Broomstick Blend Page 5

  “Of course,” Ted responded in a tone that signified I already should have known that from his nondescript answers. “Your mother was the one who buried it.”

  Yep. I remember now. And if that is the broomstick in question, we’re in big trouble right here in River City. B. I. G. with a capital T…and that stands for trouble!

  Chapter Five

  Have I mentioned lately that I love the benefits of living in the twenty-first century?

  “Leo, have you been laying on that vent all night? You’re going to get sick.”

  I’d set the coffee maker to brew a pot for six-thirty this morning, but it wasn’t the delicious aroma that had woken me up this bright and early. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe I slept more than a few hours last night at all—especially after Leo’s declaration. He’d also been absolutely right, confirmed with one phone call to my mother that had lasted all but three minutes.

  Yes, I’ve been here all night. And I don’t regret a second of this euphoria, although I do believe I’m having some form of catnip withdrawal. Either that, or you were casting spells last night. Also, I can’t feel my tail again and am in dire need of the litter box.

  “Maybe that’s because you’ve been lying on your tail for over twelve hours,” I said wryly, grabbing a coffee mug out of the cupboard. I debated just drinking it black due to the caffeine intake I was going to need to get through the day, but taking the time to add a bit of sugar wouldn’t hurt, either. “Mom should be here in a few minutes.”

  Oh, joy. I live to share time with your mother.

  Leo wasn’t my mother’s biggest fan, and I couldn’t blame him in the least.

  Have you seen my pipe? I’m going to need to smoke a hit of my imported premium organic catnip to get through this domestic ordeal. One could always hope the curse gets me first.

  I completely related to Leo’s reaction to my mother’s visit, because I was basically fortifying myself with copious amounts of coffee to prepare for the inevitable confrontation.

  Remind me again why we called her in the first place?

  You should understand that it was my mother who’d kept me in the dark about witchcraft. Her feeble effort to protect me had backfired. When she’d left Paramour Bay behind, she’d been pregnant with me. She’d sworn that she was done with a life involving witchcraft, and she raised me to believe there was nothing extraordinary or supernatural about our world. It was all just a fantasy, make believe stories for the movies.

  It wasn’t until after Nan had passed on and left everything she had—including Leo—to me that I discovered our true lineage. You might say I still harbored a bit of resentment, but the past ten months had taught me a great deal about forgiveness and personal responsibility.

  Raven. I don’t believe they’re buying all that malarkey. Your mother is actually certifiably insane. It’s okay to admit it. There’s no shame in admitting the truth. We all have one of those unfortunate odd sorts in the family, and your mother just happened to draw the short straw.

  “I truly believe that Mom thought she was doing what was best for me,” I defended, being one of those people who reserved the right to be the only one who could disparage my mother. There was a chance I should take a measure of responsibility for the alleged insanity. I might very well have driven her to it. I do believe that a therapist would have a field day with our family dynamics. Of course, I couldn’t discuss any of this with a regular human being. “Being in this world should come with a warning label.”

  I wouldn’t know about all that…

  I choked on my coffee in a bid to not laugh when Leo finally sat up from laying on the cool vent all night. Needless to say, he looked a bit worse for wear. Certain tufts of hair were standing on end, and I’m pretty sure he had a piece of lint stuck to the end of his nose.

  “I totally get it,” I replied, leaning back against the counter, changing my mind about drinking my coffee black. A straight shot of caffeine was definitely what I needed today. The Italians were right on the money there. They drank their coffee concentrated, like gunpowder. I was in total agreement that it was the proper way to drink coffee. “If there was any other way to deal with this current mystery, I would. All that changed the second you and Ted finally got around to telling me that Mom had been the one who’d figured out the broomstick in question was cursed…and that she buried it in an attempt to hide it forever.”

  Not very well, apparently. If you want the job done right…

  “We need the whole story, and what better way than to go directly to the source?”

  With the blackout coming to an end, Liam had been quite busy with helping those older residents reset their breaker boxes and restarting their AC units. He’d texted me a little before midnight, saying that he was just pulling into his driveway with a promise to call me early this morning.

  In the meantime, Jack was most likely bringing home Heidi. The state detective would no doubt be following up on the circumstances of the sheriff’s death, although I had no idea how long it took to get results from an autopsy. If I were to go by the police shows on television, he’d have already known how the man died in the middle of the town’s cobblestone square with the results of numerous complicated lab tests securely in hand.

  Witchcraft.

  “What about witchcraft?”

  I was confused as to what Leo was referring to, especially considering he’d just used the litterbox that was positioned next to the washer and dryer in the small nook off the other side of the kitchen. I was almost afraid to hear what my family’s abilities had to do with his bodily functions.

  It’s a wonder you actually function with that brain pan of yours. Have another cup of coffee, not that I think it’ll do you any good. I was answering your initial question about a better way than to drag your mother into this current predicament of yours.

  “Ours,” I corrected him with a sideways glance, refusing to be left alone in this endeavor. “You signed on for the whole show, Leo.”

  Yours. I was perfectly happy to leave well enough alone in my heatstroke daze, but you just had to ask about the broomstick. Anyway, I was willing to sacrifice my tail for the greater good, but I’m going to have to draw the line somewhere. Cast a spell, find out what we need to know, and then we’ll have no use for your mother. C’est la vie.

  There was a small thud against the front door.

  I scrunched my nose upon realizing that my mother had a tendency not to knock, but rather just let herself into the cottage. After all, she’d spent most of her childhood living right here in this very home.

  Leo sounded as if he were hacking up a hairball, but it was just his belly laugh at the fact that my mother had most likely flattened her face against the brass knocker in her attempt to enter through a locked door.

  “Not nice,” I muttered, shuffling my slippers across the hardwood floor. “Aren’t you the one always talking about karma?”

  Yes, and that was karma at her finest.

  “Morning, Mom,” I greeted, barely shifting to the side as my mother breezed right by me and straight into the kitchen. “Good to see you, too.”

  Physically, it was like looking in a mirror twenty-three years into the future.

  The Marigold women not only had the gift of witchcraft, but we all had the same long straight hair that was so black it shimmered blue like a raven’s wing. I accepted the green eyes and high cheekbones with grace, but I could have done without the wide hips. Some would say we had hourglass figures, but I argued with that description every time I tried on a pair of tight jeans. Honestly, my hips were the main reason I wore long, flowy skirts.

  “You have the wrong broomstick,” Mom declared as she set her purse down with a thud on the counter. She didn’t even bother to draw air before turning around to open the cupboard and grab a coffee cup. “Whoever told you that the item you saw belonged to Lucille Rebecca Barnes is completely wrong.”

  Raven, let me know when you revert to witchcraft instead of listening t
o half the facts from your mother.

  “Good morning to you as well, Leo.” My mother poured some coffee, hedging its taste with a bit of cream and sugar before finally seating herself at the counter without a strand moving in the black head of hair of hers. She always wore it up in a clip, whereas I preferred to wear mine down. “I see you survived the blackout.”

  We were fortunate in the culling.

  “Would the two of you stop?” I demanded, seriously in the need of some acetaminophen. A headache was forming that had nothing to do with my dehydration from yesterday’s events. “Mom, we have a serious problem on our hands. If Jack or Liam connect the broomstick to the sheriff’s death, then all bets are off.”

  “It’s been my experience that mere humans will always have a rational explanation for anything supernatural.” My mother calmly sipped her coffee as if we weren’t about to be exposed. She gestured that I should join her, but I was too wired to sit. Instead, I walked around the island and leaned my forearms against the granite countertop. “I suggest you leave well enough alone.”

  I hate when I’m forced to agree with your mother. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “You didn’t let me get the entire story out on the phone last night.” I set my mug down on the counter and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Jack knows that the broomstick belonged to Lucille.”

  Regina, don’t let her nudge you from your position. I have an entire day of lounging on a cool vent scheduled with my new edibles that should arrive by UPS momentarily. Let the man in the brown shorts sweat. It’s his job. I’m sure you have better things to do than chase around ancient myths from your childhood.

  I had been watching my mother’s expression very closely, and I could sense this tale of curses wasn’t a mere myth. Not that I ever believed that excuse, especially after finding out that my mother had gone to the trouble of burying the item in question.

  On a side note, you’re probably wondering about my mother’s name. All the females in our family have a first name that begins with the letter R. It could be quite confusing at times, but it wasn’t like we had family reunions when the majority of us didn’t even speak to one another.

  With good reason. Family reunions aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

  “Mom,” I began to reason once more, completely ignoring Leo’s attempt to delay the inevitable. “Trust me when I say that the entire town already knows about the curse. Eileen no doubt told Elsie, who in turn shared the gossip with Wilma. Once those two have a bit of chinwag…all bets are off. I’m just asking for the truth here. Can you tell me why you buried the broomstick without all the usual rigmarole? Not that the runaround isn’t fun and all, but I’m a little exhausted from the past twenty-four hours.”

  You’re using the guilt method. I don’t know whether to be offended on Regina’s behalf or just proud to be your mentor.

  “Fine,” my mother relented, though it was clear she didn’t like to conjure up memories from her childhood. “As you know, your grandmother included witchcraft into my everyday studies. I remember there was this lesson regarding cursed objects, and the example she’d chosen was a porcelain doll from the coven in Salem. Quite interesting, really.”

  I have a vague memory of that lesson. Your mother was fourteen years old and went around the cottage for weeks thinking every object in sight was cursed…even me, at one point.

  “A fourteen-year-old shouldn’t have to run around scared witless,” my mother exclaimed cynically before taking another sip of her coffee. Amazingly, her red lipstick didn’t leave even a smudge on the rim. “You should be grateful that I spared you the childhood of a young witch.”

  I wasn’t about to get into our usual argument. The only one who would win in that situation was Leo, and even he’d agreed last night that Jack and Liam shouldn’t discover the truth about curses. One thing usually led to another, and Liam was a highly intelligent man. It would only be a matter of time before he connected the dots.

  “How did you go from a doll to a broomstick?” I asked, making a mental note to discuss Aunt Rowena after this conversation. She still posed a problem in the grand scheme of things. “And how did Ted know that you buried it? He wasn’t even around during your childhood.”

  My mother arched a perfectly shaped brow and glanced accusingly toward Leo, who’d plopped himself back down over the vent near the spiral staircase. Only his left eye was open, staring back.

  What? I was lonely. I had to talk to someone. In my defense, I don’t even remember the conversation. In a better defense, the events of that time with the broomstick are very hazy.

  “Are you saying that you were bored back then?” I inquired with a smile. “Admit it. Your life is much more exciting now that you have me to advise.”

  Thrilling. I never know when I’m going to run through my tenth life.

  I couldn’t prevent my laugh from bubbling over. I’m pretty sure Leo had used up his nine lives ages ago. His being here at all was thanks to a necromancy spell, and I couldn’t be more grateful to Nan for making it happen. He might be a pain in my buttocks at times, but he certainly kept my life exhilarating, too.

  “One of my assignments was to research a cursed object, so I decided to go searching for one within our own coven,” my mother explained, tilting her head in a manner that told me she’d chosen the Windsor coven on purpose. She’d known how Nan would have felt about her decision to reach out to the very council who’d excommunicated her. “I was fourteen, Raven. Every teenager pushes back against their mother’s limits, and I was no exception.”

  See these crooked whiskers? I’m pretty sure the necromancy spell had nothing to do with the kinks in them.

  “Who did you talk to? Aunt Rowena?” I asked with caution, figuring Nan must have been devastated when she’d discovered that my mom had spoken to her former fellow coven members without her permission. “Wait a second. You were fourteen years old. Windsor is over an hour away. How did you even get there?”

  “I had friends who were old enough to drive,” my mother advised, careful of revealing too much. I’d have to bend Leo’s ear later, but I didn’t want to delay getting the information I needed to proceed with this case. “I hitched a ride, talked to whoever seemed chatty, and discovered that a particular broomstick was said to be cursed. No one knew what had happened to it, where it was, or who might have had possession of it.”

  “Wait just a second,” I practically gasped, straightening up from the counter. If Leo and Ted knew that my mother had been the one to eventually bury the broomstick, then that could only mean one thing. “You found yourself a mystery to solve. You actually investigated a case of a cursed broomstick, and you loved it!”

  Totally busted!

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, my dear.” Mom cleared her throat and picked an imaginary piece of lint off of her pristine white blouse. “I was fourteen, living in a small town with a secret. Going out for ice cream was exciting in those days.”

  Hmmmm.

  I wanted to ask what Leo was humming about, but I also didn’t want to stop my mother from finishing her story. It was hard enough to get her to talk about witchcraft, let alone any exciting shenanigans from when she was younger.

  It’s nothing, really. Just some notes I’m keeping for myself.

  “Spit it out,” I muttered, needing a refill on my coffee anyway. “Mother, don’t think I’m taking your word for it that I should leave the broomstick thing alone.”

  I’ve long since figured out the difference between you and your mother.

  “Me, too. Where would you like me to start?” I asked with a small chuckle that faded after receiving that infamous brow arch from my mother. I cleared my throat as I made the decision to add cream and sugar to my coffee for this next round. “Leo?”

  Easily detectable, now that I think about it. The secret of your family weighed heavily on Regina’s shoulders, and she was serious when undertaking every endeavor. You? Well, you blurted your secret o
ut to Heidi in record time and dove headfirst into this sleuthing business. Your do-good meter is off the charts, whereas your mother’s self-preservation ranked higher above all else.

  “Self-preservation was what had me burying that darn broomstick in the first place.” My mother slid her mug over the counter for a refill. Seeing as I already had out the cream and sugar, it didn’t take me long to make her another cup of coffee. “After a bit of digging—no pun intended, dear—I was able to trace the broomstick back to a descendant of the Barnes family. This older woman had died, though the authorities had assumed it was due to heart failure. There was an estate auction soon afterward, and all of the woman’s belongings had been sold off. It took me all summer to figure out who bought the broomstick, but by then it was too late.”

  “Too late…you mean dead too late?”

  Speaking of late, the UPS man should have been here by now. He better not have skipped out with my edibles.

  “Well, yes.” Mom paused to take a sip of the coffee I’d made her, her pinky automatically lifting into the air. “The man who’d purchased many items from the estate sale had fallen off a ladder and died at the hospital a few short days later. At that time, I figured it was best to explain to your grandmother what I’d discovered in my research.”

  Speaking of research, would you hop online and check the tracking number on my shipment? It cost you a lot of money, you know. It would be a shame not to receive it.

  “What happened then?” I asked, settling my forearms back onto the granite. I felt like that little girl at Christmas when her parents told stories from their childhood. I’d been denied these family tales until the age of thirty, and even then getting my mother to talk was like taking a chisel to a boulder. “What was Nan’s reaction?”

  “Pride mixed with sheer horror,” Mom explained with what I thought might very well be a fond smile. “Well, I’d wanted to utilize a spell to get rid of the curse. Your grandmother was quick to explain that curses were a bit more complex than that, and one shouldn’t try to outdo another witch’s ritual handiwork. Apparently, there was only one recourse.”