Witchy Dreams Read online

  I was so engrossed in my work that I didn’t see Edith float through the wall and join me in my research.

  “Why are you looking like that?”

  “A boy was found in the Harrow Bluff corn maze this morning,” I explained. “He had his heart cut out.”

  “That’s awful,” Edith intoned. “Was it done with a chainsaw?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it was done with a simple knife,” I replied. I didn’t know if that was better or worse, though.

  “Was he from town?”

  “They don’t think so,” I said. “No one recognized him. The state police are trying to find out who he is through dental records.”

  Edith’s gaze was focused on my computer screen. “And the police think it was ritualistic? Like a cult?”

  “They don’t know. They think it’s a possibility, though. I was just doing my own research.”

  “Well, I hope that it’s not devil worshippers,” Edith said. “The last thing this town needs is devil worshippers – what with all the witches and everything.”

  I tried not to let her comments hurt me – but it wasn’t an easy endeavor. I knew she didn’t mean me specifically, but since I was the only one in town who could see and talk to her, I thought she would show a little restraint. If only for my benefit.

  Edith didn’t seem to notice my sudden discomfort. Or, maybe she did, and she chose instead to ignore it. “This won’t be good for the town,” she said.

  “It’s not good for anybody.”

  I left the office after another twenty minutes of research and decided to go to Hypnotic to tell Clove and Thistle what had happened. I knew they would never forgive me if I didn’t give them the details myself. Plus, I wanted to get their thoughts on ritualistic murders. I didn’t think they knew any more than I did – but it never hurts to check.

  When I entered the shop, I was surprised to see them anxiously waiting for me. Thistle was even pacing, not even pretending to do work. They both greeted me excitedly.

  “Is what everyone says true?” Clove asked breathlessly. “Was there a body in the new corn maze?”

  I nodded stiffly and sank down on the couch. Thistle brought me a cup of tea, pushing it into my hand. I accepted it absentmindedly.

  “Who was it?”

  “They don’t know. Chief Terry didn’t recognize him. He doesn’t think he’s from Hemlock Cove.”

  “Why would someone kill an outsider and then bring them here?” Clove asked. “Or maybe he came to the corn maze and was killed here instead?”

  “That’s a good question,” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell them. Chief Terry hadn’t told me to keep my mouth shut – and he knew I essentially told them everything.

  “How did he die?” Clove asked. She was understandably curious, which I understood, but she was almost excited by the day’s events. I found that disturbing. This was the biggest thing to happen in Hemlock Cove in, well, forever, though. She wasn’t going to be dissuaded from getting the answers she sought.

  “He was stabbed to death,” I finally said. I still wasn’t sure they needed to hear everything. I knew everything – and I knew I would never be able to forget the details, or the sight of that horrible scarecrow.

  “Someone said his heart was cut out,” Thistle offered.

  “Who told you that?” I guess I didn’t have to worry about shocking them with the gruesome story – they already knew most of it.

  “Mrs. Gunderson. She told me when I went to get donuts.” Of course.

  “How did she know?”

  “Everyone in town knows.” Thistle seemed surprised that I would think this would be able to be kept quiet – even for an afternoon. Nothing in this town ever stayed a true secret.

  “How?”

  Thistle shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s a small town, though. They probably all hooked their tin cans together and spread the word.”

  She was probably right. If I had to guess, Mrs. Little was the source of the leak. She never met a piece of gossip that she didn’t like to spread. This would be like Christmas to her – and she would be the center of attention for curious townspeople.

  “Someone said you discovered the body,” Clove said. She was far too into this story. It had become macabre.

  “Technically, it was Emily.”

  “Who is Emily?”

  “That girl from the inn last night.”

  “The one with all the questions? The one who just got married to that annoying guy who wouldn’t stop talking about himself at dinner?”

  “Yeah.”

  Clove and Thistle realized I was still digesting everything I’d seen, so they wisely backed off for a few minutes. They let me sit with my thoughts as long as they could, but Clove just couldn’t contain herself.

  “Was there a lot of blood?”

  I blew out a sigh. “I didn’t see a lot of blood. I just saw his hand and it had a little blood on it. He had a mask on, though, so I couldn’t see his face. He had overalls on, too, so any damage done to the body was hidden.”

  “What kind of mask?”

  “It was one of those Mardi Gras masks.”

  “That’s weird.”

  This whole thing was weird. The mask was the least of my worries.

  “Did you see a ghost?” Thistle asked.

  I stopped at the question and pondered it for a second. “I don’t think so. I wasn’t really looking for one.” I mentally kicked myself. Why hadn’t I been looking? The boy had obviously died a violent death. If anyone was going to come back as a ghost, it would be him.

  “Maybe all the cops scared him away?” Thistle suggested.

  “Or maybe he wasn’t killed there,” Clove offered. This was the second time she had brought up that scenario. I couldn’t tell if she was hoping that was the case or not. I wasn’t sure if the boy dying in Hemlock Cove would ultimately make much of a difference – but it obviously was important to her.

  I nodded my head silently. “That’s possible. Or maybe there’s no ghost at all? They don’t all come back as ghosts.”

  “Do most ghosts hang out where they’re killed? Or do they follow their bodies?” Thistle was genuinely curious.

  “How would I know?” They were starting to irritate me.

  “You’re the one who talks to ghosts,” Clove said rationally.

  “It’s not like I do it on a daily basis.”

  Thistle raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Well, except for Edith,” I amended. “And she died in the same place her body was found.”

  “What about in Detroit? You must have seen a lot of ghosts there?”

  I quirked my head as I considered the question. “There’s so many people around there, though, that I probably was seeing ghosts without realizing it.”

  “You didn’t talk to a ghost the whole time you were down there?”

  “No, I did.”

  “Well, where were they hanging out?”

  I pondered the question for a few seconds before answering. “I saw most of them in cemeteries,” I finally said. “At least the ones I knew were ghosts.”

  “So, that means they follow their bodies,” Thistle deduced.

  “I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules when you’re a ghost,” I said, my contempt obvious. “It’s not like they get a handbook, like in Beetlejuice. They pretty much do whatever they want.”

  “She’s probably right,” Clove said ruefully.

  Of course I was right. I’m always right. When will they realize that?

  “I think it probably varies from ghost to ghost,” I added, trying to keep my irritation in check. Why are we discussing this again?

  “I have an idea,” Thistle finally said.

  Oh great. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Don’t you even want to hear what it is?” Thistle knew I didn’t want to hear what it was, but that wasn’t going to stop her from te
lling me. I honestly don’t even know why I’m putting up a fight. I’m going to lose.

  “Not really.” I sipped my tea and pretended to look around the store. I refused to meet her gaze. I knew exactly what her idea was going to be – and it was not something I was looking forward to – or something I wanted to entertain at all frankly.

  “I want to hear what it is?” Clove said innocently. Sometimes, when she slips into naïve ignorance mostly, she drives me crazy.

  “No, you don’t,” I admonished her.

  Clove must have finally caught on to what Thistle was insinuating. “Oh, that’s a great idea!”

  “It is not,” I grumbled.

  “You don’t want to know? You don’t want to help him?” Oh, sure, guilt me. That’s a great way to approach the problem.

  I didn’t answer.

  “You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t know,” Thistle admonished me. She knew she had already won, though.

  I knew they were right. I blew out another sigh – I seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Fine, but I’m not going alone.”

  “We’ll go tonight,” Thistle said, rubbing her hands excitedly. She did love a good adventure. We had all tried to find a pirate ship in Lake Michigan after seeing The Goonies as kids. We were almost charged with trespassing, if I remember correctly. I doubted this would be a fun excursion, though. Since we’d been grounded for a month, The Goonies adventure hadn’t turned out all to be that fun either.

  “Why are we going after dark?” Clove protested. Her bravado was slipping.

  “So no one sees us,” Thistle responded sharply. “If someone sees us going there during daylight hours they’ll think it’s suspicious.”

  “And if they catch us there at night? You don’t think they’ll find that suspicious?”

  She had a point.

  “Of course,” Thistle said calmly. “But hopefully no one will see us in the dark.” Yeah, because we’ll suddenly become invisible and able to fly.

  Great. We were going to explore a corn maze, in the dark, in the hopes of finding the ghost of a murdered teenage boy who had his heart cut out. What could go wrong with this scenario? How about everything?

  Seven

  You might think going on a secret mission with your cousins sounds like fun. If that’s the case, then I’m telling the story wrong. It’s never fun. The fact that I let Thistle and Clove talk me into it was a commentary on how weak I am – I can never tell them no – or how great their powers of persuasion are.

  I knew all of this going in. Yet, at midnight, I found myself dressed in black and ready to break about three different local laws and ordinances.

  I had to stifle an actual groan when I saw Clove wander out of her bedroom. We’d all agreed to dress in black – although Thistle’s idea of black included a disco sequined tank top – but Clove had actually painted her face like we were about to go hunt and kill something in the woods.

  “What’s with the paint?” I grumbled.

  “We’re all very pale. You should put some on, too. Otherwise, we’ll stand out in the dark and it will be more likely that we get caught.”

  Thistle, usually the voice of reason in a situation like this, grabbed the canister of paint from Clove and immediately started lathering it on her face. When she was done, she handed it to me.

  “I’m not wearing that,” I argued.

  “If you don’t and we get caught, we’re blaming you,” Thistle warned ominously.

  Crap.

  I reluctantly took the canister from Thistle and dabbed a little bit on my face. When Thistle was still staring at me reprovingly, I sighed and followed the pattern the two of them had used. When I glanced at myself in the mirror afterward, I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous we all looked.

  Clove smiled at our reflection in the mirror as she stepped up between the two of us. “We look really cute. We should take a picture.”

  Cute wasn’t the word I was thinking about using – but I didn’t bother voicing that concern. I knew it would get me nowhere. I also wasn’t going to take a picture so the cops could use it at our trial at a later date.

  Clove started digging through her purse and pulled out a black knit hat and handed it to me.

  “Why do I have to wear a knit hat?” I sounded whiny – even to myself.

  “You have blonde hair,” Clove pointed out, like I hadn’t noticed.

  “So?”

  “My hair is dark and Thistle’s is blue. They won’t stand out. Yours will stand out. You have to wear it.”

  “I don’t want to wear a hat,” I muttered.

  “Just put it on and stop being a baby,” Thistle admonished.

  “I’m not being a baby,” I grumbled, pulling the hat on. Clove came over to me and shoved the rest of my hair up under the hat. The look she gave me was daring me to complain. I wisely decided against it.

  “There,” she said when she was finished.

  We had decided that the best way to get to the corn maze was to walk. All of our vehicles were too easily recognizable. It would take us about forty-five minutes to get to the field – but we all agreed that sounded like the safest bet in the long run.

  “Chief Terry may have a crush on all of our moms, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing us in jail if the state police are there,” Thistle had argued.

  I couldn’t deny that she had a point. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to a 45-minute walk in the middle of the night. Crazy, I know.

  We left the guesthouse and made our way along the cobblestone path at the back of the property. If we avoided the roads, not only would we shorten our trip – but we would also have less of a chance of being captured.

  Most of the residents in the area avoided the back of our property like the plague. The property was gorgeous, mind you, but years ago our ancestors had set up a special clearing in the forest for Pagan festivals. Through the years, our moms and aunts had started throwing solstice celebrations and equinox engagements in the clearing. Depending on how much liquor was imbibed at these celebrations, they often ended up in nude dances under the moonlight. People didn’t risk cutting through our woods anymore. Once you’ve seen middle-aged boobs that big flopping around – you wouldn’t risk it either.

  After leaving our woods, we followed the main road toward the corn maze. Clove wanted to cut across the county’s park – but Thistle and I quickly vetoed that suggestion.

  “We’ll get lost,” I argued.

  “It will be too creepy,” Thistle offered.

  “You guys are no fun,” Clove grumbled.

  In truth, I don’t think any of us really wanted to chance cutting across the land. It wasn’t exactly flat. And if one of us fell and required medical attention, we would have a bitch of a time explaining why we were there.

  During our trek, we chatted amiably with one another. We were always comfortable when we were together – even if we were about to commit a felony. Briefly, I wondered what anyone would think if they saw us dressed like this.

  Once, we saw a pair of headlights heading our way and dived into the ditch to hide. The truck had passed by us quickly, though, and we remained unnoticed.

  “Whew, that was close,” Clove was brushing the dirt off her outfit.

  “It wasn’t that close. We were in the ditch for a full two minutes before the truck passed us by,” I argued. I get crabby late at night – and early in the morning – especially when I’m doing something that I expressly don’t want to do.

  “Still, it could have been dangerous,” Clove said conspiratorially. “What if that was the killer?”

  “That was old Mr. Browden,” Thistle argued. “I recognized his truck. He’s probably going down to the pond to go frogging.”

  Clove wasn’t going to be deterred from her excitement. “We don’t actually know that’s what he was doing. Have any of us actually seen him catch a frog?”

  She had a point. Of course, I didn’t point out that none of us would have the patience to actually sit
there and watch him try to catch a frog either. His frog-catching abilities were legendary around town, though.

  When we finally got to the corn maze, we approached the area carefully. We could see the yellow police tape glinting under the moonlight – but everything else was dark and quiet. I scanned the area briefly – looking to see if I could see a hidden police car.

  “Do you see anything?” Thistle asked, clearly doubtful.

  “No. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s take a quick look around the back of the maze to be sure,” I whispered.

  Thistle nodded silently. We all moved together as a unit. It probably took an extra fifteen minutes to check out the back of the maze, but I think we all felt better once the deed was done. When we were back at the entrance to the maze, Thistle and Clove looked to me expectantly.

  “What?”

  “You go first,” Thistle licked her lips nervously.

  “Why do I have to go first? This was your idea.”

  “You know where you’re going,” Thistle argued, although I could tell, now that we were here, she didn’t think it was such a great idea anymore.

  “She’s right,” Clove said, moving in between the two of us warily. “You know where you’re going. I’ll be in the middle. Thistle, you take the rear.”

  “You always take her side,” I muttered as I reluctantly moved into the corn maze.

  I pulled out the flashlight I had tucked into the waistband of my black stretchy pants and flicked it on.

  “Should we risk having that on?” Thistle hissed.

  “How do you suggest we find our way otherwise? The hay is so tall in there, it will block out the moon and we don’t want any of the hay bales tumbling on top of us. Do you really want to feel your way around – especially knowing someone left a dead body in here less than twenty-four hours ago?”

  “She has a point,” Clove said nervously.

  “Oh, now you’re on my side,” I shot back sarcastically.