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CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Mia and Sylvie stepped onto the red brick of the Essex Street pedestrian mall. Tandy sniffed the air and pulled on his leash with excitement. Through the window of Hatter’s Emporium, they could see teenaged Will Proctor, hard at work helping customers. Will worked part time for Tom Hatter after school and was also the official intern for

Bell, Book, and Candle

, handling everything from fetching supplies to operating equipment. Mia often relied on him to help her with Tandy and Rose.

Will saw them and shoved the door open, jangling the bells.

“Hey, you guys,” Will said, beaming with youthful energy. “Are you excited for this afternoon?”

“I am,” Mia said, covering up her nerves with a smile.

“I’m excited to see what kind of stunt Graham tries to pull,” Sylvie said. “If there’s a way to mess things up in the pursuit of ratings he’ll find it.”

Will looked worried for a moment and with good reason. Graham, who co-produced

Bell, Book, and Candle

with Ollie Cooper, was prone to going a little off script when it came to publicity.

“She’s teasing,” Mia said. “It’ll be fine. See you in a few hours.”

They headed down the street. Despite the cooler weather, the street was busy. They passed a vintage flea market set up on one side of the street, with sellers displaying items of clothing that dated back to the turn of the century. There were booths selling various food items, like cider doughnuts, and Lollipop Guild lollipops complete with an endorsement from the Wicked Witch of the West. Of course, an endless array of psychic readers appeared at almost every street corner. Some were astrologers, some read tarot cards, others claimed to be clairvoyant. Mia found herself smiling. Salem was so odd and quirky, but there was something so charming about all the little shops and tributes to the spooky side of life. In a way, this little town shared her interest in the supernatural and she was starting to feel right at home.

“What’s going on over there?” Sylvie said and pointed to a commotion at the end of the block where a group of tourists had gathered around a shop with large plate glass window.

“I’m not sure,” Mia said. “Isn’t that the place that just opened?”

They drew closer and peered through the crowd. A new business had recently taken over the only empty shop on the block. Old-fashioned scroll letters painted on the glass storefront read

Charnel Tours

.

Suddenly, a man stepped out dressed in a silk waistcoat and long-tailed jacket and top hat. He had a sinister smile as he motioned the crowd forward and they all huddled around him. Then he struck a black walking stick tipped with a silver skull on the cobblestones, and said in a booming voice:

“Gather round, my friends. The first tour of the day is about to begin. Today we have the Wicked Witch Tour and who better to guide you than a real live warlock!”

Tandy looked at the strange man and made a slight woofing sound, almost like a huff, while tilting his head curiously. Mia ruffled his ears.

“I agree,” she said, dumbfounded.

A warlock?

“Another tour business? It’s official. There’s one on every block now,” Sylvie said.

“One is more ridiculous than the next,” Mia said.

Sylvie and Mia walked over to the window and looked inside.

A small, ferret-like man with a pinched face and long, tapered fingers stood behind the counter. Sylvie and Mia watched the line move along as he took people’s cash or ran their credit cards and signed them up for the tour of their choice. There was a display with skeletons and pentacles and signs advertising the various options: The Wicked Witch Tour, The Spooky Ghost Tour, The Terrifying Graveyard Tour, the Diabolical Dungeon Tour, and the Venomous Vampire Tour.

“Well, if the podcast doesn’t work out, you could always be a tour guide. You know enough about this place, that’s for sure. You could do the

just the facts tour

,” Sylvie said and laughed.

Up ahead, they spotted the distinctive black-and-cream-striped awning printed with distinctive off-white letters that read

Café Noir

. Below the sign were large ornate windows, beveled and divided by lead. Mia was famished and the little café with authentic French cuisine was her absolute favorite.

Café Noir was unusually busy. The quaint wrought iron tables and chairs in front of the café were filled with people. Customers jostled for seats, and the wait staff bustled about in their crisp aprons, taking and delivering orders. As Sylvie and Mia wove through the crowd with Tandy close behind, Mia caught the eye of a group of locals she recognized from around town. A few of them shot her a strange look.

Ever since the first show broadcast, the cast and crew of

Bell, Book, and Candle

had become local celebrities. So it wasn’t that strange that a few people randomly noticed Mia. However, it was the

way

they looked at her that she found disconcerting. The group whispered as she passed.

Am I being paranoid?

Mia wondered, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched and talked about.

I guess that’s the price of working on a show.

There was nowhere to sit outside, so Sylvie and Mia went inside. The café had warm brown wood and modern lighting. People were lined up for cups of fresh ground morning coffee. A pair of baristas manned the large copper espresso machines, taking orders and making drinks. Scattered around the cafe were green, verdant ficus trees and rubber plants, giving the place a cosmopolitan feel. There were two seats open at the counter and Sylvie beelined for them.

Mia stood stock-still and blushed. Behind the counter stood Hugh Wolfe, the owner of the café. He had his sleeves rolled up and his tanned, well-muscled arms contrasted against a crisp white shirt. His hair fell over his forehead as he focused on his work, creating designs on the crema of each cappuccino he prepared. Sylvie marched up to the counter, completely unaware of Mia’s reaction, and slid onto a stool. Mia hadn’t seen Hugh since his business trip to a truffle farm. Now, butterflies trembled in her stomach as she approached the counter. The moment she sat down and Tandy settled quietly at her feet, Hugh looked up and their eyes locked. A warm smile came over his face.

“Mia Bold? To what do I owe this honor?” he said sweetly.

This time Mia’s cheeks blazed bright red. Sylvie turned and caught her blushing. She looked back at Hugh Wolfe, and then at Mia. A look of comprehension dawned on her face.

The cat was out of the bag.

“How was your trip?” Mia said.

“Great. I made a terrific deal with the forager,” Hugh said, smiling.

“You’ve met Sylvie before, at my party?” Mia said.

“Of course, how could I forget,” Hugh said. “You’re the sound engineer for the podcast?”

“And the film editor. Every time I close my eyes, I have a new job,” Sylvie said. “Nice to see you again.”

Hugh Wolfe’s niece Becca walked up from behind the bar. The willowy teenager with blond hair pulled back in a chignon handed Mia and Sylvie menus.

“We have some specials today,” Becca said and glanced at her uncle Hugh. He nodded and she stood up very straight to recite the dishes.

“We have a blue cheese quiche with whole-grain crust; a kimchi; bacon and egg Danish; fried eggs with hazelnuts, chanterelles, green garlic, and blackberries; chocolate croissants; savory crepes stuffed with...” She rattled off a dazzling list of crepes that made Mia’s head spin.

Sylvie ordered bacon, egg, and Parmesan crepes while Mia, panicked by her inability to choose, opted for the quiche. Hugh nodded proudly to Becca. She smiled and turned on her heel to go deliver the order to the kitchen.

“I’d say don’t go anywhere,” he said as he placed a round of coffees on a tray. “But I know you’ll be here when I get back.” He disappeared with his tray.

The moment he was gone Sylvie whirled on her stool to face Mia, who tried to deflect her scrutiny by petting Tandy.

“Okay, dish! What is going on between you two?” she said. As usual, her radar was flawless.

“I don’t know. I guess I kind of like the guy?”

“Are you kidding? Whatever is going on between you two is like a thousand-watt bulb!”

Mia blushed again, not sure what to say. She really did like Hugh Wolfe and had been trying to work up the nerve to ask him out to dinner. She supposed that sounded crazy since he owned a restaurant. But it seemed like a safe enough way to start.

“I was thinking about asking him to dinner,” Mia said.

Sylvie’s eyes widened. “Oh, you have to do it. I can feel the electricity from here.”

“I’m working on it,” Mia said nervously.

“By keeping it a big secret?” Sylvie said. “You call that working on it?”

A shuffling movement at a table nearby caught Mia’s attention.

A group of strangers sat at one of the booths nearby. They were a little out of the ordinary in that they were extremely

ordinary

, which really stood out in a town like Salem. They wore conservative clothing and clunky black shoes. Also, they each carried an umbrella. That was very strange because the weather was cool and pleasant with barely any chance of precipitation. At the center of the table was a man with a slightly weak chin and an insipid expression. He wore delicate, wire-rimmed glasses and was flanked by three dour women and one somber man. But the really odd thing was the way he looked directly at Mia and whispered to his companions.

I’m not imagining it this time,

Mia thought. This was the second time in one day she’d felt a sense of paranoia, as if she were being watched.

She tried to ignore them, but couldn’t help wondering what they were focused on exactly. She snuck a look down at her jacket and jeans.

Have I forgotten something? Is my fly unzipped?

Then she overheard a few words.

“That’s her,” the man said. “That’s the one who wants to destroy Salem.”

What?

Mia thought, shocked.

Why would someone think that?

Tandy stood up and stared at the man, giving a little throaty growl.

“It’s okay, boy,” Mia said as she leaned against Sylvie and whispered, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Sylvie said, leaning in closer.

“Those people over there, I think they’re talking about

us

.”

Suddenly the group stood up to leave. The man left a tip in the center of the table. Then he said into the air as if he were just vaguely talking to his friends.

“We don’t need your kind in this town.”

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