A Drop of Witch (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch

by Zoe Arden

  “At the bakery,” my dad said. “I mean, Coffee Cove.”

  I looked hopefully at Colt. “Hey, now that we know how Paisley and Mayor Singer were killed, do you think we can reopen the bakery?”

  My dad looked up from his third piece of bacon, interested in his answer as well.

  “It would be nice to get back to our ovens,” my dad said. “Melbourne’s been great, but everything we bake smells like coffee beans. It’s starting to get old.”

  I could see Colt thinking. “I suppose there’s no reason to keep it closed any longer,” he said and took a bite of toast. “If Polly wants to get you, she can do it anywhere, not just the bakery.”

  He caught the worried look on my face.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sometimes, you just don’t know how to talk to people. Do you?” I asked, shaking my head as a grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate.

  “Ava, the only reason to coddle you would be if I was worried you couldn’t handle the truth of the situation. You’ve proven more than once now that you can.”

  I blushed at the compliment.

  “Well... thanks.”

  I looked up to see my father staring at me with raised eyebrows.

  “I’m gonna run down to Coffee Cove and tell Eleanor and Trixie the good news,” I said, rising from the table.

  “I’ll go with you,” Colt said, rising, too.

  “I thought you said I could handle myself.”

  “You can.”

  “Then why do I still need a babysitter?”

  “Because, Ava, you have a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  My father laughed and orange juice came out his nose.

  “You’re on his side now?” I asked.

  “Honey, sometimes the man makes sense.”

  I hurried to Coffee Cove, anxious to give my aunts the good news. When I told them they could reopen The Mystic Cupcake, Eleanor literally jumped for joy. Trixie did a little jig. Even Rocky, who was asleep in back, looked up long enough to wag his tail and bark several times.

  “It’s about time,” Eleanor said, grabbing her cookbooks and throwing them into a bag. “Help us out here.”

  Colt helped carry muffin tins, and I grabbed the cookie cutters. “Come on! You can move faster than that!” Eleanor yelled, rushing past a confused-looking Melbourne.

  “You’re going?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Trixie said. “Detective Hudson has finally given us permission to reopen the bakery.”

  “Oh. That’s... good.” Melbourne looked disappointed. “It won’t be the same here without you.”

  Trixie hesitated. “We can still see each other.”

  “Of course,” Melbourne said.

  Colt was busy complying with Eleanor’s demands to help carry more items. She had instructed him to go get his car so they’d only have to make one trip. He shot a glance back at me before hurrying home to do as instructed.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

  He nodded and jogged back toward our house to get his car. I decided now might be the best chance I had to question Melbourne some more.

  “Can I talk to you in back a minute?” I asked him.

  He looked at me warily.

  “I don’t know...”

  “It’s about... Sheriff Knoxx,” I lied.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “All right,” he sighed.

  I followed him to the back room and, when the door was shut, I rounded on him. I didn’t have time to waste. He would never answer my questions if Colt was here. I wasn’t even sure he’d answer them now when we were alone.

  “I know about the archetypes,” I told him.

  “This isn’t about Sheriff Knoxx at all, is it?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He waited patiently for me to continue, not giving anything away. I supposed a century of practice had made him good at that.

  “The Jester. That was Paisley, right?”

  Still nothing.

  “She was a practical joker. A comedian. Or at least she thought she was.”

  “So?” Melbourne asked.

  I sighed. “I spent all night last night pouring through books and the Internet, learning about this stuff.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t play dumb. It’s connected to the ritual Polly’s trying to perform.”

  Melbourne had the best poker face I’d ever seen.

  “I told you I’d prefer not to discuss that. It’s from an... unfortunate point in my life.”

  “Yes, I know. And you don’t have to discuss it,” I said, trying a new approach. “Just listen and tell me if I’m right or wrong.” I licked my lips and, when he didn’t stop me, I went on. “Paisley was the Jester. Mayor Singer was the Ruler.”

  Melbourne’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You really have been doing your homework.” His brow furrowed. “All right, I’ll answer one question.”

  My heart leaped.

  “What I don’t get is which archetype I’m supposed to be? Or how to tell which archetype is Polly’s next victim? Or what this all has to do with Sara Sweetland?”

  “That’s three questions. I said I’d answer one.”

  “Ugh. Can’t you just help me? What are you afraid of?”

  Melbourne tightened his lips. “I’m afraid of people judging me based on a person I no longer am.”

  I hated to admit it, but I could understand his point. I got judged enough on this island, and I was a witch living amongst witches. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for a vampire.

  “Which question do you want me to answer?” he asked.

  “Whichever one you think will help the most.”

  He thought a minute before responding. “Your archetype is obvious.”

  “It is?” I thought over the archetypes I’d read about. I couldn’t see myself fitting any of them.

  “You’re the Heroine.”

  Melbourne turned and headed back out front.

  The Heroine? Me?

  The Hero/Heroine archetype was supposed to be a warrior... a crusader... someone courageous.

  I went outside, looking for Eleanor, with thoughts of being the Heroine running around in the back of my head. Colt pulled up in his car.

  “Oh, good!” Eleanor cried and started to load it up with cookie sheets. Colt’s face was dark as he got out of the driver’s seat.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “When I got back to my car, this was waiting for me.” He held up an envelope and removed the letter. “I’ve been called back to headquarters.”

  “What? For how long?”

  “Indefinitely. Apparently, they don’t think I’m doing a very good job over here. Someone sent in a complaint.”

  “A complaint?” I asked.

  “They didn’t like the fact that I closed your bakery.”

  “I didn’t send that, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I suddenly remembered my father’s offer to talk to Dean Lampton. Was that the complaint that Colt was talking about?

  “It’s not just that,” he said. “There have been two murders under my watch. It doesn’t exactly make me look good.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” I said. Colt’s head tilted to the side. “I mean, who will protect me? Not that I need protection.”

  Colt’s face brightened when he realized I was being sincere. “I’ll text you when I find out more. If I can come back, I will.”

  “If not?”

  “Then you’re on your own.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

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  I t was weird looking out my window at night and not seeing Colt. He’d taken everything out of our house except for a few video and voice bumpers, which he’d left scattered around our property. He wanted to be able to check in with us without his supervisors kno
wing.

  “Seems more peaceful, I think. Without Detective Hudson here, I mean,” Eleanor said at breakfast, but she bit her lower lips and ended up overflowing her coffee mug.

  I knew she was bothered by his absence as much as I was. Well, maybe not quite as much. I hadn’t talked to Damon since the night of Mayor Singer’s party. He wasn’t returning my texts. I was beginning to think that no matter how much I cared for him, a lasting relationship between us would never be possible. In fact, I was starting to think I should officially end things between us. I hated to admit it—I still liked him so much—but I didn’t want to have to change who I was to be with him.

  “What’s on your mind?” my dad asked.

  “Nothing. I just hope that Colt doesn’t get into any trouble. He’s doing the best that he can.”

  I swallowed the last of my coffee and rose from the table.

  “Since when did you start calling him Colt?” my dad asked with raised eyebrows.

  I paused, trying to remember. “I don’t know.”

  “Where are you going?” Trixie asked. “Aren’t you coming into work with us today? It’s our first full day back at the bakery.”

  “Yes, I’ll be there. I just need to do a couple of things first.”

  “What things?” Eleanor asked suspiciously.

  I shrugged. “I just, um, need to see Lucy for a bit.” I turned quickly away, hoping they didn’t see the look on my face. I was never a very good liar. It usually showed in the pink on my cheeks.

  “Lucy, huh?” my dad asked, not buying it. “Are you sure you don’t mean Damon?”

  “Definitely not,” I said, a little more heatedly than I meant to. My dad caught the tone and backed off from asking me any more questions. The truth was, I wanted to talk to Melbourne. Alone. Not in the Coffee Cove where Trixie was always at his side or customers were constantly asking for refills.

  Melbourne knew more than he was saying. He’d made that very clear. I was hoping that if I got him alone—truly alone, without the possibility of interruption—he might open up a bit more. Lucy had told me the other night that he was taking the morning off today to tend to some personal matters. It might be my only chance to get him alone.

  “Don’t worry,” I told Eleanor and Trixie as I headed out the door. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

  I had to ring the bell four times before I finally heard Melbourne clop toward it. The lock turned and a moment later the door sprang open. Melbourne squinted against the sun as it hit his face. I wondered how it was possible he didn’t melt or turn to ash. Eleanor had told me that was all rubbish. Sunlight didn’t kill vampires, though it could give them a serious sunburn. The older vampires got, the less susceptible they were even to that. Melbourne must have been very old.

  “Ava,” he said, taking a step back toward the shadows of his house. He didn’t look too happy to see me, but the gentleman in him won out. If Melbourne was one thing, he was polite. “What can I do for you?”

  “Can I come in for a few minutes?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “This isn’t a good time. If it’s about that ritual again—”

  “Please,” I said. “I promise it won’t take long. It’s about Trixie.”

  His head cocked to the side, and he opened the door for me.

  “Is she okay?” he asked.

  “She’s fine.”

  “So, what’s this about then? Is her birthday coming up?” His voice was pleasant enough but I could tell I’d interrupted him.

  I thought for a moment—when was Aunt Trixie’s birthday anyway? “No,” I finally said, deciding it was sometime in May. “It’s just... Trixie was wondering what else you could tell me about the Raine Ritual?”

  “I knew it!” he snapped.

  A dark laugh sprang out of the shadows behind us and a man I didn’t recognize stepped forward. He had the blackest hair I’d ever seen. It was like looking into a black hole. His face was snow white and devoid of all emotion except for a light smirk.

  “Ava, this is a friend of mine,” Melbourne said, indicating the man who was approaching us. He was tall and skinny and looked like he’d been ripped out of the pages of a gothic horror novel. He was dressed in black from head to toe.

  “You may call me Vlaski,” the man said, extending his pale hand. His fingers were long and bony, like a corpse.

  I gulped and forced my heart to start beating again. I was positive this man was a vampire. Only he didn’t give off the friendly vibe that Melbourne normally did. He seemed much darker. More sinister. I wondered what he and Melbourne were doing here together. He didn’t seem like the type of person Melbourne would normally hang out with.

  “H-hi,” I said, taking Vlaski’s hand. My eyes moved to Melbourne, who was frowning.

  “Vlaski was just leaving, I believe,” Melbourne said.

  Vlaski looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Was I?”

  He and Melbourne stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. It seemed like there was some unspoken showdown happening between them.

  “Lovely to meet you, Ava,” Vlaski said, taking my hand once more before he left. He kissed it and I tried not to shudder. His lips were like an ice cube. I suddenly wondered how Pennyweather Kelso had ever been able to kiss Melbourne if vampire lips were that cold.

  When Vlaski let go of my hand, he headed for the door.

  Now that Vlaski was gone, my attention shifted to Melbourne’s home. The walls were a pale blue color I wouldn’t have expected. An ancient chandelier hung from his dining room. The furniture was dark and expensive looking. I eyed a vase in the corner that was almost as tall as me and decorated in what looked like real diamonds.

  “It’s from an old friend,” Melbourne said, following my gaze. “He gave it to me some time during the Renaissance.”

  “Oh... cool.” I waited to see if he would comment on Vlaski’s presence in his house, but he kept his lips pressed tightly together.

  “Um... was Vlaski, er, just visiting?”

  “He lives on the island.”

  “He does?” I asked, startled. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “He doesn’t often come out of his home. At least, not during the day.”

  “Why not?”

  Melbourne pursed his lips. “Vlaski prefers to remain concealed.”

  I’d known that there were other vampires on the island, but aside from Melbourne, they seemed to keep to themselves. If the rest of them were as dark as Vlaski was, then I was glad of it. I hoped I never came across Vlaski on a dark road.

  “So, Ava, if there’s nothing more I can do for you—”

  “You can tell me what Sara Sweetland has to do with all of this.”

  Melbourne steadied his gaze. “Perhaps the problem is that you’re not asking the right questions,” Melbourne finally said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You asked me what Sara Sweetland has to do with the Raine Ritual. What makes you so certain that Sara has anything to do with it at all?”

  “You said Sara and Patrick fought against the ritual while they were alive.”

  Melbourne gave me a knowing look.

  “What would make someone fight in a battle that could mean their life?”

  “I don’t know. Justice? Righteousness?”

  Melbourne shook his head. “You’re overthinking.”

  “Love?” I asked suddenly.

  Melbourne smiled. “Love. It has a lot of power.”

  “Are you saying I should be looking at Patrick’s role in this instead of Sara’s?”

  Melbourne sighed again and shook his head. “I’m saying goodbye. I’m not feeling well today and I need to lie down.” He ushered me toward the door.

  “But—”

  “Think it over. The answer will come to you.”

  I left his house, replaying everything that he’d said. Love was the key. Sara’s love for Patrick or Patrick’s love for Sara? I still didn’t understand. Why did Melbourne have to b
e so cryptic? It was as irritating as a hangnail.

  “Ava!!” I woman’s voice called to me.

  I looked up from the sidewalk I’d been studying on my way to the bakery and saw Margaret Binford running toward me at a gallop.

  “Margaret!” I was surprised to see her, though I shouldn’t have been. I’d seen her briefly at Mayor Singer’s party but hadn’t spoken to her since.

  “Oh, I’m glad I caught you,” she panted. “Look what I found!”

  She was beaming at me as she shoved a large book into my hands. I looked at the cover—Forgotten Spells and Lineages.

  “Turn to where I bookmarked it,” she said excitedly.

  I turned to the page and read the chapter title. “Raine Casting.” I looked at Margaret, my eyes wide as saucers. “Where did you find this?” I demanded.

  “A second-hand bookstore I know about. They deal primarily with rare and out-of-date items.”

  I scanned through the chapter. It laid out everything we needed to know. How to cast the spell. How much blood was needed. The best time to do it. The only thing that was missing was how to stop someone from performing it. This book had clearly not been written from the victim’s perspective.

  “Wait a second,” I said, stopping on the section that talked about the Wolf Moon. “This says...”

  “I know,” Margaret said, her smile fading. “I’m sorry. I guess our information wasn’t entirely correct.”

  I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “So, Polly has to sacrifice me by the beginning of the Wolf Moon. Not the end of it.”

  Margaret nodded.

  I set aside the fear this new idea had driven into my brain stem and skimmed through the rest of the book. There were spells I’d never heard of. Ingredients that I hadn’t thought really existed. More than that, though, there was page after page of old family trees. Lineages that had been traced back generations.

  “There’s a page missing,” I said, looking toward the back. “It looks like it’s been ripped out.”

  “That’s how it was when I found it,” Margaret said.

  I closed the book and looked at her. The fear began pricking at me again.

  “You know what this means, right?” Margaret asked.