Roller Rink Witchcraft (Extended Edition): Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 1) (8 page)

              “Everyone gets older, Thelma,” I said.

              She whipped her hand, her expression livid. “Don’t you say that to me! You, of all people!”

              Pain seared across my cheek, and I felt the wetness of blood sliding down my face. I didn’t touch it, though; not giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d hurt me. It was only a scratch— for now.

              “But you,” she said, looking at me like I was the last croissant roll at Thanksgiving dinner. “You have power and youth. You will sustain me.”

              The breath left my body as an invisible force slammed me into the wall, pinning me there. Squirming like a bug on its back, I tried to fight her magic, but no matter how hard I strained, she held me steady.

              “You don’t have to do this,” I gritted out, trying to buy time.

              Walking up to me, she ran a cold finger down my cheek. It came back bloody. “Oh, but I do. It’ll be poetic justice.”

              “Poetic justice?”

              She turned away from me, but luckily kept talking. “Your grandmother’s older than me; did you know that?”

              “Gran’s only eighty.”

              Her fist tightened. “All the young ones in this town think that, because they can’t wrap their heads around the truth. Your grandma,” she sneered, “has been eighty since I was a little girl.”

              It was impossible, what she was saying, but I listened, watching her with wide eyes as she stalked around the room. Even if the magic hadn’t been holding me, I would’ve been bound to the spot.

              “As I grew older, weaker, closer to death, she stayed the same. Always living in that house, looking down upon us
mortals.”
She inhaled sharply. “I searched for years, trying to find out how she does it. I begged her— begged! I pleaded with her to show me the secrets, but she just sat back and watched as I aged— watched as I lost my beauty and strength.

              “Then, I stumbled upon that little sacrifice that would allow me to take the years back. So, I chose two victims I knew they’d never suspect me of killing.”

              “But it didn’t work,” I said. “You’ve only gained a fraction.”

She grinned at me, and I vehemently wished I hadn’t said anything.               “I’ll sacrifice a thousand souls if it gets me what is rightfully mine, but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

              Picking up a knife off the floor, she started for me. “Before, I was too weak to kill precisely as the spell dictates: a slit throat. But I won’t make that mistake again.” She raised the knife, and a dreamy look overtook her face. “In one swipe, I’ll get my revenge against your grandmother and reclaim the youth she tried to keep from me. Poetic justice.”

              “Oh,” I squeaked, “now I get it.”

              “Thelma Gibb, drop the knife!” A hunky detective yelled from the hallway.

              Hissing, she went after him like a woman possessed, leaving my sight. The spell that’d been holding me dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground in a heap. A short cry broke through my haze of happiness, because it belonged to Wyatt.

              Running through the opposite door from the one I’d entered, I went into the kitchen. Not letting the memories from the dream trip me up, I headed straight towards the hanging rack over the oven.

              I grabbed the heaviest pan I could lift and ran after Wyatt and Thelma. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her standing over him.                             He clutched a bleeding arm, and her knife was dripping.

              “Two for the price of one,” she said, laughing.

              The knife was headed for Wyatt, and I wouldn’t be fast enough. Behind my eyelids, I could see it all playing out faster than I could ever hope to get to his side. A tear leaked out, mingling with the blood on my cheek.

              And then I was there, standing right behind her, the knife still in the exact same position in its downward stroke. My eyes widened, but I didn’t let anything distract me, raising the pan and driving it down into her skull with all my might.

              A wet noise erupted from her mouth, and she collapsed on the floor right next to Wyatt, face first. I grabbed him by the arm, scrambling back and taking him with me.

              He lurched to his feet, seemingly forgetting all about his arm. He pulled me behind him as we both stared down at Thelma’s crumpled form on the floor. Blood began pooling around her, originating at her stomach.

              “Did— did she fall on her knife?”

              “With any luck,” he said, inching forward, gun at the ready.

              She sprang to her feet like a puppet whose strings had been yanked. Blood covered her from head to toe, but she didn’t look the slightest bit fazed.

              Yelping, Wyatt and I jumped back.

              “Fools!” she cried. “Did you think your mortal weapons could harm me? I’ve consumed two souls!”

              “Technically, the knife was yours,” I pointed out.

              Wyatt raised his gun, but she was too quick, and the piece of metal went flying across the room and out the window with a loud crash. The sound kept reverberating in my ear, and I wondered if it was the last I’d ever hear.

              “Now,” Thelma said, as if speaking to acquaintances over coffee, “I’ll take what is rightly mine.”

              “Rightfully yours,” my grandmother mocked from the doorway.               “Ninety years later, and you’re still the same spoiled brat you ever were.” 

              Eyes bulging out of her sockets, Thelma pointed at my grandmother, screaming, “You!”

              “Grandma!” I cried, almost breaking out in tears.

              My grandmother spared me a glance for the first time since she’d entered, and it was anything but friendly. “You let this toad get the better of you? Disgraceful.”

              “Toad?!” If Thelma was mad before, she was furious now.

              “Yes, toad,” Grandma said coldly. “You wish for eternal life, Thelma Geraldine Gibb? Then spend it in your true form.”

              Grandma didn’t even point at her, didn’t so much as say an incantation, but a second later, Thelma was no more. In her place sat an ugly, brown toad, squawking like someone was stepping on it.

              “I really wish you hadn’t done that,” Wyatt said with a sigh.               “This is all going to be very hard to explain to my boss.”

              “I don’t act upon your wishes, Wyatt Herman Bennett.”

              “Herman?” I asked with a grin, turning towards him.

              When we looked back, Grandma was gone, without so much as a puff of smoke to prove her presence had ever been felt. Through the window, I saw the lights flicker on in her house, and I smiled.

              “Guess she saved our asses, huh?”

              He gave me the strangest look, like he was angry and happy at the same time. I wasn’t sure whether to buy flowers or ask for a quickie in the car.

              His lips were on mine the next moment, and I knew exactly which option to pick. Warmth enveloped me like someone had stuffed me full of hand warmers. I felt the heat all over, and it banished the cold panic of thinking I was going to die.

              All too soon, he withdrew, leaving us both panting and wanting more.

              “We need to get to the station. Tell them what happened,” he said.

              “Couldn’t we just go to your bed instead?”

              “Harper…”

              Giving my best pout, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, fine. What should we do with her?” I nodded to the toad that was trying to hop all over the hilt of the knife. Even as a brown, warty thing, Thelma was still trying to kill us. I had to admire her commitment.

              “Not my area,” he said.

              I headed into the kitchen, picking out a reasonably-sized Tupperware container with a sturdy lid. Gagging inside, I picked up the slimy creature and shoved her in. One not-so-careful jab of the knife took care of the oxygen problem, and I shoved the whole thing in my purse.

              “One toad to go.”

              What I’d thought would take a couple of minutes bled into a couple of hours at the police station. Upon entry, they separated Wyatt and me and grilled us both until we were well-done.

              Then, they had me write the longest statement I’m sure Waresville has ever seen, insisting I add more detail each time I thought I was done. I hadn’t done that much work since high school, and by the end of it all, I was feeling very over-cooked.

              A while in, I decided that if they were going to annoy me, I was going pester them, which may have made the long process take even more time. Instead of answering their questions, I started answering with a question, like I knew Wyatt hated.

              It went along the lines of “Now that we’ve caught the killer, when are you guys going to release the guy you railroaded?” I repeated that same question in at least a hundred different ways. Finally, the officer broke down and said he’d release him as soon as the paperwork went through.

              Never underestimate the power of pestering.

              Unfortunately, the time without Wyatt or danger let me think—too much. The night’s events came crashing down on me, and it felt like I was suffocating under them.

              I’d almost died. Not like in the car crash— I’d
actually
almost been murdered for my soul. The thought made my body tremble slightly and my mind whirl out of control.

              There were so many experiences I’d never had, things I’d never done. How could it have all been over at twenty-six? I needed more time, and I felt a huge surge of gratitude that I was getting it.

              Wyatt met me in the lobby and silently led me to his car.               Without discussion, we drove to his house, and he put it in park on the curb outside. The engine ran for a couple of minutes without either of us saying anything.

              “You’re a real piece of work, Harper.”

              Wasn’t expecting that.
“And you’re a regular bed of roses.”  He continued on as if he hadn’t heard me. “If you
ever
run off into danger like that again, I’ll—“

              “You’ll what?” I asked sweetly.

              “I’ll spank you.”

              Well, this conversation was taking an unexpected turn. My cheeks heated, and I leaned over the seat to get closer to him.

              “Spank me?”

              “Uh-huh.”

              His face was just as red as mine, but we were both wearing wide, goofy grins. We’d won a battle today and survived. It felt good, like I could do anything. Be anything. I wanted more of this feeling, but mostly, I wanted to celebrate.

              Whispering in his ear, I asked, “Where’s Cooper?”

              “At my mom’s.”

              “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

              We were off like two bullets shot out of different guns. Bolting towards the front door, he grabbed me as we were just over the threshold. Wyatt scooped me up like I was a sack of potatoes and ran all the way up the stairs.

              When we reached his bedroom, he finally put me down, but kept me close to his body, wrapped in his arms.

              Pressing a kiss to his chin, I said, “So, about that spanking…”

              “Witch.”

Shake Your Green Thing (Harper "Foxxy" Beck Series Book 2)

In the town of Waresville, things that go bump in the night are not only encouraged, they’re exploited. Haunted tours, magic shops, and a town history that is just strange enough to rake in the tourists are the only elements keeping this small town afloat. But with foot traffic dying and the mystical no longer mystifying like it once did, Waresville is dying. 
And that’s not the only thing— a lot is riding on this year’s Witch Week festival— the main survival of the town and the people who call it home. So when contestants in the Witch of the Year competition start turning green and dropping like flies, the whole town is in a panic. 
In comes Harper Beck, groovy chick, owner of the local disco skate, and not-so-amateur sleuth. Inheriting the Funky Wheel, her home and safe haven, might have dragged her to Waresville, but it’s the murder and intrigue that keep her feet firmly on the town’s soil. After solving her last psycho killer witch case, she’s itching to roll up her sleeves and get to work on this mystery. Unfortunately, her cop boyfriend, Wyatt, and his ten-year-old son have other plans for Harper— including, but not limited to, settling down and putting a permanent hold on her detective career. 
But when Harper, forced into the competition after discovering last year’s winner dead, starts turning green, all talk of family life is put aside. Now, Harper and Wyatt have to race against the clock and her fast approaching death to figure out who’s poisoning the contestants. If the pair can’t find out in time, Harper might just joined the deceased’s ranks and stay green forever. 

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