Page 8 of Curses & Cold Brew (Maple Hollow #2)

IRIS

“ A lright, Detective Witchling,” Ramona snarked, waving me into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “What do you see?”

Maude Ketchum, the proprietor of the Bats & Broomsticks B&B, lay serenely in her bed.

Almost too serenely.

It was as if the old lady had decided to really glam herself up for her final night on Earth. Or maybe she just donned a fancy silk nightgown and rouged her cheeks every night before bed. Who was to say? She’d been a glamorous, albeit kooky, old woman. Perfect for this town.

I folded my arms tighter across my chest as I surveyed the room, looking for any clues.

There were rumors that Maude may have been part mermaid, but now that I knew she was one of Ramona’s clients, the jig to her seemingly ageless appearance was up.

Her daughter, Sandra, on the other hand, was part wood nymph, but those creatures aged as humans did.

Now in her mid-eighties, Sandra had appeared older than her own mother for as long as I could remember.

“Let me guess,” I muttered, bending low to inspect Maude’s faint crow’s feet. She still looked on the cusp of forty. “She traded her soul for beauty and youth.”

“Of course she did.” Ramona winked devilishly. “Too bad she didn’t wish for a much longer life to go with it. Still, she made it into the triple digits. Impressive.” Ramona’s gaze flitted over the space. “What else do you see?”

Scrutinizing the room once more, I let out a long sigh.

I’d been in this B&B many times, and aside from the aesthetic being eclectic , there wasn’t anything particularly magical about it.

The clashing Victorian wallpaper, faded tapestries, threadbare carpets, and mishmash of antiques were the epitome of cozy clutter.

And I especially loved the macabre bits and bobs tucked away in every corner.

I eyed the stuffed raven mounted in the corner that wore a top hat, monocle, and white bowtie.

He wasn’t even the strangest thing in the room, but he fit right in.

“I hope it was worth it, Maude,” I murmured with a disappointed tsk.

“It doesn’t matter if it was or wasn’t,” Ramona replied, bored. “She made her choice, enjoyed it thoroughly, and made plenty of petty enemies from the attention she garnered from her neighbors’ husbands—and sons. But who are we to judge the wishes of others, hmm?”

I was once again reminded of my own deal that I’d struck with Ramona.

But at least the bargain I’d made had been to help my friend.

That had to give me some supernatural brownie points, right?

I mean, it wasn’t entirely selfless. The thought of sealing a deal with Corporate Suit Mommy over there definitely had its own personal intrigue for me, if I was being honest.

I wondered how many deals this demon had sealed with a kiss. Which I shouldn’t care about at all.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Ramona took a step closer, standing so close behind me that the edge of her coat brushed against my skirt. I sucked in a sharp breath when she dropped her lips to my ear and murmured, “We didn’t come here to wax poetic about aging, little witch. I asked what you see.”

I shuddered at the way her warm breath tickled the shell of my ear. My eyes scanned over the scene one more time. Maude’s nightgown was pulled askew, her collarbone revealing the mangled mark left behind where Ramona’s sigil must’ve once been.

“Your sigil,” I whispered, clearing my throat when I sounded too breathless. “It’s broken.”

“Ten points to Captain Obvious,” Ramona jeered. “What else do you see?”

“It doesn’t look like she struggled,” I continued.

“Whoever was here before us broke the circle after her death.” My gaze darted to the bedside.

“There are herbs burning again,” I mused as I picked up the candle wrapped in fresh angelica and rosemary.

“They’re the same ones that you brought us from Saul’s place the other day.

” I sniffed the candle, the wheels in my mind spinning faster.

“But these are too fresh to be from the apothecary, which means they were recently grown . . . but only the witches in town have the capability to grow them year-round. But this . . . I don’t feel familiar magic here. ”

Ramona stroked at the notch of her throat. I hadn’t noticed before, but she wore a thin, delicate gold chain from which hung a small ruby on a pendant. I saw her thoughts spiderwebbing out as she turned over the information laid out before us.

“I don’t believe this is true witch magic.” Something lit her eyes, some kind of recognition, and she returned her focus to the room and to me. “But I think someone is trying to throw us off the scent, no pun intended.”

My gaze snagged on one of Maude’s hands, which was clenched over her chest. “What is she holding?”

“If she knew she was passing, it’s probably something precious to her,” Ramona commented, moving closer to the bedside. “Not long ago, I collected a soul from a pixie who wanted to take her favorite starfish to the grave with her.”

“A starfish familiar. Now I’ve truly heard everything.”

“Mortal beings are sentimental like that.”

I shot Ramona a morbid glance. “You wouldn’t know anything about being sentimental, would you?”

“That’s not true. I enjoy my possessions just as much as the next demon.”

Was that supposed to be a demon pun?

A glint of something between Maude’s fingers caught my attention. I gingerly pulled at the sleeve of her nightgown, and her hand tipped open just enough for me to see the walnut-sized black tourmaline nestled in her palm.

“Do you think she was already holding it, or do you think it’s like a calling card for this soul thief?” I looked up at Ramona and waited for her to say something, but judging by the expression on her face, she was at a loss for words.

“I don’t know,” Ramona admitted tightly.

I backed away from Maude’s empty vessel and dusted my hands down my sweater. “We should go ask Citrine.”

Ramona gave me a sideways look. “Who?”

“I thought you knew everyone in this town?” I taunted, but when Ramona ignored my question and simply waited, I added, “She’s the witch who runs the crystal shop.”

“Her name is Citrine and she runs a crystal shop ?” Ramona asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“You just told me about starfish familiars!” I blustered.

“We live in a magical gathering place for the paranormal, where we not only welcome tourists but try to convince them that we are all putting on some sort of town-wide skit every year. You’re a snarky demon who holds more secrets than the mayor.

I’m a witch who uses real magic to heal people.

We’re now investigating a second soul snatching.

But Citrine being the name of the crystal shop owner is where you draw the line? ”

Ramona pursed her lips. “Point made.” Her glowing silver eyes studied me. “You’ve surprised me tonight.”

Now it was my turn for incredulity. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem at all unsettled by the dead body in the room.”

I guffawed. “Witch, remember? Death is nothing new to me.”

Ramona inclined her head, impressed. The butterflies in my stomach swarmed.

Dammit, Iris! You shouldn’t want to get gold stars from a freaking demon!

Most of the time, I knew better than to bask in a demon’s approval. To her, I was a passing flirtation in the eternity she spent on this plane. But a little part of me wondered how often she was amused by a mortal, let alone surprised .

Ramona huffed out a laugh. “You do tend to attract the dead, as I remember.”

“I do not.” I rolled my eyes. “I just don’t fear it. Or much of anything, including big, bad demons in Versace.”

Her brows lifted at my critique. Little did she know that I thought she was the hottest being I’d ever seen in a suit, Versace or not. “You’re wearing a sweater with cartoon bats embroidered on it. Forgive me for not quaking in my loafers.”

“Some of the most poisonous animals in the world are adorably colorful,” I warned her, knowing I was on very thin ice. “I may look sweet and innocent, but I am a very powerful witch, not some human waif.”

Ramona dragged her eyes up my body so intently that I could practically feel her on my most sensitive skin. “I never said you were sweet and innocent.”

My mouth went dry. Her elusive playfulness was gone and the prowling monster she truly was came bubbling to the surface, but that only excited me further. I knew I was stepping into the trap she was setting, but the thrill of being caught by her shot through me like a bolt of lightning.

“You get my point,” I snapped, locking my suddenly weak knees. “You should behave yourself around me. Or else.”

Okay, maybe that was a little too far. Nuance, Iris!

Ramona prowled a step closer, silver eyes flaring in challenge as my stomach tightened. “I can handle myself around your kind of power. But can you handle yourself around mine?”

Holy witch tits, that was hot.

This game of cat and mouse was going to my head. Part of me was terrified to find out what falling for a demon would do to me. The other part was just crazy enough to try. Jordyn would kill me if she saw me right now.

I swallowed thickly, trying to keep my confidence in my voice as I said, “I can handle it.”

Ramona grinned. “I look forward to finding out.”

“Maybe we should keep our relationship strictly . . . professional.” I answered an unspoken question. Goddess, I’m such a chicken . “For the sake of your job and, uh, my soul.”

That didn’t dull the glimmer of mischief in Ramona’s silver eyes, but her smile tightened to one of intrigue. “Fine. You can help me, no strings attached. But just so we’re clear: I am in charge of this investigation. You’re just a helper.”

“I’m the Watson to your Sherlock, got it.”

Ramona rolled her eyes. “That man was insufferable.”

“Which one? Robert Downey Jr. or Cumberbatch?” I couldn’t imagine Ramona watching films, but who could resist a sassy British detective?

“Doyle.” She turned toward the door, her words trailing behind her. “Sold his soul for fame and never did deliver the love scene I demanded. Are you coming or not, Watson?”

“What? Oh. Right. Crystal shop,” I said, flustered. “It’s closed at this time of night, but why don’t we meet at Witch’s Brew tomorrow morning and head over together?”

I followed her out to the street, closing the door gently behind me so as not to wake anyone else in the B&B.

“Or,” Ramona added tightly, “we can go wake up this Citrine now and intimidate the answers out of her.”

“ Or ,” I cut in, emphatically waving my arms, “we don’t make enemies in town when we’re trying to figure out who is snatching your paydays out from under you, and you just trust me and play nice this one time.”

Ramona’s jaw tightened. “Fine. We’ll do it your way,” she gritted out. “But I don’t play nice, ever . You would do well to remember that.”

With that, she disappeared around the corner, leaving me to walk back to the apothecary with a whole lot of questions and anticipation swelling in my chest.