Book 1 - Witch You Well
Chapter 1
I had just pulled my ringing cell phone from my purse when Aunt Pearl flew into my newsroom office. And I mean literally flew in—a definite no-no during daylight hours. The fact that we’re witches wasn't exactly a well-kept secret in tiny Westwick Corners, but it was best not to flaunt it.
She hovered by the door and frowned. "Cendrine!”
Aunt Pearl only used my full name when angry. Maybe I was angry too. I had been at the office since six a.m. to get caught up. It was almost noon and I was tired, hungry, and sweaty, since my a/c gave up the ghost first thing this morning. My office thermostat read ninety degrees, but I couldn't afford to fix it.
Now what remained of my day was about to be derailed. Well, not if I could help it.
I ignored her as my phone rang. I checked the call display. It was Mom again. She had already called me a half-dozen times this morning with questions about my wedding rehearsal and the grand opening of our family's Westwick Corners Inn, both of which were scheduled for later today. I probably should have just stayed home.
"Cendrine, our new sheriff is a jerk. I want you do an exposé on him." She lingered by the doorway, waiting for my reaction.
"No." I turned away and answered my cell.
Mom was frantic. "Cen, I can't find Pearl. I'm worried she's gone off and done something crazy again."
I pressed the speakerphone button and raised my brows at Aunt Pearl. "She's here with me."
Aunt Pearl approached my desk and yelled into the phone. "I don't need a babysitter, Ruby. I'm perfectly capable of amusing myself."
"That's what worries me," Mom said. "You can't keep running everyone out of town, especially our law enforcement. It isn't right."
"Why don't you just stick a tracking device on me? Sheesh." My aunt slumped into the chair that faced my desk. “I’m not a child.”
“You act like one sometimes.” Apparently I wasn't the only one who wondered what kind of welcome Aunt Pearl had extended to the sheriff. It was best not to flaunt our specialness. The Wests had been a founding family over a hundred years ago when my great-grandparents had settled in Westwick Corners. But even we could wear out our welcome. There was a limit to what people would put up with.
Aunt Pearl ignored my response. Maybe it was our family’s history that gave her such a sense of entitlement. It was too bad, because her flagrant disregard for rules now threatened our continued existence in town. She didn't seem to give a hoot.
She grabbed my phone and yelled into it. "He's trouble, Ruby. Cen's going to do an exposé on him."
I grabbed my phone back. "I'm doing nothing of the sort. What you want and what sells newspapers are two different things, Aunt Pearl. I can't help you. I'm on deadline to get The Westwick Corners Weekly published." Like most locals, I had bought myself a job and purchased the newspaper from the retiring owner. Most of the town's industry had dried up when the state highway was rerouted a few years ago. Most young people my age had left for greener pastures shortly after. The few of us that stayed barely eked out a living.
Mom’s voice rose. "Now, Cen, Pearl is just trying to help. You take your job too seriously."
Mom’s sudden change of tone didn’t surprise me. She simply sided with her older sister as a way to minimize collateral damage and keep her own sanity. Mom’s coping strategy meant that Aunt Pearl usually got what she wanted, and Mom avoided conflict. As a long-term strategy, I thought it created more problems than it solved.
"Gotta go. See you in a few hours." Mom just enabled Aunt Pearl's bad behavior in her futile efforts to keep the peace. She was oblivious to how Aunt Pearl pushed her buttons to get what she wanted. I, on the other hand, usually stood my ground. The end result was that my aunt and I always butted heads.
Aunt Pearl sank into the chair opposite my desk and snorted. "This isn't a newspaper—it's just an advertorial for bargain hunting coupon clippers. Why do you waste your time? No one reads any of your articles. Face it, Cen. This paper's a dud."
"At least I earn an honest living." Whenever I felt down, Aunt Pearl always made me feel even worse. Her assessment was sadly accurate though. I had bought myself a low-paying, part-time job and wasn’t even very good at it. There were few options to make a living in town, so most of us had to be entrepreneurial. "Try saying something nice for a change."
My aunt studied me for a moment but remained silent. She was rarely at a loss for words. I'd better listen to her latest tirade if I wanted to leave the office on time.
She leaned forward. "I'll give you a scoop, so you'll have a decent story for once. Our new sheriff is corrupt and I want you to expose his crimes."
"What crimes?" I checked my watch. It was just before noon. "Sheriff Gates has been on the job what, a few hours? He hasn't even had time to do anything."
"He has a past, Cen. A sordid one."
"Don't they all?" Tyler Gates was our fifth sheriff in six months. We attracted only dropouts, deadbeats, and undesirables considered unemployable anywhere else. I was willing to cut him some slack because some law enforcement was better than none. We took what we could get.
"I know why he left his last job." Pearl winked at me. "It's scandalous."
"Oh, really?" The only good thing about the high law enforcement turnover was that it kept my family's supernatural talents more or less secret. The bad thing was that things didn't have to be that way. The main reason for their early departures was the one-woman crime wave that faced me from across my desk.
"Yes, really. One more thing: that highway sign attracts the wrong kind of people." Aunt Pearl's eyes narrowed as she stood to make herself appear bigger. She placed her hands on her hips, ninety pounds of indignation and intimidation.
"It attracts tourists, Aunt Pearl. Just the kind of people we need." Aunt Pearl detested visitors, but unless she stopped her hijinks, Westwick Corners was destined to become just another Washington State ghost town. Our town had no local industry, just aging farmers in the surrounding area who didn't spend much money.
Tourism was our only option, so we had spent months revitalizing and rebranding Westwick Corners as a trendy weekend getaway. I had the sinking feeling that our efforts were about to go up in smoke.
"What's that smell?" I sniffed the air, alarmed that Aunt Pearl's usual stale lavender scent had changed to an acrid gasoline smell. Last time she smelled like a gas station she had gotten on the radar of the Washington State police. Neither the town nor our family needed that kind of attention.
Aunt Pearl smirked but remained silent.
"The whole town voted yes to new highway signs, Aunt Pearl. Sorry, but majority rules." We rarely had visitors anymore since the highway interchange was rerouted to neighboring Shady Creek several years ago. We desperately needed to change that.
"Please don't tell me you damaged the highway sign again."
Silence.
Our property taxes had skyrocketed because of the constant arson and vandalism, and apologies just wore thin after a while. The highway sign wasn't the only thing regularly replaced, and I was tired of the growing ill will towards my family because of Aunt Pearl’s misdeeds.
I had a hunch that the highway sign wasn't all she was keeping mum about. "I can smell the gas a mile away. What have you done?"
Aunt Pearl sniffed. "I don't smell anything. Quit changing the subject, Cendrine. That sign hurts my business."
I had no idea why my aunt was mad at me. I decided to tread carefully since pyromania and supernatural powers don't mix well. Magic abilities are both a blessing and a curse. I firmly believed we should harness our magic for the greater good, not wreak havoc.
Aunt Pearl thought otherwise.
"What business?” I blinked as my eyes teared from the acrid fumes.
"Pearl's Charm School."
"Huh?" My aunt was anything but charming.
"My new magic school."
"What magic school? You already have a job at the Inn. You should be there helping Mom right now." Aunt Pearl's new “day” job was officially the housekeeper at the Inn. It was a good way to keep her occupied. Even at seventy years old, she got into tons of trouble when she had too much time on her hands.
"Ruby's got everything under control."
"She sounded kind of stressed out on the phone. I think she could use your help. The guests will start arriving any time now." Our rooms were fully booked, and we had some very important guests.
Tonya and Sebastien Plant, the billionaire couple who had founded Travel Unraveled, the world’s largest travel e-commerce empire, were our VIP guests. Against all odds, they had accepted our invitation to stay at the Inn, which we hoped would result in good publicity. Their experience could make or break our little business venture. It was do or die, so to speak.
"Pearl's Charm School has a grand opening too." Aunt Pearl sniffed as a business card materialized in her hand. She handed it to me. "You should enroll. Heaven knows you could use a magic refresher. No wonder your skills are so rusty, since you never practice. School starts tomorrow, nine a.m. sharp."
"This is bad timing, Aunt Pearl." I turned the business card over in my hand and a witch inside the holograph waved at me. I dropped it face down on my desk.
"No time like the present, especially at my age. I'll do whatever I like," she said. "I've lived here longer than you. Besides, Pearl's Charm School is part of the town's new branding. It caters to supernatural tourists."
"Witchcraft is not part of the official plan." Our entire town had spent thousands of hours collectively on our new tourism strategy, and Aunt Pearl was about to sabotage it all.
All the town's buildings, including the Inn, had been restored to their former glory days of the early 1900s. The only thing not resurrected was the burlesque theater, though we had future plans for live theater.
Few people knew that Westwick Corners was situated on one of the earth's major vortexes, or energy centers. Whether you believed in it or not, it was a good tourist draw. The vortex was what had drawn the West family here in the first place. Until now it had been a well-kept secret.
Now that times had changed and the whole town was fighting for its survival, we decided to capitalize on the vortex. We promoted a New Age theme, complete with a spiritual healing center, spa, and earth energy-themed gift shops.
But not witchcraft.
"You don't even have a place to teach these classes."
My aunt raised her brows and smirked. "Not true. I just rented the old schoolhouse."
"You can't practice magic in plain sight." The schoolhouse was only a few hundred feet from the Inn, and clearly visible from Main Street. I shuddered to think of Aunt Pearl performing magic in plain sight of tourists. It was a recipe for disaster.
"It's a free country." Aunt Pearl sniffed. "I'll do what I like. Most people around here know about our talents."
That was sort of true. Secrets are hard to keep in Westwick Corners. It's a small town where everybody knows each other. The rest of the town didn’t really know the true extent of our supernatural abilities though. They had some vague notions of herbal potions and pagan rituals, but beyond that didn’t know a whole lot, which was best for everybody concerned. The thought of Westwick Corners morphing into the equivalent of a witch college town would ruin the delicate balance of our fragile existence.
We have a “don't ask, don't tell” policy. The rest of the town doesn't ask and we don't tell. It works better that way. I wanted to get off on the right foot with our new sheriff, and flaunting our magic was sure to have the opposite effect.
I sighed. "You'll need a business license first. Are you really going to list it as a magic school?"
Aunt Pearl scowled and changed the subject. "You young people today don't appreciate your heritage. You, for instance. You've abandoned your craft to kill time at this dump."
"The Westwick Corners Weekly is not a dump. It's a hundred-year-old newspaper." I threw my hands up in exasperation as I scanned my shabby office. Renovations remained out of reach unless and until my paper earned more advertising revenue. That wouldn’t happen without a jump start to the local economy.
Aunt Pearl scoffed. "Everything in here looks a hundred years old. At least that part is true."
"It's a newspaper, not a showroom." Aunt Pearl had a way of dismissing my accomplishments. I had let my heart rule my head in thinking I could rescue the paper, but I didn't exactly have other alternatives. The Westwick Corners Weekly wasn't The New York Times, but it was mine, and I usually beat the rumor mill to a good story.
"Suit yourself. But I can't guarantee the safety of all these mortals you've got visiting. My students need to practice on real people."
"We all agreed to this, Aunt Pearl, including you." I was afraid to ask what she meant by practicing on people, but now wasn't the time. "Complain all you want, but we need tourists. I doubt you even have any students enrolled."
"Want to put money on that, missy? My class is almost full."
She was almost certainly lying, but I wasn't taking chances. "I hold you personally responsible for the safety and well-being of our guests." My future rested on Westwick Corners' growth and prosperity. Otherwise why was I still here?
Brayden Banks was one reason. My fiancé was the town mayor, so we couldn't exactly move away. Our wedding was two weeks away and my future was pretty much mapped out for me.
"The heck you will." Aunt Pearl turned and stormed out of my office. The downstairs door slammed just as Aunt Pearl disappeared into the hall. She abruptly reappeared a few seconds later and walked briskly to my office.
A broad-shouldered man in his late twenties followed behind Aunt Pearl. My mouth dropped open as I recognized the beige uniform that accentuated his athletic build. This new sheriff looked nothing like the middle-aged, balding, pot-bellied men before him. Based on his brisk gait, he was already on the job.
"Now what?" I had a sinking feeling that his visit had everything to do with my pyromaniac aunt who now stood before me, breathless.
"I'll make you a deal," Aunt Pearl said. "You help me with the sheriff, and in return I'll give you a free-ride scholarship for Pearl's Charm School."
"Absolutely not. No deals, and I am not enrolling in your stupid magic school." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. But luckily Sheriff Gates was thirty feet away and out of earshot.
Aunt Pearl eyed me up and down and shook her head slowly. "If your grandmother could see you now, she would be mortified at your attitude and your rusty magic. If anyone needs my charm school, it's you, Cendrine."
Technically Grandma could see me, since she materialized as a ghost whenever she felt like it. Grandma Vi had been quiet lately as she dealt with her own issues. She was unhappy that her ancestral home had been transformed into the Westwick Corners Inn. Change was hard for all of us.
"I don't need your school. I've got more important things to deal with."
Aunt Pearl snorted. "What could be more important than magic?"
My eyes darted to the approaching sheriff, but he was still fifteen feet away. Aunt Pearl was oblivious to anyone's activities other than her own, as usual.
"Saving our town, for one. We've worked so hard to save this town from turning into a ghost town."
Aunt Pearl shrugged. "What's wrong with a ghost town? I'm tired of all these interlopers. I want some peace and quiet for a change."
Most of the turmoil stemmed directly from Aunt Pearl's actions. Half the town wanted to banish my pyromaniac aunt, and apparently our new sheriff had designs on her too. "Anything you want to tell me before he gets here?"
"No." Aunt Pearl's right eye twitched, a sure sign she was hiding something. Witch or not, no amount of magic could mask her deception.
"That highway sign better be intact, Aunt Pearl. You promised me you wouldn't do anything illegal."
"I didn’t promise anything of the sort. Besides, even if I did, I had my fingers crossed.” Aunt Pearl’s flabby arms jiggled as she waved her hand in the air.
I rolled my eyes. "We'll discuss this later."
"Am I interrupting something?" Sheriff Tyler Gates stood in the doorway. He was hard to miss, not that I wanted to. His dark wavy hair skimmed the top of the doorframe as he paused at my office door. My heart skipped a beat as my gaze met his chocolate brown eyes. Suddenly Westwick Corners didn't seem so boring after all.
I stood, transfixed by his infectious smile. I held out my hand. "Sheriff, thanks for stopping by. Welcome to Westwick Corners."
"Call me Tyler. This place is too small to be formal." He took my hand and shook it.
I felt a catch in my throat as our eyes locked. "I hope you'll like it here." My face flushed as I stared shamelessly at the best-looking man I had ever laid eyes on.
The sheriff carefully sidestepped Aunt Pearl. "I had planned to drop in later in the week, but something's come up." He tilted his head towards my aunt.
"Oh?" His uniform clung to his muscular chest in all the right places. "If it's Aunt Pearl, she can be a bit over the top sometimes."
I felt a tug at my sleeve.
"Don't talk like I'm not even here." Aunt Pearl leaned in, putting herself between the sheriff and me. "That's what I came to talk to you about. The sheriff—"
I coughed as I inhaled my aunt's eau de gasoline fumes. "I'm not bailing you out this time, Aunt Pearl. If you've done something, own up to it."
I turned to Tyler. "I'm sure we can fix whatever it is." As the town's sole journalist, I wanted a good working relationship with the town's only law enforcement.
Yeah.
Aside from being so damn hot, Tyler Gates seemed pretty normal. In fact, way too normal for Westwick Corners. He was about my age, unusual compared to his middle-aged predecessors who arrived in Westwick Corners only as a last-ditch stop when no one else would hire them. But the fact he was even here meant Tyler Gates was damaged goods. His issues just weren't visible on the outside.
I turned back to my aunt. "What did you do that you're not telling me?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Cen. Listening has never been one of your strong points." She leaned closer and whispered. "I had to use a little magic."
I glared at her.
"You had to use what?" Sheriff Gates furrowed his brows and bent slightly. "I didn't catch that."
My heart almost stopped. This was one secret we had to keep.
"A hatchet," I said. "She used a hatchet to cut the sign. Isn't that what you said, Aunt Pearl?" It had to be that damn sign. She just wouldn’t let it go.
My arsonist aunt shrugged. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, amused at my bad rhymes.
Sheriff Gates looked confused. "The sign was torched, not chopped. I'm not quite following."
I waved him away. "Aunt Pearl gets a bit confused sometimes."
"I do not!" Aunt Pearl stamped her foot. "I'm sharp."
I glared at her, then turned to smile sweetly at the sheriff. "She won't do it again, I promise."
Aunt Pearl snapped her fingers at the sheriff.
"Do what?" A split second later he froze in suspended animation.
"Aunt Pearl! Take that spell off him!" I was horrified at her flagrant disrespect for our new sheriff. "You talk about my magic! What you did is an abuse of power."
Aunt Pearl winked as she snapped her fingers twice in quick succession. "Too late."
The Sheriff teetered slightly then regained his balance as the spell lifted.
"It's never too late for justice." Sheriff Tyler Gates winked back at her, his nose crinkled from the fumes. "I think I'm really going to like this place."
"You are?" we both replied in unison.
"You bet I am." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a notepad. He scribbled something with his pen before he tore it off and handed it to Aunt Pearl. "Less than one day on the job and I'm already earning my keep."
Aunt Pearl's smile vanished as she read the paper. She dropped it on my desk. It was a five-hundred-dollar fine for public mischief.
This sheriff meant business.
I liked him already.
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