The Witch's Blood_A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Iris Kincaid

  Like Dr. Svenson, Delphine had a comforting grandmotherly presence. But she looked like the kind of grandma who spent her retirement on inline skates and skateboards. She was full of vibrant energy and hard-earned wisdom.

  “Have you told her about Lilith, doctor?”

  “A little bit. The details, I leave to you,” Dr. Svenson said. Lilith Hazelwood had done a lot of harm in her lifetime. He was going to leave those messy revelations in Delphine’s hands.

  “You mustn’t be afraid, Zoey. Right now, you’re like a clumsy baby learning how to walk. Your first efforts will be about falling over and stumbling and falling over some more. Perfectly natural right now, when you have no control over this ability. You think about an object and it responds to your thoughts. Now that’s going to cause a lot of problems and questions out there in the real world if you make things fly through the air that really have no business flying through the air.

  “It’s going to take practice, and it’s going to take time. I will try to help all I can. But it is a matter of mind control, and that is not generally a strength of commoners—that is what we call the non-witch population. But you will learn and you will improve. Because you must.”

  “I need fresh air,” Zoey insisted. “I need to get out of here.”

  Yet again, Zoey’s clothing responded her commands and floated into her hands.

  “All right, I will let you go home,” the doctor agreed. “Although, a motel is not much of a home. But another night of rest can only help you. And tomorrow, you will speak to the police, and hopefully, they will be able to ensure your safety. Why don’t we leave it at that for now?”

  Zoey nodded absentmindedly. Where were her shoes? Why, there they here, hovering right in front of her. She was an absolute freak show. A walking, talking freak. Too bad that wasn’t an actual profession, ’cause apparently, she was awfully good at it.

  “All right,” the doctor said. “I will go get the discharge papers ready while you get dressed.”

  At that moment, an enthusiastic young woman burst into the room, examining Zoey with undisguised fascination. It was Ruby Townsend, the doctor’s assistant, whose greatest preoccupation in the last couple of years have been witnessing the transplant heirs of Lilith Hazelwood discover their amazing new possibilities. She held the paper out to the doctor.

  “Are those the latest blood tests?” he asked. Dr. Svenson looked over the results and let out a big sigh. “Sometimes, I want to go and lay a big wreath of flowers on Lilith Hazelwood’s grave. I’m that grateful to her.” He looked Zoey in the eye with unrestrained glee. “The leukemia is gone. Every trace of it.”

  *****

  Somehow, it seemed a bit unappreciative to celebrate the gift of health and long life with only a bottle of sparkling cider. But Justine had been insistent.

  “You can’t go to the police station to make your statement with alcohol on your breath or any alcohol in your system. Ex-cons . . . we don’t make the most valued of witnesses, and you need to be ready for that. But, oh! I got some things on the way home that will go great with this. Some nice guacamole. Hummus. Chips. And these really nice garlic shrimp. Boy, it’s good to be off the prison diet.”

  While Justine was rifling through the mini fridge, Zoey was in the mood for a little cider. Thankfully, Justine’s back was facing her when the bottle of cider decided to pour itself into the two glasses. How was she going to keep this secret away from her friend if this kept happening? But everyone at the doctor’s office had warned her to keep her new abilities on the down low. And as cool and supportive as Justine was, she would probably be ready to call an exorcist if she knew what Zoey was now capable of.

  So, Zoey would have to keep her distracted if she saw something was about to move. She would have to try and grab things before they were able to float anywhere. It worked, more or less. Zoey enthusiastically grabbed her food and shoved it in her mouth before it had a chance to levitate to her lips. Better to display some questionable table manners than scary witch powers.

  *****

  At the police station, Zoey’s statement about the assault seemed endless. At a certain point, she knew that they went to retrieve Dalton for questioning, and she was anxious about what was going to happen with Camille.

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  The officer questioning her, Finn Cochran, was probably a sympathetic, kindhearted guy. But Zoey’s story was raising a lot of flashing red warning signs.

  “Social Services is going to find a nice and safe place for her to stay while we get this all sorted out.”

  “Why can’t she stay with me? She’s my daughter. Why can’t I have her?”

  “Because we don’t know what to make of you, Ms. Proctor. You have a rap sheet that isn’t long, but it sure is disturbing. You were dealing some pretty nasty stuff. You have to take a drug test before you leave here, by the way. Eight years inside. Now, you’re not being accused of anything, and you don’t need a lawyer, but you have a serious credibility issue. No. The child can’t stay with either one of you right now. Not until we know that she’s going to be safe—it’s going to be foster care.”

  This elicited an eruption of tears from Zoey. She asked for a few moments to herself so that she could make some emergency calls—to Justine, to Dr. Svenson, and Delphine, all of whom tried to calm and reassure her. Whatever happened, at least her child was being separated from Dalton, a drug dealer and attempted murderer.

  By the end of the day, Dalton was under house arrest, confined to his hotel room. Zoey was shocked and angry that he wasn’t being tossed into jail. But just as Justine had anticipated, Dalton couldn’t be held on the word of a convicted felon who may have made false allegations of assault because of a custody dispute. In addition, thanks to Lilith’s healing influence, Zoey’s body showed no visible evidence of the stabbing.

  Zoey watched with equal measures of relief and heartache as Camille was taken away by her temporary foster family, Dr. Svenson and his wife, Melody Glover. How they had managed to pull those strings, Zoey couldn’t imagine, but Finn Cochran could.

  As soon as Finn saw the doctor and his wife in the company of Oyster Cove’s Mayor Wanda Macomber, he suspected that this domestic dispute had just taken a witchy turn. Wanda and her fiancé, Jeremy, had become close friends of his and his new bride, Margo. Which was to be expected, given that Margo and Wanda had both received transplanted Lilith Hazelwood organs, courtesy of Dr. Svenson.

  “This is a surprise, Doc,” Finn said. “You going to be foster parents?”

  “Well, the mother is a friend, and I would like to do her this favor.”

  “Very thoughtful, but how did you swing that?”

  “Well, it certainly helps to have friends in high places,” the doctor said, nodding toward Mayor Wanda.

  “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Wanda explained. “They’re a doctor and a librarian, for heaven’s sakes. What could be a more wholesome household to put a child in?”

  “Uh-huh. Is that how it went down?” Finn wasn’t buying it. He doubted that the doctor had been given custody of Camille Spitz based on his moral character. He also doubted that the mayor’s high status in town had been enough to do the trick. What he suspected was that Wanda’s special powers of persuasion had given this plan its advantage—in other words, her vocal cords, originally belonging to Lilith Hazelwood, now had the power to compel listeners to do her bidding. It was a power that she was careful not to abuse, but she certainly employed it for good causes.

  “So, this Zoey is . . .” Finn wondered.

  “Yes,” Wanda confirmed. “She’s one of us.”

  Finn shook his head. “No. You can’t assume that. Maybe Lilith Hazelwood’s organs plus a good person equal a good witch. But Lilith Hazelwood’s organs plus an ex-con could very well equal someone who can’t be trusted.”

  As the doctor and Melody led the little girl out, Camille stared accusingly at Zoey across the police lobby. She couldn’t possibly make sense of wh
at was happening to her, just that she was being taken away from her daddy and that it was probably Zoey’s fault.

  No matter how painful this was for her daughter, Zoey had to tell herself that it was necessary, and Camille would be safer because of it. But even knowing that was cold comfort. Her daughter hated her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thankfully, the police afternoon had gone without anything giving Zoey’s new abilities away. She had grabbed the pen quickly enough when she was asked to sign her statement. It did meet her halfway, but she was pretty sure that no one had seen it.

  Still, she had to get a grip on this unruly power. It was time to take Delphine up on her offer of help. Zoey gave her another call, and Delphine said that she should come around to the jewelry boutique and see what they could accomplish together.

  The boutique was centrally located and not difficult to find. Zoey stood in front of the display case in absolute awe. She knew that Delphine was a witch, but what an exquisite artist she was. The polished gem pendants and bracelets were mesmerizing, amethyst and rose quartz and yellow and blue. Wouldn’t it be lovely to wear something like that after some years of drab prison gear?

  Oh, no! Several of the pieces had floated up and were making their way out toward the door to meet her. Thankfully, Delphine intercepted, retrieving her creations and putting up a Closed sign on her door. She waved Zoey into her shop.

  “We must keep expectations low. It could be weeks, months before you have full control. But first, you need to relax. How about some tea? Earl Grey? Constant Comment?”

  “Oh, Constant Comment! I haven’t had that in about ten years. I think it was too much of a luxury item to waste on prisoners.”

  “Constant Comment, it is.”

  While Delphine busied herself with the tea, Zoey couldn’t help but notice a bowl of delicious-looking oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies on the counter.

  “Did you make these cookies?”

  “I certainly did. I live alone, so there are quite a few extra, and you wouldn’t believe how many customers stop by just in the hope of finding my cookies.”

  Three of the cookies lifted themselves out of the basket and floated straight to Zoey’s embarrassed hand.

  “I guess you will believe it. No, no. Help yourself.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zoey said. “This witch thing has sent my manners right out the window.”

  “My dear, right now, you express your needs as clearly as a two-year-old. I want this. I want this. I want this. It’s kind of refreshing. But to blend in amongst the commoners, you will have to get it under control. But first, tea and cookies.”

  However, even fortified by this yummy afternoon snack, Zoey’s powers were as unruly as ever. Delphine drilled her patiently about focusing on moving things around and not moving them around. If Zoey’s mind ever thought about a physical object in the room, even if it wasn’t something that she wanted, it would start to rattle and jump.

  “No, stay,” Zoey said, hoping this was like training a dog. It wasn’t. The harder she tried, the more objects were drawn to her.

  “The human mind is an undisciplined thing,” Delphine observed. “Fortunately, for most people, we don’t usually see the outer manifestation of their inner chaos. Witches simply have more natural talent in controlling the mind.”

  “I’m guessing that Lilith Hazelwood never had a problem with this.”

  “Lilith’s talents were on the level of genius. They far outstripped any witch I’ve encountered in my life, or ever will encounter. Of course, all that talent . . . well, you know how they say that power corrupts? Lilith was certainly a bit corrupted, and amoral, and indifferent to the rights of others. She was a mix of good and bad that’s often difficult for people to understand. But you just spent a great deal of time in prison. There were probably murderers in there, weren’t there?”

  “Yes. Quite a few, actually.”

  “Where they all bad, terrible people?”

  “It’s odd, but no, they weren't all terrible. In fact, some of them were even . . . likable. Or easy to sympathize with. Some of them just got dealt a bad deck of cards. Like the woman who killed her stalker. Maybe she could have handled it differently. Who’s to say? But he made enough threats against her that she was really scared for her life. And the police wouldn’t help. And she killed him.

  “She wound up being one of my favorite partners for bridge. I can’t believe I actually learned how to play bridge. I always thought it was just for old people. But a fifteen-year sentence is a long time. I learned a whole lot of things. I learned how to be friends with the murderer, I guess. But after a while, I just never really thought of her that way.”

  “You have very much described my relationship with Lilith. Certainly, as it exists right now.”

  “What do you mean, right now?”

  Tell her that I’m right here, in this limbo of existence, waiting for one of these useless girls to show me some proper gratitude and uncover my killer. She has potential, Delphine. An attempt was made on her life, just as an attempt was made on mine. She will understand the need for vengeance and punishment, more so than the others ever could. Her past has turned her into a tough survivor. Yes, we must make use of her.

  I do not know what she is ready for, Lilith. Her talent requires more of her than of the other young women. You must give her time to gain control of her abilities. But I will acquaint her with your situation. And we will see if she’s inclined to provide assistance.

  “What I mean is that Lilith’s spirit lingers, and that she will never be able to have any peace until her murderer is found and brought to justice. I know this probably feels as if it is something that is wholly unconnected to you. But if you’d like to express your gratitude for your renewed health, for your miracle cure, then perhaps, if the opportunity should arise, you might provide some assistance in that regard.”

  “Helping to find the person who murdered her? I don’t know what I could do, but please, just let me know if there’s something specific I can help with. You and the doctor have been so helpful to me. And people like Dalton, who just kill for convenience, for their own selfish agenda, yes, they should be punished. Her killer and my attempted killer both.”

  “That will do very nicely, Delphine. The seed was nicely planted. Perhaps I can grow a real apprentice here,” Lilith gloated.

  “Now, Zoey, dear. I think getting control of the commoner mind may benefit from commoner methods. I’m thinking specifically of a meditation class. Something that helps you to watch your mind, rein it back in when it wanders, focus it, control it. It is something to consider. In the meantime, stay out of stores.” Delphine started to put back the jewelry that Zoey had displaced. “I’m not kidding. No shopping. You hear me? No shopping.”

  *****

  “You have got to go shopping,” Justine ordered. “Look at this raggedy wardrobe of yours. There are going to be court appearances. Job interviews. I know I said that you shouldn’t tie herself up with a job right now, but you need a job offer to convince the courts that you can support Camille. Get a little makeup. A little nail polish. If you want your daughter back, you gotta look good.

  “You also need a home. You can’t tell them that you’re going to be bringing Camille to a motel. But let me work on that. I’ve got a few ideas. All right. Go. Shop.”

  Even the strip malls in Oyster Cove were works of art. Zoey looked at one from a distance of a hundred yards that had a pastel mural of a boat painted all the way across the entire mall façade, encompassing about eight stores, continued from one doorway to the next. On the top of the roof was the mast of a tall ship with sails and an eagle’s nest. It put a smile on Zoey’s face. Maybe this really would turn out to be the right place to live.

  As she crossed the parking lot, she noticed a young mother struggling to get her bags properly distributed in her car’s trunk. Meanwhile, her child, who looked to be about eighteen months old, was perched in the grocery cart’s baby seat. Maybe it was a
n incline . . . maybe it was a breeze, or a combination of both. But that cart started rolling away from the mother, and she was absolutely clueless, still fussing with her bags.

  After a split-second of shock, Zoey almost broke into a run toward the cart, and she also opened her mouth to yell at the mother to turn around. But before she could do either, her panicky outstretched hand had done all the work.

  The cart stopped and started rolling back up the incline toward the baby’s mother. The mother finally turned around just to catch sight of the last few inches of the cart rolling back toward her. She looked at her baby in confusion and then looked around and saw Zoey watching. Zoey shrugged and tried to look as clueless as she possibly could. But all in all, she could finally see some useful possibilities for her newfound talents.

  The first store she went into had a very nice selection of slightly dressier outfits. It felt quite odd to be shopping for nice things after eight years of uniformed existence. Even at the halfway house, she had just dashed a few blocks away to pick up some things at the local Goodwill store. Nothing new. Nothing pretty. Even now, it felt like a bit of a weird indulgence with so many serious things happening.

  But Justine was right. For the sake of getting Camille, she was going to have to put her best foot forward. For every outfit, Zoey had to ask herself, Do I look believable? Do I look like a good mother? Would you hire me? Ultimately, she was able to walk out with three very nice items.

  The second store was a small boutique, with an equal amount of jewelry and clothing. Zoey was loving the jewelry collection. It wasn’t as expensive or as exquisite as Delphine’s artwork. But it was pretty all the same. Maybe the aesthetic deprivation of prison life really was catching up to her.

  And yet, she was very clear that this was not the time to indulge. After all the other important matters of her life were taking care of, perhaps she could return in a month’s time. Unfortunately, her very favorite pieces would probably be gone by then. Ah, well.