CHAPTER SIX

Delphine was not surprised to see Margo at the entrance to her boutique. “So, you are here at last.”

Margo got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What you mean?”

She knew that this was the last chance to hear something that would turn her world right side up again.

“You’ve come to find out who you are. What you are. Am I right?”

Margo nodded wordlessly.

“I think I’ll close up shop for a little while. Why don’t we take a little walk along the beach?”

Delphine put out a little sign on the door with an adjustable clock hand that said she would be back at two p.m. She took note of Lilith hovering nearby.

“It’s about time.”

“Patience,” Delphine responded. “She is almost there.”

The sandy beach was littered with red and white umbrellas and a rainbow of striped lawn chairs that were easily obtained from one of the local rental stands. The beach crowd was not as large as it would be on the weekends, but there was still a joyful buzz in the air, typical of children who are free from the classroom and adults untethered from their offices.

Margo and Delphine made their way to the waves in diametrically opposed states of anticipation. Delphine was more than happy to welcome Margo into the fold. Margo wanted to be reassured that she was the victim of hallucinations. Perhaps she should have gone to see the doctor instead of Delphine.

“What I tell you should be held in strict confidence, at least, for now. Even your nearest and dearest would be overwhelmed by it. Inside you beats the heart of the most powerful witch Oyster Cove has ever seen. Possibly the most powerful in all of New England.”

“Hah, east of the Mississippi is more like,” Lilith sneered proudly.

Delphine examined Margo’s shock. “Her abilities exceeded my own by a mile. I am heavily reliant on enhancers and conductors—those would be amulets, talismans, wands, and familiars. Those are items that concentrate one’s power, much like a magnifying glass. Lilith was so powerful, she seldom needed them. And while most of us are limited to proximity magic, Lilith could cause great consequences at significant distances. Her body was the only enhancement she needed. Her power coursed through her veins, burst out of every pore, and was contained in every molecule of her body, every organ. Power so potent, it has outlived her.

You have her heart, Margo, and all the power it contained has taken root in you. I sensed it that day in her home. It was irrefutable. You were one of us. You are one of us.”

Margo pulled away. “I’m not a witch. That’s impossible.”

“Then why did you come to see me? Something happened. Something you couldn’t explain? In a moment of anger, perhaps?”

Margo looked at her wide-eyed, not even wanting to confirm.

“Anger does not need to be feared or suppressed. It is like fuel. I’m sure it was the driving force behind Lilith’s power.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Margo said miserably.

Delphine chuckled. “I don’t think that anyone ever accused Lilith of being nice.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Lilith bristled.

Delphine shrugged. “It’s true.”

“But that is not the standard she is to be judged by. Lilith was a force of nature,” Delphine continued.

“You were friends?”

“No. Although . . . I wouldn’t have minded that. I’m sure I could have learned a great deal from her. I don’t know if I had anything equivalent to offer . . . except for my crab cakes. They are divine, if I do say so myself.”

Lilith was taken aback. She was certain the other witches in town regarded her with fear and jealousy. Hmmph!

“But, but . . . I don’t want to be a witch.”

“Why ever not? That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. Who would renounce their natural abilities? Do people who are scientifically brilliant or athletically gifted wish that their abilities would vanish? Witches aren’t bound by the limited comprehension and powers of commoners. Oh, that is how people outside our community are usually referred to. A bit derogatory, I’m afraid, but descriptive. Why choose to become one? To be fenced in by gravity and physics and the paltry reach of your six senses? Why would you want to be less than powerful?”

“But . . . what do witches do with all that power? What did Lilith Hazelwood do?”

“Anything she wanted. Surely, you can think of things that you want for yourself, your family, and your friends. Life beyond the limits of your imagination. I can help teach you everything I know.”

“Are you a powerful witch?”

“Average, which is plenty.”

“Maybe you can help me. I’m having trouble understanding how to find the truth and help out a friend. If he’s innocent, then he needs my help, and if he’s not, then I just need to be sure.”

“Is this important to you?”

Margo nods.

“Good. I can think of no more perfect motive to uncover and develop your powers. Afterward, you will be in a far better position to decide whether you want to be a witch.”

“It’s not a decision,” Lilith fumed. “You can’t decide not to be a witch!”

“That she must discover for herself.”

“Make haste, Delphine. I grow impatient.”

Threats were second nature to Lilith. Delphine thought it better not to remind her that her capacity for retaliation wasn’t what it used to be.

Witchcraft. Powers. Exploding glass. It was a dilemma that Margo would have to hold at arm’s length. It sounded like a road from which she would never be able to turn back. When it came to Russell and the murder, perhaps she would find the answers she needed without the need to pursue these alarming new powers. Perhaps she could find all the answers she needed to find—everything, in fact, that she wanted in life—without being dragged into this strange new world.

No time like the present. If someone else had committed the murder, then they had been at the restaurant that night. How to find out who had been there? She couldn’t ask Russell. If guilty, he would lie to her. If innocent, he was obviously clueless or he would have mentioned the suspect. The police were unlikely to share information with her. It was time to go to the restaurant and see what she could find out.

*****

It was the first time Margo had ever seen it. Barcelona was a beautiful place, Mediterranean-style with the pink adobe covering and burgundy shutters and canvases. There was patio seating at either side of the entrance and a large area to the side. At full capacity, it could hold quite a crowd.

But there was no crowd there today, although the place was clearly open, and it should have been a busy lunch hour. Margo peeked in to look about for customers in a place with about sixty booths and tables. Without the distraction of customers, it was easier to see the striking Gaudi tribute inside, with photos and colorful murals of the revolutionary artist’s otherworldly work on every wall.

A young woman who looked frazzled and unhappy came to seat her.

“Welcome. Table for one?”

There was something about her that hinted this wasn’t really her regular job.

“I’m Margo, a friend of Russell’s.”

“Oh, thank you so much for supporting us in this difficult time. It’s been impossible to get customers to come in with all these terrible lies flying around, you know, poison in a restaurant.”

“I believe that part was true,” Margo reminded her gently.

“Well, yes . . . but Russell didn’t have anything to do with it,” the woman said emphatically.

“And you are . . .?”

“His fiancée. Wendy Phillips. We were planning on getting married in November. You know, when the season’s over. Everything was going so well. The opening was incredible. The place was packed every night. And the food is amazing, you know. Everyone seemed to think so.”

“And you work here with him?”

“No, not usually. I just do the office stuff—inventory, payroll. Russell was the chef, the visionary. This place was his beautiful dream.”

Margo thought about the pride she took in her own business. What a great life Russell had created for himself. And what a mess it had become.

“Wendy, I need to talk to everyone who was working that night. Do you have that information?”

“Sure. But why?”

Margo shrugged. “Just wondering if the police missed anything.”

Wendy scoffed. “After they found the arsenic, they acted like there was nothing else to look for.”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Thank you for even trying.”

Margo took a seat in the corner table. One by one, the employees came to speak with her. Some had to be summoned from their homes since so few were needed to attend to the reduced clientele. But it was not an unpleasant wait for Margo. Wendy was so grateful, that she kept a steady supply of tapas headed in Margo’s direction, who was more than happy to sample the garlic prawns, the mushroom and Gruyere quiche, and the spicy potato wedges.

Everyone seemed anxious to be helpful. Ten waiters and waitresses. Three sous chefs. Two hostesses. Margo was slowly able to piece together who had been there and when they might have had the opportunity to commit the crime.

“I know there must’ve been a lot of tourists, a lot of unfamiliar faces. Did anyone stand out?”

“His brother was there. I don’t know why. The two of them don’t get along. Ian Fowler was also here. Geez, guess he had to see with his own eyes. He owns the Italian place right across the street, Verona, and apparently, his own business took quite a hit after our place opened. He went inside the kitchen to complain about our customers taking up his parking spaces. You know, petty stuff.”

“That Fiona Skretting. You know, the one they say is a witch.”

Margo squirmed uncomfortably “You’re kidding. She was here? Why?”

“Chowing down on the Thai peanut sliders and green chili and cheese tamales. It was the first and only time I’ve ever seen her here. People say she’s one of the witches. But you probably don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“What did she . . . what was she like?”

“Creepy. After the guy was poisoned, everyone was waiting for the ambulance, and everyone was horrified, right? She looked . . .”

“Indifferent?”

“Entertained.”

“It was such a terrible thing for his whole family—his brother, cousin and his wife, his aunt. They were in such a loud, happy mood.”

“See, the dead guy never left his seat. But I think the other two men stepped into the kitchen. They said they wanted to give their compliments to the chef. But that was before they even got their meals.”

Margo knew the two men were probably just conducting loan shark business and reminding Russell that his payment was coming up real soon.

“Okay, I don’t know if anyone’s pointing any fingers at me, but Russell and I had a little argument that night. I lost track of one of the orders, and Russell was ticked off because it’s happened before. He took me out in the alley to chew me out. At least he didn’t do things like that in front of the whole crew.”

“So, he was out of the kitchen for how long?”

“Three or four minutes.”

“And where was his coat? Could you show me?”

The location of employee outerwear was unfortunately along the wall of the hallway to the kitchen. Very accessible to anyone going in or out.

Margo finally wound up the interviews and made her exit. She couldn’t help but notice the bustling activity and crowded patio space of the Italian place across the street. Looked like Ian Fowler had managed to get his customers back. She really was going to need to have a word with him. But this whole thing was daunting. So many people, so much opportunity to tamper with the food in the coat, such weird, inexplicable behavior—okay, primarily from Fiona Skretting—just no clear answers. Margo sighed loudly in frustration. She had run right into the wall of her limitations. What might she be able to accomplish if she had those . . . powers? And what would it mean to live her life as a witch?

*****

Delphine was happy to delay opening her shop this morning in order to give Margo some personal guidance. She was only relieved that Margo seemed open to the idea that this truly was the path for her to become something better.

It was best that the lesson be conducted in a place of peace and familiarity to Margo. Thankfully, Bette went to an exercise class three times a week, right after she got off work, ensuring all the privacy they needed.

“Start with the essentials,” Lilith commanded. “Teach her Refractere.”

Newhart, who was in his carrier, growled frantically.

“Newhart, what’s the matter with you?”

“He can feel Lilith’s presence, which is a promising sign. He may make a decent familiar one day.”

“Lilith’s presence? She’s . . . here?”

“She takes a great interest in your well-being and your entry into our community.”

“You can see her? And hear her?”

“Yes. But that is a talent you are unlikely to develop. At any rate, she had requested that you learn the incantation Refractere. It allows you to . . . break things.”

“What?”

“Much like that afternoon when you shattered your dinnerware and glass—that was fueled by emotion. But the same thing can be accomplished with this incantation and that pendant around your neck. Yes, in the hands of a commoner, it’s just a pretty trinket. But in the hands of a witch, it’s a very strong enhancement.” Delphine looked around mischievously. “You have a lovely little home. Let’s break something.”

“Oh, well, I have a mug in the kitchen that’s already chipped. I won’t mind if that gets broken.”

After Margo returned with the mug, she shook her head. “Why am I learning how to break things? That doesn’t seem like a very useful skill. I mean, any toddler can break things. It would be so much cooler to be able to put things back together.”

“Agreed. But it’s far, far easier to do damage than to resurrect. It is one of the easiest of incantations—that is all. Not to mention, Lilith had an undeniable talent for destruction. You will come to excel at some of those abilities. Now clasp the pendant in your hand. Close your eyes. And see this mug explode. See it as vividly as you can. You’ll feel the pendant getting warm in your hand. When you can see the image clearly, say Refractere. Repeat it until the cup shatters.”

Margo did as told. She did, indeed, feel the pendant become warm in her hand, unnaturally warm. The shattering of the mug was easy to envision since she was able to draw on the nightmare incident she had caused at the pub. “Refractere. Refractere. Refractere.” She heard the unmistakable crash of glass breaking, and her eyes flew open.

“I told you this was an easy one. Deceptively easy, for your power is not yet strong enough to create a permanent disturbance. In other words, this cup will become whole again in about fifteen minutes, at most.”

“Really? That’s pretty exciting,” Margo responded.

“I’m glad you think so. However, you need to be aware that it’s not the goal. The goal, eventually, is to create changes and manipulations that stay put. And the stronger you become, the more capable you will be in forcing those lasting changes.”

“But will I be able to put things back together, to fix things that are broken on purpose?”

“Absolutely. But it is a far more advanced skill. Baby steps.”

Margo had built up a great deal of patience and discipline over her lifetime—survival necessities. But the clock was ticking for Russell. She could only hope that she could advance quickly enough to be of use to him before it was too late.