If the Broom Fits (4 page)

This is it. You're going to find the spell.
I tugged on my gloves making sure my fingers went to the very ends. Once I saw whatever was behind that door I could never go back. My stomach twisted at the thought. I wanted to break the curse. It was all I had ever wanted, but if I had to give myself to dark magic or make a human sacrifice, would I do it? Did I even want to know that about myself?

I stared at the door. I started to back away from it. I'd look through the boxes first. They were safer somehow.

“Did you see your room?” Orion asked, startling me.

I turned toward his voice, but he wasn't there. When I looked back at the closed door, he was standing in front of it, his arms crossed. “No room here is
my
room. I didn't even know this place existed before last week.”

He pushed the door open in a silent challenge. I stared into the black hole, unable to make anything out inside. “Shall we?”

I drew in a slow breath, squared my shoulders, and entered the room. Orion flipped a switch and light sizzled to life. I flattened my hands against my legs as I tried to reconcile what I was seeing with what I'd expected. Two walls were a pretty pale pink and the other two were a soft gray. A silhouette of a tree was painted from the floor to the ceiling with branches hanging over the crib and white and pink blooms covering the branches then scattering over to the next wall. Someone put a lot of time into a room that would never be used.

“You haven't seen the best part.” Orion flipped off the lights, then turned a different switch. The ceiling came to life with stars and constellations that rotated in gentle soothing patterns.

My fingertips tingled with the urge to touch things, but I kept them firmly pressed into my leg. “What a waste of time. It was stupid to go to this trouble for a child that would never see it.”

He shook his head. “They loved you.”

“Enough.” I stomped my foot, tearing my eyes from the wall and letting rage take over. I could trust my anger. It had been with me forever and hadn't let me down yet, which was more than I could say about anyone else.

“You can't rewrite the past. If they loved me, where are they? Where was the plan for my future? I understand I served a purpose for her. Maybe she thought I'd be okay with it and would bring her back, but that isn't going to happen. She ruined my life and I'm what? Supposed to forgive her because she painted a room pink for me?” My whole body was shaking.

“You want to get to know me? Let me give you the short version. I was in eight foster homes and six group homes. I accidently killed at least sixteen people before I finally ran away because everyone was safer if I wasn't in their life. I was twelve years old. I didn't go to school. I went to the library, mostly because it was warm and dry and easy to hide in it. I scrounged, ate out of dumpsters, and took handouts anywhere I could get them until someone from the Abyss noticed me.”

Orion cleared his throat and I was vaguely aware of Leslie—eyes wide with a stricken look—but I pushed on.

“They knew what I could do and introduced me to that world, but more importantly it was the first time anyone had an explanation for what was wrong with me. By that point, I'd lost track of how many people I'd killed accidentally or to protect myself. I became a bounty hunter because it was the only thing I could do. So please keep telling me how much my parents loved me.” I tightened my fingers into fists. “My mother made me this monster. And my father? Well, where has he been all this time? You can try to color them anyway that suits you, but you can't change the facts because I lived them.”

I looked back at the walls. “Who cares about stars and paint?”

Orion ran a hand over his jaw, and his intense eyes followed me as I backed toward the door. “Ask yourself one question, Frost. Does any of this look like they intended to die?”

T
he bell jingled
over the door.

I put the book back on the table and headed to the front, wearing what I hoped was a pleasant smile—right until I saw Donavan. “Oh, it's you. What do you want?”

He held up his hands. “I come in peace.” He glanced around the shop with a cynical expression.

Sure the front was a bit touristy, but that's what people wanted. To the right were homemade candles, soaps, lotions, and beauty products. To the left was the counter and jewelry. The long thin table opposite the checkout held fun things people loved to browse, like tarot cards, rune stones, voodoo dolls, lucky charms, and things like that. It was as you went deeper into the building that the people interested in real magic would find what they were looking for.

Donavan put my two dollars on the counter. “I was up all night and I took it out on you. It was a dick move. Are we cool?”

“Was that an apology?”

He gave me a flat look. “Do you need one?”

I considered it for a moment. “Fine. We're cool. Now, what do you want?”

“I don't…you came to me.” He put his hands in his pockets. “You braved a snow storm to ask me about a murder. Call me crazy, but it seems like it was sort of important to you. Why are you busting my balls?”

I shrugged. “Emaleigh used to come into the store. Her death took me by surprise and the article didn't make a lot of sense to me. How can you wrap up a murder investigation in a week based on circumstantial evidence? I figured there had to be more to the story and I wanted to know what it was.” He nodded. “Like do you think it really was the boyfriend?”

“As a journalist, I'm only reporting the facts. As a person who was born and raised here, I've known Jasper Hixson my whole life. I'd bet everything I own on the fact that he couldn't kill anyone, especially Emaleigh. He loved that girl more than anything else.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Jess, I think I found something useful.” Katrina appeared beside me, holding out an ancient book. “Oh, hi.” She closed the book, keeping her finger on the page.

“Kat, this is Donavan. He writes for the paper.”

“He owns the paper,” Donavan corrected me with a smirk.

“This is Katrina. She's another one of the owners of Enchantment.”

“Where did you get that book?” Donavan's eyes trailed to her hands. “It looks really old. Can I see it?”

“Nope,” she said, holding it tighter. “It's just made to look like that. You know us Wiccans. We're weird. Um, I'll wait for you in the break room.” She left, making not so subtle “He's cute” eyes at me.

I looked back at Donavan, who was smiling slightly because he wasn't blind and of course had noticed her face. “You asked me what I thought. I think the police didn't have any other suspects and the significant other is always guilty so they arrested him before people could panic. As you said, it's a small town. A murder is a big deal.”

“But what about the other woman you mentioned?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Rhonda Wesselton. She was a middle-aged banker found hanging in her closest, somewhat eaten by cats.”

I grimaced. That was horrible.

“The police ruled it a suicide, but I have my doubts. Something isn't right about it, and why would her cats start eating her? She was found within hours. It was bizarre.”

“How so? Besides the cats?”

He leaned a hand against the counter. “I know everyone has secrets, parts of their lives that they hide from the rest of the world. Wesselton wasn't the type. She was bubbly and sweet and involved in the community. I know that doesn't prove anything, but I read the police reports. The marks on both bodies were similar. It doesn't make sense. I think someone did this to both of them and Jasper isn't that guy. But every time I go to the police for a quote, they stonewall. I have no idea what's happening there. Chief Caffery isn't usually like this.”

Two suspicious deaths was more than I bargained for. I didn't know Rhonda Wesselton. If there was a killer, he or she was probably human and there wasn't much I could do about it. “Wow, that's crazy. It's good to know though. We'll make sure we keep our doors locked.”

He frowned and shook his head.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head again. “I don't know. You're the only other person in all of New Haven who even noticed that this was weird. I guess I thought you'd care more.”

“Look, I don't know what you think I can do. I don't know anything. I barely knew Emaleigh. I was curious, but I'm not a cop. If this is a serial killer or something, the police should be looking into it.”

“But they aren't and they won't. I think I'm the only person questioning any of it.”

I pressed my lips together. “If I could help, I would.”

His blue eyes stared intently into mine. “You really don't know anything, do you?” He studied my face carefully. “I thought you did.”

I shook my head.

He blew out a breath. “So much for intuition. Look, I promise I'm not crazy or desperate for a story. I just want answers.”

“Don't we all.”

“Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows in a silent “What are you going to do about it?” challenge. “Enjoy the snow day.”

The door jingled as he walked out.

I watched him retreat across the street then joined Katrina in the quiet corner where she was crammed into the couch with the huge book laying across her lap.

She looked up with a twinkle in her eyes. “He was cute.”

“You think so? Kind of skinny and abrasive.”

“But totally hot. Better than anyone at speed dating.”

“Not hard.” I took my seat and picked up my abandoned book. “Do you know Rhonda Wesselton?”

“Wesselton…I don't think so. Should I?”

I shook my head. “Just wondering.”

“Anyway, look what I found.” She pointed at the book in her lap. “This spell restores that which was lost. Let's try it.”

“I don't think that will work.”

“So we can't try?” Her eyebrows raised. “What could it hurt? If it doesn't work, then we try something else. But what if it does?”

Part of me itched just to tell her, but I couldn't bring myself to. I'd wait until we were all together and tell them as a group that my magic wasn't coming back. That would be easier. “Fine, whatever.”

Kat hopped up and cleared off the table. She went around the shop and gathered what she needed: three candles, rosehip oil, and six stones. We sat across from each other. Katrina arranged the candles in a line and lit the first one, which was brown, and took my hands.

“What this witch has lost, help her find. Bring her that which otherwise hides.” She touched a stone to the right of the candle then nodded to me.

I lit the white candle on the opposite end and repeated the same words then touched my finger to a crystal next to the candle. Finally we lit the middle candle together and spoke in unison, placing our hands on both rocks. The candles flared then went out.

“Do you feel more magical?” she asked.

“I always feel magical,” I said. “I'm glorious fucking unicorn.”(LOL)

She laughed. “You know what I mean. Try to do something.”

“Like what?”

“Um, light this candle.” She pushed the white candle toward me.

I concentrated my energy as I had done a million times before without much effort at all. I snapped my fingers. Nothing happened. I hovered my palm over the wick and tried again. Not even smoke.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“It was worth a shot. I'll keep looking. You should keep trying. You never know. It might just take a while for the juices to start flowing.”

“So that's how magic works? It's juice?” I forced a smiled and she giggled.

Katrina hunched over the books that were nearly bigger than she was. I watched her for a few minutes, feeling guilty I was letting her waste her time. Finally I couldn't bear it and looked away.

If this was how she chose to spend her day, I couldn't stop her, but I also didn't have to watch her grasp at straws. I went to the front and took down the rest of the Christmas decorations that were stuffed in every available nook and cranny. I tidied the shelves around the store and dusted everything twice before I went to sit behind the counter. The email list next to the register was almost full. I flipped it around and removed the top sheet, so a fresh new sheet would start the day—whenever customers could make it in again, anyway. But a name caught my eye. I picked it back up for a second look. Wesselton. At least, I thought it could be that. The handwriting was sort of smudged and hard to read.

“Hey, Kat,” I called.

“Yeah,” she said, coming over. “Is it working? Nothing else looks promising yet.”

“What does this say?” I handed her the paper and pointed at the name in question.

“Um, Rhonda Wesselton, I think. Isn't that the name you asked me about?”

I nodded, stomach tightening. “Yeah, it is. That's the other person who was strangled to death. Well, technically her death wasn't considered murder, but still. Look at the name below hers.”

Emaleigh Greer. Suddenly it looked more and more likely that Donavan was onto something.

“That's weird,” she said. “Do you think the killer came to our store? It's strange that they're the top two people on our list.”

“Very. I guess he could have come in, but wouldn't one of us notice a strange person stewing over the mailing list or copying it down?”

“He could have snapped a picture of it with his cell phone while he checked out. That's what I would have done. Both of their names, addresses, and phone numbers were at the top of the list for anyone to see. But it could be a coincidence too. Maybe it's nothing.”

“Probably, but I think we should check it out. What if something supernatural followed us back from the Abyss? We can't risk our customers being targeted.”

“We should go to the police,” Katrina said, not looking excited about investigating anything.

“Rhonda was ruled a suicide and they think they have Emaleigh's killer. No one will listen to us,” I said.

Kat frowned. “But if we do this and this creep is a human, we turn over everything we know, right? We don't need police trouble.”

I nodded, my brain kicking into high gear. “That's reasonable. Let's take today to find out everything we can about what's happening and whether or not it's the same killer or a killer at all. Then if it looks like it is and it's human, first thing tomorrow we'll go to the police. I don't think they could do anything in this sort of weather anyway. If it is something supernatural, however, we'll get Frost and Leslie and Selene over here and take care of it ourselves.”

Kat crossed her arms. “For the record, I don't know anything about investigating murders except for what I've seen on TV or read in books. I don't know how useful I'll be, unless we can do it magically. And I'm not breaking any laws. This store is all we have. We have to protect it. And you don't have to look so excited.”

I laughed. “But I am excited. Don't you see? This could be what we're meant to do. We were fairly ineffectual in the Abyss, but here we can actually protect people. Humans don't have to be easy prey. We can actually run interference and save lives.”

Katrina drew in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks as she blew it out. Obviously she'd rather still be in the Abyss, but I liked this plan. It made me feel more alive. “We could become private investigators of the paranormal,” I said.

At this she perked up. “I'm listening.”

“Let's just see how this case goes first. Donavan said something about having the police reports. I'm going to run over and check if he still has them and if I can get copies. I'll be right back.”

“Sure, sure. Tease me about getting to spy on people and dig into their lives. You know I'm a nosy Nancy. And then just leave me to the boring spell work while you go talk to the cute guy.”

“It's so not like that.” I winked at her. “Speaking of nosy Nancys, have you talked to Sebastian lately?”

Her brown eyes darkened. “Nope. He's completely shut me out. Colder than a mermaid in the arctic.”

Well, that explained the sudden desire for speed dating. “And Sy?”

She smiled slightly. “He's fun, but he always has to leave. And I know who's next on your list. I don't know where Jack is or even
who
he is. Like seriously, the men I attract can't seem to get away fast enough. We already have one cat. Don't make me get two.”

I put an arm around her. “Well, at least when we're living at Shady Pines the men will be older and move a lot slower. Harder to get away.”

She laughed, but it sounded sad. “You mean,
we'll
be older. Sy and Sebastian will be the same. Who knows about Jack. I don't want to be old.”

She had a point. Elves didn't age. Well, they aged some, but barely at all by human standards. Jack was the wild card. None of us, including her, knew anything about him or who he was or what his real name was. This was why worrying about the coven was almost a full time job.

“Is it really so bad being alone?” I asked.

She gave me a slightly curled lip.

I shook my head. “Don't answer that. I'll be back.”

I bundled up for a second time and trekked across the street to the newspaper.

Donavan met me with a curious grin and narrowed eyes. “I didn't think I'd see you again. At the very least, not today.”

“I found something.” I pulled the mailing list from my pocket. “I was doing some cleaning and happened to look at the mailing list signup sheet we keep on the counter. The first two names on the list are Rhonda Wesselton and Emaleigh Greer. I'm not saying that means anything. I mean this is a small town. I'm sure they were both in plenty of the same places, but it jumped out at me. And the close timing of their visit and signing up might be a weird coincidence, but…” But I had lived too long around magic to believe in coincidence.