The Book Of Ill Deeds: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Witches Of Castle Falls 1)

by Phaedra Weldon

  “Not really. Something wrong?”

  She brought in a plastic bag and a manila envelope. “I’ve got an emergency that just came in upstairs so you get to take this stuff to Danvers. These are Willmington’s things. I don’t want to lose any of it so I’ll pass it on to you.” She grabbed a pen from a nearby desk and handed it to him. He signed the bag after her signature and she waved at him on her way out.

  David looked at the typed list of items inside the bag, visible through the plastic. Wallet, driver’s license, three-hundred dollars cash, three credit cards, six business cards (self), one business card for Melody Blackstone—

  Wait.

  Wasn’t that Ginger’s sister?

  He moved the contents around through the plastic until he found a powder blue business card. It had Melody’s name on it, under the title Past & Future, Antiques.

  An idea came to him. It was risky and a little out of his comfort zone as he’d learned to play things safe in the past decade. He had his secretary reschedule his appointments, and if they didn’t want to reschedule, she could refer them to Dr. Breem. He removed his white coat, put on his jacket and headed out the door.

  Past & Future, Antiques was on the other side of town, close to the library. It was a converted Victorian style home, very similar to Mama D’s house, which he’d admired the moment he saw it. And he admired this one as well. He pulled up into the empty parking lot and shut the engine off. Another call to Ginger and another message. Worry nagged him and he had an internal fight with himself whether to go look for her or check on the sister’s store.

  The wind kicked around him as he walked up the steps. The name of the place was burned into a decorative piece of wood and hung from a flat piece of iron bolted to the siding. It moved back and forth with an ominous creaking noise with the wind. He checked the door and it was locked, as it should be if Melody Blackstone wasn’t in. The building was public, at least at this entrance and exit, so he had access to the place. That meant he could hear heartbeats inside.

  He closed his eyes and listened.

  Silence.

  Sort of.

  There was something in there. But he couldn’t tell if it was present, or residual. He looked around him at the road to see if anyone passing by was looking and put his hand on the door. A quick push and the door unlocked for him. Sometimes being a creature of the night had its perks. Another glance around and he ducked inside.

  Sandalwood assaulted his senses. The place was dark but he could see as if it were daylight. And what he saw disturbed him.

  The place was in shambles. Tables, dressers, armoires, chairs, everything looked as if it’d been tossed around. He spotted a shattered mirror behind a dresser. The Persian and Asian rugs covering the hard wood floor were buckled and bunched in places, tossed up at corners as if someone had been looking under them.

  David headed to a large glass case that also doubled as a place for the register. The glass was smashed and whatever had been inside was long gone.

  The register was probably the most modern thing in the store, and it looked several decades old. It hadn’t been touched. When he neared it he knew why. Someone had a nice protection spell surrounding it. It affected him with an overwhelming feeling of dread if he stepped too close.

  David walked behind the counter and spotted a door to the left with a painting of a fortune teller hanging over the frame. He peeked inside, making sure to turn the knob with a handkerchief in his hand, and saw a table with a purple cover, a crystal ball, an acoustic guitar in the corner, about a dozen Tiffany lamps with various colored scarves on them and a wall decorated with tambourines.

  Asian and Persian rugs covered the concrete floor.

  Huh, Stevie Nicks fan. It wasn’t until he turned to leave he saw the Stevie Nicks standee in the corner. He figured Circa 1980 or so. It was a cutout of her picture on the Bella Donna Album.

  Nothing in this room had been touched.

  A sharp noise startled David. He stepped back out and scanned the entire store. Nothing on the lower level, but there was something above him. Something he couldn’t see. He checked two more doors. A break room with a kitchenette and a table and a closet with cleaning supplies. All untouched. Behind the last door was a set of steps.

  And at the top was an outside door with a door knocker on it. Did Melody live up there? He raced up the steps and reached out for the doorknob—

  And was instantly repelled backward. He caught himself before he fell all the way back down and sighed. The private residence of a witch. He didn’t have access to it. Which meant he couldn’t hear anyone inside. Human homes he could listen into, but not those sealed with magic. And Melody Blackstone had this one double sealed. There was something in there she wanted to protect.

  Or something in there she didn’t want getting out.

  Either way, David believed it would be a good idea to get in there and Ginger was the only one who could.

  Unless…

  Moving down the steps, David called Lavender, Rosemary, and Rhine.

  “We’re closed for business until they find the killer,” Mama D answered the phone.

  “That’s really not a good way to reassure your clients,” David smiled as he spoke. “Good afternoon, Mama D.”

  “Hello, bloodsucker. Where’s my granddaughter?”

  His chest ached. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  There was a pause. “She’s not with you? She said she would grab groceries. I figured when she didn’t come back right away she was with you.”

  “No. I had the autopsy to do.”

  Mama D sighed. “Lemme guess. Stopped breathing?”

  “Yes ma’am. But no idea how.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s magic. Bad magic.”

  “Mama D, I’m at Melody’s place. It’s been torn apart and there’s no sign of her.”

  “What do you mean torn apart?”

  “I mean someone came through here and broke things, the counter’s bashed in and there are broken pieces of furniture.”

  “I’m calling Danvers—”

  “Not just yet,” David looked at the steps and licked his lips. “There’s a room at the top of a set of stairs. Do you know what’s there?”

  “It’s the apartment we made for Melody. I’m not sure how often she stays in it, but it’s hers. Oh…you can’t go in it, can you?”

  “No. That’s why I was looking for Ginger. To see if she can.”

  “I can. I’ll be right over.” Mama D disconnected.

  David tried Ginger again, and again it went straight to voicemail. Again he was torn with waiting on Mama D and looking for Ginger. He didn’t know if the intruder was still there, hiding upstairs in the apartment and he didn’t want Mama D coming in by herself. Though he was pretty sure the woman could take care of herself.

  “Come on, Ginger, where are you?” he said aloud.

  David heard the faint beat of a heart and stepped back into the main room, behind the register. His preternatural vision searched the room just as a movement to his left preceded the sound of a gunshot.

  Castle Lake Bed & Breakfast was actually one of the oldest landmarks of Castle Falls. It was owned by the family who founded the Falls back in 1840. Edward Castle discovered the Falls while exploring the hundred acres of land he’d inherited from a former business partner. Edward William Castle was a lawyer in his youth, then got into real estate when he moved from New York to South Carolina.

  The falls are a mile from the lake and are a tourist attraction all year round. Lots of big houses lined the property around the lake, especially the side closest to the town of Castle Falls. Will, along with his brother Martin, made sure the land closest to the falls was protected so no residential properties could be built there.

  The bed-and-breakfast was as close as it could be to the lake and the falls. The three-story building, once the two-story Castle Founders Lodge, had two wings with cozy rooms, and every one of them had a fireplace, a Jacuzzi and a vi
ew of the lake. Castle made sure when he renovated that he put the hallways leading to the rooms on the farthest side.

  The main building—William Castle’s main residence when he was alive—had the office, the dining area, a tea-room, gift store, gym, and sauna. A rectangular pool faced the lake as well, accessible only through the gym. A high white iron fence surrounded it but didn’t obstruct the view.

  I’d only stayed in the bed-and-breakfast once. Senior Prom. Me and some friends rented a room and went skinny dipping in the lake at four in the morning. What I remember most about that night was the case of flu that put at least three of us in bed for a week and a half afterward.

  Me included.

  I waved at the people behind the counter, holding up a key. They waved at me and went back to what they were doing. I found the room and let myself and Max inside.

  “No one’s been here,” Max said as he jumped on the large, four-poster bed. The bed looked as if it’d never been disturbed, except by one lazy kitty.

  “Do you remember Hardin hiding anything in here?” I asked this because the moment I walked in I felt…something. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “He kept a few things in his lockbox.”

  “Longbox.” I pivoted around to face the now lounging cat. “Where did he put that?”

  “Go to where you feel the coldest, close your eyes, reach out with your hands. You’ll find it.”

  That made absolutely no sense to me. “Max—”

  “Just do it. I’m getting hungry and if you want to stop by your sister’s, I’m gonna need a snack. Maybe a hamburger?”

  Making a face at my new little buddy, I moved around the room, paying close attention to the temperature. A few steps to the right, then the left, no back a step to the right. I closed my eyes to get a better feel of thing and abruptly smacked my nose into something hard, solid and cold.

  “Bingo.”

  I opened my eyes. “Oh!” Floating in front of me was a lockbox, just like Max said it would be. I reached up and grabbed it and it released into my hands. My fingers tingled and the thing was ice cold. So I quickly carried it to the bed and dropped it beside Max. “That…isn’t something you see every day. I was thinking of a lockbox you hide inside of something.”

  “Same principle, but you hide in the air. It’s a simple spell. I can teach it to you…” he tilted his head up at me. “Once you make me your familiar.”

  “Good to know,” I tried to open it. “I need a key.”

  “You just need me.” He put his paw on the top. There was a click. The lid popped open. “I’m the key.”

  “So if anyone else found it—”

  “They would never get it open.”

  I stared at Max. “I’m surprised you didn’t hold this box ransom. Like, tell me to make you my familiar or you won’t open it.”

  Max smacked his paw to his face. “D’oh!”

  I smirked at him with a raised brow before I opened the box. Inside I found a leather-bound journal, several sticks of incense, a wand made out of what looked like oak, several crystals, a deck of antique tarot cards—

  Wow. Those were old cards. The box containing them was yellowed and aged, but the art deco image of the Priestess on the outside was unmistakable.

  I picked up the cards and turned them over. On the back was a Past & Future, Antiques sticker. He’d gotten these at my sister’s store!

  Wait…I thought my sister was out of town. “Max, when did Hardin get these?” I held up the cards.

  “I don’t know. Friday. Maybe Saturday, I think. The receipt should still be in the box.”

  I looked. No receipt.

  I picked up the leather-bound journal and knew instantly this was Hardin’s Book of Shadows. Most witches kept them. They really weren’t all that mysterious. Just a notebook to make notes, write down potions, spells, herbs. That’s what I used mine for. Only my BOS was a black college-ruled notebook I kept in my suitcase. Nothing this fancy.

  These kinds of books were also diaries in a way. They were the personal property of the witch who made them. And the traditional thing to do with this book would be to bury it or cremate it with the body. “This should be with Hardin.”

  “You’re not going to read it?”

  “Nope. That would be rude.” I put it back in. “There’s no Castamundus in here.”

  “I don’t think Hardin found it. If he did, he didn’t tell me.”

  I sat on the bed and closed the box. “Max, why did Hardin want that book? Did he plan on getting money for it?”

  Max crouched down. “You really wanna know?”

  “Yeah. I think I need to know. People who know about this book are dying. That could mean me or Mama D or David—”

  “I don’t think the vamp’s got anything to worry about. You know, that whole undead thing.”

  “Vamps can still die, Max. So just tell me?”

  Max pulled himself up and faced the fireplace. A fire crackled to life and I jumped a little. “You know what the book is, right? It records the ill deeds of creatures like us. You and me and David.”

  “Yeah. Why did Hardin want it so bad? Was his name it it? Did he want to erase it?”

  “No.” Max looked at me. “His name isn’t in it. But mine is.”

  ELEVEN

  I—

  I wasn’t prepared to hear that confession out of a smallish black cat. Especially not so soon after Mama D’s confession about why she mistrusts cats. And I would be lying if my mind didn’t automatically start asking: is this the cat who killed my parents?

  I’m assuming the expression on my face said a lot because Max sat back on his hind legs like a prairie dog and held up his front paws. “Whoa—what is wrong? What are you thinking? The only thing I’m guilty of is being bonded to a whack job.”

  I blinked. And blinked again and realized I’d moved away from Max and had my back pressed up against the headboard of the bed. And I was tense. Really tense. “Sorry. I wasn’t prepared for that.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” Max said, still sitting up on his hind legs. “I’ve had bad reactions before, but if you’d wanted to zap me, I’d be roadkill.”

  I started to say something—you know, ask if he was the one who killed the Blackstones all those years ago. But I didn’t know how to do that. I mean…hello? I fed you tuna so now you can tell me if you’re an evil cat? But then, Mama D said that cat belonged to a crazy man who was in love with my mother. Given Hardin’s age, there was no way this was the same witch and cat combo.

  “Ginger?”

  I licked my lips. “Okay. I’ll give this a try,” I took in a deep breath and told him what my granny had told me, about the witch and his crush and how he killed them years later.

  And when I finished, Max put his front paws back down and eyed me with those incredible green eyes of his. “You’re right, that wasn’t me. I’ve only had two witches in my life. Heather, and her brother, Hardin. And Hardin really doesn’t count since we never officially bonded.”

  I turned my head and looked at him sideways. “Wot?”

  “See,” Max sighed. “There’s a whole history and wonderment to being a familiar. And it’s something witches learn when they bond with their first.”

  “But I’ve never bonded with—”

  “I know,” he interrupted and his ears flicked back and forth. “And when you are, whether that’s with me—though I think that idea is moot at this point—or with another, they will tell you that history. And its rules. But I can tell you what happened….to me.” He sat up straight and tall and his tail fuzzed out behind him in an S curve, like the handle of a teapot. “I was Heather Manchester’s familiar first. Hardin’s sister. She was younger and manifested her magic a lot later than Hardin. She was in her mid-teens. At first everything seemed fine with Heather. She excelled at her basics, harnessing the elements. And she had a sharp affinity for fire.

  “When she was eighteen, she let her emotions get the better of her and u
nleashed fire on someone in her freshman year of college. Hurt them pretty bad. But because no one but the victim saw Heather do it, and no Cowen would believe someone could just produce fire out of their hands, there were never charges filed against Heather. The student later died when she committed suicide because of her disfigurement.”

  Oh no!

  “That alarmed me because Hardin was my up-line to the Witch Elders. I reported to him what happened.”

  “And Hardin didn’t send the report?”

  “No. Only I didn’t know it at the time. He just said he’d take care of it when I told him Heather really did set that woman on fire.” Max licked his lips. “Those kinds of things started happening more frequent. And she started carrying me with her everywhere she went because when I was nearby, her power was magnified. She set a house on fire. The apartment building of someone who frowned at her on the subway and then burned down half of a park. In each of those instances, no one was killed.”

  “Didn’t Hardin realize by that time that something was wrong with his sister?”

  “He did, but he didn’t want to admit it. I finally told him if he didn’t do something I was going to the Elders on my own. So he prepared a binding ritual—figured if he could bind her powers then he could help her without the Elders getting involved.”

  I put my hand on my face. I knew this was not going to end well.

  “He bought an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. Set up the binding around the house and convinced his sister he had found the perfect place for them to start a group. She believed him until we stepped into the house.” Max shuddered. “And that’s when the fireworks began. She tried to kill him that night, Ginger. And I was powerless to stop her from using me. Hardin was singed pretty bad a few times, and I was so scared she would kill him that I attacked…Heather.”

  My eyes were probably the size of goose eggs. Familiars did not…were not allowed…to attack their witches! “Max—”

  “I couldn’t let her keep doing that, Ginger.” He was on all fours and moved toward me. I didn’t flinch. His voice was so filled with passion. “I couldn’t risk Hardin’s life because his sister was a psychopath.” He sat down again. “I was able to make her trip, and she hit her head. He finally contacted the Elders, and they came and took the two of us away.”