Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery (31 page)

“I’m sorry, little one. I need you to stay here.”

He glared at me.

“All the ladies are coming, and those druids will be there, too. I’ll be fine.”

He growled in the back of his throat.

I put the bag down and lifted him into my arms. “I want you to keep an eye on things
here.” I nuzzled his head. “I know what you truly are, a wolf in terrier clothing.
On Samhain, all sorts of things can happen. I need you to protect Ben and Declan and
the others.”

When I put him back on the chair, he sighed and seemed to nod.

The spellbook club waited for me outside. Lucy pulled the Thunderbird up to the curb,
and, still fully costumed, we piled in. With six of us, it was a tight fit. I wedged
myself, gown and all, into the backseat, and off we went. Every time we turned a corner,
Bianca’s Leia wig bumped my head, and I couldn’t see over Mimsey’s hat o’ fruit. At
least it was warm enough to have the top down, so I could see the sidewalks of Savannah.

It was the middle of the week, so many locals had already headed home, but the out-of-towners
were still going strong. Hearses carried paying passengers on the ghost tours all
over the historic district, and I could hear the guides’ voices blaring through speakers
clear down by the river. Heinrich was right: The tourists would be all over most of
the cemeteries in town, especially Bonaventure, since it was featured in that wildly
popular book set in Savannah.

Lucy drove quickly, following Mimsey’s directions, and soon we reached the edge of
town. She turned left onto a gravel road. After about half a mile, she pulled over
to the side and turned off the Thunderbird’s engine. I could hear it ticking in the
cooling night and Bianca breathing beside me. A night bird called from the top of
a tree.

I craned my neck but couldn’t see what lay ahead. “Mimsey,” I hissed, “can you take
that contraption off your head?”

She opened the passenger door and got out. I crawled forward from the backseat, hauling
my heavy skirt out. At least I had on sneakers. Mimsey removed her headdress and shook
out her white pageboy.

“Much better,” she proclaimed in a low voice.

Something flew by. Cookie squeaked. “What was that?”

I whispered, “A bat, I think.”

She giggled nervously. I looked around at the others now standing by the car. Bianca
looked like one very worried Princess Leia. Jaida’s expression was serious and determined
as she took off the three-cornered hat and tossed it on the front seat. Lucy, however,
appeared almost placid.

Ahead of us, a tall spiked gate blocked the road. It guarded a fenced-in area, heavily
wooded and overgrown. Even in the bright light of the waning gibbous moon I couldn’t
make out where the iron fencing ended.

The sound of tires on gravel made us turn our heads. A black Cadillac Escalade crunched
slowly down the road, then pulled in behind the Thunderbird. Victor Powers got out
from behind the wheel. He wore dark slacks and a zippered Windbreaker. Steve’s father
stepped to the ground from the passenger seat, also clad in dark clothing. The rear
doors opened to reveal Andersen Lane and Brandon Sikes.

Andersen shut the car door behind him and approached, peering at me through his plastic-framed
glasses and tugging at the collar of his pin-striped oxford-cloth shirt. “I knew I
was right to enlist your help.” He glanced around at the others. “I never would have
suspected our erstwhile member’s progeny.”

“I just hope we can stop her.”

Victor Powers held out his hand. “We’ve never actually met, though I believe I did
see you at my fund-raiser?”

After a second’s hesitation, I shook his hand. No comment on the fund-raiser.

Brandon’s eyes lit up when he saw Cookie’s Cleopatra costume. He kissed her on the
cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

“So do you,” she said.

He did, actually, in a dark T-shirt and jeans, but everyone except the lovebirds exchanged
disapproving looks.

As Heinrich’s gaze continued to take in the rest of the spellbook club, his disapproval
deepened. “What on earth are you people wearing?”

I held up my palms. “We were at a party at the Honeybee. We had to dress up, and then
there wasn’t time enough to change our clothes.”

He sniffed. “Well, you look ridiculous.”

Mimsey took a step forward. “And you look pompous. The Samhain spirits couldn’t care
less what we look like, Heinrich. We have a job to do. Now let’s go do it.”

The Dragohs exchanged looks in the moonlight and turned as one to face the iron gate
that blocked the road into the cemetery. They moved toward it, and the spellbook club
followed. Two live oaks loomed on either side of the entrance, long shreds of moss
hanging from the branches like clumps of trailing hair. Jaida fumbled a flashlight
out of her knapsack and shone it on the lock. Rust encrusted the old-fashioned keyhole.
Victor shook the gate, and the decayed metal sifted to the ground like so much red
dust.

“It’s not locked,” Jaida said, and pushed against it. A brief shriek of metal on metal
tore through the night, and the sky above filled with a rush of flapping wings.
Victor and Brandon helped push the gate open a few more feet. Jaida shone the light
through the opening to reveal a mass of overgrown vines.

“Is there another way in?” I asked. “Because I don’t think Nel came this way.”

“The road circles the fence,” Heinrich said. “There’s another gate on the opposite
side.”

Andersen harrumphed. “I hope this hasn’t turned into a snipe hunt.”

No one responded, but I felt the same way.

Tires sounded on the road behind us again. My heart leaped in my chest as I watched
the headlights barreling toward us. The vehicle suddenly swerved in behind the Cadillac.
The driver cut the engine and lights, and then the sound of the door opening and closing
reached our ears. I squinted at the approaching figure, recognizing his walk before
I could make out his face.

Steve had joined the fray.

He stopped five feet away from where we’d gathered at the gate. The moonlight glinted
off his hair. “Father.”

Heinrich nodded at his son in silence.

Steve looked at my face, then down at the dress, and again met my eyes. Something
passed between us. I remembered months before when we’d linked together to heal a
wounded man. The power we’d shared then had convinced me once and for all that I was
a witch—and had saved the man’s life. Now it made me feel better that he’d come to
help us. To help me. We worked well together magically.

Perhaps that was what he’d been referring to when he’d talked about our destiny. Perhaps
we’d be awfully
good together in other ways, too. Perhaps I should rethink our relationship. Give
it a try. I thought of Declan, back at the Honeybee. My good friend. But even if he
was willing to roll with my being a witch, there could never be that bond of magic
between us.

Steve walked right past me and stopped by his father’s side.

“Steve?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice.

He shook his head. “This is my place.” No apology, no explanation. Apparently, he’d
rethought a few things himself.

I took a deep breath. Now was not the time to take umbrage. Now was the time to focus.
“Since we don’t have a counter for the actual Spell of Necretius, we have to find
Nel before midnight and bind her so she can’t summon Zesh in the first place,” I said.

“Did you bring the poppet?” Heinrich asked.

I nodded. “Cookie?”

She looked at Jaida, who extracted a small figure from the knapsack. It was about
seven inches long and off-white. It was the stick figure of rag dolls—no clothes,
no features, no anatomy other than torso, head, arms, and legs. It did, however, have
a gray braid stitched to the scalp. Looking closer, I realized the whole thing was
made of fiber rather than cloth.

“Where…?”

“It’s lightly felted wool,” Cookie said. “Annette already had the form and helped
me…personalize it this afternoon. She thinks it’s for a Halloween gag.”

“Nice,” I said.

“How shall we do this?” Mimsey asked. “Y’all bind her while we protect you?”

The Dragohs looked at each other and appeared to
reach a silent agreement. Victor nodded. “A circle within a circle.”

“All right.” Jaida patted the bag of magical goodies she carried. “We’re loaded for
bear.”

“I hope you’re ready for considerably more than that,” Steve said, looking at me again.
“Nel is willing to kill.”

“Well, now, I don’t know about that,” Heinrich said. “It’s unlikely she could even
complete the summoning.”

“No, Father. Her attack on Katie was viciously strong. Don’t make the mistake of discounting
her because she’s female.”

Heinrich began to bristle as the other men looked to him. Of course: The Dragohs were
not a democracy. They had a leader, and it was Steve’s father. How had I not realized
that before?

Would that role pass to Steve as well?

Then Heinrich looked at his son and nodded. “Understood.” He inclined his head toward
me.

Slowly, I returned the gesture. “Where would Nel choose to cast the summoning spell?”

“I would choose the northern part of the cemetery,” Heinrich said. The other men murmured
agreement.

Mimsey’s head bobbed. “Of course. Uriel’s side, near the edge where the veil will
thin at midnight and the souls can cross.”

“Let’s go, then.” I started pulling at the vines that clung to the gate, but they
seemed to twine into the folds of my lacy skirt. I tried to tear it, but the fabric
was too tough. “Darn it. I wish I’d had a chance to change out of this thing!” Frustration
blew through my words.

Victor elbowed his way to my side. He leaned down, pulled up his pant leg, and extracted
a ten-inch dagger from an ankle sheath. The metal blade gleamed wickedly. My breath
caught as he plunged it into the edge of my skirt. Unless accompanied by food and
a cutting board, knives gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I had to admit Victor’s athame
was effective. Within moments the wedding dress had been modified into a mini, the
skirt raggedly falling halfway down my thighs.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.” Victor shouldered through the gate, now using the dagger to hack at
the kudzu.

“Those high-tops are a nice touch,” Brandon said.

Cookie pushed him playfully.

Ignoring them both, I peered into the cemetery again.

A weight rustled against my shoulders, and I turned to find that Steve had put his
jacket around me.

“Thank you, but I’m not cold.”

His gaze held affection and amusement. “Maybe not, but that white dress is bright
enough to see from space. Zombie dirt or no zombie dirt.”

“Oh.” I tugged the navy blue fabric closer. “Good point.”

Heinrich fell into step behind Victor, and one by one the rest of us followed. The
vines thinned enough within a few yards that we could move through them, albeit with
care. They crawled over the graves, a green blanket to never warm the dead. Celtic
crosses dotted what had once been a lawn to our left. Ivy and moss covered most of
them to the point that only their vague shapes defined them as grave markers. To the
right, a section was so overgrown with kudzu that no human could have gotten through
it.

At least that narrowed the options.

The air grew cooler under the canopy of branches, and I was thankful for Steve’s jacket.
The humid breeze caressed the back of my neck like fond fingers, and I shivered.

As the path widened, I saw it was a road broad enough for vehicles to drive down.
None had for a long time, though. The Dragohs had taken point, Heinrich and Steve
side by side in front, followed by Victor and Brandon. Andersen trailed behind them,
and the spellbook club members followed, our jaws clenched. Around us, crumbling gravestones
tilted, their lettering faded nearly smooth. It was like something out of a haunted
house, the reality of it adding another level to the terror. My shoulders hunched
against the possibility of something springing out from the darkness.

A bird flushed from a cluster of azaleas ahead. Cookie shrieked, then ducked her head
in embarrassment. The men turned to glare at her, but Brandon broke rank and rushed
to her side to put his arm around her.

“Sikes,” Heinrich admonished. Brandon moved back to his posse. Steve wouldn’t look
at me.

We reached the northern edge of the cemetery without seeing any sign of Nel. The group
paused. In the silence I heard Mimsey breathing. It had been a bit of a hike for a
seventy-eight-year-old.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked. Jaida took a bottle of water out of her supply bag.

Mimsey nodded at my aunt but took the water with a grateful smile.

“Maybe you were wrong about Nel after all,” Andersen said to me.

I curled my fingers around the iron fence and leaned my forehead against the back
of my hand. “I don’t think so. Maybe she’s planning to summon Zesh from some other
place altogether.”

I opened my eyes. “Wait. Do you guys see that?” I pointed at a bright red MINI Cooper—just
like the one Nel had driven away from the gallery the night of Brandon Sikes’ art
show. “She’s here. Somewhere.”

“Maybe we should break into pairs and search separately,” Cookie said, flashing a
look at Brandon.

“Are you crazy?” I asked at the same time that Heinrich said, “Absolutely not.”

She shrugged, chastised.

“Hang on.” I sniffed the air. A thin wisp of something familiar.

Of something burning. Not hair this time, thank goodness. But something nasty nonetheless.

With everyone’s curious eyes watching, I took another deep breath and oh so carefully
cast out with my mind. Gently, gently—there. A trace of that cold slipperiness I’d
felt by Lawrence Eastmore’s shed.

“This way,” I said, turning to the west. A narrow path led through the wreckage of
gravestones. I began to move down it. Heinrich followed me without a word. Victor
fell in next, and the others followed.