Gettin' Witched (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 12) Read online

  “No!” he said quickly. Too quickly, in fact. Then he cleared his throat and modulated his tone. “No, Dove. I’d prefer we drive together in case I overindulge. I hear they have a spectacular burgundy I’m dying to try. This way, you can drive home.”

  “But what if I overindulge, too?”

  He winked. “I think we both know that’s unlikely. Too much wine gives you a headache. It’s butterscotch martinis we have to be on the lookout for with you.”

  I blinked. “Well, if I do overindulge, then we can do what we always do. Call an Uber.” Because that’s what we always did if we each had more than one drink. We played it safe and called an Uber.

  But Win shot me an expression of pure distaste. “I’d prefer we didn’t travel down that road again, Stephania. Surely you remember the last time we called upon an Uber? The only thing we could get was a ride share, and if you’ll recall, we had to pull over three times because Sharon was…dreadfully ill.”

  Okay, that was true. Sharon had blown her cookies three times in a fifteen-minute ride, narrowly missing my lap twice and skirting Win’s shoes.

  I wrinkled my nose. “I do remember. Fair enough. I’ll be the sober one. So I’ll meet you back here then?”

  “Wonderful. Looking forward to it.” He leaned down to drop a kiss on my lips, but then I had a brilliant idea.

  “You know, I don’t have anything to do until much later this afternoon. If you can wait twenty minutes while I shower and dress, we can do errands together,” I said, starting to rise.

  There was a brief moment of silence that was almost…I guess, tense is the word, and then he relaxed a bit and said, “Oh, Dove. I’d give anything to share my day with you, of course, but first, I have a cleaning at the dentist. Then I’m having lunch with Dana…you know, boys’ day out. Afterward, I absolutely must meet with the garden club ladies, and I don’t know how long that will take, but I imagine, because we’re deciding upon the flowers for the fall festival, it will be an effort to keep it from bleeding into our dinner. You do know how the ladies are when it comes to agreeing on anything, don’t you, Dove? It always ends up in verbal fisticuffs. So while I treasure any time spent with you, I must decline your tempting invitation and somehow find a way to valiantly carry on.”

  Huh. That was quite the mouthful for Win.

  “Also,” he added, “I’m taking Arkady and Belfry with me, if you don’t mind?”

  “Why would I mind?”

  “I guess mind is the wrong word. I simply didn’t want you to think Arkady was out of touch with you without reason. I thought it might be nice for them to lunch with Dana and me. In a roundabout way, of course. Certainly, I’ll keep Bel hidden, and I’ll pass on anything Arkady says to Dana.”

  “That’s very nice.” I looked up at the sky. “Arkady? How do you feel about lunch?”

  “I think it will be nice lunch. I hope Zero has hamburger. I love hamburger with cheese and bacon. I live viciously through him.”

  I chuckled before correcting him. “Vicariously. You’re going to live vicariously through him, and far be it from me to stop you. By all means, have a boys’ day out.”

  Then Win pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, squinting against the glare of the morning sun. “And now I must run, or I shall be late for my dentist appointment. Good oral hygiene is essential. Now, a kiss for good luck, yes?”

  He pulled me up from my chair and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Good luck?” I asked, thinking his request was quite odd. “Since when do you need good luck to run errands?”

  “Well, I am dealing with the ladies from the garden club, after all. Certainly some luck can’t hurt, can it, Stephania?”

  I giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Right. I forgot. Good luck,” I said with a smile, running my hands over his shirt to remove any nonexistent lint.

  “Have a wonderful day,” he whispered, and then he was off, but not before Belfry was buzzing to catch up with him.

  “Hey! Hold up there, Spy! I have to ask you a question about something…”

  Bel’s voice trailed off as he followed Win, and I was left alone with nothing more than the warm breeze and Whiskey and Strike.

  Whiskey put his big head in my lap and nuzzled my hand with a low moan.

  I looked down at him and smiled, scratching his ears. “So, how about you, buddy. You wanna run errands with me today? Maybe go to the park and play the game where I throw the ball and you hoard it? Because nobody who lives here wants to go anywhere with me. I’ll buy you a puppuccino at the ice cream truck,” I coaxed.

  He sniffed and huffed as though he were thinking about it, and then he turned tail and ran into the house through the French doors with Strike pecking at his heels.

  Meaning, thanks but no thanks, Mom. I have some serious napping in the sun to do today.

  I sat back in my chair and mulled over how I felt, and why I felt the way I did.

  I felt quite alone. Something I hadn’t been for a very long time, and I found I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  I was all alone.

  Alone.

  And at loose ends.

  Humph.

  Chapter 2

  I decided feeling sorry for myself was pathetic and silly and in order to shake my blues, I’d shower, put on a cute outfit and hit the park for a nice walk. Then maybe grab a coffee from Strange Brew, the little café my friend and—I’m sure you remember—one-time date, Forrest Sherwood, owned.

  Forrest had taken a small sabbatical to see Europe recently and had left his manager in charge of the shop. While we remained friends after our sort-of breakup—or maybe I should say our decision to have a friendship rather than a romantic entanglement—I sometimes wondered if he didn’t feel a bit awkward with me. Especially because his grandfather Chester and I remained such good friends.

  But Forrest never said as much. In fact, Win and I had run into him a couple of times and our interactions had been very pleasant, so I left it alone. He was dating other people and had moved on, according to Chester, and I was happy for him.

  Anyway, I did just that. First, I lingered, doing some household chores like laundry and a bit of dusting. Then I took a nice, long, hot, soapy shower, I threw on a cute sundress with a twirly skirt (my favorite) that would also work for dinner that evening so I didn’t have to rush home to change if I ran over with Leif, some hoop earrings, a pair of ice-blue wedge sandals, and off I went.

  To do something.

  Alone. Abandoned.

  Dramatic much, Stevie?

  Rolling my eyes, again, I felt silly about feeling deserted, but all of my favorite men were off being men together, and that left me to my own devices. A scenario I rarely, if ever, am presented with, and as I pulled up to the curb by Madame Zoltar’s, I tried once more to stop overthinking a possible disconnect with Win and just enjoy my first free day in quite some time.

  I was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need her life constantly filled with noise and people to exist. I’d lived alone almost all of my adult life…well, with the exception of Belfry, that is, and I’d never felt this kind of melancholy before.

  Which left me doubly disturbed. How could I claim to be empowered if, when suddenly left in my own company, I couldn’t find something to do with my time? My world didn’t revolve around these men, for pizza’s sake. I had my own world, thank you very much.

  But I suppose, if I’m honest, we do spend a lot of time together, and as of late, I hadn’t really made much time for anything or anyone else.

  We’d had a rousing summer, jam-packed with appointments, and even doing much more than zipping home for dinner, watching a bit of television and toddling off to bed was an effort after dealing with persnickety ghosts all day.

  Though, Win still managed to have a bite to eat or a drink with Dana, and he had his garden club, among other hobbies he enjoyed. He made time for other things—other people. It was time I started following his example.

  Which,
in the spur of the moment, was what made me call Melba Kaepernick, my friend who also happened to be Dana’s girlfriend. We hadn’t seen each other in easily a month, due to our schedules, but I was hoping that would all change today.

  I scrolled my phone to find her number and pressed call while I dug out the keys to Madame Z’s to grab the book I’d been reading during my lunch breaks.

  If all else failed, I could read a good book in the park while I enjoyed my sad brown water with whipped cream.

  Despite her job, which could sometimes be quite gloomy and taxing on one’s emotional health, Melba almost always managed to find the optimistic silver lining.

  Her hopefulness and positivity made me grin. I love Melba. She’s quirky and funny, and she and Dana make a great couple. Though, they’re about as opposite as they can be.

  Melba has eyebrow piercings and tattoos that illustrate her free spirit, and as you all know, Dana’s rigid and orderly. A very beige to her bright yellow, but they’d made it work. I thought they were adorable together and appeared quite smitten with one another.

  We’d worried that Dana knowing our secret and keeping it from Melba would be difficult on him, but so far, it hadn’t proved a problem.

  Though we hadn’t really talked about telling her, I did wonder if we should. I didn’t want what he knew to be a strain on him or his relationship with Melba.

  I’d hate to think he felt as guilty about hiding our circumstances from Melba as he had about thinking I was evil because I’m a witch. Well, sort of a witch, that is.

  Tucking the phone under my chin, I pushed my way into the store, enjoying the scent of sage and pears from the beeswax candles I’d grabbed at the farmers market a few weeks ago.

  “Heeeyyy, Stevie! How’s it going?” my favorite detective crooned into the phone, her husky voice cheerful as always.

  “Hey, Melba! I’m good. How are you?”

  There was a weird whirring noise in the background, but I couldn’t identify it. “I’m good. Really good. What’s up?”

  “Well, I find myself quite free for the afternoon, and I was wondering if—”

  “Shhh!” she hissed.

  Throwing my keys on the counter by the register, I frowned. “Huh?”

  “Sorry, Stevie. I didn’t mean you should shush. So, um…what’s up?”

  Wandering past the counter where we had a rack of hand-painted postcards from a local artist, I inhaled and began again. “I was saying, I find myself free today, and I was wondering if I can interest you in a late lunch before my hair appointment? Maybe a movie? We haven’t seen each other in the flesh in forever, and I miss you. My treat,” I tempted.

  There was that whirring noise again, and then it became muffled and distorted, meaning Melba must have covered the speaker on the phone.

  I heard her hiss something garbled and then she said, “Uh…I can’t make it today, Stevie. Sorry.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, I became curious. “But isn’t today your day off?”

  “Er…” she muttered. “It is…but I’m not feeling great.” And then she sneezed. And then she sneezed again and followed up with a long sniffle. “Must be my allergies.”

  Instantly, I wanted to help and bring her a cup of comfort. Who didn’t like soup when they weren’t feeling up to par?

  Pulling out the chair at my reading table, I slumped into it and cupped my chin. “I could bring you some soup, if you’d like. Soup and some nasal spray. From that cute little sandwich food truck. You know, the one with all the amazing homemade bread? The soup, not the nasal spray. How’s that sound?”

  “No!” she all but shouted—and then much like Win had done earlier, her tone went softer. “I’m good. Really, Stevie. I’m just going to hunker down and binge something on Netflix and let the Benadryl take effect. I’ll probably be asleep long before you can even get here.”

  Boo-hiss.

  I’m not sure if I needed to feel connected to someone or if I was just being needy, but I found myself drawing out the conversation she very clearly wanted to end by asking, “What are you going to binge-watch?”

  The rustling continued for a moment before she said, “Huh? What are you talking about? Wait, hang on, Stevie.” She paused, and I heard another muffled, “Aw, c’mon! That’s gotta be wrong. Jiminy Christmas, why is this so hard?”

  Moving some stray papers around on my reading table, I cocked my head. She sure didn’t sound like her allergies were bothering her. “Why is what so hard?”

  A rasping sigh hit my ear. “Oh, nothing. Now, what were we talking about?”

  I settled into my chair, focusing on the wind chimes in the corner of the reading room, made with beautiful seashells from Mexico by another local artist, to avoid looking at the mess I’d left on the table.

  “I think we were talking about Netflix and binge-watching—which I’m an expert at. I can list a ton of shows, if you want. My newest favorite is Somebody Feed Phil. You’d love the host, Mel. He’s amazing. Then there’s Queer Eye and The Politician—”

  “Aw, nuts!” She cut off my rambling with a yelp.

  I sighed, trying to hide my disappointment. She was very clearly distracted. “Okay. You’re obviously pretty busy with your allergies. Maybe we’ll try for next—”

  “Arghh! That’s too much of the stuff!”

  I frowned harder. What the heck? “What? What’s going on over there, Melba? Are you okay?”

  “Nothing! Um, nothing. I’m fine. Anyways, I have to run, Stevie. You know, so I can binge watch that show on Netflix.” Then she yawned—loudly. “And I’m so sleepy from the meds. Anyway, chat soon, friend. Byyye.” I heard a click and then she was gone, leaving me staring at the phone in confusion.

  If that conversation wasn’t strange, I didn’t know what was.

  But okay. It was just me again. The park, my book, and a cup of coffee would have to be enough. Fine.

  I leaned forward to grab my book, an Agatha Christie I’d only read a hundred times, but it was too far away.

  Grunting, I stretched my fingers as far as they would go to avoid leaving my chair due to the defeat I was feeling, and as I did, my fingertips crackled.

  Like, they actually spat a stream of legitimate electricity.

  I almost fell out of my chair with surprise, but managed to catch myself as my book came sailing toward me at warp speed, ducking just in time for it to miss my head and hit the wall behind me with a crack.

  Holding up my hand to inspect it, I smiled. “Holy Hannah…”

  That had been honest-to-goodness real magic! I remember the feel of it well, the tingle of electricity flowing from my fingers is something one doesn’t easily forget.

  As you know, I’ve been having blips of surges for a while now, but this one actually did something other than destroy a lamp or make an iceberg the size of the Titanic in the backyard.

  Pointing my fingers at the book on the floor, I tried it again, visualizing in my mind the book lifting off the throw rug and landing in my free hand. I wiggled my fingers and made a motion to draw it toward me.

  Holding my breath, I clenched my teeth as it actually rose in midair, the pages hanging toward the floor, almost making it to my hand before it crashed at my feet.

  Jumping up from the chair, I did a little victory dance. That was the first time I’d been able to purposely give direction to something with magic in…well…years. It wasn’t huge, by any stretch, but it was a step in the right direction.

  My instinct was to text Win right away with the good news, so I tapped out a quick message. “Guess what this girl just did?”

  I waited expectantly to see the little dots, indicating he was texting me back. Normally, it never took him more than a few seconds or so to respond, but there was nothing.

  Checking the time, I sighed. Maybe he was still in the dentist’s chair?

  Man, I was batting a thousand today. Setting the phone down, I pouted a little, disappointed I couldn’t share my good news yet, when tw
o things happened at once.

  First, I saw a slip of the store’s stationary on the reading table with Win’s scrolling handwriting on it with the name Donna Blitzhen and some numbers. 24, 2000, 13. Certainly odd…

  Second, I had a visitor.

  She was in the corner, her beautifully wavy auburn hair blowing behind her, wearing a filmy pink dress with an empire waist, puffy off-the-shoulder-sleeves and a long, flowing train.

  You know the kind of dress I mean. Like the ones you see in a Gothic movie where the heroine is running in the untouched snow under the velvet black of a moonlit night?

  She was smiling at me—smiling with such fondness, and a familiarity that made my heart clench in response. Her pale skin looked almost dewy, her eyes so crystalline and blue, they pierced mine, but there was no intensity in them, no panic, only warmth.

  Her arms reached out to me and her crimson lips on her heart-shaped face moved, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying because of course, I didn’t have my cohort in ghostly liaisons with me to tell me what she was saying.

  A breeze out of nowhere struck up, blowing the papers on my reading table around and making the wind chimes tinkle. As it picked up, and my hair began to swirl around my face, I frowned.

  “Okay, I get it. You’re here. Ta-da! Now quit, would you? You’re making a mess, ma’am,” I yelled over the roar of wind.

  I’d bet my left lung and a year’s supply of Twinkies she’d been one of Win’s flirtations on Plane Limbo. Meaning she was likely familiar with me, because he’d told her about me.

  “What do you want?” I yelled, trying to catch all the papers before they ended up scattered throughout the store. “You don’t have to make a mess to tell me!”

  The wind lessened quite rapidly, and then out of nowhere, a gorgeous bouquet of pale pink and white flowers appeared in her hands and she threw them at me before blowing me a kiss.

  Then just like that, she was gone, leaving me feeling deflated.

  “Fine. Be that way. But I’ll have you know, if you’d stuck around, I would have bought you lunch,” I muttered into the empty room.