Better Witch Next Time Read online

  I had a feeling the little boy would've run away from his mom if he hadn’t been frozen in midair. She walked up to him, plucked him from suspension, and set him on his feet. At that, he did take off running, just in case his mother decided to give him a swat on the butt.

  "I swear, these kids," Karen said more to herself than anyone else.

  "Your sister can suspend objects?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.

  "Oh yeah. She took freeze tag to a whole new level when we were kids."

  "Oh my goodness, I bet."

  "Fortunately for us, it only lasts a minute."

  Calvin's tumble from the tree officially ended our lunch, and we quickly helped clean up and said our goodbyes after that.

  "Do you want to work Edith's spell first or go and see if Penny's home?" Michael asked me as we rolled back onto the country road.

  I had just asked myself the same question.

  "How about we get the supplies we need, go see if Penny's home, and then work the spell if we need to." I was hopeful Penny knew more than she had led me to believe and I'd be able to coerce it out of her.

  Chapter 12

  The ingredients looked pretty simple—a few candles, frankincense, and sea salt. If I was back at home, I could order the whole entire lot off of Amazon or drive into town to our own curios shop. It wasn't hard to find new age items in the modern world.

  "How hard is this to come by?" I asked, turning the book to Michael's direction.

  "What do you mean, like in New York or…?"

  "No I meant like—" Oops. I had almost said in nineteen fifty-eight. What in the world was I thinking? That's what you get for getting too comfortable with someone. Your guard goes down and secrets slip out. I was going to have to be more careful. I cleared my throat. "No, I meant like from your apartment. Isn't that where you'd like to work the spell?" I said, quickly improvising.

  "Oh ... sure. We can work it back at my place, that's fine. There's a shop just a bit out of the way where we can get everything, too."

  "There is?" I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as the supernatural community here did have their own newspaper. A supernatural supply shop was nothing compared to that.

  "Yes, there is. We just need to head down to Radio Alley."

  "Radio what?" I looked at Michael not following.

  "You haven't heard of Radio Alley either?"

  "No." I said, my voice wavering a bit. "Do they have a lot of radios there?"

  "Well, they used to. Remember how popular radios were a few years ago?"

  I nodded. Television was old technology in my time, but its popularity was really starting to soar in the late fifties.

  "Well, when all you had was your radio and it broke, you had to go from one appliance store to the next to find the right parts. With so many radios and so many people here in New York City, a special district sort of evolved. It's called Radio Alley. Of course, now that televisions have become so much more popular, people aren't running out trying to replace transistors every Saturday, so the shop owners had to improvise. Enter Chuck's Surplus Store. Turns out his mother is a witch and she encouraged him to open a specialty store in the back of the shop. Word got out and now he does pretty well for himself."

  "A true businessman," I replied.

  "You have no idea. Wait until you see his inventory." Michael gave a wink.

  You can tell Radio Alley had taken a bit of a beating over the last few years. Empty storefronts and for-sale signs and phone numbers encouraging potential business owners to call for rates were posted in every other storefront. Yet a few stores remained to service the radio industry, and by far the most popular one appeared to be Chuck's. The front window was full of refurbished radios and record players in addition to a hodgepodge of items—stacked luggage, a chest of drawers, and lawn chairs. I took a closer look at the radios and even I had to smile at the name brands such as General Electric and Motorola. Much like the television style, the radios were big-boxed and either housed in wood frames with clunky knobs or with shiny candy-colored exteriors and slim dials. My favorite one was the teal one. Refurbished or not, the radios were all glossy and shiny and polished to a nth degree. Chuck took care of his appliances.

  Michael hadn't been kidding about the inventory. We walked into the store and saw everything from gardening equipment—hoses, watering cans, fertilizer, trowels—to paint supplies. Chuck offered paint by the gallon, in spray cans, and even quarts of stain. Passed that was hardware with heaven knows how many nuts and bolts, and then the opposite side of the store was reserved for electronics. Chuck had crates and boxes full of wires, bulbs, dials, and knobs, all of which I assumed serviced the radios Michael had mentioned.

  I looked past all the store had to offer but was still coming up short as to where the witchy supplies were. The only other thing I saw was a small entryway resembling nothing more than a broom closet. Apparently, that's where we were headed.

  "Come on, let's go," Michael said, walking past the front counter and nodding a greeting to the older woman who was working as a cashier. She wore a red polyester store vest with a gold name tag pinned to it that read Marge. Her brown and silver hair was tightly curled, and her glasses had impressive thick, black frames. The woman smiled warmly.

  "What can I get for you today? We have some new toasters. Top of the line, too," she said.

  I had no idea what a top-of-the-line toaster looked like, but I was going to have to wait to find out.

  "Actually we're going to head on back if that's all right," Michael replied, pointing to Edith's spell book, which was in my hand.

  "Oh, well in that case, you'll need this." She opened the till and took out a small gold coin, about the size of a nickel, and handed it to Michael. "Chuck should be back there. Give a holler if he's not, and I'll come back and give you a hand."

  "Will do. Thanks." Michael and I walked to the back of the store to the area I had just pegged as a broom closet, only I was wrong—it was a bathroom.

  Michael motioned with his head that he was stepping inside, and I thought I'd, of course, wait for him in the little foyer there.

  "No, c'mon," Michael said.

  "In the bathroom?"

  "Yes, in the bathroom. Now get in here," Michael said.

  "Um, okay." I was at a loss for words. I walked in and surveyed the room. It was the type of bathroom you would expect to find in an old surplus store. The linoleum floor was cracked, the porcelain sink was chipped, and the toilet had a large rust string that I was convinced would take magic rather than cleaner to remove. Beside the bucket and mop propped up against the corner, the room was entirely empty.

  Michael walked over to the toilet, flipped the coin in, and gave it a flush. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows as I waited in anticipation for whatever would happen.

  The magic didn't disappoint.

  As soon as the coin disappeared down the bowl, a door appeared behind us. It was as if the wall was made of gelatin and the door was pushing through from the other side. The wall opened and expanded to make room for it.

  Michael turned around. "Ah, it materialized over here today. Shall we?"

  "After you," I said, trying not to think about whose job it was to retrieve the gold coins from the bowels of the NYC water treatment facility.

  Michael opened up the door and we stepped on through. If I had thought the front of the store had offered a little bit of everything, it was nothing compared to what the back of the shop had in stock. One entire wall, going up about ten feet, was lined with stacked wooden planked shelves full of mason jars. The contents were floating and bobbing in various colored liquids—neon green, iridescent blue, shimmery pinks—and if I wasn't mistaking, they contained various animal parts, like bat wings and real cat eyes. I shuddered. This was old school magic all right. And it was not my cup of tea. Thankfully, the store also catered to the more modern witch and carried a selection of crystals, candles, oils, and herbs. We walked past various spell books, parchme
nt rolls, quills, and, of course, wands on our way to pick up our supplies.

  "Can I help you find anything?" The voice came from knee level. I looked down to see who had spoken and saw a black lab looking up at me.

  "Ah, Chuck. Marge said you would be back here," Michael said to the lab.

  The black lab wagged his tail. "I’d rather work back here like this any day than out front anymore. I can only have my ears scratched so many times, know what I'm saying?" Chuck replied.

  "I hear you," Michael replied.

  It was a good thing I had Agatha back at home or a talking dog would've really thrown me for a loop. You know you've been caught off guard a bit when a talking dog seems normal. Only unlike Agatha, I was betting Chuck was a shifter given what little background I knew. If that was the case, I was betting Michael had decided to stop here for more than just getting supplies.

  "This is my friend Vee. She's new in town, and I was just telling her that if you don't carry it, then it doesn't exist," Michael said.

  "Well, I appreciate that. We try."

  "It's quite an impressive collection you have here," I said looking at the powdered dragon claws and individual vampire fangs. They reminded me of summer trips to the beach, where we would head to the seashell shop and pick up souvenirs. Instead of a jar of shark teeth sitting on the counter, Chuck had opted for vampire fangs. I left the boys to talk shop while I walked the rest of the way around and picked up the supplies that we needed, referencing Edith’s spell book. Nothing was worse than getting ready to work a spell and finding out that you had forgotten one key ingredient. As I rounded up our purchases, I listened to Michael and Chuck's conversation. I had a feeling the shifter would be more willing to talk if I was out of eyesight.

  "How are things in these parts?" Michael asked.

  Chuck caught his meaning. "Not going to lie. A lot of us are on edge here. Even as lower-class citizens. If someone's attacking the alphas, what's gonna stop them from attacking and annihilating us?"

  "Any word on who is behind it?"

  "Oh sure, there's plenty of talk being thrown around. I've heard everything from rogue shifters to power-hungry witches—even a homicidal vampire got thrown into the mix. But no one has seen anything. It's all just a rumor at this point."

  "What about down by the docks? Any of the rumors mention anything about the water?" Michael asked. I knew he was following up on Edith's comment that the missing girls might be near water. The only problem was Manhattan was an island.

  "Can't say that they have. Why, what do you know?" Chuck looked up with his little puppy dog eyes. I rejoined the men with the supplies in hand.

  "Same as you. Only rumors," Michael replied. "Give me a call though, if you hear something?"

  "Was already planning on it."

  "Appreciate it, Chuck." Michael then turned his attention to me. "Did you find everything?"

  "That and more. Your store really is a gem," I said to Chuck.

  "Thank you. You come back anytime, you hear? If you're looking for someone special, you can always let my mom know too. That's her out front, working the till."

  "Will do. Thanks again."

  Walking out from the back of the store was far less magical than the entrance had been. On this side of the wall, the door was already in place. Michael went to turn the lock, but the door wouldn't budge.

  "What gives?" I asked, looking to see if there was a slot to put a coin in or some other trick I was missing.

  "It's occupied," Michael said.

  "Occupied? What do you mean?" Then I remembered what was on the other side of the door. "Oh, never mind. I got it." Someone was using the restroom. Turned out not everything in Chuck's was so magical after all.

  We waited a few extra minutes before crossing through the door again. This time it opened without a hitch, and the doorway dissolved into the wall behind us as soon as we went through it. I was starting to think I needed to put some of these magical charms on my own house or maybe a ward like Michael had put on his car. I wondered how effective that would be at keeping the likes of Andrew away?

  "To Penny's?" I said as I got into Michael's car with my brown Chuck's Surplus shopping bag.

  "To Penny's," Michael said starting the engine.

  At least this time, I didn't attempt to put on my seatbelt.

  Chapter 13

  It turned out Penny's residence wasn't too far from where Mary lived and just a stone’s throw from Radio Alley in Manhattan's Lower East Side. Michael parked down the block across the street from the white brick, six-story apartment building, and we surveyed the area. The buildings were all built with various colored bricks—white, red, tan, and black. The heights varied, but the metal fire escapes remained the same. This area wasn't like the nice tree-lined streets of the Upper West Side, with their fancy porches and fabric awnings.

  A handful of people were out milling around, some carrying shopping bags, others looking exhausted from a long day of work, and yet others were sipping drinks on their stoops.

  "Let's see if she's home, shall we?" I asked, turning to get out of the car.

  Michael met me on the sidewalk, and we walked together to Penny's.

  When we walked through the door, it was as if we had just walked into the food court at the mall. Without air conditioning, the apartment building was warm, and the air was thick with an odd mixture of herbs and spices, like basil, turmeric, and sage. The result was an aroma that smelled something like an Asian lasagna. It was an international food festival right here in the lower commons.

  A quick look around the ground floor revealed that the apartments were set up with six units on each floor—three on each side, with the stairway zigzagging up the middle.

  "What unit's hers again?" I asked Michael.

  "1C. It should be the last unit on the left there." Michael pointed to the end of the hall.

  We stood outside Penny's door and listened for a moment to see if we could pick up any conversation before we knocked. All seemed silent on the other end, and I let Michael go ahead and knock while we waited to see if Penny would answer.

  A minute ticked by and then another.

  He knocked again, and we waited some more. A young group of boys, one with a soccer ball in his arms, ran down the stairwell and beelined it for the back door. Still we stood and waited, but no sign of life was coming from the other side of the door.

  Michael tried the door handle and it was locked.

  "Anyone looking?" I asked with a smile on my face.

  "No, but you know that I'm a member of law enforcement, right?"

  "And?" I asked, drawing the word out.

  "And breaking and entering is illegal."

  "Then you might want to close your eyes," I said with mock seriousness as I placed my hand on the doorknob and felt the pins line up and the cylinder turn to release the lock. "Wow, I guess it was open all along. How convenient is that?" I said raising my eyebrows.

  "I did not see any of this," Michael replied.

  "Of course you didn't. Your eyes were closed, right?" I pushed open the door and we stepped inside.

  "Holy cats," I said under my breath. Penny's apartment was a mess. Just from the doorway, I could see her couch was covered in clothes, as if she had dumped the contents of her wardrobe on top of it. Her small two-chaired kitchen table was covered with cups and bowls. Silverware littered the floor along with bathroom towels and throw pillows.

  "Do you think someone tossed it?" I asked, my voice low.

  Michael went into cop mode, removing the gun from the small of his back. "Stay here," he whispered as he crept along the wall to clear the apartment.

  I frowned as I wasn't necessarily helpless, in case the detective had forgotten, but I was also smart and didn't feel like getting shot if whoever had ransacked Penny's apartment was still there hiding. I stood in the doorway, straining to hear anything unusual, but the only sounds reaching me were the muffled ones from neighboring apartments and the kids that lived in them.
/>
  Michael returned a minute or so later.

  "All clear?" I asked.

  "It is."

  "Look like a trash job?"

  "No, I think it's just Penny packing up. Check this out." I followed Michael as he made his way through the apartment to the teeny kitchen. Stacks of more plates were on the counter, along with the contents of her cupboards—cans of soup, cereal, peanut butter. Penny's bathroom held a similar scene and revealed her love of makeup. Her stash covered the bathroom counter and there was enough product there to restock her former employer's inventory. The wastebasket was full of discarded tubes of lipstick, broken compacts, and used false lashes. A box sat on the closed toilet seat and it too was full of beauty products. The words "bathroom" had been written across the side in black marker.

  "She's moving," I said as I peeked in the bedroom and saw more half-filled boxes. "The question is why?" Why did Penny quit her job, a job she loved, and why was she packing up her apartment? Did it have something to do with the guy I saw her with last night? More questions that we needed to answer.

  "Come on. Let's wait for her outside." Michael lead the way to the front door, used a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe the doorknob free of my prints, and locked it after us.

  We sat silently in the car, waiting for Penny to come home, and watched the day slip away—something I couldn't afford to do. I was eager to find answers and seeing as Penny's place wasn't giving us any, I was about to suggest we skip the stakeout and head to Michael's to work his grandmother's spell when I spotted Penny.

  "There she is," I said, nodding toward the other side of the street. Penny was walking with the same guy I had seen her with the night before. She appeared to be on a little afternoon date. She was wearing an adorable white halter dress with little red cherries on it. The guy wasn't dressed quite as nice with his folded jean cuffs, black shoes, red T-shirt and Yankees baseball cap. I turned and looked at Michael as if we were having a conversation, which gave him a reason to turn toward me and watch the couple moved down the sidewalk.