Spell Maven Mysteries- The Complete Series

by J L Collins

  “Yeah, Sully is like perpetually early to everything. He’ll make sure we get to school,” Marina quickly nodded, shuffling over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Fiona-Leigh. “Please?”

  I took in a deep breath. As much as I hated the idea of not being here while Fiona-Leigh was supposed to be going to school… I could at least check in with her throughout the week by popping in here and there. Especially since I wanted to keep my eye on any other magical leaks that might happen. “I don’t know, girls. I don’t want to intrude on Sully.”

  “But you won’t! I’m sure he won’t mind!” Marina pleaded. “Seriously. He’ll probably even be happy! She keeps me out of his hair, so it’s like a coupon or something.”

  I imagined Sully standing over his gas range, stirring up one of his delicious meals I’d already had the pleasure of tasting. With his thick, curly black hair pushed behind his ears while he was taste-testing some kind of sauce… I cleared my throat, trying to shake the image in its glory out of my head. “We’ll see.”

  7

  Veggies and Cadavers

  I stood at the end of the driveway trying my very best not to look as ridiculous as I felt. Caving in to my daughter’s begging didn’t exactly set up as the best parenting move ever. I didn’t know what was more impressive—the fact that she started out the weekend being in trouble and managed to end it with a full week’s-stay with her best friend, or that I wasn’t having a major freak out over it.

  The steady rush of spraying water caught my attention, pulling me out of my poorly-constructed parental confidence. Stepping out into the road, I noticed it was coming from the very place I was headed off to: Sully’s house.

  Sure enough, I could just barely make out the dark curls over top of his white picket fence. From the looks of it, he was messing around in one of his gardens.

  Taking a moment to make sure my hair wasn’t showcasing my many cowlicks, I smoothed down the front of my shirt and walked directly over there, hurrying before the guy in the old Chevy pickup nearly mowed be down.

  Stupid human drivers and their stupid motor vehicles. I’d gotten used to learning to drive after I found out how necessary it was to get around anywhere directly outside of town, but I still didn’t like the idea of having to share the road with anyone else.

  Opening the gate, I let myself into the front yard, automatically zeroing in on the man kneeling in front of a thick latticed vine of cucumbers. From behind, I could see that Sully had very likely been out here under the hot Georgia sun for a while now—the thin white t-shirt clinging to the middle of his back in a way that had me doing my very best impersonation of Jax staring at a brand-new bone.

  I cleared my throat before I ended up standing there for another five minutes leering all creepy-like at him. “Hey there.”

  Startled, Sully jumped and landed right on his rather fine behind, the basket of large, fresh cucumbers toppling out of his hands and onto the grass.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Sully,” I said, rushing forward to help pick up some of the vegetables.

  He just laughed, straightening his glasses and pulling himself up to a stand. “It’s all right.”

  Why is it so hard not to stare at his cute dimples? “I really didn’t mean to scare you. And in fact, I sort of thought that being a coroner and all you’d be less-likely to startle.”

  He nodded, wiping the back of his forearm on his forehead. “Yeah, I guess you have a good point. I don’t usually scare so easy, but I was counting in my head.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how many of each vegetable I’m going to put together for the Union County Food Bank this weekend. I’m dropping it all off this Saturday, actually,” he explained, pointing to the basket. “So far, I’m looking at keeping fifteen cucumbers for myself here—gotta have enough for pickles and all. And the rest are going to the food bank. I’ve got the butternut squash, bell peppers, tomatoes, and plenty of fresh herbs done for the day. I don’t suppose you’d like any?”

  I took a look at the other baskets Sully had neatly lined against the side of his house and laughed, shaking my head. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but you know me and food outside of a box don’t mix well. I wouldn’t even know where to start with all of these.”

  He chuckled, gathering up the basket from my hands. “Which is exactly why you should take some! I can maybe come over and show you some good recipes to throw these into. Squash is really versatile, cucumbers are great for salads of course, but I’ve made some of this homemade vinaigrette that I bet you’d love. Seriously. We should get together and do that some time. I don’t mind teaching.”

  Why do I feel like he could teach me how to watch paint dry and I’d still hang on his every word?

  “Just call me your student. I mean, you know, metaphorically speaking.” Which reminded me of why I made the short trip over to begin with. Wiping the goofy smile off my face, I oh-so-casually transitioned into real talk. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else. I’m going on a, uh, freelance business trip quite suddenly, and I’m finding myself at a loss of what to do with Fi. I’m just not comfortable leaving her in the house all by herself for the next few days or so. Marina mentioned something about her staying here with you while her parents are out of town? I don’t suppose you would mind if Fiona-Leigh came to stay over with her?”

  “I’m sure Marina mentioned it,” he said with a wry smile. “I don’t see why not. She can stay in the guest bedroom with Marina.”

  The tension faded from between my shoulder blades. “Thank you. Seriously, I hate impeding on your time and I’m sure you’re very busy and all—”

  “—Not at all. It’s been a pretty light week at work. But I doubt it will stay the same now that I’ve said something,” Sully said, wincing. “Sorry. We’re all just a bit superstitious about talking about work outside the office.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a little superstitious.” Especially when you grew up on true stories revolving around them. My Great-Aunt Millie once broke a mirror and really did have a bout of bad luck for seven years—though that was probably because she got sucked into the enchanted mirror and had to spend seven years solving a riddle just to get back out again. Poor Millie was never really the same afterward.

  “And of course, I’ll make sure that it’s not all BuzzFeed quizzes and sneaking snacks at midnight, either. I know Marina at least has some kind of big science project she needs to be working on.”

  “Is that really what they do at night?” I laughed. I could imagine the two of them silently laughing as they crept into Sully’s kitchen to steal the goods.

  “Ha, you’d be surprised. One time I overheard them taking the ‘Which SpongeBob Meme Are You?’ quiz.”

  “Uh, should I know what a SpongeBob meme is?” I asked, thoroughly perplexed.

  He waved me off. “No. It’s probably better off you don’t know. Anyway, I mean to say that Fiona-Leigh is more than welcome to stay over with Marina. What kind of freelance assignment are you working on? It must be something pretty cool. Probably much more interesting than which of our neighbors won the yard of the month ribbon,” he said, smiling as he looked to the house behind his. “Mr. Porter nearly took off my head, trying to shape his bushes along our fence line just to prep.”

  Despite the ridiculous giggle that found its way out of my mouth, my mouth didn’t seem to want to work right. “I-uh, well, it’s not something I can really talk about. The work assignment, I mean. It’s just there are a lot of people involved and it gets all convoluted with what I’m allowed to say and not allowed to say,” I managed to string together. “Nothing terribly interesting though, I’m afraid. Definitely not as interesting as say, being a coroner.”

  Sully gestured for me to follow him inside after gathering up two of the baskets of veggies. Propping the backdoor open for me, he set the baskets down by the sink.

  Was it so terrible of me to wish for a daydream-worthy sequence where Sully
, tired of the sweaty shirt sticking to him, strips it off in the brilliant sunlight, the light catching reddish highlights in his otherwise jet-black curls?

  He cleared his throat, looking at me as if he were expecting something. “Is this the part where you ask about what kind of skeletons I must be hiding in my closet in order to work with dead people? Believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s thought I was a little crazy and I had to reassure them otherwise. I mean, unless being a little crazy does it for you,” he added, quirking the corner of his mouth up to reveal a dimple half-hidden in his dark beard.

  Less paying attention to his facial hair, more actual listening.

  “Crazy isn’t really the word I’d use . . .” I struggled trying to think if any of what he’d just said had actually sunk into my subconscious. “More like . . . unique?” Wait. Did he just indirectly ask me if crazy people were a turn-on for me? Had I really let that fly so high up over my head?

  He seemed satisfied enough with this answer. “Yeah, I guess you could label my job as unique.”

  My cheeks were burned as I tried to move on in the conversation. “What did make you decide to want to, you know, do what you do?”

  Sully hung onto the question for a moment, a shadow crossing his face that made me want to rewind and never ask.

  “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I just sort of like seeing what makes people choose certain paths. I like knowing what makes people tick.” Leave it to me to put a guy on the spot in his own kitchen.

  “Funny you mention it. I too, like knowing what makes people tick. It’s why I decided to take Human Anatomy in college back when my major was still undecided. One step into the back room where we examined our first cadavers and I was hooked. Becoming a medical examiner just seemed to make sense after that.”

  My lip didn’t want to stop twitching. “Cadavers. Now there’s a lightbulb moment.”

  “Yeah, I guess it was,” he said, revealing that darn dimple again.

  “And it never freaked you out or anything? I’ve seen my share of stuff and I’m not sure I’d ever volunteer to deal with bodies like that.”

  Tipping one basket into the empty sink, Sully shrugged. “Nope. I think I went straight past being weirded out and jumped right into wanting to know what exactly caused the death, what death really meant. I mean, there was a whole semester somewhere in between where I was really into learning how ancient civilizations dealt with their dead, but other than that I think it was a pretty normal fascination. It didn’t make me many friends along the way, but working around the one thing that scares the hell out of everyone doesn’t exactly do wonders for your social life. Not that I’ve ever minded,” he added as he caught the look on my face. “I’m okay with it.”

  Something compelled me to want to push for more information but I held back, realizing that I’d already done what I’d set out to do. As much as I hated to end this moment with Sully, I had to get back home.

  “Once I have these all washed up, you’re welcome to some,” he said, gesturing to the basket of unwashed tomatoes and peppers. “It shouldn’t take me too much longer.”

  “That’s really sweet of you. I actually need to get back home and pack . . . though, I wouldn’t be opposed to having some already put together food saved for me if there are any leftovers from your excursion to the food bank.” I flashed him my own smile.

  “Consider it done,” he said over the din of the rushing water. “And feel free to send the girls over whenever. I’ll be here.”

  How was it possible to smile with your whole face? My cheeks still heated, I thanked him again before heading to his front door, all too aware of how big my butt looked in these shorts.

  Oisín was only too happy to point out my ruddy complexion by the time I was back in my own kitchen desperately downing a glass of ice water.

  “I’d ask you where you were just now but I think the point would be moot,” he drawled.

  I rolled my eyes, still chugging away. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The fluffy black tail flicked this way and that as he sat back on his haunches. “Oh really? Red face, oddly sparkling eyes that have nothing to do with magic?”

  Jax ran around my ankles, nudging at me to bend down and pet him.

  “Even Jax gets it. And he’s a canine imbecile with kibble for brains,” Oisín said, turning several circles on the spot before plopping down. His huge yellow eyes flickered in my direction before slowly closing. “I may be several feet shorter than you, but I must say I’m certainly looking forward to a bird’s eye view of this oncoming car crash.”

  “Who’s crashing?” Fiona-Leigh mumbled through a mouthful of food as she slid into the kitchen in socked feet, raising an eyebrow at me.

  I let go of the wand my hand had instinctively grabbed for, relaxing my grip and smiling at her sweet as syrup. “No one, honey.”

  “Don’t let your mother fool you,” Oisín yawned, whiskers twitching. “She’s just mad because she knows I’m right.”

  “You most certainly aren’t!” I said, scowling.

  “Aren’t I, though? If you’re really so blasé’ about him, then why not invite the man over for dinner? That’s what all the independent human women do here in their realm. At least according to the Real Housewives . . . which, did you know that they’re not just housewives? Underneath that catty, overly-tanned exterior, they have hearts of gold. Or well, a couple of them might. The rest of them are just total b—”

  “—I don’t care what the Real Housewives of wherever the heck do, Osh. If and when I feel the need to talk to him about any of the above, I will do it on my own terms. And that’s that,” I said. I chewed my bottom lip, catching the look Fi was giving me. “What?”

  The wide grin that spread across her freckled face was mischievous at best. “You’re totally talking about Sully, aren’t you?”

  “What about my uncle?” I heard Marina’s voice drift down the hall from Fiona-Leigh’s bedroom.

  I shook my head. “No, no. I’m just . . . you know . . . talking about men in general.”

  She glanced down at Oisín who gave a particularly unconvincing yowl. “I’m going to go back in my room and pretend I never heard any of this.”

  I smiled. “Fine by me.”

  “And then, if and when you feel the need to talk about asking Sully out on a date, you know—on your own terms—I will give you some probably much-needed tips.” And with that, she shoved the last remaining hunk of banana into her mouth, dropped the peel into the large plastic bin with the word ‘COMPOST’ scribbled on the side, and triumphantly waltzed past me.

  8

  Buried Treasure

  The thick wooden doors swung open on their accord as I strode into the Athenaeum, my fingertips brushing over the wand in my back pocket. Uncle Gardner was expecting me.

  Not much had changed since my first visit the day Rourke’s body was found, yet the library already seemed to have a thin film of dust across every solid surface as if it had been longer. Dust motes floated through the chinks of sunlight spilling in through the Athenaeum’s skylights, reminding me of the thicker parts of Amaranth Forest, where the sun’s rays could barely penetrate.

  Ahead, a handful of Shadow Hands were gathered around the main desk looking over a large map of some sort. I knew they knew I was standing there trying to listen in, but also as I figured, they completely ignored my presence. Tough crowd.

  Letting a small bout of irritation roll over me, I walked around to where Zoya was busy wiping down one of the many desks spread out across the study area. Judging by the slight sheen of sweat on her face, she’d been doing this for a while.

  “Hi Zoya,” I whispered, wincing when she started anyway. “Sorry. I was trying not to scare you.”

  She clutched at the rag in her hand and threw me a half-hearted smile. “Hello, dear. Nice to see you again.”

  “Would you like some help?” I asked, gesturing to the rows of desks not ye
t cleaned. “This might go faster if we used some magic. Here, I can—”

  “—No, no. That’s quite all right. I actually want to do this myself. To . . . to keep my mind off of everything.”

  I took a step back. Clearly Zoya needed to work through some things, and who was I to get in her way? Patting her shoulder, I nodded. “Of course. Totally understand. Please do let me know if you need anything though, okay? I’ll be around, I’m sure. In fact, do you happen to know where my uncle is by any chance?”

  “Oh! I think I saw him head down to the Relics Room.” She stood back up, placing a hand on her back as she groaned, working through it with an attempt at a smile. “And don’t worry about me, Gwendolyn. I need all the exercise I can get at this age. Eighty-seven and already getting back pains . . . I’ll have to go see your Aunt Bedelia about that. Hopefully she has something to help.”

  Eighty-seven and she hardly looked a day over thirty. And I thought Witches aged gracefully.

  I thanked her for the tip and with a backwards glance at the Shadow Hands who all seemed to turn their gazes back to the large map at the same time, I rolled my eyes and headed toward the stairs that led to the lower levels.

  Passing the white columns and magically-floating busts of prominent past leaders throughout Danann, I stopped to grab one of the small torches before descending the winding stone steps. I’d forgotten how far down the Relics Room was, stopping at a few of the wrong landings before finally reaching the cavernous opening to it. Ahead, Uncle G was bent over a stack full of ancient-looking books. Several of the spines were nearly split, and the book he was reading through currently, he was using the utmost caution when turning the vellum pages.

  He looked up; his reading glasses perched on the end of his broad nose. “Gwendolyn.”

  It still surprised me just how much I wanted to make him proud, even after all these years of pretty much unlearning the training he’d provided me. I gave him a respectful nod before walking up to him, extinguishing my torch for now.