The Witching Flavor (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch

by Zoe Arden

  The stench was even stronger next to the overturned grave, which looked as though it had been recently dug up from the inside out. But that was ridiculous.

  She was still holding the cupcakes from Mystic Bakery. She held the box close to her nose, hoping to calm her growing nerves with the scent of butterscotch frosting and honey cream calming cake, but nothing could hide the stench she was faced with. A low gurgling noise sounded from behind her. She began to shake. Don't turn around. But how could she not?

  She spun to face the thing behind her.

  "Oh, my roses," she said, her throat going dry. She dropped the cupcakes. They smashed unceremoniously to the ground. "Oh, no. It can't be."

  She took a step backward and screamed.

  Ekon was at the edge of Whisper Crossing, just coming into view of the cemetery, when he heard Kiya's cry.

  "Kiya?" he called out, running now instead of walking. She sounded scared. Kiya was the only one in his territory who had ever taken the trouble to get to know him. Who ever saw anything beyond the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. If someone was hurting her, he would rip them to shreds

  "Kiya?" he called again, losing track of where the scream had come from. He was almost positive it had come from the top of the hill. He ran past Sara Sweetland's angel, searching frantically.

  "Kiya!" he called.

  He stopped running when he saw the cupcakes. The box had been flattened as if a giant had stomped on it, but he would have recognized the Mystic logo anywhere. Beside the cupcakes lay a red bow. Kiya's red bow. He had bought it for her as a gift.

  "Kiya?" he called one last time. But there was no answer. Kiya was gone.

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  CHAPTER

  ONE

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  The Pixie Punk Dance Hall was packed. The entire room had been trimmed to look like a Christmas store exploded inside it. Giant ornaments hung from the ceiling. Mini Christmas trees dotted each table. People were wearing elf hats and Santa costumes. Women were wrapped in garland.

  The band stage had been set up to look like Santa's workshop. The red curtains that hid the backstage area had been trimmed with white faux fur.

  It was a shame my father was missing everything. Then again, even if he'd been here, the effect would have been lost on him. If Eli Fortune was one thing, he was a homebody. Old movies in front of the television and a bowl of popcorn were more than enough to make him happy. Sometimes, I wondered what he'd be like if my mother were still alive. If Jon Pratt had never existed. Never taken her from us when I was just a baby.

  I groaned to myself. What was I doing? Was I trying to ruin this dance? This was no time to think about the past. The present was what mattered. My mom was dead, but so was the man who'd killed her. Time to move on.

  I shook my head, clearing it, as Damon spun me onto the dance floor. I wondered if Eleanor and Trixie were here yet. My aunts were both coming, even though Eleanor was the only one who had a date.

  "You know, Ava, I'm like a good bottle of wine," Damon said, gently lifting my chin so I had to look into his sapphire eyes. "I get more interesting as the evening wears on. Especially once my fairy godmother shows up and turns me into Bigfoot."

  I laughed.

  "Soon you won't have to look at everyone but me for entertainment," Damon said. He was smiling, but I could tell I'd hurt his feelings a little by ignoring him. His brow crinkled slightly, and his dark hair kept falling across his forehead.

  "I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm not being a very good date." This was probably why Damon and I had been stuck in the friendship rut for the last few months. I wasn't sure we'd ever get out of it if I didn't stop acting like a loon.

  "I wouldn't say that." Damon pushed a lock of blond hair behind my ear. "I'm just anxious to get you in my arms." My cheeks burned as he pulled me tighter to him. I nuzzled my head against his chest and promised myself there would be no more marauding tonight.

  "If I was the Wicked Witch of the East, I'd be melting right now," I told him.

  He paused on the dance floor, his foot hanging in the air. "You don't really do that. Do you? Melt, I mean?"

  "Of course not," I said, laughing. Though I realized I wasn't really sure. I'd only been a witch for a few months. Maybe I'd better get confirmation.

  Note to self: do witches melt?

  A half hour later, I'd lost count of all the slow songs Damon and I had shared. His shoulder had become my permanent pillow.

  When I finally tore myself away from him long enough to look up, Eleanor and Sheriff Knoxx were dancing together a few feet away from us. Eleanor was dressed in a layered skirt of dark blues and bright purples with large gold hoop earrings. Her wavy blond locks hung loose around her shoulders. She looked like a gypsy. I waved to her, and she beamed at me.

  Sheriff Knoxx looked happier than I'd ever seen him. I still couldn't believe he was part goblin. Looking at him, I'd never have known. He was dressed in a dark blue suit. I could still make out the outline of his gun behind the suit coat and imagined his sheriff's badge was pinned to his shirt. They were like his suit of armor. He didn't travel without them.

  Another dancer bumped against the sheriff's leg. Sheriff Knoxx's face curled up into a weird mass of angry veins that bulged from everywhere. He looked as though he'd been tinted green.

  Well, maybe I can see a little goblin.

  "I've never met a witch like you," Damon said, drawing my attention back to him.

  "A witch like me?" I laughed. "What about a woman like me? I'm both, you know."

  "That's right," Damon said, snapping his fingers. "I forget that sometimes. I'm just a human. We do that."

  "Forget?"

  "That's right."

  "So is that going to be your excuse for everything from now on?" I teased. "You forgot my birthday but..."

  "I'm only human."

  "Our anniversary?"

  "Still just a human."

  "I think I see how this is going," I giggled.

  Damon's blue eyes drilled into me, reflecting back my own baby blues. It was a strange image. Like we were both sharing one set of pupils. My heart began to race as Damon drew closer.

  The lights around us were dim. The music was soft. I could feel his hot, sweet breath blowing gently against me as we moved toward each other and... Damon kissed me. His lips were like warm butterscotch. I wanted the moment to last forever. It was perfect. Our first kiss. If you didn't count the one he had given me when he'd been poisoned with love potion cake. Since he didn't even remember that one, I was pretty sure it didn't count.

  When the song ended, I lifted my head and saw Lucy smiling at me from the edge of the dance floor. I blushed as my new best friend—the only best friend I'd ever had, if I was honest—puckered her lips and began blowing little kisses in the air. It was very grade school. It was very Lucy.

  Too bad Lucy didn't have a date. Not that she hadn't been asked. She was considered one of the prettiest, most popular witches in all of Sweetland Cove. Heck, in all of Heavenly Haven, for that matter. The whole island, whether you fell on the Sweetland Cove side or the Mistmoor Point one, agreed that Lucy Lockwood was better than your average witch.

  She'd just grown a little leery of men after the whole fiasco with Polly and Slater, when he'd basically tried to kill every human in town and blame it on us witches.

  Shoot! There I went again, dwelling on the past. Stop it! I told myself.

  Suddenly the lights in the dance hall brightened. The wizards in charge took the stage and announced they were ready to declare the new Miss Snow Queen. My aunts had urged me to enter the contest, but I'd declined. I'd had enough attention since arriving in Sweetland, what with being a murder suspect last summer and all. I needed a break from all the attention.

  There was a drum roll and then... "Miss Lucy Lockwood!" A round of applause ripped across the hall as Lucy took the stage. She was wearing a pa
le pink dress that glittered under the lights.

  I saw Lucy's younger sister, Megan, standing at the back of the room, barely clapping. Her date, Conner Stevens, seemed to be cheering louder than anyone. Megan shot him a look, and I hoped he knew to settle down. Megan had a jealous streak in her.

  "Thank you!" Lucy cried, taking the stage. Someone handed her a microphone.

  "Speech! Speech!" the crowd chanted.

  Lucy opened her mouth.

  "I just want to say—"

  Suddenly the lights went out. Not a sliver of light penetrated the dance hall.

  "Oh, come on!" someone cried. "Let's get the lights back on."

  There was a flicker, another flicker, and then the lights came back on, bringing a fresh round of cheers. Cries of "Speech! Speech!" resumed, along with a round of laughter. I turned my eyes back to the stage, ready for Lucy's speech. Only there was no one on stage to give a speech.

  Lucy was gone.

  "Where'd she go?" I asked Damon.

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Do you see her?"

  "No," I snapped. "That's why I asked you."

  Eleanor and Trixie came running over to us, their blond hair, almost the same shade as mine, trailing behind them. Trixie was holding her punch cup, trying to sip it as she ran. Sheriff Knoxx was panting as he ran to keep up with Eleanor.

  "Ava, what happened to Lucy?" Eleanor asked.

  "No clue. She just disappeared."

  "Maybe she went in the back to check her hair," Sheriff Knoxx offered. "Girls are always checking their hair."

  "She wouldn't go check her hair just as she was about to give her acceptance speech," I said. Then I looked at Eleanor and Trixie. "Would she?"

  Sheriff Knoxx had a point, I supposed. Lucy did like to look good. I pulled my Witchmobile cell out of my purse and dialed Lucy's number.

  "Straight to voicemail," I told them, hanging up.

  "She's gotta be around here somewhere," Trixie said.

  "I'll check in back," I told them.

  "Want me to go with you?" Damon asked.

  "No, I think it's better if we split up."

  "All right then," Sheriff Knoxx said, taking charge. "Fifteen minutes. Meet out front with or without Lucy."

  With, I thought as I ran backstage. The band had picked up again and the crowd was dancing. No one seemed too concerned that Lucy had disappeared. It was a party. No one was concerned with anything much other than dancing and having a good time.

  It was dark backstage. The ceiling lights gave just enough luminescence for me to see shadows in every nook and cranny.

  "Lucy?" I called.

  No answer. I turned a corner, heading down a hall that led to a bathroom and a couple of dressing rooms. The old Pixie Punk Dance Hall had been touted for decades as the place to hold big events, everything from rock concerts to weddings. I could see why. The backstage area was almost as huge as the rest of it. How was I supposed to find her in this?

  "Lucy?" I called again.

  A soft noise echoed from stage left. I headed toward it, my heart beating fast. Something didn't feel right.

  "L-Lucy?"

  A woman's dark shadow stepped out from behind a curtain. Her back was to me. She looked almost ethereal in this light. If I squinted, I could see right through her. All I could make out was long, blond hair. Nothing like Lucy’s dark tresses.

  "Oh, my roses. Sara Sweetland?" I muttered to myself, half convinced it was the same ghost I'd seen months before in Whisper Crossing. But what would she be doing here?

  A sharp noise erupted from behind me. I turned to look. It was just a custodian looking for a quiet place to lay low for a few minutes.

  I sighed and turned back around. Sara—or whoever she'd been—was gone.

  I walked to the spot where she'd been standing. A torn slip of paper lay on the floor. I bent to pick it up, hoping for some clue as to where my friend might be hiding. A single word was scrawled across the paper.

  Draugr.

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  CHAPTER

  TWO

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  Fifteen minutes later, I was outside comparing notes with my aunts and Sheriff Knoxx.

  "Any luck?" Trixie asked when she saw me approaching. She was sipping on a new glass of punch.

  "No. You?"

  She shook her head.

  "None here, either," Eleanor said.

  Damon just shrugged his shoulders. I wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He didn't seem very concerned.

  "I did find one thing," I told them and held out the slip of paper. "Drew-a-gar," I said, trying to sound out the strange word. "I have no idea what it means."

  "Drow-gurr," Sheriff Knoxx corrected me, rolling his r's with perfection. "It's nothing. Old Norse mythology."

  "Mythology?" I asked.

  "The undead," Trixie said. "They don't exist."

  "Undead? You mean like zombies?" My mind reeled with dozens of images from the Walking Dead.

  "No, no," Eleanor said. "Well, not exactly. Anyway, zombies aren't real, Ava. The undead is a myth."

  "Mostly a myth," Trixie corrected. "There are the bloodsuckers."

  I laughed, certain she was joking. I'd spent nearly six months on Heavenly Haven, an island so tiny you could drive from one side to the other in about three hours. The entire population was less than six thousand. If there were vampires here, I'd have known about it by now.

  Just then, Megan Lockwood came stomping by, pulling Conner along behind her. Megan's hair, just a shade lighter than Lucy's jet black, trailed out behind her, smacking Conner's face. He stumbled, caught himself, then stumbled again. Megan didn't slow down.

  "Megan!" I called.

  She stopped and looked at me, much to Conner's relief.

  "Yeah?"

  "Have you seen Lucy anywhere?"

  "Lucy?" she asked, biting down hard on her lip. If I hadn't have known her lips were always so ruby red, I'd have thought she'd drawn blood. "No. Why should I have?"

  "Well, I just thought—"

  "No," she snapped. "I haven't seen my sister." She yanked hard on Conner but he had finally gotten his feet planted firmly on the ground.

  "Why are you asking?" Conner said. "Can't you find her?"

  I shook my head. "She disappeared when the lights went out."

  Conner's eyes widened. "I know. I was waiting to hear her speech. Did you see that dress she was wearing? It was almost glowing on her. Glowing. Like she was lit up from inside or something. I've never seen anything so beautiful."

  Megan rolled her eyes. I didn't exactly blame her.

  "Lucy definitely deserved to win tonight," Conner finished.

  Megan glowered at him. "Come on." She yanked him hard and this time he wasn't ready for it. He fell sideways and hit the ground.

  "If you see her, tell her we're looking for her, okay?" I asked Megan, trying not to laugh as Conner began the process of righting himself again. If only Megan would stop yanking on him, he might stand a chance.

  "Sure," she said, her smile false. She was muttering under her breath. "She's probably sitting in her Snow Queen throne."

  She caught me watching her and shut her mouth.

  "Come on," she barked again at Conner, and they were off.

  "Maybe we should get back inside," I suggested. "We can talk to some of the guests before the dance hall closes up."

  Sheriff Knoxx and my aunts agreed. We turned to go, but I saw Damon lagging behind. His hands were in his pockets.

  "Go ahead," I told the group. "I'll catch up with you."

  When they were inside, I turned to Damon.

  "What's up?" I asked him.

  He shrugged.

  "Aren't you worried about Lucy?" I asked, trying to figure out why he looked both bored and irritated.

  "No. Not really. Are you?"

  I blinked. "Of course, I am. That's why I'm looking for her."

&
nbsp; "I get it. Witches who brew together stick together," he said.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

  "A nursery rhyme I grew up with. A human nursery rhyme. There were a lot of them here on the island."

  "You didn't spend your entire childhood here," I countered. "It's not necessary for you to repeat every little saying you heard as a toddler."

  "Some things stick, I guess."

  I sighed. "What's really bothering you?"

  "Nothing. I just don't think you need to worry so much about Lucy. She's a witch. She can handle herself. I thought tonight was supposed to be about us."

  "It is, but... do you honestly think witches never need help with anything?" I laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. I realized too late that laughing was a bad idea.

  "I just think it's weird how you can't seem to live without your friends or your—"

  He stopped himself short.

  "My what?" I asked. "Go on."

  "Your magic." He spat out the last word like his mouth had soap in it. "I'll catch up with you later. I'm too tired to go witch hunting right now."

  I didn't know if he thought he was being cute with that last remark or what, but I didn't care. Something had just clicked. Damon was jealous. Not of Lucy, but of what I was. A witch. I'd been worried this might happen when we'd first started dating, but I'd thought we'd moved past that.

  Apparently, we hadn't.

  I watched him go, more angry than sad. How was I supposed to focus now? I took three deep breaths of cool island air and went back inside. One thing at a time.

  Sheriff Knoxx was on the right of the dance hall with Eleanor, questioning Dr. Dunne. Trixie was in back, staked out by the punch bowl. Her stockings were almost as bright as the berry punch everyone was sipping on. Her white shirt had remained stain free all night, which was amazing considering how much punch she seemed to be imbibing.