Spells to Die For

by CC Dragon

  “You own a café?” asked another woman.

  “This is our cousin, Yasmine,” Aunt Trezel added.

  “Hi, yes. I own a café called the Witch’s Brew. I employ witches and vampires. We also make sure the vampires have blood options, so they don’t attack humans. And werewolves have monthly potions so they don’t shift.”

  “Your parents were killed by a werewolf, we understand,” Irene said.

  “They were. My mother believed there was good in everyone, so I think she was trying to help them. She may have let her guard down too much. My uncle came before the werewolf that attacked them made it to my room, thankfully,” I said.

  “Indeed. A gypsy?” Yasmine asked.

  “Yes, but left the traveler ways and raised his daughters outside. They’re in touch with the gypsy family and friends, but we weren’t forced to follow their traditional ways. The culture and history are fascinating, but I took Bran to a wedding where the brides were only seventeen. That’s old for gypsy brides. I couldn’t have handled that,” I said.

  “No, you’d have five kids, by now, too,” Aunt Trezel said.

  “Luckily, it’s not my culture. My father wasn’t a gypsy. But they are good allies to have in a fight,” I said.

  “So maybe good friends. You trust the gypsies?” Irene asked.

  “They’ve been hunting the killer vampires and weres for centuries. That’s something everyone needs. Witch or human, we’re all vulnerable to an attack,” I said.

  “Your mother’s magic was far too strong. She wasn’t vulnerable,” said a mousy woman at the opposite end of the table from Aunt Trezel.

  “Her magic was powerful, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone. My aunt is a full-blown hippie who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I would defend myself. But a werewolf bite happens in an instant, not like a vampire where it must drain you and force you to drink their blood. One nip from a werewolf and you’re taking a potion for the rest of your life. The gypsies do a great service, I think,” I said.

  “Which is why we let them live and tell fortunes and all that. Whether they have real powers or not,” Irene said.

  “You want to genocide gypsies? Hitler tried that,” I shot back.

  “We’re stronger than one maniac who was good at public speaking. But, no, I don’t want to eliminate the gypsies. They serve a purpose. I’m trying to feel out your loyalties,” she replied.

  “My family has my loyalty. They are a mix of humans and magicals. Isn’t that normal?” I asked.

  “Nothing about your life was normal, dear. Most kids don’t lose both parents so young. I’ve tried to find out the truth. The secret people are keeping from you,” Aunt Trezel said.

  “And?” I asked.

  “It is well buried. I need to confirm the whispers. But I need to be sure you can handle it. In the magical world, there is more competition. More jostling for rank than in a happy little Wiccan coven,” she said.

  “You invited all of those new witches?” Yasmine asked.

  “I did. None wanted to join us. Do you know what really happened to Trela?” I asked.

  “The newspaper said apparent suicide,” someone randomly spoke up.

  “The police visited me. I don’t think they believe that. I don’t believe it.”

  “Why bother yourself with those people? Non-magical witches or very low magic ones are beneath your concern,” said the mousy woman.

  “No one is beneath my concern. Humans are people. My customers are people. They’re important to me. I hope the police catch who did it,” I said.

  The murmur of doubt filled the room.

  “What do you know?” I asked Aunt Trezel.

  “The spell that was used to kill her was one of those stolen from you. It belonged to your mother,” Aunt Trezel said.

  “It was made to look like a suicide. You’re saying it wasn’t carbon monoxide poisoning?” I asked.

  “I’m sure there was enough of that in her lungs to be the human cause of death. But the witch who killed her wanted to make sure she was dead with a spell. Human ways aren’t always totally effective.”

  “So, you know who stole my spells? The retrieval spell worked. Who is the murderer?” I asked.

  “We could get rid of her. She’d deserve it. Death sentence by witches’ council,” Irene spoke up.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything. I just want to know who stole from me. Who wanted to hurt Trela? Kill her, I mean.”

  “We can’t tell you. There’s no proof other than who had your spells. Someone else may have stolen them and used them.” Yasmine shrugged.

  “Do you trust Amelia or Brenda?” Irene asked.

  “I don’t know them well enough to trust them,” I replied.

  “But you invited them into your coven?” Aunt Trezel questioned.

  “We don’t exclude people unless they are negative or disruptive. Brenda would’ve eventually been asked to leave. But she’s starting up her own coven, so no problem there. Amelia is a solo practitioner. No new members.” I waved it off.

  “But you warned them about Trela’s death.” The mousy woman sounded accusatory.

  “If there is someone out there targeting witches, we should all be aware. I told Bran everyone in his family was invited to the coven meeting.”

  “We don’t need it. But thank you.” Aunt Trezel sipped her mimosa daintily.

  “You think I’m helpless,” I said.

  “No. You repress your powers. You contain them. We can feel your full potential, but you don’t unleash it. You worry about the police and proving things the human way. It’s beneath you,” Irene said.

  “One of my customers was murdered by a bad spell. That murderer is in the dungeons here,” I said.

  “Because of Bran. Because of us. Human laws or technologies would’ve let her go,” Aunt Trezel added.

  “We appreciate the work you do for vampires and weres. It’s very charitable. Keeping us informed on the humans and how they see or feel about the paranormal is good. But your potential is so much more. You contain yourself so you don’t show up your coven or your family. Don’t sell yourself short,” Irene said.

  “I never thought about it like that,” I admitted.

  “You might think we’re harsh or overconfident, but you have to believe in your own powers totally. How else can you trust your powers when you need them? Now, that Brenda is smug without enough power behind it.” Aunt Trezel sighed.

  “She invited you all to her new coven?” I asked.

  The nods and snickers were all the answer I needed.

  “She might get some low-level witches but not what she wants. She might have enough of a coven to hold a game of bridge,” Yasmine said.

  I relaxed and let my fears go. I could learn a lot from these women.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Monday night, Bran dragged me out for dinner. I got to pick, so we hit a hole-in-the-wall Chinese place with huge portions, good food, and we could sit and talk all night if we wanted to.

  “These egg rolls are great. Huge but great,” he said.

  “Good doesn’t have to mean fancy. Your aunt would hate it here,” I said.

  He shrugged. “She’s less judgmental than you think. She likes you. That’s why she invited you to the brunch. To pump up your confidence and give you permission to use your powers on a fuller scale.”

  “I don’t need permission,” I said.

  He sighed. “Your mom died. Your aunt has minor healing if that. Your uncle has nothing.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “So... Did you know when you eat meat, there’s a sparkle in your eye that isn’t there when you’re eating salad or vegetarian dishes?” he asked.

  I grinned. “My aunt’s a vegetarian. I lived with that. I could go out with friends to eat a burger without judgement. I understand she has her values, but animals eat other animals. It’s nature,” I said.

  He smiled. “I’ll take you for all the steak and lobster you want. But you still feel this
little rebellion when you do it, like you’re doing something wrong. You didn’t flash around your powers growing up either. Probably for the same reason. But, also, there’s no one to tell you it’s okay to use them. That it’s safe or right.”

  I shook my head. “Esme taught me. I’m not ignorant.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re impressive, but you had to go to a public school and live with your family. You couldn’t freely use your powers growing up, like I could. Now, there is nothing stopping you. You use your powers in a minor way. Keeping your customers from remembering or retaining any magic talk. But you could put half the woman at that brunch in their place.

  “No.” I sat back.

  “Yes. You don’t let it out. You have to believe in yourself. Trust yourself.”

  I nodded. “The secret undermines my confidence. Like I’m missing a piece. Or I’ll find out I’m evil or something.”

  “You couldn’t be evil if you tried,” he said.

  “I could be to Brenda,” I retorted.

  “She deserves it. You don’t need to be nice to everyone. Hippie aunt aside, when people show you they’re rude or mean, you don’t need them in your life.” Bran sipped his tea.

  Our cookies arrived, along with the bill.

  I opened a fortune cookie. “Your powers will take you to new heights.” I glared at him.

  “Sounds right.”

  I stared.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You changed my fortune,” I said.

  “Hardly.” He opened his own. “Romance and happiness are the same.”

  “That is a normal fortune. What’s mine?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I didn’t change yours.”

  “Liar.” I popped a piece of the cookie in my mouth.

  “Anything else interesting from the brunch?” he asked.

  I nodded. “They know who stole my spells. They wouldn’t tell me. I asked repeatedly, but they dodged. They’re icing out Brenda for me. I didn’t ask them to. I don’t understand them.”

  “They’re afraid you’ll tell the police. That’s not how we handle things,” he said.

  “I know. I just want to know who betrayed me. It sounds like that person killed Trela, unless they were lying,” I said.

  “No. They wouldn’t do that. Humans won’t solve this. Witches will,” he said.

  “So, why tease me?” I asked.

  “They wanted to see if you knew who it was. I told her at dinner last night that you’d been staying out of it and letting the police do their thing. It’s not your business,” he replied.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  “They expect you’ll try to solve it yourself. They want to see if you can and who you go to,” he said.

  “I let the magical world punish Ryan and Serena.” I poured more tea.

  “Because I suggested and introduced you to that option. And it was a spell mistake. The intent wasn’t murder. This is different. A spell was used, but it was set to look like a suicide. The humans might let them off for reasonable doubt. Can you prove it was staged?”

  “I don’t know what the police have. This detective is more interested in Derrick than talking to me.” I smiled over at the opposite side of the restaurant.

  Bran craned his neck. “Derrick and the detective, I presume.”

  “Yep. Pretend we don’t see them, unless they see us and acknowledge us.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Derrick did Trela’s hair once. Detective Grant found him to interview him, but they sparked. Maybe they should wait until the case is closed, but we’ll see.” I sipped my tea. “The witches want me to solve the case?”

  “And go for magical justice.” Bran nodded.

  “They know who did it. This is cruel and a waste of time,” I said.

  “What if they’re wrong?” he asked.

  “If they traced my spell use on Trela, they won’t be wrong,” I said.

  “If they traced it, so can you,” he pointed out as I put cash down on the bill.

  “What about my secret? Are they keeping that?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That is well-buried. They want confirmation. One rumor isn’t enough. They are thorough, like you.”

  “I want the rumor,” I said.

  He took my hand. “You want the truth. I like that about you. You also want to help people. Help Trela and get your mind off of your stuff.”

  “I know. But it’s not that my dad was a gypsy, right? That rumor was put to rest by the gypsies for me. I know how your family is.” I frowned.

  “It’s an attachment that can bring problems. But, no, that’s not the rumor. Whatever it is, we’ll sort through it. I’m not giving you up.” He exited the booth. “Dessert?”

  “We had cookies,” I said.

  “Okay. There is a frozen yogurt place on the way back to the car.” He held out his hand.

  “You’ve tempted me.” I slid from the booth and took his hand.

  I had a mystery to solve and some magical justice to dole out. “If we find out the secret is I was wronged, somehow, the witches’ council will punish them, too, right?” I asked.

  “I’ll personally administer a torturous confession and punish them severely,” he said.

  “Proper channels for justice,” I said.

  “Strawberry or chocolate?” he asked.

  “Promise me!”

  “Strawberry and chocolate swirl it is.” He grinned.

  “Men,” I sighed.

  Liz had called and made lunch plans with me over a week ago, and luckily, I’d put the commitment in my phone. The alert gave me enough time to change from my café T-shirt and put on a little makeup. I arrived at the diner just in time.

  She already had a booth. Liz always looked serene and calm. It wasn’t just at the ball.

  “Hi, sorry. Life has been crazy,” I said.

  “Sorry for what?” she asked.

  “Just I was almost late. Too much going on.” I slid in the booth and picked up the menu.

  “If you need to reschedule, we can,” she said.

  “No, no way. I need a break. After my spell books were stolen, one of the new witches was killed. It’s just awful, and I’m trying sort things out,” I said.

  “I heard you solved the death of a customer. Magical mysteries are hard for the human police. You think it wasn’t a suicide? I heard it was pretty straightforward,” Liz said.

  The waitress showed up, and we paused to order then went back to chatting.

  “Why would you go through the trouble of moving if you’re going to kill yourself? It makes no sense. It wasn’t like she had family around her in Salem. There was no one to protect. No reason to move. All that work and money for that end? I don’t buy it,” I said.

  “I never thought about it like that.” Liz sat back.

  “Plus, she had boxes of inventory in her kitchen when Esme and I visited her. If she were planning to move where no one knew her, for whatever reason, why bring inventory? Sell it off or leave it,” she said.

  “Right. Have the police talked to you?” she asked.

  “They have. I don’t know anything more, but I think I may have to check out her ex-boyfriend,” I said.

  “Isn’t that what the police are for?” she asked.

  I nodded. “But, if it’s a magical connection or cover-up, they won’t be of any use.”

  “True,” she said.

  “Don’t the witches’ council have investigators? A police force?” I asked.

  “Some, but they spend their time going after the truly evil. There are some very bad witches and wizards out there who do unspeakable things. You won’t hear of them because you’re properly protected and connected. Too close to the humans. It’d be dangerous for any of them to approach you or attack you.” Liz sipped her iced tea.

  I played with the straw in my ice water with lemon. “What? I’ve never heard of any of this.”

  “I know. My mother said it’s awful how limited
your magical education is. You’re powerful, and Esme taught you how to use that. However, your understanding of the magical community and its depth is lacking. You should’ve been attending the ball since you were sixteen. We should’ve been friends all our lives.” Liz frowned.

  I nodded. “I agree, but my aunt wasn’t comfortable in those circles. And this family secret. She probably was afraid I’d find out, somehow. I wish Esme had pushed harder to get me into the magical world. Then again, I had a human-ish childhood. My cousins had no powers, so I didn’t flaunt mine.”

  “You were being kind. They raised you. That’s not nothing. The cost and care. You didn’t want to be trouble,” she said.

  “I was a bit as a teenager,” I admitted.

  Liz laughed. “I could’ve used that. Both of my parents were very magical, so if I did anything wrong, I got caught. You had to be really fast and smart to outsmart the parental magical constraints. They let me have some fun, but it was always secure fun because someone was watching.”

  “Creepy,” I said.

  “Very. But a lot of small communities are like that. They have their rules and standards. Modern day humans in America are afraid of their kids and let them run wild while trying to overprotect them. Magical families might be picking up those bad habits,” Liz said.

  “Killean has one of those cousins,” I said.

  “So, I’m against the discipline, but you probably had more of a human-witch hybrid childhood. More fun.”

  I nodded. “Well, my uncle is a gypsy. They have a lot of crazy rules. I’m glad I didn’t have to follow them, but it did make me think.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  I smiled at the waitress who brought our food.

  “About some of the contradictions. Girls dress to show off, and it’s rather suggestive. But they are always chaperoned. Young marriage is normal, but the guy is young, too. A lot of them left school before high school. My aunt hated that. She pushed education. I’m glad of that, because those girls became maids. Cooking, cleaning and caring for your younger siblings until they got married.” I never thought of the magical community as so controlling, but with such dark evil out there—I understood why.

  “That’s very weird, to me, anyway. You really have a toe in a lot of different worlds,” she said.