Any Witch Way But Dead: Hedgewood Sisters Paranormal Mysteries

1

Would you slow down for a doggone minute and let me catch up with you? I’ve only got two legs—you’ve got four. Ree tried to catch her breath as she chased the white Persian cat down Abercrombie Lane.

Move faster, human! We may not have much time! The cat’s name tag read ’Fluffy.’ Ree would have called him one of a few other choice words that described the little she knew of his personality. Within the last two minutes, the cat had been bossy, demanding, and downright insulting, but he also claimed that his owner was lying in a pool of blood in her kitchen.

Ree hadn’t planned to go running when she’d left her mother’s house. In fact, she’d only gone out because she needed some fresh air and her pet possum, Blossom, needed to stretch her furry little legs. Ree had ’told’ the possum to head back inside after the white cat had approached her out in the yard, pleading for help.

You’re lucky I can hear your thoughts, cat, Ree grumbled under her heaving breath. And you’re also lucky that I make house calls. Ree had discovered her ability only a few weeks earlier. She and both of her sisters, Sissy and Twyla, had been informed by their dearly departed grandmother that they would be the most powerful witches that the world had seen in a very long time. Ree reckoned that if her mighty power was playing Doctor Doolittle, the world better not be in for too much trouble.

Her sisters both had abilities that seemed far more useful. Sissy could read both of her sisters’ thoughts almost effortlessly. Twyla could touch certain objects and see their past. Ree could understand exactly what the neighbor’s dog was thinking while he was humping her leg.

She supposed that, right now, her ability was important, at least to whoever she was about to rush in and save. She envisioned some elderly woman lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs, clutching her chest and crying out that she’d fallen and couldn’t get up. Looking at the fat, fluffy feline ahead of her, it had to be someone very lonely if they doted on the bossy little beast.

For a skinny human, you sure are slow! The cat hissed at her when she stopped to catch her breath. He’d led her down two streets and across a small, wooded lot that was too tiny to hold a home but too big to be ignored. Nevermind. I guess I should be grateful that you can understand me, he continued, speaking slowly as though she might be simple and unable to comprehend him.

Listen up you furry little turd! I said I’d help you, but you didn’t tell me that your owner lives all the way across town. I’m not wearing running shoes, you know. She gestured towards her black boots. They had pointy toes and thick, chunky heels. If I get blisters on my feet trying to keep up with you—

The cat held up one paw. Shhh!!! It’s this house up here. I don’t want the bad guy to hear you.

Ree narrowed her eyes. What bad guy? The cat had told her that his owner was in trouble—bleeding on the floor, to be precise—but he’d never said a word about any bad guy. I need to call the police, she insisted.

You can do that after you make sure she’s alright. It’s almost lunch time, and if she’s dead, who’s going to feed me? The cat looked at her with pleading eyes. He wasn’t pleading for the life of his owner, he just wanted his food. Typical cat, Ree thought.

Against her better judgment, Ree left her phone in her pocket and followed the pitiful cat. He led her to a small white house with wooden shutters and a neat, overly green lawn. There was a Buick in the driveway, but it wasn’t a new one. The thin layer of dust on the car told Ree that it wasn’t driven often, if ever.

Does your owner live alone? Ree asked. I mean, are there any other people or pets I need to know about?

No, Fluffy whimpered, it’s just the two of us. She treats me like her child, and..I…I let her! He was doing the cat equivalent of shameful sobbing. Oh, god help me, I let her feed me with a spoon! His sobs began to look like he was having a sneezing fit, or possibly a seizure.

Oh, for goodness sake! Will you shut up and show me how to get inside the house?

Fluffy ignored the front of the house and headed straight to the side of the home where an awning had been erected to create a shady space, presumably to park the Buick. Ree wondered if it had been erected so that the cat’s owner had a place to sit outside comfortably on hot days. A pair of folding lawn chairs hung against the side of the building, and beside them, a door stood slightly ajar.

Ree didn’t wait for the cat to tell her to go in, but she didn’t rush in, either. She opened the door slowly, allowing herself a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light of what looked to be the laundry room of the little house. Across the room, a second door stood open, though it cast very little light into the laundry room.

Fluffy brushed against her legs. Go in that way, to the kitchen, he suggested. That’s where she is.

Ree listened for signs that anyone was still in the house, but everything was silent. She called out quietly, then a little louder. Hello? Hello! The cat shot past her and into the main part of the house. If there is a bad guy lurking inside, he can have that fluffy pest, Ree figured.

Taking a deep breath, Ree pushed the cold door open wide enough to let herself inside. The house was decorated in the chintziest patterns she’d ever seen, with floral patterned wallpaper and rose pink Formica countertops. The overhead fluorescent light flickered, casting a menacing glow on the kitchen. Beneath it, an island stood, bare except for a can of cat food, a can opener, and a rhinestone encrusted food dish.

Ree jumped when a flurry of white fur appeared on the island. The cat had leaped straight up, almost silently. She didn’t get around to opening my food, he whined. He licked one paw thoughtfully. Could you?

Wait—I haven’t found your owner yet. Where is she? Ree glanced around the kitchen but didn’t see anyone.

She’s over there, the cat replied, nodding towards the refrigerator. Ree looked again and this time she saw what she’d missed before. There was a gap between the refrigerator and the wall next to it. A pair of legs stuck out of the gap. They didn’t appear to be moving.

Fluffy sighed and leaped off the counter, impatient with Ree’s slowness to respond. He scurried over to his owner and scratched at her ankles. She didn’t move.

Ma’am? Ree called out, pushing the cat aside. Don’t do that, she scolded him. Don’t scratch her.

I don’t think she can feel anything, he said defensively. She’s broken. Look at her. There’s a hole in her, right there in the middle.

The cat’s description wasn’t entirely inaccurate. The poor woman did appear to be broken, propped like a rag doll against the wall. And there was a hole in her, but not precisely in her middle. It was in the center of her chest, a clean, round hole the size of a golf ball. Surprisingly, there was very little blood.

Ree felt for a pulse, but she couldn’t find one. I don’t think she’s going to be getting you any lunch, Ree told the cat.

His whiskers trembled. But breakfast was hours ago!

Ree rolled her eyes and stood, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one hand while she picked up the cat with the other. Almost without thinking, she called the only other person that she knew who’d been in this type of situation before.

Twyla? Can you call Hank and tell him to meet me? I’ve got a dead lady and her whiny cat here, and I really need some help. And a stiff drink, she added in her head.

With nothing else to do but wait, Ree filled the cat’s bowl with food before heading back outside. It was a chilly November afternoon, but after finding the woman’s dead body, a snowstorm would have felt like a warm blanket compared to the atmosphere in the depressing little house.

2

Twyla Hedgewood didn’t usually make it a habit to accompany the police to the scene of a murder, especially if there was blood involved. Despite being a witch, she was no good with gore. She would have made a really terrible horror movie witch since the sight of blood made her throw up, but she forced down her discomfort when she called Hank Ketchum to explain her sister’s situation.

Twyla was closer to the dead woman’s house than Hank was, so she and Sissy arrived before he did. They found their sister cradling a white cat on the front porch of a modest, one-story bungalow just a few streets away from their own home. Ree looked both bored and annoyed, expressions she seemed to wear a lot these days.

It had been barely three weeks since the Hedgewood sisters had their lives turned upside down. They had grown up in a household devoid of men, having lost their grandfather before their birth and their own father just after Sissy was born. Neither of the men had actually died--Elbert, their grandfather, was an angel who had fallen in love with their grandmother and taken an earthly form in order to marry her. Joe, their father, was a fae who had returned to his homeland in order to fight in a long standing faery war. Now their lives were full of members of the male persuasion.

Elbert came down from Heaven and took Twyla’s grandmother away just when she needed her most. The fledgling witch had barely come to grips with this loss when her father appeared from the Other Side, setting up residence in her mother’s house as though he’d never been gone.

Time passed much differently on the Other Side. It had been over twenty years since Joe Elmbriar had walked away from his human family, but he had aged very little. As Napoleon, a fae whose life had been saved by Twyla’s mother, explained, twenty years spent in Frog Hollow, the town in which Twyla lived, was little more than a handful of months on the Other Side.

You okay? Twyla, the oldest of the three, knelt beside her younger sister.

Yeah, it wasn’t that bad, Ree assured her. I mean, she’s got a hole in her chest, but she wasn’t bleeding all that much. It was more disgusting watching this guy puke up all the food I gave him a few minutes ago.

The cat shifted in Ree’s lap. Well, you try and keep your lunch down when your owner gets killed, he mewled at her.

What did he say? Sissy asked. She was the youngest sister and the quietest. She couldn’t hear the cat’s thoughts, but she could read her sister’s mind, and her cheeks blushed at the swear words Ree was thinking towards the cat.

He was just being a cat, Ree sighed. Ree loved animals, all of them, really, but since she’d learned how to communicate with them and hear their thoughts, she’d learned that cats really were the jackasses that people assumed they were. Well, most of them, anyway. She shifted the cat from her lap and placed him on the step beside her, giving him a reassuring stroke as she did so.

I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on him. He did just lose his owner and probably his home. I guess I’ll be taking him to the shelter with me when I leave here, she added. Ree helped out at Frog Hollow’s only no-kill animal shelter when she wasn’t working as a bartender at a bar over in Corinth. The bar was the only one in town with male dancers who just happened to take off most of their clothes during their dances. This made the bar pretty popular and allowed Ree to live comfortably on her tips alone.

They sat in silence for a minute. Despite the quiet, they almost didn’t hear Hank pull into the driveway of the little bungalow. His car was nearly silent, which was good for a police officer. He drove one of the city’s cruisers today, though he’d left the lights off. As he climbed out of the car, Twyla noted with some glee that he was wearing a full police officer’s uniform. She loved the way Hank looked in uniform, though he just as often wore a suit and tie.

As a detective in a small town, Hank was more often than not called on to be an investigating officer, a traffic cop, and even the school crossing guard at the elementary school. It wouldn’t surprise Twyla in the least if Hank confessed to helping out with the volunteer fire department, too. He was that kind of guy--helpful, friendly, and devoted to a community that had no idea of what he actually was--a shapeshifter.

Ladies, he said quietly, acknowledging the trio respectfully. The coroner will be here shortly and another officer is on the way. I just called him, though. Wanted a few minutes alone with the body after what Twyla told me about the blood.

Or lack of it, Twyla thought with some relief. He let himself in the same way that Ree had done and was back outside in less than five minutes.

Did you make that mess in there on the counter? he asked, addressing Ree.

Do you mean did I open a can of cat food, eat it, then throw it up all over the place? she replied snarkily. Yeah, I got hungry. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. The cat was hungry. I fed him. He showed his gratitude by barfing all over the place. I was a little more worried about the dead lady than I was about cleaning it up, she snapped.

Ree, I think he’s probably just worried about your fingerprints being all over the place in there, Sissy suggested gently. I mean, it is a crime scene. The last thing you want is your prints on anything that could make you look suspicious.

Ree’s eyes grew wide. Oh, crap! I didn’t even think of that. I just--well, he was whining and I’m so used to feeding the cats at the shelter when they start complaining.

Hank nodded, unfazed by Ree’s brusque demeanor from before. It’s probably alright. I’ll let the forensics team know you fed the cat. It’s not a crime to do something nice like that, he added.

What do you think happened? Ree asked him. I mean, what caused that hole in her like that? And where’s all the blood? Ree knew enough about basic biology to know that a wound in the chest would normally produce a lot of blood.

Hank worked his jaw around while he thought. I don’t know. Maybe whatever stabbed her cauterized her wound? That would be the most logical answer.

Yeah, but we live in Frog Hollow. Logical isn’t usually the right way to go around here, Ree replied.

You think it was something paranormal? Like magic or a supe that killed her? Twyla asked.

Hank didn’t rush to reply. He knew from experience that most crimes committed in Frog Hollow were committed by ordinary humans, but he would never dismiss the possibility of something supernatural being behind it, either.

For many years, humans and supernatural creatures, or supes, as the locals called them, lived in an uneasy peace in the quiet little town. For some reason, tensions between the two groups had grown in recent months. Lately, crimes involving supes had begun to rise, both crimes committed by them and against them.

He wasn’t entirely sure, but he was beginning to suspect that the political upheaval that was taking place in Joe Elmbriar’s native land was beginning to spill over into the human world. He also suspected that things would get much worse before they got better.

Whatever it is, I’d like to take care of it before the Sheriff gets back off his leave of absence, Hank answered finally. And we don’t know that she wasn’t a supe herself, he added. Do any of you recognize her?

Ree was the first to reply. No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before today. Mama might know her though, especially if she’s a supe. Loretta Hedgewood knew many of the supernaturals who lived in Frog Hollow. As a witch with healing abilities, she was often the only person that her supernatural neighbors could trust with their illnesses and injuries. Most of the world had no idea that supernatural creatures like the ones in Frog Hollow existed and if they found out, many supes feared that it would be bad news for them.

Have your mama call me as soon as she can. I’ll swing by your place a little later and talk to her. He hesitated, then turned to Twyla. Do you think you could take a quick walk through with me and see if you can ‘see’ anything?

He hated to ask Twyla to use her powers, especially at the scene of the murder of someone she didn’t even know, but since her sister had found the body, like it or not, Twyla was now involved with the investigation.

Twyla shuddered, her light brown hair tousling slightly in the cold November sunlight. It’s not--I mean, she’s not--gory or anything? She had relayed Ree’s description of the body to Hank when she’d called him earlier, but she hadn’t asked her sister for details. Twyla’s didn’t think she’d ever get over being squeamish about blood and gore, no matter how many dead bodies she had to look at.

It’s not bad, he assured her. And I wouldn’t even ask, but… he trailed off, and Twyla could tell there was something he wanted to say but was holding back.

It’s okay, I get it. Ree called me, so I’m involved now. And if there is any chance that anyone is going to try and say she had something to do with that lady’s death, I need to help.

Hank looked only a little relieved. He reached for Twyla’s hand, then stopped himself. Twyla smiled sweetly at his uncertainty. Lead the way, Officer.

She followed him into the house, staying close so that she wouldn’t accidentally touch or step on something that she shouldn’t. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself, but part of her just liked to be close to Hank Ketchum.

Despite the chill of being outside, his body seemed to radiate warmth like a bonfire. He was wearing cologne or maybe aftershave that smelled like the outdoors--woody and fresh, not too overbearing--and Twyla found herself taking in deep lungfuls of air to soak up the scent.

Uh, Twyla...what are you doing?

Twyla’s lavender eyes closed for a second as her cheeks flushed like