Spells and Suspects (Wicked Witches of Spellcaster Creek Book 7) by Mara Webb

Author:Mara Webb [Webb, Mara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Hunter and I walked hand in hand down the dark and frosty sidewalk. The snowy ground glittered under the warm yellow lamplights, and despite everything going on back at the hotel the night felt serene and peaceful, like a dream or a picture on the front of an old postcard.

We looped the outer perimeter of the park in its entirety and found that only three businesses were open at the time that Lester would have died: the post office, the restaurant, and the jewelers. The park had no gates either, so it could be accessed at any time, meaning it was on my list of notable places.

“So, whoever had the gloves was at the jeweler’s…” Hunter said as we walked past the shop. We carried around to the restaurant, which had a little menu on the wall next to the front door. Hunter leaned in close and inspected the menu, before leaning back with a smile.

“No tomato soup?” I asked.

“No soup at all.”

“Maybe it’s a special.”

Hunter laughed. “We will check in again tomorrow when it’s open and ask. Shall we walk back through the park? Before we head to bed?”

“Sounds dreamy,” I said, looping my arm in his.

The park wasn’t particularly large, only a three-minute walk to get across from side to side, but its paths were winding, and it had lots of dense foliage, completely obscuring you from the streets on all sides.

We were about halfway through our walk when we passed an old, knurled tree. I was telling Hunter about Callie’s obsession with ‘roughing it’ outside when some sort of bird flapped out of the tree and started squawking at us wildly.

“Scraw, scraw!” it shrieked, flapping its wings and bearing its talons as it swept at the two of us. I wouldn’t have gotten out of the way on my own in time, but fortunately, Hunter’s reactions were a lot snappier. He ducked us out of the way and spun around so we still had eyes on the bird.

“Its nest must be nearby, it thinks we’re trying to steal its eggs,” Hunter surmised. “Duck again!”

The bird swept at us another time. I pulled away to the left to continue running down the path, and Hunter diverted right to pull the bird in his direction. Just when I thought I’d made a successful retreat I slipped on a patch of ice and hit the ground.

Hunter got away from the overprotective bird and caught up to me, helping me up from the ground. “Sage, you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, that’s not the first time my butt has hit the ground today. I think I heard something fall out of my jacket when I fell. Do you have a flashlight?” There was some lamplight in the park, but it wasn’t great.

He pulled one out of his pocket and grinned. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail, as they say.”

We swept the ground with the flashlight—keeping mind of the overprotective bird—and found my wand on the grass next to the path.

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