A Drop of Witch (Sweetland Witch Women Sleuths) (A Cozy Mystery Book)

by Zoe Arden

  “Hang on,” Damon said, pulling me back. “I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

  He reached into his sports coat and pulled out a small package about the size of a paperback.

  “Have you been hiding that in there all evening?” I asked.

  Damon pushed a curl of dark hair out of his eyes, which looked even bluer than normal amidst the Christmas colors the bakery had been decorated in.

  “Yes.” He smiled and handed me the box.

  I ripped the paper open. “Oh, my roses! I can’t believe you found this!” I threw my arms around Damon’s neck as I gripped the small book tightly in my hand. He hugged me back, kissing my lips lightly as I grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor: History in the Making,” I read. “I thought this was out of print. Even the library didn’t have it. Where in the world did you find it?”

  His blue eyes gleamed playfully. “EBay.”

  My laughter was interrupted by a very loud woman who was standing a few feet behind me. I turned to see that Paisley Mudget, a round, short woman with a bad sense of humor, was now taking her turn with Mayor Singer.

  “As for your New Year’s party, Mayor Singer,” Paisley said, wagging a finger in his face. “Start spreading the news... no one’s showing up that day...” She laughed at what she thought was a clever joke. No one else laughed with her.

  Her twin sister, Lottie, cringed.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Paisley said, shooting Mayor Thomas a look. “Sweetland thinks you’re sweeter than our own mayor. Isn’t that so, Mayor Thomas?”

  Mayor Thomas smiled politely and turned away. Paisley had that effect on people. A long-standing member of the Witch’s Council, Paisley was not nearly as well liked as Lottie, who liked to gossip as much as the next person but drew the line at laughing at them.

  Paisley and Margaret Binford had been great friends before Margaret had resigned as head of the Witch’s Council and moved to Mistmoor. It had been less than a week since Margaret’s departure and already Sweetland Cove was better for it. If only Paisley would do the same.

  “King Zulubar!” Paisley shouted.

  Lottie tugged on her sister’s arm. It was one thing irritating her neighbors and friends; it was another to irritate the goblin king.

  “King Zulubar,” Paisley shouted again. “Please, allow me the honor of shaking your hand.”

  She bowed to him and he bowed back, then he rose and walked toward her with his hand outstretched. When he took Paisley’s hand, there was a loud static sound, like an electric lightning bolt. Zulubar’s whole body shook. When it stopped, there was smoke rising from his hair. Paisley revealed an electric buzzer she’d hidden in her hand.

  King Zulubar looked perplexed. He stared at the buzzer while Paisley’s guffaws drew embarrassed looks from everyone at the party. Gratefully, King Zulubar didn’t seem to notice.

  “It’s a tool of honor,” Paisley told the goblin king. “Used only when shaking hands with the strongest of men.” She smiled widely and held her hand out for him again.

  “I thank you for the compliment,” Zulubar said, taking her hand once more. This time, he held onto her hand even longer, probably thinking the longer he did, the more honor it bestowed on him.

  When Paisley finally released him, he bowed his short, mud-colored body until the tip of his nose was touching the floor. Several party guests looked on anxiously. It was rare for goblins to join witches at a party, but after the recent dealings we’d shared regarding a draugr who’d gone on a killing spree, Eleanor and Trixie had agreed it was only right to invite them.

  “Goblins aren’t very bright, are they?” Damon asked.

  “They’re bright enough,” I said, bristling at his comment. “Sheriff Knoxx is certainly intelligent.”

  Damon said nothing, which irritated me that much more. He had a habit of forgetting that Sheriff Knoxx was part goblin. I tried to let it go. After all, it was Christmas.

  Lucy caught my eye. My best friend had wound her way around the room and was now chatting with Felicity Redfern and Sheriff Lincoln Maxwell, the only other people here from Mistmoor Point. She raised an eyebrow when King Zulubar bowed and shrugged as if to say, “As long as he’s happy.”

  “Hey,” I said, turning back to Damon. He was holding my hand again and the warmth of his body had suddenly reminded me of something important. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”

  He smiled at me.

  “I was wondering when you’d get to that. Lay it on me.”

  He held out his hands, grinning like a kid.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He closed them.

  I reached into my purse, withdrew a slip of paper, and laid it gently in his hands.

  He opened his eyes and scrunched his brow. He picked the paper up and looked at the date and time on it. It was for four days from today, just before New Year’s.

  “Um, thanks. What is it?”

  I couldn’t contain my smile. “It’s your mom.”

  Damon’s own smile faded.

  “What?”

  “She’s coming to visit.” I threw my arms around him, laughing at his shocked expression. “Merry Christmas!”

  He took my hands and unwrapped them from around his neck. “Ava, what are you talking about? I haven’t seen my mom in over a year, not since I moved back to Heavenly Haven.”

  “I know. That’s why I thought this would be such a great surprise.” But Damon’s expression didn’t match my own.

  “There’s so many witches on this island,” Damon said, his eyes scanning the room. The way he said “witches” was like he had a mouthful of poison.

  I suddenly realized he wasn’t comfortable at this party. He’d been putting on an act for me. Damon and I had had so many ups and downs in our relationship it was getting impossible to see things clearly anymore. One minute we were a couple, the next we were too different to be together. Damon had finally come to grips with the fact I was a witch, but I still didn’t think he liked it.

  “You don’t like it? I thought you’d be thrilled to see your mom. You’re always saying how much you miss her. So I... I wrote to her asking her to come.”

  The color drained from Damon’s face. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  I held back the tears of disappointment raging behind my eyes. I’d been so sure he’d love it.

  The doors to the bakery opened just then and a rush of warm wind fell across the room. I turned my head, feigning curiosity, but really I just didn’t want Damon to see my eyes watering. When I saw who was at the door, I forgot about everything that had just happened.

  Detective Colt Hudson scanned the room. His six-foot-four body filled the doorframe. He was impeccably dressed, and his light colored hair was tousled from the wind. His eyes stopped on me.

  “Oh, my roses,” I said. The last time I’d seen Detective Hudson, he’d tried to arrest me. I’d never quite forgiven him for that.

  Damon stood protectively in front of me as Detective Hudson made a beeline for us.

  “Ms. Fortune,” he said, nodding. “Is there somewhere we might talk?”

  Eleanor and Trixie were at my side in seconds.

  “Our niece has nothing to say to you,” Trixie said, taking up my defense. My aunts and Damon formed a wall between me and Detective Hudson. He peered easily over them, narrowing his eyes at me. Each time he tried to get around, they moved to block him.

  “I don’t have time for games,” Detective Hudson snapped.

  “Whatever you feel you have to say, you can say in front of all of us,” Eleanor said.

  “That’s right,” I told him.

  Detective Hudson let out a long breath. “Fine. Polly Peacock has escaped from Wormwood, and the Council on Magic and Human Affairs has reason to believe that she’s on her way to Sweetland Cove.”

  The wall in front of me gave way with this new information, and I stepped forward.

  “Why would she be coming her
e?” I asked.

  Detective Hudson cocked his head to one side, looking as if I had just asked an obvious question.

  “To kill you,” he said. “Now, can we talk?”

  * * *

  0 2

  * * *

  My knees buckled under me as Eleanor and Trixie gently pushed people out of The Mystic Cupcake. My father slipped a chair under me before I fell.

  “Move along now,” shouted Eleanor. “Time to go. Merry Christmas, everyone.” She tried to keep things light but the room had already taken on the undertones of gloom.

  I caught every look the guests gave me before they left. Half the party felt bad for me. The other half were scared of me. They still equated me with the deaths that had happened last summer, when all the humans had died. Even though it was Polly and Slater behind the murders, I had a big scarlet “A” attached to my forehead. Thanks mostly to Detective Colt Hudson, who seemed to have forgotten all about that now.

  “Ms. Fortune?” Detective Hudson asked.

  He was looking at me with concern, which made me want to giggle with the ridiculousness of it all. The last time I’d seen him, he’d wanted nothing more than to lock me up. My father, too. Now he’d come to protect me. How was I supposed to trust anything he said?

  The chair I sat in wasn’t comfortable, but at least my knees weren’t buckling anymore. I tried to look Detective Hudson in the eyes but each time I did, I wanted to smack him. I thought it best to look at the floor.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked, putting what he thought was a comforting hand on my shoulder. It gave me goose pimples. I tried to remember if his eyes were always so gray or if the shock of Polly’s escape had somehow tainted my perception of things.

  He spoke to me as if I was a small child from a foreign land, drawing out every syllable and overemphasizing every word. “Poollyyy Peeeacooock escaaaped from Wooormwooood. We beeelieeeve she is coming heeere. Toniiiight. To get yoooou.”

  Damon shot him a look and shoved his hand off my shoulder.

  “Is that seriously how you talk to people? You’re scaring her half to death. Ava are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I told them both, standing up.

  Eleanor and Trixie had finally managed to get everyone out and had returned to my side. My father frowned next to me, and Eleanor patted his shoulder.

  Sheriff Knoxx joined us a moment later. He’d followed the crowd outside to make sure no one decided to linger. The Sweetland Cove gossip mill was persistent, especially around the holidays.

  “Are you sure?” Damon asked. “I could get you something. Tea or coffee...”

  I gritted my teeth. I hated being treated like a child. “I said I’m fine.”

  Damon backed off and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Detective Hudson,” Sheriff Knoxx said, sucking in a breath and puffing out his chest. It was his “I’m in charge” stance. “Fill us in on what’s happening.”

  Detective Hudson nodded.

  “Polly Peacock escaped from Wormwood Work Camp.”

  “So you said,” my father, Eli, snapped. “When exactly did she escape?”

  Detective Hudson hesitated. “The night of Christmas Eve.”

  “Christmas Eve!” cried Eleanor. “But that was yesterday! We’re just finding out about this now?”

  “She’s without her powers and—”

  “And?” Aunt Trixie interrupted. “And you thought you would wait a full day before telling us?”

  “The warden at Wormwood thought it would be easy to recapture her. They did not alert the Council until a few hours ago. I was immediately dispatched.”

  Sheriff Knoxx was smiling. He liked seeing Detective Hudson squirm a bit. I couldn’t blame him. He’d tried to push the sheriff out of a job last time he was in Sweetland. Detective Hudson had a lot of enemies here.

  “How did she escape?” I demanded. “Why would she escape? She’s only got six months left.”

  Detective Hudson hesitated again. His eyes shifted ever so slightly.

  “We don’t know precisely. Revenge is a very strong emotion, though.”

  “Revenge?” I asked. “Revenge for what?”

  “For everything. Her powers were stripped. Her life was ruined. Rather than accept responsibility for her actions, Polly has chosen to blame you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “We have sources from inside.”

  My brow creased as I pictured Polly bad mouthing me behind bars.

  Sheriff Knoxx cleared his throat. “Has anyone informed Anastasia Peacock yet?”

  “No. She was my next stop,” Detective Hudson replied.

  “I’ll handle it,” Sheriff Knoxx said, rounding back his shoulders. He was like a peacock displaying his feathers for a rival. His chest puffed out, widening to make him look more muscular than he really was. His face colored, giving him a healthy glow.

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Detective Hudson said. “I appreciate any help you can give me in my—this—investigation.”

  Sheriff Knoxx filled his lungs and held in the breath. I could see his lips moving and thought he was counting to ten.

  Sheriff Knoxx finally expelled the breath. “Of course.” I was proud of him for letting the “my investigation” comment go. Detective Hudson had a bad habit of taking over things that happened in Sweetland Cove and ignoring Sheriff Knoxx completely.

  Sheriff Knoxx kissed Eleanor goodbye and left. No one else seemed to notice the ring on her finger, or if they had, they said nothing about it. I supposed that now wasn’t exactly the best time for congratulations.

  “Wait a second,” I said, suddenly realizing something. “If Polly escaped last night, then she could already be here in Sweetland Cove?”

  Detective Hudson nodded. “That’s correct.”

  He sounded so formal that my desire to smack him increased tenfold. Why couldn’t he offer a sympathetic, “I’m sorry, I know this stinks,” or even “We’re doing everything within our power to get Polly back. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Does COMHA at least have a plan?” my father asked.

  “Of course, the Council has a plan,” Detective Hudson replied.

  “And that would be...?” My father wasn’t going to accept less than a full and complete answer from him.

  “We have several field agents scouring Heavenly Haven as we speak.”

  “And what are you doing?” Eleanor asked.

  “I’m here to protect Ms. Fortune.”

  The way he addressed me made my head ache. It made me sound like a schoolmarm or someone’s mother. “Call me Ava,” I told him.

  He glanced at me and there was the briefest flash of light in his eyes as he repeated my name. “Ava. You can call me Colt, I suppose. Though I’m not sure that proper protocol—”

  “Thanks for that ingratiating offer, but I prefer Detective Hudson,” I snapped back, cutting him off.

  Damon squeezed my hand, and I fed off his warm energy.

  The tension in the room was palpable. Nobody here liked Detective Hudson, and I think he knew it.

  “How are you going to protect my daughter?” my dad asked.

  “Tonight, at your house, I’ll set up watch from your living room. I have a special extract of peppy powder given only to COMHA agents so I won’t fall asleep. During the night, I’ll—”

  “Hold on a second,” Damon said, raising his hand like a traffic cop telling someone to stop. “Are you saying that you plan to spend the night with Ava and her family?”

  “Of course.”

  “For how long?” Trixie asked, a look of horror on her face.

  Detective Hudson’s eyes rose to the dancing snowmen on top of Trixie’s head. The headband contained a line of them that lit up every few seconds and bounced around in some type of jig.

  “Until Polly Peacock is caught,” Detective Hudson answered.

  “Uh-uh, no way,” I said.

  Detective Hudson looked confused. “I’m only he
re to protect you. Not intrude on you. I’ll set up in a corner of your leaving room. You won’t even know I’m there.”

  “Not likely,” I said.

  “You don’t really want to reject my help, do you?”

  “I reject it all right,” I snarled.

  “Me, too!” cried Trixie.

  “Me, three!” cried my dad.

  Eleanor twiddled her thumbs for a moment. “Perhaps we’re being a bit hasty. If Detective Hudson can help—”

  “Help? Trixie cried. “The last time he tried to help, he arrested Eli and almost got Ava killed!”

  “Yes, but given the situation—”

  “He’s not staying in our house,” I said. I felt bad when I saw the hurt look in Eleanor’s eyes. I didn’t normally snap at her. “Our familiars are more than capable of keeping patrol while we sleep. They’ll protect us just as well as Detective Hudson could. Even better.”

  We all looked to the corner where Snowball, Rocky, and Tootsie lay curled up asleep. Our fearless companions.

  Detective Hudson drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll stay outside, then.” He nodded as if that were final.

  “Do whatever you want,” I told him. “I can take care of myself.”

  * * *

  0 3

  * * *

  “Go to sleep already,” I muttered to myself, but my eyes stayed open. I’d counted the Christmas lights on the ceiling fifty times already and knew 1034 tiny bulbs burned softly over me. I sat up and quietly called Snowball.

  A second later, the door to my bedroom popped open and my fluffy white cat crept silently in.

  “Mama called?” Snowy asked, sitting and looking at me with her wide green eyes.

  “I just wanted to see how things were going.”

  “Snowball has nothing to report except Rocky has eaten three times since watch began.” Snowball licked her paw and wiped her face. “Rocky has strong appetite. Tootsie is mad. She says Rocky is neglecting his duties as watchdog.”

  Snowy blinked at me, and I suppressed a laugh. “Tell Tootsie not to worry about Rocky’s appetite. He’s a big dog. He needs a lot of food.”

  “Snowball will tell her.” With that, Snowy turned and walked out of my room.