Hemlock and Hedge Page 3

  “I shouldn’t be too hasty,” I said aloud. I was jumping to some pretty big conclusions without having solved the full-mystery. It was whilst I was considering alternative possibilities that something jumped up and hit me in the face. “Hey!” I said, reprimanding Aziraphale for the sudden spiky slap he’d delivered to my nose. I knew he was a kitten, but it was never too young to learn what was bad manners. His blue eyes regarded me insolently.

  That’s when something else jumped up and hit me in the face, but this time, metaphorically. “All this time, I’ve been thinking about the physical effect of the essence of Wormwood… but I forgot about the symbolism.” Perhaps my mother had been right to suggest I studied witchcraft harder. I’d known the herbs, berries, and resin that had been in the envelope, because I recognised the ingredients from the ‘Negative Energy Stay Away’ protection bags we sold to tourists. It was my mother’s recipe. She’d clearly believed it worked because she’d added it to the envelope, but that was the only reason I’d thought of their symbolism. Wormwood was a new one to me, beyond its pharmaceutical use.

  It took me thirty seconds to find the answer on the internet. “I should have guessed,” I muttered, remembering the tarot card and its pretty obvious meaning.

  Wormwood was a powerful aphrodisiac and could be used alone as a theoretically potent love spell.

  The lemon cake baker hadn’t been trying to poison the judge. They’d wanted him to fall in love.

  I jumped what felt like a mile high when someone knocked on the shop door. “What are the chances of it being good news at this time of night?” I muttered to my two new companions. The one I’d named Aziraphale let out a yowl loud enough to wake the dead.

  I blinked at him. “My thoughts exactly,” I joked, before leaving the room with a smile. Imagine a sound like that coming out of a kitten!

  I walked through the dark shop without turning on the lights. I’d had a busy day. There was every possibility I might have ruffled some feathers.

  I could see someone waiting outside of the glass door. After pausing in the shadows, I realised that I thought I recognised my midnight visitor.

  My feet carried me out into the open and I reluctantly opened the door. “Natalia… it’s good to see you,” I said, doing my best to let bygones be bygones. Perhaps things would be different now that we’d left school and done some growing up.

  The smirk on her face hinted otherwise. “I heard you visited my mother today.”

  That took some thinking about. I’d visited a lot of people. “Olivia Ghoul?” I said, remembering one of the fortunetellers. She’d seemed nice… which was probably why I’d failed to make the connection with her daughter.

  “You’re quite the detective, aren’t you?” Natalia sniped, before a more alarming grin was added to her pointed face. “I didn’t realise you were back in town. Otherwise, I’d have invited you to the coven already. Coming from such an old family of witches, it’s your privilege to be a part of the Wormwood witches. I know we’re all looking forward to seeing what you can do.” Natalia’s dark eyes looked me up and down. The smirk returned. “We meet tomorrow evening at the new Ghoul residence, where my sister and I live. Do you know it? It’s the big house at the end of Mansion Street.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find it. Thank you for the invitation,” I said, determined to remain courteous in the face of my old school enemy. I was a different person now, but it was clear that she was just the same.

  “No… thank you,” Natalia replied, looking strangely delighted by something. It was with a little laugh that she turned and strutted back down the street.

  I heard a miaow by my feet and was somehow unsurprised to find that the noisiest kitten had followed me down into the shop. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” I muttered, before bending down and gathering up the kitten. He kicked and squirmed. “It’s not at all obvious why you weren’t adopted…” I told him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  The kitten stopped thrashing long enough to glare at me. He may be a pest, but there were times when he had the charming appearance of looking like he genuinely understood.

  “I’m a crazy cat lady already.”

  The kitten miaowed his agreement.

  The next morning, I visited the house of the old mayor, Richard Starbright. When I rang the bell and stood waiting for an answer, I thought about how all but one of the entrants into that cake competition, and both judges, had stayed in town, and were probably doing the same things they had done twenty-seven years ago. All except for my mother. I felt a pang of sadness at the loss and wondered what she would have to say about all of this if she were still here. She’d have been able to clear up just what, exactly, that handwritten note meant. I found myself smiling when just for a moment, I was peeved with her dying on me. Even beyond the grave, my mother could manipulate me into altering my existence.

  “Hazel Salem! It is good to see you. Come in, come in,” the old mayor said, opening his door wide.

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Mr Starbright.” The mayor had made a point of taking an interest in as many of the town’s youngsters as he could. As mayors went, he’d been a good one.

  “Please, call me Richard. There are no official titles here anymore. That honour has passed to my son.” The ex-mayor puffed with pride for a moment, before ushering me indoors.

  I didn’t blame him for being proud of his son. Gareth had followed in his father’s footsteps and was the youngest mayor ever elected in Wormwood. As well as being mayor, he also ran the town’s only accountants. There were so many small businesses in Wormwood, I knew he did very well for himself. It came with the benefit of being known and liked by everyone in town… and he was likeable in more than one way. He’d been a popular guy to date when I’d been at secondary school, and from what I’d heard, that popularity had not waned.

  “What can I do for you today, Hazel?” Richard shook a box of biscuits in front of me.

  I accepted one, feeling the thin layer of moisture on my fingers mingle with the white chocolate coating of the Cadbury’s finger. “I’m starting a local interest magazine…” I began.

  “Excellent! That is exactly what this town needs. Well done you! I’m so glad you came back and are already contributing to the town,” Richard immediately said, making me feel terrible for the lie.

  “I’m glad you approve. I’m actually researching some local history for an article. I’ve been researching a cake competition that took place twenty-seven years ago. I believe you were the judge?”

  I wasn’t surprised when he winced. “How could I forget the competition where I got poisoned? That was when I started to consider it might be time to step down as mayor. I wouldn’t change anything about Wormwood for the world, but this town will never fail to surprise me… and sometimes not in the nicest of ways. I’m afraid I can’t help you out with too many details about that day. It’s all a bit fuzzy. The most I remember is entering the cake tent and waking up in hospital later, only to be told I’d suffered some kind of food poisoning. It was strange…” He shook his head. “I’m sure it was just all of the things they give you in hospital.”

  I kept silent, but I was willing to guess he’d seen some things… things that didn’t normally appear when you got food poisoning.

  “The newspaper said my mother was one of the entrants into the competition.”

  Richard waved a hand. “I’m sure her cake wasn’t the one responsible for my, er… mishap. I had nothing but the greatest respect for your mother. We were very good friends, and I was devastated to hear of her passing. I know I told you that much at the funeral,” he said, looking truly sorry.

  I inclined my head. “She always spoke highly of you, too.” There were very few people my mother had spoken about that way.

  The old mayor nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more with your article. Still, if you want to end it on a positive note, the aftermath of the competition led to some wonderful times. Times I hope I never forget.�
�� He smiled warmly at me.

  I felt a stab of alarm. Did he mean…?

  Did he know?

  I quickly concluded that, even if this man was secretly my father, I didn’t think he himself was aware of it. My mind rushed through possibilities… covert DNA testing coming out top. Should I be sneaking off to look for a hairbrush to steal hair from? I told my mind to be quiet. I didn’t even know for sure that, firstly, Richard was my father, and secondly, whether or not the note I’d found had anything to do with me personally.

  As I said farewell to the old mayor, I reminded myself that my mother had been far from the only single mother in town. I really had to stop jumping to conclusions.

  I needed to find out once and for all who had baked the lemon cake. Then, and only then, could this mystery be solved.

  I was having lunch at The Bread Cauldron Bakery when the lightbulb went on above my head. I’d discovered that the cake competition had been themed, and I’d assumed that the tarot card in the envelope had been paired with the poisoned cake, but I hadn’t considered that the card itself was a clue.

  It was the artwork on the walls of the bakery that inspired my eureka moment. The Bread Cauldron Bakery was a new business to Wormwood, but the owner, Tristan Coltrain, had taken to the town like a duck to water. He’d embraced the all-things-spooky vibe and had decorated accordingly with tarot-themed artwork. Some of the most famous cards were on display and I found myself drawn to a portrait of The Lovers, this time holding hands in a beautiful garden.

  The clue was in the artwork.

  Whilst everyone in town seemed to own a pack of the cards, I knew that the packs themselves varied wildly. I was no fortuneteller, but around here, you’d have to block your ears up if you wanted to avoid listening to endless discussions about which packs were best. There was certainly a lot of choice when it came to the cards… and I suspected that The Lovers had not been left in that envelope for no reason at all. That card had come from a pack… the rest of which belonged to the person who had baked the lemon cake.

  The one positive was, I already knew that the card hadn’t come from my mother’s pack. Her set was the Thoth tarot and had been painted by a local artist. She didn’t own any others. She’d been a witch, not a fortuneteller.

  If I was right about the card itself being a clue, then I’d probably also been right about my first guess when I’d found the envelope in the hollow oak tree.

  This was blackmail… and the card was insurance.

  “Find the pack it belongs to and find the cake baker,” I said aloud, forgetting that I was in a public place. A few people turned my way and looked mildly curious, but other than that, no one batted an eyelid. Strange people muttering strange things was par for the course.

  I finished my crab mayonnaise sandwich and pushed myself to my feet. The bakery owner, Tristan, smiled and waved at me, his reddish-brown hair bouncing.

  I smiled and waved back. Even though Wormwood was where I’d come from, we were both the new kids in town when it came to our businesses. I hated to admit it, but Tristan was knocking my socks off with his success. I’d actually mentioned it to him when I’d bought my lunch, and he’d promised to talk to me about marketing strategies. The town needed more people like Tristan.

  Even as I smiled and waved, I saw a young woman dressed in black - one of the town’s few tourists - sidle over to the counter and lean across to engage his attention. I wasn’t one to take away from the baker’s success, but I was also certain that his looks didn’t hurt his business. Half the customers in the bakery were female. You could almost hear the tension sizzle as all eyes focused on the girl who’d dared to lean over the counter. The poor unwitting tourist would probably have ten curses placed on her before she left town.

  I left Tristan to his fans and exited the bakery, focusing my mind. The solution was simple enough. I would have to bite the bullet and pay for some more card readings. I thought I might already be able to discount a couple of the fortunetellers I’d visited. Their packs hadn’t been in the same style as the card I possessed. I knew that the tarot reader could have changed their pack in the twenty-seven years since the competition, they had to have realised that a card was missing, too, but I had hope. The residents of Wormwood weren’t known for dramatic changes. Perhaps I would be lucky.

  I struck out at the first two houses I visited. With my purse a little lighter, I moved on to the next, which I now realised belonged to Natalia Ghoul’s mother. I knocked on the door. She was the last of the fortunetellers who’d entered the competition. The rest were witches, and I knew I’d have a hard time convincing them to give me a reading, or show me their cards, when there were so many specialists in town. That left breaking and entering. Which I wasn’t actually considering, was I?

  Olivia seemed only too happy to entertain my request and not at all surprised that I had come to call. Fortunetellers never showed surprise when I turned up on their doorstep. But then, it did make business sense.

  “New opportunities are coming your way. You will attend a gathering,” Olivia said, her manicured finger resting on a card that displayed a number of wands - but disappointingly, wands painted in completely the wrong style to the pack I was searching for. “But I also see hardship. You will struggle to fit in.” She pointed to an ominous looking card with swords decorating it.

  I didn’t have to be a fortuneteller to know which event she was talking about. She raised her dark eyes to meet mine, and I thought I saw something like grim satisfaction written there. I realised that the daughter’s dislike of me had to stem from somewhere. Perhaps I’d found the source. Olivia Ghoul had been pleasant enough on my first visit, but now I was getting to know her, she did not strike me as a likeable woman.

  “Do you think I should go to the coven meeting tonight?” I asked, genuinely curious about what she thought. Natalia had invited me, but in spite of my mother’s last wishes, I wouldn’t go if my presence wasn’t wanted.

  “It is always important to discover more about yourself and your heritage.” Olivia’s mouth said one thing, but her eyes said something else. I could see them raking over me, evaluating what they saw, and judging me as coming up short. “You don’t have the gift, do you?”

  “The gift?”

  Her lips pursed. “How very unusual. I suppose it’s because none of us ever knew who…” She trailed off with a cruel smile.

  I knew exactly what she was talking about. She was talking about my father.

  “I’m sure I can learn enough to catch up,” I said, not willing to be snubbed by this woman.

  “Books and learning can only get you so far, if you don’t have that spark.” She shook her head and pretended to look sorry. “Tragic, really. The end of such a strong line, snuffed out.”

  Oh, that was right… there were people who genuinely believed in the power of witches in this town. Wasn’t it just ever so convenient that I didn’t have the imaginary whatever-it-was you had to have to join their smug little club?

  “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom,” I said, realising I was close to exploding. For some reason, every little snipe and snip that had been made towards me since I’d come back to Wormwood was bubbling to the surface. I sensed that Olivia Ghoul was not particularly fond of me, but she probably didn’t deserve the wave of rage I felt bubbling up. I needed to cool off.

  “It’s back out into the hallway and the first door to your left.” Olivia hardly looked up as she carried on pushing the cards back into their box.

  I walked out of the room and felt some of the anger dissipate. I stood for a moment in the corridor outside, wondering if I really was the family disappointment. I still wasn’t willing to believe that magic was anything more than tradition, superstition, psychology, and fluff, but was it so obvious that I was not one of them? I tried, I told myself, but I knew it wasn’t entirely true.

  When I’d returned to Wormwood, it had not been entirely willingly. These people may not be real witches, but anyone perceptive woul
d be able to sense my attitude. I also believed that, deep down, a part of me had imagined that I was better than the people here. Wasn’t that why I’d left in the first place? Because I’d felt trapped and confined by Wormwood and its weird culture? Now I’d come crawling back without making any measurable achievements, and everyone here knew it.

  “This is a waste of time,” I said before turning to walk out of the door. I’d already paid for the reading before it had been done. You’d have thought a fortuneteller would know which clients were trustworthy.

  Darn it all. Even though I knew I was doing it, I still couldn’t stop picking holes in the town. Why was I so surprised that they were doing the same back to me?

  I shook my head, and was going to walk out, when something fell to the floor behind me… accompanied by a ‘miaow’. I turned around, expecting to find that Olivia’s obligatory black cat had knocked something down. Instead, I saw a blue-eyed kitten .

  “Aziraphale! What the heck are you doing here?” I rushed over and nabbed the kitten, as he was walking along the top of the bookshelf at the end of the hall. He shot me his trademark disgusted look.

  “How did you even get out?” I asked him, but unsurprisingly received no response. He miaowed again and tried to struggle out of my arms to be free. Cats. Take away their freedom and they can’t get enough of it. Give them an open door, and the world to roam, and they’d rather spend their days curled up inside. I would have to kitten proof the house when I returned home. Clearly, I’d missed an exit… although, it was a mystery as to how the kitten had managed to follow me here and then somehow got inside the house. I couldn’t see a window anywhere.

  I turned to leave again but my foot kicked something on the floor. Or, more accurately, the something that Aziraphale had knocked to the floor.