast. I should knock, but I can’t seem to get my hand to move. I’m frozen. I bite my lip.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  “I am confident,” I whisper. Jumper Strongheart says that affirmations really help. I could use some help, right about now, so I might as well repeat mine. “I am strong!” I whisper, a bit louder. I push my glasses up on my nose.

  “I am smart. I am strong. I can do anything I put my mind to.” My voice grows louder. Then, I repeat the whole thing. It’s working! I’m feeling better. I make a fist. “I am confident. I am smart. I am—-”

  The door opens.

  “—Strong.” I finish, weakly.

  Chris is dressed in his police uniform. He has a mug of coffee in his hand.

  “Penny?” he says.

  I see him eying my hair. I reach a hand up, and try to flatten it furiously. I feel it spring back up beneath my fingertips. Why, oh why did I have to give myself the worst haircut in the history of all haircuts this morning?

  Chris finally looks past my unmanageable fro, out into the open hallway behind me, right and then left. “Who are you talking to?” he asks.

  “Um... myself?” I say. Then, before I can lose my nerve again, I ask “Why haven’t you called me?”

  My tone is angry. My cheeks flush. I still have my hand balled into a fist. “What,” I continue. “All of a sudden you don’t care about me at all? Just like that?”

  “Penny—wait a second,” Chris says. He hasn’t moved aside to let me in. Something is definitely different between us. I can feel it in my bones.

  His voice is edged with anger too. “I tried to call you,” he says. “About a hundred times. Your phone went right to voicemail. I thought you were ignoring me. I even stopped by your place, but you weren’t home!”

  Ah. Right. My phone did die, pretty early on in my evening. “I wouldn’t ignore you, Chris.” I say. “I’m not a child.”

  Well, at least not technically. But according to my telepathic cat therapist, I’m a bit emotionally stunted. I straighten my spine. That ends now. It is time for me to start acting like a mature adult. “My phone died,” I say. “I went for a hike up Never Summer Peak last night. I didn’t get back until around midnight, and I didn’t have a chance to charge my phone until this morning.”

  “Why in the world would you hike up Never Summer Peak in the middle of the night?” Chris asks, horrified.

  “I was looking for werewolves,” I say.

  Chris groans. “Not this again, Penny. Please.”

  I blow out a burst of air. I don’t know what to say. If Chris refuses to speak about magic, how am I supposed to tell him how I feel?

  Magic is the center of my world right now. Everything else feels irrelevant.

  Chris and I stand for a minute, facing each other mutely. Our eyes are locked. I see pain in his eyes; I feel it in my own.

  “Chris,” I say after a moment. “We can’t not talk about this. I’m becoming a witch. You’re a human.”

  “A human?” Chris laughs. It’s not a friendly laugh. “Penny, I don’t know what to say to that!”

  “Don’t laugh at me!” I say. I feel my cheeks flush even brighter. “This isn’t funny! Not to me. Max warned me that magical beings and humans can’t be together, and I ignored him. I thought you and I were different, somehow. I thought we could get past it. But clearly—”

  “Max!” Chris says. “That creepy dude that just moved in to Unit D? What does he know?”

  I could tell Chris that Max is a five-hundred-year-old vampire who has plenty of experience with all things magical, but I feel like that would just put Chris over the edge.

  “I can’t handle this anymore!” Chris fumes.

  All right, maybe he’s already over the edge.

  “You’re acting crazy,” Chris says. “Talking about magic and werewolves and now bringing Max into things. I don’t like that guy, Penny, and I see the way he looks at you.” Chris shakes his head. “I’ve had enough.”

  My breathing is shallow. I feel my heart constrict, like someone is squeezing it. “You don’t even like me anymore,” I accuse Chris.

  Chris presses his lips together.

  “Admit it!” I say. “I showed you that thing with the light on my palm, and it scared the daylights out of you. Your brain short circuited. You rejected what you saw, because it scared you. Now, you’re scared of me. You’re rejecting me.”

  It feels awful to say this. I feel tears springing up in my eyes. “You used to love me,” I say quietly. “And now you don’t even like me.”

  “Penny,” Chris says. “I just don’t know what’s happening. I can’t—” He stops short, and presses his lips together again.

  Tears are welling up in my eyes. Chris’s image begins to blur. That’s all right with me. I know where this conversation is headed now, and it will be easier not to see Chris clearly as he breaks up with me. Or—as I break up with him. I don’t know which is going to happen first at this point, but I know now that the breakup is inevitable.

  “You can’t what?” I ask, my voice quivering.

  “I can’t understand this,” Chris says. “
Any of it. I don’t know what you were doing with that light in your hands. I don’t know what you’re talking about when you start talking about weird stuff—”

  “Magic,” I say, with a trembling lip.

  “Yeah,” Chris says. “That. And, yes, I guess it freaks me out.”

  “I freak you out,” I say.

  Chris is quiet.

  He doesn’t say yes, but more importantly, he doesn’t say no.

  “Okay,” I say. “I guess I have to live with that. I —I really loved you Chris.”

  “Loved?” Chris says.

  I nod. I reach up, under my glasses, and wipe a tear away. “I don’t think—” I pause, and take a wobbly breath. “I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

  Chris’s lips are sewn into a tight, thin line. He nods twice. “I know,” he says.

  I feel sick to my stomach. Absolutely nauseated, like I’m about to lose the two bites of toast and jam that I had for breakfast.

  “So,” I say, wiping my eyes again. “This... this is really it?”

  Chris doesn’t speak.

  I suddenly want desperately for him to hug me. I want him to step forward, wrap his strong, basketball captain arms around me, and squeeze me until this hollow, nauseated feeling goes away. I want him to kiss the top of my head, and hold me upright so that I no longer feel like the earth is tilted under my feet.

  I know all of that is impossible.

  Instead of stepping forward to hug me, Chris steps back. It’s just an inch, but his point is clear. Our discussion is over.

  “I need to get ready for work,” he says, his voice tight and small. “I’m—I think I’m going to be late.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I say awkwardly. I reach beneath my glasses, and wipe at my eyes before tears can spill over my lids.

  “No,” he says. “Don’t be sorry. We needed to talk.”

  I step backwards too, away from him and towards my apartment. “I have a ton of stuff to do today too,” I say.

  “Okay,” Chris says. “I’ll—I guess I’ll see you soon?”

  “I’ll be at the bonfire dance tonight,” I say. “Will you?” I wipe at my eyes again, and try to take a breath. It’s a struggle.

  “Yeah. I’ll be on shift,” he says.

  “I’ll see you there,” I manage to say. My voice is rushed, the words come out barely a whisper.

  I turn and hightail it back to my apartment. I’m about to start crying out some loud, messy tears and I’d prefer it if Chris doesn’t see or hear them.

  I yank open my door and close it behind me as if I’m being chased by a swarm of angry locusts. I press my back into the door, and then slide down it, slowly, inch by inch, as tears start to stream from my eyes.

  I let my head fall into my hands, pull off my glasses, and I start crying.

  Soon, I feel Turkey brushing against my legs. “Penelope?”

  I sob even louder.

  “I’m guessing, from the looks of things, that your conversation with Christopher didn’t go well?”

  I manage to lift my head. “Being an adult sucks!” I say, before dissolving into another crying jag.

  Chapter Twelve

  It takes about an hour for my cat to talk me off of my emotional ledge. He patiently therapizes me until I’m wiping my eyes and saying, “You’re right, Turkey. You’re right.... This is for the best. This is a good thing.”

  “It is,” he agrees.

  “I can live through this,” I say. “I’m going to be fine. In fact, I’m going to be better because of it.”

  “Good girl,” Turkey says. “There you go.”

  With great effort, I push myself up off of the floor. My morning has been draining already, and it’s only ten am!

  I need some coffee.

  I refresh my cup, and then eye my cold, abandoned pieces of toast.

  Sure, they’re not as appealing as they were two hours ago, but I’m famished from all that crying, so I lift one up and start to eat.

  I polish it off in a few giant, very unladylike bites, and move on to the second. Then I down a banana.

  I’m not great at keeping fruits and veggies stocked, but I usually have a banana or two lying around.

  The hit of potassium does my body good. Along with the caffeine and toast, I’m starting to feel ready to face the rest of the day.

  I know it’s going to be a busy one.

  Even though my break up with Chris still has me feeling raw, I also feel surprisingly clear-headed.

  Turkey was right, the messy state of my relationship was taking up a lot of my energy.

  I feel like I just cleared up some serious bandwidth.

  I refill my coffee cup for the third time, and then open up my emails. I know they’re from my coven sisters, and I’m excited to see what they say.

  I’m anxious to see them at our emergency meeting, and tell them everything I’ve discovered.

  The first message is from Marley.

  To: Knitting Circle

  From: Marley

  Subject: Banishing Spell and Emergency Meeting

  Hey gang!

  I just finished practicing the Banishing Spell last night. It did not go well. I tried banishing the dust bunnies in my van. I moved my hands in the wrong direction—I got clockwise and counterclockwise mixed up—and the dust in my van multiplied! I’m talking big time.

  Cora, can I borrow your vacuum?

  Hope you all had better luck than me! Are we still on for our emergency meeting today? How about four? Penny, any new leads on the case?

  Love and unicorn kisses,

  Marley

  To: Knitting Circle

  From: Cora

  Subject: Banishing Spell and Emergency Meeting

  Greetings all,

  Marley, you are more than welcome to come over and borrow a vacuum cleaner. I have several. My little hand-held one might be the best option for you.

  I also practiced the Banishing Spell last night. I tried to banish a small pile of summer clothes that I no longer wear. I figure since the seasons are changing, it would be a great time to clean up my closet space and make room for winter clothes.

  But after I cast the spell, I went out into the kitchen and the clothes were strewn all over every surface! There was a pink tank top hanging off of the sink faucet and a pair of white capris on the kitchen table! I even found one of my wooden soled platform sandals in the freezer, next to my Lean Cuisines.

  Needless to say, I think I need a bit more practice. Maybe my intention wasn’t strong enough? Or could it be a focus issue? I did start to think about what I was going to prepare for dinner, midway through reciting that ridiculous poem.

  I think we should meet earlier than four. The sooner we come up with a plan to deal with these werewolves, the better. How about noon. All in favor?

  Cora

  To: Knitting Circle

  From: Annie

  Subject: Banishing Spell and Emergency Meeting

  Noon sounds good to me. I’ll be sure to have help at the cafe, so that I can join in on the fun.

  My Banishing Spell did not go well either. You’ll find out why when you see me.

  Annie

  To: Knitting Circle

  From: Marley

  Subject: Banishing Spell and Emergency Meeting

  Cora, thanks for the vacuum. It’s working great!

  I can be there by noon.

  Penny, what about you?

  Marley

  I sip my coffee and then begin typing my response. I tell the ladies that noon works, and then apologize for not practicing the Banishing Spell. I finish off by informing them that I have a lot of news to tell them.

  After sending the email, I compose a text to Silas, asking him to meet me at the cafe at one. Then I go into the bathroom to try to make my hair look respectable.

  It’s seriously a lost cause.

  I try flattening it with some Moroccan oil that Marley gave me, but that only makes it look greasy. Next I try pulling it
into pigtails, but it’s too short. The only way I can tie it back is in four separate little pigtails, and I’m sure you can imagine how ridiculous that looks.

  I finally give up and fish a knit cap out of my closet. I can’t make this haircut look good, so I might as well cover it up.

  By eleven a.m., I’m ready to take on the day... whatever it may hold.

  Because I now know that Zeke may target me, I make sure that I’ve got my gun in my bag. Then I say goodbye to Turkey, throw on a puffy vest, and head out the door.

  It’s eleven thirty by the time I reach the cafe. When I walk in through the cafe doors, I see Annie standing behind the counters.

  She’s wearing a scarf around her head, and her face looks... odd. Different, somehow.

  “Annie!” I say, approaching the counter. She’s placing slices of steaming hot coffee cake onto a platter.

  “Penny!” she says. “Dear! You’re early! Just in time for a piece of coffee cake, too.” She serves up a piece of cake. As she hands it to me, I study her face.

  Now I know what’s different. It’s her eyebrows. They’re painted on.

  In addition, I don’t see any hair poking out from under her scarf. Annie never wears a scarf over her poof of white hair. Why today?

  “You look different,” I say to Annie, after thanking her for the cake.

  Annie reaches up and pats her head. “I know,” she says. “It was that darn Banishing Spell. I tried banishing my white hair. I wanted to go back to being a blonde.”

  She shakes her head. “It was vain of me. I suppose I got what I deserved.”

  “What did you get?” I ask.

  Annie looks around the cafe and I follow her gaze. There are a few customers sitting at tables around the room. They’re all focused on their food, the newspaper, or each other. No one is watching us.

  Annie reaches up for the scarf, and then sweeps it off of her head. She’s completely bald!

  My eyebrows fly upwards.

  “Ha!” I say, and then immediately feel bad about it.

  Annie looks absolutely mortified. Her head is as shiny and smooth as a billiard ball.