Spell bound, p.7
Spell Bound, page 7
Then again, who could tell? We got a lot of odd ducks in the shop.
“I mean, it’s always the butler in those old black-and-white murder mystery movies, isn’t it?”
“I feel like it’s almost never the butler.”
“But you know what that saying means, right? Not that it’s the butler, but that it’s the person no one thinks about, the person that was largely overlooked. Old-timey butlers and serving staff were basically invisible, hence why they’d be the last person you expect.”
“Thank you for the lesson in whodunits. The assistant seemed pretty sad to me, one of those people who gets spooked by their own shadow. Plus she seemed so desperate to prove herself. Is that really someone who could commit a murder?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, so I’ll trust your gut if you think she was innocent, but anyone who is desperate about one thing in their life might be desperate enough to do whatever it takes to keep that thing.” Imogen shrugged.
Franny didn’t strike me as a killer, but who knew what people were capable of when they were pushed to their limit. I hated to say it, but Madeline Morrow seemed uniquely capable of pushing people to their limit. I remembered thinking I was glad she wasn’t my boss.
I continued to tidy up the café and restock the glass display jars of tea, making a mental note of which ones were running low so I could make new stock tonight when I got home.
After my not-a-date with Rich, that is, and whatever kind of spectacle unfolded at the town council meeting.
The rest of the day went along relatively quickly, and by four o’clock things had slowed down at the shop enough that I felt more than comfortable leaving Imogen on her own. Amy had already confirmed that her oven was as good as new, but I made her promise to call me first thing in the morning if she ran into the same issue— that way I could come help well before she opened her doors.
I think we were both hoping that wouldn’t be the case, but what were friends for if not to wake up at four in the morning to help bake bread?
I loaded Bob into his carrier and headed out on my bike, not straight home but rather in the direction of the grocery store. Lansing’s, owned first by Leo’s grandparents and then handed down the line generation to generation, was a decently sized outfit for such a small town. It looked like a bigger chain store and had tons of items in stock for those on unique diets, like gluten-free or keto, while also covering your more standard fare.
Unfortunately for me and my habit of overspending mindlessly when it came to food, I spotted something new and exciting whenever I went in. This afternoon I had enough time to kill before meeting Rich to run home and make fresh batches of loose tea, but I also wanted to grab some things to make iced tea samples tomorrow and see what worked.
With Bob strapped to my back—no one seemed to mind that I brought him in as long as he was in his carrier—I headed right for the produce department. I was on my bike, so whatever I got would need to be small enough to fit in my basket. I opted for a half dozen lemons and limes for a more classic iced tea flavor base, then a few early-season peaches and white nectarines, which were my favorite, as well as a clamshell container of strawberries. This would give me a good starting point to see what went well with berries, citrus, or stone fruit. I didn’t want to get too carried away, but two iced tea specials that rotated out weekly seemed like a great idea for the summer months. Then I could prepare things in bulk and use them throughout the week rather than making small batches that might not last the whole day.
With my bounty of fruit collected, I made a quick stop in the pet food aisle to grab Bob’s favorites: freeze-dried shrimp bites. While I personally didn’t understand the appeal, I couldn’t fault him for his tastes. After all, I liked putting pineapple on my pizza. He’d been so well-behaved all day and in the store, I figured he deserved a little treat, especially if I was planning on running out again for the evening.
Bob was, I had learned, something of a gentle, needy soul. He didn’t always need to be in your lap or have you petting him, but he got a bit forlorn and pouty if I left him alone for too long. I thought it might have had something to do with the time he’d spent by himself after Eudora died, with only periodic visits from Leo and no regular company.
A few times I’d considered getting him a friend. Eudora’s house was huge and could certainly manage two cats without us tripping over each other too much, but I wasn’t sure I was at that stage just yet. I’d gone from being a no-pet person to being a cat owner to being a cat person who carried her baby around in a bag all the time.
Would two cats qualify me as a cat lady? Where was the line on that? A divorced woman with multiple cats was a creature to be pitied where I had come from, so I had to hold off on getting another cat until I decided how that fit my new lifestyle here.
I paid for my goodies and headed back out to my bike, making the rest of the trip home in about five minutes flat. The clock on the wall in my kitchen said it was only five o’clock, which meant I could use my free hour to make extra tea or get the fruit prepared for tomorrow.
Or I could go pay a visit to Honey.
Since I was meeting Rich at Peach’s later, a quick trip over to Honey’s new-age shop wouldn’t take me far out of the way, since it was only two doors down from the diner. While Rich might be able to help me with finding phone numbers or addresses of people I could talk to about Madeline’s murder, Honey could help me from an entirely different angle.
“Early dinner tonight, buddy.” I cracked open a can of food and poured it into his freshly cleaned dish, then topped off his dry kibble and made sure he had fresh water. As a peace offering because I was leaving, I sprinkled a handful of the dry shrimp on top off his food, and he tucked into his evening meal with gusto.
I suspected he would forgive me.
I gave myself a once-over, assessing if my current outfit was cute enough to wear on a date without being too fancy for the meeting after, then found myself wondering if I could actually qualify this as a date when I had very insistently called it a professional meeting.
Nevertheless, it didn’t hurt to look cute. I quickly changed out of my top and sweater—we didn’t have a uniform at the Earl’s Study, but my personal uniform was a T-shirt and cardigan plus jeans almost every day—and put on a black long-sleeved shirt with small white polka dots on it. The shirt tied in a bow at the back, so it made my typical dark jeans a little fancier than usual. I also swapped out my usual loafers for a cute (but not too cute) pair of heels. Something nice and low that wouldn’t leave me with blisters and regrets later.
After applying some tinted lip balm and a tiny bit of blush and mascara, I gave a quick nod of approval to my mirror. I looked refreshed and almost presentable but not like I was trying too hard. If this was a date, I wouldn’t feel overly casual, and if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t look like a fool. The perfect combo.
Now, to go see a witch about a murder.
Chapter Ten
I arrived at Honey’s shop, New Moon, about fifteen minutes later. I’d briefly agonized over whether or not I should drive or take my bike but ultimately opted for the latter.
The weather was lovely and intoxicating, and while there was still the faintest evening chill and I might regret my decision later, I couldn’t resist letting the wind blow through my hair.
Having come to Raven Creek from Seattle, I had found it a big lifestyle shift to be able to get everywhere I needed to go in a matter of minutes. There was nothing in Raven Creek I couldn’t get to on my bike in under twenty minutes, and almost everywhere I went on a regular basis was less than a ten-minute ride away.
When I’d arrived seven months earlier, I hadn’t been sure I was going to be able to adapt to small-town living. For one thing, everyone was constantly in your business and no one had the faintest awareness of what things like privacy and decorum were. Everyone I’d met in those first months automatically knew who I was and why I was there.
Thankfully, in the months that followed, I simply became Phoebe, owner of the Earl’s Study and Bob’s mom. People still mentioned Eudora, especially tourists who were in town only seasonally and stopped by the shop expecting to see my aunt. But now it didn’t feel like I was living under her shadow. Instead, I was my own person and a part of the town itself.
I was still eager for the day when someone else moved to Raven Creek and I’d stop being considered the new girl, but as it was, I’d likely be the new kid on the block until I was forty.
Honey’s shop didn’t have a bike rack outside, so I just leaned the bike up against the side of her store. This wasn’t the type of place I needed to worry too much about my things disappearing on me, but then I remembered that Honey had given me a spell for this. I didn’t think anyone would steal my bike, but I wanted to give it a try. I figured the more regularly I used my magic, the more second nature it would become. Maybe if I got better at spells like these, I would stop worrying so much about locking my bike up on Main Street, which would be one less thing to manage when I got to work every morning.
I stood next to my bike and focused all my intention on it, visualizing it still being here when I got out later. “What’s mine is mine and shall remain, till such a time as it’s meant to be free. What meddling minds might try to steal, shall overlook this set of wheels.”
One thing I’d learned, and that Honey continually tried to make me understand, was that the words you used were very rarely the most important part of a spell. Everything was about focus and intention. Aunt Eudora had been especially gifted with intention; it was her strongest skill. Just by focusing on something, she was able to amp up the power of the spell considerably more than what an average witch could do in the same scenario. Unfortunately, her magic worked only on others. That was why her magical teas packed such a punch, and why I was terrified to try duplicating them. I simply didn’t have the same powers she did.
My skill with probability was a bit more mysterious. It was great if I needed to avoid getting hit by a bus but was unfortunately not something I could turn on and off at the drop of a hat.
A witch’s gifts weren’t limited to her strongest skill; that was just where she excelled most. I was still able to use the magical teas Eudora had already made and had achieved moderate success with some of the other spells I’d tried, but I worried that when I tried to make the teas myself, they would fall flat.
Watching Bewitched and Sabrina the Teenage Witch as a kid had certainly distorted my preconceived notions of what witchcraft looked like. There were two versions of it in my head: the fun, cutesy variety, like Samantha or Sabrina, and the other kind, like Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus or Anjelica Huston in The Witches—scary witches who used their power for evil.
I hadn’t yet met any bad witches, but in fairness, I knew of only two other witches besides me: Eudora and Honey. And my aunt was gone.
Still, TV tried to tell me I could point at things and a little colorful blast of light and glitter would do my bidding. Or perhaps I could wiggle my nose and turn someone into a frog. Nope, not this lady. There were no pointed hats, no wands, and the only broom I owned was a Dyson cordless vacuum.
Needless to say, even months down the road, I still had a long way to go toward accepting or understanding what my powers meant. And because of that, I was always super hesitant to try using them on my own. I didn’t want another incident like the Truth Be Told scones of the previous year.
I opened the door to Honey’s shop, now satisfied my bike wouldn’t go anywhere. The little overhead bell chimed merrily, and I was instantly hit with the blast of familiar scents. Honey’s shop was laden with different kinds of oils and incenses for sale, not to mention a whole wall of clear jars that contained every herb or flower one might conceivably need to work a spell.
Whereas she and I were witches, with natural, real magical abilities, her shop still catered to others like Wiccans, or just spiritual types. There were also plenty of people with no magical powers who liked to burn incense and collect pretty crystals, so Honey’s shop had no trouble staying busy. She was the only new-age shop for about fifty miles in each direction and also had a bustling online business.
She’d told me once that thousands of people watched her on weekly video streams while she live-packed orders of crystals. It was apparently a very popular thing on the internet now.
I brushed my fingers over some tall crystal points, each one at least as long as my forearm and twice as thick. Some were purple, others were white, but they all seemed to have rainbows trapped in them, depending on where you saw the light.
Sometimes I felt like a bad witch because my house wasn’t covered top to bottom in different crystals—excluding those left behind by Eudora, most of which had been collected during her worldly travels—but Honey had laughed at me when I confessed my perceived shortcoming to her.
“Phoebe, you need to understand that these crystals are just talismans. They’re just a way for us to feel like we have some control over our wants and desires. A person who wants love might buy a rose quartz and carry it with her, or someone who wants more money might slip some green aventurine in their pocket, but at the end of the day it’s our own energy, our own desire to bring these things towards us, that does the job. Those who want success, fortune, and love can have it, as long as they’re open to it. A crystal just helps us believe that we are.”
That had certainly put a lot into perspective for me, and while I hadn’t started clamoring for Honey’s crystal inventory just yet, I did admire their beauty immensely. The thing was, I didn’t need anything in my life that I wanted to manifest with spells or crystals. I had a job and a business I loved. I had a roof over my head and no mortgage to pay on the beautiful old house I now owned. I had new friends like Honey, Amy, Rich, Leo, and Imogen. And of course, I had Bob.
In seven months, I had come a long way from being the woman who first rolled into Raven Creek with everything she owned crammed in the back of her car and no idea what the future might hold. That woman was divorced, lonely, and lost. Not to mention more than a little broke.
Maybe manifestation had already brought me everything I wanted and needed right now, and that’s why none of the crystals were compelling me to buy them.
Honey peeked her head through a beaded curtain at the back of the shop. As usual, her short-cut Afro was dyed platinum blonde, she wore impeccably applied makeup, including a mix of absinthe green and gold eyeshadow, and she sported her usual gigantic gold hoop earrings that were so big they almost brushed her shoulders.
“Phoebe!” She came fully into the room, beaming happily. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today. What a lovely surprise.”
Honey’s age was still a mystery to me, and I had never bothered to ask. Her flawless brown skin made me think she was in her midtwenties, since there wasn’t a single wrinkle to be seen, but she was also so much more poised and confident than I could have ever imagined being in my twenties, which made me suspect she might be a bit older than she appeared.
I was still from the old school of thinking where you didn’t ask someone their age unless an opportunity presented itself naturally, and it hadn’t yet. But if we got through a whole year of knowing each other and she didn’t mention her birthday at some point, I was going to crack and make her tell me.
“Hey, Honey. I’m supposed to meet Rich for dinner at six, but thought I’d pop in, since we’re going to Peach’s.”
She raised a quizzical, loaded brow at me and grinned. “You here to pick up a little rose quartz to slip in his jacket pocket, or what?”
I waved my hand at her. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure, and I’m blind and have never seen the way you two look at each other.” Answering my own raised eyebrow, she sighed. “He looks at you like you’re the last brownie on the tray and he’s going to stick a fork in someone’s hand if they try to take a bite.”
This made me snort out a laugh. “Oh, please.” But my red cheeks were impossible to hide. I could feel heat flush from my neck all the way to my ears. I knew there was chemistry between Rich and me, and heck, I had certainly dressed like this was a date, but he had spent so much time taking it slow, and then slower still, that I was starting to think we were going in reverse.
“We’re just friends,” I said finally.
“No, we’re just friends. There’s definitely something more going on with you two.”
“Definitely not,” I said, with a bit too much emphasis on the first word, completely giving away how frustrated I was.
“Oof. I’ll stop teasing. Sorry.”
I gave her a wan smile and shrugged. “Anyway, that’s enough talk about Rich. How are you?”
Honey leaned on the glass counter that formed a U-shape around the back of the store and housed the more expensive items she carried, like custom jewelry and athames—ceremonial knives. I was sure she had plenty of spells and wards on the shop to keep people from walking out with things, which was why she was so trusting of all the smaller crystals in bins around the store, but the glass cases emphasized which items were of higher value and helped keep curious fingers from touching anything rare or delicate.
“I’ve got a date next week.” Honey didn’t sound too enthused about it, but this was the first time she had mentioned seeing someone new. I knew from our many previous evenings of wine and witchcraft that she hadn’t been seeing anyone seriously, or even casually, since she broke up with her long-term girlfriend a year before I came to town.
My eyes widened at the revelation. “Excuse me, you can’t play all casual like that. This is a big deal!” I tried to gauge her expression to determine if she was trying to pretend she wasn’t excited or if she actually wasn’t looking forward to it. “It’s a big deal, isn’t it?”
