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

by Zoe Arden

  “What are you doing in here?” she asked. “Come on. He won’t wait forever. You’re gorgeous. Now get a move on.”

  I turned back to where Melbourne had just been. He was gone. I pulled the shawl around my shoulders and followed Eleanor downstairs.

  “You look beautiful,” Colt said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled at him.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure. I’m just hungry.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to eat then.”

  “Have her back at a respectable hour,” my dad called.

  Outside, Colt held his car door open for me. I slipped in and looked out the window. There was a shadow on the roof of our house. It slipped behind the chimney and out of sight.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Colt asked, starting the car up.

  “Fine,” I told him. “Let’s go eat.”

  We peeled out of the driveway and into the night.

  * * *

  Preview of Next Book

  THANK YOU

  for reading my book and

  I hope you have enjoyed the story.

  . . . . . . .

  A Drop of Witch is Book 3 in Sweetland Witch Series.

  If you have enjoyed reading A Drop of Witch, I believe you will be interested in checking out the next book.

  I have enclosed a sneak preview of the next book.

  Check it out below . . .

  "Do you really think it was a vampire who killed her?" I asked.

  "She had two small puncture marks on her neck, so I'd say yes. I'm on my way to Sweetland Hospital to talk to Dr. Dunne. He should have more for me to go on."

  "Can I just take a quick peek at the book before you go?"

  "No," he said, gently but firmly, like a parent would. He ushered me out of the station along with him, then got into his car and headed for the hospital. The police were the only ones who used cars other than the tourists.

  I started walking away when I saw Tadpole run out. Otis was chasing after him. "Tadpole, you get back here now," he said. They ran the opposite direction I was going. I watched for a minute as they disappeared a block down the street, then I turned and ran back inside. Elwin was nowhere to be found.

  The station wasn't huge. I'd been here before, and I knew where the evidence room was. I made my way over to it. The door was locked but I remembered a spell that Colt had taught me a while back that was supposed to open anything. I muttered the words quietly so Elwin wouldn't hear and the door popped open.

  The room was the size of a small walk-in closet. I scanned the shelves that lined the walls until I found what I wanted.

  "Voila," I said and grabbed the book, flipping quickly to the back where the lineages were.

  I heard footsteps coming and flipped off the light. Elwin was heading this way. I stuffed the book into my bag and ran out of the room, turning left when I should have gone right and bumping right into Elwin.

  "Oh!" I gasped. "Sorry, Elwin."

  "That's okay. Anything I can do for you?"

  "Nope, I'm good. Thanks."

  "Okay, see you later then." He continued on his way. I watched him a minute, thinking it was the sheriff's bad luck that he didn't have more focused deputies, but my good fortune.

  * * *

  PROLOGUE

  The morning started out badly and only got worse from there.

  "I hate you!" Colt Hudson screamed at the top of his lungs. His face was red and pinched and tears ran down both cheeks. He stomped his foot on the ground like a two-year-old.

  Everything had been fine at breakfast. It was Monday, so Terri had served bacon, eggs, and toast. For tomorrow, Colt had asked his mom if she could use Texas Toast instead of the cheap white bread she normally bought. She'd agreed. Russell didn't care one way or the other as long as he got his coffee.

  "I hate you!" Colt screamed again. This time, he picked up a vase and threw it across the room. It landed at Russell's feet.

  Terri Hudson's jaw dropped open. Russ knew what she was thinking. Colt was only twelve. If he was like this now, how much worse would it be he be when he got older?

  "You do not speak to your father that way," Terri yelled. Her own face had become rather red and pinched as well.

  Russell could tell that his son was waiting for the inevitable "young man" to follow his mother's admonishment. Do not speak to your father like that, Young Man. Do not get angry, Young Man. Do not throw vases, Young Man.

  Instead, Russ walked over to Colt and simply yanked the saxophone from his grip. Colt held on tight, wrapping his arms around it like it was a woman. Though Russ was twice his size and trained in self-defense, he found it difficult to pry it away.

  "You can't take that away from me!" Colt yelled. His voice was cracking. He was at that age.

  "I can and I will," Russ informed him. His wife watched them with alternating looks of worry and anger.

  "Russell," she finally said, sidling up to him. "Maybe we should let him keep it."

  "What for?" Russell demanded. "So, he can grow up to be a musician?" He said the word as though it were a disease instead of a profession.

  "It's what I want to do with my life," Colt tried to explain. "It makes me happy."

  For one second, Russell's heart broke. His son was looking at him like he was a monster. But it would be easier this way. Much easier. For all of them.

  "Happiness doesn't put bread on the table. What do you think bought that bacon you ate this morning? Happiness? Cheer?"

  Colt's tears were coming faster and faster, but this needed to be done. Today. Now. He'd put it off for as long as possible, and it had almost gotten his family killed.

  "You are grounded until further notice," Russell yelled. "And I'm keeping this saxophone."

  "When can I get it back?" Colt’s voice was thick with tears.

  "Never."

  Russ set the saxophone on the coffee table, pulled out one of his COMHA-issued stun guns, and fired. The saxophone blew up into a thousand pieces. He turned back to see his wife and son both staring at him, their faces pale. Terri closed her mouth and shot him the angriest look he'd ever seen on her. It made her cheeks pink and gave her an unearthly glow. She was pretty even when she was mad.

  She went to Colt and put one hand on his shoulder. Good. She was taking his side. Later, when they remembered this, it would only serve to reinforce that they were better off without him.

  "Russ, how could you do that?" Terri turned to Colt. "I can fix it," she told him with certainty. "Witches can fix anything."

  Colt shrugged her hand off and ran toward Russell, his shoulder lowered like a linebacker about to tackle the quarterback. He hit his dad square in the stomach and sent him flying backward. He landed on his butt.

  "Colt! No!" Terri screamed.

  Russ let his son have his moment. Colt raised his arm, his hand in a fist, and let it fly toward his father's jawline. At the last second, though, Colt got scared. He veered the path of his fist and hit the floor instead. He and Russell stood up and looked at the hole in the floor.

  "That's some right hook you've got there. When you're older, the Council on Magic and Human Affairs could use someone like you."

  "I'll never join COMHA," Colt spat. "I don't ever want to be like you. I'm going to be a musician."

  Russell stared at his son, wanting to reach out and pull him close. To beg his forgiveness for the cruel things he'd done.

  "Go to your room. We'll talk about this tomorrow," Russell said. Colt ran to his room and slammed the door. When he was gone, Russ turned to Terri. He couldn't help himself; he reached out one hand to caress her face. She turned away from him.

  "Go to work," she said. Her eyes were watering.

  Russell lingered a moment, then turned and left his home for the last time.

  At headquarters, Dean Lampton was running around, checking people in and trying to act like he was in charge. He'd been the youngest member of COMHA in history, at the age of eighteen. That was a decade
ago. He'd risen in the ranks fast since then. Everyone said if he kept it up, he'd be the next head of COMHA when Willis retired.

  "Hudson," Dean called, motioning for Russ to join him. Russ walked over, pulling the fur tighter around his body. He'd never gotten used to how heavy these coats were but he'd become adept at hiding the discomfort it caused him. It was all in a day's work when you were an undercover agent.

  "Just wanted to make sure you knew that we're all hoping you make it out of this alive," Dean said.

  "Thanks."

  "Of course, if you don't, your family will be well looked after. Rest assured."

  Russ knew that Dean thought he was being nice, but it only made his heart do flip-flops in his chest.

  "That reminds me," Dean said. "Alfred cooked this little guy up for you." He handed Russell a glass vial filled with blood-red liquid.

  "What is it?"

  "He's calling it coagulant juice, but I think that's a joke."

  "Ha. Funny." It was hard to laugh when your life was ending.

  "He said if you drink it within ten minutes of... you know... that it might stall the process."

  "Stall? How long?" I asked, my ears perking up. Stalling was good. Alfred really knew his stuff. He was possibly the best extractor on the planet right now. If he said something would work, it would.

  "Twenty minutes. A half hour at most. He's not making any promises, but it's possible that if you returned to us fast enough, we may be able to reverse the process."

  Russ pulled Dean into a giant hug that lifted his feet off the ground. "I could kiss you!" he yelled.

  Dean grunted, and Russell set him back down. A few of the other agents were laughing.

  "Remember, before we can do anything, you need to get back here. And before you get back here, you need to get the information."

  Russ nodded, too happy to tell Dean that his lack of concern for his life was as irritating as a wart.

  "Are you ready?" Dean asked. He hesitated. "You know, if we weren't absolutely certain that they could do what they say they can do, we wouldn't send you into this."

  "I know," Russell told him. "Come on, I'm ready."

  Russ followed Dean to the transporter and stepped inside the stall that never failed to remind him of a tiny, square shower. The guys on the outside pushed some buttons, there was a flash of light, and Russell vanished.

  When he opened his eyes, he was back in Ukraine.

  "There you are!" a voice boomed in his ear.

  Russ jumped as Vlaski clapped him on the back.

  "Where have you been?" Vlaski asked.

  Russell got ready to put on his Slovakian accent. When he opened his mouth, he sounded like a completely different person.

  "Looking for you," Russ said and clapped Vlaski's back. "I am ready to begin."

  "Good. The group is waiting."

  Russell followed Vlaski to the fire they had set up in a cave. The snow outside made everything cold. Even with the fire, he still wasn't warm.

  "Do not worry. Once you are turned, you will no longer feel the cold," Vlaski said. Russell realized then that the fire was for his benefit alone.

  "And once I'm... turned, you'll allow me to help with the cause?"

  "Of course. There are no secrets amongst vampires. Once we know you are one of us, we shall lay the plan before you and find you a spot in the administration."

  Vlaski's accent was old and indistinguishable. He'd lost much of it over the course of centuries, yet enough of it remained to add an air of aristocracy to his image. He said he'd been born in Prussia, but there was no way to verify that.

  Vlaski spoke of their plans with such a casual attitude that it sounded as if he was discussing going out for ice cream rather than the death of every witch, human, and paranormal in existence. The group circled around Russ as he made his way to the center. Their eyes were almost black.

  "So," Russell said, "how do we—"

  Vlaski grabbed him from behind, bared his teeth, and sank them deep into Russell's throat. Vlaski didn't like to waste time. He was a man of action. He drank until the light began to fade from Russell's eyes. Just before Russ could black out, Vlaski cut the vein in his wrist and held it to Russell to drink.

  Russell refused at first, but then his mission came back to him. Save the world. Save my family. He drank the dark liquid that Vlaski offered. It was sweet, like raspberries and honey. He felt a thirst in the back of his throat and kept drinking until it was quenched. When he was through, the others congratulated him.

  "It will take some time for you to get used to your new eyes," Vlaski said. "For now, just sit and listen as we explain. You are part of us now. We know we can trust you."

  Russell listened as long as he could. The story unfolding from Vlaski's lips was more complex and disgusting than he had ever imagined. The plan had already been in the works for a century. Russell listened, but he was running out of time. He had no watch and had to go off the fading light outside the cave.

  "I need some air," he said when Vlaski was through.

  "Of course."

  He went outside and found the others had been right. The cold was nothing to him now. He dropped his fur and walked along the snow-covered path, seeing everything differently. The sky wasn't just blue. It was emerald and yellow and red. He held the vial Dean had given him in his hand. That world seemed so far away now. He could leave it behind. Start fresh.

  But Vlaski's plan would destroy the world as he knew it. As his family knew it. In the end, it was Colt's image that convinced him to drink the extract. It tasted like sewage, and made his stomach hurt on impact. He had a half hour at most to get back to the transport site.

  "How do you feel?" Vlaski asked from behind. He'd followed Russ outside.

  "Fine. A little more air, I think."

  "There is still much to discuss. You have only heard half the plan."

  "Half?" Russell could see the transport site in the distance. The giant spruce tree called out to him with its leaves.

  "Five more minutes," Russell said.

  "Five it is," Vlaski replied. "I shall leave you alone to reflect on your new life."

  "Thank you."

  Vlaski walked back to the cave. "It's now or never," Russ muttered to himself.

  Russell headed quickly for the spruce tree. A bad feeling rose in his stomach, though, stopping him. He couldn't go. Not without hearing the rest. This was what he'd come here for. His family was waiting for him; the world's fate hung in his hands.

  If he lost the half-hour window the extract had bought him, he would never be able to return to his former life, but at least his family would be safe.

  Russell turned his back on the spruce tree. It was now or never.

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Ava?" Colt looked at me over the glow of the candle like he was waiting for something.

  "I'm sorry, did you ask me a question?"

  He furrowed his brow. His light brown hair was still growing out but he'd already mentioned he wanted to cut it again. The Council on Magic and Human Affairs preferred short-cropped hair, and Colt preferred to go by the book.

  "I asked if you knew what you wanted?"

  The waiter cleared his throat and readied his pen.

  "Oh, sorry," I said, laughing nervously. "Sure, um..." I glanced quickly at the menu and picked the first thing that sounded good.

  "Clams."

  The waiter jotted it down. "Very good, Miss," he said and went off.

  I tilted my head. "Did I just order clams?"

  Colt laughed. "Yeah, why, don't you like them?"

  I pursed my lips. "I can't say that I've ever had them."

  "What made you pick them then?"

  "I don't know. I was distracted, I guess."

  Colt's smile faded. "You've been distracted since I picked you up."

  "Have I?" I looked around the table for something I could use to change the conversation. A funky napkin holder or a dessert menu, maybe. Even a dirty
fork. But there was nothing.

  "Is something wrong?" Colt asked. "Are you having second thoughts about tonight?"

  "What? No, of course not."

  "Then what's the matter?" He folded his hands together and waited for me to answer.

  "I... I... uh, I'm just wrapped up with Aunt Eleanor's wedding. And thinking about those break-ins. It's weird that all they took from Dale's Hardware was some food from his mini fridge, isn't it?"

  Colt shrugged. "Probably a vagrant. Or a drunk tourist. It happens."

  I nodded. It hadn't occurred to me until now that maybe it had been Melbourne breaking in everywhere the last week. He was probably hungry. He didn't drink human blood, so how else was he going to survive?

  "So... your distraction has nothing to do with Damon?"

  "Damon?" I burst out laughing. It was the last thing I had expected him to say. "No. I haven't even heard from him since he left Heavenly Haven."

  "He hasn't written?"

  I shook my head. I couldn't pretend the way we'd left things didn't hurt, but what's done was done, as my dad liked to say.

  Colt's face softened. "I'm sure it will be a great wedding."

  I relaxed my shoulders and thanked the witches he was letting it go. I hated lying to him, but what was I supposed to say? Remember Melbourne? That vampire we all thought turned into a pile of ash? Well, he turned up tonight and wants to talk to me about your dad.

  Uh uh. No way. That was not a first date type of conversation. Besides, I'd only talked to Melbourne for a second. I didn't even know what any of this was about yet. Best not to say anything until I found out more. My real regret was that I couldn't tell Aunt Trixie. She'd been mourning his loss for the last month. Even though they'd never been a couple, Trixie had harbored hopes she and Melbourne might end up as one.

  "Earth to Ava," Colt said, waving his hand in front of my eyes.

  "Sorry," I laughed, "was I doing it again?"

  "Spacing out? Yeah."

  I blushed but was saved by our waiter. He set our plates down and offered us fresh pepper and parmesan. I took both. The clams looked... slimy. I figured a little pepper and parmesan couldn't hurt. Instead of biting into one, though, I started moving them around my plate like little soccer balls.