A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (13 page)

But the star of this booth was the front table. It was all about opals, loose ones and those that had already been fashioned into jewelry, small charms, amulets, and talismans. Common white opals were mixed with red and blue opals. There were charms, pendants, earrings, rings. The darker-hued stones, the ones streaked with vivid blues, reds, and yellows, were mesmerizing.

“See anything you like?” a deep voice asked.

Startled, I looked up and into a pair of stunning black eyes. They belonged to the man who was working the booth. A man who couldn’t be Mr. Macabre, unless Andreus had learned how to turn back time—this guy appeared to be in his early twenties.

“I, uh—,” I stammered.

He was gorgeous. Drop-dead. He was the kind of guy that when most women saw him they immediately started wondering if they’d shaved their legs that morning or had the foresight not to have worn granny panties.

Most women.

Not me.

I was too busy thinking that a man that pretty was too good to be true. From his jet-black hair, olive skin tone, perfect five-o’clock shadow (at ten in the morning), full lips, and strong jaw, there had to be something wrong with him.

Something. Anything.

“You like the opals?” he asked, trying to lead me along. His voice was cool, confident, charming.

I nodded and absently pointed to a blue opal set in gold and rimmed with diamonds.

“You have good taste. The black opal is the rarest of the opals, and one of this clarity…it is almost impossible to find.”

I found my voice. “How much is it?” It would be perfect for Aunt Ve. Just her style. Maybe I could get it for her wedding and fulfill the whole “something blue” part of the day.

“Twenty-eight thousand.”

Shocked, I snapped out of my stupor. “Say what?” At that price, Aunt Ve was going to have to do without.

He laughed. “It is rare, as I said.”

“You have a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar gem out in the open? Aren’t you afraid someone will steal it?”

His black eyes narrowed, and his whole countenance changed from one of friendliness to one of danger. Imminent danger. “No one would dare.”

With a look like that, I believed it. I shifted my weight, trying to resist the urge to take a giant step away from the table.

In a blink, he was back to looking more personable. “There are more affordable options. There are plenty of reasonably priced genuine stones. And, if you must, the white opal is a nice choice, as are”—he said this with some distaste, I could tell— “synthetic opals.” He shuddered.

“Why sell them if you don’t like them?”

“They pay the bills. Not many have the means to purchase the black opals.”

“I may be slow on the uptake, but isn’t this opal blue, not black?”

“The base of the gem is black. What you’re seeing is the play of color within the gemstone. Because it’s a dark stone, most sunlight is absorbed, allowing the colors within to really shine. This one happens to have much blue inside. But there are others that burst with color.”

He pointed to several examples that appeared, to my untrained eye, to be made of every color of the spectrum. They practically glowed with their brilliance. “They’re beautiful.”

“Would you like to try something on?”

I shook my head. I had a feeling that if I put one on, I wouldn’t want to take it off. “No, but thank you. I actually stopped by looking for Andreus Woodshall. Is he around?”

Again, the man’s eyes darkened into black beads. “He will be back any moment now.”

Why that made me want to hurry right along, I had no idea. I reminded myself that he might have some answers about Patrice Keaton’s death. “I guess I’ll come back.”

“Is there something I might help with? I am, after all, his son. Lazarus Woodshall at your service.”

I
knew
he had been too good to be true. The son of Mr. Macabre. Why hadn’t anyone warned me? “I, ah, need a banded agate sphere. Do you happen to have one?”

There was curiosity in his eyes as he sized me up. I supposed there weren’t too many mortals who asked for banded agate spheres.

He nodded. “Certainly.” As he bent and rummaged beneath the tablecloth, he said, “Have we met before?”

“No.”

“Are you a local?” he asked.

“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly feeling eyes on me again. Goose bumps popped up on my arms, and I wished he would hurry.

He peeked up at me. “New to the village?”

“Yes.” My gaze swept the area. I couldn’t see a single person looking my way. Rubbing my arms, I said, “Having any luck down there?”

Laughing, he stood, holding a beautiful stone orb the size of an apple, and set it on a small wooden pedestal. “Agate, a good protection stone.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Are you in need of protection, Ms. Merriweather?”

The hair on the back of my neck rose. I was just about to ask him how he knew my name when I heard someone calling me.

“Darcy!”

I broke Lazarus’s hard stare and turned to find Starla heading my way.

“Shopping?” she asked, looking bright and peppy in a pastel pink miniskirt and white blouse.

“Kind of,” I said. “Are you working?” She should be, but she didn’t have her camera with her.

She blushed and quietly said, “No, I’m on break.”

“Oh, right! The coffee date.”

She stomped on my toes, yet kept a tight smile on her face.

“Yow!” I said. First my ankle, now my toes? “Why’d you do that?”

“What?” she asked innocently. Then she turned and blinked her eyelashes at Lazarus. “Are you almost ready to go?”

My mouth fell open as I looked between them. Lazarus was Starla’s date?

She kept mooning at him, yet his hard gaze never left my face.

I shivered.

I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

T
he agate orb, safely wrapped in plastic, was tucked into an Upala shopping tote as I headed for Sylar’s shop to get his approval of the wedding menu.

I kept looking over my shoulder at the Upala tent, where I’d left Starla with Lazarus. Andreus still had not returned—for which I was oddly grateful.

Apparently, I needed to work on the confidence part of my sleuthing tactics. I mean, after all, how bad could the man be? Surely, everyone was exaggerating his creepiness.
Macabre
.
Dracula
. People like that just didn’t exist.

Did they?

I was going to have to find out if I wanted to uncover what had happened to Patrice Keaton—or find out exactly what the Anicula looked like. I glanced at the Charmory. Crystals sparkled colorfully in the window, but a large
CLOSED
sign hung on the door.

Up ahead, I saw Mimi going into the Gingerbread Shack and decided to drop in as well. I wanted to see how Evan was faring after his knock on the head last night.

Bells tinkled as I pulled open the door. I inhaled the delicious scents inside the cozy shop. Chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon.

“Darcy Merriweather!” Evan cried. “What is this I hear about another run-in with your stalker?”

Mimi’s eyes lit. “You have a stalker? Cool!”

I stepped up next to Mimi and put my arm around her as I rolled my eyes. “One, we don’t know that he’s
my
stalker. Two,” I said, addressing Mimi, “it is not cool. You’ve been hanging out with Harper too much.”

Thankfully, no one else was in the shop, so I quickly filled them in on what happened this morning. The bump on Evan’s head had shrunk a bit, but was now colored a dark blue. “Is your head okay?”

“Just sore to touch, and I have a tiny headache. You two want the usual?”

Mimi and I nodded. Her long curly hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a simple pair of denim shorts and a light blue V-necked tank top. She wasn’t into makeup or boys quite yet, but I was sure the time would come—very soon—that boys would take notice of her. She was growing into quite the beauty.

“I have a question.” Mimi’s nose wrinkled and her eyebrows snapped downward. “Did your stalker—”

“Stop calling him that!” I interrupted.

She took a deep breath. “Did your
visitor
hear you talking with Archie?”

My mouth dropped open. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. What if the intruder was a mortal? Or worse, a Seeker? “What if it was overheard?” I asked Evan. It would be hard to explain how a macaw could carry on a conversation with me. “Could I lose my powers?” It was, after all, what I’d always been told.

He set four mini devil’s food cupcakes on a plate and slid it across the counter. “I don’t know, Darcy.”

As I paid (I always insisted), I could feel dread curling in my stomach. I was suddenly a nervous wreck about possibly losing my powers. I hoped that the intruder
didn’t realize who the voices belonged to—that would be the best outcome.

“If the Peeper heard something he shouldn’t have, the Elder will let you know,” he said. “So, for now, try not to worry. No news is good news for you.”

That was easy for him to say.

Mimi and I sat at a high pub-style table. I couldn’t help but notice she had her mom’s diary with her again. I’d warned Mimi many times that she probably shouldn’t be carrying it around the village, but she confessed that she hated letting it out of her sight. It was like having a bit of her mother with her at all times.

Which, of course, was hard to argue with.

“Maybe,” I suggested to her, “we should get a book jacket for your mom’s journal.” I bit into the cupcake and let the chocolate melt on my tongue. Evan was a cupcake master. As a Bakecrafter, he should be. “So it doesn’t look quite so important.”

“Maybe,” Mimi said, popping one of her cakes into her mouth whole.

I made a mental note to see if Harper had any book protectors in stock.

Mimi looked up at me, her brown eyes full of curiosity. “How did Starla’s date go? Have you heard anything?”

“Starla?” Evan piped up. “She had a date? What date? When was this date? With whom?”

I didn’t blame her for not telling him with whom. I kind of wondered if she would have told
me
if I hadn’t seen her at the Upala booth. The son of Mr. Macabre. I shivered. “One of the Roving Stones vendors. For coffee. No big deal,” I said, lying through my teeth. There was no reason to freak him out—he had an overprotective streak where his sister was concerned. It was just coffee. One date, done. Lazarus would be moving on before long.

I know I wouldn’t be sad to see him go. How had he known my name?
Why
had he known my name?

“Maybe she’ll fall in love with him and he’ll fall in love with her, and then he’ll stay in the village and they’ll live happily ever after,” Mimi said.

I stared at her, trying to hide my horror at the thought. “I think it’s just coffee.”

She pouted. “Well, they
could
fall in love.”

“She is ready for a relationship,” Evan said, wiping the table next to ours.

Suddenly my cupcake wasn’t sitting so well.

“Do you think he brought her flowers?” Mimi asked. “Or candy?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“What’s Starla’s favorite flower?” she asked Evan.

He shrugged. “She likes them all.”

“And candy?”

I eyed her. What was going on in her head?

“Chocolate-covered cherries,” he answered.

Mimi turned to me, her brown eyes big and wide. “What’re your favorites, Darcy?”

“Mine? Why?”

Evan shot me a party-pooper look.

I sighed. “Flowers? Well, I’m a simple daisy kind of girl. And candy? York Peppermint Patties.”

“Cheap date,” Evan murmured with a smile on his face.

“And you?” I pushed some crumbs around my plate.

“Well, since you asked. I’ve never had a date bring me flowers. Mine tend to bring alcohol.” He pulled a wry face. “You think that says something about me?”

I laughed. “Would you prefer flowers?”

“Actually, I’m rather fond of gin. I do like my martinis. That being said, I think I’m a single red rose kind of guy.”

Mimi sighed happily with a dreamy look in her eye. She was apparently a hopeless romantic.

Smiling, I grabbed my bag and stood up. “I need to go see Sylar about the wedding menu. Everything all set with Ve’s cake?”

Evan made an a-okay sign with his fingers. “I’m going to start the layers this afternoon.”

Ve had chosen a beautiful three-tiered chocolate fondant-covered wedding cake decorated with colorful sugar flowers. The cake was in good hands with Evan.

I said my good-byes, reminded Mimi about a cover for her mom’s diary, and headed toward Sylar’s shop across the green, taking the Enchanted Trail around the square since I didn’t want to cut through the Roving Stones’ tents.

Thankfully the path was well traveled and someone was always in sight, or I might have been worried about big bad wolves in the woods.

Though a thick tree line separated the path from the backs of village businesses, I could still see the outline of the shops that surrounded the square. I was behind the Sorcerer’s Stove when I heard a loud crash and two people taking part in a restrained argument.

I couldn’t make out who the voices belonged to, but it was clearly a man and a woman. Curious (okay, nosy), I hurried to an intersection in the trail. A wooden arrow with “Sorcerer’s Stove” engraved on it pointed to a narrow dirt path. It would lead me to the back entrance of the restaurant. I tiptoed carefully as I tried to pick out words—or see who was doing the arguing.

As the path widened and opened to a small garden behind the restaurant, I took a good look around. Nothing seemed amiss. Butterflies flirted with flowers, birds chirped, bees buzzed. All had quieted. Then, suddenly, I jumped at another loud bang. It sounded like the lid of the Dumpster being slammed closed. I glanced toward the six-foot L-shaped fence that blocked the Dumpster from public view. The voices started up again, and I
heard a man say, “The police will never find out, so please stop worrying.”

I crept closer. It sounded like Jonathan, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Tally ho, Darcy!” Archie swooped by.

“Shhh!” I said, Mimi’s earlier concerns about being overheard fresh in my thoughts. I waved him toward the tree line and out of sight of anyone who might be watching.