Reaper Rituals in Witchwood Read online

  REAPER RITUALS IN WITCHWOOD

  A Witchwood Cozy Mystery

  JESSICA LANCASTER

  Copyright © 2019 Jessica Lancaster

  Original text copyright © 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  First published in 2018 under The Death of Destiny Graves

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your respect and support of the author is appreciated.

  All characters, events, brands, companies, and locations in this story are used fictionally and without intent of slander. Any resemblance to actual people are purely coincidental.

  NOTE: Written in British English, utilising the grammar rules of British English. Example; Mr and Mrs - instead of Mr. and Mrs.

  PARANORMAL MYSTERIES

  Witchwood Cozy Mysteries

  Cryptic Curses in Witchwood (Book 1)

  Secret Spells in Witchwood (Book 2)

  Monster Magic in Witchwood (Book 3)

  Reaper Rituals in Witchwood (Book 4)

  Bad Blood in Witchwood (Book 5)

  Wicked Witches in Witchwood (Book 6)

  Cowan Bay Witches Cozy Mysteries

  Muffins, Magic, and Murder (Book 1)

  Cupcakes, Crystals, and Chaos (Book 2)

  Pies, Palmistry, and Poison (Book 3)

  Treats, Tarot, and Trouble (Book 4)

  CO-AUTHORED BOOKS

  With Hugo James King

  Murder on Silver Lake (Book 1)

  Murder on Red Rose Drive (Book 2)

  Murder at Maple House (Book 3)

  Join Jessica’s e-mail list for new releases by signing up!

  REAPER RITUALS IN WITCHWOOD

  Dead in a ditch. Animal attacks wake the sleepy English town of Witchwood. When the only street animal around is the common street fox, the townspeople become suspicious; was this an accident or murder?

  Evanora Lavender finds the family living in grief, but the younger daughter still believes her sister is alive. When another body turns up, the hunt is on to seek out the sinister force before it strikes again.

  A paranormal cozy mystery set in a small English town, featuring an amateur female sleuth and her talking barn owl. Written in British English.

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A NOTE FROM JESSICA

  NEXT BOOK

  ABOUT JESSICA LANCASTER

  PROLOGUE

  In the thick of the forest, darkness encroached on my sight from all angles. I relied on the power in my rings and the little energy I possessed through the panic I was in. A lot had already happened tonight, leaving me with more questions than answers.

  “Nora,” Cassandra called out.

  I turned quickly, stumbling over a branch on the ground. “Find something?”

  “Oh. Goddess.”

  Pulling myself to my feet from a nearby tree, I hurried forward in search of her voice, stepping on my tiptoes. A pounding thud rang out in my eardrums, the impending war drums of doom, the ones they used to signal armed forces were on the way.

  “Cass?” I called in a low whisper.

  “Here.”

  In the dim light, I caught her quivering, a hand pressed to her lips, covering her mouth and nose. I took her free hand in mine, squeezing it. “What is it?”

  “I can’t—I can’t look.”

  “I will.” My throat tightened.

  I turned.

  I looked.

  I saw.

  There it was. A hand covered in dirt and scratch marks. The hand connected to an arm, and the arm to a—I turned back.

  “Who’s out there?” I gruff voice called out.

  Two flashlights appeared ahead, shining directly at us.

  My squeeze on Cassandra’s hand grew tighter as I pulled her. We had to go back.

  “Is she dead?”

  She certainly wasn’t alive.

  ONE

  Warming my hands on a cup of cranberry and mint tea, I watched the latest headlines scroll across the bottom of the television screen. Cassandra sat beside me with her cat, purring asleep on her lap.

  The news jingle rang with a dun-dun-dun.

  “This is Martha Mandel with the lunchtime news on 106. Breaking news, this morning, the body of a young woman has been found dead in the Witchwood Forest. The cause of death is unclear, however, people at the scene of the crime have referred to this as what looks like the victim of an animal attack.”

  “Awful, absolutely awful,” the other reporter spoke.

  My eyes were fixed to the screen. “Animal attack?” I sat straight.

  Cassandra grumbled, sitting upright next to me. “Really?” she asked, sticking her head out to face me. “Do we even get aggressive animals? I thought we only had foxes.”

  “We don’t, and we do.” I hummed, squinting through my glasses and straining to see the television screen. “Perhaps it’s a fox.”

  The female reporter cleared her throat. “While the cause hasn’t been identified by a coroner’s report, we will keep you updated.”

  A shudder shook through Cassandra, sending a small tremor through the sofa. “Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “No. I know. An awful way to go,” I spoke, my fingers trembling around the cup of tea as I pushed the lip to my mouth. “Surely, Ivory would’ve told me if she’d seen anything quite so vicious.” The tea coated my tongue, swilling inside my mouth.

  Whenever something happened, I was on the investigative end of it, and it never happened on my doorstep. This was in the Witchwood forest, and my little house faced outward into the forest itself—granted, the forest itself was vast.

  “I mean, we were all busy last night, we can’t think we could’ve stopped this from happening.”

  “Oh, I know that.” But we could’ve, or at least Ivory could’ve. “So close.” We would have known if it was closer. If anything, we’d have heard the screams.

  Knock. Knock.

  A sharp shot ran through me like the cold drip from the shower head. I sprang from my seat, spilling red tea over my white t-shirt.

  “Relax,” Cass said. “It’ll just be Greg again.”

  But Greg was in the garden. He hadn’t left. “No.” I knew exactly who it was, and he wasn’t good news. I grumbled, placing the cup on the table. “I know this one.”

  “Oh? Who is it?” she asked. “I didn’t know you could—”

  I couldn’t. “Cassandra,” I said, taking a deep breath. I pulled at the red stain on my t-shirt. “I know how the air feels around this person,” I said. “Be on guard, we didn’t part on good terms.”

  Slack-jawed, she began smiling. “A boyfriend?”

  Not quite. Philip Damaris was a male sylph, and I’d arrested him.

  TWO

  At the front door with his wide grinning face, was the tall devil himself. He had deep blue eyes and a pearlescent white smile. His skin shone in direct sunlight. I stood, slouched against the wall with a hand on the handle, ready to slam it shut in the instant.

  “
Evanora Lavender,” he said, his voice dripping in a sweet deepness. “Did you feel me coming?”

  “Phil,” my throat let out in a hoarse grumble. “You escaped?”

  He rubbed a hand through his hair, twisting it slightly between his fingers before pulling it out. His slow languid move sent the butterflies spilling back into my bloodstream. “I didn’t,” he said. “I’ve got a letter.”

  “A letter? Is this why you’re back?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “From the High Witch.”

  “The High Witch?” a screech came from the living room. Cassandra raced to the sound of her voice into the hallway.

  “For a Miss Cassandra Hexe,” he said, glancing over at her as she stood behind me.

  Struck on the spot, she stared at him. It was natural, he was beautiful. He was a sylph, and when I’d met him, he was stealing from farmers and elderly women in country homes.

  “I thought you were locked away for life?” I asked.

  He presented the letter. I snatched it from his hands. “Should I come in?” he looked around. “Seems like the neighbours here have wandering eyes.”

  And one of those neighbours was still in the garden. I glanced behind myself, looking toward the closed back door. “And I thought you were invisible to humans.”

  In a chuckle, flashing his teeth once again, the back of my knees tingled. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

  “Fine. Come in.” I grabbed his arm and tugged him into the living room.

  He took the letter from my hand and pressed it into Cassandra’s palm. “It’s addressed to her,” he said. “You’re retired now.”

  I held my chin high. “Yes, yes, I’m retired,” I said. “And I’m happy about it too.”

  Biting into his bottom lip, he smiled. “Glad I’m out of that hole you put me in,” he said. “I thought you were different.”

  It was impossible not to look him over; time hadn’t been cruel to him, especially time spent locked away in hell. His hair was greying, and fine lines appeared over his cheeks and forehead. “It’s been, what? Ten—fifteen years?”

  He shrugged. “Time doesn’t move like it used to.”

  “Oh my, it’s a case!” Cassandra gasped, waving the letter high in the air. “My first case!”

  “What does it say?”

  Cassandra’s eyes moved quickly over the document. “Suspicious animal attacks in Witchwood,” she said, looking up from the page and glancing to Phil. “But why did you bring it and not one of the witches?”

  “Work placement,” he chuckled. “Oh.” His face turned. He glanced to his watch. “I’m being summoned.”

  Whoosh. He was gone.

  A squeal left Cassandra’s lips. “Spill.”

  There was nothing for me to spill, he was history. But from the way he waltzed inside, it’s almost like nothing had changed. I glanced down at the red stain on my t-shirt, grateful he hadn’t said a word about it, but I knew he would have given the chance.

  “I think we need to know why the Council are sending men like him instead of witches,” I said, smacking a hand against my forehead. “I mean, of all people, they would have known that Philip being here would drive me insane.”

  Cassandra waved the letter in front of my face. “But he brought us a case.” Her voice turned hoarse into a squeak.

  The excitement of receiving your first case was a momentous one, and one which I definitely screamed my heart out about.

  “What does it say?” I asked.

  She pressed it into my hand. “Read it.” She jumped onto the sofa and turned the volume of the television up.

  My eyes scrolled the length of the letter.

  Dear Miss Cassandra Hexe,

  We are pleased with the progress you’ve made so far under the guide of Ms Evanora Lavender. Your first case is close to your current location. Usually, we wouldn’t give a witch a job near her home, however, given the current situation rising out of Witchwood, you are the closest witch for the case.

  I paused, pulled from the letter. “The current situation rising out of Witchwood?” I grumbled. Yes, we’d certainly had more than our share of undesirables hanging around, but this was a case we should have already known about, especially if we’re receiving letters about it.

  On the outskirts of the Witchwood forest, a body was found, this was claimed by the Council as reports of a ritual sacrifice were about to make the news. Unfortunately, that body turned to dust upon arrival and we have no leads. This morning, we caught wind of another body in the woodland, but we didn’t make it in time and now it’s made the news.

  Your case is to find the body and assess it for ritual markings. They’re being called ‘animal attacks’, so find the animal. We fear there may be more bodies, get to them before the local authorities, and cover up anything that might lead the press to mention the supernatural in their headlines.

  The High Witch

  Slowly, I nodded, turning to Cassandra as she sat staring at the television screen. “This is a huge case,” I said. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do.”

  “I’m already doing research,” she chuckled, bouncing on the seat of the sofa.

  The High Witch was right, we never worked inside our own communities. My stomach panged; I needed another tea, this time one I wouldn’t spill all over myself. I needed to think over the letter—already, this was too much for a trainee investigator to handle.

  THREE

  After pouring another tea, I sat comfortably on the sofa, tugging my glasses in place as they grew to ache my temples. Cassandra continued to look over the letter, her eyes darting from corner to corner.

  “I don’t know what to ask you about first?” she chuckled.

  With the side of my eyes, I looked at her. “It had better be the case.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it is,” she said. “What should we do?”

  That wasn’t the question for me, that was the question she needed to be asking herself. She was the one on this case. I knew her second question was regarding Philip, and I had those same questions myself. I needed to know why he was working for the Council—and how he got out.

  I blew over the lip of my cup, cooling the tea. “You need to decide.”

  “All of it?” she gulped, holding the letter out in front of herself.

  “It’s your case,” I said. “But I’m here for help.”

  In the time it had taken me to brew a fresh tea, I’d formulated my plan. I was a straightforward planner, it’s how every case began; with the evidence. In this case, you’d start with the body from the woods and work from there.

  Cassandra clicked her tongue and pointed at me. “Got it.” She jumped up, and rushed out of the living room, spooking Jinx on the arm of the chair. She hissed and chased after her.

  It made me jealous that I couldn’t pester Ivory whenever I wanted, not like the old times when she would pester me awake after a nap before midnight when the real work began. I was known as the midnight witch for a long time, given all the cases that involved being out in the early morning hours.

  “Nora,” Greg gasped, from the back door.

  “Yes, Greg,” I called from the living room.

  “Another?”

  I approached him with my cup in hand.

  He pulled his gloves off and shook his head.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I just heard from Mr Fishwick about the poor girl who died,” he said, wiping his forehead with a small cloth handkerchief. “We’re having an awful spot of bad luck in Witchwood.”

  That wasn’t even half of it. “It’s awful, isn’t it.”

  His eyes clocked the bright rouge on my blouse. “Did you—”

  “Spill my tea?” I grumbled, “yes, but it’ll come out.”

  “Sure will,” he chuckled, “maybe a little—little will help.” He wiggled his fingers in the air, meaning magic.

  Probably. He wasn’t wrong. “You finished up? I’m dying to get the deck ch
airs up and enjoy some sunshine,” I said.

  “Almost!” he snapped his fingers with a sharp click. “I’ve got a couple pieces of wood left to slot in.”

  My teeth clenched with excitement. “How very exciting,” I said. “So, what else did Mr Fishwick tell you?”

  “It was a local girl,” he said with a shrug. “Not sure if their name has been announced,” he said. “If she was under 18, I don’t think they can actually post their name in the news.”

  Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, but this was in Cassandra’s hands, I needed to know what she was capable of. I had other things on my mind, like why were the Council sending anyone but a witch to gives cases.

  After Gregory left, I changed out of my stained blouse and into another, hoping I wouldn’t strike myself unlucky twice in the same day. I scrubbed at the stain with a soft bristle pad in the kitchen sink, I couldn’t become lazy and use magic for everything.

  “I’ve got it!” Cassandra’s voice sent a shrill down the back of my neck.

  “Yes,” I called out. “I’m in here.”

  She sat at the kitchen table with a piece of paper covered in scribbled notes. “I’ve got it, and I’ve also done a little research using the internet.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realise I had internet.”

  The truth was, I had no real need for it. I was without a laptop or computer, and my phone had room for texts, calls, and probably the internet, but as a witch, I gathered most of my answers through the art of witchcraft, not through modern technology.

  “Yeah, you do,” she said. “Everyone has it these days.”

  “Everyone?” I grumbled, wringing out the wet blouse.

  She rolled her eyes. “I found out who the girl is, and where her family live,” she said. “Do you know a Dale Road?”

  Surprisingly, the road name rang a bell. “It’s not far,” I said. “But it’s not close to the forest either.”