A Witch on Mintwood Mountain (Witch of Mintwood Book 4)

by Addison Creek

  Without another word from anyone, Jasper and Deacon turned and walked back to their trucks. Deacon had calmed down, but he was also leaving. With a quick goodbye to Greer and a wave to the rest of us, both of the guys got in their trucks and drove away.

  “This night took a turn for the better at the end,” said Charlie.

  Greer and I looked at her in shock.

  “What? They’re cute when they’re mad,” she shrugged, totally nonchalant about the whole thing.

  “At least you didn’t ruin it by being yourself,” said Paws sarcastically.

  “Do you want to walk home?” I asked the cat. He looked fearfully back at the mountain.

  “Okay, I’ll stop,” he said.

  “I thought so,” I muttered. “All I want is a little respect. Why is that too much to ask?”

  Chapter Nine

  I wasn’t expecting to see anything terribly exciting in the Mintwood Gazette in the morning, but surprises happen when you least expect them, or they wouldn’t be surprises. This morning was a perfect illustration of that fact.

  The front page of the Mintwood Gazette announced the candidacy of Jimmy News for mayor – no surprise there. But directly under that item, in an article that hinted at a link to Jimmy’s entrance into the race, was another story about the ghost at Farmer Franklin’s. Apparently there had been another theft from Franklin’s barn. This time, it was his favorite drill bits.

  “I just can’t believe this case hasn’t been solved yet,” Franklin was quoted as saying. “I can’t believe the mayor isn’t making the presence of ghosts in town a priority. What happens to the town if there really are ghosts?” he wondered. Then he reiterated his theory that his farm was just the tip the iceberg. Ghosts were coming for Main Street, and that should have everyone in Mintwood worried.

  Farmer Franklin went on to say that the situation was the mayor’s fault, and if his missing tools weren’t found soon he was for sure going to vote for Jimmy.

  As I read the Franklin article, my aunt sat quietly, cradling a cup of coffee and staring out the window. When I finished, I looked at her to see if she wanted to talk about the situation, but when she didn’t turn away from her window-gazing I went on to the article about Jimmy News, which proved to be just as entertaining as the Franklin story.

  Jimmy News had thrown his hat into the ring, as he explained, because he thought he could do right by the town. He didn’t think a mayor who let ghosts run rampant was any good kind of mayor. He had been reluctant to declare his candidacy, because Mayor Clabberd was such an institution, but maybe it was time for some fresh blood. He also thought that the speed limit in town should be raised, but that issue was still secondary to the ghost issue. Farmer Franklin’s distress had to be addressed, and if Mayor Clabberd wasn’t going to do it, well, Jimmy was.

  “Who is this Jimmy fellow?” my aunt asked, coming out of her reverie.

  I shook my head. “I think he was a couple years ahead of me in high school, but I don’t really remember him.”

  “Maybe you should do some research on him and find out if he’s the kind of candidate you want,” said Harriet.

  I looked at her in surprise. Given how buddy buddy she’d been with Mayor Clabberd the day before, I didn’t think she’d support anyone else. “Really?”

  She nodded. “He’s your age, so you might want to look into it, especially if you’re always speeding.” She ended with a slip of a smile.

  “But I don’t have the ghost issue as a reason to vote for him,” I said. As my aunt obviously knew, I was more acquainted with Mintwood’s ghosts than anyone else in town.

  Harriet just shrugged and let me draw my own conclusions.

  While I waited for my roommates to wake up, I went off to take care of my pet sitting duties. Neely was still petrified to see me, but Noel was happy, trotting right up to me to get petted. Truffles the pig continued to be an adventure, but one I was kind of enjoying, as long as I was prepared to have muddy shoes afterward.

  I got back to the house around noon after an uneventful round of pet tending. Charlie and Greer were up and had eaten, so we decided to head downtown. With Jimmy News announcing his candidacy that morning, Main Street was likely to be mayhem, and we wanted to see it.

  Besides, we needed more coffee.

  We didn’t even get as far as the Daily Brew before we ran into Farmer Franklin. Humphrey was with him, and the dog came up to us joyfully and lapped at our hands. Charlie giggled while Greer stroked the dog’s shoulders.

  “He’s the best dog,” said the farmer happily. “Part of the family.”

  “We’re sorry to hear about the trouble at your barn,” I said.

  Franklin’s face clouded. “If that mayor would do his job, it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. He’s had years of experience, but when a constituent needs something he runs and hides, then still thinks we’re going to elect him again? I don’t think so.”

  We were nearly into the café at last when a shout drew our attention. The only other time I’d heard shouting on Main Street was when Keith of Mintwood Mucking and Andre of the Artist’s Art Gallery had a shouting match outside their stores because Keith’s music was too loud.

  “I have to drown out that folk alternative mumbo jumbo,” Keith had yelled.

  “Not with RAP music,” Andre had shot back. “There’s a time and a place for such pretend music, and this is not the time and it is certainly never the place.”

  Now the shouting was of a different nature. In the town square, complete with gazebo, because obviously, there was a large crowd gathering.

  “Coffee or investigation first?” I asked. Charlie looked longingly at the gathering.

  “I’ll be a better investigator with coffee,” she decided reluctantly.

  We were inside the Daily Brew at last.

  Mrs. Barnett waved to us from behind the counter. “This is quite the week in Mintwood,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think there’s been so much excitement around town since Mayor Clabberd was elected the first time.”

  “I guess you’re due then,” said Greer.

  Mrs. Barnett fixed the bartender with a steely gaze. “We’ve had plenty of goings on, don’t get me wrong. Don’t need you young folk thinking this place is dull.”

  “What other young folk think this place is dull?” I asked. She sounded resigned to the fact that all young people were bored, and foolish.

  “Jimmy News for one,” she said, nodding in the direction of the town square.

  “Is that yelling for him?” I asked.

  “Yes, they meet there almost every week, but until today there were only about ten of them. Now there’s a hundred,” she said, sounding disgruntled.

  “Doesn’t it bring more business into the Daily Brew?” Charlie asked.

  “What do I need with more business?” she sniffed.

  “Sorry,” Charlie said, hanging her head. Greer gave her a comforting pat on the back.

  “Anyway, it’s the Speed Limit Group. They’re campaigning to make him mayor now that Mayor Clabberd isn’t delivering on eradicating ghosts.”

  “This really is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I cried. I couldn’t help myself, but when I saw several customers turn to give me curious glances, I hunched over my coffee mug. Mrs. Barnett quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “All you young folks think you’re so smart. Ghosts exist, I tell you,” insisted one of the other women standing at the counter. She looked like she was about my grandmother’s age, with short crimped hair, a long skirt, and a squashed expression.

  “I just don’t think Farmer Franklin’s problem is ghosts,” I said.

  “That reporter at the Gazette disagrees with you. What’s her name?” She turned to her companion, another woman of about the same age.

  “Charlie Silver. She’s the best reporter they have. Always does a great job,” said the second woman. “You should go talk to her about it.”

  Standing right next to me, Charlie snigg
ered.

  “I’ll think about it,” I told the women, and without another word I scooped up my coffee, scooted out of the Daily Brew, and headed for the town square

  “It looks like a mosh pit. I must be getting old,” said Charlie as we got nearer, pulling her trusty notebook out of her shoulder bag and starting to scribble.

  We stayed on the fringe of the gathering, watching Jimmy News talk. A scrawny fellow with flyaway hair and spectacles, he was railing against not having a bike lane in Mintwood – as if there were any bikers.

  “Fancy seeing you here!”

  Hansen Gregory materialized out of the crowd and came to stand next to Charlie, who slammed her notebook shut immediately, no doubt worried that Hansen would read her secret article notes over her shoulder and steal her story. If Hansen noticed the hostility, he didn’t comment. His deep blue eyes scanned Charlie’s face as his hand swept up to smooth out his perfectly wavy dark brown hair.

  “I’ve missed your articles the last couple of days. Trouncing the Mintwood Gazette doesn’t feel as satisfying if you’re not involved,” he said.

  Charlie was so incensed she had trouble formulating which response she wanted to give first.

  “You think the Gazette is second rate?” she exploded. For the second time in ten minutes people around us turned to look. Hansen was still standing there placidly.

  “I didn’t say that,” he said.

  “But you think the Chronicle is better?” Charlie demanded.

  “Of course I do,” he said.

  “Then why is it that you have to come to Mintwood for all of your news?” Charlie countered, really getting into the argument now.

  I silently warned her to be careful, this was obviously what Hansen wanted.

  “I thought you knew you were playing from behind. Isn’t that why you try so hard all the time?” Hansen said.

  Charlie’s mouth was hanging open.

  “Are reporters supposed to be lost for words?” Hansen asked.

  “You will be too after she slaps you silly,” warned Greer.

  “I’ve been silly my whole life,” Hansen winked at Greer, who grinned.

  “Are we doing a Daily Brew lunch again?” said Greer.

  “Not if you expect to keep living with me,” Charlie threatened.

  “Hey, Lemmi’s my landlord. She gets to decide if I stay or go,” said Greer.

  “She’s definitely staying,” I said.

  “You two are infuriating and confusing,” Charlie charged.

  “Pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t understand what’s going on right now,” said Greer.

  “Look, clearly I’ve interrupted a conversation, and I need to get back to work. I’ll catch you all soon,” said Hansen, strolling away nonchalantly.

  “Did you ever thank him for the croissants?” I asked Charlie.

  “I sent him an e-mail,” she said, hunching a shoulder defensively.

  “Which said what?” I prodded.

  “Thanks for the croissants.”

  We were just heading to the car when we bumped into Detective Cutter. He looked grim.

  “What’s the matter?” Charlie asked, putting on her reporter’s hat.

  The detective glanced at us as if he was surprised to see us at the Jimmy News rally. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just some bad news about the Missing Hiker Mystery.”

  “What’s the latest?” Charlie asked.

  The detective cleared his throat. “Might as well tell you, seeing as how you work for the Gazette and you aren’t as much of a vulture as that boss of yours.”

  “Right, exactly,” said Charlie. I could see that she was glowing inside at the prospect of winning the struggle against Lena.

  “We just got word from the medical examiner. The hikers didn’t fall down that ravine. They were pushed,” he said.

  Chapter Ten

  When we got home, my aunt and Paws were sitting on the porch. I had the distinct impression that someone was in trouble, and for once it wasn’t me.

  “Evening,” said Greer carefully.

  “How was town?” asked Harriet. She was sitting in a rocking chair, gently gliding forward and back as she knitted. “What did you think of Jimmy News?”

  “He was very passionate,” said Greer carefully.

  “Do you think he’d make a good mayor?” Harriet asked. Her fingers continued to make her knitting needles fly.

  “Not as good a mayor as the one we already have, not that I’m going to say as much in the Gazette,” said Charlie. “But I’m not sure other people in town are going to see it that way if Mayor Clabberd can’t do anything about the ghosts.”

  “We ghosts are so difficult all the time. Always causing problems,” said Paws from his crate.

  On the way home, my friends and I had discussed how it was okay to make boxed mac and cheese every once in a while. Even Miss Fancy Cook Greer thought so. My stomach had been rumbling, but whatever was going on with Harriet and Paws was distracting me.

  While my aunt was the picture of calm, Paws was shifting nervously, as if he couldn’t get comfortable on his crate. Dusk was falling, and he was just becoming clear in the evening darkness. I could see that the two of them had been having a chat.

  “How was your afternoon?” I said, hoping to get out of them some clue about what they’d discussed, and what was going on.

  “Productive,” my aunt said menacingly. “Learned a lot. Didn’t we, Paws?”

  “Learned a lot about what?” Charlie asked.

  “Nothing good,” Paws grumbled. “Charlie, how are you feeling?”

  “I feel fine. Thanks for taking care of me. They were trying to hurt me, right?”

  “It’s highly likely that if they’d been trying to hurt you in particular, they would have managed it in some way that was more certain and targeted,” said Harriet. “So far, it seems like all they wanted was my mother’s wand. Unfortunately for them, it’s the one thing they must never get.”

  “I’d like to know more about that,” I said. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to me about witch hunters, and how Jasper Wolf fit into that history, but at least she could talk to me about my own grandmother.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I was thinking the very same thing,” said Harriet. “So this afternoon I looked into it.” She had stopped rocking and Paws had stopped shifting; both of them now stood (or sat) stock still.

  I waited for somebody to say something further.

  “Oh, very well. I just would like to reiterate that I don’t think she’s ready,” he said.

  “Ready for what?” I said.

  “I’ll just show you. You’ll be less mad at me that way.”

  I blinked in surprise as the cat jumped off the crate and disappeared beneath it. For all the times I had looked at the crate, I had never really thought about the space inside it. But that’s where Paws had gone.

  His tail came out first, then his back, then his shoulders, and eventually his head. He was dragging what looked like a letter.

  I gave a cry of shock and lunged forward, snatching the letter up before he could fully turn around. As I suspected, my name was written on the back.

  “Who is this from?” I said, clutching the letter in my fist.

  “It’s from your grandmother,” said the cat.

  Charlie and Greer both gasped, while I felt my indignation get hotter. “Why are you just showing me this now?”

  “Like I said, I didn’t think you were ready,” Paws insisted. “Being the Witch of Mintwood is a lot of responsibility, a lot to take on. I worried that if it was all piled on you at once, you wouldn’t be able to stand it. And where would we be if you left? Your aunt had disappeared, and now she just shows up at her convenience. But we need somebody here.”

  My aunt didn’t look like she appreciated Paws pointing that out.

  “You not giving me my grandmother’s wand quickly enough led to a witch attack,” I pointed out.

  “No, your lack of interest in learn
ing spells led to a successful witch attack. They were going to come whether you liked it or not,” insisted the cat.

  He had a point there. I had shown no interest in learning any of the basic spells when I came back to Mintwood after my grandmother’s death; I had thought that what I was doing with the ghosts was enough. I had solved two mysteries without needing any magic, so I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t continue along that same path.

  “Maybe if you had told me that dark witches were going to attack, I would have handled learning spells differently,” I said.

  “You probably would have said I was lying,” said Paws.

  “You lie a lot, to be fair,” I countered.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” he shot back. “You have the letter and can do what you want with it. I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

  “You knew he had a letter from Grandmother?” I asked Harriet. She was still sitting placidly in the rocking chair, but no longer rocking.

  “I suspected. My mother loved to write, and I couldn’t believe she’d leave you here without any help or explanation. I mean beyond Paws.”

  I nodded and turned the letter over in my hand, all thoughts of mac and cheese gone. It was so nice to see Evenlyn’s handwriting again, I could barely keep the tears from falling.

  Charlie slung her arm around my shoulder and said, “Let’s go inside. You need to warm up and so do I. We can sit by the fire and discuss this.”

  All four of us went inside, leaving the cat on the porch. He looked less disgruntled than he had when Greer, Charlie, and I showed up, but still not happy.

  I went to make tea and Charlie stoked the fire. Greer got Charger and took him out to do his evening business. My aunt sat in the living room and resumed her knitting.

  It didn’t take long for all of us to be back in the living room, settled next to a blazing fire and nursing cups of tea.

  For about the millionth time, I was glad that I had roommates, and I was glad that my aunt was there. The farmhouse was transformed from lonely to very cozy and warm.

  “Are you going to read it now?” Greer asked.

  I nodded. I had wanted something like this for so long, and here it was in my hands. But now that I had it, I was a little afraid of what Evenlyn was going to say.