Spell Found (Blackmoore Sisters Cozy Mysteries Book 7)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Fiona moved her hand around to cover all the directions of a compass. The alexandrite did not change color. "Maybe we have to be closer to the scrying ball?"

  "If there even is one," Jolene muttered.

  Celeste leveled a look at Jolene. "We know there's something. Some relic we have to find. Probably a scrying ball. Whether it can show the future or not is irrelevant."

  "I suppose," Jolene acquiesced. Celeste had a point—their mission was to find the crystal ball. Their employers thought it had some importance that needed to be kept out of the hands of their opponents.

  Morgan signaled for the bill. "Possibly, maybe, the alexandrite will give us some kind of indication of what to do when we get to this Rebecca Nurse house."

  "We can only hope," Celeste said. "Did you guys remember to order something for Belladonna?"

  Jolene grimaced. There would be hell to pay if they didn't come back with a treat for the cat. Belladonna would be mad enough that they'd left her in the hotel room and taken off for the day. If they didn't bring back something delicious, they'd pay with the discovery of hairballs under their pillows or find their favorite sandals clawed to shreds.

  "I've got leftover tuna." Morgan indicated for the waiter to get them a takeout box. "I want to get going as soon as possible. Where are we going, anyway?"

  Jolene checked her phone. "It says the Rebecca Nurse house is in Danvers. Isn't that strange? I thought all the witches were from Salem."

  "I think that's just where the trials were," Celeste said. "But if that was her house, then she must not have lived right in Salem."

  "I guess you're right." Morgan tapped her finger on the table. Her eyes narrowed and scanned the perimeter, her brows arched in a familiar fashion which usually meant her instincts were on high alert.

  "What is it?" Fiona asked.

  "I'm not sure, but I feel like someone is watching us."

  Jolene sat across from Morgan. She didn't have the intuitive gifts that Morgan did, but sometimes she could pick up intent in people's auras. She turned up her energy awareness to scan the crowd. "I don't see anyone paying attention to us. The energy seems perfectly normal." She twisted in her seat, scanning everything behind her. "Same back here."

  "Should we be worried?" Celeste asked.

  Morgan relaxed, throwing some bills onto the table and shoving the rest of her tuna sandwich into the Styrofoam container the waiter had dropped off. "No. It was just a passing feeling. It's gone now."

  Fiona got up from the table. "It doesn't hurt to be cautious, but we can't go jumping at everything. For all we know, it was just Mateo following us like he usually does."

  "Probably. Jolene seems to think she keeps seeing him," Morgan teased.

  "You guys are real funny." Jolene wondered if it was Mateo following them. She chastised herself for the unwanted hopeful feelings that were bubbling up inside her. Mateo had kissed her several months ago and then he hadn't even bothered to call. He really was the last person she wanted to see.

  9

  “I can’t believe it’s closed!” Celeste stood beside the car, and looked at the red, centuries-old wooden house. Two stories tall, it looked like it had been added to over the years but still kept the basic lines of a colonial house with small windows and a simple design.

  “We probably should have checked the hours,” Fiona said. “It’s closed on Tuesdays.”

  “That might either be good or bad,” Morgan said. “We don’t know if we need to look around inside, or if what we seek would be outside.”

  “And if no one is here to watch us, we can do as we please without making anyone suspicious,” Jolene pointed out.

  “True,” Celeste agreed. “But what if what we need is inside?”

  “Well, then that would pose a problem," Jolene admitted. "If the scrying ball is in there, how are we going to get it? It’s a museum. We can’t just take things from it.”

  “I doubt it would be inside,” Morgan said. “I can’t believe this ancient energy-infused relic could be just sitting around in this old witch’s house that’s now open to the public. After all these years, you would think someone would have taken it.”

  “Maybe it’s protected by a spell,” Celeste suggested.

  Morgan scoffed. “You don’t believe in those, do you?”

  Celeste shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone who could cast spells, but you have to admit our gifts are a little unusual, so it stands to reason there could be other people with unusual gifts. Like witches who can cast spells.”

  “If the scrying ball is here, Amity would have found it,” Jolene said. “Opal said she made several trips here. Unless it’s buried somewhere and she was coming here trying to locate it. Maybe she was digging in different areas for it.”

  They scanned the ground for signs of recent digging, but there didn’t appear to be any.

  “I think we might have been led here just to find another clue.” Morgan turned to Fiona. “The note said that the keystone would show us the way. Let’s dig it out and see what happens.”

  Fiona took the stone out of her pocket and held it flat in her palm. “It’s not doing anything.”

  “Amity might have gotten the clue. She had the alexandrite stone,” Jolene pointed out.

  “Maybe, but let’s see what we can find out,” Morgan said. “We might not be close enough to the clue. We should walk the property. Let’s go over to the house.”

  They walked across the grass toward the house, which was shaded by massive old oak trees on one side. A small garden was next to the house and there was a ridge of pine trees, the edge of a forest, in back.

  Jolene rushed ahead, peeking in the windows. “It’s really cool in there. Looks just like it did back in the 1600s, I guess.”

  Fiona followed, pointing the stone at various spots of the house and yard, but none of them made the alexandrite glow any differently. She started around the side of the house.

  Celeste saw the stone flash an iridescent pink. “I think you’ve got something!”

  Fiona stopped and moved the stone about, letting it hone in on whatever was making it flash. It was a gnarly old tree. Even though it was June and all the trees were lush with new leaves, this tree had none. Its crooked leaf-less limbs jabbed up into the sky ominously.

  “It’s that tree!” Morgan said excitedly.

  “Maybe something’s buried beneath it like under the tree behind Sticks and Stones.” Fiona referred to an old tree behind the shop she shared with Morgan. The shop was an old cottage that had been in their family for centuries. A few years ago, when they first learned about their gifts, they’d followed a similar treasure hunt and one of the clues had been buried beneath the tree.

  “That makes sense,” Jolene said. “Someone might have used a tree as a place marker.”

  Jolene, Morgan and Fiona raced toward the tree. They scuffed the dirt around the bottom. Fiona angled the stone toward the thick roots that peeked up from the ground, but the color dimmed instead of deepening.

  “It’s not working!” Fiona said.

  Instead of looking at the base of the tree like her sisters, Celeste was looking at something just beyond the tree—a translucent figure that swirled and shimmered.

  A ghost.

  “Guys, I don’t think it’s beneath the tree.” Celeste jutted her chin toward the ghost, even though she knew her sisters couldn’t see it.

  Her sisters were familiar enough with Celeste's gift to know that when they saw her staring into space like that, she was probably looking at a ghost.

  “Oh, there’s a ghost?” Morgan guessed.

  The sisters backed off and let Celeste do her thing. Celeste approached the shimmery figure. It manifested into a more recognizable shape as she got closer. A woman. White bonnet, long skirt with an apron.

  “About time you got here,” the ghost snapped.

  “You’ve been waiting for us?” Celeste asked.

  “You could say that. What took you so long? It se
ems as if it’s been three hundred years.”

  “Ummm … We’ve just now been tasked with finding the scrying ball. Do you know something about it? Who are you?”

  “I’m Sarah Easty. I know all about the ball. I was part of the inner circle when the whole thing went down.”

  “Went down?”

  “Yeah, that whole witch hanging thing. What a drag that was. I knew I should’ve turned that Cotton Mather into a toad when I had the chance.”

  “You’re a witch?” Celeste glanced at Morgan out of the corner of her eye. Maybe Morgan and Jolene would put more stock into spells after this.

  “Yes. Well, I was. Now I’m just a ghost hanging around waiting for you people to show up and take ownership of the crystal ball.”

  “That’s why we’re here. For the crystal ball. Where is it?”

  The ghost shimmered, and she appeared to deflate before Celeste’s eyes, her image becoming more translucent. “Well, see, that’s the problem. I don’t know where it is. I was hanged before I could find out where Sam put it.”

  “Sam?”

  “Sam Gooding. He was one of us. He was one of the few not accused of being a witch, so it was up to him to protect the scrying ball. It’s special, you know. Infused with energy from the ancients. And if it falls into the wrong hands … well …” she waved her ghostly hands in the air frantically. “I don’t need to tell you what will happen then.”

  “No, we’re well aware of what will happen. So, how can we find it?” The keystone had led them to the ghost, so Celeste knew that she would provide them with a vital clue whether she knew it or not. Since Celeste was the only one who could talk to the ghost, it fell on her try to figure out what exactly that clue was. She was glad she was getting a chance to use her unique gift to help find the relic. She just hoped she was asking the right questions.

  “The plan was for Sam to hide it and leave a clue to its whereabouts.”

  “Okay. Do you know where this clue is?”

  Sarah winced. “No.”

  This wasn’t getting them anywhere. Celeste realized she’d have to take another tack. “Just what does this scrying ball look like?”

  “Oh, it’s about this big around and it’s clear.” Sarah moved her hands to mimic the size of a small honeydew melon.

  “And where do you think Sam would hide it? In his house? Or somewhere else?”

  “Well, there weren’t many places to hide things here in 1692. And none of us knew if we were going to make it out alive. You see, a lot of people were being accused of witchcraft and not all of them were witches, either. But I do recall him saying that he would sketch out a clue for future generations.”

  “Sketch? Like in a painting or drawing?”

  Sarah started to become agitated. “That, I’m not sure about. They came for me before we could exchange the information.” Sarah swirled and dipped, mist dripped off her onto the ground as she darted looks out onto the street. “Oh, no. They’re coming for me again!”

  “What? No. We don’t hang people for witchcraft anymore.”

  But Sarah wasn’t paying attention to Celeste. Her eyes widened and she pointed to something behind Celeste’s shoulder. “There they are!”

  Celeste whirled around and saw a police car stopping before the house. When she turned back, Sarah’s ghost was gone.

  * * *

  Detective Peterson didn’t seem the least bit happy to see them. He scowled, his eyes drifting from one sister to the next, then over to the house as if looking to see if they’d done any damage. “What are you ladies doing here?”

  “Oh, you know. Tourist stuff.” Morgan gestured to indicate the house and yard.

  Peterson cocked his head to one side. “The museum is closed.”

  “Yes, we saw the sign,” Jolene said. “Who would think it would be closed on a Tuesday?”

  “We’d come all the way here so we thought we’d just look around,” Fiona added.

  Peterson looked up at the dead tree they were standing under. “Uh-huh.”

  “Have you arrested anyone for Nancy Baumann’s murder?” Celeste asked. “I hate to think of a killer running around loose.”

  “No. In fact, you ladies are my prime suspects.”

  “What?”

  Peterson shrugged. “Look at things from my perspective. It’s mighty strange that you four suddenly appear in town, find a dead body and are now discovered trespassing at the museum here after hours.”

  “Surely you don’t think we had anything to do with her death?”

  Peterson cracked a smile. “No, probably not. I don’t see as you ladies have a motive. Plus, I do have to admit there have been some strange goings-on lately, before you arrived in town.”

  “Strange goings-on? With Nancy?” Morgan asked.

  “No, with Amity Jones.”

  “You mean she died of suspicious causes?”

  Peterson’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that you said something was suspicious,” Morgan pointed out.

  He brushed his hands through his buzz cut. “Oh, right. Yep, she was an odd one. Just what was your business with her, anyway?”

  “We told you,” Fiona said. “We bought some crystals and wanted to follow up on them.”

  “Oh, right. And why are you still hanging around town?”

  “Tourist stuff, like we said. We know about the Salem witch trials and always wanted to tour some of the museums and houses. That’s why we’re here. We didn’t know this was closed today.”

  “Sure looks like you were making yourselves at home.” Peterson nodded toward Celeste who stood on the opposite side of the tree. “And what's she doing way over there? Looks kind of strange. Like you're up to something.”

  “Oh, I’m an amateur arborist. I love trees and these are some real old ones.” Celeste touched the old, gnarled tree with her hand. “And this one here is just so interesting. I just wanted to get a closer look. But now that I’ve done that we can go.”

  “That’s a smart idea. Don’t want to see you getting into any trouble around here. You know, they say there are witches and ghosts everywhere.” Peterson winked at the girls as he turned back toward his car.

  Celeste laughed. “Oh, we don’t believe in witches and ghosts.”

  “Just as well. Then you ladies better move along. Just so you know, it can be dangerous out here at night." He indicated the nearby woods. "I wouldn’t want to have to answer a call about you being in trouble.”

  “Thanks, that’s good advice!” The girls waved as they got into the SUV and Morgan drove out onto the road. Celeste glanced into the side view mirror as they drove away. She saw Peterson leaning against the front of his car, his arms folded across his chest, watching them go.

  “Well, that explains that,” Morgan said.

  “What?” Celeste asked.

  “The feeling I had that someone was following us. I guess it must’ve been Peterson.”

  “You think? But why? He can’t seriously suspect we killed Nancy. He was probably just doing his rounds and saw us here,” Fiona said. “It is closed so I guess we were technically trespassing”

  “I don’t think he was doing rounds. He's a detective who responded to our call when we found Nancy in Salem.” Jolene pointed to the ‘Entering Salem' sign they were just passing. “And the Rebecca Nurse house is in Danvers, which is out of his jurisdiction. Right?”

  10

  Belladonna greeted them at their hotel room door with a smug look on her face that made Jolene worry about what the cat had been up to while they were gone.

  “We brought you back a treat.” Morgan held up the white Styrofoam box.

  Belladonna circled her, looking up with innocent, ice blue eyes. “Meow.” She let out her softest cry.

  Now Jolene was sure the cat was up to something.

  Morgan picked the flakes of tuna fish out of her sandwich and put them in the cat's feed bowl while Belladonna watched patiently, her whis
kers twitching as the salty smell of the fish wafted into the room.

  “What do you think she did while we were gone?” Fiona asked as she peered into the adjoining rooms to assess the damage.

  “Who knows? She usually doesn’t stay put. I’m surprised we didn’t find her out at the Rebecca Nurse house,” Celeste joked.

  “Speaking of which, we need to figure out what we should do next,” Fiona said.

  Celeste had told them about her conversation with Sarah Easty’s ghost while they were in the car on the way home. They agreed that finding out as much as they could about Sam Gooding was a good plan.

  Jolene flipped her laptop open. “I’ll do some research online. Maybe I can find out more about this Sam Gooding guy.”

  While Jolene tapped on the keyboard, Belladonna circled the bowl that Morgan had put on the floor. The cat sniffed it from all angles and looked at the girls suspiciously as if she suspected they might put something less than healthy in her bowl. Finally, she settled onto her haunches and started daintily licking the fish.

  “I can’t really find much. I can see his name in old town records, but nothing associated with the witch trials. No newspaper articles." Jolene looked up from the computer and held her hands up in surrender. “There’s really not much on him.”

  “There has to be something useful,” Celeste said. “That was the only lead I got from the ghost.”

  “We have to act. We know there are others looking for this scrying ball and at least one person’s been killed over it,” Fiona added.

  “Maybe two, if Amity’s death wasn’t as natural as it appeared,” Jolene said.

  “That’s true. It could’ve been by paranormal means because those can look like heart attacks.” Fiona pointed at the book on crystals. “The killer took this book from Nancy, so now he knows what we do, that we're looking for a scrying ball and that the alexandrite gemstone will show us the way.”

  “And if he knows we have the keystone, we could be next on his list,” Celeste said.