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

  She fell deadly silent, her eyes draining of fight until they looked like Greg's. I backed away slowly, almost running into Kosher and his still-drawn weapon. Noticeably, there were two people missing from the courtyard. I didn't have to wait long for them to show up, however.

  "Crazy is such a harsh word, Katy," Sarah said, walking out from seemingly endless darkness. She was still wearing her housewife outfit: apron and immaculate dress. Now, however, it was spotted with blood and other, less pleasant, fluids.

  "Crazy in love is more appropriate, don't you think?"

  That bit wasn't said by Sarah. Ben, dressed in long robes that seemed to have no end or beginning, flowed out of the shadows beside his wife. His easy smile and good ol' boy charm was gone; in its place was nothing but insanity.

  "We're so glad you could make it, Harper," Ben said sincerely.

  "Oh, yes," Sarah chipped in, like a parrot on his shoulder. "So glad. We thought we'd have to use that for the ritual."

  She nodded at Melanie, and that woman had the gall to look offended. Sure, I was always first pick for ritual sacrifices, but jealousy really wasn't a good color on her. I decided to tell her after this was all over—if I still could.

  "I don't understand," I said, shaking my head at Kosher and telling him to wait. For now, he was going unnoticed off to the side. "What does any of this have to do with counterfeit bills?"

  Ben laughed. "Nothing and everything, isn't that right, Katy?" Scratching her under the chin like a dog, he grinned up at me. "Why don't you confess your sins, my sweet?"

  Like watching a puppet master with his dolls, Katy came to life at Ben's command. "I'm the counterfeiter. We'd been trying to perfect the scam for months—ever since Greg figured out how well I could draw presidents. We tried−"

  "The dirt-be-gone spell from my dear wife's books," Ben finished for her. "But it wasn't strong enough for what you needed. The fake money disappeared immediately, and that wouldn't do."

  "Yes," Greg said, his eyes still unfocused. "We needed the spell to take a while. So, we called the author of the book we copied the spell from."

  "I was simply delighted to hear from a fan in Waresville," Sarah said, resting her head on her husband's shoulder. "The one town off-limits to me, and the one place I so desperately wanted to go."

  "Because of my grandmother," I said, pride puffing out my chest a little like Cooper does. "I bet she smelled the crazy on you a mile away."

  "A scent she recognizes from herself," Sarah snapped, losing a little of that perfect composure.

  "Now, now," Ben consoled his wife, hitting her none too lightly on the nose. "We mustn't be rude to our guests. Especially not when they've brought such wonderful gifts."

  Something clicked in me. Something that had been on my mind since I first took this case. For whatever reasons, I'd been drawing parallels between this mystery and my first one—the one where Wyatt and I met. The symbols on the walls took on a new familiarity, because I'd seen something like them before when Gran's neighbor, Thelma Gibb, had tried to suck the life out of me to refuel herself.

  A power transfer.

  "It must have been very frustrating," I said, "these past few weeks. Especially when I evaded you at every turn."

  "Dumb luck," Ben said, looking annoyed. "If your friend hadn't been there to pull you away from the car, we would've had you that first day."

  My lip twitched. "Vic's got good timing like that. And then again, I was saved when Wyatt took me home instead of letting me sleep off the wine at your house." Realization dawned on my face. "But it wasn't just wine, was it? You drugged it."

  "Witches aren't so easily influenced by alcohol," he said absently, but his eyes never left me. The look in them was nothing simple, but hungry seemed to describe it pretty well.

  "We were happy to help Katy and Greg out with their little get rich quick scheme," Sarah said, "for a price."

  "They wanted the names of all the witches in Waresville," Katy said. "And I gave them what they wanted."

  Ben patted her on the head. "You really mustn't blame yourself. After all, you're just a silly, little girl."

  "Yes," she agreed, falling silent again.

  "And then you heard my name," I said, deliberately not looking at Kosher. He was slowly sneaking around to the turned backs of the Goodfellows. His movements were a little shaky, but there was only calculation in his stare, not fear. "A direct descendent of the witch you both feared."

  They moved in sync, like they were both a part of a larger being, circling me without mercy. Eyes glowed in the dim light, making goosebumps show up all over my body.

  "She is a powerful witch," Ben said, "and so are you."

  I stared him down. "Not nearly. Maybe you should find someone else's power to steal."

  Laughter, cold and cruel, rang out through the night. For a moment, the hungry look faded, and the couple looked genuinely amused. They didn't stop circling me, though, one of them always at my back.

  "Oh, dear, maybe you should stick with skating, sweetheart," Sarah said, her voice so sweet my teeth ached.

  "I don't need your power," Ben said, his fingers sparking with sickly, green magic.

  "I do." Sarah tackled me to the ground, sinking her teeth into my shoulder. Thrashing around like a maniac, I punched her squarely in the eye, managing to get free long enough to crawl away from her. She barely touched her eye despite it starting to swell, just continuing to inch toward me, eyes glowing.

  "Don't think we've forgotten about you, Officer," Ben chuckled.

  With a flick of his wrist that reminded me eerily of my gran, he sent Kosher crashing against the wall. But he didn't stop there. His hand kept flicking and flicking, smashing his victim over and over again. I screamed, but he was already done, Kosher slumping into the grass with a sizable cut on his head. The rest of the damage was invisible to me.

  "Let these people go," I said, my voice thick. "You have what you want."

  He crouched down next to me, stroking the bite mark his wife had left lovingly. "See, that's where Thelma Gibb went wrong. She tried to only sacrifice one—over and over again. It takes more than one egg to make an omelet, after all."

  "One of the ways she went wrong," Sarah said, licking her lips and looking at me.

  Lovely. Sarah was going to eat me to gain my magic. I vehemently hoped I gave her heartburn afterwards. I probably would, too, because the contents of my stomach were almost pure pizza grease. My revenge would be felt.

  "You see, Harper, I've been keeping my wife young for years with a few drained souls here and there."

  Sarah, still on the ground, stroked her husband's back. "He takes such good care of me. He even helped me come up with the spells for my book."

  Reaching back, Ben took Sarah's hand and kissed it. "But it's not enough. We can never truly be one—as man and wife should—until we are the same. Equals."

  “Then, we can be together forever.”

  Ben turned his attention away from his wife and back to me. The look in his eyes was hungry in a different way now, and it made me shift uneasily. He smiled at the movement, tracing it and leaving me feeling dirty.

  “You’re very beautiful, Harper,” he said. “You’ll make a fine addition to my wife.”

  Gag.

  "Gran'll kill you if you lay a finger on me," I told him, still crab walking away from his crazy wife. I wasn't completely sure I could back up my words, but I hoped she'd at least be pissed enough to turn a few of these guys into toads. If it'd been Oliver in here, I wouldn't have worried; the old bat loved him.

  Suddenly, I realized something wasn't right. Where was Oliver? The contestants and judges were all tied up, including Mrs. Debutante and Carson Smiles, the mayor. But Oli was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope, quickly dashed by Sarah gaining ground on me. It was a sight to see a prim housewife crawling in the dirt. I just hoped it wasn't the last sight I'd ever see.

  Just then, as if summoned by my thoughts, Oliver jumpe
d out from the shadows and grabbed me behind the collar, hauling me up. Mist surrounded us, bearing Oliver's name, and we high-tailed it away from the courtyard, ducking into the first unoccupied room that we could find. That ended up being the DMV.

  Crawling behind one of the desks where they served people—slowly—I tried to quiet my breathing and grow still in the dark room. Running wasn't a permanent solution, but I needed a moment—or a couple dozen—to get my head on straight. Now would've been a good time for one of Wyatt's foolproof plans.

  "How aren't you tied up right now?" I hissed at Oli.

  "Spell your grandmother taught me," he said, peering around the bend to see if we were being followed. "It makes people look over me sometimes. It’s not particularly useful if they're actually looking for you."

  Not mad at him anymore, I seized Oliver in my arms, hugging the life out of him. He patted me awkwardly on the back. He'd probably be overjoyed at my forgiveness later.

  "How much of all that did you hear?" I asked when I was done with the hugging thing. I'd probably be good for the next decade or so now.

  "Enough to wonder if I should have tried sacrificing you years ago. You know how I love a trend."

  "Stick with pop music and bedazzled jeans, Belafonte."

  Footsteps sounded in the large corridor connecting all the departments not ten yards from us. Freezing, we barely dared to breathe, hoping against hope they'd move on. And they did, but not without a little taunting first.

  "Come out, come out," Ben called.

  "We want you," Sarah said, voice half a snarl. "But we'll take Melanie if we have to. Will you let her die for you?"

  Ben made a sound that said he wouldn't take Melanie over me any day; they were just baiting me. Still, even if they didn't want to steal her magic, they'd probably kill her and the other hostages one by one to lure me out.

  Oliver cocked an eyebrow at me. "I'm perfectly fine with letting Melanie die for you."

  "Obviously," I said. "But there are innocent people in there, too.Some we even like."

  "Maybe they'll start with Melanie and Kosher first."

  "That's unduly optimistic."

  We sat in silence for a moment, both of us desperately trying to think of a way out of this that didn’t end with me being someone’s lunch.

  I snapped my fingers. “Okay. What we need to do is mess up the spell. That’s the biggest threat right now.”

  “Not the cannibal with the sharp teeth?” he asked wryly.

  “Any ideas?”

  Scratching his chin, he said, “Those symbols seemed pretty crucial. The cauldron, too.”

  “Sure that wasn’t just going to be used as a… simmering pot?” I winced.

  He gave me an exasperated look. “She can’t just eat you; there has to be more to the spell than that. Otherwise, witch meat would be some kind of pricy delicacy.”

  “Fine,” I said, thinking about weird-looking steaks served with fresh herbs and tiny, black hats. “Knock over the cauldron, mark out the symbols.”

  Oliver caught me before I could move. “Unless you have some kind of paint on you−”

  Eyes widening, I dove toward one of the cupboards. I rummaged in there for a minute and then pulled out a large can of white spray paint. Oliver’s eyes widened, and then narrowed.

  Shrugging, I said, “They keep it to touch up the obstacle course for new drivers.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  That earned him a big grin, despite the circumstances. “I used to be a bit of a spray paint aficionado in my youth.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Vandal.” Then, he got serious. “Harper, about the other day—with Wyatt−”

  “It’s not important. If we’re still alive next week, you can tell me all about it.”

  He yanked me down. “I want to tell you now.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “He was buying you a ring, Harper. I was giving my opinion on it.”

  A million feelings and thoughts raced through my head, ricocheting and gaining speed, making it almost painful to focus. I couldn’t think about any of that now, though, because I heard the voices of the Goodfellows walking past. Once they were at the farthest distance from the courtyard, we made our break.

  If I thought Oliver and I could run fast when Justina was shooting at us, it was nothing compared to how we could run when a sexist warlock and his cannibalistic wife were chasing us. It gave new meaning to running like the wind.

  Without communicating first, Oliver automatically made for the cauldron while I went for the symbols. Shaking the can brought back old memories, and so did being chased by people—though the Goodfellows weren’t anything close to cops.

  Feet pounded against the linoleum as I hastily sprayed over the symbols, covering as many as I could. I was just about to move onto the last wall when a slight body tackled me from behind. Rolling, I avoided Sarah’s teeth by mere centimeters, and she moaned with displeasure. This was the woman Nancy idolized? Maybe she should’ve counted her blessings that Wyatt wanted to marry me and not Cannibal Carrie.

  “Please,” she said, sounding as sane as I was—not that that was saying much. “With you, I can be whole. I’ll be a part of his world.”

  Trying to pry her loose, I said, “He’s not a prize, Sarah! He wants to change you, to make you more like me. Wyatt doesn’t even want me to wear a wedding gown, because he knows it’s not me.”

  She cocked her head in confusion. “How could you get married without a wedding gown?”

  “Well, I was sort of envisioning a white, leather jumpsuit with bellbottoms.”

  Without warning, she bit down on my lips. With a little shout, I wrenched her loose, blood pouring down my chin. “If that’s your idea of foreplay, warn a lady first.”

  Grabbing the solid spray can, I brought it down hard just behind Sarah’s ear. Her arms fell short of reaching for me, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She didn’t go completely slack, though, until I socked her with the can on the jaw, sending her sprawling.

  I rubbed my sore lip. “Without a doubt, the worst kiss I’ve received from a woman.”

  “Received many, have you?” Kosher said weakly from behind me.

  Seeing he was trying to get to his feet, I rushed over and helped him up. He looked like he wanted to spit on my help but didn’t have the strength. During our struggle, I counted at least two broken ribs and a myriad of fractures.

  “I have a long and interesting past,” I told Kosher. “You’re just jealous.”

  A laugh from by the cauldron had me leaning Kosher against the wall and moving toward the center of the courtyard. Ben, though he had to be a foot shorter, had Oliver by the throat and was holding him high above his head. I watched my friend struggle for air with a cold feeling in my stomach.

  “You defeated my wife,” he said, and I felt it had a lot more meaning to him than it did to me. “You are worthy.”

  “And I didn’t even need my magic to do it,” I said pointedly. “Put him down.”

  Ben looked at Oliver like he was a bug. “Do you love him?”

  “Like a brother, so you know I’ll kill you if you hurt him.”

  Amazingly, he did release him, letting Oliver fall to the ground, gasping. Before he had the chance to retaliate, a flick of the wrist sent Oliver flying over to where Kosher was slumped over. They landed in a pile together, neither making any impressive moves.

  “We don’t have to fight, Harper,” Ben said, his voice taking on a charming quality again.

  My eyebrow cocked of its own accord. “We don’t?”

  “No. We could work together, you and I. I could help you discover your true potential.”

  My smile was nothing pleasant. “All at the condition that I serve and bow to you.”

  With a wave of his hand, a picture was conjured in the air. It was of the scene outside. Specifically, of a faceless officer holding Wyatt back from trying to charge at the building. I tried not to betray anything, but a flicker of emotion crossed my face.
r />   He looked smug. “Yes, this is the one you love.” A sneer. “A human.”

  Looks who’s talking, I thought. With his wife lying unconscious less than ten feet away, he was making a move for me. It was as despicable as it was admirable. I found I liked him better as the warlock willing to do anything to end up on top than the slick, sexist accountant—not enough to run away with him, though.

  Or so I thought.

  “But,” he said, “if you’d rather decline...”

  Wyatt’s picture twisted, becoming dark and then fading out altogether. The threat couldn’t have been clearer. Come with him, or he’d hurt Wyatt—possibly kill him.

  I ground my teeth. “If you even−”

  “Yes, yes, you’ll hurt me very badly if any harm comes to your beau. But can you keep me from hurting him, or merely avenge it?”

  My mind raced, but there was nothing to think through. He had me for the moment, and the smug look on his face told me he knew it.

  Grabbing my hand, he pulled me toward the back exit. The green fog parted harmlessly for us, obeying his every command.

  Whipping my head around wildly, I glanced around for something, anything, that could give me a leg up on this warlock. All I saw in either direction, though, was impenetrable green. After a few minutes of breathing it in, I began to wonder if there was anything else out there, or if it was all Ben. My mind went a little fuzzy at the edges.

  Then there was something: a car. It was one of those old-fashioned beauties that someone had loved like a child. He pushed me into the passenger seat, and then just appeared on the driver’s side. Blinking, I tried to think if he’d walked there, but I couldn’t remember seeing him do anything. One moment, he was next to me; the next, he was in the car.

  A whimpering noise I wasn’t conscious of making filled the car, and he smiled. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll teach you all kinds of tricks like that one.”

  The car roared to life underneath us, and he peeled off into the night. Still, the fog seemed to follow us, but now it seemed comforting. I didn’t want to look for an escape, because I was so happy here, in this car. I could’ve spent my life in that car.

  But, though magic can do a lot of things, it can’t fill up a gas tank while the car’s still going. We pulled over at a gas station just outside of the town’s limits. I’d been to this one before—half-naked and bleeding, because I’d jumped out of a car trunk when it’d been doing highway speeds.