Witch You Were Here (Nightshade Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Lori Woods

  Immediately, Broom Hilda takes off, darting towards the sky.

  “Well, bless my soul, what a stupid, dumb troll,” Snowball chants as we fly up high over the lake.

  12

  “Suzy,” Alfie calls out as the messenger—a satyr—sets the package on the service desk. “Your secret admirer has sent you another present.”

  “Well open it. That’s what an assistant is for,” I call out as I am getting ready to add the red mushroom to the cauldron of bubbling liquid suspended over a fire in the library’s fireplace.

  “I’m not eating it,” Snowballs say as she watches me add the tiny piece of mushroom.

  Suddenly the cauldron belches a puff of black smoke that envelopes my body. I run out of the cloud, fanning my face as I see Snowball dash for the stacks.

  “I’m not opening any of your packages,” Alfie shouts back. “I’m not touching the poison plants someone is sending you.” He frowns. “You know your face is totally covered. It looks like black tar.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” I grab a tissue from underneath the desk and start to dry-scrub my face. Soon, the tissue is completely black. I’ll have to find a washcloth or something and clean myself up in the library’s bathroom.

  “I mean it, Suzy. I’m not touching the package.”

  “You have heard of gloves?”

  The dwarf glances at me. “Hmm, are you sure you’re a witch? Last time you turned purple and the time before that…”

  “It’s a learning curve, Alfie.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but you’ve been on the bottom of the curve for a while now.”

  “What’s your point?” I snap, knowing he’s right. I’m getting nowhere with the exit spell.

  “My point is you’re obviously doing something wrong!” Alfie glances at Snowball who has emerged from the book stacks and is following. “Isn’t that right, Snowball?”

  “All I did was drop a black cat hair in the cauldron,” Snowballs says.

  “You what!” I bellow.

  “At least you aren’t purple this time,” Alfie says. “You and Snowball’s color match exactly. I think it would be a stretch to call you a white witch,” Alfie says and laughs as he hands me the package. He nods at the top drawer of the desk. “Gloves are in there.”

  “I can’t open the package with gloves on. Anyway, I don’t plan on eating whatever it is. So I think I’m pretty safe.” I eye the parcel. “Hmm. I wonder what it is. There’s no need to send me poison ivy since it’s already growing in planters in front of the library, thanks to Sprout.”

  I rip the brown paper off the cardboard box and pull open the lid. “Uh… sumac,” I say. “Just what I need for my collection.”

  “Looks pretty,” Snowball says as she climbs on the service desk to look inside the box.

  “As they say, you can look but you better not touch,” I say, closing the box. “Okay, fun break is over, Snowball. Let’s get back to work. But don’t you dare add any more ingredients. I’m beginning to think you’re sabotaging my spells on purpose.”

  “I know you want to go back to the other side, but why would Snowball want to turn back into a common, mouse-chasing cat back in Pottyville? Here, at least she can talk.” Alfie says, coming to Snowball’s defense.

  “It Potomac...not Pottyville!” I correct the dwarf.

  “Pottyville, dullsville, same thing,” Alfie says as he watches me walk toward the fireplace. “And what do I do with the sumac?”

  “Take it to the root cellar. You never know when we’ll need it for a brew spell,” I say. I look at Alfie. “Have you heard from Sheriff Dudley?”

  “What about?” Alfie says.

  “About these attempts on my life,” I say sternly.

  “Oh, he forgot to dip his pen in lemon juice. His invisible notes are just that; invisible,” Alfie says.

  I shake my head. “I thought he was just dumb on the outside but smart on the inside. You know, like Detective Colombo,” I say. “But with him, I think he’s dumb to the bone.”

  “Who’s Colombo?” Alfie asks.

  “Never mind who he is. Let’s focus on who Night Shadow is. I guess if I want to find out, I’ll have to do it myself.”

  “Oh, you’ve had training in police work?” Alfie asks, arching his eyebrows.

  “Yes, I’ve watched every episode of Murder She Wrote.”

  Alfie looks puzzled.

  “Never mind, I’m sure it is more training than Sheriff Dudley got out of his Cracker Jack box.” I look thoughtful. “Let’s start with a list of suspects.”

  “The vet!” Snowballs shouts eagerly.

  “Are you saying that just because he gave you a shot?” I ask.

  “Meow.”

  “I just love it when you suddenly are a speechless cat when you don’t want to answer me. But yes, he was in the woods near the house when the man in black attacked me while I was removing the tree limb off the road.

  “And you saw Ray’s father, Joe.” Alfie says eagerly.

  “And Val admitted to being in the area,” I add.

  “Anyone else?” I ask, glancing at Snowball and then Alfie.

  “It was Sprout’s day off,” Alfie says.

  “Yeah, he’s already at the top of my list as he was just outside when the books fell on me.”

  Alfie shrugs.

  “How about the goat man, Bo?” I ask.

  “Yeah, he does have a grudge against witches. A black witch he was dating turned him into a satyr when she caught him cheating on her.”

  “But he seemed friendly when he learned that I was a white witch and the new librarian,” I point out. “However, he could have just been acting,” I add.

  “That leaves only Sheriff Dudley and the doctor,” Alfie says.

  “It could be anyone one; let’s add them to the list, too,” I say with a shrug. Suddenly I remember the white powder I had found on Rachel’s neck and later on my shoulder when Night Shadow’s fingers had brushed against me the night he attacked me. Why white powder? The reason for the deposits of white elude me for the moment, but I realize that it might be a big clue to solving the mystery of who Night Shadow is.

  “Wow, I think that’s about every man that you have met in Nightshade so far,” Alfie says, breaking into my chain of thought. “Did you actually graduate from the Murder She Wrote school?” he asks.

  Instead of answering, I glance over at the fireplace. The concoction of my last failure is still bubbling in the cauldron.

  “Okay, now that I have a list of suspects in mind, I think I’m going to take the Book of Spoken Spells home. I think better when I’m reading,” I say. “Would you be a dear, Alfie, and dump this batch of gunk out of the cauldron? I’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

  “Why me?” Alfie asks.

  “Because you are my assistant and assistants clean up after their bosses.”

  “Snowball, help me out here.” Alfie says, glancing at my cat.

  “I want to ride on Broom Hilda,” Snowball says and then purrs.

  “Are you satisfied?” I say as I turn and head for the door.

  “You know, I think you’re turning into a black witch,” Alfie says defiantly. “I expect Sheriff Dudley to come and pronounce you unfit for librarian any day now.”

  I kiss my fingers and touch them to the rear of my jeans.

  “I saw that. I saw that,” Alfie says.

  I walk through the door and miss what else he says.

  “Alfie loves you.” Snowball declares.

  “Yeah, like Val Kilmoor loves the sun,” I say as I straddle Broom Hilda.

  As usual I see Sprout. I smile at him.

  “Snowball, was that a smile on his face?”

  “I never look at his face! Too creepy!”

  The ride to the cottage is exhilarating as always. Do I really want to give up this for my ratty old Escort? Maybe not, but I do want the choice to be mine! I think as Broom Hilda drops down over the oak and lands up at the front door of the cottage.

  “
A spot of tea and then I’m going to practice spells from the Book of Spoken Spells,” I tell Snowball, who arches her back and hisses.

  “Then don’t watch,” I say as I place my broomstick in the corner and grab the teakettle. As I wait for the kettle to whistle, I realize that the cottage still looks spotless. “Snowball, Granny Maycomber must have cast a cleaning spell over the cottage. Why else would it always be clean?”

  “Meow.”

  The kettle finally whistles and I make myself a cup of tea. I grab the spell book and open it at the kitchen table. I watch the runes scramble around on the first page. Once they’re in place, as usual, I am able to read them.

  A list of the most powerful spell words:

  1. Shazam

  2. Hocus Pocus

  3. Sesame

  I glance back at the cover of the book in disbelief.

  “Snowball, it’s every corny magic word ever spoken in the movies. I don’t believe this.” I glance at my cup of tea and point my finger at it. “Shazam!” I say.

  I scream as suddenly the cup of tea turns into an oversized German stein full of beer!

  “Did you see that, Snowball?” I say, looking around for my familiar. I finally see her peeking out from under the sofa. “Coward,” I accuse.

  “You screamed, not me!”

  “It wasn’t a real scream.”

  “Oh. And now we have scream and scream scream, do we? Is that like dead and dead dead?”

  “I liked it much better when you didn’t talk!” I say. “Let’s see what happens if I say the same word again.” I glance at Snowball, but her face had disappeared back under the sofa.

  “You are on your own,” I hear her scratchy voice say.

  I take a deep breath and point my finger. “Shazam!”

  Poof! The stein of beer turns back into my cup of tea. I take a sip. “It’s back to normal,” I call to Snowball. I drink all but a little bit of the tea and go down the list of magic words. I watch in amazement as the tea changes to wine, hot chocolate, and then something so horrid-smelling I don’t dare taste it.

  “This is fun, Snowball!”

  I hear a muffled “Meow” coming from deep underneath the sofa.

  I read more of the words, some of which I’ve heard recited in movies.

  Above the last of the magic words is a warning: “To be used only during life-threating occasions.”

  After the warning, I decide to read the word silently. Eamus Hinc. I think the spell means vanish or something or like that. What’s so bad about making something vanish? What would happen if I had said that aloud while pointing at the lamp?

  “Snowball, come out and watch me make the lamp vanish,” I call to her.

  “Make the leftovers from your roast vanish. They taste like roadkill,” Snowball says as she emerges from under the sofa.

  “That was a nasty comment,” I say, giving Snowball a hard look. “Go back under and hide your head in shame.”

  Suddenly, far off, I hear the howling of a pack of hounds.

  “Wonder what they are hunting so late at night,” I tell Snowball. “What?” I say suddenly, noticing her back is arched. “Silly, they have nothing to do with us. Probably chasing wererabbits or some other unpleasant creature in the woods.” The pack continues to howl as I make my second cup of tea. “It sounds like a big pack,” I add going back to my spell book. A short time later, I realize the howling is getting louder. I glance down at Snowball and shake my head. “No, don’t even think it!”

  I glance at the lamp. “Anyway, I’m ready to try out the vanishing spell.” I point my finger at the lamp. “Are you watching, Snowball?”

  “Meow.”

  “Good, here goes,” I take a deep breath.

  “Eamus Hinc!”

  A sound like a thunderclap causes me to scream and Snowball to arch her back and squeal!

  The lamp is gone!

  “Hey, it worked! It worked!” I say, happy as a little schoolgirl. “The lamp vanished, Snowball! I’m a great witch! I’m a great witch.”

  “I don’t know about that, but you sure made a great big hole in the ceiling.” Snowball says, looking up.

  I follow her gaze. “Rats!” I scream.

  In the ceiling is a hole large enough to drop a refrigerator through. I can see glimpses of a full moon through the overhanging branches of the big oak tree.

  The howling sounds come closer.

  “I guess they don’t have to do much huffing and puffing to get in now,” Snowball says as she heads for the bedroom.

  “Your cowardness never fails to amaze me,” I call after her as I see her black form dive under the bed. “Anyway, those hounds aren’t tracking me. We flew in, remember?” However, even as I say that, I am beginning to worry.

  I glance over at Broom Hilda. “Better get ready to kick butt, Hilda!”

  I make another cup of tea, trying to relax as I keep telling myself that the baying sounds aren’t getting any closer. But by the time I’m halfway finished with the cup of tea, I can no longer convince myself that the hounds are headed any place except straight for Granny Maycomber’s cottage.

  Will the door hold? I suddenly remember the shutters and rush around, closing them as the baying of the pack of hounds get so near I can distinguish the howls of different pack members.

  I finally grab my broomstick and wait in front of the door. Without any evidence, my gut tells me that Night Shadow is behind the sudden appearance of the pack of hounds. Why else would they be rushing toward the cottage?

  “Who is Night Shadow?” I mumble just as I hear the first thud of something big colliding with the door. The thump is followed by scratching and frantic howling. Then I hear whining and yelps, as though a hunter is walking through his pack of hounds, cuffing them to get them out of his way.

  Silence.

  What is going on outside! I cock Broom Hilda, ready to repel someone if they open the door.

  The sudden sound of wood splintering announces a fist being thrust through the thick oak door. I scream, momentarily forgetting about whacking an intruder with my broomstick as I take a couple of steps backwards.

  But as the fist punches another hole in door, I move quickly forward and bring the broomstick down across the werewolf’s wrist. I think, and hope, I hear the sound of a bone cracking. What I definitely hear is a howl of pain.

  “Take that. You want more?” I shout as the werewolf keeps howling in pain.

  When the werewolf finally stops howling, he growls what must be an attack order because bodies are colliding with the door and windows. I shudder as I hear the windowpanes shatter.

  I hope the shutters will hold!

  Immediately the shutter on the left side of the house splinters and the ugliest, meanest hound I have ever seen sticks his head through the window. The creature’s fangs look like they are four inches long as it opens its mouth and snaps at me even though I am all the way across the room.

  I take a step toward the hound when the windowpane and shutter on the right side of the cottage explode in a shower of glass and wood splinters. Since the first hound already has his shoulder inside the window, I run up to him, swinging Broom Hilda as though my broomstick was a baseball bay.

  My blow knocks the hound back through the window and into his pack mates who yelp in pain. But even as I charge across the room to knock back the hellhound crawling in through the window, I see another hound spring toward the left window. By the time I knock the second hound back out the right window, I hear the sound of long toenails against the oak floor. I turn and find myself facing a hellhound as big as an Irish wolfhound.

  The red-eyed beast is snarling, with saliva dripping off its fangs like a dripping faucet. I hear the same sound from the right window and out of the corner of my eye see another hellhound advancing toward my right. Trapped between the two advancing, snarling beasts, I back toward the corner where I store Broom Hilda. I pick her up and hold her in front of me like a baseball bat.

  Two more hellhounds
join the first two. Sensing their pack mates behind them, the first two leap toward me. I swing Broom Hilda, knocking both of them out of the air. They are sent flying across the room, but even as they fall limp to the floor, two more hellhounds launch themselves at me. I barely have time to cock my broomstick to knock them aside. As I prepare for the next two, I see six hellhounds, shoulder-to-shoulder, slowly advancing on me. They seemed to have learned not to leap but to stalk me until they can catch hold of my broomstick or a leg.

  Someone is directing them! It has to be Night Shadow!

  Their new tactics worry me. I know as soon as I swat the broomstick in one direction, an attack will come from the opposite side. Whoever is controlling them seems to realize my dire circumstance and is purposely delaying the final attack in order to enjoy his moment of victory.

  Suddenly, I recall the spell I used on the lamp. Will it work against the hellhounds? What choice do I have? In a couple of seconds, I will go under their fangs! This time, instead of pointing my finger at the advancing pack, I point the handle of my broomstick as though it were a wand.

  “Eamus Hinc!” I shout the words as loud as I can.

  The explosion sends me flying back into the corner, knocking the breath out of me. I slide down to a sitting position, expecting at any moment to feel the fangs of a hellhound sink into my throat.

  It doesn’t happen.

  The room is eerily silent. Realizing my eyes are closed, I open them.

  “Oh my God!” I shout.

  The windows, door, and the rest of the ceiling are gone! I see the night sky above me, and darkness outside the holes that used to be the windows and door.

  “Looks like we are going to have to sleep in the library from now on,” Snowball says as she emerges from the bedroom with a bewildered look on her face.

  “It could have been worse. You and I could have been hellhound snacks,” I say as I flop down on the sofa.

  The cottage is in terrible shape, but at least the hellhounds are gone—wherever the spell sent them. But now what am I going to do? I could spend a night or so in the library, but Snowball and I certainly can’t live there permanently.