Thorn to Die

Animals had never been a fan of Blythe. Dogs, cats, rats, birds, you name it, they hated her. When we were in the third grade, a random school field trip had us trail-riding through the prairies a mile out of Uriville. All of the horses were old as dirt and pretty much blind, so they barely moved. But for some unknown reason, Blythe’s horse sprung to life as soon as her behind hit the saddle. It reared, dumping her sorry petite frame to the ground. We could never laugh about that incident with Blythe in the room. It was still a sore subject.

Blythe stuck out her plump lower lip. “But he’s such a cute piggy. I just want to love him, and hug him, and kiss him all over.”

She reached toward him again, at which point Kat got the sudden urge to release a giant sneeze, coating her hand in a layer of pig smile. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Blythe shot back up to her stool and grabbed a giant handful of napkins to wipe herself clean.

“What’s up, Hazel?” Raven asked, her unsettlingly green eyes staring me down. “What are you doing here?”

“Officer Larson just stopped by my shop.”

Blythe gasped. “Ian Larson? Isn’t he dreamy?”

I shrugged, caught off guard by her outburst.

“Hazel Brunick, do you have eyes? That man is downright kissable. Put him on a double fudge brownie Sunday with extra whipped cream, and I’d dive right in. He’s yummy.”

Blotchy red spots appeared on my chest. I crossed my arms to hide them. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed.”

“Right…” Raven added with a tilt of her head.

I glared at her. Not helping. “He’s not very yummy today. While I was getting ready for work, he came in and started asking all kinds of questions. And now, he suspects Grammy Jo of murdering Allen White.”

My cousins both gaped at me, their jaw opening wide.

“What?” They asked at the same time.

“How could he say that?” spat Blythe.

“That’s impossible,” Raven added.

Careful to keep an eye on the ladies still browsing at the front of the store, I filled them in on what had happened the morning before Allen died, his visit to my shop, the tea and potion. Plus, the conversation I’d had with Grammy Jo later that day.

“But Grammy’s made that potion a million times. There’s no way she’d screw it up that badly,” Blythe was saying. Raven and I both nodded in agreement. “It can’t be her.”

“I need you guys to promise that none of this will get back to Momma Tula,” I added. “You know how hard it’s been on her since Arizona. Something like this might destroy her. We’ve got to do something.”

“Like what?” Raven poured herself another cup of black coffee and took a sip. She was wearing a denim apron over her black tee and jeans. A measuring tape, box cutter, and pliers hung from the large front pocket. “The cops aren’t going to stop investigating until they’ve got someone pinned for murder. We can’t exactly stop them.”

I ran my fingers over my temples, willing the tension headache to go away. We had to think of something without involving my aunts. Momma Tula had expressly forbidden me to get involved. My aunts would tattle on me the very moment they suspected I was involved.

“Gosh, what good is it being a witch these days?” Blythe mumbled into her empty cup. She stared over it, her eyes wide and unfocused. “Can’t even defend an innocent witch accused of murder. A hundred and fifty years ago, we could’ve done something. Laramie Brunick didn’t sit around waiting to be burned for witchcraft. She outsmarted the town. Ugh…why do we have these powers again?”

My tongue ran slowly across my upper teeth. Blythe was right. We had powers. Powers that the police didn’t have. If we were going to save Grammy Jo, we needed to use them to the best of our abilities. We needed to solve the crime for the Uriville police department.

“Why can’t we do something?” I asked them. “We all have different powers. Let’s use them. Let’s solve the murder. We’re the only ones looking out for Grammy Jo. It’s up to us.”

Shock passed over their faces, turning into disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” Raven muttered. “You’re an artist, I own a hardware store, and Blythe’s a wedding planner. We’re not detectives.”

“Special Event Organizer,” Blythe hissed.

“Whatever. We’re not cut out for this. It’s crazy.”

I ran my hand through my hair and danced in place. “No, come on guys. Think about it. I’m a medium through my art. Blythe gets visions of the future and can freeze time. You can communicate with animals and throw up force fields of energy. No cop can say all that. We just have to work together.”

Hope soared in my chest, nearly lifting me off the ground. This could work. We just had to redirect the suspicion on to the right person. Clear Grammy Jo’s name.

“Her eyes are turning green,” Blythe whispered to Raven in a guarded tone. “I hate it when her eyes turn green.”