To Scratch a Witch, page 1
To Scratch a Witch
A WATER WITCH MYSTERY
BOOK TWO
LEAH R CUTTER
KNOTTED ROAD PRESS
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Read More!
About the Author
Also by Leah R Cutter
About Knotted Road Press
Chapter One
“Are we there yet?” AJ teased her sister Bea as they reached Highway 101 heading north.
Bea glared at AJ. “Don’t you make me turn this car around,” she warned in mock seriousness.
AJ snorted. Honestly, having Bea drive her around so she could play at being the bratty little sister had been so much fun this summer. Generally, AJ had to be the responsible, practical older sister while her younger sister was the artistic blonde airhead.
“Remind me why I’m even taking you here?” Bea said as she merged with traffic.
There weren’t that many cars on the highway, despite the fact that it was the end of September and the weather on the Washington State coast was kind of nice. All right, there were enough gray clouds to ruin any picnic, the wind was sharp, and the heavens were certain to dump more rain on them anytime now.
But it wasn’t currently raining. The trees had held onto their fall glory so far which mean the scenery was beautiful. And AJ hadn’t bothered to buy a new car (or at least new to her), which meant that until Bea went back to Seattle, her younger sister was her chauffeur.
“We’re going to the county historical society,” AJ said, “which is located in Sunset, the next big town up the coast from Milltown. It’s got weird hours, which is why we’re going up on a Wednesday afternoon. And we’re going so that I can see if I can find more information about Gladys, the ghost haunting the Bridgewater Inn, as well as her death.”
Bea shook her head. “Six months ago, if you’d told me that my business-minded, stupidly successful big sister believed in ghosts enough to go do research on them, I’d have assumed you were having one on me. Or high. Or both.”
AJ merely shrugged. A lot had happened in those intervening six months, since she’d left Seattle and moved down to Milltown that spring, in May.
Originally, it wasn’t supposed to be a permanent move. AJ had just come down for the summer, to stay with Bea at her cottage while getting her life back together again and figuring out what her next move was.
However, AJ had found work managing the Bridgewater Inn, work that made her happy while not running her completely ragged.
She’d also discovered her true calling as a water witch, gifted with visions of the future, as well as the ability to work with water in various magical ways.
“Why can’t Gladys just tell you about herself?” Bea asked, still clearly put out by the entire trip. She was giving up an afternoon painting. She, too, was stupidly successful, as an artist, though, her boogie boho paintings hitting the cultural zeitgeist at just the right time.
AJ couldn’t help but sigh. “I don’t think she’s completely clear on the concept. If I ask who she is, all she repeats is that she’s Gladys. She ignores me when I ask for a middle or last name. When I asked if she was Oscar Byrne’s daughter or wife, all she said was, ‘Yes.’ When I tried to question her further, she disappeared for two days.”
“You don’t suppose she’s an amalgamation of both the dead daughter and wife?” Bea said.
“I have no idea if that’s even possible,” AJ said. “Ursula doesn’t have much experience with ghosts, so she can’t tell me either.” Ursula was also a water witch, and was AJ’s mentor. However, their powers were different, so much of the time AJ had to figure things out on her own. Though Ursula now lived across the country with her sister, they still regularly talked on the phone.
“Speaking of Ursula, how’s the construction going?” Bea asked.
When Ursula had moved away from Milltown to go live with her sister in Georgia, she’d sold AJ the beautiful Craftsman house right on the beach. The price had been right, particularly given the amount of work the house had needed.
“Didn’t I tell you? The final inspection was on Monday. The foundation passed,” AJ said.
“What a relief!” Bea exclaimed.
“It really was. You have no idea how scared I’ve been that there was going to be yet another delay,” AJ admitted. “And the exterior paint job is finished so I no longer live in what looks like a children’s ice cream parlor.”
Bea snorted at that. “Yeah, that color scheme was never going to fly with you. I’m glad you listened to me, though, and didn’t go all somber.”
AJ couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “The dark-gray walls and maroon trim would have looked sophisticated. The color scheme you originally came up with was just as bad, if not worse, than the original candy land. Orange and red?” She didn’t bother to hide her shudder.
“As I explained, those are sunset colors. Perfect for a beach house facing the Pacific Ocean. I can’t help it that you have no sense of taste,” Bea said. “But I am happy with what you eventually chose.”
“Me too,” AJ said. The original house had been painted white, pink, and teal. AJ had found a company to repaint it a softer white, almost cream color, that in certain lights looked like a reflection of the sand. The trim she’d finally ended up with was a burnt sienna, which held onto Bea’s concept of sunset while still appealing to AJ’s admittedly more somber tastes.
Only one portion of the roof shingles bothered her still, the witch’s hat that was on top of the round tower that stood just to the right of the front door. However, with the new color scheme, it no longer looked so pink. The rest of the roof was a very sensible light gray, and wouldn’t need replacing for a few years.
Which was good, because AJ was already spending so much money repairing and renovating the rest of the house.
“When are you opening up for psychic consults?” Bea asked, aiming for innocence but missing by at least a mile. She’d been bugging AJ about it all summer.
“You know that Ursula asks that every time we talk, right?” AJ said, aggrieved.
“It was part of the agreement for her selling the house to you,” Bea said.
“Which, as we both know, was totally not legal or enforceable,” AJ said, possibly a little too heatedly.
She made herself take a deep breath. Since entering into perimenopause earlier that year, her emotions were far too close to the surface now. Just about anything would set her off.
“So when are you going to do it?” Bea asked, determinedly.
“This weekend,” AJ admitted. “It’s the first weekend in October. I’m doing it as part of that whole ‘witch-tober’ thing that half the businesses in town are going in on.”
Bea grinned. “Really? You’re going to start doing readings and such? This Saturday?”
AJ rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m not ready though. Ursula has had me practicing with the tarot cards, memorizing all the possible divination meanings for each card, both upright as well as reversed. She’s even tested me on it,” AJ groused.
“Don’t give me that,” Bea scolded. “You love tests. You’ve always excelled at tests.”
“Yeah, well, this…this is different,” AJ stuttered.
“How? How is this different?” Bea counted. “It’s a bunch of facts for you to memorize. How is that different?”
“They don’t make any sense,” AJ whined. She hated that she was whining, and yet she continued to do so. “The queen of swords, with her hand raised, represents sterility. And yet, there are butterflies carved into her throne. She should represent chrysalis. Death, yes, but rebirth as well.”
When Bea didn’t say anything, AJ finally looked over at her. Her sister was pressing her full lips together tightly and there was mischief dancing in her blue eyes.
“What,” AJ said flatly, not sure she wanted to hear.
“Sounds like you are ready,” Bea said. “Just following your own path, because you couldn’t possibly be conventional and follow the same road that everyone else goes down, now, could you? Even when it comes to the occult?”
AJ opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not saying you’re right,” she said slowly as the realization took hold. “But you might not be wrong either.”
Bea snorted at her. “And everyone says that I’m the flighty, artistic one. You’re just as bad. You’ve never allowed it to show before.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” AJ said. Some of the psychic work, as well as her magical abilities, made her deeply uncomfortable. They were so outside the norm that she’d worked so hard to maintain her entire life.
Particularly the water magic. Ursula had a lovely fountain in her backyard. Between the high fence and the location, no one could see in. AJ had spent some of her time that summer working with the water, getting it to form a large arc and land ten feet away with the smallest of gestures on her part. She’d also developed something of a water shield as well
She always felt guilty afterward, though, as if she’d been doing something dirty, not just abnormal.
“I get it,” Bea said softly. “It’s hard to change. Particularly when you’re going through the change.”
AJ grunted at that. “Stupid body. Can’t decide if my periods are over or not. One minute I’m fine. Then I have cramps. Nothing happens, just cramps. Then I’m fine again. That by itself is enough to drive anyone crazy. Then you add in the night sweats and occasional hot flash.”
“Can’t wait,” Bea sarcastically replied.
“Mom assured me that it wouldn’t last too long, though,” AJ said. “Maybe a year.” She’d started perimenopause a little early at forty-two, according to her doctor, but right on time, according to her mother, who said that her grandmothers on both sides of the family had started early as well.
“Mmm,” Bea said, just nodding.
The sisters drove along in silence for a little while.
“Are we there yet?”
Chapter Two
The Byrne County Historical Society building was just off the main drag of Sunset, in a 1950s wood-shingled structure, painted a somber brown that didn’t add anything to its curb-appeal. The front of the it rose up into a steep peak with windows set at the top, while the rest of the roof was perpendicular to it with a more modest pitch. It gave off a whole churchy vibe. However, based on the porch that ran across the front as well as the sides, AJ would bet that it had originally been someone’s home.
A chimney rose up on the right side of the building, sticking up like the front steepled portion of the roof, another impediment her eye caught on instead of allowing it to slide across. A modern metal baffle covered the top of it so that someone could have a fire and not have gale-force winds flowing down into the room below. Roses bushes lined the edges of the tiny yard, the leaves brown and falling. AJ would bet that come summer when they bloomed, the scent was divine. An old apple tree took up one corner, lichen clinging to its sprawling branches, giving it a misshapen, spooky look.
If AJ hadn’t known that this was the site of the historical society, she might have delicately inquired whether the owner was, in fact, a witch or some other weird denizen.
“Cozy,” Bea said, sarcasm dripping, as she walked up the cracking sidewalk.
“It’s probably maintained with volunteer work.” AJ said, unsure why she felt as though she had to defend it. The winds were quiet for now, but AJ was still glad she wore her heavier rain jacket, a T-shirt and sweater underneath, as well as jeans and boots. She’d been slowly adding to her “non-work” wardrobe all summer, so while her choices were few, she really liked everything she had in her closet.
The squeak the solid wood door gave as AJ pushed it in was impressive. Not quite enough to wake the dead, but surely as good as any bell hanging over the lintel, warning that visitors had entered.
Inside, the impression of a former private house continued, given how the space was divided and rooms set off the main entranceway.
Somber wood paneling covered the walls. Chestnut-colored wooden planks made up the floor. The canned ceiling lights barely raised the setting to dim. To the left stood a long desk, also made out of wood and roughly assembled, with the “reception” sign done as little logs on a plate.
For all the wood in the place, it smelled much more of old books and dusty cushions, the air a bit chilly.
Roland came out from a curtained door behind the desk. “Hi, AJ! Bea! Good to see you!”
AJ smiled at Roland, glad that he was the one they’d be dealing with that day. He was the unofficial historian for Milltown, and gave ghost tours of the buildings on Main Street all summer. The last tour would be in about a month’s time, on the weekend before Halloween (which fell awkwardly on a Wednesday that year).
He didn’t look like her idea of a historian, with his full dark beard, meaty hands, and lumberjack black-and-red-checked flannel shirt. He didn’t even wear glasses. She kept expecting to see him carrying a beer can. His nails were bitten to the quick, but at least they didn’t have dirt embedded underneath them. He was about her age, in his mid-forties.
“Good to see you too, Roland,” AJ said as she walked up to the counter. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain,” Roland said. He seemed to give the question some actual thought. “Yep. Can’t complain, not really. How are you two doing?”
“Good,” Bea said. “Even though I did have to drive up here with someone constantly asking if we were there yet.” She gave AJ a mock glare.
“What? Getting you back for all your years as a bratty younger sister has made today an excellent day,” AJ said, unrepentant.
Roland merely grinned as he glanced from one sister to the other. “So what can I help you with today? What are you looking to research?” Then he paused and looked at AJ. “Oooh, are you looking for more of the history of the inn?”
AJ tilted her head from side to side. “Sort of.” She took a breath, wondering how much she should tell him.
Milltown was a small town. Though the population was around sixteen thousand, everyone knew everyone else’s business. It was something she was still getting used to.
At some point, particularly after she opened up her “shop” as a psychic, people were going to learn more about her powers.
Still, she hesitated. Roland waited patiently. After a few moments, AJ said, “I’m actually looking for information about the first owners. Oscar Byrne, and his wife, Gladys.”
“And?” Bea prompted AJ.
“Fine,” AJ said with huff. “And more about Gladys, the ghost who haunts the inn.”
Roland did run the ghost tours for the buildings on Main Street, right? Surely he knew about ghosts and such. Maybe even believed in them. He wouldn’t give her a hard time about that. Hopefully.
“Gladys is a tough one,” Roland admitted, running one hand through his hair and adorably mussing it. “The papers of the time didn’t bother reporting about women, not unless they were doing something exotic, like going after their husbands with an ax.”
“Did that happen much? In Byrne county?” AJ had to ask.
“Just once,” Roland said with a grin. “If you come on my ghost tour this weekend, you’ll hear all about it.”
AJ shook her head. “Kind of busy this weekend,” she said. And she was. She was officially going to “open” as a psychic. She didn’t think she’d have too many people pounding on her door, but she wasn’t about to close early just to go on Roland’s tour.
She’d paid for an ad for her new business—Ocean Waves Psychic Readings—in the local newspaper, which would be available tomorrow morning, offering a free, fifteen minute consult. She was running the special both Friday and Saturday evenings, as suggested by Ursula. AJ had been doing rapid readings every day to practice, just a three-card draw from the tarot deck, past, present, and future. It was hard, though, with only herself and no one to work with. She was kind of looking forward to having a bunch of guinea pigs to practice on.
While she’d known that Bea would have been happy to help, AJ also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of knowing too much about her sister. There were just some things that an older sister shouldn’t be privy to. Ranked right up there with any details about her mom and dad, though the couple was long divorced.
“You’ll have to come on the ghost tour some other time, then,” Roland said.
“I’d like that,” AJ said, a bit curious. This felt suspiciously as though Roland was kinda sorta asking her out on a date, albeit with a ton of other people coming along.
“What can you tell us about Gladys?” Bea asked.
“Her sightings started with the first guests to the inn, back in 1913,” Roland said.
“Wait, I thought the inn was built in 1912?” AJ said.
