Witch Way to Death & Destruction Read online

  Archie was in the kitchen, crunching on the kibble in his bowl. “And here I thought you rushed downstairs to protect me.” I chuckled. When we’d moved into the caretaker’s cottage, my coven had turned up to cleanse and ward my new home, with the reminder to keep the wards topped up or they could, and would, fail.

  “I know it’s probably my over-reactive imagination,” I continued, speaking to my cat who still had his face buried in his food bowl, “but ever since Morgan and Finn turned up I’ve been on edge. I mean, a sorceress and druid, here, in Whitefall Cove? Absurd.” I crossed to the front door, pressed my ear to it, as if I’d hear a demon creeping about on the other side, before laughing softly to myself and cautiously opening the door.

  The wind hit me in the face. I staggered, grasping the door to brace myself against the onslaught. Standing in the doorway, I placed my palm against the sigil marking the ward and closed my eyes, reciting the spell to keep evil out of my home. Opening my eyes, I sucked in a startled breath. There! On the dirt track that led up to the lighthouse, in the total and utter darkness of the night, two red eyes blinked at me.

  With a squeal I slammed the door shut, throwing the bolt across, my heart pounding so frantically in my chest I could hear it echoing in my ears. I sprinted to the back door. I had to strengthen that ward too and then we’d be safe. Tap, tap, tap went the tree outside. This time a gust of wind so powerful hit that the house groaned. This house never groaned. It was a solid fortress designed to withstand anything the weather could toss at it. Flinging open the back door, I stepped outside, raised my hand and placed it on top of the sigil, repeating the process. It wasn’t until it was done, the door shut and bolted, that I released the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, feeling just a tad lightheaded.

  “Oh God,” I whispered, dragging myself to the sofa and sitting with my head cradled in my hands.

  “Meow?” Archie jumped up on the cushion next to me and head-butted my arm, demanding attention.

  “It’s just my imagination, right, boy?” I ignored the trembling in my hand as I obligingly ran it over his orange fur. “If there was anything outside, you’d know. Right?” His loud purr was all the response I needed.

  I sat in silence and listened as the wind raged outside, eventually dozing off with Archie on my lap.

  I awoke to the sun streaming through the living room window; the powerful wind of the night before had dissipated to a gentle breeze. Hurrying upstairs to use the bathroom, I took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt, slid my feet into my red converse sneakers and hurried back downstairs. Archie was waiting by the front door.

  “Ready?” I asked, throwing the bolt and opening the door. He tore out ahead of me, found an appropriate spot in the garden and promptly dug a hole to pee in. Despite having a litter tray inside, Archie, I’d discovered, preferred to do his business outside among nature. Carrying my bag, phone, and keys I headed to my car. Unlocking the door, I turned to Archie. “Are you coming with me today, or staying?”

  After he’d finished his morning toilet break and buried his hole he glanced my way, then turned his back, disappearing into the dunes with his tail in the air.

  “Staying then!” I called after him, sliding behind the wheel of the car. Archie was the most independent cat I’d ever known. Some days he’d come with me to work at The Dusty Attic Bookstore, other days he’d stay home and sleep, and other days he’d take himself off exploring. One of his favorite places was the beach, and given he’d just headed off in the direction of our private track that led to the beach, I assumed that was his plan for today. That is, until I’d reversed the car and was just heading out when Archie appeared, carrying something in his mouth. Shoving the car into park, I rolled down my window.

  “Whatcha got, boy?” I peered at what he held in his jaws, hoping it wasn’t some poor little critter he’d found in the bushes. He mumbled a meow around the mouthful, then launched himself at my open window. With a squeal I pressed myself back against the seat to give him room to pass, hoping against hope that he didn’t let go of the poor unfortunate critter in his mouth. Of course, that’s exactly what he did. Sitting on the passenger seat, he set it down, then looked up at me expectantly. Reluctantly my eyes fell to…a leaf. My breath exhaled on a laugh. He’d brought me a leaf! Reaching over, I ruffled the fur on his head.

  “Thanks, boy. That’s wonderful.”

  “Meow,” he responded, then lay down with his paws crossed, the leaf safely tucked beneath him in case it had any ideas of escape.

  The drive into town took mere minutes and after parking behind my store I unlocked the door, fully prepared for Archie to burst ahead of me like he always did. Only this time was different. If the fact that Archie’s fur stood on end and his tail was straight up in the air resembling a Christmas tree wasn’t enough, the scent of sulfur in the air was a dead giveaway—something was up. Something of the demon variety.

  “You smell it too, huh?” I muttered, edging around him, putting my body between my familiar and whatever awaited us inside the bookstore.

  Stepping over the threshold, I paused, eyes scanning the dim recesses of the store. While I couldn’t see anything untoward, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end warning me not to be complacent. Slowly I reached out a hand, felt along the wall for the light switch, and flicked it on.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” The ghost of Whitney Sims materialized in front of me and I couldn’t contain a yelp of surprise.

  “Whitney! What’s going on? Can you smell that? Can ghosts even smell?” She was translucent enough that I could see through her but solid enough to block my view at the same time.

  “Smell it?” She scoffed, nose raised. “I saw it!” She fanned a hand in front of her face dramatically.

  “It?” I quizzed, leaning sideways to try and see around her.

  She touched my arm, bringing my attention back to her with an icy blast. Leaning in close she whispered, “A goblin.”

  “A goblin?” I repeated in surprise. “Since when do goblins stink of sulfur?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “What? No!” Venturing further into the store, I sniffed. The smell was dissipating. “Where did it go?”

  She blinked rapidly, and I caught the flash of guilt on her face but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “What what?” she retaliated, arms crossed defensively across her chest as she hovered by my side.

  “Where did it go, Whitney?”

  “Harper Jones,” she huffed, refusing to look at me. She drifted toward the front of the store and made a big deal about looking out the window. “I don’t like your tone.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tried another tack. Whitney could be high strung on occasion.

  “Sorry, Whitney,” I lied. “I was a little taken aback, that’s all. But it’s wonderful news that you were here and saw the goblin, yeah? What can you tell me about it? Anything at all will help.”

  “Well,” she began, turning to face me, “he was short. About this high.” She held out a hand two feet off the ground. “And his skin was this grayish color. Old skin. Like leather. Thank the Lord he was wearing some sort of loincloth. Catching an eyeful of a goblin…” She trailed off, face screwed up in repulsion. “Gross. Anyway, he had a flat nose, yellow eyes—not a pretty yellow, not gold, just a dull yellow color. He had pointy ears and pointy teeth.”

  “How did he get in?”

  “That’s just it. He simply appeared—poof! Right in the middle of your store.”

  “And the smell? Was that his body odor do you think?”

  She shook her head. “Oh no, that was his pee.”

  “His pee?!” What the hell? Whitney grinned and pointed toward a rapidly wilting potted plant in the reading corner.

  “He peed on my plant?” To say I was shocked was an understatement. How rude.

  “He did.” She giggled, clearly fin
ding the whole thing amusing.

  Blowing out a breath, I approached the plant, the stench of sulfur increasing the closer I got. “Darn it, now we’ve got goblins to deal with too,” I muttered, holding my hands out over the plant. I closed my eyes and chanted a healing spell. I’d never done one on a plant before and wasn’t sure it would be effective, but thankfully the wilting and yellowing leaves returned to their glossy green sheen and the plant stood tall once more.

  I had a thought. “Say, Whitney,” I asked, crossing to the front door and propping it open to let some fresh air in, “you’re a ghost. Jackson said the ghosts have been freaking out lately. What do you know about that? Have you heard anything?”

  She didn’t answer. “Whitney?” Spinning around, I scanned the store. She’d gone. That was weird. Whitney had died in my store and had decided this was her afterlife home. Initially, I only ever saw her when Jackson and I were together in the store, that somehow it was our powers combined that summoned her. Turned out that wasn’t true at all, that Whitney wasn’t tethered to me, the store, or Jackson, in any way whatsoever. With that new knowledge, Whitney would often pop in when it was just me. She liked to chat, to catch up on gossip and talk fashion, although I was of zero help in that department. For her to suddenly disappear—without saying goodbye—was another odd occurrence.

  Pulling out my phone, I dialed Izzy. “Whitefall Cove now has goblins,” I told her. “At least one. And I don’t know if this is relevant, but apparently, it materialized directly in my store…is the Dusty Attic situated on a leyline by any chance?”

  “Where’s the goblin now?” Izzy asked.

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tension pulling my muscles tight, “Not here. It peed on my potted plant and took off. FYI, goblin pee smells like sulfur…maybe we don’t have a demon problem but a goblin problem?”

  “Goblins are a breed of demon,” she pointed out.

  “Oh.” Darn. I was hoping for an easy, less scary creature to have to deal with. Somehow a troublesome goblin didn’t seem as bad as a demon.

  “I’ll pass that info on to Finn and Morgan. You raised a good question about Whitefall Cove and leylines, I’ll ask them to look into it. And Llewellyn is arriving today. He’ll take care of the goblin.” Before I could respond, she’d hung up.

  “Oh jeez, what’s that smell?” Wendy, my assistant, stood in the open doorway, hand covering her nose.

  “Yeah, it still stinks doesn’t it?” I grimaced. “I’m going to have to call Gran and see if there’s a spell to remove the sulfur stink. I hope it's not the same as skunk stink. I don’t fancy a tomato juice bath.”

  3

  Gran arrived, grimoire tucked under her arm. That wasn’t what had me staring at her in surprise. No. What had me staring with my mouth hanging open was her outfit, or rather, her lack of anything remotely outrageous. Gran was known for her eccentric fashion choices. Bedazzled Ugg boots and clashing tutus were the norm for her. Not demure beige slacks, a white, buttoned up to the neck blouse, beige pumps, and a small white purse on a gold chain dangling from her elbow.

  Wendy and I looked at each other.

  “Gran?”

  “Good morning, Harper, darling.” She beamed, her makeup so understated I wasn’t entirely sure she was wearing any, except for a slick of pale pink lipstick. “Don’t frown, darling.” She tapped a finger against my forehead as she breezed past. “You’ll get wrinkles.”

  “What’s up with the outfit?”

  Placing the grimoire on the counter next to the coffee pot, she glanced at me. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s not your usual…look.” I looked to Wendy again, who was clearly as surprised as I was, before turning my gaze back to Gran. “Is everything okay?”

  Gran’s eyes sharpened and narrowed, a flash of irritation gleaming in them before she turned her attention to the grimoire, flicking through the pages. “Let me see….” she muttered.

  Wendy hurried over to my side where I was still glued to the spot, staring in disbelief.

  “Something’s up with your gran,” she whispered.

  “You think?” I snorted.

  She elbowed me in the waist, hard. “No. Harper! Think about it. What did they say at the meeting last night? Report anything unusual, right?”

  “You think I should report this?” I was more worried Gran may have had a stroke.

  “I think she’s possessed,” Wendy hissed. “Look at her—your gran knows every spell in that book by heart. Why bring it here? And her clothes are a dead giveaway.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. How could I be so stupid not to connect the dots and realize Wendy was right? Gran was possessed.

  “Ooooh, this looks like a nice one.” Demon-possessed Gran clapped her hands and, before I could stop her, read aloud the incantation in the book.

  “Stop her!” Wendy hissed. “She could be about to turn us into toads!”

  I was one second too late. With a poof, the store was suddenly full to bursting with roses.

  “Oh my!” Gran declared. I couldn’t see her anymore, thanks to the forest of flowers.

  “Harper.” Wendy sneezed. “Do something. My hay fever is going to kill me.” She sneezed again.

  “On it.” Spitting a rose petal out of my mouth, I reversed the spell and as quickly as they’d arrived, the roses disappeared. Gran looked sheepish. Or whoever was possessing Gran looked sheepish.

  I snatched up the grimoire before she could try anything else.

  “It’s okay, Gran, I’ll take care of it.” I shot a look at Wendy, mouthing to her to call Izzy. She nodded. Taking Gran’s elbow, I led her toward the door. “Why don’t you and I go get a nice hot cup of tea, hmmm?” I suggested, sliding the grimoire onto Wendy’s desk as I passed.

  “That would be lovely, Harper.” She nodded in delight and hooked her arm through mine. I threw Wendy another look. Gran did not, ever, drink tea.

  “We’ll be across the road at Bean Me Up,” I told Wendy. She nodded grim faced, phone already in hand.

  We’d just stepped out the door when Gran squeezed my arm. “Would you look at that?” And pointed. Leaning forward, I peered around her.

  Coming up the street was a beaten-up old RV, the body covered in roughly drawn sigils. As it drew level with the bookstore, the exhaust backfired with a loud bang and a cloud of smoke spat from beneath the vehicle.

  I coughed, waving a hand in front of my face, catching a glimpse of the driver—a man in his mid to late twenties, dark hair, olive skin—before the ramshackle van rumbled past, straining as it towed a large trailer behind it. The trailer had a domed frame arching high from one side to the other. On the frame tied with twine, wire, and what appeared to be string, was a clear film of plastic, stretching across the frame. Beneath the plastic, dozens of plants, crammed onto shelves, hanging from the frame, pots of different sizes and colors filled the trailer. A mobile glasshouse. Despite its ramshackle appearance, it really was quite a brilliant idea.

  My distraction with the van and trailer cost me. I turned to take Gran’s arm and lead her across the street, only she was no longer by my side. Frantically glancing first one way, then the other, I could see no sign of her.

  “Great,” I muttered, hurrying across the road to Bean Me Up on the off chance she’d simply gone ahead of me. The bell above the door rang, announcing my presence and several heads turned my way with a chorus of greetings. But no Gran.

  “Did any of you see where Gran went?” I asked.

  Mrs. Helbety, who lived on the same street as Gran, responded. “I haven’t seen her all day, love.”

  “Oh, but she was just out front a minute ago. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten to.”

  “Are you sure? I didn’t see her and I’ve been sitting by the window enjoying my Earl Grey for the past twenty minutes. Didn’t see hide nor hair of her. Although I did clock the arrival of our demon hunter. Now he’s a bit of all right, if I do say so myself.” Mrs. Helbety w
as seventy if she was a day, and one hundred percent human.

  “Gran isn’t in her usual attire today,” I admitted. “You may not have recognized her.”

  “Ooooh, gone incognito has she?” Mrs. Helbety cackled. “I’ll bet she’s gone out to the campgrounds to get an eyeful of Llewellyn Cox. He passed by just a minute ago. You must’ve seen him yourself, Harper.”

  “You mean the beaten-up old van towing the homemade trailer? That’s our demon hunter?”

  “You’ll change your tune when you lay your eyes on him, rest assured,” Mrs. Helbety assured me, turning her attention back to her tea.

  Thanking her, I stepped back onto the sidewalk and cast my eyes up and down once again. How could I have lost Gran? I knew she was quick on her feet, and if the demon possessing her thought I was on to him he’d have made for a hasty retreat. I was considering my options when my phone rang.

  “Izzy,” I answered.

  “Wendy told me about your grandmother,” she said without preamble. “Bring her to Drixworths. Finn is here and he thinks he can do an exorcism on his own.”

  “On his own? Isn’t Morgan there?”

  “She’s gone to meet Llewellyn.”

  “Ahhh yeah, he just passed by here, complete with his own greenhouse.”

  Izzy chuckled. “Llewellyn is on the eccentric side, you could say. He’s a gypsy on a heroic quest and as such he needs a supply of herbs close at hand for his potions.”

  “Potions? He’s a witch then? A sorcerer?”

  “You can ask him yourself when you meet him.” Izzy cut me off. I could hear some sort of commotion in the background. “I’ve gotta go. Bring Gran.”