Chapter 19

By the timeI got back to the shop, the line outside had actually grown.

Istood there, taking in the sight for a couple of minutes before meeting the chaos inside.

Markwas gone, and Key and Dru were moving around serving drinks and muffins like someone was playing them at triple speed. Thank goodness I’d ordered extra muffins for today and tomorrow.

Iput the candy bars in the storage room and snuck in a call to Montel’sCouncil librarian. Dave was a nice guy, and he’d do some deeper research into the history of dark magic covens in the area if I asked.

Unfortunately, it was Saturday, so nobody picked up.

Theuniverse was telling me something here, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I wished I had the time to run upstairs and ask my spellbook for some guidance, but Dru needing a break trumped my inner child’s need for the closest thing I had to a hug from Grandma.

Druleft to have lunch with the promise to never return again, and then it was me and Key dealing with the customers until the afternoon rush calmed down. AfterKey left to get ready for the tour’s rehearsal, it was just me and the evening crowd.

Ihad never been happier.

Demandingcustomers and murder investigation aside, this was what recharged my batteries—the satisfaction of watching a face lit up at being presented a great potion, a delicious cup of tea, or a tasty piece of baked goods.

Drucame back, because she was the bestest of best friends, and together we dealt with everything like a well-oiled machine until it was time to close at seven.

Earlyby my usual standards of eight or nine, but I had another commitment that evening—the seance.

Afterwashing off my zombie makeup and drinking one of Brimstone and Destruction’s fake dark magic potion energy drinks, I drove Bee-Bee to the spot.

Istill wasn’t sure why Veva had invited me—witches weren’t mediums—but I was all excitement. This would be my first real seance, and I couldn’t wait to add the experience to my short history of dealing with ghosts, especially since it was happening in someone else’s house.

Myhouse already had enough ghosts as it was.

Theaddress took me and Bee-Bee to a typical OldOlmeda creepy old mansion—a three story VictorianGothic monstrosity with a tiny front yard squished between two more modern brick buildings.

Iparked nearby and gaped at the front of the dark house, immediately recognizing it—this had been part of Vicky’s ghost tour.

Accordingto legend, after marrying a wealthy widower and then becoming a widow herself, a woman had moved here and consigned her young stepdaughter to the attic with no one the wiser while taking charge of her inheritance. But when the greedy woman had died unexpectedly, the stepdaughter had slowly starved to death as all the servants left and the house sat empty for weeks while it sold.

Isent the universe a silent thank you for giving me a house filled with the evil deeds of witches outright killing each other and the occasional bystander, rather than the worst humanity had to offer.

AsI was pulling on the cuff of my jacket to knock on the door without having to touch the block of old wood—no doubt dating back to the time of Cinderella horrors—it opened, and Veva appeared on the threshold, a warm expression lighting up her face.

“Hello, Hope. I’m so glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Vevaliked to dress the part of tarot shop owner—a mixture of elegance and mystery. Today she wore an elegant dark gray turtleneck sweater tucked into jeans and her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Golden hoops dangled from her ears, and smoky eyeshadow highlighted her gleaming brown eyes.

Wasthere time to return home and trade my shop’s logo long T-shirt for something more appropriate? Ah, well, live by the free advertisement, die by the shame of free advertisement.

Vevaushered me into a room furnished like a tasteful funeral parlor with an antique twist. Dark wooden paneling covered the walls and equally dark wooden furniture peppered the space—a writing desk in a corner, a bookcase full of old tomes, a glass coffee table that looked suspiciously like a coffin, and a large sofa with plush deep-purple-striped cushioning. The carpet was another shade of deep-plum purple, and the heavy curtains drawn over the windows were straight black. I almost expected MorticiaAddams to walk in and offer refreshments.

Twowomen sat on the sofa, perched on the edge as if they were scared of touching anything in the room. I couldn’t blame them. They sent me unsure smiles.

“Hope,” Veva said, “these are Leah and Miriam. Leah, Miriam, this is our local witch, HopeAvery.”

Vevahad already told me everyone but the two of us and our medium were human, but to play up my witchy role, so I smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I only do good magic.”

Theylaughed nervously and answered in unison, “Nice to meet you.”

“Is this your first seance too?” I asked.

Thatseemed to surprise them. “You’ve never done one?” Leah asked.

“Oh, not at all. This is my first time.”

“Ours too,” Miriam said with relief.

Theroom filled with silence, but the couple relaxed visibly. Leah pointed at a bust on a pedestal and leaned in to whisper something into Miriam’s ear. Miriam nodded and whispered something back.

Usingtheir distraction, I showed Veva the screenshot of my suspect.

“Do you recognize this person?” I asked in a low tone.

“No. Who is it?”

“They might be responsible for the pentagrams.” No need to explain them. BeingOfficerBrook’s aunt, and with the way Olmeda’s paranormal rumor mill worked, Veva had probably learned about the pentagrams before I had. Which was also why I made sure not to hint this might also be a murder suspect. “Seen anyone suspicious around the shop lately?”

“Not more than usual.” She angled the phone her way and studied the image intently. “Sorry, no, it doesn’t ring a bell. It could be anyone. Have you talked to Hutton?”

“He assured me his teen shifters were held in place.”

“That seems doubtful,” she remarked, also doubtful.

“There was a meeting about Garreth the Hound.”

Vevagrinned. “Ah, yes, that would do it.”

“Will you come tomorrow for the cemetery tour?” I asked eagerly, returning the phone to my jeans pocket.

“I have a ticket for the first one in the early evening,” she assured me.

“Not the night ones? Those will be the best.”

“I have the whole night booked with readings,” she said with regret.

“We must do what’s best for our shops,” I agreed. I, myself, would miss most of the tours as we planned to keep the TeaCauldron open longer than usual.

“It’s the season of witches and occultism.” She smiled slyly. “Would be a sad thing to miss it.”

“See, that’s what I kept telling Ian about doing the tours, but he wouldn’t budge. I should’ve taken you to visit him from the start to back me up.”

Vevachuckled. “I don’t know. I think you did a fine job. He eventually agreed, didn’t he?”

Isnorted. “Under great duress.”

Toldlike that, the whole thing sounded rather bad, but I’d given him plenty of opportunities to back out!

“SayVeva,” I began casually, “what have you heard about Ian and me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Any weird rumors?”

“Only that you’re dating. But that’s not exactly a rumor.”

Ilicked my lips, wondering how to go about this. Veva was awesome, and we clicked well, but we had no Dru-levels of deep friendship yet. “I met one of the shifters yesterday and she called me Ian’s m-mate.”

Whatwas it about that word that had me so shaken, I wondered, irritated at myself. Mate. Mate, mate, mate. There. Not so bad, was it?

“Oh, that.”

Mybrain snapped to attention. “Oh, that?”

“It’s natural, I suppose.”

“So, that’s like paranormal slang for significant other over here? Nothing super special about it?”

Vevastudied me closely. “Ah. You want to know if they mean mates or mates.”

Inodded eagerly. “Yes, exactly.”

Amusementfilled her eyes, and a hint of pity. “Have you asked Ian?”

Thattook me aback. “No, no way.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Hey, Ian, are we like boyfriend-girlfriend mates or like our lives are connected forever and my soul will shrivel up and die if we’re ever separated mates?

Ididn’t think so. “It seems a little tacky. We’ve been dating for only a few weeks.”

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared—I would die of shame if I ask and it turns out I’m reading a lot more into it than there is.”

Vevastudied me intently. “No, that’s not it.”

Itugged at the neckline of my T-shirt, feeling suddenly hot. “I’m not scared of my boyfriend.”

“Commitment scares you.”

Iscowled at that. “I’m not interested in anyone else. Nor do I have plans to be,” I added for good measure. The idea of kissing anyone that wasn’t Ian was repulsive.

Asmile played with the side of her mouth. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” She patted my arm. “Come for a reading the day after tomorrow. It’ll help clear your mind.”

Someonechose that moment to knock on the front door, and I was glad to switch my attention to something else. Seance, Ireminded myself. I was here for fun and games, not relationship advice.

Evenif I’d been the one to bring it up.

“We all have our times of failure,” I murmured as I followed Veva into the entrance. “It’s what we learn from them that propels us forward.”

Vevaopened the door. “Welcome, Jim.”

Atall, lanky man entered the house, and I recognized him immediately—Jim, the owner of the haunted houses.

“Hello, Veva,” he said politely, then his gaze found me and his eyes narrowed. “You.”

Ilifted my hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal any of your workers.”

Lasttime I’d seen Jim, he’d hunted me down the street to yell at me about the cemetery tours and warn me I better not steal his haunted house workers or else.

Heharrumphed but took off his coat. “Where do we put these?”

Vevaindicated a set of iron hooks on the wall, and I hurried to divest myself of my jacket as well.

Aftermaking the introductions with Leah and Miriam, Veva checked the grandfather clock in the entrance and said it was time to start the seance.

Wefollowed her up a lovely set of steps all the way to the third floor. The carpeting and wallpaper followed the deep-plum-purple theme.

“MadameMystique,” Veva announced as we filled the third-floor landing, “we are ready when you are.”

“I am ready,” an old woman’s cracking voice intoned from one of the rooms.

“This way.” Veva led us into a room that must’ve been a bedroom at some point judging from the huge dark mahogany wardrobe on one side, the equally dark two chests of drawers, and the matching vanity table and mirror, currently hiding under a black cloth. The dark drapes were drawn closed over every window, and the dim chandelier ceiling light created a multitude of shadowy spaces.

Ishuddered even as I excitedly cataloged every piece in the room. Creepy. Awesome.

Someonehad removed the bed and instead a big table surrounded by wooden chairs dominated the center of the room.

“Welcome,” the old woman said from the head of the table. “I am MadameMystique, and I will be your medium tonight. Please take your seats.”

Leahand Miriam whispered to each other in excitement, Jim nodded approvingly, and I studied the old woman closer as we stepped into the room. She was on the short side, her spine curving slightly, and wore a black flowing dress. A dark-purple turban hid her hair and heavy makeup lined her face, but a flash of recognition surged through me once she sat down and the overhead light hit her better.

“Dorsey?”

Thewoman stiffened. “MadameMystique.”

ItwasAgnesDorsey, the old biddy owner of the DorseyHouseBed and Breakfast. The one who had bought dark magic potions from Bagley, stolen my tea, and left my first one-star review.