Looking for Mr. Good Witch

by Joyce

  Cassandra hadn’t mentioned witch-on-witch deaths being involved in this. Perhaps she’d just neglected to include that information until her big reveal tomorrow night at the full moon celebration. She had a strong flair for the dramatic.

  “Can you put that aside for a few minutes so we can go into the bedroom?” I tried to make it sound suggestive, as though I’d missed him and needed time to cuddle.

  He smiled, moved the pans from the stove and turned off the heat. “Sure thing.”

  The bedroom seemed like the best place to use magic to escape detection. We’d made our past visits to the bubble seem like romantic interludes in case anyone was watching and listening.

  We went into the bedroom. Joe immediately took me in his arms and began kissing me. I put my arms around him and then muttered the enchantment for the bubble.

  “Oh.” He glanced at the opaque covering around us. “I thought we were really going to fool around.”

  “I need to talk to you about these deaths. All the victims are witches. I don’t know if the killer is a witch yet. I might find out tomorrow night.”

  “How do you know that, Molly? Does someone keep up with that kind of thing?”

  “Yes—the same people who make this enchanted bubble necessary. We got word this afternoon that witches are dying. That was right before you told me about your case.”

  He shook his head. “Any chance your witches’ council would like to share information?”

  “None whatsoever. I’m giving you a heads-up. Witches can kill leaving no mark behind. You’d never be able to use forensic science to discover the killer. If I find out there’s a witch killing other witches, you need to think of a good reason not to be part of this investigation.”

  “You know that’s not going to happen.” He frowned, still holding me close. “I can’t just drop a case because my wife is a witch and she’s afraid for me to go toe-to-toe with another witch. We’ll figure it out. Have some faith. No telling how many witch killings I’ve worked on and didn’t even know it.”

  “Witches don’t normally kill other witches. The council would handle it if they did.” I stared into his beautiful eyes. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but if there is a witch killing these young men, anyone standing in the way could die too. And you wouldn’t even have the protection these young witches had.”

  He kissed me again. “I love you, Molly. But I’m not going to quit my job because you’ve told me there’s real magic in the world. I would appreciate any updates you get.”

  Joe had always been stubborn. I loved him anyway. I knew I might have to come up with a plan to protect him despite himself.

  I could feel the enchantment wearing off and smell the peppers and onions waiting for dinner in the kitchen. That was all the time we had to discuss what was happening on his case. I hoped it was enough to make him more aware while he was looking for the killer.

  “Supper smells really good.” I smiled as we started out of the bedroom. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  The doorbell rang. Joe suddenly got a guilty expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry, Molly. With everything going on—I forgot to tell you that Suzanne needs a place to stay—until she’s set up at the hotel that’s been approved by her police department back home. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal if she stays in Mike’s room for tonight.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Keep my loved one from harm,

  Take my fear from me,

  Light his way through dark and storm.

  One, two, three—So mote it be.

  I didn’t make a big deal out of sharing dinner, or the bottle of wine Suzanne had brought with her. We sat around talking for a while after the meal—mostly Suzanne and Joe talked about the old days and what they’d been doing since then.

  I sat with them for an hour and then went into Mike’s room to change the sheets on the bed for our guest.

  Isabelle jumped squarely on the bed and faced me. She couldn’t believe I was welcoming this woman into my home. My cat had decided that this was crossing certain personal lines that shouldn’t be crossed. But then, Isabelle had the spirit of a woman. I was sure Joe would never understand.

  I didn’t try to explain. I smoothed the sheets as Isabelle offered a spell that would make Suzanne itchy all night. I thanked her for it, but didn’t use the spell. I knew plenty of spells that could do the job if it came down to it.

  After that was done, I went into the garden. The moon was bright and pink-hued as it rose over the horizon. A spring moon. Tomorrow would be the full moon celebration. I toyed with the idea of using the moon for a spell to make sure Joe and I would be strong together.

  But in my heart, I knew we were all right. Joe thought of this as a kindness to a fellow officer who just happened to be his ex-wife. He would’ve also extended the courtesy if the Savannah police had sent a man he’d never met. It was part of who he was, and I loved him for it. I didn’t want him to be any other way.

  So far I hadn’t received any kind of vibe from Suzanne that she thought of Joe as anything more than her temporary partner. If I received that feeling, I could always resort to strong measures to deter her. She wasn’t a witch, and even though the council frowned on using magic against people who had none, it went on every day.

  As I sat in the garden with the moonlight bathing me, my amulet began to glow. I looked inside it and saw movement in the active blue stone. It was as though the tides were trapped inside, restless and waiting.

  It reminded me that there was something else we needed to concentrate on during the full moon celebration—our missing spell book.

  We’d used magic to search for it after it had been stolen. I had tried not to make a big deal of it, since I knew Olivia blamed herself for its loss. Not that she could have done anything to prevent it from being stolen. She had already been dead when it happened.

  I thought about her funeral six months ago. She’d cried more than anyone else gathered at her graveside. Only the witches present could hear and see her. The flowers had been beautiful, and the service sweet, with bagpipes playing, just as she’d requested.

  It was the oddest funeral I’d ever been to.

  Still, it was nice knowing she really wasn’t in that deep pit in the ground. Maybe other witches didn’t like it, but I didn’t care. It was wonderful still having her here with us each day. But it had left us uneasy where discussing our missing spell book was concerned.

  We’d tried locator spells with Brian’s help, but there had been no sign of it. We’d given up, as Dorothy’s training had begun and other matters had taken our attention.

  We couldn’t forget that our spell book was important. It held all the spells that had been written by our families for several generations. We had incorporated the spells we’d used too. I didn’t like the idea that it was out there being used by someone else. Despite Olivia’s sad feelings about remembering that time, we had to talk about it again and get it back.

  I stared into the cool orb above me. The moon could reveal important matters and secret things. Whoever had stolen our spell book had it hidden. The magic was powerful enough to keep us from finding it easily.

  I needed to talk with Dorothy and Elsie before we went to the celebration tomorrow. If we all focused our energy on a spell, perhaps the location of our spell book would be revealed. We needed it if Elsie and I ever planned to retire. It would be handed to Dorothy as the leader of the new coven. I hoped she would be the oldest and strongest witch of the three we needed to find.

  I breathed in the sweet smells of spring, feeling the new life surrounding me. I thought about Brian and his importance to us. He was still an unknown factor. Without commitment, no magic was strong. He had been elusive and cagey about wanting to be part of the group. I didn’t mind him being around. He was very helpful. But there would come a time when he would
either have to commit to us or we would have to ask him to leave.

  It was easy to see that the idea of commitment was alien to him. His life was fractured with no real meaning. Even his training—despite the fact that he came from a powerful bloodline—had been neglected. I didn’t understand what his parents were thinking, sending a young witch into the world with too much money and so little emphasis on the responsibility to his magic.

  Not that it was my place to question. I only knew what sort of witch worked well for a coven, and Brian wasn’t that witch, at least right now. I hoped he would be in the near future and that he would commit to us. That would leave us with only one more witch to find as a replacement for the three of us.

  Joe was retiring from the police department soon. I hoped to be able to “retire” at the same time—and convince him that we should move to Boca. It wasn’t something we’d talked about yet.

  I hoped that wasn’t asking for too much in the next few years.

  “Molly?” Joe walked out into the garden. “Suzanne has gone to bed. Are you about ready? I have an early day tomorrow.”

  “Yes. I’m ready.” We put our arms around each other as we walked to the house.

  “Nice moon.” He looked up. “Isn’t this the harvest moon or something?”

  “No. It’s spring. This would be the planting moon.”

  “My grandmother used to keep up with all that stuff. She knew every phase of the moon and how it affected gardening. I looked at the Old Farmer’s Almanac with her when I was a kid. It was fascinating.”

  “How the moon affects us is important,” I agreed. “It subtly influences many aspects of our lives and shows us hidden places inside ourselves.”

  He opened the door into the house. “That’s not part of the other stuff, right?”

  “No. That’s folklore and the Old Farmer’s Almanac.” I hadn’t said anything to him about his mistake in calling me his little witch. We’d met in the enchanted bubble once a week or so to talk about things. I warned him each time. There was no point rubbing his nose in it. No one was perfect.

  “I hope you’re okay with me letting Suze stay here overnight.”

  Suze? “It’s fine, though I wish you would’ve called or texted me to let me know so I could be prepared. She walked in as you told me.”

  He locked the outside door and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Molly. You’re right. I guess I dreaded telling you.”

  Maybe he was figuring it out. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. The whole ex-wife thing, I guess.” He smiled. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  We got ready for bed and turned out the lights. It was an odd feeling knowing Suzanne was asleep in our son’s room. Not that we hadn’t had friends or relatives spend the night in that room before. It was knowing who she had been that made me uneasy.

  Isabelle confessed to having the same feeling and vowed to spend the night watching Suzanne in case she made any threatening moves. She promised to sleep outside Suzanne’s door in case she needed to alert me to her activities.

  I stroked her soft fur and thanked her for looking after me.

  It was a little after midnight the last time I looked at the clock. The full moon brings dreams with it, and I dreamed about being at Oak Island again.

  It was clearly during a time when the English colony had still been there. I walked through the sandy lanes and rough houses. Children were crying, and women were carrying bundles of clothes to be washed in the Atlantic surf.

  This was long before the lighthouse had been built to provide safe passage past the rough rocks and dangerous shoals. The people in the colony hadn’t survived, much like other early settlements. These were difficult situations, where desperation and fear took their toll on the hardy souls who’d ventured here.

  I heard shouting from a distance and then a woman was dragged into the center of the village. Three men dressed in black tied her hands to a pole and began heaping wood around her feet.

  She was very lovely. The sun shone on her auburn hair. Above her gagged mouth, crystal blue eyes beseeched her captors to release her. Other members of the village began spilling out of their houses.

  “Do not look into her eyes,” one of the men warned. “Her heart is black with evil magic. She will enslave you to do her bidding. Stay away, lest ye be taken.”

  The villagers crossed themselves, and only the men remained to see a fire lighted in the branches around the woman’s feet.

  “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” the man who’d spoken said. “Fire cleanses all. Our village will grow and prosper once the witch is dead.”

  It was played out in my dream as it had been in real life so many times during that era and before. As Phoebe had said at the shop, we were fortunate to live in a more enlightened time. Witches weren’t routinely killed in the name of superstition. Yet the terrible history of our past remained.

  In my dream, a sudden wind blew up from the sea. The waves rose up, crashing louder on the shore. It took only moments for the village to be swamped with seawater, houses and people washing away.

  The fire no longer burned at the feet of the witch, but she hung, lifeless, from the pole.

  Another man, naked, his black hair hanging to his shoulders, was mostly covered with seaweed. He approached the woman with measured strides, cut her down and cradled her in his arms. The sea continued to rise, gray and green, around them. He didn’t move, ignoring the rising waters. In a few moments there was nothing but ocean where the village had been.

  I woke with a start, feeling that woman’s pain as though it were my own. It had been so real. My heart was racing and my hands shook. I pressed myself against Joe and listened to his steady heartbeat. He put his arm around me and murmured sleepy words of assurance.

  Smiling, I looked into his face to kiss him.

  It was the face of the Bone Man.

  I screamed and jumped out of bed—or tried to. My foot got caught on the sheet and I fell face first on the carpet. Joe yelled and knocked over the bedside table lamp. It shattered against the wall. He grabbed his revolver from the bedside table where he always kept it.

  “Molly?” Joe was breathing hard.

  “Just a bad dream.” I pulled myself up from the floor. I didn’t want to explain my recent Bone Man sightings to Joe. “Sorry.”

  He turned on the overhead light, came around the side of the bed and examined my face. “Are you okay?”

  “Better than the lamp. These are the ones your mother gave us.”

  Joe hugged me and put away his gun. “I never liked them anyway. Let’s go back to sleep.”

  But there was no way I could get back to sleep that night. I was going to have to find out why the Bone Man kept coming to see me.

  CHAPTER 9

  Calling on the craft of old,

  Show me secrets—now unfold.

  “But you said yourself, there’s so much to get ready for the celebration tonight,” Elsie said. “Are you sure there’s time to run out to Oak Island and back?”

  “We might be a little late for the celebration. But I’m going out there today. It’s one thing to see the Bone Man in the closet—it’s another thing to wake up with him in my bed.”

  “Eww.” Dorothy may never have seen him, but it was bad enough to hear his description. “I think this is the best thing to do. Get it out of the way. Get it over with. How bad can it be?”

  “Never ask that question.” Elsie righted her large pink hat. “I can’t believe I forgot my hat pins. Of course, Molly called me at five A.M. to tell me we had to do this today. I think it threw me off.”

  We were already halfway to the ferry that would take us to Oak Island. I wasn’t spending another day wondering what the Bone Man wanted from me. I didn’t want to know what the next step would be in him trying to get my attention.
r />   He’d been there in my bed. Even though he’d vanished when I’d screamed, his image was engraved in my mind forever.

  I had never screamed in my life—except for a few tricks Olivia had played on me when we were children. I had understood when Suzanne ran into the bedroom last night, partially dressed, her gun drawn. It had been enough to give a more anxious person a heart attack.

  I’d explained again that I’d had a particularly bad dream. Suzanne had glanced at Joe and then gone back to bed. Isabelle had been a little snarky when I’d explained my dream to her. She was more upset about the witch being burned at the stake than about me having seen the Bone Man in my bed.

  “What do you think the dream meant?” Dorothy asked. “Do you think that was one of your incarnations as a witch?”

  “No. I was definitely an outsider. It was as though I were watching a movie.”

  “A particularly troubling movie,” Elsie said. “Did I mention that I baked my poppy seed rolls for tonight? They’re always a big hit.”

  “Was I supposed to bake?” Dorothy asked. “I’m not very good at baking.”

  “No. Of course not,” I told her. “We each bring food for the feast. The more seasonal, the better. It’s spring. Some nice wild greens would be appropriate or early fruit. I like to bring some flowers too. Sometimes we bring some dandelion wine that we’ve made in past years.”

  “Dandelion wine.” Elsie licked her lips. “Wish we had some mead. I love mead.”

  Dorothy was writing everything we said in her notebook. It had a black cat on the cover, and she’d written Witch’s Notebook on it. She took it everywhere with her. “So, lighter fare than there would be at the harvest moon festival?”

  “Exactly.” Elsie pointed out Fort Fisher as we passed the old historical monument. “We’re almost there.”

  I talked to them about the spell book. It was a good time for it, since Olivia wasn’t there. Each of us gave a deep sigh as we thought of it. It seemed almost impossible to get it back after it had been gone so long.