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Whether or not the intended victim was guilty of a terrible crime, it definitely wasn’t my job to mete out justice.
But just how easily could I quit the Paranormal Temp Agency and resume my normal life as if nothing had ever happened?
I was beginning to feel this situation had escalated to do or die.
What would happen if I refused both those options?
14
Greta showed me around the house, which frankly appeared to be falling apart at the seams. She walked me through each room, describing the items in it and what purpose each held. It was boring with a capital B.
Seriously, how was any of this meant to contribute to my magical training? We were already working on a tight schedule here, and instead of teaching me spells or potions, my assigned mentor spent the last ten minutes describing how Mrs. Haberdash had bespelled her socks to make them three degrees warmer than room temperature. Not even the magic she’d used to accomplish the task, mind you—just the fact she’d done it at all.
How was any of this supposed to help me catch a killer? Every single time I tried to ask a more relevant question, Greta brushed me off by changing the topic. At this rate, I might learn to tailor my pants with magic by the time the day was through, but I’d never learn anything cooler like how to fly or… I don’t know, evade a death blow, maybe.
The only thing that managed to keep my attention at all was the bedroom closet. Greta drifted in and began flipping through the previous tenant’s wardrobe, explaining the type of Town Witch duties each selection could be worn for.
Ugh. Why did I need to know any of this?
My mind wandered yet again, turning Greta’s nasally voice into a buzzing drone as I glanced around the room in search of something more interesting to ponder over. That’s when the fantastic black hat sitting on the top shelf of that closet caught my eye.
Of course, I had no qualms about interrupting Greta, seeing as I hadn’t really been listening anyway. “What’s that?” I asked, motioning toward the black velvet hat that had been embellished with a purple satin sash.
Greta’s eyes lit when they landed upon it. “Oh, good find. This is the most important item in a Town Witch’s entire wardrobe and possibly the single most important item she owns. I can’t believe the murderer would have left this here.”
Instead of waiting for her to explain further, I grabbed the hat off the shelf and unfurled the top, finding it ended in a perfect delightful point.
A burst of energy shot straight into my chest, lighting me from the inside. The hat was speaking to me in the only way it could—through its magic. Without so much as a second thought, I plopped it right on top of my newly pinkened hair. And the exact moment that witch’s hat hit my head, a vivid picture filled my mind. I saw Mrs. Haberdash going about her business, checking the mail (proof she’d received my letters!), heading to the kitchen to make tea, and then…
She dropped the kettle to the floor with a crash that sent hot water flying everywhere. I couldn’t just see and hear it, I felt the burn, too. I glanced down but only saw my own feet beneath me.
“It’s time then?” Mrs. Haberdash asked with a gasp while my vision had been pulled away.
I closed my eyes to snap my attention back to the scene unfolding in my mind, but all I saw was the spilled water on the floor.
A heavy weight settled on my chest, turning breathing into a struggle. The sound of echoing footsteps approached, but I couldn’t see who was there with her—with me.
A rush of wind blew over me and an icy chill wrapped itself around me. The scene snapped out of focus and…
“What are you doing?” Greta cried, holding the hat clutched firmly in one manicured hand as she stared at me in horror.
“The hat,” I murmured, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. “I think it wanted to show me what happened to Mrs. Haberdash.”
“I told Fluffikins this was a bad idea,” she spat as she shoved the hat back into the closet. After she slammed the doors shut, she formed a C with her thumb and index finger and moved them in a swift pendulum motion.
“We have to find out what happened. Mrs. Haberdash deserves justice.” I ran toward the closet and pulled hard at it, but the doors wouldn’t budge.
“That’s not your job,” Greta snapped.
“But I’m the new Town Witch for—”
“You’re a temp!” she exploded, leaving me behind as she charged out of the room. “And I refuse to train someone with so little regard for…”
I chased her from the room, down the hall, and to the top of stairs. Greta now stood stock-still, not moving or speaking, hardly even breathing.
“What’s happening?” I asked in a desperate whisper. “Why aren’t you—?”
But then my legs locked in place, frozen. In fact, the only part of me I could still move was my eyes. I directed my gaze to the base of the stairs, and that’s when I saw her.
