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

by Zoe Arden

  "You knew about the draugr," I said, desperate for answers. Desperate for help. "You must know how to fix my dad."

  But King Zulabar was already shaking his head.

  "I'm afraid it is too late for him."

  "That's not true!" I cried. "It can't be. Look. He's still alive."

  I pointed to my father's body, which now lay in a fetal position on the ground. The sweat pouring out of him had taken on a strange red tint.

  I knelt beside him and began wiping his face with the bottom of my shirt. "Maybe this slimy stuff is making him sick," I said. "If I can get it off him, he might get better. Don't you think?"

  I looked to Trixie for reassurance, but her eyes were leaking like faucets. She was acting like he was already dead. Snowball, Tootsie, and Rocky sat huddled together in a corner.

  The bite mark on my dad's arm was definitely inflamed. "Can someone get me some water?" I asked.

  "Here," Anastasia said, handing me a bottle. I poured it on the bite mark and it began to steam. Awful choking sounds flared from inside his chest. Like the oxygen was too thick for his lungs.

  "What's happening to him?" I cried.

  "He's dying," Melbourne said.

  I'd almost forgotten that he was here. He'd been so quiet since the goblins had arrived. I'd figured the knock-out he'd received had hurt him more than I'd realized. He rose and walked to my father's side, kneeling next to me.

  "I know what to do," he said, "but you have to trust me."

  "Of course, I trust you," I replied instantly. I was just glad someone had an idea.

  Melbourne looked at the group around us.

  "All of you," he said. "You all have to trust me."

  I could see the skepticism amongst some of the goblins, but King Zulabar stepped forward. "Vampires are no enemy of the goblin. You may proceed."

  The way he said it, so formally, made it seem as if he was in charge here. I guessed that technically he was the highest-ranking individual on the scene. After all, a king outranked a sheriff.

  Melbourne took my hands and looked into my eyes. "I swear to you I won't hurt him." He let me go and brought my father's arm to his lips.

  "What are you..." I began to ask. My voice trailed off as it became obvious. Melbourne was sucking the blood out of my father.

  Not blood. Poison.

  Whatever the draugr had left behind when he'd bitten my father, Melbourne was taking back out. I could see that some of the goblins in the group were prepared to pull Melbourne off my dad if he should go too far. Even Sheriff Knoxx looked on edge. But I trusted Melbourne. I had to.

  The longer Melbourne drew off my father's blood, the sicklier he began to look himself. By the time he had finished, Melbourne's eyes were yellow.

  "That's all I can do for him," Melbourne said when he finally pulled away.

  "How will we know if it worked?" I asked him.

  "If your father is still alive tomorrow," Melbourne said, "then it worked."

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FORTY

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  The bakery opened late the next morning. I was surprised any of us made it down here at all, considering the night we'd had.

  But the draw of peanut butter dream bars and energizing orange scones could not be overstated. The sugar began calling to us around ten. By eleven, Eleanor and Trixie had opened up shop.

  Sheriff Knoxx sat at a table with Melbourne, who looked tired and drawn but still very much alive. Well, as alive as a vampire can be, that is. A giant plate of peanut butter dream bars sat between them. They seemed intent on eating the entire thing.

  Melbourne sipped on something in a mug that Eleanor had referred to as, "Red Velvet Cocoa." I suspected there was more than cocoa in there, though. Something red and sweet and made just for vampires.

  One day, I'd have to ask Melbourne about the day he'd been turned. Perhaps I'd talk to Trixie or Eleanor about that first, though. I'd heard a vampire's turning was a delicate subject. It might be considered rude for me to ask him.

  The last thing I wanted to do was offend Melbourne, especially since he'd saved my father's life. But I was dying of curiosity. He'd actually known Sara Sweetland and Patrick Mistmoor. He could tell me what all the books I'd read had failed to—was there any truth to the rumor of them having a child?

  "What are you thinking about?" my father asked.

  "Nothing. Just... Christmas. It's almost here."

  He was sitting beside me, sipping black coffee and eating an old-fashioned cinnamon roll. It was probably the only thing Mystic Cupcake sold that didn't come with mood extract.

  "Some things are perfect all on their own," Eleanor had told me when I'd asked her why the cinnamon rolls had been singled out.

  I picked one of the cinnamon rolls off the plate and took a bite. The sweet sugar and maple flavors mixed with cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. Fireworks exploded inside my mouth. I decided that Aunt Eleanor had a point about keeping some things simple.

  The door chimed, and Lucy and Megan walked in. They were full of energy and eager to hear all about last night's exploits. I think they were both jealous that I'd been there and they'd had to miss it.

  "Tell me again what it smelled like," Lucy said.

  I wrinkled my nose.

  "Like bad blue cheese."

  My father nodded beside me.

  "And how tall was it?" Megan asked.

  "Like eight feet."

  She looked at me skeptically.

  "I swear, ask any of us."

  "She's quite right," Anastasia said. "Eight feet. At least."

  Lucy swiveled in her chair, facing Anastasia.

  "There's still one thing I don't get," she said.

  "What's that?" Anastasia asked. She hadn't spoken much this morning, but then again neither had I.

  "Why snatch me out of the Snow Queen Dance? I mean, I was on stage. I was about to give my speech. You couldn't have waited like five more seconds?"

  I smiled. This was the Lucy I knew. The one who cared more about her hair than about parking between the lines. The one who knew a good sale when she saw it and a rip off when she saw that, too.

  "Well, the draugr was backstage waiting for you," Anastasia said. "I suppose I could have waited until it had drained you of blood, then taken you. It certainly would have been easier for me."

  Lucy's face blanched. "Well, you probably made the right call."

  "Since we're asking questions," I said, "why don't you tell us how you made Lucy vanish."

  "That's something I'd rather like to know myself," Sheriff Knoxx said.

  We all looked at Anastasia, waiting for her answer.

  "It was easy," she replied. "I used an old vanishing charm."

  "Vanishing charms don't make people disappear out of thin air, though," Eleanor said. "That’s just a common misconception. They make things disappear, true, but they always leave a trace behind."

  I remembered the slip of paper that I'd found.

  "Draugr," I said and everyone looked at me. "That was what it said on the scratch of paper I showed you. Remember? You guys told me it was an old myth."

  Sheriff Knoxx shrugged. "I can admit when I'm wrong."

  "But I didn't leave that behind," Lucy said. "Anastasia did."

  "Yes," Anastasia said, "but the paper was a way to trace you."

  "This is too much magic talk for a weekend morning," Megan said. We all nodded in agreement. For once, Megan didn't seem at odds with everyone. She even smiled at me.

  The door chimed and a stick figure with an attitude walked in.

  "Good morning, Margaret," Eleanor said through clenched teeth.

  Rocky opened one eye from behind the counter and let out a loud, "Woof!" Tootsie and Snowball both hissed.

  Margaret Binford eyed the group that was settled around the tables with open disdain.

  "Well, I had to see it for my
self," she said.

  We waited, knowing that whether we asked her or not, she would tell us.

  "I've heard all about the commotion you caused last night, of course," she scolded us. "A draugr? Really? Do you expect anyone to believe that?"

  "It's true!" I yelled.

  "If it is, then I fear for your poor father. I understand he was bitten." She overemphasized the word, staring intently at Melbourne as she said it.

  "You don't really think that Melbourne is responsible, do you?" Anastasia asked, catching Margaret's look.

  "When I hear the words "bitten" and "bloodsucker" in the same sentence, there can be only one person I think of."

  Melbourne refused to give Margaret any more ammunition. He kept silent and continued sipping his mug.

  I'd spent the night wondering how hard it must have been for him to stop sucking my father's blood when he did. Sure, he'd focused on getting out the poison, but the good blood had been right there underneath. Waiting for him. If he'd have decided to go for it, I wasn't sure we'd have been able to stop him.

  "Margaret, if there's an order you'd like to place, please place it," Eleanor said.

  "Otherwise get out," Trixie finished. "We're enjoying ourselves this morning, and for that to continue, you need to be absent."

  I saw Melbourne crack the tiniest of smiles.

  "Hmmph. I just wanted to make sure you all heard the news from me firsthand. I didn't want any nasty rumors circulating. You know how that goes, Ava," she said pointedly, referring to last summer when everyone in town had thought I was a serial killer. Margaret had helped to fan the flame of those rumors, as well.

  "What news?" I asked her.

  She held her head high, looking over her nose at us. "I have decided to resign as head of the Witch's Council."

  I saw that I wasn't the only one surprised to hear that.

  "I can no longer abide the rules that Sweetland Cove so lackadaisically enforces." She shot a look to Sheriff Knoxx, who ignored her. "Vampires and humans... goblins... draugar... it's all too much for me. I want no part of it. Therefore, I am moving."

  "Off the island?" Anastasia asked, excitement playing on her face.

  "To Mistmoor Point. It seems to me a much safer town, where they take their witching rules seriously. I invite you all not to visit me there."

  Now that she'd said her piece, she spun on her heels and left the bakery, probably heading to her next destination to try and ruin someone else's morning.

  Eleanor laughed and took the seat next to Sheriff Knoxx. "Does she really think she'll be missed?"

  Sheriff Knoxx took Eleanor's hand in his and though she blushed, she didn't pull away.

  "If there's really an open spot on the Council," Trixie said, "you should run for it, Eleanor."

  "Me? Oh, no. I have no interest in politics."

  "Sure you do," I said. "You're always talking about ways to make things better for all different types of paranormals. Maybe this could be your chance to actually do something about it."

  "Hmm... maybe you're right," she said, cocking her head to the side as she pictured herself in Margaret's position.

  "Um, Ava," my dad said, poking my side. "I think you have a visitor." I looked toward the front window where he was pointing. Damon was standing there peering in.

  "I've got nothing to say to him," I told my dad.

  "Oh, go on. Look at that dopey grin on his face," Melbourne said.

  "You think I should go talk to him?" I asked, shocked. Melbourne was the last person I would have thought would advocate for Damon.

  "Everyone makes mistakes." Melbourne shrugged.

  "And sometimes the guy is the mistake," Megan muttered. We all knew she was thinking about Conner. The last I'd heard, their parents had forbidden them from ever seeing each other again.

  Damon smiled tentatively at me and offered a small wave. Despite still being angry with him for the way he'd treated Melbourne, I had to admit he looked good.

  Lucy kicked my shins. "Go talk to him."

  "Ow. Bossy."

  But I rose from the table and went outside.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hey."

  I stood with my arms folded across my chest.

  "I was an idiot," he finally blurted out.

  "And?" I prompted.

  "And I'm sorry."

  I sighed and unfolded my arms.

  "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Melbourne."

  Damon looked back through the window.

  "Oh. Right. Of course."

  Without another word from me, he walked into the bakery and went directly up to Melbourne, who was watching him with curiosity. When he was finished, Damon even shook his hand.

  He stepped back outside with me. "Good?" he asked.

  "I suppose. What did Melbourne say?"

  "He told me never to picket against him again or he'd drink me dry."

  My eyes widened. "He did not."

  "Of course not!" Damon laughed. Seeing him so relaxed made me relax, too. "So, uh, I thought maybe we could go out tomorrow night? There's this new club in Mistmoor that's supposed to be pretty fun."

  "Mistmoor? I don't think so."

  "Oh." Damon's face fell.

  "Dinner?" he tried again.

  "Dinner... okay. I can do dinner. As long as you keep your pickets to yourself from now on."

  "I will." He smiled. "As long as you don't make me eat blood sausage."

  "Careful what you wish for," I told him. "You might like blood sausage one day, and then where will you be?"

  "If that day ever comes, Ava, you have my permission to turn me into a frog."

  "That's a promise I can keep."

  * * *

  Epilogue

  .

  "Open it!" I told Damon as I handed him his present. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

  "You go first," he said.

  He was clearly excited about whatever he'd gotten me. It was a small box that he had clearly wrapped himself, judging by the way the edges of the tape overlapped. They stuck to my fingers but I didn't care.

  "You don't have to twist my arm twice," I said.

  A fresh round of “Jingle Bells” erupted from outside, where a band of carolers had taken refuge from Margaret Binford's going away party.

  "Honestly," I heard Anastasia say to Eleanor, "who throws a going away party on Christmas?"

  I unwrapped Damon's gift and felt my eyes light up.

  "It's beautiful," I told him. "I needed a red velvet box."

  "I hope you're joking," he said. "The present's inside the box."

  "Ohhh. Is that how that works?" I laughed and opened the box before Damon had a heart attack.

  "Oh, my roses," I whispered. "Damon... it really is beautiful."

  "Not as much as you are."

  I gently tugged the diamond rose necklace from the box and held it to my neck. Damon clamped it shut for me.

  I wrapped my arms tightly around him, kissing him for the tenth time that night. I was glad that Aunt Trixie had decided to hang mistletoe every other foot. Although it made for some awkward kissing at times, like when Damon and Melbourne had ended up together under a strand. Instead of kissing, they'd shaken hands. I'd told Damon later that was a perfectly acceptable alternative.

  Sheriff Knoxx and Eleanor were huddled together in a corner. I'd asked Anastasia if she'd had any visions about what might lie in store for the two of them, and she'd informed me she was done with visions. Even if they came to her, she was planning to ignore them from now on.

  "They've caused me nothing but trouble," she said with a final nod of her head.

  The door chimed and everyone at the party turned to shout, "Merry Christmas!"

  My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw the familiar face of Colt Hudson staring back at me.

  "What do you think he wants?" I asked. Just being around Colt made my blood boil. The last time I'd seen him, he'd tried to arrest both me and my father.

  "I don't kn
ow," Damon said, "but I think you're about to find out. He's coming this way."

  Colt moved toward me at a rapid pace, which I thought was the only pace he knew. He was a couple years younger than Damon and trying hard to make a name for himself with the Council on Magic and Human Affairs.

  "Detective," I said, nodding my greeting to him.

  "Miss Fortune."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Just Ava, okay?"

  "Of course, Ava."

  He cleared his throat and shot a look to Damon. "Is there somewhere we might be able to talk alone?" he asked.

  "No."

  I didn't care if I was being rude. Just like I didn't care how good Colt looked in his detective's uniform. His gorgeous gray eyes had no place inside the bakery. Not after what he'd done the last time he was here.

  He sighed. "Fine. There's no time to bicker about it, so if you won't talk to me in private about the issue at hand, I'll just have to tell you here."

  The music had died down. Everyone was watching us.

  "What are you talking about?" I asked him. "What issue?"

  "Polly Peacock has escaped from Wormwood. We have reason to believe she's coming here. For you. Tonight."

  "Oh, my roses," I gasped. "You're not serious."

  "I'm afraid I am," he said. He looked around the room, hesitating a second before continuing, "I'm sorry to wreck your party."

  "All right, everybody out. Party's over!" Eleanor said. She and Trixie started rounding people up. "Don't forget your presents. Thank you all for coming."

  An hour later, the place was nearly empty. Lucy and Megan had wanted to stay, but their parents weren't taking any chances after recent events.

  "Now, then, Detective Hudson," Sheriff Knoxx said, "what did you have in mind?"

  "We wait," he said. "And see if she shows up."

  "And if she does?" I asked.

  "Then we arrest her and take her back to Wormwood. Simple."

  Yeah. Simple. Only in life, there was no such thing.