Practical Potions and Premeditated Murder (Practical Potions Mysteries Book 1), page 3
She sighed, and the fires overhead dulled as she did. “The town council and Benka do things their own way… and the king’s guard won't get involved in some small-time murder.”
His ear twitched as the other cat yowled indignantly. Beejee bared his teeth at her, but translated regardless, “She says Cali was in the gem business, formally. Many of her items were stolen…” He snapped his teeth at the other cat to quiet her at last. “How is this our problem?”
“If someone here was murdered tonight, it’s everyone’s problem,” Sella said. She finally rose from the floor and felt her legs tingle as blood rushed back into circulation. She ran her palms down her thighs. Had it only been that she had been sitting too long, or was something else wrong? She felt a slight shiver in the air and brushed her shoulders to remove any negativity that lingered there.
“If she died from Cresablatt poisoning,” Sella thought aloud, “that is incredibly bad news for us. We’re probably the only ones in Orakan, or at least this far south, who can make it. And we sell a lot of the ingredients in the shop.”
“Plus, no one’s trusted your potions since The Incident,” Beejee reminded her. “Probably best we leave this to the morning. The smell of Cresablatt will mix with the rain and be less detectable. Maybe they’ll assume someone strangled her?”
Sella hated this. Someone just died, and Beejee wanted them to go to sleep like it was any other night. And worse, he may have a point. If they waited until morning, it would be less noticeable that Cresablatt was involved. That she could be involved.
The manner of death didn’t matter as much as the culprit. Right?
A lingering feeling of guilt pricked at the back of Sella’s neck… Right?
She could go check on the body, but if Cresablatt was involved, it would be too late to save anyone. Benka may be bumbling, but he wasn’t stupid. A poison victim’s cat runs to the exact shop of the witch who can make the poison? At best, Sella would be thrown in jail. At worst… Well, Sella didn’t want to think about that.
“We’ll wait until morning,” she muttered. A heaviness descended on her shoulders as she let out an exhale. Her fingers curled into fists, as though she was trying to hold on to the air around her before it all left the room. Her legs felt weak again, but this was the right choice. “The path will be clearer in the morning.”
The rain outside slowed. A calm darkness settled over the loft as the fires above them dimmed. The little home chilled as the lights slowly died. With a shiver, Sella pointed two fingers at the fireplace. Sparks ignited until the fire was once again full and the long shadows in the room were banished to smaller, flickering shades. The two cats glanced at each other, made silent peace, and positioned themselves at different ends of the room — but still close to the merry flame in the large hearth.
Sella curled up on the couch, staring at the flames drifting between the rafters – close enough to burn, but never quite managing it. She sighed, her brain whirling. What could this newcomer have done to deserve a violent death? Were the gems that valuable?
And what of the murderer, lurking in their tiny town…? That made her shiver, even though the loft had warmed nicely. This Cali must have brought enemies here. That was the only thing Sella could tell herself for now. There was no way that anyone Sella knew could have done something like this.
Despite the feeling of uneasiness settling into her core, Sella drifted to sleep.
FOUR
Oh, Sheet
Sella awoke on the loveseat. Her back ached from the unnatural position she had fallen asleep in. A flash of panic jolted her upright – the pale morning light was already glowing through the large window, which meant she’d slept in way too late. She swore silently. Now she wouldn’t have time to bake anything before they opened the shop.
She squinted, blinked, and pushed back a mess of dark hair that fell in her face. Some of it was stuck to her cheek “Beejee?” she called, pushing into a stretch.
The room came into clearer focus. The fireplace was only embers now – orange, red, and gold flickering back to life when she glanced its way.
As the fire grew, her eyes widened suddenly at Beejee and Koukie, both still curled on little pillows by the flames. She winced, remembering in a flood of images the events of the night before. She studied them for a moment, trying to decide her next move.
Koukie’s fluffy orange fur caught light with every deep inhale. She shifted her head a bit but kept her body tightly curled. Beejee, on the other hand, was all wire. The gray and black tabby was still as stone, excepting for the slight indent and expansion in his shoulders as he breathed.
Everything around her felt exactly as she had left it the night before. Except for the smell. Something else filtered through the air. Something like fresh baked bread…
“Hi,” a quiet voice called from the corner.
Sella’s body jerked and she nearly fell out of the velvet couch. “What the–!”
“Don’t be frightened!”
It was far too late for that.
Sella pushed herself up from her mangled position from the floor, squinting at the room’s corner. A rush of panic swept through her. It sounded like a woman, but… a woman wasn’t what Sella found herself looking at. Floating before her was a white sheet, one of hers from her linen closet, shaped into the silhouette of a person. Sella’s reading glasses were perched over the sheet, right where the face would have been.
“I thought this would be… funny?” the voice from under the sheet said. “Or, at least, less scary than a ghost in your living room. I mean, right? The glasses are a good touch, at least?”
Sella rubbed her face with both hands. She blinked hard, just in case she was hallucinating. “What the–”
“Right,” the figure interrupted again. “This may seem kind of odd. It’s odd for me, at least. I don’t know; do dead people show up often at your home? Am I doing this right?”
“Doing… Doing what right?” Sella stammered.
Beejee finally lifted his head from his slumber. “Can we not with all the noise...?”
Koukie, too, began to untangle herself and rise. She meowed loudly, then bounded to the corner, rubbing her face along the bottom of the sheet that hovered a few inches from the ground.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my home? I have no money, not really, if you’re trying to rob me.”
“Oh,” the sheet said, “I’m not here for money. I don’t need it. I’m… I’m pretty sure I’m dead?” She said the last part like a question. It hung in the air between them like the moment between lightning and a burst of thunder. The sheet spoke again, adjusting the glasses. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… well, the evidence is fairly damning. I mean, you never expect to see yourself, you know, dead. But yes. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”
Beejee hissed and Sella snapped herself from what felt like a dense fog.
“You’re Cal–uh, Cal–”
“Calisyali. I go by Cali, if that’s easier.” The sheet bent down to pet the fluffy orange cat. “You’re Sella the witch, right? And you can see me?”
“I see a sheet in the shape of a person in the corner of my house.” As soon as the words left her lips, Sella realized that might be rude. She amended, “And yes, I’m a kitchen witch.” She perched on the couch. “Listen, I don’t want to be insensitive or anything. But it is very difficult to take you seriously when you look like… that.” She gestured at the figure broadly.
The sheet shifted as Cali laughed, a light, happy sound despite the situation. “Sorry. So far, no one in town has been able to see me. It took me most of the night to figure out how to get this over my head in the first place.”
Sella glanced at her open linen closet, where clothes and sheets were scattered about the floor. She raised a brow.
“Sorry about that, by the way. But you’re a heavy sleeper.” The sheet shuffled forward. What looked like hands grew out to the sides, then the fabric fluttered to the floor. The glasses clattered to the wood, and Cali gasped. “Oh no! Sorry!” She paused and looked from the crumbled sheet to Sella with pleading eyes. “Can you still see me?”
Sella stared, her mouth agape. A woman stood before her, the white sheet pooled around her ankles and Sella followed it from the floor to her face slowly. The ghost wore a long dark skirt and simple white blouse, buttoned to her collarbone so her long neck was exposed despite the frill of a lace collar. Waves of auburn hair cascaded to Cali’s elbows and shifted about her frame as if a light breeze had blown into the still room and only affected her. Her green eyes almost distracted from the sea of freckles that flecked her olive complexion.
The odd thing was that she seemed to shimmer. Colors were there, but she was vaguely see-through unless Sella really concentrated.
As a morbid afterthought, Sella was glad to see that any bruising from the poison hadn’t made it to her ghost’s image.
“Well,” Cali said, arms lifting to make herself bigger. “Can you see me without the sheet, or do I need to put it back on?” She let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “It was no small feat getting it over my head. Try being dead and moving things. Not. Easy.”
“No, I see you,” Sella said, rubbing her eyes to make sure. The woman remained.
Beside Sella, Beejee bounded onto the couch and sat upright to get a better look. “She’s pretty. For a ghost.”
Sella side-eyed her cat. She wanted to scold him and remind him that it was wholly inappropriate to discuss Cali’s appearance at all, let alone now, after everything the ghost had been through. But that might clue Cali into the fact that Sella’s cat had just spoken to her– and that seemed like the last thing she wanted to talk about.
“Aw, she likes me!” Cali gestured at Beejee with a bright smile.
“He,” Sella corrected, giving him a rough pat on the head. “His name is Beejee.”
Beejee only narrowed his eyes in response.
“This is Koukie.” Cali rubbed her cat’s cheek with a curled finger. It was so impossible that Sella eyed the interaction with disbelief. The ghost’s hand seemed tangible. But that shouldn’t be possible. Not like this, not so soon after death. Sella would have to explore this magic, because she’d never heard of anything like this. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright,” Cali whispered to her cat. Her mouth pulled into a tight line and she leaned in closer as Koukie tried to headbutt her, but missed. Cali straightened quickly, standing to her full height. “Thanks for taking her in… She must be traumatized after the night she had.”
“I know.” Sella watched Cali closely, unsure of how to proceed. She went with the truth. “She told us everything last night.”
“You can speak to cats?” Cali's eyes grew wide.
Sella’s shoulders slumped. It seemed the conversation was happening now, time and place aside.
“Just Beejee. He translates.” Sella pushed off the couch, and the springs groaned under the release of pressure. It took a moment to realize she’d accidentally slept in her day clothes and now her long, black dress was terribly wrinkled. Pair that with her messy black hair, and it was amazing that a ghost somehow looked more put-together than Sella.
Embarrassment tinged Sella’s cheeks, and she attempted to divert before Cali noticed. “Look, like I said, this all must be very traumatizing–”
But Sella hadn’t gotten far before Calisyali made her way to the window. Her footsteps were silent, like she wasn’t really reaching the floor.
“Traumatizing is one word for it,” Cali said quietly, if not a little overly casually. She shifted her body to get a better look out the window, her face hidden from Sella. “But I must still be still in this world for a reason. Whoever did this to me, I want them brought to justice.”
“Then, you don’t know who–” Sella cut herself off before she voiced the word “murdered.” She fumbled to course-correct: “–um, who did this?”
“All I remember is…” Cali’s voice faded and her image seemed to flicker. “Ah, nothing. Hey, when do you think they’ll find my body?”
The light from the window was growing. The town would start waking up soon.
Sella shook her head. “I don’t know. Do you have a job to report to?”
Cali pointed to the tavern at the far corner of the town square. Sella could barely see out the window from this angle, but things still looked quiet below, so she must not have slept in that long. Cali sighed again, seemingly flustered with Sella’s slow pace. “I did bookkeeping at the tavern. New job. I thought it was going well enough.” Doubt flickered into her tone.
“You’re Hazen’s new bookkeeper?”
“You make it sound weird. Everyone needs a bookkeeper.” Cali’s voice sounded self-conscious. It reminded Sella of her own anxious rambling when people asked her about her new recipes. Cali spun back to Sella, almost accusatory. “You run a shop. Don’t you have one?”
“No…?” Sella frowned.
Cali winced. “How do you keep track of your transactions, your goods, your imports, your orders?”
Sella cleared her throat. “I, uh, I don’t really.” When did the conversation shift to her business? Fumbling for a defense, Sella blurted, “I keep track of sales. What I sold to whom, and the dates...”
“Yeah, we’re probably bleeding money,” Beejee chimed in. “You’re terrible with the accounts. Didn’t you give your throat ache drops to Bry for the promise of a basket during his apple harvest? Well, where are my fresh-baked apple crisps?”
“Hush.” Sella waved at her cat.
Cali's green eyes shifted from Beejee to Sella. She raised an eyebrow as if she understood that Beejee was on her side.
“My paperwork is fine,” Sella said, although whether to Beejee or Cali, she wasn’t sure. The pointed tips of her ears burned.
Cali seemed to realize that Sella was embarrassed, and she cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sure it’s just fine, then. You know your business.” She turned back to the window, as if suddenly remembering the reason for her being there was not to make small talk or get to know one another. “So, what’s the plan? Shall we alert the council and have them find my body? Being dead is somewhat undignified. It’s bad enough I’ll be known as ‘that stranger who showed up, worked with numbers, and then died on the floor.’ Last thing I want is to start decomposing before I’m found.”
Meanwhile, Sella wished that she would never be found. She wanted to slip into the folds of the couch and never resurface.
Her plan of “we wait until morning” didn’t allow for waking up to the dead woman’s ghost. Now, every ounce of control Sella felt possessed vanished, and she was left grasping for anything left. “Well, about that. I’m not entirely sure–”
Cali gasped, snapped her fingers. Papers on Sella’s writing desk fluttered as she pressed her body across the desk and her nose to the window. “Isra! The milk delivery! Today is delivery day! I always talk with Isra at the door. She’ll knock. She’ll notice.”
Sella joined her at the window, but hesitated before moving close enough to see out into the early morning fog. Should she keep her distance, given Cali’s situation? Sella stuffed her hands into her dress pockets and decided to hang back.
“Milk delivery?” Beejee had no such qualms about closeness. He leapt onto the writing desk and also pressed his pink nose to the window, leaving a little smudge. “You know you can’t digest that, right?”
“She’s turned the corner.” Desperation tinged Cali’s voice. “Come on, she’s going to notice!” Cali stiffened, twisting for the staircase. “I want to be there when she does. We can look for clues as more people arrive!”
The window where her palms and nose were pressed was clean of prints as if she was never there at all. Sella’s heart sank a little.
“Hold on.” Sella backed a few paces away. “I think I need to stay low, at least for a bit.”
“What?” Cali stopped short. She looked at Sella with narrowed eyes. “Why?”
The question was not one Sella anticipated. She felt foolish for not having a good explanation ready to go.
“Witches here… the trust we have in this region is nebulous. And I only just moved back. They don’t exactly have a lot of love for me.”
“You were the first recommended stop when I arrived. Why do you think I’m here?” Cali's voice lowered, and she puffed out her chest, offering quotation marks with her fingers. “‘We’re so glad to have her back; she’s the best witch this town has seen in a decade.’ That’s what everyone said.”
“There was no witch here for a decade after I left.” Sella forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I think that's the joke.”
“It seemed sincere.” Cali’s brow wrinkled. She waited, but Sella’s silence only grew. Cali put her hands on her hips. Her skirt and hair began to shift as though underwater. “You won’t help me?”
Cali’s sudden accusatory tone made Sella pause. She didn’t really owe this woman anything. She didn’t need to risk her safety for her, especially if she was already dead. …Right?
Sella didn’t want to think that way, but the dark whisper of her mind was hard to ignore. Still, someone needed help, and that alone made Sella grimace.
“I can try to help you. I just need to go about it properly.”
That seemed to be everything the ghost needed to hear. Her entire body seemed to flicker for a moment, and her shoulders hung in relief. Her clothes and hair stilled, restored to laws of gravity, if that is what it was.
“Thank you,” Cali whispered. Sella thought she saw a hint of tears in the ghost’s eyes. But Cali blinked and they were gone.
Worry churned in the bottom of her stomach, but Sella turned away. With a flick of her hand, she reignited all the little fires in her home so they glowed brightly, casting away the cold and shadow of the morning’s pale light. Warmth filled the space in a way she hadn’t felt since the thunderstorm the night before.
“Alright.” Sella clapped her hands together. “It’s possible going to the scene, seeing who is there and how they respond, could give us a few leads. We just have to be very careful.” Sella slipped on a pair of heeled boots next to the staircase. “We can go under the guise of running errands, but I have a few conditions.”
