Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  Tilly patted Charlotte’s hand. “You’ll be just fine, Charlotte, dear. You have enough of your mother in you to weather any storm. I can tell.”

  That was music to my ears.

  And this ghost stuff?

  I was starting to get the hang of it.

  Want More?

  Want more from Tilly and Sunny and the rest of the Mint Chocolate Chip Mysteries gang?

  Get started with BOOK 1 CLAWS OF JUSTICE or catch up with the full series HERE!

  Learn more about Emmie Lyn and her other awesome books HERE.

  A Wash & Werewolf

  S.E. Babin

  About This Single

  Ivy’s life is focused on good apple cider, warm fires, and her soap shop. Not murder. But when a howl splits the night and a body is found, Ivy has no choice to get involved. This Halloween, Ivy is up to her eyeballs in fall festivities and solving murders.

  Where It Fits

  A WASH & WEREWOLF can be read as a stand-alone, but chronologically it fits after NO LATHERING MATTER… Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  The howl tore through the cool night, sending the hair on my arms straight up. I glanced over at my trusty skeleton companion, Bob, and noticed him sit up a little straighter. It was hard to tell with him. He was all bones and no skin so figuring out how he was feeling was sometimes an exercise in futility.

  “That was no regular wolf,” Bob said. His bright eye sockets scanned the woods of my property. “It sounds far away, but it’s definitely in town.”

  “What do you mean no regular wolf?” Wolves roamed the woods around Moonmist Springs and had for years, but Bob made it sound like these were something else. Something magical. “Please don’t tell me werewolves actually exist.”

  Bob turned his skull and stared at me. When he didn’t say a word, my shoulders slumped. “No way,” I murmured.

  “There are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Ivy.”

  How I wound up with a Shakespeare quoting skeleton, I’ll never know. “So. Werewolves. Fun,” I said. I sipped my tea and watched as the fire I’d built threw sparks up into the night air. If I sat here long enough, the sight would mesmerize me. Usually. Now all I could think about was the fact werewolves might be roaming the town. Did they eat people? Would they eat me? Was Bob safe? Looking at him, I couldn’t imagine any werewolf wanting to eat him. He had no meat or anything juicy or delicious on him.

  I was another story. With the extra ten pounds I carried around, I’d be delicious to a hungry werewolf.

  Bob snorted as if he could follow my thoughts. “Seriously, Ivy, not everything is all about you.”

  “You don’t think I’d be delicious?” I picked up the fire poker and messed with the dwindling fire.

  “Werewolves don’t make a habit of eating people. It’s been out of vogue for years,” Bob said, disgust evident in his tone.

  “So they used to eat people?” Every terrible werewolf movie I’d ever seen replayed in my head. A shiver rolled down my spine at the thought of it.

  “Of course they did. The middle ages were a terrible time, Ivy. There are fewer people crueler than humans. They had to defend themselves and the best way they could was by using their claws and teeth.”

  The savageness of it made me pause even as a stab of empathy hit me. To feel like you had to kill someone to survive felt like a lawless society. But that’s the way it was back then. Lawless and savage. I felt even more grateful about my life here in Moonmist. I had a booming soap shop, good friends, and a lot of freedom.

  The week before Halloween had always been my favorite. The townspeople went all out in decorating for the event and since we all had some form of magic, our decorations got a little competitive throughout the season.

  We sat on the newly built covered porch sitting around a cheery roaring fire. Flames licked above the bricks in a variety of colors - blues, greens, purples, and the normal orange and yellow of a good fire. Bob and I decorated the pergola with orange and black tinsel and hooked tiny skeletons around it. It would have looked sparse had it not been for the plants I’d added in earlier in the season. Right now, it was covered in purple hyacinth and moonflower vines, tangled in a glorious riot of purple and white blooms. Night-blooming tobaccos flourished in containers in all four corners and a double bloom Angel Trumpet drooped heavy with blossoms. A riot of pumpkins greeted the back door - white, orange, and red and white striped. Other pumpkins littered my kitchen counter as I procrastinated on making the pumpkin treats for visitors to the shop.

  This was my favorite time of the year, but I never thought I’d be wondering about werewolves as I sat on my porch drinking hot cider. Life is weird sometimes.

  The headlights of a car bounced in the night air as someone pulled into my driveway. I couldn’t see who it was, but I knew it was for me. Our houses in this area weren’t all that close together.

  I sighed and stood. Bob grunted. “It’s Sloane.”

  Sometimes having a magical skeleton around came in handy. “Wonder what he wants?”

  “Probably eternal life. More magic. A hot blonde girlfriend. Possibly a cup of coffee.”

  Okay. Maybe having a magical skeleton wasn’t always awesome. “Be nice, Bob. Sloane is a good person.”

  “Is he, though?” Bob held a cup of cider in his hand even though he couldn’t drink it. When I first made cider I hadn’t offered him any for obvious reasons, but I could tell it hurt his feelings. Since then, if I ever made myself something to drink, I always offered him a mug. He always took it, too. Some human habits couldn’t be broken and if it made him feel better, then I didn’t care about the wasted liquid.

  Steam swirled above the rim of the cider mug and curled around Bob’s grinning visage. “He is,” I insisted. Something happened between the two of them over the last few months and Bob wouldn’t come clean about it. Ever since then, though, my skeletal roomie had been borderline antagonistic toward the peace officer.

  The slam of a car door made me wave my hand at Bob in annoyance. I walked around the corner of the house and called out to Sloane to make him aware of my presence. Not that he wouldn’t be aware. He was a necromancer and a police officer, so not much got past him.

  Sloane raised his hand in a wave and came my way.

  “Want some cider?” I offered.

  A grateful smile graced his lips. “I’d love some.” He rubbed his bare hands together. “The weather folks are really embracing fall this year, aren’t they?”

  I chuckled. “My sister warned me about it beforehand so I stocked up on some warm fall clothes.” I motioned for him to follow me back into the house. In the front area of the home was my shop, The Suds Stop. I sold soap and all kinds of bath things there. At first, I wondered if I would get any business at all, but the townsfolk welcomed me and my products with open arms. It helped that my gift could manipulate ambiance - I could infuse emotions into inanimate objects and feel emotions swirling around people. My gift wasn’t always an easy one to have, but I’d done the best with it I possibly could. Tonight, Sloane felt relaxed - open and easygoing. I liked seeing this side of him.

  It couldn’t be easy as a police officer. Not that this town ran rampant with crime - the opposite was true, in fact. Until a few months ago that is. When I’d been under investigation for murder, Sloane and I danced around each other for a little while until he figured out that I was no murderer. Now we had a pretty easy going relationship - not quite friends, but not enemies either. I’d taught him how to make soap and it was the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. If he ever opened to friendship, I’d be happy to step into that role with him, but being a necromancer made Sloane slow to trust people.

  Necromancy was an often misunderstood magic, and people were scared of him. I thought of it in a more simplistic way. We couldn’t help the magic given to us when we were born and we couldn’t help the path some higher power set us on. I’d been given a powerful magic and chose to use it in ways a lot of p
eople would consider abnormal. I could make a fortune working for law enforcement as a magical lie detector - a position Sloane mentioned to me a couple of times, but it held no real interest for me. Plus, the townspeople liked me mostly. I had no desire to change that.

  Sloane also chose to help people and I know he could be filthy rich right now living anywhere else but here if he’d chosen to use his gifts differently. I held the back door open for him and when he was inside, I poured him a mug of hot cider. I finished the top with a spray of homemade whipped cream and a small cinnamon stick.

  His eyebrows rose as I handed it to him. I shrugged and laughed. “If you’re going to do fall, you need to do it right. Come on out to the back.”

  I led Sloane to the fire pit and pulled a chair up for him. Bob grunted and stood. “You don’t have to leave,” I told him.

  “I’d rather have my bones charred than sit next to this neophyte.” Bob clomped his way back into the house, letting the screen door shut behind him.

  Sloane’s face remained unreadable.

  “Spill,” I demanded. “Why is my skeleton so angry with you? And why is he calling you a neophyte?”

  Sloane took the cinnamon stick out of his cider and licked the whipped cream off. I looked away, uncomfortable at the sight. There hadn’t been a man around in my life for quite a long time and Sloane was way too handsome and too dangerous to put into any category other than friend or occasional acquaintance. Although Sloane had become quite the hot bachelor commodity around town, he’d shown no interest in any of the females practically beating down his door for a chance to date him. I still had my eyes on the handsome librarian, but even that was a no-go. Sometimes I felt like I was destined to be single - forever doomed to live in my soap shop with a grumpy skeleton.

  He sipped his cider and shut his eyes. “This is …” he paused. “Phenomenally delicious.” He stared down at his cup. “My mother used to make delicious cider, but she mixed it with pears. This tastes just like it.”

  I blinked. “I make my cider with pears and apples.” I swallowed hard as Sloane stared at me open-mouthed. “My mother taught me the recipe a long time ago, and I found it again when I cleared out her things. It reminds me of her.”

  Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t awkward. More peaceful than anything as we both thought about our parents. Sloane cleared his throat after a moment. “Well, this is a wonderful surprise. If you’re amenable to it, would you mind giving me the recipe?”

  If anyone else asked me, I’d say no. But it was Sloane, and it reminded him of his mother. “I will. Would you mind not sharing it with anyone else, though?”

  A devilish smile lit his lips. “A shared secret between me and Ivy Bradshaw? How could I resist?”

  We grinned at each other, and I lifted my mug in an odd salute. “To cider secrets and moms.”

  He raised his mug. “To keeping secrets with a beautiful woman and to our mothers.”

  I blinked in surprise. That sounded suspiciously like flirting to me. We clinked mugs and took a drink.

  Just as I lowered my mug, Sam, the local librarian, stumbled around the corner of the house, disheveled and frantic.

  “Ivy! There’s been a murder!”

  Chapter Two

  Unfortunately for Sam, Sloane sat right beside me. Immediately, he set his mug down and stood. “Why are you at Ivy’s and not calling the police?” His gaze took us both in, Sam shaking and me with no idea of what was happening.

  Sam ignored Sloane. “Ivy, please come.”

  “Of course I’ll come, Sam, but Sloane is better equipped to handle things like this.”

  Sam shook his head. “Bring Bob.” He seemed to realize Sloane was standing there waiting for an answer. “I didn’t call because something is off about this one. Bob can help, I think.” He swallowed hard. “Something ....” He shook his head. “Just come. Both of you. Sloane, please don’t call the police yet.”

  “I am the police,” Sloane said. A bark of laughter rang out from the kitchen, letting me know Bob was standing right there listening to the entire exchange.

  “Bob,” I said and sighed. “Come on out. We need you to come down to the library.” Something occurred to me as he clomped back out of the house wearing a trenchcoat and a ridiculous fedora. I swallowed my grin at the sight, but Sloane’s eyes widened comically.

  “This couldn’t have anything to do with the howling we heard earlier, could it?”

  Bob stopped, one foot poised to step down. “Oh my,” he said. “Perhaps we should proceed with alacrity.”

  Sam and Sloane’s brows crinkled adorably.

  “He means hurry up,” I said. “Let me grab my keys.”

  The Moonmist Public Library loomed with a menacing air with the way the fall night shadows fell around the building. Sloane motioned for us all to stay back as Sam pointed to the side of the building. The librarian hadn’t said much during the short drive - only monotone answers as Sloane grilled him about the body. He had no specifics or wouldn’t answer them. The most we got out of him was he didn’t know who it was and he didn’t know how the body got onto library property.

  I watched as the necromancer drew his service weapon and tiptoed around the corner of the building.

  “I don’t know why he’s tiptoeing,” remarked Bob. “They’re already dead.”

  A wildly inappropriate laugh bubbled from Sam who looked horrified at himself. I rolled my eyes. “He’s looking for other people who might still be hanging around the crime scene,” I whispered. “It’s a police thing, I guess.” If anyone still lurked, they knew we were here. Sloane had skidded to a stop in his car so half the town knew we were out here now.

  Moonmist had its fair share of nosy people. It was no different than any regular small town that way. The wind picked up around us and I felt the cool tingle of Sloane’s magic over my skin. He could tell a lot about a body - more than any of us could. His magic had to be a tough thing to carry around with him all the time.

  Bob started clomping over to Sloane, but I held him back with a hand over his arm. “Just wait,” I cautioned. “He’ll be back soon.”

  Bob huffed but didn’t force the issue. Sam sat down on the curb, his arms crossed over his chest protectively. I sat down beside him. “This is a terrible question, but are you okay?”

  He sighed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. “One minute I’m sorting through the new paperbacks and the next all I hear is screaming and a terrible commotion.”

  “You didn’t hear anything else? Maybe before?”

  Sam’s green eyes crinkled at the edges as he thought about it. “Like what? It’s always quiet in the library.”

  “Like howling?” It sounded ridiculous to me, and yet I lived in a town of magic users. Why would werewolves be so far-fetched?

  Sam glanced at me sharply. “What do you mean? Wolves are all over the place in the woods bordering the town.” He snorted. “But this feels like you aren’t talking about the normal ones.”

  Bob rattled himself down beside us and kicked his bony legs out. “Werewolves, ol’ chap. She’s talking about werewolves.”

  “Ivy. Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing,” Sam said.

  Bob and I laughed. “That’s what Ivy said. Until I gave her a little history lesson.”

  Sam’s eyes widened behind his round spectacles. These weren’t my favorite glasses, but he wore them sometimes, especially if he had a lot of research to do. How I knew that, I didn’t want to answer. He had a pair of wire rimmed square spectacles that brought out his green eyes a lot more than the ones he wore now did.

  “You’re actually telling me werewolves are real,” Sam said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  “They sure are,” Sloane said as he came out from around the corner and hitched his thumb up behind him. “And it looks like they’re responsible for what happened out there.”

  Sam stilled. I put a hand on his arm. “Sam?”

  H
e stood abruptly and began to pace. “What does this mean? Where did they come from? Do you know how they got here?” He rapidly fired questions at Sloane.

  The necromancer raised one eyebrow. “I just got here. I know almost as much as you do.”

  “Untrue,” Bob remarked. “You know far more than any of us with that tricky magic of yours.” Sloane and Bob stared each other down for a moment until I sighed.

  “Cut it out, you two.” I turned to Sloane. “Can you tell us anything besides that?”

  But Sloane had already turned his back to us and slapped his cell phone to his ear. He spoke quietly into the phone, saying things like body and quiet and gossip.

  “Too late,” I told Bob and Sam. “He’s already called it in.”

  Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is a disaster,” he muttered.

  Something other than the body seemed to be bothering him. “It’s going to be okay,” I tried to assure him. “Things like this sometimes happen.”

  Bob barked a laugh even as I cringed. Sam gave me an incredulous look. I held a hand up. “I know,” I said with a laugh. “That was bad even for me.”

  Sloane tucked his cell into his pocket. “You’re going to have to vacate.” He’d gone into his police officer mode. His jaw tightened and his eyes darkened with the thrill of a case. Sloane didn’t plan on telling us another thing about this case.

  “Wrap it up,” I said to Bob as he tried tiptoeing around the corner.

  He looked over his shoulder, glanced over at Sloane, then sped off fast as a blink toward the body.

  I slapped my hands over my mouth in surprise. Sloane muttered something unflattering under his breath and took off after my skeleton. Sam paid no attention to any of us. I took a few steps over to him.