What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery

by Jennifer Harlow

  “They’re going with Debbie today, but I’ll be careful,” I say as I start back to the house. “Have a nice day.”

  Our smiles drop the moment the front door shuts. The Captain yowls and jumps out of my arms, skittering under the couch in the living room. “What’s up with him?” Greg asks.

  “I’m here,” Adam says behind us. We all spin around. He slowly takes one step at a time down the stairs. Daddy’s clothes are too long on him but otherwise he looks good; contrite but good. I definitely wouldn’t call him handsome, he’s not a head turner like Guy, but he is interesting looking with thin lips, close to flat nose, and buggy blue eyes. I shake these thoughts away to focus on the problem at hand.

  “You stole a car?” I ask.

  “I had no choice,” he says.

  “How dare you just show up and drag my sister into your mess,” Debbie snaps.

  “I had no choice.”

  “You listen to me,” Debbie says, taking a step toward him, “if any harm comes to my sister or nieces because of you, it won’t matter that you’re a werewolf. I will hunt you down and skin you alive, do you understand me?”

  “The last thing I want is for any harm to come to your sister. You have my word on that.”

  I don’t know if it’s the sincerity in his voice or set mouth, but like me she believes him. Her shoulders slump a tad, but she still turns to me. “Is he a man of his word?”

  “We’ll see,” I say.

  Like all Southern ladies, the girls have perfect timing. They stroll onto the landing fully dressed, Sophie in jeans and a butterfly shirt, her light brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Cora’s put on her brown corduroy jumper and pink long-sleeved shirt. “What are you talking about?” Sophie asks.

  “Grown-up stuff,” I say. “You ready?”

  “We’re helping with the wedding,” Cora informs Adam. “I’m a flower girl.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. My dress is pink. That’s my favorite color.”

  Obviously put off by the crushing six-year-old as her jaw sets, Debbie says, “Come on girls. Lots to do today. Those birdseed packages aren’t going to ribbon themselves.”

  Greg and Debbie help the girls on with their coats before Greg ushers them out the door. “Bye, Adam,” Cora chirps. “Feel better!”

  Sophie half smiles at our guest as she walks out. Debbie gives Adam one more glare before shutting the door behind herself. With two less things to worry about now, I start up the stairs past my guest.

  “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused,” Adam says.

  “It’s fine. I gotta finish the potion and get a few things. We’ll leave in about five minutes.”

  In my office, right as the buzzer dings, I add his hair into the cauldron. The requisite green vapor poofs up—the movies got that part right—and I funnel the liquid into a glass vial. I still have to invoke the magic when we arrive at the farm. Otherwise I’d just give it to him and boot him the hell out. Nothing is ever easy. I pack up the potions from last night, a few other trinkets I need, my four biggest crystals, and my glasses before returning downstairs. Pretty sure I’m forgetting something, as usual, but there’s no time to think about it.

  Adam sits on the couch, grimacing in pain as he tries to put on Daddy’s loafers. “They don’t fit.”

  I can see blood seeping into his plaid shirt. “Stop bending. Hold on.” I run to the closet and get my pink flip-flops. They’re still small, but he can walk in them. “These will have to do.”

  “Thank you,” he says, standing up with a grunt.

  “I’ll pick you up a new change of clothes later.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a Celtic amulet, handing it to him. “Put that on.”

  He does. “What does it do?” he asks, examining it.

  “Nothing yet.” Closing my eyes, I place my hand on the amulet and the other on his forehead. As I pull the magic into me, much like drawing breath into my lungs, my hands tingle with heat. It’s amazing whenever I do this. Right. Every cell of my body feels as if it’s full of light and energy. Like I’m connected to all the power of the universe. Which I kind of am. Thirty seconds later, I open my eyes and he’s vanished. He’s gone.

  Damn, I’m good. “There.”

  “What did you do?” his disembodied voice asks.

  “Turned you into the invisible man. Only works for a couple minutes though. Come on.” I pick up my bag and purse before opening the front door. I can tell by the noise of the flip-flops that he follows me outside. Auntie Sara maintains her usual post on the porch, eyes glued to the deputy talking on his radio. She and I wave as I walk to my car. I open the passenger side on the pretense of putting my stuff onto the floor. “Hey, Auntie Sara?” I call to buy time.

  “Yes?”

  The car shakes a tad when Adam climbs in. “You have fun at the bake sale! Save me some pig cookies.”

  “Of course, dear. You have a good day at work.”

  “I will.” I shut Adam’s door and get in on my side. It’s a little odd hearing someone breathing beside me without seeing them. I’ll drive like the wind to the farm. I want this over with. I start the car. We ride past the deputy who waves to me and I him. “Are you sure that car can’t be traced to you?”

  “My fingerprints aren’t on file, and I stole it from a bar a few blocks from where I was held, but I can’t be sure. Can I take this thing off? It’s making me hot.”

  “Not until we get out of town.” The streets are fairly empty, even the sidewalks, as the majority of the town is still at church. Even the diner has only a few customers. Tamara spots my car from inside and waves. I do the same.

  “Friendly town,” Adam’s disembodied voice says.

  “Well, don’t start house hunting yet. You get healthy, and you get gone. I don’t care where you go, or how you get there. I am running very low on charity right now.”

  My companion doesn’t say a word for a few seconds, doesn’t even breathe, but I can feel him. It’s as if there’s a ghost in the car. “Mona,” he finally says, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

  The last person who said that to me was a doctor who then told me my grandfather had lapsed into an irreversible coma. My stomach clenches. “What?”

  He sighs. “I think someone inside your coven is trying to kill you.”

  The knot loosens. Oh hell’s bells, he almost gave me a coronary for nothing. He might as well have said Debbie was a pod person. “That’s insane,” I chuckle. “Kill me?”

  “Yes,” he says as serious as cyanide.

  “What? No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Mona. Yes.”

  This man has lost his mind, but I’ll play along. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say this is true. You know this how?” I ask, still chuckling.

  “Because until last night … I was one of the people who was supposed to kill you.”

  Have a nervous breakdown

  I know smoking is bad. I do. I’d whip the girls if they ever tried a cigarette. And I’m such a hypocrite, because here I am in their empty school parking lot, puffing away. I’m supposed to be a role model, and I’m smoking and pacing like a caged animal. I only smoke in times of extreme stress or depression, and boy do both of those apply now.

  My hit man sits half in and out of my car, silently watching me go nuts, concern all over his now-visible face. A concerned hit man, doesn’t that go against the code? “Okay, you need to start at the beginning,” I say, taking another drag.

  “About three days ago, a rogue werewolf contacted Jason. He does mercenary work, primarily against other preters. He was approached by Alejandro, Lord Thomas’s second-in-command, about taking out Thomas. And you.”

  “Me? Why me? I barely have any contact with the Lord of Richmond or any vampire.”

  “The rogue didn’t ask. The only reason he told Jason was he recognized your name and knew you were a … friend of the pack,” he says with a scoff.

  �
��How’d he know that?”

  “He used to be in the pack, but left about twelve years ago. He’s been to the Christmas party a few times since.” Meaning I’ve probably met this man. “Anyway, it was … decided I would approach Alejandro pretending I wanted in on the plot. That I wanted to kill Jason and become Alpha. Basically, it was a ‘I’ll take care of yours if you take care of mine’ deal.”

  “So who wants me dead?”

  “I don’t know. I only dealt with Alejandro. He wouldn’t even say her name.”

  “Her?”

  “As in, ‘This was all her idea.’ I got the impression she and Alejandro were lovers.”

  I take another drag of my cigarette. “As far as I know there’s no one in my coven sleeping with a vampire.” I shake my head. “When was this supposed to happen?”

  “Sooner rather than later. We were just getting into the details last night when some vampires busted into Alejandro’s house and dragged us out. Lord Thomas must have discovered the plot, so that was the end of Alejandro. I barely escaped, and you know the rest.”

  My mind is going a million miles a minute. “B—But wait. Alejandro’s dead. There isn’t a hit man. So whoever wants me dead has no one to do her dirty work.”

  “So she’ll probably just do it herself.”

  I stub out my cigarette. “Fuck. We need to call George. Get the F.R.E.A.K.S. here. The girls will just have to stay with Tamara or Debbie, I don’t know.”

  “For how long? Whoever it is, is going to need to plan. A new time table. It could be tomorrow or six months from now before she tries again.”

  Crap, he’s right. I can’t go into hiding. I have two small children in school and nine million other responsibilities. “What do you suggest? Because this is new territory for me. I guess we could call Jason. He might have some ideas.”

  “No,” Adam says vehemently. “I would not recommend that.”

  “Why the hell not?” I snap.

  “The pack is going through its own problems right now. He’ll feel that with Alejandro dead, the threat was neutralized.”

  “Then I’ll convince him it’s not.”

  It takes effort, but Adam pushes himself into the standing position. “Listen, I know Jason a lot better than you do, okay? You can call him for advice, sure. But you cannot tell him I’m here.”

  “Why not?”

  He hobbles over to me, his slightly bug-eyed blue eyes meeting mine point-blank when he stops. “Because. He’ll order me back to Maryland, and I’ll have to go. Then you’ll be in this alone.”

  I tense from toenails to top at this thought. For once the idea of being alone terrifies me. Normally I welcome it. I fear I’m about to burst into tears, and there is no way I’m letting him see me like that. I turn away. “And why—why would you help me?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Them being?”

  “My own.”

  I groan in frustration. What the hell am I going to do? Deep breath. The one I take doesn’t help a lick. Okay, stick to the plan for now. Get him healthy, go from there. Be strong. After a second to compose myself, I spin back around. “Well, you’re no good to me injured. Let’s get to the farm.”

  With shaking hands, I open my car door and climb in. My hands don’t stop vibrating as we drive to the Hackett Farm five miles outside of town. Adam keeps glancing at me, but I keep my eyes on the road. “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Every problem has a solution. I just have to think and find it.”

  “I have some suggestions,” he says.

  “All ears.”

  “You need to act as if nothing happened. Whoever she is, she’s probably feeling desperate right now. If she knows you’re onto her, that might make her more dangerous. Just try not to be alone and isolated. Big crowds.”

  “Not a problem this week. What about the girls?”

  “This entire plan was a power grab. Whoever this woman is wants your position. The only way to become High Priestess is for the old one to die, right? Hurting the girls won’t accomplish that. Besides, you’re one of the most powerful witches in the world. You can protect them better than anyone.”

  My ego swells a little. “How do you know so much about witches?”

  “I … did my research.”

  We ride in silence the rest of the way as the wheels in my head turn. Of course with every rotation I see my mangled, bloody body left in an alley being feasted on by dogs. Okay, I really have to lay off the horror movies.

  The Hackett Farm was one of the most prosperous tobacco farms in the county a hundred years ago. Now the only remnant of the once great plantation is the decaying gray barn missing about fifty percent of its roof and walls. It’s isolated, with the nearest family seven miles away and one dirt road in and out, so kids come out here to party and engage in lascivious acts. This was one of my sister Ivy’s favorite spots to raise hell. I only came out here when I had to pick her drunken butt up.

  After helping Adam out of the car, I locate the potion in my purse and hand it to him. “Go wait inside. I have to set up the perimeter.” As he pads to the barn, feet slapping in pink flip-flops, I retrieve my four quartz crystals. I walk around the perimeter of the barn, placing one outside at each corner. When I put down the last one, I call the magic into me to energize them. It flows from my finger to the crystal like electricity. Feels good every time. I stand up and peer through a gap in the wall. Adam has been watching me this whole time. “So nothing physical can come in or out,” I explain. “Try putting your hand through.”

  He tries to reach for me, but my invisible fence stops him. “Impressive.”

  “How long do you think you’ll need?”

  “Earliest I can change back is two hours. After that I’ll need a minimum, bare minimum, of three hours sleep.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll just, um, come get you in two hours?”

  “Okay,” he says, nodding. He holds up the potion. “Should I drink this now?”

  I nod. Adam steps away from the wall into the center of the barn. He all but chokes on the disgusting potion, hacking his lungs out when it’s all down. Magic time. I close my eyes, reaching out to the three ley lines that run through this town. They’re invisible paths of energy that I draw from to boost my power. My entire body tingles and all that power is siphoned into my body, filling me like a vessel. I reach out to the ingredients in the potion coursing through Adam’s body. All originate from the earth, and I am a part of that earth. Most witches need to say a few words or an invocation, but I just need to concentrate. Another trait of a High Priestess.

  Adam is of this earth, and I sense him too. His heart, his mind, especially his soul. And the wolf inside him. It’s angry. He wants to come out and roar. I call to it, all but stroking his metaphysical fur, and he comes running. The force of the wolf busting out nearly knocks me down. My eyes fly open just as Adam expels a bloodcurdling scream. He falls onto his knees, howling like a man on fire. The change is just as painful. Bones breaking, skin stretching, organs rearranging. Perhaps fire would be preferable. I’ve never seen a werewolf change, and I don’t want to break that streak now. This is private and should stay that way. As he shrieks, cries, and groans in pain, I run back to my car. He’ll be fine.

  It’s my own neck I’m worried about.

  Go to work

  Okay. Next crisis. On the drive back to town, I’m still reeling from information overload. I need to organize my thoughts. Someone I know wants to kill me. As in dead. As in no more tucking the girls in at night. No more lunches with Tamara and Clay. No more breathing. How the hell did this happen? I am not the kind of person other people want to kill. I’m not a werewolf who chases after rogues that attack people. I’m not a vampire who leaves bodies in his wake. I’m a witch, the pacifists of the preternatural world. I don’t even squish spiders. Hell, Goodnight hasn’t had a non-domestic homicide since the early eighties when three vampires slaughtered my cousins Emma, Lucas, and Tom for harboring a runaway witch. Peop
le still talk about it.

  I keep glancing in my rearview mirror for strange cars. Goddess, I haven’t been this paranoid since the one time I smoked pot. How long have I been in danger and not even known it? And who the hell would want me dead? Someone who wants to be High Priestess. That narrows it down. There are only seven others who are candidates, and all are my relatives. I am more likely to be killed by someone I—

  A honking car drives right in front of me. I slam on the breaks as Jeff Pinker flips me off. I just ran a red light. I never run red lights. I’m gonna get myself killed before someone else can do it. I think I’m going to throw up.

  I park in the lot around the corner from my shop. It’s half full now and by lunchtime it will be packed. Wish it was that way now. As I pass each empty car, I tense up, convinced my murderer is hiding behind one to pop out and shoot me dead. My paranoia only gets worse as I move down the cobblestone sidewalk past all the tiny curio shops that comprise downtown. Since I know about ninety-nine percent of the population in town, they smile and nod as I pass. I keep glancing at their hands for weapons. How the hell am I supposed to act normally with the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head?

  Midnight Magic is nestled between an antique shop and Lady Catherine’s Tea Room, which is owned by a man named Duke. We get a decent tourist trade here, mostly from upper-scale and sophisticated older women searching for some Southern gentility. Except my customers. Since we’re the largest occult shop within a hundred miles, I find myself waiting on New Agers along with those Southern ladies looking for homeopathic remedies to stave off aging and hipsters who’ve read the Harry Potter and Twilight series. Money’s money.

  The store was opened in the early twentieth century by my great-great-grandmother Ramona, my namesake. She was High Priestess at the turn of the past century and was rumored to have had an affair with Aleister Crowley, a self-proclaimed witch who I later learned was just batshit crazy. Supposedly he’s my great-grandfather Crowley’s father. It was quite the scandal, one of many surrounding Ramona. Her reputation is hard to live up to.

  We only have one customer inside when I walk in, my cousin Bethany. Strange. I was just thinking about her family. She was the sole survivor of that massacre in town when she was a child. On a normal day I’d strike up a conversation, but now I’m afraid she’ll pull out a knife and stab me. She is over by the athames, or ritual knives. Maybe being in the house while her family was slaughtered cracked her. Not that she’s a High Priestess, but still. Not taking any chances.