Page 30 of Coven of Magic
Joy sighed and put a small copper pot on her stove, heating water to stew herbs in. A quick emotional-pain tonic should take the edge off.
She’d decorated her house for Christmas, hoping it would boost her mood, but even with garlands and wreaths and poinsettia strung from the low ceilings and the staircase bannister, she still felt achy and despondent.
At least the house had the earthy, floral scent she loved so much about Christmas. It would be even better when she tied cinnamon sticks onto the tree. Not that she’d gotten around to buying a tree yet. She’dmeantto get one the day she found Freya on the beach, but well … all of that happened.
Joy finished hanging a wreath of evergreens on her front door, managing it one-handed thanks to her unwillingness to let go of her wand for more than a second. Wind swirled around her, like it worked for Paulina and was trying to take it from her, and she tightened her grip until her joints ached.
She stepped back to admire her handiwork—intentionally off-centre as her mum’s had been every year—when a hand touched her shoulder.
Her breath clogged in her throat, and she spun on instinct, wand raised and her left hand ducking into her cardigan pocket where she now kept a protection spell. She’d ripped into the paper sachet before she recognised the kind receptionist from the town hall. She relaxed, letting out a low breath.
Katrina’s eyes lingered on the sachet and Joy could have sworn something flickered in her eyes, probably sadness or sympathy. It was all Joy saw lately. Well, that and suspicion from witches who didn’t know her—but knew she was a murder suspect.
“Oh,” Joy laughed breathily. “Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy. There’s a murderer loose, so…”
And I’m terrified your boss will imprison me again.
Katrina smiled and shrugged off Joy’s apology, her long blonde hair bouncing. “No need to apologise. I was just finishing up a run and I saw you. I thought I’d come and ask how you were doing.”
“I’m alright,” Joy replied, trying to smile even as her heart kept racing and the panic remained. “Better now I’m home.”
Katrina nodded and that was definitely sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry about the way Paulina treated you. I asked her to be kinder but … you’ve lived here longer than me, you must know what she’s like.”
“Yeah,” Joy agreed, noticing that despite Katrina’s accent, she’d picked up their contractions and the ebb and flow of the local accent, too.
Katrina’s eyes flicked to the sachet in Joy’s hand again before drifting to the sun gilding the beach in pure gold. “I should go, or I’ll miss my pilates class. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
“Have fun,” Joy said, not knowing if that was the right sentiment for someone swapping jogging for pilates. She supposed it explained the lithe figure Katrina usually hid beneath flouncy blouses and long skirts. To Joy, exercise was a little too much effort, hence her wobbly belly and big thighs.
“See you later,” she said, smiling a bit easier. It was surprising how much seeing a friendly face eased her nerves.
Katrina waved and jogged off.
Even though Joy’s jumpy fear had calmed, her chest still ached viciously. Rubbing at the spot over her pained heart, Joy admired her wreath one final time and went inside. She triple checked the door was locked before she plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, inhaling the fresh, woodsy scent of her home.
Still thinking about Paulina’s assistant, Joy washed a pain tonic down with a cup of green tea and a lemon biscuit. It was better than thinking about what might happen if the spells she and her coven were going to cast tonight didn’t work.
If they didn’t find the person who’d actually killed the girl, Joy knew it wouldn’t be long before Paulina found another witness to incriminate her, or a piece of magically conjured evidence.
Sighing, Joy finished her tea and started spell prep. Her coven wouldn’t arrive for another hour, but at least she’d be busy. At least the sounds of her knife on the wooden block and the bubble of boiling water on the stove were normal. She needed normal now more than ever.
EIGHTEEN
GABI
Freya was the most wholesome, harmless girl in the whole damn town. Gabi wouldn’t have been surprised if she was a Brownie or delivered cakes to the elderly or voluntarily ran marathons for charity. After interviewing every family member she could get her hands on, Gabi was stuck on what Joy’s coven had said when they sensed the power on the girl’s body. Freya had beenbad, had done something wrong.
Hence after a morning of following up minor reports—a public disturbance with emphasis on thepub, and a bright pink front door whose elderly neighbour wanted Gabi to ‘get rid of’ because it was ‘an absolute eyesore’—Gabi now waited in traffic at the end of the workday to visit the steep terrace house where Freya’s best friend lived.
If Freyahadbeen less than innocent, it would be her friends—not her family—who’d tell Gabi, intentionally or otherwise.
Her heart beat a little faster, her blood pumping with useless excitement. The chance that she could uncover a snippet of information to unlock the whole case, however scant that chance was, was hard to fight. She parked outside a brown terrace house with every Christmas decoration imaginable flashing cheerfully from the face of it and took a breath.
When Gabi rapped on the door, a frizzy haired teenage girl in a glitzy skirt and top swung it open, an intent expression on her dark face.
“Finally,” she declared, ushering Gabi inside.
She tried to hide her surprise at the unexpected greeting as she was led into a living room decorated as wildly as the outside, the air spiced with cinnamon.