Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

pot.” She raised the hem of her trousers an inch, allowing Olivia a clear glimpse of her bracelets. They were made of the teeth and bones of small animals.
    Forcing herself to not recoil, Olivia met the old woman’s dark gaze. “Why did you want me to come?”
    Reclaiming the jug, Munin put it back in the burlap sack. “Because the last jug I’m ever gonna make is for you. Because your mama cared for me once when I was real sick. She brought medicine from town and spent the night here. Not many would do that.”
    “How did you come to meet her in the first place?” Olivia demanded.
    “Same way I meet most folks. She needed help no one else could give her.” The witch held out her hand, palm up. She wasn’t going to answer any more questions. It was time to collect her payment. “What have you brought me?”
    Olivia’s fingers reached for her backpack, closing over her treasure. In the witch’s gloomy hole, surrounded by the rows of dusty jars and the disintegrating newspapers, she was reluctant to bring it forth, let alone hand it over to the crone.
    “Ah, it pains you to think of me having your prize.” Munin’s face wrinkled in delight. “Then it’s a worthy sacrifice. Give it to me.”
    Unzipping the backpack, Olivia stalled a moment by offering Haviland a dried beef stick. She hated being controlled by the strange woman, and all because she claimed to have known Olivia’s mother. But every story of Camille Limoges enriched Olivia’s own memory of her, rooting her orphaned daughter to a family tree, to the town of Oyster Bay, to a special place in one person’s heart. She knew she’d trade nearly anything in exchange for information on her mother, the person she had loved the most. The only person who’d truly loved her in return.
    Her hand closed around the witch’s payment and she passed it over without further hesitation.
    Munin unwrapped the protective layer of tissue paper to reveal an exquisite wood carving of a young girl standing in the lee of a lighthouse, her hand shielding her eyes as she stared outward in search of something.
    “It’s you,” the witch said. “Looking for your daddy, right?” She touched the wooden girl’s skinny arm with a hooked fingernail. “And you think your search is over, but it’s not.”
    Anger flared within Olivia. “Enough riddles. What do you want?”
    Munin leaned closer, her dark eyes locking on Olivia’s. “Death is coming to this forest. It doesn’t want you, but it’ll take you if you get in its way. Be wary. Protect your friends. You will all be close to danger.”
    Olivia pointed at the newspaper on Munin’s bookshelf. “Did you read about the food festival? That’s how you know I’ll be in the forest.” She made a derisive sound. “Is that all there is to your hocus-pocus?”
    “In part.” Munin grinned, unfazed. “I am Memory. I collect memories and I put them on my jugs. The past helps me see into the future. And I use other methods too. The land is rich with plants that aid my visions. Jimsonweed, heliotrope, passion flower.”
    Eying her tea suspiciously, Olivia set the mug aside, causing Munin to laugh. The sound was like the rustle of dried leaves. “I haven’t drugged you, girl. I mean you no harm, which is a good thing, for harm seems to find you. Death is attracted to you.”
    “I assume you’re referring to the murder that happened a few months ago? Again, you read about my involvement in the paper.” She narrowed her eyes at the old woman. “And if you knew it would happen, why didn’t you send a warning?”
    “I don’t see in straight lines, child. I knew that the man calling himself Plumley would pay a steep price. There is always a price, as there was for your friend—the one who’s in jail now. He has peace for the first time in his life. You don’t have to grieve for him anymore.”
    Olivia felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up
.
Only Dixie, Rawlings, and the Bayside Book Writers knew how she felt about the events of the past spring. How she’d mourned the loss of a friend and how her guilt over helping the authorities bring him to justice had weighed her down for months.
    “Many of my visions are filled with nightmares,” Munin suddenly hissed. “Ugly things that will come to pass. But that does not mean I should interfere. I stay away from such things unless I have a debt to pay. I have survived by staying away.” The fire in her eyes died as quickly as it had flared and