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

by Zoe Arden

  "Ava!" Trixie shouted, coming from behind the counter.

  Tootsie lay stretched out on top of the register. Rocky lay curled up in his favorite corner. They both opened one eye, appraised the situation as non-dangerous, and went back to sleep. I wondered where Snowball was. Out following Anastasia, I hoped.

  At the sound of my name, Eleanor came out of the back room. The swing door flapped open and closed, drenching the air with the scent of chocolate.

  Eleanor took one look at Megan, whose eyes were red and puffy. Her face was slightly green. "I'll get the nuggerwart lemon bars," she said. Nuggerwart was a powerful calming extract—one of many—but unlike similar extracts, it had the tendency to make people giggle.

  A moment later, Eleanor returned from the back, holding a tray of lemon bars bright as sunshine and drizzled with peppy extract sugar glaze. I had made the peppy extract myself just before Lucy's disappearance, thinking the combination of bright lemon tones and calming extract might pair well with the even lighter taste and feel of peppy extract.

  Trixie flipped our open sign around so it read Closed, then circled around me and Megan with Eleanor, who practically forced a lemon bar into Megan's hands.

  Slowly, Megan ate the bar. After a few bites, she began to smile. A few bites later, and she was giggling.

  "I think we better stop there," Eleanor said, taking the bar away. "Otherwise, we'll never get a word out of her until the giggles wear off. Now, why don't you tell us—"

  "What's going on?" Trixie interjected.

  Eleanor's shoulder's tensed but she didn't reprimand her sister for interrupting.

  "Megan knows where Lucy is," I told them, excited that I'd finally figured out what had happened to my friend.

  Eleanor and Trixie's eyes widened. Trixie's feet began to shuffle into her happy dance.

  "Where?!" Trixie shrieked so loudly that Rocky and Tootsie actually jumped up, wide awake.

  "Mama okay?" Tootsie asked, eyeing Trixie like she was ready to strike out at danger.

  "Sorry, Toots. Mama's fine."

  Tootsie relaxed and settled back on her haunches. Rocky remained on alert, however.

  "Where?" Eleanor asked, almost shrieking herself when Megan still hadn't answered.

  "Jamaica," Megan said, her face reddening. The giggles had subsided but the corners of her lips were still curved up in a small smile. "Or maybe Hawaii. I'm not completely sure. I wasn't trying to hurt her, just send her away. Someplace where Tanner couldn't be around her." Her blush deepened.

  Megan had an unsettling side to her that surfaced now and again. The last time I'd seen it was just after my arrival in Sweetland Cove when humans had started dropping dead. For the longest time, I'd been certain that a love potion cake had been the cause. Then we learned that Megan had been responsible for the love potion cake fiasco. She'd wanted to gain the attention of Damon—my Damon—and had ended up poisoning him instead. It was no wonder that she was behind Lucy's disappearance now. She should have been the first person I'd thought of.

  "I think we need some more explanation," Aunt Eleanor said.

  I showed her the pic of the hex photo I had on my phone. "Remember this? Sheriff Knoxx said Lucy was hexed. Well, Megan is the one who hexed her."

  A combination giggle and sob escaped Megan's throat. "I'm sorry. I asked Annie for her help. She gave me a book and said if I followed the spell in it, Lucy would go away. Just for a little while. I never meant to hurt her. Do you think she is? Hurt, I mean? She might be okay, right?"

  "Megan, you're telling us that Anastasia Peacock showed you how to hex your sister?" Eleanor asked.

  Megan nodded.

  Trixie laughed. "That's absurd."

  Eleanor nodded. "I think what Trixie means to say is that if your intent was to send Lucy away from Heavenly Haven... you failed. There's no way that hex would have had the power to do something like that."

  "But I thought you and Sheriff Knoxx said this hex was dangerous."

  Eleanor blushed. "I did. At first. But I took another look at the picture while you were gone and realized it wasn't a proper hex. There were key elements missing from it. I told Zane I thought he was barking up the wrong tree."

  "Really?" Megan asked, her face brightening as mine fell.

  "You mean Lucy's not in Jamaica?" I asked.

  "I'm afraid not," Eleanor said.

  "The most that hex could have done, the way you did it, dear, was to make Lucy bark like a dog for a few days. Maybe give her a set of lizard legs."

  "Are you sure?" Megan cried, tears breaking through the magic of the lemon bars.

  "Absolutely."

  "Oh, thank the witches," she said, collapsing against the counter. Her whole body was shaking.

  A new thought occurred to me, and I reached into my purse.

  "What about this?" I asked, pulling a lipstick from my purse. "I found it at Whisper Crossing along with the goblin prints. Do you think it might be Lucy's?"

  Megan looked at it and shook her head. "Lucy doesn't wear pink."

  I sighed and replaced it in my purse.

  Rocky walked forward, toward Megan. The hair on his back was standing on end. A low, dangerous growl erupted from his throat.

  Megan jumped.

  "Rocky, what's the matter with you?" Eleanor asked. "Megan's not hurting anyone."

  "Rocky does not growl at Megan," he said, his voice remaining low. This time, instead of looking at Megan, we followed Rocky's gaze. He was looking at the shop front window. Where Anastasia was standing. Watching us. All of us.

  When she realized we'd seen her, she stepped back from the window, trying to pretend like she'd been looking at the party fun brownies on display instead of at us. Then she casually walked away.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

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  "This blows," I muttered under my breath as I turned to another one of the many heavy books Pennyweather Kelso had provided me with.

  "I'm sorry?" Pennyweather asked. I hadn't realized she'd been standing behind me.

  "Nothing." I didn't want Pennyweather to think I was ungrateful for her help. "There's just so much material here. I don't suppose you can tell me how to actually find the goblins?" I asked.

  "Find the goblins?" she asked. "Why would you want to do that? Don't you know they can be dangerous? They prefer to keep to themselves."

  "Yes, but—"

  Snowball popped her head out of my purse and looked around. I pushed her back down before Pennyweather could see. I didn't think cats were allowed in the library, even if they were familiars.

  Pennyweather handed me another stack of goblin books. She'd been more than happy to help me this morning when I'd shown up at the library. She'd even apologized for being so brusque with me the last time I was here. I wasn't sure what had happened to enact this change in her, but I suspected it had something to do with the silver and pearl interlocking hearts necklace she kept fingering around her neck.

  "I wouldn't go looking for goblins if I were you. You'll be sorry."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  It was the same response I'd elicited from everyone I'd asked. Eleanor, Trixie, my dad. Even Rocky. No one thought I should be trekking into Goblin Territory. My father's response had been the worst one of all.

  "Yes, I know how to get there. Any wizard does."

  "So you'll tell me?"

  "Not a chance."

  A flat refusal without apology. Despite the frightening appearance goblins put forth, though, I didn't see what the big deal was. So what if they were loners? Sheriff Knoxx was part goblin and he was all right. They couldn't be all bad. Could they?

  "Oh, I have something else for you," Pennyweather said, turning and going back to her desk. I groaned. I was grateful for the help, but I didn't think I could handle any more books on goblins. This was already too much for me to get through
in the time I had.

  Since I'd ruled out hexes, I'd decided to go back to the drawing board. The only other clue I had right now was the goblin prints I'd found at Whisper Crossing. So that's what I had to focus on.

  "Snowball wants tuna," a tiny voice whistled from my bag.

  I bent toward my bag, looking to make sure Pennyweather wasn't watching.

  "Snowy can have all the tuna she wants later. I promise. Besides, you already had a whole can of tuna yesterday. How much can you eat?"

  "Snowball loves tuna. Snowball can eat tuna all the time. Snowball is good helper to Mama. Snowball followed Anastasia Peacock all day and night. Snowball gets more tuna."

  I reached gingerly into my bag and scratched Snowy behind my ears. She purred and curled up on top of my wallet. I was grateful for all the hard work Snowball had put into following Anastasia. Tootsie and Rocky were doing their fair share, too, though. They were tailing her right now, giving Snowy a rest.

  "Snowball is a very good kitty," I whispered. "You can have more tuna as soon as we get home."

  "Here you are," Pennyweather said.

  I jumped and smacked my elbow on the table.

  "Thanks," I said, taking the book she handed me. This one was considerably older than the others.

  "I had to special order it from the mainland library."

  I opened the cover and gasped.

  "Sara Sweetland."

  Pennyweather smiled and touched her necklace again.

  "I think this should answer a few of your questions. It's one of the oldest books we have on Sara and Patrick Mistmoor."

  There was a loud cough from a few book stacks over. We looked to see a woman in her fifties with hair so white it was almost blue skulking in a corner. She had deep violet eyes that didn't look natural.

  "Margaret Binford," Pennyweather muttered. The hand she'd been fingering her necklace with dropped to her side and clenched into a fist.

  I could understand the reaction. Margaret was head of the Witch's Council and known for being set in her ways. She didn't care for change. And she especially didn't care for witches and wizards who dared to stray outside of her particular set of rules and customs.

  Pennyweather spoke to me but her eyes never left Margaret.

  "Just let me know if you need anything else, Ava." She hurried back to her desk, eager to get out of Margaret's line of sight.

  I ignored Margaret—I was getting good at ignoring people who irritated me. Like Damon. I hadn't texted him once since our meeting in Coffee Cove the other day. I wasn't counting the two dozen texts I had started and then deleted.

  "Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor," I mumbled as I read.

  I could hear Snowball purring inside my purse. She was almost as big a snorer as my dad. I wondered how he was doing. He'd looked miserable this morning. If I had time, I wanted to make him a sleep extract using fluffernutter root. I was afraid that if he didn't get some sleep soon, he might get sick. I'd read that could happen.

  I tried to refocus my attention on the book in front of me.

  Patrick Mistmoor married Sara Sweetland in what was the biggest ceremony of its day. They were treated like royalty.

  I pictured a wedding with white horses carrying the bride to the altar and a groom in a white tuxedo bedecked with real gold. That was probably far from reality, but it was nice to fantasize about.

  The first section gave basic info I already knew. They were married. She died. It was the second section which piqued my interest.

  Was there a child?

  According to the book, there was. Sara had stolen Patrick from a very dark and powerful witch, who had placed a curse upon Sara and her entire family. When Sara became pregnant while married to Patrick, she grew worried. And she was right to.

  The author stated that Sara had neither flung herself off the cliff that killed her nor been pushed by Patrick. Rather, the curse had taken her life. No one, not even Patrick, could save her.

  After Sara's death, Patrick and the child disappeared and the island had been split in two. Each family took sides, but this author maintained both sides were wrong. They described clues and trails leading to the whereabouts of the child, but nothing had ever panned out. After twelve hundred years, it was no wonder.

  There was another loud cough. I looked up to find Margaret Binford standing an inch from my face.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

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  "Hello, there," Margaret said with a toothy smile. Her violet eyes peered down at me, giving me the heebie-jeebies.

  "Hi," I said. I'd only met Margaret a handful of times when she'd come calling on Eleanor and Trixie for Witch Council business. She'd never spoken to me before except to insult me.

  "I was just wondering what you were up to."

  Up to?

  "Just some research," I said, trying to hide my books. I didn't like the way she was looking at me.

  "Oh," she said, grabbing my copy of Goblins: Then and Now. "This is a great book. In the back, it even gives you a few recipes."

  "Recipes?"

  "Goblin stews. Soups. Things like that."

  My jaw dropped open.

  "You don't mean..."

  "Oh, I would never eat a goblin, mind you. Most witches today wouldn't. That was hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. Though there are a few select covens in Europe..."

  I gasped. No wonder the goblins preferred to keep to themselves.

  "Gross," I whispered, thinking of Sheriff Knoxx.

  "Speaking of goblins," Margaret said, dropping the book back onto my table with a bang. Pennyweather glowered at her from behind her desk. "I understand that your Aunt Eleanor has gotten fairly close with Sheriff Knoxx, lately."

  Anger began to boil inside me. "Yes. She is. So?"

  "So, I just wondered if you could pass along a message to her for me?"

  "Why don't you pass it to her yourself?" I asked through gritted teeth.

  "I have. She won't listen. I thought coming from you, she might." Her voice was unnaturally bright. "You see, it's frowned upon for witches and goblins to mix."

  "Sheriff Knoxx is only part goblin. His mother was all witch."

  "Even so. It doesn't look good for Sweetland Cove. We've already got witches dating vampires." She shot a look to Pennyweather. "Not to mention old warlocks like William Carney, who like to run around the beach giving out bottles of water to humans. Honestly. I don't know why they can't just produce their own water."

  As she said that, she pointed her finger at an empty bottle I'd drained of water earlier. It refilled almost immediately. I had to admit, I was impressed. I couldn't perform that level of magic if I'd tried. Yet.

  "My Aunt Eleanor is a grown witch and free to date whomever she chooses."

  "Of course, dear. Just remember that I warned you."

  I was about to ask her what that was supposed to mean when Snowball's head popped up and a lion's roar erupted from her tiny body. I had no idea how Snowball had done that, but the look on Margaret's face was enough to make up for the looks I garnered from the other patrons. I shot a glance to Pennyweather, who was laughing.

  "Snowball, you are not only getting tuna tonight," I said as Margaret ran off, "but your pick of Temptations."

  Snowy's eyes opened wide, and she licked her lips. I gathered the books together and left them on Pennyweather's desk on my way out. Margaret had apparently decided to turn her attention to Pennyweather now.

  "But, Pennyweather, Melbourne's a bloodsucker," she said as I strode out of the library. I hoped Pennyweather found something urgent in the back that needed her attention. At least until Margaret was gone. At least she'd given me an idea.

  I let Snowy out of my bag and asked her to check in with Tootsie and Rocky, then hurried to the beach.

  William Carney was a fixture at Sweetland Beach. He liked to stroll the shore
line between the pier where the ferries from the mainland came in, all the way down to the edge of Whisper Crossing. He was friendly. He was kind. And he knew everything about this island.

  "Ava!" he called, waving when he saw me.

  "William, I'm glad I found you."

  "Water?" he asked. "Ice cream?" He handed me a Drumstick and I took it gratefully. December was shaping up to be a warm month on the island.

  "Thanks," I told him.

  "Certainly. Drumsticks were your mother's favorite, too, as I recall."

  It was still strange to hear my mother mentioned so casually in conversation. My father was still quiet on the subject, and Eleanor and Trixie tried to respect that when he was around. In fact, most people on the island seemed to have this unspoken agreement not to mention Lorabelle Rose Fortune. I guess they were afraid they'd upset me by bringing her up. It was one of the many things I liked about William. He talked about her like it was the most natural thing to do.

  "William, can you tell me how to find Goblin Territory?"

  His smile faltered. I could tell he was taken aback.

  "Now, what do you want to go there for?"

  "I think they might know something about Lucy's disappearance."

  "The goblins? Oh, that's very doubtful, Ava. They prefer to keep to themselves."

  "I know that. Believe me. I get it. But I still need to check. She's my best friend, and it's the only clue I've got."

  He hesitated then broke into a grin. "I don't suppose the sheriff is the person to ask. He'll tell you to stay out. Tie you up to make sure you do just that."

  "Does that mean you'll help me?"

  He scrunched his brow together. "Promise me two things."

  "Anything."

  "One, make sure someone knows where you're going. Phones and radios don't work in Goblin Territory, so they'll be no good to you if you get lost up there."