Baffling Blend

by Kennedy Layne

  “No,” I disagreed, handing over his cup before taking a seat on the couch. “Leo recognized the name, but he just can’t recall from where.”

  I didn’t want to suggest that we ask Aunt Rowena, because then she would begin to unravel all the lies that Rye had been weaving over the last few weeks. It was bad enough that I was keeping the vision of my mother’s impending death a secret from mostly everyone, and maybe that was the problem. What if my mother knew Bridget? It stood to reason she would, considering the blonde witch had a picture of my mother next to a steaming cauldron.

  There are times when we shouldn’t fight fate.

  “Leo,” I admonished, hoping that he was just trying to make light of a very serious situation. “Be nice.”

  “How can you stand that thing staring at you constantly?” Rye muttered, all but slamming the lid of my laptop closed in frustration. Ted must have stopped in earlier to fix the mannequin’s pole. She was standing upright next to the right side of the hearth. “And why is there a mannequin in your living room in the first place? Isn’t that the one that Ted visits at Mindy’s boutique?”

  This ought to be good. Wait. I need a front row seat when you explain—

  I wasn’t proud of the fact that I quickly held up a catnip bag of edible sweets. Leo’s monthly subscription box had arrived, and I’d hidden a sealed bag in between the cushions for just these kinds of moments. Rye had no idea that I had promised Ted to bring his beloved mannequin to life, and I didn’t need a lecture about the consequences of bringing an inanimate object to life. I was already dealing with the premonition of my mother’s death, so I’d say I was stressed enough.

  “Raven, what was Leo—”

  Rye was cut off from asking me anything else about the mannequin when the front door opened. Ted walked in and proceeded to take off his long black dress coat. There was nothing else for the rest of us to do but stare at him in astonishment.

  I had to be hallucinating, right?

  I realized that wasn’t the case at all when Leo’s left bulging eye lifted from his edibles to focus on the shocking sight before us.

  The world is ending, isn’t it?

  “Good evening,” Ted greeted, smoothing down the mustard yellow cardigan sweater over his white dress shirt. The tie was even more hideous, but Leo was onto something about the world ending. “I’ve come to see my Julie.”

  No vintage suit, and no Edwardian tie. I didn’t even know there were clothes made to fit him. Did he raid the wax museum when we weren’t looking? Were those the clothes that Eddie Munster was dressed in?

  Upon Ted’s announcement, he walked over to his love. She was a little off kilter, but he would no doubt fix that problem soon enough. I quickly realized that he must have stopped into the boutique to pick up an outfit from the bag in his hand. It was a good thing Heidi had already left, because she most certainly would have absconded away with the cute floral spring print.

  Seriously? That’s what you’re focused on right now? Those five hours of sleep did nothing for you, did they?

  “I’m in shock,” I whispered sternly, still staring at Ted and trying to figure out how to get to the truth in quickest possible manner. “Give me a minute.”

  I gradually leaned forward until I was able set my coffee down on the table. Ted was gently patting the mannequin’s cheek while describing the colors in the shirt to her as if I’d already brought her to life. I’d certainly put myself in quite the conundrum with that promise, but that was a story for another time. Suffice it to say that my mother had left me no choice.

  Remind me again why we’re searching for the witch who wants to destroy your mother?

  “The two of you could give someone a headache,” Rye muttered, holding his coffee cup with one hand while rubbing his eyes with the other. “We’re running out of time, Raven. That is, if your premonitions have a time limit.”

  “Do you need ingredients, Miss Raven?”

  “No, no,” I replied to Ted’s question, figuring this was the opening for me to garner more information. “It was very nice of you to buy Julie a new outfit. Those shades of blue match her eyes.”

  “Julie deserves nothing but the best.”

  I’m going back to my edibles. This is like watching paint dry.

  “Do you have a mystery to solve with Mr. Rye?” Ted asked as he began to button the floral blouse that had a tie at the waist.

  Being around Julie brought out a lighter side to Ted. He usually never initiated conversation, but there seemed to be less tension in his shoulders while he was doting on Julie.

  “Yes, but it’s not the usual type,” I hedged, unsure of how to explain our latest whodunit. Technically, we already knew the whodunit—the dreamcatchers. It was like we were working backward. “It’s complicated.”

  Attempted murder is complicated?

  “Just eat,” Rye said with exasperation, clearly not used to Leo inserting his two cents every two seconds. “Ted, you know those dreamcatchers that you overheard me talking about on the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, they were the reason that Raven was having dreams that were coming true,” Rye explained, leaning forward to hand me the family grimoire. “I’m doing my best to protect Raven, as well as Rowena. I’ve made sure the ancient relics are hidden for the time being. The coven war has taken a turn for the worse, though. The two factions seem willing to dabble in black magic to get their way.”

  Rye now had Ted’s full attention, if his frown was anything to go by. I figured we might as well cut straight to the chase, because this had the potential to turn into an all-night fiasco with Ted’s stilted replies. If the end result was me calling my mother and warning her that she could die at any moment, it was best to do it sooner rather than later.

  Literally speaking, of course.

  “Ted, I saw a blonde witch in my dream who was standing over a steaming cauldron.” All I had to do was close my eyes to be taken right back to that place in my vision. “She was sprinkling in blades of grass while my mother’s picture was leaning against a pestle full of dirt. I think she was trying to…”

  I couldn’t even get the words out, because it all seemed so surreal.

  “It sounds as if your mother is in danger.” Ted was completely facing us now, his fingers interlaced in front of him as if he were standing in front of a classroom full of eager students.

  Rye and I shared a knowing look, but I had been hoping for more.

  “Ted, the mystery we’re facing is twofold. It’s finding out the identity of this witch and why she wants Mom dead.”

  I’d actually gotten the words out without stumbling. It was rather emboldening, and I wanted more than anything to bring this mystery to a close.

  “Have you told this to Ms. Regina?”

  Leo practically choked on the last of his catnip at Ted’s question, but he managed to swallow the minty herb without me having to do the Heimlich maneuver.

  Does the talking crayon want the world to be incinerated? I have battles of my own to fight, and I’m not having Skippy or Satan’s feathered mini-dragon say that I had to have someone fight my battles for me. Not happening, Raven. Fix this before Crayolahead over there does something that can’t be undone.

  “Ted, you and I both know that Mom would do whatever was necessary to find out who wanted to hurt her,” I explained, shuddering at the possible horrific outcome of such a strategy. “You also know how she can let anger rule her emotions. Telling Mom is the worst thing that we could do right now.”

  “I agree with Raven,” Rye said, draining the rest of the contents in his mug. “We need to find a blonde witch who has a mole in the shape of a triangle above her right eyebrow. There is one warlock that I still keep in contact with that was excommunicated from the coven years ago for…well, that’s not important. Anyway, I’ll try to reach him and see if he—”

  “You’re referring to Miss Bridget.”

  We all stared at Ted in shock as he referred to the witch in
question as if she were a dear friend. How was it that he could know someone who would want to hurt my mother in such a fashion?

  You should try playing a hand of poker with him. Trust me. It’s the reason I have to take along my catnip pipe.

  “Do you know Bridget?” Rye asked, rising from the chair as we finally had our first real lead in saving my mother’s life. “Who is she, Ted?”

  “Miss Bridget is…”

  Ted frowned even more when he seemed to be struggling for words.

  That surprises you how? Although, he does know how to capture an audience. It’s almost like I’m sitting on pins and needles.

  “Miss Bridget deals in black market ingredients.”

  Oh, wait. It’s not pins and needles. My belly was resting on the leftover bits and pieces of my catnip. Carry on.

  “Black market?” Rye asked before I could figure out a way to have Ted clarify his statement in the easiest manner possible. “You mean, Bridget is the one who sells you the difficult plants and flowers you need for Raven’s magical blends?”

  Ohhh! Bridget Gablore. I remember her now.

  I shot Leo a glare in an effort to tell him that bit of information would have come in handier last night when I’d dreamt about Bridget casting a spell in order to murder my mother.

  What? I’m just an ongoing reminder not to dabble in black magic.

  “No,” Ted replied, shocking us all.

  I held up my hand when Rye would have continued down this road, and now I understood how Heidi felt in these situations. I had this one covered, though.

  “Ted, is Bridget part of the coven?”

  “Yes.” Ted sighed, as if he’d had enough of this conversation when all he really wanted to do was spend time with Julie. “I met her once.”

  “When?” I asked, wincing when I realized that I’d fallen into my own trap. “Wait. Don’t answer that yet. Does my mother know Bridget?”

  Wake me up when you’re done with this interrogation.

  Ted shook his head as he went about tying the two strands of fabric together so that it hung just right from the mannequin’s waist. He’d even bought her the most adorable pair of light blue casual shoes that most likely wouldn’t fit the plastic feet.

  “I don’t believe so,” Ted finally replied, concentrating on untying one of the white shoelaces. “No.”

  “Do you think that Bridget is working with the other council members to hurt Aunt Rowena and her family? I would think that this Bridget would know all about our family feud and the fact that we want no part of the coven war,” I said softly as I mulled over this new revelation. “Could Bridget have been the one to put the hex bag next to Aunt Rowena’s house?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Rye replied grimly. Whatever he was considering didn’t sound too wise. “Listen, I don’t remember Bridget from my time at the coven when I was younger. I’m also very careful with where I meet Rowena, and it was only when her powers began to lessen did I even consider entering the gates of the coven. I utilized a spell to get me in and out without anyone being the wiser, but it was just for a short time. I highly doubt we’d be able to get away with attempting something similar.”

  We both sat back down, throwing ideas out on how to find out why Bridget would want to hurt my mother, let alone take her life. Our suggestions ranged from telling Aunt Rowena about Bridget’s involvement, which we agreed would only escalate an already volatile situation. Then there was calling my mother, which put us in the same exact boat. Rye had even suggested that we use some type of teleportation spell to pay Bridget a visit, maybe giving us an opportunity to overhear or see something that would help us uncover who had asked her to utilize dark magic against the Marigolds. I thought it was too risky. Then again, I was about to propose something even riskier.

  “With the coven in tatters, what does it matter that you and I show up there?” I asked, thinking about what my mother would do in this situation. Well, that was a bad example. I knew what she would do, which was why I wasn’t calling her. But I was taking a page out of her book, just in a less of a spiteful manner. “It’s not like either side would do anything to us for fear of retribution.”

  I’d like to point out that retribution is why you’re sitting here making plans to invade the coven’s territory. Clearly, flower lady is following orders from the opposing side. I vote we call your mother, inform the Wicked Witch of Windsor of these details, and let them fight their own battles. We’ll stay right here in the sanctity of our lovely little home, stocked up on premium organic catnip and fresh ground Colombian coffee beans.

  As much as Leo’s suggestion was tempting, I couldn’t allow the coven to engage in an all-out supernatural war. I’d end up taking full responsibility if someone got hurt, and the guilt would eat at me for life. I also couldn’t allow the opposing side to hurt my family.

  Quite the conundrum, I daresay. We could always send in the walking, talking stick of wax to frustrate them to death.

  “You’re right, Raven,” Rye said, leaning forward in anticipation. “Neither side would outwardly do a thing to us in front of the other. The war is already on a precipice. We hold the wild cards in this game.”

  Did someone mention poker?

  I wasn’t captivated by the card game reference so much as I was at the mention that we had the advantage. The moment Rye declared that we had somewhat of a leg up in this situation, the black stone hanging from my neck began to heat from the energy that it was gathering from the earth.

  “We need to put on a united front together and give the factions a choice to mull over regarding a peaceful split, which means we walk through those coven gates with our heads held high,” Rye announced, holding his hand up as he thought of something else. “There’s a good chance that just our mere presence will get the other side to back off.”

  I think I’ll fold this hand, if you get my drift. You two have a nice trip up north. I’ll hold down the fort.

  “You’re coming with us, Leo,” I declared, a crazy idea forming that would have both sides agreeing to a peaceful separation. “I’ve figure it out. Well, sort of. We need to determine a way to split the Windsor Stone.”

  Raven, answer me this—is there a reason why you make things so incredibly difficult? I’m pretty sure that I’d rather go out by the squirrelpocalypse or Satan’s feathered mini dragon than be at the mercy of two rivaling coven factions. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going on this road trip. I’m not, and you can’t make me.

  Chapter Twelve

  You don’t play fair, Raven.

  What Leo meant by that statement was the fact that I’d taken his favorite catnip pipe, every bag that contained premium organic catnip treats, and all the other edibles that he enjoyed and shoved them into the backseat of my car. He was now sitting in the middle of what he would probably refer to as his own slice of heaven.

  A witch had to do what a witch had to do in order to see a plan through.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Liam asked, having answered my call as I’d stashed the last bag of catnip on the backseat. I’d started my car so that the heater had a chance to warm up the interior, no longer on the fritz after Newt had so graciously fixed it for me around Christmastime. “You always said that there was something about Rye that you didn’t trust, and now you’re about to go into the middle of a supernatural war zone with him by your side. I’m with Leo on this one. I don’t like it, Raven.”

  The good ol’ sheriff does have some redeeming qualities, doesn’t he?

  “I would have you by my side if I could,” I said softly, meaning every word. There was no other man I’d rather have beside me in a time like this, but he would only be a target that I couldn’t protect on my own. Not even Aunt Rowena knew that I’d let Liam in on the supernatural secret, and it needed to stay that way for his sake. “We’ll be fine. I finally got a good night’s sleep, I’ve got my travel mug of coffee, and I’m driving separately in case one of us needs to leave in a hurry.
”

  Tell me again why we can’t send in Crayolahead? Hey, I remember these edibles! Oh, look…the spicy ones I got for Cinco de Mayo last year! Where did you find these? You might think I treated the spawn of Satan horribly when we had to babysit, but even I knew that spicy edibles shouldn’t be on the menu. I hid them in a secret place. It was so secret that even I couldn’t remember where I’d stashed them. Despite what you may think, I do have a few redeeming qualities…just like the good ol’ sheriff.

  I settled behind the steering wheel after having taken my coat off and tossing it on the passenger seat. It was highly doubtful that Leo would emerge from the pile that I’d created on the backseat before reaching our destination.

  “What’s your plan?” Liam asked, the soft clicks and tinks of him making breakfast for his sister echoing in the background. “Any chance you want to hold off until Monday? I should be back home by dinnertime.”

  Once again, the good ol’ sheriff is proving his value. Look, he’s willing to sacrifice himself for you. Who am I to stand in his way?

  “It’s bad enough that I closed the teashop yesterday and today. The entire town probably has me dying from insomnia, if there is such a thing,” I muttered, fastening my seatbelt before giving the cottage a once over. Ted was already inside, carrying on a rather impressive one-sided conversation with Julie. The mannequin was a problem for another day. “Right now, I’m swinging past Rye’s house so that I can follow him up to Windsor. There’s a little town hall near the front of the subdivision, far away from the Windsor Stone and their altar. We’ll wait there for those on the council to show up, and then we’ll offer our proposal.”

  “Which is?” Liam asked warily.

  “Find an incantation to separate the Windsor Stone.” By this time, I’d made it to the end of my driveway. “The council will probably be against it, but our presence alone should be enough to warn both sides that we see what each side is doing. Rye is working on some kind of speech.”