Eastwind Witches Volume 1: Books 1-3: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Read online

  “Bruce was a werewolf?” I asked. My mind traveled to his hairy forearms. But no, I’d met plenty of men with hairy forearms who weren’t werewolves.

  Or so I thought. Who even knew anymore?

  “Yep. But he wasn’t like a lot of them. Werewolves can be kind of …” Tanner looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then he leaned toward me. “They can be a little unruly.” He straightened up. “But not Bruce. Well, except when it came to Jane. Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. Bruce was a great guy. Man, it feels weird to talk about him in the past tense.” He shook his head. “He was just so … what’s the word? Vivacious. Yeah, I think that’s it. He was loud, friendly, joked around with everyone. Heck, even the name of the diner is a long-standing joke.”

  “Medium Rare?”

  He nodded.

  “I guess I don’t get it.”

  “Yeah, he had to explain it to me, too. It’s a werewolf thing. They always want their steaks rare, but they’re embarrassed to admit it. It reminds the rest of us that they’re always a few seconds away from becoming a wild animal. Lots of witches don’t like that. I don’t care one way or another. Besides, we all have the ability to be good or bad, no matter what we are.

  “Anyway, when werewolves order their meat rare, they get judgmental looks, I guess. So they always ask for their steaks to be cooked medium rare. It’s sort of an inside joke. Bruce told me about it, though, so that I knew to write ‘rare’ on the order whenever werewolves ordered it medium rare. The name also lets the werewolves around Eastwind know that they’re always welcome in Bruce’s establishment … so long as they didn’t stir up trouble.”

  “That makes sense,” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed by the reality that werewolf subculture was now a thing I needed to be socially conscious of.

  When Tanner stopped short and put his arm out in front of me, I dug my heels in, too. He looked around, his eyes wide. “Something’s coming,” he said.

  Chills ran down my spine and I couldn’t breathe until a dark figure emerged from the shadows. For a moment, I thought of the figures that had stepped into the road, causing the car crash that had landed me in this strange situation. But when the figure stepped into the lamplight, I realized I didn’t need to worry.

  “You again,” said the giant black dog. “Just my luck.”

  “Whoa,” Tanner said, taking a step back. “Careful, Nora. Could be a hellhound. I’ve never seen one myself, but I’ve heard them described.”

  I looked at him, confused by his concern. “It’s just a dog,” I said. “Actually, it’s the dog that woke me up after my crash. He was making out with my face and—“ I waved it off. “Never mind. The point is he’s harmless.” I offered the dog the back of my hand. “Come here, boy.”

  “Rude,” said the dog. “You want me to just call you ‘girl’? No, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, my bad. Do you have a name?”

  He plopped his big butt down on the cobblestone. “No. But that’s not the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  Tanner cleared his throat. “Um,” he said cautiously. “Are you, uh, I don’t know how to say this without being insulting. Are you having a conversation with that hound?”

  I looked from Tanner to the dog and then back to Tanner. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not great conversation. He has a little bit of an attitude.” I muttered the last bit from the corner of my mouth so the dog wouldn’t overhear.

  Tanner took a step back. “Ah. Okay. So here’s what I’m seeing.” Why was he speaking to me like I was crazy? Sure, a talking dog was weird, but I’d just had a conversation with the grim reaper about bridge. A talking dog seemed fairly normal in comparison.

  Tanner continued. “I’m seeing you say things to that big furry beast, and then the big furry beast is responding by growling in a not-entirely-friendly way.”

  I held up a hand to stop him and shut my eyes, trying to wrap my mind around it. “You’re telling me you can’t hear him speaking?”

  Tanner shook his head, and I turned to the dog. “Why can’t he hear you speaking?”

  “Aw poop,” said the dog. He flopped down and set his head on his paws. “This can’t be happening.”

  Tanner gasped. “I know what’s going on! Except … I’ve never heard of it being a dog. Oh wait! No, I have! But just once.”

  “Care to clue me in? Either one of you?”

  Tanner cackled. “Ha! I was right! You are a witch!”

  “You’re not exactly filling in the blanks,” I said, losing patience.

  “He’s your familiar!” he explained. “Every witch has a familiar. It’s an animal that connects with your magic. You can communicate with each other. That’s why you can hear him but I can’t.”

  “Huh. You have a familiar, too?”

  “Yeah. She prefers to be a house cat, though, and refuses to come to work with me since so much of the clientele are werewolves.”

  “Huh,” I said again, staring down at the dog, who didn’t seem particularly excited about the prospect. “I’ve always wanted a pet.”

  “Not your pet,” corrected the dog. “I don’t do the domestication thing. Sorry not sorry.”

  Tanner crouched down, facing the dog who was still ten yards off. “Hey there, buddy! Who’s a good doggie? You want to come with us?”

  The dog stood up slowly. “Okay, first of all, not cool. But also, I’m a good doggie.” He trotted over, his tail wagging lethargically. “This guy gets to pet me this one time, then that’s it, okay?”

  “Whatever you say,” I said, biting my lip so I didn’t laugh at the dog’s lack of self-control.

  “There’s a good boy,” Tanner crooned as he scratched behind the dog’s ears.

  The hound groaned. “Oh yeah … that’s the spot. A little to the left.”

  I relayed the message to Tanner, who indulged.

  As the dog sat stock still, letting Tanner continue with the scratches, he shot me serious side-eye. “You tell no one what you’ve seen here.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  The dog kicked his leg, thumping the ground with his massive paw when Tanner found the sweet spot behind his big, black ears. “Gnuhhhh,” the dog moaned.

  Okay, this was officially crossing into uncomfortable territory. “Should I leave you two alone?” I said, cringing.

  The implication wasn’t immediately obvious to Tanner, but it clicked before long. He yanked his hand away and lurched back from the dog.

  “Definitely didn’t think about it like that,” he said.

  “It was totally platonic! Oh come on!”

  “You’re going to love Ruby,” Tanner said as we climbed the front porch steps up to her attached cottage.

  Tanner had played the role of tour guide on our hike, explaining that the fountain we passed in Fulcrum Park was spring fed and marked the center of Eastwind, and that, come morning, the Eastwind Emporium, an empty lot except for a tall clock tower, would become a bustling farmer’s market. I hadn’t been able to make out many of the details of the tall, old buildings that rose up on either side of us as we made our way through the streets of Eastwind, but I saw just enough to know the place would be like a wonderful fairy tale in the daylight. No matter what the next day brought, I was determined to do a little sightseeing around town once I had a few hours of sleep in me.

  I wasn’t great about taking vacations. That probably doesn’t come as a surprise. But I’d always wanted to do the backpacking in Europe thing. Of course, my friends who’d done that—taken a year off before college or taken a semester off during—all had generous benefactors financing their quests to “find themselves”; namely, their parents. I didn’t have that. And I didn’t think taking on ten thousand dollars more in debt was the smartest thing when I wasn’t sure what life might hold after culinary school (already an expensive endeavor).

  I’d always regretted it, though, and every time a friend returned with pictures from this small Ital
ian village or that quaint Dutch fishing town, my heart ached.

  Here I was, though, in a town that looked like every little Belgian or German village I’d ever seen … and my mind was set on finding a way to leave? Just because the place was teeming with supernatural creatures that could tear me to shreds? Please. I’d faced more danger taking the bus around Austin.

  And besides, I had Tanner. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Hopefully.

  He rapped three times on the door with the knocker then, as if he’d forgotten something, he startled and quickly added a fourth knock. “Ruby doesn’t like it when you knock three times. ‘Only dark things knock thrice!’ she always says.”

  “She sounds lovely.”

  I wondered about Tanner’s sarcasm radar, because he nodded enthusiastically and said, “Totally.”

  The dog settled himself on the porch, curling into a tight ball and placing his snout on his paws.

  When the door swung open, a tiny gray-haired woman stared at us through icy blue eyes. She was easily in her seventies, and donned a midnight blue nightgown and overstuffed slippers that were made to look like large paws, not unlike those on my alleged familiar, except hers were red. She spared only a brief glance for Tanner, and when she turned her gaze my direction, her eyes focused on the space around me rather than looking directly at me. Finally, she nodded. “I suppose I have the Fifth Wind to thank for this! Get in here, you two. The dog stays out, though.”

  “I had no plans on entering into the strange lady’s house, anyway,” mumbled the dog. “It’s called survival instinct.”

  “The dog is Nora’s familiar, though,” said Tanner. “Shouldn’t he—”

  Ruby cut him off. “Not without a bath, he shouldn’t.” She took two hurried steps forward so that Tanner and I had to move to the side to avoid her running into us.

  Her head swiveled, scanning the dark street, then she seemed satisfied and motioned rapidly with her arm for us to enter.

  The interior of the townhouse was dim, lit only by a glowing fireplace and two lamps—one on a wall sconce in the connected kitchen, the other glowing atop an old wooden table at the center of the parlor into which we immediately found ourselves upon entering her home. The light reflected off the myriad objects hanging from the ceiling—brass and silver and marble bells, dream catchers, tiny wood carvings on the end of chains, a crucifix, and two dozen other unidentifiable knick-knacks. I walked underneath them hesitantly, unsure of their purpose. A few hung low enough that I had to duck to keep from getting whopped in the face. None came close to the top of Ruby’s head, though, and she shuffled through the parlor, grabbing the lamp from the table as she passed on her way towards a narrow staircase at the opposite side of the room. “You’ll be upstairs. Follow me.”

  I did, and Tanner came along, which I was grateful for, since this place gave me a raging case of the creeps.

  The stairs creaked underfoot as we ascended to the second floor, passed a door at the landing, and headed up an additional flight to the third story. The stairs dead-ended at a heavy wooden door with a rusty metal handle, and Ruby had to shove with two hands to get the thing to budge. It opened laboriously, and I peeked inside, concerned about what I might find.

  But as it turned out, her spare bedroom didn’t carry over the aesthetic of the rest of the house. The wood floors looked new, and the walls were light—I couldn’t tell exactly what hue in the darkness, but I was able to see that they weren’t dark like the rest of the house.

  On the far side of the room was a big window overlooking the street. The curtains were pulled back and moonlight streamed in. I chuckled, thinking of how much money my friends might’ve dropped to stay in an Airbnb like this in France or The Netherlands.

  Yeah, this would do.

  “Bathroom is on the first floor. I make a pot of tea at seven sharp each morning. I eat a slice of toast with jam and two strips of bacon every morning, and I’m happy to make extra if you would like some.”

  “That sounds perfect. Thanks so much, Ru—”

  “Sleep well, and if you hear something knock thrice on your bedroom door, for the sake of earthly things, don’t answer it!” She turned and ambled from the room, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. I turned to Tanner. “Is she serious?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “Ruby knows what she’s talking about.”

  I thought about the random objects suspended from the parlor ceiling. “Does she? Because it looks a little like an aerial version of Hoarders downstairs.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew Tanner would be lost. “Forget it. I promise I won’t answer the door if something knocks three times. Oh, I’m sorry, thrice. Mostly because I plan on passing out so hard Ruby might have half a mind to round up Ted to collect me.”

  “I hear that. I’m so beat I don’t even know if I’ll make it home before blacking out.”

  My eyes flickered over to the queen-size four-poster bed, and the opportunist in me perked up. “I would hate for you to fall asleep and get eaten by some werewolf or another …” I smiled gently at him, eyebrows arched, inviting him to fill in the blank.

  “Oh, um.” He cleared his throat quickly. “No, I think I’ll be fine. I’m friends with most of the weres in town anyway. Heh.” He grinned broadly. “Well … it was nice meeting you, Nora. See you soon?”

  Dang. Shut down. “Yeah. It was nice to meet you too, Tanner. Maybe I’ll stop by for lunch tomorrow.”

  His smokey eyes brightened. “That would be awesome!”

  I hadn’t completely scared him with my subtle pass then. That was a small victory. I guess I could always use a friend. A beautiful, beautiful friend.

  “Night,” he said. “Um …” He offered his hand.

  Oof. A goodnight handshake? Talk about salt in the wound.

  But I went with it. Only, when I put my hand in his, he didn’t shake but brought my hand to his face and planted a soft kiss on the back of it.

  A rush of dizziness surged through me.

  Please don’t let this be a platonic custom in Eastwind, I thought.

  He stared up at me as his lips parted from my skin, and … What the heck was that look? I mean, I knew that look. I’d seen it in the eyes of men before, just not any men who’d, only seconds previous, parried my invite to spend the night before it even got started. Could he actually be as interested as that look implied?

  Sheesh, if he were a werewolf, I might have thought he wanted to eat me with the hunger in those hazel eyes.

  I remembered to breathe again as he let go of my hand and headed toward to the door to leave.

  “Tanner,” I said quickly.

  He paused and turned. “Yeah?” There was a note of hope in his voice, and I had this feeling that if I’d asked him to stay just then, he would’ve said yes.

  But I didn’t. “Your coat.” I slipped it off, and his intense expression softened.

  “Oh, right.”

  I handed over the heavy article, and he grinned at me and left without another word.

  Chapter Five

  I startled awake but couldn’t pinpoint a cause. I hadn’t had a nightmare, hadn’t heard knocking on the door (thank god), and the room was still dark, so sunlight hadn’t been the culprit. Yet, I was wide awake.

  Every particle of my body stood at attention, like a new sense had awoken in me. It wasn’t quite touch, but it felt something like that, only internally. My body was sending clear signals to my brain of something is here. I stared at the ceiling, already knowing to some extent what I would find when I sat up and looked over at the easy chair in the corner of the room. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I knew that I knew it.

  And now I sound like an insane person.

  Just wait, though, it gets worse.

  With an effort, I slid up on the bed until my back was against the headboard, and I confronted the man sitting in the chair. “Hi.”

  He grinned, and I felt a little less petrified. It was the same grin he’d offered me when I’d first step
ped into Medium Rare. Except now it was slightly translucent. “I apologize for dropping in. I would have knocked, but …” He held up his hands, which thinned like smoke with the movement, then became more distinct once motion ceased.

  “I wouldn’t have answered anyway,” I replied honestly.

  “It’s a shame we have to meet this way. The moment I saw you walk through the door, when you paused to take in the smells of the diner, I thought, there’s a woman I’d like to get to know.”

  This was, of course, a lot for me to take in. For one, I was absolutely sure that I was speaking to a ghost. I mean, okay, I did consider the possibility that I was insane, like bat-scat crazy. But here’s the thing: insane people don’t usually know they’re insane. So whether my brain had been jostled in my skull when I ran my car into a tree or whether this was actually happening the way I saw it happening sort of became irrelevant. This was my reality, even if it wasn’t real. So I decided to embrace it. For now.

  The one thing I wouldn’t embrace, though, was Bruce’s sleaziness. “If you could just cut to the chase, that would be fantastic. I’d like to get a little more sleep, and it’s already creepy enough that you floated your way into here to watch me sleep without the added layer of you coming on to me.”

  He held up his ghostly hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I need your help.”

  I nodded once, trying not to show how relieved I was that his answer hadn’t been, “I’m here to kill you.”

  Why did that exist in my mind as a possibility? Perhaps because I’d just woken up in a strange, dark room with a ghost creeping on me, so my rational thinking was not at its peak. Cut me some slack.

  “I don’t know why you think I’m the gal for the job,” I said. “I don’t know anything about you or this weird town.”

  “You’re my gal because you’re the only person in this weird town who I can communicate with.”

  “Wait, really?”

  “Well, technically there’s one other person, but she doesn’t want to be bothered. That means you’re it.”