“Just give up,” he called. She wasn’t sure if he was calling out because he knew they were in this meadow-thingy or because he was hoping they could hear them. What did it matter?
His shout echoed as he continued, “Better for us all. You’re her heir, right Em? I probably should have killed her and waited for you to get the money and taken care of you after. Of course, Ingrid should have just rolled up and died after her husband did. She’s worthless without him.”
Her eyes narrowed across the clearing. The surge of fury at Davis’s words was just what she needed to grab her magic. Jackholes needed to be taught lessons. With big, big sticks.
Or fire.
“You two are the biggest idiots I have ever seen. You aren’t going to get away. I’ll make it quick. Don’t make me teach you a lesson before I kill you.”
Ingrid looked over at her friend, rolling her eyes to show what she thought of that suggestion. And as she did, her fingers wrapped around the bottle of hairspray at the bottom of her purse. She lifted it up and showed it to Emily.
“Sweet,” Emily mouthed as Davis stumbled past them.
“Where are you, you stupid whores? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Oh,” Ingrid said, standing and holding the hairspray in front of her, “well, if killing us is messing with your schedule, let’s just get it over with.”
Emily crawled away from her side of the path, a branch in her hands. Ingrid grinned, hoping that Emily got in some good hits before Ingrid figured out how to blow Davis up. She was already poison ivy’d, had dead people gook, vomit, and the woods on her. What was bits of jackhole? Well worth it, that was what.
He lifted the gun at her, and she waved her hand. The wind should have snatched the gun from his hand, but he was holding it too tightly. She was angry, angry enough to let her magic run riot. She barely had control on the best of days. But she didn’t need control for what she intended.
“Give me that, jerkhole,” she said, and she snatched the gun with her magic, succeeding this time. Probably it was the fury, but she felt as though she could set the entire woods on fire now that she had a hold on her power. The gun flew just as Emily used her magic to swing the branch down on his head. Ingrid watched Emily magically swing her branch one more time across the back of Davis’s head for good measure.
“Nice one. Go for his kidneys and then the man parts,” Ingrid told Emily, shaking the bottle of spray. Emily set the branch to swinging as she leapt out of the line of fire just as Ingrid covered Davis in hairspray.
He batted at his face before saying, “You are the dumbest whore I have ever…”
But then Ingrid focused her will. Fire was her most reliable spell, and she set the him aflame.
He started screaming and rolling as Emily hit him again and then dropped the branch into his fire.
Emily summoned magic from the deepest part of herself and added fuel to Ingrid’s fire. “Man, it feels good to draw on my magic again Ingrid. You know? Really pull it in and toast that smarmy bastard.”
Ingrid smiled, happy to see her friends confidence come back but didn’t want to make a thing out of it. “This isn’t the time to boast, Em.”
“Ingrid!” A deep voice yelled from the trees. “Ingrid! Emily!”
“Oh, hey,” Emily said, lazily. “It’s the cops. You think we’re gonna get arrested for setting someone on fire?”
Ingrid shoved back her hair and said, “I refuse to go to jail until after I have a shower. And then a bath. And then another shower. And a pedicure. Over here!” she shouted.
Gabe came running out of the trees. He bypassed Davis, who was moaning low in his throat even though the fire had gone out, and picked up Ingrid, clutching her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, “I have vomit, dirt, and dead ho-bag gook on me.”
He laughed as he pressed her closer. “Okay,” he said against her hair.
Ingrid watched from the safety of Gabe’s perfect arms as Aunt Hazel followed Gabe’s path with several deputies.
Gabe kissed Ingrid’s hair before he set her back from him. “You do stink. Are you all right?”
“Well, karmically I think I might be screwed. I’m pretty sure that setting people on fire is bad right, Aunt Hazel?”
“He was trying to kill you?”
Ingrid and Emily nodded, and Emily muttered, “He’s foul. He killed dickhead and Melinda.”
“I figured,” Gabe said. “I’ve been looking for her for days. Damn it! I told you two to stay out of this. If you’d had, you would have been safe.”
“Rude,” Emily said. “Don’t yell at me. But good on you for figuring it out.” Emily slumped onto the ground at the feet of her aunt, leaning against her aunt’s legs. “How did you figure it out? Did you realize that everyone had the same STD?”
“What? No. Do you have it?” Gabe shook his head and scowled at them as he realized he sounded like them.
Ingrid grinned and bumped fists with Emily as Gabe said, “I followed the email and the orders for the poisonous herbs.”
“Clever,” Ingrid said, slumping down next to Emily. “We followed the whore path. I feel dirty now. Both outside and inside. Aunt Hazel, fix me.”
One of the deputies was radioing for an ambulance and another had run out of the woods. She wanted to think it was for handcuffs, but considering the state of the moaning bag of a-holery, she thought it could be for something like a first-aid kit or whatnot.
“Well, being a murder suspect has added some spice to my year and my memoirs, should I ever write them,” Emily said with a yawn. Ingrid could read Emily like a book, so it was as clear as day how she was remembering the good times with dickhead and what could have been. Ingrid shot Aunt Hazel a look that turned her gaze to Emily’s solemn face.
Aunt Hazel muttered, “Please. Did you actually do a successful spell? Tell me that you did.” Her ire was directed at both of them and caught Emily’s attention.
“I told you I can set things on fire,” Ingrid said, defensively. “I’m super good at fire, high heels, acne, and coffee. I’m not sure why you guys even learn anything else. It’s true that we stole that truth spell. And we had to get you to cleanse Emily.”
“And the locator spell,” Emily added with a snort.
“Twice,” Aunt Hazel said. “For the police, too, when Gabe realized that you were gone. He was…displeased.”
“Whatever,” Ingrid said, “So beyond those things, I think it’s just about making your high heels comfortable. If we’re off the hook, I need to get dead Melinda gook off of me. My skin is crawling. Also I have poison ivy. Can you help? Please? Pretty please?”
Ingrid batted her lashes at Aunt Hazel, but the aunt shook her head dramatically and said, “I’ll send Autumn over with it. I need a break from you two. But you owe me.”
Emily winced for both of them at that announcement. “Um, we totally stole compulsion truth serum from her. She might not want to help us with our poison ivy.”
Hazel scowled at the junior witches, “Well, there’s karma for you.” Her eyes softened when she looked at Emily. “Good work, baby. I’m proud of you.”
Emily smiled. “Thanks.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, enough already. Maybe the whole coven needs a break from us.”
“Perfect,” Emily said. “We’ll do everyone a favor going to get pedis, buy rainbow wedges and bikinis, and going to St. Maartens.”
“Hey, Aunt Hazel,” Ingrid said suddenly. “How would you feel about having a massive SUV if I don’t have to get hexed, have poison ivy, and maybe a little pick-me-up? Oh and some more badass truth serum for Em. She’s addicted now.”
“Deal,” Hazel said instantly, before Ingrid could add anything else to the witch spell wish list.
•
Wednesday Night
Emily looked down at her buzzing phone skeptically. She knew it wasn’t going to be Melinda. She felt a tiny pang of guilt about ignoring Melinda’s attempts to
bond. Would the outcome have been different if she'd responded to Melinda’s earlier efforts to reach out? Eventually Emily dismissed that line of thinking. In all her inept witchiness, there was no way she could turn back the clock. This wasn’t Harry Potter Land.
And the woman had been sleeping with Emily’s husband. It didn't matter that they were separated. And who knew how long that had been going on. Knowing those two, they were banging in the bathroom after every Thanksgiving dinner. There wasn’t room for a lot of remorse. But still she felt the weight of it. Damn it.
No, she told herself, forget them both. Forget Owen and that huge mistake. Forget Melinda--she was just Owen-baggage. Focus on the good instead. Being back with family, being here with Ingrid, that haunted sad look having faded from her eyes.
Emily’s phone buzzed with an incoming text.
“Em, this is mom. Uncle Jonas finally passed. But he left you some money and a Camaro. You’ll have to come get it.”
She read the text then and her brows rose. Sweet. I mean...not sweet. But she barely knew Uncle Jonas and her memories of him were vague. But she’d totally inherited some stuff. She didn’t have to feel too bad about that right? The only reason she would be his heir was because the family had drizzled down to just a few of them on her dad’s side. But...maybe kinda sweet...after all...money was nice. And money that wasn't Ingrid's would be cool. Even if Ingrid had never minded sharing. And a inheriting a Camaro...Ingrid had given her Escalade to Aunt Hazel.
Okay, crass though it might be, a little inheritance was just the pickup Emily needed after murder, mayhem, and near death.
Plus the woods.
Emily turned her attention back to her computer. She was booking that vacation before anyone else could die and inconvenience her further. Her hand hovered over the mouse, trying to decide. St. Maarten or the Canary Islands?
The desire to go to the Canary Islands was 100 percent based off of the name and that the pictures she'd googled had very, very blue water. She hemmed and hawed and then closed her eyes and clicked.
Without even glancing at her computer, she shut the laptop and glanced around. As soon as she saw the bookshelf, she wanted to call Sam. But she didn't want to be creepy. Or awkward. She barely knew him. She could set something on fire again, but she didn’t want to be appear Basic Instinct crazy. First impressions were important.
Hmm.
Of course, the first impressions were over now. And being her crazy self is what had hooked Gabe like a gape-mouthed fish for Ingrid. They might not have officially hooked up yet, but Hotpants was intoxicated by Ingrid and all her whiffs of nonsense and idiocy and laziness and…was it her kindness? It didn't matter. What mattered is that Gabe like Ingrid for Ingrid.
Therefore, Em loved Gabe.
She drummed her fingers on the closed computer, trying to decide on her priorities.
Plan A: Scheme a way to seduce Sammy-boy. He was so too attractive to live apart from Emily. And, honestly, she was lonely. Plus there was all that aggression after all this Owen stupidity.
Plan B: Lay in the sun with Ingrid and drink until she forgot the Owen nonsense. Then she could make out with fireman Sam without any post-murder angst as soon as they got back.
Yep. Plan B. Vacation first. Then guilt-free kissing. Definitely the way to go.
•
Late Wednesday Night
Someone knocked on Ingrid’s door late that night. She didn’t need witchcraft to know it was Gabe. Emily had disappeared after they’d both used the potion for poison ivy. She’d been muttering about birds and blue water. Ingrid had taken several baths and burned all of her new jar of sage. The apartment smelled like smoke and something you might cook with sage. Ingrid couldn’t think of anything that you might cook with that devil’s spice, but that was probably because she never wanted to eat it or smell it again. She’d opened all of the windows and the door to the balcony, but a general fog of burning had lingered.
Still. She’d almost been murdered. She waited a minute before she asked through the door, “Gabe?”
“Yes,” he said. She waved her hand and it opened, slamming it onto the wall behind the door.
“Yes! Did you see that? I did it from over here.”
He pulled the door out of the wall where a large hole had been left by the handle slamming into the plaster.
“Super cool,” he said, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He pulled off his gun belt and left it on the table. He toed off his shoes and joined her in front of the fire she’d built to mask burnt herbs. It wasn’t working.
“What did you set on fire?”
“Sage. I was trying to cleanse my aura since the whole dead person, murder, thinking of hiring the evil coven, setting douchebag on fire thing, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t work.”
He pushed back her hair, and said, “I think you’ll be all right.”
He leaned slowly closer, nuzzling his nose against hers before placing a light kiss on her lips. He kissed her again, a little heavier. And then again heavier still.
Minutes later, they were laying near the fire, and she was laughing up at him.
He cleared his throat before he said, “I came for your statement.”
“My what?” She ran her toe over his leg and reached up to play with the badge on his chest.
“About the murder.”
“Do I have one?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against the long length of his, enjoying the feel of him laying on her and the way he made her feel small and beautiful.
He leaned down and ran his teeth along her jaw, nipping at her chin before standing up and pulling her to her feet. Once she was leaning against him, he replied, “Yes, you have a statement. Also, feed me.”
They crossed to the kitchen where she pulled out a stack of menus. “I have these. And random food items. But I don’t cook.”
Gabe kissed her brow before opening her fridge to find steaks, wine, and asparagus. She watched as he cooked them dinner, enjoying the way the caramelizing steak made the smell of sage fade, the way his butt in those jeans made her eyes linger, and the way that he walked around her kitchen, laughing at her random kitchen items. She didn’t have steak knives, but she did have a fondue pot. She didn’t have cheese, but she did have goat milk. She didn’t have steak sauce, but she did have fish sauce.
When he found the sifter, he laughed again, a great rolling laugh of relief that let her know how much the murder had been bothering him and how glad he was to have it over with.
“St. Maartens?” he asked as he cut their steaks into bite-sized pieces with a bread knife.
“For sure,” Ingrid said. “I need a tan, a margarita, and to float in warm waves. Also Emily needs a minute or some days or whatever.”
“You gonna find a hot, young island boy while you’re there?” He took a bite of the steak before feeding her another.
She mmm’d before she said, “You going to find a lonely housewife while I’m gone?”
He shook his head and set their plates on the bar, taking a seat next to her.
“Well, that’s a no, then. Probably I’ll just sleep and shop and get too much sun. Also drink slushy things, which I will then sleep off.”
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up to read a text from Emily.
“Oh, hey, Emily says I can have her new Camaro! Sweet.”
“What’s wrong with the Escalade?”
“It had dead people gook in it. It has to go. Plus I traded it to Hazel to avoid hexes and get some truth serum.”
He laughed again, another great rolling laugh that made her feel happy. And when the food was gone, the fire had burned out, and the moon had set, the warmth of him around her body kept her deliciously cozy even with all the windows open.
Click here to read Moonlight Murder the second book in the Inept Witches Mystery Series.
If you enjoyed this Inept Witches cozy mystery, please review Inconvenient Murder on Amazon and Goodreads.
Look
for the next book in Fall 2015!
Thanks for the many brave souls who helped us put this project together.
Beta Readers: Heidi Martin, Jessica Samuelsen, Gretchen Grey-Hatton, Summer Gillas.
Editor: C. Jane Reid
Moonlight Murder
Available for Pre-Order Now!
Emily and Ingrid are determined to master only enough magic to get by, but a moonlight ritual goes terribly wrong and they find themselves at the center of yet another murder on Sage Island. Caught in the crosshairs of Sheriff Gabe's investigation, Ingrid must discover if she can prove her innocence and still hang on to his affection. Meanwhile, Emily's relationship with Fireman Sam heats up, but she must focus on helping Ingrid clear her name and decide whether to murder the cute, but irritatingly dedicated Sheriff Hotpants with their burgeoning magical ability.
Amanda A. Allen is the author of These Lying Eyes, Song of Sorrow, Compelled by Love, and Bewildered by Love. She is part of the author groups behind Kendawyn Paranormal Regency and The Paradisi Chronicles.
Amanda A. Allen has been telling herself stories since she was a small child. Some of these stories are now in book form. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her three children, two dogs, and mounds of novels. She can be found at:
amandaaallen.com
Check out Amanda’s author page at Amazon for links to all of her titles. Her audio titles are available at Audible.
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