Hex on the Beach (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 1) (12 page)

I gasped, my head reeling as I tried to process Trinket’s words.

“Do you know anything about this?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I… I’m wondering why too.”

“You know
nothing
about this.” Trinket’s hands came up, her bony fingers clasping my shoulders.

“Nothing,” I confirmed. “I promise you.”

“Trinket, let her
go!
” Mimsey stormed into the room, a wildly patterned dress fluttering as she stomped by, her clothing so bright it stung my eyes. “Get your hands off our niece.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Trinket let go. I glanced at Mimsey.

“I don’t know
anything
,” I said, stepping back and looking between my aunts. “I promise you.”

“Of course you don’t, dear,” Mimsey said with a flick of her eyes in my direction. “You’ve only just arrived. I saw that spell you did yesterday. It was nonsense. Nonsense incantations don’t work. Come on, Trinket, you know better than that.”

Gus’s gaze burned holes in my head as I glanced at my shoes.

“Well, of course. It’s just… people talk, and…” Trinket stuck her pointy nose in the air. “I just had to be sure.”

“Of course people talk!” Mimsey threw her hands up in exasperation. “When have people
not
talked about the West Isle Witches? We’re different, Mimsey. We live between the jail and The Forest, and people like to start rumors. They need to unify their hate against someone, and it’s usually us. That’s never bothered you before, so why are you going nuts now?”

Trinket sucked in a breath. “Well, Lily is new here. Maybe it was an accident, maybe—”

Her words faded as Mimsey walked right up to her sister. Though Mimsey was a good several inches shorter than her sister, her eyes beamed with intensity, making her seem taller, bigger, and more powerful than anyone else in the room. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Trinket. Lily is as much of a West Isle Witch as
any
of us.”

Trinket’s chest heaved, but she didn’t comment.

“Don’t you dare insult her mother—
our sister—
by saying anything else, you hear me?” Mimsey said. “Lily had nothing to do with Leonard’s death. Leonard was rude to her, just as he is to everyone else, and she saved him from embarrassment. She didn’t have to do that, but she did it to be nice.”

“But maybe—” Trinket started.

“Maybe nothing! Don’t you trust me? Don’t you trust Gus?” Mimsey shook her head. “We were both here. Nothing happened. His death is unrelated to whatever he moaned about yesterday. Leonard had gas, and that’s final. It’s only because of Lily that the entire Isle didn’t find out.”

“But the Rangers are saying he didn’t die from natural causes,” Trinket said.

“That doesn’t point the blame to our niece!” Mimsey threw her head back, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Leonard was a real jackarse. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. The only person who
didn’t
know what a turd he could be was Lily.”

Trinket murmured in agreement.

“Now I’m not saying I wanted him dead,” Mimsey said. “I’m just saying that plenty of people didn’t like him, and I’m ashamed of you for storming in here like that and pointing your bony little finger.”

“Mimsey, it’s okay,” I said, finding the guts to step forward. I rested a hand on her arm. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you sticking up for me, saying all that stuff.”

Mimsey’s gaze was still livid, but her eyes softened slightly. “You didn’t deserve to be accused, honey.”

“I didn’t do anything to Leonard. I have no reason to lie. I don’t know him from Adam, and I have no reason to wish him harm.” I turned to Trinket. “But I understand why someone might think… might be skeptical, since I’m new here. Don’t get mad at your sister.”

Mimsey waved in dismissal. “We get mad at each other all the time. That’s what sisters do. And Trinket needed to be put in her place this time. What I’m really confused about is Adam. Who the heck is Adam?”

“Adam?” I looked around, confused.

“You said you didn’t know Leonard from Adam.” Mimsey pursed her lips. “I don’t know Adam either. Why is he important?”

“Oh!” I said. “It’s a saying.”

“A saying?”

“Never mind,” Trinket said. “Adam isn’t relevant.”

I sat heavily in the chair before the table. “If it wasn’t me, then what could’ve happened?”

Silence fell over the room.

After a long beat, Trinket spoke, stiffening her shoulders. “I owe you an apology, I suppose.”

“I, uh, suppose I accept?” I looked at Mimsey.

“You do owe her an apology, Trinket,” Mimsey fumed. “But we’re moving on. It’s just that sometimes being the talk of the town is hard. It’s stressful. And when we’re the first people everyone thinks of when it comes to strange occurrences, well… tempers flare.”

“My temper didn’t flare,” Trinket corrected, tilting her chin up. “But I
suppose
I may have jumped to conclusions. As Mimsey said, the West Isle Witches are often the subject of gossip. I like to be ahead of the gossip, and this morning, I was behind the curve. I don’t like that.”

“Why are you—er,
we—
the source of gossip?” I asked. “You guys don’t seem strange to me. I mean, except for the whole magic thing. But everyone here is used to that.”

Mimsey started to speak, but Trinket cut her off. “Now is not the time to go into family history. If you aren’t responsible for Leonard’s death, then I need to go speak to the Rangers.”

“It’s not your business,” Mimsey said. “Leave it alone, Trinket.”

“I’m just asking questions. And I’m making sure they have no reason to suspect Lily.” Trinket turned and flounced out of the room.

“Is she okay?” I pointed after my aunt.

“Trinket’s just being nosy. Leonard’s death will be the talk of the town in about two minutes.” Mimsey wrinkled her nose. “In the meantime, we’re cancelling your lessons for today. I’d like you to come to the supply shop with us.”

“You’re not cancelling her lessons,” Gus growled. “It’s more important than ever that she learns her trade.”

“This place is going to be swarmed by busybodies and nosy onlookers. Everyone is going to stop by to get a looky-loo at my niece.” Mimsey placed her hands on her hips. “She won’t get any work done here. If we take her to the supply shop, we can at least give her some peace and quiet, a bit of protection from the gossip.”

“I don’t need to be protected,” I said. “I can handle it. I’ll stay here and study.”

Gus’s eyes burned with what I hoped was approval.

“No, dear. I’m sorry, I’m putting my foot down.” Mimsey stomped to cement her words. “You’re coming with me.”

“But if I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I hide?” I asked.

“You’re not
hiding
, you’re avoiding a bad situation.” Mimsey huffed. “There’s a difference.”

“How long can we avoid the bad situations?” Gus stepped into the store, pacing in a slow circle around Mimsey. “How long are we going to close our eyes to the bad things happening around us?”

“You’re making a correlation where there is none.” Mimsey’s shoulders trembled as she spoke. “This was an unfortunate accident. The Rangers will find the culprit and lock him away. End of story.”

The silence in the room after Mimsey’s statement spoke volumes. She averted her gaze from either of us as if she didn’t quite believe it herself.

“How long are you going to keep telling yourself that?” Gus moved so close to Mimsey I could see the breath from his words ruffling her hair. “You know it as well as I do, Miss Mimsey. The winds are changing.”

She straightened her shoulders.

“It’s more important now than it’s ever been that we have an experienced Mixologist on our side. We need her prepared, and time’s a-ticking. If we wait any longer, it’ll be a danger to us all.”

My heart rate picked up as I listened to the pair speak as if I weren’t standing right next to them.

“Fine.” Mimsey’s lips fell into a thin line. “She can study. Bring your book, Lily. We’re not going away to hide.”

I scooped up
The Magic of Mixology
at Gus’s grudging nod. “Then why are we leaving?”

“We’re going to meet your grandmother.”

“So what’s she like?” I asked, scurrying across the sandy walkway after Mimsey. My aunt’s legs were far shorter than my own, yet somehow, I couldn’t keep up.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Does she know about me?” I half-jogged to match her pace.

“Of course she does.”

Mimsey clearly wasn’t in the mood for small talk, so I concentrated on the surroundings. We sailed down a small path I hadn’t noticed before. It ran along the north side of the bungalow, its entrance masked by shrubbery and overflowing flowers. If Mimsey hadn’t pushed back a branch and shown me the way, I might never have found it.

“Is this a shortcut?” I asked.

“You could say that.” Mimsey pushed past a bush with pink flowers as large as my head.

I fell silent again, watching my step as we twisted and turned through the foliage.

“What is this place?” I ducked underneath a tree wrapped with vines.

It felt as if a tropical jungle had sprouted up out of nowhere, except it was like no rainforest I’d seen before. Orange blossoms as big as chairs lined the path, while a prickly plant bloomed with white petals as large as umbrellas, the leaves coated with fur. Ruby-red fruits dripped juice, large sticky gobs of the stuff, from overhead.

“The Twist,” Mimsey said, breaking the silence. “It’s called The Twist. A long series of gardens that doubles as a labyrinth. Your grandmother is… paranoid.”

I dodged a huge drop of the sap-like substance as I darted around a vine that moved as if it were a thinking, breathing
entity. “So you’re saying we’re in a maze right now?”

“Only those with West Isle Witch blood can find their way to Grannie’s. We’re almost there now, just a few more feet and… here we are.” Mimsey pushed one last berry-filled branch out of the way as she stepped into sunlight.

A moment later, I emerged behind her, trading the semi-darkness for a bright, manicured lawn. The sun’s rays warmed my skin as I sucked in a breath. I held it in as I took in the grounds.

Eventually, Mimsey realized I’d stopped. She turned around. “You like it?”

“This is incredible.” I felt as if I’d stepped out of the real world and into a fairy garden. Granted, I’d already stepped out of the real world the moment I began believing in magic and found myself on an enchanted island, but this was something else.

Far in the distance, I spotted a cozy stone cottage, built in a crooked, charming sort of fashion. Leading up to the cottage was a gravel path that wound through gardens with blossoms so vibrant, they made Minnesota’s greenery pale in comparison. The scent of roses and lilacs hung heavy in the air, drifting with a lazy breeze that kept the temperature cool—a nice change of pace from the humid jungle that’d led us here. I closed my eyes and detected a whiff of lilies and a hint of apple blossom.

“Yes, it’s nice.” Mimsey appeared significantly less dazzled by the ambiance than me. Then again, maybe if I’d grown up here, I’d have gotten used to it too.

But the newish cookie-cutter house I’d grown up in on the outskirts of St. Paul had lacked the quaintness that this place had in spades. Bushes spilled onto the pathways, and a brook babbled in cheerful spirals around the gardens. Birds and small animals hopped and scurried about. I even saw a pair of swans on the water, which was as clear as glass. Bright pebbles lined the riverbed, giving the water a mystical, almost ethereal quality.

I blinked at Mimsey’s definition of
nice
, forcing myself to snap to attention. The yard, the cottage, the maze—everything was gorgeous. But I wasn’t on a walking tour. I had come to meet my grandmother.

“Now, I’m going to give you one warning,” Mimsey said, sliding her arm through mine as I joined her on a small bridge crossing over the stream. “Your grandmother is a bit… kooky.”

“Kooky?” I raised an eyebrow.

Mimsey sighed. “I can’t explain it. You’ll see. Just don’t take offense to anything she says.”

“Of course not,” I assured Mimsey with a pat on her forearm as she led me to the front door, but my stomach churned with nerves.

“Relax, dear. It’ll be all right.” Mimsey raised a hand to a knocker as round as a dinner plate. She took in a deep breath, clasped the handle, and leaned back with all her weight.

I stepped back to give her space.

“It’s quite…
heavy
, this door knocker.” Mimsey grunted as she let the handle fall against the door.

A church-like bell radiated from each and every window and out over the trickling stream, the reverberations rattling my skull. A few birds took off, and another few animals rustled through the underbrush.

“Wow.” I stuck a finger in my ear, trying to clear some of the leftover
ringing
sensation. “That’s quite loud.”

“Your grandmother’s quite deaf.” Mimsey crossed her arms. “Well, she’s selectively deaf. She doesn’t like visitors and tends to ignore a
normal
knock
on the door, so Trinket and I had this installed. There’s no way she can ignore a sound like that.”

I heartily agreed, wondering if I’d gone partially deaf myself. I’d had to read Mimsey’s lips to understand half of what she was saying. As the last of the reverbs dampened, we waited patiently for someone to let us inside.

When nobody came, Mimsey raised her fist and pounded on the door. “Don’t make me do that again, Hettie! Because I will, and you know it.”

Nothing but silence greeted Mimsey’s threat.

“Maybe she didn’t hear you?” I suggested.

“Of course she did,” Mimsey mumbled. “Everyone inside The Twist can hear this knocker. That’s part of the charm.”

I was fairly certain Mimsey meant
literal
charm instead of figurative.

“Well, she asked for it.” Mimsey fastened her hands around the knocker once again and leaned back with all her weight. “She wants to ignore me? I’ll make that old woman deaf before I let her ignore me.”

Just before Mimsey released the deafening knocker, a voice floated through the heavy wood of the door. “Put that thing down, and set it gently. Who do you think you are, molesting your own mother’s ears with that racket?”

Mimsey rolled her eyes at me, slowly releasing the knocker. The smallest of sound waves bounced off and disappeared into The Twist. “About time, Mother.”

Amid grumbles, shuffles, and a cloud of dust, the door eventually opened outward, almost wiping us clear off the steps. I leapt out of the way, as did Mimsey.

“Mother, we switched your door to open
inward
, like every other normal person’s in the world.” Mimsey stepped off the front steps. “Why did you change it back?”

“I prefer to make sure my visitors remain on their toes.” A tiny, bird-like woman stood behind the door, her hair curled into a miniature Afro. “Y’all get knocked off my stairs, it ain’t my problem.”

“That’s not how you make a good first impression on your granddaughter.” Mimsey gestured toward me. “Meet Lily.”

The woman I guessed to be my grandmother squinted, analyzing me. She wore a velour tracksuit with diamond-studded pockets, more bling on her fingers than most jewelry stores owned in their entirety, and a headband that said
Fabulous
pushing back her hair. To top it off, her carefully styled ’fro glistened with a shimmery purple-and-blue mixture carefully layered over her gray locks.

“Hello,” I said with a small wave. “Like she said, I’m Lily.”

My grandmother remained silent. Eventually she stepped outside and walked in a slow circle around me. She squeezed my nostrils shut then yanked on a lock of my hair. When she reached the back of my body, she gave my butt a pinch.

“Yep, you’re a West Isle witch,” she confirmed.

“Of course she is, Mother. Stop being facetious.” Mimsey lightly smacked her mother’s hand as the woman began to stick her finger in my ear. “Stop it.”

“I’m analyzing my granddaughter. Aren’t I allowed to do that?” Hettie turned to Mimsey, narrowing her eyes. “Just making sure she’s healthy.”

“You’re messing with her,” Mimsey said. “Leave her alone, and invite us inside.”

I stood stock-still, very confused. I now understood what Mimsey meant by my grandmother being kooky. If anything, I thought kooky might be an understatement.

“So do I look healthy?” I asked, playing along. After all, I only got the chance to make a good first impression on my long-lost grandmother once.

“What is this nonsense you’re wearing? Look at this.” Hettie snapped the spaghetti straps of my sundress against my shoulders.

“It’s a sundress,” I said. “Supplied by my new closet here.”

“It’s a baby-making dress. You’re practically walking around
inviting
half the town to frolic underneath your frock.”

“
Mother!
” Mimsey jumped in, looking appalled. “Stop it. She looks beautiful, and the dress is completely respectable.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just kidding. I was just about to ask where I can get one of them,” Hettie said. “It’d be nice to flaunt these ol’ legs of mine.”

“Well, I found it in my closet.” I gestured to where I thought the bungalow might be. At the moment, we were so far deep in The Twist that the only sign of the water surrounding us was a light misty layer in the distance, hovering over the treetops.

Mimsey crossed her arms. “Invite us in, or we’re off. We stopped by for… well, reasons.”

“Ah, right. Come in.” Hettie waved an arm at us. “You must wait for an invitation inside; otherwise my tiger will attack you. He’s trained to attack anyone who enters without my personal invitation.”

I glanced at Mimsey. “Is that real?”

“Of course it’s real,” Hettie growled, striding ahead of us. “Or is it? Better not test me, ’cause you never know.”

Mimsey spun her finger in circles next to her temple. I nodded.

Without glancing back, Hettie raised one finger that was right in the middle of all the others. “I can see you back there. I’m not
crazy
.”

My mouth parted, but I didn’t say anything.

“I have eyes in the back of my head.” Hettie looked over her shoulder and winked. “
Or do I?
Better not test me.”

“Stop being difficult, Mother,” Mimsey said. “Let’s sit down for a cup of tea. We have things to discuss.”

“This way.” Hettie made a sharp left down a stone walkway.

Though Hettie’s home looked like a quaint cottage on the outside, the inside was much more spacious, complete with spiral staircases leading off the main hallway in every direction, big fireplaces sporadically placed between rooms, and even a few exotic birds flitting above. But when Hettie stopped and opened a heavy-looking wooden door with a snap of her fingers, she led us into a room that fit perfectly with the “hidden cottage” theme.

Plush chairs lined an oak table marred by imperfections—probably handmade and very old. A fireplace large enough to drive a car through lined one wall. In front of it sat a simple two-person table with matching chairs, a quaint tea set complete with a steaming pot and stacks upon stacks of cookies already prepared in the center.

“Here, dear.” Mimsey pulled out a chair for me with a wave of her hand and nodded for me to sit down. She followed suit, then Hettie sat.

“So…” Hettie wiggled her fingers over the cookie selection, eventually choosing a macaroon and popping it whole into her mouth. She raised her eyes to me and cocked her head sideways. “I hear you’ve been on The Isle for one day and already killed someone.”

I’d been eying the cookies as well, too afraid to reach for one, when my jaw dropped at her words. “What? No! I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Shame. That Leonard was a real donkey patootie.” Hettie looked somewhat disinterested now that I’d admitted to
not
killing anyone, and she reached for another cookie.

“
Mother.
Stop that. Leonard didn’t deserve to die, even if he was rude.” Mimsey crossed her arms, ignoring the cookies. “After all, your manners leave something to be desired.”

“I’m old. I’m allowed to be rude.”

“You’re completely capable of living a normal, non-rude life,” Mimsey said. “You only say you’re old when it suits you. Otherwise, your age doesn’t affect you in the slightest.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, daughter. I’m a bit saggier than I was in my prime.” Hettie glanced down at herself. “Can’t do much about that.”

“Magic?” I asked.

“We don’t alter our own appearances, and illusions are a lie,” Mimsey quickly explained. “We don’t encourage magic that harms others, even if it’s just a small lie. Slippery slope, you know. And
Mom,
I don’t want to hear about
your sagginess
. You’re still my mother.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Hettie looked deep in thought. “You know, I like that. From now on, please refer to me as Your Sagginess.”

“Mother—” Mimsey started.

“That’s
Your Sagginess
to you.” Hettie pointed at her daughter, waving her finger back and forth as if chastising a child. “I will refuse to answer to anything else.”