Wicked Witch Murder by Leslie Meier

woman. You’d be wise to make her leave.”
    â€œThanks for the advice,” said Lucy in a curt tone.
    â€œI’m just warning you,” he said. “I’d hate to see something bad happen to you or your family.”
    Lucy felt her hackles rise. “Is this a threat?”
    â€œNo, absolutely not,” said Ike. “I have your best interest at heart.”
    â€œPoint taken,” said Lucy, ending the call.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” demanded Phyllis, who, along with Ted, had been listening to every word.
    Lucy was trying to sort out her emotions, a complex tangle of anger, disappointment, and fear. “It’s Ike Stoughton, warning me about Diana.”
    â€œDid he threaten you?’ asked Ted.
    â€œNot exactly,” said Lucy. “He says not but it felt like a threat. And after what I saw at Diana’s place…”
    â€œYou have to write this story. It’s the only way to let people know they have nothing to fear from Diana,” said Ted. Piewocket had settled in on his lap and was purring, sounding like an idling engine. “The sooner the better. I’d like it for Wednesday. So mote it be.”
    â€œWhat did you say?” demanded Lucy.
    â€œSo mote it be. It’s just an expression I picked up from Pam. It means—”
    â€œI know what it means,” said Lucy, booting up her computer. “It means I’m working for a warlock.”
    Â 
    When Lucy got home around five that evening, she went straight to the family room, where the girls were watching TV.
    â€œWhat on earth were you thinking? Abby’s father called me—very angry—because you invited Abby to this spell-casting.”
    The girls glanced at each other; then Sara spoke. “We thought she’d want to be part of it.”
    â€œI’m sure she would, but her father has other ideas.” Lucy paused. “She’s already in trouble because of the Midsummer thing. Now you’ve made it worse for her.”
    â€œWe didn’t realize…,” said Zoe, shamefaced. “She said she couldn’t come, anyway, ’cause her mom is sick and needs her.”
    â€œAre we still having the spell-casting tonight?” asked Sara.
    â€œI’m afraid so,” admitted Lucy, going back to the kitchen.
    She was pulling the frying pan out of the cupboard when Diana came scrambling down the stairs to greet her. The poison ivy had spread, and she was covered with sores that made the least movement painful. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “I’ve been waiting all day!”
    â€œI have a job, you know,” replied Lucy, rather self-righteously.
    â€œDid you get my stuff?”
    â€œIt’s here, right here,” said Lucy, handing over the bag. “And I’ve got your cat too. He’s in the car. I wasn’t sure how the dog would react.” A sudden burst of barking sent her outside, where she found Libby jumping and barking at the cat, who was calmly perched on the back of the driver’s seat. Lucy managed to drag the dog away and confined her in the garden shed. Then she carefully lifted the cat out of the car and carried him into the house.
    Diana was looking in the bag. “Where’s the jasmine? And the power oil?”
    â€œThey weren’t on the list you gave me,” said Lucy, handing over the cat and taking off her jacket. Something thunked against the wall as she hung her coat on the hook, and she reached inside the pocket, finding Rebecca’s solution. “I do have this stuff that Rebecca Wardwell gave me, though.”
    Diana took the bottle and unscrewed the top, sniffing it suspiciously. “I think I better rely on my own magick,” she said, handing it back.
    Lucy set the bottle on the windowsill behind the sink. “Is there any chance that I could watch you cast the spell? Ted wants me to write a story about Wicca for the paper.”
    â€œI