Every witch way but brew.., p.1
Every Witch Way but Brewed (Magical Misfits Mysteries Book 14), page 1
Every Witch Way but Brewed
Magical Misfits Mysteries, Volume 14
K.E. O'Connor
Published by K.E. O'Connor, 2024.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
EVERY WITCH WAY BUT BREWED
First edition. June 30, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 K.E. O'Connor.
Written by K.E. O'Connor.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
FREE BOOK
Chapter 1 | High drama
Chapter 2 | Spy mission
Chapter 3 | Tea leaves
Chapter 4 | Brewed shock
Chapter 5 | Sticky brew
Chapter 6 | Stinky tail
Chapter 7 | Irksome angel
Chapter 8 | An obvious suspect
Chapter 9 | Surprise ally
Chapter 10 | Team cat
Chapter 11 | Hissy witchy
Chapter 12 | Wanna be famous?
Chapter 13 | Wormy witches
Chapter 14 | Weedy shock
Chapter 15 | One or two?
Chapter 16 | Secrets revealed
Chapter 17 | Done deal?
Chapter 18 | Unveiling the lies
Chapter 19 | Family ties
Chapter 20 | Soft surprise
Chapter 21 | Cake confession
Chapter 22 | Close to home
About the Author
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Chapter 1
High drama
“That striped hummingbird with the serrated talons was something else.” My wonderful witch, Zandra Crypt, strolled along the main street in Crimson Cove. She was inspecting a ragged tear in the sleeve of her favorite leather jacket.
“Be grateful for your protective outerwear,” I said. “The winged beast would have torn through your arm if it had gotten a hold. It wanted to.”
“I wear this jacket because it’s cool rather than for protection, but I see your point.” Zandra rolled her shoulders and yawned loudly. “I keep waiting for things to calm down at work, but ever since the whole weird pizza incident, everything feels unsettled. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t think. I know.” I twitched my booping snooter. We’d been putting in extra hours for weeks to keep up with the additional work our harassed boss, Barney Hoffman, kept throwing at us. Every morning, we’d arrive at animal control, and there’d be another disaster to deal with that had exploded overnight. Despite extensive investigations to find the source of this continued chaos, we were stumped. Crimson Cove appeared to be festering with anger and malicious deeds, and it was only growing.
“We deserve a treat after our hard work,” I said. “Let’s stop by Sorcha’s café. The dinner rush should be over, and you’ve barely spent any time together recently.”
“We’ve both been too busy working to hang out,” Zandra said. “Sorcha hasn’t even been by Vorana’s for breakfast in a while.”
“It could be another distraction that’s keeping her away. Her relationship with Denver is going nicely. He’s such a sweet vampire.”
“Most likely,” Zandra said. “I’ll message Vorana, see if she wants to join us for dinner. She’ll appreciate a night off from cooking for us.”
While Zandra tapped out a message, I trotted ahead, my stomach encouraging me to hurry. All this work, rounding up critters that misbehave and teaching their owners how to look after them properly, made me starving. I’d had three breakfasts, my own lunch and half of Zandra’s, and a snack mid-afternoon, yet my belly growled like a hungry bear fresh out of her hibernation cave.
Zandra caught up with me as she pocketed her mobile snow globe. “I assume you’ll have something featuring smoked salmon.”
“I’m a creature of habit. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I said.
“I don’t know whether to go for a burger or a big bowl of gooey pasta. I’m in need of stodge.” Zandra reached for the door to the café and pulled it open. A large cake flew out, smacking her squarely on the forehead.
She yelped and stumbled back as the cake slid down her face and dropped to the ground. A second cake swirled through the air and whacked her in the chest, making a loud wet thwap.
“Hey! Whoever’s tossing cake at me, you need to stop.” Zandra swiped cream off her black T-shirt, smearing a slug-like stain all the way to the waistband of her jeans.
I peeked around the corner of the doorway. Sorcha Creer had a cake in hand and was ready to let it fly. “Stop! We come in peace. No more cake missiles.”
Sorcha’s expression shifted from angered frustration to shock, and she lowered her arm. “Juno! Oh my goddess. I’m sorry! I got so angry I ended up taking it out on the cakes. You weren’t supposed to be standing there.”
“What did the cake do to you?” Zandra was still swiping cream off her forehead as she stepped into the café.
I helpfully hopped onto her shoulder and licked sticky cream off her face with my wonderfully raspy tongue. It was an effective cleaning tool.
“It’s not the cakes. Look at this place!” Sorcha gestured around the empty café, her bright ginger curls a halo around her freckled face. “There isn’t a single person in here.”
“We hoped we’d missed the dinner rush,” I said.
“Missed it! It swept past without the door opening once.” Sorcha slapped the cake onto a tray.
“Have we missed something?” I asked. “Is there an event in town that everyone’s attending instead of coming here?”
“I suppose you could call it that. I’m finished. Ruined. All of these cakes will have to be thrown out.” Sorcha jabbed a finger at the almost full display cabinet of delicious treats.
“I don’t understand.” Zandra grabbed a clean towel from behind the counter and scrubbed at her shirt. “Did you over order?”
“I ordered the same as I always do,” Sorcha said. “And I made the same amount of cakes, baked the same amount of potatoes, and filled the same amount of sandwiches. No one is coming to my café anymore. I’ve even been opening earlier and shutting later in the hope of catching more people, but they don’t come.”
“Have you received a bad food hygiene rating?” I lifted my head. There was a curious scent of hot, furry bodies in the air.
“I have the highest rating.” Sorcha grimaced at her sticky hand. “But I haven’t had a single customer all day. What am I supposed to do with all this food?”
“We’ll take it,” I said, still looking around, attempting to locate the source of the curious smell. Could that be what was putting people off? It was pungent.
“That’s too much for us to handle,” Zandra said. “But we’re customers. Here for dinner.”
“After hitting you with cake, I should feed you for free.” Sorcha’s bottom lip jutted out. “I really am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Since we’re your only customers, we’ll pay. But what gives? Why is nobody coming in for food?” Zandra headed to the counter and glanced at the chalkboard menu.
“Why do you think?” Sorcha’s tone was full of bitterness as she stamped over. “Loyalty in this town is dead.”
“Is that so?” Zandra glanced at me, her eyebrows raised.
While I half-listened to Sorcha rant about the lack of loyalty these days, I finally located the curious scent. Although, in doing so, I almost got a nasty gash on the end of my booping snooter. Tucked into a corner of the café, right at the back, was a box with three spitting kittens inside. They were delightfully fluffy, black, with amber eyes, their tiny needle claws extended as they attempted to defend themselves.
“Oh! Be careful of them.” Sorcha noticed me investigating the café’s new residents. “Someone dumped them on the doorstep. They must know I’m a soft touch for waifs and strays. And with Finn still away, they figured the animal sanctuary isn’t taking in any creatures.”
“These kittens have magic.” I kept a safe distance from the box, since the furious bundles of adorable fluffiness sparked with power. Power that felt a little too big for such tiny paws to control.
“I wonder if that’s why they were ditched,” Sorcha said. “Whoever owned them didn’t realize what they were taking on. Those kittens may be tiny, but that little one at the back with the piece missing out of his ear set fire to a tablecloth.”
“Could they be the reason customers are staying away?” Zandra pointed out what she wanted from the menu. “They don’t want to be chargrilled when they grab their tuna melts and cappuccinos.”
“I haven’t had the kittens in here all day.” Sorcha strode behind the counter. “But I figured, since no one was coming in, there’d be no harm in keeping a closer eye on my three bundles of fury. They never seem to sleep, constantly need feeding, and are alw
I stared at the cute fluffies with focused interest. It had been a long time since I’d encountered such small creatures with so much contained energy. It must be over a hundred years. Possibly longer. I was intrigued as to where they’d come from and what their source of power was. Since they were so small, they wouldn’t be able to tell me. All they’d want at the moment was lots of food, play, and hours of sleep. Growing kittens burned through energy.
“Smoked salmon?” Sorcha asked me.
“As always.” I risked a sniff of the kittens then returned to the counter, where Zandra lounged as Sorcha got to work on making our food. “You were talking about lack of loyalty. Who’s being disloyal to you?”
“My problems are all thanks to Verity Yummy and her gross plastic scones and sneery smile,” Sorcha said.
“I know that name,” Zandra said. “Where from?”
“Verity runs that new tearoom.” I glanced back at the kittens. “You think your customers are purchasing their treats from her, rather than buying from you?”
Sorcha thumped down a knife. “I know they are. I shut for twenty minutes this afternoon and went snooping. The stupid tearoom was packed. I can’t figure out why. To start with, the name is ridiculous. The English Tea Shoppe. Two p’s and one e. What affected nonsense. How do you even say that? Shoppie?”
“It is twee,” I said. “Verity must be hoping to evoke an old-fashioned English charm.”
Sorcha grunted. “The food looks fake. And Verity is the worst. I stood on the other side of the street and watched her interacting with customers. She’s so fake-friendly, all smiles and over-the-top laughter. It’s disgusting.”
“I hate it when people are nice,” Zandra said.
“That’s just it! There wasn’t a genuine ounce of niceness about anything Verity did,” Sorcha said. “And she gave away free food to every customer. She handed them a bag of goodies as they left the café. Awful.”
“That’s why they keep going back,” Zandra said. “I’m a sucker for a free cake, although I prefer it when they’re not slung at my head.”
“Verity must be drugging them. Or bewitching them. It’s unnatural behavior. How can she turn a profit by giving away stuff?” Sorcha placed a plate of smoked salmon in front of me. “She’s been open less than a month, and since then, my customer base has dwindled to nothing. Today was the end of times for my café. If I have no one to serve, I’ll make no money. I’ll have to shut. And then what will I do?”
A small hot bundle of hissing anger and needle claws landed on my back. I tensed, but I’d heard the small kitten approach and had readied myself for the impact.
“Behave yourself, little one,” I murmured. “Or it’ll be back in the box with your siblings.”
The kitten hissed fiercely in my ear, but its tiny body trembled. It may be furious, but it was full of fear. A second later, the adorable little monster was joined by a sibling, and I ended up with two hissing bundles of anger and fluff riding on my back as I showed them the full extent of the café, letting my hunger marinate as the tasty scent of smoked fish tempted me.
Zandra watched with amusement as she tucked into her food. “Your customers will come back. It’s a new tea room, so everyone will want to take a look.”
“No one wants an overpriced tearoom in Crimson Cove,” Sorcha said. “Why would they, when they have my place? I know everyone’s order. And I’m fast on my feet. People never have to wait more than fifteen minutes for their food.”
“Verity only took ten minutes to serve us.” Zandra’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.
“Serve you! Unless you want another cake in the face, you won’t eat there ever again.” Sorcha scowled fiercely. “Please tell me your lunch was disgusting. Bland? Under-cooked? No, worse, overcooked? An inedible pile of nasty mush.”
“It was... I don’t remember.” Zandra stuffed a huge mouthful of food into her mouth and chewed furiously to avoid answering the question.
I finished my turn around the room with the kittens. The tearoom offerings had been incredible, but I wasn’t brave enough to tell Sorcha, given the mood she was in.
Sorcha groaned and tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Verity’s scones didn’t look terrible. That’s what she’s selling. Old English charm. She’s even faking a British accent. It grated on my ears.”
“There were a lot of people there having a fancy early afternoon tea,” Zandra said. “Verity kept bringing out towers of food. There were little sandwiches cut into triangles, a tray with loads of small cakes, and then a tray full of scones with jam and cream.”
I hurried over, the two kittens still attached to me as I saw Sorcha’s face shift back to rage. “It’s a novelty. Once people have been to the English Tea Shoppe a few times, they’ll get bored with the scones and cream and come back here.”
Sorcha’s bottom lip poked out. “They’d better. I can’t go on much longer if my customers don’t come back. I should do some deals. Offer discounted dining. A free goodie bag of cake with every order?”
“Don’t undersell yourself,” I said. “Your food is excellent, and your company is even better. People will miss you. They’ll return, and everything will go back to normal.”
The café door opened, and a tall, willowy woman with long silver hair down to her waist, wearing a boho dress that brushed across the floor, entered. She looked around, a huge smile on her face. As she drew closer, she smelled of brewed tea and some kind of flower. It wasn’t an unappealing scent.
Sorcha’s expression brightened at the prospect of another customer. “What can I get you? Everything on the menu is available.”
“What a wonderful little place,” the woman said. “Sadly, it’s not the café I’m looking for. Have either of you heard of The English Tea Shoppe? It only opened recently.”
Sorcha’s smile faded. “Perhaps. What do you want with that place?”
“The owner is planning an event for the local community. I’m a tea leaf diviner and will be holding sessions so visitors can have their fortune read. Could you point me in the right direction?”
Sorcha grimaced. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat? I have a five-star rating on my sausage rolls.”
“No, thank you. Verity has promised me dinner once I arrive. I’m looking forward to it. Her ‘queen of the cream teas’ offer is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“I can imagine,” Sorcha grumbled. “Out of here, turn left, and walk for five minutes. It’s on the right-hand side. There’s cheap looking pink and yellow bunting outside, so you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. Blessings be with you both.” The woman turned and drifted out of the café, leaving behind a sour mood that emanated from Sorcha.
“Did you hear that?” Sorcha grabbed a cookie and savaged it with her teeth. “Verity is manipulating everyone by holding some ridiculous community event. Can’t the locals see she’s using them? She’s plying them with treats and stupid fun just so she can take their money.”
“A community event involving cream teas and tea leaf reading sounds dreadful,” I murmured.
Zandra shook her head at me, a gentle warning to tread carefully around such a surly Sorcha. “Juno, come and eat your smoked salmon. And put those kittens down before they set fire to your fur. The one at the back is smoking.”
“If I could put them down, I would, but they’ve embedded their claws into my fur. We shall have to adopt them.” I occasionally had a maternal urge, and I felt it now with these adorable babies clinging to me.
“There’s no room in the basement for feisty kittens that enjoy fire starting,” Zandra said. “Put them back and don’t even think about sneaking them home. I’ll know if you do.”
It was tempting to argue the point, but I had a lot on, and taking on the demands of powerfully magical kittens of unknown origin was a task for another week. As I was heading back to the kittens’ cardboard home, the café door opened again. Vorana Stowell walked in, a pile of books under one arm and a brown paper bag in her other hand.
She smiled when she saw Sorcha and Zandra. “I’m glad you’re both here. As I was passing that fabulous new tea room, Verity came out and gave me these scones to sample. What do you think? Scones and jam for dinner? There’s even a pot of cream.”
