Broomsticks and Burials: Magic & Mystery, #1

Chapter One

"Zoe Clarke, Sugar, I swear I can read your mind sometimes, Grandma Elle said, jolting me out of my daydreaming. But if you don’t quit makin’ that face, it's gonna get stuck that way." 

The ice in the sweet tea Grandma held in one hand clinked as we rocked on the front porch swing, and the hand-knitted afghan she’d draped over our laps swayed with us. 

What face?

Grandma smiled. The one that makes it look like you been suckin’ on a lemon. It ain’t very ladylike. 

I snorted. I can always count on you to keep it real, can’t I, Gram? 

Grandma stared at me while she rocked, her snow-white curls shuffling in the breeze. Her brows slowly stitched together. Keep it real? What does that mean?

Never mind, I said, and reached for her hand. She smiled as I stroked her thumb with mine and jutted her chin toward the yard that stretched out in front of us. 

Ain’t it beautiful? Grandma asked.

Sure is. The fresh-cut grass sparkled in shades of gold as the sun set behind the pine trees that lined the edge of the Clarke family farm. 

Grandma and I had sat together to watch the sunset like this on so many Sunday evenings I’d lost count, but it never got old. 

You been awful quiet today, baby girl. Penny for your thoughts?

I sighed. I’ll take all the pennies I can get at this point. 

Grandma chuckled. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Sugar, you’ll find work soon enough. I’m sure of it. Besides, anyone who don’t hire you is a darn fool.

Thanks, Gram. Though I appreciated her support, I wasn’t sure I agreed. 

Besides, it wasn’t like journalism jobs in the backcountry of North Carolina were easy to find. After I’d gotten laid off from my last gig in Charlotte, I’d come back to Lumberton with my tail between my legs and moved in with Grandma — again. 

Since then, I’d applied online for so many jobs all over the country but gave up when no one called back after three months.

You know, farm life ain’t all bad. Worse comes to worst, you’ll always have that, Grandma said, and I scoffed.

Right, lucky me.

Grandma snickered. Oh, come on, we both know you were never meant to stay here shoveling pig poo. There ain’t no farm in the world big enough to hold your personality. I knew that from the get-go.

I stared her in the eye. What are you trying to say?

That you was always meant for big things, and this farm ain’t ever gonna give you that.

I sighed. Tell me about it.

Grandma laughed and patted my hand. Keep your chin up, buttercup. Somethin’ll come along before you know it, just like magic.

Trust me, if I knew waving my hand and saying a few silly words would make a job appear out of thin air, I’d do it, no matter how stupid it made me look. 

It ain’t always like that, Zoe. Magic is in the mundane and works in mysterious ways. Or at least that’s what your momma used to say.

And what do you think she’d say if she could see me now? I’d hardly call my life as an unemployed bum magical.

Grandma clucked and shook her head. I think she’d be darn proud of you, and for what it’s worth, so am I. So what if you hit a lil’ bump in the road? Who ain’t at some point in their life?

I shrugged. Fair enough. I’m sure you’re right, but I wish I could hear it from Mom herself. And I wish Dad was here to tell me what to do. God, I miss them.

Grandma frowned and linked her fingers with mine. I know, Sugar. So do I.

My parents had died in an accidental car crash on their way home from a date when I was a little girl. I’d slept over at Grandma’s that night and since then it’d been me and her against the world. She was the only family I had left.

Grandma searched my face. Somethin’ else got you blue?

Not really, no.

You swear?

Please, I couldn’t lie to you even if I wanted.

Grandma smiled at me over the lip of her glass as she sipped her tea. You got that right. But I can tell somethin’ ain’t right with you. So whatever it is, spill it.

My phone vibrated in my lap, and I jumped — saved by the phone call. I turned it over, saw Number Blocked on the screen, and automatically went to decline the call but Grandma stopped me with a slap on my wrist.

What in tarnation do you think you’re doin’? You’d better answer that, it could be the call you been waitin’ for!

Oh, come on, Gram. No respectable paper is gonna call me from a blocked number.

You don’t know that! Ain’t all you journalists worried about privacy and whatnot? Maybe they’ve just got a block on their number or somethin’.

She had a point, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, so I slid my finger across the screen to accept the call.

Hello, this is Zoe.

Yeah, hello. This Zoe Clarke? a gruff male voice barked on the other end of the line. My skin tingled and itched at the sound. 

It is. Who’s calling? 

Mitch Harris, editor-in-chief at the Moon Grove Messenger. I racked my brain trying to match his name with any of the dozens I’d seen on job applications. Nothing rang a bell. Come to think of it, I couldn’t recall ever hearing about a town named Moon Grove, nor a paper called the Moon Grove Messenger. Maybe he had the wrong number?

Who is it? Grandma hissed, but I waved her away.

Hi, Mr. Harris, thanks for the call. I’m so happy to hear from you, I said and deflated. It was the lamest response in the world, but what else was I supposed to say? 

Yeah, sure thing. Hey, listen, the Messenger’s in desperate need of a beat reporter. I looked over your resume, and you seem like a good fit. Job’s yours if you want it. 

I held the phone away from my ear to stare at it in disbelief. Was he really offering me a job without even interviewing me? Talk about professional. 

No offense, Mr. Harris—

Please don’t call me that. It’s Mitch. 

Well, alrighty then.

Okay. Look, no offense, Mitch, but I need more details to go on here. What exactly are you offering me?

Didn’t you read the job description and compensation when you applied? 

Ouch. Touché. 

I did, but the description wasn’t very, well, descriptive, I said, hoping it was true. I couldn’t remember a single detail about the job — but then again, I couldn’t remember applying to work there. 

It’ll be more than enough to make a living. You’ll be covering the town and government beat. 

Okay, it didn’t sound like the most exciting offer in the world, but it was an offer regardless — and the only one I’d gotten in three months of searching.

I think I can handle that. At my last job, I’d started at the same level, but my editor had moved me up the chain quickly. Hopefully, this new gig would follow a similar path.

I think so too. Can you be here tomorrow? Mitch asked.

"Tomorrow?" What was I supposed to do about an apartment and, well, everything else? It sounded crazy. Now I understood why he’d called from a blocked number. 

Like I said, The Messenger’s desperate, and what better day to start than a Monday? If you can’t make it, I understand, I’m sure we’ll find someone else. 

My heart leaped into my throat and lodged there. Half my brain told me I should hang up before things went any further, but the other half screamed at me to take the job — because I might not get another offer.

I looked at Grandma, who nodded at me enthusiastically like she’d heard everything — and she probably had. Despite her age, she had an uncanny sense of hearing, for better or worse.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Okay, yeah, I-I’ll take it. I’ll be there. 

Mitch let out a long, ragged exhale. Great, you won’t be sorry. But I guess I should warn you that things are pretty active around here, so you’re gonna hit the ground running. 

A beat of silence passed. "Oh, and, uh, Moon Grove might be a bit, well, jarring for you at first coming from the big city, but I’m sure you’ll adjust." 

I didn’t know what to make of that comment, so I let it slide. I’m sure I will too.

Okay. See you tomorrow then.

Mitch, wait!

Yeah?

Sorry, uh… I don’t know where Moon Grove is, I said, my face burning. At least he couldn’t see it. 

Most people don’t. You know where Roanoke Island is?

Roughly, yeah.

It’s not too far from there. You’re in Charlotte, right?

Not quite. I live in Lumberton with my grandmother.

Hm, never heard of it. Does Lumberton have a bus station?

Yeah. The only one in town isn’t far from where I live.

Good. Be there by 6 AM and keep your eyes open for a big silver bus. Trust me, you’ll know it when you see it. 

Uh, yeah, sure, okay. I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts as headlines of travelers murdered on cross-country bus drives flashed through my brain.

Don’t worry, it’s not too bad. But just in case, I’ll have one of my staff meet you when you get here, and I’ll email you my contact info too.

Great, thanks.

One last thing, Zoe: don’t oversleep. The bus won’t wait. Neither will I.

I won’t, I promise. 

Good, Mitch said and hung up without a goodbye. 

I sat staring at my phone screen, dumbfounded. Seconds later, it vibrated with an email from Mitch. I tapped to open the message and, sure enough, his phone number was inside — but it was in a weird six-digit format I hadn’t seen before. Maybe he had a foreign account or something?

Grandma’s twinkling eyes caught mine. Magic works in mysterious ways, don’t it?

I laughed and shrugged. "I dunno if I’d call this opportunity magical, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers."

Where did he say it was again? Moon somethin’ or other?

Moon Grove, I said as I tapped to open the maps app on my phone and look the place up. It took forever to load but eventually came back with no results. Mitch implied Moon Grove was a small town, but it couldn’t possibly have been so little that it wouldn’t come up on a GPS search. Weird.

I’ve lived in North Carolina my whole life but I ain’t never heard of a place like that, Grandma said. You sure you heard him right, and all that wax in your ears didn’t get in the way?

Hilarious. Yes, I’m sure. Mitch definitely said Moon Grove. I zoomed in on the map near Roanoke Island, but I didn’t see any place named Moon Grove or any stretch of land nearby that could’ve been it. It’s not coming up on the map either. I hope this bus knows where it’s going.

He didn’t give you an address or nothin’?

No, nothing other than a weird phone number.

He sure sounds like one strange fella, but as long as he signs your paychecks, I guess it don’t matter, right? 

Right. I switched to the phone’s browser to search for the paper’s name online. Their website was the first result, but when I tapped on it, the page came back with an error. Hm, they have a site, but it doesn’t look like it’s working.

Well, cell service ain’t the greatest out here.

Somehow, I didn’t think it was the service, but I didn’t have any other explanation. The more I dug, the weirder things got, but it was a job — or at least the hope of one — so I’d just have to take the bus out to the coast in the morning and see what happened. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. 

As if on cue, the black cat with haunting blue eyes Grandma had given me on my sixteenth birthday wandered out the front door and meowed up at me. I scooped her up into my arms. 

Hey, Luna. I was wondering where you were. She purred and tucked her head under my chin like she always did when I held her. It looks like we’ve got some packing to do.

Meow, Luna croaked, her eyes still heavy with sleep. 

You need help? Grandma asked.

I don’t think so. It isn’t like I have much to load. I guess that’s one perk of being broke.

Grandma chuckled. You’ve always landed on your feet, just like that cat.

Well, here’s hoping I’ve got nine lives like her too because where I’m going I think I’m gonna need them. I stood with Luna held against my chest and scratched her under the chin. Her purring intensified like she agreed. 

If you ain’t got nine lives, then I dunno who does. You know, what with that black cat and them fiery curls of yours, you look like a regular witch standin’ there.

I swished my free hand through the air in front of me. Abra Kadabra, teleport me to Moon Grove, Alakazam! I said and froze for dramatic effect. When nothing happened, I shrugged. No witches here. I guess I’m as painfully normal as they come.

Grandma shooed me away. There ain’t nothin’ normal bout you, Sugar. Never was. Now go get packed. You got a big day comin’ tomorrow and you gotta get some amount of sleep in the meantime. There ain’t no time for dilly dallyin’.

Luna meowed her agreement. 

I took one last long look out at our family farm, framed by the darkness creeping down from the sky, and smiled at the full moon taking shape above it. 

It could only be a good sign.

Chapter Two

Grandma Elle dropped me off at the bus station at a quarter to six the next morning. Despite my insistence otherwise, she helped me unload everything I’d brought. 

I can’t believe you’re only taking two suitcases with you, Grandma said, staring at my torn, stained, and sad excuses for luggage. Luna’s cage sat on top of one of them, and for all the stress of the drive, it was amazing the poor cat wasn't more vocal in her disapproval. 

More? This is everything I own. Besides, Luna is really all I need. She’ll keep me safe, won’t you, girl? I poked a finger through the grate on the front of the cage to stroke Luna under the chin. She blinked her eyes like she was smiling at me and purred.

Grandma shook her head. I ain’t ever gonna understand you, am I?

If you can’t after twenty-one years, then no, probably not. 

Grandma chuckled. I reckon that’s for the best. 

She wrapped her arms around me and I hugged her back, drinking in the smell of her — sweet tea made in an oversized jar by sunshine — and tried not to cry. 

Thank you for having me again.

Oh, don’t you go gettin’ all mushy on me now, Sugar. Crying ain’t gonna get you nothin’ other than wrinkles as deep as mine. She let me go, and I laughed as I wiped away my tears. 

According to you I already look like a witch, so I’m sure wrinkles won’t help.

Grandma beamed at me. You’re darn right. Now get your tail out there and make a name for yourself. Do me proud.

I will, I promise. 

Grandma winked at me. I know, she said and climbed back up into her old rust-riddled Ford F-150, its sides caked with mud. There wasn’t a car in the world that would’ve suited her better. 

Call me as soon as you get into town. 

Of course. I reached up to stroke her hand that hung out the open window, and Luna meowed from her cage to say her own goodbye. Grandma kissed the back of my hand and gave me a wave before she rolled away. 

I guess it’s just you and me again, I said to Luna as I stroked her. She meowed again, louder this time, and I smiled. It was early enough that there weren’t many other people around, which was all the same to me — I could only imagine how ridiculous I must’ve looked standing at the station with two ratty suitcases and a cat cage.

At exactly six o’clock, a long, blindingly silver bus rolled into the station with the words Silver Bullet Travel emblazoned in bright red on its side. It was a clever name, I had to give them that. 

The bus came to a stop at the station, and no one else gathered to board, but that wasn’t a surprise. The door hissed open, and I wheeled my suitcases and Luna over to find a pale, gangly man with stringy black hair and saggy skin sitting behind the wheel. 

He wore a black beret and oversized sunglasses — which was odd given it was still dark — and a sparkling gold name tag pinned to his maroon shirt read, Claude.

Zoe Clarke? the man asked without looking at me, his French accent thicker than brie. 

Yes, in the flesh. 

Claude turned to take stock of me, and a chill ran down my spine as a smile split his face. In the flesh, indeed. 

I blinked, and he was at my side, an arm wrapped around my shoulder. If I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn he’d sniffed me. 

My name is Claude, and I’ll be your driver. Please, let me help you with your things. His breath was metallic in my nostrils. Luna growled, long and low. 

Uh, yeah, sure thing, but the cat comes with me. I lifted Luna’s cage off my suitcase and held it close to my chest. 

Of course. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I re-opened them my suitcases were gone, and Claude was back in his seat. What the…? 

"Hurry along now, ma chérie. I have a strict schedule, and I don’t wait for anyone, but I’d hate to leave a specimen as lovely as you behind."

Specimen? Lovely? I’d gathered Claude was odd — how couldn’t he be working this kind of job at these hours? — but I’d never had another person refer to me as a specimen before. 

Right, sorry. 

I climbed the stairs into the bus. My skin prickled as I passed Claude, and a chill colder than the arctic swept over me when he lowered his sunglasses so his murky red eyes could lock onto mine. 

Claude wasn’t just odd, he was downright bizarre. 

I hurried toward the back of the bus, its gaudy satin decor barely registering as I passed row after row of strange people. Most wore long black robes and stared back at me like I was a stray animal who’d wandered aboard, and their expressions only got worse when I yelped after catching sight of a man with more hair on his face than his head.

What kind of sideshow circus had I boarded — and where was it taking me? 

I tried not to think about it as I sank down into the plush, dank cushion of the last seat on the bus. Luna grunted as I set her cage down beside me.

It’s okay, girl. Everything’s okay. I pet her through the cage, more to comfort myself than her. She rubbed her cheeks against my fingers and purred. 

"Please take your seats, everyone. Next stop, Moon Grove. Allons-y!" Claude shouted from the front of the bus. 

With a smile, he put the bus into gear, smashed the gas, and I screamed as a deafening roar tore through the cabin. The bus hurtled forward, and the station outside became a blur of light and color. I gripped Luna’s cage to keep it from flying away, and seconds later the bus jolted to a stop, sending me crashing into the seat in front of me. 

Claude turned in his seat and threw his arms wide. "Bienvenue à Moon Grove." 

I looked out the window, my vision swimming, and couldn’t believe my eyes. The moon still hung in the sky, so there was no way on Earth we’d traveled from Lumberton to Moon Grove already, but the old sign outside my window said otherwise.

Welcome to Historic Moon Grove, North Carolina. Established 1586, the sign’s faded, peeling gold lettering read.

Some fifty feet beyond it, several buildings stood surrounded by a massive iron gate — and they were all dilapidated. Wherever it was we’d stopped, it couldn’t possibly have been Moon Grove. I had to be dreaming. 

Zoe, a voice called, pulling me back into myself. I shook my head and blinked a few times, but the sign and the sight of the ruined buildings didn’t go away. "Zoe!