Tales from The Pumpkin Patch (Holiday Tales Book 1)

by T S Paul

  I didn’t sell as many of them as I would have liked, but that was because they were time-consuming to make and therefore a little pricier than the average person could afford. Still, with the amount of effort that went into making each charm, whatever someone paid they were getting a bargain. At least I liked to think so. If someone just wanted some general protection, I had proprietary herb blends for that that almost anyone could afford.

  I laughed a little thinking about all the people that came into my store thinking that the herbs in my necklaces, teas, and protection packets meant something totally different. It probably didn’t help that I shared the parking lot and a building with a medical dispensary that just happened to grow their product on site. Outside of having the occasional stoner wander into the wrong store my relationship with the owner of Herbal Dynamics was pretty awesome. He let me grow some of the things I need for my shop in the back of his indoor greenhouse. Now I had access to fresh materials for my teas and wards all year long. In exchange, I keep the greenhouse bug-free.

  Today had been busy, busier than usual, even for a day in October. I think all of the paranormal crime in the news recently had people a little worried. It seemed like the FBI was fond of holding press conferences that instilled little confidence in people. So far, I’d heard about senators tied to demons, and believe it or not some museum might have actually had an honest to god dragon in it.

  That kind of drama unfolding on TV was exactly the kind of thing that made my business slam into overdrive. I’d sold two charms, more than I normally would have in a month, as well as scheduling two home cleansings. I was tired and thinking about how nice it would be to order a pizza and curl up with a season of something that had superheroes on Netflix.

  Nine o’clock was late enough for today. It was time to close up shop. Anyone that had a magical or spiritual crisis was going to have to wait until tomorrow to get help. Even the young had to sleep sometime. Of course, just as I was finishing inventory and trying to decide on pepperoni or sausage, or maybe even both, the phone started to ring. By the time the first ring stopped, I knew that I wouldn’t be getting home anytime soon.

  The front door was already locked, and I’d turned off the lights in the front of the store. A faint golden glow buzzed around the shop and then flew straight towards me. Gramps was feeling a little agitated tonight. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one ready to call it a day.

  “Don’t you dare answer that,” Gramps said as he buzzed around my head.

  The little sprite had been with me since I was a child and I was used to his antics by now. He knew damn well that I was going to pick up the phone even if it meant we had more work to do. Still, I couldn’t help but smile as he buzzed around my head, his four wings flapping as fast as a hummingbird’s.

  Gramps was a contradiction, well at least if you didn’t know anything about sprites. Most of the sprites you see in movies or on tv are female. Not only that, they usually are darn cute. Sure, there are a few of those, but there are also a lot of males. Furthermore, most sprites aren’t cute or cuddly. Some of them don’t really look like humans at all. We call those pucks. They are a little more ferocious and animalistic. Thankfully Gramps was just an ordinary sprite, but he would be righteously pissed if you called him cute. He was fond of telling me how he earned his beauty with age.

  Gramps wasn’t a puck. He looked like your favorite grandpa, that’s how he got his name. Don’t blame me for his name being simple. I was seven when he showed up, and it just made sense. His real name was something I couldn’t pronounce. He said it so fast, and I wasn’t exactly fluent in fairy speak, so the name I gave him stuck. Maybe one of these days I’d have time to learn more of the language, but not today.

  I reached for the phone and Gramps landed on my hand trying to hold it down. I shooed him away and picked up the phone. “Trinity Books and Charms.”

  “Zoey, thank God you’re still there.”

  The caller sounded a little winded, but I was pretty sure I would know that voice anywhere. “Sheriff Stevens?”

  “That’s right Zoey, and I hate to say it, but I need your help.”

  As much as I just wanted to help, a girl had to make a living. “I take it that my normal fee will apply.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll cover your damn fee. Just meet me at Happy Pumpkin Farms.”

  “I’ll be there in forty-five.”

  “Make it faster if you can.” He hung up the phone.

  Whatever happened must have been bad if the sheriff was short with me. Sheriff Stevens was always very polite, despite the fact that he only called when he needed something. It probably helped that I was the only magical person around that wanted to work with the authorities. The Witches and Weres liked to keep to themselves for the most part, so that left me as his only option. That meant I could charge a pretty handsome fee for these late-night calls.

  The sheriff hadn’t told me anything about what was going on, so I had no idea how to prepare. Sometimes that was a good thing, but right now I really wished that I had an idea of what I was walking into. Stuffing a few extra herbs and some salt into my bag, I ran to the door. “Gramps, you coming?”

  “Of course, I’m coming. You know I can’t let you go anywhere alone.” He growled it out as he flew towards me. “I want something good to eat when we get home, none of that canned or frozen crap.”

  I opened the clasp on my necklace, and he flew in. “Don’t get too comfortable. I might need you tonight.” Normally if Gramps was riding around in my charm, he just fell asleep. That wouldn’t work tonight based on the tone of sheriff’s voice.

  “I’ll try and remember that as I pretend not to exist.”

  Gramps still resented the fact that he couldn’t just fly around like he used to when I was younger. People had started asking questions about the weird gold light that followed me around in my teens, so Gramps had effectively disappeared, and he was still a little upset about it. “Hey, it’s not like that, Gramps. You know I love you, but I can’t have you flying around and talking to me in front of people. It raises too many questions.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he groused.

  I closed the clasp on my necklace and shut him inside. Hopefully, he’d be good, but I had my doubts. Talking to him in public had already given me a little bit of a reputation around town, but it was better to be known as the lady that talked to herself than for everyone to know what I really was.

  With Gramps in place and my bag fully stocked I headed out the back door. Locking up was easy. The shop was already warded against break-ins. There had been a few attempts over the years, but no one wanted to touch it now. Word had spread, and my shop was off limits to thieves. Plus, Herman, who ran the dispensary next door, had a great reputation around town. No one would want to risk his wrath just to get to me.

  My Jeep was waiting for me in my spot behind the store. The forest green beast had a black top and thirty-four-inch tires. I spent a lot of time out in nature, and the Jeep helped me get everywhere I needed to go. I tossed my bag on the passenger seat and listened to the rumble as my beast came to life. I never liked driving when I had a car, but now that I had a Jeep I loved driving, even if it was just around town.

  I was still forty minutes away from the farm, and I wondered just what had happened there. I loved Happy Pumpkin Farms and Mr. Sizenberg. I had a few of his pumpkins for sale in my store and more than a few I was using for decorations. His pumpkins were a little more expensive, but they were always the best. I’d never purchased a bad one. I hoped that he was ok, our city wouldn’t be the same without him.

  <<<>>>

  When I got to the farm, Sheriff Stevens’ car was parked at the entrance. He still had the flashing lights on top his car going, which was a little disorienting in the dark. I wondered if that was something cops just got used to. I pulled my Jeep off to the side and left it running. I turned off the main headlights but kept the fog lights on. They cast a low, wide light over the area that wasn’t as harsh as my regular
headlights.

  He quickly got out of his car and came to see me. All it took was a quick glance to see that he was rattled and that he had someone in the back of his car. My first thought immediately went to Mr. Sizenberg, and I could only wonder if he was ok. The kid in the back of the car didn’t look like a killer, but most killers didn’t. The kid did look scared, or maybe terrified was a little closer to the truth.

  Sheriff Stevens extended his hand to me as he approached. He was a good-looking man, a little too old for me maybe, but that didn’t stop him from being a looker. If I’d been born twenty years earlier, he probably would have been my type. Still, his trim waistline and the way his arm muscles moved under his tight-fitting uniform most likely got more than a few tongues at the beauty salon wagging when he walked through town.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s a doozy.”

  I wasn’t sure who still used words like 'doozy.' Obviously, Sheriff Stevens didn’t have a problem with it, but outside of watching black and white shows on late night tv, I’d never heard another soul utter the phrase.

  “No problem Sheriff, it sounded like you really needed my help.”

  “I do at that.” He reached up and rubbed a hand across a day’s worth of stubble that had gathered on his chin before continuing. “I’m not sure what to make of this kid’s story. If he hadn’t already admitted to breaking the law, I’d think he was full of crap, but a confession goes a long way towards making your story sound at least slightly plausible.”

  The anxious look I saw in the kid's eyes didn’t tell me he was scared of being arrested. This kid was scared of something else. “And just what exactly did he confess to?”

  “He said that he and two of his friends came out here to smash some of Mr. Sizenberg’s pumpkins. Something about his friend feeling slighted about being cut off the other day.”

  “So where are his buddies?”

  “That’s the thing. I found the kid at their truck panicked and out of control. He started babbling about them being killed. I asked him if Mr. Sizenberg had shot at them for destroying his property and he started spouting off some gibberish about a scarecrow doing it. Can you believe that rubbish?”

  Could I believe that a scarecrow came to life and killed two of this kid’s friends? It was out there, even for me, and everything that I had seen. Was it possible? If magic was in play then just about anything was possible. I started going over what I knew about animating objects and realized that I didn’t know much. Much of my knowledge and magic revolved around animals and plants. Sure, I could do other things, maybe not as much as a full-blooded witch, but I could hold my ground in a fight with one.

  All I needed to do now was talk to the kid. I had a feeling that would go a lot easier if Sheriff Stevens wasn’t around. “Have you spoken with Mr. Sizenberg yet?”

  “Haven’t had the chance. Every time I try and drive onto the property the kid starts screaming until I back up.”

  “Why don’t you go and do that, and leave him here with me for a while.”

  The sheriff rubbed his chin again as if he were trying to decide what to do. He clearly needed my help, but he didn’t want to leave the kid alone with me in case it messed up his case. Finally, he looked me over and realized that he didn’t have much of a choice. “Ok, but I need you to promise me that he stays in the car. Also, if we go to court, this little conversation between the two of you never happened.”

  “You got it, Sheriff.”

  He tossed me the keys to his car and started walking up towards the farmhouse. The lights were on which was odd at this time of night, but out here in the dark countryside, the sheriff’s lights had probably drawn a lot of attention. The good people that lived out here wouldn’t be gathered out front to watch, but they would be gossiping about it in the morning.

  With the sheriff out of the picture, I moved towards the car. That seemed to make the kid in the back a little more agitated. I got it, the man you thought was going to protect you just tossed the keys to some woman that was about your same age and walked away. Not exactly how it was supposed to go. That and I clearly wasn’t law enforcement. It might have been the leather pants that gave it away, but if that wasn’t enough, I was sure the pink streaks in my hair didn’t add to my sense of overall authority. They looked hot though and that was what counted.

  I walked up to the police cruiser slowly. My initial thought was to hop in the front and talk to him through the bars. I didn’t think that would win me any points though, and since I wasn’t a cop, maybe I should try something a little more friendly. I moved towards the rear door and placed the key in the lock. The kid scrambled away from the door as if he thought I was about to pull him out of the car and introduce him to Mr. Mayhem. Yeah, maybe I’d binged three seasons of Sons of Anarchy over the weekend, so what.

  “You’re all in this together, I know it!” he shouted as he pressed himself tightly against the other door.

  Making sure to open the car door slowly so as not to spook him further I leaned down so he could see my face. “All in what together?”

  “You’re that witch from town, the one with the bookstore. You probably helped him make that thing that killed my friends.”

  “I do run a bookstore, but I’m not a witch.” I hated when people called me that. “I also happen to assist the sheriff’s department when they need help with things that are a little out of the ordinary, but now I’m just getting ahead of myself.” I backed up a little and squatted down, so he knew I wasn’t going to try and pull him out of the car. “My name’s Zoey.”

  The kid looked at me and blinked a couple of times as if he was trying to process what was happening. “So you’re not here to give me back to that thing.”

  “Nope. I’m not into feeding people to scarecrows, but I would like to hear more about it.”

  The kid seemed to calm down a little. “I’m Jayce.”

  Now that his initial shock was wearing off he looked me over. It was one of those glances that told me he was trying to evaluate if I was hot enough to try and get with. I hated when guys did that, but in this case checking me out seemed to calm him down just a bit, so I let it slide. He seemed to have come to the decision that he liked what he saw because his smile widened and his eyes got flirty. I was used to that from the college crowd, but I knew exactly how to shut him down.

  “Now tell me what happened.” Nothing like bringing up the recent deaths of two of your friends to throw a little ice water on your mojo.

  That seemed to have snapped him out of his ‘come hither to do naughty things with my look,’ which was exactly what I was hoping for. At least his libido cooled down when he had to think of his friends that may or may not be dead. He went into the full story of their night. I’d have to compare what he told me with what he told the sheriff later. Guys had this annoying habit of embellishing their stories around me. Like they thought it made them more attractive or something. Trust me guys, every girl knows that when you say you caught a fish, it was never really the size you promised us it was.

  After he finished his story, I asked if I could see his ankle. That resulted in a funny bit of maneuvering as Jayce tried to turn towards me in the back of the car with his hands still cuffed behind him. After watching him wiggle around for a minute or so, I let out a little laugh.

  “What?” he asked sounding a little put out.

  “How about you make me a promise, Jayce?”

  “Sure, whatever you want.” That dreamy, come give me a kiss, the look was back in his eyes.

  Did he really think that a few looks were going to get me to fall into bed with him? Did all the girls he met on campus have such little respect for themselves, or did they just get annoyed like I did? I mean, what was with college guys, anyway? Those lines and dreamy eyes didn’t ever really work, did they? I guess maybe they were just trying to play the law of averages until someone took the bait.

  “I’m going to come and open that othe
r door, and then I’m going to cuff those hands in front of you. All I need you to do is promise me that you won’t run away.”

  “Like I want to be out there in the dark with that thing.” He started to shuffle back around so that he was sitting normally again.

  I closed the door and moved around the squad car. In reality, it didn’t matter if he tried to run, I could stop him. Also, I was sure the sheriff already had all his information. That would make him easy to track down. Really, it came down to me not wanting to do things the hard way. It was too late for that, and despite my interest in what was going on here, I needed sleep. I had a business to run after all.

  Jayce climbed out of the car with a little help from yours truly. I used the sheriff’s keys to unlock one of the cuffs, and then Jayce held out his wrist so I could cuff him again. His eyes danced with the imagination as only a young man’s can. I was sure he was about to say something stupid like “Not your first time with handcuffs.” Or something equally gross, but he managed to restrain himself. Which was good, because strictly speaking, I’d already heard his story and I could do this next part with him passed out if I had to.

  I helped him ease back into the car and then knelt down in front of him. “Let’s see that ankle.”

  He lifted up his foot and held his leg out for me. I rested it on my knee and rolled up the bottom of his jeans. His ankle was bruised and cut in a few places. It almost looked like he had been shackled somehow. I bit back the retort of it’s not your first time in cuffs at the last moment remembering that he hadn’t actually said that to me. That particular conversation had only taken place in my head.

  I poked at his ankle a few times, earning a few painful grunts from Jayce. “Hey, that hurts.”

  Ignoring him, I pulled out my phone to snap some pictures. “I’m sure a big strong guy like you can handle it.” I hoped that came off with more of a shaming vibe than a flirty one. You just never knew how some people were going to take things.