These Wicked Bones

Chapter One

My grandmother was a little eccentric, but she was never threatening. Well, maybe she was to the people who didn't know her well but, in this town, everyone knew everyone else and we minded our business. Outsiders were welcome only really to spend money, and we relied heavily off of tourism even though the people coming from out of state clogged our roadways and our restaurants during high traffic seasons. Fall was approaching and the bite of frost in the morning was a bitter reminder that summer was over and the brutal winter months were soon to follow the autumn colors, but this time of year was beautiful, nonetheless. It was cool enough for me to shrug on a beaten sweatshirt, but I still had shorts on to absorb the last of the summer heat that the sun had to offer.

I liked the cold very much, so it honestly wasn't terribly uncommon to see me (or really, any New England native for that matter) in shorts and a sweatshirt on this crisp 37-degree morning.

People always give the east coast a hard time, saying the people here are as kind and forgiving as the steep rocky beaches that you'd find along our ocean shores. I'd counter and say we just keep to ourselves and see no use in wasting time over pointless small talk to make acquaintance, or time-consuming conversation when there's work to be done. Currently, I fell into the latter half of that group.

"You're sure you've never heard of Applecrest Farm, dear? I was under the impression that it's a very picturesque place and everyone goes this time of year." said a very sweet looking old woman while looking at a map that was seemingly upside-down. New Hampshire was looking a little too much like Vermont at this point in time. Or, maybe she mixed the two state maps up at a rest stop accidentally, and that's why she and her husband were lost this morning.

"Can't say that I have, no."

I absolutely had. However, I was also late for opening this morning and didn't feel like spending precious time explaining how to get there.

I squinted at the menu of my favorite coffee shop, pretending I didn't know it by heart while the old woman kept talking in the background. Annie, the owner's daughter, waved at me from around the corner of the kitchen with a giant grin.

"Bob, I think we're in the wrong town. This says..." The lady brought the map even closer to her face. "Honey, I don't think we're going to make it far without directions."

"Oh, I can help!" Annie said cheerfully, walking up and handing me my drink without asking for my order. I looked at her with an eyebrow raised and she waved me off. "It's on the house, Sawyer." She redirected her attention to the old lady, starting with, "So you folks need to get back to the highway..."

I smiled and practically ran out the door before they could involve me in the conversation again, curly hair snapping in the cold gusts coming off the ocean nearby. I had my iced coffee in hand, keys in the other, trying to get past the slow-moving pedestrians on the stone sidewalks when my foot caught on the uneven path. My coffee hit the ground with a pathetic smack and the plastic lid broke off as ice went flying into the road.

"Fuck my life." I muttered, picking up the cup and tossing it into a nearby recycling bin. I'd almost finished it at this point, but my irritation was taken off my spilt coffee and redirected at the throngs of people clogging the streets and slowing me down. There were too many people up early today. I was late, and Agatha Ponthier despises late employees. I saw her reorganizing the antique bay window herb jar display from where I was already, and although I wasn't close enough to physically see her tight-lipped expression, I knew I was likely in for an earful this morning.

I never planned on essentially taking over my grandmother's herbal apothecary, but after graduating high school and spending years in college after my parents' accident with little direction aside from my love for plants and antiques, I sort of fell into the family business. My grandmother had been a practicing herbalist for many decades and had dabbled in forms of witchcraft over the years. My mother had been an incredible incense compounder and spellcaster until she died. These talents and some psychic abilities could be traced back through my family for generations and ran strong in the women in my family.