Luck of the Witchy

by Ani Gonzalez

  Big mistake. His deputies would not overlook speeding, not after this accident.

  "Doesn't the driver see the sirens?" Sean growled.

  Gavin glanced back at the two women. The blonde had jumped back, startled from the car lights, and Ms. Donna was patting her back, trying to calm her down.

  The car braked, and the scared girl jumped again, her face a mask of horror. Gavin stepped forward to check on her, but then stopped as the new vehicle came into view.

  He was surprised to find that it was his car. His old Volvo was turning into the grassy area with a suddenness that made his teeth clench. Who was driving his car?

  The vehicle stopped, the door opened, and Fiona stepped out, dressed in a parka over leggings and a loose tunic she used as pajamas. She'd put on boots, but they were unlaced. Clearly, she'd been in a hurry.

  The blonde girl gasped and ran to greet her, her boots sinking into the wet dirt.

  So, that was Flora. He should have realized it, but Fiona had told him her cousin would arrive in a couple of days. Why was she here now?

  "It seems we know the young woman's relative," Sean said.

  Gavin nodded. "Fiona told me her cousin was coming to town, but I didn't make the connection."

  "No worries," the sheriff replied, rubbing his chin with a forefinger as if considering his options.

  Fiona led Flora toward them. Ms. Donna followed behind, her sharp face now relaxed, as if relieved to turn the distraught girl over to her cousin.

  "Sorry for borrowing your car," Fiona said, her arm wrapped around Flora's shoulders. "I didn't want to wake up Kat."

  "Of course, you can use the car," Gavin said, fighting the urge to caution her about how wet roads and speeding did not mix well. The Volvo was a safe car, but anything could happen on a night like this.

  Fiona visibly relaxed. "Can I take her home now? Or does she need to answer more questions?"

  "She's good to go," Sean said. "Fire and Rescue gave her an all clear, but, FYI, the Urgent Care Clinic is open twenty-four hours."

  "I'm fine," Flora said, her pale face looking anything but. "I just need some rest." She turned toward her cousin. "Thank you for taking me in, Fi. I know this is very sudden."

  Fiona gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't thank me until you see my place. I have a studio. You may end up sleeping on the floor, and it's not spacious."

  "Doesn't matter," Flora said, glancing back at the car wreck and shuddering. "I'm sure I'll love it."

  Ms. Donna cleared her throat. "Flora's cousin has offered to give me a ride to the motel. Will that be all right?"

  "Yes," Sean replied. "Just let us know before leaving town."

  Ms. Donna nodded. "We have to figure out what to do. More people will arrive tomorrow for the meeting."

  "And Violet will be in the hospital," Flora exclaimed. "Can't we postpone the meeting?"

  "Most attendees are already on their way," Ms. Donna replied. "We may just have to keep calm and carry on."

  "But if—" Flora paused and glanced back at the wreck. Olivia was walking around it with a flashlight, dictating notes into a recorder.

  Flora bit her lip. "Never mind. I'm sure you're right. Can we take the meeting stuff out of the car?"

  That last question was aimed at Gavin. He opened his mouth to answer, but Sean was too quick for him.

  "We'll take care of that," the sheriff offered. "We'll bring your stuff to you in the morning."

  Interesting, thought Gavin. Usually, the police let accident victims take their property with them. What was Sean thinking?

  "Thanks," Ms. Donna said. "We'll need those for the meeting."

  "You'll get them," Sean promised.

  "C'mon," Fiona said, ushering the women toward the car. "Let's get you out of the cold. Thanks for the car, Gavin."

  "Just be careful," Gavin called out.

  "I'll take care of it," Fiona responded, opening the passenger door. "Don't worry."

  "She'll drive real slow," Flora said, getting into the car. "Won't you?"

  Fiona laughed. "But of course." Then she drove away at a stately pace.

  "The tow truck will be here soon," Sean said, turning toward the wreck. "I'm going to see what Olivia found in the car."

  "That's not standard procedure," Gavin said. "What do you suspect, Sean?"

  Sean glanced back at the Volvo's taillights, which were disappearing around a curve. "When we arrived, that girl was hysterical, crying and shouting. Ms. Donna told us a van had swerved and hit their car straight on, then fled the scene, but Flora was incoherent. I made out a phrase, but then Ms. Donna interrupted."

  "What did she say?"

  Sean's jaw tightened. "She said, 'It was them. They're trying to kill us.'"

  Gavin's brows went up. "Could be the shock."

  Sean shrugged. "Ms. Donna told her she wasn't making sense, that she was just reacting to the crash."

  "Car crashes aren't uncommon on this road."

  But this one was nastier than most. DeShawn seldom had to use the fancy equipment on these crashes.

  "True." Sean gestured toward the ground. "But I checked the tire tracks. The van didn't slip. It turned toward their vehicle."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "DON'T START talking nonsense, Flora," Bella warned in a deep voice from the back seat of the Volvo. "Accidents happen."

  "I know, Bella," Flora replied from the front passenger seat, her fingers nervously fiddling with her parka. "Do you think Violet will be all right?"

  "She'll be fine," Bella said, switching to a sterner tone. "The ambulance got there in time."

  Fiona's fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she drove them to the Monster Hunter Motel. She wanted to believe that was the case, but Bella sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as Flora. Hopefully, she was right, and their friend, Violet, would recover.

  Or was she their boss? It wasn't clear from their conversation. What was clear was that they were anxious about her.

  And Flora had said someone was trying to kill them. Bella had quickly put a stop to that, but Flora still looked nervous.

  "Do you think she'll be safe in the hospital?" Flora asked.

  Fiona's brows went up. What kind of question was that? Of course—

  "She'll be safe," Bella replied sharply, mirroring Fiona's thoughts. "It's a hospital." She paused, staring out the window. "And they have security."

  Fiona frowned as she turned into the motel parking lot. Why would Violet need security?

  "Thanks for the ride," Bella said as Fiona parked the Volvo in front of the lobby entrance. "This looks nice."

  A low-slung 1950s building, the Monster Hunter Motel had undergone drastic modernization. It still had the trademark L-shape and balconies, but the railings were now modern glass giving the lobby a hipsterish, high-tech look. The rooms were all decorated in honor of famous experts in the craft, such as Rudolph Van Helsing, Carl Kolchak, Fox Mulder, and Buffy Summers. There were rooms dedicated to each of the Winchester brothers. It was popular with tourists and had become one of the town's major draws.

  And the chilly weather had not deterred the tourists. The parking lot was full, and a gaggle of young men and women, all clad in the motel's souvenir wear, laughed as they piled into a van to go to Main Street.

  "The motel shop sells clothes," Fiona said, conscious that Bella's things would not arrive until the morning. "You can get sweats or pajamas there."

  Bella smiled. "With the logo, I suppose."

  Fiona glanced back at the motel's stylized crossbow sigil. "Yes. You'll be a very well-dressed monster hunters."

  "It will be a nice change from our company's hexagram." Bella opened the passenger door and a blast of cold air invaded the car, making Fiona shiver. "Don't worry, Flora. Everything will be all right. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "I hope so," Flora replied, sounding uncertain. "Have a good night."

  Bella rolled her eyes. "Too late for that."

  The back door slamm
ed shut and Fiona was left in the car with her cousin, who was pulling on her coat zipper so hard the mechanism would likely break.

  "You don't need to get anything," Fiona said, changing gears. "I'll lend you some clothes."

  "Thanks." Flora stared at her lap, biting her lip. "I hope we get our stuff back soon. Is the sheriff, er, competent?"

  Fiona aimed a side-long glance at her cousin as she drove out of the parking lot. "Sean Stickley is very good at what he does. He was at the NYPD before moving to Banshee Creek. Why do you ask?"

  Flora's hands twisted in her lap. "Has he ever investigated a murder, or, I guess, an attempted murder?"

  As Fiona merged into the road, she leaned back on the driver's seat, trying to think of how to answer that without alarming her cousin. Their sleepy little town had experienced an alarming number of suspicious deaths in the past couple of few years. But that was not well known.

  Luanne blamed it on some kind of celestial conjunction that was affecting Banshee Creek's notorious geomagnetic fault. The geological phenomenon supposedly accounted for the town's high incidence of paranormal sightings, but it also made it vulnerable to changes in the magical spectrum. Something was affecting Banshee Creek. They had all felt it.

  "Yes," she finally replied. "Sean was a homicide detective before becoming the sheriff here."

  Flora's shoulders slumped in relief. Fiona drove down Main Street, wondering what was wrong. The girl next to her was a pale shadow of the cheerful, chattering magpie she remembered. She radiated fear and stress.

  "Maybe we should stop at the Urgent Care Clinic," Fiona suggested, noticing the building's neon sign as they crossed the town's only streetlight. "Dr. Lebensburg can check you out—"

  "No," Flora exclaimed quickly. "I'm fine." She pointed out the window. "Is that your store?"

  "Yes," Fiona replied. "That's Wicked Wicks."

  She couldn't keep the pride out of her voice, even though she recognized the question as a distraction. She'd taken a chance on opening a store, and it had worked out.

  "It's just a hallway." She chuckled, picturing the tight space. "It's literally the smallest store in Banshee Creek, but candles don't take up much space. I have a new line of matches and those are even dinkier, so I don't have any shelving issues."

  "It looks lovely," Flora said. "Where do you make your candles?"

  "There's a kitchenette in the back," Fiona said, turning the car into a side street, and then easing it into the alleyway behind the store. "It's small, but it gets the job done. My apartment is right above the store, which is very convenient." She reached her parking spot. "And this is where the car lives when it's not at Sean's place." She parked Sean's car in the alley and turned the motor off.

  The alley was not, she had to admit, an impressive sight. The town had funded a complete restoration of the Main Street storefronts, but the back still looked shabby. The alley's paranormal-themed graffiti, including several ghosts, a sexy witch, and the image of the phrase "Greetings from America's Favorite Ghost Town" had become an Instagram sensation, so the town could not paint over it. Also, it was the night before trash collection, so the shops had taken out their bins.

  "It's wonderful," Flora whispered. "I can't believe you did all this. You left the family and struck out on your own and started a business."

  Fiona stared. Her cousin's eyes were red and her lower lip was trembling.

  "And you're successful," Flora sobbed. "And you have a boyfriend and your own place."

  Fiona put her arm around her cousin's shoulders, sensing what was coming "It's tiny—"

  "And you haven't burnt anything down," Flora interrupted, sounding surprised.

  Fiona sighed. Of course, Flora had to go there.

  "And I'm such a failure," Flora continued. "I can barely hold a job, and when I finally find the perfect opportunity, I mess everything up. I can't even blame crazy magic for my problems. It's all my own fault."

  Her shoulders shook under Fiona's arm, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Fiona scanned the alley, wondering what to do. There was no one around to witness Flora's meltdown, but they should probably take this inside.

  "I'm sure it's not that bad," Fiona said in as soothing a manner as she could muster. "Let's go inside and I'll make you a cup of tea."

  Flora pushed her arm away. "You don't understand. I'm in real trouble now. That's why they're after us. They want revenge."

  Fiona grabbed her cousin's trembling hands. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."

  Flora shook her head. "You don't get it." She took a deep breath and looked up, her tear-filled eyes staring straight at Fiona.

  "I killed someone."

  CHAPTER SIX

  "STILL WORKING?" Gavin asked, leaning over the doorway to the sheriff's department's inventory room. "It's almost 2 a.m."

  Sean stood in the middle of the room, still wearing his uniform at this hour. Gavin had finished his work, showered in the station gym, and changed into sweats and a t-shirt.

  The room—a closet, really, surrounded by shelves—was mostly empty. The Banshee Creek police seldom had to confiscate property, so the neat holding bins were a far cry from the messy Lost and Found facility managed by the Fire Department. That closet was chock-full of homeless ghost and monster-hunting paraphernalia, and the mess threatened to take over the fire station. DeShawn frequently argued that they should hold a charity garage sale and get rid of the lot.

  The inventory table in front of Sean, however, was full of items from the car crash, and the sheriff was methodically going through the luggage found in the destroyed vehicle. A practical black suitcase lay open on the table, its contents beautifully organized. A yellow receipt on top of the toiletries bag was the only sign that the Banshee Creek Sheriff's Department had searched the bag, and it listed the legal bases for the search.

  The suitcase belonged to Miss Donna. Next to it was a fabric duffle bag with the bright flower pattern that belonged to Fiona's cousin. It was tattered enough to be a Hart family heirloom. Hexalife pins and stickers proclaiming: "Ask me About Hexalife," "New Life, Best Life, Hexalife," and "Find the Power Within with Hexalife" covered both bags.

  The two other bags were a newish duffle bag with gold zodiac patterns on a midnight blue background, and an expensive-looking leather bag with luxury monograms. Hexalife pins adorned the zodiac duffle, but the expensive bag's surface was untouched. A discreet Hexalife tag on one of the handles was the only decoration.

  Sean stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, but I promised to give this back in the morning."

  "It is the morning," Gavin noted.

  Sean grabbed his tablet and made some notes. "Yet, you're still here."

  "Fiona took my car, and DeShawn took the truck," Gavin said. "I was waiting for you to give me a ride, but I ran out of paperwork, so I headed over to see what's going on."

  "Sorry," Sean said. "I'll finish up as quickly as possible. At least you got your paperwork done." He sighed. "I still have mine to do."

  Gavin raised a brow. Sean hadn't even finished his report? That luggage must have been downright fascinating.

  "Did you find anything?" Gavin asked. "Other than a nice idea for a present for Luanne?"

  Sean glanced at the zodiac bag. "I already got her the green version for her birthday. She really liked it." He paused. "Although she wasn't at all surprised."

  "That's life with a fortune-teller."

  "No kidding. I've only managed to surprise Luanne once." A smile crossed the sheriff's face. "But once was enough."

  Gavin chuckled, remembering the stress surrounding Sean's Valentine's Day proposal. The planning had been as meticulous as that of any police maneuver, and the whole thing had been executed flawlessly. One could do worse than follow Sean's lead—

  He pushed the thought out of his head. That was thinking too far ahead. He hadn't even managed to talk Fiona into moving in with him. First things first.

  Sean patted the sparkly zodiac fabric. "Thi
s is Stella Gendry's bag. She's their zodiac specialist, and she'd be quite insulted to be called a fortune-teller. Apparently, she sees herself as a philosopher type."

  That meant the expensive bag belonged to the Hexalife leader. Everyone else's things, including the car, were cheap and well-worn. That bag was a real outlier.

  "Did you find anything interesting?"

  Sean shook his head. "The bag was closed and we couldn't open it without a warrant. All we found were some stray astrology notes that would make Luanne cringe. Ms. Gendry has a very casual approach to astrological calculations, mainly based on instinct and zodiac-themed jewelry; a lot of it."

  He pointed at the flowery duffel bag. "Ms. Hart is their herbalist. She had a reproduction of a medieval herbal text next to her bag and some dried flowers in one of the pockets. Nothing else interesting."

  Sean patted the black suitcase. "Ms. Donna's case was more helpful. It was the one that motivated the search, as it has a faulty lock, which opened when we lifted it. The contents spilled on the ground."

  "Plain view?" Gavin asked, identifying the legal basis for the warrantless search.

  Sean smiled. "As plain as can be." He pointed to a pile of papers in front of the suitcase. "Check those out."

  Gavin inspected the papers, which were covered in rough drawings—unpleasant modifications of the Hexalife logo, most of them changing the company's name to "HexaLIE"—and cut-out magazine letters spelling out words.

  "You are a fraud," Gavin read out loud. "You've destroyed lives. You won't get away with it. You will be exposed. You will pay." He looked up at Sean. "Someone sounds upset."

  That was an understatement. There was a weight of rage in the drawings. The Hexalife symbol was obsessively reproduced over and over again, each new version uglier than the last. The letters were deformed, and the "LIE" part was written out in dark red liquid that resembled blood.

  Sean nodded. "The question is, angry enough to resort to murder?"

  "We're not there yet, are we?"

  "No," Sean admitted. "Stella is in recovery and may be released soon, but Violet is in critical care."