Page 1 of Oohs, Ahhhs, and Orbs

Chapter

One

LOGAN

The body at my feet had disgust filling my gut. No, I wasn’t nauseous. As a homicide detective of five years, I was long past that stage in my career. I figured anyone who did the job that I did and didn’t feel anger at the senseless loss of life should turn in their badge.

I loved my job. It was tedious, required a hell of a lot of leg work, and a fuck-ton of paperwork, but being able to put assholes behind bars and give the grieving families of victims a small sliver of peace made every long workday worth it.

I looked up from the elderly woman who’d several hours ago met with the wrong end of a sharp implement to gaze around the room. The woman’s sitting room was tidy, with just a few small knick-knacks on a bookshelf filled with leather-bound tomes that appeared to be almost entirely on the occult. I walked over to take a closer look, careful to step around the forensic technician who was meticulously taking pictures and logging evidence.

Several of the books were of spells. I picked one at random and flipped through the pages, taking in the notes written in themargins with casually elegant handwriting. Glancing at a few of the spells, I noted the remedy for a stuffy nose. Flipping a few more pages, I stopped on one for premature ejaculation and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” I murmured with amusement. I closed the book and carefully slid it back into place.

“What a fucking mess,” my partner for the last five years said with a grumble. I turned to see him popping a stick of peppermint gum into his mouth before being careful to ensure the wrapper made it back into his pocket. “What are we looking at here? Some kind of voodoo witchcraft shit? Just when I think I’ve seen it all.” He let out a heavy sigh. William MacKenzie was a veteran homicide detective that I’d worked with for the last five years. Since I’d known him, I’d watched the stress of the job take over one line at a time until his face, which had already seen too many years on the job, was deeply creased.

I walked over to the wall where pictures hung in mismatched gilded frames. Our victim, Emily Brooks, was in several of them. A much younger version holding a baby in her arms caught my eye. She was smiling brightly for the camera, holding the young child in a way that conveyed how proud she was to show her off to the camera. “Not voodoo,” I said, then turned back to Mac. “Looks like she has a daughter, possibly a granddaughter, depending on the age of the picture.”

Another tired sigh. “I’ll start looking for next of kin.” He gestured down at the victim. “So witchcraft?”

Abandoning the look into the past, I walked to stand next to my partner. The victim was lying in the middle of a circle that looked to have been drawn on the wood floor with what I’d guess was a liquid chalk marker. I’d bet my next paycheck that we’d find it somewhere in the small two bedroom house. Most of the body was covering the five pointed star inside of the circle. Candles had been placed at her feet, head, and below each hand.With the body splayed with the arms extended from her sides, it made an almost perfect cross.

I took out my phone and searched for an app I rarely used.

“What are you looking for?” Mac asked, looking over my arm to see the screen. I found the compass and turned, lining myself up with the victim’s head. Mrs. Emily Brooks was in perfect alignment with the compass, her head at the north point. Circling around the body and stepping around the techs, still logging all the various crystals and herbs lying outside the circle, I verified what I had already guessed to be true.

“North, east, south, and west. Our victim was a sacrifice in a ritual of some kind.” I murmured as I took in the room. I turned off the screen and slid the phone back into my pocket. I watched one of the forensic techs cross themselves before kissing the gold cross that hung around her neck. Turning away, I looked toward the large windows. The curtains spread open wide to allow the sun in. Or, in the case of what we were dealing with at the moment—the moon.

There were still the faint scents of herbs and candle wax under the heavy scent of death. I’d been in more gruesome crime scenes, some where blood had literally dripped down the walls, but no murder was a pretty sight. The one in front of us was one I’d never seen before, though.

“We are done here, detectives.” Shauna, the lead tech, stood up after placing the last bag of evidence they’d collected in the case. The other techs followed suit. “I’ll wait until the body is removed to take some final pictures, but everything has been collected.” Shauna was a no-nonsense woman who was serious about her job and always careful about handling evidence. After the years and the many crime scenes we’d worked together, I had no doubts that she would ensure everything they’d collected would be carefully logged and processed. With a nod, I watched as they filed out of the small house.

“Not that I know anything about magic or rituals, but don’t witches do their hoo-do shit outside? You know? Dance naked under the moon, light candles, drink potions?” Mac scratched the scruff on his chin, which had become more salt than pepper since we first met.

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV, Mac.” I grinned at him and shook my head. Pointing toward the large windows, I said, “Those curtains are wide open. I would guess that would allow for plenty of moonlight to enter the room. Even then, I’d assume that not every spell needs to be done outside.”

Mac grunted as the coroner came inside to collect the waiting body. While my partner chatted with the coroner, I stepped closer to the window, taking in the small yet carefully tended yard. The plants were lush, and even with the disturbing pall of death filling the house, butterflies flitted from flower to flower. Birds flew in to land on the birdfeeder before flying away. It wouldn’t be long before the feeder ran out, and the flowers began to wither without the tending of the owner. I wondered if Ms. Emily Brooks’s daughter would care or if she would be heartbroken to see what her mother had so carefully tended to begin to fade.

I turned back to see the body being zipped closed inside the heavy vinyl bag. Mac followed the coroner outside, but I paused to give the room a final glance. Someone had murdered an elderly witch in her own home, likely using many of her own supplies. Nothing had been found in any of the other rooms. No signs of struggle were in the house, and the door was locked from the inside. That usually meant she either knew her murderer, or she hadn’t been frightened of them.

With only one full cup of tea, long gone cold, sitting on the table next to an overstuffed armchair, a puffy purple pillow, and a matching throw blanket, I had more questions than answers at the moment. Rarely would someone have a guest over, havetea, and not offer a cup. It could be that the murderer had interrupted Emily as she’d settled in for an evening cup before bed.

I looked at the now empty circle where only a dark red stain remained. “I’ll find your killer, Emily,” I said softly. I passed Shauna as I walked through the front door and into the bright sunlight. I could hear her take several more photos as I stood on the porch and took in the neighborhood. It was a quiet street, one that was full of well-maintained homes. If I had to guess, most of the residents were younger couples who were at the beginning of their careers and marriages, while the remaining older residents kept watch during the day. It was unlikely anyone had heard or seen anything, but it was my job to ask.

Mac walked up beside me and gestured to the neighborhood. “You take left, I’ll take right. Meet in the middle?”

I nodded. The plan was one that we’d gone with many times, with few variations depending on the surrounding area of a crime scene. More times than not, the neighbors had little to nothing of value to add to the investigation, but all it took was one small nugget of information to make it all worth the many hours of leg work.

I clapped Mac on the shoulder and began to stride toward the first house. “Good luck.”

Chapter

Two

BRIDGETTE

The sound of the keys jangling from my hand was accompanied by the sound of my black-heeled boots hitting the pavement as I approached the brightly painted red door of my shop. Holding my keys in one hand, I sipped from the latte I just bought from my favorite cafe down the street. I could feel the shop vibrating with energy as I slotted the key into the lock and smiled. Pushing the door open, the cheerful ring of the bell hanging over the door could immediately be heard throughout the brightly lit space.

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