Page 19 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
I ascended the steps of the boardinghouse, the wood creaking beneath my feet. Before I could knock, the door swung open, revealing a elderly woman and deeply lined skin with graying hair pulled back in a loose bun, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes. She brightened when she saw me, smoothing her floral apron.
"Can I help you?" She tilted her head to the side as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Come in. The weather is dreadful right now." She ushered me forward, shutting the door behind me as I brushed the rain droplets from my face and hands. "Poor dear, let me get you a towel."
She moved around behind the desk, searching for a towel before handing it to me.
I cleared my throat. "I'm Callum Renshaw. I have a reservation for a room."
Recognition flickered in her eyes, as the lines around her mouth and eyes deepened with her warm smile. "Ah yes, the High Council investigator. I have you in the Rose room;it has the best view of the garden. Though…," She leaned in conspiratorially. "You might want to avoid the lavender bushes out front. Mrs. Hensley's latest attempt to fertilize them has them literally vomiting pollen on anyone passing by. It's gotten me a few times already. Must say the most action I've seen in years."
I bit back a laugh, forcing my chuckle into a smile instead. "Just here to help in any way I can, ma'am. I don't intend to cause any disruption."
She chuckled, stepping aside to let me enter. "We'll see about that. Seems to me, outsiders always rile things up. We'll see if it's a good rile or a bad one."
Then she leaned in close, her voice lowering to a whisper.
"You want my advice? Start with that evil witch, Sage Blackstone. Mark my words, she's got her fingerprints all over these disappearances. I always knew that girl was trouble, ever since she was a child. She once enchanted the traffic light on main street to turn everyone into musical theater performers every time it turned red. So every time you stopped at the street, you would see people singing and dancing on the streets, in their cars and outside of them. It took our councilman leader, Mr. Bishop, three months to fix it. Three months of musical theater creating traffic in our little town. And she wasonly nine at the time!"
She shook her head, both worry and suspicion in her otherwise cheerful expression. "She may have been just a child, but just like that Blackstone ancestor of hers, evil was born.,\" She sighed as if this saddened her.
I stiffened, my jaw clenching. It took every ounce of self-control not to defend Sage, to tell this judgmental old biddy exactly where she could shove her unfounded accusations. But I knew losing my temper wouldn't help Sage's case. If anything, it would only make me look more suspicious by association.
I pressed my lips into a tight line, trying to keep my serious detective expression, though I couldn't help the twitch at the corners of my lips that threatened to break at the thought of people dancing and singing in the streets from what was most likely an unintentional spell created by a child.
"I'll take that under advisement. Thank you for the tip."
The boarding house owner sniffed, clearly dissatisfied with my lack of enthusiastic agreement. She thrust a heavy iron key into my hand. "Room 2B, top of the stairs on the right. Breakfast is at seven sharp. Don't be late, or you'll go hungry."
With that charming sendoff, she turned on her heel and marched away, leaving me standing in the musty foyer. I glanced down at the key in my palm, the metal cool against my skin. Room 2B. The same room number Sage and I had shared during our illicit weekend getaway back in college at a different inn. Our third year of college, we snuck off to a weekend retreat in Maine. The beautiful port town was filled with sailing ships bobbing in theharbor and charming oceanfront shops. We'd spent hours combing the shoreline for the perfect shell; Sage burst into laughter when she found the shell of all shells, proclaiming herself the queen of Oceana as I tackled her into the sand, kissing the radiant smile spread across her face. The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.
I climbed the narrow staircase, shaking off the memories. The floorboards creaked with each step as I went. . A shiver ran down my spine, though whether from the drafty hallway or the eerie sense of déjà vu, I couldn't be sure.
I found Room 2B exactly where she said it would be. Age had tarnished the brass numbers on the door, but they remained legible. With a steadying breath, I slid the heavy iron key into the lock. It turned with a reluctant groan, the door swinging inward on protesting hinges.
The room was small and sparsely furnished, with faded floral wallpaper and a slightly sagging bed. I set my bag down and finally allowed myself a moment to breathe. Now that I was alone, away from the boarding house owner's prying eyes and judgmental comments, the weight of everything hit me like a punch to the gut. I was here, in Sage's town, about to face the woman I'd loved and lost through my own cowardice. We'd been so young then, so convinced we could take on the world together.
How naïve we'd been. How foolish I'd been to let her slip through my fingers. I set my bag down with more force than necessary, the thud echoing in the quiet room. Dwelling on the past wouldn't do me any good, not when Sage could barely stand to look at me now. I had to focus on the task at hand, finding those missinggirls and clearing Sage's name. Even if she never forgave me, if she hated me until her dying breath, I owed her that much.
I pulled out my case files and spread them across the rickety desk, the dim lamplight casting long shadows. Photographs and hastily scribbled notes stared back at me, taunting me with their lack of leads. Ashlynn, Chrysanthemum, Periwinkle, Chastity, and now Beverly. Five girls vanished without a trace. Five families, desperate for answers.
And at the center of it all, Sage. The so-called wicked witch, condemned by rumor and gossip. But I knew better. Beneath that icy exterior beat a heart as fierce and loyal as they came. She'd never harm an innocent, no matter what the town thought of her.
My gaze fell on a faded newspaper clipping, yellowed with age. The headline screamed:
"LOCAL GIRL TURNS CLASSMATES INTO FROGS - BUDDING DARK WITCH?"
I remembered Sage telling me the story, her voice trembling with old hurt. They'd tormented her, called her evil and twisted, all because her magic was different. Powerful. Misunderstood.
Just like Sage herself.
I set the clipping aside and picked up another file, one I'd been avoiding. Something had been nagging at me since I'd started this investigation, and I'd finally requested Sage's parents' accident report from eighteen years ago. The High Council had flagged it during my backgroundresearch, not because it was suspicious, but because they wanted a complete picture of Sage's history.
But as I read through the sparse details, my instincts sharpened. The official report was unusually brief for a double fatality. The car went off the mountain road during a storm. No witnesses. Case closed within a week.
I'd seen enough accident reports to know they were usually more thorough. Especially when the victims were prominent community members like Dr. Marcus Blackstone and his wife, Elena, both respected researchers and council advisors.
The report mentioned papers scattered at the crash site, which had been dismissed as ‘"historical research materials’" blown from the vehicle. But there was no inventory of what those papers had contained, no follow-up investigation into why two historians would be driving mountain roads during a dangerous storm.
I made a mental note to dig deeper. Probably nothing, but in my experience, the details that seemed unimportant often turned out to be crucial. Especially when they involved the Blackstone family.
