Nefarious Nine: A Cozy Mystery (Teas and Temptations Book 9)

by Cindy Stark

  Her request sent Hazel’s mind swirling, searching for all possible outcomes if she agreed to talk. She couldn’t help but think fanning the flames would not be in her best interest. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”

  Gracie held up a hand and exhaled another breath. “Please consider it. From what I understand, you intend to stay in Stonebridge.”

  Hazel nodded.

  “Then this is the perfect way to let people know they have nothing to fear from you.”

  Gracie drew her brows inward. “We don’t, right? Have anything to fear?”

  The absurdity of her question caused Hazel to chuckle. “Of course not. I’m just a regular person.”

  The reporter’s green eyes flashed with interest. “With a few special abilities, of course.”

  Abilities that Hazel didn’t want to appear freakish. “Yes, but really, it’s no different than say…someone with a gun. One could say that owning a gun gives someone special abilities, and a pistol can kill a person flat out. Yet, we don’t persecute those who keep weapons and use them responsibly. Only a crazy few wield their power in horrendous ways.”

  The moment she finished, Hazel realized her mistake. Comparing her powers to a gun might not have been the best example.

  Gracie nodded continuously and reached into her purse. She pulled out a phone and tapped the screen. “That’s a fantastic way to put it. Okay if I record this?”

  Hazel’s defenses reared again, and she eyed the phone warily. “It might be best if I stay on the down-low for a while. Let people get used to the idea of having a witch in town.”

  The over-enthusiastic reporter shook her head. “I disagree. You are the top story right now. If you don’t have your say and let people know how things really are, they might jump to the wrong conclusions. Most people in town know you as the friendly teashop owner. We need to keep that at the forefront of their minds. If you don’t talk, then folks will think you have something to hide. I say it’s best to get everything out in the open.”

  The woman had a point, and Hazel had decided she wouldn’t hide.

  She ran through her list of objections again, most of which were fueled by fear.

  Then again, she’d never been one to let her fears hold her back. Plus, the interview would serve to further her attempts to bring the town together.

  She prayed she wasn’t wrong. “Okay. When would you like to do it?”

  Gracie encompassed their surroundings with a sweep of her hand. “Here. Now. I have the time if you do. It’s only mildly chilly, and the interview shouldn’t take long.”

  Hazel hesitated. Gracie had put her on the spot, and she knew from experience that decisions she made on the fly weren’t always her best ones.

  Gracie nodded toward the building next to them. “We could go inside the police station or back to Cora’s. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

  She didn’t want to explain her decision or discuss options with Peter or Cora. She also didn’t want bystanders in the café, especially Quentin, to overhear their conversation and perhaps make a scene or try to contradict her.

  Hazel shifted her stance and considered the boxed lunches she held. They would keep for a few more minutes. “Here and now will be fine.”

  Gracie’s lips parted in a wide smile. “Perfect. Let’s sit on the bench over there.”

  Hazel’s insides churned as they strode the few steps to the wooden bench and sat. This had the potential to be a very good thing. And really, the whole town knew she was a witch by now. It wasn’t as if she could make things worse in that aspect.

  The reporter tapped her phone to turn on the recorder and focused on Hazel. “Tell me, Hazel. How long have you been a witch?”

  The question surprised her, and she realized that many people probably had no clue what a real witch was. “Umm…actually, I was born a witch. My lineage runs back to the original, persecuted witches who inhabited Stonebridge three hundred years ago.”

  Gracie’s jaw dropped, leaving her mouth in an oval shape. “Is that so? Wow. I… That’s incredible. So, you’ve always known you were a witch.”

  Hazel graced her with a gentle smile. “I have, yes. But being a witch may not be exactly what you or your readers might think.”

  Gracie nodded. “Tell me more.”

  Now was her chance to teach the world.

  Or at least her hometown.

  “Having witch in your blood gives you a natural affiliation with the elements. You know, earth, air, wind, and fire. Most witches I know use these elements to enhance life. We don’t go around cursing or hexing people. For the most part, we’re a spiritual group, which might surprise many. We’re at our happiest when we’re in tune with Mother Nature.”

  “So, you can’t turn anyone into a zombie.”

  Hazel shook her head and then hoped she was right. There was so much she still didn’t know. Thank you very much, Mother. “No, we don’t do that.”

  Gracie searched the heavens and then met her gaze again. “I remember seeing a love potion tea in your shop. Do love potions really work?”

  Hazel held up a hand. “First of all, I sell no tea in my shop that contains any kind of magic. They’re all made from good, old-fashioned herbs, spices and flowers.”

  She imagined it wouldn’t serve her best interests or anyone else’s at this point to fess up about the balm she’d created for the bee-stung town residents…or the few times she’d added a little something to her customers’ delivered tea to help them sleep during grief-stricken times.

  “Then you’re saying love potions aren’t real.”

  Hazel tilted her head from side to side, indicating Gracie wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t necessarily right, either. “There are…some combinations of herbs that might make a person like another better. Not all that different from alcohol or aphrodisiacs. But for them to work, there has to be some attraction from both parties.”

  She paused, wondering if she should mention a sacrifice would also be required. Then decided against it. “It’s not like I could seduce someone’s husband and steal him away.”

  Gracie chuckled. “Unless he wanted to be, right?”

  Hazel sensed they’d entered dangerous territory and shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’m very happily married to my new husband.”

  Gracie held the phone closer to Hazel. “That would be our very own police chief, Peter Parrish, correct?”

  She hated to bring Peter into this, but she supposed he was committed now as well. “Yes. He’s a very strong supporter of this town and cares deeply about the community.”

  “How long has he known you were a witch? Was he okay with it at first? Tell us about his reaction to the news.”

  Hazel placed her fingertips on the woman’s forearm. “We’re getting into personal territory now that I’m not comfortable talking about without my husband present. Most couples don’t want to share all their secrets with the world, right? We’re no different.”

  Gracie giggled. “Well played, Mrs. Parrish.”

  She breathed a tiny sigh of relief for artfully dodging that question.

  The reporter schooled her features into a serious look. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us about you or about witches?”

  Hazel thanked the stars for that question. “I’d like people to know that I’m still the same Hazel they’ve always known. I came to Stonebridge nearly a year ago wanting to learn more about my heritage. I fell in love with this place and the people who live here.”

  She inhaled a deep breath before she continued. “Yes, there’s been some…animosity toward people of my kind, and I’m sure some will feel betrayed that I wasn’t truthful at first about my background. But, quite honestly, I expect if most people understood witchcraft and the people who use it, they wouldn’t feel threatened or feel the need to send us packing.”

  “Us?” she asked with wide eyes. “Are there others, then?”

  Son of a crunchy biscuit.

  She could not answer that h
onestly without putting her friends and fellow coven members at risk. “I bet that most people whose families were originally from Stonebridge could trace their heritage back and find a witch or two in their family trees somewhere.”

  Gracie nodded with appreciation. “That sounds very interesting, Hazel. I’ll guess that after this report goes out, quite a few of us will be conducting that exact search.”

  “I hope so. If people use their common sense, they’ll realize there is no reason we can’t continue to be an amazing community and no reason the ugliness of the past should continue today. I’d like to think we’re better than that.”

  Gracie grinned. “I would agree.”

  Hazel lifted the sack that held Peter’s and her sandwiches and stood. “I really do need to go, though. The chief is waiting. But thank you for this opportunity, Gracie. I do appreciate it.”

  Gracie stood and tapped off her recorder. Hazel sensed that she still had a great many questions, but she’d given her enough for now.

  “No. Thank you, Hazel. I believe this will give residents a lot to think about in the coming days. With any luck, they’ll see reason and let go of all this nonsense that’s gone on for far too long.”

  The reporter’s support meant everything to Hazel. She truly wasn’t in this alone. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Gracie. Thank you. I’ll be watching for the article.”

  Gracie stuffed the phone back into her purse. “Should be out in tomorrow’s edition if I hurry. Thank you again.”

  Hazel accepted her parting goodbye, headed toward the police station, and pulled open the door. Fear of future regret for talking to Gracie crept in, and she swatted at it like she’d done with the cursed angry bees who’d attacked last summer, hoping her interview wouldn’t come back to sting her a thousand times over.

  Margaret glanced up and widened her eyes as though surprised to see Hazel. Before Hazel could blink, Margaret’s features quickly morphed into a happy expression.

  Peter’s administrative assistant stood and walked toward Hazel with her hands out. She wore her hair piled high on her head. A sleeveless black sheath dress hugged her curves, and she’d draped rows of pearls around her neck with a glittering broach in the middle of them.

  Hazel grinned. “Let me guess… Audrey Hepburn.”

  Margaret’s smile brightened even more, and she wrapped Hazel in a fierce hug. “This is why I love you,” she said with a laugh.

  She pulled back and searched Hazel’s face. “How are you? I’ve asked Peter several times, but you know how guys are. All I get is a ‘she’s fine’.”

  Hazel knew exactly how that went. “I am fine, all things considered.”

  Margaret snorted. “That’s saying something since there are a lot of things to consider.”

  She was correct on that point. Thankfully, she felt nothing but love and compassion from Margaret. “So, you’re okay that I’m a witch?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Hazel. Did you think I didn’t have that figured out from the moment I walked in on you and Peter trying to wrangle Glenys Everwood under control? You’d stuffed paper in her mouth, and Peter had asked for tape instead of his gun. Not to mention, Glenys was never processed through normal channels, but instead taken away by some fierce-looking men.”

  Hazel shivered at the thought of the witches’ version of police. “You never said anything afterward. I figured you’d assumed Glenys might be a witch, but you never acted any differently around me.”

  She shrugged. “Why would I? You’re my friend, and I love you.”

  Warmth infused Hazel and added to the hope Beatrice had gifted her with earlier. “Thank you, Margaret. Your words mean the world to me.”

  Margaret blushed. “Yeah, well, I kind of like having a witch for a friend. If I ever need a hex, I know who to call.”

  Hazel chuckled. “I try to steer clear of hexes and other black magic.”

  Though she’d dipped into it more lately than she cared to admit.

  Margaret waved away her comment and gestured toward the chief’s door. “Don’t keep the man waiting for his lunch. He’s much more pleasant to be around after he’s fed.”

  Hazel nodded in agreement and walked hesitantly toward Peter’s office.

  Seven

  Hazel stopped in the doorway of Peter’s office and braced for his anger.

  He glanced up. A quick smile crossed his lips, but that expression immediately deepened into a frown.

  He stood abruptly. His chair slid back and crashed into the credenza behind him.

  Hazel blinked. She’d known she’d take heat for her choice to leave the house, but she hated it when they were at odds. “Hi, Peter.”

  Powerful anger, clearly fueled by his fear, filled the room. “Hazel. Why are you here?”

  He strode from behind his desk until he was close enough to take her by the shoulders. Dark, angry eyes bored into hers. “You’re supposed to be home where you’re safe. I left Menendez there to watch you while I’m away, and I expected you to stay put.”

  Hazel fought to keep frustration from coloring her words. “Peter, let me explain.”

  He tugged her inside his office and closed the door behind them. “There’s nothing you can explain. Either you kept your promise, or you didn’t. Either you’re safe, or you’re not. I can’t do my job here if I’m constantly worried about you.”

  She pushed past him and set their lunches on his desk and then turned to him. “I understand that Peter. This morning when we talked, staying in the house for the day seemed like the best option to me as well. I was more than ready to keep busy for a couple of hours. I pulled out the special items intending to study them and then tuck them safely away.”

  “But you changed your mind without letting me know.”

  She held up a hand. “With good reason. Peter, the diary and the spell book have been bewitched, and I can no longer read them.”

  Her declaration seemed to stun Peter, and some of his fear morphed into concern. “What do you mean you can’t read them?”

  “I mean, they appear to be written in a different language now. I can’t decipher any of it.”

  He cursed under his breath. “What about Timothy’s notebook?”

  She dropped her shoulders and tried to relax. “Can we sit? Maybe discuss this over lunch? I brought sandwiches from Cora’s.”

  He narrowed his gaze, seeming to remember some of his earlier ire. She was sure he would disagree, but then he softened and nodded toward his desk. “Don’t think you can buy my forgiveness with one of Cora’s roast beef sandwiches.”

  She did her best to quell a small grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She took a seat opposite him and slid one of the box lunches across the desk. She knew her man well enough to know that she could reason with him better if his stomach wasn’t empty.

  Hazel opened her box and removed the sandwich and potato chips before she continued. “Timothy’s notebook is fine. I’m not sure why it wasn’t changed as well. Maybe because it was written recently. Or maybe at some point the diary and the spell book had been cursed, but someone had managed to break the curse. Maybe that curse has taken effect again. I really don’t know.”

  “Or maybe Timothy hexed them to change if anyone removed them from the library.”

  She grimaced and conceded his point with a nod.

  Peter bit into his sandwich and chewed. He swallowed and met her gaze again. “None of this explains why it was okay for you to leave the house after we agreed you would stay home and be safe.”

  Sometimes, she was the worst partner. “You’re right, but I did ask Officer Menendez to drive me. And we both agreed that we can’t bring the town together, make them understand and accept witches, if I’m hiding behind closed doors, Peter.”

  “We also agreed you’d wait until we had a plan.”

  “That was when you were only going to be gone two hours. Listen, I was careful coming here. In my heart, I know that I must trust…we mus
t trust that if I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, everything will work out.”

  Peter regarded her for a long moment. “This prophecy states that you can bring the town together again, but does it guarantee that you will be alive at the end of it?”

  Hazel hated to face the question that had been hovering at the back of her mind for months. She met his gaze head on. “No. But I would like to think that is so. I believe that with your love and help, and with my knowledge and the support from my witch friends, that this will all work out in the end.”

  He stared at her but didn’t speak.

  She could tell from his expression and from the emotions affecting his aura that he was conflicted. She ached to ease his fears, but that was hard when she felt the same. “All I know is that I have the power to change this town for good, but I need you to do it with me. If you can’t be okay with that, then none of this will work.”

  He shook his head, and his gaze darkened. He pounded a frustrated fist on his desk. “Dang it, Hazel. Knowing that you’re in danger every minute of every day isn’t okay with me.”

  She reached across the surface and grasped his hand. She gathered feelings of love, warmth, and reassurance and sent them in his direction. “I’m sorry to put this upon you, Peter. I love you so much, and you don’t deserve this worry.”

  He held her gaze, and she sensed the conflict rumbling beneath his surface. He wanted the town healed as much as she did. But she also understood his heightened fears after already losing one wife to the Sons of Stonebridge.

  She spoke softly. “I need you. I need you to trust me and to be strong for me.”

  Seconds ticked slowly by before he nodded. “I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  She understood that very well. “I think it’s called having faith, Peter. We can’t see what’s at the end of the road, but we have to have faith that once we get there, everything will be okay.”

  His fierce tone softened. “For a man who’s lost one wife, you’re asking a lot.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t want to bring up what she’d learned that day about his former wife, but she’d have to at some point, and he’d already broached the subject.