by Iris Kincaid
*****
Fiona lived quite a way inland. Her house was just yards away from a large, cool pine forest. Her house was a dark, somber gray, decidedly in contrast to homeowners who painted their colorful homes as if to keep the tourists in a good mood.
As Margo strode up the walkway with determination, the door opened, and there stood an ominously suspicious Fiona. She examined Margo from head to toe.
“Good. I was worried this was going to be a more memorable encounter.”
“What . . . what do you mean?”
“I thought Lilith might have taken possession of your body and come to pay me a call.”
Margo could not have been more taken aback. “She can do that?” she practically shouted at Fiona.
“I assume her spirit still retains some of its former strengths. Though I see you’ve inherited some portion. Well, come in. You’ve interrupted my coffee.”
Margo breathed a sigh of relief. Coffee was normal, right? Maybe Fiona was more normal than she’d been led to believe. She followed her into the dark house. With closed curtains, Margo could hardly make out the outline of the furniture. She stumbled over a foot rest.
Fiona sighed, exasperated, and the living room lights all turned on at once. “My sight is keen without the light, but clearly, your talents are limited. Lilith could certainly do better for a host body, but then, I’m sure she’s already figured that out for herself.”
“Not a lot freaks me out these days, but this whole host body thing is a lot to wrap my head around.”
Fiona was not a woman of patience. “Why are you here?”
“I was hoping you could help me.”
“Do I look like a scout leader?”
“You look like the most powerful witch in Oyster Cove,” Margo said, hoping to appeal to Fiona’s ego. “I was sure you would have some special insight.”
“Hmphh! Into what?”
“You were at Russell Knox’s tapas restaurant the night that Julian Meeks was poisoned.”
“Ah, yes. That was an exciting evening, wasn’t it?”
“Or tragic, depending on how you look at things like that.”
“I find the drama of commoners very entertaining.”
“Even a murder?”
Fiona’s grin was unapologetic. “What could be more entertaining? Hate. Pre-meditation. Anguish. And the extinction of life. I have an appreciation for high drama.”
“I prefer old movies myself. Why were you there that night?”
Fiona tilted her head, determined to be as unhelpful as possible. “I’d heard wonderful things about his pot stickers. Well-deserved praise. Too bad Mr. Knox is headed for a life behind bars.”
“He’s innocent.”
“Yes, he is. But that’s a pretty hard thing to prove.”
Margo was startled. “You know he didn’t do it? Why were you really there that night?”
This was a cat and mouse game that Fiona couldn’t resist. “There was a dark energy swirling over the roof that night. A destiny of death, moving toward fruition. It was not to be missed.”
So there was no turning back. The question had to be asked. “Did you have anything to do with Julian Meeks’s death?”
“What if I did? What if I had just cause to send him to the next world? What do you think you could do about it? And what makes you think you might not suffer the same fate?”
“I just want to get an innocent man out of jail.”
“His suffering is of no consequence to me. I practice the dark arts as I see fit, and I answer to no one. You would be well advised to remember that. Has anyone suffered at my hands recently? That’s a real possibility, isn’t it? There’s always someone about who deserves it. Now go. My coffee has gotten cold.”
Just a light touch on the handle of her mug, and hot steam from the drink drifted into the air. Margo was so outmatched, it wasn’t funny. And it wasn’t safe. She fairly sprinted out of the house into the fresh air with a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
So that was the nightmare version of being a witch. If only Fiona’s ethics were as strong as her powers. If Fiona Skretting was actually behind Julian Meeks’s murder, how could it ever be uncovered or punished through the normal channels? It would never make it to the court system. Margo could only imagine how the police would respond to the accusation. Even Finn, exceptional fellow that he was, was likely to think she had lost her mind. Not that she was positive that Fiona was involved. She just had to acknowledge the depressing possibility that the real killer might never be found.
As luck would have it, the route from Fiona’s house back to the center of town crossed the path of Barcelona restaurant. Sadly, it looked as if his fiancée had finally had to close it down. There was probably nothing of use to be found inside. But no harm in taking a final look.
Margo’s intention was to use her abilities to break the lock. Someone had already beaten her to it. The lock had already been forced open. Vandals? She entered cautiously. The main eating area was dark and empty, but there was light in the hallway and in the kitchen beyond. She followed the lights all the way to Russell’s office. There she found his brother, Walter, searching through the desk drawers.
“What are you doing here?” Margo demanded.
Walter jumped in fright. “Geez . . . you scared the bejeesus out of me. What are you doing here?”
“The door was open. Or should I say opened, and very forcefully. Which brings me back to, what are you doing here?”
“I’m Russell’s brother. It’s my responsibility to make sure that his affairs are in order.”
“As Russell’s brother, your responsibility actually was to make sure that your brother doesn’t get put away for life for a crime that he didn’t commit. But it’s a little too soon to plan on the electric chair in any case. Why would you need to get his affairs in order?”
“You know . . . every business has bills to pay—utilities, landlord. I thought maybe I could take care of that for him.”
“Wouldn’t you need to have access to his business accounts?” Margo wondered skeptically.
“Well, I–I thought if I could find his bills and his business checkbook, then I could make sure his payments are current for him,” Walter said haltingly.
“You’re looking for his checkbook?” Margo asked pointedly.
“That’s right. And may I ask again, what are you doing here?”
“Just returning to the scene of the crime.”
“But you weren’t here that night.”
“But you were. You and Russell don’t get along particularly well. What were you doing here the night that Meeks was poisoned?”
“I wanted to give Russell a piece of my mind. I was ticked off with him because he had been talking to all the relatives about . . .” Walter looked away awkwardly.
“About what?”
“Well, Russell was pretty keen on shutting off Grandpa’s life support, which I had strenuous objections to, you know. It just seemed wrong.”
“And when did it start seeming right? You have medical power of attorney and you’ve scheduled the life-support to be shut off.”
Walter was genuinely surprised that Margo knew so much about his plans. “Did Russell tell you that? I didn’t even think that he knew it was scheduled. Well, he’d better not have any complaints. It’s exactly what he has been saying all along. It was his idea, all this time. I just finally . . . have come to see the sense in it. Grandpa’s either unconscious or he’s suffering. That’s no way to live. It’s the right thing to do.”
“You didn’t think so two weeks ago,” Margo countered.
“I still don’t know what you doing here.”
“Trying to see if there’s anything I can do for Russell.”
“Well, tell him to say a little prayer for Grandpa tomorrow morning. ’Cause he sure won’t be able to be present at the . . . ceremony.”
Tomorrow morning! This was terrible. Russell might still be found innocent in court if th
e case could be made for reasonable doubt. But he would still have lost his inheritance. And his restaurant, possibly, by having it burned to the ground. If not that, he wouldn’t have the money to rebuild his lost customer base due to the scandal. Tomorrow would be the end of his dreams, his hopes, his hard work. Unless there were some way of stopping it.
First, she wasn’t going to let Walter help himself to Russell’s blank checks. “As soon as I step outside, I’m going to call the police and tell them that the restaurant has been broken into by vandals. I suggest you make yourself scarce.”
Walter’s jaw dropped. Margo was a lot more formidable than she first appeared.
*****
The woman at the hospital desk shook her head at Margo sympathetically. “You are a friend of the family?”
“Yes, and Walter said it would be all right if I joined them tomorrow for Mr. Knox’s final goodbyes. But I just wanted to double-check on the time. I sort of remembered five p.m. Can you look that up for me?”
“Sure, let me just pull that up.” The woman went through the motions of getting the information about her computer screen. “It’s nine a.m.”
“Oh, no. That sounds way too early. I’m sure I would’ve remembered it was in the morning. What if the family comes too late? Could you check on the original permission slip that Walter signed just so that there’s no misunderstanding?”
“Yeah, I can get those.”
She stood up and unlocked a tall file cabinet behind her. “Knox. Here it is. Hmm. Yes. Nine a.m. We put the right time in the computer.”
“Isn’t that something. Could I see that please?”
“Sure, here you go.”
The woman returned to her seat and took a phone call. Margo smiled gratefully, turned her back to the woman, and swiftly reduced the original document into a smoldering ash. She laid the manila folder back on the counter, and the woman nodded distractedly as Margo dashed away. She knew that new papers could be filled out, but Walter had mentioned a mandatory ten-day grace period. Just a little reprieve. If only she could make the most of it.
*****
Thus far, Margo had pilfered documents out of Ian Fowler’s business cabinet, destroyed hospital records, and gone medieval on a teenaged brat. While each of these could be justified—hey, the last one was for self-defense—she still couldn’t help but worry that she was skirting a little too close to the dark side. That was definitely not the kind of witch she wanted to be.
“Teach me something nice,” Margo demanded of Delphine. “Not destroying, breaking, or zapping. Teach me something that will make people happy. I don’t want to be a bad witch. I want to know how to do nice things. Teach me something nice.”
“I don’t doubt your goodness, Margo, and you shouldn’t either. There is a “good” way of using everything that you’ve been taught. However, there are a few fun things. . . Severnay.”
The lights and electricity went out.
“That should be an easy one for you with your special talent with electricity. Seterno.”
And the lights popped back on.
“Very handy for when you’re coming home after dark or are carrying an armful of groceries.”
“Or when you’re in bed and remember that you forgot to turn the basement light off,” Margo mused. “Severnay.”
The lights went off again.
“You’re a natural. Electricity was completely under Lilith’s command.”
“Seterno.” And it worked like a charm—lights back on. “I’m a human Clapper.”
“You could probably shut down all the lights of a very large building. Not that there’s much call for that. Oh. I have another one for you.”
There was a vase full of pink flowers on the coffee table in front of them. It was Bette’s doing. She thought it added a cosmopolitan touch to the room. Delphine touched the edge of one of the pink petals.
“Resplenda.”
The flower turned sky-blue, and one by one, the other flowers in the bouquet followed suit. Margo squealed. That’s exactly what she had in mind.
“Or perhaps yellow would match your walls better,” Delphine mused. She touched the petals again, and the bouquet became bright lemon yellow. She was gratified to see Margo’s appreciation. She stood up and walked over to the wall. “On second thought, I don’t think that yellow matches your walls at all. We may have to change the color.” She touched the wall, and its soft moss green was quickly transformed to a deep burgundy. Margo was dazzled. It was like being in a whole new house.
“Yes, please. That’s what I want to know how to do. But you said the same word each time, even though it made different colors happen. How did you do that?”
“You only have to keep the desired color in your mind. Imagine it. Love the color. And it will pour out of you.”
As Delphine watched Margo’s delight with the new lesson, she was reminded that she and all the other witches had been taught their first magic lessons when they were children. Changing the colors of objects was much like commoner children being absorbed in their coloring books. Animating their little dolls and having them prance around the room were all part of a little witch’s development. In other words, there was no harm in backtracking a bit and teaching Margo some youthful thrills.
*****
Delphine had left for the day, and Margo was gathering her beach things together. She had a special afternoon surprise for Finn. As she went to gather up Newhart into his carrier, the cat let out a yell and hightailed it up the stairs. That was unfortunate. She was sure he was becoming a lot more secure and less skittish, especially about the whole feet issue. But now, he had just taken off as if he’d seen a . . .a ghost. And Margo quickly realized that he probably had. It wasn’t the first time that she wondered about Lilith’s presence or had sensed herself being watched.
Her benefactor. The woman whose death had made her life possible. Margo sank slowly back onto the sofa and tried to think of the right words.
“Lilith Hazelwood. I know you’re there. I wish I could you see was well as my cat does. I know that Delphine can see you and speak to you. I just wanted you to know . . . I know that something terrible happened to you. At least, Delphine tells me that your death was not an accident. And as much as I wanted to live, I never wanted that to happen to anyone.
I hope you understand how much your heart means to me. Not just because it has made me healthy and strong and has given me a future. But it was filled with your courage, your fearlessness, your certainty. I’ve lost so much of my fear of life, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful.
I know that we are two very different people. Very different. And maybe if we had come face-to-face in life, you would have despised my weakness. I probably would have been terrified of you. It’s only in sharing the same heart that we have become connected. I hope that I can live in such a way that shows just how grateful I am for this incredible gift. But don’t take over my body. Please don’t take over my body.
I have to go now. When you have a great heart, it really pushes you to try to do something great every day. So, thank you again, Ms. Hazelwood. I did ask Delphine to tell you as much, but I wanted to tell you myself.”
Lilith watched the girl exit her home, not knowing what to make of this naïve creature. She was haunting this girl, stalking her, and yet the girl behaved as if she had a guardian angel. Well, the gratitude was appropriate enough. And it could be exploited under the right circumstances.
*****
Finn had heard about the popular cliff diving spot some ten miles outside Oyster Cove. He hadn’t taken a lot of interest in it, though. Tall heights left him more than a bit queasy. He wasn’t sure of the origin of that particular phobia. Had he taken a spill at an early age that was now beyond the recall of memory? Or was it just a quirk of birth, hardwired into his brain’s idiosyncrasies?
But Margo had suggested meeting at the spot to watch the daredevils do their thing, which would be entertaining enough. Apparently, the dive spot was so d
eep that no one had ever hit the bottom, and no accidents had ever been reported. Good thing, as this was not a designated public beach and there was no lifeguard posted.
Finn was the first to arrive. He chose a sitting spot with a good view of the ledge. Geez, moving by the sea was a great idea. Fresh ocean air. Pretty, lively tourist spot. Great seafood. And Margo. That was the one bonus that surpassed all the others. So many years on the road, so many nights in hotels and motels, so many fleeting relationships that couldn’t be pursued because his work was dangerous and kept him on the go. All the while, he’d fantasized about this dream that couldn’t possibly exist. And then one night, there she was, doing a clumsy cartwheel under a beautiful full moon. How did he get to be so lucky?
Finn’s attention was drawn back to the divers hundreds of feet above, on the cliff. That’s funny. That red and white bikini and that long, curly hair made that diver look a lot like Margo. Why–why was she waving at him? Margo!
He felt his stomach fly all the way up to his throat as he saw Margo step off the cliff, arms raised in victory. After she plunged into the water, Finn leapt to his feet in a panic. He needed to get out to her. He needed to know that she was fine. But . . . what was that? Another dolphin? He watched a tall fin swim to Margo’s entry spot and disappear underwater. Was it a dolphin? Finn grabbed his gun. What if it was a shark? Would his gun work underwater? No time to think. He plunged into the water, clothes, gun, and all.
Margo was enjoying the view underneath the waves—the schools of fish, the dancing algae below, and the sun’s weak refracted beam. Oh, and what was this? Like Finn, her first thought was dolphin. The shark showed his vicious teeth from fifteen yards away as it was closing in on her. Did he think that he was going to put an end to her?
Since acquiring her new heart, Margo’s default response was not fear, but anger. As luck would have it, she was in the habit of never removing her pendant. “Nesploro Fiere!” The words were blurred by water but strengthened by her fury. The shark drew back in pain and confusion. Its dinner had just turned into a formidable adversary. Still stinging, it darted back out to sea. Margo let herself drift to the surface, where she saw Finn plowing toward her at full steam.
