Broomsticks and Burials

by Lily Webb

  Broomsticks and Burials

  Magic & Mystery Book One

  Lily Webb

  Copyright © 2019 by Lily Webb

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  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Print ISBN: 9781790548637

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  Contents

  Broomsticks & Burials

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Bonus Chapter

  Spellbooks and Stakings: Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Alchemy and Arson: Book 3

  Heists and Homicides: Book 4

  About the Author

  Broomsticks & Burials

  Magic & Mystery Book One

  Chapter One

  “Zoe Clarke, sugar, I swear I can read your mind sometimes,” Grandma Elle said, jolting me out of my daydreaming.

  “But if you don’t quit makin’ that face, it's gonna get stuck that way.”

  The ice in the sweet tea Grandma held in one hand clinked as we rocked on the front porch swing, and the hand-knitted afghan she’d draped over our laps swayed with us.

  “What face?” I asked.

  “The one that makes it look like you been suckin’ on a lemon,” Grandma said, smiling.

  “It ain’t very ladylike,” she said, and I snorted.

  “I can always count on you to keep it real, can’t I, Elle?” I asked, and Grandma stared at me while she rocked, her snow-white curls shuffling in the breeze.

  “Keep it real? What does that mean?” Grandma asked.

  “Never mind,” I said, and reached for her hand. She smiled as I stroked her thumb with mine.

  “Ain’t it beautiful?” Grandma asked, gesturing out at the yard with her chin. The grass was freshly cut and alight in shades of gold as the sun set behind the pine trees that lined the edge of the Clarke family farm.

  “Sure is,” I said. We’d sat together watching the sunset like this on so many Sunday evenings I’d lost count, but it never got old.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Grandma asked.

  “I’ll take all the pennies I can get at this point,” I said, and Grandma chuckled.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, sugar, you’ll find work soon enough. I’m sure of it,” Grandma said. “Anyone who doesn’t hire you is a fool.”

  “Thanks, Gram,” I said, but I didn’t believe it.

  Journalism jobs in the backcountry of North Carolina weren’t easy to find. After I’d gotten laid off from my last one in Charlotte, I’d come back to Lumberton with my tail between my legs and moved in with Grandma again.

  Since then, I’d applied online for so many jobs all over the country — and eventually gave up when no one called back after three months of trying.

  “Farm life ain’t all bad, you know,” Grandma said. “You’ll always have that.”

  “Lucky me,” I laughed, and Grandma smirked.

  “Oh, come on, we both know you were never meant to stay here shoveling pig poo,” Grandma said. “Ain’t no farm in the world big enough to hold your personality, I knew that from the get-go.”

  “What are you trying to say?” I asked, and Grandma smirked.

  “That you was always meant for big things, and this farm ain’t ever gonna give you that,” Grandma said.

  “Tell me about it,” I sighed, and Grandma laughed while she patted my hand.

  “Keep your chin up, buttercup. Somethin’ll come along before you know it, just like magic,” Grandma said.

  “If only I could wave my hand, say a few quirky words, and make a job materialize out of thin air,” I said.

  “Magic is in the mundane and works in mysterious ways,” Grandma said. “Least that’s what your momma always used to say.”

  “And what do you think she’d say if she could see me now?” I asked. “I’d hardly call this situation magical.”

  “I think she’d be darn proud of you, Zoe, and you should be too,” Grandma said. “So what if you hit a lil’ bump in the road? Who ain’t at some point in their life?”

  “Fair enough,” I said, shrugging.

  Not for the first time, I missed my parents. They’d died in a car crash on their way home from a date when I was still young enough not to remember much about them. Grandma Elle was babysitting me that night, and it’d been the two of us ever since.

  “Anything else got you blue?” Grandma asked.

  “Not really, no,” I said.

  “You swear?” Grandma asked.

  “I swear. I couldn’t lie to you even if I wanted,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Grandma said, smiling at me over the lip of her glass as she sipped her tea. “But I can tell somethin’ ain’t right with you, so spill it.”

  My phone vibrated in my lap, and I jumped. Saved by the phone call. I turned it over to find “Number Blocked” on the screen and went to decline it but Grandma stopped me with a slap on my wrist.

  “What in tarnation do you think you’re doin’?” Grandma asked. “You’d better answer that, it could be the call you been waitin’ for!”

  “Grandma, no respectable paper is gonna call me from a blocked number,” I said.

  “You don’t know that. Ain’t all you journalists worried about privacy and whatnot?” Grandma asked. She had a point.

  I sighed and slid my finger across the screen to accept the call.

  “Hello, this is Zoe,” I said.

  “Hello, Zoe Clarke?” a gruff male voice barked on the other end of the line. My skin tingled and itched at the sound.

  “It is. Who’s calling?”

  “Mitch Harris, editor in chief at the Moon Grove Messenger,” the man said, and I racked my brain trying to match the name with any of the dozens I’d seen on job applications. Nothing rang a bell. I didn’t even have a clue where Moon Grove was.

  “Who is it?” Grandma hissed, but I waved her away.

  “Hi, Mr. Harris, thanks for the call,” I said and deflated. It was the lamest response in the world, but what else was I supposed to say?

  “Yeah, sure thing. Hey, listen, the Messenger’s in desperate need of a beat reporter. I looked over your resume, and you seem like a good fit. Job’s yours if you want it,” Mitch said, and it took everything I had not to laugh.

  Talk about professional.

  “No offense, Mr. Harris—”

  “Please don’t call me that. It’s Mitch,” he interrupted. Okay then.

  “Right, no offense, Mitch, but I’m going to need some details to go on here. What exactly are you offering?” I asked.

  “Didn’t you read the job description when you applied?” Mitch asked. Touché.

  “I did, but the description wasn’t very, well, descriptive,” I said, hopin
g that was true. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a job posting for a Moon Grove Messenger, much less applying to work there.

  “It’ll be more than enough to make a living. You’ll be covering the town and government beat,” Mitch said.

  Okay, that wasn’t exactly the most exciting offer in the world, but it was an offer regardless — and it was the only one I’d gotten in three months.

  “I think I can handle that,” I said. At my last job, I’d started at the same level, but I didn’t cover it long before the editor moved me up the chain.

  “I think so too. Can you be here tomorrow?” Mitch asked.

  “Tomorrow?” I asked.

  He really wanted me to start that soon? What was I supposed to do about an apartment and, well, everything else? This was crazy. Now I understood why he called from a blocked number.

  “Like I said, we’re pretty desperate, and what better day to start than a Monday? If you can’t, I understand, I’m sure we’ll find someone else,” Mitch said.

  My heart jumped into my throat, swollen to twice its usual size. Half my brain told me I should hang up before things went any further, but the other half screamed at me to take the job without another thought because there was no guarantee I’d get another.

  I looked at Grandma, who nodded at me enthusiastically. It was all I needed.

  “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there,” I said, my throat dry, and Grandma beamed at me.

  “Great, you won’t be sorry. Things are pretty active around here, so you’ll hit the ground running,” Mitch said. “It might be a bit, uh, jarring for you at first coming from the big city, but I’m sure you’ll adjust.”

  “I’m sure I will too,” I said, though I didn’t know what to make of that comment.

  “Okay. See you tomorrow then,” Mitch said.

  “Mitch, wait!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry, uh… I don’t know where Moon Grove is,” I said, my face burning. Good thing he couldn’t see it.

  “Most people don’t. You know where Roanoke Island is?” Mitch asked.

  “Roughly, yeah.”

  “It’s not too far from there,” he said. “You’re in Charlotte, right?”

  “Not quite. Lumberton,” I said.

  “Never heard of it. Can you get to a bus station?”

  “Yeah. The only one in town isn’t far from where I live,” I said.

  “Good. Be there by 6 AM and keep your eyes open for a big silver bus. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “Okay?” I said, as much a question as a statement. What did that mean?

  “I’ll have one of the staff meet you when you get here, and I’ll email you my contact info just in case,” Mitch said.

  “Great, thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t oversleep, the bus won’t wait,” Mitch said.

  “I won’t,” I said, and Mitch hung up without saying goodbye.

  I sat staring at my phone screen, unable to believe what’d happened until the phone vibrated with an email from Mitch. Sure enough, his phone number was inside, but it was in a weird six-digit format I hadn’t seen before.

  “Magic works in mysterious ways, huh?” Grandma asked, and I laughed.

  “I dunno if I’d call this job magical either, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” I said.

  “Where did he say it was again? Moon somethin’ or another?” Grandma asked.

  “Moon Grove. I’ve never heard of it either,” I said as I tapped to open the maps app on my phone and look it up. It took forever to load but eventually came back with no results. Mitch implied Moon Grove was a small town, but it couldn’t possibly have been so little that it wouldn’t come up on a GPS search. Weird.

  “I’ve lived in North Carolina my whole life and I ain’t never heard of a place like that,” Grandma said. “You sure you heard him right, and all that wax in your ears didn’t get in the way?”

  “Very funny. He definitely said Moon Grove,” I said. I zoomed in on the map near Roanoke Island, but I didn’t see any place named Moon Grove or any stretch of land nearby that could’ve been it.

  “It’s not coming up on the map either. I hope this bus knows where it’s going.”

  “He didn’t give you an address or nothin’?” Grandma asked. “Strange fella.”

  “No kidding,” I said as I searched for the paper’s name online. Their website was the first result, but when I tapped on it, the page came back with an error. “They have a website, but it doesn’t look like it’s working.”

  “Service ain’t the greatest out here, maybe that’s why,” Grandma said.

  Somehow, I didn’t think it was the service, but I didn’t have any other explanation. The more I dug, the weirder things got, but it was a job — or at least the hope of one — so I’d just have to take the bus out to the coast and see what happened. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

  As if on cue, the black cat with haunting blue eyes Grandma gave me on my sixteenth birthday, wandered out the front door and meowed at me.

  “Hey, Luna. I was wondering where you were,” I said as I scooped her up into my arms. She purred and tucked her head under my chin like she always did when I held her. “It looks like we’ve got some packing to do.”

  “Meow,” Luna croaked, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

  “You need help?” Grandma asked.

  “I don’t think so. It isn’t like I have much to load. I guess that’s one of the perks of being an unemployed bum,” I said, and Grandma chuckled.

  “Bum, my behind. You’re just like that cat, you’ve always landed on your feet,” Grandma said.

  “Well, here’s hoping I’ve got nine lives like her too, because where I’m going, I think I’m gonna need them,” I said as I stood with Luna held against my chest. I scratched her under the chin and her purring intensified like she agreed.

  “If you ain’t got nine lives, then I dunno who does. What with that black cat and them fiery curls of yours, you look like a regular witch standin’ there,” Grandma said.

  “Abra Kadabra, teleport me to Moon Grove, Alakazam!” I said, swishing my free hand in the air and freezing for a dramatic pause. When nothing happened, I shrugged.

  “No witches here. I guess I’m as painfully normal as they come.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ normal about you, sugar. Never was. Now go get packed. You got a big day comin’ tomorrow, not to mention you gotta get some amount of sleep in the meantime. There ain’t no time for dilly-dallying,” Grandma said, shooing me away.

  Luna meowed her agreement.

  I took one last long look out at the farm, framed by the darkness creeping down from the sky, and smiled at the full moon taking shape above.

  It could only be a good sign.

  Chapter Two

  Grandma Elle dropped me off at the bus station at a quarter to six the next morning. Despite my insistence otherwise, she helped me unload everything I’d brought.

  “I can’t believe you’re only taking two suitcases with you,” Grandma said, staring at my torn, stained, and sad excuses for luggage. Luna’s cage sat on top of one of them, and for all the stress of the drive, it was amazing the poor cat wasn't more vocal in her disapproval.

  “More? This is everything I own. Besides, Luna is really all I need. She’ll keep me safe, won’t you, girl?” I asked as I poked a finger through the grate on the front of the cage to stroke Luna under the chin. She purred her agreement.

  “I ain’t ever gonna understand you, am I?” Grandma asked.

  “If you can’t after twenty-one years, then no, probably not,” I said, and Grandma smiled at me.

  “I reckon that’s for the best,” she said as she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back, drinking in the smell of her — sweet tea made in an oversized jar by sunshine — and tried not to cry.

  “Thank you for having me again,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t you go gettin’ all mushy on me now, sugar. Crying ain’t gonna get you nothin’ o
ther than wrinkles as deep as mine,” Grandma said as she let me go, and I laughed.

  “According to you I already look like a witch, so I’m sure wrinkles won’t help,” I said.

  “Darn right,” Grandma said, beaming at me. “Now get your tail out there and make a name for yourself. Do me proud.”

  “I will, I promise,” I said.

  “I know,” Grandma said with a wink before she climbed back up into her old rust-riddled Ford F-150, its sides caked with mud. There wasn’t a car in the world that would’ve suited her better.

  “Call me as soon as you get into town.”

  “Of course,” I said, and reached up to stroke her hand that hung out her open window. Luna meowed from her cage to say her own goodbye. Grandma kissed the back of my hand and gave me a wave before she rolled away.

  “I guess it’s just you and me again,” I said to Luna as I stroked her. Luna meowed, louder this time, and I smiled. It was early enough that there weren’t many other people around, which was all the same to me — I could only imagine how ridiculous I must’ve looked standing at the station with two ratty suitcases and a cat cage.

  At exactly 6 o’clock, a long, blinding silver bus rolled into the station with the words “Silver Bullet Travel” emblazoned in bright red on its side. It was a clever name, I had to give them that.

  The bus came to a stop at the station, and no one else gathered to board, but that wasn’t a surprise. The door hissed open, and I wheeled my suitcases and Luna over to find a pale, gangly man with stringy black hair and saggy skin sitting behind the wheel.