Freaky Witches (A Mystic Caravan Mystery Book 7) Read online

  “Honestly? No. It’s just something I always had but was never allowed to talk about.”

  Raven’s expression was thoughtful. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than what I had. My family knew the odds of me manifesting were good, but they sat back and waited for it to happen. They thought it was funny the first time I set something on fire without realizing I was doing it. They laughed the entire night.”

  “Your family sounds like a bunch of jerks.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re long gone now.” She adopted a far-off expression. “I never thought I would miss them until they were nothing but memories and it was too late to change things.”

  “At least you had a family. I did, too, although mine wasn’t especially helpful.”

  “They wanted you to hide who you were, didn’t they?” Raven tilted her head to the side as she studied a nearby tree. “This way.” She pointed west and I didn’t question her instincts. While I was drawn into the woods for a specific reason, it was obvious Raven was being enticed by something as well. I was fine figuring out what that something was on her timetable.

  “They were afraid that someone would notice what I could do,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “They wanted to make sure I never gave the neighbors reason to talk.”

  “Did you?”

  I shrugged. “I think I probably caused a bit of gossip here and there. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. My parents didn’t live long enough to see the true breadth of my power.”

  “You manifested early but didn’t really grow into your abilities until after puberty,” Raven muttered, talking more to herself than me. “That’s not unheard of, but I find it interesting.”

  “I’ve never really thought about it,” I admitted. “Once my parents died, I had other things to worry about.”

  “You were in the system for a time, right?”

  I nodded. “I was too old for anyone to want to adopt, which was fine with me because I didn’t want another family. I was traumatized a bit, feeling sorry for myself. A few of the homes I stayed in were okay, but they were transitional. It was when they attempted to put me in a permanent home that things fell apart.”

  A sliver of a memory flashed in my mind, unbidden. An image of an abusive foster father who wanted to exert control. I’d learned over the years that the foster system was full of people who cared, who wanted to do the right thing. They made up ninety-five percent of the ranks. It was the other five percent who got the most attention, and that was unfair. Still, that was the memory that always haunted me.

  I didn’t blame the system for what had happened. Even when I fled to the streets, I didn’t tell anyone what almost occurred in that house. Instead, I forged a new life as a grifter and thief, which is how I met Max. I wasn’t sorry I’d run, but there were times I was angry with myself for not reporting that man and having him removed from the system.

  Raven’s expression was thoughtful as she watched me, clearly picking up on a few of my stray thoughts. “We’ll be back in Detroit in a week,” she pointed out after a beat. “You could make sure he’s been removed from the system then. I mean ... if you’re that worried about it.”

  I pinned her with a dark look. “Stay out of my head.”

  “Stop making it so easy to see inside your head,” she countered. “Usually you’re good at shuttering. You’ve been all over the place for the last couple of days.”

  “That’s because I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “Yes, well ... you need to chill out.” She was matter-of-fact as she rounded a tree. “Things will work out as they’re supposed to. I’m a big proponent of destiny.”

  In a roundabout way, so was I. That didn’t mean I could fight the urge to help things along now and then. “I have every intention of making sure things turn out as they’re supposed to,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “That’s good.” Raven’s expression was hard to read as she focused on the huge tree in front of her. “We don’t have time to worry about you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I shifted my eyes to the right and frowned when I realized what I was really looking at. “What the ... ?”

  “Runes,” Raven breathed, her eyes going wide as she traced a set of ornate carvings. Someone had been out here — and fairly recently if I had to guess — carving a series of ancient symbols into the tree. Given the woods’ proximity to the fairgrounds, I had a hard time believing it was coincidental.

  “Do you see any blood?” I asked, swiveling quickly to search the ground.

  “Why would there be blood?”

  “Because Darren Rappaport wasn’t killed in the same spot his body was found,” I replied without hesitation. “I thought maybe he was killed here.”

  “Oh. Good idea.”

  We spent a few minutes walking around the small clearing, and then I took photographs of the runes for later perusal. After that, there was only one thing to do.

  “I can’t believe you’re willingly calling the cops,” Raven complained as I tugged my phone out of my pocket. “That seems counterintuitive.”

  “We have to cover all our bases. So far, we’re not suspects.”

  “So they say. We don’t know that they mean it.”

  I searched my memory of the interactions I’d shared with Landon and Terry. “I believe them, at least for now. We have to go by the book on this one. If we don’t call them and they find this spot, we’re going to have a hard time explaining our footprints around the scene.”

  “We could modify their memories.”

  “To what end?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems weird to willingly work with cops.”

  “We’ve done it before. I think it’s the right move here. I’m going to call them and we’ll go from there.”

  “Okay, but if they’re jerks and turn suspicious, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Somehow I think I’ll refrain.”

  NOT ONLY DID LANDON and Terry not turn suspicious, they thanked us for calling them. They took photos — just like us — and then called Bay to join them. She was out of breath when she finally found us, her face flushed with color, and Landon looked alarmed when he took in her sweaty face.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded. “You look like you’ve gone ten rounds with Bigfoot.”

  Bay rolled her blue eyes. “Don’t mention Bigfoot in front of Clove. Early summer is Bigfoot’s busy season in this area and you know how she gets.”

  Landon smirked. “I do. That’s why I’m surprised you and Thistle haven’t tortured her with your usual shtick this year.”

  “We haven’t had the time ... what with all the other stuff going on.”

  There was something pointed about Bay’s statement and I cast her a sidelong look. “What stuff?”

  She pretended she didn’t hear the question and turned her full attention to the tree. “Well, this is interesting,” she mused, moving forward. She reached out a hand to touch one of the carvings, but Landon grabbed her wrist before she could.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to touch that?” he asked, his eyes wide. “What if it’s cursed or something?”

  Raven and I exchanged amused looks.

  “We touched it,” Raven offered. “We’re fine.”

  “I hear you’re dating a clown,” Landon shot back around a grimace. “That’s pretty far from fine in my book.”

  I was amused enough that I snorted out a laugh. “He has a point.”

  “Oh, don’t you start,” Raven sneered. “I’ll have you know, Percival is a beast in the sack. You should try a clown some time. You might find more than you imagine.”

  My cheeks burned as several sets of eyes shifted in our direction. “Thank you for that lovely ... sentiment.”

  “And not a beast like Bigfoot,” Raven added. “It’s more like he’s a beast like Ron Jeremy.”

  Sadly, I knew who she was talking about. “I so want to be out of this conversation,
” I muttered, shaking my head.

  Bay barked out a laugh. “Oh, you guys are funny. It’s like hanging out with another version of Thistle.” She inclined her chin toward Raven. “Of course, not even Thistle would date a clown.”

  “And rightfully so,” Landon said, shuddering.

  “What is it with all the clown hate?” Raven challenged. “There’s nothing wrong with dressing like a clown.”

  “I think you’re preaching to the wrong demographic here,” Landon said dryly, his hand clasped around Bay’s fingers. “But that’s not the point of the conversation. I don’t think you should touch those carvings, sweetie. What if you get cursed or something?”

  “I’m related to Aunt Tillie,” she reminded him. “I think I’m already cursed.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, but they’re not cursed.” Bay sounded certain of herself. “Besides, you heard them. They’ve already touched the carvings and are fine. If there was a curse, they would’ve triggered it.”

  Landon looked to me for confirmation and I nodded. “Fine.” He released her hand. “But if you get cursed, we’re going to have a really big fight.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Bay was thoughtful as she cocked her head to the side and ran her fingers over the runes, muttering to herself as she absorbed whatever message she found there.

  “It’s going to be bigger than the fight we had this morning when I found out you snuck out last night,” Landon added, causing my eyebrows to fly up.

  “You snuck out last night?” Terry was incensed, his attention completely on Bay. It was almost as if he’d forgotten he had an audience. “Why would you sneak out when there’s a killer on the loose?”

  Bay was calm as she shrugged. “We wanted to check out the scene where the body was found, see if we could figure out where Darren was killed.”

  “We?” Terry arched a dubious eyebrow. “Oh, let me guess, you had Clove and Thistle with you. The terrifying trio strikes again.”

  “They were a foursome last night,” Landon volunteered.

  “Ugh.” Terry smacked his hand to his head. “That makes things even worse.”

  “You’re quite the tattletale, aren’t you?” Raven noted as she graced Landon with a squinty-eyed look. “I bet you were popular in grade school.”

  Landon didn’t bother to hide his glare. “I’m not tattling. I’m merely relating a set of facts to my partner.”

  “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” Raven was clearly bored with the situation and had decided to make her own source of amusement. “The truth is, you just tattled on your girlfriend to her father figure. You want him to do the yelling so you don’t have to, because that makes him the bad guy.”

  Landon balked. “That is so not true.”

  Raven wasn’t in the mood to be trifled with. “I’m very good at reading people. That’s my job.”

  “Wait ... are you trying to make me the bad guy?” Terry was incredulous. “Is that why you tattle on her to me so often? It is, isn’t it? You want me to do the yelling so you can get all the kisses. You’re a sick, sick man.”

  “I could’ve told you that,” Bay said, her fingers busy as they moved over the runes. “I don’t know what these are.” She flicked her eyes to me. “Do you?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I’m considering doing some research.”

  “I think that’s probably a good idea.” Bay shifted her eyes over the clearing. “I don’t see any blood. If Darren was killed here, they did a really neat job of it.”

  “The blood could’ve seeped into the ground,” Terry pointed out. “We need to get some Luminol out here just to be on the safe side.”

  I could think of another way to check for blood — we had some very sensitive shifters in our employ after all — but now didn’t seem the time to broach that subject.

  “Go ahead and check, but I don’t think you’ll find any blood,” Bay said. “In fact ... .” She trailed off and jerked her head to the south, her eyes focused on the trees littering that side of the clearing. I followed her gaze, sensing nothing until the exact moment a waifish figure burst through the foliage line.

  Thistle, her chest heaving, rested her hands on her knees as she collected herself. “Your secretary told me you were out here, Chief Terry,” she huffed.

  “What’s wrong?” Terry was instantly alert. Bay may have been his favorite — and she obviously was — but he was clearly dedicated to Thistle, too. “Did something happen?”

  “I guess that depends on how you look at things,” Thistle replied.

  Terry growled, his patience on life support. “Tell me!”

  “Two girls came into the shop,” she volunteered. “Teenagers. They were young. They wanted Borage, Camphor, Comfrey, Devil’s Shoestring and Henbane.”

  Terry and Landon didn’t react, but the way Raven shifted told me she understood what Thistle was getting at.

  “Why is that an issue?” Landon asked finally.

  “Those ingredients should never be mixed,” Bay replied, thoughtful. “The Henbane alone is poisonous. The Camphor is dangerous ... as is the Comfrey.”

  “They were insistent,” Thistle said. “They demanded we provide them the ingredients. Instead of arguing and tipping them off that we were suspicious, we gave them what they wanted.”

  “Even though it was dangerous?” Terry exploded.

  Thistle’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “Well, we might’ve shifted out a few — or pretty much all — of the ingredients when they weren’t looking. We made sure they left with something harmless. That doesn’t change the fact that they wanted something dangerous.”

  “No,” Terry agreed, “but I’m not sure that’s my problem. I’m looking for a murderer, not two little girls trying to cast a spell they probably don’t have the magic to conjure.”

  Thistle glanced at Bay. “He doesn’t get it. I’m betting you do.”

  “We need to figure out what they’re up to,” Bay said without hesitation. “There’s absolutely no spell they could make with those ingredients that ends well. They’re clearly up to something.”

  “Great,” Landon blurted. “I think you should go after the junior witches and rein them in, and we’ll focus on the murderer. That seems like a great compromise ... and a way for you to stay in the house in the middle of the night.”

  Bay rolled her eyes. “Oh, geez! You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Not anytime soon.”

  “Well, then we’re definitely going after the junior witches.” Bay was firm. “I don’t need another lecture.”

  “I can wait until tonight,” Landon warned.

  “Yes, but then there will be chocolate cake to distract you.”

  The look in his eyes turned from worried to covetous.

  12

  Twelve

  Questioning teenagers over herbs seemed like a job for paranormals. Once Thistle started describing some of the spells they could cast – things that turned Landon and Terry ashen – they decided to handle things themselves.

  The second Thistle explained about causing heads to explode – literally, mind you – Landon started wagging fingers in Bay’s face and shaking his head.

  “No, we’re going to question them about the herbs,” Landon said firmly.

  “You don’t even know what herbs they bought,” Bay shot back. “You said not ten minutes ago that you were fine with us finding them.”

  “I did, but I’ve thought better of it. As for the herbs, I do so know what they are.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “What were they?”

  “Basil, garlic salt and paprika,” he shot back, refusing to back down. “Make me a list of the herbs and we will question them.”

  “You don’t know their names,” Thistle argued.

  “I ... .” Landon broke off, working his jaw. “Fine. What are their names?”

  “I don’t know,” Thistle replied, snark roll
ing off her tongue. “They paid in cash, so I have no idea what their names are.”

  I searched my memory of my afternoon with Luke. “Kaley Burrows and Lizzy Dobbs,” I answered automatically, earning a surprised look from Landon.

  “And just how do you know that?” he asked, suspicious.

  “Yeah, how do you know that?” Bay echoed. She was more curious than suspicious.

  “I was downtown with Luke,” I replied. “We were playing a game.”

  “That includes getting names out of tourists?” Terry asked, instinctively moving closer to Bay. I wasn’t sure he realized it, but he was essentially putting himself between her and me, as if I were a danger to his favorite newspaper reporter. It made me want to laugh.

  “I didn’t talk to them to get their names,” I hedged, wondering exactly how much I should share.

  “Oh.” Realization washed over Bay’s face as she stared me down. “You’re psychic.”

  I wasn’t a fan of the word. “I’m a fortune teller,” I corrected quickly. “I can see fortunes.”

  Landon opened his mouth to argue, but Bay shook her head and rested her hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “She’s not trying to sucker the tourists out of money or anything. You don’t need to go all FBI crazy.”

  “That would be a nice change of pace,” Thistle muttered. “‘The Man’ acts like a normal man. News footage at eleven.”

  Landon ignored the dig and remained focused on me. “How can you be sure those are their names if you didn’t talk to them?”

  “The same way you know that Tillie isn’t using food coloring to create the yellow snow.”

  Landon sighed and rolled his neck. “Fine. I don’t want to know any more.” He lifted his hands for emphasis. “We’ll find these girls. It can’t be that hard to track them down. My guess is that they read about this spell in a book and wanted to act older than their years.”

  “That’s my guess, too,” Thistle confirmed. “I thought it was wise to warn you all the same.”