Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries

by J. D. Shaw

  The figure remained stoically in place. Through a series of awkward stretches and movements, she was able to at least sit upright on the floor. She tried to loosen the ropes, hoping her movements didn’t attract attention. “I’m guessing this is a wine cellar.” She looked around for anything that might help to cut the ropes but the room was just a bunch of huge casks and barrels stacked along shelves and a little table loaded with stained towels used to wipe up drips and leaks. “I’ve never actually been in one before.”

  The sound of a door opening from the far end of the room caught Vivienne’s attention. Footfalls, the clack of high heels, echoed in the large area. “He won’t answer your questions.” Victoria Clemens stepped out of the shadows, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Victoria? What’s going on?” Vivienne tried to reason with her.

  Victoria ran her hand along one of the many barrels stocked full of fermenting wine. “You are in a wine cellar, but sadly it’s going to be your final resting place.”

  Vivienne wriggled back and forth against the ropes which bound her. “Why are you doing this?”

  Victoria walked over to the cloaked figure and ran her hands along the fabric. “You certainly are inquisitive for a baker. I’d almost dare say you’re even better than the local police, but that isn’t too difficult to do now is it?”

  Vivienne could feel the rope loosening a bit around her wrists, but she was far from getting free. “I’m not just a baker.”

  “That’s right.” Victoria grinned. “You’re also a novice witch who happened to lose her little spell book.” She clicked her tongue. “So it looks like magic isn’t going to help you out of this one.”

  “Victoria, why did you do it?” Vivienne asked. “Why did you kill your best friend?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To know all the answers and then wait to be rescued by your deputy boyfriend just in the nick of time.” She laughed. “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but that just isn’t going to happen.” She whispered something to the cloaked figure and it shambled off leaving them alone in the wine cellar.

  “Since you seem to know about the spell book, I’m guessing you’re a witch too.”

  Victoria slowly walked over toward Vivienne. “I’ve been called many things by many people, but that particular adjective just happens to be true this time.”

  “You won’t get away with this.” Vivienne reasoned. “You think after Mona’s murder, my disappearance isn’t going to cause a stir?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on that.” Victoria cooed. “You see, this town has had so many bad things happen recently you’d almost think it was a cursed.”

  “I don’t believe in curses.” Vivienne could almost slip her right wrist out of the rope.

  “And that’s why you’d never be anything but a baker and a mediocre witch.” Victoria stopped just shy of Vivienne’s feet. “You don’t have the guts or the foresight to become a great witch.”

  “If becoming a great witch means doing what you did, then no thank you.” Vivienne shook her head.

  Victoria laughed out loud. “Color me so surprised.” She paced back and forth between the wine casks. “I tried to be patient with life but you know what? It just isn’t fair and the people that play by the rules get run over and pushed into the ditch.”

  Vivienne tried to use reason to buy some time for Joshua to find her. It was a long shot, but at the moment it was all she had. “Using dark magic is playing with fire, Victoria. Why would you risk it? If the Elders found out…”

  Victoria glanced down at her with a look of pity. “A dead witch tells no tales, so they aren’t going to find out.” She tapped her hand along one of the larger casks. “It’s such a shame to have to stuff you in one of these casks, but think of it this way. You’ll be pickled in one of the very best wines in the Finger Lakes.” Her lips curled into a smile. “If the wine ages just right,” she said smugly, “Perhaps even a gold medal winner for Glen Harvest Winery?”

  “Was Mona a witch too?” Vivienne asked.

  Victoria rolled her dark eyes. “Stop talking about that stupid woman. She wasn’t even part of the big picture.”

  “Well, you killed her. So she must have had something on you.”

  Victoria shook her head. “She was a puppet. Something I was able to manipulate until she started to get a little too comfortable with the power I was giving to her.”

  Vivienne freed her one wrist and then slipped the other out with barely a twitch. “I think you killed her because of something to do with the online magazine interview.”

  “You really are a lousy detective, Vivienne.” Victoria sneered. “You just can’t put the pieces together and it’s killing you.” She gave a little laugh. “Well, drowning in a vat of freshly pressed grape juice is what’s going to kill you, actually.” She laughed again. “It’s not as violent as say being stabbed outside your bakery with the scissors that were going to be used to cut the ribbon for your grand opening.”

  Vivienne sprung herself forward with a cry and slammed against Victoria’s legs, knocking her off balance. She fell to the wet floor with a thud.

  Victoria whirled around and kicked at Vivienne with her heels. “Help me.” She screamed as loud as she could. “She’s getting free.”

  Vivienne ducked and weaved, as Victoria’s sharp heels came dangerously close to hitting her face. She grabbed the rope and tried to lasso it around Victoria’s torso.

  Victoria grabbed hold of Vivienne’s hair and yanked back hard with a grunt. “Stephen.” She screamed again. “She’s free.”

  Vivienne’s legs were still bound, so she remained at a disadvantage on the floor. She frantically tried to unravel the rope. She yanked and pulled on the braided cord, but it was no use.

  Victoria scooted back and got to her feet. She raised her arms in the air and chanted something that sounded like Latin. One of the wine vats over Vivienne groaned and tipped forward threatening to crush her.

  With quick thinking, she rolled backward just as the barrel came crashing down onto the floor and split open like a ripe melon. One hundred gallons of red wine splashed out like a crimson wave and swamped the floor with a foamy wet mess.

  The cloaked figure shambled into the room and appeared next to Victoria. “Kill her.” She screamed in anger.

  Vivienne, soaking wet with wine and still bound at the legs, could only watch as the cloaked figure walked over the shattered cask and reached out with claw-like white hands. Without thinking, she threw her hands up and repeated the only spell she had ever used. “Tempus Revocare. Tempus Revocare. Tempus Revocare.”

  The liquid began to bubble as if it were boiling. The cloaked figure lurched toward her, stepping into the foaming mess. Suddenly, the liquid swirled up into a vortex-like shape and pulled the figure into its center. Wood beams floated off the floor, nails flew this way and that. In a matter of seconds, the wine cask re-assembled back together trapping the liquid and the cloaked figure inside.

  “No.” Victoria screamed in frustration. She raced toward the now intact cask on the floor and tried to roll it over Vivienne. It proved too heavy, and she only managed to rock it slightly back and forth.

  Vivienne, safe from attack for the moment, wasted no time in working on freeing her legs. She frantically began to undo the knot. At last, the rope slipped down past her knees and she was able to free her legs. While the cask barrier had given her the time she needed, it now became yet another obstacle between her and freedom. She tried to push it away, but had no better luck than Victoria had trying to roll it forward. All at once, the lights went out and the door slammed shut with a thud.

  It took a few moments, but Vivienne’s eyes began to adjust to the sudden darkness. There were several pieces of electronic monitoring equipment that provided a weak, yet useful light from their LED display panels. Working her hands along the casks, she felt spigots on the lower end that could function as a foot peg to stand upon. Perhaps she could climb over and make a quick escape? W
ith no time to waste, she raised her right leg up as high as she could and put her foot on the metal spigot. Using her arms, she pushed against the cask and managed to climb up enough that she could make out the outline of the door thanks to the bright light behind it. It had to be the exit.

  As she leaned her weight against uppermost edge of the wine cask, her cell phone dug into her side. She reached down and yanked it out, overjoyed at her sudden luck.

  But her joy soon turned to disappointment as the phone was too weak to get a signal down in the cellar. She was, however, able to use the screen as a flashlight. She continued to climb over the cask and stopped when she came upon the pale white hand sticking out from the wooden beams like a spigot. It looked to her as if the wood had grown around the arm creating a water-tight seal. The flesh resembled paraffin wax, flat and plain in the feeble light. Upon closer inspection, she was shocked to see that the fingers and palm were completely smooth and devoid of prints or lines.

  She didn’t know what exactly the thing inside was, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t going to get out. As she moved her other arm to the side of the arm, it lurched forward and grabbed her. She let out a scream of terror but the icy grip was painfully cold and once more she felt dizzy.

  The wine cellar faded away and was replaced with the hazy image of a brightly lit bar area that was filled with colorful bottles of wine.

  Victoria was standing in front of her, a glass of red wine in her hand. “Stephen, I can’t fathom why you are content with just sitting back and running your family’s winery. Don’t you have any ambition to be something better?”

  Vivienne, much like what had happened with Suzette Powell in the holding area, realized she was experiencing another vision of the past through the eyes of another. Only this time, she was seeing it through Victoria’s husband, Stephen Clemens.

  “What is this lust for power all of a sudden?” Stephen replied. “I swear, every time you and Mona Clarke spend time together you just come back more miserable.”

  “I’m not miserable spending time with her.” Victoria set her wine glass down on the tasting room bar. “I’m miserable because I’m married to someone who’s happy making a life here in the sticks.”

  “We’ve got money, Victoria.” Stephen argued. “More than most people in this area have. But that’s not good enough for you, is it? I’m not good enough.”

  “You’re drunk.” Victoria started to walk away when Stephen reached out and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

  “I’m drunk because that’s the only way I can stand to be around you anymore.” Stephen raised his voice.

  “Let go of my arm or you’re going to regret it.” Victoria snapped.

  “Mother was right about you.” Stephen let go of her arm. “You only married into this family for the money.”

  Victoria reached for her wine glass and tossed the liquid in his face. “And you’re a little man who will never do anything except run a little business that his parents created out in the middle of nowhere.”

  Stephen reached for the open bottle of wine on the bar but lurched forward. His hands went up to his chest. “Victoria…” He grunted. “Can’t breathe…”

  “Stephen?” She suddenly flew at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t breathe…” He dropped to his knees. “Call an ambulance.”

  Victoria frantically ran over behind the bar and reached for the phone. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” She turned to face him. “You can’t die on me yet. We have so much more to accomplish.”

  Stephen dropped to the floor with a groan and then went silent. His vision of Victoria blurred.

  Victoria raced over to him and knelt down. “I need you still.” She whispered and took his hand in hers. “I refuse to let you leave me like this.” She yelled. “Stephen, do you hear me. I refuse to allow this to happen.”

  The vision faded to black and Vivienne found herself back in the wine cellar. Only now it was illuminated with all sorts of black candles and she was lying prone on a table. Victoria was dressed in a black robe and she waved her arms in the air and chanted. She stood before a simple table that had a small cast iron cauldron resting above some lit sterno canisters. “I pull you from the darkness of death to do my bidding.” She brandished a small knife and dragged it across her palm, drawing a river of blood which she dripped into the cauldron. “I borrow thee from the realm of shadow and command you to serve me.”

  Vivienne could only watch in horror, trapped inside the memories of Stephen, as his re-animated body twitched and groaned. It sat up stiffly from the table and swung his pale legs over the edge. “I obey.” The voice was raspy and garbled.

  Victoria grabbed a small basting brush off the table and dipped it in the cauldron. She swirled it back and forth and then pulled it free, coated with a sticky syrup-like mixture. “You will follow my orders without question or hesitation.”

  His head bobbed up and down. “I will obey.” The voice, low and sepulchral, had a strange echo to it that sounded anything but human.

  “Give me your hands.” She commanded.

  Stephen extended his arms and she took hold of his hands and turned them palm side up. She took the brush and painted his hands with the concoction. The fine lines and prints sunk deeper and deeper within the pale flesh and then disappeared altogether, appearing very much like the hands of a store mannequin.

  Once more, the darkness swirled around the vision and Vivienne was suddenly transported to the dumpster outside her store. The voices of Victoria and Mona Clarke grew louder as they walked down the alley.

  “Victoria, I don’t know why we have to look at the parking situation this morning. I’ve got a very busy schedule with the bakery opening.” Mona’s voice said.

  “The sooner we address this problem the sooner we can move forward with the plan.” Victoria replied as they both rounded the corner from the alley. “Boy, there’s a real nip in the air today. There’s no doubt fall is coming.” She rubbed her black leather gloves along her arms.

  Mona put her hands on her hips, the giant pair of scissors in her grip. “Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you about and it may as well be now. It’s something that’s been bothering me since last night’s meeting.”

  “What’s that dear?” Victoria asked.

  “It’s about that magazine article that Kathy Hemmings brought up.” Mona tapped the scissors against her leg. “My lawyer has been doing some investigating into the situation and he informed me that the publisher is under Fiona Meadows’ company.”

  “I had no idea.” Victoria’s eyes widened.

  “Actually, I think you had plenty of ideas.” Mona continued. “You see, there was a file sent to that magazine shortly after I gave the interview. After some legal pressure from my lawyer, the editor sent it as proof he wasn’t printing libel.”

  “What was on the file?”

  Mona set the scissors down on the pavement. “It was a follow up with the very quotes that I thought they he had made up to sell copies. Only, these appeared to be written by me.”

  Victoria eyed the scissors. “That’s strange.”

  “When I checked the date of the file, it just happened to be created the day you and I spent in my home office going over the plans for the Main Street refurbishment.” Mona explained. “So I can only assume that for some reason you took it upon yourself to sabotage me. You created those quotes and you sent them from my own email address so not to arouse suspicion from the editor.”

  “Yes, you’ve got me there.” Victoria nodded. “Frankly, I’m surprised you were able to figure that out given how self-absorbed you’ve become lately.”

  “Excuse me?” Mona’s voice went up a tone.

  “You are so high and mighty you don’t even recognize someone you went to high school with.” Victoria mocked. “Hello?” She tossed her hair with her hands.

  Mona shook her head in bewilderment. “What’s going on here?”

  Victoria cont
inued. “We were on the cheerleading squad together at Elmira Free Academy.” She tossed her arms into the air with a little cheer. “Go Blue Devils.”

  Mona eyed her carefully and then the spark of recognition appeared. “Missy Collins?”

  Missy nodded. “I was counting on you to be so into yourself that you’d never recognize me. You made it all too easy.”

  “You look completely different.” Mona’s jaw dropped. “Why did you change your name?”

  “I had to because of you.” Missy replied. “You see, I never got my knight in shining armor to save me like you did. After high school, I moved to New York to try and become a fashion model but the competition was just too fierce and I never could land a job. I was a little fish in a big pond. Before long, my accounts ran dry and I was faced with the prospect of moving back to Elmira with Mother.”

  “We all fall down from time to time. The moment we pick ourselves up and continue is what truly defines us.” Mona added.

  “Spoken like a true politician.” Missy shook her head. “I had landed a full time job at a small pharmacy in the city and was making just enough to get by. Making a nice little normal life for myself and almost forgetting how bad things really were.”

  Missy ran her gloved hands along Mona’s expensive jacket. “Then, one night, you blew in like a diva demanding a prescription for your husband after hours. I said hello but you didn’t even recognize me. All you saw was a tacky plastic name tag and the stupid blue uniform. You got your way with the manager, thanks to your new social connections, and left without even saying thank you.”

  “I had no idea.” Mona sympathized. “You should have said something that night.”

  Missy stepped away from her. “I don’t want your pity, you stupid cow.” She hissed. “I eventually had to move back to a cramped apartment in Elmira with my Mother and take a job in the grocery deli.” She whirled around in the alley, swept up in sweet nostalgia. “Remember when I was voted most likely to succeed in the year book?” She posed against the brick wall of the bakery. “Prettiest smile, best body, class flirt and where did it all get me?” She frowned. “A menial job at the local grocery deli wearing one of those tacky store uniforms and a stupid name tag, that’s what I got. Weighing and slicing ham and turkey for bored housewives who accused me of giving pieces with too much fat or forgetting to charge the sale price.”