Familiar Spirits (Twilight Hollow Witchy Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

  Familiar Spirits

  Twilight Hollow Cozy Mysteries - Book One

  Sara Christene

  Copyright © 2020 by Sara Christene

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Chapter One

  The last of my regulars had finally filtered out of the Toasty Bean cafe. It was 7 PM, an hour after closing time, but no one really paid attention to the hours. I turned the key in the lock, then started walking with a stack of books clutched in one arm. My house was only four blocks away, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in Twilight Hollow, Washington. Everything was four or so blocks away.

  I rounded the corner, jingling my keys in time with my low-heeled boots. I took a deep breath, reveling in the first hint of crispness that meant summer was almost over, and autumn was on its way. My curly red hair swirled around me in the breeze.

  I passed the bank, and the laundromat, then headed west down Mueller Street.

  “Meow!”

  I stopped walking, glancing both ways. I could have sworn I heard a cat, but I wasn’t used to seeing one on this route.

  When no further meows presented themselves, I started walking again, but didn’t make it far before the toe of my boot caught on a crack in the sidewalk. The books I had clutched under one arm went flying, and I followed right after them, landing hard on my hands and knees. I nearly screamed at a sudden weight on my back.

  Slowly, I craned my neck to look over my shoulder, feeling like I was in a horror movie.

  A black cat stood atop my back. “Meow.”

  I glared at the creature. “Can I help you?”

  She, or he, I wasn’t sure, hopped down from my back and circled in front of me, sitting down near my fallen books. I was glad it was just a cat seeing my books and not one of my sisters. A natural which shouldn’t need to study witchcraft, but I was pretty sure I was defunct.

  The cat watched me with amber eyes. It was skinny and a bit mangy.

  I pushed myself up, sitting back on my heels. “It looks like you haven’t had a meal in a while. Do you want to come home with me?”

  “Meow.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I gathered my books, then stood and looked down at the cat. “Are you going to let me pick you up?”

  “Meow.”

  I took that as another yes, and knelt beside the cat, scooping it up with my free arm. The cat did not protest, and we started walking.

  “You know black cats are supposed to be unlucky,” I said as we continued on. “But I think that’s just silly superstition. Maybe having a black cat will make me a better witch.”

  The cat and I both startled at the sound of a falling trashcan around the next corner. I stopped long enough to register what the sound was, then continued on, thinking little of it. That was, until I went around the corner. I saw the fallen trashcan, and beyond that a pair shoes. A pair of shoes still attached to feet, with the toes sticking up skyward.

  “Meow?”

  I glanced down at the cat, then over to the pair of shoes. It was getting dark. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. Holding my breath, the cat, and my books, I crept forward. I peered over the trashcan at the owner of the shoes. Neil Howard lay sprawled on his back, dead as a door nail.

  I dropped my books as I stumbled back, but managed to maintain my hold on the cat. Fortunately the creature didn’t struggle, even though I was careening away like a mad woman. I glanced frantically around the street. I had heard that trashcan fall, and Neil’s death was not a natural occurrence. I could tell that much by the knife sticking out of his chest.

  Keeping my eyes trained on my surroundings, I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and dialed 911.

  Before the woman on the other end could say her spiel, I blurted, “I need to report a murder!”

  I followed her instructions and stayed on the line, and the cat stayed calmly in my arms. Eventually the sirens came, and I spotted the flashing lights. In a small town, cops responded fast. It was a perk I’d hoped to never experience.

  The two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, barely looked at me and the cat as they rushed over to Neil. One checked his pulse, even though he was clearly dead. Ambulance sirens wailed in the distance.

  The male officer walked toward me, while the female stayed with Neil, watching over the corpse like someone might come snatch it away.

  The officer who reached me was mid-fifties, salt and pepper hair, a bit of a paunch hanging over his dark blue slacks. “I take it you’re Adelaide O’Shea?” At my nod, he continued, “What were you doing when you found the body?” He noticed my books on the ground, and proceeded to stare at them.

  I chewed my lip, clutching the cat like it was my favorite stuffed animal. “I was just walking home from work. I heard the trashcan fall, and came around the corner to find Neil.”

  His bushy brow raised. “Walking home from work with your pet cat?” His tone oozed skepticism. He looked down at my books again.

  I felt my cheeks going red. Everyone knew that witchcraft wasn’t real. This cop clearly thought I was a nut, walking around with my black cat and spell books. It would serve him right if I hexed him, but I’m not particularly good at hexes. I could always ask my sister, Luna, to do it. She was the queen of hexes.

  The ambulance arrived, saving me from answering any further questions for the moment. Along with the ambulance came an unmarked cop car. The officer questioning me looked at the car with a scowl, which deepened as a man stepped out.

  The newcomer surveyed the scene quickly, his dark eyes ending up on me. He flashed a badge as he approached. “Logan White, homicide. Did you find the body?”

  I snapped my mouth shut, afraid I might start drooling. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His skin, hair, and features hinted at Native American heritage. He was around six foot, a little on the thin side but definitely in shape. Maybe a runner.

  I nodded a little too quickly as the paramedics exited the ambulance and walked toward the body. Though one still checked the pulse, it was clear they knew dead when they saw it.

  “Did you see anything else unusual?” the detective asked, drawing my attention back to him.

  My brows knit together. “You mean other than the knife sticking out of his chest?” I shook my head. “I heard the trash cans fall before I came around the corner, but I didn’t see anyone else around.”

  He looked me up and down, his eyes first lingering on the cat, then on my fallen books. His eyes lifted back to me. “Give the officer here your details and head home. I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”

  The officer opened his mouth as if to argue, but one look from Detective White made him shut it.

  I set the cat down so
I could gather up my books. The creature twined around my ankles while I gave the officer my information. With a final look at the body, I scooped up the cat, then hurried home.

  Maybe the cat was unlucky after all, but I couldn’t bring myself to set it free. We both needed a nice meal and a warm bed, and things would be better in the morning.

  Famous last words, or something like that.

  Chapter Two

  My sister Luna came bursting through my front door with a convenience store bag looped over one arm, and a bottle of wine in the other hand.

  I startled, nearly spilling my tea on my white sofa, though I knew Luna was coming. I had asked her for a little bit of moral support, and for some food for my new friend.

  She closed the door behind her, then looked at the cat as it came up to inspect her. Though Luna is an inch shorter than my 5’6”, she’s all curves and has a big presence to boot. If there’s anything Luna knew how to do, it was to take up the space she deserved with her deep laughter, too many hugs, and glowing confidence.

  She shucked her forest green cardigan to reveal a mustard yellow tee shirt, then knelt down before the cat, tossing her thick auburn hair over her shoulder. All of the O’Shea women have red hair, but Luna’s is the darkest. My gingery hue is in the middle, and our youngest sister, Callie, has strawberry blonde.

  Luna pawed through her shopping bag, then pulled out a can of cat food. “I come bearing gifts, let’s be friends.”

  “Meow!” The cat went running toward the adjoining kitchen like he knew what he was doing. At least, I was pretty sure he was a he at this point. Someone had gotten him fixed, and I am no expert on cats, but he definitely had boy cat energy.

  Luna stood, chuckling to herself, then headed after the cat. She stopped in front of the couch on her way, handing me the bottle of wine. “Be a dear and open that, little sis.” She continued on into the kitchen with cat food in hand.

  I caught up to find her searching through my cupboard for a dish. Finding one to her liking, she dumped the cat food on it while I poured us each a glass of wine. Luna put the little plate she’d found on the floor in front of the cat, and I handed her a glass.

  Wine in hand, she crossed her arms and leaned her butt against the counter. Her chocolate brown eyes looked me over. “So Neil Howard, huh? I wonder who would want to kill him.”

  I took a long swill of my wine, then leaned against the other counter across from her. “You seem pretty calm knowing your sister just found a murder victim. The killer could still be in the neighborhood.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “We’re witches, Addy, a killer wouldn’t dare come for us.”

  I pursed my lips. What she meant was, a killer wouldn’t dare come for her. Everyone in town knew that if you crossed Luna, you would have some serious bad luck. Folk whispered rumors that we were witches, though most just took it as superstition. Even so, everyone knew that you didn’t step on sidewalk cracks, you didn’t say Bloody Mary to your mirror at night, and you didn’t mess with Luna O’Shea.

  Thinking of another superstition, I looked down at my new black cat just as he licked the last remnants from his dish. “Do you think he has an owner? He seems pretty skinny.”

  Luna sipped her wine and watched the cat. “I’d say if he had an owner, it was a long time ago. He needs a steady diet and a good bath.” Her eyes flicked up to me. “You’re going to keep him, aren’t you? It’s bad luck to turn away a cat when it has already chosen you.”

  I looked down at the cat in question, now inspecting my small dining table overlooking my backyard window. “I highly doubt this creature is a witch’s familiar.”

  She lifted her shoulder in another half-shrug. “Well you’ve never had a familiar, so how would you know?”

  I frowned. Just another way I was defunct. Luna was good with hexes and divination, Callie was into matchmaking and love potions, but me? All I was good for was brewing coffee and tea that brought people a cozy happy feeling. While my magic had helped me build a successful business, it wasn’t exactly useful in any other sense.

  “I don’t think he’s my familiar,” I decided. “But if I can’t find his owner, if he even has one, I’ll keep him. At least as long as he wants to stay.”

  Luna sat her empty wine glass on the counter, then stood up straight, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. “So what are you going to name him?”

  I looked down at the cat, who blinked up at me with yellow eyes. “I think I’ll name him Spooky.”

  “Spooky? What kind of name is that for a cat?”

  I smiled down at Spooky. “Well he scared me half to death when we met, and shortly after that we found a murder victim. And he’s a black cat with yellow eyes. I think Spooky is pretty fitting.”

  Luna turned to fill herself another glass of wine. “Whatever you say, Addy.” She turned back to me and drained half her glass in one swill. “Let’s make some dinner. If I’m going to stay the night to keep you safe, then you better feed me.”

  I crossed my arms and raised my brows. “Don’t you want to know anything more about the murder? Aren’t you curious?”

  She gave me her best secretive smile. “Sure I’m curious, but I’m going to find out eventually. After all, you’re going to be the one to solve it.”

  I nearly dropped my glass. Luna only had visions occasionally, but they always came true.

  Spooky hopped up on the counter and nuzzled my arm until I pet him. I shook my head, looking at the cat. “I take it back. You are entirely unlucky.”

  Chapter Three

  Spooky wound around my ankles the next morning as I started the first orders at the cafe. My four regulars had appeared at once, anxious to know details on Neil’s murder. In small towns, word travels unbelievably fast.

  Francis and Elmer Brookes were always here at this hour, but Francis made her interest abundantly clear by marching up to the counter and demanding a full recount of events.

  “The usual, Francis?” I asked, already measuring out the ground beans for her coffee.

  She moved her ample figure closer to the counter, smoothing a stray hair back into her tight gray bun. She had to be nearly eighty, but looked younger and was sharp as a tack. She had the same twinkle in her eyes that she got whenever I found a new book for her to read. “I heard Neil was cut up into pieces,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  Francis’ husband, Elmer, put a hand on her shoulder. He was as tall and thin as she was short and plump. “We’ll both have the usual, thanks Addy.”

  Richie Garcia sat at his regular spot back by the rows of bookshelves taking up the left side of the cafe. “And we’ll all take the story, if you don’t mind!” he called out. Richie was in his early twenties and considered himself a poet, though his preferred style of dress reminded me of James Dean. His strong Hispanic features were emphasized by his slicked back black hair.

  Normally Richie was quiet, but he was used to being around Elmer and Francis, and the only other person in the cafe was Sophie Turner.

  “Earl Grey?” I asked Richie, ignoring yet another demand for the murder story.

  “You know it.”

  I looked to Sophie, sitting at the table next to Richie’s, twirling the end of her blonde ponytail. Sophie was painfully shy, and I had a feeling she only came into the cafe to see Richie. “Peppermint latte?” I asked her.

  She nodded gratefully, pleased that I didn’t make her speak.

  Finished with the first two orders, I handed the Brookes’ their coffees.

  Francis took her cup, still staring at me intently.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll tell you what little I know, just give me a minute.”

  This seemed to satisfy her, and she and Elmer went to sit at Richie’s table.

  Spooky went to inspect the bookshelves as I finished up the other two orders, then delivered them myself, taking the extra seat at Sophie’s table. In the mornings, this was where all the regulars sat. In the evenings, everyone moved to the charcoal g
ray microfiber couches making up a nice cozy corner opposite the bookshelves. The used books were all for sale, but I didn’t mind if customers read them while they sat and drank their coffee.

  “Where did the cat come from?” Sophie asked in her soft voice.

  “I don’t like cats,” Francis grumbled.

  I counted to ten in my head. Francis could be a handful, but she meant well, and Elmer was nothing but a big teddy bear.

  “Spooky found me on my walk home yesterday,” I told Sophie. “It seems I am his chosen one.”

  Her smile broadened. I had been trying for a while to get Sophie to come out of her shell.

  “Details, Addy,” Richie interrupted. “I’m dying over here.”

  He leaned back in his seat, tugging his leather jacket straight. His Earl Grey sat steaming on the counter. He most certainly did not appear to be dying, but I put him out of his misery anyway.

  “There’s not much to tell. I was walking home, I heard a crash, and when I came around the corner I found Neil with a knife in his chest.”

  Francis and Elmer’s eyes widened.

  “So he really was knifed to death?” Elmer asked.

  “Seems that way. I called the cops, gave my statement, and went home.”

  Richie had leaned forward, gripping his tea in both hands. “They’ll question you some more. Cops always have more questions.”

  I assumed he was speaking from the experience of reading a book rather than experience with actual cops. I knew his mom, and Richie would no longer be among the living if he had experience with actual cops.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what else I would be able to tell them.”