Purr-suasive Witches: A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 11

by Lin, Harper

  “They couldn’t have just disappeared,” Luann whined.

  “I don’t see them at all,” Hannah snapped. “You were wrong, Cedar. You said the girl had no powers.”

  “I wasn’t wrong,” Cedar hissed. “She has telepathy. Nothing more than that.”

  “She has telepathy with animals. With cats. You didn’t warn us about that. Now what are we going to do?” Hannah continued to poke at Cedar until I heard a loud smack.

  “And you’ll get worse than that if you continue your insubordination,” Cedar snapped. “We’ll talk with Sheila. She’ll know what to do.”

  “She’s gone!” shouted Louise, who was obviously bringing up the rear.

  “Who’s gone?” Cedar asked.

  “Sheila!” Louise sounded like she was about to cry.

  All the witches began to mutter and gasp and whine about what to do next.

  “Every one of you shut up!” Cedar replied.

  “The time for her wedding is getting closer, and she knows it. I’ll bet I know where she’s headed. She can feel the pull of her mate, who is circling the doorway Astrid is to break open,” Cedar said.

  I squeezed Blake’s arm, and he did the same to me.

  “But if she’s out when the sun comes up, everything will be ruined. She has to be back tonight,” Luann whined.

  “Sheila may be young, but she isn’t stupid. If she doesn’t come back on her own, which I’m sure she will, we’ll find her long before dawn,” Cedar said. “We must prepare the other houses and focus on the last one. Hurry. And not another word out of you, Hannah, or the Kly will learn of your disobedience and punish you accordingly.”

  Blake and I didn’t hear anything else, yet we remained still for some time. I couldn’t believe what those witches had been saying. I didn’t understand all of it, but what I did understand made me desperate to get to Aunt Astrid and Bea.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to your family before they do,” Blake said as if reading my mind.

  We waited for the witches to leave. They scurried back to the Gingerbread House, and before I realized it, Blake and I were back in his car. This time, it started right up.

  “Did they put the whammy on your car? Please tell me that sometimes it just doesn’t start,” I muttered as I tried to distract myself from worrying about Aunt Astrid and Bea.

  “It is an old car. But I’ve never had a problem with it before. It’s really rather simple to keep a car running. If you keep the tires inflated, have the oil changed once in a while, and don’t speed, it isn’t impossible to keep a car running for twenty years. I had a car that I applied those rules to, and—”

  “I know you’re trying to keep me calm. But it isn’t working,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, Cath. They won’t get to your family. I promise,” Blake replied before rubbing my knee. “Let me tell you what I learned from the neighbors.”

  I’d forgotten that Blake had actually gone to Peabody Street to investigate the latest in a string of strange deaths. He hadn’t gotten much information on the actual deaths, but he certainly had gotten an earful.

  Mrs. Liane Stortz and her husband, Ken, had lived on Peabody for over ten years. When Blake had knocked on their door, they were happy to talk. Or maybe a better word was scold. Blake recounted their conversation for me.

  “It’s about time you guys came by,” Ken said, letting Blake into his home after he inspected Blake’s badge and identification. It was a simple place with family pictures on the walls and decorative pillows on the couch and love seat.

  “Who is it, Ken?”

  “It’s the police, Liane!” Ken shouted to the voice that came from somewhere else in the house.

  “It’s about time!” she shouted back, and Blake heard footsteps pounding up a flight of stairs. Within a few seconds, a woman at least a foot shorter than Mr. Stortz appeared with her hand on her hip.

  “This is my wife,” Ken said.

  “Are you guys going to do something about what’s going on?” Liane snapped.

  “That’s what I’m here to ask about. What can you tell me about the death of your neighbor?” Blake asked.

  “Our neighbor? Which one?” Ken chuckled. “They’re all dead. And if they aren’t dead, they’re moving. Did you see the For Sale signs in all the yards? It’s like there is an epidemic, and we’re just waiting to see if we come down with a case of suicide too.”

  “Yeah, we don’t have the luxury to just pick up and move,” Liane said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “No, ma’am,” Blake said.

  Listening to the story, I felt bad for him and the Stortzes. None of them really knew what they were up against. Fear could turn to anger as easily as boiling water into steam.

  They didn’t invite Blake to sit down, but they did begin by telling him something I was sure he already knew: all the trouble had started when the family in the Gingerbread House had died. That was ground zero for the rash of deaths on their block.

  “We’ve seen the people that moved in there. At first, we thought they were just an eccentric family. But they skulk around, and when they had their barbecue, there were weird goings-on there,” Ken said.

  “Real weird.” Liane nodded.

  “Can you tell me what you saw?” Blake asked.

  “Look, we’ve heard yelling, singing, chanting…” Ken said.

  “Yeah, chanting,” Liane confirmed. “At all hours of the night. We could be dead asleep and suddenly there would be a scream. We’ve called the police.”

  “And what did the police do?” Blake asked.

  “They’d take our information and go to the house we heard the scream from. It’s been a different house the last couple times we heard it,” Ken replied.

  “Did it come from your older neighbor’s house?” Blake pointed to the house to the left of the Stortzes’, where the last victim had lived.

  “Yeah, but by that time, we’d stopped calling. The police would come talk to us then go to the house we heard noises from. If someone answered the door, the police would talk to them and then come back with some fairy story that they were watching a scary movie or saw a mouse.” Ken rolled his eyes.

  “I’ve had mice in my house and never screamed like that,” Liane added.

  “Yeah, we get mice in the fall almost every year. She’s terrified of them,” Ken said, jerking his thumb in his wife’s direction.

  “Yeah. I hate them,” Liane continued. “But I never screamed like that.”

  “No. She never screamed like that,” Ken added. “Each time the police left, the next day there was another person who was dead. People are leaving the block. We don’t have that luxury. We’ve got family in town. All our friends are here. And moving costs money. We can’t just pack up and move like these other people. So, tell me, Detective, are we just waiting for the suicide bug to get to us?”

  “What are you guys doing to find out what’s happening?” Liane asked.

  Blake was taking meticulous notes and then stopped and looked at the couple.

  * * *

  “They were just ordinary people trying to live their lives with strange and scary deaths all around them. And I had no real answers except that the Wonder Falls P.D. was doing its best to get to the bottom of things.” Blake’s face twisted in worry as he drove toward my aunt’s house. “They took no comfort from my words. I couldn’t blame them.”

  “What did they say next?” I asked.

  “Not very much except that they hoped the police would help out before the entire street was wiped out,” Blake replied with a sigh as we drove past the café.

  “Did any of them speak to the new residents?” I asked. “That coven has moved into the houses faster than termites to a wood pile.”

  “The Stortzes said they steered clear of all of them,” Blake replied. “Once the Gingerbread House was occupied and strange things started happening on the street, Ken and Liane said they saw how all the new residents were hanging out together. It spooked the
m.”

  “That would scare me too,” I said.

  “But aside from not seeing anyone go into or come from their neighbor’s house before the occupant died, I came away with nothing,” Blake said. “That makes everything even more disturbing. Several people died by suicide who had no history of mental issues and murder-suicides who had no history of domestic violence.”

  “Those witches are using the residences in order to get the houses that they need to form their cosmic symbol to usher in this thing they worship. I’m afraid if you are looking for regular clues, Blake, you might not find any. If they are anything like the other witches I know, they wouldn’t necessarily leave a trace of anything behind. At least, nothing you could see. My Aunt Astrid would be able to see it, but they took her vision from her.”

  When I said that, Blake snapped his head in my direction. “What did you say?”

  “They took my aunt’s ability to see other dimensions. They blocked it or suppressed it or something, and now she sees normally, like you and I do. Just this dimension.” I swallowed hard. “It has her all off kilter.”

  Blake clenched his teeth. Aunt Astrid had always treated Blake like family, as if she knew all along that he and I would end up together. It was obvious from his reaction that this case had suddenly become that much more personal, because the perpetrators had harmed my aunt. My heart pounded with such pride that I almost leaned over to kiss him right then.

  But when we pulled into the driveway of my aunt’s house, my heart pounded for another reason. The door was standing wide open.

  20

  Basic Brainwashing

  “Oh no!” Before the car even came to a stop, I jumped out and ran inside. “Aunt Astrid! Bea!” I shouted.

  Before I could dash up the stairs, Marshmallow appeared from behind a curtain. From underneath the couch, Peanut Butter made his appearance. And as if the whole thing had been choreographed, Treacle slunk in behind me, having taken a different route through the neighborhood than Blake and I had.

  “Are they here?” Blake asked as he came up immediately behind me.

  “What happened?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “Jake took Astrid and Bea to the police station,” Marshmallow said. “Something about evidence back from the lab and he had to get there.”

  “Do you know anything about evidence you and Jake were waiting on?” I looked at Blake. His eyes widened.

  “The evidence is back from the lab?”

  I nodded.

  “Come on. We might not have a Ouija board or tarot cards to help us. It might just boil down to good old-fashioned forensics.”

  Blake grabbed my hand, and we streamed out of my aunt’s house like a train. Blake, Marshmallow, Peanut Butter, Treacle, and I all jumped into his car and headed for the police station.

  But getting there wasn’t going to be as easy as driving through town late in the evening with almost no traffic. There was something following us, something I had seen before—and it had seen me.

  “Sheila,” I muttered.

  “What?” Blake asked.

  “Remember when we were hiding in the woods? The witches said Sheila was gone. Well, there she is,” I said and pointed at the upcoming streetlight. Underneath it was the cloaked figure, the hood pulled back just enough to reveal the shriveled face behind it. I could see a row of teeth as she stood there, smiling at us as we passed. I’d expected her teeth to be crooked and decayed like her face seemed to be. But they weren’t. They were big and shiny, and there were too many in her mouth.

  “What is that?” Blake gasped as we sped past.

  “You’ll get another glimpse of her up there.” I pointed to the next spotlight. Sheila was under that lamppost too. This time she was closer to the street and was laughing at us as we zoomed past.

  “Is she trying to beat us somewhere?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t know. The witches said to let her have her fun. I’m not sure what that entails. Perhaps forcing a car to swerve into oncoming traffic is what she has in mind.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe we should get out and run?”

  Just then, I saw the figure once again step out of the shadows at the next lamppost and step into the street. Blake slowed to swerve away from her, and she desperately reached, scratched, and clawed at Jake’s car, laughing at us the entire time.

  “I see you, Cath!” she howled. “I can’t wait to eat your cats!”

  “W-what did she just say?” I stuttered.

  “She’s trying to scare you, Cath,” Blake said.

  I looked into the back seat at all my beloved familiars and clenched my fists. When I faced forward again, I could see the police station off in the distance and Jake’s car in the parking lot next to a squad car.

  “Blake?” I swallowed hard. Sheila was coming out of the shadows as we drove, and there was a streetlight right next to the police station’s front door. What if we got that close and she appeared, oozing out of the darkness like waves on a stormy sea? What if she slithered out and grabbed Treacle or one of the other cats and devoured them right in front of me?

  “Hold on,” Blake said. I braced myself. He flipped on the siren and planted his rolling red light on the top of the car. My head flew back into the seat as he hit the gas and the car went speeding toward the station. “Get ready to bail out.”

  “You guys ready?” I looked over my shoulder.

  “Ready!” Treacle said.

  “If we must run, I’m ready!” Marshmallow replied.

  “Run? Where are we running to?” Peanut Butter asked.

  “Just stick with me,” Treacle said. “And keep up.”

  “I can keep up,” Peanut Butter said. “I can keep up for sure.”

  “We’re all ready,” I said.

  And just like that, Blake sped past the police department. I held on to my seat belt. We came upon the next streetlight, and I was sure I saw Sheila coming into view. But before I could focus, Blake hit the brakes and turned the wheel, causing the tires to squeal and maybe even burn a little. The smell of hot rubber came through the closed windows.

  There was no time to say anything. Within seconds, we were slipping around behind the station to the rear entrance at which offenders were loaded and unloaded without being seen. We slipped under the awning, which was very well lit, and Blake hit the brakes.

  “Now!” he shouted.

  I threw off my seat belt and flung open the door just as I heard the strange grunting I knew from the locked door in the Gingerbread House when I’d gone snooping. I wished I’d never heard that sound. I should have never gone up there. But it was too late to do anything about it now.

  I jumped out of the car, and the cats followed me, with Treacle, always the gentleman, bringing up the rear and making sure everyone got inside safely. I could only hope that Bea had done something to protect the precinct; otherwise, this would all be for nothing.

  “Hey, you can’t bring those animals in here!” Steve Furdeck shouted from his post. He had been assigned to the front desk of the police department for as long as I could remember. We had attended high school together, and he had been as polite and accommodating then as he was right now.

  “Too bad, Steve!” I shouted. “Where are Bea and Aunt Astrid?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” He smirked. There was nothing worse than short guys who had a little bit of authority. And Steve Furdeck was a short guy with a little authority.

  But before I could launch into a tirade of name-calling, Blake dashed in and glared at Steve. Without saying a word to him, Steve opened the locked door, and we all slipped inside, cats too.

  “Cath!” Jake called from down the hall.

  “Hi. Where are Bea and my aunt?” I asked. But when I got closer, I saw a look of worry on his face. Something had happened.

  “Your aunt is in a holding cell. She’s in bad shape, Cath. We didn’t know what else to do with her.” I gasped. “Bea is in my office. She’s not doing well either. She’s doing something
witchy, but she won’t tell me what. It’s taking everything from her. The baby, Cath. I’m worried.”

  I kissed Jake on the cheek. “I’m here. I’ll help her,” I said with more confidence than I really had. I didn’t know what I was walking into. What could I really expect to do? “Blake is here, right behind me. You guys should discuss the stuff that came back from the lab. Then come see Bea and me. Okay?”

  Jake nodded. I thought he was glad for the distraction. Police work was something he understood. Men like him didn’t operate well when it came to stuff outside their area of expertise, and this was well outside that area.

  I went to Jake’s office and found Bea lying down. Her big belly was sticking straight up, and she looked like a rolling hill.

  “Sure. Leave it to you to be lying down on the job,” I teased. She was so pale I nearly started to cry. “What are you doing, Bea?”

  “Hi. I’m trying to keep this place protected,” she said.

  “All by yourself?”

  “Didn’t you see it out there? That thing with the teeth and the wrinkled skin?” she asked. “It followed us here. Jake thought it would be best to bring us along when he got the phone call that some evidence had returned from the lab. But then my mom started acting crazy. She kept asking to see Cedar and said she’d do whatever she asked to get her visions back.”

  “That can all wait, Bea,” I said.

  “No, my mom—”

  “No, Bea. Your baby. He’s in trouble,” I said firmly.

  “What?” She put her hands protectively over her stomach.

  “You are using all your strength to protect this place. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

  I snapped my fingers, and the cats took up their places around Bea: Marshmallow at her head, Treacle to the right, Peanut Butter to the left. Bea reached out and scratched each of them affectionately. I knew a simple protection spell that I had used to use as a kid when I was out playing in the woods so that no one would find my forts or secret places. It wasn’t anything special, but if Bea was holding Sheila back by herself, with the cats and me chipping in, we should be safe for a while, and Bea could rest. I whispered the spell, and Bea smiled at me.