Stone Cold Witch (Nightshade Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Lori Woods

  “Of course I am,” he says. “Do you have any idea what could happen if our dopey sheriff starts pointing fingers at her? Even if she’s proven innocence, a vampire’s reputation can be tarnished very easily being around this sort of thing. Every last one of them in there will be whispered about for the rest of their eternal lives just because they were in the same building when something like this happened! They could be ostracized—or worse—just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I think for a moment. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that two werewolves were targeted this week?”

  “None,” he says confidently. “Within days apart, there’s no way this is a coincidence.”

  “So what creature turns people to stone and would want their blood?” I ask.

  “Not a vampire.”

  “No, definitely not,” I say. We walk out together.

  He is on edge, but his face lights up a little bit when he sees the carriage. “You brought the carriage to the station?”

  “Well, we need a ride back home, don’t we?”

  He kisses my cheek, and I smile slightly, despite the grim circumstance we have found ourselves in.

  CHAPTER FİVE

  AFTER A PAINFULLY LONG night of unrest, I arise early in the morning and head straight to work at the library with Snowball at my side. She is my constant companion, and I use our walk to fill her in on what all had taken place the night before. “Holy cow! Sounds like I missed quite a party,” Snowball says in her usual jokester manner.

  “It’s not funny, Snowball,” I scorn her. “Laura was so sweet and kind. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt her.”

  “Are basilisks particularly smart?” Snowball asks. “I mean, they sound like they are just dumb animals working off instinct. It was probably just snacking, so it’s not like Laura would have been targeted specifically. The thing probably just found her by itself and decided to take a bite.”

  “Oh come on, Snowball,” I argue. “What are the chances of a basilisk only targeting werewolves?”

  “Maybe they taste good,” she suggests.

  “I don’t think so,” I say with an eye roll as we are arriving at the front steps of the library. I give Sprout a friendly nod; he seems to be working on removing the poison ivy leaves from the entryway. It’s about time someone got rid of those, I think to myself. Sprout had initially surrounded the library in poison ivy as a way to keep Night Shadow away; it hadn’t worked, of course, but it had been a bit of a grand gesture. Thankfully he’s wearing gloves and a long-sleeved shirt to protect himself from getting any rashes from the demon plant.

  Snowball and I head to the study on the main floor, where I can hear Doc and Alfie arguing. “I’m telling you, Doc,” Alfie snarls. “These are all the books we have on basilisks!”

  “No, there are more. I know it! I think you’ve just misplaced them,” I hear Doc counter.

  I peer around the corner into the study, rolling my eyes a bit to see Alfie standing up in a chair so that he can be eye-level while arguing with the old elfin man. “My money is on Alfie misplacing the books,” Snowball says as we enter, always eager to poke fun at the dwarf. I doubt she even heard half the conversation between the two of them. She just likes to mess with Alfie.

  “I’m telling you I didn’t!” Alfie shouts, his face turning almost as red as his beard.

  “All right, fellas, settle down. This is a library, after all,” I say. “You two want to tell me what’s gotten you both so heated this morning?”

  “Doc still thinks we could be dealing with a basilisk,” Alfie says. “But I say otherwise. I think we have an evil sorcerer.”

  “Why would a sorcerer target werewolves?” Doc argues.

  “Why would a basilisk target werewolves?” Alfie counters.

  It’s quite interesting listening to Doc argue. He’s normally calm and reserved. “I’m telling you,” Snowball intervenes, “the snakes must think the werewolves taste good.”

  “I think I preferred it when you couldn’t talk, Snowball!” Alfie says.

  “I think I’d prefer it if you were taller,” Snowball retorts.

  “Okay, everyone take a breath,” I quickly say, heading to the table the two gentlemen are standing by. “I agree we need to figure something out quick before someone else gets hurt, but arguing is not going to help. Alfie, why do you think it could be a sorcerer?”

  “So, my thought is that there’s some sort of potion that requires werewolf blood. You said you found blood at the scene of Ted’s murder. Maybe when the witch or wizard confronted Ted, he tried to fight his attacker off, and out of frustration he turned Ted to stone using magic. But with Laura, maybe the attacker sedated her or knocked her out before draining her blood. That would explain why werewolves were specifically attacked twice this week.” Alfie looks ridiculously proud at his conclusion.

  Snowball snorts like she thinks he’s an idiot, and I’m pretty sure by the look on his face he is contemplating jumping off his chair onto her head. I clear my throat. “A good theory,” I say to reassure him and to prevent him from drop-kicking my familiar. “What about you, Doc? You still think basilisk?”

  “Petrifaction spells, spells that turn organic creatures to stone, are nearly impossible,” Doc says. “Turning an organic material into another organic material is one thing—but in petrification you go from biological to mineral. Such a powerful spell would take years to learn, even for a Spell Master like you, Suzy. Whatever did this has to be some sort of creature born with the natural ability to do so. Basilisks have been spotted in the area before.”

  “Great point, Doc!” Snowball says loudly, only agreeing with him to get on Alfie’s nerves, I’m sure.

  “Basilisks don’t turn people to stone!” Alfie snaps and I give him a mom-stare so that he’ll lower his voice. He grunts, but he obeys the silent command. “Basilisks kill people. They just fall over dead when you look them in the eye. They don’t turn to stone, and you know it, Doc.”

  Doc reaches towards the table and skims through one of the many books he and Alfie have pulled from the shelves. “That’s not true, Alfie. There is a particular breed of basilisks who, when viewed through a reflection, causes the victim to experience petrification. If Ted saw the Basilisk’s reflection then he would have turned to stone.”

  “Then how do you explain Laura? Why did the rare basilisk suck her blood? Basilisks aren’t blood suckers—they’re meat eaters!” Alfie asks with this air of confidence so obnoxious that a part of me hopes that Doc has a good comeback for the question.

  Doc grins. Oh, he totally does. He spins the book around and slams it on the table in front of Alfie and points his finger onto the open page. “Because, my arrogant friend, the rare breed of basilisk I am referring to is the basilisk hematophagy! Better known as—”

  Snowball jumps up onto the table and peers at the page Doc is pointing at. She laughs and finishes the man’s sentence. “He can’t read, remember? Let me. The vampire basilisk.”

  “Ooh,” I say, smirking at Alfie’s expense. “I think we have a winner, Alfie.”

  Alfie looks pale, and there is a look of defeat on his face. “Whoa, hold up, Doc,” Alfie says. “I seem to remember that they are extinct. This makes your argument for a vampire basilisk hold about as much water as my all-powerful wizard theory!”

  “The vampire basilisk was only pronounced extinct a few years back,” Doc says. “There could still be a few lurking about.”

  “But even if it was a vampire basilisk, what are the chances Ted saw the creature’s reflection in the middle of the woods?” Alfie asks.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go back to the scene of the crime,” I say. “But I think I am siding with Doc on this one, Alfie. I did find what appeared to be venom in the woods where Ted was killed.”

  We all hear footsteps, and we turn to see Val. I smile at him and he gives me a weak grin in return. I can imagine he’s had a rough few hours. He approaches slowly, sighi
ng a good bit. Half the local vampires are still in jail, Buffy in particular, and the town is all in an uproar about having a lunatic vampire on the loose. “Any chance you all have good news for me?” Val asks.

  “We think we may have found a potential culprit,” I say. “But it’s kind of a long shot.”

  Val heads over and glances over at the book. He frowns. “Basilisk hematophagy? Isn’t that breed extinct?”

  “Yes,” Alfie says, crossing his arms in frustration.

  “Don’t pout. It’s unbecoming,” Snowball tells him, and he abruptly shoves her off the table. She lands on her feet and hisses before going and finding a corner to sulk in.

  “Don’t pout—it’s unbecoming!” Alfie calls after her, and I nudge him—warning him to leave my poor cat alone.

  “It is listed as being extinct,” Doc says, “but like I was just saying, the creature was only considered to be extinct fairly recently. It is certainly possible to still have a few slithering around.”

  “I hate those things,” Val says. “About a century or two ago, I had a large cattle farm and one got into my stock and killed over half of them. Greedy little animals. I found the thing the next morning, passed out from drinking too much blood—too lazy to even slither away back into its hole.”

  I smirk slightly. Sounds like the vampire basilisk is basically the vampire farmer version of wolves snacking on their livestock from the way Val just described it.

  “What did you do?” Alfie asks curiously.

  “Well, I killed it,” Val says. “Basilisks are dangerous creatures. They may not be able to hurt us vampires, but I wasn’t going to let the thing slither off and kill someone else from just looking at them.” Val nods along for a moment. “You know, the more I think about it, the more this is making sense to me. A vampire basilisk could have turned Ted to stone if he saw its reflection. It would explain the little bit of blood Suzy saw, plus the venom. And it would explain why Laura was drained of blood. The puncture wound in her neck was far too large to be from a vampire.”

  “Oh, that is one thing—why was there only one hole in her neck? I’m assuming this vampire basilisk has fangs?” I ask.

  “Maybe it’s missing a fang?” Alfie suggests. “Basilisks in general are not very friendly creatures. They fight with each other all the time. Could have lost a tooth in a fight with another basilisk.”

  “I think this is enough to bring to Sherriff Dudley,” Val says suddenly, standing upright. “We need to make sure we get Buffy released. He held her overnight.”

  I frown, and then the stupidest words erupt from my lips without thinking. “Yeah, got to make sure you go save your girl, right?” I say, and I immediately regret it. It just sounded so jealous and petty and disgustingly not me.

  “Wow,” is all Val manages to say.

  I cross my arms. “Well…” I grumble. “I guess I just am bothered about how concerned you are for her.”

  “Of course I’m concerned!” Val snaps at me. “For crying out loud, Suzy, don’t act jealous over some woman I dated briefly nearly a century ago! I’m worried because I know how some people react to vampires. My people have a history that others aren’t too comfortable with, and they’ll look to blame us before they even know the truth. Buffy is no saint, but she doesn’t deserve to get blamed for murder, so pardon me for feeling concerned for her well-being!” Val’s eyes turn a bit red in his frustration, and he snatches the book off the table we had been looking at. “I’m checking this book out, and I’m going to the station.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I start to say.

  “No, I’d rather you not. I’d hate for you to make another Buffy the Vampire Slayer joke,” he says, and the door of the study slams behind him.

  Yeah, I probably should apologize again about the vampire slayer thing. I sigh, and I can feel Doc and Alfie staring at me. “What?” I snap.

  “Nothing. Just didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Alfie says, finally hopping down from his chair, nearly tripping over his beard in the process.

  “Oh shut up, Alfie,” I say. I think for a minute before deciding on my next course of action. “Alfie, if you can hold down the fort, I’m going to head back to the haunted castle to see what I can find at the scene of the crime.”

  “Only if you take the fur ball with you,” he says.

  “Believe me; I wasn’t planning on staying here. The air is hardly breathable here. Do you not ever shower?” Snowball asks as she walks by Alfie, intentionally stepping on his floor-length beard before standing beside me.

  I roll my eyes, and the two of us head out. I think about summoning Broom Hilda to fly us there, but honestly, I could use the exercise. I feel like my magic flying broom has made me a little lazy of late. I don’t really walk anywhere anymore. We head down the long main street of town, heading toward the hills and valleys that lead up to the castle.

  I think this walk would probably give anyone else the creeps, but I soak it in. The tall foreboding trees. The occasional snapping of a branch. The dark sky in the distance. The eerie castle on a hill. It just feels homey to me; I always thought I was weird for feeling this way about places like this, but that was before I found out I was a witch.

  When Snowball and I arrive at the gates of the castle, the ghosts who run the place are kind enough to let us in. I head straight for the ballroom where Laura’s reception had been held, and from there I am able to quickly find the powder room. I see where Laura must have been found because there is still a small puddle of what is now dried blood on the floor. “Gross,” Snowball says. “They haven’t cleaned that up yet?”

  I ignore her and continue my investigating. There really isn’t much blood for Laura to have had every bit of her blood drained. I feel like a wild animal, like a basilisk, would have done a sloppier job than this. Even if Laura had been killed from the basilisk’s stare and wasn’t fighting back, an animal quickly having its lunch would had made more of a mess than this tiny pool of blood. I continue looking around, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s something splattered on the mirror that resembles tree sap. I touch it, and once again I feel like a complete idiot for doing so. “Holy cow,” I scream and shove my fingers under the bathroom faucet, turning on the water to rinse the stuff off as quickly as possible.

  I look at my fingertips. Why would I do that a second time? Guess I don’t need fingerprints.

  “You okay?” Snowball asks, hopping up onto the sink and sniffing at the mirror. “Ew! That reeks!” She jumps back down just as fast.

  “I think it’s snake venom… or basilisk venom,” I say.

  “Okay, so if a basilisk can kill someone with a stare, why would it need venom?” Snowball asks.

  “I don’t know. I don’t really question biology,” I say. “But the more I dive into this, the more I’m starting to agree with Doc. I really do think we are dealing with some sort of basilisk.”

  “So what’s your next move?”

  I think for a moment. “Let’s go to the morgue.”

  CHAPTER SİX

  THIS TIME I call in Broom Hilda. I’ve done enough walking. Not really sure where this health-conscious version of myself has come from. I suppose I’m just worried that I’ve gotten a little lazy ever since discovering I have magical powers—I mean, I can literally cook my dinner from the living room while reading a book. One little spell is all it takes, and suddenly my kitchen utensils come to life to prepare my dinner. There was this one foster mom I had growing up who was all about work ethic. I suppose a little bit of that rubbed off on me; she had always been my favorite as far as foster homes or orphanages were concerned, even though I had only lived with the woman for about a year and a half. Now, suddenly, work has become a little easier with magic, so I guess I feel like I’m missing the sort of growth you get from completing a task yourself. Which, of course, makes me feel like I’ve gotten lazy… so, yeah, I guess I do know where the whole health-conscious thing came from after all.

  Snowball sits on the back
of my broom like a proper witch’s black cat companion, with little complaint as she licks her favorite paw. I have no idea how she manages to hold on back there with so little effort. I like flying kind of like a maniac, and it’s not like Snowball has apposable thumbs. One of the many mysteries I’ve come to accept as normality since changing my reality.

  We arrive outside of the dark building by the police station that is our local morgue. It’s windowless from what I can see. I haven’t ever actually been here before, and already I’m wishing I hadn’t come. Snowball hops off while Broom Hilda is still floating a few feet from the ground, and I dismount the broom like she’s my trusty steed. Then I tuck her under my arm—we may need a quick getaway.

  “Well this place smells like death,” Snowball says, standing upright and gazing out towards the rickety, rundown excuse of a morgue.

  “No, really?” I say, shaking my head. “Of course it smells like death. It’s a dead body storage unit!”

  “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” Snowball says, “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I say, as Snowball follows closely behind.

  We enter in through the arch at the main door, and there is an elderly looking woman behind a receptionist desk. I jump slightly when she looks up at me, and I realize she is mummified and just wearing a giant church lady hat. “May I help you?” the woman asks.

  What am I looking at? Amazing. It is just absolutely amazing that I’ve been here for several months now and that things like this still manage to surprise me. Mummies are a thing, okay, fact accepted, moving on. “Hello, ma’am,” I say. In a small town like Nightshade, I’m surprised I haven’t come across a mummy just yet. “My name is Suzy Maycomber. I’m still a bit new here; I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Oh, I’m not from around here,” she says. “I’m from Hemlock. Just filling in for a friend.”