Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery

by Bailey Cates

  I nodded. Probably the only part of Drayton Hills that was still fully maintained.

  A long scraping noise issued from inside the mausoleum. Eleven people stopped breathing. We tiptoed closer until we could see the faint strip of vertical light that shone from the partially open door.

  We’d found Nel Sandstrom.

  Heinrich gestured for everyone to retrace their footsteps. We gathered at the edge of the clearing for a quick, whispered huddle.

  “Where’s the poppet?” Mimsey breathed. Jaida handed it to her. She held it up for everyone to see. Andersen put out his hand, and she gave it to him. “Okay,” she said. “First we’ll set the protective circle around the burial chamber as quietly as we can.”

  “And then you maintain it while we go inside,” Andersen said.

  “No. The quarters will be too tight for us all to work,” Victor said, peering over his shoulder at the poppet. “We have to call her out.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mimsey said. “That’s just like a man. ‘Call her out.’ You don’t have to call her out for a binding spell, boys. Just bind her using the poppet. It’s not high noon at the OK Corral.”

  But it wasn’t far from that. High midnight at the Drayton mausoleum.

  “You’re close enough to direct the spell, and you don’t have any doubt it’s Nel in there, do you?”

  We all shook our heads.

  I checked my watch. “It’s already eleven thirty. We don’t have time to argue. Cast the circle.”

  Jaida handed Bianca four white candles. She lit one and placed it on top of a nearby stone pillar. I saw Mimsey mouthing words and knew she was appealing to the element of air and the archangel of the east, Raphael. Jaida took out a two-pound bag of salt she must have lifted from the Honeybee kitchen.

  “You hauled that all the way in here?” I asked.

  “Good thing I did,” she said. “We’ll need it for a space this large.” Cookie and I stood with the druids, watching as Bianca and Mimsey moved deosil around the clearing to the south. There they lit another candle and placed it on top of a large rock. Jaida and Lucy tiptoed behind them with the salt, stopping at each compass point as they lit another candle.

  The salt created a white line on the ground. The four women joined us again at the eastern edge of the clearing, closing the circle around us all. Mimsey and Jaida finished by inscribing a protective dome above us—Mimsey with two sweeping gestures of her arms and Jaida with an honest-to-goddess wand.

  The men moved toward the marble steps leading into the mausoleum, on the south side of the structure. We all made our way to where we could see them. Lucy took hold of one of my hands and Bianca took the other one. Cookie took Bianca’s hand, then Jaida and Mimsey linked with her. I felt the power surge among us as Mimsey and Lucy joined hands to complete the circuit.

  The druids had reached the bottom step when Andersen tripped. His cry lashed through the humid night as the poppet flew out of his hand and he fell sprawling to the ground. Lucy’s hand gripped mine so tightly I thought she’d fracture my fingers. Beside me Bianca tensed in fear and readiness. The sudden silence after Andersen’s outburst was broken by subtle rustling in the undergrowth around the clearing. A black snake, long and ropy, slid out of the bushes. It stopped at the line of white salt, watching us.

  I licked my lips and willed myself to stop shaking.

  It didn’t work.

  The partially open door of the mausoleum swung all the way open. Nel strode out onto the marble landing carrying a small flaming torch. She wore a long black cloak with a hood—pretty standard witch garb for outdoor work, really. The hood was thrown back to reveal her long gray hair falling unfettered to her waist. I blinked as the tendrils seemed to move of their own accord, curling and flexing against the dark fabric. Her face was and yet was not Nel’s. Easily recognizable, but so…altered. Her wrinkles, so seemingly friendly before, carved deeply into her flesh now. Her cheekbones and chin appeared elongated, and her eyes—oh, her eyes! They blazed with hatred—and they were focused on mine.

  “You!” She pointed at me. As if there was a question about who she was talking to. “You think you can defeat me twice? You cannot. This time I’m ready. I didn’t know how strong you were before.”

  As Andersen scrambled to his feet, Steve lunged for the poppet lying on the ground. It had fallen just inside the salt circle. Bending, he closed his fingers around it. He spun on his heel and tossed it to his father.

  “But are you ready for them, too?” I asked.

  Victor snapped his fingers at Andersen. The younger druid had lost his glasses when he fell, and now blinked myopically at the other men.

  “Cord!” Victor barked.

  Andersen nodded vigorously, reached into a pocket, and withdrew a length of fine silver chain. Victor grabbed it and handed it to Heinrich, who began winding it around the woolen figurine.

  “No!” Nel screamed and sketched a symbol in the air.

  “Concentrate, girls,” Mimsey said. The spellbook club bowed our heads. I centered my attention on protecting ourselves and the druids, silently calling on the elements all around us. At the periphery of my consciousness I felt a presence join us. Without ever having met him, I knew it was Lawrence Eastmore, adding a little extra oomph to the proceedings from the other side of the veil. I had to wonder whether his son would join us, too. Or if he’d join Nel.

  “By air and fire,” the Dragohs chanted in one voice.

  I looked up.

  “Water and earth: We bind you.”

  Heinrich nodded to the spellbook club. “By six, and”—he looked at Steve, hesitated, then said—“and by five: We bind you.”

  Nel continued to draw figures in the air, muttering in a language I didn’t recognize. Her torch had fallen to the ground. The flame sputtered and went out.

  Brandon produced a small iron bowl, and set it on the ground. Heinrich continued to wind the chain around the poppet. I could hear the ragged breathing of the other ladies, but then the rustling around the clearing grew louder. Snakes began pouring toward us. I quelled my panic, throwing as much power as I could to maintaining the protection of the circle. The serpents slowed, then stopped outside the line of salt as the first one had.

  Motion above alerted me that not all the snakes were on the ground. They were looping down from the trees above us. But that part of the circle held as well, and along with my awareness of the creepy crawlies up there I sensed something else.

  Souls. Souls of the dead, come to watch the show.

  A whiff of gardenia reached my nose, and despite everything, I smiled.

  “By sun and moon,” the druids chanted, “stars and sea: We bind you.”

  Nonsense syllables tumbled from Nel’s lips. Her voice grew weaker as Heinrich finished wrapping the figure in his hand. Her hands went to her head. But still she spoke, still she glared at me.

  I felt my eyes go wide as the candle flames at the compass points winked out: one, two, three, four. The snakes slithered back and forth along the salt line.

  Heinrich put the poppet in the iron bowl. Without my noticing, Victor had removed the dagger from his ankle sheath. He bent over the bowl, ready to plunge it into the poppet.

  “No!” I shouted. “No killing!”

  Victor paused. Steve reached for the long-handled lighter Mimsey used to light the candles around the circle and held it up for me to see. I nodded. Burning magic I understood. The intention would be to burn away Nel’s power, not Nel herself. Too bad the doll was made of wool, though. That was going to smell pretty awful, and frankly I was ready to smell a whole lot more sugar and spice and a whole lot less burning hair.

  Victor stepped forward with his knife again, and I realized he’d never intended to impale the figure in the bowl. He cut his finger and allowed a drop of blood to drip into the bowl.

  Beside me, Bianca began to shudder.

  “It’s all right,” I whispered, though in truth I was pretty grossed out, too.

&nb
sp; Steve stooped to light the figure in the bowl.

  “By sky and lava, beyond and within: We bind you.”

  The lighter went out. Steve flicked it again. The flame steadied.

  “We bind your intent. We bind your darkness.”

  Victor lifted his knife again.

  “We bind your power,” they chanted. “We bind you. We bind your power. We bind your darkness.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing with everything I had. In my mind’s eye, I could see the iron bowl, the poppet, the lighter. The sweet smell of gardenia increased, made my head swim. Something began to glow in the clearing, but I ignored it, instead concentrating on the fire burning away Nel’s evil intentions, hoping that anything I could do as a catalyst would help the others. Then a flash of bright light and a scream made me open my eyes.

  The poppet burned, bright flames licking up from the bowl. Nel slumped on the steps of the burial chamber, looking disoriented. And everyone was staring at me.

  I realized I wasn’t holding Lucy and Jaida’s hands anymore. Steve’s jacket had slipped to the ground. All the snakes had vanished from the edges of the clearing and the tree limbs above. And the light, the light in the clearing, was fading.

  I looked around. “Nonna?”

  Mimsey shook her head, staring at my dress. I looked down. It was glowing.

  No. It wasn’t.

  I was.

  It faded so quickly I wondered if I’d really seen it. Because how could I, you know, glow? No, I had to have imagined it, all caught up in the magic of the moment.

  Literally.

  The poppet suddenly went out, and the clearing became dark except for the moonlight now streaming from straight overhead. A stunned silence fell over the group; then Jaida clicked the flashlight on. Heinrich seemed to shake himself. He and Steve went to Nel and helped her sit up.

  “She’s all right, but we were successful in stripping her power,” Steve said. “Katie, can you bring my jacket?”

  Jaida handed me the light. I picked up the jacket from the ground and carried it to him. Nel looked up at me wearily, and I opened my mouth to speak. But then Steve reached for his coat, and I saw something in the beam of the flashlight that made my jaw snap shut again.

  On the inside of his upper arm, small and inflamed but recognizable: a new tattoo of a wreath with six spokes radiating from the center.

  He saw me staring and met my eyes. “It’s my place, Katie.”

  Clap. Clap.

  I spun toward the sound at the edge of the clearing, squinting into the shadows.

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  The thick undergrowth rustled. Druids and witches alike tensed. Steve and his father both raised their arms in a warding gesture.

  Franklin Taite’s pale round face seemed to float out of the darkness. He walked toward us, revealing the dark clothing that covered him from head to toe like some kind of SWAT commando uniform.

  He continued to applaud slowly. “Bravo!” He stopped outside the salt circle and raised one eyebrow.

  Chapter 31

  “Who are you?” Victor Powers rumbled.

  Taite looked at me.

  I sighed. “Everyone, meet Detective Franklin Taite. He’s a witch-hunter. Detective Taite, meet…everyone.”

  “Oh, I know you all by now, by reputation if not in person.” He peered at Nel blinking with bleary eyes from the steps of the burial chamber. Steve closed his hand around one of her wrists, but she didn’t seem inclined to run. “And I’m not just a witch-hunter, Ms. Lightfoot. I hunt black magic of all kinds.”

  I remembered the word Lucy had used: discerning. So did that mean Detective Taite was on our side?

  “What are you going to do?” Jaida asked. “Arrest us for trespassing in the cemetery? Because nothing else we’ve done here is illegal.”

  His attention turned to her. “Ah. Even the lawyer is a witch. Actually, I’m not in the least interested in punishing you. Um, mind if I come in?” He gestured at the salt at his feet. “I have a murderer to arrest.”

  Mimsey clasped her hands. “Excellent. Lucy? Shall we?”

  Together they circled the clearing widdershins, sweeping aside the salt with a tree branch and remembering to thank the elements and archangels as they gathered the cold candles along the way. As they worked, Franklin Taite kept staring at me.

  “Will you stop that?” I asked. “You make me feel like a bug under a microscope.”

  “Oh, but you fascinate me. I knew this group was involved with Lawrence Eastmore’s murder somehow, and you in particular, but I had no idea what you were.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I scoffed.

  “No, I knew you were a witch. Just not what type.”

  I shrugged. “Hedgewitchery is pretty tame. We don’t garner the attention of the police much.”

  His face went slack for a moment, and then he laughed. “Oh, my. You don’t know?” He looked around at the others. “None of you know what she is?”

  Lucy finished opening the circle and gestured Taite into the clearing. “She’s a catalyst.” There was pride in her voice.

  “Oh, I bet she is, yes indeed,” he said without moving. “But I’m talking about the fact that your niece is a candela. A lightwitch.”

  “Detective Taite, of course I’m a light witch. I don’t have any desire to practice dark magic.”

  “Well, that’s good, because you can’t practice dark magic. You are incapable of it.”

  Cookie’s head tipped to the side. Brandon put his arm around her, but she was much more interested in what the good detective was saying than in her new boyfriend’s attentions. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Heinrich slowly nodding. I glanced over at him and was disconcerted to see deep respect on his face.

  “How could you be unaware of your calling?” Taite stepped into the circle.

  “Calling?” Surely I’d know if I had a calling by now.

  “You are here to battle black magic. As a candela you can never be tempted by the darkness, only work for the good. A tricky business, that, given all the gray magic out there. But your power comes from the whitest of magic. And my dear, you do indeed seem to possess a great deal of it.”

  Oh, brother. This guy was really something. At least he didn’t want to burn us at the stake or something equally melodramatic.

  Still, all eyes turned toward me as if he weren’t talking nonsense. I turned my palms up. “I’m just glad we stopped the summoning of Zesh.”

  Detective Taite froze. “Zesh?” He strode the last few steps to Nel. “You were going to summon Zesh? That’s why you killed Eastmore?”

  “For the Spell of Necretius,” I explained.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened if you’d been successful?” he demanded, inches from her face. “To you? To everyone?”

  “I would have proved that I’m powerful enough to be a Dragoh,” she replied, glaring at me again. “I would have broken the patriarchal ranks and taken my rightful inheritance as a member of the society.” She distributed a sneer among the druids. “I’m more powerful than any of you individually. More powerful than my father, even. When he told me about the society, I mocked the idea that you wouldn’t let me in. At first. But he was convinced it could never happen. I was determined to prove him wrong.”

  Andersen, cowed after almost losing the poppet, had found his glasses and put them back on. Now he moved to the steps and leaned in beside Taite. Nel flinched. He said, “You killed my friend because you wanted to prove you were good enough to be a Dragoh? You would have risked the summoning spell not because you actually wanted to summon the spirit, but because you wanted to prove something?”

  She nodded, uncertainty crossing her features for the first time.

  His hand drew back as if to strike her, but Taite caught it. “You stripped her power,” the detective said. “Secular justice is my department. Back off.”

  Taite pulled what looked like an oversized plastic zip tie out of his pocket and gestured
Nel to her feet. “You are under arrest for the murder of Lawrence Eastmore. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” As he turned her around I saw a flash.

  “Knife!” I yelled.

  He dodged as she feinted right, but the blade she had pulled from the wide sleeve of her cloak was in her left hand. He caught her wrist, and the knife dropped to the stone below with a metallic clang. His eyes bored into hers. “Take the cloak off.”

  Nel was tired, and the battle of wills was short. With a sigh, she unclasped the robe and let it fall to the ground. I’d been afraid she might be au naturel underneath, but she wore the same red caftan she’d worn at the gallery. Taite continued with her Miranda rights as he cuffed her. She didn’t struggle again, and when he asked if she understood she said she did. He began to march her toward the path that led from the northern entrance.

  “Detective?” I asked. He paused. Turned. “Did you follow us here?”

  He shook his head. “I took over the stakeout on this one, after she’d already arrived. We’ve had eyes on her all along.”

  I gaped. “You always knew she was the killer?”

  “Not at all. But she’s been in this since the beginning,” he said. “First at the scene in Johnson Square, and then hanging around your bakery, and finally working there. Her background check turned out a little iffy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I grumbled. “Greer Eastmore pretended to be her former employer. He fooled me, all right.”

  Taite’s eyebrows arched. “Is that why you called him?”

  Curious eyes turned my way, and I nodded, relieved to have an explanation.

  Taite continued. “Then yesterday we matched her prints, which were in the system from decades back when she applied to be a substitute teacher, to some we found in Lawrence Eastmore’s home.”

  Hard evidence that she’d murdered Dr. Eastmore. My attention returned to something Taite had said. “Wait. Nel, you were in Johnson Square?”

  She lifted her chin in one last show of defiance. “I went back to Lawrence’s the night after I’d hit him. I needed one more book, to make sure no one could create a counterspell.”