The Book Of Ill Deeds
Witches of Castle Falls, Book 1
Phaedra Weldon
Caldwell Press
For all the Mama D’s in my incredible family…
Summary
Ginger Blackstone had been looking for a change in her life. Getting a call from her home town’s Sheriff, then hearing him say, “We’ve arrested your grandmother for murder,” wasn’t it.
Three bodies later and Ginger finds herself, and the hot new small town doctor, up to their broomsticks in trouble. Ginger sets out to find the real killer before her missing sister’s name shows up on a list in The Book of Ill Deeds.
ONE
The cat and I regarded each other with matching green gazes until I pointed at it and said, “Mama Donahue’s not gonna like seeing a cat outside her house.”
“Meeoorrww?”
“I have no idea what that means.” I put my hands on my hips. “But she’s threatened to turn cats into mice.”
“Meeowr!”
“Yeah, I know. It’s shocking, isn’t it?” I nodded, resembling a bobble-head doll. Then I looked at the back door of my granny’s house and acknowledged my reflection in the glass of the door’s window. I’m talking to a cat.
But I was being honest with the cat. My granny was a rare bird. A witch who disliked cats. Delilah Donahue, affectionately known as Mama D in the small town of Castle Falls, South Carolina, was the owner of the town’s only flower and herbal shop, Lavendar, Rosemary, and Rhine.
Everyone in my family owned cats. Cats made the perfect familiars. Other animals could be claimed for service on special occasions—like Mama D’s familiar, Burt. But most witches around the world used cats.
Except for Mama D.
And me.
My name is Ginger Blackstone. My mother married a promising architect named Clyde Cornelius Blackstone. He wasn't a witch. Not a magical bone in his body. But he loved my mother, and he loved cats. And he was superb at building houses. In fact, he built Mama D's flower shop into the ground floor of the three-story house he built for her in town. The Victorian replica rested on the settlement site of the Donahue Clan. Parts of the house were original, which meant that sometimes visitors saw some of our ancestors floating about.
No cause for alarm. It happened mostly on Halloween.
I have two older siblings, my brother Kevin who is not a witch, and my sister Melody who is. Then there is Daphne, the sister after me, also a witch.
I left Castle Falls and the proud state of South Carolina after graduation. I became a Certified Public Accountant, made some money in California, married and quickly divorced when I realized not all non-magical men appreciated the blessing of marrying a witch.
That was a year ago. In the five years after leaving home at eighteen, I’d never found a familiar. None had ever presented themselves to me. It was just like that old saying, that when the student is ready, the teacher will come—only for us it’s when the witch is ready, the familiar will appear.
I practiced magic regularly. I knew all of my mother’s old spells—they came naturally to me. I could do basic stuff, like light a candle, or a fire, freeze water. But my passion was plants. I loved them. They took over my tiny apartment. Potted trees, bushes, flowers, hanging vines—they were everywhere.
Come to think of it, maybe it was a good idea I didn’t have a familiar. The neighbors already thought I was strange. A red-headed accountant with no husband and a place full of plants. Add a cat to that and…
No thanks.
So as a divorced—professional—I was home in my tiny apartment when the Sheriff of Castle Falls called and gave me some troublesome news.
"I hate to tell you, Ginger, but your grandmother's been arrested."
At first, I thought it was a joke. Sheriff William Danvers had gone to school with my mother and had a crush on her throughout the eleventh and twelve grades. She liked him because he made her laugh, but not for anything else. He knew about magic—everyone in Castle Falls knew about magic—but he had none. He respected my family, which is more I than I could say about some people in that small town.
"Ginger, you there?"
"I'm waiting for the punchline."
"This is no joke," Sheriff Danvers said. "She and some stranger got into it outside her shop. A few folks saw her chase him out of her place with a broom."
"Will, I'm still waiting on why you arrested my grandmother."
"She threatened to kill him if he ever came back. He turned up dead inside her shop the next morning.”
Wow. That was one hell of a punchline. I looked at my small apartment and winced at the sound of honking horns outside. It was five 'o'clock traffic on this side of the world and eight in Castle Falls. “Did you call Melody? Can’t she bail Mama D out?”
“Melody’s not picking up her phone and the store’s closed. Deputy Perrin said there’s a note on the door that says she’s on a retreat for spiritual cleansing.”
That sounded like my sister. And she did hate phones.
“Mama D said not to bother Kevin or Daphne so I called you.”
“Fine. I’ll be there tomorrow. Don't you do anything bad to my granny."
"Ginger, I wouldn't harm a hair on her head," he said, but I still caught the, "I don't wanna turn into a frog," under his breath.
I had just arrived in Castle Falls, having taken a taxi from the bus stop. I had my bags in hand at my grandmother's home. The house had held up over the years. It could use a fresh coat of paint and the yard needed a nice manicure. And what was up with the herb garden? That garden had been an eighth wonder of the world when I was young. But now it looked sad and neglected. Was Mama D letting it all go?
That's when I saw the cat. He was big, and black, and watching me from the backdoor stoop.
And here we were.
I leaned over and held out my hand. He lifted up on his back feet and head-bumped my palm. I gave him lots of scritches on the back of his neck and top of his head. I was pretty sure the neighbors could hear his purr. Motorboat.
“Well, I won’t let her turn you into anything, okay?”
"Meerooow."
That sounded like an OK. "And since she's in the pokey, let’s look inside and see if there's something I can feed you."
He followed me in—zooming between my ankles as I opened the door. Eh, I'd grab him later. If granny didn't want a cat in here, then she shouldn't get herself arrested. I took my suitcases inside and locked the door behind me. The back door came into a cozy living area that lead right into the best kitchen ever. My dad had always said the kitchen was the focal point of every family, and any gathering of friends. Kitchens should be homey, comfortable, and well equipped to handle anything. Mama D’s kitchen was the best.
Ivory tiled floor, marbled countertops, stainless steel sinks, gas appliances, all state-of-the art. Lots of windows with planters to bring the outside garden in—but the only thing in the planters was brown dried leaves. I put my hands on my hips as I looked around. The place was a mess. Pots and pans filled the sink and the counter. Empty cabinets and a sparse pantry alarmed me.
I marched from the kitchen back into the living room, noting the magazines and Styrofoam containers littering the couch, chairs, and a coffee table made of a section of an Oak tree. I walked back through the kitchen to the shop and opened the door—
And stopped before I stepped on the chalk outline of where the dead body had lain.
Gross.
My dad made sure the dark green tiled floor was easy to sweep and hose do
wn if needed. Fountains sat in the two corners of the front window. They were shut off. I wrinkled my nose at the slight icky smell of the stagnant green water. The place looked like it’d been raided. But I didn’t know if it was before the stranger died or after Mama D was carted off to jail.
The cat hoped up on the counter and meowed at me. I turned, sidestepped the outline, and looked at the register by the counter. I hit the proper key combination—unless Mama D changed it—and the bottom drawer popped out. “Well, little fellow, they didn’t steal money.”
“Meerowwwrrww.”
“Yes,” I agreed, though I had no idea what the kitty said. It was time I asked someone who might. “Burt? You in here?”
I listened. Nothing. Burt was always with granny, but I doubt he went with her to jail. “Burt?”
A rustling sound caused me and the cat to turn as something medium, black, and roundish came hurdling at us. I smirked and held up my hand, catching it like a baseball in a mitten.
The ball unfolded itself and looked up at me as its wings draped over my fingers.
Burt is a bat.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” the bat said in a tiny, nasal voice as it twitched its large ears. “It wasn’t me. It was that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The Hunter Guy.”
“Witch Hunter?”
“No, Familiar Hunter.”
I made a face at Burt. “You’re a claimed Familiar. There’s no need for a Familiar Hunter to come here.”
“Not after me,” Burt rolled and sort of half turned on his side in my palm. He somewhat resembled a pill bug sometimes. He pointed a wing at the cat on the counter. “Him.”
I turned to look at the cat sitting on the counter, watching us with bright green eyes. “He’s a familiar?”
“Yep.”
I looked at the chalk mark. “Is the dead guy the Familiar Hunter?”
“No. He was Max’s Witch. Max is the cat.”
“The guy Mama D’s in jail for killing is…was…a Witch?”
Burt arched a non-existent brow at me. “You’re catching on, fire-head.”
I tossed the bat into the air. Burt spread his wings and coasted to his perch. Mama D kept one of those parrot stands by the register for Burt to hang on. He remained upright for a few seconds, his back to me, then he rolled forward, like a gymnast on the horizontal bar until he hung upside down, now facing me. I liked Burt, but he was an odd duck.
“Can you help me catch on more, Burt?” I put a hand on the register near—Max. The cat looked at my hand and then put his paw on it and kept it there as he stared at me. There was something in that touch that made my arm tingle so I pulled it back. “Mama D threatened this guy?”
“No…” he sighed. “She threatened the Familiar Hunter. He came in a few days ago and got all up in Mama D’s face. He accused her of protecting a wanted Familiar….or something lie that.”
“What?”
“No idea. I was dozing. Until Mama D cracked some thunder on this guy’s butt and he left, threatening she would regret that.”
“She actually used lightning?” I lowered my chin to my chest. “She only uses that when she’s angry.”
“That’s why I remember it.” Burt sighed as he leaned his head to his right, cracking his neck. Then he leaned to his left and it cracked again. “Oh, that’s better.”
“So,” I looked at Max. He was staring at me. “Mama D didn’t threaten the dead guy. Why was a Familiar Hunter after this cat if he belonged to the Witch?”
“You’ll have to ask Max. And he’s not talking.”
Literally. I ran my fingers through my hair and it felt sticky. I wanted a shower after seven hours in coach and hours on a bus. Picking through the debris on the floor so I wouldn’t stumble, I found the phone near the register and called the Sheriff.
“You here, Ginger?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Is the house still a crime scene?”
“No. I released it yesterday.”
I smiled. “Then I’m at the house. And Burt says the dead guy wasn’t the one who got into the argument with Mama D.”
I listened to Sheriff Danvers clear his throat. “Burt? Oh Ginger, not you too.” Danvers couldn’t hear Burt because Burt didn’t want him too. The old bat thought it was funny. And it made Mama D look crazy since she insisted Burt could speak. “But, you’re right. We found witnesses who identified the body was not the man who argued with Mama D.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “Then why is my grandmother still in jail?”
There was a pause and then Danvers’ voice dropped to a whisper. “She won’t leave. Says she’s too scared to go back home and keeps insisting on cleaning. She’s used so much sage it’s giving everyone a headache.”
“She’s using sage?” I pursed my lips. Sage was an herb used in cleansing negativity, the smoke imparting wisdom and mental acuity. Mama D must really be upset if she’s using that in a police station. “Okay well, let me get a shower and clean up the chalk marks.”
“Hurry.” Danvers hung up.
I pursed my lips and looked around, then settled my gaze on the cat. “Max.”
His ears perked up.
“I’ll find you food before I clean up a bit.”
“Meerow…ewwrrrwww.”
“I have no idea what that meant. So, I’ll just pretend it’s an okay.” I stepped to the door and looked back at the shop. With my left hand in the air, I pointed at the ceiling and made three tiny circles deosil. “Thrice round the maypole go, the harried ghost of death did show, yet doust with green, sight unseen, doest thou best to maketh clean.”
Eh, it wasn’t one of my best, but it worked at home. I rarely used spoken spells.
Brooms and brushes floated out of the closet and attacked the broken pots, dead leaves, and cobwebs. The cat sat on the counter and watched, his ears flat and his eyes glowing a soft green. He seemed intent on watching the spell work. And as I watched…it seemed to me the spell was working better than it ever had before.
I found some cans of tuna packed in water and poured two of them into a bowl and filled the second bowl with tap water. I set them on the floor by the kitchen door where Max could find them—pretty sure his nose would lead him there—and rolled one of my suitcases up to the second-floor bathroom.
The bowls were empty when I came down the stairs, feeling very refreshed and not so grimy. A look in the shop and I clapped my hands like a cheerleader.
Broken pots were gone, the chalk a thing of the past, and the fountains bubbling away. The ivy I’d spotted dying in a pot by the front door now ran up the door’s side, then turned right and ran along the corner between the wall and the ceiling until it wrapped around a post by the register counter and Burt’s parrot stand. The floor gleamed and Max lay on his back on top of the counter, his front and back feet in the air, snoring.
I’d used that spell in my apartment for years and it had never down such a thorough job. I pursed my lips as I watched Max. Had his presence enhanced the spell? That’s what familiars did—helped focus and empower a witch’s magic. But that was for claimed familiars, wasn’t it?
And Max wasn’t mine.
“Well,” I said as I scratched the fur ballßß under his chin. “Mama D might not want you around but you can stay with me as long as you like.”
A bell interrupted the burbling fountains. I thought it was the shop door and glanced at it. Yet the door remained locked and still.
“Weird.”
“Mmm,” Burt said where he hung upside down. He didn’t make another comment.
Forty-five minutes had passed since I spoke to Danvers. Knowing Mama D was safe had quieted the urge to bring her home. In fact…I scooped up the cat and rested him over my shoulder. “I think we can do a little more cleaning before we pick up Mama D, right Max? I got three more cans of tuna if you’re up for it.”
“Meeoowrrr? Pffft.”
TWO
Dr. David
Flanagan pulled his mint green ’68 Impala into the parking lot of the Castle Falls Sheriff’s station. In the late morning a brisk wind moved the branches of the oak tree back and forth above the building. Leaves fluttered on their way to the ground. He was accustomed to September heat, not cold. In Atlanta, cold didn’t kick in until somewhere around January, and then it came in brief but intense moments.
He enjoyed the chill lingering in the air and inhaled deeply when he stepped out of his car.
Taking over Dr. Hanover’s private practice in the small town of Castle Falls had been a risky decision, but it was a needed one. For David’s wellbeing, and his future. His best friend Jason recommended he move to Castle Falls.
“For your sanity, David. And your safety.” He’d snapped his fingers. “In fact, I know for certain they’re looking for a new doctor.”
David had reacted with skepticism. “Right. You think a small town will accept a bloodsucker as a doctor? They will not be any more forgiving than the last hospital I worked for.”
“Castle Falls is…different. It has a thriving supernatural community. And don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Apply for the job. Take it. Relax. Start over. I’ll come visit when I feel it’s safe.”
That was a month ago. David had the job, enjoyed the slower lifestyle of Castle Falls, and liked the odd people he met now and then. Witches seemed to be the most common, a few shape-shifters here and there, like the Deputy, and there were the ghosts. A lot of ghosts. But those stuck close to the mediums. If anyone noticed his fangs or his pale skin and wondered how he moved in the daylight with no problem, they politely kept their questions to themselves.
The small hospital, Will Martin General Hospital, named after the founding brothers of the town, William and Martin Castle, was just as unique as its town. The board of directors loved the fact he was a vampire and hired him on the spot. It seemed Jason had been right. Not only did the town cater to the unique and unusual, but so did the hospital.
The Book Of Ill Deeds: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Witches Of Castle Falls 1) Page 1
