A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (33 page)

Next to me, Mrs. P snuffled and wiped her eyes. “I just love weddings.”

“Me, too,” Mimi whispered, sitting on my other side. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she watched Elodie and Connor exchange vows.

It was a glorious Sunday evening. The sun hung low in the sky, getting ready to set, birds chirped, and a gentle breeze kept the temperature from being too hot.

Nick looked over his daughter’s head at me and smiled. His arm was draped across Mimi’s chair, which allowed his fingers to rest softly on my shoulder.

Ve sat in the row in front of me next to Harper, who, I noticed, held hands with Marcus.

My PI license had arrived in the mail yesterday.

I smiled as I saw all the orange cat hair on the back of Harper’s pink dress—she was so in love with that kitten, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d brought it with her to the ceremony, tucked away in her purse.

Ve had come alone—Terry still refused to come out during daylight hours. She said they were taking their relationship slowly. But I knew Ve, and she wasn’t one for patience. How soon before she started planning her next wedding? Or…how soon before Terry became an ex again? Ve wasn’t one for long-term commitments, either.

I studied her profile. If she had any ill will because this should have been
her
wedding, she didn’t show it. In fact, I’d never seen her looking happier.

In the front row, I was glad to see Roger and Yvonne sitting together. He had his furry arm curved around her, and their heads were bent close. It looked like all had been forgiven.

I stole a surreptitious glance to the left of Mrs. P. Starla was wiping tears as Elodie and Connor placed gold bands on each other’s fingers. She was still pouting over Lazarus’s love-’em-and-leave-’em attitude and had sworn off men for the foreseeable future.

I glanced over at Evan, who stood in the reception tent near a banquet table with a lovely three-tiered wedding cake on it. He was smiling ear to ear as he looked on. No one loved a wedding more than him.

There was a painful ache in my chest as I watched the exchanging of vows. I couldn’t help thinking back to another wedding, years ago, when I’d stood in front of family
and friends and repeated vows that would eventually be broken by someone I loved.

Biting my lip, I also thought about how on that day I’d missed my mother something fierce yet somehow still felt her presence around me. It had been comforting.

I hoped right now Elodie felt the same—that her mother was there with her, wishing her nothing but happiness. It was, I figured, what all parents wanted for their children.

Nick’s fingertips skimmed my shoulder, and I turned to look at him. He met my gaze, held it, and slowly smiled.

My heart ached again—but this time because it was so full. I was taking a risk falling for Nick, but like Ve, I believed in second chances.

Even if it was a second chance I was giving to myself.

A clean slate. A fresh start. A heart that has finally healed.

I smiled back at Nick as the officiate boomed, “You may now kiss your bride!”

We all clapped when Elodie and Connor kissed, and I had to blink away tears. I was thrilled all this had worked out. Elodie had already had a dress, Ve had returned the cake to Evan, the venue was already set…. The only thing that had changed from Ve’s planning was that the Sorcerer’s Stove wasn’t catering the event. In fact, it had closed completely.

It took some last-minute finagling, but everyone pulled together to have a pot-luck reception. Every guest had brought a dish. It wasn’t the fanciest affair, but it was certainly full of love for the happy couple.

As everyone rushed forward to congratulate the bride and groom, I made my way toward Yvonne. She put her arm around me. “I couldn’t have wished for anything more lovely.”

“I don’t think any of us could.” I nodded toward Roger. “You two look happy.”

“I’ve moved back home.”

“What changed?”

“Roger,” she said. “And that gunshot. He said while he was lying there bleeding and thinking he wasn’t going to make it, all he could think about was me. And how he wasn’t going to be able to tell me how sorry he was. Or show me how much he truly loves me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear, Darcy. I better go—he’s motioning me over.” She gave me a squeeze and hurried off to her husband.

I watched as he wrapped an arm around her and grinned, looking less like a grizzly and more like a teddy. A happy teddy.

I turned to look for Nick, and in the distance, I saw a man standing under the tree near Mrs. P’s bench. I recognized the silhouette—it was the same man who’d been watching the house earlier in the week—and it wasn’t Vince.

I walked over to him. “I thought you’d left.” The Roving Stones had packed up earlier that afternoon.

“Without saying good-bye?” Andreus said. “Never. It was a lovely ceremony.”

I nodded.

“And you look lovely as well. You’re glowing with white light—the darkness is gone.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“However, I thought you might want to keep this, just in case.” He held out the agate sphere. “It served you well, and will continue to protect you as long as you keep it in your possession.”

The last time I’d seen it was when I’d thrown it in Patrice’s house. I took it from him and gave him a hard stare. “I thought you couldn’t go into Patrice’s house.”

He smiled slyly. “I may have been lying about that.”

“And about breaking into Patrice’s?” In light of the agate ball, I suspected that Zoey hadn’t been the only one doing so over the past year and a half.

“That, too, from time to time when I’m in town.”

“And following me around?”

He conceded his guilt with a nod. “I thought you’d be the one to finally find the Anicula. I had to keep a careful eye on you in case you found it.”

“And if I had?”

“I would hope you’d return it to me.”

“And if I refused?”

“I would take it from you.”

His eyes narrowed and the hairs rose on the back of my neck—it was the feeling I’d been having all week. After she kidnapped me, I thought it might have been coming from Zoey—but it had been Andreus all along.

I was glad my instincts were right that I couldn’t trust him to return the Anicula to its rightful place. He had lied about everything else—I had no doubt that he would have kept the Anicula. Used it for himself.

“Well,” I said brightly, “it’s a good thing I don’t have it.”

“Yes. A very good thing.”

As I held the agate sphere tightly, I thought again of big bad wolves in disguise and regular old sheep. And how sometimes it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.

“I must be going,” he said, bowing slightly. “Until next time, my dear.”

“Next time?”

“The Roving Stones will be back in a few months. I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiled and strode away.

Funny, but I wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

“Is everything okay over here?” Nick asked from behind.

I turned and smiled. “Better now.”

He put an arm around me and led me back to the reception tent. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding to the sphere.

“My third boob.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

I laughed and laughed. “Long story.”

“I have time, Darcy Merriweather. All the time in the world for you.”

I leaned in close to him and smiled. I confess, I’d thought about making a third wish on the Anicula. One that would guarantee things with Nick and me would work out.

But in the end, I hadn’t. I’d given myself that second chance and decided to trust that I wasn’t going to end up with a broken heart again.

I glanced up at him.

So far, so good.

T
he longer I lived in the Enchanted Village, the more I realized that not only did magic live here but also the truly eccentric.

There were some strange, strange people in this neighborhood.

Including eighty-year-old gothic maven Harriette Harkette, who was throwing herself a girls-only birthday party to celebrate the big day. She had hired As You Wish, my aunt Ve’s personal concierge service, to plan the black-and-white-themed party—which was taking place tonight.

Ve shouted to be heard above the thumping music. “Are you sure you hired a stripper, Darcy?” She adjusted the black rose flower arrangement on the refreshment table.

The flowers, named Witching Hour roses, were quite stunning. They were a midnight black—Harriette’s favorite color—and had recently won international awards and acclaim from elite rose societies for being the first naturally black flower ever cultivated. However, the roses still felt a little morbid to me—the dark color reminded me more of a funeral than a celebration.

Trying to ignore Ve’s question, I checked the food platters. There were plenty of hors d’oeuvres, but the
birthday cake, the centerpiece, hadn’t yet arrived…. I pulled out my cell phone and sent a quick text message to my good friend Evan Sullivan, owner of the Gingerbread Shack, the local bakery, asking how soon till delivery of the beautiful three-tiered cake he’d made.

The deejay played a dramatic drumroll, and I looked up as the door to the party room slowly opened.

All smiles, Harriette slinked in. The women went wild.

I’d never seen anyone who slinked before, but Harriette did. One long stride after another—she looked ready to launch into a tango at any moment. She threw her arms in the air. “Let the party begin!”

“Staying Alive” started playing, which I thought was the deejay’s form of retribution for all the glares he received during “I Will Survive” earlier and Harriette speared him with a glowering look.

He pretended to ignore her. Wise man.

In my opinion, Harriette possessed a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde complex. One minute, she was happy as could be, the life of the party, and the next minute…a viper. I hoped tonight her fangs would stay sheathed.

“Velma! The place looks glorious!” Harriette kissed both of Ve’s cheeks—and then both of mine.

She cast a dubious glance at my dog Missy, who growled low in her throat.

Harriette leaned down and growled right back.

Missy bared her teeth, and I scooped her up before she could take a nip out of Harriette’s bony ankle.

Harriette screamed money. Tall, lithe, with gaunt cheeks, a long nose, and a pointed chin. Razor-sharp blue eyes, crisp white hair pulled back into a fancy hairdo. Diamonds dripped from her earlobes, her neck. A long black gown hugged her thin frame, and its cuffs and hem were edged in white feathers. A diamond-crusted belt cinched her tiny waist. Sparkling silver peep-toed heels showed off crimson toenails, completing the outrageous outfit.

An enormous yellow diamond glittered on her ring finger, and for the millionth time since learning she was engaged, I wondered about her supposed fiancé.

Louis.

Harriette never revealed his surname, so unless he was of the Cher or Prince mindset, she was probably keeping it mum on purpose. As far as anyone knew, Louis wasn’t from the village, and Harriette revealed frustratingly little about the relationship.

My cell phone buzzed.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping aside to check the message. I shifted Missy to the crook of my left arm and opened my phone. The display revealed:
Michael left an hour and a half ago.

The message was from Evan, responding to the text I sent him a few minutes ago. I frowned. Where was Michael Healey, the bakery’s deliveryman, then? The Gingerbread Shack was just across the square—it shouldn’t have taken him but five minutes to drop off the cake.

I texted back (not easy when holding an irritated Schnoodle):
No sign of him. Or the cake.

“The Wickeds have packed their five-dollar bills, Velma,” Harriette said loudly, eyebrows high, “so I hope the stripper is outstanding. Young, hot, sexy.” She wiggled her hips.

I wondered what constituted “young” to an eighty-year-old. Because it was true I’d hired a stripper, but according to his bio, he was pushing seventy. I suddenly had the feeling the joke wouldn’t go over as well as I’d hoped. If I didn’t fix this soon, I was sure to see Harriette’s fangs tonight.

I bit my lip and shuddered at the thought.

“Is your fiancé young, Harriette?” Ve asked oh-so-casually.

I had to give it to my aunt—she had no qualms about prying into other people’s affairs.

Harriette pursed fire-engine red lips. “Louis is a bit younger than I am, it’s true.”

“How much so?” Ve pressed.

My phone buzzed.

Evan:
I can see van in lot.

Me:
How? Superhuman vision?

Him:
Binoculars.

I didn’t even want to know why Evan had binoculars at the bakery.

“Enough to make me feel young again,” Harriette said with a long, drawn-out sigh. She glanced around, and her snake eyes narrowed on the empty spot on the dessert table reserved for the cake. “Has the cake not yet arrived?”

I smelled venom in the air and said quickly, “I’m going to go check on it. I’ll be right back.”

Stepping out would also give me time to walk Missy and make a phone call. I wondered how expensive a last-minute exotic dancer would be….

I pushed my way through the pub-goers and out onto the sidewalk facing the village green. I clipped on Missy’s leash, set her down, and looked around. The village looked nothing short of incredible. The Harvest Festival was in full swing. A huge bonfire lit one end of the green, and a Ferris wheel anchored the other. In between were booths and carnival rides and even a mock haunted house—all attractions to lure in tourists. But underneath it all, below the surface, something crackled in the air. Magic.

It made me smile. This time of year was special to Crafters. Halloween, which was next weekend, was our biggest holiday celebration.

The square was packed with tourists and villagers alike. The moon, a waxing crescent, hung high in the sky, the night was mild, the fall foliage glorious, and I wished I could enjoy it fully.