Witches and Wedding Cakes: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 9)

  “Witches and Wedding Cakes”

  Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery

  Harper "Foxxy" Beck Series Book 8

  Raven Snow

  © 2017

  Raven Snow

  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 (2017.01.20)

  ravensnow@passionateauthors.com

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  My pet werewolf, Biscuit, was riding in the back of a police transport van, caged up like a common animal—which he was, half the time. He was making sad eyes at me from the back, so I turned around, trying not to see myself in his situation.

  Biscuit wasn’t the only one feeling caged in.

  I tapped my foot against the floor of the van, and I kept running my pale fingers through my dark pixie cut. I couldn’t quite sit still. Wyatt Bennett, my fiancé, and detective for the Waresville Police Department, watched all this with an unreadable expression.

  Pulling into the boarding place, I apologized to Biscuit for the hundredth time while muscular men carried my dejected werewolf away. My green eyes watered at the sight.

  It didn’t matter that we were boarding him at the most expensive and well-reviewed place we could find. In Biscuit’s eyes, we were abandoning him forever, not for a week.

  “There’s no room for a big—dog—with Wyatt’s family coming into town for the wedding,” I explained again as they were weighing him and putting him in a room that looked nicer than my bedroom. He looked away from me, and I wasn’t sure how much he understood, being in wolf form.

  Biscuit wasn’t our only errand to run that day, so I hugged the large, mangy wolf good-bye and got back into the van. As soon as I was in, my leg started twitching again. I let it do its thing, staring out the window as we left Waresville behind us.

  Wyatt put his hand on my leg, stopping the movement. Even that small, innocent touch made the butterflies in my stomach go crazy.

  “Take a deep breath, Harper,” he said. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  I sunk down deeper in my seat. “We should’ve just eloped. This is torture.”

  My ancestors from Salem were probably rolling over in their graves as I said that. As a modern witch, I’d been spared the burning at the stake and hanging. I made due with the horrible misfortunes Waresville gifted me with every day.

  Shuddering at the thought of the ever-growing list of tasks I had to do before I could get married, I let my head fall against the back of the seat. For a person with commitment issues, this big wedding felt like a death sentence. I needed to marry Wyatt before I ran screaming for the hills or dropped dead from the stress.

  “My mother would kill us.” He exited onto the highway. “Besides, this way you get to meet my brothers.”

  The infamous Bennett siblings. They were talked about in hushed whispers throughout town. None of them had been back to town since Wyatt and I had started dating, so I’d only seen them from afar in the almost decade I’d spent in Waresville. Just like Wyatt and his son, they were all handsome, carbon copies of their father: icy blue eyes, rich brown hair, and stubborn jawlines you just wanted to punch on occasion.

  The mention of the three people we were going to pick up at the airport made my leg go spastic again. Wyatt, sighing, gave my knee an affectionate squeeze and then returned both hands to the wheel.

  He knew the drill.

  The airport was filled with tourists, most on their way to a theme park with mouse ears on their head. I couldn’t even feel my normal contempt for them, however, because I was too jittery. While waiting, I excused myself to the bathroom and got caught staring at my reflection.

  Man, was I a sight. My dark pixie cut was all over the place, reflecting how I felt inside. My skin was pale and flushed at the same time, like I’d been running a marathon, and I had dark circles under my eyes. I hadn’t looked this bad after my last bender.

  I stomped back over to Wyatt, who was reading a newspaper by the airline desks, not even realizing a storm was coming his way. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked like something that crawled out of the lagoon this morning?”

  His eyes, when they looked up, reminded me of a deer caught in the headlights on the interstate. No matter which way he ran, he was gonna get hit.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said slowly. “And I’m so lucky to be marrying you.”

  “Answer my question, or I’ll snap you like a twig.”

  “So lucky.”

  The next thing I knew, three Greek gods were passing through security and coming my way. The oldest one, Charles—never Charlie—led the pack. While Wyatt had leaner muscles, Charles looked like he ate children for breakfast. He was big, tall, and as far I could tell, he had no sense of humor.

  I had no hopes we’d get on well.

  Charles didn’t hug—or touch indiscriminately—so after he greeted Wyatt, he stuck out a hand for me to shake. It engulfed mine and crushed my fingers a little on the dismount, but I kept a smile on my face. A strained one, anyway. I wondered how this man could coach children. The high school football players in Georgia were probably ecstatic he was here with me, instead of torturing them.

  The second oldest, just above Wyatt in the chronological order, was Thomas, the Air Force lieutenant. Unlike his brother, he didn’t mind being called Tom. He smiled at Wyatt and me in greeting, sharing the niceties, but his thoughts seemed to be somewhere else. Last night, when I’d been grilling him, Wyatt told me Tom only focused when he was in the air.

  Apart from being the only space cadet, Tom was also built differently from the other brothers; short and stocky instead of tall and graceful. I held out very few hopes that we’d get on, since he was almost as serious as Charles—almost.

  Bringing up the rear was the only brother with whom I had any hopes of connecting. He was on the skinny side and awkwardly tall—we had that in common—and his hair was dyed purple.

  Wyatt shook his head at Liam as he came running up, no doubt thinking about what his mother was going to say about the hair. As a woman who frequently wears a neon green afro wig, the
deep shade of magenta gave me ideas rather than reprimands. Liam, like me, was also appreciative of music, touring the world in his own rock band.

  He was the black sheep of the Bennett family. And the only one to give me a hug.

  “Wow,” he said when he let me go. “You’re hot. What are you doing with my brother?”

  “Waiting for you to come into my life.”

  Wyatt smacked us both upside the back of the head, while the older brothers shook their heads. Maybe that wasn’t the best first impression to make, but it was honest.

  We hauled the Bennett Bunch back to the Victorian where Wyatt and I lived. Liam chattered in my ear the whole way, talking about the tour he just finished in Germany. He seemed a little nervous under his older brothers’ eyes, twitching and eyeing them when they weren’t looking. We were matching in that.

  “When are we meeting up with Mom and Dad?” Charles asked them from the front. Wyatt was driving—there’d been an argument about that—and Liam and I had been banished to the back seats like naughty children.

  Tom, on the other hand, was driving the rental car behind us. I stole glimpses of him out the back window on occasion. He rarely kept his attention on the road.

  "Tonight," Wyatt answered. "There's going to be a Bennett family dinner party, apparently, at Mom's.

  Beside me, Liam snorted. "If it were a real Bennett family dinner party, we'd need to use town hall. Why so small a guest list? I can count at least three aunts that are going to feel slighted." He grinned at me. "Not too late to call them."

  "Harper doesn't like large crowds," Wyatt said calmly from the front seat.

  More like large crowds frightened Harper. At least, they did when they were filled with Wyatt's family members. It was like a mine field. Only, instead of being blown up, I'd just be shunned for being too eccentric and brightly colored. I wasn't sure I wouldn't have rather been blown up.

  Chapter Two

  Wyatt didn't even have to discourage me from wearing my usual disco shorts and see-through tank to dinner that night. I couldn't have even put them on if I wanted to, my hands were shaking so badly. Slipping into the most conservative dress I owned, I followed my fiancé and future brother-in-laws out the door without a word.

  Nancy and Samuel Bennett had a cozy house in the very heart of Waresville. Most days, it looked like something out of a magazine, and I was afraid to touch anything with my dirty fingers. Tonight, however, the place was packed with Bennetts and food and drinks to the point where you could barely see the stylish furnishings.

  The first thing I did when I stepped through the door was locate the liquor cabinet. Nancy, a handsome woman who always smiled, seemed super human. I was willing to bet, though, that even she needed a nip or two every now and then. Wyatt's brothers gravitated to the buffet table, sipping at the punch. Nancy came over almost immediately, doting on her sons and scolding them for waiting so long to visit.

  It was funny to watch three formidable, grown men regress into bashful children under the might of Nancy.

  I didn't stay to watch, though, needing booze and to be out of sight before Nancy realized she hadn't tortured me about the wedding yet tonight. Wyatt made as if to follow me, but a large woman that I figured was Aunt Jean intercepted him. She pinched his cheeks, and I tried not to snort too loudly.

  After finishing harassing her sons, Nancy placed the last plate of food by the punch bowl and the Bennetts dug in. Being more of a drinker than an eater myself, I hoisted a large bottle with a captain on it and took a big swig.

  “Don’t let Mom catch you doing that,” Liam said, grinning cheekily, as he emerged from the garage with a beer in hand.

  Across the room, Aunt Jean let out a high cackle and helped herself to a third cup of punch. Knowing Nancy, there wasn’t any alcohol in it. What a travesty.

  I took a long pull from the bottle to prove a point. “It’s my wedding; I’ll get drunk if I want to.”

  “Not one for family functions?”

  “You have to have a family for a family function.”

  He put his arm carelessly around me, motioning to the leagues of Bennetts in front of me. I’d been so absorbed in my conversation with my new brother that I hadn’t been paying attention to said family. All around us, the Bennetts were swaying and giggling, their faces ruddy and merry. Even Wyatt wasn’t unaffected, his beautiful body wheeling around like a spinning top.

  “This seem strange to you?” I asked Liam.

  He shrugged. “Looks just like the crowd at the Battle of the Bands. Except old and with less piercings.”

  “Piercings that you can see, anyway.”

  Picking up the punch ladle, I took a whiff of the hot, pink concoction and almost fell in a dead faint at the strong scent of moonshine. I took a sip, eyebrows hitting the ceiling. It had to be 120 proof—at least. And my word on the matter was good enough to take to the bank.

  Something in Aunt Jean’s face made me dive out of the way—and just in time, too. A moment after I was out of the line of fire, she puked right where my shoes had been. I made a face at the smell, watching as upchuck stained Nancy’s perfect carpet.

  It dawned on me that Nancy’s perfect carpet was being stained on my watch. I rushed into the garage in alarm, heading for the spare paper towels. Opening the extra fridge out there, I also searched for ginger ale for Aunt Jean. It was a two-step process—clean up the mess and keep others from happening.

  But apparently Nancy had turned the outside fridge into a botanical garden for my wedding. Every bouquet, centerpiece, and decorative plant purchased a day or so ago was in that fridge. The only difference between now and when I’d seen them last was that every flower in that icebox was dead.

  Against the whiteness of the appliance, the scene looked a bit like a morgue for plants. Their pathetic bodies wilted all over the place, blending into a mass of death and decay. My nose was assaulted by the strong, eye-watering odor I couldn’t quite place.

  I calmly shut the door, heading back into the house where Wyatt’s relatives were stumbling all over the place. The scent of sick and booze was heavy in the air. More than one distant cousin or uncle grabbed my ass as I walked by, but I barely noticed—and not just because I worked as a stripper once upon a time.

  “Someone must have spiked the punch bowl,” Liam said when I joined him by the buffet table. He was trying to get his mother to sit down, but Nancy was more interested in downing the deviled eggs. “As a joke or something.”

  “This was no joke.”

  My voice was steady and reassured for the first time that week. Everything made sense now, and it felt like I could finally breathe again. There was a reason why I was so stressed, a reason why I was so paranoid and overwhelmed. I’d sensed something or other, because I was a witch and a nosy detective. All this time, it’d been my instincts trying to tell me something was wrong, not just wedding nerves.

  Someone had cursed my wedding. And I was going to find out who.

  ______

  “Our wedding isn’t cursed.” Wyatt groaned into the toilet bowl the next morning. “God, my head is pounding.”

  “The flowers were all dead, Wyatt. Murdered.”

  “I’ll call the police chief right away,” he said dryly. “My mother probably forgot to set the fridge to the correct temperature.”

  I stopped halfway through getting dressed and popped my head into the bathroom. “Do you really think your mother could forget something like that? Your mother?”

  Wyatt, who was looking rather green, rested his head against the ledge of the tub. “It’s been a hectic week for all of us.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

  Giving a triumphant grin, I went back to pulling on my pants. He watched me, trying to put something together in his head. Wyatt was always more hesitant to speak when he had something unpleasant to say.

  “We’ve all been stressed,” he reiterated slowly. “It’s natural to want an outlet for that stress. Something familiar.”

  “I know I
’m crazy, Wyatt.” I fitted a neon green, afro wig to my head. “But I’m also right.”

  "You're not crazy," he said, the effect slightly diminished, because his head was in the toilet.

  I left him to it and went downstairs to pour cereal for a bleary-eyed Cooper. Seeing him tired and subdued was a nice change from the mood of the week: elated. Some days, I thought he was more excited about the wedding than I was. On other days, I was sure he was.

  Cooper looked exactly like his father, though his brown hair was longer and messy with sleep. They even had the same stubborn jaw, and I was sure he was going to grow up to be a pain in my ass–just like his father.

  Cooper, who had just turned twelve, eyed my outfit as he shoveled down his chocolate cereal. "Are you going to work?"

  Most of my business at the disco skate didn't start until dark at least. Cooper was well aware of that, because he was like my full-time, unpaid janitor.

  "Birthday party," I said between bites of toast.

  A moan sounded upstairs, and we both turned our heads toward it.

  "Is my dad sick?" he asked, frowning. Cooper thought of his dad as less of a human being and more of an invulnerable super hero. No doubt Wyatt's hangover was rocking the foundation of his world.

  "In a way." I patted him on the head and grabbed my old, beaten skates on the way out.

  The Funky Wheel had originally been a church and still kind of looked like one from the outside. The stained glass windows had since been painted black to keep light from going in and messing with the disco lighting. A window to the office had also been added. That’s where my office girl, Amber, sold the tickets.

  Above the Funky Wheel was a loft my late father installed when he bought it in the early 90’s. It was home sweet home to me before I moved in with Wyatt and his brat. Now I had a real house with things like coasters and hand towels. I still wasn't sure how I felt about all that.