Counterfeits and Cauldrons: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 6) Read online

  “Counterfeits and Cauldrons”

  Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery

  Harper "Foxxy" Beck Series Book 6

  Raven Snow

  © 2016

  Raven Snow

  Disclaimer

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received it directly from the author you are reading a pirated copy. If you have downloaded an illegal copy of this book & enjoyed it, please consider purchasing a legal copy. Your respect & support encourages me to continue writing & producing high quality books for you.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover images are licensed stock photos, images shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are models.

  Edition v1.00 (2016.07.24)

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  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter One

  “That girl is a man eater—in the cannibalistic way,” I said, sliding into a booth with fading vinyl seats, my hips colliding with Victoria Chase’s as my roller skates took me a little too far.

  Vic, a friend both old and new, looked up at me, circles under her eyes. Her hair was flat and greasy from sweating profusely earlier in the day. Unlike when I’d known her in high school, Vic was no longer built like a typical cheerleader, her spandex-covered body now more comparable to a brick house: sturdy, bulky, and faintly red from a bad tanning bed experience.

  We both looked past the purple cement half walls that encircled the dance floor in my Disco Skate—a gift from the dead daddy I’d never met. The Funky Wheel was deserted now, everyone having left hours ago—even my faithful bouncer, Jeb. The only souls on the floor were a boy with shaggy brown hair and ice blue eyes and a freckled girl a little smaller than him. The latter wore a cute pair of pink overalls that contrasted interestingly with her red hair. She looked like a little Irish angel, except for the fact that she was trying to kick the boy and send him sprawling to the ground again.

  “Hey, that’s my kid you’re talking about,” Vic said without any heat, taking a long sip from the glass of strong booze I’d brought her.

  “And she’s trying to bring down my kid.” I winced when her skate connected with Cooper’s shin.

  Cooper wasn’t mine biologically, but I’d been dating his father for a while now, even going so far as to move in with the pair a couple months ago. A myriad of shared laughs, bruises, and adventures made me comfortable with claiming the little runt as mine. Still, I was less than a stepmother, so I didn’t see any need to keep Hope from beating on the kid. It was a character building experience, after all.

  “She’s been taking out her frustrations on Cooper all week,” I told Vic.

  Reluctantly, I’d been watching Hope while Vic attended the police academy this week, trying to become a cop. I was normally against spreading the influence of law enforcement, as I frequently worked outside their limits, but I couldn’t deny it’d be helpful to have someone in my pocket on the force.

  “I’ll explain the bruises to Wyatt,” she said.

  “No need. I told him I was beating the originality out of him. No questions asked.”

  Wyatt, head detective on the Waresville police force and my boyfriend, did not count as my person on the inside. Getting him to tell me anything about police business was like trying to pull Vic away from the Chinese buffet. He was too straight-laced and law abiding, even if he did love me to distract him. It was a trait that he’d annoyingly passed on to his son, though I was trying to break Cooper of it.

  Vic laughed weakly and then put her head down on the dirty table. Pursing my lips, I decided not to remind her that I was in charge of cleaning, so this surface hadn’t seen a good scrub in about a decade.

  “This Academy stuff is hard work,” she said. “They have me running obstacle courses and shooting and answering questions.”

  “Not questions.” I faked shock and went to refill her drink at the concession stand that usually housed overcooked hotdogs and leftover pizza.

  “At least tomorrow’s my last day before Christmas break,” she called over to me. “I need a couple pounds of ham to refuel myself.”

  “And just where are you going to get that?”

  Vic and Hope were currently staying in a crappy motel just outside of town. Most people were born and died in Waresville meaning no newcomers, so real estate wasn’t exactly plentiful. Vic, a rainy day Catholic, prayed nightly for the death of someone in a good neighborhood with a breakfast nook. I resisted pointing out to her that that was probably considered blasphemy. As a witch, I really couldn’t judge what was and wasn’t religiously sound.

  Cooper stomped over to me, uncertain on his skates when he was usually flawless. It could’ve had something to do with the welt forming on his forehead.

  “It’s three in the morning,” he told me as only an eleven-year-old could. “I have a test tomorrow.”

  “Staying up all night is good for your growth and brain development,” I told him. “Especially if you chug coffee to stay awake.”

  Chuckling to myself, I grabbed the keys to a beaten up, orange bug and skated over to Vic. “Call in your minion. Princess here is tired.”

  Vic tried to give Hope a hug goodbye, but the little girl gave her a horrible look and charged past the three of us toward the car. With Vic leaving so early for training, I’d volunteered to keep Hope for the night, though I was wishing I hadn’t just about then.

  All the air seemed to leave Vic, making her look shriveled and small. “She blames me for her father leaving.”

  “He ran off with the babysitter. It’s hardly your fault.”

  Cooper and I waved to Vic as we joined Hope by the car. She growled at Cooper, and he turned white, readily agreeing to squeeze into the back seat. That left me in the front with Little Miss Sunshine. She tried her tricks on me, but I invented angst as a kid. She had no power.

  Wyatt was already asleep, so I set Hope up on the couch and sectioned Cooper off to his room. He frowned at me as I tried to close the door on him, cocking his head in that way that made me want to ruffle his hair.

  “My dad says we have to be polite to girls and guests. Shouldn’t Hope get my room?”

  I shook my head. “You’ll thank me when she comes to whoop you in the middle of the night, and you have a door with a lock.”

  Wyatt stirred when I crawled into bed next to him, pulling me close even though I was still wearing my rumpled, dirty, disco clothes. For a clean freak, that was as close as a marriage proposal as it got.

  The strange, u
nwelcome thought froze me in my tracks. I didn’t like to think of marriage and Wyatt in the same sentence just in case the universe was listening. He was a forever kind of guy—one I no doubt loved. But I was more of a good time girl. I couldn’t picture myself marrying anyone, especially not someone as wholesome and good as Wyatt.

  After skating the night away, though, not even thoughts of commitment could keep me awake. Before long, my eyelids dropped, and I relaxed into Wyatt’s arms, breathing a sigh of relief. At least for now, I belonged there.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Wyatt shook me awake, giving my clothes a pained glance before getting to the matter at hand. “Why do I suddenly have custody of two kids?”

  “I said I’d watch Hope all day and night,” I grumbled into the pillow.

  He digested that for a moment, running his hands through his short, brown hair. “She’s a bit unpleasant.”

  I choked out a laugh. “I don’t think she’ll burn down the house while we’re sleeping, though, and that’s what really counts.”

  Rolling over, I noticed that Wyatt was already dressed in a perfectly-pressed and very handsome suit. I admired his body through the fabric, wondering whether we had any time before he had to go to work.

  “I have to be at work in half an hour,” he said, his eyes twinkling, having guessed my thoughts. “Besides, something’s bothering Cooper.”

  “I already told you; her name’s Hope.”

  He shook his head, pulling me out of bed. “He’s been sulking all morning and won’t tell me a thing.”

  “Likely it’s something undignified, then. That’s more my parenting expertise.”

  He pressed what was probably supposed to be a quick kiss to my mouth, saying, “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, then.”

  The kiss didn’t end quickly enough, though, and a few moments later, we were breathing heavy, a whole new kind of twinkle in Wyatt’s eyes.

  “I can’t be late,” he said against my skin, making no moves to pull away.

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Cooper called my name from the bottom of the stairs. Sighing, I rested my head against Wyatt’s chest. “We should have sent him off to boarding school when we had the chance.”

  Wyatt laughed, pulling me over to a freshly-ironed outfit he’d laid out for me—really, the man was my polar opposite. “Say what you will; I know you’re sweet on him.”

  “A vicious rumor, nothing more.”

  I waved goodbye to Wyatt from the front door, and then attended to the children in the kitchen. Hope, her usual charming self, was busy telling me how this house paled in comparison to where her dad lived. Cooper, on the other hand, stared into a bowl of chocolate cereal, not touching it. For a boy who thought artificial grains were their own food group, this was troubling.

  “Something on your mind, spawn?”

  He stirred his cereal with a miserable flick of his spoon. “Anna called this morning.”

  Anna was Cooper’s little almost girlfriend. Neither of them were old enough to date, but they essentially had promised their souls to one another. It was cute and nauseating at the same time.

  “Women,” I said. “Teaching us to read was your first mistake.”

  “She wants to go dancing at the festival this week,” he said, his face long. “What am I gonna do?”

  Around this time every year, Waresville hosted a dancing competition. While only a few couples entered the actual competition, everyone showed up to the events and danced. Unfortunately, the kind of dance Waresville citizens hosted was more on par with ones that had been thrown in the seventh century.

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Give the girl what she wants, Coop. That’s my advice.”

  The doorbell rang, and Cooper and I exchanged a peculiar look. No one visited the Victorian house we shared who wasn’t friendly enough with us to just walk in. I thought about grabbing one of the numerous guns stashed around the house, but figured that might have been overkill for seven in the morning.

  When I slowly and suspiciously opened the front door, a vision from the 50s was waiting for me on my doorstep. She was about my age with perfectly cemented hair and a flared out, patterned skirt that went just below the knees. She was blonde, peppy, and classy—all attributes that I would never be able to copy. Absently, I wondered if this was Wyatt’s mother’s idea of the perfect woman.

  She stretched out her hand, shaking mine with enthusiasm and a friendly smile. “I’m Sarah Goodfellow. My husband and I just moved in next door.”

  Strangely enough, she seemed to want in, so I stepped aside and let her and the wooden basket she’d brought into the house. Sarah beamed at me, surveying the house. Likely, she’d like what she saw. Wyatt had impeccable and tasteful style. Me, I was a fan of anything tight and sparkly.

  I led her into the kitchen and offered her some coffee. Shaking her head while still smiling, she told me that she only drank tea. I promptly told her that the only green leaves she’d find in my house were for lighting, not steeping.

  Not seeming to get that at all, her smile stayed in place. “I’m sorry to intrude, but your husband said this would be the best time to catch you.” She held up her basket. “I made muffins.”

  “He’s not my husband!” Everyone in the room jumped at my outburst, including myself. My heart was beating so hard, it was almost painful, but I made myself breathe slowly.

  Mrs. Goodfellow tilted her head, looking at me like what I’d said hadn’t computed. “But you live together.”

  “In sin.”

  She blinked once, her smile ever in place, and then she laughed delicately. “Oh, you’re funny! How delightful.”

  “Not really,” I said.

  Looking past me, toward the table where Hope and Cooper were staring at her, Sarah said, “These must be your children. They’re beautiful. Are they home-schooled?”

  “In a way.” I reached over to pet Cooper’s head. “I teach them the practical things in life, like balancing a checkbook and how to run a successful drug operation.”

  This time, she didn’t even blink. Leaving the muffins on the counter, she headed back to the door. “I don’t want to interrupt your morning. I just wanted to introduce myself.” Before closing the door behind her, she said, “See you soon.”

  Cooper frowned at me, eating his cereal finally. “What do you think she meant by that?”

  “Bad things. Like dinner parties and charades.”

  Hope spoke up for the first time that morning, and it was unsurprisingly sour. “Classy people like her wouldn’t invite you to a dinner party.”

  “You know,” I said thoughtfully, “You’re beginning to bug me, little girl.”

  “My dad wanted you to look in the fridge,” Cooper said, looking anxiously between Hope and me. I would never hurt a kid, but this one had me seeing the virtues of silent, obedient children.

  I opened the fridge door, staring at nothing more than a bottle of soy sauce and a moldy slice of pizza—which was still good, in my opinion. Pizza, like people, just got better with age.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Cooper smiled, looking far older than I knew him to be. “That’s the point.”

  The three of us drove off in my hideous and unreliable car a few seconds later. Hope stared out the window with a scowl that was bound to stick, glaring at everything that made Waresville the dinky, supernatural town it was.

  Apart from the normal presence of the haunted tour buses and magical shops, there were Christmas decorations hanging all over, and speakers were belting out familiar tunes. People on their way around town would sing along, a lightness in their step that only happened around the dancing festival.

  I made eye contact with Cooper in the backseat and made a gagging noise.

  Pulling up at the small market, I raced from the car into the store, leaving the kids in my dust. Originally from Miami, I still hated the chill that came with the winter season—even though in northern Fl
orida one only needed a light jacket.

  Cooper went immediately to the cereal aisle while I cruised through the others, picking up the few items besides cereal that Wyatt and Cooper would eat. Everything else I grabbed was for me, and it mostly consisted of frozen pizzas.

  For whatever reason, Hope decided to tag along with me instead of tormenting Cooper. She also saw fit to comment on everything I put into my cart.

  Eyeing the wealth of pizza, she said, “You eat as bad as my mom.”

  “I’m not young and peppy like you,” I pointed out, adding another pizza. “I might not survive an encounter with a vegetable.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. If you die of a heart attack, Mom will probably move us back to Miami.”

  “Put it in your prayers.”

  I decided to pay in cash—mostly because I’d forgotten my credit card at home—so I had to wait for the cashier to do painfully slow math in his head. Hope drummed her fingers against the counter, looking at me like she was imagining my eventual heart attack. Cooper showed no signs of distress; he was patient like his father.

  As the teenage boy behind the counter reached toward me to hand me the bills, the green paper went up in a puff of loud smoke, emitting a bang that rang throughout the store. When the emerald cloud cleared, there was nothing in the cashier’s hands but air.

  Rather than looking surprised, as everyone in line behind us did, he sighed. “Not again!”

  While he ran off to get his manager, I turned to the girl checking people out in the line next to ours. “That happen often?”

  She shook her head ruefully, only glancing up from her items for a scant second. “Lately, yeah. It’s been happening all around this area. The money lasts a couple hours, and then… Well, you know.”

  Leaving a couple dollars behind, I hauled the kids and my cart out to the car, unable to keep the wheels in my head from turning. Fake, magic money was nothing I’d ever seen before, and a reckless grin overtook my mouth.