A Witch Too Hot

by Paula Lester

  As soon as she had the thought, Cas knew she had to do it. The car steered itself in the direction of the ski lodge, and she followed the strong pull leading her toward it. Perhaps it was a bad idea for her to go snooping around at the crime scene, but she knew from experience with the hard-headed Lloyd that if she didn’t find some way to clear her own name, he probably wouldn’t do it for her. The last thing she wanted was to be put on trial for murder. Again.

  When she got to the lodge, Cas was struck anew by its beautiful architecture. Without the throngs of people who had been there for the Fling, the place was quiet and peaceful. Huge oaks and maples on swayed in the gentle breeze, green leaves mingling with orange, red, and yellow ones.

  As she approached the big front door, Cas realized she hadn’t thought about how she’d get in. The place would surely be locked up tight. She tried the doorknob just in case, and it wouldn’t turn. But before she could drop her hand, a slight glow came from the brass knob. If she hadn’t been looking right at it, she would have missed it. Curious, she cocked her head to the side and studied the door closer. Just like many of the inside features of the lodge, it was carved wood, sculpted to look like a three-dimensional gnarly oak tree with a bird on one of its branches.

  The knob glowed again, but Cas also saw another spot on the door glow for a moment at the same time. It was a tiny blue gem embedded in the wood to be the bird’s eye. Without thinking, she reached up and gave the gem a tiny push and heard a clicking noise in the knob. She tried it again, and the door pushed open.

  As she stepped in and closed the door, Cas remembered the lobby was a courser stop. That must be why the door was enchanted with a special “key” for magical folk to get inside while a human would find it locked and move along.

  The main floor of the majestic building was as impressive as it had been the previous two times she’d stood inside it. Already, since the Fling, a thin layer of dust settled on everything. She wanted to wander around and study the décor but felt uncomfortable. If someone used the courser, she’d be seen, and they might wonder why Cascade Lorne, the newborn witch, was there. So, she hurried up the spiral staircase and went toward the hallway holding the room Desi Dewman’s body had been in.

  For a second, she wondered if the room would be locked tight by the sheriff’s department, making her visit a fool’s errand and a waste of time. But the door stood open without even police caution tape to cordon it off.

  She stepped into the room and looked around. Desi’s body was gone but, otherwise, it looked like it had the last time she’d stood in it. She turned in a slow circle, looking for anything out of place to catch her attention. The dust on the floor was smudged from the body and subsequent police activity.

  It was a very unassuming storage room. Crossing the area, Cas opened a door. There were some empty hangers and a dusty shelf with nothing on it. A quick search of the other shelves also came up with nothing. There were forgotten rags, a discarded cotton deck mop with a broken handle, several old end tables, a painting with a slash through the center, and stacked white plastic pails. Nothing appeared amiss on first glance.

  There wasn’t much to work with in there. Cas decided to start with the obvious. The end tables. They were lined side-by-side like worn-out soldiers. One by one, she pulled out the drawers and peeked inside their cavities. Most contained oversized dust bunnies but little else. She’d grown doubtful about finding anything. A half decent cop would’ve searched the room too. Despite that, she checked out the last end table.

  Cas pulled out the final drawer. The bottom fell with a whoompf. The cheap inner particle-board had rotted away. The underside, along with a yellowed stationary pad, dropped to the floor. She reached to pick it up and could’ve smacked herself. Fingerprints. She was leaving fingerprints everywhere. Some amateur detective. Cas grabbed a rag and spent the next minute restoring and wiping things down.

  It was by the end table closest to the metal shelving unit that she caught a whiff of something pungent. There was nothing in the furniture—she’d already checked. And the shelves were bare except for the pails. Like a bloodhound, Cas sniffed back and forth, hunting for the odor.

  She felt silly and even laughed at how ridiculous it must all look. Yet she preserved. Cas unstacked the pails to reveal old paint stains. But the odor was stronger. She looked around, trying to figure out where it could be coming from.

  The smell was strongest there. The shelves were attached to the wall. Cas couldn’t move it when she tried. Kneeling again, she used the flashlight app on her phone to search around the lowest shelf.

  Maybe it was a dead animal and this was all in her imagination. The light flickered off a piece of dull metal. There was an air vent in the wall behind the unit. Cas groaned. She was about to get filthy. Despite that concern, she shimmied head first onto the shelf.

  She tried to peer through the metal grate but could see only darkness.

  Cas stretched for the plate and realized it was already loose. It came off with little effort.

  Whew, this is where the stink is coming from all right. But as she flashed the light around, there was nothing to see. Whatever had been here was gone.

  Maybe it had been a dead animal? She didn’t think so. A squirrel had died in her attic a few years before, and the odor had been quite different. Besides, who would’ve cleaned it out?

  At a loss, Cas started to shimmy her way out. A thought made her pause, and, on impulse, she shone the light inside the vent again.

  There was only the slightest bit of dust inside the duct. That was odd. Dust covered all the other undisturbed surfaces in the room. Could someone have stored something inside, wiping the dust away and leaving the panel ajar?

  She did her best to replace the vent cover and sashayed backward off the bottom shelf. Cas stood covered in grime. She dusted off, did another wipe down, looked around one last time, and left the room. Once back in the car, she checked the clock and knew it was time to head for the Orange Moon Campground to meet Ray and his people.

  As she drove, Cas thought about the murder scene. What could someone have hidden in the vent? Had they put something there before the party, used it to kill Desi, and then taken it with them? Or had they used it for the murder, stashed it there, and later removed it after the police were done investigating? Either way, she thought it was a step in the right direction. Auburn might be right—a water witch might not have killed the realtor.

  ***

  There were lots of other cars in the Orange Moon’s small lot when Cas arrived. She got out and followed the sound of laughter and talking to a large firepit behind the lodge building, where a fire blazed. Ray stoked it with a poker and smiled when he saw her. He beckoned and Cas made her way past the twenty or so people who sat on camp chairs chatting and she caught sight of Graham off to one side. He made eye contact but looked away without saying anything.

  Ray gestured toward a camp chair next to him, and Cas sat down. The campground owner cleared his throat and the general dull murmur of conversation died down. “Everybody, this is Cascade Lorne. I’m sure you all know her story—she’s a witch, but she didn’t get her powers until recently. She doesn’t know a lot about the supernatural community yet. I’d like us to tell her about shifters and why we need representation on the High Council.”

  “We should have representation because we exist, and we live in Crystal Springs!” A young woman with a blonde ponytail spoke up. “It’s not right that we live and work among the witches, but they make decisions for us every day without our input. We work hard like they do. Keep the secrets of our community the same way as them. But we don’t get to be part of the discussion when there’s a dispute or problem. It’s just not fair, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, it’s time for a change.” The man who spoke didn’t have a loud voice, but he was easy to hear. He was slight of build and wore a green hunter’s cap. Cas thought he had the voice of a confident elder. “We’ve spent enough time being forced into jobs that help
protect witches from discovery by humans while not having a voice in how things are run. I just don’t know if it’s possible to change things peacefully at this point. The sheriff could be right.”

  That statement brought a lot of murmuring, and Ray shook his head. He held up a hand. “Lloyd’s not right,” he said. “Infiltrating the High Court and then using that position to learn about their resources so we can mount what would basically be a coup to seize power for ourselves and oust the witches is only going to start a war. I mean, we can’t expect them to just take it without resistance. And war isn’t going to do any of us any good.” He poked the fire again. “We just need someone sympathetic to us on the council. Someone who can start to produce change for us from the inside out.”

  “What does Noble think?” The man who shouted the question was next to Cas. He had a black mustache and beard that extended halfway down his chest. “He’s been spending a lot of time with you and Lloyd. I’m sure he’s heard both approaches explained inside and out. What does he think should be done?”

  Everyone looked at Graham, who stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  But Ray spoke up. “He’s just trying his best to keep the peace between us and Lloyd’s crew. He wants us to present a united front, whatever we decide. Graham thinks if we’re fractured, we’ll be weaker, and the witches will just keep the upper hand.”

  The man next to Cas spoke again. “Yeah, I heard he’s been a regular Switzerland—jumping in to break up fights between shifters with different ideas and everything.”

  Cas glanced at Graham. The bruises on his face, which were fresh the night of the gathering at the lake, were starting to yellow. Ray’s face looked similar. Had they been fighting each other? Maybe she’d been too hard on Graham about why he kept missing their dates. Perhaps he wasn’t with Lumen but had just been trying to keep a lid on increasing hostilities between Ray’s and Lloyd’s people.

  Suddenly, a boy of about fourteen ran around the end of the lodge. He called, panting, “Sheriff’s here! He’s got other cops and a bunch of his people with him.”

  Ray tossed the fire poker down onto the dirt and stalked around the pit toward the lodge. Since the rest of the shifters followed, Cas got up and went too. When they got within sight of the parking lot, she could see three police cars and several cars and trucks that hadn’t been there earlier. Twenty or so people stood in the driveway behind Sheriff Lloyd.

  “What do you want?” Ray called as he and the others approached.

  “Oh, I just stopped by to see how your day was going,” the sheriff said with a sneer. As he spoke, the crowd behind him parted as if an invisible hand moved them aside to reveal a cop car parked at an angle. Visible in the back seat, her tear-soaked face gazing out the window at them, sat Posie.

  Ray started forward, but the sheriff’s people closed ranks again. He sneered at the sheriff. “Why do you have her? Let her go!”

  Noble raised the one eyebrow that still worked. “What’s wrong? Are you two close or something?”

  Ray’s jaw clenched, and his right fist did too. He shouted in the sheriff’s face. “You better let her go, Lloyd! You have no reason to detain her. She’d never break the law. Never!”

  “Ah. So, you are close, then.” The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, a little birdie told me that might be the case. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a witch-lover, Feldspar. But there it is.”

  Cas saw uncomfortable looks cross many of the faces around Ray as they realized what the sheriff suggested.

  The elder in the green cap took hold of Ray’s arm and encouraged him to calm down. Ray tore his arm away and stepped up to the sheriff. “I’m warning you! You’d better let her go.” His face had darkened like a storm about to unleash.

  Sheriff Lloyd chuckled. “Well, well, well,” he said. “My little birdie friend was right. You and the witch have a thing. No wonder you don’t have the proper loyalty to your own kind.” He glanced over his shoulder at Posie and then back at Ray. “It looks to me like the two of you conspired together to kill Dewman since he bought this place from under you. She’s a water witch, so she must have done the drowning, but you clearly did all the plannin’. Now, are you going to come down to the station peaceful like or are my boys gonna have to bust some heads?”

  Ray’s people began to shout and shake their fists. They might be shocked at the idea of their leader being in a relationship with a witch, but it wasn’t stopping them from backing him up. The sheriff’s people shuffled their feet and shouted back. The air was tense with coiled energy, and Cas began to consider what she’d do if the two shifter groups began to brawl. She saw Graham push his way to the front of the crowd to stand next to Ray. He leaned in and said something to the furious campground owner, who glanced at his friend.

  The two groups of shifters shuffled closer to each other, those in the first rows almost bumping chests. Graham spoke in his friend’s ear. Ray broke eye contact with the sneering sheriff to take in the situation around him. Slowly, his shoulders and fists relaxed, and he nodded once. “I’ll go to the station with you.”

  Ray’s group erupted in shouting and protesting while Lloyd’s group grinned and looked smug. Two deputies moved forward to cuff Ray and lead him to Lloyd’s cruiser, where they stuffed him in next to Posie.

  As she watched, questions swirled like mosquitoes in Cas’ head. Who was the birdie who had told Lloyd about Ray and Posie’s relationship? And had the two lovers really conspired to kill Desi? It didn’t sit right. What she’d seen of the couple had revealed tenderness and a deep desire to mend fences between witches and shifters, so everyone could get along and they could take their relationship public. It didn’t seem to her like they’d risk peace by committing murder.

  But then again, Desi had snatched up Ray’s home and business.

  The sheriff’s people dispersed and left but not without throwing some insults over their shoulders at Ray’s people. After they were gone, everyone began talking over each other about what should be done next. Cas heard suggestions to break Ray out of jail, get ahold of Lumen for help getting him out legally, and even preparing for all-out war with the sheriff’s people.

  Finally, the man who’d been standing next to her at the campfire put two fingers in his mouth, whistling to get everyone’s attention, and the din died down. “We have a lot to discuss,” he said. “And we’re going to need to do it fast and in an orderly manner. Talking over each other isn’t going to get us anywhere.” His eyes fell on Cas, and she squirmed under his intense gaze. “I’m sorry, Ms. Lorne. I know you were invited here, and we thank you for coming. But this is not a time for outsiders. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

  Cas nodded. Her gaze slid over to Graham, and he was looking back at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She quickly headed toward her car, got in, and started it up. As she watched the shifters head back around to the back of the lodge, she wondered what they would decide.

  Was Crystal Springs on the brink of war?

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, Cas checked the supernatural portion of the newspaper as soon as she went downstairs. Other than a tiny blurb reminding everyone of the afternoon debate, there was no further mention of the siren election and nothing about Ray’s and Posie’s arrests for Desi Dewman’s murder.

  As she was closing the paper, she caught sight of a list of personal ads she hadn’t noticed before. There were calls for help with caring for magical plants, priceless mystical items for sale, and even an ad looking for a new familiar.

  She closed the paper and sat thinking about the previous day’s events. Her foot tapped against the floor. She had some extra energy, and sitting there thinking about Graham, Desi, the shifters, and the debate weren’t doing her any good. She got to her feet and headed toward the back door. She arrived just in time to see Echo climb through the pet flap. He carried an envelope in his mouth, and when he saw Cas, he dropped it at her feet. “Denzel asked me to deliver that
to you,” he said. “Do we have salmon cakes?”

  Cas picked up the envelope and opened it on her way to the kitchen. A cream-colored piece of paper inside held only a few words in flowing, cursive script: Please arrive at the Courthouse at 2:00 pm for an indicium prior to the debate.

  What was an indicium? Besides annoying. Cas tossed the notice on the table. She dumped a can of cat food onto a plate and put it on the floor.

  Echo thanked her and dug in. Cas headed out to the backyard. She grabbed a pair of hedge-clippers from the small shed and began pruning. After ten minutes of hard work, she felt better. Something about chopping away at jagged, dead parts of plants and watching them fall to the earth, leaving something more orderly and neater, always improved her mood. Plus, it was a great upper body workout.

  She didn’t hear Graham walk back along the side of the house. He cleared his throat behind her, and she jumped and spun, clippers held like a weapon. “Oh. Hi.” She lowered the trimmers, embarrassed.

  “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just saw you over here from my kitchen.” He nodded toward his own house next door. “Thought I’d come see how you’re doing.”

  She shrugged and turned back to the bush, attacking it with the trimmers.

  “Hey, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry being so secretive before. Keeping things close to the chest is part of being a shifter. All the business with Ray and the sheriff . . . those people trust me to keep their confidence.”

  She dropped the trimmers on the grass and turned to face him again but didn’t answer.

  “I wasn’t necessarily trying to keep things from you,” he went on. “It’s just that witches and shifters have a long, twisted history together, and witches usually stick together on most things.” He was looking at his feet.

  Irritation bubbled in Cas’ chest. She’d been feeling a little guilty about giving him a hard time, but everything he’d just said brought back the original anger. She squinted at him. “So, you were pre-judging how I’d feel about this situation based on me being a witch instead of treating me like an individual and just asking me what I think.”