Magic & Mystery (Starry Hollow Witches Book 2) Read online

  The children grabbed their plates and forks and hurried away from the table. Marley remained behind, looking to me for guidance.

  "You’re one of the children, Marley," I said. "You should go, too.” Even though I knew Marley wasn’t a typical ten-year-old, it seemed like the conversation was about to take a turn that wasn’t appropriate for her innocent ears.

  "I'm finished with my dessert," Marley said stubbornly.

  "Then you can go and watch the other children eat theirs," I said firmly.

  Marley finally took her cue and scrambled from the table. Once she was out of earshot, Sheriff Nash sat down in the empty chair beside Linnea.

  "Okay, so before you continue," I said, "what’s an incubus?"

  The sheriff chuckled. "Probably best to explain it to you before you meet one in a bar. That’s where they prefer to pick up their meals.”

  "I like bar food," I said. Calamari. Fully loaded nachos. Yum. “What's wrong with that?"

  Aunt Hyacinth took a sip of her drink. I noticed that she'd replaced her glass of honeysuckle bizzbeer with a different cocktail. I guess Florian's favorite was no longer required now that he was a frog.

  "An incubus is someone who feeds off sexual desire, as well as the act itself," Linnea said.

  "It's really not appropriate dinner table conversation," my aunt said.

  "You said you wanted to educate Ember," Linnea said. "We can't just limit it to witchcraft. How would you like it if she started dating an incubus without knowing what he was?”

  "So, when you said he was discovered as a frog during his meal time," I began, "are you saying he was found in bed?"

  “The fairy cleaning service found him in the morning, tangled in the covers,” the sheriff said. “A neighbor saw a woman sneak out in the morning, although he said that wasn’t unusual. The woman wore a cloak, so he couldn’t describe her beyond her height.”

  "Two eligible bachelors," Aster mused. "That has to be more than a coincidence."

  The sheriff shrugged. "Not necessarily, but given Florian and Thom’s track record with women, it’s entirely possible that it's a disgruntled former date.”

  I understood what he meant. Those two sounded like more than eligible bachelors. They were serial heartbreakers.

  Sterling whistled. “That's going to be a long list of suspects, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “On that note, which one of you can help me out with Florian’s most recent…?”

  “Conquests?” Aunt Hyacinth interjected. “That’s no trouble. Simon has a list.”

  All heads jerked toward her.

  “A list?” Linnea repeated.

  “Naturally,” Aunt Hyacinth said, cool as a cucumber. “Do you think I don’t keep a record of such things? If some scheming vixen starts making claims, I can verify part of her story. More importantly, if a name appears on the list more than twice, I know to start paying attention.”

  “Has that happened?” Aster queried.

  “Not yet,” Aunt Hyacinth replied. “But preparation is the key to success.” She rang the silver bell that summoned Simon. Almost immediately, he strode through the doorway, clutching a list of names, and handed it to the sheriff.

  Sheriff Nash stared at the paper in his hand, dumbfounded. “Um, thanks. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Do be quick about it, Sheriff,” my aunt said. “I expect to be kept fully apprised of any developments. The situation is humiliating at best, and dire at worst.”

  “Why dire?” I asked. Were they worried about his new diet of flies and mosquitoes?

  Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.

  “If we don’t figure out who cast the spell,” Aster said, “then we might not be able to reverse it.”

  “That means Florian would be doomed to live the rest of his life as a frog,” Linnea added.

  Suddenly, the Kermit joke I’d been about to make no longer felt appropriate. “Wow. I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Not as sorry as the magic-using miscreant will be,” my aunt said. “It’s still early, Sheriff. Plenty of time to squeeze in an interview or two before bed, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The sheriff’s jaw twitched. “No worries, Hyacinth. Deputy Bolan and I are on the case.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Hyacinth drawled, taking a long sip of her drink. “That’s precisely what concerns me.”

  Chapter 2

  The Mistress-of-Psychic-Skills was a petite woman with brown corkscrew curls. As she entered the cottage, I caught a glimpse of her green and black striped tights underneath her silver cloak and cringed. The cloaks were weird enough. I drew the line at butt-ugly tights. She set her satchel on the table with brisk efficiency.

  “Good morning, Miss Rose,” she said, shrugging off her cloak and flinging it onto the back of the chair. “I’m Marigold and I’ll be working with you today. I hope you’ve had your caffeinated beverage of choice because we’ll be doing an assessment and you’re going to need all the mental energy you can summon.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I lifted a pen from the table. “I’m ready to fail.”

  She frowned. “What do you intend to do with a pen?”

  “What you normally do. Mark answers on a test,” I said.

  “Spell’s bells. It’s not that kind of test,” Marigold said. “Now, sit down and I’ll explain.”

  I sat without protest. For such a petite witch, she had a commanding presence—part cheerleader and part drill sergeant.

  “What do you know about psychic abilities?” Marigold asked.

  “Outside of movies and TV?” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “Alec Hale can read my thoughts if I don’t shield them. Apparently, it’s a vampire thing.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  “I can make it rain.”

  “How often have you done that?”

  I hesitated. “Once.”

  “How do you know you made it happen and that it wasn’t a coincidence?” she asked.

  Hmm. Good question. “I don’t know. I felt it in my bones, that I’d done it. My hands tingled.”

  “Were you under stress?” she queried.

  “You might say that.” I was in a burning tow truck with a pyromaniac grinning at me from his front lawn. I’d never forget the sight of Jimmy the Lighter attempting to save his luxury car from repossession and murder me at the same time. A true multitasker.

  “Rain is a pretty powerful trick for your first magical effort,” Marigold said, and clapped her hands. “That bodes well for you today. Okay, first up, we’re going to test for telepathy.”

  “That’s reading minds, like Alec?”

  She gave a crisp nod.

  “Oh, I can’t do that.”

  She eyed me curiously. “How do you know?”

  I laughed. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I think I’d know by now if I could read people’s thoughts.”

  Marigold cocked her head and her curls bounced from the sudden movement. “You’ve never had an experience where you’ve had uncanny insight into a person’s mind? Maybe caught a fleeting thought?”

  I pondered the question. “I read people pretty well. Always have. And I thought I heard Alec’s voice in my head when we met.” I’d assumed it was his own psychic ability pushing its way into my head. Alec was devastatingly handsome, so I’d also thought it was wishful thinking because he called me attractive, or something to that effect.

  “Interesting. We’ll start with cards and see what we can learn about your abilities.” She pulled a deck from the satchel and began to shuffle. “I’m going to look at a card. I want you to close your eyes and concentrate. Tell me what image you see in your mind’s eye.”

  I straightened and closed my eyes, waiting to see if anything formed. “I see multicolored spots.”

  “That’s because you’re squeezing your eyes too tightly,” Marigold said. “Try to relax and let the image flow to you.”

  I took a deep breath and focused. “That can’t be right. I see a na
ked woman.” I laughed. “She doesn’t look anything like a queen of spades.”

  “What’s a queen of spades?”

  My brow creased. “What kind of cards are you using?"

  "A standard coven deck," she replied. “I’ve changed cards now. Keep going. We’ll worry about your accuracy at the end."

  "I see a moon and stars this time,” I said. The image reminded me of the Starry Hollow flag that hung from the pole of Linnea’s inn, Palmetto House.

  We went through the entire deck and, by the final card, I felt the stirrings of a headache.

  “Time for a break,” Marigold said.

  “A break?" I queried, slumping against my chair. "Aren't we finished yet?"

  Marigold patted my hand sympathetically. "That was only the first test, Ember.”

  "I failed, didn't I? I think my imagination was coming up with all sorts of crazy images just to mess with me."

  "There is no pass or fail here," Marigold said. "We’re simply measuring your aptitude for certain psychic skills, to see how to best train you.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “There’s definitely potential for telepathy.” She shuffled the cards and placed them back in the packet.

  I yawned. “So what's next?"

  "Have a drink of water, and I'll give you something for your headache before we continue."

  I inclined my head. "How do you know I have a headache?"

  Marigold suppressed a smile. “I’m the Mistress-of-Psychic-Skills for a reason." The way she said it, she may as well have added ‘duh’ to the end of her sentence. “And, just for the record, my tights are adorable.”

  Oops. I went into the kitchen for water and, when I returned, Marigold sprinkled a bronze powder into the glass.

  “What’s that?" I asked.

  “A coven remedy for your pain."

  I pinched my nose before I drank, just in case.

  Marigold proceeded to set up several objects on the table while I was in the kitchen, including a spoon, a feather, and an apple. I couldn't imagine what she intended to do with those.

  “I don't intend to do anything with those," she said, reading my mind. “They’re part of your telekinetic assessment."

  I sat at the table and folded my hands. "So how does this work? Am I supposed to move them with my mind?”

  "Pretty much," Marigold said. "Start with the feather, since obviously that’s the lightest. Focus your will on moving the feather. It doesn't need to fly through the air. Even if you manage to move it a fraction, it shows that you have telekinetic potential."

  "What about the fact that I made it rain?" I asked. "Was that evidence of telekinesis?"

  Marigold shook her head. "That’s a different sort of magic. Very powerful. A sure sign that you’re a descendant of the One True Witch."

  "So not all Silver Moon witches can control the weather?"

  "Absolutely not," Marigold said. "For all my psychic abilities, I couldn’t force a single drop of rain to fall from the sky."

  Score one for me. "So, what does it mean to focus my will?"

  "Your will, as in your desired outcome. Concentrate on the feather. Pour all your focus and attention on moving that feather. Block all other thoughts, all other desires. In this moment, there is only moving the feather."

  "Basically, you want me to monotask instead of multitask."

  Marigold shrugged. "Whatever works for you. There is no one right way because no two witches have exactly the same set of abilities. Each witch develops her own style of magic over time.”

  I stared at the feather, giving it my full attention. I blocked out thoughts of Marigold and of PP3 snuggled on the sofa. Of Marley at school, probably educating the teacher on one subject or another. I blocked thoughts of Sheriff Nash in his tight jeans and Alec Hale in his million-dollar suit. The only thing in the world I cared about right now was moving that feather as though my life depended on it.

  I watched in amazement as the feather shifted a few centimeters to the left.

  “I did it!"

  Marigold winced. "Actually, I think I may have breathed a little too close to it. So sorry. Let's try it again."

  I huffed. "Are you sure? I didn't see you breathing."

  "It isn't something you usually see," Marigold pointed out.

  Fair enough. I focused my will again. This time, the feather definitely moved.

  “That was not you breathing," I said, slapping my palm flat on the table. “I deliberately moved it to the right this time."

  "Now, I’d like you to try bending this spoon," Marigold said, tapping the silver spoon on the table.

  “Bend the spoon?" I repeated. "But it's made out of metal."

  “So it is,” Marigold said. “That shouldn’t be a deterrent to trying.”

  I stared at the spoon. "This feels like it should be more advanced work."

  “It is," Marigold said. "And even if you can’t do it today, it doesn’t mean that you’ll never be able to bend it. Remember, we’re measuring your aptitude.”

  I couldn’t bend the spoon, no matter how hard I tried.

  “‘A’ for effort. Let's move on," Marigold said. She packed away the spoon, the feather, and the apple.

  “What about the apple?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "If you can't bend the spoon today, it’s highly unlikely you’d be able to move the apple. It’s too dense."

  “But you think eventually I might be able to do that?"

  "Perhaps," Marigold said. "The next test I'd like to try is for astral projection."

  "I'm sorry. For what?"

  “Astral projection. The ability to separate your consciousness from your physical form.”

  "You mean like an out-of-body experience?"

  "Yes," she replied. "It’s a form of telepathy. Some witches are able to travel outside of their physical bodies."

  "Seriously? Can you do that?" I had to admit, that sounded like a badass skill.

  Marigold straightened. "Let's just assume that I can do most of the items on the list. My experience is what enables me to train others."

  “So I’ll work with you to develop whichever skills I have an aptitude for?"

  "That is your aunt's request.”

  "It makes sense, though, right? If it turns out I can do all this crazy stuff, you wouldn't want me going haywire like Carrie.”

  Her expression was blank. “Who's Carrie?”

  “You know Carrie…by Stephen King?”

  Marigold shook her head.

  “You’re missing out, Marigold. What do you read for fun?”

  “I prefer self-help books and books on gardening.”

  “You should try Stephen King. Very different from what you’re reading.”

  “Why would I want to read something different?” she queried.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Break out of your comfort zone? Expand your literary horizons?”

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” she replied, unconvinced.

  We did the astral projection test, which consisted of me sitting on the sofa and concentrating, as well as tests for clairvoyance and teleportation.

  “My cousins can all do teleportation, can't they? That's how they were able to bring Marley and me to Starry Hollow from New Jersey." I tried to remember what they’d said at the time. “They used a magical wormhole, I think.”

  “Yes, it definitely appears to be a strong Rose trait. I’m confident that, based on your test results, you’ll be able to develop this ability, as well."

  "Marley, too?"

  “It's difficult to know until she comes into her magic next year."

  "Is there any downside to my magic being suppressed all these years? Now that my father’s spell has been broken, shouldn't magic be pouring out of me?"

  "It seems that his suppression spell was damaged, rather than obliterated," Marigold said. "The more magic you do now, however, the faster the spell will erode. Once your lessons begin in earnest, I expect the spell to break
completely.”

  "Why is everything being introduced to me so slowly then? I thought my aunt wanted my magic in full force.”

  "There’s a danger in too much too fast," Marigold said. "It's best to introduce bits and pieces slowly, so that your body and mind have time to adjust."

  That made sense. “So, what's the verdict? Am I a future Mistress-of-Psychic-Skills?”

  Marigold laughed cheerfully. "It's quite possible. You're showing signs of aptitude for everything on the list, with the exception of clairvoyance."

  “But that's the best one," I said.

  "Depends on who you ask," Marigold said. "Some find knowledge of the future to be a heavy burden to bear."

  "So wait," I said. "Even astral projection? You think I'm going to be able to do that?"

  She nodded. "With the right training, yes. Your aunt will be most pleased. Roses aren’t generally known for astral projection, or telepathy, for that matter, outside of the usual psychic links with familiars.”

  “What about my aunt’s psychic connection to Simon?” I asked. “Isn’t that telepathy?”

  “Not quite,” Marigold said. “The silver bells are enchanted. Her connection to Simon is spell-based, rather than organic.”

  “So why do I have abilities that my cousins don’t?”

  Marigold gave me a pointed look. "You seem to forget that your mother was a witch, too. Lily had many gifts.”

  She was right. There was so much focus on being a Rose, it was easy to forget that I was half Hawthorne.

  “Did you know her?" I asked. Marigold seemed too young to have crossed paths with my mother.

  "She died when I was ten," Marigold said. "I remember it vividly, because there was such an outpouring of grief in the community. The coven donned their black cloaks for weeks afterward. It might comfort you to know that she was much loved in Starry Hollow.”

  It did. “You said she had many gifts. Do you know what they were?"

  "A penchant for psychic skills, to be sure. She also had a strong bond with her familiar.” Marley paused and looked at me. “But make no mistake, Ember. You were her greatest gift of all.”

  Chapter 3

  My aunt breezed into the offices of Vox Populi, the weekly newspaper she owned and, thanks to her blatant nepotism, my current place of employment. In her arms, she held Precious, her fluffy white familiar. The cat seemed perfectly at ease being carried around town like a grocery bag.