by CC Dragon
I bit my lip. I’d always felt like a burden to my aunt and uncle, and I wasn’t even their kid. They hadn’t chosen to have me the way they’d tried to have the twins. My aunt hadn’t been able to become pregnant again after Violent and Iris.
“You okay?” Esme asked.
“Yeah. My aunt and uncle never made me feel like burden, even though I certainly was.”
“No, that’s different. That’s stepping up and taking care of your family. If something happened to them, I would’ve taken care of you and the twins. I’m only a distant cousin of your mother and aunt, but that’s what family does.” She patted my hand.
“I’m only twenty-five—I’m not in a rush to have a bunch of magical kids to deal with. I mean, there isn’t a Hogwarts to ship them off to.” That would really be nice.
She laughed. “True. You were always moving things with your mind, just because you could.”
“What brought on this baby talk?” I asked.
Esme shrugged. “I think of the future of the coven. Of the paranormal people. We need powerful people to step up like you have. And consolidating power would only help you.”
“So, the paranormal world is as sexist as the rest of humanity?” I asked.
Esme glared at me. “No and yes. Wicca and many pagan religions elevate women and the Goddess. Mother Earth. But, face it, power wins. A vampire king. A pack of strong male werewolves. Those aren’t things to be discounted. If you had a husband who was as strong as you, there would be less grumbling and questioning. You’d have a united front.”
“I don’t mind being questioned. I’m not all-knowing. I can take the input and doubt and learn from it. But if I run into any super-hot wizards worth procreating with, I’ll let you know,” I said.
“I have a couple in mind,” Esme said.
“Then, you have some fun with them,” I said.
“I have my share of fun. I’m thinking of the future, long term, and so should you,” she said.
“I’m not going to live as long as you will. I’m just thinking about Mrs. O’Conner and that hunter in my basement.” The twins walked in. “Oh, I need to talk to the twins. Nag me later, okay?”
Esme sighed and walked to the basement stairs. I caught her shifting out of the corner of my eye. She’d pout for a bit and get over it. I was too young to get married. There was no way I’d get married just to produce ultra-powerful little witches. Kids were a lot of work, and I wasn’t in a rush.
The twins sat and removed their gloves and scarves. “Hi,” they said in unison.
“Hey, sorry to drag you back here. How’s classes?” I asked.
“Fine,” they said, again together.
“We’re done for today,” Iris said.
“Cool. I just wanted to ask out about who Mrs. O’Conner might’ve had lunch with the day of her death. All I could get was where and the name Olive,” I said.
“I got this. Get me some tea?” Violet asked her twin.
Iris headed for the counter.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
Violet nodded. “Dating as a twin is tricky. Guys don’t get it. And when they can’t tell us apart, it’s really weird.”
“Yikes, another reason I’m glad I wasn’t a twin,” I said.
“You a twin? That’d be awesome. Double the powers.” She smiled and pulled out her tablet. “I remember someone named Olive on her friend list in Facebook. Old people.”
“Facebook is old, now?” I didn’t really do social media. The café had a page that we made sure was updated, quirky, and fun, but I didn’t feel the need to share.
She laughed. “When grandparents are doing it, yes. Get Snapchat.”
“Isn’t that for sexting?” I asked.
“It’s grown beyond that,” she replied.
“I’m good. Do you have info on Olive?” I asked.
“Olive Reynolds. Widowed. Lives not far from here. Why do people put so much info out there?” She sighed.
I pulled out my phone and Googled the name. Her address popped up. “Got her. Thanks! I’d have spent all afternoon on Mrs. O’Conner’s Facebook to find that. And you guys did all the work already.”
Iris returned with two big cups of tea. “Good?”
“I got what I need. Thanks. You two stay warm. Do your homework,” I said.
“You’re such a mom. Be more of a sister,” Iris said.
I shuddered at being called a mom. “Fine. Hit a party and drink until you puke. But don’t blame me when your dad tracks you down and raises hell. He never let me have too much fun as a teenager.”
“You didn’t go to college,” Violet said.
“Vi,” Iris said.
“It’s okay. I didn’t. Esme thought it was more important for me to work on powers, and I did. But I also worked part-time in coffee shops. So, I was sort of training on how to run this. Not everyone is college material, but you two are super smart, so don’t blow it. There is plenty of time for guys when you’ve got a degree,” I said.
“Such a mom,” they said in unison.
“Thanks, I needed that.” I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and suited up for the blustery outside. “I need to go bug Olive Reynolds.”
* * *
Part of me wanted to use a truth potion on these women, but if I did, they’d remember all of the questions. If I used a memory spell on them, it might work. But they might get suspicious if they couldn’t remember what we talked about. Magic worked for some, but for now, I had to try it the human way. The house was pleasant-looking on the outside. It had a cottage feel, and the street was quiet. A murderer couldn’t live here. At least, that’s how it felt.
I knocked on the door, and a stern woman opened it.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry to just show up. My name is Claudia Crestwood. I own the Witch’s Brew coffee shop. Mrs. O’Conner was a regular customer. And I understand that she was a friend of yours,” I said.
I extended my hand, but she just looked at it.
“What about her?” she asked.
“As you might know, her husband is blaming my café for her death. I was hoping to find a friend of his to talk some sense into him. He’s standing out in front of my café, freezing. He’s risking his health for nothing,” I said.
“You know it’s nothing?” she asked.
I nodded. “I checked with the library. Mrs. O’Conner was fine there. If we’d done anything, she’s have been sick.”
“Really. There are slow-acting poisons, I’m sure.” She eyed me coldly.
“We’ll have to wait for the tox screen for that proof, but I don’t know anything about poison,” I said.
“Just potions. Why don’t you come in? For some tea. Warm up,” she said.
“Thanks.” I felt like I was walking into something I wasn’t ready for, but at least it was warm.
I stomped the snow off my boots. I was pointed to a proper living room for entertaining with no TV and uncomfortable furniture. I chose an armchair on one side of a cute little wooden table.
I cast a warming spell on my hands and feet while waiting for Mrs. Reynolds to bring out the tea. I hadn’t expected to be on the porch for so long.
Mrs. Reynolds brought out a tray with a fussy ceramic tea set that looked older than I was. She was being polite when I felt like she didn’t want me there. She poured the tea and handed me a cup.
“Thank you. So, you don’t like our potions?” I asked.
“My niece is a Wiccan. Pagan. Or whatever. She lives in New York City. Don’t think I’m prejudiced. Martha O’Conner criticized everyone and everything. Her husband, her daughter, and her grandson.” She sipped her tea with pursed lips.
“And her friends?” I asked.
She nodded. “Her friends, too. But she never was nasty enough to make anyone want to kill. She took care of herself. I suspect her husband is just so shocked. No one thought she could ever die. The woman would have a setback and recover. She’d come back stro
nger. We never thought she’d die before any of us. It’s a shame.”
“So, you don’t know anyone who really wanted to hurt her?” I asked.
“No. Her husband is upset and lost, honestly. She wore the pants in that family. I’ve invited him over for dinner, if that helps. I can try to help him forge a new routine. See his grandson, his daughter, and so on. He’ll need a cleaning lady. I can help him find one. And take him to the grocery store. Help him with those habits.” She sipped her tea.
“That’s very nice of you. Maybe you can help him see we didn’t do anything to hurt her. She had a bad day, but we’re not out to hurt our customers.” I enjoyed the hot drink.
“He told me about the threats. That someone left messages. I’m sure it wasn’t you. You’re a businesswoman. I understand that. I respect that. I worked in the office at my late husband’s dental practice. I know what it’s like when patients aren’t happy. Customers are the same. But someone in your little witch group got out of hand. You need to take control. Be the boss if that’s what you are.”
“I’m not the boss of all the witches in Hartford. If someone was offended by her comments, that doesn’t mean I’m responsible for their actions. Mr. O’Conner wants a scapegoat. I’m not going to be it. The police will get the results soon, but my business could be ruined before then. We’re seeing fewer customers. If you can convince Mr. O’Conner to stop protesting, that’d be wonderful,” I said.
“I’m not sure I have that sort of influence,” she lied with a sweet smile.
A shiver ran down my back. She was moving in on the widower a bit fast.
“I think if you compare it to your late husband’s business, I think he might. Some people must’ve lost a tooth or had a bad time. Things can’t always go perfectly. If those patients had protested outside of the office, that seriously could’ve ruined his reputation. Is it fair to do that to others without real proof?” I asked.
She shook her head and stiffened her spine. “Your shop has a good reputation. Martha hated seeing chains all over the city. She’d be upset if your place went under because of her husband’s grief. I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” Things had taken a turn, but if she could help and was willing to, I could use it.
Did she have a motive? She seemed to have a big interest in Mr. O’Conner, but was that motive for murder?
“How long were you friends with Mrs. O’Conner?” I asked.
“Oh, forever. High school. She and I competed over everything.”
“Did you always win?”
“It was usually a tie. I got head cheerleader, and she got homecoming queen. That sort of thing. We both married men with good careers. I was a little more set than she was, but my husband died. I didn’t want to win this way.” She poured more tea.
I checked out her jewelry. It looked like she’d won. But she didn’t seem the type of woman to kill for it. She probably wanted to win with a clear conscience. I’d gone to school with girls like that. “I never had a chance of winning in high school. The popular girls made fun of my hair and my aunt’s hippie ways. They asked what happened to my parents. They were normal, and that made them win. I never wanted to be a cheerleader. Homecoming queen? Maybe for a few seconds, but you can’t expect votes when you don’t participate.”
“No Wiccan club?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I was already in a real coven. I had two educations going on. But I’m happy, so that stuff didn’t matter in the end.”
“No? What happened to your parents?” she asked.
“They died when I was young. But I had my aunt and uncle, plus two cousins. My mom and aunt were both sort of the odd ones in the family,” I admitted.
“And you lost her. No wonder you didn’t want to join in in high school. Probably no close friends?” she asked.
“Not really. No. I had friends but not close.” I downed another cup of tea, this time without taking my time.
“I’m not surprised. You lost your parents. You were afraid to get attached to new people. Afraid they’d leave you just like your parents did,” she said.
“I had my family.” It couldn’t be that simple.
“Yes, you still had family taking care of you, and you loved them. It’d be hard to lose them. So, why add people to the list of ones who could hurt you? I don’t blame you. And, now, you’re worried your business could be taken from you.”
“Was your husband a dentist or a shrink?” I asked.
She smiled. “You’d be surprised how much people share at a dentist’s office. I held a lot of hands. Heard a lot of crazy reasons why people feared the dentist. The pain. The genetic problems. Emergencies. You see people when they are very vulnerable. No one likes the dentist unless they have naturally strong and pretty teeth. Don’t worry; I’ll talk to Mr. O’Conner. Hopefully, the police will close the case soon, but I can try to talk some sense into that man.”
“Thanks. I should get back to the coffee shop,” I said.
“Bundle up; it’s cold.” She walked me to the door.
Did I keep people at a distance to keep from being hurt? I never dated guys seriously. I dated, but I was never interested in relationships. I hiked out to my car and cranked up the heat as I headed back to the café. I had to deal with this work problem and then Ryan. When I got free time, I’d worry about friends and boyfriends.
13
I was dead to the world when a vampire came pounding on my bedroom door. Snuggling under the blankets, I never wanted to move. After a day out in the harsh weather, I was finally warm, again.
“What?” I shouted.
“It’s Brad. You need to get out here. Your guest is trying to leave,” he said.
“Damn. Stop him. I’ll be right there.” I swung my legs out and shoved my feet right into the fuzzy boots. My flannel pajama pants, a gift from the twins, had frogs with little crowns on them. Some were making kissy faces, and some were winking. My cousins and I didn’t have the same taste, but the pants were warm. My legs always got cold first, but a long tank top worked just fine because my shoulders never seemed to get chilly.
I ran my fingers through my hair then grabbed a big black sweater, just in case the fight had moved outside.
I hustled down the stairs and found two other vamps blocking Ryan’s exit. He was at the top of the basement stairs. Perfect. Right where customers could see and hear him.
“Tell these walking dead things with dental issues to get out of my way,” Ryan yelled.
“You’re not leaving. Not with the police around.”
“I can’t stay down there another minute. I’m going crazy,” he said.
“Then, you should’ve left before this mess happened. I can’t help it. Get back down there and go to sleep.” I folded my arms.
“Hey, I tried to escape but you wouldn’t let me. I could help clean up here. I could learn to make coffee,” he offered.
“You just insulted my staff. You hunt vampires—they don’t want to work with you. I don’t trust you to work with them.” I waved my hand at him; that shoved him back a few steps.
“Big tough witch. That’s all you’ve got?” he mocked.
I went to the landline, while the vamps continued to cover Ryan, and called my uncle.
“He’s getting stir crazy,” he said.
“I know. I’m about to lock him up. He won’t cooperate.” I didn’t want to upset my uncle, but he had to take some responsibility for what he’d taken in and dumped on me.
“I’ll be there in the morning and keep him busy during the day. You can’t let him do something at night?” my uncle asked.
“I can’t be up all night babysitting him and the vampires. That mix will not go well,” I pointed out.
“Right. Fine. Do what you need to do to keep him under control. Night.” He hung up.
“Great.” I hung up the phone as the bell jingled over the door.
The wind gusted in, and I wrapped my sweater around me.
I nodded to the vamps to
go deal with the customer. When I looked over to see who it was, I expected a college student on deadline or utility workers out repairing lines. We got a lot of cops and firemen who needed refueling overnight. Sometimes, nurses and EMTs. This man was none of those. He was in a dark suit with his hair slicked back. His watch was expensive, but there was something more. He was powerful. Not human power. My kind of power. I knew him.
He ordered a dark roast black with a double shot of no sleep potion.
“You’ll be up all night,” I warned him.
“I do my best work at night.” He didn’t smile. “You’re Claudia Crestwood?”
“I am. Have we met?” I asked.
“I believe so, but it’s been a long time. Your cousin mentioned you were having some human problems. I might be able to help,” he offered.
“I’ve got two human problems, right now, but no, thanks. I can handle it. What cousin?” I asked.
“Esmeralda. She and my aunt are very good friends. Very old friends,” he said.
“So, your aunt does the nine lives thing, too?” I asked.
He nodded. “That is a small group. I hear you’re almost as powerful as your cousin. Or me.”
I showed no reaction. “I’m strong enough. I’m just trying to handle my human problems without major magic. I don’t want to untangle a mess by causing a bigger one.”
Ryan watched from the doorway on the top step. I should lock him up. I cast a spell to cover my butt, any non-magical people would forget anything they saw in the shop, including Ryan.
“You’re right. Some witches use magic too publicly or frequently and get caught up in trying to cover their tracks. Exposure is dangerous,” the customer agreed.
“Exactly. I have a customer who died, and our spell says it was not natural causes. But the police think it was. They’re looking into it. I’m trying to find the killer, so the widower will stop protesting my shop. And so I can get rid of my other human problem,” I glanced back at the doorway.
“He is staring a lot. A former lover you don’t like?” he asked.
I laughed. “Hardly. A hunter who got caught by humans, and my uncle is giving him sanctuary in my shop.”
