Spooky Spells Read online

  “Soon there’ll be a celebration here. I’m new to celebrating, so I’d best have wine,” she said, dancing away from me and toward the stairs.

  I watched her go with trepidation. She nearly tripped as she turned away from me, so I reached out to steady her. But she didn’t want my help, she only wanted to cavort. She shook me off and hurried downstairs.

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on I’ll tell Mom your hip is fine,” I yelled after her.

  Part of the reason my grandmother drank was that she had a bad hip. Or so she said.

  From somewhere below I heard a voice floating up. “She’ll never believe you.”

  That was true.

  Following Cookie, I told myself that at least my cousins would be able to tell me what was happening.

  Able and also willing, unlike Cookie, if only I could find them.

  I tried the gift shop, Enchanted Bits and Bobs, but it was closed. I looked in the empty workspace next door that Lark was trying to figure out what to do with, but it was empty too.

  I glanced outside at the guest cottages, but they looked deserted. There was nobody anywhere in sight.

  Then I heard the clink of glass and I knew.

  Now I stood in the grand dining hall, waiting for Lark to explain.

  On the table was a scrumptious feast unlike anything I had ever seen before. Audrey usually made a beautiful meal, but if she had done all this, I was gobsmacked.

  There were three turkeys and a whole chicken, all in huge pots with root vegetables packed in around them. There was a huge vat of thick, bubbling yellow soup. At first I thought it was squash, but when I smelled it I realized it was orange instead.

  There were eight salads, including pumpkin salad, spinach salad, potato salad, a fruit salad, and several other kinds I didn’t recognize. Next to the salads were huge jugs filled with dark liquid and amber glasses set out waiting to be filled. My mind simply boggled at the variety.

  “I know the guys can really eat, but isn’t this just a bit much?” I asked.

  Pep shook her head sadly. “No, they definitely can eat. It isn’t for them, though. Although I suppose we can all eat a little bit.”

  There were candles set at intervals all over the table; the nice ones had been pulled out of storage for the first time I could remember.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “The Brewers called your mother,” said Pep.

  Suddenly my hands went cold.

  “What can the Brewers possibly want with Mom?” I asked.

  The Brewers were another family witches, but they weren’t from around here. They were from far away, and they were very strange.

  They were not our sort of witches.

  While our family ran a haunted house, the Brewers ran an upper class hotel. Needless to say, our visitors were just regular folks, while the Brewers’ guests expected magic and the Brewers were happy to provide it.

  Mr. Brewer had worn many hats in his day. One of them had been that of the Chief Investigator of the Supernatural Protection Force, but he had retired from that work a long time ago to concentrate on the lucrative hotel business.

  My mother hated the Brewers.

  “Their daughter is getting married,” said Lark.

  “Don’t they have several daughters?” I asked.

  “They have triplets,” said Pep. “Much to their mother’s dismay.”

  “Tell me they’re coming here,” I groaned.

  I didn’t really need to ask, because it was the obvious conclusion given the feast on the table. Audrey would make the family feel welcome with copious amounts of food even if no one could stand them.

  “They’re doing more than coming here. One of the daughters is going to get married here,” said Lark. Her eyes were huge.

  “No way,” I gasped.

  There was just no way. Even if the mansion had sometimes been used as wedding venue, which it hadn’t, the Brewers would never want to get married here. Surely! All the daughters were just like their mother: stuck up and superior. They would want something far more high-class than Haunted Bluff.

  “Apparently something has gone terribly wrong at the venue they were going to use. They moved to a backup venue, and something went terribly wrong there as well. So they decided to come here,” said Lark.

  “They can’t just decide to come here. Mom has to give them permission.” I was so shocked at the very idea that I refused to believe it.

  “Which I did,” said my mother’s voice from behind me.

  I spun around just as she strode into the room.

  “What would you do something like that for?” I demanded.

  “We’re all witches together. We must help each other when needed. If I said no, what if I needed help from them someday? They would then be perfectly justified in saying no in return,” she explained patiently.

  As usual my mother was dressed like a swashbuckling pirate without a ship, in breeches and boots, admittedly a reflection of the serious work she did every day.

  “Saying no sounds like a great idea,” I argued.

  “If they want to hold the wedding on these grounds, then they are welcome to do so,” she said sternly. “I made no promises about the ghosts, and in fact I have already informed them that they will behave in their usual manner.

  “Since the house is usually closed on Sunday night, the Brewers asked for a special haunted house for the wedding party. I agreed to that. They’ll be here for a week. The wedding will be on Saturday next. I’ll thank you not to cause any problems.”

  “When do I cause problems?” I asked.

  “I’m sure you never do,” murmured my mother dryly.

  “Exactly,” I said. “They’re arriving tonight?” I tried to clarify.

  “They should be here within the hour,” said my mother.

  “You couldn’t have given us more notice?” I said.

  “I didn’t have more notice myself,” she said.

  “Do you know what the emergencies were?” I asked.

  “I know very little other than that a caravan of witches and warlocks is about to descend on us. We’re going to need all hands on deck,” my mom said. “I’m hoping to learn more tonight once we’ve had some time to relax and chat and also drink some wine.”

  “You know this is serious if she’s resorting to wine,” said Cookie, stumping into the room.

  Recently she had taken to using a cane, but at times she forgot she had it. I thought she really just liked to carry it so she could hit things with it.

  “We’ll do our best to be helpful,” said Lark.

  “That’s all I ask,” said my mother.

  “While we’re on the subject, would it be okay if we talked about the open room?” Lark asked.

  I could see my mother’s face crumple a little, while Cookie looked a tiny bit gleeful.

  “Sorry, dear. Now really isn’t a good time,” said my mother.

  Just then I heard somebody yelling for her; I was pretty sure it was my brother. My mother turned and marched out of the room.

  “That went well,” said Cookie dryly.

  Lark scowled at her grandmother.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Cookie. She ignored the dirty looks, reached for one of the pitchers, and poured a generous helping of wine into her goblet. Then she leaned over the table, picked up a thick slice of crusty bread, spread a thick slice of butter over it, and paused.

  She looked at the table for a breath, then snapped her fingers. The candle closest to her sprang to life, a cheery flame in a riddled afternoon. Cookie picked up the slice of bread with the butter on it and held it over the flame until the butter was a golden puddle in the center of the bread.

  Pep covered her eyes with her hand.

  “Oh, are you three still here?” Cookie looked around and pretended to be shocked, then stuffed the bread into her mouth and walked out of the room.

  “Sometimes knowing that I’m related to her is comforting, but other times . .
.” Lark let that trail off.

  “How is it comforting?” Pep asked.

  “It’s just good to know I’m never going to be that crazy,” Lark explained.

  “Pep, Lark, can you help me with some stuff outside for a few minutes?” yelled Meg, their mother. Her face appeared on the other side of the window, looking slightly distorted through the pane.

  “Do you need my help as well?” I called out.

  Meg replied that she did not.

  My cousins scrambled to go help Meg. Cookie had already left, and in the time it had taken us to talk to my mother, Rose had disappeared as well.

  I was on my own.

  I decided to wander the grounds in the few precious moments of tranquility left to me before the Brewers arrived.

  The overcast day had given way to a warm sky just as the sun was setting, and in the fading light the mansion looked large and imposing.

  The black iron gates loomed darkly. There were stone gargoyles, metal cats, and bat statues everywhere you looked. The family crest was a wild-eyed feline.

  We had a real cemetery out front. My grandfather had situated it there on purpose, convinced that it made the haunted house more authentic.

  The grass was just starting to turn from startling green to fading orange. Soon it would lapse into brown. The beauty of Maine would lay dormant for a short time, as if holding its breath. Then the blanket of white winter would drape itself over the fields and trees, protecting the ground as it rested until spring.

  I sighed and went around behind the mansion. I figured I’d probably find stable ghosts back there, preparing for their grand performance later in the evening.

  The back of the mansion lawn housed the greenhouse, and down the slope and far past the stables I could see the cluster of old cottages that my mother rented out to supernaturals.

  “Hello there,” Gus the ghost yelled out to me. He was fat and pompous and one of our longest serving board members, one of the many liaisons that connected the ghost, vampire, le-haunt, and witch groups. My mother liked these interconnections because they helped her keep everything running smoothly. Cookie liked the arrangement because it meant that there were strict rules about when anyone was allowed to speak to her.

  Beyond the back gardens was the ocean. At last, between me and the churning sea was a steep cliff.

  In the cliff lived the bats.

  For a split second I had a wonderful image of a horde of bats overtaking the Brewer wedding. The bride, one of the horrible triplets, would screech in dismay.

  Smug in my fantasy, I kept walking. The salty air filled my nostrils and for a few short minutes I just enjoyed the view.

  When I turned back to the mansion, I saw several vampires walking together, making for the library. Vampires especially liked to read.

  Then I heard wheels on gravel and the slamming of a door.

  Our uninvited guests had arrived.

  Chapter Three

  Without thinking twice, I raced for the mansion. They wouldn’t get into the grand drawing room for a few minutes, so maybe I had enough time. I had been so desperate to enjoy the beautiful evening before the Brewers spoiled it, I had forgotten that I should probably change before they showed up.

  Now it was a race against time.

  Once I was inside, I made for the secret passageway I’d discovered when I first moved home and the Skeleton Trio was murdered.

  It felt like ages ago, but it really wasn’t.

  The secret passage opened with a special tap and a special push, which I administered now. I could hear voices in the foyer, and a long shadow came down the hall just as the secret door swung open. I tumbled through the door just in time and it closed behind me.

  I was in darkness.

  I scrambled to my feet and raced through the narrow corridors.

  When I reached the exit, I listened again. The wide hallway was the perfect place for an ambush. If Cookie caught me she would definitely make me go downstairs and be nice.

  When I heard nothing, I ventured out. In the end I made it safely to the attic, wondering all the while how Pep and Lark had fared. Meg had called them outside, so they’d probably already been caught.

  I searched my closet in a hurry for something suitable to wear. Finding very little, I went over into the other side of the attic, where there were uncounted trunks of old clothing.

  It had been years since I’d seen any of the Brewer family, but I remembered them distinctly. And I didn’t want to feel underdressed. After a lot of searching, I found what I was looking for and pulled it loose.

  I tried to do something special with my hair, but ended up just throwing it into a bun.

  I was ready at last.

  I headed downstairs with all due haste, but when I reached the foyer I was disappointed. I heard voices as I passed various rooms, but I saw no one.

  “Everyone went to get changed for dinner,” said Steve from his usual closet. Steve was a skeleton who would pop out from time to time and swap news with whoever was walking by. “You look smashing,” he said.

  I blushed and thanked him. I wasn’t used to trying so hard. Why I was operating differently today I had no idea. Later I decided it was probably because the triplets made everyone look bad, and I didn’t want to make it easy for them.

  Steve’s eyes closed briefly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of the smashed Skeleton Trio.”

  “That’s all right,” I told him as I watched his eyes well up with tears.

  He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes with a nod.

  I was just about to go back upstairs when I noticed steam leaking from under the kitchen door.

  Wondering if Audrey needed help, I went rushing to her aid.

  The door swung wide and I raced. The only problem was that the kitchen was so filled with smoke and steam that I couldn’t see Audrey, or anything else.

  I ran forward and immediately slammed into the counter. With a grunt I limped sideways.

  “Audrey?” I called out, coughing.

  “Yes?” came my aunt’s voice. She sounded totally calm.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “By the sink?” she said. “Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just thought the place might be burning down, although why the smoke detectors aren’t going off I don’t know.”

  “The mansion isn’t exactly up to code,” came my aunt’s voice through the fog.

  I felt my way forward and finally found the counter. Further examination produced a window latch. I opened all the windows I could reach, then the door to the back lawn. A burst of welcome fresh air hit my face.

  Slowly, the room started to clear out.

  “What happened?” I asked, waving my hand in front of my face.

  Enough of the smog had dissipated so that I could just make out my aunt’s face.

  “I was cooking. I don’t know,” Audrey shrugged. There had been so much moisture in the air that now a sort of gray film clung to her.

  When it came to her kitchen, Audrey was blasé about stuff that would have ruined my night.

  “You look splendid,” she beamed at me. There was a piece of carrot in her hair. When she caught me glancing at it she said, “I haven’t had time to change yet.”

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck in here, working away,” I told her.

  “I’ll go change now. Would you mind taking the chicken out of the oven in five minutes? Everything should be ready by then,” she said.

  There was another chicken?

  I told Audrey I wouldn’t mind at all.

  My aunt hurried out of the kitchen. As the door swung closed behind her, something white darted inside and came up to me.

  “Hello, Rose,” I said.

  Then I turned my back to the large white cat, found an apron to protect my clothes, and started doing dishes. Audrey usually had a spell for such things, but tonight there were so many dishes I thought that even the magic might get overwhelmed.

  “Fig
ured I’d come in while she was away,” said Rose as she pranced around finding scraps dropped onto the floor.

  The cat’s favorite room in the house was the kitchen. Audrey didn’t allow her in there, because she’d caught Rose one too many times climbing up on the counter to sneak a snack. But Audrey’s disapproval didn’t discourage Rose in the least, it just made her sneakier.

  “Not surprised,” I said. “Have you seen the guests?” I started scrubbing a particularly dirty pan.

  “Saw their feet,” said Rose. “Why don’t your feet look like that?”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Polished and sparkly and stuff,” said the cat, who was wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt and camo pants today.

  I nearly dropped the pan, but once I caught it I looked down and glared at her. “My feet look just fine, thank you very much.”

  “Fine, but not sparkling,” she said.

  I raised the pan and she backed away.

  “Hey,” said Pep, strolling into the kitchen in a sparkling white jacket and pants set.

  “Hey,” I said. Pep too had changed for the occasion. “You look great.”

  “So do you,” she said.

  “Where’d you get your outfit?” I asked. I had never seen it before, not that it mattered. I had pulled my own out of attic storage.

  “It was Cookie’s, believe it or not. She gave it to me years ago because I was the only one short enough to wear it,” Pep beamed.

  “Hey,” said Lark, walking into the room in her turn. Like me she was wearing black, but unlike me she always wore black. This time it was a long black dress that looked like it belonged in a period piece, accented at the waist with a white sash. She also sported a dashing red hat.

  “Hey,” I grinned at her. “How’s it going?”

  “Have you seen the guests yet?” Lark asked.

  I shook my head.

  “You’re in for a treat.”

  “Did someone say dessert?” a voice asked.

  Standing in the doorway between the grand dining room and the kitchen was one of the Brewer triplets.

  She was buxom, with a thick waist. Her hair was the color of blond plastic. Her lips were so large I couldn’t believe they were real. Muddy Brewer was exactly how I remembered her.