Witch Way Box Set

by Jane Hinchey

  “Eww!” I screeched. “So gross.”

  Gran saw the sliming I’d received and reciprocated tenfold. Only she didn’t quite get it right and every witch on Kristen’s property was now sporting a dose of green slime.

  “Oops.” Gran grinned.

  The war of the witches was lighthearted, the spells harmless, if not messy, until the slats in Kristen’s picket fence detached themselves from the railing, rose in the air, and came hurtling toward us. What the hell? My coven didn’t see them coming but I did. Closing my eyes, I held my arms out wide and pushed a forcefield over us. The slats hit the barrier and fell to the ground.

  Releasing the protective barrier, I squinted my eyes and tried to determine who had cast that particular spell. This was escalating and would get out of hand if it wasn’t stopped now.

  “What the ever-loving hell is going on here?” Jackson shouted over the din of a bunch of witches squabbling in the front garden. We all froze, and then all looked sheepish—myself included.

  “Harper! Over here. Kristen? Over here. The rest of you? Clean this mess up,” he growled, stomping to one side of the garden, clearly irritated. Jackson wasn’t one to lose his cool often, so I quickly trotted after him. As I stood in front of him, he lowered his voice. “You told them? Why would you do that?” He ran his hand through his hair, messing the strands.

  “I told Gran. That’s all,” I whispered, “I was not expecting the whole coven to be here. Mine or theirs.”

  Kristen made her way across the lawn to where we stood.

  “I hope you’re going to charge her for this,” she snapped. “Coming to my home and attacking us.”

  “What?” I yelped. “You set bees on us. Look at the stings!” I held my arm out where three red welts dotted my skin. I knew I had more, I could feel them—they hurt.

  Jackson grabbed my arm and looked closely at the welts.

  “Definitely bee stings,” he said, then looked to Kristen who shrugged.

  “She could have got those anywhere. Must have disturbed a bee’s nest in the garden or something.”

  “Show me this bee’s nest,” Jackson ordered, and Kristen’s eyes darted around the garden, her face flushing with color. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “Okay, fine. There is no bee’s nest,” she said sullenly.

  “See?” I crowed. “She started it. I was coming here to talk to her! She attacked first!”

  “You should all know better, grown-ass adults,” Jackson muttered, running a hand around the back of his neck. “Let’s get back to why we’re here. Harper seems to think you have Bonnie Emerson’s grimoire.” He didn’t take his eyes off Kristen’s face. “Do you?”

  “No,” she shot back, and I looked from Jackson to Kristen and back again. Surely, he didn’t believe her? I’d seen her take it!

  “So, if I were to search your house, I wouldn’t find it?” he pressed, his eyebrows raising in question. Her lips puckered together, and she shifted from one foot to another.

  “You are so busted!” I couldn’t help myself. Finally, a break in the case.

  “Harper,” Jackson warned.

  “Sorry.” I mimed zipping my lips closed.

  “I don’t give you permission to search my house.” Kristen was grasping at straws, we all knew it.

  “I don’t need your permission. Just a warrant.” Jackson pulled out his phone and eyed her, his face cold. “You can make this easy on all of us, or I can make the call. What’s it going to be?”

  “Excuse me? Detective?” a voice called, and we all turned to see Jacob Holt hurrying toward us, a canvas satchel clutched to his chest.

  “What have you done?” Kristen screeched, snatching for the satchel. Jackson grabbed her, hauling her back. I couldn’t contain the grin splitting my face. Jacob had come through for us.

  “I think this is what you’re looking for,” he said, not looking at Kristen who was twisting in Jackson’s grip and issuing vile threats to him.

  “Jacob has been looking for the grimoire too,” I explained. “He’s behind the orb we saw in Bonnie’s attic.”

  “Is that right?” Jackson eyeballed him, then nodded at the satchel. “Open it.”

  Jacob did as instructed, flicking open the two buckles and pulling back the flap closing the satchel. Holding it open, he revealed a large leather-bound book.

  “Take it out,” Jackson ordered. “We have to make sure it’s hers and not some decoy.”

  Kristen was squirming even harder now and Jackson snapped at her, threatening to put her in cuffs if she didn’t behave. I thought she should be in cuffs regardless. He’d slapped them on Gran quickly enough.

  Jacob pulled the book from the satchel and turned it over in his hands. There was nothing on the cover, no insignia or name to indicate it was Bonnie’s, so he opened it, and there, on the first page…Bonnie’s name.

  “Let’s go.” Jackson took the grimoire from Jacob and began moving Kristen toward the gate and his waiting car. “We’ll finish this down at the station.”

  “It’s not what you think!” Kristen cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t kill her. I just…” she choked, sniffing, then dragged in a sobbing breath before continuing. “It was a split-second impulse thing. I saw she was dead and…she’s a head witch. Her grimoire would be priceless. So, I took it.”

  Nine witches stopped what they were doing and watched, open-mouthed, as Kristen was bundled into the back of Jackson’s car and driven away. He hadn’t spoken another word. Probably still pissed at the witchy war that had erupted before he’d arrived. I have to admit I was a little ashamed of it myself, and standing here with green ooze dripping off me, was a stark reminder that we were behaving like children instead of grown-ass adults.

  I cleared my throat, getting everyone’s attention. “Ladies. And Jacob,” I added. “I’m sure you’ll agree that this got out of hand. And we’re all to blame. Let’s get this mess cleaned up and behave like adults, shall we?”

  “An apology would be nice,” Delores snapped. I felt for her. It couldn’t be easy watching your granddaughter be hauled away by the police. I knew exactly how she felt—I’d been through it when Jackson had arrested Gran. But Kristen hadn’t been arrested. Yet.

  “I agree,” Annie replied, standing with hands on hips. “I’m waiting.”

  I rolled my eyes. Here we go, two stubborn witches about to go head-to-head—again.

  “Let’s just say all apologies are inferred and get on with cleaning up. Then we can all go home,” I cut in before the spells started flying again. There was some grumbling, but it appeared they agreed with me because no more spells were cast. Now it was just cleanup.

  Cleaning up wasn’t nearly as fast—or fun—as the fight had been, but eventually, we were done. It was getting late, the sun dipping on the horizon, and I was starting to get chilled with the slime having penetrated my sweater, the tank beneath, and now my skin. I was dying for a nice hot shower and dinner.

  “Have a good night, everyone.” I was bustling Gran out the front gate when she stopped and poked her head around me to call out.

  “I forgot something. Gladys, can I get some eggs?”

  Gladys stared at us, hard. Then, without a word, she swiveled on her heel and disappeared into Kristen’s house.

  “Well that was rude,” Gran said.

  “You don’t really need her eggs anymore anyway,” I said, following Gran to her car and holding the door open for her while she slid behind the wheel. “The competition is over.”

  “Have you seen Gladys’s eggs? The yolks are so deeply golden yellow and they are, by far, the most delicious eggs I’ve ever tasted. I don’t want them for the competition, I want them for me.”

  “Ah, okay then.” I smiled, kissing Gran’s cheek. “We’ll do a trip to the market. She sells them there, I believe.” Gran nodded, then checked her watch. Seems she had someplace else to be.

  “Bye, darl.” She wriggled her fingers at me. “I’ve gotta get ready for
my date.”

  I shook my head, watching as she drove off. Everyone else had left, and the Crescent Coven witches had retreated to Kristen’s house. Most likely, to discuss what to do about their wayward witch who had stolen Bonnie’s grimoire—and possibly killed her. All except for Jacob, who had followed us and now stood on the pavement while I unlocked my car.

  “Thanks for what you did back there,” I said, knowing it couldn’t have been easy for him to betray a coven member. He shrugged, a sad smile tugging his lips.

  “I wanted to get to the bottom of the missing grimoire, and I did. When word got out that you were headed here, I just knew that had to be why.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shrugged, not really knowing why I was apologizing, other than that I could sympathize with his situation.

  “Do you think Kristen killed her?” he whispered, his eyes sad.

  “I really don’t know. But taking the grimoire was a bad move. It makes her look guilty.”

  “You astral projected, didn’t you? That’s how you knew?”

  “It wasn’t really projection, more a vision. Like, I was there, but not. It was different than what I experienced with you—you saw me. When I had the vision of Kristen taking Bonnie’s grimoire, she didn’t know I was there.”

  “Couldn’t you, you know…”

  I knew what he was asking. Couldn’t I go back to when Bonnie was killed and see who murdered her. A shiver ran over my skin.

  “I don’t think I can.” It was my turn to whisper. “I think that would be too awful.”

  “It would, wouldn’t it?” he agreed. “Plus, it wouldn’t give Jackson the evidence he’d need. He couldn’t arrest someone because you said you had a vision.”

  “Good point.”

  A gust of wind buffeted the car, making me shiver again. Night was falling and with it, the temperature.

  “I’ve gotta go shower off this goo.” I nodded at his equally filthy appearance. “You should too.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Harper.”

  “Night, Jacob.”

  As I drove home, I called Blake through the car’s Bluetooth. There was no answer, so I left him a voicemail asking him to call me. Then I wondered just what he did with himself while in Whitefall Cove. Technically, he didn’t need to be here while Gran was on bail, he could leave and return when she went to trial. If it went to trial. Surely, we’d find the real killer before it got that far?

  With those thoughts, my mind went down the rabbit hole of who killed Bonnie. Was Kristen the killer? It looked that way, but I knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. I could not say with one hundred percent certainty that she had killed Bonnie. I saw her leaving the kitchen, yes. But it could have been as she’d said—that she had discovered her body and made that split-second decision to steal her grimoire. What wasn’t clear to me was why she’d stolen it.

  Archie greeted me at the door. He hadn’t wanted to come to work with me today, so he had spent the day at the cottage on his own. Judging by the rubbing, purring, and meowing, he’d missed me.

  “Hey boy.” I bent and scratched his ears. “I can’t pick you up yet. I’m covered in slime and believe me, you don’t want this in your fur. Let me take a quick shower, then I’ll get us dinner.”

  Leaving my bag and keys on the hallway table, I hurried upstairs, stripping as I went. My bee stings still hurt and I knew I had to get the stingers out so, after rummaging in the bathroom vanity for my first aid kit, I found the tweezers and began the fun task of getting out each tiny stinger. Three from my arm, two from my face, one from my collarbone. Good thing I wasn’t allergic or today could have ended a different way entirely.

  After my shower, I dressed in my PJs, tossed a robe over top, and headed downstairs. The welts from the bee stings were still swollen and angry, but they didn’t hurt quite so much. I was a little puffy in the face but I figured that would subside soon enough.

  “Okay, Archie. What’s for dinner, huh?” He’d followed me into the bathroom, had dozed on the bath mat while I showered, and was now hot on my heels as I made my way to the kitchen toward his favorite thing—food.

  “How about chicken?” I asked, opening my fridge and remembering that I hadn’t had a chance to grocery shop yet. “Or maybe not.” I surveyed the contents of the fridge, grateful my coven had put the leftovers inside for me.

  “We’ve got some eggs. And cheese. Sounds like an omelet to me.” I glanced at Archie who sat at my feet, eyeing the contents of the fridge.

  “You know you can have cat food, right?” I added when he didn’t respond. He looked up at me with his big golden eyes and meowed.

  “Omelets, it is.” Taking the egg carton from the fridge and the remaining block of cheese, I quickly whipped up dinner, cutting a small portion off for Archie and putting it in his bowl. He purred as he ate.

  “Mmmmm, this is delicious,” I agreed, mouth full. “I wonder if these are Gladys’s eggs? They really are flavorsome.”

  After dinner, I poured myself a glass of red wine and curled up on the sofa, remote in hand.

  “What shall we watch?” I asked Archie when he jumped up onto my lap and began biscuiting my legs. I flicked through the channels, not really paying attention to the television, my mind on other things. Like, was it too early to call Jackson and ask him about the investigation? Would he even tell me what had happened with Kristen? Had she been arrested? But if that were the case, would that mean the charges against Gran were dropped? At which point, surely, he’d have told me.

  I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, I was jerking awake. Archie was gone and the TV was playing an infomercial. Picking up the remote, I switched it off and stretched, yawning.

  “Archie?” I called.

  His meow came from the back door and I got up to find him scratching at it. “What’s up, boy?” I asked. “Something out there got your attention? I guess it can’t hurt to take a look, but no running off, okay.”

  He meowed again and I liked to think it was in agreement. Of course, he could have been telling me he was making no promises.

  I opened the back door and stepped outside, shivering a little. Archie darted past my legs and disappeared into the darkness. “Archie!” I called after him, so focused on my cat, I didn’t see it coming. A whack to the back of my head had me seeing stars and sent me crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I came to, I was tied to a kitchen chair and had the mother of all headaches. In the kitchen, Gladys was pacing back and forth, tapping a wooden rolling pin against her hand. I assumed that’s what she used to crack me on the head with.

  “Gladys?” I asked. “What are you doing?” I tested the ropes. She’d done a decent job—my wrists and hands were bound to the chair back and then the rope wound around and around my torso. I wondered if this is how she’d tied Bonnie up.

  She swiveled to look at me, her eyes wild, her face pale.

  “You shouldn’t have done that to Kristen,” she said, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table as if we were having tea. “Because now the police will look again. Look closer. And they’ll see my mistake.”

  I had a sinking feeling I knew her mistake because watching the woman with the crazy eyes across from me, I was also picturing the crime scene. And she knew.

  “It was the eggs, wasn’t it?” She shook her head and ran her hand through her hair, making it stick up in odd angles that somehow matched the crazy in her eyes. “It was,” I confirmed, certain now.

  Gladys had left the eggs, complete with a note, after she’d killed Bonnie. Bonnie had finished baking, yet the egg bowl was full and the note was resting on top. The eggs were Gladys’s alibi, and it had worked. None of us had noticed.

  “Why did you kill her?” I asked, keeping my voice level, calm, when inside, I felt anything but. I flexed my hands, searching for give in the rope, finding none. I couldn’t use my magic with my hands restrained and she knew it
. Clever witch.

  “I didn’t mean to!” She shot to her feet, agitated. The chair tipped over and the crash made me wince. “Sorry.” She righted it and pushed it in, resting her hands against the back. “She just wouldn’t quit stealing the eggs,” she told me, staring at the wall.

  “Every day, she was over in my henhouse, helping herself. She didn’t ask. She didn’t pay. She just took what she wanted. She didn’t care that I sold those eggs, that they were money to me, money I needed. I know it sounds silly, what’s a few eggs? What difference would that make? To me, a lot. She was taking two dozen a week. That’s a lot of eggs.”

  She stopped, swiveling her head to pin me with a look. Her gray eyes were as cold as steel, waiting for my response.

  “That is a lot of eggs,” I agreed, not knowing what else to say.

  “So, that afternoon, when I discovered she’d taken even more, I went over to have it out with her. And she laughed at me. And then, she threw money at me. Said if I wanted it that badly, I could pick it up off the floor, as if I was trash. Then she stood there with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to grovel at her feet for the money.”

  Well, that wasn’t very nice. Although, killing Bonnie was a bit of an overreaction.

  “Of course, I didn’t,” Gladys went on to say. “Instead, I grabbed a saucepan from her sink and hit her over the head with it.”

  “What’s your plan here, Gladys?” I asked. “There’s no cake to shove down my throat. I haven’t been stealing your eggs. Do I really deserve to die?”

  I couldn’t believe how calm I felt. It was kind of like waiting for the other shoe to fall—any minute now, it would drop and then I’d freak out. But in the meantime, I wriggled my hands again and tried to get my fingers free.

  “If you’d kept your nose out of it, none of this would be happening. This is your fault!” she yelled, rushing around the table and slapping my face. My head snapped back, and my cheek was on fire where she’d hit me.