Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

“Oh, gods, Emma. Please don’t use that while I’m gone.”

“I thought you said I was getting the hang of it,” I argued.

“You managed to immobilize a candle flame without burning the building down. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He grasped my hands in his as he gazed at me, his dark eyes shadowed with concern. “You’ll be careful?”

“Of course,” I nodded as I pushed him out the front door of my shop. “It’ll be easy as pie.”

Spoiler alert: it was not easy as pie.

I waited for Beau and Clara to disappear into the darkness, watching through my living room window as I tamped down the stabbing pangs of jealousy that assailed me when she draped her arm through his. I knew the date wasn’t real, not for Beau at least. But I couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of the fact that he was taking her out in public for dinner.

Beau was still on edge, thinking someone might get the wrong idea about us if we were seen spending too much time together. Every meal we’d shared so far had been enjoyed behind closed doors here at the shop, or in my apartment.

I did my best to disguise my annoyance every time he uttered the phrase “the wrong idea.” So we hadn’t kissed. Yet. But considering we spent every night cuddling while sharing the same bed, whatever conclusions people might draw about us if we went out to dinner together wouldn’t be too far off base.

As soon as the coast was clear, I crept downstairs—as if walking like a normal person through my own apartment would somehow cause Clara to hear me and alert her to my plan—and, after sidling up to her door, let myself in.

The bookstore was marvelous, with floor to ceiling shelving on every wall and shoulder-height bookcases lined up in neat rows, the selection illuminated by sconces mounted on the end of each shelf. The musky scent of old leather-bound books mingled with the fresh aroma of bergamot. In the center of the store was a cozy seating area with a couple of cushy sofas in much better condition than the ones at Morty’s, along with two wingback chairs arranged in front of a fireplace.

On another night, in a less murderous situation, I could have lost myself for hours in that store.

I tiptoed through the store, making my way to the office. With a deep breath, I reached my hand up to turn the doorknob.

Locked.

“Oh, for fang’s sake!” I muttered. I tried every key on the ring, but none of them worked. She must have had this lock installed without Morty’s involvement. I jiggled the handle, but it didn’t budge. I paced the length of the room in silence as I attempted to work out a plan in my head.

If I knew more wand spells, I probably could have opened it with magic. But the single immobilization spell I had learned wouldn’t do a thing for me in this situation. I let out a sigh, my shoulders slumping with disappointment, and eased back out onto the sidewalk, beckoning to Titus as I locked Clara’s front door. She let out a vocal mew, and I knew she was calling Smallish to return home with us.

Once we were all safely back inside Montcrief’s, I flopped down on the shop sofa, wallowing in self-pity. Trapped. Accused of murder. Sitting at home alone as the man of my dreams took a perfectly awful woman out on a date at my request. And I couldn’t even perform the most basic magic spells.

Some witch I was turning out to be.

“ It’s okay if you can’t do magic,” Titus said as she hopped up onto my lap, placing a soft paw on my arm. “You still have me. And Smallish.” The giant calico jumped onto the sofa, dropping onto my feet as she purred. “Smallish is a good cat. And she likes you.”

“ Aw, sweet girl,” I replied. “ Tell Smallish I like her, too. Thank you both for your help tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t get the job done. ” Titus snuggled her face into mine and went to sleep. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to her if I went to prison. Maybe Beau would take care of her. I pushed the thought out of my head as quickly as it came, hoping she hadn’t heard it.

I let out a long, drawn out sigh as I pulled out my wand, pointing it at a candle sconce flickering on a bookcase across the room. Might as well get something done while Beau was busy romancing Creepy Clara.

“ Inmotus. ” Nothing happened. Maybe I didn’t give it enough oomph. “ Inmotus! ” Still nothing. The candle flame continued to dance wildly, mocking my inability to perform even the most basic spell. I aimed the wand again, closing one eye, and exhaled, focusing all of my attention on—

“ Inmot-ow! ” Right as I was mid-incantation, Titus stretched her leg out and extended her claws, piercing my skin just enough to distract me from the spell. I heard a quiet rumbling coming from the direction of the bookcase, and I clenched my teeth, not wanting to see whatever chaos I had just unleashed. I just hoped I could clean up my mess before Beau got back and lectured me about practicing wand spells unsupervised.

But as I turned around and drank what I had done, my dismay evolved into wonder. No fires, no destruction. But the bookcase where the candle sat had moved forward several inches before sliding over to reveal an opening into another room. A secret passage, just like the one that brought me here. Only this one led directly into...

I leaped up from the sofa and peered through the doorway.

Clara Cook’s office.

“Titus,” I thought. “Keep a lookout.”

“Hello? Lack of opposable thumbs? We can’t go outside without your help.”

“That’s fine, just watch out the window.”

“That I can do,” she said.

I inched into Clara’s office, moving furtively toward her desk, which was piled high with books and paperwork. As I shuffled through documents, most of which were late payment and collection notices, my peripheral vision trained on a familiar sight. Sitting on a bookcase across the room was the same type of leather-bound ledger Morty used to keep track of his rental income, only about five times as thick. Maybe Clara’s financial records would give me some insight into her arrangement with Morty.

I crept over and slid the ledger out, then carried it back to the desk to take a peek. It was much heavier than I expected. As I walked, a letter slipped out of it and floated to the floor. I set the ledger on the desktop and bent over to pick up the paper just as Titus skidded into the room.

“Incoming! Elf incoming!” She yowled.

I snatched up the document, which had the words Eviction Notice stamped in red ink across the top. It was dated October 31, the day of Morty’s murder.

I gasped. So Clara really did have a motive to kill Morty. And with a secret passage leading from her office into Montcrief’s, she had the means to get in and out of the shop undetected without even going outside. I tucked the eviction notice into the ledger. I still didn’t have a murder weapon, but I was convinced I had enough to put Detective Otto on the right track.

“She’s at the front door!” Titus shouted.

“Spell’s bells! We have to get that bookcase back in place!”

“ Gemma. I know you’re in here, Witch.” Clara called out. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to show up at someone’s home uninvited?”

Clara stepped in the doorway, all done up in her date-night best, lips painted cherry to match her flared red dress. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head as she moved toward me. “Nosy, nosy witch.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” I asked.

“I was,” she said, running her fingertips along the bookcase as she sauntered my way. “But then I started thinking, ‘ Why would Beau suddenly show interest in me, after all these years? Why would he ask me out on a night when he’s supposed to be tutoring his favorite student?’ It just didn’t add up,” she snapped. “So, I excused myself to go to the ladies room and ran back here.” She eyed the ledger sitting on the desk. With the cover closed, I could see a large, rust-red stain on the leather.