Banishment and Broomsticks (Emberdale Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  From The Author

  Banishment & Broomsticks

  An Emberdale Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 2

  By Kali Harper

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  Banishment & Broomsticks is copyright 2017 by Kali Harper. No part of this book may be reproduced in any way, including information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “These have got to be your best ones yet,” Kat said, stuffing her face with my latest batch of apple tarts. “In fact, I’d say they’re as good as Maggie’s.”

  Maggie was our resident ghost and had spent the better part of a month schooling me (not to mention haunting me) on how to get the dough just right. If it didn’t have enough cinnamon in the stuffing, it had too much, and don’t get me started on how to cut the apples. If one tiny slice was too thick, Maggie threw a fit. It was a wonder the house was still standing.

  As for my current skill in the kitchen, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a terrible cook, so when Kat didn’t cringe or scrunch up her nose, I almost believed her. My first attempt at Maggie’s famous apple tarts landed in the trash. The second didn’t do much better. The buttery crust was dry and practically suffocated us to death. My latest attempt was also my last, as I couldn’t stand the thought of rolling out another bowl of dough.

  “You don’t mean that,” I told her, picking one of the warm tarts off the tray and breaking it in half. The buttery crust flaked around the edges and certainly smelled like Maggie’s, but I knew as soon as I bit into it, the entire thing would fall apart or taste like a mouthful of sand.

  Kat shrugged and closed her eyes. She even smiled!

  After inspecting the tart for any granules, I popped a small piece into my mouth and waited for my gag reflex to kick in, only it never did. Warm crust melted on my tongue, and when I bit down, the apple stuffing was the perfect consistency. It was then I realized I’d closed my eyes, releasing a long breath as the delicious tart mingled with my taste buds.

  “See? It’s good, right?” There was a playful lilt to her voice.

  “Better,” I said, meeting her gaze as we both reached for a second tart, “which is a good thing.”

  “How come?”

  “Because I was about ready to give up.”

  “Very fortunate,” Kat agreed, taking a sip of her coffee as she sat back in her chair.

  “What is?” Sammy asked, padding over to the table Kat and I had set aside for our taste-testing adventures. His silky gray fur was warm due to his most recent time in the sun. If he wasn’t following me around, Maggie was stalking me in his place, so when he offered to sit outside (to guard me apparently) I was happy for the break.

  “We’re done, Sam,” I said, pushing away from the table to refill my coffee.

  “You can’t give up,” he whined, walking at my heels. “Maggie would never agree to this.”

  “I mean we’re done. Here, taste for yourself.” After carrying the fresh pot of coffee over to our table, I offered Sammy a piece of tart.

  “You didn’t burn it this time, did you?”

  Sighing, I shook my head but couldn’t help the smile on my face. It was an ongoing jab between him and Kat, and right now, they’d both poked fun at my shortcomings so much, it was losing its effect. “Say what you want, but you have to try it first. I won’t take you seriously until you do.”

  The feline familiar huffed, then with a bit of hesitation, he scarfed down the tasty treat, purring when he did. “As good as Maggie’s,” he said, opening his eyes. “But you realize this is only one recipe.”

  “And now I’ve mastered two of them.” Maybe in five years, I’d be able to fill Every Last Crumb with everything Maggie did, not to mention a handful of sacrifices—err, test subjects to vouch for me. Great, now I’m doing it.

  “What’s next on the list?” he asked.

  “Coffee,” I told him, rolling my neck from side to side. “And a break.”

  “A coffee break,” Kat giggled behind her mug, meeting my eyes. “What?”

  “Don’t you have books to catalog?” Ever since I took up Maggie’s torch, the books in Kat’s shop had piled up. She claimed they sorted themselves, but one step inside her store proved otherwise. The large tomes sat untouched, creating small towers along the walls and between every aisle. It was how her store had looked before I sorted through them a few weeks ago. I should’ve known the books preferred disorganized chaos. They were magic, after all.

  “They aren’t going anywhere,” she said, pulling back her long dark hair. “Besides, sales are down. No one’s on the market for a new book.”

  “Mostly because you loan them out.” Sometimes I wondered why she hadn’t opened a mystical library instead.

  “No one needs to keep a spell book, not unless it’s their own. They’re…” She waved a hand in the air, looking for the right word, “reference material.”

  “Or a tool for murder,” I reminded her.

  “The chances of that happening again are rather slim, wouldn’t you agree, Sammy?”

  Being the wise familiar he was, Sammy got to his paws, swished his tail at us, then promptly walked outside to sprawl on the sidewalk.

  “He’s no fun.”

  “He doesn’t like picking sides,” I corrected her, nursing my coffee while watching the scene outside.

  Every Last Crumb had been closed ever since Maggie’s murder, but every day, I caught myself looking at those who happened to walk by. Same glanced in the front window and even smiled at me, but most were put off the bakery completely. While I may have worked out the kinks in two of Maggie’s recipes, by the time I had a full selection of goodies to sell, those of Emberdale would likely have a new place to find their sugary fix. It didn’t matter Maggie had died at home. Every Last Crumb was her baby (which she made sure to remind me of every single morning) so if I ever hoped to have half the success she did in selling her cookies and charms, I’d have to make it my own. It wasn’t a discussion I was looking forward to.

  As if she could read my mind, Kat said, “You think you’ll keep the cream and pastel trim?”

  Glancing around the dining area, I wasn’t so sure. “It’s better than floral wallpaper.”

  “I think you should do a light rose color with mauve.”

  What a ridiculous suggestion! “Have you ever seen me wear pink?”

  “No, but blue isn’t a good look for a bakery.”

  “Peach might work.” Anything was better than tutus and tiaras.

  Kat considered it a moment, then agreed. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

  “How do you tell a ghost you’re planning to renovate what was once her livelihood?”

  “She didn’t seem to mind when you rearranged the furniture in the living room.”

  “Only because I
was switching the love seat and sofa around.” I’d left the coffee table and everything else right where it was. “The last thing I need is for her to get upset and burn the whole place to the ground.”

  “She’d never do that.”

  “No? You should’ve been there last week when I put a dish in the dishwasher the wrong way. She almost broke the glass.” To her credit, I did put the dish in the top portion which didn’t exactly fit, but still, a ghost with a temper was nothing to sneeze about.

  “Where is Maggie, anyway? I thought she would’ve popped in by now.”

  Having not seen Maggie’s ghost or Ginger since earlier this morning, there was only one place she could’ve gone. “With Mr. Clark, I’d imagine.”

  “She still possessing Ginger?”

  Maggie took control of the orange tabby’s body day in and day out. The poor thing probably had no thoughts of its own anymore. “Of course. I keep telling her to give Ginger a break, but she’s so infatuated with Ronan that getting those two apart is close to impossible.”

  “No luck on your conjuring skills, huh?”

  “No, and between trying to perfect Maggie’s recipes and conjuring a spectral of herself so Ronan can see her, I can’t get anything else done.”

  “It might not be ideal, but maybe you should start with something small.”

  “Like what?” The only things I’d been able to conjure were invisible shields.

  “A cat.” She shrugged and finished off her coffee. “Maggie clearly has a liking for them and since Mr. Clark has conversed with her in one feline form or another, it seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

  She had a point. “I’ll see what I can do. Maggie would prefer it if I could conjure a reflection of herself. I mean, I’ve been able to give her a few wardrobe changes—”

  “But that’s to her spectral form. Conjuring something new will take time.”

  “This coming from a shifter.”

  “Hey, just because I can’t cast spells of my own, that doesn’t mean I don’t understand magic. I’ll look around to see if there’s a book you could use.”

  “For reference only.” I’d already seen what magic in the wrong hands could do, and I was pretty sure using a book that wasn’t my own was against the rules.

  “Obviously.” She frowned and stared at something behind me. “Were you expecting someone?”

  “No, why?” Following her gaze, my jaw almost hit the floor when I came face to face with— “Aunt Lucy?” Her light brown hair might not have been in rollers and her eyes more blue than green, but the woman peering inside the bakery was none other than my aunt. She even looked the same, from her tight petticoat and way too many layers of foundation to the silk scarf around her neck. The weather hadn’t turned cold yet, but then, Lucy loved scarves.

  Sammy stood between her and the door, taking his job seriously when it came to protecting me from other forms of magic—magic I had no idea my family possessed until recently.

  “Wasn’t she supposed to fly in next week?” Kat asked, standing from the table.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Letting her in.”

  “Don’t!” Okay, that came out a lot louder than expected, but I hadn’t seen the woman in over a year, and to find out she had an entire secret life was… crazy. Looking from Kat to Sammy who was as on edge as I was, I stepped away from the table and slowly made my way over to the door. I didn’t open it. “Name three things I broke as a child.”

  Lucy stiffened, then rolling her shoulders, she said, “The rocking horse you got when you were three, the rusty swing on your swing set, and your wrist.”

  “Lucky guess, but which one did I break?”

  “Your left. You were so angry after it happened because your father insisted we cut the tree house down.”

  Taking a breath to calm my nerves, I unlocked the door to let her in. “It really is you,” I said, hugging her as I did, “I thought you weren’t due back until next week.”

  “My schedule cleared up. What’s with all the questions?” She drew us apart, then glanced from me to Kat. “And who’s this?”

  “This is Kat, my best friend,” I said, slinging an arm around Kat’s shoulders, “and that guy out there is Sammy.”

  “Oh, I remember him. Very protective of Maggie, one upon a time.”

  I smiled then, walking back to the table before grabbing the pot of coffee so I could get another one going. “I’m sorry for the third degree. Can’t be too careful around here.”

  “Because of Maggie’s murder,” Lucy said, fixing the black and orange scarf around her neck. “It’s a shame you ever had to learn about magic like that.”

  “I should get going,” Kat said, taking another tart from the tray before meeting my gaze. “Those books won’t catalog themselves. Lovely to meet you, Lucy.”

  “And you, dear. Perhaps we can have a proper sit-down when you aren’t so busy.” Lucy’s smiled reached all the way to her eyes, clearly teasing Kat after all I’d shared about Emberdale and its residents.

  Kat dismissed the comment altogether, taking a cup of coffee to go before ducking out of the shop, leaving me alone with my aunt and more questions than I cared to count.

  Once the bakery had cleared out, and with Sammy keeping watch outside, I poured us both a cup of coffee and sat opposite of her. Seeing my aunt again after almost a year apart was awkward, made even worse by the fact she was a witch.

  “Did you always know?” I asked, tracing the handle on my mug with a fingertip.

  “That you were a witch?” She brought her mug up to her lips but didn’t drink. Her lipstick was an overwhelming shade of red, matching the polish on her nails. “No, and before you ask, your mother never knew.”

  “What about Mark?” They’d started seeing one another a few months ago, but surely keeping something like this a secret was even more difficult when her boyfriend happened to be a normal human being.

  “Of course he knows. In fact, we met in The Magician’s Closet, which is why I’m here.”

  “The Magician’s what?”

  “The Closet. It’s where every witch gets her first broomstick.”

  “Her first broomstick?” I was dreaming because there was no way my aunt was asking me to actually fly on a freaking broom!

  “Yes, dear. Don’t tell me you’ve gone hard of hearing as well.” She took a tart from the tray, releasing a contented sigh as she bit into it. “This takes me way back. One of Maggie’s?”

  “One of mine, but her recipe,” I admitted.

  “She taught you well.”

  “She’s taught me a lot of things, actually.” I couldn’t help the hard tone in my voice. “Why did you let me leave? If you knew I could be a witch, why send me away?” She hadn’t sent me away exactly, but according to Maggie, she’d placed a guidance spell on my car, which brought me to Emberdale.

  “It’s was a hard time—”

  “For you?” I snapped. “First my folks die in a terrible crash, then you leave me to sell my childhood home on my own. Exactly when were you planning to step in?”

  “I couldn’t without endangering you.” She exhaled hard and set her tart to the side. “I’ve had magic for as long as I can remember, and the only time I tried to tell your mother was when we were twelve. You know what she said? She told me to grow up. I never tried to tell her again, realizing the magic was my own.”

  “Nana never taught you?”

  “No, and I don’t think she even knew.”

  “But the magic has to come from somewhere.” In fact, I only learned I was a witch because Maggie had left Sammy and everything else to me, including her powers. Or, well, the ability to use magic, anyway.

  “That remains a mystery for me, but ever since you were little, I knew you’d be different. I couldn’t tell you until after your awakening, which meant I also couldn’t stop you after you left. As cliché as it sounds, I sent you to Emberdale for your own good. To protect you.”

  “You mean to keep an
eye on me.” I should’ve been thankful, and if she’d actually been around for more than my visits on Christmas, I might’ve been. Instead, she asked Maggie to look after me in her place.

  “You’re still young.”

  “Thirty-five,” I told her.

  “And a very young witch. There’s a lot you don’t know about our world, your powers, or magic in general.”

  “Which brings us back to you sitting in the dining area of Maggie’s bakery.”

  “A witch can’t awaken unless another dies. It’s a balance of power.”

  “You knew it would be Maggie, didn’t you?”

  “No, for all I know, it could’ve been me.”

  “But by sending me here, you put Maggie in your place.”

  “Would you have preferred it if I’d held you close, thus leaving you to learn everything on your own as I had done?” When my eyes widened, she said, “I thought as much. Like it or not, this is the way things are. Not all witches come into their powers the same way, but we did. Maggie understood the implications when I’d first asked her to look after you. She didn’t need to take on a motherly role or be your friendly neighbor. That was her choice. I had no part in it.”

  “So you really couldn’t tell me? Warn me? Anything?”

  “Would you have believed me if I did? Magic was once a well-accepted truth in both our worlds, but at some point, the magic was turned into fairy tales. It didn’t take long for the witches and wizards of old to realize this was a new way of thinking and one of the best ways to keep their families safe. So the fairy tales became tall tales and stories told from one generation to the next.”

  “So the stories you told me when I was a little girl—”

  “Were all true at one time.”

  “Even the tale of the Wintersnatch?” It hadn’t been in a book, but was one of Lucy’s favorite stories to share around the holidays. I never understood why she liked it so much as the story was rather dark and involved things such as kidnappings of not only children but adults as well.

  “That one especially. Winter is a season of cold and death, but also of disappearances and dark nights.”