Spell on Earth Page 5

  I rifled through a stack of receipts I’d shoved in the drawer and saw a dark-blue speckled stone at the bottom. Bingo.

  Now to secure the rest of the ingredients for the spell. First I needed a spider web. Having a plant shop with a greenhouse attracted loads of spiders. That might not appeal to most people, but I didn’t mind spiders at all. In fact, some of them could be downright charming. Take Ernestine Hemingway, the writing spider that resided in the back of the shop, for example. Even though she looked like a black widow with her large black-and-red body, she was really quite harmless and made the prettiest webs with a lovely thick flourish in the middle that resembled a squiggle from a fountain pen.

  I made my way to the back of the shop, keeping my eye on Penuche, who actually did seem to be behaving. He was steering clear of the plants, trotting around and inspecting the bottoms of the shelves but keeping his paws to himself.

  When he passed the fairy garden, he took an interest in the toads that lived there, but I shooed him away, garnering grateful looks from my squat wart-covered friends. The toads never bothered anyone, and they were useful for spells, so I didn’t want Penuche disturbing them.

  Clover ambled along behind me, mumbling negativity about Penuche under her breath.

  Are you going to Ernestine’s web?

  “Yes. I’m making a truth charm.”

  Ernestine has been very busy. It’s a good thing you need some web, because it’s getting very thick back here. Looks like a haunted house. Might drive away customers.

  Clover wasn’t kidding. Ernestine had indeed been busy weaving her delicate webs in between the leaves of an umbrella tree.

  As I bent down to stare at the web, Ernestine scurried away from me further into the plant. The web was nearly perfect, its gossamer strands glinting in the sunlight. I hated to ruin it, but I had Lilly to think about. I took out my tweezers and carefully plucked the edges from the plant, laying the web on the silver tray with the lapis lazuli.

  “Sorry, Ernestine. Hate to mess up your work, but I know you’ll make a new one.”

  I didn’t know if spiders could understand witches, but apologizing felt like the polite thing to do.

  I needed only three more ingredients. One was at my cottage, and the other two were in the front of the shop. I headed toward the window, where a pair of Venus flytraps sat with their jagged leaves open, waiting for a hapless insect to land inside. I didn’t relish this part of the ingredient collection. I needed a leaf from the Venus flytrap, the part that ensured only the recipient of the lapis would be affected by the charm.

  Plucking leaves off a plant is best done quickly, kind of like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound. So I snuck up behind one of the Venus flytraps, grabbed one of the leaves, and jerked it off.

  Ouch!

  I felt the plant’s pain more than heard it. “Sorry. The leaf is important. You’ll grow a new one.”

  Now, for the next ingredient. Swamp water. I usually kept a supply on hand because the swamp was deep in the forest and I only went there if absolutely necessary. Luckily, I had one more bottle of swamp water corked up nice and neat on the bottom shelf under the cash register.

  Spinning around, I glanced at the shelf, and my heart skidded against my ribcage. Penuche was sitting there, the cork skewered on his razor-sharp claw, the bottle empty on the floor in front of him. He looked up at me and hiccuped. “This water tastes like crap.”

  “Oh no. You didn’t drink that, did you?”

  “Yeah. I was thirsty.” Hiccup.

  Told you he was trouble.

  Crap. That was my last bottle of swamp water. Now I had no choice. I’d have to get more swamp water before I could cast the spell on Iona. And the only way to get the swamp water was to go to Cottonmouth Copse, deep in the forest, my least favorite place on the entire island.

  Eight

  It didn’t take long for the swamp water to work its effect on Penuche. He toppled over and fell into a deep sleep. I knew there would be no long-lasting adverse consequences from drinking the water, other than that he’d be out for the next few hours.

  Clover waddled around Penuche’s sleeping form, poking at him here and there. I guess he isn’t so bad when he’s like this. We should stock up on swamp water.

  That was a surprise coming from Clover. She hated going to the Cottonmouth Copse.

  “That’s exactly where I’m going. Do you want to come?”

  Clover’s gaze flipped from my face to Penuche and then back again. “Sure, let’s go.” Apparently a trip to the copse was more appealing than staying alone with the ornery cat, sleeping or not.

  I put Clover in the basket of my scooter and headed out. The forest was on the other side of town, and I could feel the humidity drop as snow-capped mountains came into view. Eternal Springs is somewhat of an enigma in terms of climate. The presence of both tropical beaches and snowy mountains make it an ideal getaway for people looking for all kinds of outdoor activities.

  The forest was dense. Hiking and walking trails wound through the trees and shrubs, but tourists didn’t exactly flock here. Perhaps it was because it always seemed strangely colder and darker in the forest. At least it did to me. Unlike most forests with their share of twittering birds and rustling squirrels, Cottonmouth Copse was eerily quiet. Clover chortled nervously beside me, her short legs paddling to keep up as I navigated the path that led to the swamp.

  “Oh, so one of them has lowered themselves to visit.” The voice came from a tall tree.

  Agatha was one of the reasons I hated coming to Cottonmouth Copse. When St. Joan’s had burned down, nasty demons and creatures had been unleashed from the hole. We’d tried our best to wrangle them all back in, but the nastiest would not be wrangled. The best we could do was trap their souls in trees. Now, every time I come here, those souls taunt me with sarcasm.

  “I’m not here to visit. I just want some swamp water,” I said.

  “Your hair looks nice. Did you do something different today?” said Earl, the one tree that was always nice.

  I patted my hair. “No, but thanks.”

  “Stop sucking up, Earl,” Agatha sneered. “She doesn’t look nice. She looks evil.”

  “You should talk. You’re evil. That’s why you’re trapped in the tree.” I couldn’t help snapping back as I knelt beside the swamp and dipped my cobalt-blue glass bottle into the thick, bubbling rancid-smelling water.

  “Oh look, she must be getting swamp water for a spell,” Myrna said.

  Agatha laughed, her leaves rustling. “That’s a hoot. Her spells never work very well. Better watch out, Zola, or you might get spell stink on you.”

  Just ignore them, and let’s hurry and get out of here, Clover telepathed.

  I bit back a sarcastic remark. Clover was right. It was best to ignore the trees. It was never a good idea to get them going. One could spend hours in here arguing with them, and that was exactly what they wanted. But the truth hurt. I really had had a few spells backfire. So what? No witch could be on target all the time.

  With the bottle finally full, I stood, brushing the swamp mud from my knees. I started down the path, unable to resist one parting shot over my shoulder. “Nice talking to you all. I’m going to go out in the daylight now. Hope you have fun stuck here in the forest.”

  Leaves rustled angrily behind me as I hurried away. I heard Agatha yell, “Watch out for that spell stink!”

  We trotted down the path as fast as we could. I couldn’t wait to get away from them. Clover must have felt the same way. I’d never seen her short legs windmill so fast.

  When we finally spilled out into the daylight of the parking lot, I took a deep breath and held the bottle up to the light. That should be enough swamp water to last for a while.

  I loaded Clover into the scooter basket and headed back to the shop. I wanted to get home as soon as possible so the lapis lazuli could soak in the swamp water solution overnight. But first I had to go back and get Penuche. I’d promised Lilly I would watch him,
and I didn’t dare leave him alone in my shop overnight. There was no telling what he’d ruin. I hated to break it to Clover, but Penuche was going to have to spend the night with us.

  Nine

  Penuche was suspiciously polite when I got him home to my cottage. The quaint stone cottage had once been part of a larger estate. I had bought it because it included two acres that gave me privacy and plenty of room for gardens.

  Penuche trotted around the interior, taking in my comfortable furnishings, stone walls, and antique kitchenware.

  “Nice place.”

  His compliment surprised me. “Um … thanks.”

  I hope you don’t expect me to share any of my cat beds with that heathen.

  “I can understand your thoughts, you know,” Penuche said.

  “No fighting,” I cut in. “I have an extra cat bed.”

  Clover scowled at me. What’s for supper?

  I took out two cat bowls, filling them with the same food and setting them down. Penuche sniffed at the food while Clover gulped hers down then nosed him out of the way and gobbled from the other bowl.

  “Hey, beat it, rat. That was my share,” Penuche said.

  Share? You don’t get a share, this is my place, and don’t forget it, pal.

  “Clover, Penuche is a guest. Can’t you be nice for just one night?” I said.

  Only one night? Promise?

  “Um …” I hoped it would be just one night, but the truth was I wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, do tell. How long will I have to suffer these inferior accommodations?” Penuche asked.

  “I’m working to make it as short as possible.” Truly, I was.

  Penuche trotted over to my favorite chair and raked his claws down the side.

  “Hey, that’s my chair!”

  Heathen.

  “Oh er … sorry.” Penuche looked down at his claws as if he had no control over them. “So what is going on with my mistress anyway? I heard them take her away.”

  His words held a note of sadness that twisted my heart. Could it be the cantankerous cat’s behavior stemmed from worry about Lilly?

  “Well, we know she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just a matter of proving that to the police, and I’m sure we’ll have her back in no time,” I assured him. I wondered exactly how close Penuche and Lilly were. “Can you talk to her like you talk to me?”

  “Oh, no. We can’t communicate like that. Otherwise I might have told her about the bumps I heard in the shop the night before she was taken away. I was locked in the back. Not sure what was going on out there, but I know it wasn’t her.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Lilly left you alone in her shop last night?”

  “Sure. She does that sometimes. She doesn’t want window-shoppers to see a cat trotting around in the candy shop. Apparently, people don’t appreciate a few cat hairs in their candy.” He licked his paws as if the notion was foreign to him. “It was only for a little while when she went to her knitting circle or some such thing. She never tells me exactly where she’s going. Doesn’t think I can understand her, so she mostly coos and clucks at me. But I know she goes to that knitting circle once a week. It’s taught by that annoying lady on the radio. You know who I mean.”

  “Yeah, who doesn’t?” Mitzi, Buddy’s wife, had a radio show on knitting, which was an absolute snoozefest. She also taught classes one night a week. I wondered if people went to the classes to learn how to knit or to cure their insomnia.

  “The classes are right down the street from the shop, so Lilly walks there and back. Then she picks me up, and we go home.”

  “Hmm.” If that were true, then Lilly might have an alibi for the time of the murder. Or not. I didn’t actually know what time Amelia had been murdered, but I was pretty sure it must have been after the class let out. But what about those noises the cat had heard? If Lilly was at her knitting circle that night, then who was in her shop after it closed, and how did they get in? And was it related to Amelia’s death?

  “Do you know what time she came back from the class?” I asked.

  “Um no … What is time? Cats live in the moment.”

  Great. So no way to verify Lilly actually did leave to go to the class. She could have been anywhere—like in the lobby of the hotel.

  “Are you really trying to help her?” Penuche asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Maybe you should team up with that nice nephew of hers, Tommy.”

  “Hmm … maybe.” Then again, maybe not. Much as I loved his pies, Tommy was acting a little suspicious.

  “Well, if you are trying to help Lilly, you can’t be too bad.” Penuche trotted to the guest cat bed I’d put in the corner of the room opposite from Clover and curled into a ball.

  Clover and Penuche seemed to have entered into some kind of truce. Clover slept in her cat bed and Penuche in his. I figured this was my chance to collect the last ingredient I needed for the spell from my garden.

  I wandered out into the herb garden just outside my kitchen and picked a sprig of baby wort breath. It was dusk, my favorite time of night, and the stars were just appearing. Crickets chirped as I inhaled fresh crisp air and the earthy garden scent. I dug my fingers into the soft warm soil next to the plant. The connection to the earth always energized me.

  A smile played on my lips as I surveyed my perfect garden. Hey, wait. What was going on with the rosemary plants? The smile faded from my lips as I noticed the dirt beneath them was dry and cracked. But the dirt under the other plants was moist.

  Darn that Evian! She must be trying to get back at me for something. It wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this. As a water witch, she has the ability to control where the rain falls, and apparently, she didn’t want it to fall on my rosemary plants. Probably payback because I’d said she smelled like cake last week at karaoke night. What? She really had smelled like cake, and I was under the effects of the truth serum. Besides, what’s wrong with smelling like cake?

  I made a mental note to move the plants to another section and took the baby wort breath inside. Then I prepared the ingredients. Twenty drops of swamp water, a sprinkling of spider web, and one fingernail full of crushed baby wort breath. I mixed it all together and poured it over the lapis nestled in the center of the silver dish. Now to let it sit overnight. In the morning, I’d use the Venus flytrap leaf to put the final touches on the spell.

  After changing into my pj’s, I settled into the overstuffed sofa in my living room with a glass of wine to end the day. It had been stressful, and I needed some downtime. Thankfully Penuche and Clover were still sleeping.

  I’d just started to relax when my Roomba zoomed to life and zipped out of the closet. Great. Exactly what I didn’t need tonight—coven communication from mainland New Jersey.

  All four of the St. Joan of Arc witches had an enchanted item to communicate with the coven back on the mainland. I’d picked the robotic vacuum cleaner because I hated to vacuum. I figured why not kill two birds? At least I’d get something out of the communication, which was usually quite unpleasant. The coven only made contact when the members wanted to complain about something.

  Tonight, I was not in the mood. I hightailed it out of the living room, hoping to avoid the conversation entirely, but it was no use. The Roomba followed me, bellowing witchy voices as it came, stating the coven wanted to talk to me.

  Finally, the thing trapped me in the bathroom. I took a deep breath and faced the little round vacuum head-on. “What is it you want?”

  “We’ve heard some rumors about disturbing happenings on the island,” the voice of Jerusula, my mentor, boomed, echoing off the tile walls. “I hope you’re paying attention out there. You and the other three were sentenced to eternity on the island to prevent such occurrences. None of you had better be falling down on the job now, as you did before.”

  See what I mean? It was all doom and gloom and blame with the coven.

  “No one is falling down on the job,” I said.

  “Rea
lly? Then what about the rumors?” Jerusula’s accusatory face appeared on the shiny black surface of the Roomba. The surface zoomed in on one accusing green eye. “I hope you’re not spending all your time mooning over that pie baker.”

  Ugh … had everyone heard about that stupid kiss?

  “Not at all. I’m working right now on a spell to figure out who the killer is so I can return island life to its previous blissful state.” I took a gulp of wine, wishing I’d brought the whole bottle along.

  “Ha! I’ve seen your spells backfire.”

  “Well, you’re the one who taught me.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. Jerusula had been my mentor at St. Joan of Arc’s. Never mind that my education had been cut short by the fire. Maybe there was a deficiency in my witchiness because she hadn’t taught me everything I needed.

  The Roomba zoomed toward me, ramming into my toe.

  “Ouch!”

  “Don’t sass me. Who do you think you are? Skye?” her voice bellowed as the Roomba zoomed back toward me, running over my other foot.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry!” I hopped from one foot to the other, trying not to spill the wine.

  The Roomba spun around, her face appearing on the surface again. “If you’d been paying attention, you would have also noticed a disturbance in the ethers.”

  Ugh … the little salt-throwing man. “I did notice.”

  “Huh, well … it doesn’t appear you’re doing much about it. Our sources tell us you were the first to hear about his presence. You know the rule: first to find out has to return the creature from whence it came.”

  “I’m formulating a plan.”

  “Do not forget what happened the last time a disturbance occurred. You witches couldn’t get all of the creatures that escaped back in and had to trap their souls in the trees. It could have meant the end of life as we know it.”

  She didn’t need to be so dramatic. Besides, how could I forget? Those had been some of the most harrowing moments of my life, ranking right up there with the incident-that-should-not-be-named. But I refused to let the coven know that or the depth of the fear that their words conjured. And I certainly wasn’t going to let them know that I was scared to death that one of these times something worse might happen because I couldn’t do my part.