Luck of the Witchy

by Ani Gonzalez

  Gavin noted that Sean used the formal "Ms." when referring to the women who walked away from the crash, but just used the first names for the hospitalized victims.

  This was personal to Sean. Someone had been attacked inside his jurisdiction.

  Gavin skimmed the papers again. He shared Sean's concern. There was something repulsive about the papers. Sean's suspicions may be premature, but his instincts were usually correct. This was vile, and Gavin did not enjoy seeing it in Banshee Creek.

  "Who are the letters addressed to?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.

  Sean grabbed a page and turned it over. Gavin read the name.

  Violet Vonn.

  The woman fighting for her life in critical care.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "WE ALWAYS tell them to go see a doctor," Flora insisted, her hands wrapped around a Banshee Creek Bakery mug full of piping hot chamomile tea. "Yes, we do herbal remedies and our tea mixes are very good, but we are very clear that our business is wellness, not medicine. If something feels wrong, we encourage people to visit their physicians."

  Fiona nodded, trying to figure out where her cousin was going with this. At least, they were no longer sitting outside in the rain. She'd dragged Flora into the studio, wrapped her up in a cozy afghan, and warmed her with some tea. They were now sitting around her small dining room table chatting.

  Unfortunately, her caretaking had not resulted in a more coherent story. Her cousin had described her work at Hexalife and explained that she'd been overjoyed when her boss, Violet, told her they would have the meeting in Banshee Creek. She'd wanted to visit Fiona for a long time, and now she finally had the chance.

  But the visit had not gone as planned.

  "My cures are good," Flora continued, her fingers gripping the mug. "You know how meticulous I am about research. We test and document everything."

  Fiona glanced down at the Hexalife materials on the table. Flora had snatched them from the desk, eager to explain how they planned and tested the recipes and potions. She had described her lengthy protocol for testing each recipe several times, and then sending them to Hexalife devotees, who integrated them into their daily routines and then provided feedback.

  Flora's industriousness was not new. Fiona had been the wild child of the Hart witch family. The one who could not control her magic and let her flames go wild.

  Flora, however, had been the klutz. The one who made mistakes and confused herbs. The one who couldn't get it right.

  The labels had been as hurtful as they were inaccurate. Fiona had become a careful mouse of a witch. Too scared to use her fire magic, even under the safest conditions; and Flora had become a compulsive tester, second-guessing herself incessantly.

  "And Violet is very strict on the manufacturing side," Flora said. "Our materials are all organic herbs from a farm in Pennsylvania. They are sun-dried and packaged in small batches on-site, and Violet's quality control is very thorough. She spends a lot of time at the farm, making sure they do everything correctly."

  Flora pointed to a photograph of a dark-haired middle-aged woman wearing a bonnet while walking through a flowering garden with a basket full of lavender blooms. "That's Violet."

  Fiona examined the photograph as she sipped her tea. The woman in the picture looked like a lady of leisure picking flowers in the South of France, and not at all like a savvy executive inspecting a supplier's facility, but that was normal for marketing materials. Fiona's own website was full of pictures of her staring off into the distance, pondering new designs, or organizing the candles on the shelves. She didn't have any pictures where she was sweaty and covered with wax.

  "I can't believe she's in the hospital," Flora said, tears overflowing in her eyes. "I saw her as they pulled her out of the car." Her voice turned into a sob. "Oh, Fi, there was blood all over her." Her face twisted in agony. "And it was all my fault."

  "Drink your tea," Fiona ordered kindly. "And calm down. We will sort this out. What is it you think you did?"

  "I don't know," Flora wailed. "All I know is we've been receiving these messages saying that we are frauds and will pay for what we've done. They all have these nasty drawings and cut-out letters." She glanced down at the brochures. "The letters are from our own marketing materials. They use our own words against us."

  Fiona sipped her tea as she examined the brochures. Hexalife used a distinctive font with decorative flourishes that gave it a mystical feel. That detail—using their brochures to make the letters anonymous—seemed significant.

  "But what is Hexalife being accused of?" she asked, doubting very much that Flora had anything to do with it. Her cousin was harmless.

  "I have no idea." Flora's voice dropped to a whisper. "But one of the letters read, 'a life for a life.'" She let that sink in. "That's why I think it has to be me. Stella's astrology wouldn't kill anyone. Nor would Bella's goddess-centered financial planning." She put down her mug, stifling a sob. "It has to be my products."

  Fiona stretched out a hand and placed it on her cousin's arm. "No, it doesn't." A thought struck her. "Did anyone even die?"

  She knew that Flora could be unnecessarily paranoid about her herb lore. One summer, she'd been sure she'd poisoned the entire family, and it turned out to be the flu.

  "We just don't know," Flora replied, confirming Fiona's suspicions. "Bella has spent the past few weeks running all of our customers' names through the search engines, looking for untimely deaths. I've been visiting our Internet groups and Violet has been contacting all our salespersons." She sighed. "Stella has been doing horoscopes, but nothing has worked. We can't find a victim."

  Fiona leaned forward, fingers tightening around her cousin's arm. "Then, most probably, there isn't one."

  Flora's eyes flashed. "Then why is Violet so scared? Why did we have to leave for Banshee Creek in the middle of the night? We were supposed to arrive tomorrow with the rest of the group, but Violet called us and told us we were leaving early."

  "Maybe she just wanted to get a head start," Fiona suggested.

  "Then why won't she let Bella go to the police?" Flora insisted. "Bella has all the letters, organized by date. She's ready to go to the authorities, but Violet won't allow it."

  "Perhaps, she's afraid it would affect the business?"

  "That's what she says," Flora replied, grabbing her mug with trembling hands. "But I don't buy it. She was truly scared, Fi, and now she's in the hospital. I think she knows who is doing this and doesn't want to tell us."

  Her hands were shaking so hard, the tea was spilling on the table. Fiona grabbed her hands, steading her grip.

  The mug was warm from the hot beverage, but Flora's fingers were still ice cold. Fiona took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to calm down her cousin.

  "It was just an accident," Fiona said, her voice firm and reassuring. "That road is dark and accidents happen."

  Flora drew a breath. "I sort-of saw the driver's face as he rammed the car, Fi. I couldn't tell if the driver was a man or a woman, but I could tell one thing. That driver wasn't frightened. It was like a demon's face, filled with rage." Flora shuddered. "I couldn't see the face very well, but something about it was familiar." She swallowed. "That was no accident."

  Flora's fingers tightened around the mug. "And it's all my fault."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "HELLO?" GAVIN juggled a Banshee Creek Bakery box in one hand. He used the other one to knock on the door to the Wicked Wicks shop.

  No one answered, and the door sign indicated that the shop was closed. Weird, Fiona usually arrived well before opening time, which would be in about ten minutes. Where was—?

  "Don't worry," a dulcet voice said behind him. "She'll be here soon."

  He turned to greet Luanne, who was standing behind him with a cardboard carrier containing three large paper cups, all bearing Banshee Creek Bakery's distinctive cartoon ghost logo. The red-haired fortune-teller's outfit—jeans and a gray tunic under a black coat—was uncharacteristica
lly somber. Her smile, however, was bright.

  "You forgot these," she said, lifting the carrier. "Good call on the donuts, though."

  Gavin shook his head. "Fiona doesn't drink coffee."

  Luanne's lips curved into a knowing smile. "She will today."

  The shop door opened, and Fiona's face appeared. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun.

  "We're open—" She stopped and stared. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I just woke up; saw I was late and hurried downstairs." She stepped back, holding the door open. "Come in."

  "Tough night?" Gavin asked, carrying the box of donuts into the store. He stepped over a pile of letters and a package. Fiona had been in such a hurry, she'd forgotten to pick up her mail. Luanne followed him inside with the coffees.

  "You could say that," Fiona said eyeing the box as she leaned against the store counter. "Are those donuts, by any chance?"

  "You could say that," Gavin replied with a smile, as he wondered how to get rid of Luanne. He suspected that Fiona's haggard looks were due to worry over her cousin, and he was eager to find out what Flora had said about the accident, but he didn't want to talk about that in front of Luanne. The fortune-teller was a friend, as well as Sean's girlfriend, but this was a family matter.

  Fiona turned toward Luanne, an expression of longing crossing her face. "Is that coffee?"

  Luanne nodded, grabbed a cup, and offered it to her friend. "Black like a moonless night. I thought you'd need it."

  Fiona gave her a grateful look as she accepted the cup.

  Luanne placed the cardboard cup holder on the counter and bent down to pick up the mail. She frowned at the package, then shook her head and placed it, along with the letters, on the counter.

  "Did Sean talk to you, Luanne?" Gavin asked, trying to determine how much he could share with her. Fiona's and Luanne's friendship was a blessing, but he would prefer to talk to Fiona alone right now.

  "Are you kidding?" The fortune-teller wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't discuss cases with me."

  Gavin fought to hide a smile. Sean was a stickler for the rules. "So, you saw it in the stars?"

  Luanne laughed. "Not quite. The Divinators' Association called me when they heard that one of their members, Stella Gendry, had an accident in Banshee Creek. I'm on my way to the hospital to check on her."

  Ah, that explained the subdued wardrobe. Luanne took her duties as a director of the Divinators' Association seriously.

  The fortune-teller gave Gavin a side-long glance. "It's not all about the cards, you know. Sometimes we just use phones." She then smiled at Fiona. "Sean did mention that your cousin was also in the car, so I thought I'd drop by and make sure everything is okay here."

  Gavin mentally filed that information for future reference. Luanne was a high-ranking member of the fortune-tellers' professional association, but he'd gotten the impression that the group was fairly laissez faire about its members. Luanne had once described the association as "semi-organized anarchy," so checking up on a member was nice, but uncharacteristic.

  Fiona's gave them a shaky smile. "Thank you." She sighed and stared down at her coffee cup. "As I'm sure you can tell, everything is not okay. However, it's Flora's problem and I can't really talk about it."

  Luanne pursed her lips. "I don't think it's just Flora's problem. From what I hear, Stella is in quite a jam."

  Fiona winced. "Did they explain what's going on?"

  Luanne snorted. "You jest. We fortune-tellers are allergic to explanations. I was told that Stella had contacted Morgana some weeks ago, ranting about the Five of Swords and asking for guidance as to the mess she was in. Morgana said that Stella sounded hysterical. They tried to get information out of her, but failed utterly. She asked the Hexalife folks to do a reading, but they refused." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The cards were not good, and they were afraid that would freak her out."

  Fiona winced. "How bad was the reading?"

  "Bad enough that the news about the accident did not come as a surprise." Luanne took a sip of coffee. "They were afraid she'd been the one to do it. They thought maybe she was distraught enough to try to—"

  Gavin raised an eyebrow. Stella had been in the front passenger seat and the accident had not been her fault, but it was interesting that her colleagues felt that she was capable of that. Stella had apparently been under a lot of stress.

  "Oh, no," Fiona exclaimed. "It can't be that bad."

  "Apparently, it is." Luanne sighed. "Sean was willing to clarify that Stella wasn't driving, and that reassured Morgana."

  "She really thought things were so bad someone may choose," she gulped, "a drastic solution?"

  Gavin could hear the fear in Fiona's voice. She seemed worried that her cousin could try a similar tactic. Last night's conversation with Flora must have been both interesting and alarming.

  Luanne nodded. "Whatever is going on, it sounds bad. You know I'll help anyway I can."

  Fiona's fingers tightened around the paper cup. "I'll ask Flora to talk to you. Thanks, Luanne."

  "You're welcome." Luanne drained her coffee. "I'll see what info I can get from Stella. These girls seem to be in real trouble."

  "Can you do me another favor?" Fiona asked.

  "Name it," Luanne replied.

  "Can you do a reading for Flora?" Fiona took a deep breath. "I want to know if she's in danger. Physical danger."

  Luanne's brows went up. "That bad? I'll see what I can do." She glanced at the clock on Fiona's wall. "I'd better go to the hospital and see how poor Stella is doing. I'll let you know when I've done that reading."

  "Thank you so much," Fiona said.

  "Donut for the road?" Gavin asked, opening the box.

  "I'd be a fool not to." Luanne inspected the offerings. "I see Patricia went all out on the St. Patrick's Day theme."

  That was putting it mildly. Patricia had done shamrock donuts with green frosting, pot of gold cupcakes with rainbow decorations, and gold coin macarons. There was even a small card informing that the bakery's scavenger hunt item was a selfie with any holiday-themed donut.

  Fiona glanced at her rather plain-looking shelves. "I still need to get started on the scavenger hunt."

  "I don't envy you guys," Luanne said as she selected a shamrock donut. "All I had to do was print some coupons and reap the rewards of Kat's hard work. I already had a very handsome scavenger hunter drop by for a reading yesterday, so things are looking up for me." She winked. "And for him, too. His cards were excellent." She grinned. "Good luck with the decorating."

  She exited the store, munching on her donut.

  Gavin put the box on the counter. "That was interesting."

  "Talking to Luanne always is." Fiona's slumped over her counter. "She's right. These girls are in trouble. They've been receiving threatening letters. Parodies of the Hexalife logo and cut out words from their brochures."

  "I saw the letters," Gavin shared.

  He hadn't, however, known that the cutout letters had come from the Hexalife brochures. He wondered if Sean had figured that out.

  "Flora said they are nasty."

  "They are," Gavin replied, remembering the jagged edges of the letters and the steady drumroll of insults and threats. Liars. Frauds. You will pay for what you've done.

  "And Luanne says Stella was on the verge of a breakdown," Fiona sighed. "I bet she feels she hurt someone, just like Flora does."

  Gavin's jaw tensed. "Flora feels guilty?"

  Threats were one thing. Threats with real motivation behind them were another. What had Hexalife done to inspire such hatred?

  Fiona nodded. "I can't figure out why. She says they've searched and searched for potential victims, but they have found none. She feels guilty because she assumes their products must have harmed someone. She thinks she's the most likely suspect because she did the herbal mixes."

  "But Stella may think the same way."

  "Yes," Fiona said. "And one of them is right, no? The accident
was suspicious."

  Gavin took a step back, hands raised. "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to." Fiona's lips curved into a tired smile. "You wouldn't be so concerned if it had been a normal crash."

  "The letters are very disturbing. We have to find out who holds a grudge against Hexalife," Gavin said. "Don't worry. Sean is investigating..."

  His voice trailed off as he stared at the pile of mail. It looked like regular junk mail—catalogs, postcards, a brown package, and plain white envelopes.

  But it was too early to have mail delivered in Banshee Creek.

  "Are these from yesterday?" he asked, reaching for an envelope.

  Fiona frowned. "No, I took care of that before I went to dinner with the Kat and Luanne. Actually, I think the package is from Kat. She said she would leave a holiday pillow for me. I don't know about the letters—" She gasped and pointed to a brochure. "That's from Hexalife."

  "Not exactly," Gavin said, realizing that the catalog's logo read as "HexaLIE."

  Fiona's eyes went wide

  Gavin examined the correspondence, mindful not to disturb any evidence. "This letter isn't sealed, and it doesn't have a stamp."

  He grabbed a pen and used it to open the envelope and remove the letter. It was another anonymous letter. The cut-out letters spelled the words The Friend of An Enemy is An Enemy and You Will Pay.

  And the picture of the HexaLIE logo was engulfed in flames.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AN HOUR had passed and still Flora had not come down.

  Fiona, however, had spent the time in a productive manner. After Gavin left to take the letters to the station, she'd placed Kat's pillow—which was every bit as hideous as she'd described—in a corner. Then she'd draped the shelves in green muslin, placing gold-covered chocolate coins between the candles as decoration, and she'd made a rainbow candle display. She'd tied a gold-plated pendant around each candle, and she'd changed the message on the blackboard so it now read: "Lucky Candle Sale. Each Candle Has a Lucky Charm. Collect Them All!!"