Curse of the Witch Read online

  I shrugged. “See you around, Dominic.”

  “Sure! Anytime you want to catch up over a drink, you just let me know.”

  I raised a hand in acknowledgement as I walked away with Wiggles. “What do you think happened?”

  “It looks demon related to me,” he said. “Bastille has burn marks around her neck. It looks like she was choked to death. Her skin is charred like overcooked barbecue chicken.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Let’s not mention the chicken reference to Auntie Queenie.”

  “She’s already seen her. She knows how bad it is.”

  “Even so, she doesn’t need the reminder. Bastille was her friend.”

  Wiggles nodded. “And the body is cold. Bastille’s been dead for hours.”

  “Maybe she didn’t even make it to bed. Bastille could have come back to the hotel and gone outside straightaway.” But why would she do that? Something must have tempted her outside on a chilly evening.

  I walked out the front of the hotel, back to where the others stood.

  “What news?” Auntie Queenie asked.

  “Not much. Dazielle wasn’t all that helpful. Wiggles had a look around, but it’s not looking good. It might be a demon.”

  Auntie Queenie shook her head. “A demon slaying in our village. I never thought I’d see such a horror.”

  “Let’s go home,” Granny Dottie said. “We’ve all had a shock. We need strong tea and something fortifying inside us.”

  “Good idea,” Aurora said. “I’ll make everyone breakfast.”

  “I can’t eat,” Auntie Queenie said. “But a cup of strong coffee will be good.”

  “Hold it right there.” Dazielle strode over before we had a chance to leave. “Queenie, I need to take your statement as soon as possible. You were one of the first to find Bastille.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide and tear-filled. “Of course. If I can help, I will.”

  “We’re going back to our house for breakfast,” Granny Dottie said. “We’ll take everyone with us, so we’ll all be there when you want to take statements.”

  “No, that won’t happen.” Dazielle glared at the group. “Queenie and her friends are all suspects.”

  The group erupted, everyone protesting their innocence and talking over each other.

  Dazielle raised a hand and waited for the shouting to die down. “This isn’t up for discussion. You were all together last night. I need to speak with you separately to confirm alibis. Until I do that, you can’t remain together.”

  “I thought Bastille was killed by a demon,” Aurora said.

  Dazielle pursed her lips. “It’s possible but not definite. The evidence isn’t conclusive. Until I know for certain what happened, you’re all under suspicion.”

  This caused another flurry of objections.

  “We’re not going to spend the morning getting our stories straight if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. Bastille was murdered. Until I determine your alibis, you stay apart. If I have to, I’ll arrest you all and put you in separate cells so you can’t talk. I’m hoping you’ll be sensible enough not to force me to do that.”

  “What are we supposed to do while we wait for you to interview us?” Auntie Queenie asked.

  “I suggest you go your separate ways. Everyone staying in the hotel needs to go to your room.”

  “That’s not right. We’ll be prisoners,” Samantha said.

  “No, you’ll be making it easier for me to catch the killer,” Dazielle said. “It won’t take long, and this way is more comfortable.”

  “What about me and Tempest?” Auntie Queenie asked. “I can’t lock myself in a room.”

  “Of course you won’t,” Granny Dottie said. “You’re coming home. The angels can’t object to that.”

  Dazielle hesitated, her suspicious gaze shifting from me to Auntie Queenie. “No discussing what happened.”

  “We won’t mention it,” Auntie Queenie said before nudging me.

  Dazielle glared at me. “I’m serious. No talking about last night. You were both there as was the rest of your family. If I get a sniff you’re hiding anything, I’ll drag everyone in for questioning. I’ll make sure the whole village sees you’re under suspicion for murder.”

  Dazielle would be mean enough and dumb enough to do just that. “We’re all innocent. And Bastille was a friend. No one in this group would hurt her.”

  “That’s what I need to find out. I’ll be in touch to take your statements.”

  After lots of hugging and promises to meet later, the group dispersed, and Auntie Queenie’s friends headed into the hotel.

  Auntie Queenie grabbed my hand. “Tempest, help me find out what happened to Bastille. I can’t imagine any of my friends harming her, and it wasn’t any of us, but someone wanted her dead.”

  I wrapped my arms around her. “Of course I’ll help. I liked Bastille. We’ll get whoever did this.”

  “And make them pay.” Auntie Queenie squeezed me so tightly I worried a rib might crack. “We’ll get them and teach them a lesson.”

  “Come on.” Granny Dottie extracted me from Auntie Queenie’s grip. “Let’s get back to the house, and we can figure out this mess together.”

  I shook my head. “Why don’t you and Aurora head to the cemetery? Check everything is okay with the prison.”

  “Good idea. We can’t have those angels thinking our prison is not secure.” Granny Dottie grabbed Aurora’s hand, and they hurried toward the cemetery.

  I kept hold of Auntie Queenie’s arm as we walked away. I glanced over my shoulder to see Dazielle watching us.

  I glared at her before turning away.

  She thought she’d spotted a killer among us, but I’d prove her wrong. We were all innocent, but whoever had done this to Bastille would pay.

  Chapter 4

  I sat at the table in Mom’s kitchen while she made strong tea laced with a shot of brandy for Auntie Queenie. A heap of buttered toast sat on the plate in the center of the table, but no one seemed hungry.

  She’d been as shocked as everyone else when she’d learned what happened to Bastille, but she’d soon gone into caring mode and was fussing around everyone trying to get them to eat.

  Auntie Queenie sat next to me, her hand clasped in mine.

  “I loved Bastille,” she said. “She was an odd fish at times, but she was still one of the gang.”

  “What made her odd?” I asked.

  Auntie Queenie pulled at her bottom lip. “She liked to live in the past and had trouble letting go of things. She’d bring up conversations we’d had twenty years ago, recalling them like they were yesterday and we were just picking up where we left off.”

  “Especially when it came to Kenny,” Mom said. “We all remember how obsessed Bastille was with him.”

  Auntie Queenie shook her head. “It was such a shame. Bastille was a real beauty when she was younger. She had long blonde hair and a twinkle in her eye. She enjoyed life and was always laughing. When Kenny left her, she changed.”

  “That’s not your fault,” I said. “You never chased after Uncle Kenny. He couldn’t help who he fell in love with.”

  Auntie Queenie nodded. “I knew how much Bastille still cared for Kenny. She couldn’t let go of the past. I felt a little sorry for her. It ruined her happiness. It ruined her chance to move on and be with somebody else.”

  “You never rubbed it in her face.” Mom placed a plate of crumpets in front of us and poured more brandy before settling on the opposite side of the table.

  “We were always discreet,” Auntie Queenie said. “Bastille was heartbroken when they parted. We used to go on dates outside of Willow Tree Falls so she wouldn’t stumble across us getting cozy in a restaurant. It made the relationship tricky, but I didn’t want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.”

  “Bastille’s death can’t be connected to Kenny and how she felt about him,” Mom
said. “It’s ancient history. Even though she wasn’t happy about it, she’d accepted that you’re together.”

  “It sounds like it took a long time for her to accept it, though,” I said.

  “Decades,” Auntie Queenie said.

  “What about her family?” I asked.

  “She had no family. Bastille was an only child. Her parents are dead. She has no living relatives.” Auntie Queenie sniffed and dabbed her nose. “She was all alone. Her death makes no sense.”

  “It made sense to someone,” I said.

  “Let’s see what Aurora discovers at the cemetery,” Mom said.

  “It can’t be one of our prisoners,” I said.

  “I know.” Mom patted my hand. “We need to be doubly sure, and the angels will ask us to check. We’ll ensure the place is sealed and nothing got out.”

  “What if a demon broke through the magic barrier around the village?” Auntie Queenie asked.

  “We’d know about it. No one wants an unmonitored demon skulking about the village,” I said.

  “It won’t do any harm for you to scout around,” Mom said. “We must show willingness with the angels.”

  I shrugged. “I can look. We have to keep Dazielle and her angels off our backs. If they think for a second we’re involved, they’ll hound us.”

  Auntie Queenie sighed. “Which is why you must help, Tempest. We have to find the killer. We can’t let those pretty feathery fools arrest the wrong person. Bastille deserves justice.”

  “I won’t let that happen. Even though Dazielle doesn’t want me involved, I’m not staying away. And you have nothing to worry about. Your alibi is solid,” I said. “You were with me and Mom when we came back after the party. You were so merry, you could barely stand, let alone cast a working spell.”

  Auntie Queenie glared at me out of the corner of her eye. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  Uncle Kenny bounded down the stairs, his eyes wide. “My love! You’re back.”

  Auntie Queenie jumped up and hugged him. “Bastille’s dead.”

  “I know.” He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin as he blinked tears out of his eyes. “Do you know what happened?”

  She filled him in on the events of this morning. “The angels will question all of us.”

  “What nonsense. It wasn’t any of us,” Uncle Kenny said. “I know for a fact it wasn’t you. After you collapsed into bed, you kept me awake most of the night with your snoring. I’d have known if you’d left because I’d have been able to sleep. You were with me all night.”

  “Of course I was, but I don’t snore that loudly.” Auntie Queenie returned to sit at the table.

  Uncle Kenny joined us, the shock clear on his pale face. “Poor Bastille. She didn’t deserve to go out that way. She was a gentle soul. She deserved so much better.”

  Aurora hurried through the doorway, Granny Dottie right behind her. “We’ve checked with Grandpa Lucius, and everything’s fine at the cemetery. All the demons are accounted for. There’s no way one broke out and killed Bastille.”

  “I wish one of them had,” Auntie Queenie said with a sigh. “It would mean we’re all innocent. I can’t believe any of my friends could do this to her.”

  “We still need to discount a demon on the loose in the village,” Mom said. “At least we know our prison is secure.”

  “It’s happened a few times, but it’s been years since a demon has snuck in,” Auntie Queenie said. “The magic around Willow Tree Falls is strong.”

  Which meant it was most likely someone in the village. Someone Bastille knew. I took hold of Auntie Queenie’s hand. “I hate to ask, but out of your friends, who had a reason to want Bastille dead?”

  Auntie Queenie shook her head. “None of them. Bastille used gentle magic and never dabbled with any shady stuff that got her noticed.”

  “She had no enemies that I know of,” Uncle Kenny said. “She was a good sort and kept to herself. I can’t imagine anyone who’d wish to do her harm.”

  “Somebody did, and it was someone who knew she’d be in Willow Tree Falls at the hotel last night. We have to consider everyone, and that includes the rest of Auntie Queenie’s old biker gang.”

  “I can’t think about it. It’s not right. We look out for each other. Even though we’re not in a gang anymore, we always will.” Auntie Queenie swallowed and looked away.

  “What if things have changed? You don’t see so much of each other. Bastille could have fallen out with one of the others. Is there anyone in the group not close to Bastille?”

  Auntie Queenie stifled a sob and shook her head.

  “I know this is hard, my love,” Uncle Kenny said. “But Tempest is trying to help.”

  Auntie Queenie sighed and patted my hand. “I know.”

  “It can be anything you think of. An argument you overheard or a cross word. I need something to get started with.”

  She nodded and straightened in her seat. “If I had to pick anyone, it would be Caprice. Bastille thought she was snooty and looked down on her. They often bickered, and Caprice would make fun of Bastille because she couldn’t afford designer shoes. Caprice loves the finer things in life.”

  I frowned. “Caprice killed Bastille because she wouldn’t wear designer clothes?”

  Auntie Queenie tutted. “Of course not! And their bickering wasn’t serious. They simply came from different backgrounds. And they’d always watch out for each other when we were together. If anyone else ever hassled Bastille, Caprice was there making sure they didn’t do it again.”

  “Could their bond have faded over the years?” I asked. “Maybe Bastille got sick of being teased and confronted Caprice. Things got out of hand. You all had a lot to drink last night.”

  “Caprice wouldn’t have killed Bastille.”

  “Caprice is a powerful witch,” I said. “Is she powerful enough to burn another witch with magic?”

  Auntie Queenie pressed her lips together. “In theory, but only in theory. None of them have anything to do with this.”

  “I believe you, but we need to cover all the bases. The angels will ask the exact same questions.” I sat back in my seat. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start.

  Auntie Queenie looked at me, her bottom lip wobbling. “What are you going to do?”

  “See if I can get to Caprice before the angels talk to her.”

  “Go easy on Caprice,” Mom said. “She’s most likely in shock. Everyone is.”

  “I’ll ask a few questions, that’s all. I need to rule her out and make sure they weren’t arguing about something more complicated than designer shoes.”

  “She’s innocent,” Auntie Queenie said. “We all are.”

  “And that’s what I’m going to prove.” I nodded to Wiggles as I stood and walked to the kitchen door. “I will find out who did this. I won’t stop asking questions until I do. We’ll get justice for Bastille.”

  Auntie Queenie’s smile was tearful as I turned and left the kitchen. It was time to investigate this murder and figure out who hated Bastille enough to kill her.

  Chapter 5

  I slowed as I saw feathers drifting in the air currents. There were angels around somewhere, and those feathers were suspiciously close to our cemetery.

  “I smell purity and incompetence,” Wiggles said, his nose in the air.

  “You’re not the only one.” I changed direction, and we headed to the cemetery gates.

  Two angels stood outside. Grandpa Lucius blocked their path, his expression stern as he glared up at them.

  “Feathers at twelve o’clock,” Wiggles muttered. “If either of them tries to hug me like Dazielle did this morning, I need permission to bite.”

  “Granted. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Grandpa Lucius’s raised voice drifted toward me, and I increased my pace. “What’s going on?”

  “Tempest! These angels want to poke around. They don’t believe me when I tell them the prison is secure.” />
  I blinked in surprise. I rarely saw Grandpa Lucius angry. He was a laid-back guy, who loved to chill out with a good book and a bit of classical music. Right now, he was anything but chilled. His cheeks burned with color, and his hands were fisted.

  “He’s right,” I said to the backs of the angels. “Stop hassling him.”

  One of them turned, and I recognized Sablo.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Tempest. We’re here on Dazielle’s orders. She’s insisting we check for ourselves. We won’t be long.”

  “You’re not getting in here,” Grandpa Lucius growled. “Whenever an angel steps inside the cemetery, it causes chaos with the demons. They get fixated on breaking out and ripping off your wings. It takes hours to settle them.”

  “I’m not bothered what the demons think of us,” Sablo said. “We have to look around. You might have missed a crack.”

  I glowered at her as I joined Grandpa Lucius. “We do not miss cracks.”

  Sablo raised a placating hand. “Demons are tricky. We both know that. We have to take a look.”

  “Do you think you can do a better job of running this place than we can? We know how to identify any weaknesses and fix them.”

  Sablo sighed. “Please, we don’t want to cause you any problems.”

  “Then leave,” Grandpa Lucius said.

  “We can’t do that.” Sablo glanced at her colleague. It was one of the new, unfriendly angels I’d met this morning. “If you like, you can guide us around. Show us the place is locked down, and we’ll leave you alone. We have to make sure Willow Tree Falls is safe. If there’s a demon on the loose—”

  “If there is, you’ll call me to catch it.”

  Sablo smiled. “We most likely will. Just a quick look that’s all I’m asking. We won’t touch anything unless you say it’s okay to do so.”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked at Grandpa Lucius.

  The muscles in his jaw twitched, but he gave a swift nod. “Okay, so long as you’re not wandering around on your own.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing in your cemetery,” Sablo said. “Your place, your rules.”

  “I’ll show them around,” I said to him. I was worried Grandpa Lucius might lose his temper and shove the angels into the prison. That would be fun for the resident demons.