Witch You Were Here (Nightshade Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read online

  Then suddenly I am dodging fireball after fireball and don’t have time to think of anything but keeping from being a toasted treat for a troll as Broom Hilda swings right then left, up, and then down to avoid the rain of fire being thrown at me.

  Finally, I need to slow down or run smack into a solid wall of flame. I try to fly around the flames but they mirror my movements. “Rats! We are going to lose the race because of that…itch!” But there’s nothing I can do but wait until the flames fade to a flicker. “Let’s go, Hilda, it’s not over!” I shout as I direct her down to the river that is part of the route.

  Broom Hilda reaches a speed that frightens me as we dash madly above the river. I know there’s a big horseshoe bend to the left in the river just ahead. I think briefly about flying through the trees to the other side of the bend in the river in order to catch up with Red Sumac, but I immediately dismiss the thought. If I have to cheat to win, then I’d rather lose. Anyway, with the speed Hilda is going, I figure there is a good chance I’ll catch the Red Witch before the finish line, which is the tower of Hemlock’s chapel.

  However, as I turn the bend in the river I don’t see any sign of Red Sumac. What I see is the chapel’s tower. I think it’s impossible that the other witch could have reached the finish line already. What happened to her? Knowing that the rest of the pack of witches isn’t far behind, I still slow down until Broom Hilda is hovering over the swift water of the river.

  I hear a faint sound coming from the trees to my left. I strain but can’t decipher what the sound is or who is making it. I glance back but don’t see any of the other witches in sight so I fly toward the sound.

  “Help! Help!”

  The voice sounds strained, like whoever it is can’t get enough air to yell. Who is it? Is this another one of Red Sumac’s tricks? Maybe she wants to humiliate me by making me come in last.

  I glance back down the river and see a single witch rushing toward me with her long hair flying in the wind.

  “Help… hel…” The voice trails off.

  “Heck with the race,” I say and direct Broom Hilda toward the trees. The closer to the bank we get, the louder the weakening voice sounds. “Careful,” I caution Broom Hilda as we enter the trees. I have to fly slower than a fast walk to avoid the tangle of vines hanging from the trees.

  Suddenly I see the Red Witch!

  Red Sumac is suspended in midair by vines wrapped around her upper body, especially her neck. The nearby vines are writhing like snakes as they move toward her. I have never seen vines that can crawl through trees like snakes.

  What do I do? I try to think of something. I don’t have a knife, so I can’t chop them off her. However, I realize that if I don’t do something very quickly she’s going to be dead. I’m not so sure about dead dead, but definitely dead.

  I glance up into the tree and find the source of the vines, a huge green ball attached to the trunk of a big oak tree. If I can destroy the green ball, I’ll destroy the vines. I know only one spell powerful enough to destroy the strange green ball. I point my finger at the source of the withering vines and shout “Eamus Hinc!”

  The green ball and a big chunk of the trunk of the oak vanish in a flash of white light. I glance down and see Red Sumac falling. I am too far way to catch her but her broomstick slips under her and stops her fall.

  “Thanks.” The word comes out as a croaking sound as Red Sumac rubs her neck. “Why did you stop to help me after I cheated? You threw away your chance to win the race.”

  “The race didn’t seem worth the life of someone in trouble,” I say. “There will be other races; those I know I will most certainly win.”

  14

  Red Sumac and I ride across the finish line side by side so that neither will be the last one to finish. As we land in front of the bewildered spectators, Red leans over and whispers, “Meet me in my broomstick classroom in one hour.”

  At first, I almost decline but then I think, what have I got to lose?

  “Sure, one hour in the broomstick classroom,” I repeat like a dunce.

  “What happened?” Alfie shouts as he and Snowball come running out of the crowd to meet me.

  “I got sidetracked,” I say weakly, feeling that I had let them down. “I’ll win next year for sure.”

  “Yeah, we can come back next year,” the dwarf says, smiling. “They always have duck berry pie on Witch’s Day.

  “And unicorn milk,” Snowball says in a purring tone.

  “What now? Do we head back to Nightshade?” Alfie asks.

  “No, I’ve got an appointment with Red Sumac in her broomstick classroom in one hour. Maybe we can just walk around and see some of Hemlock.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. It’s lunch time, so why don’t we have some beggar’s stew and ale at the Lucky Coin Tavern a couple of blocks from here?” Alfie suggests eagerly.

  “Lush!” Snowball accuses.

  “I am sure they have unicorn milk,” the dwarf says, looking down at Snowball.

  “Good. Good. Let’s go there, Suzy.”

  “What choice do I have?” I ask, but the truth of the matter is that I am tired from the race, and the spell took a lot out of me. Stew and ale sounds good, although I do have doubts about anything someone would name beggar’s stew.

  The wood shingles of the building are black with age and give the place a foreboding appearance, which surprises me since it’s a tavern. However, I have come to expect the unexpected since driving through the gate at the cemetery.

  “Yeah, we are here!” The dwarf says as though greeting an old friend.

  “Little lush,” Snowball says.

  “Milk addict,” Alfie answers.

  “Stop, both of you!” I say as Alfie opens the door.

  I am relieved that I don’t smell kidney pies baking. Instead, there’s a delightful aroma that is totally new to me, but vaguely like Hungarian goulash.

  “Beggar’s stew,” Alfie says, seeing me sniffing the air like a hound dog trying to find a scent.

  “I don’t know how the stew is going to taste but I love its smell already,” I proclaim. I am also pleased that the room isn’t full of witches, since I seem to be mixing with the witches of Hemlock like oil mixes with water.

  The waitress waddles toward our table, looking at us expectantly.

  “Beggar stew and ale for us and unicorn milk for the cat,” Alfie says before I have a chance to speak.

  The woman glances disapprovingly at Snowball, who is sitting up in a chair like a person.

  “My familiar,” I say sharply.

  She looks at me and seems ready to argue the point.

  “White Witch,” Snowball says, glancing at me.

  “Hmm,” the woman says and hurries off.

  “They aren’t so friendly here,” I say, glancing around. The patrons I see are all men.

  “It’s a hangout for warlocks,” Alfie admits.

  “They aren’t usually friendly with witches, are they, Alfie?” I say, giving him a hard look.

  “It’s not like we’re going to hang out here all afternoon. Stew and a pint, and then we are off!”

  Since the dark-clad men are totally ignoring us, I don’t protest, even though the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up.

  “Look at that!” Alfie says, nodding toward our server. She has two tankards afire with blue flames. “Warlock fire ale!”

  I look, puzzled.

  “Only a warlock can turn plain ale into fire ale,” Alfie explains. “I wonder who sent it and where it’s heading.”

  “She’s coming straight toward us!” I exclaim.

  “Goody, goody. It’s been years since I’ve tasted fire ale!” Alfie is like a little kid as we watch the woman approaching our table.

  “From an admirer of the Librarian of Nightshade!” the woman says with a disapproving look on her face.

  “Who sent it?” I ask.

  The woman glances back. “He’s just leaving,” she says, nodding toward the door.


  I glance at the front door of the tavern and see only the back of a man dressed in black like the other warlocks in the room.

  “Give me, give me,” Alfie says, reaching for one of the flaming tankards even as the woman places it on the table.

  As I watch in amusement as Alfie lifts the tanker, I immediately notice a trace of white powder on the handle. Even as Alfie open his mouth to take a big gulp of the flaming ale, I react. I slap the tankard out of his hand, sending the burning liquid spilling onto the table and floor.

  “Suzy!” Alfie shouts in horror.

  “Poison!” I shout the word as I lean over and blow out the flames of the remaining tankard of fire ale. I sniff. “Caster beans!” I pronounce.

  “What?”

  “You are going to have to clean this up yourself,” the woman demands, looking at the mess I have caused. She pulls a damp smelly rag from her apron and tosses it onto the table. “I’ll get a mop,” she adds and walks away.

  “Who?” Alfie asks, his voice unusually high-pitched.

  “You are an owl now, Alfie?” Snowball asks.

  “Night Shadow!” I say. “I thought we had left him behind in Nightshade.”

  “How deadly are caster beans?” Alfie asks timidly.

  “Dead dead serious,” I tell him.

  “Uh, I’m not hungry or thirsty anymore,” Alfie says, growing pale.

  “Me neither,” I agree as I stand up and toss some silver coins on the table. “Let the woman clean the mess herself.”

  “My unicorn milk!” Snowball protests.

  “Probably poisoned, too,” Alfie says, just to annoy Snowball, as the three of us head for the door.

  “I’m still hungry,” Alfie complains.

  “Good, I’ll make a pot of soup in the cauldron when we get back to Nightshade,” I tell him.

  Alfie glances down at Snowball. “Is Suzy a good cook?”

  “Don’t you dare answer that question!” I say before Snowball can make some nasty remark.

  Snowball’s tail is suddenly standing straight up in the air.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” Alfie asks timidly.

  “Definitely!” I say, looking sharply at Snowball.

  “But what are we going to do while you meet with the Red Witch?” Alfie asks as we walk toward the Academy.

  “Snowball can chase dogs and you can chase trolls for all I care,” I say, annoyed at both of them. “Or else sit on this bench and wait for me,” I add, patting the back of a wooden bench under a shade tree in the Academy’s garden.

  I watch until the two of them are sitting down before I turn and walk toward the entrance.

  “You’re treating both of us like children,” Alfie calls after me.

  “And your point is?” I call over my shoulder, but I’m smiling as I open the door to the Academy. And run into a mass of students dressed like Halloween witches scurrying around as they head for their next class.

  “Sorry, civilians aren’t allowed in the building.”

  I glance behind me and see a tall man with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. His skin is pale but not as pale as Val’s.

  “Red Sumac invited me to her classroom,” I say as I note that he too is giving me a long glance.

  “Yes, she told me about you. The White Witch from Nightshade.” He says the name Nightshade with a sarcastic hint in his voice.

  “Yes, that’s me; the one and only.” I dislike the man and his condescending attitude. “The librarian of Nightshade.”

  “I must admit that I don’t like border towns like Nightshade. They are corrupted from the other side, while here in Hemlock we follow the old ways of life.”

  “Yeah, I heard. No technology. Horse and buggies and trains. Actually, I’m from the other side,” I tell him just to see his reaction.

  “Yes, I can smell the other side on you!”

  I am taken aback. I sniff my shoulder. “Oh well, I guess I’m using the wrong soap. I’ll have to ask my assistant which soap will take off the smell of the other side from me.”

  He wrinkles his nose. “None.”

  I just smile.

  “Red Sumac’s classroom is up the stairs to the second floor. Turn right and it’s the second door on the right,” the man says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And please do not go exploring.”

  As I climb the stairs, I mouth the words ‘Please don’t go exploring’ mockingly. I don’t know who the jerk is but he is irritating! When I arrive at the correct door, I knock lightly.

  “Come in, Suzy.” Red Sumac’s high-pitched voice filters through the door. “Right on time.”

  I shrug. “I try.”

  I see a row of broomsticks along the wall.

  “Trainers for first year students. They can’t fly high or fast,” Red explains as she flips a strand of her flame-red hair out of her eyes. She walks over to her desk and reaches inside the top drawer. In her hand is a book about the size of a copy of The Old Testament. “I have a gift for you.”

  I look surprised.

  “It’s for saving my life. Think of it as compensation for my causing you to lose the broomstick race.”

  I don’t know what to say as I take the book. I open it. The page of runes immediately begins to rearrange itself.

  “Spell Master Book of Runes,” I read.

  “I thought so,” Red Sumac says with a smile.

  “You thought what?” I ask.

  “Are you having problems with spells? Brewing spells, pentagram spells, and casting spells in general?”

  “I have only been able to use word spells. How did you know?”

  “I knew your grandmother. We graduated from the Academy the same year. I must admit that we were never friends. In fact, I hated her since she beat me in everything. I always ended up coming in second to her.”

  “You don’t look that old.”

  Red Sumac gives me a look as though I’m an idiot.

  “Magic. A witch never has to look her age. But your grandmother liked to look natural.”

  “Why are you telling me this...”

  Red holds up her hand. “She was a Spell Master!”

  I shrug. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”

  “Spell Masters can only use spells that they create. They can’t use spells other people have created, spells in books, spells memorized from classes, or their mothers. They can only cast original spells that they create from scratch. Once they give life to a spell, others can use it if they learn how. Spell Masters write the books on spells. They create the recipes for brewed spells. Only one in a million witches is a Spell Master.”

  “Ah…how do you know I’m one of them?”

  Red Sumac nods her had toward the book I’m holding. “Only a Spell Master can read it.”

  “Oh!” I exclaim.

  “It was your grandmother’s book. It was found on the floor of her cottage after the terrible battle against Night Shadow. I obtained it by…let’s just say I gained possession of it in hopes that I could use it. But it is pure nonsense to me.”

  “I don’t understand. My grandmother took me to the other side. She left me on the steps of an orphanage. Why?”

  “It goes back many years ago. When your grandmother, Susana, and I were in the Academy, Night Shadow, one of the most powerful warlocks in the realm, was the grand wizard in charge of the school. He had held the title for a hundred years and planned on holding the position for another hundred. After graduation, I got a job here teaching broomstick classes while your grandmother returned to Nightshade to become the librarian. All was well for many, many years. Your grandmother would visit the Academy often to see Marcus, the wizard who taught botany. They became lovers. When your grandmother became pregnant, she begged Marcus to come live with her in Nightshade. He refused, and they had a big fight. Your grandmother denounced Marcus and told him she never wanted to see him again. She returned to Nightshade and gave birth to your mother, who later married a half-wizard from the same town. You
were born, and everyone was happy.

  “But one day Night Shadow glanced in the Wishing Well at the Academy and asked it how much longer he would be the grand wizard of the Academy.” Red Sumac shakes her head. “It’s okay to make a wish at the Wishing Well, but it’s bad luck to ask it to tell your fortune.

  “On that day, the Wishing Well showed Night Shadow his fall from power and his ultimate death at the hands of a grandchild of wizard Marcus and Susana Maycomber. Night Shadow, who was a powerful wizard, called up a demon and asked him how he could stop the grandchild of Marcus and Susana from destroying him. The demon told him—or so I’m told—that he must kill Susan—her daughter, and her granddaughter. Then he must salt their bones to kill their spirits in order to save himself.

  “So, Night Shadow took leave from the Academy, moved to Nightshade, and became friends with your grandmother. He bided his time. You were two when he had charmed your grandmother into inviting him for dinner with you, your mother, and your father in the cottage. You have to remember that even though Night Shadow is very old, he uses magic to keep himself youthful. And living so long, he had learned how to charm and please witches.

  “That night, and again I’m just repeating what I heard, he killed your parents and tried to kill you. But your grandmother created a new strong spell that expelled him from the cottage. Knowing that he would return one day to kill you both, she created an exit spell to cross over to the other side. A few months later, she left you on the steps of an orphanage, along with her cup of life, and returned to wait for the battle with Night Shadow.

  “The battle again took place in your grandmother’s cottage. It lasted for two days as each created spell after spell against one another. But Night Shadow had lived for a very long time and knew secrets that your grandmother didn’t. He called up the demon of the dead to help him. Together, they weakened your grandmother. As she was dying, she created a forbidden spell—the withering curse—and hexed him with it.

  “He and the demon killed your grandmother but they could not stop her spirit from escaping. Your grandmother’s spirit fled to the other side and into the cup of life that she had left with you at the orphanage, as a refuge in case she lost her battle with Night Shadow.