“Out,” she commanded as she stared at the fireplace, watching as the flames extinguished themselves.
Heading into the hallway, she pulled her boots on, slinging the backpack over her shoulder and grabbing her keys, she slipped out the front door, locking it firmly behind her. By the time she climbed into her car, excitement was building in her gut. She knew just were to go to find out who the mysterious TB was.
6
Olivia’s attention was drawn in the direction of the crime scene. Muted sounds and muffled voices hung in the air, nestled in amongst the woods where the police continued to collect evidence.
She paused for a moment fighting back the sick feeling as her mind flashed back to the body in the woods or what was left of it. In time, she hoped the terrible image would fade but she doubted it. The image of her dead mother had never left her, no matter how hard she tried.
Unaware she’d raised her hand to her chest to rub the phantom ache left by the loss of her mom, Olivia continued to stare at the tree line. As if finding someone murdered so brutally wasn’t bad enough, the use of magic was every bit as troubling, especially so close to her house.
This wasn’t some neophyte dabbling in the woods on the eve of Samhain, or the weak kitchen magic most would-be witches were sometimes able to summon. This was powerful and intricate spell work… old… and very rare.
Olivia could remember quite clearly, her grandmother telling her that the old bloodlines were dying out. Very few of the original families from Salem remained, and certainly not many who could have conjured that kind of power, the air surrounding the body had been saturated with it.
She glanced back over her shoulder at the house. While her grandmother and her great-aunt had been alive no one would have dared cast magic on their land. But the fact that someone felt secure enough to do not only that but to spill blood was enough to trouble Olivia deeply.
With her mind in turmoil, she trotted down the porch steps and headed toward her car. The house was protected, she could feel it. Each generation had added to the protective spells in and around the house, now she would need to add her own. Especially as the house was now hers, casting her own wards couldn’t hurt.
Unlocking the car, she slid in and dropped her backpack into the other seat beside her. She’d just started the engine when something at the corner of her eye caught her attention. When Olivia turned to look, she found the tall, pale blond deputy who’d collected Olivia’s clothes for evidence earlier in the day. Deputy Hanson stood casually at the edge of the tree line, leaning against one of the giant trunks watching Olivia. She made no attempt to hide, just… watched.
It was unsettling. Olivia gripped the wheel a little tighter, her knuckles turning white. She knew she was high up on their current suspect list. Living so close to the crime scene hadn’t helped, nor had being the one who’d discovered the body, but having a convicted killer for a father was just the icing on a cake that would probably require a nail file baked into it.
Olivia wasn’t stupid, she knew that the police were going to be watching her closely, and while she may not like it, she’d have to get used to it. At least until they set their sights on someone else, hopefully the real killer.
Ignoring the deputy, she turned the car around and headed down the drive toward the main road. Despite everything that had happened the drive into town was pleasant. She’d always loved Mercy in the fall. The cool, crisp air and the colors of all the falling leaves.
Taking a slow, calming breath, she cranked down the window an inch and allowed the breeze to wash over her, cooling her heated cheeks. She was worried and frustrated. Being back in her childhood hometown had been stressful enough without adding in murders and heavy magic and she was glad she had the distraction of the contents of Hester’s trunk to focus on.
By the time Olivia arrived in town, it was hard to find a place to park. Main St. was buzzing and decorations hung from every window and doorway—creepy spiders, gauzy cobwebs, and large, fake black cats with glowing green eyes. Carved pumpkins with elaborately designed faces were everywhere, glowing within from flickering candles, while rubber bats dangled from streetlights and shop signs.
Finally finding a vacant spot, Olivia parked and climbed out, shouldering her backpack and smiling. For a second it was like she was eight years old again, she could almost believe she was standing waiting for Louisa and Jake to come running down the street in their costumes to meet her.
The errant thought was suddenly met with a wave of sadness as she wondered if they’d missed trick or treating with her once she was gone. Shaking off melancholy thoughts of a past she couldn’t change Olivia set of down the street. Her stomach growled loudly as she passed the bakery. Not surprising when she hadn’t eaten since the evening before.
With a quick pit stop, she resumed her unhurried stroll with a sweet coffee in one hand and a pastry in the other, she wasn’t usually that fond of coffee, preferring tea, but she could already feel the tiredness catching up with her. She’d just taken a sip hoping the caffeine would do its job when she darted out of the way. A group of children ran past laughing wildly in excitement, clutching baskets already full of candy.
Shaking her head in amusement she stopped for a moment and watched kids pass by dressed as ghosts, vampires, and, of course, witches. Olivia chuckled to herself when she saw just how many of them had gone to the trouble of painting their skin green. Elphaba and Wicked had a lot to answer for. Although she did also see a fair few Glinda’s too.
Finishing her pastry and draining the last of her coffee, she dropped her garbage in the trash and dusted her hands on her jeans. Setting off once again, she walked another block before stopping in front of a huge old brick building. It hadn’t changed at all and for that Olivia was glad.
The Mercy Museum of Magic and Witchcraft.
Feeling the same little hum of pleasure she had as a kid when visiting the museum, she passed between its familiar stone columns and climbed the few steps to the entrance.
As she opened the door and stepped inside Olivia once again felt as if she’d stepped back in time. The place had barely changed. It even smelled the same, and there was something decidedly comforting about that. Paying the admission, she took her time wandering through the exhibits, familiarizing herself with old favorites and seeing what was new. It was like revisiting an old friend, and she found herself smiling contentedly.
Finally, she came to her favorite exhibit, ridiculously pleased that it was still on display after all this time. The display was of her ancestor, Hester West. Behind the huge glass display cabinet stood a portrait of her, painted by her daughter Miriam. Although Hester was well into her late forties with gray streaks beginning to appear at her temples by the time the portrait had been painted, it was easy to see the strong familial resemblance between herself and Hester.
Alongside the portrait was a clothed form wearing, supposedly, one of Hester’s actual dresses and tucked underneath a pair of worn leather boots. The cabinet was strewn with other witchy paraphernalia, bundles of dried herbs, a cauldron, and a worn handmade broom. Her gaze tracked over to the small plague mounted on the wall that read, On loan from the West family.
“That one was always your favorite,” a softly accented voice said from behind her.
Turning, Olivia saw a tiny, fragile-looking woman in a tidy blouse and skirt, with her cardigan buttoned to her neck and plain, sensible shoes. Her silvery white hair was swept back into an elegant chignon, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled deeply as she smiled. Although she was stooped, her spine curving and her bony knuckles gripping the twisted handle of her walking cane, she was still the same woman Olivia remembered.
“Ms. Gershon.” She smiled widely. “You’re still here.”
“The only way they’re taking me out of her is in a pine box.” She chuckled as she shuffled closer. “I wondered if you would return to Mercy after Evelyn passed. She will be missed.”
