A Murder Most Rosy: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 3)

by Raven Snow

  I needed to get out of there.

  "You women," he said in disgust. "You always go for the macho cop type— the one that shoved kids like me into lockers."

  "We're awful that way." Or so I'd heard. Before Wyatt, I'd have never considered dating a former jock— mostly because I'd also been that kid stuck in the locker. But it hadn't always been the muscle heads doing the bullying. Children were less discriminating with their cruelty than adults.

  His eyes widened. "But not you, Harper. I knew the moment I met you that you were different."

  "Is that why you put a gris-gris bag under my pillow? Just like you did to Kara? That's not exactly "different" behavior."

  "I thought it would clear up her... doubts about me. Make her love me like she loved that dumb detective," he sneered. "But it was too strong. She... lost her way. With you, I was careful— not as strong a dose went into your gris-gris."

  ‘Lost her way’ was a polite way of saying she'd gone insane with the dosage of "love" he'd given her. It'd probably been doubly harmful when the subject already loved someone else. Really loved, though it killed me to admit someone could feel that way about that awful Kosher.

  "Did you push her off the balcony?"

  His expression became stricken. "Of course not! She jumped."

  "Because you wouldn't lift the spell. Even after you saw what it was doing to her."

  Another crack marred the wall. "I'd rather she be dead than with that man!"

  Someone started pounding on the door that I'd come through, and my stomach sunk. "Harper!" Wyatt's voice was like a shot to the heart, because Norbert's face transformed completely when he heard it. "Open this door!"

  "You're not leaving me for him," he told me, the calm before the storm. "I promised myself a long time ago I would never be alone again. You're mine."

  He picked up a tire iron from the floor, one of the many potentially dangerous items lying around. It took on a new aura in his hands, practically glowing and pulsing with intent.

  While he went for the tire iron, my hand twitched toward the gun strapped to my ankle, but he was too fast, and I abandoned that plan in lieu of the old standard by which I live: run.

  I sprinted toward the stairs, diving around him when he took a swing at me. Really, were all my romantic entangles doomed to end badly? I couldn’t catch a break with the men-folk.

  We were no longer playing nice, so I called behind me, “A tire iron? Seems a little hands-on for a man like you. Sure you don’t want to just magic me off that loft?”

  The stairs creaked and groaned under my weight, which I thought was a little excessive. A part of the roof directly above the stretch of second floor that hung out over the main factory floor had caved in, and I could see the sky. It was too far away from me to escape through, and it had let in rainwater sometime in the last week, making my path slippery and treacherous.

  I hit my first patch of sludge and almost slid clear off the side, which was not railed off. For a second, my foot was in open air, and I felt my body headed to join it. My heart jumped out of my chest, but I managed to catch myself before I went over.

  Norbert laughed, right on my heels as he stepped over the last stair. “I won’t have to use this tire iron, after all! You’re gonna fall right over. Just like Kara.”

  I hated it when bad guys were mouthy. That was my job.

  But, speaking of Kara, I’d forgotten to keep a weathered eye out for the undead teacher. Cold arms with strength like steel wrapped around me from behind. She lifted me from the ground, ignoring my kicks as if they were nothing, and held me in place.

  Norbert came over, raising his strip of metal over his head. “I’m really sorry it had to end like this. I thought you were special.” He was so sweet and earnest, it made my teeth ache.

  “I am special, you psycho,” I grit out, struggling against Kara like a madwoman. She was strong, but I was flexible and slippery.

  “Hold her still,” Norbert commanded, and the arms around me tightened, making breathing impossible.

  The tire iron came down at the same instant my head went back. My skull whacked into Kara’s with enough force to knock someone out— if they were alive. All it did was make her drop me, but it was a moment too late.

  Instead of the head blow he’d intended, the iron struck me directly on the collarbone, and a sickening crunch— like someone had stepped on a bag of crackers, but louder— echoed throughout the factory. My scream joined that sound a moment later.

  Pushing Kara away from me, I stumbled down the strip of balcony, holding onto my injury. My head was spinning, and the pain in my chest was so excruciating I could barely see through it. The world had been consumed by shades of lesser and greater pain with my collarbone at the center of it.

  Norbert came after me, looking concerned. “Now, if you hadn’t fought so much, you wouldn’t be in any pain right now.”

  I spat at him, calling him every name in the book— a book I’d practically written. In the background, I could hear Wyatt yelling and bludgeoning the door, trying to break it down. If I could’ve managed it, I would’ve told him not to bother. Magic couldn’t be broken by brute strength.

  The weapon was up over Norbert’s head again, gleaming in the florescent lights and ready for violence. He’d be on me any second, and I struggled to put my hands up to ward him off. They wouldn’t do much good against a tire iron.

  There are those moments in life that inexplicably slow down against your will. You see them in perfect, multifaceted vision and with surround sound. But you’re just helpless to watch as they pass you by— like you’re the supporting characters in a horrible play.

  Norbert’s foot slipped as he took his final step toward me. The mud and rainwater mixed under his boot to bring him down. Stumbling backwards, his eyes got real wide as the upper part of his body hung exposed over the side of the loft, feeling every inch of space between him and the floor.

  The next moment, he dropped like a stone over the side of the loft. Before I even realized I was moving, I was right on the edge, his hand clasped in mine.

  We both looked down to the sharp edges of broken, metal machines below. A body would break almost immediately once hitting those solid edges, crumpling like paper.

  Swinging his head back up, Norbert looked me in the eyes. I was sweating from struggling, trying to bring him back up, but he wasn’t helping. And I wasn’t known for my upper body strength.

  “Pull yourself up, idiot,” I growled.

  He smiled, his eyes slightly unfocused. “I knew you were special.”

  Then, he let go.

  “No!” I shouted, but it was already too late.

  His body hit the metal machines and shattered into a million pieces. I looked away, not wanting to see, but I’d already seen too much. A rush of power burst through the factory, wiping out the barriers that had kept Wyatt out and us in.

  The side door flew off its hinges, crashing to the floor much like Norbert had. Rushing in like a man possessed, Wyatt looked around for me. He raced up the stairs before I could warn him, but the sludge didn’t bother him. He was an athlete, unlike me.

  Unlike Norbert.

  The next thing I knew, he was kneeling next to me. I knew he saw Norbert— his cop eyes wouldn’t have missed that. But I was infinitely glad he hadn’t mentioned it. I’d wanted to put an end to all of this, had even thought about killing him, but knowing that I actually had…

  “Is it broken?” he asked softly, looking at my collarbone, but thankfully not touching it.

  “Very. At least we get to go see our friends at the hospital.”

  “Maybe we see them a little too much,” he said lightly.

  He pulled me gently to my feet, supporting a lot of my weight, so I didn’t have to move more than necessary. When he tried to direct me toward the stairs, I shook my head.

  Kara was right where we’d left her. Without Norbert to give her directions, she just stood there, suffering silently. Her eyes were wide when
they looked at me, but they didn’t truly see anything. She was just as dead as her master.

  The last thing I wanted to do was put my hands on her, but I couldn’t feel the magic that kept her upright as well if I wasn’t close. Besides, I told myself, she wasn’t a monster. She didn’t choose this. She was a victim.

  When I placed my hands on her shoulders, I could see the knot Grandma had been talking about. It was like a myriad of gossamer threads were looped around every part of her body, making her look almost luminous.

  With dread, I thought that this would take forever, but as soon as I started, the threads fell away like leaves off a tree in fall. She stood a second longer, not fighting, not doing anything, because there was no one around to tell her to. When the last thread hit the floor and disappeared, so did she.

  “I’m just gonna leave that out of the official report,” Wyatt said, helping me down the stairs and out to the car.

  “Probably a good idea. Even in Waresville.”

  Cooper was waiting for us in the back seat, peering curiously over the upholstery. When he saw us coming, he ducked his head down fast, leading me to believe that Wyatt had told him to stay hidden.

  Wyatt shot me a wry glance. “He used to be a lot better with directions.”

  “Glad I could contribute something to his upbringing.”

  Stopping us short of the car, he gazed at me seriously. “You contribute a whole lot. Don’t belittle that.”

  Chapter Seven

  They kept me overnight for observation. I was pretty sure that wasn’t the standard procedure for a broken bone, and I was more than sure that Wyatt had something to do with it. No complaints fell from my lips, though, because they gave me the good drugs.

  It wasn’t until the morning after, when we were driving away from my clinical home away from home, that I realized Cooper wasn’t with us.

  “Did we leave Cooper at that abandoned factory yesterday?”

  Wyatt’s lip twitched. “Still feeling the drugs?”

  “My tongue’s itchy.”

  “He spent the night with my mom— after going out to the movies with that Anna girl. She heard about his kidnapping.”

  I slapped my hand on the dash, grinning. “He got the girl! Reeled her right in with that old ‘almost died’ routine. Gets ‘em every time.”

  Contenting myself to stare out the window at the clouds, I noticed that we’d missed the turn off for the Victorian. “Lost?”

  “We’re headed to your grandma’s— Mom’ll drop off Cooper there. I promised her I’d finish mowing.”

  Just like that, the lovely haze I’d been stumbling through for the last twenty-four hours faded, leaving me cranky and apprehensive.

  By the time we pulled up to Grandma’s house, Cooper was waiting on the porch for us, sitting next to the head witch herself. He waved enthusiastically, a big grin on his face.

  Sprinting down the drive, he was at my door before I’d even had the chance to open it. “Miss Julia’s teaching me about curses.”

  I searched his eyes for any sign of distress, but he seemed happy enough. Kids were tough and adjusted well. Still, it probably hadn’t hit him yet. Confronting your own mortality can be hard— but I’d been getting loads of practice with it.

  While Grandma watched us mortals from her perch, Wyatt went to get the lawn mower, and Cooper and I dragged out a couple of lawn chairs.

  The sun was beating down, just like it had yesterday, but today, it felt right. When the storm passes, it should be sunny. I plopped down on the chair, rolling up my sleeves and my pants in the hope I could catch a little skin cancer while Wyatt worked.

  What a picture we made. Grandma was sulking in the shade, staring at Cooper with a grumpy intensity that I could only assume wasn't good for his health. I hoped he hadn't been sassing her— I'd never hear the end of that. She raked her fingernails over her infamous red robe, seemingly deep in thought. Or maybe she was silently cursing us all for coming over uninvited.

  Wyatt was sweating away, pushing an antique lawn mower that was probably as heavy as most cars. Tucking my chin, I eyed his muscles through the damp material of his shirt. He was a looker, all right. Maybe I'd keep him.

  And then there was Cooper and I: Two prima donnas getting their daily dose of vitamin D. My pale skin sizzled under the sun's tender rays. We'd both be lobsters tomorrow, but it was worth it because of the annoyed glances Wyatt kept shooting me.

  "You could help, you know," he said. "She's got more than one mower— for some reason."

  I pointed to my sling-covered arm. "I'm so faint and weak. Make the boy do something. Children shouldn't be idle."

  Something passed in front of my chair, blocking the sunlight. I opened my eyes to rib Wyatt about being in my way and almost choked on my own tongue when Gran’s face was only a foot or so from mine. Scrambling into a seated position, I shot Wyatt a glare at his chuckle.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “You’re right; children shouldn’t be idle.”

  “Twenty-seven years old, injured, and I’ve earned my rest.”

  She tossed a pair of burlap bags in my lap, and I almost jumped out of my skin in my effort to get away from them. Springing away from my chair, I brushed myself off vigorously.

  “If you wanted me to mow your lawn that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

  She snorted, picking up the bags and reaching out to give them to me. “No need for your dramatics. The spell on them is broken.”

  Gingerly taking them from her outstretched hand, I made a face. “Why can’t you just keep them, then?”

  An unfathomable look. “A witch needs to keep all parts of her close by.”

  “Guess I should call up my hair place to tell them I’ll be needing about a decade’s worth of clippings back.”

  She turned her attention to Wyatt, who was passing close by us. “Women weren’t so mouthy in my day. I don’t know how you put up with it.”

  “But now we’ve discovered fire, Gran,” I said. “And equality.”

  “There is no equality. Men continue to believe they rule the world, and women continue to let them think that.”

  A police car pulled up, interrupting our cozy family moment— or as cozy as it gets with Gran around. My lips curled back in a snarl when Kosher got out of the car, and I stomped over to Wyatt.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  He didn’t stop pushing the machine. “Be nice, Harper.”

  Kosher didn’t keep us in suspense long, walking right up to Wyatt and me after bidding my grandmother a polite hello. It did my heart good to see her give him her coldest, most indifferent stare.

  Handing a manila envelope to Wyatt, he said, “Copy of the official report. Figured you’d want it as soon as possible.” He then turned to me. “Did you push him?”

  His bluntness took me by surprise, and my stomach rebelled at the picture his words brought up. “No, he fell.”

  “Which was in my report,” Wyatt said, annoyed.

  Kosher raised a bushy eyebrow. “Because you didn’t leave a single detail out.”

  What do you know; the cop was capable of sarcasm.

  “Kara’s kids want to send you thank you notes— for the directing thing, you know,” he said, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Just send them to my new address.” I looped my good arm around Wyatt’s waist, pinching his butt just because I could. “His.”

  Kosher looked to Wyatt for conformation, like he couldn’t quite believe it. Which, frankly, was insulting. I was a catch, for crying out loud.

  Smiling like a sage with endless patience, Wyatt nodded. Copying my move, his arm wrapped around me, getting me all sweaty. I found that I didn’t mind in the least.

  “You’re an idiot,” Kosher said.

  I waved and made faces at him as he drove away— all where Wyatt could see. Kosher mouthed some very unflattering things and gave me the one fingered salute. I considered doing double what he did, but I remembered Cooper was right there.

/>   Next time.

  Wyatt drew me closer, and I breathed in his minty scent. The man didn’t even smell bad while doing manual labor. That’d certainly make living together easier.

  His smile stole the air from my lungs. I went in to kiss him, but he pulled back, not making it that easy for me.

  A single eyebrow went up. “Moving in, are you?”

  “I’m taking pity. So you can stop begging and pleading at my feet−“

  He kissed me then, his mouth soft on mine. Cooper made “yuck” noises in the background, while Grandma tried to shush him. In Waresville, this was about as picturesque as it got.

  Authors Note

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  Books by Raven Snow

  Harper "Foxxy" Beck Series

  Roller Rink Witchcraft (Book 1)

  Shake Your Green Thing (Book 2)

  A Murder Most Rosy (Book 3)