"Good afternoon," called Lily from behind a bushel basket of bright red apples. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, and her blue eyes creased with warmth as she smiled. Clive had visited her every day for the last three weeks at her invitation. To her knowledge, he’d hardly spent any time elsewhere, but the bookshop “I’m glad you’ve made coming out to the orchard a regular occurrence. I know you’ve had a whirlwind introduction to Cauldron Falls in your first few weeks here.”
"Ah, my Lily, you are a sight for sore eyes," Clive said, ambling over. He held out his hands to take the basket from her arms. “Allow me.”
“And to think witches say chivalry is dead.” She hooked her arm in his as they made their way to the back porch of her farmhouse. She breathed in. His sweater smelled faintly of pipe tobacco, blended with the bookish aromas, which made her smile. Clive was an old warlock, and an even older soul. He was the perfect person to share her secrets with and her life with.
"Let’s have some hot cider, shall we? I brewed some this morning.” Lily rubbed her hands together in a circular motion, snapped and wiggled her fingers. Two steaming hot mugs of the sweetest smelling mulled cider floated from the open window of her kitchen straight to a small table between the two white rocking chairs placed in perfect view of a picturesque sunset. “Please have a seat, Clive.”
“Certainly, the cider smells amazing.” He lowered himself into a rocker and gathered up the mug.
“This is my special recipe from the Pink Lady trees. They needed some extra care after that storm we had a few nights ago. But I nursed them back to blooming." Lily tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Clive chuckled. "I’m sure it’s wonderful. I do love this beautiful orchard of yours, Lily. It’s a sight to behold. All these trees. I’m amazed your apples are still in bloom.” He puzzled.
Lily beamed. Her connection to the trees was spiritual. But she didn’t need magic to keep them bursting with fruit late into October or November. The trees were part of Cauldron Falls, part of the magical fiber that ran deep under the grass and dirt. Her apple trees were not just trees that fed on the land and the sun. They feasted on the crystal blue water from the falls and all the magic that oozed from it. She glanced out toward the lawn where her Irish Wolfhound familiar, Cona, lay snoozing in a patch of sun. “They are special.”
"Well, I suppose I should ask why?" Clive said, pushing up the sleeves of his plaid button down and cashmere v-neck sweater.
"That would be a good place to start," Lily replied. “I know you’ve been scouring those archives in Colin’s shop, learning all you can about the craft industry and history. But do you really want to know the most amazing thing about Cauldron Falls, Clive?” She gave him a smile and surveyed her orchard with one final fond look before standing and reaching for his hand. “I can tell you everything. At least everything you really need to know.”
He blinked and sat down his mug of hot cider. “I’m a Professor, Lily. Of course, I always want to know everything.”
Lily nodded, sure this was the right time to bring him into her secret world. Into the depth of Cauldron Falls, and into the town’s true magical powers. While the Shifters who followed Roam O’Reilly prowled the woods for predators, there were secrets of Cauldron falls that kept the true balance between good and evil. “I’d like to show you something. Do you trust me?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Clive stood to match her toe to toe. “I might be old, and by now you know I’m a bit… forgetful. But rest assured, Lily, I can still hold my own in the world.”
“I don’t doubt it. This is why you are here and why I love you, Clive. But I will warn you, what I’m about to share will endanger you and me.
"I love you, too. And I'm intrigued. Lead the way." Clive gestured toward the screen door for Lily to lead them into her house.
The Orchardist
Themorningsunbrokeat 6:57am, which was of little consequence to Cona. The large Irish Wolfhound was already out for his morning patrol of the orchard. His routine was the same every morning. He’d slip out the side door of the cottage trying not to wake Lily. First things first, he’d do his business, then get to the business of circling the grounds. Lily’s orchard was not too far from the edge of town. It sat on the wooded side of the stream that crept along the edge of Cauldron Falls. Cona could clearly see the crest of the falls from their farm, but not the crystal blue pool at the base. From the front porch of the cottage he could see the hustle and bustle of town, across the small stream, but no one could get to them without crossing the Grumble Bridge, where Grumble the troll lived, which was just about the most cliché thing in Cauldron Falls. But Cona liked Grumble because he always reported the comings and goings of everyone who passed over to their side of the town, which helped Cona do his job.
As an Irish Wolfhound familiar, he was in charge of helping his witch along her journey, for Cona that included protecting her and her orchard, which included visiting Grumble for that report of bridge activity. Prowling the rest of the grounds allowed him to fulfill his role, and to stretch his impossibly long limbs. With the dew still covering the ground and a fall mist rising from the earth, Cona took off around the property. He’d cover the fifty acres of orchards that stretched out alongside the deep wooded areas around the falls, in a little over an hour—running at a brisk 40 miles per hour, which was Cona’s top speed.
Inside the cottage farm house, Lily yawned and stretched as the trickling of sun through the lace curtains bathed her in warmth. She’d heard Cona sneaking out for his morning run. She always did, but pretended not to. Lying in bed was not her thing, but this morning she felt less tension than she had in years. She’d felt the stress leaving her body as she cooked her famous apple cider yesterday morning. With each step in the recipe, she let her worries fall away and into the large copper pot. She hadn’t cast a spell on the mulled cider, or sprinkled it with any magic. It was pure apple, oranges, cranberries, and spicy goodness. Untouched by anything but her knack for cooking her fruits into delicious creations. While she was known for her glorious orchard that produced the best apples, pears, and other fruits. In Cauldron Falls, she was far more than an excellent orchardist. Lily was the witch who could bake or boil a spell into most anything—pies, scones, cakes, casseroles, even turkey and stuffing. Lily even had a patch of almond trees that she used to infuse her work with a nutty flavor when needed. Give Lily McBride the right ingredients and she could conjure luck, love, happiness, and even prosperity. Just like the McBride witches before her. She was a master kitchen witch, whose best work needed heat—at least 200 degrees.
She’s boiled the apple cider at 212 degrees. Ceremoniously serving it yesterday afternoon to Clive had been the final step in a long journey. A journey she’d been on for far too long. She stretched again, threw the thin blanket off her legs and sighed. Her mind was blank. Free from her normal, worrisome thoughts. That was new. Normally, Lily spent the first moment of waking up battling her darkest worries. They’d bounce around her brain, and all but spilled out of her ears. She’d make every effort to push them back inside. Each index finger buried inside a canal, her thumbs folding her earlobes tight against her fingers, sealing off the opening to her mind. She willed the oozing bad things she felt was coming for her, as the truths she imagined manifesting as a dark sludge in her ears, uphill against the very slope of her ears. She willed the sludge to find the deep pockets of her mind from where they came.Then she zipped up each pocket and held the darkness at bay. Until it tried again the next morning.
This morning, her fears were nowhere to be found. Lily sensed they knew she was happy, that she’d finally made arrangements for her trees. So those nasty, sludgy fears hadn’t ripped open the zippers in the pockets deep in her brain. Instead, they burrowed to the bottom of their prisons. She could feel them trembling for once. And for the first time in a long time, she knew everything was going to be just fine. Dr. Clive Archibald Wimpleton was here, and she’d given him everything he needed and she was certain he’d help her. He was exactly the right person at the right time. They knew it and she knew it. With Clive’s help, she would finally be free, and the magic of her trees and Cauldron Falls would be safe forever. He was the one person who could unravel the riddle she’d laid out for him. Then maybe she would let her fears run from her ears, down the back of her throat and out of her mouth.
As soon as the sun moved to the point when it hit her eyes, she rubbed it away, jumped out of the bed and scampered to the bathroom. The day was calling, and today, Lily McBride was answering. She strode to the mirror and began her affirmations. “Let the residents of Cauldron Falls visit our fine orchard in kindness and in health. Let the apples and other fruits nourish the magical world. Let Cona be the wind and let Clive have my heart.”
Floating through the orchard, Lily moved with the swiftness of a witch on a mission. She wasn’t flying, or using her broom to swish through the trees and gather the late harvest of crisp apples into the basket swinging from her arm. She was merely walking with purpose, which still had her feet ever so slightly elevated above the dewy grass.Her long, flowing white velvet dress waved out behind her like a graceful flag. Matched by her long blonde cascades of locks, that stopped near the back of her shoulder blades—she was quick, but beautiful in her movements. Like a flash of white light.
Coming to the far edge of the orchard, she fully expected to catch Cona on his morning rounds. But he, like herself, was faster than expected. Looking through the trees of the woods beyond the pale of her safe orchard, Lily took in a scent of burnt wood and a musty, stale stench trailing behind it. The unappealing combination tickled her nose as she backed away from the murky yonder. The thick forests surrounding Cauldron Falls were notoriously eerie and full of surprises, none of the good kind.
“Hmmm, must be the Shifters.” She considered what could be lurking in the thicket. Cauldron Falls was patrolled by a band of Shifters, led by the panther Shifter named Roam O’Reilly. Their intentions were good. Their methods sound, but the habits of Shifters to lie in wait, to sneak up on others, or simply to watch from afar, gave Lily the willies. She was glad they were out there, but the recent death of two wolf Shifters left an unsettled knot in her gut. Something was off balance. She stared into the woods and was overcome by a shiver. She spun and powered back down the space between her rows of fruit trees, no longer gathering fruit.
Lily stopped on a dime when she exited the orchard and her feet hit her backyard. The grass was soft and still damp with dew. She took a deep breath to calm her beating heart. She was certain she was safe now. The McBride home has always been a haven, a zone of protection. She wiggled her toes in the grass. This she loved about fall. The dewiness of life. As if things were radiating their lushness. She dropped her basket of apples and moseyed to the swing, hanging from the lone large oak tree that shaded her whole backyard. She shoved off with her toes, and glided back and forth, waiting for Cona to come home. She leaned back, turned her face to the sun, and closed her eyes. Her hair and the ruffle of her white dress hung toward the earth as the breeze of the swinging motion washed over her whole body. She breathed in and out. Until she caught the scent of wood burning again. A coldness enveloped her body, and a hand grabbed her arm and ripped her from her calm.
“Oh, gracious. And I thought you were someone, or something else.” Lily sat up and shielded her eyes from the sun with her free hand. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a witch like that. Especially, one with an Irish Wolfhou…..” Lily’s voice trailed off as she looked down at her arm, the one her visitor held. Water was dripping from the sleeve of her velvet dress, and she was certain she would feel its coolness if a radiating numbness wasn’t crawling up to her shoulder, paralyzing her from the inside out. She tried to twist away from her captor, just as a suffered breath escaped her past her pink lips. “The truth will come for you, too.” Her last words escaped in a whisper.
A sudden bitterness shot through Cona’s mouth. It watered and felt dry all at the same time. He was running at his normal pace, but suddenly couldn’t breathe. Visions of Lily flooded his senses, and he took off toward home. He ran to find his witch.
He ran straight to the swing under the old oak tree in the backyard. His Lily was lying on the grass beneath her knotty pine plank swing, hung with hemp rope on the thickest branch of the tree. Her hair splayed out like a half moon from shoulder to shoulder. Her limbs lay in a crooked mess. Her normally porcelain skin was a splotchy cherry red. Cona didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to. She was no longer in her mortal vessel. He stomped his paw to the ground beside of her, and let out an enormous howl.
The Deadly Discovery
