That Ol' Black Magic

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2018 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter One

  I wouldn’t have come to the Witch’s Cauldron for anyone other than my sister, Fern. It was a mockery of a store, and the store owner was even more irritating, and I tried to avoid both as often as possible. On this occasion, I didn’t have much choice. Unfortunately, the gimmicky store had a handful of products that could actually be useful. The smell of patchouli and sandalwood mixed thickly in the air. I could feel it giving me a headache with each passing moment I spent in Amber’s store. The Witch’s Cauldron was nothing more than an attempt to capitalize on the history of our little town. Stillwater is known for its witch's coven and Civil War history and not much else. Those two things are more than enough to attract tourists year-round. We were heading into the busy season, and it was easy to tell that Amber was preparing for a boom of business.

  The store was mostly full of fake artifacts and crystals. I was at least free from Amber’s gossip as she was busying herself unpacking boxes full of new merchandise. Being a witch myself, I tried hard to not let her aggrandized knickknacks get to me. If I thought she actually cared that she was fooling tourists into buying sweet nothings I might not mind as much. It was clear to me that she didn’t care about integrity as she advertised palm and tarot readings (discount two for the price of one), though she had no gift or skill in the psychic arts. On this occasion, I was there to get one thing and one thing only. Mugwort.

  Amber made it a point to carry authentically "witchy" herbs in her store, basically, if it showed up in a Google search, then you could find it on her shelves. This was both a comfort and an annoyance. I liked that I could locally buy any ingredients I might need for the rare spell or recipe I may need to concoct, but at the cost of dealing with Amber, it might not be entirely worth it.

  “Mugwort, what could you possibly be needing mugwort for?” As if on cue Amber strolled to the front of the store. Her outfit seemed to be made of multiple long fabrics billowed out behind her. I could see clearly that her knowledge of the ingredient I was holding was limited to the packaging it was in. She had to squint to read the label before she was able to identify it at all.

  “An old family recipe,” I responded, not missing a beat. That was usually what I told her when I purchased ingredients from her store, and it’s not entirely untrue either. “Helps get rid of headaches.”

  “I’ll never understand you, and you’re so-called ‘natural’ remedies,” she droned. I regret that this is the stereotype that has followed me around town, but it’s better than the alternative of everyone knowing the truth.

  “They do the trick,” I said, my smile tight. I plopped the small jar of herbs on the counter for Amber to ring up. She started to say something as I handed her the five dollars, but before she got anything out, a customer walked in making the chimes on the door ring. Whatever she was going to say to me was quickly replaced by an over the top and almost sing-song hello to the poor tourist who had wandered in.

  Unfortunately for both Amber and myself, the tourist insisted that she was just browsing. Even Amber was able to get the hint that she wasn’t interested in actually buying anything, so she turned her attention back to me and the five-dollar bill still resting in the middle of the till.

  “Have you heard about the new guy in town, Gareth I think I’ve heard is his name?” I accidentally let out small groan, but I think I was able to pass it off as an inquisitive ‘hmmm?’ The truth was that I had heard quite a bit about him already. Amber jumped at the opportunity to tell me more. She was known for being into witchcraft but ever more than that she was known for being a gossip. “At first everyone thought he was just a regular old tourist, but now it seems as though he’s setting up shop here.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, knowing that my only way out of this conversation is through it. She nodded, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

  “He's been here far too long for it to still be a vacation. Stillwater is a long weekend getaway, not a two-week vacation.” I had heard that he seemed to be sticking around, though no one knew why at this point, but it still felt more like gossip than fact to me. Amber wasn’t wrong in that Stillwater wasn’t really the place people came for extended visits, but it wasn’t unheard of either. We were often the perfect getaway for the writer looking to finish a manuscript or an older snowbird couple from the north who couldn't afford to go to Orlando. In general, I tried to take everything that Amber said with a grain of salt. “Rumor has it that he’s extended his stay at the Inn for another two weeks. I bet he’ll be looking for property in that time.”

  “I doubt he’d find anything.”

  “Apparently, he’s incredibly wealthy. I heard he is from old money, some ancient family dripping in oil, gold, cotton, you name it money. I’d bet he’s rich enough to buy a house right under someone’s nose.” Amber sounded almost wistful as though she wished for this to transpire and imagined becoming a part of this so-called ancient family via marriage.

  “Anything is possible, I suppose,” I replied dryly. I had noticed him at the Civil War Museum a couple times. He had even taken the tour that I guided there once. I don’t much care for outsiders trying to make Stillwater their home, it seems to lead to trouble every time, but I try to not pass judgment. Typically, city folk just don’t get what makes a small town so special, and they come here trying to change it. I reminded myself that Becky is (or was, as I have now come to think of it) city folk. She was the exception to the rule, an outsider that moved here for good a few years back. Her bubbly, kind personality weaseled its way into all our hearts. If there was one thing all the residents of Stillwater had in common, it was a mutual love for Becky. “Becky is from the city, maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if this guy moved here.” I shrugged.

  “Well, if you’ll believe it, Becky hates him.” I regretted giving Amber the opportunity to keep gossiping, but this surprised me. I had never known Becky to harbor such a negative feeling towards another person. Amber stared at me, her eyes wide in earnest and she was nodding her head as if in disbelief at the fact herself.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “She told me herself.” I begrudged Becky’s friendship with Amber. I didn’t trust a thing that she said or did. Amber’s only care in life seemed to be hearing gossip and spreading it further. In my mind, Becky was too sweet to be friends with someone like that because soon enough she’d become a part of that rumor mill and not in a good way. “She's been helping me out around here a bit, picking up the random shift and stocking the shelves. She’s just too darn good at those museum displays, I thought she could use those skills here with the busy season coming and all.”

  “She is uniquely talented,” I said, happy to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  “Well, she hates the guy, Garth or whatever his name is,” Amber redirected the conversation once more. “Says he gives her the creeps.” I shrugged, trying to play it off, but I knew that it was a rare occasion that a person’s mere presence upset Becky. There had to have been some merit to her feelings.

  “Then I hope he leaves, for her sake,” I replied, and meant it. Sensing that our interaction was finally coming to an end, I put my fingers down on the five-dollar bill and slid it ever so slightly closer towards Amber. I hoped she gets the hint and would complete my transaction so that I could leave as soon as possible. It wasn’t just that I hated the Witch’s Cauldron or that I preferred not to be in Amber’s company, I needed desperately to get home to Fern. I wanted to make sure that the remedy was completed and administered to her before she left for another grueling shift at the station. Amber smiled at me through thin, strained lips and I almost feel sorry that I offended her. Almost.

  “It doesn’t look like he’s planning to –” Amber gets cut off mid-sentence by the chimes of her door once again. We both looked up at the door and here is where our conversation indeed had to come to an end because Gareth (or Garth, I’m still not sure which) entered the store. Amber didn't greet him in the same peppy manner as the previous customer, but only offering a nod. I can feel in the air why this is. As soon as he walked into the room, it felt stuffier, darker, like it had all of a sudden become nighttime despite the sun still shining through the windows. It was almost suffocating.

  “What are you buying there, ma’am?” He asked me in a deep voice. I could see why half of the women in the town had been talking about this man. He’s tall, dark and handsome, but I can’t shake the profoundly unsettling feeling I have in the pit of my stomach that there was something very wrong with him.

  “Please, don’t harass my customers,” Amber said, crossing her arms. Hmmm, I take it that Becky is not the only one who doesn’t like him.

  "Just an herb for some home remedies," I said with a tight smile. I'm grateful to be in an age where homeopathic medicine is common; otherwise, my purchases would seem far more suspicious. He nodded and tipped his cap in my direction . Amber finally handed me my change, and I jumped at the chance to escape. I slid out the door without so much as a wave in Amber's direction or an acknowledgment to Garth/Gareth.

  I stuffed the small jar filled with mugwort into my jacket pocket and made my way to my darling beat up car. I wanted to make it home to Fern before she was already on her way back to work. Fern wasn’t exactly aware that I was planning on making this remedy, but I didn’t think that she was in any state to refuse help, even if it’s in magic form. My car door squeaked reluctantly as I wrestled it open. She’s a rusted old thing that sputters to life after three key turns and a quick cross of the fingers, but she’s dear to me. I know what you're thinking...why not use magic on her. But somehow that doesn't feel right. Yeah, I'm weird sometimes.

  “I’m not sure I condone all this sneaky behavior,” Moody, mine and my sister’s cat said to me from the passenger seat.

  “You’re one to talk,” I snorted back. “Aren’t cats supposed to be sneaky?” I asked, quirking one of my eyebrows.

  “I regret the stereotype and would expect more from you,” She said turning away from me, so her cropped nub of a tail was in my face. I rolled my eyes at the dramatic feline. She had been the one to suggest the mugwort remedy in the first place.

  “Sneaky isn’t always a bad thing, how else would you catch all the unwanted guests we get at the museum?” I asked her. She turned around and grinned at me, the way only a cat can, and I knew I was forgiven for whatever offense I had caused. I knew it was all an act anyway, she was just hiding how concerned she really was for Fern. I was hiding it too if I was honest with myself, which I tried to make it a rule not to be. If I allowed myself the full breadth of my worry for Fern, it would be all consuming. With the tourist season around the corner and the museum gearing up for more tours than they give out all the rest of the year combined, I had to focus on my job and not just my sister. Though that was getting increasingly difficult.

  “I do suppose that’s true,” Moody purred, “and I am ever so good at it.” I laughed and scratched the top of her head.

  “What do you think about making a quick stop at Hazel’s to get a milkshake for Fern?” I asked.

  “To get Fern a milkshake, sure, but I don’t think you need one,” Moody said with a sly look at my stomach. I let out an offended grunt, but I couldn’t really defend myself against the feline. I had been slowly adding width and Hazel’s milkshakes were probably to blame. Still it wouldn’t discourage me from getting one for myself.

  “I’ll remind you of this when you want a new bag of treats,” I replied patting her stomach, which she had also been letting grow. She pawed at my hand, scratching to get it away. Moody was the very definition of someone who had never learned to get out of the kitchen even though they cannot take the heat. She was consistent in her ridicules but couldn’t take any herself. I felt a little bad, but Moody deserved it sometimes. If I wasn’t there to bring her down a peg or two, she’d be walking around thinking she was the queen of Sheba. Fern could be very doting to Moody’s own detriment.

  With those insults on our mind, neither Moody or I were in the mood to talk, so I turned the radio on. I played almost deafeningly loud rock music, and in other circumstances, Moody would have complained the entire time about it. She would have stubbornly batted her paws at the controls trying to change the station herself, but today Moody stayed curled up in the passenger seat. I hoped I didn’t wound her pride too much but looking at her I realized she had started worrying about Fern again. Her stress and worry almost palpable as she sighed with it every thirty seconds or so. The drive to Hazel’s diner wasn’t a long one, but I used those precious minutes to calm down ever so slightly and focus some of my more frazzled energy. I wanted to present a calm front. For obvious reasons, Fern didn’t want anyone to know what was going on, but it was pretty obvious that something was. Normally she would be in Hazel’s as often or more often than I would and her absence was already felt.

  Chapter Two

  “How’s our dear Fern doing today?” Hazel asked as soon as I walked into her diner. I smiled at her, I knew that’s what she was going to say. It had become her standard greeting to me in the last week or so. Every time I walked into the diner without Fern, it was the first thing she’d ask about. It wasn’t that it was uncommon for us to go to the diner alone, it was that Fern hadn’t been going at all. In Hazel’s mind there were only two reasons for why my sister wasn’t coming in, either she was sick, or she was busy with work. She had definitely decided that it was sickness that kept her away.

  “She’s alright, Hazel, I promise. She’s just been busy,” I said. She gave me a disapproving look and shook her head. No matter how busy Fern ever was, she’d always make time for one of Hazel’s milkshakes. “I swear, she’s fine! She will hopefully be back in soon and then she can answer all your questions.”

  “I’ll pretend I believe you,” she said with a wink.

  “Where has Fern been?” Fang asked from the counter. The old man was sitting with a mug of what I assumed was his standard black coffee. He was unaccompanied by his son Jimmy Jack who was typically always by his side. I figured he must be on a delivery. Fang seemed to be behind on some deliveries lately. Probably grooming his son to take over soon.

  “She’s just busy, you know how they keep her running around at the station.” It did often seem like Fern was doing the work of at least three people at all times. She was a detective but was often handling the paperwork meant for the Sheriff and other detectives. I knew that Fern kind of loved it though. She loved being a detective, but she also loved being overwhelmed with work. She was the kind of person that if her agenda wasn’t full, then her life wasn’t.

  “They’ve got her working too hard. She’s going to work herself to death,” Fang warned. He didn’t often speak out against the Sheriff since he was nice enough to ignore Fang's moonshining business, but he was clearly upset by how much they used Fern.

  “She knows her limits,” I replied, not believing that for a second. If there was anyone in the world who would work themselves to death, it was Fern. I didn’t want to seem short with anyone, but I could feel the clock ticking away. It was entirely possible that Fern would be at work by the time I got home or would have to leave before I got the remedy done.

  “Well what can I get for you and for Fern?” Hazel asked, sensing that I was ready to get going.

  “Two milkshakes, one vanilla –.”

  “One chocolate,” She finished my sentence for me. I smiled at her and nodded. “Coming right up.” She wandered back into the kitchen to make them. I sat down next to Fang to wait.

  “Have you heard anything about that guy who’s moving here?” I asked him. Fang didn’t exactly seek out gossip or information, but he was always around it. He knew more than most people did, not that it was always accurate. Fang nodded solemnly before taking a sip from his coffee.

  “I sure have...no good if you ask me.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, even though Fang hated any and all outsiders. His moonshining depended only on the locals. He wasn’t like the rest of us who made their living from the tourists. This made him a little jaded towards them, as he didn’t see any benefit to having any outsider in Stillwater, temporary or not. Of course, this hostility didn’t extend toward Becky. Just like the rest of us, she’d won him over eventually. And she had definitely won over Fang's son, Jimmy Jack.

  “I don’t like all the strange folk coming to our town. They’re always up to no good. They just don’t get how things are around here and they want to change it,” He grumbled. It was exactly the answer I expected. I had hoped he'd heard something specific to make him dislike the newcomer, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

  “Anything specific about him, though?” I pressed. I hadn’t given him much thought until this morning. Something about him seemed off, like he had something he planned on accomplishing, no matter what the collateral damage was.

  “Jimmy Jack said he’s been botherin’ Becky for a while now. Says he keeps on showing up at the museum, won’t leave her alone. Haven’t you seen him around there?” I shook my head no. I might have been so preoccupied I hadn’t noticed it. Everything with Fern was throwing me off, and Becky was a suffer in silence type of girl.

 

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