A Hex a Day (Which Village Book 1)

by L. C. Mortimer

  *

  The next day, Eliza woke me up early and after a breakfast of eggs and some sort of weird porridge thing she made, we set off for the library. I wasn't really expecting very much, but the Which Village Library was quite lovely. The building was, as promised, made of old brick. It was a three-story building with a pointy top. I wasn't sure if there was an attic or a possible fourth floor, but the building was huge and lovely and a little bit intimidating.

  "So everyone here is a paranormal?" I asked as we got out of Eliza's car and headed toward the front.

  "Yep. Keep your voice low while we're inside. You never know who - or what - is listening."

  We went into the library and Eliza pasted a frown on her face. I understood now that she did that so people wouldn't try to talk to her. She was a busy woman, and while she was well-respected in the community, she was also very private.

  The library had a huge staircase in the center of the first floor that led upstairs. I peered up to the second-floor balcony. There were so many different kinds of books that my heart sort of melted a little bit. I was wildly tempted to explore, but we were on a mission, and we needed answers.

  Apparently, we needed answers we would find in the basement.

  Eliza led me to a section of books that looked like it was hardly used. A quick glance at the titles showed names like Hexes and Spells for Beginners and Once Upon a Curse. By the time we reached the end of a row of books, I was totally overwhelmed by the feeling of magic in the air.

  That was what I'd been feeling since I arrived at Which Village, I realized.

  Magic.

  It was everywhere.

  The air was thick with it, and I was finding that I didn't mind it as much as I probably should have.

  "You're taking this well, you know," Eliza said, grabbing a book off a particularly dusty shelf. The bookshelf spun around, carrying us with it. There was a staircase hidden behind the bookcase, and we started walking down the stairs. The bookcase spun back into place, shielding us from the view of any other library patrons who might walk by. There were electric torches on the walls to guide us down the stairs, but the rest of the space seemed very dim.

  "What? Finding hidden staircases behind bookcases? I mean, I read a lot of Nancy Drew as a kid, so it doesn't scare me as much as it probably should."

  "That's not what I mean. I mean you're dealing with your impending witchdom very well."

  "I don't think that's a real word."

  She shrugged and continued walking. The staircase was a spiral one, but the brick walls surrounding it meant I couldn't see anything except the stairs directly in front of me. We could have gone down one story or five and I would have no way to tell.

  "I wish my mom had told me," I said.

  "I wish so, too."

  "I'm sure she had her reasons."

  "She wanted to protect you."

  "I get it, but I'm not a child."

  "I know."

  We kept walking in silence. It felt nice that Eliza and I were in agreement, at least with this. My mother had been a good woman, but not perfect.

  We finally reached the end of the stairs, and we were in a large, empty basement. As promised, the walls down here were brick. There were also several rows of large bookshelves.

  "This way," Eliza said. She pulled the brick out of her pocket and started walking.

  "Tell me what we're looking for."

  "A place with half of a brick missing."

  "Do you have any idea who might have thrown it?"

  "Someone who wanted to tell us something," she said.

  We walked along the walls, circling the books, but didn't see anything for awhile. Finally, just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted a little section of the wall that looked like it was starting to crumble.

  "Here!" I said excitedly. I gestured for Eliza to come over, and she did.

  "Perfect."

  She held the brick piece up, and it was a match.

  "I'm still not sure why someone felt it necessary to break the window," I pointed out. Eliza had patched it up easily with just the right spell. I'd been surprised at how quickly she'd been able to fix it up.

  "To get your attention."

  "My attention? How did anyone even know I was here?"

  The only places I'd gone had been the inn and then Eliza's office.

  "You talked to the neighbor," she pointed out.

  "Natasha said Jasper was my mom's cat. I'm pretty sure she's working with him."

  "Or she just saw the cat loitering around a lot and figured he was your mom's."

  We'd gone to Natasha's first thing in the morning, but she hadn't answered. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

  "Besides, you stayed at the inn, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Lionel and Leslie have hearts of gold, but they're also old busybodies. If you had the idea that you could just waltz into town and blend right in, I'm sorry to say that you were sorely mistaken."

  Rankled, I bristled at her comment. Sorely mistaken my foot. I wasn't really sure what she was talking about. Could people in a small town really talk that much? It seemed a bit extreme.

  Then again, someone had realized I was there, and they'd quite literally tossed us a clue. They'd managed to get my attention, so if that was what they were going for, then it worked.

  "Look inside the hole," Eliza said.

  I peered in.

  "I don't see anything."

  She looked at me, narrowing her eyes.

  "Try again."

  I looked again, but there was still nothing.

  "Nope."

  "Your powers haven't come in yet," she sighed. "I thought maybe you'd get them a little bit early, but apparently not."

  "What would I see if my powers were here?"

  "There are fingerprints inside," she said. "They look like a wolf's paw prints, actually."

  "You think a werewolf was here?"

  "Either that or a shifter."

  "Strange."

  "Strange indeed," she said.

  "Is there a note or anything else?"

  "No."

  "Then why this brick?" I asked.

  Why here? That was the question. There was nothing in the space where the brick was taken, so what was it that the mysterious clue-giver wanted us to see? That was the biggest question I had. Did they want us to be down here for a reason?

  "Is there another hidden room?" I asked hopefully.

  "I don't think so."

  Eliza looked around the room.

  "Maybe something in the books?"

  "Maybe," I said doubtfully. I was beginning to feel frustrated. There were too many different issues happening at once. We needed to find out who had killed my mom. We needed to find her hidden recipe. Perhaps most of all, we needed to find out who was sending us a message or a clue. Somebody wanted to help us, maybe. Was this how they were going to do it?

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  "Wait, give me the stone," I said, gesturing for Eliza to hand it over. She shrugged, but brought it to me. Eliza's delicate hands passed the brick to me. I looked over it carefully. It didn't look like it had been ripped carelessly away from the wall, and it didn't look like it had fallen out, either.

  No, this bit of stone looked like it had been carefully carved. I understood that it was a brick, and that sometimes, bricks fell and crumbled. That was a natural part of a brick building aging. Still, there was something else. Something strange.

  I looked at the brick, and then, on a whim, I placed it back in the hole where it came from, and I shoved it deep into the spot.

  Suddenly, there was a rumbling noise. It was followed by a little portion of the wall sliding open. It revealed a hidden room, and I turned to Eliza, shocked.

  "Okay," she shrugged. "So apparently, there is a hidden space."

  "Let's go," I motioned for her to follow me inside. I grabbed the brick piece and brought it with me. I wasn't sure whether I would need it or not,
but I didn't have any interest in getting stuck downstairs in the library. Not when there where creatures out there looking for me. For us.

  "All right."

  We went into the little room. Once we were inside, I looked around for a button. I didn't want anyone sneaking up on us while we explored and looked around. As soon as I found the interior button that closed the secret door, I hit it. The wall closed shut, and then we were alone.

  This must have been my mother's private space.

  "She never told me about this place," Eliza said. She sounded a little hurt.

  "Me neither," I shrugged.

  "I thought we told each other everything."

  I looked over at her. Yeah. She was definitely hurt.

  "Hey," I reached for her shoulder. "I might not be a witch yet. I might not have my powers or know a lot about this world, but I know one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "She loved you. A lot, from what I can tell. If she kept this from you, she must have had a reason."

  "I hope so."

  "I know so."

  The room was small and simple. It was just a tiny little room with a big table in the center of it. There were books sprawled out on it, along with a big cauldron.

  "It's not hanging over a fire," I rolled my eyes.

  "Not all witches use a cauldron," Eliza pointed out. "And they don't need to be over a fire. It's a cauldron: not a cooking pot."

  "Same thing, right?"

  "No," she glared. "It's not the same thing."

  "I'm joking."

  "It's not funny."

  "Whatever."

  Okay, so emotions were running a little high as we looked around the room. I shouldn't have been acting like a crabby teenager, but she didn't need to snap at me, either. I wasn't exactly a fan of finding out that my mom had these big, horrible secrets, either. That didn't make it okay for her to bitch at me.

  "So this is where she came to do her research."

  "Apparently."

  "What are we looking for?"

  I stared at the different little potions of herbs.

  "There are a lot of different ingredients," I commented. "I don't really know what we're looking for."

  Eliza ran her hand over the lids of different jars. She picked up a couple, examining them. I reached for a notebook and flipped through it. There were lots of different notes. Some of them seemed mysterious and like they were written in code. Other notes seemed obvious.

  "Anything in there?" She asked.

  "Just a bunch of random notes. Looks like there are a few recipes she tried out. She has a couple of entries in here about recipes that didn't work."

  "But nothing that did work?"

  "Not yet."

  I kept skipping around. It was almost like a little diary. Everything was dated starting a few months ago. I flipped forward to some of the more recent entries. Nothing seemed to really stand out, though.

  Not until I got to a note where my name was mentioned.

  Recipe 34 didn't work on Quartz. Trying less sage this time.

  Strange.

  What did that mean?

  Eliza found a box of note cards and flipped through them. As with the journal, nothing really seemed to matter or make sense.

  "We should go," she finally said.

  Once we were certain that there was nothing left in the room that could either indicate my mother used it or help us find out her recipe, we left the room, made sure it was locked up, and then headed upstairs to the library.

  We were walking down one of the rows of books when we heard someone call after us.

  "Hey, you! Excuse me! Yes, you two!"

  We turned to see a tall, lanky librarian. She was so tall that she looked almost like a spider. She had deep auburn hair that hung down to her waist in loose curls. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a white blouse. I wasn't sure if she could get anymore stereotypical.

  "Can I help you?" Eliza asked.

  "I was about to ask you the same question," she said. "I saw you go into the basement."

  I just looked at her, not really understanding what she wanted.

  "I'm so sorry," I said, feigning ignorance. "Were we not allowed to? I've been looking for a book and my dear friend Eliza was helping me out."

  The woman scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

  "Eliza knows you're allowed down there. It's just that you were down there an awfully long time. Were you able to find what you needed?" Her question was innocent enough, but I understood the real question: who were we? What were we doing? Were we causing trouble?

  "No," I shook my head. “We couldn’t find what we needed.” Eliza turned to me, as if to ask what I was doing. "I'm looking for a book on herbology and sleep problems. Do you have any recommendations?"

  The librarian paused for a second, as if taking in what I’d just said, but then her face seemed to light up.

  "Why, yes! I have so many! Come with me and I'll make you a list. My name is Patricia, by the way. Patricia Rubies."

  I followed her back to the main circulation desk, and Eliza followed reluctantly. Eliza seemed to think I was being totally crazy and insane, but hopefully my wild and random plan would pay off.

  "Nice to meet you," I said. "I'm Jaden."

  "Now, Jaden, I'm going to give you a list of books you can try," she said. "Hopefully, at least one of them will help you out."

  She started typing on her computer, and then she grabbed a piece of parchment and started writing on it. The parchment was kind of old looking, but it was pretty cool, too. She used a feather quill that she dipped in an inkwell to write.

  "Thank you so much for helping me," I said. "I would be lost without this. You have a lot of books downstairs."

  "Yes, we really do have quite the collection," she said as she wrote.

  "You know, it's really cool that the basement collection is located behind a hidden bookshelf," I said.

  "It is nice, isn't it? One of our patrons suggested that as a sort of cool, trendy sort of thing to try out. People love it, though. It's not really a secret, but it's a fun little thing."

  "Oh, absolutely. Does your basement see a lot of foot traffic?" I asked casually.

  "Not too much. We have one patron who really loved spending time down there. Sadly, she passed away last week."

  Eliza tensed from behind me. Obviously, the woman didn't recognize her as my mother's lover.

  "Oh, I’m sorry to hear that."

  "Yes, me too," she said. "She and her friend used to go down there for hours and just study together."

  "Her friend?" My ears perked up at that.

  "Oh yes. Nice young man. Handsome, too," the woman winked at me. She kept writing down the names of books. Soon she had about ten names.

  "We could all use more of those around, huh?" I asked, trying to keep her talking.

  A handsome man?

  With my mom?

  Who was that?

  "Oh, yes. They don't make them like this," she said dreamily. "Haven't seen him in a couple of days, but he's here all the time. Well, he was. Now that his friend has passed, I don't know if we'll see him again."

  "That's too bad."

  "It really is. Here you go, love." She handed me the parchment. "Now, most of these you can find on the second floor, except for that last book. It's on the top floor. Let me know if you need any help, and I'll take you myself."

  "Thank you so much," I said politely. "I really appreciate it."

  "Anything to help a patron," she said. "Will there be anything else?"

  "Actually," I said. "Do you happen to remember the name of the man whose friend died? I'd like to make sure I share my condolences if I see him."

  "Hmm," she said, tapping her chin. "It was some sort of rock," she said.

  "A rock?"

  "Yes, something like Mr. Diamond or Mr. Emerald...something like that."

  Suddenly, my blood ran cold. I thought of the notebook we'd found, and of my mother's notes. I thought of how
she'd written a note about me, but what if it hadn't been about me at all? What if the note had referred to someone I shared a name with? Someone else who had been dead?

  "Quartz?" I whispered. My mouth was dry, and the word was hard to get out.

  "Why, yes!" She grinned readily. "How did you know?"

  Chapter 6

  "What was that all about?" Eliza looked at me curiously once we were in the car. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I think that I have."

  "Explain," her eyes narrowed, and she glared at me. In that moment, I was instantly reminded of my mother. That look was one she’d given me many times before: mostly when I didn’t think that I deserved it.

  Eliza was beautiful. She had very sharp features, but her eyes were completely delicate. It was no wonder that my mother had loved her.

  "I was married."

  "I know."

  "My husband died."

  Eliza stared at me.

  "When?"

  "Recently. Six months ago. My mother didn't tell you?"

  "No."

  "I'm not sure if she knew."

  I had written to her, but I'd never gotten a response. I hadn't really expected one, to be honest. That was the way my mom had been for a long time. She responded when she felt like it, and when it was convenient for her.

  "How could she not know?" Eliza whispered.

  "I don't know."

  "What does your husband's death have to do with the library?"

  I stared at Eliza, waiting for her to put the pieces together. I didn't quite understand it myself, but it had to be him.

  "Quartz," she finally said. "That's your last name."

  "That was my husband's name, too."

  "I thought you said he was dead."

  "Maybe he's less dead than I thought."

  It didn't make much sense to me, though. Had Stanley faked his own death? Had he pretended to be dead, and then come to Which Village? Why would he come here? More importantly, why would he tell my mother that he was alive, but not me?

  It hurt. For a minute, I felt like I might throw up.

  "Not in my car," Eliza said, noticing my face. "If you have to vomit, tell me and I'll pull over."

  "I'll be okay."

  "You'd better be."

  She drove, pulling out of the library parking lot and heading back to the house where my mother had lived. We heard sirens as we approached. Before we saw the house, I knew exactly what we were in for. There was smoke billowing from that general direction, and people were standing in their yards as we drove closer.