Midsummer Night's Mayhem: A Sister Witches Mystery

by Lauren Quick

  “You’re right. I have proof after all. None of them do.” Felicity held her chin high, but Clover felt her body trembling beneath her hands.

  “It’ll be okay.” She hoped. “We’ll show them. Try not to worry.” Clover tried to calm Felicity, but it didn’t look good inside the crowded office.

  Perfume choked the air. They pushed their way through a roiling sea of witches. Clover had never seen so much tulle and crinoline in her life. The witches had pulled out their finest dresses, hats, and veils to show off, not to mention donning elaborate hairstyles and thick make-up. Clover felt like she’d walked backstage at a beauty pageant. She and Felicity edged into the office, with the help of a few well-placed elbows, to reach the receptionist desk.

  “We’ve come to speak with Wizard Rutherford about the will,” Clover said. Felicity was too busy staring around the room, eyeing up the competition with a mix of disdain and horror on her face.

  Not surprisingly Wizard Rutherford’s assistant was frazzled. She glared up at Clover, her glasses askew. “Oh, no. Not you, too,” she snarled.

  “No, not me!” Clover blurted. “Not in a million years. It’s Felicity.” She pulled the witch forward.

  “Sign here.” The witch waved her wand and a scroll of parchment and quill appeared in the air.

  Felicity scribbled her name. “You can tell the rest of these charlatans to go home. I have indisputable proof that I am the love of Oliver Yearling’s life.”

  The witch wasn’t impressed. “You and everyone else, sweetie.”

  Felicity opened her bag and showed her the letters. “Written in his own hand. No one has that.” She smiled tightly.

  “You’d be surprised at what these witches brought as proof. You two can try to find a seat inside. Since you’re pushy, I doubt you’ll have a problem. The Wizard Rutherford will be addressing the crowd shortly.”

  They entered the same room where the will had been read just a day earlier. Clover glanced around the crowd. It seemed like every witch was clutching some keepsake—a wizard’s pocket watch, a lock of gray hair tied with a ribbon, stacks of worn love letters. The lover’s proof, Clover thought and groaned on the inside. They all came prepared. This didn’t look good for Felicity. It was unnerving at how many witches had packed the law office. Even Dovy and Cookie were floating around, one holding a man’s embroidered handkerchief, the other a golden pair of hedge clippers.

  Clover stifled a laugh. What kind of wizard gave the love of his life hedge clippers as a memento? This was serious, but not without its humorous side. Bear was right—witches had come out of the woodwork.

  Felicity shoved her way to a seat in the front row and made room for Clover, literally pushing a skinny witch wearing a gauzy black veil out of her way. Clover began to wonder, is Felicity really Oliver’s love? But who would admit that, really, if it weren’t true? All she had to do was take a look around the room to answer her own question. The whiff of gold was in the air, and the witchy wolves had come out to fight for it.

  “Are you doing okay?” Clover asked.

  Felicity’s jaw was clenched, her eyes narrowed to seething slits. “I’ll be fine once this is over.”

  “I’m sure Wizard Rutherford will clear this up. He must know who the real love of his client’s life is. Perhaps that’s what the announcement will be. Maybe it was a test.” Clover wasn’t sure if she believed that or was kidding herself.

  “Deep down I was afraid of this,” Felicity said, her voice lowering. “Oliver should have been more specific. He should have named me in the will and none of this would be happening. This was supposed to be the last thing we did for each other. He gave me the choice to come forward. He did that for me. It was the romantic in him.”

  Romantic? Is she serious? Clover understood the gesture, but nothing was more unromantic than a will reading. But she was there to be supportive. “You were right to come forward. If you hadn’t, someone else could have stolen the inheritance right out from under you and Austin. I’m sure if no witch came forward the land would rightly revert back to him, which it should. No one else should have it.”

  Wilford Rutherford entered the room, mopping his bald head with a handkerchief. His face flushed as his gaze scanned the crowd of yammering witches. The sound of chattering began to wane as all eyes turned to the lawyer when he set the mysterious box on the table. Suddenly the door to the room opened and Austin Yearling strode in and took a seat next to his lawyer in front of the crowd. He wore a bemused smirk on his face as if the turnout alone made a mockery of his father’s will. And then it hit Clover.

  Austin knew. He knew his father was seeing Felicity and hadn’t told Wizard Rutherford.

  Clover elbowed her and whispered Austin’s name, but Felicity winced as if in pain. “He’ll never be on my side. He hates me. He was so angry when he found out.”

  “But this is a legal proceeding. He has to tell the truth,” Clover said. “Doesn’t he?”

  Austin stared off not making eye contact with anyone.

  “If I may I have your attention,” Wilford said. “I have a few announcements concerning the will. That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” His glasses slid to the end of his nose as he peered at the crowd. “I have to admit that I’m not surprised at the turnout. I advised Oliver against leaving the decision to come forward up to the witch in question, but he didn’t listen, and now look. First, I have no name, and therefore, no idea which one of you is the real love of Oliver’s life. Unfortunately, Austin has also assured me that he, too, has no idea who the witch could be.”

  Felicity made a little harrumph sound as if confirming her earlier point. There was no way he was going to hand over the inheritance by volunteering information that would give her the bulk of the estate and humiliate him in one fell swoop.

  “The only way to know for sure is to access the contents of the box. It’s all we have to go on. Without further ado.” Wilford lifted the lid.

  The crowd buzzed with excitement. Nothing happened—no magical image or haunting voice or illusion. Nothing.

  “This is interesting,” Wilford said and pulled a heavy black key out of the box. Hushed whispers spread through the crowd.

  Austin’s face paled. “It’s the key to the labyrinth. I’ve been looking for the spare and I can’t find it. Does anyone in this room have the spare key?” he snapped, but the room was silent. His head jerked around the room, eyes glaring. “There’s no match to the proof. It’s over. Finally, it’s all over.” Austin’s eyes closed in relief.

  “Wait. There’s a note,” Wilford said and unrolled a small piece of parchment. “It’s written in Oliver’s hand. It says, ‘I leave this key as a testament to my true love’s devotion and her ability to navigate the labyrinth. She will be the only one to solve the maze and will earn my estate through our mutual love of magic.’”

  Austin snapped to attention, absorbing the news. A grin bloomed across his face. It was a near impossible task and he knew it.

  The new twist in the will had taken a strange turn.

  “This is a trick,” a witch in the back of the room said.

  “Yeah, this test is a trick!” the skinny witch wearing a black veil yelled out. “We weren’t told of a test. I have solid proof I’m the one. I don’t need to take a test.”

  “Me, too.” A chorus of voices filled the room.

  Not to be overshadowed, Dovy floated over and confronted the veiled witch “You’ve got a ratty old hanky. That’s not proof.” She snatched the handkerchief. “The embroidery looks brand new. You probably sewed it last night.” She waved the handkerchief in the air. “I say this is a fraud.”

  The skinny witch grabbed her handkerchief back and shoved Dovy, causing her to lose her balance and fly backward, arms flailing.

  “Calm down, calm down. Immediately.” Wilfor
d waved his wand and the illuma lights flickered. “I will have order during these proceedings. Now, I understand this is an unusual way of showing proof, but Oliver clearly said that the love of his life would have proof. He believes navigating the labyrinth is it. Plus, since you all have your own proof, there is only one way to settle it.” He glanced at Austin. “As you all know, the other love of Oliver’s life was his precious labyrinth and if anyone still wishes to lay claim to the inheritance, then she must navigate the maze. There is no shame in opting out. More than a few of you probably should.”

  Heads nodded in the crowd, mixed with approving chatter.

  Austin stood and addressed the crowd. “My father spent countless hours working on the enchantments that make up the labyrinth. I feel that if one of you is truly the love of his life then you would have been privy to many conversations with him about the garden maze and the magic that makes it so wondrous.” No one objected so he continued, “Surely he would have shared his magical secrets with the witch he wanted to have the prized possession. We should follow my father’s final wishes. Whoever can navigate the labyrinth is worthy of my father’s estate.”

  Gasps filled the room. Clover grabbed Felicity’s arm. She couldn’t believe it. Only a rare few had successfully navigated the labyrinth and never on the first try. That’s what made the maze so legendary—solving it was an almost impossible task.

  Austin’s confidence radiated. He knew this, too. Honestly, even the love of Oliver’s life might not know how to navigate the magical maze, but Austin had made a convincing case for the test. No one would object.

  “I agree with Austin. We will follow Oliver’s last request,” his lawyer said. “Legally, it’s the only fair solution other than rendering the will null and void and going back to the original will, leaving the estate to Austin. But I must try my best to honor Oliver’s wishes, so we’ll try this one last option.”

  “But what if more than one witch navigates the maze?” someone in the back asked.

  Austin scoffed. “I’d be surprised if anyone can navigate the maze. We all know that only a handful have made it through over the years, very few.”

  “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Wilford said, clearly agreeing with Austin.

  “When will this take place?” Dovy asked, her face a pale shade of powdery white.

  “There will be a midnight vigil tonight for Oliver in the town square, so I am giving us all time to attend and we will need time to prepare the labyrinth. I think that in two days’ time—the day after tomorrow at noon—we will begin the attempts. If you would still like to claim the inheritance and feel worthy of the task, please report to the Yearling estate at that time to attempt the magical labyrinth. See you all then and good day.” Wilford and Austin filed out of the room, leaving the crowd of witches shocked.

  Clover couldn’t believe this was happening. “What do you think?” Clover asked, turning to Felicity. “Is Austin right? Did his father share his knowledge of the labyrinth with you?”

  Felicity’s expression was unreadable. “Oliver showed me some of the magical spellcraft, but he was always working on it, perfecting the magic, making it harder and yet more alluring.” She bit her bottom lip. “He was obsessed with it, constantly tinkering with that thing, crafting new spells up until his death.”

  “But can you navigate it? Can you make it through?” Clover asked. This was the real question and a shiver of excitement went up her spine—the test of true love. Was Oliver testing her, too? It was an interesting thought.

  “I’m going to have to. I’m not giving up. If I have to navigate the labyrinth to prove my relationship was real, then I’ll do it and prove myself worthy of Oliver’s love. Austin’s not going to stop me.”

  Clover wasn’t sure what to think, but she knew one thing: navigating the labyrinth was much easier said than done.

  15

  When Clover walked up her porch steps, a whiff of lemon caught her attention. The stain was gone, the wood surface gleaming, the black magic reduced to a bad dream. She’d had every intention of making dinner, but when she got home Derek had beaten her to it. Hot loaves of freshly baked bread lined the counter. Copper pots bubbled on the stove. Derek’s wand was raised, zipping off spells in a cooking frenzy.

  “Wow. You’re like a chef possessed,” she said, not surprised he hadn’t gone home after Juniper had packed up and left.

  “It relaxes me. I’m in a groove.” He barely took his eyes off the concoctions.

  “Thanks for working your magic on the porch. I was relieved to see it cleaned up when I got home.” She patted his back. “When this is all over, I want to do a purification spell on the house and yard.”

  “No problem. I needed to keep busy. It’s been tough.” His brow creased. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about tomorrow.”

  Clover kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of iced tea. “There’s nothing we can do. The sheriff did me a favor in not serving the warrant right away. Maybe I should have let him do it and avoided the stress. Now I don’t have a choice. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over. Not if you don’t want it to be,” he said cryptically.

  “There’s nothing we can do. Juniper’s coming tomorrow, and I haven’t found out enough about Oliver Yearling’s murder or suicide or whatever happened to him to stop her. She’s going to find out I’m Cassandra Reason, and then she’ll hopefully keep my secret and it won’t get out. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.” Clover watched a creamy sauce swirling in one of the pots. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  Derek whipped his wand around and dishes and cutlery flew into action, ladling up sauce and pasta, serving up salad, and setting the table. Clover dodged a fork and took a seat.

  “I have to worry for both of us. Part of me wants everyone to know about you so that you get the credit you deserve, but at the same time I don’t want things to change. I don’t want us to lose what we have.” He plopped down in the chair opposite her.

  “No matter what happens we won’t. We’re a team. Don’t forget that.”

  His face was drawn and serious.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  But before he answered the question, she realized the death of Oliver must be a sad reminder of his parents’ passing. Witches and wizards were not immortal, and though they typically lived long lives, that wasn’t always the case. Both of Derek’s parents had died tragically in a hovercraft crash while he’d been studying at Haven Academy. He’d taken the news hard, dropped out of school, and ended up wandering Everland with a backpack, a wand, and little hope.

  Clover had met Derek one day at Goodspells Grimoire where he was unloading a shipment of books in the storeroom. Bear had taken pity on the young lost wizard and given him a few pieces of gold to help organize the large orders. Clover had gone to the bookstore to ask Bear to read her first novel but chickened out, still clutching the roll of parchment under her arm without showing it to him. She had gone in the back, at Bear’s request, to grab a couple of books he’d put aside for her and found Derek reclining between two stacks of books, reading a novel.

  “Hey, sorry to disturb you. I was just looking for some books on hold.” Seeing them, she reached up and grabbed the books from the shelf. “Does Bear know you like to read on the job?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t mind as long as I get all the books loaded onto the shelves before I leave. It helps to have a boss with a laid-back attitude and a bad back.” Motioning to the parchment roll in her arms, he asked, “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.” Her cheeks blushed and she shifted her weight.

  “Really? Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.” He leaned up, closing the book he’d been reading.

  “It’s a project I’m working on. It’s no big deal.” She blew a curl out of her face.
r />   “I won’t tell anyone about it, if you’re shy.”

  “I’m not shy, just protective. If you really want to know, it’s a novel,” she said. “I’ve been working on it and wanted to get some feedback. But I changed my mind.”

  “Hoping to get some advice from the reader of all.” He smiled, referencing Bear, who was arguably the best-read wizard in all of Willow Realm.

  “He’s probably too busy,” she said. “And it’s not like it’s great literature or anything. I shouldn’t waste his time.”

  “I’ll take a look at it.” He crawled to his feet.

  “I don’t know. What kinds of books do you like?”

  “Good ones.” His face brightened. “My mom was a writer and used to tell me stories when I was a kid and my dad liked to act out the characters in funny voices. I guess that’s why I ended up in the floor of a bookstore. It kind of feels like home here.” A weary smile crossed his face, but Clover sensed his sadness.

  “It’s nice of you to offer. I’ll think about it. I’d pay you to look at it. I wouldn’t want you to do it for free.” She clutched the parchment roll and found herself reconsidering.

  “You could buy me lunch,” he said. “Have you shown it to anyone else?”

  “No.” She hadn’t told anyone, not even her sisters. It was her burning secret. “It’s probably not that great. It’s the first one I actually finished. I have tons of stories and stuff I’ve been jotting down for years.” It would be nice to have someone who didn’t know her take a look, but she said no.

  “Suit yourself. My name’s Derek if you change your mind.”

  And change her mind was exactly what Clover had done. Not wanting to lose the offer, she’d ended up taking her parchment back the next day and dropping it off for Derek to read. Two days later she’d found him sitting on her front porch with the novel completely marked up with comments.