Way of the Witch

by Cate Dean

“Maggie—who are you—” Martin halted in the doorway. “Anthea.” She bowed her head to him, and glided backward, toward the far wall. “There is no need to—”

  She slid through the wall before he could finish. The air gradually warmed, but Maggie pulled the afghan up, chilled by Anthea’s proximity.

  “She knows about the baby,” Maggie said.

  “I expected as much, from her appearance.” He set the books on the side table and sat next to her, brushing hair off her cheek. “All right, love?”

  “It’s still startling to see her, but I’m fine. I grew up telling Spencer there was no such thing as ghosts, and here I am, talking to one on a semi-regular basis. Life is weird.”

  “I am happy to explore that weird with you, Maggie Martin.”

  He smiled, right before he kissed her.

  ***

  Two week after Grace’s arrest, Maggie decided it was time.

  Locals had gotten over the shock of someone like Grace as a murderer, and life had moved on, as it always did.

  She spent the morning on her laptop, sitting behind the front counter at the shop. It was a slow day, and she took advantage, sending e-invites to the people she wanted to be there for the announcement. Nerves fluttered, and she shoved them down for the tenth time.

  “Just say it out loud, and let the rest happen,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” Ashton paused in front of the counter, balancing a handful of glass paperweights.

  “Talking to myself, as usual.” She smiled at him. “Check your email when you get the chance.”

  “All right.” He looked at her for another few seconds, then headed over to the section of the shop that displayed paperweights.

  Maggie let out her breath, and sent the next invite.

  Maybe she’d let Martin tell them.

  ***

  They took over the back room of the Bonnie Prince Charlie, arranging for a light buffet. Since the owner, Chris, was one of the guests, he handed the running of the party over to his manager.

  Maggie and Martin took turns greeting people as they walked in, refusing to answer any questions. When the last guest arrived, Martin closed the door, took Maggie’s hand, and led her to the front of the room.

  “Thank you all for coming. I know this was last minute, and we appreciate you taking the time.”

  “Stop thanking us,” Enid said, “and get to the reason we are all here. I, for one, am dying with curiosity.”

  Several people agreed, and more talked among themselves, until Martin raised his hand.

  “I can assure you, it is good news. I will let Maggie be the one to tell you.”

  “Martin—” She grabbed his hand. “I thought you were going to do it.” The nerves that had been humming all day jumped to a new high. “I don’t think I can,” she whispered.

  He pulled her close to the wall, and cradled her cheek, his voice quiet. “If you can face off with a murderer, you can make a simple announcement to the people who care about you.”

  “Right. Okay.” She took a shaky breath, rubbed her hands on the front of her trousers, and moved away from the wall. Part of her already knew why this scared her so much.

  Saying it out loud would make the baby real.

  “Thank you for your patience,” she said, too nervous to even try and smile. “I wanted to tell you all at once, so I wouldn’t spend the next week repeating myself.” Laughter spread through the room, and it helped calm her. “This was unexpected, but I am—” She held out her hand to Martin, and he joined her, twining their fingers together. That helped settle the last of her nerves. “Martin and I are having a baby.”

  The uproar nearly deafened her.

  People surged forward, congratulations already floating through the air. Martin stepped in front of Maggie as Enid fought her way to the front, breathless.

  “Move aside, Martin, so I can see her.” He did, but stayed in blocking distance. Enid rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Maggie. “I am thrilled, my dear girl, so thrilled.” Tears thickened her voice and she pulled away, grabbing a handkerchief out of her purse. “I hope you realize that this child is going to be spoiled rotten.”

  “I’d like to keep that to a minimum.”

  Laughter floated around her, and a line quickly formed, offering congratulations and best wishes. Patrick Tucker surprised her by giving her a hug, bright red when he pulled away and disappeared into the crowd. Spencer stood at the end of the line, and when it was his turn, he gathered Maggie into his arms.

  “You are going to be an amazing mum,” he whispered, and kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you.” The tears she’d been expecting all night finally arrived, stinging her eyes. “You’re going to be the best uncle.”

  “You bet I will.”

  He leaned back, giving her his heartbreaking grin. Relief spread through her. He had bounced back admirably since Grace’s arrest, though it took much longer for the sedative to work its way out of his system. And he would never get back the hours he couldn’t remember.

  “Thank you, Spence, for always being there.”

  “I always will be, Mags.” He framed her face with both hands and gave her a smacking kiss.

  She laughed, hugging him. “It’s good to have you back.”

  He rubbed her back before he let her go. “I’m going to grab a pint. I’ll be happy to drink yours for you.”

  “What a sacrifice.” Smiling, she waved at him. “Go, have fun. You earned it.”

  “Hey—are you coming to the opening of the exhibit?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Maggie watched him weave through the crowd, which now included regulars from the pub. Someone had opened the door, and the curious had wandered in. Everyone in the village would know by tomorrow morning, so there was no point in keeping it from anyone who happened to be in the pub tonight.

  Martin joined her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “That was well done, love.”

  “I’m just glad it’s over. I’m not good at the whole public speaking thing.”

  “Yet you can talk in front of a camera with no issue.”

  She smiled up at him. “I don’t have an entire audience staring at me.”

  “Ready to go home? You look exhausted.”

  “I’m—” A yawn betrayed her. “I guess I am a little tired.”

  Martin guided her through the room, stopping every few steps for another handshake, or slap on the shoulder. She felt a sense of déjà vu; this was almost an exact replay of the night they came back from their honeymoon. The same sense of belonging filled her, and she leaned into Martin.

  This village had truly become home.

  ***

  The museum had more people walking through it than Maggie had ever seen.

  She knew that Spencer’s exhibit was the reason.

  Since Grace had been transferred to London, her story had been picked up by the national papers, each one including mention of the exhibit that had been part of her reason for killing. It had become infamous, before it even opened.

  Spencer hadn’t been happy about the type of publicity, and Maggie knew he had worked night and day to create an exhibit worthy of Anya and her story.

  Now, she had to wait in line at the lift, listening to the people in front of her chatter with excitement.

  “Was she really a witch, you think?”

  “That’s what I read in the book, mate. Spencer Knight says he even met her ghost. I can’t wait to meet him!”

  Maggie bit back a smile and glanced at Martin. He winked, and leaned down to whisper to her. “It seems Spencer has become something of a celebrity.”

  “I’m not sure if he’ll like that.”

  “Publishing a book about the legend of a witch would hardly go unnoticed.”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t expect more than a few copies, and those ending up in university libraries—not every branch of Waterstones.”

  Secretly, she was thrilled for him, but she’d wa
it to see what he thought of his new popularity before she said anything.

  Finally, it was their turn in the lift. Maggie would have gladly taken the stairs up to the third floor, but Martin had refused to even listen to her. She hoped his overprotective gestures would lessen as they both settled into the pregnancy, but she had a feeling he would become even more protective when she started to show.

  “Enjoy it while you can,” she muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Just a little prayer for Spencer.”

  “He may need it, to get through tonight.”

  The doors slid open, and Maggie flinched at the wall of sound.

  Martin tightened his arm around her and led her out of the lift, winding through the people trying to see the exhibit. A tall figure stepped into their path.

  “Maggie, Professor Martin.” Brent Newcombe smiled at her. “Please, follow me.”

  He had two security guards with him, and they created a path. As people saw who walked behind the guards, they started moving away, whispering as Maggie and Martin walked past.

  “It looks as if Spencer is not the only celebrity here,” Martin whispered.

  “They’re talking about you, too.”

  He smiled. “I am used to the attention.”

  She nodded, tending to forget about his popularity. Tourists recognizing him reminded her, but living in a village had moved him out of the mainstream. He seemed to like it, so she had never questioned whether or not he missed the attention.

  “What is going on in that busy mind of yours, love?”

  “Are you happy here?” She blurted the question before she could stop herself.

  “I have never been happier. Why do you ask?”

  “All this.” She waved to the crowded room. “You gave this up for me.”

  “I gave up nothing, and gained everything. You are my life, Maggie. Whatever celebrity comes from my documentaries is fleeting, but you, both of you, are my life.”

  She squeezed him, fighting the tears that threatened. Crying in front of all these people was not an option.

  The exhibit came into view, slowly revealed as people stepped back. Maggie’s eyes widened when she saw what Spencer had done.

  He recreated the secret room in Anya’s manor house.

  Instead of an altar, the display case stood in the center of the room, highlighted by hidden lights. Maggie walked forward, studying the inside of the case. Spencer had arranged Anya’s cup, several of the scrolls, and other magic implements that she would have used.

  The silver wand was missing, still a piece of evidence. But he’d done a spectacular job without it.

  Spencer waved to her, and she eased out of Martin’s grasp, heading straight for him. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. She laughed, holding on as he twirled her.

  “I can’t believe the turnout, Mags.” He set her on her feet and took her hand, leading her over to the case. “I thought the wand would be missed, but I found some other items from the same period in storage. What do you think?”

  “It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.” She squeezed his hand. “What do you think?”

  “Still wrapping my head around it, actually. Newcombe sent advance copies of the book to some friends, which is how they ended up in the bookshop chains. I can hardly believe it, Mags,” he whispered. “People have been asking me to sign their books.”

  “You are the author, Spence.” She grinned at him, so thrilled for his success. He had worked long and hard for it. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of me, too.” His gaze dropped to her stomach. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. Martin’s treating me like I’ll break if I breathe too hard, but I’m working on him.”

  “Give him a break, Mags. He just found out he’s going to be a father. That can be a shock for a man his age.”

  “He is not old, Spencer Knight.”

  “I believe the comment was for me.” Martin stepped to her side, and held out his hand. “Congratulations, my friend. This is an incredible exhibit.”

  “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Would you be willing to film a short piece about it? I am working on a series of special places and events. This would fit in perfectly.”

  “I—” Spencer stared at him. “That would be an honor.”

  “We can speak about the details later.”

  “Right.” Spencer cleared his throat, and gestured to the exhibit. “Take a look around, and stay for the reception. It’s invite only, so there won’t be the hordes of people.”

  “I don’t—”

  “We would love to,” Maggie said. She took Martin’s hand before he could argue and pulled him into the exhibit. “I’m staying, Martin. This is Spencer’s big night, and I’m not fragile.”

  “Maggie.” He ran one hand through his hair, and sighed. “Forgive me. This is still so new.”

  “I have tomorrow off, before I start work on the documentary. Why don’t we spend the day reading, maybe kill off some of your fears.”

  “I would like that.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I adore you, my Maggie.”

  “Good thing.” She smiled. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

  ~ ~ * ~ ~

  Thank you for joining Maggie and Martin as they solved their latest mystery! Want to know more about the mysterious Dell, and its resident witch? Look for Witch in the Dell, and 2 other mini mysteries, coming your way in October, just in time for Halloween. You’ll meet a younger Maggie and Spencer, and follow her as she solves her very first mystery.

  If you enjoyed Way of the Witch, I would love it if you took a moment and left a review. They are so important, and help other readers discover the books they want to read. Thank you!

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  List of British Slang

  Here is a list of words, proving that English and American are two different languages. You will find some of them in Way of the Witch, and I guarantee more will appear in future Maggie Mulgrew Mysteries. Enjoy!

  Daily life

  advert - advertisement, commercial

  anticlockwise - counterclockwise

  bank holiday - legal holiday

  barrister - lawyer who represents you in court

  Beefeater - nickname for the Yeoman Warders at the Tower of London

  bobby/The Bill - a policeman

  cashpoint machine - ATM, cashpoint for short

  cheers - goodbye, thank you, also a toast

  concession - discounted admission

  dear - expensive

  fancy - to be attracted to someone - I really fancy her!

  football - soccer

  fortnight - a contraction of fourteen nights, or 2 weeks

  fringe - hair bangs

  half eight - 8:30 - think half past (insert hour) and it will be a breeze to remember

  holiday - vacation

  interval - intermission (in theatres)

  jumble sale - rummage sale, usually for charity

  left luggage - place to check luggage for the day, replaces luggage lockers

  lift - the elevator

  loo - the toilet - ask for the bathroom only if you want a bath

  mate - your friend

  naught/nought - nothing

  on offer - for sale

  pavement - the sidewalk

  pillar box/letter box - public mailbox (look like short red pillars, hence the name!)

  Police Constable/PC - police officer

  power point - electric wall socket

  queue - line

  queue up - line up

  Remembrance Day - Veteran’s Day

  ring/ring up - call on the phone

  ring off/rang off – han
g up or end phone call

  self-catering - rental accommodations, a flat or house that is rented by the week

  solicitor - lawyer who deals with clients, and does the office work for the barrister

  stone - 14 pounds in weight

  ta - thank you

  tick - check mark

  toilet - just what it says

  top up - refill – also refers to adding minutes to pay as you go mobiles

  Vice-Chancellor - administration at university

  WC - short for water closet - just another name for the loo or toilet

  wee - small

  zed - the letter Z

  Everyday items

  bin - a trash can

  biro - a ballpoint pen

  braces - suspenders

  brolly - an umbrella

  clingfilm - saran wrap or plastic wrap

  cooker - the stove

  cotton buds - Q-tips

  cozzy - a bathing suit

  draughts - checkers

  dummy - a pacifier

  duvet - a comforter, with removable cover - often it will replace the top sheet on your bed

  flannel - a washcloth

  fag - a cigarette

  fiver - £5 note

  hob - the stove burner

  hoover - the vacuum cleaner

  jersey/jumper/pullover - a sweater

  knickers - ladies’ panties

  ladybird - a ladybug

  mac - a mackintosh raincoat, can also be generic for a raincoat - rain mac

  mobile - a cell phone

  moggie - a cat

  nappy - a diaper - not a napkin

  pants - underwear, briefs

  plaster/sticking plaster - a Band aid

  pound note - a dollar bill

  quid - another name for a pound note

  rubber - an eraser, not the other kind of rubber

  Sellotape/sticky tape - Scotch tape

  serviette - a napkin

  skip - a dumpster

  smalls - underwear

  spanner - a wrench

  surgical spirit - rubbing alcohol

  suspenders - garters, as in the kind that hold up stockings, not your trousers

  telly - the tv

  tenner - £10 note, or ten pounds

  tights - pantyhose, any type

  tin - a can

  torch - a flashlight