Purr-suasive Witches: A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 11 Read online

  “It’ll be okay, Bea,” I said.

  Finally, we reached the place where Cedar and her friend had been standing and looked at the sidewalk. We saw a pretty design of what looked like a sun with pointy flames around it at the twelve, three, six, and nine positions. There were a leafy-looking thing, a snaky-looking squiggle, three triangles, and an eyeball inside the sun.

  “What is it?” Bea asked.

  “It looks like something you’d find at the arts and crafts festival that some local talent was selling for way too much money.”

  “I don’t know,” Bea said, tilting her head one way and then the other. “I’ve never seen that before. Do you think it’s one of those goofy modern art things that are part of a series? Like a visual scavenger hunt. People have to scour the city to find the markers, and whoever gets them all wins.”

  “Wins what?” I asked.

  “How do I know?” Bea replied.

  “Maybe your mom will know what this is,” I suggested.

  “Even if she doesn’t, I think we should tell her about it,” Bea said.

  I could see she was a little afraid. This didn’t sit well with me, either. It was time to tell my aunt about Cedar, the blonde who kept coincidentally popping up everywhere I was.

  5

  The Sect of Symmetry

  Peanut Butter ran up to the door as a fluffy and stoic Marshmallow watched us approach from her perch in the window.

  “Mom!” Bea shouted as she knocked on the door.

  “Aunt Astrid! Open the door.” I shook the handle, but it was locked. “Is she around back? Maybe she’s still at the café?”

  “I’m right here,” we both heard her shout from inside. “I just thought this was a perfect time for a nap, but I should have known my daughter and niece wouldn’t let that happen.”

  Aunt Astrid opened the door, smirking. She always wore loose-fitting clothes in vibrant colors, and today was no different. Her turquoise dress reached her ankles.

  Peanut Butter quickly scooted inside and walked around the door to hop up with Marshmallow in the afternoon sun.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said as I pushed my way past her.

  “Mom, something weird just happened,” Bea said.

  “What? What’s the matter?” she asked, putting her hand on Bea’s belly.

  “No. The baby is fine,” Bea said. “No. Something weird just happened outside my house. Ask Cath.”

  After shutting the door, I slipped the chain into place just in case. We all took seats in the kitchen, where Bea immediately opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of dill pickles and some hot giardiniera before grabbing a stack of wheat crackers. I wrinkled my nose at her as I started to tell my aunt about Cedar.

  “So, what did this symbol look like?” Aunt Astrid asked. I picked up a pen, and on a piece of scratch paper, I drew the same symbol. My aunt picked it up and studied it for a moment.

  “You’re sure this is what they drew?” she asked, looking from me to the paper and back to me again.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  Aunt Astrid walked to her library at the end of the house. It was a beautiful room with a chaise longue and walls covered from floor to ceiling with books on witchcraft, ranging from The Stupid Person’s Guide to Spells and Magic to The Cold-Forged Grimoire. She came back to the kitchen with a huge book under her arm and my drawing in her hand.

  The book she was carrying wasn’t a book on spells or even a book on symbols. It was a recorded history of families dating all the way back to Salem, Massachusetts, where our kind didn’t originate but, let’s face it, were best known.

  The book opened with a crackling of the spine. It had that intoxicating smell old books often had, and the pages were extra thin and delicate. We handled them gently with thumb and forefinger alone, one page at a time.

  “I know exactly what this is,” Aunt Astrid said with a smile on her face. “It’s a greeting.”

  “What? Why not just knock on the door?” Bea inquired after swallowing her third pickle. “I find this a little strange. Why didn’t they go to Cath’s house? This Cedar person talked with you, right? I don’t know who she is.”

  “What kind of greeting is it?” I shrugged and looked at my aunt.

  “This kind. The Sect of Symmetry.” Aunt Astrid pointed to the official symbol of this group, which was on one of the delicate, thin pages. It was the same as what had been crudely drawn on the sidewalk in front of Bea’s house.

  “The Sect of Symmetry?” I asked, shaking my head. That sounded like it had something to do with math and geometry, and I didn’t care for the vibe I was getting from it.

  “They are very old. I didn’t think anyone really practiced this anymore. They aren’t like Druids, who are practically extinct. But this was a strict branch of witches, and they had very precise techniques and intense rituals. I often heard stories when I was young about the Sect of Symmetry. They were not the kind of witches you messed with,” Aunt Astrid said.

  “Name a group of witches you do mess with,” I said, blowing on my nails and polishing them on my shirt.

  Bea chuckled with her mouth full.

  “I meant other covens,” Aunt Astrid said and winked at me. “If I had to compare them to something, I’d say they were like the Green Berets of the occult world. You had to be a little crazy to be part of it.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Bea asked.

  “I doubt it. I think they are just cautious. You know people like us can never be too careful about who we mingle with.”

  “How did they know we would be receptive to them?” I asked. “How did they know we are witches too?”

  I had been hoping my aunt would give me a simple explanation that maybe this group had a special sixth sense or even knew about us from their own history or family tree. But she just looked at me and shrugged. That didn’t reassure me. Something in the pit of my stomach flipped. There was something about people knowing my business without my consent that felt like a burr under my skin, a pebble in my shoe. I wouldn’t die from it, but it was darn annoying.

  “Well, I don’t know how I feel about them leaving their calling card on the sidewalk. I’m going to ask Jake to hose it off tonight when he gets home. If they want to talk to me, they can ring the doorbell like normal people,” Bea huffed as she went back to the fridge and grabbed the milk jug and a tall glass from the cupboard. Just as she filled it, there was a ruckus at the front door.

  “You!” I pointed at Bea. “Stay where you are. I’ll see what’s happening.”

  Marshmallow and Peanut Butter were suddenly at my side, their hair on end.

  “Did you guys hear that?” I asked.

  “We were sound asleep on the big couch,” Marshmallow said, staring at the door.

  I nodded just as there was another thump at the door, as if someone was trying to climb it instead of open it. I squared my shoulders, not sure what I was going to do exactly, but I walked up to the door. I pressed my ear against it and heard quite a bit of cussing and grunting.

  “What in the world?” I opened the door to find Jake and Blake both fighting with a large box that had been delivered. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Your aunt’s rocking chair arrived,” Jake said. “We were trying to get it up the stairs. The darn delivery guy left it on the sidewalk.”

  I walked up to Blake and patted him on the back. “That was sweet of you.”

  “Hey, I helped too,” Jake grumbled as he took one end. Blake, after giving me a kiss on the cheek, took the other.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “You’ve got the Queen of Kissy-face waiting for you inside, eating everything in sight.”

  The guys clumsily brought the box in. My aunt was thrilled. She had ordered the rocker especially for those instances of babysitting when she’d have a new baby with her to spend the night. Peanut Butter instantly perched on top of it while Marshmallow slunk around all four sides before taking a seat next to the box and yawning.


  “What are you doing home?” Bea asked, smiling as if she hadn’t seen Jake in days.

  Blake had followed me back to the counter, where he looked at the book Aunt Astrid had been reading.

  “A rough day,” Jake replied before kissing Bea as if he’d been away at war.

  “What are you doing looking at The Tome of Progenitors?” Blake asked.

  “How do you know what this book is?” I asked, somewhat annoyed.

  “It’s important that I learn about your family, your history. It will help me to understand you and where you come from, what you are about.”

  “You think you can understand me by reading a book?” I asked.

  “Maybe a little,” he said. I could see by the twinkle in his eye that he was enjoying teasing me.

  “Well, I suppose if I was going to read a book to get to know you, it would be something like the dictionary or maybe an old encyclopedia of the letters Q or X,” I teased back.

  “You stop picking on Blake. You’d be surprised how many hours he’s spent here learning about our history,” Aunt Astrid said. She always had a soft spot for him. I had to wonder if, in her visions and dreams, she hadn’t seen us eventually getting together and that was why she always acted sweet to him.

  I rolled my eyes then felt Blake’s hand gently rub my back without anyone noticing. Feeling all warm inside, I looked up at him and winked. I’d almost completely forgotten about Cedar and her chalk art on the sidewalk.

  “You look tired,” Bea said to Jake.

  “Yeah, we had another one.” He shook his head, loosened his tie, and took a seat on one of the stools in Aunt Astrid’s kitchen.

  “Another one what?” I asked.

  “Domestic dispute. Ended in the death of the woman. Her husband killed himself. We think there might have been drugs involved. If you could have seen the crime scene…” Jake said then looked at Bea and rubbed her belly. “Now’s not the time to talk about it.”

  “Another one?” Aunt Astrid said.

  “Yeah. The crazy thing is that it was just down the street from the murder-suicide at your Gingerbread House,” Jake added.

  “Why does everyone keep calling it my Gingerbread House?” I huffed.

  “You’re the one who liked it,” Jake replied. “Even though to me it looks haunted and creepy. Those shutters with the hearts cut out of them and the trim around the roof? It’s spooky.”

  I stared at Jake and shook my head. Then I snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the business card for Soap Scents. Without looking at it, I handed it to Blake. “What do you think of this?”

  “What am I looking at?” Blake asked. “Soap Scents. Sounds wonderful.”

  “No, look at the house in the background,” I said, pointing at the card but still not looking at it.

  “What about it?” Blake asked.

  “Look familiar?” I replied.

  “No,” he said, squinting at the picture.

  “It’s my Gingerbread House,” I said.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied.

  I snatched the card out of his hand and took a look. Then I gasped. “Oh, I don’t like this one bit,” I grumbled. “This was not on here earlier.” I stared down to see a business card with the words Soap Scents on it, except instead of the pretty fairy-tale house in the background, there was just a row of soaps. I explained what had been on it before, but it didn’t do me any good. No one believed me, and that made me start to doubt myself.

  “I think you might have been under a bit of stress after hearing what had happened at the house. You loved that place,” Aunt Astrid said.

  “Yeah, Cath. It probably shook you up more than you knew,” Bea replied. “I should have known to check on you. You are so much more sensitive than you let on.”

  “No, I’m really not,” I argued. “But I swear I saw that house. It seemed so real.”

  “Of course it did. But now that you’ve had time to relax and the shock has left you, you’re seeing clearly. It’s just the natural progression of things,” Aunt Astrid added. “You poor thing. How about a cup of tea?”

  I accepted my aunt’s tea, but I wasn’t convinced I had been in shock when I’d first received this business card. There was something strange about Cedar and her friend, and none of it sat well with me. Just because they knew some ancient greeting didn’t mean they could be trusted.

  I kept this to myself, but when I looked up at Blake, I could tell he knew what I was thinking. I was thankful for that.

  6

  Memory Lane

  Much to my chagrin, Bea did not have Jake hose the chalk off the sidewalk like she’d said she was going to. When I came out of my house the next morning, I walked across the street to Bea’s place. I’d promised to escort her to the café while she was in her wobbly stage.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked her as she opened the door to greet me.

  “Pretty good. Lots of kicking last night.” She patted her tummy.

  “That’s probably from the pickles and giardiniera you ate at Aunt Astrid’s,” I teased. I looked her up and down and shook my head. “You know, I don’t get it. How is it that all that extra tonnage in the front can still make you look like a prom queen? Meanwhile, here I am after a homemade oatmeal facial, a banana smoothie for breakfast, and egg-white conditioner freshly washed out of my hair, and I look like I just got off my shift at the truck stop.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Bea said after pulling the front door shut. She linked her arm through mine as we walked down the sidewalk together. “It’s baby glow. Besides, you aren’t fooling me, Cath.”

  “What?” I asked, pinching my eyebrows together.

  “You’ve had that I’m in love glow on your face every day since you and Blake finally set your differences aside and admitted you’re lost without one another.” Bea huffed and looked straight ahead, avoiding my narrow gaze.

  “Have you been drinking? Bea, it’s not good for the baby,” I snapped back.

  “You can’t fool me, Cath.” She squeezed my arm. “You and Blake are a perfect fit. He’s straitlaced and you’re…”

  “Careful, Wide Load,” I teased.

  “And you are the fabulous, amazing you,” she replied.

  “Hey, why didn’t you have Jake hose off that chalk in front of your house?” I asked.

  “I didn’t think there was any reason after we all talked yesterday. I didn’t want to seem rude. After all, it was a greeting. If I had erased it, they might have thought that I was saying for them to just go bugger off. Why?” Bea shrugged.

  “Don’t you get the feeling it’s a little weird?” I asked.

  “Yeah. But then again, I think if they are witches, it isn’t unusual for them to be weird,” Bea replied.

  I couldn’t argue; she had a point there. But when we arrived at the café, I wasn’t just thinking the Sect of Symmetry was weird. I was beginning to think it was dangerous. At the end of the block, I was sure I saw Cedar’s long white-blond hair along with the taller, brooding friend she’d had with her outside Bea’s house. They were walking away, but Cedar turned quickly, and I knew she saw Bea and me. Bea was almost impossible to miss with her red hair and big belly. And who else would be with her but me?

  When we stepped inside the café, it was still dark. Kevin was in the kitchen, but even his normal rattling of pots and pans seemed subdued.

  “You feel that?” I asked Bea, who nodded. It felt like a funeral parlor might after a child had died: heavy and sad and dark.

  “Mom?” Bea shouted and pushed past me toward the back of the café. I grabbed Bea’s arm and pushed ahead of her. If there were going to be any shocks, I was going to keep her back and see them first.

  “Kevin?” I yelled. He quickly peeked his head out of the kitchen.

  “What? Is everything okay?” He looked oblivious to any trouble.

  “Where’s my mom?” Bea asked.

  “Uh, I saw her go in her little nook to d
o one of her palm readings or whatever it is she does in there,” Kevin replied. “Is she all right?”

  “I’m all right.” My aunt came out of the little cubby where she read tarot cards and tea leaves. Her eyes were red with tears, but she was smiling.

  “Mom! What’s wrong?” Bea asked nervously.

  I was not as concerned with my aunt as I was with the people I’d seen walking away from the café. Bea wasn’t picking up on everything. She probably had her wires a little crossed due to the baby. I knew if I was feeling “a disturbance in the Force,” it had to be strong, since that wasn’t my specialty. I looked at Aunt Astrid. Bea took one hand and I took the other and helped her to her favorite seat at the end of the counter.

  “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. I had a couple of visitors.” She looked up at me. “Cedar and her sister, Ethel.”

  “What did they want?” I grumbled.

  “Cath, always so suspicious.” Aunt Astrid chuckled and smoothed my hair. “They wanted to talk. They were afraid to come to us because—”

  “Because I wasn’t all that friendly to them?” I said.

  “Well, yeah. But they also weren’t sure if we’d reciprocate. The Sect of Symmetry is not like us. Well, they aren’t all that different. We all practice witchcraft, but some people just do it a little differently, maybe are a little more intense than we are.” Aunt Astrid chuckled.

  “Why are you crying?” Bea asked, still worried about her mother.

  “They did a past reading of me.” Aunt Astrid chuckled again and sniffled at the same time. “No one has been able to do that for me in ages. You have no idea how much of my life I’ve forgotten. Some of it from age but some of it I’d put out of my mind.”

  “Like what?” I asked. This didn’t sound right to me. Who from any branch of witchcraft busts into a person’s place of business to give them a free reading into their past lives for no reason?

  “Oh, things that happened so long ago. My life before you.” She touched Bea’s chin. “When your mother and I were young women together before we settled down and had our families,” she said to me. “There’s so much I had forgotten.”