Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
"That's absurd."
Cosmo growled and swiped his paws, with his unsheathed claws slashing at the screen and Nick’s face.
"Even if I would entertain that stupid notion for a single heartbeat, then please, why would she not leave a written confession if her guilt drove her to kill herself?" I snarled. "Without her letter to the police, Jake’s death would have been written off as natural. Why not leave it at that? Isn’t it much more likely that she was murdered too?”
"A way out," Nick suggested. “That letter allowed people to know what happened to Jake, and yet she wouldn’t be held responsible. Her family, her heirs, could hold their heads up high. Her legacy would stay intact."
"You thought that through, haven’t you?" I asked suspiciously. "And only a moment ago, you told me that you did not believe that at all."
"I don’t," he said. "But others might. Others much more important to this case. I’m really sorry, Bex."
"Yeah, so am I. I hope that Detective Stone or whoever brought up this ridiculous scenario is going to publicly apologize once I’ve exposed the real killer."
"He’s only doing his job," Nick said.
"He should do it better," Ange protested. "Before he wrecks somebody else’s reputation."
"All these things that I have told you are strictly between us, remember?" Nick implored.
"Pinky swear," Ange said. She signaled to me to repeat after her. We all did.
"Pinky swear," we said in unison.
"Sorry, guys, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a lot of patients waiting to see me."
"Good. Thank you, Nick,” I said.
His head disappeared, and the screen went black.
"That’s why you were waiting for me so anxiously?" I asked.
Harper shrugged her shoulders. "I think you’ve been through enough bad stuff without having your found family around you. Sisters from another mister!"
Reina went and hugged her wife. "The big question is, how are we going to get the detective to figure out Pamela’s involvement? Gosh, I still can’t believe she’d do something like that. But then… you don’t actually know people, do you?"
"We know each other," Ange said. "Isn’t that good enough?"
"I think Nick should do the convincing," I said. "They have a working relationship."
Cosmo swatted his paw in a threatening manner. “Ange? Please tell him I appreciate his frankness.” Although the detective could thank his lucky stars, I wasn’t a fully-fledged witch yet, or he’d have spent a few hours as a toad. If that was in the realm of the possible for me.
The nerve of that man, acting nice and considerate, and all along he’d had the toxicology results at his disposal, and harbored vile suspicions against the kindest woman I’d ever met. A woman he’d already had autopsied without my knowledge when he dropped by.
"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," I muttered under my breath.
Cosmo swiped his paw at me. I stopped. Maybe quoting from Macbeth, aka the cursed play, was not in the best taste. "How about having that coffee now?" I asked.
Reina poured me a steaming mug.
"Cream or milk?" she asked.
"Milk is fine."
"You are surprisingly calm," Ange said. "If I were you, I'd be tearing my hair out."
I shrugged. "I would if I wasn't absolutely sure."
"Sure of what?"
"My aunt will be vindicated. Everything will be just peachy." The longer I spoke, the more convinced I was.
"That's the spirit," Harper said.
"Yeah, you gotta manifest that," Ange agreed. “We all should. We’re the crazy coven!”
Reina quirked her eyebrows but refrained from speaking.
I sipped my coffee and selected a blueberry muffin to go with it. Reina emptied my pastry box onto a large ceramic platter with a dragon motif, hand-painted by herself.
"That's better," I said.
"Yeah, what are you going to do now?" Ange asked.
"Well, I was thinking if you get your husband to see that the police look into Pamela's whereabouts, then I'll simply go home and get ready for library hours. Readers don't stop reading just because of murder and mayhem. I hope."
"I'll do my best," Ange said. "Anyway, I'd better get going too, or I won't have many customers left for my wonderful bespoke creations, plus the dogs are overdue for their walk."
She brushed a few crumbs off my lap. "That's better," she said. "Can't let you run around like a slob."
I had a new spring in my step as I took Cosmo's leash and led him out of the apartment a little before noon.
We took the back exit again so we wouldn't run into staff or early customers.
Although I was relieved to have my theory about the cousin confirmed, despite the disturbing news, I didn’t particularly feel like seeing anyone apart from my closest friends.
Also, I couldn't wait to get home because there were a few things I needed to discuss with Cosmo
I kept silent until we were safely ensconced in my living room.
"Did you know?" I asked the cat.
He blinked at me. "Pardon?"
"You heard me. Did you know that my aunt was murdered?"
He had the grace to avert his gaze. "I might have had an inkling."
"An inkling?" I forced myself to keep calm. "And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?"
"How would you have reacted if I had said, 'Hello, Bex, congratulations, you have just inherited the duties of the local witch. Oh, and by the way, you also have to solve the murder of your aunt and her next-door neighbor and friend.' That would have gone down well. "
"True," I admitted. "I’d probably have jumped into the car and driven until I was over the border to Canada if you’d sprung witchcraft and homicide at me like that. Or I would have checked myself into the nearest loony bin." I frowned. "Didn’t you sense that there was trouble ahead for her? Didn’t she know? What’s the point of this whole power thing if you can’t protect yourself? "
"That’s a good question," Cosmo said. "And yes, we can sense trouble to a certain extent. That goes for both witches and familiars, although I still prefer the term mentor. It’s just not easy to pinpoint whether it’s only something happening in the general vicinity or what form it’s going to take.
Imagine if we were to prevent anything from happening to us or to our human?
There wouldn’t be anything to stop our kind from running the world.
And we aren’t all nice.” He cocked his head to the side.
“You have to believe me I couldn’t be sure, not until your nightmares and the energy block. "
"Huh." I thought about that. I still had no idea what Cosmo really was or what he could do.
What I did know was that what he said made sense.
It was bad enough dealing with good and bad humans—I’d rather not be secretly ruled by beings with paranormal abilities.
Unless we were? The questions piled up. Once we’d sorted this mess, Cosmo and I needed a long chat, where I wouldn’t let him get away with vague hints.
"Are you at least able to tell if the trouble comes from another supernatural source or an ordinary human being?" I asked.
"Yes and no."
Why had I known he was going to say that? "Explain," I said.
"If it's a straightforward attack from another witch, or an elf, or a fae, or—"
"Wait wait. How many different species, for lack of a better word, are we talking about?"
“Not many, and with limited numbers. If it's a full attack from one of them, believe me, you'll feel it. Remember that hot flash that came over you, when you almost fell down because you sensed something?"
"Okay," I said.
"Now think of that, only times ten or more. Only, of course, you're a beginner, so you're not able to withstand anything of that magnitude and you would probably get hurt. Or killed."
"Great," I mumbled and reached for my amulet.
His whiskers twitched. "With great power comes great responsibility—and great toughness. Your aunt was a good witch, and she was subtle. Oh, so subtle. That’s rare and wonderful in a human." His voice shook a little.
I stroked his head.
"If someone similar to her had evil intentions, she’d feel something was off, but she wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what, unless there was a clear focus. Pure evil reverberates. But sometimes, people are … not really evil. Only misguided, or money-grubbing, or—"
"I get the image. It’s like catching fog," I said. "And she really had no idea she was going to die, despite all her power?" I swallowed.
"I swear." He sat up and lifted his paw solemnly.
"Okay. Good. Or not. What next?"
"Now," he said, "we return to the kitchen. The energy blockage should be lifting, if you’ve picked the right killer. You’ve got cookies to prepare and a life to live. And Bex, you did well. Your aunt would be so proud of you."
With those words in my mind, I allowed him to guide me through another baking session. This time, I felt the magic happen as I concentrated on bespelling the ingredients. I imagined lightness—deer and rabbits running over a meadow, an eagle soaring in the sky, the happy laughter of children.
And with every picture in my head, golden sparks swirled in the air.
I was getting the hang of this. When Cosmo declared that I had finished putting the extra touch on this batch of spices, I felt drained but also exhilarated.
"Are we done?" I asked.
"For now. We have enough left in the cookie tins for a couple of days."
He wiggled his eyebrows, which, in his furry face, looked slightly comical, but I didn’t dare laugh at him. He instructed me to pour the spice mix into a Mason jar and label it with Mix #3 and the date.
"Is there an expiration date for spells?" I asked.
"Violet always preferred everything as fresh as possible."
"Okay. That makes sense."
And now, we still had two hours until I was going to reopen the lending library.
He ponderously measured the length of the kitchen. Then he turned back and forth, and back and forth. Obviously, Cosmo had some heavy thinking to do.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"Good, I guess.”
“Not tired, or headachy?"
"Nope."
"Excellent." He switched his tail. "Then follow me." He took me to the secret lair. "Close your eyes," he said.
As I sat down on a saggy armchair I hadn’t even noticed before, he sounded very secretive and excited.
He jumped into my lap and touched my face with his paws.
"Now you can open your eyes again," he said. "Lift me down."
I stared at him in surprise. "Why do I have to carry you? Is anything wrong with you?"
"It's a test," he said. "Are you going to second-guess every single thing I say?"
I grabbed him and put him on the floor.
He sashayed over to a locked bookcase I hadn't even noticed before. "Open it," he said.
"There's no key."
"Concentrate," he said.
I did. "There's still no key."
"Turn around with your back to the bookcase and now concentrate."
“Concentrate on what?”
“Picture the lock and a key.”
I counted to ten until he told me, "Now you can move again."
I didn’t believe it. My jaw almost hit the floor. I could clearly see an old-fashioned brass key in the keyhole.
With bated breath, I unlocked the doors. Inside were a number of leather-bound books that looked old enough to have come here with the Mayflower.
"Take the first," he said. "Only the first. Don't touch the others."
The book had a distinct heft to it—much, much heavier than it should have been. I needed both hands to pull it out and lift it.
"Now go back to your chair."
I did.
"Blow away the dust."
I did that too.
And before my very eyes, letters formed on the leather cover. My Secret Book of Spells—Part 1.
"Wow."
"I hope you are ready for this. Because if you're not, this might hurt you."
I pulled my hands away. "I’d rather risk it," I said.
"Not that kind of harm. You don't think I would let anything bad happen to you?" He sounded sincere. "But if you start to feel dizzy or lightheaded..."
“I’ll stop.” I opened the book. The first page was covered in intricate drawings of flowers that formed a frame. Inside that frame, letters appeared. They danced all over the page, until they formed legible words.
I started whispering them.
"Don't," Cosmo said. "Not yet."
"Why?"
"You need to feel them. What do you see in your mind?"
I had no idea what he meant.
"Look at the page. Focus. What do you see? In your mind."
"A ball," I said. The stress ball.
"Now read the words."
I did.
Slowly, inch by inch, the stress ball I had put on the counter floated in the air.
Cosmo watched it with an excited expression.
My breath grew shorter.
Everything became a struggle.
The words I spoke were a mere whisper.
Then suddenly, the ball dropped. Literally. It hit my foot.