Inconvenient Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery (15 page)

“What do you like?”

Because the truth serum was hitting her hard—she should have stopped drinking that nasty coffee—she didn’t just tell the truth, she spewed it in a mad rush. “Hanging with Em, being with you, being mean to mean girls, traveling to strange places and then coming home. I like to feel the wind in my face, to swim, to sleep, especially when I have lusty dreams, to wake up with someone I love and to make the people I love happy.”

“Lusty dreams?”

“Mmmm.” Ingrid stood, yawning viciously. Hazel wasn’t joking when she said that the truth serum made you sleepy. She needed a nap with a fierce, clawing need. “They’re mostly about you these days. Except when they’re about Harrison. But those ones make me cry, so I’m going to go sleep off the truth serum I dosed us with. Probably you’ll be okay if you just don’t answer when people ask you something and you want to lie. You got way less than me.”

The furious look he gave her was no lie.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I was already serumed and it just seemed like a waste not to share. Plus I’m all post-traumatic stressy over Harrison’s death, and you were freaking me out a little on the inside, and I had to know that you didn’t secretly find me stupid irritating. ‘Cause Harrison did.”

“Your ex?”

“No,” Ingrid said. “Didn’t you know? I’m a widow. Realizing that he was tolerating me half the time while I was in love and we were already married effed my head over.”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid,” he said.

She swallowed. She had to get out of here and get some wine and chocolate, stat.

“I’m not Harrison,” Gabe said.

She saluted and started to leave.

But she couldn’t. She turned back to his angry face where he was scowling at the coffee and she crossed to him, leaned down, and placed a soft kiss against his lips. And then she almost ran to the Escalade. The weariness—and she was starting to think it was from the emotional vomiting more than the serum—was making her skin crawl, so she bypassed her giant, shiny SUV and hurried as fast as her weighted-down with exhaustion legs would take her. It was only three blocks, but it felt like the circumference of the island. She dragged herself toward the elevator, followed by the gallery guy.

Ingrid pulled the gate down in front of gallery guy’s face.

“Aren’t you gone yet,” she demanded as she flipped the latch so he couldn’t open it. She entered her code that would take it to her floor as he pounded on the gate.

“I want my deposit back,” he demanded.

“Get out and you can have it,” she said as the lift took her past his furious face.

“Nasty witch!”

“Creepy old badger.”

She didn’t even try for her bed. She crossed the room and collapsed onto the light gray sofa, only fighting sleep long enough to pull the throw over her cold legs.

•

Tuesday Afternoon

Emily walked in through the front door of the aunts’ farmhouse and called out for Hazel. It was her house, but the other aunts were there so often since it was where most coven meetings were held that it might as well have belonged to all of them.

“Auntie, you here?”

Hazel came around the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. “What can I do for you today, Emily?”

“Uh, yeah, so do you know if there is any way to prevent a hex?”

Hazel burst into laughter. “Autumn?”

Emily nodded, feeling slightly ashamed. But only slightly. “We truth-serumed her. And she caught us. But she admitted to sleeping with Owen before we separated. What a whore, right?”

“Emily,” Hazel chided gently. “Remember that whole karma thing. It will catch up with you. Plus, you know that’s against the rules. We don’t perform magic against our sisters. Though her sleeping with Owen is also very much against the rules.”

“Whatever to Owen. And yeah, I know it was against the rules to serum her. That’s why I need something to prevent her hex. You know, like an anti-hexing vaccine. That’s a thing, right?”

Hazel sighed. “No. It’s not a thing. If you get hexed, I’ll help you. Maybe. But until then, tell me. Have you been practicing your magic?”

Emily crossed her arms and pouted like a petulant teenager. “I did, but it didn’t work, Auntie.”

“What did you try?”

“I tried to lift a log and then when that didn’t work, I put the wood in my fireplace by hand. I got splinters!”

Aunt Hazel rolled her eyes. Emily continued on with her story, careful to whine and irritate Hazel with it.

“Then I tried to start a fire with the logs. But that didn’t work either. Instead, I accidentally set my bookshelf on fire. On fire! It wasn’t a total waste though. I met a firefighter. His name is Sam. I think I’ve decided he will be my rebound guy. I’m gonna make him wait though, until this craziness with Owen is over. I don’t need a funeral in the middle of my rebound romance. Though…” She tapped her lips. “Maybe he’d help me burn Owen’s body. I refuse to pay actual money for a funeral.”

Hazel ignored the comments about Sam and the funeral and focused on what she cared about—the magic. Emily supposed it wasn’t totally selfish since there was the whole ‘you’ll fall into a magical coma and maybe die’ deal, but honestly, you’d think she’d show a spark of interest in Sam.

“Why don’t we focus on trying to lift things with your magic? Maybe start with something lighter than logs, you think?”

Emily felt a little like an idiot for not having considered picking up something lighter. But in Harry Potter, those kids totally moved a feather and then a troll’s club. You’d think if kids could do it, adults could lift a measly log with a smidge of magic.

“It’s dumb that weight matters,” Emily said. “But whatever. So, like what?”

“How about this towel I’m holding. Concentrate on it. Can you sense it with your mind? Think about what it would feel like, about how much it might weigh, and then what it might look like as it moves through the air, unassisted by the human hand. Close your eyes,” Hazel commanded.

Emily snapped her eyes closed, not wanting to incur the wrath of any other coven members. Especially Hazel. Hazel was her favorite. Well, her and Danna.

But Danna had died.

Emily objected to that, too. She might have to have words with Danna’s grave. Later. After they caught the murderer and Ingrid took them stress shopping and to somewhere warm relax. And after she had her way with Sam. And possibly after some steak. She might need some steak and some potatoes and some…not cheesecake. That was Ingrid’s obsession. Emily needed chocolate layer cake, as high as they could find it. With way, way too much frosting. And a massive glass of milk.

Hazel’s voice cut into Emily’s thoughts. “Don’t think about what happened before, Em.”

“I’m not,” Emily lied.

“Don’t,” Emily begged. She needed to not think about that. Why did Hazel have to totally bring that up now. Damn it!

“That was my fault, I pushed too hard when you were young. Let go of that day, Emily. You can do this.” Hazel’s voice was stern laced with comfort.

“It wasn’t your fault, Auntie. That poor boy…those burns. I can’t forget about the sound of screams.”

Hazel put her hands on her hips. “You were trying to save him, Emily. He would have died anyway if you had done nothing. You were trying to save him. You must stop blaming yourself and blocking your magic. I demand it.”

“But when I healed him—or tried to—I used too much magic. I couldn't control it then and I can’t control it now.”

“You’re overthinking it. Relax. I’m right here. If your towel turns homicidal, I’ll stop it. All right?”

Emily bit her lip before she nodded, meeting Hazel’s eyes and reminding herself that Hazel had softened—just look at how…patient wasn’t the word for how Hazel was with them. But look how she totally tolerated her and Ingrid.

“Think about the towel, Emily. Do you have it in your mind?”

Emily nodded, lying, and then frantically brought up an image of a towel. “Yes. I think I can sense it.”

“Good. Now, breathe. Breathe in and out. Focus on the feeling of the air entering your lungs, the way it feels when your lungs and ribs expand. Now feel as the inhalation turns into exhalation and again back to inhalation. You feel that. Like one unending round. You are connected to nature. Now, picture your breath. Imagine that each breath that you take, in and out, is filled to the brim with magic.

“Now focus again on the towel, and lift it—slowly—into the air.”

Emily continued to squeeze her eyes shut and put all of her thoughts into her breathing and the feeling of magic. It was hard work, and she wanted… but then she cracked her eyes because she felt the difference. She lifted the towel with her mind and lifted it higher, higher, higher.

Hazel cheered, and Emily laughed delightedly. “That is so awesome!”

The towel was hovering up by the ceiling.

“Very good, Em. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? You need to do things like that. All the time. Keep going with light objects, and as your magic gets stronger you will be able to lift heavier things and then move them.”

“Yes! No more splinters. And if that wench Autumn comes near me, I’ll be strong enough to send her across the Juan de Fuca Strait, and she can hitchhike back from Canada. It would serve her right.”

Hazel sighed. “She’s in your coven, Emily. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t. I won’t forget that my sister slept with my husband. Don’t worry. I’ll never forget that. Keep that whore away from me.”

Hazel shook her head and changed the subject. “I want you and Ingrid to come to our full moon cleansing tonight. We are cleansing the island of the murder and renewing the spells that protect Sage Island.”

“Is Autumn gonna be there?”

Hazel shrugged her shoulders. “Almost certainly. She wants to be the next coven elder. She won’t miss a major coven event. But even if she is, you’ll have to get used to her being around. You need the coven, Em. You and Ingrid both do. And Autumn is part of the coven.”

“I don’t want to come, though. Ingrid isn’t gonna want to come either. And we won’t be in the coven long if that wench becomes an elder.”

Hazel’s eyes turned hard. “Emily. If you get hexed, you are going to want to ask me to help you. So come tonight. You need to learn that magic can be safe. And good. Understand?”

“Fine,” Emily pouted, not wanting to add to Auntie’s guilt. “We’ll come.”

After she had steak and potatoes and chocolate cake.

“That’s my girl. You did good with your magic today. This event is important. There has been a murder. Our magic can cleanse the island, refresh it. Children will be less likely to be worried. The sheriff will be more clear-minded and able to find the murderer. We need to do what we can, without magic, for our neighbors.”

Emily hugged her back not saying that that last thing she needed was to be responsible for the whole island, so she just whispered, “Thanks, Auntie.”

Damn it, Emily thought, Auntie knew just how to get Em. She couldn’t help but think of random, adorable kids having nightmares about knife-wielding murderers. Ingrid was going to be so mad about this promise.

Em didn’t want to admit it, but lifting that stupid towel with her mind had felt amazing. Even though it was a totally useless ability. Ingrid would say that they needed to get their towels with their hands and their feet. They needed to move their bodies that tiny bit. If they didn’t, they’d atrophy and then they’d have to move everything with their minds.

Even still. Emily focused on the leaf on the grass, lifting it with her mind and sending it into the air, higher and higher and higher until she couldn’t see it any longer.

That was quite the buzz.

12

Tuesday Evening

“Hey! I knew I hated that guy. I’ve gotta tell Em. She’s gonna freak out. Good thing he’s dead. I’m pretty sure she would have assassinated him for this one. After I did, of course.”

Ingrid set her phone down and turned to face Emily, who was spreading strawberry cream cheese on her chocolate bagel.

“So, check it out. I might have slipped a little of that truth serum into my favorite sheriff. And he might have forgotten, because when he called about dinner, he admitted what the autopsy said. He never would have given me that if he hadn’t been magically induced to reveal top secret info. Man, I bet he’s pissed at himself right now. I confessed before I left his office, so…”

Emily took a bite of her bagel and spoke through a full mouth, “And?”

“Owen had an STD. He was such a whore. So, you want to know what I think? I think Melinda got her nasty present from your husband, not hers!”

Emily slurped her iced coffee. “They did have an open marriage. I probably should be pissed, but honestly, if she got a disease from him, then she has sort of already paid. But wait, you don’t think Melinda killed him, do you? To get back at him for infecting her with yuckiness?”

Ingrid shrugged. “Who knows? But every little bit of info we learn emphasizes that he was, in fact, a dickhead and that everyone wanted to kill this guy. I’m pretty sure a homeless person who just saw him walking down the street was like, man, if only I could run that guy down with my grocery cart. That person’s a dickhead.”