A Hex a Day (Which Village Book 1)

by L. C. Mortimer

  Perhaps most importantly, how was it that everything inside the little rental was so wildly calming?

  On the eve of my birthday, I sat in the cabin with a little cupcake I'd purchased at a corner shop, and I lit a tiny candle. I didn't sing to myself or anything ridiculous like that, but I did make a birthday wish.

  "I wish Stanley was here," I whispered out loud.

  I looked around the room, as though that would change anything. There was nothing, though. There was no whoosh of excitement. There was no wind. The lights didn't flicker. Everything was just entirely the time.

  I went ahead and blew out the candle, ate my cupcake, and crawled into bed. I laid there for what seemed like an eternity. I still had so many questions. What had happened to my mom? How was I going to find out who killed her? When was I going to get my powers?

  After a long time, I finally got out of bed and sat down with her notebook. I went over it again. I'd read the words a million times. She had potions in there and notes about the shapeshifter stuff, but as I read it this time, I noticed something else.

  There were extra words.

  In between each line, there was a thin, silver string of words that hadn't been there before.

  Either that, or I hadn't been able to see it before.

  "Mom?" I whispered. "What the hell did you do?"

  As I read the notebook that time, I wondered if I was able to see the extra words because I was officially 35. I was officially a witch. Did that mean that my powers had come in? Could I do things now? Why hadn’t Eliza seen the other words? Maybe she had, and she just hadn’t told me, or perhaps this was something special I could only see because I was my mother’s daughter.

  I read the notebook again, and this time, it seemed very different. There were still the recipes and the information about her ideas regarding shapeshifters, but there were other things, too.

  There were notes about the people in town. She talked about who supported werewolves and who was against them.

  And there was a lot of information about Mr. Quartz.

  Stanley.

  So, he was alive.

  As soon as I read the entry about his arrival in Which Village, I ran to the bathroom and puked. I threw up for about ten minutes, and then I sat beside the toilet and thought about what I'd learned. Okay, so I'd suspected for awhile that he was still alive, but now I knew that he actually was. He was alive, and he was...

  Somewhere.

  Well, he'd been in Which Village before my mom died. Her notebook said all sorts of stuff about that. If I was reading things correctly, he'd come to her for help.

  I just didn't know why.

  I crawled out of the bathroom and back to the notebook. I didn't trust walking. That wasn't going to work for me. My new powers, so far, were not exactly wild and wicked the way I'd imagined them to be, but I could read secret invisible writing. That had to count for something.

  I picked up the notebook and started reading.

  "So that was what happened," I whispered.

  He'd been bitten.

  It hadn’t been a collision. The police had lied. It was an animal attack after all. What was worse? The animal attack that had "killed" him hadn't killed him at all. He'd been bitten by a werewolf while we were away, and he'd run off and gotten lost.

  He hadn't returned to our lodging. He hadn't been able to find me. I'd moved back to America almost immediately after his disappearance, and he hadn't been able to find me. He'd had a hard time learning to get his werewolf mood swings under control. Every time there was a full moon, he'd change, and he'd wake up somewhere new.

  Apparently, when he was in his werewolf form, he couldn't remember anything.

  He had looked for me.

  I felt sick when I realized that he'd searched. He’d tried. He’d been lost and alone and scared, and he’d tried to find me. The authorities had been so happy to send me back to America and get me off of their foreign soil. I'd thought that there was nothing left for me there.

  I'd been wrong.

  And he'd been lost.

  "Stanley, where are you?" I whispered. He'd managed to find my mom. Judging from her notes, she was trying to find a way for him to control his shifting. Once she helped him, she was going to come find me. She was going to get us back together.

  "Well, shit."

  I leaned back against the wall and shook my head. I'd missed him. I'd missed both of them. I hadn't gotten to my mom in time to save her, and I hadn't known that Stanley was still alive.

  Somehow, I knew that it was going to be a long-ass night.

  I forced myself to finish going through the journal. I was hoping there would be more great reveals, but it was all very monotonous stuff. There was the occasional note about how she'd realized she was a witch, and there were a few tiny spells written in the margins of the book.

  Maybe I'd try one.

  After all, what could it hurt?

  One of the spells was supposed to be something you could do to reveal things you’d lost. Another was for making your hair look incredible. My mom had even included a spell for retrieving a pen.

  I’d start with that one.

  I was holding the notebook and sitting on the bed. Next to the bed was a small nightstand, and there was a pen on top of it. I looked at the book in front of me, and then I stared at the pen. I held up my hand, pointed at the pen, and whispered dongbi.

  I focused on bringing my entire body to life. I needed this more than anything else. I needed this win. I needed to have something that I could claim as my own. I needed to feel like my life hadn’t been a waste and that I hadn’t lost everything for nothing.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  I held my hand out again.

  For a moment, I thought the pen moved. It didn’t, though, and I felt like I was screwing this up beyond belief.

  “It’s just a simple spell,” I said out loud. “How can it not work?”

  I took a deep breath, tried to clear my mind, and tried again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Nothing worked.

  I tried standing, sitting, and lying down. I tried spinning in a circle before I whispered the words, and I tried drinking some water and then trying again, but nothing.

  There was nothing.

  “What am I missing?” I asked aloud. I stared at the pen, and I stared at the notebook in my hand, and finally, I dropped the notebook on the bed and looked at the pen.

  For me, this was the ultimate test of whether I’d actually grown as a person. Had I learned anything? Had I figured out what it was going to take to solve the mystery of mom’s death?

  “I don’t know who did this, Mom,” I said, staring at the pen. “But I’m going to figure it out.”

  Then I thrust my hands forward, and I screamed at the pen.

  DONGBI.

  It flew off the nightstand and into my hands.

  I had done it.

  It was time to solve a murder.

  Chapter 9

  When I left the inn for breakfast the next day, I stopped by the office to talk with Leslie and Lionel.

  “Thanks for giving me a place to stay,” I said.

  “You’re paying for it,” Lionel grunted. “It’s hardly us doing you any favors.”

  Still, he seemed to smile a little to himself, and that made me feel better. So he did like me.

  “Can I ask you both something?”

  “Sure,” Leslie shrugged. She pushed her glasses up the end of her nose. “What is it?”

  “Someone said something to me when I was downtown,” I explained. “They told me there have been a lot of newcomers to Which Village. Do you know what that’s about?”

  Leslie and Lionel exchanged glances. Was it just me, or did they look worried?

  “No,” Leslie said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that we don’t.”

  She shrugged, as though she regretted not being able to help me more, and I fought the feeling of disappointment that thr
eatened to overwhelm me.

  “Okay,” I said. I knew she was lying, but I wasn’t going to push it. Only, Lionel was watching me intently, and he walked around me, went to the lobby door, and locked it. Then he turned back around.

  “Lionel?” Leslie said. “What is it?”

  “She’s Alicia’s daughter,” he said. “Maybe she can help. If anyone can, it’s her.”

  “That might be true,” Leslie said carefully.

  “You do know something,” I said.

  Lionel reached behind the registration desk and pulled out a little card. It was no bigger than a business card, and it had a picture of a werewolf beneath a full moon. On the back of the card was an advertisement.

  IT’S WEREWOLF SEASON IN WHICH VILLAGE. COME CATCH ONE OF YOUR OWN TO SHOW THE FAM. BIGGEST BAG OF THE SEASON WINS A PRIZE.

  I thought I was going to be sick.

  “People are hunting them?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Does this happen often?”

  “I’ve lived in Which Village for nearly a hundred years, Jaden. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  He shook his head sadly, and I stared at the card some more.

  “Someone is trying to draw newcomers to town,” I said.

  “And they’re doing a good job of it,” Leslie said. “The cabins are rented for the next month.”

  “Are you serious?”

  They both nodded, blinking.

  “Has that ever happened before?”

  “Never,” Leslie said. Now that they were bringing me in on this information, she seemed eager to share. “We’ve been running this inn for years. We’re never booked that far out.”

  “So do you think someone is trying to rid the town of werewolves or bring in tourists?” I asked.

  “Could be both,” Lionel said.

  “Could be neither,” Leslie said.

  Lionel turned, glaring at her.

  “Neither? Not neither. It’s definitely one or the other, Leslie. You saw the card just as well as I did. Someone wants people here. It’s just a matter of figuring out who.”

  “Well, maybe it’s a distraction of some sort,” she said.

  “A distraction?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “You know, your mother was a wonderful person, but she also rankled people sometimes.”

  “I can’t imagine that,” I said dryly.

  “I know it’s hard to believe,” Leslie kept talking, not getting the sarcasm in my voice. “But sometimes, people were upset when she shared her ideas.”

  “What sort of ideas?”

  “She’d almost finished her cure for werewolves,” Lionel told me. “She only needed someone to test it on, but she said she’d found someone.”

  Stanley.

  She’d found Stanley.

  Only, she hadn’t gotten the chance to test it on him because something else had happened first, hadn’t it? Someone had killed her before she’d been able to use it, and now the potion was unfinished and untested.

  Who wouldn’t want werewolves cured?

  Who would want them hunted instead?

  I realized who it was almost immediately, and my stomach tossed and turned.

  “Lionel, Leslie,” I said, lowering my voice. “How many people know about the business card? Did you tell anyone else?”

  “Only the mayor,” Leslie said. “I called her just a few minutes before you got here. You know, in case she wanted to raise awareness about safety. If we’re going to have an influx of visitors, then people need to know how to protect themselves.”

  “You told the mayor,” I whispered.

  “Is something wrong?” Leslie asked.

  “I’m pretty sure she’s the one who killed my mom.”

  Saying it out loud felt forced and strange. The words seemed to catch in my throat.

  “She wanted tourists to come to town, and she hated werewolves.”

  “Helena Porridge is an old bat,” Lionel said. It was funny coming from him. He looked much older than her. “And she’s always been cranky.”

  “Why doesn’t she like werewolves?”

  “Her brother was bitten by one,” Leslie said. “Years ago. She doesn’t talk about it.”

  “What happened to the brother?”

  “Nobody knows,” she said. “But ever since then, she’s been careful not to talk about them. It’s only the older people who probably remember that, anyway.”

  “Did my mother know that Helena hated werewolves?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Most people didn’t know,” Lionel said. “Whether you like or hate werewolves isn’t something people say too much. The only opinion people have is whether to show up to the monthly charming session where the moon is re-charmed.”

  “That takes a group?”

  “Absolutely. No one witch is that strong. Well, Eliza could probably do it,” he chuckled. “But she’s a strong witch, isn’t she?”

  Was she?

  I had no way to know, but if that was true, then we were going to need her. There was no doubt that Helena was on her way to the inn, and she was going to try to silence Lionel and Leslie. She’d obviously worked hard to keep the town’s new tourist revival a secret. She wasn’t going to let them just run their mouths.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked.

  I dialed Eliza’s number, happy that I’d memorized it, and she answered on the first ring.

  “Leslie?”

  “It’s Jaden,” I corrected her.

  “Oh.”

  “Listen, I need to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you pay Jasper to find my mom’s werewolf potion recipe?”

  Silence, and then she breathed a big sigh of…something.

  “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to make sure her research wasn’t lost forever.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “To be honest, Jaden, I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

  “You came to the house,” I said. “You acted like you didn’t know him.”

  “I couldn’t give away all of my secrets at once, now could I?”

  “You should have told me.”

  “What’s this really about?”

  “Helena,” I said.

  “I knew it!”

  “Lionel and Leslie found a card advertising a werewolf hunting event,” I said. Then, nothing. There was nothing. “Hello?” I asked, but the line was dead.

  I looked over at Lionel and Leslie and nodded.

  “She’s here,” I said.

  “Or about to be,” Leslie whispered.

  I didn’t know what the rules were for a magical fight. Was this the sort of thing that went “to the death”? I had no clue. All I knew was that whatever was about to happen was going to change everything I knew about magic.

  Forever.

  Chapter 10

  When I was a little girl, my mother always told me to pay attention to the things I couldn’t see.

  Sometimes, the most important things are the ones you don’t look at.

  That was part of the problem I’d had. I’d been caught off-guard by the wonders and mystery surrounding the village that I hadn’t paid attention to the most important thing: people lie.

  Eliza hadn’t killed my mother, but she’d kept important information from me: information that may have been able to help me figure things out earlier than I actually had. Then again, maybe I needed to go through the process of confronting Jasper, of discovering the secret room beneath the library, and finding my mom’s journal.

  Life truly was a journey, and sometimes the only way through the fire was straight through.

  I walked outside of the inn. Part of me expected something wild and crazy: like a darkened sun or a thunderstorm or lightning bolts that were shooting out of the sky.

  None of that happened.

  Instead, I saw Helena walking toward the front of the inn. She’d parked over by the cabins. Had s
he had time to cut the telephone lines? Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.

  “Of course, you’re here,” she shook her head. “Why is it that you always seem to be in the midst of trouble?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “This is my town,” she said, cocking her head. “It’s my job to be aware of the comings and goings of the residents.”

  “And to bring in tourists?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Tourism is part of what keeps our village alive,” she said. “Although it’s been dying lately.”

  “That’s not the only thing that’s been dying,” I said. “You killed my mother.”

  I said it out loud and let the words hang in the air between us. It was just Helena and me outside in the parking lot of the inn. Lionel and Leslie were both still inside, but I knew they were watching through the windows.

  “That’s quite an accusation,” Helena said. She seemed nonplussed, as though it was no concern of hers.

  “How did you do it?” I whispered. “Did you put a spell on her?”

  Eliza had said it was a hex. I didn’t know if that was true. If it was, it was horrifying to me. If not, well, there were other ways to die that were just as horrible. I knew that there was no such thing as a magic spell that could just kill someone. You had to actually do something. Unless you were deep into dark magic, you could curse an object that would cause harm or trick someone into eating something poisoned, but just casting a killing spell?

  That couldn’t be done.

  Not as far as I knew.

  “Do you know how I became the coven leader of this town?” Helena asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “That’s not what we’re talking about.”

  “I think it’s time for you to shut up,” she pinched her fingers closed, and my mouth snapped shut, “and listen.” She smiled at me, and I realized she’d cast the silencing spell on me. It was the same one that Eliza had used on Natasha.

  I tried to talk, to scream, but nothing happened. I whirled around, only to see that Lionel and Leslie were banging on the windows of the inn. They were trapped inside and couldn’t get out.

  “They’re a bit busy,” Helena said, smiling menacingly at me. “They won’t be coming out.”

  She circled around me like a vulture, like I was prey. We were still in the parking lot, and I wondered what it meant that she wasn’t taking me somewhere more private. Maybe she wasn’t going to kill me. Only, I knew I wasn’t going to be so lucky. I knew that whatever was going to happen next was going to change everything, and it wasn’t going to be what I wanted.