Spell Booked

by Joyce

  “But she was struck and killed by that woman driving a pink Cadillac. She died with no will, and the Grand Council took everything. That could happen with Olivia.”

  “No! That would be terrible. There has to be something we can do to keep that from happening.”

  “I don’t know. We can talk to Olivia’s lawyer. He might have some idea of a relative, however distant, who could be her heir.”

  “That’s a good idea. Let’s do that after we find Olivia’s killer and convince Dorothy that she’s the witch for us. Sounds easy.” She laughed at her simplification.

  I laughed at her as we pulled into our parking space at Smuggler’s Arcane. There was already a mud-colored Volkswagen Beetle parked in the space beside us. To our complete surprise, Dorothy Lane got out and waited for us. She was dressed in street clothes this time and appeared more coherent.

  “Well, I declare.” Elsie slapped her thigh. “Will wonders never cease?”

  Dorothy didn’t look any less afraid than she had last night. She was trembling as we approached her. Her smile was tentative.

  “Good morning,” Elsie greeted her. “Don’t you think morning is the best time of the day?”

  “Not really.” Dorothy hunkered down in her jacket. “Can we talk?”

  We went inside, not caring if our companion saw us open the spelled door without a key. Thank goodness it worked. That would have been embarrassing since were trying to recruit her.

  “That was kind of cool.” Dorothy smiled a little, a chipped tooth exposed. It made a whistling sound with her s’s. “Can you do all kinds of little tricks like that?”

  “Oh, that’s not a trick, dear.” Elsie was quick to point out. “It really happened. These aren’t parlor gimmicks magicians do.”

  “Why me?” Dorothy took off her coat and put her enormous multicolored bag on the table. “Why were you stalking me to be a witch?”

  I took off my coat too and stowed my bag behind the counter. “We weren’t stalking you exactly. Our friend—”

  “The dead one?” Dorothy asked.

  “Yes. Olivia Dunst. She saw you one day at the library and recognized you as an earth witch. We observed you for a while, until we could get a sense of who you were and what you were like. Not anyone would do, you know.”

  “That’s kind of creepy, even for a witch.” She peered closely around the shop again. “So you two are really witches? Good witches, right?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Elsie said. “There are no good or bad witches. Just witches. Like you.”

  “Me? I’m not a witch. Maybe I look like one.” She peeked in an antique mirror. “What’s an earth witch?”

  “An earth witch gets her strength from the earth,” I explained. “You’d feel strongest in a forest, for instance. I’m a water witch. I feel strongest around the river and the ocean, so Wilmington is a good place for me.”

  “Not so good for me,” Elsie added. “I’m a fire witch. In this town, there’s so much water that it’s a little suppressive. I’m strongest with a fire close by.”

  Dorothy nodded, taking it all in. “What kind of training are we talking about to be a witch?”

  “There’s no training. I mean”—Elsie stumbled in her explanation—“there are spells and incantations to learn, and some herb lore. It helps to understand the natural world because our abilities derive from nature. Otherwise, you’re either born a witch or not.”

  “If I was born a witch, how could I not know after all these years? Nobody ever said anything.”

  “You were orphaned,” I tried to explain. “The chances are good that your mother and grandmother were witches too. Most girls get their information from the women in their families as they’re growing up. In your case, there wasn’t anyone to teach you.”

  “And what do you want me to do? Do we dance around naked in the moonlight? Do we ride goats or something?”

  I gazed into her haunted, questioning eyes. “Why did you come back, Dorothy?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. After I left here last night, I kept thinking about you, and this place. I had some really freakish dreams. When I woke up this morning, I knew I had to come back.”

  “There’s a bond between witches that can’t be broken once you become aware.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “You learned that there was something else in the world yesterday—something you didn’t know was possible. You’ll never be able to forget it. You may choose not to practice magic, but it will always be part of you now.”

  She bit her lip. “You didn’t answer me. What do witches do?”

  “We observe and protect the laws of nature. We interact with the natural elements of the world. But Elsie and I have been witches for a long time. Our abilities are fading. We need new witches to take our places and to continue adding spells to our spell book.”

  As Dorothy digested all of that, Elsie went off describing the history of witches, of how they had helped defeat Hitler in England during World War II and had kept terrible things from happening all over the world. It was a rich and heavily embroidered tale, but one I could see had impressed our new recruit.

  “That sounds awesome.” She grinned. “Who wouldn’t want to do that? Where do I sign up?”

  Elsie and I exchanged glances. I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

  As much as we needed Dorothy, things had become rather complicated to try to take in an uneducated witch. Our hunt for Olivia’s killer could get dangerous.

  “We would definitely love to have you with us,” I assured her.

  “But now is not a good time,” Elsie continued. “We have to track down Olivia’s killer. It could get very sketchy, not the best opportunity for a new witch.”

  Dorothy shrugged. “I’m not afraid. I want to help. How was your friend killed?”

  Elsie went into detail on Olivia’s death in the alley. “You see, you wouldn’t want to be involved.”

  To her credit, Dorothy swallowed hard and made her decision. “I want to help. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot about being a witch by helping.”

  “Okay,” Elsie agreed. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I don’t think it’s that easy,” I interrupted. “We’ll be using magic that she won’t be able to use for years. It’s not a good idea.”

  “Please, Molly.” Dorothy put her hands together like a child, her large brown eyes beseeching my approval. “Let me help. Even if I can’t do the magic, I’ll know it exists.”

  Elsie played with a reddish ringlet near her ear. “And there’s always the chance that we’ll be able to tap into her fresh, young magic.”

  I sighed. This was really not in any plan we’d ever formulated for a new recruit. But neither was Olivia’s death. As with many things that seemed to happen out of order, sometimes it was best to go with what you had. That was part of the natural way of the world.

  “All right. Don’t blame me if things get a little strange.”

  Dorothy squealed and hugged me. She took a step back. “Is that okay? Do witches hug? I wouldn’t want to do something I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “That’s fine.” Her naïve enthusiasm was refreshing. I felt jaded beside her.

  “No,” Elsie said. “It’s not fine if you don’t hug both witches. Otherwise the other one—me—might get offended.”

  Dorothy hugged Elsie too, and we sat down.

  “We need to start here at the shop. Brian was here with Olivia. We know he touched certain things, which left behind part of his essence. That will be our best way to track him.”

  Elsie was already brewing the potion that would allow us to see where Brian had been in the shop. The steam from it began to rise and slowly fill the room.

  “Do we need special glasses?” Dorothy whispered. “Like 3D or something?”

  “No.” She was going to have to learn to keep sti
ll. “What we need is quiet so we can concentrate on finding our strengths to add to the potion, which will make it work. No tool or herb will work without the magic we give it from inside ourselves.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes tight and wrinkled her nose as she concentrated.

  The steam continued filling the shop. Harper hid in the back room where we kept some of our rarest artifacts and medicinals.

  “How long will this take?” Dorothy whispered. “I only ask because I haven’t had coffee yet, and I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Shh!” Elsie frowned.

  Another few minutes passed. The steam was beginning to pick out Brian’s footprints on the hardwood floor. As it rose upward, it would show his fingerprints—and hopefully more about him that we could use.

  “It might help if I knew what Brian looked like,” Dorothy said.

  “It has nothing to do with that.” I didn’t open my eyes. “It has more to do with patience and quiet.”

  “Sorry. I guess I’m a little fidgety.”

  By this time, it was possible to see everything that Brian had touched. The steam showed dark places where he’d fingered books and touched vials and powders in paper.

  “Wow!” Dorothy opened one eye and looked around. “I can see it. How awesome is that?”

  “It would be a lot more awesome if you didn’t tell us about it until the potion is finished,” Elsie snapped.

  “Sorry.” Dorothy closed her eyes again and sighed.

  The steam reached out for the image we needed, creating a ghostly replica of Brian. It was an odd picture since the strongest image of him was when he was standing with his arm around Olivia right before they left the shop. With his arm up around empty space, he looked as though he might fall over.

  “We’ve got him!” Elsie sneaked a peek. “Now we have to make it last for a while.”

  I broke the circle and took out a vial of Everlast. The name was misleading since it only made an image last until it was committed to memory. There was no way to capture it with a camera or any other device.

  The steam began to evaporate, but it left behind all the places Brian had been as well as the full image of him. Elsie walked around and around, trying to be sure she’d know him if she saw him again.

  Together we muttered a spell that would show us some personal details about him. It took only another twenty minutes before we had his address and last name.

  “Brian Fuller,” Elsie said. “He lives near Cape Fear Community College.”

  “He’s a full-time student,” I added. “Not a very good one either.”

  “And he smells like pizza.” Dorothy sniffed. “Old pizza at that.”

  Elsie smiled. “She’s good. Exactly what I’d expect an earth witch to pick up.”

  “Yeah?” Dorothy was obviously pleased. “High five!”

  We gazed at her serenely.

  “Fist bump? Come on, you two. Celebrate a little. This is what you needed, right?”

  Elsie timidly bumped her fist into Dorothy’s. I did the same.

  “All right. That’s what I’m talking about!” Dorothy was satisfied. “Now what?”

  CHAPTER 6

  I now invoke the law of three,

  What once was lost return to me.

  The community college wasn’t very far. We took my car since neither Elsie nor I could imagine trying to get into the backseat of Dorothy’s Beetle.

  Using our knowledge of Brian, it was easy to locate him in a small apartment complex. It was an older building with rooms leased by college students.

  Dorothy was able to pinpoint the apartment Brian shared with some other young men by the smell.

  “I am rather impressed with our new witch.” Elsie was smug as we followed Dorothy upstairs.

  “She’s surprising,” I agreed. “She’s had no training at all. Her family must be very powerful. When there’s a strong bloodline—”

  “There’s a strong witch.” Elsie finished the quote.

  We reached the floor where Brian lived. Dorothy knocked on his door.

  A different young man answered—this one wasn’t a witch. He said that Brian wasn’t there. “He’s got some classes this morning. You’re welcome to come in and wait for him if you like.”

  We agreed—it would be good to have a look at Brian’s possessions—but we couldn’t step foot into the apartment. Brian had thoroughly spelled the entrance so that no witch could enter without him.

  I hastily told the young man that we’d be back. One glance into the apartment behind him sent us all quickly back down the stairs.

  “How can anyone live that way?” Dorothy held her nose. “The stench was enough to gag me.”

  “I have a son at East Carolina. I know what you mean. My husband, Joe, and I never visit his dorm room. We always meet somewhere else.”

  Elsie cleared her throat and adjusted her purple hat on her fading red curls. “You know, it’s only a matter of them growing up. They don’t smell nearly so bad once they’re adults.”

  Dorothy laughed loudly. “That’s a good one.”

  “It was clever for him to spell the apartment,” Elsie said. “We’ll have to find another way to get to him.”

  “Who is he anyway?” Dorothy asked.

  “He’s our best suspect in our friend’s death since we know he left the shop with Olivia yesterday. We may need to spell those binoculars again and go back to the crime scene.”

  “Really?” Dorothy sounded excited about the idea. “You know where Olivia was killed?”

  “Molly’s husband is a homicide detective,” Elsie explained. “We went with him to see her this morning. It was extremely unpleasant. I’m not happy about going there again.”

  “You can stay in the car, Elsie,” I told her. “But we need to take another look at the alley. There could be something that we missed. If we can find some real proof of Brian’s involvement in Olivia’s death, we could ask the council to take over.”

  “What about the police?” Elsie asked. “What are you going to tell Joe?”

  “As little as possible,” I replied. “I don’t want him involved.”

  “Not much you can do about that now,” Elsie reminded me.

  “So you have magic binoculars?” Dorothy asked as we headed back to Smuggler’s Arcane.

  “We used them to watch you from the shop,” Elsie said. “Olivia loved to watch you going in and out of the library. She was a little selfish about holding on to them, but we worked it out.”

  Dorothy frowned. “How could you see the library from Smuggler’s Arcane? There are buildings between your shop and the library.”

  “That’s why we spelled the binoculars.” I turned in to the parking lot at the Cotton Exchange.

  “I can’t wait to see them!”

  We went inside the shop, but Elsie couldn’t remember what she’d done with the binoculars. In the meantime, two customers came in.

  “I hope your monkshood is fresh.” Adriana, a witch from Kure Beach, stuck her face into the paper bag and drew back quickly. “Yeah. That’s fresh.”

  “Anything else with that?” I was eager for her to leave so we could take another look at the alley. There was no reason to be impatient though—Elsie was conjuring a spell to find the missing binoculars. It wasn’t working very well.

  “I’m looking for a new boline,” a woman with blue hair told me. “Someone broke into my house last week and stole mine.”

  “Really?” I thought about the ritual white-handled knife. “Are you looking for a curved blade on that?”

  “That would be okay.” She looked at our selection and chose one. “If I ever find out who took mine, look out. That boline belonged to my family from several generations past. My granny is gonna kill me when she finds out it’s gone.”

  “You could put
up a notice on the bulletin board by the door. We have lost-and-found items that end up here.”

  “This wasn’t lost, it was stolen,” she assured me. “But I’ll try it. Thanks.”

  The next customer wasn’t a witch. We tried not to discriminate—so long as the person wasn’t doing something that could hurt them or someone else.

  “I have several nice cauldrons over here.” I pointed them out. “What size are you looking for?”

  “I’m not really sure,” the woman admitted. “I’m trying to bring forth a werewolf. Maybe it should be extra large, huh?”

  “Bring forth a werewolf?” Elsie overheard our conversation. “Why ever would you want to do such a thing?”

  “I was hoping he could be the father of my child. You know, sire a wolf puppy.” She giggled.

  “That is completely ridiculous,” Elsie declared. “Where did you get such an odd idea?”

  The woman shrugged, a little less confident about her “odd” idea. “I read a lot of werewolf and shape-shifter romances. I thought it sounded cool.”

  “I guess I’ve heard everything now.” Elsie went back to trying to find the missing binoculars.

  “Do you have a werewolf-sized cauldron?” the woman whispered, keeping an eye on Elsie.

  I smiled and remained professional. “I think you might have to order that online. I appreciate your business. Good luck with your project.”

  Nora came in as the other customer was leaving. She was a practicing witch who came by regularly to refill her supplies. She knew of our dilemma and picked up on Dorothy’s emanations right away.

  “You finally found a witch to take one of your places,” she said. “Too bad you lost Olivia. What was that about anyway?”

  “We don’t know yet,” I admitted. “We’re looking into her death.”

  “You know the real way to get power quickly is to kill a witch,” she carelessly suggested. “You can mess around collecting magic tools all you want, but it takes forever and the magic doesn’t last.”

  I didn’t ask how she knew. “If witches start killing each other for their power, that could be the end of us all.”