by Zoe Arden
Witch Cake Murders
Sweetland Witch Series
Zoe Arden
ReedFoster Press House
A Cozy Mystery Book
Contents
Copyright
Like my page
For You Personally
Dedication
About The Author
Personal Word from Zoe
.
Prologue
.
Chapter One
.
Chapter Two
.
Chapter Three
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Chapter Four
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Chapter Five
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Chapter Six
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Chapter Seven
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Chapter Eight
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Chapter Nine
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Chapter Ten
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Chapter Eleven
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Chapter Twelve
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Chapter Thirteen
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Chapter Fourteen
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Chapter Fifteen
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Chapter Sixteen
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Chapter Seventeen
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Chapter Eighteen
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Chapter Nineteen
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Chapter Twenty
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Chapter Twenty-one
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Chapter Twenty-two
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Chapter Twenty-three
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Chapter Twenty-four
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Chapter Twenty-five
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Chapter Twenty-six
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Chapter Twenty-seven
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Chapter Twenty-eight
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Chapter Twenty-nine
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Chapter Thirty
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Chapter Thirty-one
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Chapter Thirty-two
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Chapter Thirty-three
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Chapter Thirty-four
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Chapter Thirty-five
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Chapter Thirty-six
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Chapter Thirty-seven
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Chapter Thirty-eight
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Chapter Thirty-nine
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Chapter Forty
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Epilogue
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Preview of Next Book
Also By . Order of Books
For You Personally
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by
Zoe Arden
and
ReedFoster press House
All Rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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DEDICATION
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This book is specially dedicated to YOU- the reader!
First of all, I would like to thank you for picking my book and reading it.
Your interest to do so spurs me on to write even better stories, stories that will be capable in bringing us to a world of fun, mystery and suspense, albeit just for a little while.
Your support has always meant a lot to me and I hope you will continue to enjoy reading what I have written.
Thank you!
“ The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible. ”
Oscar Wilde
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
It was from reading Agatha Christie’s mystery books that inspired Zoe to write cozy mystery novels. Zoe liked the fact that cozy mysteries are able to offer readers a form of escapism that typical detective stories can’t.
Like what Marilyn Stasio, who has been the Crime columnist forThe New York TimesBook Review since the late 1980s, recently wrote: “The abiding appeal of the cozy mystery owes a lot to our collective memory, true or false, of simpler, sweeter times.” It is Zoe’s desire that her writings will evoke that nostalgic memory in all of us; those memories of the good old days.
What sets Zoe apart in her writings is her fusing of Mystery with Paranormal elements, a combination which will bring about fantasies that are intriguing and engaging. Her stories contain unexpected twists and sometimes light-hearted moments that will make one smile at Zoe’s quirkiness, fun and wittiness in her writings.
Much Love,
* * *
PERSONAL WORD
FROM ZOE ARDEN
* * *
Hello, lovely reader!
In my stories, you will find a unique juxtaposition of mystery and paranormal themes, an attempt which I believe will be enthralling.
You will discover how a mystery case is being cracked through peeling off layers and layers of suspense and clues.
And fantastical creatures play a part in this…how can it be?
That’s for you to find out.
Thank you once again, for being such an incredible support in my writing career.
Much Love,
.
"Let me ask you something," Brendan said. "You're a witch. Why do witches like human men?" He was looking at me so earnestly I felt compelled to answer him. I just didn't know what to say.
"Um..." I stammered. "I don't know. I grew up around humans, so I guess I'm just drawn to them." I looked back through the glass patio door at Damon, who was dancing with Megan again. Brendan followed my gaze, looking miserable.
"Love sucks," he said, then shoved the purple stem he'd been twirling into his pocket and skulked off. I turned back to the stars and sighed.
An earth-shattering scream rose into the night, making me jump.
Through the patio door, I could see a crowd gathering around the perimeter of the room. A woman was screaming. I hurried inside. The crowd had opened up, leaving two people in its center.
Felicity stood there, her mouth hanging open. Campbell was dancing around her, his hands flying unnaturally through the air. His head was tilted at an odd angle and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, like a thirsty dog. He was making strange grunting noises that almost resembled word
s.
"He's drunk!" someone yelled.
Campbell swung his hips around and bumped into Felicity, who stumbled away from him.
"All right, all right, break it up," Felicity's boyfriend Lincoln said.
Lincoln was the sheriff of Mistmoor Point, and the crowded parted for him as he came through. Even if he hadn't been a sheriff, I suspected the crowd would still have parted for him. At six feet tall with bronze hair and blue eyes, he made quite a figure in the middle of a crowd.
"Okay, Campbell. Time to go home," Lincoln said, clamping one hand down on his shoulder.
Campbell yanked Lincoln hard, sending him flying across the room. Everyone gasped. Campbell stopped, looked around, then let out a strange gurgling sound. He fell to the floor. His face was bright blue.
Felicity hunkered down next to him. She gave him one hard shake then looked up at the rest of the room, her mouth gaping.
"He's dead," she cried. "Campbell's dead!"
Who would be next?
* * *
Prologue
.
Eli raced through the house, grabbing everything he could. Two suitcases were open on the bed. Ava was sleeping beside them. She made a soft cooing noise as she slept. Her feet began to move like she was running, which was silly, because she couldn't even walk yet.
What will I tell her when she's old enough to understand?
He pushed the thought from his mind. That would come later. For now, the important thing was to get her out of here. His wife was dead. The man who'd killed her had been turned into a gooey pile of gunk just outside his front door. The only thing that had remained of the killer after Eli cast his oobleck spell was a button off the man's coat. For some reason, metals and plastics didn't respond well to oobleck spells.
Ava began to cry softly. Eli pulled another pair of socks from his drawer and went to her. He touched Ava's forehead. "Calmnetico," he whispered. A soft orange glow emanated from his fingertip, instantly settling her. Eli didn't know how humans survived parenthood without the use of charms and enchantments. Wouldn't babies just cry all night long without an appeasement charm?
"There, there," Eli said, stroking Ava's bright yellow hair. It was growing fast. She wasn't even one yet and already her mother's blond locks were evident on her head. Lorabelle would have loved to see how they grew out.
Eli sighed and turned back to his packing. He didn't know when the Council on Magic and Human affairs would come for him—no one knew what he had done just yet—but the Council had ways of finding things out. He didn't intend to wait around and find out whether they would listen to reason.
Eli had killed a human. The same human who had murdered his wife. He could tell the Council it was self-defense all he wanted, but if they chose to believe it was revenge, there'd be little he could do. He'd tried to tell them once before that Jon was dangerous, but they hadn't listened. Now Lorabelle was dead He would never entrust his life or the lives of those he loved to the Council's hands again.
Eli looked at a large painting of a boat at sea that hung near the bed, considered it, then tossed it into the suitcase along with Ava's clothes. It had been one of Lorabelle's favorites. Maybe Ava would like it one day.
"Expando," Eli said, directing the stream of magic from his fingertip toward the suitcase.
There was a flicker of light. The suitcase remained the same standard size on the outside, but the inside had grown two feet wider and three feet deeper. Eli took several of Ava's baby toys and stuffed them in at the bottom.
A loud thump sounded from the hallway. Eli turned and held his breath, waiting. What if Jon had brought friends? He stepped in front of Ava, ready to defend her. Even if it meant his own death.
A lock of blond hair spilled over the edge of the doorframe and a moment later Trixie and Eleanor's heads were visible. Trixie's head sat atop Eleanor's, like a totem pole. Behind her, her body hovered several feet off the ground. Her round face and wide blue eyes opened even wider when she realized Eli had seen them.
"Oh!" Trixie cried. She toppled over Eleanor and fell into the room.
Eleanor scrambled in after her, pulling her sister to her feet.
"I keep telling you not to hover over me like that," Eleanor scolded her younger sister. She wiped the back of her neck, where Trixie had left her footprint. "I am not a step stool. What is this goo you got on me? You have no knack for hover charms."
Trixie smoothed her bright blond hair behind one ear. "And you have no knack for..." She tried to think of something, but Eli could see she was struggling to come up with anything Eleanor was bad at.
"...for making peppermint cake!" Trixie cried triumphantly. She cleaned her shoes with a towel, wiping the goo off them.
Eleanor looked so affronted by Trixie's insult that Eli had to stifle a laugh. He would have thought Trixie had called her a dim-witch.
"My peppermint cake is to die for!" Eleanor cried, holding her head high.
"It's too dry," Trixie said, wrinkling her nose.
Eleanor bristled. "What does a frosting expert know anyways? I'm the cake expert!"
Ava's blue eyes fluttered open, and she began to cry.
Eleanor's blond hair swiveled around her face, creating a halo. It reminded Eli of Lorabelle. If you'd never met the three of them, you would still have known they were sisters just from their hair color. No other family in the witching world had hair so golden and bright it almost hurt the eyes to look at.
"Now look what you've done," Eleanor chided. She went to Ava and picked her up, holding her the way Lorabelle used to.
"What I've done?" Trixie cried. She looked at Eli as if asking him whether or not he could believe this.
"Eleanor," Eli said, reaching out for Ava. She reluctantly handed her over. Eleanor turned to the suitcases, noticing them for the first time. Her eyes slowly moved around the room, taking in the missing items.
"You're leaving," Eleanor said.
"I am," Eli replied.
Trixie looked from one to the other, her eyes bouncing back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. With her lime-green stockings and matching hat, it looked like she was there to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. A human holiday that Eli had never fully understood.
"Wait. What?" Trixie asked now. "You're leaving? As in you and Ava?" She started shuffling her feet in an odd jig she did whenever she got nervous or excited.
Eli nodded. He'd known this would be hard. He'd hoped he could sneak off the island without saying goodbye. To anyone. He'd left a note to be delivered after he was gone and entrusted it to Tootsie, his wife's familiar. He supposed the note was irrelevant now.
"Eli, please don't do this," Eleanor begged. Her eyes reminded him far too much of his recently deceased wife.
Eleanor was dressed in the same somber colors she'd worn for Lorabelle's funeral today. Funerals and their drab colors were a human custom that had been adopted by witches and wizards centuries ago when they'd begun living side by side. Only, of course, there were some slight differences. Human funerals didn't typically involve turning silverware into penguins and feeding people happiness-infused lava cake.
Eli shifted his feet under Eleanor's gaze. Ava squirmed in his arms, too young to understand that he needed her to remain still. Too young to care about anything that was happening right now. He would make sure that she never knew about any of this. Ever.
"I don't have any choice," Eli told them both. "The Council has probably already sent someone for me."
"What are you talking about?" Eleanor asked. Lorabelle had been older than both of her sisters, but Eli had always thought Eleanor acted the oldest. "Why would the Council send someone for you?"
Eleanor and Trixie stared at Eli a full minute before a light clicked on in Trixie's eyes.
"Oh, my roses!" Trixie exclaimed. "Eli! You didn't!"
Eleanor looked at her younger sister, utterly perplexed. "Didn't what?"
Trixie sighed and tossed her hands in the air. "I thought you were suppos
ed to be the smart one." She turned back to Eli. "How? When?"
"About an hour ago. An oobleck spell."
"I thought you were going to let the Council handle his capture," Trixie said.
Eleanor's eyes widened. "You killed Jon?"
Eli nodded. "He was waiting for me when I got home with Ava. He wanted to finish what he started."
"Wait a second..." Trixie’s face scrunched up like she smelled something bad. She looked down at her shoes. "Did you say you used an oobleck spell?"
