Zelle, Sister Witches of Story Cove Spellbinding Cozy Mystery Series, Book 5, page 1
Zelle
Sister Witches of Story Cove Spellbinding Cozy Mystery Series, Book 5
Nyx Halliwell
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
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About the Author
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Dear Magical Reader
Zelle, Sister Witches of Story Cove Spellbinding Cozy Mystery Series, Book 5
©2020; 2022 Nyx Halliwell
Re-release date December 6, 2022
Previously published as Hexed Hair Day
ISBN: 978-1-948686-72-3
Cover by Fanderclai Design www.fanderclai.com
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Chapter
One
As midnight approaches, silence wraps around the Enchanted shop. The house, too, is quiet, except for Elvis crooning Blue Christmas in the background, as the candy cane soap I’ve made hardens in a bright red mold.
It’s the happiest time of the year, according to most people. For me? Not so much. Don’t get me wrong—I have a terrific family, I love my dual jobs here at the candle and soap company, as well as the salon, and I enjoy a good life. I’m luckier than many, but I don’t have two very important things I desperately long for—my parents, and the man I love.
My phone dings on the work table and I catch the notification that I have four matches on Fairytale Love, the dating app I use for distraction. I’ve set up multiple accounts, each with their own profile, and none that state I’m a beauty witch, or that my hair grows six feet a day.
The local bachelors all know me and most swipe left, passing me by, regardless of my glowing hair and smiling profile photos. I’ve already dated the single men in town anyway. The fact there are four who’ve swiped right today means they’re desperate for a date to an office Christmas party or just plain lonely.
I sympathize. It’s hard to be single during the holidays. “Sing it, King,” I tell Elvis, as he insists the red and green decorations aren’t the same without his love to share them with.
The guy I fell for in middle school is long gone. I haven’t heard from him in nearly four years.
And while my sisters miss our parents, the gap left by their deaths is a raw hole of emotion that I fall down every year when autumn comes around. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas…those special days never seem right without them here.
Christmas is also the time of the year that reminds me of Sawyer the most. Before he and I broke up on Christmas Eve, we both loved the season with its trees, lights, and songs. It really was the happiest time of year for me then. Now, I can’t look at a decoration or wrapping paper without thinking of him.
Of course, I have to keep all of this from my sisters, pretending everything is great, and that I’m as excited as they are about the season. My twin, Belle, especially loves it, and this one is extra special for her. Because she does such a great job with the fall book fair every year, the Chamber of Commerce has asked her to also handle the downtown Christmas festival.
Luckily, the candle and soap business is so busy with holiday shoppers, I barely have time to catch my breath. We each have our responsibilities running Enchanted, and mine is the sales floor three afternoons a week. I also fill online orders. Along with the hours here, my stylist skills are in high demand. I’m booked with hair and makeup appointments through to the new year.
Cinder, the oldest, has recently installed a small but efficient commercial kitchen as part of a remodel project we’re doing. By opening up our backroom and rearranging the work and storage areas, we now have more square footage for merchandise and this upgraded kitchen.
While the pretty new quartz countertops come in handy when we’re creating products, this space is Ruby’s domain. She’s second age-wise, and is a fabulous cook and healer. Her line of candies are sold all over town and have gained a near-cult following. Both Story Cove residents, as well as our growing tourist population, order larger and larger quantities every week. I personally love the hot cocoa truffles with peppermint chips on top.
Recently, I’ve been using the kitchen as much as she has. I’m a terrible cook, but I’m a decent witch. Once she’s in bed, I experiment with our grandmother Eunice’s spell books and potions, searching for one to mend my broken heart.
Our fourth great-grandmother built Enchanted, and kept recipes of every type of soap, candle, and lotion she created and sold. She also wrote about her daily life in journals. We recently discovered a treasure trove of these documents hidden in a secret room in the mansion’s turret.
She was kind of obsessive with her collection of books and her day-by-day diaries, but I’m glad for their contents. While Ruby’s enjoyed reading her journals and a pile of love letters between her and Ezra, our grandfather, Belle has dived into the editions on local history and magick. For me, I’ve been studying them for medicinal brews, tinctures, and tonics. Along with keeping her dream alive, the four of us Sherwood sisters inherited her love for white magick.
Elvis fades off and Bing takes his place, assuring me he’ll be home for Christmas. My father’s favorite song. I imagine him standing here at the stove with me, booming out the words, and teasing me about my love life. He always believed I’d have a dozen suitors one day.
I scan the four potentials, sighing at the familiar names. Yep, office parties and loneliness for the win.
I’ve dated plenty of guys since Sawyer left, even throwing myself into this find-true-love app, determined to do just that, but it hasn’t worked. My heart was stolen when I was eleven, and I never got it back.
After I’m done cooking this potion to help me get over him once and for all, maybe I’ll watch White Christmas and keep pretending Dad is here. He and Mom always sang along to all the movie’s tunes, and I’d give anything to hear their voices once more.
I hum along with Bing as I gather the last of the ingredients and stir. In the overhead light, the strand of Sawyer’s hair is midnight black as I hold it up to examine it. I discovered it two days ago on a scarf buried in a drawer. His grandmother sewed the garment for me, the fabric covered in cartoonish ferrets. My ferret familiar, Rumpelstiltskin, plays with a toy in the corner of the room, his thin, furry body as supple and fluid as an acrobat’s.
I drop the strand into the bubbling potion and watch the liquid change from a translucent yellow to a mint green. Eunice’s spell claims the concoction needs to cook for twenty minutes, then cool for twenty-four hours, before I drink it.
Twenty-four hours. Will my heart finally be healed before Christmas?
“Insomnia again?”
I jump at the sound of Ruby’s voice, and wheel around to find her yawning as she enters the room. Her familiar, a raven named Lenore, flies in and perches on the chair in the corner. My sister doesn’t wait for an answer as she eyes the loaf of candy cane soap. “I love the sparkle effect on top. Is it set?”
The playlist switches to a modern rendition of Silent Night. Sure isn’t one for me. Hastily, I close the book and try to block the pot from her sight with my body. “Should be. I’ll cut it before I go to bed.”
“I can do it.” She turns the product out of the form and onto the table before she grabs the slicer. “I put the kettle on for tea, if you want to talk about anything.”
The red and white striped loaf falls into neat rectangle-shaped bars as she cuts. A few flakes of glitter scatter over the countertop. “What’s to talk about?” I fiddle with the end of my braid. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, it’s no big deal. You really s hould go back to bed. I need to hit the sack, too. Big day tomorrow with the Stevenson wedding.”
“Zelle?” Ruby gives me a funny look as she sets down the cutter. “What’s up with your hair?”
A rainbow of colors play across her face, like LED lights. Lenore caws, her tiny head turning from side to side as she stares at me.
My tresses are directly tied to my magick, and tonight, I’ve wrapped the thick plait twice around my waist, and the tip still drags the ground. I glance down to see it glowing brightly. Colors flow down the tendrils in waves—blue, purple, green, yellow, orange, and red. A fresh kaleidoscope follows on the heels of the last. This time, it’s a monotone of pinks, from raspberry to the palest pastel.
I can change the color at will, which I love doing, but I’m not causing this display. “Holy highlights,” I whisper. “I don’t know.”
Chapter
Two
Ruby glances around me at the pot and sees the book. Her eyes narrow. “Are you experimenting with Eunice’s potions again? Must be some strong magick to cause that.”
She points at my hair as Cinder enters with her standard bedhead. She’s dressed in flannel pjs with hedgehogs on them, and her own pygmy hedgehog, McAlister, is in the crook of her arm. His whiskers twitch, either at the various aromas in the air or my psychedelic mane. “What’s going on?”
Distract them! I point to the sliced bars on the counter. “I made candy cane soaps.”
“And something else,” Ruby adds, cautiously sniffing at the steam over the pot. She checks the end of a lock, but nothing happens to it and she glances at mine again. “Zelle’s having a reaction to it, I think.”
This could go all shades of wrong and very quickly, and I don’t mean just the color of my hair. My older sisters already worry too much about me. I can’t let them know I’m doing this to get over Sawyer. I mean, it’s been four years. I should be long over him, right?
“It’s only a new wash,” I lie, waving off their concern. “With the winter air, my strands need lots of moisture. Eunice has plenty of potions for nourishing dry, split ends. I’m experimenting with a few.”
Both sisters eye me with clear skepticism and a touch of suspicion. Since I have to shave my hair daily due to its ridiculous growth rate, there’s no reason for me to use fancy shampoos or conditioners. “Is your magick all right?” Ruby asks.
“Sure. Fine.” I glimpse the varied and brilliant colors rippling past my nose. “It’s, um, actually for a client.” Always a good excuse. “I’m testing it on myself first, you know, to be sure it’s safe.”
This is more plausible, but I see the glance they exchange. Cinder shifts McAlister and assumes her head of the family stance with feet planted and a composed expression. “Whatever’s going on, Zelle, you can tell us.”
They’re not buying my lie, and I can’t blame them. “Nothing is going on. I like potions, you know that, and Eunice has a good deal of them. I simply want to play a little, okay? I swear, I’m fine, and this” I flip my braid over my shoulder, “is probably due to stress more than anything else. It’s a busy time of year and we’re all feeling it.”
Another silent exchange passes between them. Ruby pats my shoulder. “We’re not trying to irritate you, we just worry. You have a lot on your plate.”
“As do both of you, but we’re Sherwoods.” I purposely look each of them in the eye. “We may not have fairytale lives like Momma wanted for us, but we know how to rise above the crummy stuff and keep on going.”
Cinder winks at me and sets McAlister on the floor to toddle off. “Agreed. However, I want your promise that if you need to talk, you’ll say so.”
The eldest of us, she’s carried the mother mantle since our parents’ deaths. It hasn’t been easy, and I feel guilty for making her worry. Ruby, too. “I promise,” I tell her, more to make her feel better than to wrap up this uncomfortable conversation.
“Oh good.” Belle enters, as bright-eyed and wide-awake as any of us. The woman could go days without sleep and never show it, and it’s all due to her sunny disposition. “You’re all here.”
My playlist switches again, restarting Elvis.
My twin has brought a tray of drinks—Santa mugs filled with cocoa and candy canes—and sets it on the end of the work table. The Santas are all winking and giving a devil-may-care smile, as if they’ve just filled our stockings with everything we wished for. She takes a seat on one of the stools, slides a notebook out from under the tray, and begins handing out the drinks. She does a double take at my hair. “I like it. Very festive.”
She always has my back and doesn’t jump to the assumption anything is wrong. I love that about her. “Thank you.” I raise a defiant chin to the others.
She shifts the notebook, which goes everywhere with her these days. She’s decorated it with Christmas stickers and a red and green plaid ribbon to mark her spot. “I want to go over your assignments for the Christmas in Story Cove Festival next week. We have a lot to do to prepare.”
Cinder is reaching to accept a mug and her hand freezes in midair. “Assignments?” She looks as though she might run from the room.
Belle’s Pekingese, Jayne, hops into her favorite chair near the front window and settles. Rumpelstiltskin joins her and curls up against her, burying his nose under his own tail, so he looks like a fur ball.
Savannah, our shop cat is in her bed in the window seat and she peeks at them with a sniff. As long as they aren’t bothering her, she decides they can stay. She stretches and closes her eyes again.
Belle pointedly hands Cinder her cup and waits for her to concede and accept it. “You know I’m in charge this year, and I’m up to my tinsel in preparations. I need all of you to participate and help me out.”
Her organizational skills may top Cinder’s. She and I are twins, but fraternal ones, and I am her opposite in lots of ways. Belle likes rules and organization, I resist both. She’s perpetually upbeat, and sees the best in everyone and everything. I’m more likely to see the clouds than the silver lining. She’s Miss Social Butterfly—I only interact with folks because I want to do their hair and makeup. It’s an art form for me and my magick, and I’m compelled to play.
Ruby wanders over, taking a mug and stirring the cocoa with the candy cane. “I can’t wait for the downtown walk. I’m helping Ren decorate his front window.”
I lower the stove flame and turn off the music. “Sorry, sis, but I’m already overbooked with clients and I have a waiting list.”
She dismisses my statement with a flip of the notebook as she peruses the written details inside. “You’re in charge of the hair and makeup of the theater cast.” She looks up and smiles, ignoring my mumbled dissension. “We’re doing The Night Before Christmas at the outdoor amphitheater. Won’t that be fun?”
I attempt to reason with her, but she raises a hand as a stop sign, turning a page. “Cinder, the stage needs work. There are loose boards and two sections of the roof leak. We need it fixed and the sound systems checked. Feel free to recruit volunteers to help you.” From a pocket in the back of the notebook, she produces a loose paper. “Here’s the complete list. The Chamber will reimburse any expenses you incur.”
Cinder would rather have a hammer in her hand than pretty much anything else. Still, she looks disappointed. “I’d love to pitch in, Belle, but—“
“No buts.” Belle glares at all of us. At our silence, she runs a finger down her bulleted list. “Christmas comes once a year. It’s been a hard twelve months for this town, and we all deserve holiday cheer. The festival guarantees folks joy and happiness. You’ve been working hard, Cinder.” She meets our sister’s eyes once more. “We all have. The shop remodel is progressing nicely and sales are up. We’d all work twenty-four-seven if we could to build our empire, but we’re part of this community. They support us, and it’s time to give back.”
