Curse of the Witch

by K E O'Connor

  Rhett shifted in his seat. “There’s only one gang in Willow Tree Falls, Queenie.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And we both know why that is.”

  They glowered at each other before Mom broke the tension by sliding a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies into the center of the table.

  Auntie Queenie grabbed a cookie. “Lovely. My favorite.” She broke it in half and dunked it in her coffee.

  Rhett relaxed in his seat and took a cookie. “It’s not a bad idea to do a search. My guys are available if you need more eyes on this.”

  “Let’s see what information Esmeralda and Lila have first,” I said. “We have no clue who or what we’re looking for. A stranger? A local gone bad? We’ll be searching for someone without knowing who it is we’re looking for.”

  “It makes me sick with worry thinking it might be someone in my gang,” Auntie Queenie said. “It must be an outside party. Someone who’s taken a disliking to Bastille.”

  “If anyone can figure this out, Tempest can.” Rhett patted Auntie Queenie’s hand. “She’s good at solving puzzles.”

  Auntie Queenie smiled at him, all animosity gone. “You’re right. She’s great. You’re lucky to have her.”

  He smiled at me, and his dark eyes twinkled. “Don’t I know it.”

  I didn’t share Auntie Queenie’s confidence in resolving this quickly. The only possible, tenuous suspect I had was Caprice, and I hoped I was wrong about her.

  I also needed to find out what Esmeralda had gotten up to last night and confirm what Lila did after the party. But if the angels had discovered anything suspicious about them during their questioning, they wouldn’t allow the old gang to meet, so I wasn’t hopeful of discovering anything useful.

  I hoped my questioning tonight would come to nothing, but if it didn’t, we might never find who murdered Bastille.

  “Thanks for lunch. It was great.” Rhett pushed back his chair. “I need to get going.”

  “Wait a moment.” Mom dashed around the kitchen and handed him a tin of cake. “Take this to the gang. There’s plenty more if they want it.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Crypt.” Rhett grinned. “They’ll love this. They don’t get a lot of home comforts.”

  “Please, it’s Cora, and they’re always welcome to my home comforts.”

  Auntie Queenie cackled saucily. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken a fancy to a biker?”

  “Of course not! What did I say?” Mom looked confused.

  “Ignore Auntie Queenie,” I said. “She has a dirty mind.”

  Rhett grinned at my mom. “You’re way too good for any of the guys in my gang.”

  She blushed. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just—”

  “Rhett, I’ll walk you out.” I kissed Mom’s cheek as I passed her. I didn’t want her getting any more confused about her offer of home comforts to rough, tough biker types.

  I accompanied him outside to the garden gate.

  Rhett turned and took hold of my hand. “Your mom does a great spread.”

  “Sorry you got dragged into this.”

  “I’m always happy to eat good food and make sure Queenie is okay. Despite being a member of a former rival gang, I like her. She’s obviously shaken by this murder.”

  “We all are.”

  “It looks like you’re going to be busy tonight.” Rhett glanced back at the house. “Do you really think one of Queenie’s friends did this?”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “Bastille proved herself that old wounds fester, and it’s not hard to imagine a friendship turning sour. This gathering could be the opportunity her killer was waiting for. Get everyone together, cause confusion, and then attack. Bastille had her guard down. She wouldn’t have seen this coming.”

  “Don’t take too many risks finding out who did this.” Rhett wrapped an arm around my waist and stepped closer. “You need to watch out you don’t get too singed around the edges.”

  “You mean even more than I already am?”

  He touched a strand of my frazzled hair. “You pull off the goo splattered, singed look well.”

  I smiled up at him, and my heartbeat sped up. “You know I can look after myself.”

  “And you know that the offer of help is always there if you ever want to take me up on it.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “Any chance our stargazing date tonight is still on?”

  I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. “I can’t miss this dinner tonight, and I don’t know how late I’ll be. Everyone will be there. It’s my chance to question them and see what theories people have.”

  “I get it. Family first. I’d expect nothing less from you.” Rhett kissed me again.

  For a second, I forgot my worries about a killer on the loose in Willow Tree Falls and enjoyed the feel of Rhett’s strong, solid arms around me.

  “You’re going to have to make this up to me,” he whispered against my mouth. “You’re standing me up.”

  “If you were a lesser man, you’d hold it against me.”

  “That’s true, but I won’t forget. Our next date is going to be epic to make up for this.”

  I smiled up at him, feeling ridiculously breathless. I was in so deep with this guy, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Chapter 11

  “I shouldn’t come tonight.” I stood at the front door of Mom’s house, peering into the gloomy evening.

  “Nonsense! You must. Everyone will be there. You said yourself, you need to speak to Esmeralda and Lila.” Mom squeezed my shoulder.

  “This is so unlike Wiggles.” He hadn’t returned from our trip to the forest. It had been seven hours, and he was never away from home for this long. His rumbling belly always enticed him back.

  “Wiggles is a robust, clever hellhound.” Mom nodded at me. “If he’s run into trouble, he can look after himself. After all, he burps flames.”

  “Only when under pressure.”

  “There you go. If he has any problems, he can deal with them.”

  “Oh, wait! I see him.” I ran to the gate, relief filtering through me. I hated Wiggles going missing. A couple of hours wasn’t a problem. I was used to that. But anything longer and I got worried.

  Wiggles scurried toward me. He was covered in mud, his expression grim. “Where were you when I needed help?”

  “What happened?” I stared at him in horror. He was filthy, his paws caked in mud, and his fur grubby.

  He wrinkled his nose, his eyes glowing. “I fell in a hole.”

  “Were you hurt?” I hurried over. “Was it a deep hole?”

  He growled at me. “I’m fine. It wasn’t deep. I could poke my nose out the top, but the sides were muddy. You know I’m not great at jumping. I bounced up and down a hundred times. I kept flipping on my back. It was humiliating.”

  I bit my lip. “You’ve been in a shallow muddy hole this whole time? You really couldn’t jump out?”

  “Small hellhounds carrying a little extra weight don’t have the ability to jump great distances.” He turned, displaying how grubby he was. “I stink. I’m cold, and I’m starving. This is all your fault.”

  “Oh, Wiggles!” Mom hurried to join me. “You poor baby. What happened to you?”

  “Ask my negligent owner. She left me in a huge pit. I think there was a snake at the bottom.”

  “A snake!” Mom gasped.

  Wiggles snorted. “Or it could have been a pointy stick that looked like a snake. I was spooked after being abandoned.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair. How was I to know you’d stumbled into a hole and couldn’t jump out because of your pot belly? I almost died in the forest, thanks to Fallon. She shot at me, trapped me in magic, and covered me in goo.”

  Wiggles bared his teeth. “It’s no less than you deserve for abandoning a pet.”

  “I didn’t abandon you! I figured you’d gone off hunting a fun scent or found a cute female to hang out with.” I was secretly relieved he was back. I’d have to check this hole wasn’t another of Fallon’s tr
aps to stop people from going into the forest. She took her role of Forest Guardian way too seriously.

  Mom fussed around Wiggles. “Come inside, gorgeous boy. I’ve got a stew almost ready, and you need a bath.”

  Wiggles expression softened, and he stopped growling. “Can I eat my stew in the bath?”

  “No!” I said.

  “Of course you can.” Mom patted his head. “You’ve had a stressful day. A big bowl of stew and some of my magic bath salts will see you right.”

  “I need a belly rub as well,” Wiggles said. “I’m very stressed.”

  “Absolutely.” Mom scooped him up and carried him into the house.

  He looked at me over Mom’s shoulder and stuck out his tongue.

  I shook my head. No wonder I had such a spoiled hellhound. Everyone treated him like a prince, me included.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Auntie Queenie dashed out of the house.

  “It’s your fault we’re running late.” Auntie Queenie had changed her outfit three times. She’d gone from a floaty cream number to a scarlet smock and now sported a slightly too tight purple tube dress. I’d opted for a subtler black number that came with a few sparkles.

  “We can’t keep the girls waiting.” She tucked her arm in mine, and we sped along the street toward the restaurant.

  I glanced at her. “How are you feeling about this evening?”

  “Oh, I’m not worried.” She waved a hand around. “I mean, no one has anything to hide.”

  “That’s right. We’ll confirm everyone’s alibi and spend the evening working out who had it in for Bastille.”

  “Exactly. You’ll solve this, and we’ll have no more quizzing from those silly angels.”

  Although she put on a brave face, Auntie Queenie was nervous. I would be too if my oldest friends had been earmarked by the angels as potential killers.

  I pushed open the door to Bite Me and strode in with Auntie Queenie beside me. The scent of vanilla candles, mixed with expensive perfume, filled the air.

  “There they are,” Esmeralda called as she waved at us.

  Lila, Samantha, and Caprice also greeted us as we sat at the table in the corner of the restaurant. The place was busy, with most of the tables occupied. It was no surprise. Tilly Machello always knew how to tempt diners in with her delicious dishes.

  “We wondered if the angels had arrested you.” Samantha grinned as she poured champagne into our glasses.

  “Not likely, but I got a grilling this afternoon, the same as the rest of you,” Auntie Queenie said. “They asked me about my relationship with Bastille and any problems we’d had.”

  “What did they think about you stealing Bastille’s man?” Caprice wiggled her eyebrows.

  Auntie Queenie squinted at her. “You know that’s not what happened. But they kept circling that information like they’d found a perfect motive. I was honest with them about what happened. They also talked to Kenny and left convinced I didn’t do it.”

  “They’d better be convinced,” I said. “You’ve got a great alibi, and you’re innocent.”

  “As we all are.” Esmeralda stood from her seat. “This calls for a toast. Bastille was one of the good ones. She didn’t have the smoothest ride in life, but she was loyal and honest. Her death was tragic.”

  “Her murder, you mean,” Lila said.

  Esmeralda nodded. “I’d like everyone to take a moment to remember a happy memory about Bastille and how she touched our lives.” She raised her glass. “To Bastille. One of the best Dead Tree Witches there was.”

  Everyone raised their glass and toasted to Bastille.

  As Esmeralda sat down, Samantha stood. “Since we’re commemorating lost gang members, we never got around to remembering our fallen sisters last night.”

  “Fallen sisters?” I whispered to Auntie Queenie.

  Auntie Queenie raised her eyebrows. “Being a gang member isn’t plain sailing. It can get rough. People get hurt. People die. Although, this lot didn’t die on my watch.”

  “They’ve been gone over ten years, but they’ll never be forgotten. Let’s toast to the memories of Abigail, Petra, Mona, and Kat. They helped make our gang great and are sorely missed.”

  There was another round of glasses chinking.

  “Who were these witches?” I asked Auntie Queenie.

  “They were great fun,” Auntie Queenie said. “They were in the gang for years. When the four of them turned thirty, they decided to spend a year traveling. They saved up and made a plan of places they wanted to visit.”

  “They did it all,” Caprice said. “They went to Canada and saw polar bears, did a road trip across America and ate greasy giant burgers at all-night diners. They even headed to Mexico and took part in the Día de los Muertos.”

  “The day of the dead,” Auntie Queenie translated. “A public holiday to remember lost loved ones. It’s very colorful, and I hear the food served is something else.”

  “That was around the time they visited the Inca ruins,” Lila said, “and where their problems began.”

  “What problems?” I asked.

  “We don’t know that the trip to the ruins caused their problems,” Caprice said. “But something bad might have gotten them.”

  “What do you mean by bad?” I asked.

  “That’s nonsense!” Esmeralda said. “They most likely got bitten by a bug and contracted some exotic disease. I told them to get their shots before they left.”

  “It wasn’t a bug bite that made them unwell,” Lila said. “But they were all sick when they came home. The Inca ruin was the last place they visited. When they got back, they had fevers and sore throats and complained of odd visions. I believe there was dark magic in that place. Somehow, it infected them. They were never the same after that trip.”

  I leaned forward in my seat. “Could they have activated some ancient magic that attacked them?”

  “Nobody knows,” Auntie Queenie said. “Over the next two years, they faded. They became lethargic and complained of aches and pains.”

  “It’s like the curse in that Egyptian tomb,” Lila said. “Tutankhamun’s curse. Everyone who went in there when it was first opened became ill. Many of them died or went mad.”

  “Because of an air borne virus, not a curse,” Esmeralda said.

  “Many believe Egyptian pharaohs had magic,” Lila said. “How else could they build those incredible structures?”

  “Slave labor,” Esmeralda said.

  “Anyway, within two years, our friends were dead,” Auntie Queenie said. “It was tragic.”

  “To our fallen sisters.” Samantha raised her glass again. “We’ll never forget them.”

  As the waiter came to take our order, I leaned over to Auntie Queenie. “Their deaths were from natural causes? This bug, or whatever it was, killed them?”

  “No, it wasn’t the bug, although it definitely weakened their magic. Kat was hexed. Mona had a bike accident. Petra’s heart failed, and Abigail died in her sleep.”

  “All within two years of each other. Isn’t that suspicious?”

  She peered at me, her forehead wrinkling. “Their doctors noted nothing suspicious. In theory, the hex shouldn’t have killed Kat, but she was weakened by this exotic bug. Mona simply lost control of her bike and hit a tree.”

  I sat back in my seat. “What caused Abigail’s heart to fail?”

  “The doctor said there was a weakness in a valve. No one noticed it. And Petra had a love of fatty food. She was a touch on the curvy side and was supposed to be watching her calories. One too many pastries caught up with her.”

  I toyed with my fork. “It seems odd that they died one after the other, even though the causes of death are different.”

  “It was the Inca ruins,” Lila said with a decisive nod. “They messed around with old magic, and it bit back.”

  I nodded. If no one else considered it strange, it would do me no good to poke around in the deaths of four long-deceased witches. Not when there was a very
recent death to focus on.

  The waiter left with our order.

  I paused with my glass halfway to my mouth as everyone’s attention turned to me.

  “How’s the sleuthing going?” Caprice asked me. “You did a great job questioning me. Better than the angels.”

  “Yes, what have you learned?” Esmeralda asked.

  I lowered my glass. “Nothing that points to a killer, although we can rule out a demon. There’s no evidence of one in Willow Tree Falls.”

  “From what Dazielle said when she interviewed me, the angels have come to the same sticking point,” Auntie Queenie said. “They’ve got no firm evidence. Nothing that points to any of us.”

  “Which makes sense, because we’re all innocent,” Caprice said.

  “Yet somebody had it in for Bastille,” I said. “And they knew her well enough to convince her to go outside with them. They wanted to be alone with her so they could kill her.”

  Samantha dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “It’s so terrible. She was such a gentle soul.”

  “She was the best,” Lila said.

  Nobody spoke as hankies were produced and noses dabbed.

  Caprice pushed back her chair, her eyes full of tears. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to powder my nose.” She stood from the table and walked away.

  Esmeralda sighed. “Bastille was lonely. I got the impression she’d given up on life and finding love. She’d shut herself away from everything. She was barely living a life.”

  “What life she had still deserved to be protected,” Auntie Queenie said.

  “Bastille was hiding because she was so sick,” Lila said. “She kept away from everybody because she didn’t want to reveal how bad she was. I knew the truth. She couldn’t hide it from me. My senses tingled every time we got close.”

  I nodded. As a healing witch, Lila had a sixth sense when someone was suffering.

  Lila continued. “When I spent time alone with Bastille, I could feel her pain. She put on a good front, but when she thought no one was paying attention, I could sense how awful it was for her.”