A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (7 page)

We stared at her.

“What?” she asked, shrugging. “He is. He lets me touch all the geodes and answers all my questions.”

Of which I was sure there were many.

“Who?” Harper demanded.

“Andreus Woodshall,” Starla said patiently. “He’s the director of the Roving Stones. A Charmcrafter. He’s…Well, have you seen
Dracula
? The one with Bela Lugosi?”

Who hadn’t? We all nodded.

“He kind of looks like that. Except his teeth aren’t as pointy, and in the wrong light he’s scarier looking.” She rolled a rectangle of blue onto the wall.

Scarier looking than Dracula? Was she kidding?

“But,” Starla said, picking a stray piece of her blond hair from the roller, “in the right light he’s kind of handsome. It’s very disconcerting, one minute him looking like Dracula, the next looking all suave and debonair.”

“Dracula? Really?” Harper asked, clearly intrigued. “Is he a vampire?”

“Nooooo.” Starla continued to bathe the wall in blue. So far, only one wall was completed. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night if we kept painting at this rate.

“You don’t have to sound like it’s a crazy thought,” Harper said. “After all,
we’re
witches.”

“She has a point,” Mimi said pragmatically. “But Mr. Woodshall goes out in the daylight. That rules him out as a vampire.”

I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. Six months ago I was out of work and living in Ohio. When my dad died last year, not only did I lose my father, but my job as well, as I had worked for him at his dentist’s office since I was eighteen. Then Aunt Ve paid Harper and me a visit, and I’d gone from unemployed office manager to having a job at As You Wish. Oh yeah, and I was a witch.

And now I was a witch seriously considering whether there was a vampire in the neighborhood. I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity as I dipped my paintbrush
into the blue and went to work along the baseboard, explaining why I’d asked about Andreus in the first place. “Yvonne Merrick calls him Mr. Macabre. He was Patrice’s date the night she went missing.”

“No,” Starla gasped.

I nodded. “Yep. Yvonne and Roger had a double date with Patrice and Andreus.” I filled them in on the fight and Roger’s claim that Jonathan Wilkens had something to do with Patrice’s death. I left out the part where he accused him of killing her. I also held back on explaining about the Anicula until I could find out more about it.

“Roger’s crazy,” Starla said. “Jonathan? No way.”

“Did he even know Patrice?” Because I’d only moved to the village recently, I didn’t know a lot of its history.

“They dated for a while, but I don’t recall that it was anything serious. Jonathan was a bit of a playboy before he met Zoey.”

It was an interesting fact I stored away. Jonathan and Patrice, dating. Was that why Roger hated the man? Was that what Yvonne meant by “inappropriate jealousy”?

I was debating how I was going to get the answers to these questions and had just settled on asking Pepe, a mouse familiar who lived and worked at Bewitching Boutique, when Harper’s buzzer rang. Someone was downstairs in the alley.

“I’ll get it!” Mimi said.

“Make sure you check and see who it is first!” I called after her, fighting the urge to go after her and make sure she did. I was a nurturer at heart—I couldn’t help myself. I glanced at Harper. She was grown now and needed me more as a sister than a mother figure, so I was trying to break my mother-hen habit and not transfer those feelings onto Mimi. It was turning out to be a harder task than I thought.

I was more than a little surprised when Nick Sawyer came into the apartment. His eyes brightened just a bit when he spotted me. My stomach went gushy.

Harper nudged me with her toe. I swore I heard her murmur, “Some witches have all the luck,” before she said, “Hi, Nick! Come to get Mimi already?”

He was still wearing his Enchanted Village security uniform. I had to admit I liked it. Khaki pants, a tight knit shirt that hugged all the right muscles. I could get used to looking at those muscles every day.

Missy growled a little. For whatever reason, she was displeased with him. It would pass soon—of that I had no doubt. She adored Nick.

“Early-morning swimming lessons,” he said. “If Mimi stays up too late she’ll be impossible to wake up.”

“It’s true,” Mimi said with no trace of self-consciousness.

Pretty soon Mimi would be back in school full-time, and I realized with a pang that I would miss having her around so much.

“Get much done?” he asked, taking in the space.

“More gossiping than painting,” Starla said. “Patrice’s murder is quite a shock.”

“Any leads?” Harper asked him hopefully.

“Not yet,” he said. His brown eyes lingered on me. I felt a blush rising.

The radio clipped to his belt crackled and someone said, “Nick? You there?” To us, Nick said, “We haven’t worked out codes yet.” He pressed a button. “Yes?”

The excited voice said, “Suspect spotted on Gossamer Court moving west toward the woods.”

“I’m on my way,” Nick answered. To us, he said, “Is it possible that Mimi stay a little longer?”

“Sure,” Harper said. “What’s going on? What suspect? The murder suspect?”

Nick smiled at her rapid-fire questions and shook his head. Looking resigned, he said, “You’ll find out soon
enough, I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “There have been a couple of reports of a Peeping Tom over the last two days and one possible burglary.”

“Possible?” I said, suddenly very alert. “Wouldn’t they know for sure?”

“It appears as though the house was entered but nothing was taken.”

“Just like at Patrice’s house last night?” I asked.

He shifted his weight, lightened his tone. “Probably a couple of teenagers playing pranks.”

His suddenly relaxed attitude was contradicted by the serious look in his eye. Clearly he didn’t believe what he was saying. He was trying not to worry us.

Which worried me quite a bit.

Just how many big bad wolves were on the loose in this idyllic little village?

K
eeping an eye out for anyone lurking in the shadows, Missy and I made our way home later that night. Harper’s place was almost directly across from As You Wish; they were separated from each other by the village green. It was a short five-minute walk, but for some reason tonight it felt as though it were taking longer than usual.

Missy led the way as old-fashioned gas-style streetlamps and lanterns hanging from the trees lit the pathways, spilling plenty of light to guide our way. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think twice about my safety, but tonight I had Peeping Toms and murderers on my mind. It was close to ten o’clock, and I was glad Missy was with me—she was no bigger than a bit, but she had a keen sense of hearing. She’d know if someone was sneaking up behind me and warn me. At least that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t break into hives.

Then I remembered how she’d let Yvonne Merrick eavesdrop from behind the tree without making a peep.

Suddenly, I was itchy.

It didn’t help that the green was occupied by a dozen Roving Stones tents, all closed up for the night. Loose tent flaps slapped against their poles, echoing ominously in the dark.

With visions of fangs coming at me from out of nowhere, I kicked up my pace, my gaze on my destination. As You Wish was well lit, the windows filled with a soothing yellow glow. Ve’s bedroom light was on, and I hoped she was awake. I was eager to find out exactly what had happened with Cherise Goodwin.

The tent flaps continued to
thwap
ominously, a car horn honked across the square, and I swore I could hear someone walking behind me. But every time I turned, no one was there. Missy was beginning to get agitated, too, growling low in her throat. Goose bumps rose on my arms. To be on the safe side, I scooped up the dog and broke into a jog.

Actually, it was a dead run, and I hoped no one saw me. For one, I wasn’t a graceful sprinter, elbows and legs flying out in every direction. For another, it would be hard to explain how paranoid I was being. Starla’s talk of Dracula on top of a killer and a Peeping Tom on the loose had truly spooked me. All I wanted was to get home as fast as I could. Tucked into bed with the covers over my head sounded even better.

As You Wish was a glorious Victorian, a complete charmer with its fancy trimmings, sloping rooflines, and magical-looking turret. In the daylight, its fanciful paint job really stood out as something special. With its purples, whites, and blues, the house often had tourists using it as a backdrop for vacation photos.

I’d just crossed the street and was sprinting for the gate leading to the house’s back door when the shadowy figure of a man came stumbling off the Enchanted Trail, hurdled over the back fence behind the house, got caught on a picket, and ended up falling through the shrubs. He lay sprawled, unmoving, five feet in front of me.

Missy barked and wriggled until I couldn’t hold on to her anymore. I set her down and she immediately ran to
the prone form. I followed and dropped down on the ground. “Evan!” I cried.

Evan Sullivan, Starla’s twin brother, groaned and rolled over. A huge red knot was forming on his head. “Darcy?”

I heard flapping and was relieved when Archie came in for a landing. In addition to being a scarlet macaw, he was one of the village’s familiars. By day, he entertained the tourists passing by his cage in the yard. By night, he was the Elder’s right-hand man. Bird. Whatever. Technically, he’d been dead for over a hundred years, but his spirit lived on in the macaw form—which was an appropriate choice considering how much he enjoyed hearing himself talk. Once upon a time, he was a London theater actor, and his favorite game to play with me was Name That Movie Quote. We’d spent many hours passing time trying to stump each other.

“‘Whatever happens tonight, I will never, ever, ever speak a word of it,’” he quoted.

“Now is not the time for movie trivia,” I said, slapping Evan’s face, trying to get him to focus.

“Now, now,” Archie said in a clipped tone. He sounded a lot like a British James Earl Jones. “If you don’t know the answer, you just have to say so.”

I didn’t want to admit I had no idea what movie that line was from.

“
The
Hangover
,” Archie supplied. There was a smug lilt to his voice.

I glanced at him. “You’ve seen
The
Hangover
?”

“You haven’t?”

“Doesn’t seem like your standard fare,” I said.

“I’m full of surprises,” he said, ruffling his feathers to shoo Missy away from licking him. “As are you, apparently. What did you do to poor Evan?” The white rings around his eyes practically glowed in the dark.

So caught up in the image of Archie watching such a
guy flick, I’d momentarily forgotten about Evan. Most days, I could find him at the Gingerbread Shack, his bakery. With his clean-cut ginger-blond hair and sparkly blue eyes, he was adorable. But not my type. Nor was I his type—he was gay. We bonded over mini cupcakes and how handsome we both thought Nick Sawyer was.

Over the past few months, Evan had become one of my closest friends. My stomach was in knots, seeing him this way. “Are you okay to move?”

Missy ran circles around us, but she wasn’t barking. In fact, she looked like she wanted to play.

Evan struggled to sit up. He moaned and held his head. “What happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I said.

He winced as his fingers palpated a giant goose egg rising above his temple. “I—I’d been visiting Ve,” he said. “She wanted some last-minute changes to her wedding cake, so I came over with some options.”

“And they were so bad she bopped you on the head?” Archie asked.

Evan made a sour face at the bird.

I examined the knot on Evan’s head. It looked painful. “Go on,” I said.

“When I was leaving, I thought I saw someone hiding in the woods, watching your house.”

I stiffened. “The Peeper Creeper?” I asked.

“The who?” Evan said.

“The neighborhood Peeping Tom,” I said. “There have been a couple of sightings tonight.”

“I’m not sure. When I called out, the person took off. I gave chase, but the next thing I knew I was coming to on the ground in the woods. Whoever it was must have knocked me out somehow.”

Archie whistled low.

Evan gazed at me. “That’s not the worst of it.”

“No?” I said. “Because being attacked in the woods is pretty bad.”

“Darcy.” Evan took my hand. “I think the person had been waiting for you to come home.”

Missy growled.

Panic fluttered in my stomach. I made an instant decision. “Come on,” I said, tugging Evan to his feet. “It’s probably going to be a long night, so let’s go inside and make you comfy. Then we’re calling the police.”

Ten minutes later, as I poured hot water into Evan’s teacup, I said, “You can’t know for sure the person was lying in wait for
me
.”

I was doing my best not to be freaked out. A village police officer was in the woods, sweeping the area with a flashlight, looking for any evidence. I had high hopes that Evan was mistaken, and that, in fact, no one had been watching the house at all.

That he’d imagined a confrontation.

That his huge goose egg was a figment of my overactive imagination.

Closing my eyes, I wished it and everything. When I opened them again, Evan was still sitting across the kitchen island, solemnly stirring sugar into his tea with one hand and holding an ice pack to his head with the other.

Damn it. I loathed my inability to grant my own wishes and suddenly completely understood the Anicula’s appeal.

“You’re right, Darcy,” Evan said. “The person could have been lying in wait for Ve.”

“Dear heavens!” Ve exclaimed. She was wrapped in a chenille robe, her long coppery hair pulled up in a twist. Dark circles drooped under her eyes and her cheeks were aflame with fever.

I didn’t understand why Cherise Goodwin’s spell
hadn’t cured her. When I’d asked Ve, she’d had no answers, either. It was very strange.

Ve pressed her hands to her chest. “Who would want to hurt
me
?”