That Old Witch Magic (Wicked in Moonhaven~A Paranormal Cozy Book 2) Read online

  He shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I kind of like her. And as far as her worries about you go, I think she’s right. You aren’t preparing yourself.”

  Preparing myself. That put a chill down my spine. I didn’t really want to deal with that. Not yet.

  “You like her?” I said instead of reacting. “You aren’t supposed to like her.” I moved closer and whispered so that Krissy wouldn’t hear me. “You’re a hunter. She’s a sorceress.”

  He nodded, eyes smiling so that they crinkled at the corners in a really appealing way. “Right. And what are you?”

  I pulled back. “I’m not going to talk about it,” I whispered to him. “I’m a normal woman. At least for now.”

  “Sure you are.” His gaze turned cooler, but before he could say anything about it, Gavin and Toto came racing in, took one turn around the room, and raced back out again, Gavin laughing with a funny hiccupping sound all the way, Toto uttering little sharp barks, with his tongue lolling out happily.

  Shane watched him approvingly. “Cute kid, isn’t he?” he said.

  “Yeah. I was just thinking about Scotty being his father and …”

  His head shot up and he glared at me. “Scotty’s not his father,” he said.

  I blinked. “Really? Luanne told me….”

  “I don’t care what that crazy lady said,” he said adamantly, referring to Krissy’s sister. “Scotty is not his father.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  He shook his head as though he had to clear it from the cobwebs of our current conversation. Changing the subject abruptly, he gestured toward where I’d put the letter from my grandmother. “Why don’t you read what she has to say to you?”

  I bit my lip, tempted to keep acting like a brat, but it was pretty stupid, so I gave up and pulled the note out of my pocket. “Okay,” I said, walking with it out into the front room which was empty for the moment. He went back to talking to Krissy, and I opened the letter.

  It was the usual screed, urging me to use my magic, urging me to prepare for…for what? No one ever told me exactly what to expect, but from the bits and pieces, it sure sounded like war with something supernatural was in the wind.

  And there was a spell. Always with the spells. I started to stuff it away, but Shane was leaning on the door jamb, watching me. “Don’t lose the spell,” he told me firmly. “You might need it soon.”

  “What for?” I asked, unable to keep a bit of resentment from my tone.

  He shrugged. “You never know. Be on guard at all times. You might run into…”

  He hesitated and I supplied a few options. “Werewolves? Trolls? Demons? Who knows?”

  “Vampires,” Shane said softly from the doorway. “Could be vampires.”

  I looked up to find him watching me with that strange intensity that gave me chills. And I knew what he was implying with that “vampires” bit. And it really teed me off.

  “Are you going to stand there and tell me that Bentley is a threat to me?” I said, mentioning my good friend.

  His eyes were cool. “He’s a vampire, isn’t he?”

  I took a deep breath. “If all vampires are like Bentley, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Then let me assure you, all vampires are not like Bentley.” He sighed. “In fact, there’s no guarantee that Bentley will always be your pal.”

  Now that was exactly the sort of thing that really made me feel uncomfortable. “Shane, cut it out.”

  “It’s just the truth, Haley. You’ve got to be careful. It’s an evil world out there. There are going to be times when there will be no one close who can protect you. You have to be ready to take care of yourself. Be on your toes at all times. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  He’d moved closer and for just a few seconds, I thought he was going to reach out and touch my cheek. My heart started pumping a little faster, just in case. But he hesitated and looked back toward the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you offer her a job?” he said softly.

  That set me back on my heels. “What?”

  “She knows what she’s doing around a baking operation. Can’t you tell?”

  I nodded reluctantly and I was far from convinced. “Does she…uh…know about me?”

  He stared into my eyes. “You were best friends.”

  “But was I aware at the time?”

  He frowned, remembering. “You were fighting against it even then. And no, I don’t think she knows that you’re a…”

  “Shh!” I put a finger to my lips.

  He laughed. “Whatever. Think about it though. She needs something and there’s not much around here. I’m sure you could adapt to each other pretty quickly. And then you would have more time to do your training and prepare.”

  Ah hah. There it was again. I stepped closer and whispered, “Prepare for what, Shane? Just exactly what are we preparing to face?”

  He stared deep into my eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever comes at us, Haley.”

  A pair of customers were coming onto the porch. Shane looked up and saw them, then started for the door. Turning back, he said, “One of these days I’ll give you a clear picture of what happened the last time the havens were attacked.”

  The havens—I was only just beginning to understand about the havens. From what Gran Ana had told me, there are havens not too far from most big cities, and even in some very rural areas. Their purpose is to provide normal living space for supernatural beings—like us. Protected towns and villages where humans—most of whom are clueless—live and work alongside the preternatural. Sort of like reservations for the paranormally inclined. Most of the time this arrangement works swimmingly. But now and then, there are problems. And infestations of evil that have to be dealt with.

  “The next time should be a whole hell of a lot worse,” Shane said. Then he gave me a wink and disappeared out the door.

  Chilling words. But there was no time to think them over. I ushered in the customers, served them cinnamon rolls and coffee, and went back to the kitchen. Krissy was cleaning up and washing the things in the sink. I watched her for a moment, mulling over what Shane had said. I reached out automatically to take a bite of one of her big, luscious rolls, and began to chew.

  I had no intention of hiring her. Why would I want someone around all the time who seemed like she might have her eye on Shane? Not that that really mattered. Of course not. But still….

  I swallowed and took a deep breath and looked down at what I was eating. That was without a doubt the most delicious cinnamon roll I’d ever had. I took another bite, thinking maybe I hadn’t been paying proper attention. I savored it carefully, took a large sniff of the spicy scent deep into my lungs, let the spongy dough roll around on my tongue, let the sugary icing slide around over my taste buds, and swallowed again, gasping slightly.

  Wow.

  I’d learned how to make a pretty good cinnamon roll. Gran Ana had hired a woman who used to run a bakery to come teach me how, and I’d had problems at first, but eventually I got the knack. Now I could make some fairly yummy breakfast treats.

  But this…this was some sort of magic stuff. This was to die for. This was the sort of heavenly, bready product you wanted in your life from now on. I looked toward the tray, panting just a bit.

  Oh my. This was good.

  She’d started out with dough I’d tossed together the night before, but she’d done something marvelous to it.

  “Hey Krissy,” I heard myself saying like someone in a trance. “What do you think about coming to work for me for awhile? Just until I get things under control, I mean. Like…uh…could you start today?”

  Chapter 2

  This hiring someone to help me at the café was great. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Well, the fact that money was a bit short might have been a factor. Still, now that I’d taken the step, I felt free for the first time in weeks. I had somebody else minding the store. Yahoo!

  I hopped into my little blu
e car and popped in the key, prepared to take off to parts unknown—right after I made a stop at the FedEx office to pick up some deliveries that had come in two days ago. They were going to send them back to where they came from if I didn’t get over there and claim them. One box contained special cake decorating supplies, another was a new brand of dishwashing detergent that I needed badly, and the third I wasn’t sure of. It might be the bud vases I’d ordered to brighten up the tables in the front area of the café. Or maybe the fancy napkins with the little….

  But wait. My car wasn’t starting. When I turned the key there was a tick tick tick from the battery, but the engine didn’t turn over. And when I tried again, all I heard was a coughing sound. Hmm. Engine’s didn’t usually sound like that, even when they weren’t working right. I frowned. There was something suspicious about this.

  I pulled the hood release and jumped out, going to the front and thrusting my fingers under the edge, looking for the final release. I had it, but before I could deploy it, something wet and slimy grabbed my fingers and started to pull. I yelled, “Hey!” and yanked harder at the release on the underside. The hood sprang open, and I looked in, wiping the goo from my hand on my jeans.

  The car was pretty old and the engine was grimy and greasy, but what I saw climbing through the middle of everything was worse. A large, very green gremlin with a body like a medium sized monkey and long, gangly arms and legs looked up at me and snarled. He was an older version, sporting a small, twisted white beard and wearing dirty overalls and a greasy knitted cap in bright reds and greens. Coughing like something diseased, he lurched at me. I jumped back and let the hood back down with a whack, then I stood there and stared at the car.

  Gremlins. I’d heard about gremlins. Once you got them in your engine, it was nearly impossible to get rid of them. I didn’t know why I was so sure this was one of those slimy little beasts, but it fit the stories I’d heard. They drank your oil and snacked on the rubber hosing. A few days of gremlins and you knew you were in for a complete engine rebuild.

  “Hey,” I yelled. “Get out of my car.”

  A hoarse cough sound that might have been a rustic laugh was my only answer. I did a quick rundown on my options. I could rent a steamer and try to steam him out. I could get pepper spray and attack him myself. Or I could take the problem to my mechanic over on Forsaken Street.

  That last one was the winner. I’d have to walk across the park to get to the garage where he worked, but once he took on the job, I was pretty sure my troubles would be over. He was that good.

  This car that my grandmother had given me was not in the best of shape. When I’d complained to her—sort of carefully, because I knew I was basically lucky to have any car at all—she’d told me to fix it myself. She’d said, “The condition of that car is totally up to you. You know there are spells for things like that. Start using them.”

  Aha. I pulled out the crumpled paper with her latest spell on it and sure enough, it had to do with magically casting unwanted entities out of areas that needed to be scrubbed. I was supposed to use this to practice removals. I was supposed to get real good at it.

  Why? Because. That’s why.

  There was the rub, and I knew it was a longstanding struggle between me and the forces that wanted me to accept being a witch and get on with things. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to be a witch, I didn’t want to wiggle my nose like that woman on the old TV show and have my every wish handed to me. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair. In fact, whenever I mulled it over in my mind, I got an achy empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like it. I wanted to do things the normal way.

  So I started across the large park that served as the center of the town, heading for Joe’s Garage, and I quickly realized that the place was swarming with people, all of them carrying tools and boards and implements of construction. At the far end, near the koi pond, I saw that a series of booths had already been set up. And then I remembered: the Wildflower Festival was being held this weekend. How could I forget?

  Moonhaven is an odd town. As I said before, it’s a haven for the supernatural, but it’s also home to a lot of humans, normal people who didn’t understand that their every day lives were spent in coordination with an underground culture. The demon invasion of a few years before seemed to have knocked the place for a loop. People didn’t know what had happened, but they knew things weren’t right. Some people moved away. Some lost jobs or the positions they had once held. The place began to fall apart. From what I gathered, there were fears that all the regular people would abandon the place and leave it to the supernaturals. And that wouldn’t do at all.

  You see, most supers didn’t have a lot of real life skills. They needed the humans to take care of running the town and making the place prosperous for all. If they didn’t have the cover of a buzzing human community, they would be left out in the open and vulnerable to attack. Something had to be done to keep things normal. And that was when The Plan came into being.

  The town had taken a vote and The Plan had won almost unanimous approval. Everyone was coaxed, cajoled or bullied into complying with it. The citizens of Moonhaven, supernatural and human alike, were determined to make this town into a sort of storybook tourist attraction. We were still struggling to get things going, but the first attempts had been pretty successful. Just looking around the outskirts of the park, you would think the place was adorable, a charming village patterned on the happiest place on earth. Or something like it.

  Of course, behind the façade, things are not quite so rosy. It takes a lot of hard work and a bit of pretending to bring the whole thing off. But all I saw at the moment was the hard work. Shaky structures of plywood, pressboard and cloth curtains were going up all along the walkway, creating a temporary carnival community where there had been nothing but grass a few hours earlier.

  Dashing toward me was one of the main movers and shakers in our little world, in fact, the woman in charge of the Wildflower Festival, Rennie Dobbs, the mayor’s wife and an old friend of mine from high school. She was dressed for the occasion—neon green tank top, a bright yellow ballerina skirt and pink and green striped leggings with purple tennis shoes. Rennie is the type of siren-alert redhead who uses her hair color as an element of attention-getting theater. Once you’ve seen her, you don’t forget her. Ever.

  Unless you have amnesia, of course. But that’s another story.

  Anyway, she was coming my way fast and I opened my mouth to say “Hi,” but she was about to run right on by, so I reached out and snagged her arm with my own.

  “Hey kiddo, what’s the rush?”

  She stared at me wildly. “Oh, Haley! It’s you. Hide me, quick. He’s after me!”

  “Who?”

  “Inspector Cranston. The bald guy. Help!”

  I looked into the crowd, and sure enough, I could see a bald head about 6 inches taller than anyone else coming toward us. I had to move fast. Where was I going to hide this red-headed bombshell of a lady? It occurred to me for one split second that there should be a spell for something like this. If only…. But no! I wasn’t going to resort to short cuts. If you don’t stand on your principles, what will you stand on? Life is a raging sea at times.

  “Here.”

  We were right in front of a booth someone had erected and left for the moment, but it was already in pretty good shape, with a curtain hanging from the front counter shielding the underside where objects for sale were probably going to be stored. I yanked Rennie by the arm and pulled her into the booth. “There you go. Right down there.”

  “Under the counter?” she cried in heart rendering tones.

  “Do you want to hide from him or not?”

  She dove under. I gave her a final push to help her fit, then looked out. Baldy was still coming our way. I glanced at the items stacked on the counter. Little packages of wildflower seeds. The golden California poppy seemed to be the theme here. I quickly began arranging the little parcels in a decorative
fashion, whistling a happy tune as I worked, praying the bald man would just take me for a normal festival worker and pass on by.

  No such luck.

  “Is he out there?” she hissed at me, and I gave her a little kick.

  “Sshhh,” I said, trying not to move my lips, then smiling as the man stopped and glared at me from behind horn-rimmed glasses. He was dressed impeccably, in a silk suit with a crisp white shirt. As he raised his hand to adjust his glasses, I noticed a large, beautiful Rolex watch on his right wrist and wondered if it was fake. He looked like the kind of man with the vanity to wear fake accessories, but there was no time to study the situation.

  “Hey,” he said, looking very suspiciously at my packaging handiwork. “What are you doing?”

  He was already proving that he was one of those annoyingly officious-looking types who seemed to think they had a right to set up rules for everyone. I tried to smile more broadly.

  “I’m fixing up the booth for sales. But I’m afraid we’re not open yet.”

  He glanced behind me and gave me a quizzical look. “The sign says that the seed packets are free,” he said.

  “Oh.” I whirled and looked at the sign. “Why you’re right. I thought we were charging for them. My mistake.”

  He gave a little snort of laughter, and he wasn’t laughing with me. It was at me, for sure.

  I felt myself turning rosy.

  “So,” he said, leaning in toward me in a belligerent fashion. “Did you happen to see a redhead running past a minute or so ago?”

  “A redhead?”

  “Yes. Very definitely a redhead. Married to the mayor. The man who is now claiming to be home sick so that he can’t be interviewed.”

  Bad sign that he was phrasing it that way. But I went on with the show, pretending to think back. “No, I can’t say that I….”

  “Electric green tank top?” he added questioningly. “One of those ballet sticky-out skirts that little girls wear?”

  “Uh…no, I don’t think so.”

  “How about pink and green striped stockings with purple shoes?”