Some Like It Witchy Page 9

  Fiona walked back to her store, Kat's words still ringing in her ears. The coven members seemed to think that Alicia had tried a new Beltane experiment and that her innovation had tragically backfired.

  Was that what had happened?

  As she entered her store, her gaze drifted toward the divination section. The shelf was full of white and yellow candles in different shades, from a light daffodil color to deep amber. The usual pillars had pride of place, but there were also small tea lights and oval-shaped floating candles.

  She picked out a small tea light made with clear beeswax and flecks of real gold. It was one of her most expensive wares, a tiny, luxurious indulgence. She walked on and grabbed a mirror. Scrying, she knew, was usually done with water, but that element would negate her power. The mirror would have to suffice.

  Luanne said that Fiona had to find her tools. Well, candles were her tools. Small ones, just to start.

  She went back to the kitchen, carrying her tools. The store's back room was a utilitarian space, with dozens of candles all strung by their wicks from hanging ropes, and wire shelving holding pillar and encased candles. It wasn't the most inspiring setting, but it would have to do.

  She'd just finished her summer inventory and most of the candles were yellow and blue with seashells, shards of sea glass, and beachy scents like coconut. The scent was reassuring. The water theme would dull her powers a bit.

  She placed the mirror on a wood counter. Then she took the candle and placed it carefully on top of the reflective surface. The tea light looked painfully small next to the ornate frame of the mirror.

  Baby steps. Small flames were less dangerous.

  She took a match, lit it and touched it to the first wick. The flame caught, flickering warmly in the kitchen's dim light. Fiery warmth ran through her body, as even a small spark was enough to fan her power.

  She paused, wondering if she should stop. Maybe she shouldn't do this. Maybe this was too much of a risk.

  So can you.

  Luanne's words gave her courage. The fortune teller thought Fiona could do this. The least she could do was try. And this wasn't a fire spell, not really. Just a little scrying, with a boost. How could it go wrong?

  She put down the match and stared into the mirror.

  What came next? She wanted to know more about what happened to Alicia, but how did she do that?

  She concentrated on the flame in the reflective surface, letting her mind wander. The smoke trailed up like the confetti streamers she'd seen when walking at the festival. She pictured herself walking through the park on Beltane night—no, wait, in the afternoon, when people were setting up. She pictured the grass and the trees and the creek in the back. She pictured herself walking through the park, inspecting the bonfire sites. The Maryland group was setting up their kegs, the faeries were trying out their costumes. Someone cursed as their logs fell down. PRoVE volunteers hauled wood and helped carry equipment.

  It all seemed very normal.

  She pictured the path to the grove, all lined with shrubs and trees, and the glade itself, shady and cool. The fire pit was empty except for a few pieces of wood shaped into a square. More wood lay next to the fire site.

  As Fiona watched, a shadowy robed figure traced a pentagram in the middle of the square. The figure chanted a prayer, but Fiona couldn't make out the words. The figure dug a hole in the middle of the square and inserted into the cavity a bowl filled with branches. Firewood was then stacked so as to hide the bowl. She focused on the figure, trying to ascertain its identity, but it was useless. The more she tried, the more the vision blurred, like a faulty television signal. She couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman.

  The front door chimes tinkled, breaking her reverie. She jerked in response and it took her a moment to process what the sound meant. She had a customer. The vision faded and she was back in her tiny workspace, staring at a mirror and a lone smoking candle.

  Snuffing out the wick, she set the mirror aside and returned to the storefront, lost in thought.

  At least the kitchen hadn't caught fire. That was a plus. The spell had worked. That was another. She'd had a successful scrying session without a fiery mishap. Hooray.

  But the resulting vision was fairly pedestrian and unclear. In fact, she was beginning to sympathize with Luanne's perennial "it doesn't work that way" frustration.

  It really did not work that way. What she'd seen seemed incomplete, and yet she had the feeling she'd just learned something important, even vital.

  How strange.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "I THINK I liked it better when the big fear was extraterrestrial aliens," Margo Cooper, Banshee Creek's resident forest ranger, sighed as she inspected Gavin's list of potentially invasive plants.

  "I hear you," Gavin replied.

  The list was long, as it covered all plant materials used by the Beltane festival attendees, including live plants, leaves, and branches. They were standing in the park, surveying the state of the grounds after the festival. The rain had swept away any remaining debris and the park looked clean and fresh.

  "Any of these could contain seeds," Margo complained.

  "Maybe you should put together a pamphlet warning people about the potential for propagation," Gavin said. "As well as one describing toxic local flora."

  Margo laughed. "You and your safety manuals. How many do you have now?"

  "Not enough."

  "I'll see what I can do," she replied. "I think Shenandoah made a poisonous plants brochure. We can use that as a template."

  "Thanks." Gavin scanned the grounds. "Did you find anything during your sweep?"

  "Not much. Lots of citrus, lots of chamomile and sage. That's pretty typical for this area. I also found marshmallow plant remains, which was interesting. They must have been eating it."

  "Is it dangerous?

  "No. It's edible, but hardly anyone ingests it as it's not very tasty."

  "Maybe it was part of a ceremony?"

  Kat had given them a list of herbs and plants that were likely used during Beltane. He hadn't seen marshmallow on that list, but he wasn't a herbalist.

  Margo shrugged. "Nothing surprises me in this town. They were passing it around, it seems. It was in almost every site."

  He made a note to check with Kat. She would know what they were using the marshmallow for.

  "How about oleander? Seen anything like that?"

  Margo shook her head. "That doesn't worry me so much. Oleander won't grow in Virginia. I care about the plants that spread out."

  And we care about the ones that kill people. But he didn't say that out loud.

  "Let me know if you see anything strange," he said instead.

  "Strange?" Margo laughed. "In this town?"

  "Weirder than usual," he corrected.

  Margo raised a brow. "You mean like someone walking around the park with a bowl and a bunch of candles?"

  "What?" Why would anyone... Oh, this was Banshee Creek. People did all kinds of things. It was probably one of Caine's guys looking for who knows what. "When did this happen? And where is he now?"

  "Happening as we speak," Margo said. "And she is in the grove."

  The place where Ms. LeFay was killed? That sounded odd. He thanked Margo and headed for the secluded location.

  He neared the clearing, scanning the area for a person holding a bowl. It was, however, difficult to determine if anyone was in the grove. The area was encircled by trees and hidden from the rest of the park.

  Perfect for anyone who wanted to tamper with a bonfire.

  And someone, apparently, was. A small, slender woman was building a fire, or at least that's what it looked like. It was a very odd fire-building method, though. The young woman was putting up the logs, then stepping back and peering at her creation. Then she walked around the fire pit, bent down and looked inside. After that, she kicked the logs, destroying the structure, and started again.

  He recognized the woman right away, but that did
n't help him figure out what was going on. Her behavior was downright baffling.

  Not that he was complaining. She looked quite fetching in tight jeans and a loose sweater, bending and stretching to inspect her logs. But he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what she was trying to accomplish.

  "What do you think you're doing, Fiona?" he asked, scratching his head.

  The candle maker jumped at his words, a deep blush staining her cheeks.

  "Er, nothing," she said quickly.

  "The park ranger says she saw you walking around with a bowl earlier. Now you're here dancing around a pile of logs. That doesn't sound like nothing."

  "It's going to sound silly," she said, twirling a strand of blonde hair that had escaped her neat ponytail.

  Funny, this was the first time he'd ever seen Fiona with even a hair out of place. It suited her.

  "Try me," he said.

  "I was talking to Luanne..." she started.

  He laughed. "That's your first mistake right there."

  "Don't tease. Her methods may be unusual, but her advice is always spot on." She glanced at the logs in the dirt. "Particularly right now."

  "Start at the beginning. What did Luanne ask you to do?"

  He braced himself for something ridiculous. Luanne's advice often involved strenuous exercise, stargazing equipment, and matches. The fortune teller had been in town less than a year, but she was already in Fire & Rescue's list of egregious offenders. She wasn't at the top of the list, however, that honor belonged to Caine Magnusson.

  "Actually," Fiona started. "I was the one who asked her to, you know, see if she could figure out what happened to Alicia."

  He'd been correct. This was ludicrous.

  Unfortunately, he couldn't just disregard Luanne's guidance. Rumor was the fortune teller was often right.

  "What did she say?" he asked.

  "She said I should do my own investigating."

  He glanced at the fire pit. "Is that what you're doing?"

  "Sort of. I actually started in the kitchen with..." her voice trailed off into embarrassed silence.

  "With what?" he probed.

  "Nothing," she answered quickly, blushing again. "I just had this feeling that I was missing something. Like maybe I'd heard or seen something that was important and I just couldn't figure out what it was."

  "About the oleander?"

  "Actually, about the bowl."

  He frowned. The bowl?

  But Fiona did not notice his confusion. She kept talking, becoming more and more animated.

  "At first I thought Luanne was asking me to use my candles, so I picked one of my products and tried it out in the back kitchen."

  "Tried it out? You mean you did a spell?"

  More blushing. "Kind of. Don't laugh."

  He didn't. He'd seen stranger things in this town. He didn't feel like laughing anyway. Fiona had been so worried about her merchandise being under suspicion, she'd resorted to unconventional methods.

  That was not funny at all.

  "It worked, in a way, but it didn't give me the answers I needed. So I took a break and went to help a customer."

  "Breaks are good," Gavin noted, feeling completely lost. What did candles have to do with anything?

  "It was Manny, that allergy guy from the Salem coven. He was looking for hypoallergenic materials." Fiona sighed. "I spent two hours explaining every single product and what they all contained. Even my soy candle line wasn't pure enough for him."

  Gavin nodded, still adrift in a sea of incomprehensibility.

  "That's when I remembered that Sandy and Richard had been talking about him. They think that Alicia put the dangerous materials in the fire herself, partly because Manny told them that he saw the bowl under the fire pit and said only Alicia could have put it there."

  "Really?"

  Now, that was real information. Maybe there was something to Luanne's reputation. But something about Fiona's reasoning bothered him.

  "But it doesn't make sense," Fiona continued. "The pictures you showed me at The Mangy Owl showed a bowl half-buried in the dirt."

  "So he couldn't have possibly seen it," he finished for her.

  "Exactly," Fiona agreed. "I brought one of my work bowls to try it out." She kicked a couple of logs revealing a bright red plastic bowl buried in the ashy ground. "Try it. Check if you can see it."

  He bent down and picked up a couple of pieces of wood. After a few minutes, he'd built a basic box-shaped fire. As far as he could tell from the crime scene pictures, that was the shape that the Salem coven had used. The bowl was buried in roughly the same place as in the pictures he'd shown Fiona.

  "Wow," Fiona muttered. "That's much better than mine. You got it to stand up in one try, too. Impressive."

  "I have experience on my side," he said. "Now, if it were a real fire, the inside would be full of kindling. That would obscure things even more."

  They peered inside. Even without the kindling, the bowl was completely covered. They walked around the fire, bending up and down to get a clear look.

  Nothing.

  "Sometimes they even do a pyramid in the middle of the square. Let's try that."

  He rearranged the logs and they took another look.

  Even worse. The pyramid completely obscured the bowl.

  He tried some of the more obscure fire-building techniques he'd learned as an Eagle Scout. He was fairly certain that the Salem coven hadn't used any of these arcane configurations, but he wanted to cover all the bases.

  The bowl was not visible in any of them.

  He rebuilt the box shape, took out his phone and took some pictures. Then he built the interior pyramid and did the same.

  There. Now he had something to show Sean.

  "He couldn't have seen the bowl," Fiona said. "Why would he lie and say he did?"

  "That's a good question," Gavin replied. "We should go talk to the sheriff."

  Fiona nodded.

  Gavin kicked down the logs and she picked up her bowl, cleaning off the dirt with her hands.

  Then she chuckled.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing," she said, still laughing. "It's just that I thought the candles and the magic were important, but they weren't. I wasn't supposed to focus on that."

  He frowned, still not sure he understood what she was talking about.

  "I was supposed to notice the bowl."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "I TOLD you it would work," Luanne exclaimed. She waved her wineglass so that the pale pink liquid sloshed over the rim.

  "It didn't work," Fiona clarified, putting on a pale gold blouse with a flirty fringe. It was her tenth outfit change of the evening. "I just remembered something I'd forgotten."

  "That's how it happens." Kat handed her a glass of rosé. "It's actually a very mundane process."

  They were in Fiona's apartment, helping her get ready for dinner. Her studio looked like a tornado had hit it, with piles of discarded clothing everywhere, along with plenty of wine and tiny cheese puffs. She'd asked Kat and Luanne to come over and help her pick clothes, and the impromptu fashion show had turned into a party.

  "No way," Fiona replied, adjusting the neckline of her blouse. "When I got here, I was told that you got rid of a homicidal ghost with a couple of candles and a box of kosher salt. That's definitely not mundane."

  "True," Kat admitted. "But the Hagen House ghost was a special case. Usually, things are a bit more subtle."

  Fiona snorted. "Can't get more mundane than Tupperware. That's for sure."

  "Try mirrors next time," Kat advised. "Mirrors are more dramatic."

  "No," Luanne exclaimed. "Don't do that."

  They both turned to look at her.

  "Mirrors are a very traditional divination method," Kat mused. "Why shouldn't she try them?"

  "I have nothing against mirrors," Luanne said, looking decidedly shifty. "Just...not yet. Or at least, not right now."

  "Does this have to do with your Ma
rs in Capricorn thing?" Fiona asked, still fiddling with the neckline. The blouse was supposed to be worn off-the-shoulder, but the style made her self-conscious. Surely there was some way to turn it into a scoop neck.

  "No," Luanne replied. "Mars in Capricorn is what's affecting your date tonight."

  "It's not a date," Fiona exclaimed, not for the first time since her friends had arrived.

  Luanne rolled her eyes. "That's exactly what I mean. Mars makes controlling people even more uptight and stubborn."

  "I'm not stubborn," Fiona said firmly. "And it's not a date. We're just meeting to discuss the case."

  "The case?" Luanne asked archly. "You two don't have a 'case.' Sean has a case. The sheriff's department has a case, and they're waiting to hear from the finance people. You guys, however, don't have a case. You two have a date."

  Fiona turned. "Wait, what finance people?"

  Luanne froze. "Finance? Did I say that out loud? I didn't mean that."

  Kat sighed. "You mean you weren't supposed to say that. Forget you heard that, Fiona."

  "Yeah," Luanne agreed. "Let's focus on your date. Where's he taking you?"

  "He's not taking me anywhere. We're going to the Chinese restaurant."

  "Of course you are," Luanne said. "That's the swankiest restaurant in town."

  "Which is not saying much," Kat admitted.

  "Hey, he's trying," Luanne countered. "At least it doesn't have a leering Boris Karloff on the wall."

  "True," Kat said. "The pizzeria is less than romantic."

  Luanne shook her head mournfully. "The choices are limited in this town."

  "We're splitting spring rolls, guys," Fiona interjected. "Not plighting our troth."

  Kat feigned a look of horror. "Don't share the appetizer. He has to get you your own."

  "Get the goat cheese and miso dumplings," Luanne said. "You'll love them."

  "Goat cheese and what?" Fiona asked. The combination sounded less than appetizing.

  "I know," Luanne answered. "But they're actually delicious. Amy found a new chef for her restaurant. He's really haute."

  "Hey, Lu," Kat exclaimed. "I thought you were taken."

  Luanne blushed. "Haute as in fancy cuisine. He worked in Paris and Tokyo."