Magic and murder wicked.., p.1
Magic and Murder (Wicked Witches of Spellcaster Creek Book 2), page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Mara Webb
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MAGIC AND MURDER
WICKED WITCHES OF SPELLCASTER CREEK
BOOK TWO
MARA WEBB
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Thanks for Reading
Other Series by Mara Webb
Mailing List
CHAPTER 1
I’d been in Spellcaster Creek just over a month now, and things were coming along pretty nicely. I had recently inherited Spellbound, the local bookstore, and my latent magical powers had also started to come into force.
Before all of this I’d been a regular gal stuck in the human world, none the wiser about the world of witches and magic. Little did I know that my magical powers began to awaken on my 25th birthday, and a whole host of adventures and mysteries were waiting for me.
It all started when a little talking calico cat brought me back to the magical town of Spellcaster Creek, a place hidden from humans, a place where my family came from.
Magic towns were apparently quite common, though pretty much impossible for humans to find as they are hidden behind a magical veil known only as ‘the slip.’
It’s a little hard to explain how it works, but it’s like there are lots of hidden doors and entrances scattered across our regular reality, and if you know where to look for one, you can find one.
Spellcaster Creek, which is now my home, is one of these hidden towns, and to find it in the real world you just take Exit 33 and a half when you’re on the highway heading out of northern Texas. I know what you’re thinking, there’s no such thing as ‘half’ highway exits, and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so. I’d had a lot of trouble believing all this myself too when it first started, but I came around eventually. With a little help from my familiar, Callie, she helped me focus on this hidden exit and that’s when I first saw the signs for Spellcaster Creek.
If you were trying to put it on a real map it would be somewhere between two human towns called Ellis Springs and Harkerita. The only problem is that there just isn’t enough room between both of these towns for Spellcaster Creek to exist, and if you stare out from the border of either of those towns, you’re just going to see a rocky patch of desert that has never been built on.
That’s because Spellcaster Creek, just like all other magic towns, is hidden in the slip, another layer of magical reality that exists right underneath our own. There is actually an entire magical country hidden right inside of our own, and the only people that know about it are the magical folks that can enter. That’s right, regular folk can’t get in, and if they ever accidentally do, their minds just can’t keep hold of that information.
I, in case you were wondering, am Sage Rivers. Yes, that’s my real name, no, I’m not a country singer, though with a name like that I could probably make a good go at it. I never knew my mother and father and I grew up in state care. They’d apparently died young while we were traveling, they were saving another family from a fire. They did so, but unfortunately, they perished.
The rest of my magical family tried to hunt me down so they could bring me back home, but for some reason the universe was determined on keeping me hidden. My grandmother Thelma, who I had recently reacquainted with since moving to town, had spent the better of the last two decades trying to track me down, to little avail. She told me that magic sometimes had a funny way of working, and it seemed to have decided that it was best if I grew up as a normal girl in the normal world.
It was only when my Cousin Rosemary saw a vision of me inheriting the bookshop that my family could finally track me down. That’s when they sent Callie and brought me back. The rest, as they say, is history.
A lot has happened since I moved to town, and it’s hard to explain it all quickly, but if you want the broad strokes then here, they are. I now run Spellbound, and I’m apparently a book witch. This means that I can see the ‘spirit’ of any book that I touch. It’s extremely useful for getting fast access to knowledge, and that’s part of my role here in town. People come to me when they want answers. Sometimes they are just looking for a good book too.
I’m also the town’s Keeper, a role that comes with the bookshop. What is a keeper you might ask? It’s sort of like an unofficial sheriff, but everyone still seems to respect the title and role. I work alongside the town’s guardians, who are sort of like the magical police. The head guardian, Hunter, I’ve already butted heads with several times.
He’s tall, handsome, with long dark hair and an arrogant streak that riles me right up. Worst of all is that he also has moments when he is extremely thoughtful and caring. Every time I stare at that square-jawed idiot I go weak at the knees, feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach and I try to ignore the heat coiling inside of me.
We may have also kissed once or twice, but that’s not really relevant, because I’ve made the executive decision that nothing is going to happen between us. I mean we’re technically coworkers, it just makes sense to avoid that kind of mess… right?
I’d been in town just over a month now and was starting to settle in quite nicely. In that time, I’d made a good impression on the locals too. Spellbound belonged to my late Aunt Delilah, who had died under mysterious circumstances. After I moved to town other people started dropping dead as well, and I inadvertently found myself tracking down the killer on the loose.
It turned out the killer had been one of my own cousins, Alexis, who had wanted the bookshop for herself. She had even set her sights on me but luckily, I stopped her in time before that could happen. I didn’t know where Alexis was now, some sort of magical jail from what I understood. All I knew is that she was safe behind bars, the ordeal was behind me, and I was ready to move on with my new magical life.
“How many outfits are you going to try on this morning exactly?” Callie asked from the bed. The little calico cat had curled up on my pillow in preparation to sleep the day away, and evidently my late departure was bothering her greatly.
“This is only the third one.” I twirled in the mirror before shaking my head at the outfit the wardrobe had picked out for me. I was medium height, with plum red hair, a complexion so pale it would make a vampire look tan, and a pear-shaped body. I was all butt, no boobs, and chicken legged, a combination that frequently made clothes shopping a nightmare.
Fortunately, Aunt Delilah had left behind an expansive magical wardrobe, stocked with rows and rows of clothes, most of which had never even been worn. Delilah’s bookshop had always done pretty well and she spent her hard-earned pennies on her other main passion in life—clothes shopping.
The wardrobe even assembled outfits for me at my request. I shook my head at the latest one and tried to make my request clearer. “I want something a little more fun but not too fun. I don’t want to look like an airhead.”
A wave of glittering sparks spiraled around my body and removed the clothes, leaving me in my underwear. A moment later another wave swirled around me in the other direction, dressing me in a cute little black dress adorned with little white jewels. The dress itself puffed out sort of like a tutu, and the wardrobe had paired the outfit with pink boots, and a broad witch hat styled with purple cross stich.
Sounds weird, right? But that’s kind of what witch fashion is like. Everyone in Spellcaster Creek dresses in this eclectic fashion, and somehow the outfits always seem to work. It was like living in Paris, but everyone had gotten dressed in the dark and managed to pull it off.
“Perfect! Thanks Beatrice!” I sang, twirling to admire the outfit once more.
“Beatrice?” Callie asked with a raised brow.
I shrugged. “I know the wardrobe doesn’t have a name, but I’ve always liked to name inanimate objects. It’s a weird quirk of mine.”
Callie didn’t say anything immediately, she just gave me one of her Callie Stares. It was an expression that I’d quickly learned to identify since moving in with the cat. It was that silent look of regret that seemed to say, why is this happening to me?
“Just be careful naming things, Sage,” she advised. “You’re in the witch world now, and the rules are different here. Names can give things power, and that can have unforeseen circumstances.”
I blew air out of my lips and flipped a dismissive hand in her direction. “Bye Callie. I’m going to go and work now. Have fun sleeping all day!”
I made myself a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. Spellbound was four-stories tall, the top of these being a cozy little apartment that now served as my home. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was charming and full to the brim of interesting little trinkets that Delilah had collected over the years.
Between Delilah
As it was a nice morning, I ate breakfast out on the patio. The shop was located on Spellcaster Creek’s Main Street, a prized retail location as the sidewalks were always packed with a steady flow of footfall. It was quiet out at the moment as it was still early, but in less than an hour the crowds would be seeking out their caffeine, pastries, and whatever other errands they had for their days.
The town itself was uniquely pretty. Most of the buildings wouldn’t look out of place in a cute French village, and if there was a right angle anywhere in this town then I hadn’t found it yet. Main street curved around a little golden beach about a mile long. The beach was shaped like a crescent moon and hugged the azure lake that stretched out beyond the town.
I wasn’t really sure why it was called Spellcaster Creek. I had asked several folks, but no one really seemed to know. While I was sure there was a creek around here somewhere, it seemed to me that the predominant local geographical feature was the lake, but the people that settled the town had gone with ‘creek’ for the signage, for whatever reason.
In the magical community Spellcaster Creek had a reputation as well, and it was something of a tourist hotspot. Apparently not all magical towns were this whimsical, and magical folk from the world over regularly came on through to have their little vacations here. It meant that things were always kind of bustling in town, which was good for me seeing as I had a business on one of its busiest streets.
I wasn’t the only one either, since moving here I’d discovered a whole host of independent businesses that were all run by local witches and wizards. There was a real sense of community here, and everyone seemed to look out for one another. I’d never quite had anything like that back in the human world. Having that kind of security really felt like it took a load off your back. I didn’t really know how to explain it. Saying that we were one big happy family was corny, and not true. All I knew is that this is the happiest I’d ever been.
After finishing my breakfast, I headed on down to the shop and got started with the work day. I came down an hour early every morning to tidy up any loose ends and get any general cleaning done. I didn’t yet know all the ins and outs of the business, but I’d learned a lot since taking over.
At ten o’ clock I flipped the sign on the door to open and nestled behind the cash register with a cup of Ambrosia, a special type of witch tea that is warm and nourishing. Callie popped down at some point to claim her napping pillow on the shop’s counter. Although she was asleep most of the day she seemed to like being in the same place as me. The customers liked it too, and she seemed to appreciate the occasional head scritch from a stranger, not that it stirred her from sleep for very long.
The morning started slow, but by about eleven I had a couple of sales in hand, and I was confident it would be another good day for the business. My magical ability as a book witch meant that I could see a book’s spirit. I hadn’t quite understood the skill at first, but my usefulness became apparent quite fast. Imagine needing to know something and being able to find the answer out almost instantly just by touching a book.
I was kind of like a human internet, but for magical folk. Why didn’t magical folk just use the internet? Because most of this magical knowledge didn’t exist on the world wide web, and they didn’t really use that kind of thing in the magic world anyway.
To give you an example, I had a pretty tricky customer this morning when a group of Japanese tourists came in. They were all very friendly and smiley, but neither of us could understand the other, and they were definitely looking for something.
Sometimes my magical intuition guides me to the book I need, but in this particular instance it was my own wits that helped me out at first. There was a little section at the back of the first floor with some foreign language dictionaries. I gestured for the group to wait with a raised finger and ran upstairs to get a pocket-sized Japanese dictionary. I didn’t have to flick page by page to make conversation, I could just connect with the book’s spirit.
Normally spirits presented themselves as transparent blue figures, whom only I could see. To my surprise this spirit appeared as a ghostly blue Japanese dragon that took up most of the bookshop. I was quite used to seeing book spirits by now, but this one still took me by surprise.
“Ah!” I shrieked. The Japanese family shrieked too, curious smiles on their faces as they wondered what I was reacting to. They, of course, couldn’t see the giant dragon ghost.
“Agh,” the dragon replied in a mocking tone. Its voice was deep, with a slight eastern lilt to it. “See how ridiculous you sound?”
“I beg your pardon; I wasn’t expecting a huge dragon in my shop. Book spirits usually present themselves as a person.”
With a blink of the eye the huge dragon changed into the ghostly blue figure of an old Japanese man. “How’s this?” he asked.
“Much better. Could you help me communicate with this group? They’re looking for something, but we can’t understand one another.”
And just like that I had a translator. The book spirit could tell me what the group was looking for, and he slowly fed me phonetic replies so I could talk to them in their own language. It turned out they were in Spellcaster Creek to visit the grave of Billy Bodwin, an old English poet that had been buried here. Apparently, the Japanese were a huge fan of Bodwin, and made regular pilgrimages to see his grave.
As soon as I knew what they were looking for a beacon ignited in my mind, pulling me in the direction of a fairly recent biography on the third floor about Billy Bodwin. His spirit popped out too, this one just as a human thankfully. He sort of looked like William Shakespeare, but with short-cropped hair and a effeminate face.
“I’m buried in the old cemetery near St. Elspeth’s Church. Just on the outskirts of town,” he said to me. He pointed me to a section at the back of the book, which featured a map of the town and the location of his grave. With Billy’s help and the spirit from the Japanese dictionary, it wasn’t long until the group were on their way to finish their pilgrimage. They purchased both books from me and I put little tabs throughout the pages to mark useful sections.
Although it seemed quite random that was fairly representative of a typical customer for me. It was one of the things that made this new job so exciting. I was never sure who would walk through the door, what they would need, or how I would help them. All I knew is that with my magic I always found a way.
I guess you could say I’d fallen into quite a comfortable routine, and although my time here started off a little rocky, things were going well now, and I felt quite confident knowing that nothing could knock me off course.
Little did I know Spellcaster Creek had other plans, and there was a whole host of trouble coming my way, this lot even more tricky than the last.
CHAPTER 2
“Hogweed? I’m certain I’ve got a book about that,” I said to the expectant customer. “Let me just have a look…”
I took a couple of steps away from the young woman who was looking for gardening advice, waiting for that beacon of inspiration to light in my mind. Sure enough it did, pointing me to a book that was just two shelves over from my current position. I hustled over, ran my fingers along the length of shelf and waited for that familiar tingle, the one that told me I had the right book.
To my surprise the tingling only happened when my fingers came across an empty spot on the shelf. “Huh… that’s weird.”
“Everything alright?” the young woman asked from behind me.
“Uh… fine,” I said uncertainly. “I could have sworn I’d seen that book the other day, but it doesn’t seem to be there now.”
