Pawsitively Betrayed: A Witch of Edgehill Mystery, #5

Previously in the Witch of Edgehill series …

For the last several months, Amber Blackwood has done her best to balance her life as a witch with her non-magical life. In the past few months alone, Amber has had to cope with the death of her best friend Melanie Cole; the discovery that Neil Penhallow had killed her parents; and assisting in the search that finds Chloe Deidrick, the daughter of Edgehill’s mayor, safe and sound after being kidnapped. On the plus side, life is certainly more interesting now that both her close friend Kimberly Jones and Edgehill’s Chief of Police, Owen Brown, know her secret. But now Jack Terrence, Amber’s romantic interest, knows it, too. Her Aunt Gretchen had wiped Jack’s memory after he witnessed the violent use of magic and realized that he didn’t have the ability to protect Amber from the dangers in her world. But after his memories settled back into place, he knew his desire to be with her was his priority. Amber is nervous about letting yet another non-witch into her magical life, but she’s grateful to have Jack back by her side.

The happiness of being reunited with Jack is dampened by the fact that Mayor Deidrick has teamed up with Mayor Sable of Marbleglen, Edgehill’s neighboring rival town, in announcing that the Here and Meow Festival Committee will be working alongside the Floral Frenzy Flower Festival Committee on a joint parade to kick off festival season. To make matters worse, the committee is chaired this year by the always brash and rude Bianca Pace.

When Amber isn’t in festival meetings, her cousin Edgar is teaching her how to play Magic Cache—a geocaching game with a magical twist. Even though the game is most popular among witch children from a young age, it’s new to Amber. As part of her training, Edgar hides caches for her around town and sends her off to locate them on her own. One such assignment inadvertently leads Amber into Marbleglen. The object she finds is indeed a Magic Cache—but one that Edgar had not left for her. Instead, it’s been placed there by someone named Simon Ricinus … which means there’s a witch in Marbleglen.

Amber tracks Simon down. She finds the middle-aged witch to be kind and very willing to answer her questions. Simon knows a bit about Amber’s magical history, namely what a powerful witch her mother had been. In addition to being a witch, Simon—also an avid member of Marbleglen’s safety committee—is deeply concerned about the corrupt leadership of Marbleglen’s Mayor Sable and Chief of Police, Eric Jameson. While at Simon Ricinus’s house, Amber learns that Bianca Pace is his magic-free daughter.

When Chief Jameson is killed in his own home during a dinner party, Simon becomes the number one suspect. After Simon is arrested for the crime that he’s adamant he didn’t commit, Bianca begs Amber to help her find proof that her father is being framed. Over the course of her investigation, Amber discovers that the murder plot had been orchestrated by four people: Mayor Sable, the newly appointed Chief Daniels, land developer Randy Tillman, and crime lab owner Victoria Sullivan. With Amber’s help, the four are arrested, and Simon is cleared of the murder charge.

Meanwhile, as Amber progresses through her Magic Cache lessons, Edgar takes things up a notch to include the search for dead zones, spots of magical anomalies where magic simply doesn’t exist. Amber learns that dead zones are favorite cache places for hardcore players of the game. Edgar suggests that they find a dead zone to hide Amber’s parents’ grimoires in, and then layer the dead zone with additional spells to create the ultimate hiding place that not even the malevolent Penhallows can find.

With the help of her younger sister, Willow, and their Aunt Gretchen, they find a dead zone in a small town called Quill, a few hours away. They hide the grimoires there. On top of layering the trunk of grimoires with spells, they also add a boomerang spell, assuring them that if someone other than Amber or Willow tries to take the grimoires, the books will immediately be returned to the two Blackwood sisters. The problem with this is that once the boomerang spell is triggered, the cloaking spells on the books will drop, making the books easily trackable by way of their magical signatures.

Though the books are safe, Simon’s name has been cleared, and Jack wants to pursue a relationship with Amber, she can’t shake her worry that the threat the Penhallows pose is reaching a flash point. Her worry is intensified when Kieran Penhallow calls her from prison. After Amber had lifted his curse, he answered for his crimes, namely the murder of a maid from the Manx Hotel. Kieran tells her that not only has his curse been lifted, but his magic has returned, healed and as it should be. Amber has no idea what this means for herself, the Penhallows as a clan, or the world at large.

Chapter 1

Amber reveled in the sound of Jack Terrence’s rhythmic breathing. Her head was propped on the crook of his shoulder, and though there was a crick in her neck that would bother her all day, she didn’t dare stir. That, and Alley was draped across them both, her head on Amber’s side and her body sprawled across Jack’s stomach.

As comforting as Jack’s presence was, as the last dregs of sleep faded, the events from the day before crept back in. Namely, Kieran Penhallow calling her from his prison cell.

"Something is different now. Before, it almost felt like a rash or like an itch I couldn’t scratch, no matter what I did. And even when I did manage to scratch it, it only itched more, he had said. What I had before … was a sickness. It was like a poison that slowly kills its host. I think you cut away the parts that were infected. What’s in its place now feels … clean. Healed."

Healed! She had no idea what this meant.

"You didn’t take it away, Amber. You gave it back."

She had worried she wouldn’t be able to sleep last night, but Jack had shown up unannounced with enough Chinese food for an army, not just four people, and they had all sat around Amber’s dining table—herself, younger sister Willow, Aunt Gretchen, and Jack—and had talked about perfectly normal things. They talked about Willow’s job as a graphic designer, about Aunt G’s garden club, about Jack’s plans to expand his business, and about the upcoming Here and Meow Festival. They didn’t talk about magic, cursed witches, or Amber’s ever-evolving powers.

Amber and Jack had curled up on the couch to try to stay awake long enough to get through the next episode of Vamp World. As usual, she awoke once her tiny studio apartment had flooded with early morning sunlight. She woke, feeling grounded, next to Jack. Hearing the soft snores of Aunt G and Willow in the bed on the other side of the apartment had rooted her further.

It was when she was alone that the nightmares pulled her from sleep.

Someone behind her cleared their throat. She rolled over just a fraction and found her sister peering down at her, a wide smile on her face. Willow stood so close to the couch, her knees nearly touched Amber’s back. "You two are so cuuute!" she mouthed.

Amber’s cheeks flamed. She delicately swatted Willow away. It was enough to wake Alley, who in turn woke Jack.

He seemed disoriented at first, then smiled sleepily at her. Hey.

Hey, Amber said.

"Hey," Willow drawled.

Jack flinched back, realizing then how close Willow hovered over them.

Are you staying for breakfast, Jack? Aunt G called out, then padded for the kitchen. Growing boys need to eat.

Willow turned toward their aunt. What a weird thing to say, Aunt G! He’s in his thirties. He’s not a boy. She peered down at Amber and Jack again. "You are in your thirties, right? You have one of those very appealing faces that makes you look like you could be anywhere from twenty to forty. You haven’t turned my sister into a cougar, have you?"

Oh my God, Amber muttered, burying her face in Jack’s shoulder. Her forehead bounced as he laughed.

I’m thirty-five, he said to Willow. Then, louder, he said, No thanks on the breakfast, Gretchen. I have to get to Purrcolate soon to help Larry open.

Aunt G appeared suddenly at the head of the couch. "Did you want coffee before you go? I suppose you don’t want our boring old coffee when you own a coffee shop. But Willow and I could go downstairs to start a pot on the little hot plate and kill some time if you two need some alone time to … hmm … what do the kids call it these days? She glanced over at Willow, who still hovered at Amber’s back. Tonsil hockey?"

Willow snorted. Jack cracked up. Amber wished she had an invisibility spell in her repertoire.

Oh my God, Amber muttered again. Get out of here! Both of you!

Aunt G and Willow, still laughing, headed for the stairs. Amber sat up once she heard the Employee Only door close, signaling that her horrible aunt and sister had shut themselves in the shop below. Jack sat up, too, using the armrest to prop himself up.

I’m sorry about them … she started, but he cut her off by brushing a wayward lock of hair—a matted clump, really—out of her face.

They give you a hard time because they love you, he said. But, for the record, I’m totally okay with some tonsil hockey before I have to get to work.

She laughed. He cut it off with a kiss.

They broke apart after a minute, but Jack kept a hand pressed to the back of her neck. He rested his forehead against hers. I really do have to get going, though.

Boo, she grumbled.

He kissed her forehead. I agree.

While he used the bathroom and collected his things, Amber fed Tom and Alley. As they munched happily on their breakfast, Amber walked Jack down the steps, across the shop, and to the front door of The Quirky Whisker.

Aunt G and Willow offered wolf whistles when Jack kissed Amber goodbye.

Have a good day, ladies, he called, then headed out the door.

Amber whirled on her family, hands on hips. You’re both awful.

I’m glad to see you happy, little mouse, Aunt G said.

Amber flushed. Thanks.

With that, she hurried back upstairs to change and get ready for the day. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

A few hours after opening, Henrietta Bishop walked in. The shop was bustling with customers as usual during the week before the Here and Meow Festival. After helping a little girl decide that she would like the raccoon animated toy instead of the badger, Amber met Henrietta near the counter that ran along the right side of the shop.

Henrietta was a forty-year-old divorcee who had moved to Edgehill, Oregon, several years ago because she wanted to fully embrace the Crazy Cat Lady lifestyle. She was a lithe redhead with a mass of curls that hung to her mid-back. The curls never were truly contained, no matter what she did. Amber was always reminded of the young girl from Brave when she saw her.

Over the years, Amber had gotten to know Henrietta a little better. Recently, she’d joined the Here and Meow Committee in Marbleglen as a volunteer with the parade floats, and she had joined Amber and her friends during the recent town hall meetings. But Amber had been seeing the woman weekly for over a year, namely because Henrietta was addicted to Amber’s signature sleepy tea blend. It was a creation Amber made in-house, with a bit of sleep tincture mixed in. Though Amber was abysmal with tinctures, her sleepy tincture was the only one that hadn’t ever let her down.

Henrietta swore by it. "I really wish you’d tell me what you put in this stuff, she often said. It works like magic!"

Over the last month, Henrietta had been coming in on an almost daily basis to purchase more tea, and the quantity had gone up, too. Two boxes here, five there. When the purchases of the sleepy tea increased tenfold over a short window of time, and Henrietta’s bright green eyes were droopy more often than not, Amber found herself wishing she were better at being a nosier person. She loved gossip just as much as the next Edgehill resident, but as the former reclusive weirdo in town, Amber understood keeping secrets close to the vest.

Henrietta hadn’t talked much about her divorce; all Amber knew was that it had been contentious. That had been Henrietta’s word, not Amber’s. Even the gentlest of pressure to ask more probing questions on the topic often made Henrietta close up like a flower deprived of sunlight, so Amber had stopped asking.

Yet, when Amber met Henrietta at the counter that morning, Amber blurted, Hen, are you okay?

Even the woman’s signature, vibrant curls looked dejected. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced than they had been a week ago. She wore black leggings, a black tank top, and a slightly ratty oversized green sweater. It reminded Amber of the last day she’d seen Melanie, who had come into her shop looking uncharacteristically like a hot mess.

Henrietta had always given the impression that her divorce settlement had been as good for her financially as it had been bad for her emotionally. She hadn’t been the type to flaunt her wealth, but Amber was fairly certain the woman hadn’t been employed the entire time she’d been in Edgehill, and yet her attire had always been immaculate.

I’m hanging in there, I guess, Henrietta said. Actually, I wanted to ask if you were hiring?

Amber’s brows shot toward her hairline. I’m not at the moment. Sorry, Hen. I just hired Ben Lydon. I could possibly offer you a seasonal position, but I can’t guarantee how long it’ll last.

Henrietta sighed, waving away Amber’s apology. Oh, that’s okay. What I need to do is dust off my résumé. It’s been a while, she said. Anyway, I’d like three boxes of the sleepy tea again. The stress I’m under right now can only be combated with that tea of yours.

Amber plastered on a strained smile. She excused herself to grab Henrietta’s order. She had set it aside for her that morning, anticipating the woman’s arrival. After grabbing the boxes for her from one of the cubbies at the base of the apothecary wall behind the counter where Daisy Bowen was ringing up customers, Amber handed the tea over.

Henrietta clutched the boxes to her chest. Thanks. She started to turn away, as if heading for the checkout line, but then turned back. Say, I purchased some sleepy tea from the drugstore the other day and that one wasn’t nearly as effective as yours. Do you think it’s the valerian root in yours that does the trick?

No, it’s the sleep tincture, Amber wanted to say. You know I don’t share my secrets, she said playfully instead, but yes, the valerian root is essential.

Henrietta nodded, but the usual banter they shared was missing today. I really appreciate you, Amber. You know that, right?

Head cocked, Amber said, Sure, Hen, I know that.

Tapping one of the boxes she held, Henrietta offered a small smile, then walked away to get in line. Amber knew her good friend Kimberly Jones would be able to tease out Henrietta’s secrets in a matter of seconds. Betty Harris across the street in Purrfectly Scrumptious would look at Henrietta with her kind brown eyes, cluck her tongue and say something like, What’s got you so down, sugar? and Henrietta would likely blab all her worries.

Amber, however, merely stood by and stared at Henrietta, frowning. Before she could get up the nerve to ask Henrietta if she needed anything else, another customer came through the door.

Lily Bowen was tending to a couple of customers at the back of the shop, and the other patrons currently seemed to have their browsing under control, which left Amber to attend to the newcomers. She had just rounded one of the freestanding pyramid-shaped bookshelves when she came up short.

Just inside the door stood Connor Declan and Molly Hargrove. Connor worked at The Edgehill Gazette, while Molly worked at The Marbleglen Herald. Despite being from rival towns, and the fact that Molly was known far and wide for being a snake, Connor and Molly had been working together on stories a lot lately. It still wasn’t clear if their continued partnership was strictly professional or if it had spilled over into something else.

"What is he doing here?"

Amber flinched. Willow had materialized beside her. Willow and Connor had been close friends in high school, but their friendship had never progressed into anything more. They both clearly still held a torch for each other, but as adults, they still danced around the what if of it all.

In another circumstance, Amber might have lovingly shoved Willow in Connor’s direction—especially after the teasing Willow had participated in this morning with Jack—but Molly’s presence added a new wrinkle.

And by wrinkle, Amber meant napalm thrown on an open flame.

Connor and Molly had moved to the animated toy section on the left-hand side of the shop. Connor held a horse in front of his face, scrutinizing it from every angle. He was speaking to Molly, but she only had murderous eyes for Willow.

Molly Hargrove was five foot nothing, had hair so light blonde it was almost white, and could hold a grown man captive with just her intense focus.

Willow crossed her arms. That’s Molly, right?

Amber forgot that the two hadn’t formally met in person yet. Yep.

Let’s go say hi, Willow said, and marched toward the couple, but her tone said, Let’s kick Molly in her shins.

Amber scurried after her sister, if only so she could stop a fistfight from breaking out in her shop. Hi, you two! she awkwardly called out just before Willow reached them.

Connor glanced up from his examination of the toy horse and visibly swallowed as he realized Willow and Molly were sizing each other up. Hey, uh … Amber. Hi. Willow. Hello.

Smooth, Declan.

Is there something in particular you two were looking for? Amber asked.

Molly’s piercing blue eyes swiveled to Amber. I realized today that I hadn’t been in your shop in a while. Con and I were just about to grab lunch down the street and I thought we should pop in to have a look around. The Quirky Whisker is an Edgehill institution, after all.

Amber’s brow creased.

Right, uh … Connor put the horse back on the shelf. I’m also looking for a gift for my mom. She really likes tea. I was wondering if you had any recommendations?

Willow piped up. I’d be happy to help you find something for her. Follow me.

Connor smiled weakly at Molly and then followed Willow, leaving Amber alone with the snake.

And what about you? Amber asked when Molly just stood there glaring after the retreating pair.

Molly snapped out of it and scanned the shelves around her. Did you inherit this place from your parents?

Uh … no, Amber said. A woman named Janice Salle owned it before I did and she left the place to me in her will.

Molly’s nearly white brows arched. You must have been very persuasive to convince her to leave it to you.

Amber pursed her lips. She’d only just met Molly recently, when Amber had gotten pulled into a murder investigation in Marbleglen last month. She hadn’t come to like Molly over that time, per se, but she’d respected the woman’s tenacity for finding out the truth. That tenacity was just … a lot when it was aimed directly at you. I didn’t persuade her to do anything; I was just as shocked as anyone when I found out she’d left me the store.

Did you choose to work here because Janice didn’t have any living relatives? Molly asked, running a finger along one of the pyramid-shaped bookshelves. Like how young busty women ‘fall in love’ and marry old rich men with one foot in the grave? Grandpa drops dead and then Candy gets a mansion?

Amber gaped at her.

A man nearby coughed in an effort to cover up a laugh and quickly walked away.

What on earth did Connor see in her? Amber had to assume Molly had a nice side. Amber had yet to see it.

Amber crossed her arms, taking on a stance that she had no doubt mirrored Willow’s from earlier. Is there a destination for this very rude line of questioning?

Molly shrugged. Just making conversation. I’m sure your parents would be proud of all you’ve accomplished over the years. She picked up the horse Connor had been eyeing earlier. The way you’ve honed your skills in such a unique way, you know?

Connor, sans Willow, reappeared then. He held up a bag with The Quirky Whisker logo on the front. The bespectacled top-hat-wearing cat winked at Amber. Got a really good selection.

Molly put the toy back. Nice talking to you, Amber.

Connor led the way out the door. Willow joined Amber a few seconds later, and they watched as the pair walked past the front windows of the shop. They were headed in the opposite direction of the restaurants on Russian Blue Avenue, as well as the parking lot. Molly was speaking a mile a minute while Connor listened intently. Neither one glanced back.

What was that about? Willow asked once they were out of view.

I have no clue.

Chapter 2

There were only six full days left until the Here and Meow, and even though Amber had participated in this annual festival many times over, it always managed to sneak up on her. One day her feline-obsessed town had only a few tourists wandering its streets, and the next, shops, parks, and hotels were bustling with people who had flocked to the town to participate in the three days of festivities.

As usual during the week before the Here and Meow, Amber was fast at work increasing her inventory of animated toys. The three days of the festival marked her largest sales days of the year. New customers discovered her unique creations at her booth in the fairgrounds, but longtime fans of her toys often dropped by—or placed advanced orders—for one of her new or festival-exclusive models.

This year, the exclusive offering had been inspired by the rustic spring aesthetic of the Hair Ball gala two months ago. Amber planned to craft hundreds of little plastic flower garlands to adorn the heads and necks of the animated cat toys. There would also be a limited number of cats with pastel-colored fur. The lavender-colored cats were an early favorite; she had yet to find a seafoam green paint that didn’t make the poor cat look as if it were suffering from a bout of seasickness.

Seated now around the dining room table in her apartment, Amber, Willow, and Aunt Gretchen were all working on various stages of the cat-making process. Aunt Gretchen used a fine-grain sandpaper to smooth the rough edges of a daunting pile of curved plastic cat tails. Willow, with her tongue caught between her teeth, painstakingly assembled the tiny wreaths of flowers.

And Amber, her grimoire open on the table, enchanted plastic disc after plastic disc with a sit spell. The discs were no larger than a dime. They looked like the tiddlywinks she and Willow played with as children. The plastic discs were the heart of Amber’s toy operation. It had taken her years to find a way to create moving toys for the children of Edgehill without anyone discovering they were powered by magic instead of wires and electricity.

Once the small discs were enchanted, the disc would be attached to the wall of the animal’s body cavity. The cat’s various parts would then be fused together, creating a seamless toy that shielded the inner workings of the toys—or lack thereof—from the prying eyes of parents suspicious about how the toys played with their children for hours on end without the need to replace the batteries.

The stack of tiny discs to Amber’s left—the unspelled batch—was a few inches tall. The one to her right had at least fifty in it. Her mouth was dry from uttering the sit spell so often.

Though the Blackwood women had magic at their disposal, the three witches were limited in how much magic they could use on the toys. Willow was gifted in glamour spells, which altered the appearance of an object. Or, in some instances, altered a viewer’s perceived image of a thing. She could easily utter a spell to have an assembled, unpainted cat turn any color she wished. The very daunting pile of tiny wreath parts lying on the table in front of her could all be fully assembled and awash in a riot of color with the right series of incantations.

But spells faded eventually, and glamours were often the first to go. Some Edgehill parents were already a little wary of the curious toys that came out of The Quirky Whisker. If the toys suddenly were leached of all their color and their accessories fell to literal pieces in the middle of a play session, Amber would have a hard time explaining that away.

After adding a spell to yet another disc, Amber sat back in her chair and stretched. She excused herself from the table and grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, then drank it as she stared out the largest window in her tiny studio apartment. The window overlooked Russian Blue Avenue, and she admired the soft early morning colors of the sunrise. Ever since Amber’s altercation with a cursed Penhallow witch a few months back, her ability to sleep through the night had become hit-or-miss. Though it was getting better, some days were harder than others, today being one of them.

Jack hadn’t stayed the previous night, so his steady presence hadn’t kept the nightmares at bay. She knew she couldn’t use Jack as a crutch forever; she’d have to find a way to calm her restless worries on her own.

Until then, there would be lots of insomnia combated with caffeine.

The bonus to so many sleepless nights was that she could work on her toy inventory. And with her family here, they would help make sure it all got done in time. Daisy and Lily Bowen were scheduled to man the shop for the morning, which would help, too. When the ladies’ shift ended at noon, Amber would take over to run the shop with Ben—the same Ben who had been awarded the prestigious title of best designer in the Best of Edgehill competition at the Hair Ball. He had been selected to design all the swag for this year’s Here and Meow, as well as the commemorative pin that attendees could win if they completed a scavenger hunt by the end of the weekend.

Ben had finished his designs weeks ago, and now was waiting anxiously for the swag and pins to arrive so he could see what his art looked like once commercialized. According to Kimberly Jones, the Here and Meow’s festival director, a sample box of swag had shown up at her door yesterday. Kim had called Amber late last night to do an over-the-phone unboxing. Amber had tried to explain that a video unboxing would have made more sense, but Kim had been so excited, Amber couldn’t get a word in edgewise around all Kim’s exclamations of "Shut the front door; this is amazing! and Oh holy smokes, this Ben kid is a genius!" and just flat-out squealing.

Kim had proven during the preparation for the Hair Ball, she could become … unglued … once faced with stress and pressure. So if she wanted to call to flail about things Amber couldn’t even see, Amber wasn’t going to rain on her parade. An excited Kim was better than Kim the Galazilla any day.

Amber wrinkled her nose at the thought of parades. Today being Saturday, she would have to head over to the float barn later this afternoon in the mostly odious town of Marbleglen to help with the finishing touches on the floats. The floats were the stars of the Edgehill-Marbleglen parade that would be the kickoff to both towns’ festivals in a week.

So much to do. So little time to do it.

With a sigh, she got back to work.

After Aunt Gretchen made sandwiches for Amber and Willow, they had a pleasant lunch together where they only teased Amber about Jack once each. Then Amber hurried downstairs to prep the shop for the afternoon rush.

The Bowen sisters had mostly cleaned up before they’d hurried off to their own lunch, but a small section filled with non-animated toys in the back of the shop was in disarray. Amber was in the middle of straightening up when someone knocked on the front door.

Amber stood and eyed Russian Blue Avenue beyond the glass wall of windows, the street clogged with wandering tourists. Across the street, a long line snaked out the front door of Purrfectly Scrumptious, the bakery run by Betty and Bobby Harris, and continued down the street beyond what Amber could see from her current vantage point. A small cluster of kids were crouched on the sidewalk across the street. Even though Amber couldn’t see her, she knew the children were fussing over Savannah, the shop cat who belonged to the Harrises.

Savannah was a gorgeous white and gray Maine coon who was just as much of a fixture of Purrfectly Scrumptious as Betty’s legendary cupcakes.

The bakery had won Best of Edgehill in the treat category during the Hair Ball, and as a result, business at the bakery had skyrocketed nearly overnight. Betty was in her sixties and had been apprehensive about even entering the competition, concerned that she was somehow too old for her business to be taken to the next level. Amber couldn’t have been happier for the Harrises’ well-deserved success.

And, given the two women in Purrfectly Scrumptious aprons who were armed with clipboards and were taking down orders from people in line, it looked like the Harrises had finally hired help, too.

The knock sounded again. Amber found Kimberly Jones at the front door with a large tote bag hung from her shoulder. Smiling, Amber quickly unlocked and pulled open the door, the bell above it tinkling.

"Are you open yet?" someone from outside called.

About fifteen more minutes, Amber said as Kim rushed in.

Once the door was locked again, Kim, who had practically flung herself backward over the counter, said, Oh my God, Amber, they’re like vultures!

Amber stifled a laugh.

They practically clawed at me while I stood at your door! Kim said. Wait. No. They’re not vultures. They’re worse than that. They’re zombies with a hankering for human flesh!

Amber snorted.

Anyway! Kim said, heaving out a long, loud breath. She plopped the tote bag on the counter. I have goodies!

Amber rounded the counter so she stood on the register side, with Kim on the other, and watched as Kim pulled out window decal stickers, lanyard strings, a stack of bingo cards, and a small handful of pins.

Oh wow, Amber said, picking up the pin. These turned out great!

Right? Kim said.

The pin was about an inch square and shaped like a cat’s face. But instead of mere lines and shapes, the face had been constructed with the names of each Best of Edgehill business and owner. The window decals for the winning businesses were standard postcard size and had twelve hand-drawn buildings running along the length. The detail in each storefront was remarkable, especially in such a small space. Amber had always envied an artist’s ability to take something from the world around them and recreate it based on their own unique vision. Here and Meow Festival was written on the right side, the words hovering in the sky above the buildings, and a bright yellow starburst, like a sun, hung in the sky on the right, with a Best of Edgehill Business! stamped in the middle.

And to top it all off, on sidewalks, in windows, and on roofs were cats. Lounging, sleeping, playing. Ben’s designs were so quintessentially Edgehill that Amber had to fight the urge to hug the decal to her chest. She was a little jealous of all the businesses which got to affix one to their shop front windows.

Are these the final product? Amber asked.

"Yep. Finally. There have been roughly nine billion printer malfunctions on their end. I can’t believe how close they cut it. We can make minor requests for changes, mostly because they’re relatively local, but if we do want changes, we have to let them know by tonight, especially since they’re closed on Sunday. And I’ll have to pick up the new materials in person. With less than a week left before the big day, Kim said, then furiously rubbed at her forehead. It’s fine. I’m sure everything is fine. Is Ben going to be here soon?"

The bell above the shop door chimed as Ben let himself in.

Speak of the devil, Amber said.

Ben had just pulled an earbud out, his brow creased. A question was clearly on the way out of his mouth but then he saw what was on the counter in front of Kim. Voice shaky, he said, Is that … are those …

Sure is! Come look! Kim said.

As the two gushed over the swag, Amber headed for the front door to flip the sign to open, giving the ravenous zombies the go-ahead to come inside. As Amber pulled open the door, she smiled at the woman she’d spoken to earlier. A line of tourists poured in after her, the shop’s wooden floors creaking underfoot.

Amber had just let the door go, making her way toward a man who attempted to get something off a high shelf, when the door flew open behind her with such force, the bell above it was nearly knocked loose. A woman stood in the doorway, chest heaving. She held fast to the hand of a weeping little boy.

What kind of racket are you running here, Amber Blackwood?

Amber blinked at her. She recognized her as a resident of Edgehill, though Amber didn’t know her personally. Despite the fact that this was a small town, Amber had kept herself relatively isolated here until recently. Amber was almost positive her name started with an S.

I’m sorry, Sarah, but—

My name is Sally! Sally snapped, then stomped a foot for good measure. Her crying son wept harder.

Right. That was her name. Sally Long.

Everyone in the shop had stilled. Even Kim and Ben had been shocked out of their gushing over the newly arrived festival goodies.

The only sound came from the soft whimpering of the little boy whose arm was hoisted in the air by his mother. Amber wondered if the weeping was due to how tightly the woman held him.

Quickly glancing around, her face hot, Amber took a step forward. I’m sorry, but what seems to be the problem? she asked, keeping her voice low.

"The problem?" Sally let the boy go so she could root around in her large brown leather purse and produce a mangled toy bear. She thrust it at Amber.

Startled, Amber instinctively grabbed hold of it. The whole front half of the toy bear was a blackened, melted mess, as if someone had taken an open flame to it. The back half looked perfectly intact, which somehow made the destruction done to the bear’s face even more upsetting. Amber turned it so she could see into the gaping hole where the bear’s hollow stomach had once been. From what she could tell, all the magic-fueled discs inside the bear had melted along with its face.

Had the spells malfunctioned?

Amber’s chest constricted at the thought that this little boy’s tears might be her fault.

She dropped to her knees in front of him. It took a second, but then she remembered his name. Noah. He had short black hair, brown watery eyes, and a little trail of snot running out of his nose. He had been rubbing the back of his pudgy hand against one eye, then jumped slightly when he realized Amber was in front of him. He stopped whimpering and gave a little sniffle.

Are you okay, Noah? she asked, searching those sad eyes. Did the bear hurt you?

He sniffed again, then he straightened, resolve sobering him up. Amber got the impression he was pleased to be asked his side of the story. "I was just playing with him in my room, Miss Amber. I wasn’t doing anything bad … just playing chase like we always do. He was running after me and then … boom!"

Amber flinched.

Can you fix him, Miss Amber? he asked, a bit urgently. Did I do something to break him? I love Toast a lot.

Amber fought a laugh, despite the tension in the room. When children got