Witchin' USA (A Moonstone Bay Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “That was quick.”

  Good grief. He was expecting it, too. What is it with these people? “You knew she would come.”

  “I had a feeling she would,” Galen clarified. “She was a good woman who left before her time. That usually means returning until business is done or the island releases her.”

  “And what business do you think she has? Is this about finding her killer because she didn’t know she was poisoned?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s about finding who killed her. Don’t get me wrong, I think that she wants to know who did the deed, but I don’t think that’s why she’s back. I fully expected her to pop up. I thought it might take a few weeks longer. She must’ve tied her return to your arrival.”

  “And why would she do that?”

  “Because you’re her unfinished business.” Galen answered without hesitation. “I know that you’re dealing with a lot and you don’t want to believe that any of this is real. You probably think if you go upstairs right now and climb into bed that you’ll be able to sleep until morning and when you wake up this will have been nothing but a dream.”

  “Nightmare,” I corrected. “It will have been a really weird nightmare.”

  “That’s not what’s going to happen.”

  “And yet it’s what I’m hoping for.” I stopped in front of the main door to dig for my keys. “You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Well, for starters, you need to stay out of the cemetery.”

  “I figured that out myself.”

  “Other than that, I want you to know that we confirmed that Bonnie Wakefield died of poisoning. It was the same poison we found in May’s system.”

  “Which means you really do have a serial killer,” I mused, part of me surprised he wanted to talk about the mundane when we had so much of the magical hanging over our heads.

  “We do.” Galen nodded. “You need to be careful.”

  “You said you had three elderly women who died,” I reminded him. “I’m not elderly.”

  “No, but you still make an appealing target because you don’t know what’s going on in Moonstone Bay. You’re powerful, but you don’t realize it yet. You’re not ready to embrace it. That’s fine, by the way. No one wants to rush you.”

  “Rush me to do what?”

  “Join the community.”

  “Haven’t I already done that?”

  “You’ve taken certain steps, but you’re not part of the community yet,” Galen replied. “I believe you will eventually do that, but you need to come to grips with your past before you can look to the future.”

  That sounded like something he dug up from a fortune cookie. I found it grating. “So … is that all?”

  Galen looked torn, but he nodded as he took a step back. “Lock your doors. If someone approaches you and you’re at all uncomfortable don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “I wish I would’ve thought to do that when the naked woman climbed out of the ocean this morning,” I groused.

  “Aurora is not a danger to you. I’m talking about someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. I wanted to put the revelations and frustrations in the rearview mirror and shut out the world for a full eight hours. Heck, ten would be even better.

  “I promise to be careful,” I said after a beat. “Just keep me updated on what you find.”

  “I will.” Galen remained where he was as I opened the door. “If you need to talk … .”

  I cut him off with a shake of my head. “I need some sleep. That’s all I need right now.”

  “I understand that, but all this stuff isn’t going away just because you think it’s a dream,” Galen said. “Tomorrow, you’re still going to be facing the same problems. When that happens and you feel the need to talk, I’ll be around.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I went the lamest route available. This was a dream, after all. It didn’t matter. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

  “Sweet dreams, Hadley.”

  MY DREAMS WERE anything but sweet, a hodgepodge of terrifying and confusing images causing me to toss and turn all night. At one point I swear I felt a hand on my forehead and a female voice urging me to settle. I didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to May Potter as much as I felt in my heart it did.

  It seemed she was there all night, though she didn’t wake me, instead watching and whispering as she tried to help me outlast my troubled sleep.

  It will be all right. Don’t fret.

  This is the first day. The others will be better.

  He’s outside watching. You don’t have to worry about someone finding you here.

  You can start learning now. You’re behind, but things will get better. I promise.

  If it’s any consolation, I wish I would’ve done everything differently.

  It wasn’t much of a consolation, and by the time I woke I was a sweaty and tense mess, my hair snarled from all the shifting to get comfortable during the overnight hours. I hopped in the shower, opting for lukewarm water in an effort to shake off the nightmare doldrums. Then, after changing into simple knit shorts and a tank top, I took my coffee to the back patio.

  It wasn’t until I was already settled that I remembered Aurora’s naked visit twenty-four hours earlier. She apparently didn’t want to visit today – which I was thankful for – so I could enjoy my coffee in peace. I reveled in the sun and the sound of the surf before draining my coffee and heading inside.

  I had a lot of work to do. It was time to focus on that rather than … the other stuff.

  It was the other stuff that weighed heavily on me as I climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor. I felt a bit daft for not visiting until now. I thought the third floor – the one where the entire level consisted of a room with a light that was mostly for looks and only fired up when I saw fit because it was no longer necessary for boats coming into the bay – wasn’t important. Apparently I was wrong.

  I’d given the floor a cursory glance the day I moved in, and by that I mean I climbed to the top of the stairs and looked for about thirty seconds before heading back down. All I could see was a huge light and a couple of shelves. It didn’t look like much … and yet, when I gave it a second look given all that I knew I couldn’t understand how I’d missed the truth behind the room.

  The best way to describe the third floor was as an out-of-control library that apparently doubled as a laboratory on special days. The light took up the center of the room, but there was a simple beauty in the light’s design and the way the shelves were spread out, the light enhancing rather than detracting.

  I wasn’t sure what to think when I hit the first shelf, scratching my nose as I perused the leather-bound books that were most certainly considered antiques. I selected a purple tome, pursing my lips as I read the title. Toads, Snails and Other Spell Ingredients That Can Go Bad.

  I’m not sure what I expected – maybe Potions for Beginners or Spells for Dummies – but it certainly wasn’t something so mundane. The idea that toad remains could go wrong and inadvertently hurt a spell was both odd and hilarious. I heaved a sigh as I returned the book to the shelf, moving toward the next shelf and pulling up short when I found a photograph of my mother and father staring back at me.

  I recognized the photograph. It was taken while they were both still in college. They looked fresh-faced and happy. My mother would never have the chance to age to the point where she was anything else, but my father would have time to turn sad and introspective. I ran my fingers over the frame, wistful. Not for the first time I wondered what would’ve happened if my mother had lived. The thought took on new meaning now given what I’d learned – and, yes, I believed it all to be true. I could no longer push it off as a dream.

  If my mother had survived would she have made up with May Potter? Would I have known May as more than my surprising benefactor?
Would I have been able to call her “grandmother” without cringing? Would I not have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought about my father because he would’ve had no reason to “protect” me throughout my life?

  If my mother survived, would I have known about Moonstone Bay before this? Would I have visited as a child? I knew my father would never move here, which meant my mother wouldn’t have, but would I have known about my potential second home? Would I have been raised with the knowledge of paranormal beings to the point it wouldn’t shock me in the least?

  Heck, would I have met a shark shifter? I didn’t care what anyone said – and I would never admit it to anyone outside of my own head – but that sounded downright cool.

  I returned the photograph to the shelf and moved on to the desk in the back corner of the room. I missed it when I first glanced inside because the huge light cut off the angle of examination. This was clearly where May Potter spent a lot of her time. She had recipe cards scattered about, framed photographs of Moonstone Bay friends, and even a journal sitting in the middle of the desk.

  I sat in the desk chair and played with the cover of the journal, debating whether or not I should read it. Journals were meant to be private, after all. Sure, May Potter was dead, but she most certainly was not gone. That made it somehow more invasive.

  Still, she wanted me to learn, right? That’s what she said. She wanted me to know the truth of her life and what living in Moonstone Bay meant. I couldn’t learn that without some help.

  I sucked in a breath as I flipped open the cover, widening my eyes at a photograph of myself staring back. It was a snapshot, something someone printed on a home printer. I stood next to my father as we smiled and mugged for the camera at my college graduation. I couldn’t remember who took the photograph – I think it was my roommate’s mother – but I remembered the day very well.

  “How did you get this?” I murmured.

  The question would be repeated in my head throughout the day. When I flipped to the next page I found another photograph of me, this one from when I was a baby. Each page had a different photograph of me, and throughout the years May had made notes next to the photographs, her bold and recognizable script describing my age and how much I reminded her of my mother.

  My ears and cheeks burned by the time I was done, my feet feeling light and disconnected from my body as I tried to stand. Instead of forcing myself to be strong and accept everything in the journal, I indulged in a moment of weakness and dropped to my knees.

  It was too much. It was all too much. Even if I could get past the fact that zombies were real and my grandmother thought she was a witch, the fact that she kept tabs on me since my early childhood – I knew now that my father kept her away even more than he wanted to admit – it was all too much.

  I rested the side of my head on my knees, which I drew close to my chest, and did the one thing I hadn’t allowed myself to do since any of this started.

  I wept.

  And I didn’t stop until I couldn’t squeeze out one more tear.

  I wept for the mother I never knew, the grandmother I’d met only after her death and, for some reason, those stupid zombies wandering the cemetery at night. It was all too much and I needed to cry, so that’s exactly what I did.

  10

  Ten

  I put a bag of frozen peas over my eyes for ten minutes to reduce the swelling. I had a feeling I might have visitors – that’s apparently the Moonstone Bay way, after all – and I was proved right by the knock on the door shortly before noon.

  I took a moment to glance at my reflection in the wall mirror, my makeup-free face serving as a stark reminder that I’d fallen apart not long before. I combed my fingers through my hair to order it and then headed toward the door.

  I expected to find Lilac or Galen on the other side, maybe even Aurora asking if she could take another naked dip without upsetting me. Instead I found Ned Baxter standing on the front mat, a bright smile on his face.

  “Mr. Baxter.” I wasn’t expecting him, so I wasn’t sure what sort of greeting would be proper given the circumstances. “Do you need something?” I felt a bit slow and stupid. “Was I expecting you?”

  Ned’s smile never wavered. “Not unless you’re psychic.”

  I was fairly certain I wasn’t, but I’d come to the realization that ruling out anything in Moonstone Bay was a bad idea. “So this is just a friendly visit?”

  “Well … .” Ned broke off and shifted from one foot to the other, his discomfort evident. “I heard that you had a rough day yesterday.”

  “You heard?” I should’ve expected that, right? Moonstone Bay was full of gossip and I was the shiniest new gossip generator in town. Of course I was the topic of conversation. Lilac, Aurora and Galen probably used me as a punchline when telling stories at one of the myriad bars. While I was trying to prove to myself that yesterday was a nightmare, they were living in a comedy. That just figured.

  “I heard,” Ned confirmed, nodding. “Can we sit down and talk for a few minutes?”

  It was a simple request, but it rankled me. I gestured toward the front porch, refusing to grant the man entrance into the only place I considered a safe haven. “Let’s talk out here.”

  “Okay.” I doubted that Ned realized why I didn’t invite him inside – he probably figured I was a poor housekeeper on top of everything else – but he took a seat at the small bistro table located at the far corner of the porch without complaint. I knew I should offer him refreshments, but I was in no mood to play hostess.

  “What have you heard about me?” As far as opening gambits go, it wasn’t the friendliest, but the knowledge that gossip was being spread about me set my teeth on edge.

  “I’ve heard that our best laid plans have fallen apart,” Ned replied, not missing a beat. “I understand that you’ve been made aware of Moonstone Bay’s more … um … magical side.”

  That was an understatement. “Yeah, it’s been a busy forty-eight hours,” I confirmed, crossing my arms over my chest as I sat in the chair across from him. My stance was aggressive, but I wasn’t in the mood to care. “What do you want?”

  “I want to make sure you’re okay,” Ned answered, his eyes clear as they roamed my face. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “I slept.”

  “Well?”

  “That wasn’t the original question.”

  Ned chuckled, clearly uncomfortable. “No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry this all went sideways so quickly. The plan was to let you settle in and slowly reveal everything over time.”

  “I’m the sort of person who would rather have all the information from the start rather than to have it arrive in dribs and drabs,” I said. “May I ask why you all thought it would be a good idea to keep me in the dark?”

  “I wasn’t around for that particular decision,” Ned clarified. “If you remember, I didn’t even know about your existence until a few months before May died. I was surprised when she had me draw up the paperwork leaving the lighthouse to you.”

  “It sounds as if she was beloved,” I noted, allowing myself to relax a bit. “You probably didn’t want to consider the fact that she wouldn’t survive.”

  “No, but I didn’t even know Emma had a child. You never visited. May never mentioned you.”

  My mind drifted to the journal upstairs. May Potter might not have mentioned me, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think of me. The realization hurt – and yet it also soothed my frayed nerves in a way that I didn’t think possible only twelve hours earlier. “Yeah, well, I think my father and May didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”

  “I see.” Ned steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the table. “I know this is a lot to take in. You come from a world where paranormal beings and entities are fiction. Moonstone Bay is the exact opposite. If you’re normal on the island you’re considered odd.”

  That was an interesting way of looking at it. “Are you paranormal?”

  “I have a bit
of wendigo in me, but it’s nothing to write home about.”

  I thought about asking the obvious question, but instead made a mental note to Google “wendigo” once I was alone again. That would probably be easier, and make me look like less of an idiot. “Well, that’s nice for you.” Really, what do you say to something like that?

  “My father was full-on wendigo and my mother was a witch,” Ned explained. “I never really got a full dose of either, so I’m more of a half-breed with zero power more than anything else.”

  “You grew up knowing about this stuff. That makes things easier for you.”

  “Yes, and no. Still, you’re clearly dealing with a lot. That’s why I stopped by.”

  “Are you offering to explain things to me?” That seemed to be the offer du jour. “If so, I have to say I’m not in the mood for a lot of explanations right now.”

  “That’s not why I came.” Ned leaned back in his chair, extending his short legs in front of him as he fixed me with a friendly smile. He was the only lawyer I could ever remember meeting who wore a suit coat with knee-length shorts. It was an odd ensemble, to say the least.

  “Why did you come?”

  “I figured this might be too much for you,” Ned said. “This isn’t your world, and I know you’re probably wondering how you’ll fit in once the dust settles. My guess is you only came in the first place because of the will’s stipulation that you live here to receive your inheritance.”

  Was that true? I’d like to think I’m bigger than that, but it wasn’t untrue. The inheritance motivated me – yes, I feel small because of it – but I was also prodded into action by the thought of learning more about my mother’s family. “I moved here for a variety of reasons. I’d be lying if I said the inheritance wasn’t part of it.”

  “And no one blames you for that,” Ned supplied. “I think most people would’ve done the same in your circumstances.”

  I believed that, too. Strangely enough, though, that didn’t make me feel better. “Yeah, well, the entire thing is a bit messed up. I’m still trying to sort it out.”