Reaper Rituals in Witchwood Page 3

  Greg stood at the front door carrying a large basket of tools. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said. “My neighbour’s been out on the back garden burning wood all afternoon. I almost had to call the police.”

  I hadn’t smelt anything, and I didn’t live too far from both Greg and his neighbour. “Didn’t notice,” I said. “Looks like you’re all prepared.”

  He held the basket higher. “These beauties have always done right by me,” he said. “Are you heading back out?”

  I sighed, sucking in air through my teeth. “Yes,” I said. “Only for an hour. We need to head into town and grab a couple things for Cassandra.”

  “No worries,” he said. “Want me to come back later?”

  “Oh, no, no,” I said. “I don’t want to get in the way of progress.”

  He chuckled. “Like what I’ve done so far?”

  “Beautiful.”

  Walking towards the back door, I noticed Cassandra stand, pulling her notebook to her chest. She smiled and walked off back to her room. She had a real dislike to humans, and I wasn’t quite sure whether or not it needed addressing, because for the most part, we were protecting the humans.

  As Greg got to work in the garden, I knocked on Cassandra’s closed bedroom door.

  “Yes?” she answered.

  I approached with caution, opening the door to see her sitting with Jinx in her lap and her book on the bed.

  “Are you going to tell me why you hate him?” I asked.

  “I don’t hate him,” she replied. “I just don’t trust him as well as you, especially when he’s here alone with Jinx, what if Greg finds out?”

  “Greg knows about your cat.”

  “And the speaking.”

  I pressed a finger to my lips. “Of course, not,” I said. “There are rules.”

  She scoffed and shrugged. “Rules which you don’t like,” she said. “He’s a human, and he’s left unwatched in your home.”

  “And he will be, because I trust him.” I sat at the end of the bed. “Now, we’re going to watch the funeral home from across the road when we arrive. We’ll need to find a café to change into our undercover clothes too.”

  She nodded. “I’m keeping my room warded, and J—”

  “The entire house is warded,” I reminded her. “Don’t shut the door, let Jinx watch him.”

  “I was going to.”

  The more I lived with Cassandra, the more I began to find her change in character give me whiplash—it was almost just as worse in many cases, one minute her smiling face would be talking openly and positively about the case, and the next minute, she’d be grumbling and throwing her nose in the air like a snob.

  I prepared a second set of clothes and laid them out on my bed. I wouldn’t be travelling with them, that was a very human trait, as a witch, I could change into clothes with the snap of my fingers, as long as I knew where the clothes were, and they were prepared for wearing—otherwise, I may end up in any number of situations where I ended up naked.

  Wayne’s Funeral Home was in the centre of town, it was beside a cake shop and a florist; perhaps perfectly placed. Cassandra hadn’t said a word the entire way into the town, almost like she’d resigned herself to the life of a mute.

  Across the road from the funeral home was Rita’s Café. I nodded to the café, “good place to change,” I suggested.

  “Sorry,” she spat.

  “Oh?” I was surprised. I didn’t expect it.

  She shrugged. “I get nervous, sometimes,” she said. “You know what the punishment is?”

  “Was,” I said. “More humans now, more than ever know about witches and witchcraft.” But I couldn’t blame her for thinking it, I couldn’t possibly feel annoyed at the way she acted, it was something I was sure had been instilled in her from a young age. Cassandra Hexe, of the Hexe family, they were almost royalty.

  “Okay,” she said, waving a hand at the thought. “Let’s get inside, get changed, and solve this.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  Cassandra entered the café first and I followed, pausing in the doorway. A cold chill ran over my back, I turned my head slightly.

  He was across the road. A figure dressed all in grey, from his striped suit to his bowler hat. The man I’d been feeling everywhere since we’d met outside the house on Mercy Avenue. I gasped but as a car drove by, obscuring my view, the man vanished and so had his heated glare.

  SEVEN

  In silence, I followed Cassandra to the bathroom. I couldn’t quite comprehend what it was I’d seen, although simply put, it was a man—and he made it feel like moths were eating holes in my stomach.

  “I saw him,” I told her. “He was out there.”

  “Who?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember his face. “The man from the last case, the strange man.”

  She shook her head, creasing her brow. “No. Are you sure?”

  Knock. Knock. “How long will you be?” a voice called back.

  The bathroom was a single stall room with a mirror and sink, but Cassandra and I were squeezed inside. All we needed was to snap our fingers and change outfits.

  “One minute,” she called back.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I said.

  She snapped her fingers, changing her entire appearance. Dressed in a grey suit jacket and long pants, paired with black heels. “Why are we waiting then?” she asked, pulling a pair of glasses from the inside of her pocket. “Think I look the part.”

  She did. I snapped my fingers twice. I’d picked out some black pants and a white blouse; my hair was tied up into a bun with a large clip. I straightened out my glasses on my face, looking into the mirror. “Mine are prescription,” I said with a huge grin.

  A man stood outside the bathroom door. “Women,” he scoffed as we left together.

  I snapped my fingers and the faucet gushed water at him.

  “Right,” I said, walking faster to the front of the café. “Let’s do this.”

  The windows of Wayne’s Funeral Home were all blacked out and their branding was presented across the windows in italic gold writing. The door was completely black, there was no mistaking the gothic vibes it gave.

  It made me wonder, if I ran a funeral home I’d definitely make sure there was some colour to it, nobody wanted to go inside a place that represented pure depression.

  Indoors, the lights were dull, most of them shining above caskets used on the sale floor. Grieving people stood around, blubbering and crying, I clutched at the rings on my fingers, turning to Cassandra.

  “Everything prepared?” I asked.

  “Oh, yep,” she said, pulling an identification lanyard from her pocket. “Forgot about this. Our credentials.”

  “Better late than never,” I said, putting the lanyard over my head. I never really used them, I would shake the hand of a person and get them to believe every word I said until they trusted me with the information I was searching for.

  We looked around, slowly walking towards a desk at the end of the room. A musky smell hit my nostrils every time I got too close to a casket, it was a scent between damp and a floral baby powder.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, forgoing a sneeze.

  A man approached us in the dull light, a smile on his face. I scanned his body, he had sauce down his shirt and his tie over his shoulder. He held out his hand and smiled.

  “I’m Pete Wayne,” he said.

  “The owner?” I asked, shaking his head.

  He snickered. “Goodness, no,” he said. “My brother owns the place.”

  Cassandra shook his hand. “We’re solicitors with the Graves’ family,” she said. “We’re here to get further ID on the girl, for insurance purposes.”

  Puffing out his cheeks, he shrugged. “Not sure what I can tell you,” he said.

  “Destiny Graves,” I said.

  Cassandra flashed him the badge on her lanyard. “All we need is one quick check.” She grabbed his hand in another shake. “We have permission for
this.”

  “She’s not here,” he said.

  Cassandra pulled her hand from his. “She’s not.”

  “She isn’t?” I asked. “Are you sure?” I asked her, taking his hand into mine. It was moist and clammy. “Where is she?” I asked, looking him in the eye—focused on the centre of his pupils until they dilated.

  “She was collected,” he said.

  I pulled my hand away. “How? Who?”

  He shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “We only provide a service here, and that service has been provided.”

  “But why?” I continued.

  “Moved the funeral up.”

  My heart raced. It wasn’t possible, the date hadn’t been moved at all. “But it’s next week.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you ladies,” he continued in a grumble. He took the ID of my lanyard in his grubby hand. “Where did you say you were coming from today?” he asked.

  Cassandra reached and tugged at his tie. “When is the funeral?”

  “Funeral?” he grumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Whose funeral? I mean, we deal with funerals on a daily basis here at the Wayne Funeral Home.”

  “The one we were just talking about,” I said.

  He shrugged his shoulders, deeper than before. “Sorry, I’ve never seen you two ladies before in my entire life.”

  “Destiny Graves,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I know our roster of bodies, and she’s not on there.”

  Cassandra took my arm and we turned.

  “It was him,” I said in a whisper. “Whatever it is, it was that man.”

  She nodded. “Someone got to him while we were in there.”

  “As soon as we said her name,” I said. “Like it was some kind of code.”

  They knew where we were going, they knew a little too much. The Council certainly had something to be worried about now. This wasn’t something they could keep from the news for long.

  “Let’s go back to the café,” Cassandra said.

  “Stakeout the place.”

  The funeral home felt like some exclusive art exhibition, all settled in darkness with single spotlights over caskets, people standing around, looking at them, some crying, something speaking in hushed voices.

  It made me uncomfortable.

  EIGHT

  It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the light outside the funeral home. We headed directly to the café across the road. A doubt set heavy over my chest; the man had already done his work in the funeral home now, I was sure there was much else he could do.

  We ordered our coffees and sat by the window.

  “I’m not sure they’ll be stupid enough to visit twice in the same day,” I said. “Or even the same hour.”

  “Unless they’re particularly stupid supernatural creatures.”

  I shook my head. “They’re definitely strong.”

  “Do you have any idea?” she asked. “Vampires, perhaps.”

  Vampires weren’t careless beings, if anything, vampires were the more cunning supernatural creatures. “I’m not sure if this is one being working alone.”

  “Working together?”

  It wasn’t unheard of. Animal attacks meant werewolves, and werewolves were messy. They couldn’t have compelled the funeral home worker like that.

  Our eyes were fixed on the shop through the window.

  “One cappuccino, and one mocha,” the waitress said, rousing us as she plated the two cups. “Anything else I can get you two ladies today?”

  “Slice of chocolate cake,” Cassandra said. “Warmed for thirty seconds, and a side of either double cream or whipped cream.”

  The waitress chuckled and nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Anything else?”

  “I’m good, thank you.”

  Once she left, I glanced across the table at Cassandra. “Hungry?”

  “Could do with the sugar after visiting that place,” she said. “You’re more than welcome to grab a spoon and share.”

  “That amount of sugar,” I scoffed, “at my age. It’s easier to battle creatures than it is to battle the bulge.”

  Minutes passed as we sat in silence. Cassandra had her cake, and we both drank slowly from our coffee cups. I’d wondered if the family knew about the date of the burial being moved up, my body shivered to think someone was getting to the Graves’ family.

  “You think he was right?” I asked.

  I hadn’t spoken much about the man to Cassandra, but she knew of him, even the fact he drove me slightly crazy—perhaps the reason I didn’t speak about him much at all. He’d said some crazy things.

  “About the power thing?” she asked, wiping her lips on a napkin. “Perhaps.”

  I didn’t feel it. I should have felt it. I was a supernatural being, I was a witch. I should have felt anything out of the ordinary. Even Phil had mentioned it, like a moth to light in a dark night. “Finding the girl and knowing what types of cuts were on her body will help us find out who did this, and whether it was a cult killing.”

  “I’m thinking—” she mumbled with her mouth full.

  “The entire thing has been suspicious from the beginning,” I said aloud. “Firstly, it wasn’t a witch who delivered the message, and secondly, it feels like we’re on a wild goose chase. And I know what chasing geese is like.”

  The case of the golden egg was a real one, some half-breed demon had started a lucrative side business, turning geese eggs gold and selling them before they turned back into ordinary eggs. I had to catch over thirty geese before catching the man behind the operation.

  “This might be the tip of the iceberg,” she said. “What if there’s more?”

  “Then we’ll do our best work possible.”

  “But what if—”

  “What if?” I asked.

  “What if the reason the boy’s boggart gained so much power was because of how close he was to this place,” she said. “If it’s true and there’s an energy beacon somewhere, it’s only going to get busier for us both.”

  “And the doppelgängers,” I added. “All of this on my doorstep.” I’d forgot to mention the vampires I’d encountered after moving back for only a week, that had been a rough time for everyone involved.

  “Bloody hell, another!” a loud voice remarked, hushing the busy café.

  All eyes turned to a man as he stood, pointing at the television on the wall. The news channel was silent. Flashing images and a long red banner rolled along the bottom of the screen, informing everyone.

  “Another one,” I said.

  “Another body,” Cassandra gasped.

  This couldn’t have been happening. Publicly, this was the second death, but we knew it was the third to come from the Witchwood forest.

  The waitress behind the counter turned the volume of the television up.

  “—the body of twenty-year-old Milly Thompson was found only moments ago. Reported missing two days earlier, it’s currently unknown when she died, but we can report that the forest inside Witchwood will be declared closed.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding still inside my chest. There was no reporting to say if she’d been found like Destiny, or if she was found close by, but they had to be connected.

  “The Council must be having a heart attack,” I said. “I’m not sure when the last case went public.”

  “I remember,” Cassandra said. “Eleven years ago, someone caught a witch practising on film. It went viral.”

  Correction, I remembered the last case that went public. Often there were small-town news stations, but national news now went out on a global level. “The High Witch cast a spell the following day,” I said. “She spent an entire week in a coma after that.”

  There were very few stones capable to draw from to practice with on a national level, let alone on a global scale. Once pictures and videos surfaced, they were easy to remove, but scrubbing them from the minds of people is where conspiracy theories came from.

  NINE


  A buzz roared over the café as voices grew and the bodies attached to them became restless. They knew as well as we did that this was going to get worse unless the people responsible were found, and the more bodies that came about in the wake of the monsters doing this, the more mess we’d have to clean up.

  “We need to get to that body before anyone else,” I said to Cassandra.

  “We can’t have another one disappearing,” she said. “I think we need to go to the scene of the crime. There’s a lot the police will have missed that will stand out to us.”

  “My next thought,” I said with a nod. “But we still need to see Destiny’s body. If we don’t come into contact with it soon, we might never know what type of marks were left. The parents only saw pictures, and that’s suspicious enough.”

  Bleep. Bleep.

  Startled, Cassandra gasped, standing upright and looking around.

  Bleep. Bleep.

  “My phone,” she said with a smile, frisking herself for the device. “I’m gonna take this outside.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll think of something.”

  I dipped my finger into the foam of the cappuccino and licked at it. I’d need all the caffeine I could get today, and the foam wasn’t going to cut it. I pressed the lip of the cup to my mouth and drank the remnants in a single mouthful.

  “Thirsty?” a voice grumbled in my direction.

  I turned to see a man standing before me, he gestured to his upper lip.

  “Sorry?” I asked.

  “You’ve got a little—something—up—”

  My fingers raced for the napkins on the table. “Yes,” I said beneath the muffle of paper. “Incredibly thirsty.”

  “Have you heard about the bodies?” he asked, taking a sigh and shaking his head. The man was in his thirties with scruff down his neck and cheeks. He wore a shirt beneath a sweater and a thin blue raincoat. “I can’t imagine what type of animal would even think about doing such a thing.”

  “A crazed one,” I said, cleaning the foam from my face. “What do you think did it?”

  “Wolves? Foxes?” he shrugged. “No idea. But from the reports, it was an animal.”