by Zoe Arden
"Norbert Clark is dead," Dr. Wallace said matter-of-factly.
There were murmurs and gasps. It was true that Norbert was old, but he had been in perfect health. He was one of the most beloved people in Mistmoor Point.
Dr. Wallace held up his hands for attention as people began to panic. "Norbert is the only one to suffer such an extreme fate. With the exception of Mayor Singer and Amelia Redfern, everyone else is fine. They have all been treated and will be released shortly."
There were cries of, "Thank the wizards!" and an audible sigh of relief. My heart, however, was sinking fast. Grayson and Lincoln stood beside me, looking frazzled.
"What's wrong with our mother?" Grayson asked.
"And the mayor?" Lincoln added. His face was tense but it only set his jawline better. I wanted to nuzzle my head against it right now.
"Coma, I'm afraid," Dr. Wallace said.
"The mayor's in a coma?" someone in the crowd asked, alarmed.
"I'm afraid so," Dr. Wallace replied. "His wife and daughter are in with him now." He turned to me and Grayson. "If you would like to join your mother..."
Grayson's face turned to ash.
Lincoln wrapped his arm around my waist, resting his fingers lightly against the band of my jeans. I was grateful he was here. I knew he had to be because of his job, but I was pretty sure putting his arm around my waist wasn't anywhere in his official code of conduct as a sheriff. That was all Lincoln. And it was all for me.
"Can you tell us what caused this?" Lincoln asked.
The waiting room seemed to have relaxed slightly, knowing that their friends and family were going to be okay, though several people were shedding tears over poor Norbert.
Dr. Wallace expelled a long breath and leaned in toward Lincoln. "It was poison," he said quietly so that only we could hear.
"Poison?" I squealed loudly. Lincoln shot me a look. The word "poison" traveled quickly around the room. Mistmoor Point didn't usually see so much excitement.
"I haven't yet been able to determine what kind," Dr. Wallace said, looking only at Lincoln now, who was taking notes. "We're running more tests, and I should have an answer for you in a few days."
Lincoln nodded. "Is there a chance this was accidental? Perhaps a slight mix up of magic?"
"It's possible," Dr. Wallace said. "I found one other item of interest that I can't quite explain... cat hair."
"Cat hair?" Lincoln, Grayson, and I all asked together.
He nodded. "Yes. It was mixed in with some of the food samples we took from the restaurant."
Grayson gulped. "Doc, is there any chance that... that it was my food that was poisoned? Not my mother's?"
"No," Dr. Wallace said, shaking his head. "We checked that. Your food came back clean. The poison was only found in the baked goods."
"All the baked goods?" I asked, still unable to believe this was happening.
"Everything except the eclairs, cupcakes, and butterscotch buttons."
Fiddledums!
Those were the exact items I was in charge of making. My mother had made most everything else. Lincoln seemed to be having the same thought. He was one of the few warlocks born on the island and knew everything about everyone. He knew my mother was a little daffy, but he also knew she was the best baker anywhere. I didn't like the look on his face. When Dr. Wallace returned to the back, he turned to me and Grayson.
We huddled together away from the crowd. "Felicity, is there any chance that your mother—"
"No," I said, quickly cutting Lincoln off. "Mom may be a little... bubble-headed, but she's never messed up a recipe in her life. You know that."
Grayson and Lincoln exchanged a doubtful look.
"You can't really believe my mom did this. Do you?"
"Not on purpose," Lincoln said. "But you have to admit, it sounds... possible."
My anger overflowed. "I can't believe you two!"
"Felicity, they found cat hair," Grayson said.
"So? Lots of people on the island have cats, not just Mom."
"Has she taken Sunny to the shop with her lately?" Lincoln asked.
I hesitated. Grayson and Lincoln exchanged another look and I knew I'd lost. Lincoln hadn't even investigated yet and already he was blaming my mother.
"I'll prove you both wrong," I yelled. "I'll find out who did this and clear my mother's name!" I turned from them with a huff.
"Felicity!" Lincoln called after me, but I had nothing more to say to him.
* * *
CHAPTER
FOUR
.
.
.
* * *
“It's okay. It was my fault" …
* * *
.
The next day, all Mistmoor Point could talk about was Mayor Singer's disastrous party. In a small town, on a small island, there was often little else to do but gossip. And with gossip, of course, came exaggeration.
People who had been at the party made it sound as though Norbert had gone out like a hero. His death would forever be remembered not as a simple poisoning, but as a fierce chase through the restaurant. According to the rumor mill—of which every member in town was guilty of participating in at one point or another—Norbert had caught the poisoner in the act. He had chased them through the restaurant, only to die when the poison overwhelmed his poor tired body. People were saying that it was because of him that no one else had died.
If Norbert were still alive, he would have loved the story. He was as big a gossip as anyone.
I stepped out of the house I shared with my mother and walked along the sandy beach. The water was like liquid sapphire. It shined for miles in whatever direction you looked. I took off my sandals and dug my feet into the sand.
The whole island was about the size of Molokai, a Hawaiian island I had once read about. Around three hundred square miles, it held a population of roughly five thousand. That population was split between Mistmoor and Sweetland Cove. Only a few hundred of the island's residents were S.H.—Strictly Human—the rest were witches.
Of course, most of the tourists were human, so it sort of evened out. We were known for having year-round summers—courtesy of the Witch's Council—and despite the distance from the mainland, we were a sought-after destination for those who had heard of us. Though not many people had. Our nearest neighbors were Florida, and they received most of the attention.
Despite my desire to return to the hospital and check on my mother, I had told Lincoln and Grayson that I was going to investigate this and prove my mother's innocence. I had every intention of following through on that statement. I'd only come home this morning to shower and change.
There was no point in going by the bakery. It was closed until further notice, pending the outcome of Dr. Wallace's toxicology report. Lincoln had texted me late last night to tell me that Cakes and Creations would remain closed until he was sure it was safe to reopen. He'd apologized—sort of.
I'M SORRY. I'M JUST DOING MY JOB. I CAN'T TAKE ANY CHANCES.
I texted him back.
I UNDERSTAND. DOES YOUR JOB ALSO ENTAIL YOU TAKING A LONG WALK OFF A SHORT PIER? IF NOT, I'D LIKE TO MAKE THE SUGGESTION.
Lincoln had stopped texting me after that.
Walking the beach was like therapy for me. I used it to clear my head. The salty air seemed to warm my nose and made my magic that much more potent. Witches all responded to different elements. My element was water.
When I got back to the house after my walk, I grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge and my keys from the shelf by the door. Sunny came wandering out, looking sleepy.
"How is Mama?" Sunny asked, arching his back. "Is she still in the hospital?"
"Yes," I told him. With everything that had happened, I'd forgotten all about poor Sunny. "How did you know that?"
My mother's familiar was not only smart, but exceptionally clever at getting his way. He wound himself between my legs, purring until I fed him a few treats.
"Sunny gets around," he p
urred. "She'll be okay." Then he disappeared outside, chasing a bird that had caught his eye.
I wished I could be as certain about my mother's health as Sunny.
I remembered what Dr. Wallace had said about finding cat hairs in some of the food from the party. It was true that Sunny often spent time with my mother at Cakes and Creations, but I somehow doubted it was his hair that had worked its way into the food. Sunny was not a shedder, and besides, he knew better than to go poking into my mother's creations. But that didn't mean all familiars knew better.
My mind churned as a new thought occurred to me. I'd been entirely ready to blame Edith, assuming it was her—and her alone—that had sabotaged my mother's recipes. But maybe she was working with someone, or maybe... someone was working for her.
By the time I got to Creams, Cakes, and Creations, I'd convinced myself I'd solved the case. Nightshade was Edith's familiar. A pure black cat with golden eyes that always looked like they were sizing you up. He wasn't a bad cat, just... curious. A little too curious, at times.
I remembered when I was younger and my mother and Edith were still partners. She would take me to their bakery and I would watch Nightshade chase Sunny around the room, knocking things over. Nightshade was completely careless of the batter, baking pans, and frosting bowls lying around. One time, I'd bitten into a cupcake and discovered a toy mouse where the cream should've been.
The door chimed as I pushed it open.
"Hello," Edith called. She was bent over behind the counter, fixing a shelf of Perky Peanut Butter Pralines. "Welcome to Creams, Cakes, and—"
Her smile fell away when she saw me.
"Oh. You."
"Yes," I replied curtly. "Me. I have a few questions for you."
"Forget it. Your boyfriend already asked them."
I paused halfway to the counter, my cheeks turning a bright red.
"Lincoln was here?"
"Yes," Edith snapped, wiping down the glass so that it was almost invisible.
I was shocked to hear Lincoln had come by. He'd sounded as if he'd already made up his mind about my mom. I supposed I shouldn't have expected less from him. Lincoln was a great sheriff. A sudden pang of guilt hit me.
Still, that didn't mean he knew everything. Amelia was my mother, not his. I worked beside her almost every day. I knew stories about Edith that he'd probably never heard. It would be easy for Lincoln to overlook some key bit of information that I might not.
"Where's Nightshade?" I asked.
Edith froze.
"Why do you want to know?"
"No reason. I just thought that maybe he could help me out with something."
Edith's eyes narrowed. "What could my familiar possibly help you out with?"
Just as I opened my mouth, Nightshade walked languidly out from behind the counter.
"Did Nightshade hear his name?" he asked. His fur was so dark he must have been impossible to see at night.
"Yes, hello, Nightshade," I said.
"Hello, Felicity. Nightshade has not seen you in a while. How is Sunny?"
"Sunny's fine, thanks."
"Tell him he still owes Nightshade for the tuna he stole."
"I will. Actually, I have some tuna I could give you now, if you like."
"Nightshade likes tuna," he said, licking his lips.
I knew what I wanted to ask, I just wasn't sure how to phrase it without upsetting Nightshade. He wasn't just a cat, he was tied to Edith the same way Sunny was tied to my mother. If he even sensed that I was trying to get information from him that could hurt Edith, he'd clam up.
"Nightshade, come here, will you?" Edith called, trying to keep her voice light.
Nightshade looked at me but took a step in her direction.
"Nightshade, you haven't been by Cakes and Creations, have you?" I asked before Edith could grab him and stick him in the back.
"Cakes and Creations?!" Edith shouted. "This is Cakes and Creations. My shop. Not your mother's. I'm the one who came up with that name. Not her! She stole the name from me when we split the business up."
I'd heard this story before from both Edith and my mother. Both claimed to have come up with the original name.
"Nightshade smells tuna," he said, looking around him. For a familiar, he didn't seem too concerned that Edith was upset. Then again, maybe he was used to seeing her this way.
"You can have tuna if you answer my question," I told Nightshade and reached into my pocket for the bag of treats I'd brought.
"Kibble Tuna!" Nightshade said gleefully, running to me.
"Yes, Kibble Tuna. Now, have you been to Cakes and Creations lately?"
"No," Nightshade said. "Kibble Tuna now, please."
I looked at Edith, who was smirking from behind the counter. I reached into the bag and produced four treats. Nightshade grabbed them so fast I almost missed it.
"Are you sure, Nightshade? You haven't been snooping—I mean, looking around my mother's shop? Maybe you were trying to find Sunny?"
"Sunny owes Nightshade tuna."
A thought occurred to me then. One so obvious I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before.
"Or maybe," I said, "Edith asked you to go there and look for something... a special secret recipe perhaps?"
"No, not Mama. Tuna now please."
Nightshade opened his mouth, but just then a six-year-old girl with blonde pigtails came running into the shop, followed by her parents.
"Oh!" she cried. "A kitty!" She grabbed hold of Nightshade and squeezed him tightly in her arms. Nightshade hissed at her and ran to the back.
Edith and I exchanged a look. We both knew this wasn't over, but we would have to take a break for now. Humans had arrived.
"How may I help you?" Edith asked as the girl shifted her attention from the long-gone Nightshade to the cupcakes that lined the shelves.
"I'll see you later, Edith," I said.
"Yes," Edith replied. "Later."
As I was leaving, I bumped into Blossom and Calista, literally. Calista was glued to her phone and didn't even look up as she stepped through the door.
"Look out!" Blossom cried shrilly as Calista bounced off of me. I rocked backward and almost fell to the floor. Blossom glared at me.
"Mom, it's okay. It was my fault," Calista said.
I tried to hide my surprise. Calista had more manners than I'd thought. I studied her face. She looked very much like her mother and grandmother. They all had the same round face and Cupid's bow mouth. It made them look younger than they really were. But where Blossom was a light tan, Calista looked stark white. I didn't remember her always looking that way and wondered if she was wearing too much makeup.
"Sorry," I said to Calista. If she was the only witch in her family with manners, then I wanted to make sure I encouraged them to continue.
She smiled softly at me then went back to her phone.
"Don't fall on your way out," Blossom said, holding the door open for me. I stepped through and was almost to my car when I felt a tiny prick at my back, like an electric shock. A second later, my face was smacking into the ground. I pushed myself up, my cheek aching, and turned to see Blossom smiling at me. She had a Mega-Tripper in her hand.
"Stupid magical joke shops," I muttered.
I got in my little Corolla and headed to The Golden Goose. I needed a partner if I was going to make any headway in all this. Despite what Grayson said the night before about the possibility of Mom being the culprit, I knew he couldn't really believe that. Whether Grayson liked it or not, I'd just enlisted him as my new partner.
* * *
CHAPTER
FIVE
.
.
.
* * *
"Or else? Or else what?"…
* * *
.
"What do you mean, you won't be my partner?" I screeched.
The waiters looked toward me and Grayson, who looked like his top was about to explode.
"Would you keep your voice d
own?" Grayson whispered. "People have already been scared off because of what happened. Look at this place; it's two o'clock and it's nearly empty."
I looked around at the empty tables and booths. A group of waiters and waitresses were clumped together in the back corner. They looked alternately bored and anxious. A picture of Norbert had already been hung in tribute, and my eyes kept drifting to it.
I felt bad for my brother. He'd worked hard to build this restaurant up. When our father was still alive, he'd helped Grayson set things up. After his death, I think Grayson came to see the restaurant's success as a testament to him.
Grayson's brow crinkled as he took a deep breath.
"I love you, sis, but you're as daffy as Mom if you think you can solve this thing before Lincoln. He's great, and you know it."
I blushed deeply as Grayson gave me a knowing look.
"I'm not saying that Lincoln's not good at his job. I'm just saying that there's more to this than accidental food poisoning, or whatever it was."
Grayson sighed. I sighed louder. He paused, then sighed loud enough that he sounded like a wind machine. It was a game we used to play when we were kids. Always trying to be the loudest one in the room until finally we were both screaming instead of sighing and our parents were grounding us from using our brooms.
Grayson smiled. "Mom would be proud of you for wanting to help her, but she'd also tell you not to do anything stupid."
"Mom would want us to figure this thing out. She's lying in that hospital right now—"
"Dr. Wallace said she's going to be fine."
"Norbert's not fine," I reminded him. It had the effect I was looking for, but I immediately regretted it. Grayson's face paled.
"Poor Norbert," he muttered.
