ExSpelled (The Kitchen Witch Book 5): Witch Cozy Mystery series Page 4

  “Who exactly will be going up to the hill?” Sarah asked.

  Owen and Michael exchanged glances. “We’ll decide tomorrow,” Owen said. “Abby and I will escort you all to your rooms now. I think you’ll all agree that no one should be alone, that is, outside your own rooms. Make sure the doors are locked, and don’t open your door to anyone, no matter what. We should all meet back here in the dining room at seven.”

  I didn’t think it was the best idea, splitting up like that, but I couldn’t think of a suitable alternative.

  After Abby and Owen walked me to my room, I rapidly locked the door behind me, and then with my key still in hand looked under my bed and behind the couch. I sprinted to the bathroom and searched it for murderers, and then hurried out to the bedroom to look in the dresser drawers. Sure, it would have to be a short, emaciated murderer, but one cannot be too careful with a murderer on the loose.

  I checked the sliding door was latched, and then went back to look at the bathroom windows. I wondered what else I could do to make the area secure. I could pull the bed across the door, but that would still leave the sliding door area exposed. I decided there was no point.

  If the power went out again, at least I had the flashlight, and I had also brought several tea light candles in case I needed to do spells.

  When I sat on the bed, I realized my knees were shaking. I was tired, but I was scared. I checked my phone again, but there was still no service. I’d have to make sure that I was one of the people to go up the hill the next day. I had to get a call through to Alder to tell him what had happened. I knew he’d be worried that he hadn’t heard back from me, and I hoped he was doing spells to keep me safe. I knew Thyme, Ruprecht, Camino, and Mint would be worried, too, and would no doubt realize I was in need of protection. The thought gave me some small measure of comfort.

  The wind blew wildly against the sliding doors. They continued to rattle violently, yet I could hardly hear them over the sound of my racing heart.

  I sat on the bed and clutched the phone to me. I wanted Alder there, but his message would have to do. I tried to think through the situation rationally. Owen and Abby had run the Paradise Island Cooking School for the past nine years. Surely I would have heard if someone else had been murdered on the island, so that meant they weren’t serial killers. That seemed logical. And if they had done away with Benedict, it was no doubt because they thought he would ruin their business. Perhaps Laura was collateral damage—wrong place, wrong time. If that was the case, and while it was entirely reprehensible, by my reasoning they were unlikely to murder anyone else.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was going to be another murder. I didn’t feel safe locked in my room, and I didn’t have any weapons. I was defenseless. I corrected myself. No, that was wrong. I was a Dark Witch. I was powerful.

  So why didn’t I feel powerful, as I sat huddled, clutching my knees to me with Alder’s message in my lap, and jumping at every sound?

  It was hours before I fell asleep. Sleep came only when I could fight it no longer. My last waking thought was that I hoped I wouldn’t wake up dead.

  Chapter 6

  I did, in fact, wake up very much alive—as alive as anyone could be in a caffeine-deprived state. My first order of business was to do a protection spell. I was happy I had heeded Ruprecht’s advice to prepare for every eventuality. I took out my jar of vinegar and sulfur and placed it in the middle of the room. I had already charged it by speaking a spell over it before I left for the island. This was an old method to drive away harm.

  The storm had not abated; the rain pelted loudly and viciously against the sliding doors. I pulled back the curtain to look out, but could see nothing but a wall of water.

  I carried two sticks of incense to the bathroom and placed them in the bath. One was Dragon’s Blood and the other was a combination of frankincense and myrrh. Together, the three made up Fiery Wall of Protection incense.

  I put some comfrey root in my jeans pocket. It was for protection while traveling, and I would be traveling up the hill soon enough, or so I hoped. With that in mind, I wrote the names ‘Abby,’ ‘Owen,’ and ‘Michael,’ as they were the decision makers, on a piece of paper and under their names wrote, ‘I am easily permitted to go up the hill whenever I want.’ I added some sugar for sweetness, so that they would be sweetly disposed to me, and some calamus root and licorice root for compulsion. Yes, I know it was a spell to get them to agree to allow me up the hill, but this could be a matter of life and death, and in my magical tradition, that is, eclectic traditional witchcraft with some borrowing from hoodoo, it wasn’t an ethical dilemma at all. Not all witchcraft paths share the same views.

  I took the Fiery Wall of Protection oil that was sitting on the dresser, and with it drew a large pentagram with my finger on the door and all the windows. I said the words as I did so: With this pentagram I here write, protect me both day and night.

  I drew a pentagram on each mirror, while uttering the words;

  Protection spell where you are set

  Shall easily drive away all threat

  All evil entering this place

  Is driven backward with all haste

  I set this down and do agree

  This is my will, so mote it be.

  I placed a bay leaf at every corner of the bedroom and the bathroom. I checked my phone for service before I left the room—no luck as usual—and hurried down the corridor to the dining room.

  “Am I late?” I said, upon seeing I was the last one to arrive.

  “No,” Abby said. “We all just got here early.”

  I did a quick head count and saw to my relief that everyone was present and accounted for. The life-saving aroma of coffee beckoned to me. I hurried over to pour myself a cup just as Abby spoke again. “We were just about to decide who should go up the hill and who should stay here.”

  Michael interrupted her. “And I was thinking that Owen should go up the hill with half the group, and I should stay here with Abby.” When Owen raised his eyebrows, he pushed on. “Abby and Owen are the owners of the place and know the territory. I don’t mean to be sexist, but Owen would be more capable of handling, shall we say, an intruder than Abby. If Abby stays in the building, then a man should stay with her.”

  “It makes sense to me,” I said.

  No one else disagreed. “I insist on going up the hill,” Sarah snapped. “I get claustrophobia and anxiety, oh and nausea, from being locked in a room.”

  Nobody pointed out to her that the resort was hardly a room, but no one would be likely to disagree with her, given her temper.

  “I want to go up the hill, too,” I said firmly. “I’m very good at cross country running and hill climbing.” It was a blatant lie, but to my surprise, nobody disagreed with me. It must have been the spell working.

  It was all too easy in the end. It was settled that I would go up the hill with Owen, Sarah, and Vanessa, while Mandy, Lisa, Abby, and Michael stayed in the building.

  Everyone appeared to be tense and shaken, as was to be expected when a double murder had occurred, and I supposed that no one would feel any better until the police arrived and took over, or better still, until we could get off the island. Everyone that is, except the murderer—or murderers. I had to accept the fact that more than one person might be involved. I had to keep myself safe until help arrived. Meanwhile, my best chance was to get a message to Alder, and if I had to climb a ghastly hill to do it, then so be it.

  Vanessa and I followed Owen through the corridors of the resort, with Sarah following behind, complaining about everything imaginable. She was muttering about not wanting to go with Vanessa, but did not say why. I wanted to cut her some slack because we were all affected by the murder, but she was the only one carrying on like that. Besides, she was like it before the murders.

  Owen came to a door which he unlocked. When we walked inside, I realized it was the office. At the back of the office was a particularly wide door. Owen crossed t
he room and opened it.

  I was the second person through the door. I had expected another room, but this was the tunnel of which they had spoken. I was hit in the face with stale, musty air and the scent of something rank and unpleasant, perhaps a dead rat. My flashlight illuminated cobwebs, and I shuddered. I steeled myself to step inside. I really had no choice in the matter—I had to get a message to Alder.

  “You’ll need your flashlights in the tunnels,” Owen explained unnecessarily. “There’s no power to the tunnels. We never come in here. The last time anyone was in those tunnels was when I had to get a message out in the last bad storm.”

  I was concerned and more than a little frightened. I was going to walk along a dark tunnel with three people, and one or more of them could be a killer. I had to stop reminding myself of that fact, because it was setting my nerves on edge.

  I shone my flashlight around, but tried to avoid shining it on cobwebs, and that was a little difficult as they were everywhere. The floor was dirt and the walls were made of brick. The mortar was crumbling and falling out in places. I then had the worrying thought that the tunnels might collapse, but consoled myself with the fact they had stood all this time and there was no sign of any collapse. The tunnel was sufficiently large to accommodate a tall person easily, and for that I was grateful. I don’t know what I would have done if we had to crawl through a tunnel. I didn’t think I would have been able to do that. My eyes started to adjust to the darkness, but that simply manifested as a murky, dim corona appearing around the flashlight beams.

  “How long is this tunnel?” I asked Owen, puzzled because we were only rising slightly. I would have expected the tunnel to rise at once.

  Before he could answer, Sarah and Vanessa had an argument. They had fallen behind, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  “Hurry up and keep up, you two,” Owen said. “It’s not safe to lag behind.” As both women hurried over to him, he answered my question. “This tunnel shortly brings us to the tunnel that climbs.”

  “Is it the same size as this tunnel?” I asked hopefully.

  He hesitated before answering. “More or less.”

  I had, of course, heard the expression ‘light at the end of the tunnel,’ but I was pleased when I saw said light. Rather than how I had imagined it, as a well-defined speck of light that became larger and larger, the reality was that it appeared as a pale mist that grew with every step I took. The light played tricks with my eyes. First, I fancied I saw the silhouette of a giant black cat, and then the figure of a menacing man. I knew they were but shadows, but the sight filled me with the same dread I had felt as a young child hiding in my bed, watching the shadows play over my closet doors.

  Owen motioned for us to stop. “When we come out of this tunnel, we have to make our way over the short distance to the opening of the next tunnel. The wind will be very strong, so take care not to be blown over.”

  We gathered at the entrance to the tunnel, and I noticed outside two axes stuck in a wood chopping block. I figured it was not the best idea to have two axes in the open when there was a murderer on the loose, and I was about to point this out to Owen, but he yelled “Follow me!” and sprinted from the tunnel.

  The rain lashed out at me with fury as I approached the second tunnel’s entrance. The sound of the storm’s roaring was deafening. I could barely stand and I wondered how I would make it the short distance to the other tunnel.

  I whipped around as Sarah screamed.

  “Don’t leave me alone with her!” Sarah shrieked, and then threw herself after Owen, with Vanessa hard on her heels. I was sure she was referring to Vanessa and not to me, but that was the least of my worries. Nothing had prepared me for the ferocity of the storm.

  Palm leaves lashed across my face. The rain was so strong that I couldn’t open my eyes properly, only squint to see where I was going. I could barely keep my footing, even though the dense foliage of the undergrowth protected me to some degree.

  The other tunnel wasn’t far, but by the time I reached it, I was drenched right through to the bone. My clothes clung tightly to me and my soaking jeans weighed me down. I stopped to catch my breath and to empty water from my shoes.

  The others had fared no better. Sarah was already complaining at the top of her lungs. The normally unperturbed Owen turned beet red. “You’re the one who insisted upon coming to the top of the hill,” he reminded her, but far from imparting any sense of logic to her, his words set her off into a tirade of verbal abuse.

  Vanessa and I exchanged glances. “Well then, let’s be going,” I said brightly, and forged ahead. I did it partly to stop Sarah’s ranting, and also because I wanted to be at the front of the pack. In all the murder mystery movies I had seen in which people were walking in single file, the ones at the back were always murdered first.

  We hadn’t gone far before we encountered the first set of steps. I had all but forgotten the spiders and the gloomy dark, due to my discomfort with my squelching shoes and soaked clothes. We climbed for some time in silence, although the silence was punctuated by Sarah’s complaints.

  Some of the steps were quite steep, but I was more concerned about being underground for so long. All in all, it was hard going. I could tell that Vanessa and Sarah were still behind me, not only by the pools of light from their flashlights, but by their heavy panting. Not that I was one to talk; this was quite a workout.

  In some places, the tunnel narrowed, and I had to stoop, yet it was wide enough not to give me an attack of claustrophobia.

  “The end of the tunnel is just up ahead,” Owen said.

  Never had I heard sweeter words. Once again, the unrelenting rain lashed me, but I wiped the rain from my eyes and peered eagerly ahead. Sarah pushed past me. “What’s going on?” she screeched. “That’s not the top of the hill!”

  Chapter 7

  I had to agree with her, and for a horrible moment I thought Owen had brought us here to kill us. This was not the top of a hill. In front of us was a wall of rocks.

  Owen pointed to the top of the rocks. “Just up there!” He had to yell to be heard over the driving rain. “We just have to climb this rock face.”

  Sarah snorted rudely. “I can’t climb that!” she screeched.

  Owen merely walked away and I followed him. To my relief, there was a pathway behind the biggest rock and the area was sheltered by towering trees. It was narrow, but it was hardly rock climbing. I once again made sure I fell in just behind Owen as we climbed the short but steep trail to the top of the hill.

  The top of the hill would have afforded a beautiful view in good weather, but now all I could see was a wall of gray rain, the only break in the vista being leaves as they were whipped viciously from trees.

  I pressed my back against a small rock and sat down, so I could keep an eye on the other three and so no one could come up behind me. They were all intently staring at their phones, and I assumed Owen was trying to reach the police. I had already written a text to Alder. I pressed ‘send’ and held my breath as the little bar moved slowly across the screen. My hopes rose as the bar reached the side of the screen, but then the message came up, Your message cannot be sent. Try again.

  I tried again. Same result as before. I repeated the process several times, sometimes looking up at Owen to see if he had gotten through to the police, but given that he hadn’t said a word, I supposed he hadn’t.

  As I pressed Try again for the umpteenth time, it sent, and I heard Owen’s voice speaking urgently. Thank the goddess!

  I tried to call Alder, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a rapid message, and then tried to call Thyme. Just as I did so, the service dropped out.

  “I’ve told the police,” Owen said. “Thank goodness for that!”

  “How long before they can get here?” Vanessa asked him.

  “Not until the storm stops, obviously,” Owen said.

  “She obviously is asking how long before the storm stops,” Sarah said in a snarky tone.
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  “It seems to be dying down now,” Owen said, “but I have no idea how long it will take before the police can get here.”

  I realized that the storm was indeed lessening. When I had run between the two tunnels, I had barely been able to stand, but we had climbed the rocks without the violent winds.

  “The storm usually comes in cycles,” Owen said, “so we had better get back before it picks up again.”

  On the way back down the rocky formation, which I found harder going down than up, a horrible thought occurred to me. What if Owen was the murderer, and hadn’t really called the police? “Vanessa and Sarah, did either of you call the police?” I asked them.

  “I was leaving that up to Owen,” Vanessa said behind me.

  I stopped and looked behind at Sarah. “Why did you stop like that?” she snapped at me. “I could’ve fallen.”

  “Did you call the police?” I asked her, standing my ground.

  “No!” She made to push past me, but I hurried ahead.

  We all rushed into the tunnel just as the wind picked up force again. Once more, I found going down harder work than going up, probably because it was hard to keep my footing. It would be a long way to fall, and there were no guide rails. I tensed every time I heard a movement behind me, wondering if someone would push me. Nevertheless, the tunnel did wind around and level out for short distances regularly, so anyone who was pushed would be able to break their fall easily enough. I kept a close eye on Owen and made sure he stayed in front of me.

  I made a mental note to take up some exercise and to stop eating so many cupcakes. It seemed that we had been gone for a very long time, but that was probably because of my lack of fitness. Vanessa and Sarah, to the contrary, looked like they spent a lot of time in the gym.