A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (28 page)

“Aw,” Harmony said.

Harper frowned but didn’t say anything.

I was frowning, too. The “instant” part of that story was bothering me. As was what Glinda had said earlier—about Jonathan’s “spell” on Zoey.

“We eloped that weekend,” Zoey said, smiling, “and have been inseparable ever since. Going on two years now. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind myself it’s all real. A fairy tale come true.”

Two years…

Something Yvonne said the day Elodie threw her hissy fit at Patrice’s house suddenly came back to me, the part about Elodie’s only friend being too busy for her now. “Zoey, who was the friend eating lunch with you the day lightning struck?”

She looked up. “Elodie Keaton. Why?”

My heart sank. “Just wondering.”

The conversation continued about love at first sight and whether it existed. My mind was elsewhere. It churned with a suspicion I couldn’t let go.

Harper leaned in. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. It wasn’t something I could share. Not yet. I had to talk to Elodie first. If I was right…it would change everything with regard to Patrice’s murder and how I’d been thinking about it.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Harper as I hopped off my stool. I wanted to ask Jonathan some questions.

She gave me a confused look but nodded. “You’ll tell me later?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

I smiled. “Promise.”

Marcus was walking into class as I was walking out. I was thrilled to see him wearing glasses. Dark-rimmed rectangles that were a perfect mix of trendy and nerdy. I
grabbed him by the arm and said, “Any chance you can meet me at Patrice’s house tomorrow morning?”

His face paled, which really highlighted the bruises on his jaw from the bookcase. “I really want you to stop saying her name. It freaks me out. Why do you need me?”

“I’m having a cat problem and need someone with your feline talents.”

He laughed. “Nine o’clock?”

“Perfect.” I watched as he sat next to Harper, and was pleased by the shy look she was giving him.

The restaurant was still as empty as it had been five minutes ago. Even emptier, I noticed, since Jonathan was no longer sitting in a booth.

I walked over to the bar and asked Ula where he was. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Want me to go look?”

“If you could, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Can you watch the bar for a second? I don’t think anyone will come along, but you never know.”

Smiling, I nodded. Once upon a time I’d loved the movie
Cocktail
with Tom Cruise. I had to restrain myself from playing with the martini shakers.

“You should not be without your protection,” a voice behind me said.

I spun around and gasped. Andreus was standing in a shadow, looking as frightful as ever. I latched on to his arm and pulled him into the light.

He stared at my hand on his sleeve.

I quickly removed it and dusted the fabric. “Sorry,” I said, “but that is so much better.”

His head tipped. “What do you mean?”

“You and the shadows…Never mind. What were you saying?”

“You should not be without your protection.”

My protection? Why did I suddenly feel like I was in a bad safe-sex commercial?

“I feel as though you’re in grave danger, Darcy. You should not be without your sphere.”

Oh! That
protection
. The agate. I could feel my cheeks heating. “I have it. It’s in the classroom.”

“Keep it with you at all times, Darcy. Walk with it; eat with it; sleep with it. There is a darkness around you. The sphere will protect you.”

I swallowed hard as I recalled all the times lately I’d felt something sinister watching me. “You can see darkness? Evil?”

He sidestepped, in and out of the light, his appearance alternating from distinguished to dreadful with each step. “You must remember that things, that people, are not always as they appear.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply nodded. Near the exit, I saw Starla standing with Lazarus. They looked to be in deep conversation. Lazarus was talking, and she didn’t look too pleased with what he was saying. In fact, her hands were balled into fists.

Andreus must have seen them, too. He sighed deeply. “Another town, another heart broken.”

“Is he breaking up with her?”

“He has not yet learned about the power of love. Someday, I hope, he will. Until then, he loves them and leaves them.”

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“Soon. I was hoping you would have news for me first. About the Anicula. Have you recovered it?”

“No sign of it,” I said truthfully.

“That is a shame.”

It really was. If I could find it, then maybe it would lead me to Patrice’s killer.

Lazarus finished his speech, and Starla drew her shoulders back, lifted her chin. Vince Paxton came in behind them and circled wide around the pair.

“What’s going on with them?” he asked as he approached the bar.

Andreus eyed him. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

I made the introductions and they shook hands. “Lazarus is breaking up with her.”

Vince was trying to get his hand out of Andreus’s grip, but the older man wouldn’t let go. He was inspecting Vince closely, like one would a bug under a microscope.

“You have an interesting air about you,” Andreus said.

Vince tugged and finally freed his hand. The motion sent Andreus into the shadows.

“Eee!” Vince said, jumping back. His gaze darted from me to the very creepy Mr. Macabre.

Starla slammed her purse down on the bar top, making us all jump. “That swine!” she cried. Then she sighed. “It wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He called Twink a dust ball.”

I gasped.

“I know,” Starla said. “He doesn’t like dogs. I should have cut it off right then and there, but it was nice dating.”

“I like dogs,” Vince said.

We all stared at him.

He shrugged. “I do.”

Starla said, “Sorry to be so dramatic, everyone. I was just caught a little off guard.”

Harper came out of the classroom and approached us. “Zoey’s ready to get started.” She looked at each of us, and when her gaze stopped on Andreus, she let out a scream. “Holy sh—”

Her exclamation was broken by a louder scream. An ear-splitting one, coming from the back of the restaurant.

Harper, Marcus, and the rest of the class came running
out of the classroom at the same time Ula flew through the swinging kitchen doors.

“Someone call 911!”

Zoey ran to her. “What’s happened?”

Tears streamed in Ula’s eyes. “It’s Jonathan. Come quick!”

I saw Marcus dialing his cell phone as we all raced through the kitchen and into the back office. Jonathan was lying on the floor behind his desk.

Zoey dropped to her knees. Andreus sank down next to her, completely in the shadows. If anyone noticed how utterly terrifying he looked, they didn’t say.

Zoey let out an anguished cry as she cradled Jonathan’s face. “What happened?”

Jonathan’s eyes slowly blinked open and focused on her. “Fell,” he mumbled.

Vince knelt next to them. He manipulated Jonathan’s head, and his eyes widened. He drew back his hand and stared at it. It was covered in blood. “He must have hit his head on the corner of the desk.”

It was the last thing I heard before I passed out.

“At least it wasn’t the sight of your own blood that made you faint this time,” Harper said.

“There’s that.” A half hour later, I sat on a bench in front of the Sorcerer’s Stove, breathing in the crisp night air. The last time I’d fainted it was because I’d been shot. Absently, I rubbed the scar on my upper arm.

Harper sat next to me, her elbow linked in mine.

The ambulance had left ten minutes ago, with both Zoey and Jonathan aboard. I had refused treatment. The fresh air made all the difference.

Class had been canceled, the restaurant closed for the night. We were waiting for my wooziness to pass completely before heading home.

“Do you think May-December romances can really work?” Harper asked.

“You’re thinking of Jonathan and Zoey?”

She nodded. “Zoey can’t be much older than me. And he’s ancient. It doesn’t seem like it should work….”

“But?”

“Did you see the way she looked at him?”

“Yeah.” I’d seen. It had been filled with aching adoration.

“I don’t understand how it can work between them.”

I didn’t want to mention my suspicion about a wish being involved. I’d rather think that love at first sight was possible. “Love is funny that way. You don’t really get a say.”

“I feel bad for her,” Harper said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s dying. And she’s going to be alone.”

Stunned, I stared at her. “It’s just a little head wound. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“There’s more to it,” Harper said. “I can feel it. Do you remember the year I spent volunteering at the nursing home?”

I nodded.

“I’ve seen death, Darcy,” she said softly, completely serious. “And I see it in him. He doesn’t have long.”

T
he next morning, I skipped my run and headed for the Gingerbread Shack for my coffee and maybe a cupcake or two. With the week I was having, I felt I deserved it.

Heck, with the week I was having, I deserved the whole case of treats.

The bell on the door jangled as I pulled it open. Evan was whistling as he tidied the beverage center. A large coffee urn beckoned, and I went straight for it. Evan handed me a mug and kissed my cheek. “You look exhausted.”

“Long night,” I said. “I slept with a ball under my pillow all night and kind of know what the princess from ‘The Princess and the Pea’ must have felt like the morning after.”

Evan smiled. “I hate when that happens.”

I playfully shoved him and took the ball out of my bag. “I’m beginning to hate this thing.”

“Oh! You were serious about the ball. What is it?”

I laughed and explained.

“Starla told me about that scary Andreus Woodshall. Is he really that creepy?”

“In the wrong lighting.”

He winked. “I hate when that happens, too.”

“Right. Like you’ve ever looked bad. Well,” I amended, “except for the time with that rash.”

He restocked the creamers. “Let’s not talk about that.”

I fought back a yawn. I didn’t mention to him that I’d also been awake in the middle of the night to let Cherise Goodwin into the house under the cover of darkness.

Ve had slept through the entire curing process—and had still been asleep by the time I left this morning. I had high hopes that she was going to wake up as good as new.

“Where are you off to?” Evan asked.

I stirred two packets of sugar into my mug. “Patrice’s. I’m going to try and make a dent in the living room today. And Marcus is coming over to do a little cat whispering. How’s Starla? Is she okay after last night? With Lazarus?”

“She watched
Beaches
two times in a row last night. I wanted to jump out the window by the time the credits rolled the second time.”

“You lie.”

He smiled again. “I do. You know how I love myself some Bette Midler.” He checked the level on the hot water urn. “Starla seems okay this morning. Time will tell. How’s Ve?”

“I have hope that she’ll be just fine for the wedding. But…”

“What?” he asked.

“Sylar called this morning. He thinks he may have food poisoning. He ate at the Sorcerer’s Stove yesterday.”

“Oh no. The wedding?”

“As far as I know, it’s still on as planned.”

Evan let out a relieved breath. “Good. I’ve been working on Ve’s cake all week. Do you want to see it?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to.” I followed him to
the kitchen. Dozens of trays filled with goodies sat on stainless-steel counters. “You have the best job ever.”

He walked to the far end of the kitchen, to an oversized refrigerator. He pulled open the door and said, “I know.”

Suddenly, his face lost all color.

I peeked around him into the fridge and said, “Where’s the cake?”

“I—I—I,” he stammered, pointing. “It was there last night.”

“It’s missing?” I asked.

Dumbfounded, he nodded. Then he raced around the kitchen, checking all the refrigerators, ovens, cupboards. No matter where he looked, the outcome was the same.

The cake was gone.

He sat on a stool, his shoulders slumped. “Who would steal a wedding cake?”

I had a pretty good idea. Dorothy Hansel. “Can you make another one by Sunday?”

Closing his eyes, he nodded. “I can do it.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Before you do,” I said, hatching a plan, “do you mind if we set a little bait for our saboteur?”

When I told him my plan, he smiled. “I’m in. Do you think it will work?”

“I certainly hope so.” For my peace of mind more than anything. If Ve found out about this latest act, she would be beside herself. Which was the last thing she needed right now.

I walked the block to Patrice’s house, thinking about Jonathan. I hadn’t heard any updates on his condition.

What would happen to the restaurant with him being so ill? I doubted it could afford to remain open without him. Not with what Zoey had said yesterday about the Stove barely staying afloat financially.

Business was already bad at the restaurant—and I had a feeling it was going to get much, much worse.

As I neared Patrice’s house, I saw Yvonne across the street, loading up the trunk of her car. I veered over to her, to see if she had any updates on the break-in.

When I called out a “Good morning,” she didn’t look up. I tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

“Darcy! Oh, I didn’t hear you.”

Her eyes were red-rimmed. “Have you been crying? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She walked to the front porch, grabbed a suitcase and heaved it into the already full trunk.

“Are you going somewhere?”

She slammed the trunk closed. “Not really. Just coming to my senses. I’ll be staying at the Pixie Cottage for a few days until I can sort some things out.”

I glanced at the house. “And Roger?”

“Who cares?” she asked.