The Witch Squad: A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery #1 Read online

  {The Witch Squad}

  A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery: Book #1

  by

  M.Z. Andrews

  Copyright © M.Z. Andrews 2016

  All characters herein are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the brief quotations in a book review.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  {Chapter One}

  {Chapter Two}

  {Chapter Three}

  {Chapter Four}

  {Chapter Five}

  {Chapter Six}

  {Chapter Seven}

  {Chapter Eight}

  {Chapter Nine}

  {Chapter Ten}

  {Chapter Eleven}

  {Chapter Twelve}

  {Chapter Thirteen}

  {Chapter Fourteen}

  {Chapter Fifteen}

  {Chapter Sixteen}

  {Chapter Seventeen}

  {Chapter Eighteen}

  {Chapter Nineteen}

  {Chapter Twenty}

  {Chapter Twenty-One}

  {Chapter Twenty-Two}

  {Chapter Twenty-Three}

  {Chapter Twenty-Four}

  {About the Author}

  {Sign up For Newsletter from The Author}

  { Chapter One}

  “We are the delinquents, the misfits, the deliciously enchanted souls of this human realm, we are the gypsy warriors of the Earth – reckless incarnations of the true soul of every wanderer of this life. It is within the boundaries of this seminary that we submit to the development of our craft. We call upon the magic within these hallowed walls to sharpen our senses and direct our energy. Let the golden lamp light our doorways for the seemingly misguided, may we forever guide them to a truer calling and a higher purpose.”

  My tiny beater car wheezed heavily with annoyance as I braked long enough to roll down my window and read the quote on the plaque at the entrance of the all girls boarding school.

  Touted as a reformatory for troubled “special” women, my mother preferred to refer to this stint as “finishing school.” I, on the other hand, was much more keenly observant and realistic. If one didn’t want to mince words, I was being shipped off to witch boarding school.

  So there it is. I’m a witch. Consider yourself special. I admit to few people that I’m a witch. I’ve learned that it just doesn’t pay to be honest. Honesty gets you a trip to the principal’s office and promptly from there an overnight visit to a psychiatric unit. No, I’ve had enough with the honesty crap, which is probably how I began my addiction to lying – which progressed to cheating and then eventually, stealing, and thus, how I found myself in the situation I’m currently in.

  The warm scent of fall breezed in my open window and encircled my long, auburn hair, sending it cascading around my shoulders in tumultuous waves. The rustle of dried leaves at the end of the long winding driveway could be heard out the window.

  “At least it’s a beautiful autumn day,” said the voice next to me.

  I turned to look at the woman sitting in the passenger seat. An older reincarnation of myself, she had the same delicate features I had – a tiny little nose, delicate hands, and the same glowering green eyes, but her hair no longer spun the same reddish hue that mine did, instead it was laced with too many white strands to count. Courtesy of me, I was sure, she’d claim.

  “A beautiful day for whom, Mother? Certainly not me! You get rid of your only daughter today, I bet you can’t wait to get home and have the whole house to yourself. I suppose you’re going to be throwing a ‘got-rid-of-Mercy-party’ the second you get home,” I surmised angrily as I rolled up my window to stop my long hair from knotting anymore than it already had.

  My mother looked at me sternly. “Mercy, I certainly am not looking forward to ‘getting rid of you’ as you so delicately put it. Why would I want you to go? You’re my best friend. It kills me that you’re leaving me.”

  I peered at her out of the corner of my eye. She certainly didn’t look like she was losing her best friend. “If that’s true then let’s just turn the car around and head on home,” I suggested with a hurt-filled voice.

  “You know I would allow that if I could Mercy. But the courts have ordered you to get outside help. We both know what kind of outside help you need. This finishing school will serve you well and then you’ll come home!”

  I rolled my eyes at my mother as my car chugged loudly along the driveway, passing through a large standing of mature red oak trees. “Quit calling it finishing school, Mother! I’m not a young lady being prepped for entrance into some elite society. Let’s be real here. I’m a witch who’s gone off the rails.”

  My mother sighed and slumped back in her seat. We sat in silence as we made our way to the entrance of the Paranormal Institute for Witches or just The Institute as it was called on the street.

  The Institute was a small school, located on the outskirts of Aspen Falls, Pennsylvania, a small community nestled snuggly in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. We’d trekked quite a distance to reach The Institute, but it was the only school for paranormals my mom could find anywhere near our hometown of Dubbsburg, Illinois.

  The long driveway came to a fork in the road. A large hand painted sign stood before us. A silhouette of a witch holding a broomstick pointed right, a silhouette of a wizard holding a starred wand pointed left and the driveway up the center was marked Staff Entrance Only. I pulled the steering wheel to the right and cruised forward onto the campus.

  I was vaguely surprised to see several handfuls of students and their families unloading their cars in the drop off zone. People had brought television sets, rolled carpets, futons, mini refrigerators and microwaves. I looked into the backseat at my rolling suitcase, my backpack, and my garbage bag filled with the rag quilt my granny had sewn me when I was 10. I suddenly wondered if I had under packed for the occasion.

  “I told you we should have packed you some comforts of home,” my mother chided as we drove past the unloading zone and into a parking lot. The sign next to the parking lot read, ‘Witch parking only, all others will be toad,’ and it had a little picture of a witch’s broom leaning against the words.

  Oh my god. I mouthed to myself as I swung the car into the nearest empty space. Mom gave my hand a little squeeze before jumping out of the car and grabbing the garbage bag from the backseat and slamming the door shut.

  I grabbed my keys, cell phone and wallet from the center console and got out of the car to pull my suitcase and backpack from the back seat. Mom watched as I extended the handle on my suitcase and threw the backpack around my shoulders.

  “Need any help Mercy?” she asked as she started forward towards the school.

  “Nope, I’ve got it, Mother,” I sighed dramatically.

  Standing before the imposing sandstone building that would be my home for the next two years gave me pause. Few things in life intimidated me, so I wouldn’t want to use that word, but something about the dark shadows the building cast across the sprawling campus made my heart lodge in my throat momentarily.

  “It’s going to be okay, Merc,” my mother said as she retraced her steps back towards me. I allowed her to link arms with me and together we made our way through the parking lot.

  In the unloading zone, a heavy set girl in a bright cotton sundress was loading a rolling cart with an enormous array of kitchenware from her car. The girl looked up at me as I walked by. Our eyes met for a split second – she looked like she was just about to shoot me a smile – before I looked away. I didn’t need
any of that smiling crap. No first day of school besties for me. I was a loner and I’d always be a loner.

  In my previous life, as a paranormal being in a school of, well, normal beings, I didn’t exactly make a ton of friends. So I’d done the opposite my whole life. I’d made enemies. I had never even given anyone the ability to get close to me. Why would I start now?

  Mom and I breezed into the school unceremoniously and stopped at the folding table at the bottom of the stone staircase. A trio of women were chatting excitedly as we approached them.

  “Hello! Welcome to the Paranormal Institute! May I have your last name, please?” the youngest of the three women asked me cheerfully, her nametag read Brittany Hobbs.

  I shot my mother a disgusted look. I couldn’t stand cheerful people. They were just so…cheerful. “Habernackle,” I said expressionlessly. “Mercy.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have you here Mercy Habernackle,” she cooed as she found my name on the list on her clipboard. “And who did you bring with you today?”

  What were we? In Kindergarten? “This is Linda,” I said dryly.

  “Well, hello, Linda, are you Mercy’s mother?”

  Mom nodded. I could feel the tense energy radiating off of her. These people were already annoying her as well. “Yes I am, is this where we pick up her room key?”

  The woman smiled, flashing us a set of pearly white perfectly straight teeth. “Well yes it is! Mercy, you’re in room 215. You just take these stairs here and take a left down the hallway and you’ll find your room. Here’s your room key,” she handed me a lanyard with a key attached as well as an ID badge. “This is your meal card and ID for all Institute events. There is a family cookout at noon in the courtyard. You’re both invited to attend!”

  “Great,” I croaked and pulled the lanyard over my head and down around my neck. “Let’s go Mom.”

  I grabbed my bag and Mom and I began our descent up the wide curved stone staircase. I peered into each doorway as we walked down the hallway; in each room girls from about 17 to their early twenties were unpacking. Tile floors, stone walls, and metal bunk beds made the rooms feel cold. We had to step over a big roll of carpet as we made our way further down the hall. I watched the numbers on each room and when I came to room 215 I had to check the number twice. My room didn’t look like the rest of the rooms with a tile floor and stone walls.

  I eyed the room across the hallway. Tile floor, stone walls, metal bunk bed. Then I peered back into room 215. Wall to wall plush carpeting in a mottled grey covered the tile floor, the stone walls had been covered with movie posters, the window was topped with an aqua valance and the top bunk of the metal bunk bed had a grey and aqua chevron bedding set with matching grey furry throw pillows and a stuffed aqua colored owl. It looked like a Pottery Barn had exploded in my dorm room.

  My mouth hung open as I entered the room. The wall behind the door had a small aqua colored futon sofa and there was a mini fridge in the corner with a little microwave on top of it. Next to it was a small kitchen cart with clear plastic drawers and it looked like the drawers were full of snack foods and kitchen utensils.

  “What in the world?” my mother asked, as thoroughly bewildered as I was feeling.

  “Did you spring for the deluxe accommodations or what?” I asked her unenthusiastically. “Because I think you should ask for your money back. This place is giving me a toothache.”

  Suddenly we heard a squeal coming from the doorway. We turned to look and a girl who looked to be a couple of years younger than me, dressed in the most clichéd witches outfit I had ever seen was standing in the doorway with her hands clasped together. “Oh my! Mercy Habernackle?” she asked.

  I nodded with my mouth agape. She was a tiny girl – a pixie would likely dwarf her – she wore a pair of green and purple striped leggings with a matching purple mini skirt over them and black pointy toed high heeled boots. Her top – if you could call it a top – was purple as well and barely served to cover her tiny breasts. Her abs were left uncovered, and I could see why, she was extremely fit and for a brief moment I found myself a wee bit jealous of her six pack abs. I suddenly wished I hadn’t quit gymnastics when I turned 13. The girl’s short hair was dyed a bright orangey-red and she topped off the whole ridiculous outfit with a big, wide brimmed black witch’s hat. You know, the ones that little kids wear for Halloween when dressing up as a witch, but real witches in the 21st century would never actually be caught dead in.

  I looked around and suddenly wondered if I was being punked. Was a camera team going to jump out of my closet? This had to be a joke. This couldn’t possibly be my, gulp, roommate, could it?

  The girl approached me and before I knew what was happening, she’d taken the items in my arms from me and set them on the floor. Then in a flash I found her skinny little arms thrown around my neck. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mercy! I’m your roommate Jax!”

  I stood there, stiff as a board, allowing her minute frame to engulf me in what a normal person would appreciate as an affectionate hug. I, on the other hand, did not appreciate affectionate hugs, nor did I generally tolerate them, but this one had caught me off guard. When I finally became aware of what was happening, I ducked my head to remove my unwanted witch necklace and set her promptly down on her feet.

  “Not really a hugger,” I said gruffly.

  “Oh, it’s alright, I’m enough of a hugger for the both of us,” she chirped, her bright blue eyes twinkling.

  My head began to throb as I suddenly felt panic sweep through my body. First the smiling girl in the driveway, next the painfully cheerful camp counselor in the entrance, then the sticky sweet dorm room, and now this – an uber annoying pixie for a roommate. Could the college experience be any worse?

  I shot my mother a panicked look. She closed her eyes and exaggeratedly inhaled a deep breath through her nose. I knew that was her signal for me to do the same. I nodded and closed my eyes and inhaled my own deep breath and counted to ten.

  {Chapter Two}

  “So what do you think of the room, roomie?”

  I swallowed hard and looked around. The urge to vomit hit me like a Mack truck and I had to swallow hard a few more times to make sure my lunch didn’t hit the furry rug. “It’s sure…something,” I growled through gritted teeth.

  “Isn’t it? I spent the whole summer planning it out perfectly,” Jax shared excitedly.

  My mother shot me a warning glance. Be nice.

  “Mmmhmm. Yeah, it’s sure…cute,” I spat. I despised cute.

  “Isn’t it though?” she purred. “I emailed you a couple of times at the beginning of summer so we could coordinate our stuff, but I must have been given the wrong email address because I never got a response. I hope you’re okay with the colors I’ve chosen for us.”

  I bit my bottom lip and tried really really hard not to explode. I had hoped that witches would be more like me. A moody bunch with a penchant for the dark and dreary. I was very disappointed to find out they were more like an advertisement for the Gap.

  “Oh yeah, I just love aqua, it’s seriously, my fave,” I tossed out with fake enthusiasm.

  Jax’s eyes lit up. “You do? Ohhhh, see! I just knew it was all going to work out. We’re going to be lifelong friends, I just know it!”

  I turned around to face the window and rolled my eyes. With that out of my system, I turned back around again and stared at Jax for a long moment. I could tell she wanted me to say something encouraging. “This is my mom, Linda,” I finally said and hitched my thumb towards my mother who had finally sat down the garbage bag in her arms and begun to unpack it.

  “Hi Mom,” Jax squealed and rushed my mom to give her a big squeeze around her middle.

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes again. She was like the annoying little sister that I never had, nor ever wanted.

  Suddenly a loud bang followed by a scream filled the empty spaces of our room. Looking into the hallway, I saw the two girls from across the hall bolt out of
their room and chase the sound down the corridor. I poked my head out into the hallway and saw a curvy blonde in a crop top and booty shorts exiting her room waving her arms around through a cloud of black billowing smoke. A tall, thick, brunette followed her out of the room, coughing, her face and body was covered in a thick layer of soot.

  “What the heck, Holly?” the dark haired girl barked as she wiped the black soot off of her face. The whites of her eyes stood out from the black chalky mask around them, giving her the appearance of an alert black cat.

  Several of the girls that had gathered in the hallway were covering their mouths, trying desperately not to laugh.

  “What happened here?” asked a deep male voice from the other end of the hallway. As the smoke thinned I made out a short stout man wearing a blue jumpsuit, he carried a mop and was dragging a bright yellow squeaky bucket behind him.

  The ponytailed blonde, apparently called Holly, looked at the floor sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said more to herself than to him. “Accident.”

  “What kind of accident results in black smoke?” he gnarled. With his jaw set firmly, everyone could see that he was obviously angry with her.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I picked up my books from the bookstore. I-I was reading ahead.”

  He growled at her as he passed her by, but continued walking towards my end of the hallway. “Open a window! And clean up this mess!” He walked past me, shooting me a venomous look. The lights in the hallway bounced off of his scalp where his hairline had receded and suddenly he reminded me of a young Danny DeVito in Taxi, a show whose reruns played incessantly in my house because of my mother’s obsession with Marilu Henner. His name tag read Seymour H. I wondered why Seymour H. was a custodian in an all girls’ school if he so obviously didn’t like girls. Seymour and his squeaky cart made his way to the end of the hall and unlocked the janitor’s closet to stow away his gear before disappearing down the stairs I had just come up.