Gone With the Witch (14 page)

“Five thousand,” Marigold answered without batting an eyelash.

My jaw dropped.

Harmony squeaked something intelligible.

Reggie gasped.

“I know it's a lot,” said Marigold, “but I want her back. She's worth every cent.”

We were still standing there, stunned, as Marigold thanked us all and waved as she went out the front door.

As soon as the door closed, Harmony read the Lost flyer again. “It's probably wrong that I want to find Lady Catherine more than Cookie right at this moment, isn't it?”

Reggie chuckled. “I'm thinking of closing the shop for the day, grabbing my scooter, and scouring the village. Five thousand dollars. Wow.”

“Once word gets out about this reward,” I said, watching Marigold cross the green, handing out flyers as she
went, “the village will be overrun with people looking for her.”

“Not if I find Lady Catherine first,” Harmony said with a sly smile as she headed for the door.

It wasn't until I paid for Titania's supplies that I remembered I hadn't asked Marigold any questions at all about her accident at the Wisp two years ago.

It was clear she hadn't like Natasha—she'd said so herself—but had she
killed
the woman?

T
he overstuffed paper bag of goodies I'd bought for Titania banged against my leg as I headed across the green toward the Gingerbread Shack. I'd ended up buying much more for the cat than I intended, including a comfy new bed.

I was a goner where Titania was concerned.

“Darcy! Wait for me!”

I turned at the sound of my name, and found Ivy fast-walking toward me. I recognized her only because of her voice. She wore a wig of long blond hair, a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a short black shift dress with red flats.

When she reached me, I said, “What's with the disguise?”

“Desperate times. I couldn't even sleep at home last night. I had to sneak in through the back of Fairytails to sleep in my office. I have Extravaganzers camped on
my lawn, roasting marshmallows over an improvised fire pit made from rocks taken from my garden. I closed the shop today so people can't keep coming in to ask when the Wisp will reopen. I've been trying to reach Nick about it, but he's not available,” she added, using air quotes around the last three words. “Can you get ahold of him?”

“I probably wouldn't get an answer, either. He's busy.”

Ivy dropped her head back and moaned. “Where is he? What's he doing? I'm a taxpayer, too. I need these people to get their things and go home. My life has been upturned, overthrown. I'm going to have to keep Fairytails closed until they're gone from the village. I'm losing money left and right.” She let out a heavy sigh and set her hands on her hips.

Never mind
their
lives. Just
hers
was affected.

Fighting an eye roll, I said, “Nick is at Baz Lucas' serving a search warrant.”

“What? Why?”

“Something about Natasha's death,” was all I said, unsure whether Baz's affair was public knowledge yet.

“Why do the police think Baz is involved?”

“Nick doesn't share that kind of information with me,” I said, lying through my teeth.

She paled. “So . . . Natasha's death
is
connected to the Extravaganza?”

“We don't know that yet.”

“But Baz was poisoned last year, and she was poisoned this year. . . .” She pushed a hand against her stomach. “Oh God. I think I'm going to be ill.”

“Don't jump to conclusions,” I cautioned. “We don't know anything yet. He's just gathering facts right now.”

After a moment of processing that news, she cupped her face with her hands and said, “Maybe I should go over there. . . . I just need an idea from Nick about the Wisp, a general time frame to tell people.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do?”

I didn't really have a good answer to that other than to tell her to chill the heck out, which wasn't likely to go over well.

“Try to be patient.” I handed her some of the flyers that Marigold had given me. “You can hand out some of these while you're waiting for word about the Wisp.”

She lifted her sunglasses, balancing them atop her hat. “Lady Catherine is lost?”

“Slipped out an open gate this morning. Marigold is offering a five-thousand-dollar reward.”

“Five
thousand
dollars?”

“She really wants her back.”

“I don't blame her, but wow. That's a lot of money. And what is going on around here?” she asked. “First Archie's almost birdnapped, then Cookie broke loose, now Lady Catherine is missing?” She looked upward. “Is it a full moon?”

“I don't think so.”

She said, “It sure feels like it. Listen, if you hear anything from Nick about the Wisp, please have him call me. Until then, I'll be hiding at Fairytails.” She held up the flyers. “I'll pass these out on my way over there.”

I heard her mumbling under her breath as she stormed off, tossing flyers at people she rushed past.

Shaking my head at her antics, I crossed the street. The bell on the Gingerbread Shack's door rang out as I pulled it open. The shop was packed. Every table was full, and a line stretched almost to the door. Three people were working behind the counter, none of whom were Evan. Seeing the employees made me smile. Not so long ago, he'd been avoiding hiring more help, but he'd come around.

I scooted past the people waiting in line and headed for the kitchen. Evan was the only one in there, and he
was flushed with exertion as he hand-mixed something chocolaty in a large bowl.

“It's crazy out there,” I said.

“The longer the Wisp stays closed, the better it is for me,” he said with a broad smile. Flour smudged his cheek. He set the bowl down and wiped his hands on an apron hanging from his slim hips. “Did you need something? Besides a hairdresser, that is? Starla's at the Magic Wand right now. I bet if you hurry, they could squeeze you in, too.”

“Don't make me take
your
picture.”

He laughed. “Did you need something?”

“Two things. One, I need an order sent over to the construction crew at my house. And two, can I hang this in your front window?” I held up the Lost flyer.

He took the paper out of my hand. “Lady Catherine, too?”

Tipping my head, I said, “Too?”

“You didn't see the other signs on your way in?”

I shook my head.

“Two dogs and a cat. All went missing sometime during the night. The cat was a village cat who tends to wander off from time to time, so it's questionable whether he's even lost, but the dogs were from the Extravaganza. Their owners had camped on Ivy's front lawn last night, and when they woke up, the dogs were gone. They're frantic, of course, and claiming someone stole them.”

“Did they see someone take them?”

“Not at all. But the dogs had been tied up, and the knots had been undone.”

Goose bumps rose on my skin. “Were the police called?”

“Yeah, but the officer who came out said they couldn't do much but keep an eye out. The shop's been buzzing all morning with talk of a petnapper on the loose.”

I thanked the Fates that Ivy hadn't yet heard that gossip. If she had, she might have to be committed.

He held up the paper. “Do you think it's possible Lady Catherine was snatched, too?”

“I don't know,” I said. Marigold
had
mentioned that she thought she'd closed the gate. “I don't know what's going on.”

But it was becoming obvious that something big was happening with the pets, and it had started with Archie.

I needed to talk to that bird.

*   *   *

On my way back to As You Wish, I stopped at Spellbound.

Marcus Debrowski was behind the checkout counter, while Harper lay curled on her side in a corner of one of the two deep couches she had set up at the front of the shop. A book was practically glued to her nose as Pie cleaned his paws from a spot near her feet. Harper was so intent on her reading that she hadn't noticed me come in.

Marcus caught my questioning eye and said, “She's been like that all morning.”

I set my bag on the floor, nudged Pie out of the way, and sat next to my sister's feet.

She didn't budge.

The shop was busy, and I was happy to see that it was an equal mix of villagers and tourists. Harper needed local support to keep the store going. Ever since she bought the place, she'd thrown her heart into it. From changing the decor to a
Starry Night
theme, adding community events that including everything from book clubs to toddler hours, to providing a coffee and snack bar, she'd made it known that she was willing to do whatever it took to make her shop thrive. People had responded in a big way, not only to the changes, but to Harper. They recognized that she put her heart in all she did, and in
turn, they were willing to open their hearts—and wallets—to her. She was quickly becoming a village favorite.

The man sitting on the sofa across from me stood up and said, “She's really into that book.”

As he headed to the counter, I tipped my head to the side to see the spine of the vintage book Harper held.
Witches: A Crafted History
. It was yellowed with age.

There was a whole stack of books on the floor next to the couch, each and every one the same color yellow, and all were about witchcraft.

Harper turned a page, and I peered over the top of the book. “Boo!”

She jumped, sending the book flying. It landed with a thump near Pie, and he let out a loud meow and hopped onto a nearby bookshelf.

Harper clutched her heart. “A hello would have sufficed.”

“I think not,” I said, retrieving the book. “You were in another world.”

“I was
reading
,” Harper said. “That's what books do. They take you somewhere else.”

I flipped through the pages. It seemed to be a history of the village. “Where did you get this?” It definitely wasn't a book she sold here in the shop.

“Basement,” she said. “There are hundreds of books down there about witchcraft. One of them is bound to mention something about the Elder.”

So that was what this was all about. I wasn't the least bit surprised. I motioned to the pile on the floor. “Did any of these mention her?”

“Well, no, but I'm optimistic.”

That made one of us.

“That book,” she said quietly, motioning to the book in my hands, “is different. I think it was written by a Crafter.”

“Who?”

“There's no author listed, which is unusual in itself, and”—she dropped her voice even lower—“it lists some magical abilities in here. Witches who can disappear, witches who can heal. No Craft is mentioned by exact name, but the person who wrote this definitely knew what he was talking about.”

That was very interesting. “But no mention of the Elder.”

“Not yet.” She lifted an eyebrow at me. “I was only halfway through before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Marcus came up behind the couch and put his arm on Harper's shoulder. She glanced up at him, and smiled a smile I rarely saw from her. Pure joy.

Oh yes, I definitely thought Harper had weddings on her mind.

“Coffee, Darcy?” Marcus asked, adjusting his eyeglasses as happiness radiated from his light green eyes.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I'm not staying. I was just dropping off one of these flyers.”

Harper took one out of my hands. “Another victim of the supposed petnapper?”

“You heard about that?” I asked.

“Everyone's been talking about it,” Marcus said.

“I don't believe for a second that there's a petnapper on the loose,” Harper said.

“Why not?” I straightened the rest of the papers. “Seems logical to me.”

“Not a single person's tried to take Pie,” she said, matter-of-factly.

I looked at the cat. He was still on top of one of the bookcases. Folded like a pretzel, he had one leg in the air as he cleaned his underside. “Yes, well, maybe he's just too . . .”

Harper narrowed her eyes at me.

“Protected,” I finished.

Marcus laughed and headed back to the counter to help a customer.

“He's hardly ever alone,” I added quickly.

“That must be it,” Harper said, nodding. “Any news on Natasha?”

“Not really. Nick's searching Baz's house right now.”

The bell jangled, and we looked up to see Starla walking in, Twink under one arm. Starla's hair was full and fluffy—and all one color. A sunny blond.

“I feel so much better.” She plopped down next to me and set Twink on the floor. He bounded over to the bookcase to see if Pie would come down to play with him.

Pie continued his bath.

“Now I just need that stripe never to come back. I hate lying to Vince,” Starla said. “I don't know what I'm going to do if . . .” She trailed off, then sent a bashful look at Harper and me. “Well, you know.”

I nodded. A marriage between a mortal and Crafter was a tenuous endeavor.

“No,” Harper said, a sneaky smile on her face. “What?”

Starla knew Harper was only teasing, so she shook her head and blushed more deeply. “Just be glad you're not in my shoes, Harper. You're lucky Marcus is one of us.”

“I'm lucky to have Marcus,” she agreed, looking over her shoulder at him, “but if he wasn't . . . one of us . . . I'd give up my powers to tell him the truth.”

Starla said in hushed tones, “That's because you don't even
want
your powers. I do. But I don't want to live a lie, either. I'm not good at lying. Case in point, you should have seen me trying to explain my hair. I spun this elaborate tale about trying to color my roots. . . . I don't think he bought a word of it. And if my hair explanation wasn't enough to arouse suspicions”—she leaned forward—“the picture sure did.”

“Picture?” Harper asked.

“I suggested we have our picture taken, since my hair was already messed up, and it was a lovely shot of Vince and a bright starburst. Then he insisted on taking it over and over, and”—she took a deep breath—“I might have to memory-cleanse him.”

“This was last night?” I asked, my mind whirling.

“Yeah. Why?” she asked.

We all spoke quietly so as to not be overheard by mortals. “Because I took a picture of myself this morning to see if the spell still worked. It did.”

Starla glanced at Harper. “How about you? Did you try a picture?”

She nodded. “Starburst city.”

They both looked at me, but I had no answers. “I don't understand.”

“I do,” Harper said. “
You're
still under the spell, Darcy.”

“Why me and not both o— Wait a sec.”

“What?” Starla asked.

I looked at her. “Yesterday, I asked you to check your camera for anything unusual about Evan or Ve at the Extravaganza. . . .”