by Lucy May
Once home, I tidied up, just in case Gabriel would be coming back home with me. I was a little nervous and anxious at the same time. Gabriel would be in grandma’s house. Well, my house, but if my mom was right and her spirit was hanging out, I didn’t need a witness.
I dusted off the small coffee table, stopping to stare down at the tapes. Would they confirm my suspicions or exonerate my mother and Lila?
Chapter 10
The doorbell rang in the middle of my cleaning frenzy. I knew I was cleaning because I was stressed. It helped me think. I needed to think about what to do. What would I do if I discovered something incriminating on those tapes.
I blocked it out and went to the door, hoping it wasn’t that awful man George.
“Mom,” I said, opening the door. “What brings you here?”
“We need to talk. We didn’t end things on a good note yesterday.”
“You’re right. You surprised me.”
She walked into the living room, glanced at the box of video tapes, but didn’t ask about them. I didn’t know what I would have said if she had.
“I know you have a date tonight, so I won’t keep you,” she started.
“How do you know that? How does everyone always know where I am or what I’m going to be doing? It’s downright weird,” I muttered.
She didn’t answer. Only smiled. She sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “Sit.”
I plopped down on the couch and waited.
“Have you had time to think about what I told you?” she asked.
I looked down at the run under the table. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know what I believe.”
“I’m glad you’re at least giving it some thought. I’m sure you have some questions. I want you to know you can talk to me. I’m here. Ask me anything.”
I scoffed. “I don’t know what questions to ask. I don’t know if I’m totally on board with the idea of witchcraft.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“What is it like?”
“Well, for starters, we are normal people. Each of us has gifts, some are the same, some are unique. Some of us can write spells while others are far more powerful than others. We avoid dark magic. That is far too dangerous. Doing things that bring us personal gain, like wealth, love or even happiness is frowned upon. Those spells always have a way of backfiring.”
“Like Coral?”
“Yes, like Coral. We had been warned, but we were young and immature.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me about any of this before?”
“Honestly, I wanted to so many times, but your grandmother felt it best you didn’t know. The coven agreed we would not tell the next generation until we were confident you were ready to handle it. We couldn’t have a repeat of Coral’s indiscretion. There is too much temptation when you’re that young and dealing with typical teenage stuff,” she explained.
I leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I believe you,” I mumbled.
“I know.”
I chuckled. “There were so many times I thought I was sick or crazy. I wish you’d have told me.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I often wanted to tell you and teach you the ways, but I couldn’t. I was terrified our secret would be exposed. It was too much of a risk.”
“How come it was too much of a risk for my generation and not yours?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Because my generation was careless. We put everything in jeopardy. We had to go underground. It was the only way to protect our families.”
“I get it. I think. Sometimes, I get what I guess are feelings. Like I can sense when something is going to happen. I can’t know exactly what it is, but I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,” I said, realizing I sounded crazy.
My mom was smiling and nodding. “The gift of premonition. I’ve always told you to listen to your instinct. That is your instinct.”
“What about a tingling in my hands?”
“It’s all part of your gift. I would love to teach you more about it and help you learn how to use those gifts. I know I’m a little late, but I want you to realize this is a gift and not a curse.”
I wasn’t so sure I was ready to start using the so-called gifts, but it was a relief to know there was an explanation for the weird feelings and happenings I had experienced occasionally. As much as my practical brain told me my mother’s fantastical tale was a complete fabrication, I couldn’t. Deep down I knew it was true. I had always suspected I was different than other people and now there was an explanation. A far-fetched one, but it was something to hold onto.
“I’ll have to think about that, for now let’s just accept it for what it is and worry about teaching me later. Mom, I need to ask you about the men who were in town. The supernatural investigators.”
“What about them?”
“The man who died, did you know him?”
Her lack of an immediate denial worried me. “I didn’t know him. I knew of him.”
“Did you speak with him at all?”
“Not really, not more than I would talk to another visitor to town,” she said, hedging in a way that made me even more nervous.
“But you talked with him and his partner George Cannon?”
She wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes traveled around the room. I knew her too well. She was choosing her words carefully. “Yes, I talked to them both.”
“About?”
A dainty shrug. “This and that. They spoke to many people in town.”
“Why, Mom? Please, tell me why those men thought Lemon Bliss of all places would be somewhere worth visiting. Why did they spend money and resources to conduct an investigation if they didn’t think there was something to find?”
“I can’t speak for them.”
I growled in frustration and jumped off the couch. “You know something. You dragged me into this! I deserve to know what’s going on!”
“Dear, it’s all being handled. There is nothing for you to worry about.”
I spun around, staring at her with my mouth hanging open. “Oh, that totally settles it. I won’t worry about it because you have it handled. I got called down here because the sheriff thinks I know something about a man dying in a factory that has my name on the deed. I could be facing all kinds of criminal charges for neglect or worse—murder!”
My mom waved a hand through the air, her charm bracelets tinkling with the movement. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know that only makes me worry more. I received a phone call earlier, from the dead guy’s partner. He made some threats. He also told me he has proof you and Lila have been visiting the factory pretty often. Is that true?”
“What kind of proof?”
“That wasn’t the question, Mom!”
“People make threats all the time. People always assume they know something,” she casually responded.
Nothing ever got her riled up. She was cool as a cucumber.
“Why is there such a fascination with that old factory?”
Her answer shocked me. “It’s where the coven used to meet. For decades, the factory was the meeting place for our coven. We would practice our magic in the factory, away from the prying eyes of the public. My grandmother and mother designated the factory a safe place for witches to use their magic. It was our haven of sorts,” she said with a wistful sigh.
I stared at her, stunned. It was true. She admitted to being in the factory, but was it recent, or had she been referring to years past?
I cleared my throat. “Mom, have you been going there? You and Lila and the rest of the ladies? Is it still your meeting place?”
She waved another hand through the air, as if she could wipe away the question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you, it was established many, many years ago. There’s a reason your grandmother built that factory there. Before that, the property was where the coven used to meet for centuries. Those were the
good, old days. Our coven has been forced to hide. We can no longer meet so publicly.”
“Why would the supernatural inverstigators be interested in where the coven used to meet?”
“I imagine they were looking for proof of magic. Magic leaves behind evidence, I guess you could call it. The regular person couldn’t see it or feel it, but a witch in touch with her powers would be able to sense it. Those investigators believed their machines could pick up on the trace left behind as well,” she explained.
I slowly nodded my head, understanding more about what had happened. “You didn’t want them to discover the factory and the leftover magic, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Of course not! That would expose us all! If they believed there was something there, more investigators would come. Other witches would learn about the factory and would stomp all over our little town. We can’t risk that kind of exposure! Not all witches practice good magic. There are plenty out there who tap into the dark magic. It could be very dangerous for us and the people who live here. Don’t you see the risk involved?” she stressed.
“I suppose I do, but how did that man die?” I asked point blank, almost afraid of the answer.
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t say or you won’t say?” I asked.
“I can’t,” she said, tersely.
That wasn’t much of an answer and only left me more suspicious. I couldn’t believe my mother would ever harm anyone, but she was very passionate about protecting her secret. My stomach was in knots. If not my mother, could one of the other witches have taken it upon themselves to protect the coven and the history of Lemon Bliss?
She stood in front of me. “Violet, everything will be okay. We have to stick together. The investigator will get bored and realize there is nothing to investigate. He’ll go home, and we’ll be left in peace. Right now, we stick together, answer the sheriff’s questions and say nothing about witches and covens.”
“Are you asking me to lie?”
“Has he asked you if you’re a witch?”
“No.”
“Then, you’re not lying. There’s lying and there’s not telling the whole truth. Harold doesn’t need to worry about the witches. We aren’t doing anything that concerns him. Everything is fine,” she assured me again.
I nodded my head, knowing nothing was fine. My phone chirped, alerting me to a text. I quickly read it.
“I have to go, Mom. I’m meeting Gabriel tonight.”
She smiled, “Yes, yes. You go. Have fun and don’t worry about all this other stuff. It will work itself out.”
I bit back the urge to laugh. It would work itself out all right, but it could very well end up with someone sitting in a prison cell. It wasn’t long before my mind leapt back to the fact the main suspects were witches. Would they use a spell to get out of prison? Could they charm their way out of a murder rap by casting a spell on their accusers?
My head was spinning with the many possibilities. I really needed to brush up on witchcraft, and figure out what was real and what was make believe.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll want to hear all about your date!” She smiled as she headed for the door.
I stared at her, my brow furrowed in disbelief. How could she be so calm and casual? The more I learned, the more I believed my mother was involved with the death. That wasn’t a good feeling to have. Why wouldn’t my gift work now? If only it could give me a premonition telling me everything was okay and I wasn’t surrounded by a town full of murderers.
Clearly, it didn’t work on demand. Or at least I didn’t know how to use it on demand. If this all went away and life went back to normal, I would ask my mom if there was a way to use the premonition thing when I needed it.
I laughed aloud into the room. I had gone from being a non-believer to a practicing witch in the span of twenty-four hours. Lemon Bliss was making me a crazy woman. I could’ve used some of my grandmother’s lemon tea to take the edge off.
Chapter 11
I walked into the Crooked Coffee and looked for Gabriel. He was seated at our table. I had dubbed it our table since it is where we’d had coffee together the last time. I much preferred sharing a table with him than thinking about witches and murder.
“Hi,” I said, slipping into the chair across from him.
“I was worried you might stand me up.”
“No. Definitely not. My mom stopped by.”
He arched a brow. “How did it go?”
I let out a long sigh. “Better than before, I guess. Things are still a little tense, but we’ll work through it.”
“Good. Do you know what you want?”
“I think I’ll have a soup and salad. What about you?”
He laughed. “I’m starving. I am going to get one of their giant sandwiches.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
We stood and walked to the counter to place our order. The sandwiches were made fresh, but the salads were the prepackaged kind and the soup I suspected came from one of those big industrial size cans. I didn’t mind. As we ordered, I realized just how hungry I was.
We chatted about his job while we waited, and once again, I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. It was as if I had known him for years rather than just a couple of days. When our number was called, I jumped up to grab our tray.
“What’d your Mom have to say?” he asked, after he had eaten about a quarter of his sandwich.
“Not a lot.” I took a deep breath, a little unsure if I should tell him everything my mom had said, but I figured he knew about the witches, so that would be safe. “She did tell me the factory was an old gathering spot for witches.”
“Really? I guess that explains why the supernatural guys were in there.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you, George Cannon called me today.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s one of the supernatural investigators. He was making some pretty serious accusations and I think he was trying to intimidate me.”
Gabriel stopped, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“Not like that. At least I don’t think so. He’s pretty upset over his friend’s death. He’s convinced my mom is involved somehow. I think he actually insinuated she committed murder,” I whispered.
His eyes went big. “Wow.”
I chuckled, wiping my mouth. “I don’t know. I think she may be involved in some way. I can’t imagine her hurting anyone, but I think she and her friends know more than they’re letting on. Maybe it was an accident?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know. Your mom doesn’t seem the type.”
I didn’t want to tell him everything, including the part about me and my mother being witches. Not just yet. It was more than enough for me to get used to the crazy idea. For now, it was good enough that he knew about his aunt.
“What if they had something to do with it?” I asked in a low voice.
Gabriel didn’t get a chance to answer. Harold grabbed a chair and pulled it up to our little table. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said.
I stared at him in disbelief. Did the people in this town have no manners? No idea of personal space or when it was appropriate to sit down at another person’s table?
“What’s up, Sheriff?”
“Call me Harold. Everyone calls me Harold. Only strangers call me Sheriff, and since you are a local and living here, you can call me Harold as well.”
“I’m not living here,” I reminded him.
Gabriel grinned. “She’s only staying here a couple of days, Harold.”
It was sarcasm. Obviously, everyone had grown tired of my declarations and now it was a bit of a joke.
“Why were you looking for me?” I asked.
He leaned back in his chair. “I wanted to update you on the investigation. I know you’re chomping at the bit to get out of here,” he winked at Gabriel.
I rolled my eyes. “And?”
“Well, I’m about ready t
o wrap it up. I need to interview a couple more people, but I don’t think you’ll need to be here more than another day or two. I’m leaning towards foul play, but the list of suspects is pretty long. I’ve ruled you out, but unfortunately, your Mom is still at the top of the list.”
I let out a long sigh and rubbed my brow where I could feel a tension headache coming on. “Why though? What makes you believe she is a suspect?”
“She has access to the building, and I know your mother pretty well. I know she’s hiding something from me.”
“That doesn’t make her a murderer,” I pointed out.
“No, it doesn’t, but it might make her an accomplice.” Harold shrugged a shoulder and stared at me intently. “Has she said anything to you? Mentioned why she would be visiting the factory?”
I looked at Gabriel, silently asking if I should reveal what I knew. He gave a very slight shake of his head.
“No.”
“You don’t sound like you’re too sure about that.”
“I don’t know anything that could help you. I know my mother and I don’t believe she would ever be involved in any type of crime. I think you know that as well,” I said in a haughty tone.
That seemed to hit home. “I thought I knew her,” he mumbled.
“Sorry, Harold, I don’t think Violet or I can help you, tonight,” Gabriel spoke up.
Harold looked at him before nodding his head. “Fine, I’ll let you two enjoy your dinner. Violet, I know it’s an imposition, but if you could stick around a couple more days that’d be great. Your Mom may need your support,” he added.
“It’s almost the weekend, the busiest time of the week at my shop,” I pointed out.
“Sorry about that, but I’m sure you’ve got someone to handle things for you, right?”
The way it was said made it quite clear that he didn’t care whether I did or didn’t. He wanted me here and that was that.
“Yeah, I guess I do. But, if you can’t give me anything by Saturday, Harold, I will leave. If you think there is something I need to answer for, or my mother needs to answer for, you’ll have to speak to my lawyer.”
