Grenache and Graves Read online

  Grenache and Graves

  Wine Valley Mystery Book 5

  Sandra Woffington

  Sandra Woffington

  Copyrighted Material

  Grenache and Graves copyright © 2019

  Book design and layout copyright © 2019

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are

  either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Sandra Woffington.

  sandrawoffington.com

  1st Edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944650-13-1 (ebook)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944650-14-8 (paperback)

  Books in the Wine Valley Mystery Series

  Merlot and Murder: The Beginning (FREE)

  Burgundy and Bodies, Book 1 (May 2, 2019)

  Pinot Noir and Poison, Book 2 (May 9, 2019)

  Syrah and Swingers, Book 3 (May 23, 2019)

  Rose and Rocks, Book 4 (June 27, 2019)

  Grenache and Graves, Book 5 (Aug. 1, 2019)

  Shiraz and Slaughter, Book 6

  Pinot Grigio and Pesticide, Book 7

  Gamay Noir and Ghouls, Book 8

  Claret and Carnage, Book 9

  Viognier and Venom, Book 10

  More murder, mystery, and mayhem to come . . .

  Other Books By The Author

  WARRIORS & WATCHERS SAGA SERIES

  Epic Mythological Fantasy

  Seven ancient gates of evil will open, unless a quirky group of teens become warriors.

  “Original and consistently entertaining from cover to cover.” Midwest Book Review

  Evil Speaks (Reader’s Favorite 5-Star Review)

  Evil Hears (to be released in 2019)

  Evil Sees

  Evil Touches

  Evil Feeds

  Evil Deeds

  Evil Desires

  ______

  STAND ALONE HISTORICAL ROMANCE

  Unveiling

  What would you sacrifice to fulfill your destiny?

  Stay Up to Date

  In appreciation of each and every reader, I created a Facebook group called Woffington's Reading Warriors: Mystery, Murder, Magic & More specifically for readers to join together and share their interests, discuss books, and to communicate directly with me and fellow Reading Warriors!

  I post updates, previews, new releases, insider information, and awesome offers in this group.

  Visit my website at sandrawoffington.com.

  Follow me on Amazon, Facebook or Instagram.

  Come for the Mystery—Stay for the Magic!

  Acknowledgments

  If you love this series, it is because of my fan ARC Readers and the pros on my team.

  Thanks for your energy, your belief in me, and your support!

  ARC READING WARRIORS

  Lisa Oster

  Julie Bawden-Davis

  PROS

  Editor: Beth

  Cover Artist: Judy

  Marketer: Jynafer

  To my parents, John and Jean Woffington—

  You flew away from earth,

  but before you left—you gave me wings.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  The Next Case

  Author’s Note

  Shiraz and Slaughter

  Books in the Wine Valley Mystery Series

  Other Books by the Author

  Stay Up to Date

  1

  Drew, along with other members of the Celestial Moon Circle, convened at The Tranquil Heart, the garden at the center of Wine Valley Cemetery, the old, abandoned cemetery. At midnight, when the others came, they would celebrate Mabon, the Autumnal Equinox, a time of balance—when day equals night. A time to celebrate the end of bountiful harvests. A time to welcome darkness as it overtakes light and death as it overtakes life during fall and winter.

  “I’ll set the circle.” Drew, a middle-aged, docile man with a clean-shaved face and shaved head, pulled eight round white rocks, one at a time, from a box. He set them in a circle around a small table. He used a compass to set one at each cardinal point—north, south, east, and west—and set another stone in between each until eight stones formed a perfect circle.

  Wine Valley Cemetery fell into disuse and disrepair after a developer built a grander, more modern abode for the dead on a larger plot of land near Wine Valley Airport. Since then, the city of Vinoville provided minimal care to the old cemetery—a single groundskeeper and biweekly gardening services.

  The Tranquil Heart had been closed for repairs a month earlier and signs posted, although work had yet to start.

  Mercy Summerfield, who had died at seventeen, became the first resident of the cemetery in 1888. The triangular, white marble pediment of her crypt rose above the ground at the northern end of The Tranquil Heart. Two columns flanked the staircase leading down to Mercy’s below-ground tomb, the grandest house in the cemetery.

  At the southern end of The Tranquil Heart, a prestigious black granite obelisk marked the final resting place of James Summerfield, Mercy’s father. He’d ordered the obelisk not for religious or astrological purposes, but simply to show off his power and wealth.

  In front of the obelisk, High Priestess Ruby Moon carried an abalone shell full of burning herbs: sage, cedar, and sweetgrass. Her long dark tresses fell down her back. Her black dress and hooded-cape flared behind her as she walked in a circle, purifying the space. The sweet smoke trailed and dissipated, leaving behind earthy and sweet scents. “By the powers of air, I cleanse this space. By the powers of fire, I cleanse this space. By the powers of water, I cleanse this space. By the powers of earth, I cleanse this space. This circle is open. Let it be. Blessed be.”

  Ruby’s consort, High Priest Jared Masterson, a man with model-like features and wavy blond hair to his shoulders, helped Ruby’s mother, Queen Alizon Moon, a middle-aged woman with short dark hair, set up the altar in the center of the rock-bound circle.

  The late September sky burst with stars. A week ago, the moon reached its peak, called the Harvest Moon, because it extended a farmer’s ability to work into the night in the days before electricity posed no limitations on the workday schedule.

  A chill filled the air. A few tall trees created shadows, like giant benevolent beings there to watch and join in the celebration. The inky rim of the western hills undulated across the sky like a sleeping dragon.

  Alizon draped a red cloth, symbolizing fall colors, over a small folding table in the center of the circle. From a cardboard box, she grabbed a stone bowl and set it at cardinal north on the make-shift altar.

  Jared grabbed a jar of sand and poured it into the bowl to represent the earth element.

  Finished with smudging the circle, Ruby set the abalone shell on a tripod on the table, placing it at cardinal east to symbolize air. The scents of cedar and sage excited their senses a
s each prepared in his or her own way for the celebration to come.

  Alizon set a bowl on the southern portion of the altar and placed a piece of charcoal in it to represent fire.

  Jared lifted a silver chalice from the box and placed it at cardinal west, and Ruby filled it from a bottle—the water element. Jared set a kiss upon Ruby’s forehead, and they gave each other a loving glance.

  Ruby set two large candles—one white to destroy negative energies and to represent the goddess, and the other black to repel negative energies and to represent the god—on the altar.

  Jared unsheathed the black-handled athame, the ritual knife, and placed it on the table. The fourteen-inch blade gleamed in the moonlight.

  Alizon set down a wand and a silver pentacle.

  Ruby added a final touch: symbols of autumn—acorns, a pinecone, walnuts, and a sprinkling of yellow leaves.

  A buzz on Ruby’s smart-watch signaled the time—midnight. “They’ll be coming now.” She no sooner said it than four other members of the circle, two women and two men, dressed in black hooded capes, slipped through an opening in the hedge.

  Drew grabbed a thermos from the box. He passed out three silver cups to Ruby, Alizon, and Jared and kept one for himself. As Drew filled each, Alizon waved her hand about. “We’re pleased to be a part of your circle tonight, Jared and Ruby. Blessed be.”

  “We’re happy to have you, Queen Alizon Moon,” said Ruby, calling her mother by her formal name. With full cups, Drew held his aloft and uttered, “Blessed Be.” The others repeated it, and they gulped back the mugwort tea and absinthe concoction.

  “Drew,” said Jared. “Add more honey next time.”

  “Or more absinthe,” jested Ruby.

  “It is a bit bitter, Drew,” said Alizon. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

  Everyone took their places, standing inside the rock circle.

  High Priest Jared stood before the obelisk.

  High Priestess Ruby stood opposite him, across the circle. Alizon stood to Jared’s right, Drew to his left. And the others filled in. They pulled the hoods of their ceremonial capes over their heads. Beneath the capes, they each wore black—jeans or T-shirts or dresses, it didn’t matter.

  Although a Queen, Alizon Moon was only a visitor at her daughter’s circle. She had started the Celestial Moon Cauldron, a different coven, before Ruby’s birth. When Alizon had three downline covens, she earned the designation of Queen. But High Priestess Ruby Moon would lead the Mabon ceremony for her circle.

  Ruby pointed her finger to the sky and shouted, “Cast the circle!”

  Crystal, a heavy-set girl in her thirties with scraggly bleached-blond hair and excessively dark eyeshadow and mascara, stepped forward and took the ritual knife off of the altar. She resumed her place and gazed across the circle, facing east toward Gregor. She pointed the blade at the sky and shouted, “I call the Guardians of the East and the element of air to watch over this sacred circle!” She walked the blade over to Ruby Moon before resuming her place.

  Ruby Moon pointed the blade skyward. “I call upon the Guardians of the South and the element of fire to watch over this sacred circle!” Ruby walked the blade to Gregor, a balding middle-aged man with grayish-brown stubble on his cheeks and chin.

  Gregor pointed the blade skyward. “I call upon the Guardians of the West and the element of water to watch over this circle!” He walked the blade to High Priest Jared.

  Jared pointed the blade skyward. “I call upon the Guardians of the North and the element of earth to watch over this sacred circle!” He returned the blade to the altar.

  Ruby Moon stepped forward and picked up the wand from the altar. She returned to her place. She held the wand aloft. “Oh, hear me, divine ones! We cast this circle to be thankful for the abundant harvest and to welcome the darkness that comes. We invite the divine into our circle. Blessed be!”

  Each member of the group danced or twirled about or chanted incantations of a personal nature—for love or prosperity or health—or for the community—for peace or harmony or understanding.

  Ruby picked up the athame and pointed the tip at her heart to channel divine energy. She spun in a circle and chanted, “I accept change and embrace separation. Blessed be!” She passed the blade to Jared, who received it, and chanted a spell to open himself to love. He passed it to Alizon who chanted a spell no one could hear. She passed the athame to Val, who twirled with it, but said not a word, and set it back on the altar.

  Gunner scooped up the blade, pointed it at his chest, and shouted at the sky, “With this blade, I conjure forth everlasting peace—west, east, south, and north—pain depart and be at ease! Blessed be!” He set the blade back on the altar.

  After time enough had elapsed, the group formed a tight ring within the circle. Ruby Moon stood directly before Jared at the obelisk. The others gathered on each side of them and everyone placed their hands on Ruby or Jared. They focused on receiving and channeling the divine.

  Ruby Moon’s face took on a calm expression. She focused and held the tip of the wand to her chest. “I draw down the moon! I call the goddess into me. Blessed be!”

  Jaxon Summerfield, a handsome, dark-haired high school senior with a football physique, kept his head down as he led three friends past the hedges surrounding The Tranquil Heart.

  “What a bunch of looneys,” whispered Felix Roberts, a high school freshman and a promising quarterback.

  Upon reaching the stairs to the crypt, Jaxon asked, “Still up for the challenge, freshmen?”

  “I’m ready,” said Anton Turner, a beefy black boy.

  “Me too,” said Felix, who hoped to be a doctor like his father one day. “I can’t wait to see a real corpse.”

  Tim Haas, an equally beefy white boy, hesitated. “I don’t like this. Can’t we do something else to get in the club?”

  Jaxon shook his head. “Don’t worry. This is my family’s crypt. If anyone gets in trouble—it will be me. We’ll move the cover-stone, I’ll open her box, and we’re out of here.”

  “Let’s just do it, then,” whined Tim. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  The boys crept down the stairs until they stood before the metal gate of ornamental bars.

  Jaxon held the lock on the gate. “Give me light.”

  Felix flipped on a micro flashlight.

  Jaxon slid a key into the lock and turned it. The lock popped open. Jaxon pulled on the metal door. It wouldn’t budge. “Give me a hand. It’s stuck.”

  “Probably rusted shut,” said Tim. “One can only hope.”

  The four boys gripped the bars. Jaxon gave them a countdown. “One, two, three.”

  The boys pulled with full might. The door swung on its hinges, letting out a high-pitched metal whine.

  The metal whine was heard in the circle and perceived as the divine answering their call.

  Ruby Moon kept the wand pointed at her chest. She rotated her head in a circle to aid in slipping into a trance. In front of her the obelisk punched into the dark night, like a beacon drawing down the energies of the universe.

  The boys in the crypt lined up on one side of the white marble sarcophagus. “The top is thinner than I thought it would be,” remarked Felix.

  Jaxon whispered, “Rumor has it that Mercy only got the tomb because her mother insisted. Her father wanted her buried without fanfare—a pine box dropped in a hole. Let’s do this.”

  Each boy wrapped a hand over the top, ready to push the slab aside using their palms. They all stood shoulder-to-shoulder on one end, hoping to turn the stone.

  Again, Jaxon gave the countdown. “One, two, three.”

  The boys pushed. The slab moved a couple of feet.

  The boys split up, two on each end of the slab. They turned the top stone a couple of feet at a time, until it lay perpendicular to the sarcophagus at Mercy’s head, exposing the narrow end of the pine box inside.

  Jaxon pulled off his backpack and let it slip to the floor. He withdrew a crowbar
that stuck out of the top. “I’ll do this. Felix, keep the light on the crowbar.”

  Jaxon threw a leg over the edge of the marble box until he straddled the side. He shoved the crowbar into the seam between the top of Mercy’s unadorned coffin and the side. After several tries, the crowbar slipped into place.

  Jaxon worked feverishly, prying the lid off of the pine box and edging his way around the top. “We have to move the slab again.”

  “I’m sitting this one out,” said Tim.

  “Too late for that, Tim. Grab an edge. We’re moving this to her feet so I can pry the rest loose.” Jaxon hopped down. He and the others pushed the slab, sliding it to Mercy’s feet.

  Jaxon straddled the marble sarcophagus again. He pried and pried. “It’s free. Help me move it.”

  2

  Ruby Moon’s head whipped forward and back. She gasped for breath. She spoke, but her voice changed to a husky tone. “My child! My child!” Ruby Moon peered around the circle. “Hang your heads! Hide your eyes in shame! Oh, Mother Earth—you are the womb that holds my babies! Dead babies who never took in a breath!”