Inconvenient Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery

by Amanda A. Allen

“You think we’ll burn down the building?” Ingrid asked from experience. They’d set their dorm room on fire three times. But that had been with candles. Their moms had sent them candles to study by, they’d lit them while studying, fallen asleep, and nearly killed themselves a few times. After that, they sold them to other witches. Just because they were terrible at magic didn’t mean their mothers were. Those were study candles with good spells embedded in them.

  Emily toed aside some debris, examined the dead leaves and trash, and shrugged.

  “You got a lighter?”

  Emily nodded as she said, “There was a diagram and what not.”

  Ingrid frowned. “I left the book downstairs.”

  Emily took the lid off the canister. “Circle, you think?”

  “Seems likely.” Ingrid glanced around the rooftop garden. Her feet were cold, storm clouds were coming in off the sound, and she was somewhat regretting not having had anything other than coffee and wine since the morning. “I might vomit,” she said lackadaisically.

  “Try to do it over the side.” Emily sprinkled the sage around herself, and the wind caught most of it up, spreading it across the rooftop.

  Ingrid took the lighter and went to her friend, who stood in a field of debris and sage flakes. “What are the words?”

  She received only a shrug in reply, so Ingrid said, “Spirits, um, please clear the aura of my friend, Emily. She probably didn’t kill that creep, dickhead. Do you think I should say his real name.”

  Emily nodded.

  “She didn’t kill Owen, so…okay, thanks then.” Ingrid touched her necklace as she finished and lit some of the trash that was sprinkled with sage.

  Her magic ran wild through her as she did, and the flame jumped from the lighter, igniting the circle around Emily and then hopping across the rooftop to the spread out flakes of herbs.

  “I’m on fire,” Emily shrieked, spinning in a circle.

  “Stop, drop, and roll.” Ingrid said calmly, watching the trash and dead plants catch fire. “What’s the word for putting out fire?”

  “Obviously,” Emily shouted, “I don’t know.” She was rolling around in the trash and dirt, covered in filth and spewing curse words.

  Thunder cracked overhead and Ingrid suddenly remembered the word for calling rain. She shouted it, almost certainly mispronouncing the ancient dialect, but a drizzle started, turning quickly into a downpour that put out the flames and snuffed out the moment Ingrid’s attention was caught by a confused-looking seagull.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “I put out the fire.”

  “Yeah,” Emily replied sarcastically. “It would have been super awesome if you’d done that before.”

  They both looked down at Emily’s blackened toes. Ingrid took a long sip of wine before she said, “You need a pedicure.”

  •

  “I’m pretty sure we are the lamest witches in the history of the world. We need to go talk to Hazel. She’ll know what to do.” Emily’s hair and clothes wreaked of burnt sage, and she was pretty sure she had at least third degree burns on the heels of her feet, and still she was freezing from the water. Both witches, if they could be called that with any accuracy, had plopped into their hammocks and sat looking over the small island and contemplating what had gone wrong.

  Ingrid nodded. “I just don’t know why it didn’t work. How specific do we have to actually be to perform this magic. We are witches. We should be able to do this crap in our sleep.”

  Emily handed Ingrid the car keys. “You drive, yeah? I think my feet are burned.”

  “Hold on. I’ll run to my apartment and get some aloe gel.”

  Emily waited for Ingrid to come back, impatiently tapping her fingernails on the bricks that made the patio.

  “Stupid, freaking, terrible human being Owen.” Her foot burned in the open air. “Even dead, you still find a way to irritate me.”

  Just then Ingrid bounced back out on to the deck, spirits entirely too high for the moment. “Here. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Uh, you aren’t planning on using some kind of first aid magic, are you? Cuz I don’t think that we should—”

  “Of course not,” Ingrid interjected. “I’ve had enough magic for tonight. And I’ve never been able to do anything like that. Except yesterday when I healed Hotpants. But that was an accident.”

  Ingrid cleaned Emily’s feet and rubbed some aloe gel on them before bandaging them up and then putting socks over the bandages.. Emily was irritated, but not at Ingrid. She should have paid more attention when she was younger and the aunts had tried to teach her magic. Or when she and Ingrid were in college instead of insisting on using their membership in the local coven as a way to meet boys.

  “Dammit.”

  “What?” Ingrid asked. “Does it hurt still? Do you need more wine? The aloe should help make it feel better. Especially if you drink enough wine.”

  “No, it’s fine. Thanks for helping wrap my feet. I was just thinking about how we should have paid more attention to magic than to boys during college. They all ended up being idiots anyway. Think of how much we could do by now if we hadn’t been screwing around.”

  Ingrid’s eyebrows shot up, pretending to be offended. “Dove! Curse you! If we’d have been doing magic then, we’d never have met those twins. Remember? Andy and Alex? I’d say they were a worthy distraction, wouldn’t you?”

  “You might not want to be throwing curses around. What if you accidentally cursed me for real? I’ve got enough trouble, you know.”

  Ingrid smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. It would be ironic if the only magic we could do was by accident.”

  Emily had a distressing thought at Ingrid’s observation. They needed to talk to the aunts.

  Emily started to get up. “Let’s get going, okay? I need to talk to Hazel. My aura…I can’t even stand to be around myself right now.”

  “Sure. Can you walk?”

  Emily stood up gingerly, surprised when she could put her weight on both of her feet with no pain. “It doesn’t hurt at all. That aloe is pretty cool stuff. Nice job.”

  They stopped by Emily’s apartment where she quickly changed into clean clothes and tried to pick the sage out of her hair. There were bits of charred sage stuck all throughout her mess of tangled curls. With a sigh, she put her mass of wild curls into a quick ponytail. She slipped her stockinged feet into her old, ratty slippers that were the most comfortable shoe in the world. Even though her feet didn’t hurt anymore, she was still using the burns as an excuse to wear her slippers out of the house. Ingrid would normally have given her a hard time about it. As it was, she just looked at the slippers with a questioning glance and then smirked as they made their way to the elevator.

  “You’re lucky I recently set you on fire. Otherwise I’d really give you hell for wearing those out of the house.”

  •

  Thursday Night

  The drive to her aunt’s house, which doubled as the coven’s headquarters, was only about ten minutes—it was a small island. They’d decided they would ask Hazel to do the aura cleansing spell so they could learn from her.

  “That way next time one of us is accused of murder and needs our aura cleansed,” Ingrid proclaimed, “we’ll know how to do it. And maybe we won’t drown or catch on fire in the process.”

  Once they were seated in the cozy den of the remodeled farmhouse, having explained to Hazel and three more aunts—the other senior witches in the coven—what had happened, Emily’s aunt made short work of the spell while the aunts looked on. Ruth, Kaye, and Sun were never far away from Hazel. The four sisters seemed to orbit each other. They weren’t all sisters in the biological sense—though some were actually blood related—but neither the coven nor Emily allowed for any distinction. Most of the coven was like family.

  Turned out it mattered what kind of sage you used. And also, the spell had to be exact with the right hand motions and words.

  Hazel’s face held a shadow of what Emi
ly thought might be worry.

  She complained to her aunt. “Why does the language have to be perfectly accurate? It seems like the universe should just get the basic idea of what we are after. It’s not like math.”

  Hazel’s eyebrows wrinkled up into her pure white hair, clearly exasperated by this comment. But Hazel blew off the comment, instead looking at Emily with a penetrating gaze.

  “Your aura is cleansed, Emily.” Her soft voice turned hard. “But there is something else going on with you. What is it?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  But she’d always been a terrible liar.

  “Oh my gosh,” Ingrid said. “She lied to you, doves.”

  I didn’t want to go into this, Emily thought.

  But Hazel pressed. “Out with it. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

  Emily noticed the other faces in the room were all staring at her. Everyone present knew that her problem with magic stemmed from the loss of control she’d experienced when she’d still been in high school. With the death of the boy. But nobody was saying it. Kaye was the only elder in the group who was black, but as she listened to Hazel’s question she looked almost pale. Ruth and Sun were perched on the edge of their seats, arms folded across their chests, waiting for Emily to speak.

  Were they waiting for her magic to turn fatal like it had before?

  Emily sighed.

  Still they stared.

  There was no way she was getting out of this.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ingrid and could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was paying careful attention.

  Great, Emily thought. Ingrid’s not going to let this one go.

  “Fine. I’ve noticed that I’ve got some gaps in my memory.” She leaned back in her chair, relieved to have confessed her trouble yet dreading what would invariably come next.

  Ingrid laughed. “You are probably having sex and then blocking it out.”

  “Really?” All four elders said at the same time, leaning back in their chairs as if their moves were pre-choreographed. And completely ignoring Ingrid’s comment.

  That’s all Emily needed—to be their project. It was bad enough they’d had to come here in the first place, asking for help with such a small spell.

  Before they could say anything else, Ingrid interjected. “What kind of gaps? How much are you forgetting? Did you wake up in someone’s bed and not know how you go there? Like roofie gaps? How long has this been going on? And most importantly…”

  Emily saw the look in Ingrid’s eyes, and though the tone of her voice had an edge to it, there was only softness in her eyes. She’d thought of it already then. If she had gaps in her memory, what if she killed Owen?

  Another deep sigh. Great. If she was going to go down for murdering Owen, she should at least have the satisfaction of watching him die.

  “I don’t know how long it’s been happening. Maybe a couple months. I will be somewhere and not remember how I got there. Or I’ll have a shopping cart full of groceries and not remember filling up the cart. You know, gaps.”

  “You don’t buy groceries,” Ingrid said.

  Emily held Ingrid’s gaze, a silent conversation passing between them. Neither of them spoke again, and before Sun picked up the conversation.

  “It was only a matter of time.” She was looking at Hazel, who nodded very matter-of-factly.

  “True.”

  Ruth stared at Emily, her eyes searching Em’s face. Emily felt a chill move through her. Then Ruth turned her attention to Hazel, nodding.

  “Yes. Better that we know.”

  They started talking amongst themselves, and Emily couldn’t follow what they were saying. They acted like she wasn’t even in the room.

  “I knew it.”

  “A couple of months? It is developing quickly then.”

  “She doesn’t have much time before it becomes a problem.”

  “Would you mind filling me in?” Emily interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

  “Filling us in,” Ingrid corrected. “What are you talking about?”

  As one, Ruth, Sun and Kaye deferred to Hazel, who nodded curtly as if making a decision and turned to face Emily and Ingrid. She took Emily’s hands in her own and spoke very softly, the way one would speak to someone when breaking the news that a loved one had died.

  “You’ve neglected your magic, my dear. And in so doing, you have threatened its very existence. It will not be ignored, you see. The blackouts will continue to get worse as your magic tries to flourish. As you tamp it down, it tries to force its way out. Eventually, you will burn out.”

  “Such a shame.”

  “Yes, she’s so young to lose her magic.”

  “Wasteful, really.”

  The other elders spoke more to each other than to Emily or Ingrid.

  “Wait. I’ve never heard of this before. A witch burning out from not using her magic? That’s crazy.” Emily pouted. “That’s all I need on top of a crazed sheriff who is out to get me.”

  Ingrid bristled. “Hey, now. Watch what you say about my man.”

  Emily rolled her eyes.

  Hazel ignored their banter. “It’s not crazy, dear. You’ve not heard of it because there aren’t many witches who choose not to use their gifts.”

  “But what about Ingrid? She doesn’t do anything with her magic. She’s not having blackouts.” She turned to Ingrid. “Are you?”

  “No, if I were, I would have told you.”

  Emily ignored the accusation.

  “Well?” Emily waited for her aunt to answer her.

  “But Ingrid does use her magic, isn’t that right?”

  “Yup,” Ingrid said. “Every morning when I freshen my face and make coffee. Whenever I buy new heels. But I don’t know anything real witches do.”

  Hazel nodded, and the other three elders followed suit.

  “You are giving your magic an outlet, and that’s enough. Emily’s is all bottled up. She’s got to use it. Or she’ll lose it.”

  They were all talking around her now, and Emily had enough. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  She stood up as if to leave, and Hazel interrupted her.

  “How are your feet, Emily?”

  Emily paused, turning to look at her aunt. “Oh, the burns? Ingrid put aloe on them. They’re fine.”

  “They’re better than fine, Em. Take a look.”

  Emily sat back down and pulled of her slippers, socks and bandages. Her feet were perfectly healthy and pink.

  “How in the world? That is pretty powerful aloe.”

  Hazel shook her head. “It wasn’t the aloe. Ingrid healed you.”

  Ingrid’s turn to look pale. “No, I didn’t. I just put the cream on.” She looked at Emily. “I swear.”

  Hazel chuckled, laughing at the girls. “Ingrid, you have about as much control over your magic as my eleven-year-old great-niece, Mackenzie. You accidentally healed Emily. It’s not the first time you’ve done something by accident is it?”

  Now Emily was irritated, even though she was glad her feet were better. “You mean that you couldn’t do a spell on purpose without catching me on fire, but without meaning to, you healed me? That’s just crazy. As crazy as when you cursed Harrison to not have an erection for a few months.”

  Hazel looked sternly at Ingrid, who started laughing at the memory.

  “No more curses,” Hazel ordered Ingrid.

  After a short lecture from Hazel—and Ruth, Kaye and Sun—about the importance of learning to use her magic, Emily agreed to take home the spell book they offered and both promised that they’d do their best.

  Hazel waved from the porch. “Remember, dear. Use it or lose it.”

  Emily and Ingrid shut the doors to their car and sneered in unison. “Use it or lose it,” and then laughed hysterically. Like two hysterical pre-teens.

  6

  Friday Morning

  Ingr
id watched the sheriff as he walked down the street. His jeans were the perfect amount of tight and his shirt was the perfect amount of snug next to those lovely abs. He was heading to the bookshop, probably to interrogate Emily again. It was possible Ingrid spent too much time lusting after Hotpants.

  Em was out. She’d gone for food. Ingrid wanted tacos, and Emily was indulging Ingrid and distracting herself by hunting some up. She hoped Em was feeling chatty with the taco guys because she wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with Sheriff Hotpants.

  She hadn’t gotten him to look at her or flirt with her since they’d found dickhead’s body. It was super frustrating because she really, really wanted him.

  Pretty much in every way.

  She made her way to the newly installed espresso machine and made a drink for Gabe, using her magic with ease. She could sense that he wanted a froufrou coffee today. Something frothy and almost too-sweet. She warmed her straight black, perfect coffee and turned to him as he opened the door to the shop. The scent of his cologne mixed with the dust of the shop, and she told herself yet again to just hire a cleaner and a bookshop manager.

  It was ridiculous anyway. There was no way that she and Em would ever be reliable enough to keep the shop running at a profit. They needed someone uptight like the coven elder, Sun. All full of plans and willing to focus on charts and pie graphs and stuff.

  Most of the people on the island knew that there were witches among them. They bought love spells and wart removers from the ones they knew were witches and pretended they didn’t know whenever anyone was around who’d think they were crazy for believing.

  “Hello,” Gabe said. Just everything about him was perfect. He had a low voice, gravelly but not deep. Harrison’s voice was deep and low. Too often like a bull. Now, Ingrid found the sound of deep voices irritating. She wondered idly as she looked Gabe over if she ever really loved Harrison or if he was just easy.

  But she knew she had loved Harrison.

  Even still, the changes she’d made to make him happy made her sad now that he was gone.

  “Hello,” Ingrid replied. She handed Gabe the coffee, watched him take a sip, and waited for his grin. It was wide, full, and made laugh lines around his eyes. She liked those laugh lines very much.