Page 11 of Curses & Cold Brew
My sigil, which had been tattooed into her skin sixty years ago, was gone.
7
IRIS
“Alright, Detective Witchling,” Ramona snarked, waving me into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “What do you see?”
Maude Ketchum, the proprietor of the Bats & Broomsticks B&B, lay serenely in her bed.
Almost too serenely.
It was as if the old lady had decided to really glam herself up for her final night on Earth. Or maybe she just donned a fancy silk nightgown and rouged her cheeks every night before bed. Who was to say? She’d been a glamorous, albeit kooky, old woman. Perfect for this town.
I folded my arms tighter across my chest as I surveyed the room, looking for any clues. There were rumors that Maude may have been part mermaid, but now that I knew she was one of Ramona’s clients, the jig to her seemingly ageless appearance was up. Her daughter, Sandra, on the other hand, was part wood nymph, but those creatures aged as humans did. Now in her mid-eighties, Sandra had appeared older than her own mother for as long as I could remember.
“Let me guess,” I muttered, bending low to inspect Maude’s faint crow’s feet. She still looked on the cusp of forty. “She traded her soul for beauty and youth.”
“Of course she did.” Ramona winked devilishly. “Too bad she didn’t wish for a much longer life to go with it. Still, she made it into the triple digits. Impressive.” Ramona’s gaze flitted over the space. “What else do you see?”
Scrutinizing the room once more, I let out a long sigh. I’d been in this B&B many times, and aside from the aesthetic beingeclectic, there wasn’t anything particularly magical about it. The clashing Victorian wallpaper, faded tapestries, threadbare carpets, and mishmash of antiques were the epitome of cozy clutter. And I especially loved the macabre bits and bobs tucked away in every corner. I eyed the stuffed raven mounted in the corner that wore a top hat, monocle, and white bowtie. He wasn’t even the strangest thing in the room, but he fit right in.
“I hope it was worth it, Maude,” I murmured with a disappointed tsk.
“It doesn’t matter if it was or wasn’t,” Ramona replied, bored. “She made her choice, enjoyed it thoroughly, and made plenty of petty enemies from the attention she garnered from her neighbors’ husbands—and sons. But who are we to judge the wishes of others, hmm?”
I was once again reminded of my own deal that I’d struck with Ramona. But at least the bargain I’d made had been to help my friend. That had to give me some supernatural brownie points, right? I mean, it wasn’t entirely selfless. The thought of sealing a deal with Corporate Suit Mommy over there definitely had its own personal intrigue for me, if I was being honest.
I wondered how many deals this demon had sealed with a kiss. Which I shouldn’t care about at all.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Ramona took a step closer, standing so close behind me that the edge of her coat brushedagainst my skirt. I sucked in a sharp breath when she dropped her lips to my ear and murmured, “We didn’t come here to wax poetic about aging, little witch. I asked what you see.”
I shuddered at the way her warm breath tickled the shell of my ear. My eyes scanned over the scene one more time. Maude’s nightgown was pulled askew, her collarbone revealing the mangled mark left behind where Ramona’s sigil must’ve once been.
“Your sigil,” I whispered, clearing my throat when I sounded too breathless. “It’s broken.”
“Ten points to Captain Obvious,” Ramona jeered. “Whatelsedo you see?”
“It doesn’t look like she struggled,” I continued. “Whoever was here before us broke the circle after her death.” My gaze darted to the bedside. “There are herbs burning again,” I mused as I picked up the candle wrapped in fresh angelica and rosemary. “They’re the same ones that you brought us from Saul’s place the other day.” I sniffed the candle, the wheels in my mind spinning faster. “But these are too fresh to be from the apothecary, which means they were recently grown . . . but only the witches in town have the capability to grow them year-round. But this . . . I don’t feel familiar magic here.”
Ramona stroked at the notch of her throat. I hadn’t noticed before, but she wore a thin, delicate gold chain from which hung a small ruby on a pendant. I saw her thoughts spiderwebbing out as she turned over the information laid out before us.
“I don’t believe this is true witch magic.” Something lit her eyes, some kind of recognition, and she returned her focus to the room and to me. “But I think someone is trying to throw us off the scent, no pun intended.”
My gaze snagged on one of Maude’s hands, which was clenched over her chest. “What is she holding?”
“If she knew she was passing, it’s probably something precious to her,” Ramona commented, moving closer to the bedside. “Not long ago, I collected a soul from a pixie who wanted to take her favorite starfish to the grave with her.”
“A starfish familiar. Now I’ve truly heard everything.”
“Mortal beings are sentimental like that.”
I shot Ramona a morbid glance. “You wouldn’t know anything about being sentimental, would you?”
“That’s not true. I enjoy my possessions just as much as the next demon.”
Was that supposed to be a demon pun?
A glint of something between Maude’s fingers caught my attention. I gingerly pulled at the sleeve of her nightgown, and her hand tipped open just enough for me to see the walnut-sized black tourmaline nestled in her palm.
