5 - This Cozy Mystery Sucks

-

“Don’t talk to my wife,” said Caleb. His gaze cut to Julia, and I didn’t blame the kid for snapping at her. Julia was a cold soul.

"Hannah dear," said Margaret. "Like Mr. Cutter said, there are no such things as ghosts.”

I wondered if Margaret was knew ghosts were real and was only trying to keep Hannah calm. Or maybe Margaret only had limited knowledge about parakind and she’d never learned that spirits often hung around on the earthly plane. She didn't seem to have an inkling that Caleb and Hannah were werewolves.

Humans lived in a reality where science didn’t have room for ghosts and vampires and shifters and all the other paranormal creatures hiding in the dark. 

It hadn’t always been that way. 

Ages ago, humans knew about magic and parakind, but there was a point in human history where fear took over. They began to hunt the monsters and destroy what they didn’t understand. That’s when parakind took to the shadows, hiding ourselves from the mortals, and eventually, we were relegated to mythology and genre fiction. 

I looked at Patrick, turning on the ol’ vampire-mate telepathy. Do you think the B&B is haunted by the murdered Willescane family?

No, mo chroí.

Mo chroí was Irish Gaelic that meant “my heart.” I loved Patrick’s endearments. In my head, his Irish accent had more of a pronounced lilt, especially when he “spoke” Gaelic.

“Does any want some tea or coffee?” asked Gretta. Her forced cheer broke the awkward silence that had descended upon the group.

"I think Serena would benefit from the tea I brewed for her," said Claire. "Would you mind?"

"Of course not, I'll get it from the kitchen." Gretta left.

“We have freshly baked cookies, too," said Lilly. "Perhaps you'd like one or two with your tea, Serena."

“Are there any oatmeal raisin?” asked Serena. Her voice was cloud soft. The poor girl looked weary beyond measure.

“You don’t need cookies,” Julia snapped. “You’re as big as house already.”

Serena’s face turned lobster red as her gaze dropped to her belly. She sniffled, obviously trying not to cry.

“Save those tears for your labor, girl.” 

I didn’t realize I had moved toward the mother and daughter until I felt Patrick’s hand on my shoulder. I eased back, but oh, my God, I felt terrible for Serena.

“When I was pregnant, I was as big as two houses,” I said. “Three, maybe.”

Serena blinked up at me and managed a small laugh. “Really?” She wiped away her tears. “It feels like I’m carrying a house.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart,” said Lilly. The hostess went to the table, put two oatmeal raisin cookies onto a small paper plate, and brought it to Serena. I wanted to high-five her. 

“You go on now,” said Lilly kindly. “Enjoy your treat.”

As Serena took a bite of the cookie, I saw Lilly glare at Julia, practically daring the woman to say something. To my surprise, Mommy Dearest merely rolled her eyes. Maybe Lilly used a touch of her vampire glamour to make Julia shut up. Did glamour work on witches?

"Here you go," said Gretta as she entered the parlor with a mug. She put it next to the paper plate.

"Drink it all," advised Claire.

"I will, Dr. Woodson." After eating one cookie, Serena picked up the mug and obediently drank whatever concoction the root doctor had made.

“I don't want to stay here,” whispered Hannah. 

I only heard her comment because I have excellent supernatural hearing.

“I know, babe,” Caleb whispered back. "I'm sorry. Hey, did you see the woods around this place?” Caleb’s voice turned coaxing. “We can take a long run in the morning, just the two of us.”

I knew he meant that they could shift and play in the forest; the sunshine warming their fur and their paws deep in the fragrant earth as they dashed through the trees. Sometimes, werewolves had all the fun. 

“What if it’s still raining?” she asked, pouting.

“Then we get to play in the mud.”

Hannah seemed cheered by the idea of romping around a muddy forest. “Okay,” she conceded. “But promise we'll leave tomorrow?"

"Yes," said Caleb. "As soon as I can get you off this island, we're gone." He lifted his head and spoke in a normal voice. "May we have some blankets and pillows? We'd like to sleep on the couches."

"Of course," answered Lilly. "Whatever makes you comfortable."

“Lilly, did anyone die in my room?” asked Claire. 

“No, Dr. Woodson. You're staying in what used to be Betty’s sewing room.”

“If it's all right, I'll switch rooms with Caleb and Hannah.”

“That’s kind of you,” said Lilly. She looked at the werewolves. “Do you want the new accommodations?”

“Yes.” Hannah blew out a relieved breath. She glanced at Claire, smiling. “Thank you so much.”

"Of course." Claire smiled, but it seemed forced. Her gaze slid to Serena as the young woman finished the tea and put down the empty mug.

Margaret yawned. “My goodness. I think I’ll call it night.” 

“I’ll walk you to the cottage,” offered Gretta. 

“In this storm?” asked Duane. “Do you think that’s wise?” 

I glanced at Duane. I found it difficult to believe he gave a crap about how Margaret got to her cottage. I think he liked being a know-it-all even when it came to things he didn’t actually know.  

“We have a golf cart,” explained Gretta. “The cottages are about 300 feet away, so it’s short trip. We’ll be fine.”

 “Let me just get my things, and we can go.” Margaret gathered her yarn into a cloth tote bag and scooted to the edge of the couch. 

My husband played the gentleman, holding out his hand to help the elderly woman to her feet. 

“Oh, my. Aren’t you a strong one?” She patted his bicep, and I swear she batted her lashes at him. Well, I couldn’t blame her. Patrick was all kinds of gorgeous. She shuffled around the couch, the long ears of her bunny slippers dragging on the carpet. I was a little worried that she might trip over those things and break a hip. 

Gretta guided her out of the room and into the foyer. Then we heard the front door open and close. I wondered if Gretta really did have a golf cart—or if that was a fib she told the human because she was really going to use vampire magic to take Margaret into her cottage. 

We'd been standing the entire time we'd been in the parlor, and while vampires didn't get tired like humans, I was still happy to see a spot had opened up on one of the couches.

Patrick and I sat next to Claire. She smiled at me, but she looked pensive, and turned to stare at the tome on her lap. With the book closed, I could read the title, which was The History of Herbalism in the Modern World. Wow. I bet it was super riveting.

For me, those kinds of books are what my mom used to call door stoppers. As in, you put the book against the door to keep it open. Because who, other than a root doctor, would willingly read such a cumbersome book?

I snuggled next to Patrick. Oh, yeah. This was nice. I had to admit that the sounds of the crackling fire and the smoky-sweet scent of the burning logs had a lulling effect on me.

Haunted or not, the Thompson Twins Bed and Breakfast was warm and welcoming. I sighed in contentment. I’m kidding. I can’t sigh. Vampires don’t use their lungs because we don’t breathe. 

Gretta returned a few minutes later, then she and Lilly bustled about cleaning and straightening. Gretta hummed under her breath. It took me a minute to catch the tune, and the minute I did, I grinned. Lies by the Thompson Twins. It tickled me beyond measure to know an actual Thompson Twin, a vampire no less, was humming along to a Thompson Twin song. It made me like Gretta even more. 

Apparently tired of leaning against the rocky wall of the hearth, Duane moved to the only unoccupied space in the room—next to Caleb and Hannah. He cut his eyes at Julia, and I swear there was a flash of animosity in his gaze. 

Wow. That level of antipathy was usually reserved for people you knew well enough to hate. Then again, I’d only been in her presence for fifteen minutes, and I disliked Julia Davenport intently.

I glanced at Serena, and felt another pull of sympathy. I felt my heart clench. I couldn’t help but try to reach out to the girl. 

“Serena, do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked. 

“No,” answered Julia. “One child was more than I wanted.”

My mouth dropped open. Witch said what now? How many times had Julia made it clear to her own daughter that she was not wanted?

I felt Patrick’s arm tighten around me and I realized my ire was probably visible to anyone looking at me. I made an effort to calm myself, but man, it was hard to bank my anger. I couldn’t comprehend Julia’s vile treatment of her daughter. 

“For heaven’s sake, Julia,” said Claire in disgust. “Could you at least pretend to be a decent human being?”

Yes! Go, Claire! I was glad to see the root doctor had spoken up. Not that it did her much good. Julia puffed up in her seat like an angry rattler getting to strike, and I knew she wasn’t going to take any lip from those she considered her inferiors.

“If I wanted your opinion, Dr. Woodson, I would’ve paid you for it.” She pointed a finger at Claire. For a fraction of a second purple magic sparked. “Do yourself a favor and shut up.”

---

---