Witches and Wedding Cakes: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 9)

by Raven Snow

  I grabbed hold of the bracelet with my free hand and started pulling, making my confined hand as small as possible. Hot tears streamed from my eyes as pain lit up my hand. The rough metal of the cuffs scraped skin off my hand by the bucket load, but I didn't stop, because it was working. I was halfway free.

  Trying hard not to think about the diseases I was probably getting from the open wound and the dirty surroundings, I kept pulling and yanking my hand out of there. The blood made my hand slick, and on the next hard pull, my hand popped free.

  Without thinking, I let the handcuff swing free, hitting the water heater with a loud clang that echoed through the house. It was quite possibly the loudest sound I'd ever heard, and I would've kicked myself bloody if someone hadn't already done it for me.

  Struggling to my feet, I felt a bit dizzy, and I had to grab onto the wall for support. The feeling of standing again made me giddy, and I laughed silently for a moment, feeling my legs move beneath me like I'd thought they never would again.

  But there wasn't time to be happy I was alive. There'd be time for that after I saved everyone, riding in like a knight in shining armor. Though in the stories, the knights are not usually so battered.

  As soon as I started up the stairs, the door at the top flew open. I brought up my fists, ready to fight, but after my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw it was Wyatt. He looked even worse than I did, if that was possible. He was limping badly, and his face was scarcely recognizable thanks to the swelling and bruises.

  My heart clenched painfully at the sight of him, wanting to fall into his arms and kiss every ouch better. A sane thought stopped me short. Why would the fae have let Wyatt roam free? And if they had, why hadn't he come for me sooner?

  He grabbed me by the arm before I could back away, pulling me up the stairs and into the kitchen. "Thank god, you're okay," he said. "I overpowered him. Harper, they–they look just like us."

  I walked through the door and saw another Wyatt, tied up and bruised. The free Wyatt fed me a story about overpowering the fae and tying him up, but there was a simple way to test that.

  Without warning, I lunged toward a pair of ancient, rusty scissors lying on the counter. It was a shot in the dark that they’d be iron, but that fire poker I’d spent a fortune on was conveniently elsewhere. Somehow, I doubted Frannie would be giving me a refund on that.

  I pressed the scissors against the tied-up Wyatt’s skin and nothing happened. That probably wouldn’t have confirmed anything, but when I turned around, the other Wyatt shrunk away from the scissors, making a hissing noise under his breath.

  A brief moment of joy flowed through me, because I’d found my man. It was short lived though, as I was now confronted by reality.

  Unfortunately, finding the real Wyatt tied up meant the changeling was the one who was free to attack me. He lunged for me, hands going right to my throat. I was ready for him though, and I rammed my knee into the family jewels. It didn’t have the same effect it would’ve had on the real Wyatt, but it bought me a little time to run out the front door, taking the fight away from my incapacitated fiancé.

  The outside of the house looked like a rundown cabin at some summer camp. Trees surrounded us, but Waresville had a lot of forests, so that didn’t tell me where I was. The heavily wooded area around town added to the creepy factor, which increased tourist revenue.

  There wasn’t any more time to try and locate myself, because the fae was coming after me, taking the front stairs two at a time. I ran off into the woods, watching my feet, because I didn’t need to fall on a root at that moment.

  The woods got thick quickly, and I lost sight of the changeling. It was a bit disconcerting to have Wyatt chase after me, but it wasn’t nearly as frightening as being alone in the woods again. Why couldn’t the bad guys ever catch up with me at a diner or something? At least then I wouldn’t be running scared on an empty stomach.

  The fae obviously knew this part of the woods better than me, because he circled around, coming out through a bush just a couple yards in front of me. Though he was still wearing Wyatt’s face, his teeth were longer and yellow beneath Wyatt’s usually curved mouth. The eyes weren’t bright blue anymore either, instead blending into the shadows in the woods.

  “Your impersonation sucks,” I said.

  He smiled. “Fooled you.”

  I’d have to give him that one.

  He pulled out a gun, and I blinked, a little surprised. His shrug was apologetic, though he never took his eyes off me, and his smile remained intact.

  “Not very magical, is it? But a bullet will kill you just as well as a spell.” His grin grew. “And there’s the added bonus of this being your husband’s gun.”

  The fae raised the handgun, the metal glinting in the scant sunlight. He was going to kill me and frame Wyatt. It was all happening so fast that I didn’t even have time to panic, only to wonder if Kosher would be the one arresting my husband. Maybe Wyatt would finally see what an awful human being he was.

  But then, I wouldn’t be around to enjoy the revelation.

  His hand tensed, getting ready to pull the trigger, and a sweat broke out over my body. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Unlike the thing in front of me, I had no supernatural strength or speed to fall back on.

  Just as I was about to scream, a growl sounded from off to the side. We both whipped around just as a sandy colored furball flew through the air, colliding with the fae and taking him down in a whirl of snarls and teeth.

  It was Biscuit.

  Whatever power the fae had, it wasn’t enough to overpower my pet werewolf, and I turned away so I wouldn’t have to see the rest. It was usually my job to take Biscuit hunting in the woods, so I’d seen enough werewolf kills to last a lifetime.

  “Stop it, Biscuit,” I said without heat. It was more of a formality. Werewolves were animals just like any other, and Biscuit wouldn’t release his prey without a good reason.

  As that prey had tried to kill my already beat up Wyatt, threatened my family, and ruined my wedding, I didn’t have a good reason to supply Biscuit with.

  Wincing at the growling behind me, the fae’s screaming finally stopped, and I said, “This is morally wrong. Shame on you.”

  I didn’t turn around, but I heard Biscuit snarl at me. I imagined he was sarcastically asking if I’d rather he let me die next time. He had a point there.

  “Bad dog,” I said, keeping my back to the scene. “Very bad dog. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Biscuit had it handled, so I headed back to the house, releasing Wyatt. He hugged me fiercely, his eyes tearing up when he saw me. Punching him in the arm, I told him not to be such a girl, but I was happy we were both free. For the moment, anyway.

  There was still one more fae out there, so we walked to the next house to use their phone. It ended up being quite a trek, because we were just outside of Waresville in an isolated area. I filled him in on everything the still breathing fae had said, including the bit about threatening Cooper.

  His jaw clenched at that, but he said, "He'll go after your grandmother first. She's the real target."

  The first house we came upon was empty—the owners probably at work for the day. Wyatt didn't even say anything as I blasted the lock open, heading straight to the cordless phone in the kitchen. Our first call was to Gran, but no one picked up.

  The next was to Vic. She answered with a bright hello that I thought was a little rude considering her best friend was missing. When I told her so, she seemed to stop short.

  "But Harper...you're not missing anymore," she said, a little nervous and a little confused. "I saw you an hour ago at the station."

  Vic relayed the whole story. The changeling had come in, telling Kosher and her that the fae had kept them prisoner for a couple days before leaving town. According to my clone, Wyatt was on his way to check on Cooper.

  "Where did you last see me, Vic? It's important."

  "At the police station. I had to go pick up Hope."
<
br />   We called a cab.

  The fare for the cabbie driving out to the middle of nowhere and back into Waresville was enormous, but Wyatt didn't wince as he paid it. I did, though. Guess I'm not made of as stern of stuff.

  The station parking lot was mostly deserted except for one police cruiser I recognized. Kosher was at his desk inside, looking at some paperwork. He glanced up at us in surprise.

  "Why are you bothering me twice in one day?"

  Not even snarling at him, I searched the place while Wyatt explained things to his co-worker. The other Harper was nowhere to be seen, and a cold little fist closed around my heart. If the fae had gone after Cooper...

  "You left not twenty minutes ago," Kosher said, looking as confused as his girlfriend.

  "Which way did I turn out of the parking lot?"

  He shrugged, and I leaped across the desk, grabbing him by the collar and almost choking the life out of him. If the fae had gone right, he was headed for Gran. Nancy's house was to the left.

  "Which. Way. Did. It. Go."

  Kosher's eyes widened, and he went a little pale at whatever he saw in my eyes. "I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."

  We were running from the police station without another word. There was really no communication between us. Wyatt, with Kosher's keys in his hands, hopped into the car and started driving, me riding shotgun.

  If we were wrong, it could cost either Gran or Cooper their lives. But Cooper was our kid and human. Gran was a centuries old witch who could likely hold her own until we got there. There was no competition.

  We turned left.

  When Wyatt and I pulled into Nancy's driveway, Cooper came running out, the whole family right behind him. I got to him first, pulling that kid into my arms and squeezing the living daylights out of him. I handed him reluctantly off to Wyatt who had to pull away from his crying mother.

  “Were you good for your grandmother?” I asked tearfully as Wyatt hugged Cooper.

  “Nope.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  There wasn't time for emotional reunions yet. Wyatt knew it too, so he put Cooper down, and we pushed everyone away. Hopefully, there'd be time for this later.

  "You're leaving?" Cooper asked, his eyes watering.

  "We'll be back," I promised, hoping I wasn't lying. "But first, we've got to save a crotchety old hag who will never thank us for it."

  Wyatt peeled off before anyone could offer to help. None of them were up to supernatural fighting weight. Though, in fairness, Nancy had proven herself pretty capable with a bat. I felt the knot that still existed on my skull.

  The plantation style house on the top of the hill looked deserted. None of the lights were on, and though Gran's car was in the drive, she could get around just as well without it. We parked a little away, hoping to keep the element of surprise. I just wasn't sure yet if we were sneaking up on my grandmother or the fae. The former could have horrible consequences.

  Gran rarely locked the door, and today was no exception. Trying to keep the old door from making a sound, we moved slowly through it, closing it silently behind us. My eyes went wide when I took in the scene, and I was pretty sure Gran was going to kill someone tonight.

  The house was wrecked, books and ripped pages lining the floor. In the kitchen, all the cabinets stood open, like the furniture was gasping. The glasses that Gran was so meticulous about cleaning were now nothing more than shattered glass on the floor and counters. A single tea cup laid under a kitchen chair, its handle broken off and a puddle of tea surrounding it.

  A couple paintings that were probably older than Wyatt and I combined were askew or lying face down at our feet, the canvases in shreds. It looked like a tornado had come through there, but a tornado with vengeance in its heart.

  We searched the ground floor for Gran and found nothing, so we headed upstairs. Wyatt stopped me before I could go charging in, putting a finger to his lips and motioning for me to slow down. As of now, we still had the element of surprise. It'd be great if we could manage to keep our one advantage.

  Predictably, Wyatt insisted on going first, drawing the gun he'd "borrowed" from Kosher's cop car. He was very clear on the drive over that he would be returning it. I rolled my eyes at his sense of propriety in even the direst of circumstances and followed him up, watching his back.

  We heard voices from the attic and lined up outside the door, taking anxious peeks in while still trying to stay hidden. The room that served as a library for Gran looked even worse than the space downstairs. The old broad had put up one hell of a fight. I felt a little spark of pride in my chest.

  I stuck my head a little farther around the corner than I'd dared in the past, and I got almost the full view of the room. And what I saw made my blood boil and made me see red.

  Gran, the force of nature herself, was tied up almost identically to how Wyatt had been. She'd been shoved into the corner, and a gag placed in her mouth. Probably so she couldn't utter any magic phrases.

  Frowning, I wondered how that worked. Gran didn't usually need words to use magic. She was way beyond that. I didn't, either, but that's because I wasn't actually using spells, just the raw power that laid within me.

  When I stepped into the room, my question was answered. There was a dark, sucking magic in the air, and I felt immediately drained. My body seemed to go slack. I got a hold of myself, but I could still feel the difference. The longer I stayed in there, the more magic the spell leeched off me.

  I reached Gran, and she was ashy and as small as I'd ever see her. Eyes alive with rage, she wiggled a little trying to communicate with me. Before I could understand her and before Wyatt could yell a warning, the changeling reappeared, grabbing me by the back of the neck and throwing me into the wall.

  Wyatt charged towards us, gun at the ready. Before he could take more than a step or fire a shot, the fae sent him flying too, leaving the gun behind. He kicked it out of the room, and I heard it skitter down the stairs.

  "I wasn't expecting to see you again," the fae said, keeping his eyes on me. "How did you get past my brother?"

  Shrugging, I got to my feet. "Killed him. He’s werewolf kibble now."

  That wiped the smile right off the fae's face—my face. It was strange seeing my own eyes widen in anger, mouth forming curse words in a foreign tongue. There was disbelief in the fae's tone, so I showed him my blood stained hands.

  Suddenly, my grandmother was laughing, though I didn't know how she had gotten her gag out, as she was still fully tied up. We all turned to look at her, even Wyatt who was still struggling to his feet, blood streaming down his face from where his head had hit the wall.

  “That’s two brothers my kin and I have stolen from you,” she said, having herself a good old chuckle. I’d never seen my grandmother so pleased, and she looked at me with an air of respect that was also new. Figures that it’d take me committing murder for her to give me a pat on the back.

  "Shut your mouth," he snarled at Gran, all human expression leaving his face. In fact, he didn't really look like me anymore. I stared as I realized that the shapes were all there, but the finer details like the arch of my nose and the length of my eyelashes were fading. I didn't have to wonder why for long.

  "Can't hold it, can you?" Gran asked smugly. "Without your brothers, you're powerless. Pathetic."

  He concentrated and a little bit of my features came back for a moment. As soon as he looked triumphant, they started fading away again, and he screamed. I stood there, shocked at the effect seeing my face as half-fae was having on me. Truly, they were ugly creatures.

  As we watched, the features on the changeling started turning back to normal, the teeth growing longer and sharper, the nose expanding. His skin started to take on a grey, stony quality, and the pixie cut I always wore receded back into his head, leaving him bald. Cheekbones sunk into his face, making it misshapen. By human standards, anyway.

  It was a disturbing and nauseating process. I was struck by the odd realization th
at if someone had offered me a slice of pizza at that moment, I would've said no. It was probably the first time in my life I could have said that.

  Gran kept laughing through the whole transformation, tickled pink to see the humiliation of an old foe. I wondered if she would tell me why she killed the first brother, if I were to ask. Shaking my head ruefully, I figured she'd have a price for that information.

  The fae dived toward Gran, talon-like claws out. Tackling him from the side, I took him down, getting a little scratched up in the process. Wyatt helped with a few punches as we tried to keep him down, but he likely had a concussion and seemed a little off balance.

  It wouldn't have mattered, though, because the changeling was a lot stronger in this form, and he threw us off easily. Just then, Wyatt whipped out a tiny gun that even he seemed surprised he had, shooting the thing directly in the chest as it got to its feet. He jerked back but didn't fall, the bullet hole closing right before our eyes with minimal blood.

  "It's not that easy to kill the fae," Gran said dryly.

  I looked around wildly, trying to locate some iron while the fae moved closer to Gran. He wasn’t moving very fast, playing with his food. Though, if he thought intimidation would work on that old witch, he was lacking human intelligence and human features.

  My search came up empty as I surged to my feet, cursing. How could an old house like this not have any iron? It was probably built in the 1800s, for god’s sakes.

  Inspiration hit like a train doing ninety, and I sprinted down the stairs, trying not to trip over my own eager feet. That would’ve just been embarrassing.

  I heard laughter from upstairs. “You see how easily your own flesh and blood abandon you, Julia?”

  I ran straight past the gun, heading towards the fireplace. Grabbing a poker from there, I sighed when I realized it looked exactly like the one I’d spent a small fortune on at the pawn shop. Without wasting any time, I charged back up the stairs, readying to save the day.

  The fae had completely disregarded me, putting his back to the door as he rounded in on Gran. Wyatt, ever the hero, tried to put himself between them, but the creature just threw him out of the way. Which sealed his fate more firmly than anything else.