A Witch of a Day

by Danielle Garrett

  I laughed even as I shook my head at the absurdity of it all. Two grown women fighting about hanging baskets. Granted, Peg did have several inches over Gretta, but neither of them are petite women. The way I saw it, they just made up stuff to annoy each other. It was like a sport to them.

  I poured the shots into my favorite stainless steel tumbler, the one with a turquoise background and a silver emblem for the Magic Beans Coffee House on the front—a place non-supernaturals would vaguely recognize as a popular cafe in the Seattle area, but was actually something much more. It was the gateway to the Seattle haven.

  In the supernatural world, havens were protected communities where supers could live without worrying about concealing their powers or species from humans. They were able to live and work inside the community itself, but also had the freedom to go out into the human world if they chose, which is why all of the havens reside in large cities. It was easier to conceal a secret society in all the hustle and bustle and noise. The gate to the Seattle haven was located in the back of the downtown coffee shop and had been my home up until six months ago when an unfortunate set of circumstances had led to my banishment.

  In any case, the mug was still my favorite.

  I was still laughing over Peg and Gretta’s ridiculous feud as I steamed a pitcher of milk. When a nice layer of foam formed on top, I shut off the steam, and poured the milk into my tumbler. I grinned over at Cassie. “I’ll be sure to avoid the next town hall assembly. I’m sure there will be a proposed addendum to the legislation regarding hanging botanicals.”

  “No kidding,” Cassie smiled as she turned away to fuss with a sheet of cookies in the front case. While she had her back turned, I swirled my fingers over the foam in my tumbler and created a perfect fleur-de-lis in the froth. I hadn’t mastered the practice of pouring perfect latte art, but with a little magical assistance, I was a downright prodigy.

  Cassie turned back around as I was sliding the lid over the top and caught a peek at the design. She stilled my hand to take a closer look and then shook her head, her blue eyes alive with wonder. “That’s beautiful! Sheesh, I really need to watch you do that one of these days,” she said with a wistful sigh. “You’re so talented, Holly.”

  I smiled at the pretty pattern. Latte art wasn’t an official part of my job, but it was something that I added here and there just because it made me happy.

  As a witch living in a human community, I had precious few opportunities to use my magic. I’d been raised in the haven network and spent the first twenty-two years of my life being able to wield my magic and show off as much as I wanted without worrying what anyone thought or fearing that I would be reported.

  Well, until I was.

  Following a particularly nasty incident in the San Francisco haven, my childhood home, I was forced to relocate for the first time. After that, I bounced between a few Southern California havens, but none of those situations panned out to be the long-term home I was looking for. I decided to make a bigger move to put distance between myself and my not-so-flattering reputation. I ended up going north and spent three years living in the Seattle haven. However, it didn’t take long before that turned out to be a bust too, and at twenty-eight years old, I was all but exiled from the haven system and forced to live on my own, outside of the protection and freedom that a haven had to offer.

  It had been six months since my arrival in Beechwood Harbor and thus far I’d managed to fly under the radar. But it wasn’t easy to keep my true identity a secret from virtually everyone around me. The only place I was allowed to be myself, to the fullest degree, was inside the confines of the Beechwood Manor. Everyone in residence was a supernatural and was bound to secrecy by strong charms that had been carefully woven into the foundation of the home itself. They were unbreakable and binding to all those who passed through.

  The front door of the shop slammed open, and the stillness of the shop was shattered by an angry roar. “The nerve of that woman!”

  Cassie and I sprang apart as Peg stormed through the front door. I snapped the lid onto my tumbler, set it on the counter beside the espresso machine, and picked up a cloth to wipe off the steamer wand before the milk dried.

  Peg continued ranting to herself as she stalked through the shop. Her hands twitched with agitated gestures as she took each step. “Those things are a death trap! And guess who’ll get sued when some tourist waddles down the walk and gets taken out by a basket of petunias?”

  Cassie opened her mouth to answer, but I caught her eye first and shook my head.

  “She’s just … just … out of her mind!” Peg stomped around the large case containing pastries and breakfast items and gave both of us a cold stare. “What are you two doing? Don’t just stand there! The water pitchers are low, the floor needs to be swept, and the order in back still needs to be checked in!”

  “I started unpacking the order, Peg,” Cassie hurried to reply.

  “Started?” Peg narrowed her eyes.

  “I’ll go finish the order!” Cassie jumped into action, the panic evident in her voice as she scurried down the short hallway that led to the back room.

  Peg’s head rotated and her harsh stare fell on me. I held up a finger. “I’ll sweep and get the water pitchers.”

  Still snarling, Peg whipped around the counter and stormed into the back. Seconds later, the door to her small office slammed shut.

  I set the steamer wand rag aside, took a deep drink of my latte, and went to the long table under the front windows. The table was crafted from driftwood gathered from the beach. A local woodworker had fashioned the pieces into a gorgeous table that showcased the natural beauty of the different types of wood and had gifted it to Peg when she opened the shop. It served as a condiment bar that held coffee essentials. Two tall pitchers of ice water were flanked by a tower of clear plastic cups on one side and a caddy containing lids, straws, half a dozen sweetener options, and cardboard cup cozies on the other.

  I sighed when I saw that the water pitchers in question were barely a quarter of the way emptied. “Yes, clearly this was an emergency. Bat wings and toadstools,” I muttered to myself, grabbing the pitchers. “What is she expecting? A herd of camels for lunch?”

  Before I could haul them behind the counter to top them off with filtered water, a soft tinkling sounded as the front door opened. I turned around to greet my first customer of the day.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hooper,” I said, smiling brightly as Jasper Hooper, an elderly man with a sunny disposition and gentle spirit, ambled into the shop. He was a local and came into the shop every morning at the same time like clockwork. Most of Siren’s Song’s customers were regulars. And, aside from a small pocket of customers that grated on my nerves to the point that I wanted to hex them, most of them were wonderful, and great tippers to boot. There was a handful of regulars that were particularly endearing. Jasper Hooper was at the top of that list.

  As a bonus, he was also a supernatural—a wizard, though he claimed to be retired from all that.

  Jasper smiled. “Morning, Holly. A lovely day, don’t you think?”

  Truthfully, that depended on how many hours Peg spent locked away in her office, versus micromanaging Cassie and me all shift.

  I smiled sweetly. “It’s going to be a great day. What time are the grandbabies getting into town?”

  Jasper lit up like Yuletide morning. “Ten o’clock.”

  I glanced at the large copper-plated clock hanging on the wall above a set of French doors that led to the patio. It was creeping up to ten. “Well you better take your order to go then,” I said, throwing him a wink.

  “I suppose so.” Jasper glanced around behind him. There were a couple of patrons in the shop, but they appeared to be engrossed in whatever was on their computer screens. They had their earbuds in, blocking out the rest of us. He came closer to the counter and leaned against it, a hand absently going to his lower back. “Do you have the potion?” he whispered.

  I craned around to look
over my own shoulder. After verifying that we weren’t being watched, I pulled a small vial from the front pocket of my jeans. The vial was thin and corked with a stopper. The contents were seafoam green and nearly opaque. Jasper grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the bottle and reached for his wallet. “Just a short coffee today, Holly.”

  I gave him a nod and turned away to pour a small cup of coffee from the freshly brewed carafe on the counter behind me. Before sliding the lid on the cup, I uncorked the vial, dumped the contents into the coffee, and then handed it to Jasper.

  “What do I owe ya?” he asked, looking down at the contents of his old faded wallet.

  Jasper came in every morning for a hot cup of coffee, and two or three times a week, he ordered it with a little extra oomph, courtesy of one of my handcrafted potions. He usually requested it for the days that his grandchildren would be visiting. A small dose of my specialty blend, Perky Potion, was enough to chase away his chronic lower back pain and get him through a day of pillow forts, Frisbee chasing, and tickle monster games with his young grandchildren.

  “Three fifty,” I replied, my tone neutral.

  Jasper passed over the money for the coffee and then dropped two golden coins into my hand. “Thanks, Holly. You’re a lifesaver.”

  I grinned. “Don’t thank me, thank the magic of the beans,” I replied, flashing him a wink. Lima beans were the star ingredient in the Perky Potion, though anyone overhearing us would assume I meant the coffee beans.

  Jasper returned the sly wink. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I hope you have a lovely day with your grandbabies,” I said, smiling.

  “Thank you.” He nodded and took a deep sip from the coffee in his hand. The potion worked best when first mixed with coffee. The caffeine boosted the potency of the spell and while it took about ten minutes to fully kick in, the effects would last all day.

  The bell on the front door chimed again and I leaned around Jasper to offer a friendly smile to the new customer. It disappeared as I found myself staring at a familiar face sporting a gleaming, arrogant smile. Nick Rivers, Private Investigator, and professional pain in the tush.

  Click here to continue reading Murder’s a Witch.

  Twice the Witch Excerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  By the time June rolled around, I’d reached an important conclusion: Beechwood Harbor was only meant to be a one-witch town. Evangeline Lenore, the famous star of The Wednesday Witch, a paranormal soap opera, was not only a megastar among the local supernaturals, but her arrival in town was causing quite the stir with non-magical residents, too. And her chosen daily hangout? Siren’s Song.

  Naturally.

  Evangeline held court in the coffee shop most days. She always came in with a pair of books tucked under her arm—which I knew were actually magical instruction handbooks—but never seemed to get around to reading any of them. Instead, Siren’s Song was like an all-day happy hour for her and her new pack of friends. Most of them male.

  Some might accuse me of being jealous of the attention when, in reality, the reason I didn’t appreciate all of the fawning was because the new arrivals weren’t exactly the paying kind—yet they took up space in the coffee shop from opening to closing. One of them had gone so far as to ask for discounts on pastries, arguing that he and his posse were “regulars” now.

  I’d never been so tempted to hex a human in my entire life.

  Cassie was the newly minted manager of Siren’s Song and doing a fantastic job, all things considered, but the stress of stepping into her new role was more than enough for her to handle without a bunch of loiterers clogging up most of the available table space. But, Cassie being Cassie, was far too nice to drop hints or flat out ask them to leave.

  So, they came back, day after day, to stare at, and flirt with, Evangeline. The supernaturals, who knew of her fame, asked endless questions about her TV show and what life was like inside the glittering Los Angeles Haven. The non-magic locals gathered that she was a celebrity, although none of them could quite place her. Paranormal shows never appeared on human TV, even though the magic could easily be written off as killer special effects. It was just another area where the two worlds didn’t meet.

  Evangeline was an expert at playing coy and kept the game going. I imagined that in LA, she was a big fish in a big pond, whereas in Beechwood Harbor, she was a big fish in a mud puddle. She basked in the attention the same way that Boots, my orange tabby familiar, would delight in a pool of sunshine on the kitchen floor.

  To Evangeline’s credit, she at least had the decency to purchase something with each visit to the coffee shop and was a generous tipper.

  Now, if she could just get the rest of her friends in line, that’d be great.

  “She sure is popular, isn’t she?” Cassie said with a deep sigh, looking over at Evangeline’s favorite table. Currently, three suitors surrounded her: a werewolf and two wizards. Not that anyone else would know their true identities. They looked, dressed, and talked just like any other twenty-somethings would.

  I refilled my favorite tumbler with black coffee from one of the large carafes behind the counter and joined Cassie near the register, blowing away the steam before sliding the lid in place. “Just be glad you don’t live with her. I swear, at least three times a week, we get floral arrangements dropped off on the front porch from her many secret—or, not-so-secret—admirers.”

  It was telling that even Cassie was becoming disenchanted by Evangeline’s constant presence. The stars bless her, she’d tried. The first time Evangaline came in, I’d made the introductions and Cassie had rolled out the welcome wagon just like she would for any new resident in town. However, over the last few days, several patrons had brought their complaints to Cassie, grumbling about the overcrowded shop. This time of year, Beechwood Harbor transformed from small, coastal town into Touristville, USA, which meant it was busier than usual anyway, even without Evangeline’s unofficial fan club.

  Cassie sighed and sagged against the counter. “Must be nice. I don’t even remember the last time I had a date, let alone got flowers from a guy. My problem used to be that there were no available men in town. Now, we have some, but they’re all a little … distracted. Besides that, I feel like I live here now,” she said, gesturing around the shop.

  I fidgeted with the stack of business cards beside the register, unable to commiserate. My roommate, Adam St. James, and I had been dating for a little over a month, so I wasn’t in a position to complain about the sparse dating scene in the small town. After shuffling the cards back into a neat pile, I glanced over at Cassie. Her topknot was frazzled and off center, her cheeks were flushed from running around all day, and I figured she hadn’t taken a break since she’d started her shift at four a.m. “Hey, tell you what—I’ll cover you for a break. You’ve been at it all day. Did you even take a lunch?”

  Cassie dropped a guilty look down at her ballet flats. She knew she’d been caught.

  “Cassie,” I scolded, before grabbing her by the shoulders, spinning her around, and marching her to her office. “Break time. I don’t want to see you for half an hour.”

  Cassie started to protest but I shot her a death glare and she backed down, her words dissolving into giggles. “All right, all right! Half an hour. Got it.” She gave me a mock salute before retreating into her small office.

  I sauntered back to the front of the shop and started reorganizing the display case, condensing the assorted pastries from five trays down to two, in order to make things easier for closing time, which was only about an hour away. Thank goodness. I was more than ready to go home and relax with Boots, a Lemon Cloud pastry, and some mindless TV. Anything but The Wednesday Witch.

  When the front case was sorted, the empty trays re-papered for the morning, and the floor swept free of crumbs, I rounded the counter and made my way through the main dining room to straighten chairs and wipe down empty tables.

  I shot a few dirty looks at Evangeline’s werewolf and wiz
ard visitors as I went.

  Cassie would be scandalized, but I wanted them well on their way by the time I turned off the Open sign. It was best to get a jump start on the evacuation process, as I’d noticed they moved about as quickly as a herd of undead turtles.

  As I neared Evangeline’s table, she looked up from her three paranormal amigos and smiled at me. Finally noticing my scowl, they mumbled their goodbyes and took off for the front door. Evangeline didn’t appear to notice. “Holly, what can you tell me about starfire spells?”

  I whipped around, reflexively checking the rest of the room for potential eavesdroppers. That was the other problem with Evangeline hanging out in the coffee shop all day—she was accustomed to living inside the Los Angeles haven and constantly being surrounded by supernaturals. She didn’t think twice before blurting out spell names or potion questions like she was asking for directions to the local laundromat. Two weeks ago, I’d caught her practicing shrinking spells right there at her table, reducing a coffee mug to a dollhouse-sized replica, while other patrons—human ones—were only steps away. Luckily, no one else had seen her with her wand out, but if they had …

  I shook my head, refusing to even let myself consider the consequences. It would be disaster for us all.

  “Evangeline, you can’t ask about spells here,” I hissed, leaning in close so that she was the only one who could hear my admonishment.

  “Oh, stars!” Evangeline cringed. “I’m so sorry, Holly. I keep forgetting where I am.”

  I flexed my jaw while I forced my hands to uncurl. At least she didn’t have her wand out on display this time. “It’s all right. But please, Evangeline, try to be more careful.”

  “Of course.” She nodded fervently and then turned her attention back to her spell book. It was charmed to look like a chemistry textbook to anyone without magic. To the other patrons, Evangeline looked like a normal college student. Granted, she was nearer to her thirties than the age of a recent high school graduate, but that wasn’t that uncommon; lots of people went back to school later in life these days. I started to walk away, but then stopped for a moment to peer over her shoulder, waiting for the true text to be revealed. Sure enough, after a moment, the letters and images changed, showing the concealed words and images. Starfire spells were intensely complicated and required harnessing energy from the stars to produce powerful—and often dark—magic.