by N. M. Howell
He stared at me, wide-eyed.
“You got the idea after we were talking in the café, didn’t you?”
Ryan gave up struggling and collapsed onto the floor, his eyes beginning to tear up.
“Why do you have to live with them?” he asked me. “I’ve told you so many times.”
“What?” I looked around the room hoping for an explanation, but no one could offer anything to me. I stared back down at Ryan, waiting for him to continue.
“They’re witches,” he sobbed. “All of them. I was trying to protect you from them.” He curled into a ball on the floor and continued to sob into his knees.
“I did it,” he admitted. “It was me. I did it. But I did it for you.”
I stepped back in disgust, and both Jordan and Sheriff Reese held their guns out, pointed at Ryan.
Ryan glanced up at Jordan. “What the hell dude? I thought we were friends?”
Jordan shook his head. “I’m not friends with monsters, man. How could you do that to those people?”
Ryan then began to sob even louder. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean to kill the kid. I just wanted to mark her. I just wanted to scare the town so they would chase out the witches.” He took a few shuddering breaths, then continued. “She died, though, and then it was too late to go back.”
“Why kill the couple?” Mayor Scott asked.
Ryan shook his head. “I’m not saying anything else. I want a lawyer.”
Sheriff Reese sighed. “Alright then, Ryan. You’ll get your lawyer. But for now, you’re going to rot in prison.”
The sheriff dragged Ryan kicking and screaming from the room, followed by Mayor Scott. Jordan stayed behind with us, his eyes focused on me.
I stared back at him, trying to make sense of the scene that just went down. The room was silent apart from Bailey’s muffled sobs coming from behind me.
I stole a sympathetic glance in her direction, then turned back to Jordan.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him.
“Don’t be,” he said. “You were acting on your gut instinct. It means I played my part well.”
“How did you pull that off?” I asked, motioning towards the direction they took Ryan. Lights from the police car went by the front window, and I knew they were taking Ryan away to the local jail.
“I knew Ryan from Boston,” he said. “We used to hang out. It was a good enough excuse to get me here without anyone questioning who I was.”
“Did you have any idea?”
He shook his head. “None. To be honest, I was more concerned with his father, who often disappeared on weeknights. That was until I learned where he was going.” He eyed Mrs. Brody but didn’t say anything further.
“No,” I said, my mouth falling open as I stared at Mrs. Brody.
“Oh, Mrs. Brody,” Rory said. “Really? Mr. Bramley?”
She shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. “Can’t deny an old woman her simple pleasures.”
I tried my best not to picture the two of them together. I had enough horror on my mind for one night, thank you very much.
I then thought of something. “The devil’s root. Do you think Ryan stole it?”
Mrs. Brody nodded. “You can bet on it.”
“That would also explain how he got through your perimeter defenses,” Rory said. “Because he’d already been in the house.”
Jordan looked very confused with what we were saying but kept his mouth shut.
Mayor Scott came back into the room and sat down at his desk.
“Ryan’s been taken to the station,” he said. “He’ll be sent to the state jail in the morning, and the feds will take over from there.”
“I still don’t understand why he killed the couple, though,” Jordan said.
“I think I do,” I answered darkly. “If he truly wanted to frame...” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “If he truly wanted to frame witches, then he had to make it look like the murders were going to continue to happen. I imagine whatever drug he used to paralyze them ended up being too much for Mr. and Mrs. Littleton to handle, and they died before he could mark them. But given his purpose of trying to frame the paranormal community, he had to put the marks on them anyway or else there would have been no point in killing them.”
Mayor Scott nodded. “And he must have chosen those three because he somehow knew they were coming to Brimstone Bay. If they showed up with the markings…” He trailed off, lost in his thoughts.
“How did he know they were headed here?” Jordan asked.
I shrugged. “Facebook?”
“None of this explains the sewn lips,” he continued.
“Maybe he didn’t want the ghosts to blab about their killer?” I suggested, doing my best to sound innocent in the matter.
Mayor Scott looked up at me then, his eyebrows raised. “Then how?”
Jordan looked at him. “How what?”
I shrugged again. “I’d imagine ghosts probably wouldn’t keep anything that happened to them after their bodies were already killed.” I glanced back to Mrs. Brody, who nodded encouragingly to me. “But that’s just a guess.”
“You guys all sound mental,” Jordan said. “What are you talking about?”
“You know, for a guy who grew up in a big city, you really don’t seem to have a clue about any of this stuff,” I said to him.
He shook his head. “I always figured it was just some sort of weird fetish people were into.”
Rory then laughed. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”
I glared back and shushed her.
“This is all just a bit much for me,” Jordan said, stretching and leaning back in his chair. “I’ve had enough crazy for one day.”
Mayor Scott yawned. “Yeah, me too. I should go speak with Mr. Bramley, he’ll need to be filled in on everything that happened.”
I was going to wish him luck, but I really didn’t know what to say. He was about to break the news to a sweet old man that his son was a murderer and would likely be locked away for the rest of his life. I felt terrible for the guy.
“Well, I think it’s about time we all head home,” Mrs. Brody chimed in.
“That’s a good idea,” Jordan said. “Would you ladies like a ride?”
“No thanks, we’ve got my car,” Rory said.
We all got up to leave, and I turned back to Jordan. “I am sorry for suspecting you.”
He shrugged. “It’s no biggie. I would have done the same.”
“Are you going to head back to Boston now?”
“Don’t think so... I’ll go see if I can do anything for the mayor and Mr. Bramley right now, then I’ll stick around for a while and help wrap up the investigation.”
I nodded. “Okay then, I’ll see you around I guess?”
He smiled at me. “Definitely.’”
We all walked out of the mayor’s office and stopped in the middle of the street to collect ourselves. Bailey had stopped crying, but I knew it would take a while for her to get over this.
I breathed in the cool autumn air, feeling somewhat invigorated after the events of the day. I looked around us, and the streets were peaceful. It had to be nearing morning by now, but the sky was still dark, and the lights were out in the shops. That is, apart from the mayor’s office and one light down the road.
I sighed. “I should stop by the office on my way home. I think someone’s still up there working.”
“Want me to drop you off?” Rory asked.
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’ve still got my bike here.”
My bike was still locked up to the street sign from earlier, and I waved goodbye to the girls and walked my bike back to the office. I could see through the window that JoAnn and Zack were still there. Likely stressing over the murder articles.
I leaned my bike up against the building and quietly made my way up the stairs. I pushed open the office door and was not prepared in the slightest for what I saw.
JoAnn and Zack pushe
d away from each other as I came in, both looking at me with wide-eyed and shocked expressions.
“Er, sorry,” I muttered, totally embarrassed. Oh god, I can’t believe they were just kissing. This better not mean Zack’s staying in town.
JoAnn collected herself and brushed it off as if it were nothing, but Zack looked rather humiliated.
“I noticed the lights were on, and I thought I’d come fill you guys in on what happened,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow warm as I spoke.
“What do you mean?” JoAnn asked. “What happened?”
“The murderer was caught,” I said. “It was Ryan Bramley, from downstairs.”
JoAnn looked absolutely shocked.
I filled them in on the story, then told Zack I was happy for him to finish the article. I really didn’t have the emotional or physical capacity to work on this right now, and I really just needed to get home to bed.
JoAnn agreed that was a good idea, and we said our goodbyes. I could not get out of there fast enough.
I got back on my bike to head home and passed the storefront of the café. I saw Jordan and Mayor Scott standing in the middle of the room, and Mr. Bramley was sitting with his head on a table, hands covering his ears. I felt terrible for the poor guy and made a mental note that I would go back in a few days and offer to help out at the café. Or even better, I’ll volunteer the services of my housemates. They really needed damn jobs.
The cool breeze felt good on my skin as I rode home, and I relished in the few minutes of silence I had to myself as I quietly rode my bike down the winding streets of town. After everything that had happened over the last few days, I was happy that it was now all over.
20
I slept in until late afternoon the next day. I really must have needed the sleep, and my body was stiff when I woke up.
As if on cue, my trusty little furry companion pranced up to my face and curled into my pillow beside me. I nuzzled into his fur with my face, happy for the company. His purring comforted me as the memories of last night came back to me.
I was happy that the killer had been caught, but I was absolutely shocked that it was Ryan Bramley who did it. I hardly thought him capable of such a thing, and to think he did it to try and get rid of Mrs. Brody and my housemates. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
I then laughed silently to myself. I wondered what he would have done if he found out I was a witch, too. I mean, the signs were there, he was just too blind to see them.
I then thought of Bailey and resigned to push myself out of bed to go see how she was doing.
I was met in the halls with the smell of bacon and followed my nose down to Mrs. Brody’s apartment.
The whole gang, including Jessica and Mr. and Mrs. Littleton, were clustered around the table, in a heated discussion about whether ghosts could smell bacon or not.
“Of course, we can,” Mrs. Littleton was saying. “I can smell it now.”
“You’re a ghost, you have no senses,” Mrs. Brody countered. “You’re just imaging things.”
“I can smell it,” Jessica said. “I can almost taste it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl,” Mrs. Brody said, waving her hands at them dismissively. She then went back to cooking the bacon on the stove.
As per usual, Mr. Littleton just stood there silently, observing the scene around him. I wondered if he was this chatty when he was alive.
“Morning,” I said as I joined them in the kitchen.
“Afternoon,” Rory said back, smiling at me. “Have a good sleep?”
“You know it.”
“I thought you could all use a nice hearty breakfast,” Mrs. Brody said to me as she poured me a cup of coffee.
“It’s four o’clock,” I laughed. “But breakfast sounds perfect.”
We sat around the table, chatting happily over breakfast.
“What are you going to do now?” I asked Jessica and Mr. and Mrs. Littleton. “Your murders have been solved. Where will you go?”
Jessica looked sad. “I don’t know.”
“You’ll come with us, of course,” Mrs. Littleton said. “We’ve always wanted children, but never could have any of our own. We would love for you to stay with us. Isn’t that right, dear?” She turned to look at Mr. Littleton.
Mr. Littleton looked at his wife with an expression of absolute happiness. He then turned to Jessica and said, “Oh yeah, I would love that very much.”
I stared at him, surprised that he had finally spoken.
“Well that’s lovely,” Mrs. Brody said as she puttered about in the kitchen.
I noticed Bailey was quiet and not really eating. She was pushing her food around on her plate with her fork.
“You okay, Bailey?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, fine.”
“You know, there are plenty of other fish in the sea,” Rory offered.
“Yeah, I know. It’s not that. I just can’t help but feel responsible for all of this.”
“What?” I asked. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bailey, this had absolutely nothing to do with you. Ryan was obviously sick in the head. Nothing any of us did could have caused this.”
“I guess.”
I sighed. The whole town was going to need time to recover from this, I imagined.
A knock came from the front door, and Mrs. Brody went to answer it.
“It’s for you River, dear,” she called back to me and winked at me as I passed her.
Jordan O’Riley was standing at the front door with two take-out coffees in his hands.
“Coffee?” he asked me.
I eyed him suspiciously but took a coffee from him. I opened the lid to peer inside. Black, just the way I like it.
I smiled at him. “Thanks, Jordan.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go around back.”
I led him around the house to the back veranda, overlooking the bay. We probably had one of the nicest views in town.
“How are you doing?” he asked me. He looked me up and down as if expecting to see some sort of physical damage.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just a little shaken up. I can’t believe it was Ryan Bramley all along.”
“Me neither,” he said. “Trust me,”
“How do you guys know each other, again?”
“His mom lives just down the street from my parents. We hung out a lot as kids.”
“You two really don’t seem like you have a lot in common,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“We don’t. To be honest, I was surprised when he called me up last month when he was in town. He had come for some sort of gallery showing or something.”
“Museum,” I corrected him. “I think that’s what started this whole thing. Did he know you were a cop?”
Jordan shook his head. “No, not many people do. I keep it quiet given the nature of my undercover work. I’m thinking of giving it up, though.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “It’s not for me. I’d rather spend my days fishing, and you don’t get much of that in the city.”
“Just keep you fishing line to yourself,” I said solemnly.
He nodded silently, and I could feel his eyes on me as I stared down into my coffee.
“Look, Mayor Scott filled me in on your guys’, er…” He paused. “Nature.”
I laughed. “He did, did he? And how did you react to that one?”
I eyed him, trying to make sense of his facial expressions.
He shrugged. “Took me a while to believe it, to be honest. But looking back at the things I’ve seen in Boston, it really doesn’t surprise me that all that paranormal stuff actually exists.”
“Wow, good for you,” I said. “Most people refuse to believe it. There are only a few people in town who really accept it. The rest just think it’s a made-up story.”
He shrugged again. “I did too, for the longest time. So can you actually do magic?”
I laughed.
“Some.” I waved my hand in the air and muttered a few words under my breath. The early fall leaves in the back yard began swirling and lifted into a sort of fountain.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing.”
I smiled. “You’re not afraid?”
He shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”
We both sat in silence for a few minutes, looking out at the waves crashing in the bay, sipping our coffees next to each other.
“So, you really don’t like pumpkin spice lattes?” he asked.
I laughed out loud and shook my head.
“I really don’t like pumpkin spice lattes.”
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About the Author
N.M. Howell is an author, publisher, and all-around nerd from the West Coast of Canada. She has an obsession with coffee, spicy food, and the rain, and she absolutely hates sleeves (seriously, they’re like little fabric prisons)! When not working on her latest book - or latest ten books, more realistically - she spends her time working on her Master’s Thesis and fighting with her micro-wolf pup over who gets the best spot on the couch. Hint: the dog often wins.
Find N.M. Howell Online:
www.nmhowell.com
[email protected]
Also By N.M. Howell
Marked by Dragon’s Blood
Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen
Brimstone Bay Mysteries:
Murder Any Witch Way
Witch Way to Hallows’ Bay
Bewitch You a Merry Christmas
Witch Souls to Save
Book 2 Sneak Peek
“I think she’s dead,” a voice whispered from above me.
I groaned, face plastered against the uneven wooden floorboards.
“Oh, shush,” another replied. “Should we wake her up?”
I slowly opened one eye and strained to look up at the two blurry figures standing next to me.
