by Morgana Best
I nodded. “Yes, it makes sense. What a good idea.” To be honest, I was having trouble concentrating, because, well, Alder was there.
The topic on witchcraft continued over dinner. While I found it interesting, I was a little saddened by this, because I’d hoped it would be somewhat romantic. Alder was still talking about witchcraft when he cleared the table and asked me if I’d like dessert.
“Do you like baked white chocolate cheesecake with raspberries?” he asked.
“Do I ever!” I exclaimed. “Would you like some help with it?”
A look of fear crossed his face. “No, it’s fine! Thanks anyway.” He held up a hand as if to keep me away from the kitchen. Wise, as well as good looking. What more could a girl want?
The dessert was delicious. When we finished, Alder cleared the table, again refusing my offer of help. “And let’s do what you’ve wanted to do all evening!” he exclaimed.
I felt my cheeks burn. Surely he didn’t mean…?
“My ancient books!”
“Oh!” I was mortally embarrassed. I hoped Alder hadn’t noticed my discomfort. I looked away, and focused on the leg of a chair.
Alder indicated I should follow him, and so I did, my ears burning and my face burning. He opened the door and I gasped with delight. Whereas the rest of the house was minimalist industrial, this room was everything but. There were shelves and shelves of ancient looking, leather-bound books, all stored flat and not upright.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the heavy gilt mirror at the end of the room, and looked away quickly. My face was indeed bright red.
Alder shut the door. “Temperature and humidity control,” he explained. “These are old, rare books.” He threw me a pair of white gloves and I only just caught them.
I walked along the shelves and looked at some titles: Sworn Book of Honorius, The Magus, A New and Complete Illustration of the Celestial Science of Astrology, The Fourth Book of Occult Philosophy, and so it went on.
Alder carefully opened two books on the table in the center of the room. “These two are most likely. Let’s look through one each.”
I couldn’t find anything that would help, although the information was fascinating. I lost myself in reading about various hideous demons and their characteristics.
Alder’s voice broke me from my reverie. “Amelia, what did Ruprecht say the spelling mistake was?”
I tried to remember. “No, he didn’t say precisely, and he said there could be more. Why?”
“I think Fred is a haint. Have a look at this illustration.”
I leaned close to Alder and looked at the drawing. Sure enough, the apparition looked just as Fred had, when he had first appeared to me. “He looks like a haint, all right. Do haints grant wishes?”
Alder shook his head, and seemed amused by my comment. “No, but you were doing a spell to improve your baking, weren’t you?” I nodded. “So it seems you have summoned a haint to help you. Perhaps that’s why it’s trying to grant your wishes. You’re a Dark Witch and that’s why you have control over it to some degree.”
“What is a haint?”
Alder looked worried momentarily. “The word originated with the Gullah people in Africa, and referred to evil spirits. After that, the word became confused with ‘haunts,’ so these days, people get the two mixed up.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” I said.
“Bottom line, it’s either evil spirits or spirits of the dead,” Adler said. “No one knows for sure.”
“Spirits of the dead, as in ghosts?”
Alder nodded. “The thing is, many people confuse the word ‘haints’ with the word ‘haunts,’ and that confuses the origin. It led to haints being thought of as ghosts, specifically, restless ghosts who haven’t been able to pass over for whatever reason. Either way, it’s not something you’d want. The tradition carried into the south of the USA, where many people take protective measures against haints.”
“But haints are everywhere?”
Alder shrugged. “Most likely. They’re not limited to one culture or one geographical area, as far as I’m aware. They have different names, but they’re the same entity. Coffee? We can head back out to the kitchen and discuss it.”
As we left the room, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I was saddened, as I was beginning to think that Alder wasn’t interested in me in a romantic way. All he had talked about all night was witchcraft. “I wish he’d kiss me,” I said to my reflection. “He just doesn’t seem interested in me at all. Maybe he just wants to be friends because we’re both Dark Witches! How silly could I be!”
I walked back out to the kitchen, crestfallen. I hadn’t quite reached the table when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Alder spun me around to face him. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you,” Alder said, pulling me close.
The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, gentle yet insistent. I fervently kissed him back, not caring for the moment that Fred was making him do this. I wasn’t thinking about Fred—I was thinking that Alder was an amazing kisser as I melted into him, savoring the taste of his lips.
Alder’s phone rang, and we both jumped. He broke away and briefly looked at the screen. “Sorry, Amelia. I have to take this.” He abruptly took the phone out of the room. I just stood there, feeling awkward.
Alder soon returned. “Sorry about this,” he said once more. “This is confidential.” I nodded. “It’s a new client, Penny Plank.”
“Plank?” I echoed. “A relative of the victim’s?”
“His ex-wife. She’s in town and I have to meet her right now. I’m sorry that I can’t go into the details. I’ll drive you home.”
I tried not to let my disappointment show, but I told myself that it was probably for the best. If Fred had influenced Alder to kiss me—and I was fairly certain that he had—then I had no right kissing someone who wouldn’t have any intention of kissing me when he was in his right mind.
Chapter 12
I thought the night couldn’t get any worse. As Alder’s car pulled up outside my home, much to my dismay I saw Ruprecht, Thyme, and Mint getting out of Ruprecht’s car outside Camino’s house, which of course, was next door to my house.
Their jaws all dropped when they saw me emerge from Alder’s car. I mumbled my goodbyes to Alder and walked over to them, feeling awfully guilty and at the same time, annoyed for myself for feeling guilty. Alder had not so long ago confided in me that he was a Dark Witch too, and while he had asked me not to tell the others, he had also said I could tell them if I really wanted to do so. I felt in an awkward position, keeping Alder’s secret from my friends.
“Amelia, good to see you,” Ruprecht said, obviously in an attempt to relieve the tension. “Come inside to Camino’s. We have new information.” I saw he was clutching the Book of Shadows to him.
“This is a surprise,” Thyme whispered to me as we walked in behind the others.
“You knew I was having dinner with Alder.”
Thyme winked at me. “I didn’t expect you’d be back so soon.”
I frowned at her. Oh well, I suppose being teased wasn’t as bad as her acting weird that I was with Alder. I chose to remain silent.
Ruprecht knocked once and then turned to me. “I’m returning your Great Aunt Thelma’s Book of Shadows to you.”
“Thelma couldn’t have foreseen that I’d summon a spirit,” I said sadly, just as Camino opened the door. She was dressed as a giant, olive-brown, spotted toad. I squealed, while the others, even the usually unflappable Ruprecht, gasped.
“Is that a new onesie, Camino?” Ruprecht asked her.
Camino twirled like a ballet dancer, as far as one could tell given that she was dressed as a toad. “Do you like it?” she asked proudly through the huge mouth. “It’s a cane toad onesie.”
Everyone nodded, although far from enthusiastically. “Um, aren’t cane toads very dangerous, like, um, venomous?” I asked her. I recoiled from the enormous fake warts on the suit.
Camino laughed. “Exactly! You don’t mess with them! Oh, I don’t spit poison, by the way.”
Well, that was reassuring. We all hurried past Camino into her living room. Camino’s house always made me feel like I was stepping back in time, entering another era. The old-fashioned and drab furniture was nevertheless enlivened by the countless candles placed around the room, and the arcane fragrances that emanated from them.
Camino indicated we should all sit. As she did so, she fell backward over a chair, and her webbed feet pitched skyward. The nearest candles quivered, sending a ripple of shadows across the walls. Mint struggled to right her while Ruprecht averted his eyes.
“Now to business,” Ruprecht said when the toad was sitting comfortably. “Amelia, while you were, err, away, we made a list of suspects. We have Fred, Craig and Kayleen, Laurence Burleigh, and Penny Plank. It’s not a hard and fast list, by any means, but it’s a start.”
I had pricked up my ears at the mention of Penny Plank. “I know the others, but I’ve never met Penny Plank.”
“She’s Scott’s ex-wife,” Ruprecht explained, but I already knew that.
“Does she live in town?” I asked him.
Ruprecht shook his head. “She hasn’t been in town for years, and she wasn’t at the memorial service this morning, but Camino saw her in town today.”
Thyme spoke up. “Are you sure it was her?”
Camino nodded. At least, I think that’s what she was doing. It was hard to tell, given that she was ensconced in a deadly toad suit. “I saw her coming out of the police station late this afternoon, and she didn’t look happy.”
“Well, perhaps the detectives called her in for questioning,” I said. “That’s not suspicious in itself, is it?”
Ruprecht looked solemn. “She lives in Port Macquarie, actually. That’s a few hours’ drive from here. I do find it suspicious that she just happened to be in town when her ex-husband was murdered, given that I haven’t seen her here for years. No doubt, the police would share my view.”
“Yes, that certainly does seem fishy,” I said. “But if they have children, then perhaps she was here for something to do with them.”
“It’s entirely possible,” Ruprecht admitted. “We’ll need to find out if she’s here with their children, and if there’s some sporting event or suchlike that they might be attending. If not, then I find her presence in town rather suspicious.”
“What about Laurence Burleigh?” Mint asked. “He takes over Scott’s job, and I heard it’ll be a permanent position. The Mayor himself told me that they won’t be advertising it. That’s a huge jump in pay. Still, it seems like a tenuous motive.”
“Perhaps Laurence had a different reason for wanting to kill Scott,” I said. “He was full of venom when he mentioned Scott this morning. Ruprecht, I can’t say that I w-i-s-h that the murderer will be revealed, can I? Then the entity will reveal it.”
Thyme chuckled. “I wondered why you spelled the word.”
I shrugged. “Just to be on the safe side.”
Ruprecht held up one finger. “No, Amelia, that would be the worst thing you could do. You need to remove that word from your vocabulary for the time being.”
Camino pulled off her cane toad head. It left every last piece of her hair sticking skyward. I did my best not to laugh. “I was suffocating under there,” she said sadly. “I won’t be able to sleep in it. I should’ve bought that long-nosed bandicoot onesie when I saw it online the other day. It should be much more comfortable to sleep in. I’ll buy you one too, Amelia, for your birthday.’
“That’s so kind of you, but my birthday isn’t for a long time,” I said hopefully. “A very long time.”
Camino waved my concerns away. “So you haven’t seen Fred again recently?”
“No, he hasn’t been around since this morning.” At least, I hoped that was the case. Had Fred in fact made Alder kiss me? I was fairly certain he had, but I had to put that out of my mind for the minute. “Ruprecht, have you made any progress on finding out anything about Fred?”
He shook his head. “Sadly, I haven’t. Summoning is always easy, even for the most unskilled or novice person, but banishing a spirit is quite another matter.”
I took a deep breath. “Alder showed me his collection of witchcraft books. After what we read, we think that Fred is a haint. Ruprecht, is there any chance that the word ‘haint’ appears as a spelling mistake in the text, in addition to the error you found?”
Ruprecht hurried to his feet. “Let’s have a look.” He carried the book to Camino’s dining room table, where he opened it.
Ruprecht took an awfully long time poring over the Book of Shadows, even by his standards. After what seemed an age, he jabbed his finger at the book. “There! That word there should be aiunt, Latin third person plural active indicative of the verb aio, ‘I affirm.’”
“Sorry, I didn’t understand a word of that,” I admitted. By the looks on the others’ faces, they didn’t either.
“In a nutshell, the word should be aiunt, meaning ‘they affirm,’ but instead it is haint. Granted, one is a verb and one is a noun, but I can explain the syntax of the sentence to you in detail.”
Mercifully, Camino prevented him. “No, none of us would understand you, if I’m honest,” she said quickly. “Are you saying that Amelia has summoned a haint?”
Ruprecht nodded solemnly.
“That’s not good, right?” I said. “So Fred’s a haint?”
Ruprecht nodded again. “Yes, he’s a haint, and no, it is not good. Far from it.”
“How do we get rid of him?” was my next question.
“I don’t know. I’m not aware of anyone banishing a haint, simply protecting oneself from one, warding one off.”
“How?” we all said at once.
“Traditionally by the color blue. Haints are supposed to have an aversion to the color. Have you ever seen those Southern homes where the porch ceilings are painted a pretty blue-green or light blue?” He looked at each of us in turn, and then pressed on. “That color is known as ‘haint blue.’ It’s supposed to keep haints away.”
“Why?” I asked him.
Ruprecht shut the Book of Shadows. “No one knows. Some legends say that haints won’t cross seawater, but no one really knows for sure. I’m afraid that knowing Fred is a haint brings us no closer to knowing whether or not he was the murderer.”
Silence settled over the room. “I should light some lemongrass incense,” Camino said, “or perhaps some asafoetida.”
Thyme pulled a face. “Lemongrass would be better. Asafoetida smells absolutely disgusting. They don’t call it ‘devil’s dung’ for nothing.”
“Let me light the incense, Camino,” Mint said. “If the fire gets too close to your onesie, you’ll go up in smoke.”
Ruprecht turned to look at me. “Amelia, you’ll have to banish the haint.”
“Me?” I squeaked. “But how?”
“I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.” Ruprecht’s tone was solemn. “You’re a Dark Witch, and now is the time for you to recognize your powers and act on them.”
The rest of the evening was somewhat of a blur. I tossed and turned in bed that night, unable to sleep, burdened with worries. Had the haint killed Scott Plank? And had it made Alder kiss me? A selfish thought, I know, given the gravity of the situation, but one I just couldn’t get out of my mind. And worst of all, how would I be able to come into my powers as a Dark Witch? I didn’t even know what that entailed.
Willow and Hawthorn swiped at me as I rolled over in bed once more, annoyed I had disturbed them from their resting place on top of my legs. Willow walked up to my face to glare at me. “What am I going to do, Willow?” Of course, there was no reply, so I tried once more to fall asleep.
Chapter 13
I woke up to the sound of yet another strident battle. The house was up early this morning. Rubbing my eyes, I staggered into the living room to turn off the T
V. “Please just let me have coffee first,” I said to the house.
Willow and Hawthorn had followed me every step of the way, complaining loudly that I had the nerve to do something other than feed them the second my eyes had opened. I went back into my usual routine, switching on the coffee and then filling the cats’ bowls with food.
I slumped over the coffee machine and waited for it to do its magic, figuratively speaking. That sound was my favorite sound in the world. Soon, the first hit of caffeine was oozing delightfully through my body. I took up my cup and went back into the living room, where I opened the curtains. To my alarm, I saw Kayleen’s van parked at my front gate. What was she doing here? I had gone to the expense of getting a Post Office Box just to make sure Kayleen never darkened my doorstep again.
I watched as she walked toward my iron gate, resting her hands on it. I set down my coffee cup, wrapped my bathrobe around me tightly, and hurried down the front path.
“Parcel!” Kayleen barked.
“What? I have a Post Office Box now. I’m not supposed to get any mail here.”
“Maybe you should get a redirection order,” Kayleen said in a snide tone.
“I do have one, a two-year one,” I said.
Kayleen snickered. “Perhaps someone at the Post Office forgot to put on the redirection sticker.”
I crossed my arms and took a shallow breath. Her extravagantly applied and cheap floral perfume was tickling my nose. “Like I said, I’m not supposed to get any mail here. That’s why I paid all that money for a Post Office Box. They’re not cheap, you know.” I was exasperated.
Kayleen thrust a small parcel at me by way of response. “You’re a witch!”
I was taken aback. “Excuse me?” I snatched the parcel from her.
“You heard me!” Kayleen thrust out her jaw in a belligerent manner. “There’s protection incense in there. Only witches use protection incense.”
“You opened my package!” I said accusingly. I could see that only part of the yellow and red sealed tape was still on the package, and someone had hastily covered it over with clear adhesive tape.
