Spell Maven Mysteries- The Complete Series
Page 36
It took me until we finished getting ready for the long slog back up to the gateway, flashlights packed for the hike in the dark, before I realized something was missing. “Uh, where’s Oisín?”
“I let him stay here. He said he didn’t want to be carted around in that torture cave.”
I frowned. “Torture cave?”
“His carrier.”
That definitely sounded like Osh. “Okay, but where is he? I just checked his bedroom and he wasn’t in it. When was the last time you saw him?”
She tapped her finger to her chin. “Yesterday before I left for school in the morning. I put Jax in his pen since no one was home at Sully’s and I had to go to school. I felt kinda bad, and told Osh that I would get him some fresh salmon from the sushi bar next time we go if he stayed put and kept Jax company.”
“And what did he say?”
“Two tuna rolls and a whole salmon filet, not just the sushi roll. Then we have a deal.”
Leave it up to Oisín to disappear in the middle of everything else going on. “Well, I hope he plans on coming home within the next hour because I’m locking up and he won’t be able to get in otherwise.
“Did someone say tuna rolls?” a silky voice called out from down the hallway. “Sorry. I was getting my beauty sleep. You people are awfully loud, you know.” Oisín plopped his furry butt down by the threshold, his tail flicking back and forth.
The weekend was a complete blur. And just as Fi had called it, I was so busy with bouncing back and forth between the library and the MARC, digging into the case files and looking for any information that could explain the magic leaks that I barely had time to spend with her. It dug at my insides, but at least I knew she was enjoying herself. Each night before we went to sleep in Aunt Bedelia’s guest bedroom above the Apothecarium, she’d regale me everything she did that day.
I laid in bed, exhausted, but smiling at the excitement in her voice as she told me how the entire Children of the Moon Society had somehow contracted the same rash and they filled up most of the shop waiting around for Aunt Bee to finish mixing up enough tinctures to help them all.
She was dozing in and out of the story toward the end, her eyes drooping shut over and over again until I heard her soft snoring. Yep. The plan in the morning was definitely to spend some quality time with her. I owed it to her.
A fitful sleep hadn’t exactly been my cup of tea, but not only had training at the Academy taught me how to work on minimal sleep—so had being a single parent.
“Come on,” I said, pulling a groggy Fi up out of bed the next morning. “Let’s get some breakfast before we head to the Athenaeum.”
Her eyes widened in surprised. I could see myself in their reflections. “Right now?”
I nodded. “No time like the present.”
“Sweet! I can’t wait to check out some of the books Erie recommended to me. ‘Hedgewitchery - Eye for Herbs’ and that huge reference guide to animals native to Danann!”
“I bet Erie never told you that she discovered one of the species in the book. The Potentias Worm.”
A look of awe overtook her face as she slid out of the bed. “Whoa. That’s insane. She did tell me about how one time she was out studying one of the breeds of wildcats that live in the forest. I don’t remember what the name was—something we don’t have in our world. But apparently it can turn nearly invisible…”
Without meaning to, I checked out of the conversation as my mind took me elsewhere, picturing the same old evidence and reports I’d been staring at. She was waving her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to the present.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, ashamed at how easy it was for my eyes to glaze over. It was like there was a steady program of constant information running at all times in the back of my brain. I couldn’t get rid of it, but it was definitely becoming more of a nuisance.
Fiona-Leigh nudged me with her shoulder. “It’s okay. But maybe we can go to the Athenaeum for a little while and then you can go out and relax on your own if you want. I know you have like a million things going on right now.”
Her understanding meant more to me than I could ever say. I leaned against her, pulling her in for a squeeze. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”
19
A Big-Mouth’s Gamble
“This place is straight out of Hogwarts.”
Fiona-Leigh perched on the edge of one of the dark wooden benches that were placed here and there throughout the Athenaeum’s main lobby area, her face the picture of utter awe.
“Well, I don’t know anything about Hogwarts, but this is just the tip of the icecap,” Erie laughed, leaning over the oracle desk in hopes of finding Zoya. “Well, she’s not back here. Maybe we should just go ahead and start browsing. Come on, Fi. I’ll show you one of my favorite places to kick back.”
I hid a reluctant smile at the way Erie had used the nickname I gave Fiona-Leigh, nodding for the two of them to go on ahead without me. “I think I’m just going to look for Zoya in case you see anything you want to borrow.”
Erie grinned. “Plus, your mom probably wouldn’t approve of me showing you the Colossus of Crises. It’s full of some pretty dark stuff,” she spoke in a staged whisper. “But I think we can get away with it.”
“I heard that.” I rolled my eyes.
“Sh! We better get going before she catches on,” she whispered again, turning to wave to me. “We’ll meet back here in say, an hour?”
“Mm-hm. Your concept of an hour is far different than mine.” This was true, but only because I sucked at time management. In a weird fluke, Erie was pretty impeccable with it.
She shrugged and yanked Fi up from the bench. “Let’s go.” They disappeared down a long aisle of books in the Stories & Mythologies section.
From somewhere inside the library (or maybe even the walls themselves) rang a loud ancient-sounding bell. How was it already noon? I knew Aunt Bee kept us a little longer than I’d wanted, fixing us what amounted to a four-course breakfast. My stomach was still full of sausage and hash that it was a wonder I hadn’t rolled down the steps to the main shop.
I peered over the front desk as Erie had done, double-checking for Zoya. Sometimes she could be hiding without even really meaning to. Half-banshees were small enough to be mistaken for an older child if you weren’t looking properly.
Pulling out my wand, I swirled it in front of the desk, whispering a soft incantation, until a little electric blue bird formed from the tip of it. “Fly free little bird. Fly free and find with whom I’d like a word.”
It let out a shrill tweet before soaring into the air, off to find the unassuming librarian. Twitter has nothing on me.
I was surprised to see that no one seemed to be around, not even the other two librarians that were under Zoya. After what happened with Rourke, it was a bit shocking not to see more overall security other than the Shadow Hands Uncle Gardner had placed outside to keep watch around the grounds. I didn’t feel the usual deep magic that was woven into the atmosphere around the Athenaeum. I frowned.
A few more minutes passed before I gave up, deciding instead, to take a walk along the main street. As much as I loved the library, I’d been in and out of stuffy older buildings for the past couple of weeks. I needed some sunshine—and the cool breeze that was still a month away in Midnight Pitch.
“Just a quick stroll,” I said to myself, pushing open the heavy doors until the bright sky left me shielding my eyes.
Some people hurried down the street while others were strolling along like me, in no rush to get anywhere so soon. The beginnings of the market were right around the corner from the library. Further down the other end, began little stone cottages dotting the green landscape here and there. A family of dwarves were outside the nearest cottage, the parents lying in small hammocks while their two older sons were busy cutting the grass and weeding the garden. Dwarves were well-known for their metalsmithing and woodworking skills. In fact,
my wand and several others were handcrafted by dwarves. They worked hard, so you couldn’t exactly disparage the
m for wanting a break on a beautiful day like this.
I snorted, watching the father sipping on something fruity-looking out of a tall glass.
Actually… that didn’t sound like a bad idea. And I knew just the place to go to get my sweet and fruity fix.
Walking in the opposite direction toward the market, I smiled and waved at some of the more familiar faces.
Frida, a werewolf woman who I knew from her days working with my mother at the Apothecarium, gave me a quick hug. “So good to see you, liebe. I had heard you were back in town. And with a beautiful daughter as well! The two of you will have to stop by my stand. Fresh from the vine, grapes and Bludhaven watermelons!” she said in her thick accent.
“Of course! I’d love to,” I replied, giving her a quick wave before continuing on.
Down the road some, Arcas’ bar, Harm’s Charm did not appear to be open yet. I groaned, wishing I could magic myself one of those delicious strawberry and dragon flower daiquiris he used to make me years ago.
“Gwen!” A deep, rumbling voice shouted from behind me.
I grinned as I turned around, nearly barreled over by the nine-foot tall beast himself. There was nothing quite like get squished against a minotaur. “Hey stranger. I was just coming by to see you,” I said in between short huffs of breath as he hugged me a little too enthusiastically.
Arcas’ bull-ring moved with the loud snort he let out. “Coming to see me? To what do I owe this pleasure?” I knew he was just teasing me. His dark eyes crinkled in the corners.
“I was hoping for a drink. And maybe some conversation with a good friend.”
The massive grin that spread across his muzzle was enough to answer me. “Of course. But I’m actually on my way to Denbigh’s. Why don’t you join me?”
I took a step back and stared. “Since when do you go to Denbigh’s? I thought you guys had a falling out years ago?”
Denbigh, the hobgoblin owner of Denbigh’s Cafe was Arcas’ chief competition when it came to Witches and others’ more alcoholic and otherwise habits. Denbigh’s was more of a daytime place though, with more magical menu items, while Arcas had a much more… mature establishment. Namely the saloon-like bar he ran underneath a brothel. Which he owned. I never really brought it up with him since I’d been back, and I wasn’t about to start judging my friend now.
Arcas just shrugged. “Eh, I got over it. We made amends, I guess.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?” He folded his arms across his massive dark chest. “Not all of us hold grudges.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Arcas! You’re the worst at holding grudges. Remember when my cousin Reaghan turned you down when you asked her out? No one was allowed to speak her name in front of you for three years straight.”
He snorted again. “So? She was just playing hard to get. And I didn’t appreciate it.”
The image of Arcas standing at the front gate of the manor house, a raggedy bouquet of antsy almond flowers in his hands, stood out in my mind. “Arcas. She was already engaged!”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, trying his best to sound indifferent. “I’d rather be a handsome bachelor running my own booming business, anyway. Speaking of, I better get going. You coming or not?”
I sighed. “I guess. I swear if Denbigh starts playing the harmonica though, I’m out.” At the very least, I’d be incredibly perturbed while I’m sipping on my lemon and sugared plum shandy.
Inside Denbigh’s was much fuller than I expected on a Sunday afternoon. A couple dozen bored-looking women were spread out across the cafe, talking amongst themselves with drinks and snacks in hand, while the men—probably their husbands judging by the continuous dirty looks from the women—seemed to be standing in an unofficial line waiting to get into the back of the cafe behind a pretty conspicuous black curtain. I turned to Arcas; my brow raised.
“What’s all that about?” I asked, nodding my chin toward the line.
He scratched behind one of his horns, pretending not to notice. “What’s what?”
“Arcas . . .”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Denbigh’s got a little side gimmick going in the back. That’s all I can say.”
Because of course he does. Denbigh wasn’t one to shy away from controversy. “You worried I’m going to raid the place or something?” I asked with a smirk. “Aren’t you the run who runs a—”
“Okay,” he said through clenched teeth. If he wasn’t an old friend of mine, I might have been a little fearful of the menacing look on his face. “It’s a gambling ring back there. Magic slots, Dice, Bonnabo . . .”
“What’s Bonnabo?”
“You don’t want to know. Believe me.”
Well. That wasn’t at all alarming. As much as I hated to be the kill-joy, I made a mental note to check into it. “Right. Where’s Denbigh anyway? I thought you promised me a drink?”
“Right here, Gwennie-Baby,” the short and hairy hobgoblin leaned against a table, wiggling his fingers at me. “I didn’t realize we’d have the pleasure of your company today.”
“I’m sure. I tagged along with Arcas,” I said, nudging Arcas’ side. “All I want is something to wind down with. It’s been a stressful week, as you can probably imagine.”
His bulbous eyes slid upward to Arcas. “I see. Well then. I can certainly help with that of course. I would . . . just ask that you keep our entertainment to yourself. The MARC laws regarding this sort of venture are a little . . . wobbly and outdated.” He inspected his long shimmery pink nails.
I nodded. “Noted. As long as no one’s getting hurt, I won’t say anything. But I should caution you about having such an obvious venture going on when anyone could walk in. Plenty of the MARC employees enjoy stopping in for a bite to eat. And they may not be so lenient.”
His expression brightened before he bowed his head in my direction. “Much thanks, dearie. And I’ll have one rosewater spritz up and ready for you.”
“Actually Denbigh . . . I think I’d like something a little stronger this time.”
“No problemo, none at all! I’ve got something to whet your whistle, indeed.” He hobbled off before returning moments later with a couple of amber-colored bottles missing their labels. “Just what you need here. Sparkwater. Not too strong, but strong enough. If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing backward to the last of the men walking behind the curtain, “I have some other business to attend to. See you on the other side, friend?” He was looking back up at Arcas.
“Nah. I’ll catch the next run. I’m going to hang out here with Gwen.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking a seat at the empty table and gesturing for him to do the same. “Oh wait . . . maybe we should go sit at the bar instead.”
The barstools at Denbigh’s were specially magicked to hold the enormous weight of several of the town’s different inhabitants—Arcas being one of the biggest. We took our seats there and clinked the bottles together.
“Cheers,” I said, eyeing the bottle warily. “I swear if I start seeing things, I’m going after him.”
“I’ve had some before. It’s pretty mild. Nothing like my Wendigo Whisky. Now that’s some strong sipping right there.”
We chatted about how Fiona-Leigh was doing. When I leaned forward and confided in him about the disastrous night with Sully and Marina, he shook his head.
“Humans. More trouble than they’re worth if you ask me.”
“I didn’t. And you’re wrong. Especially those two. I just hate that we have to keep so much from them. It certainly doesn’t make it easy to maintain an open friendship.”
He grunted. “Whatever you say.”
Deciding I did not want to argue, I changed the subject to the only other thing that had been on my mind lately. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything at your bar about what happened with Rourke? I’ll take whatever I can get at this poin
t.”
“The MARC running out of steam?” he asked. Arcas being the only minotaur in town, had his fair number of run-ins with them. Between him being adopted by a Witch family and going through that arduous process, and having his every move tracked as he went through the Danann School of Magical Mastery’s Outer Sanctum at the demand of his adopted family, aside from maybe me, he was generally not a fan of the MARC.
“Not exactly. But I could definitely use the help. No leads on the murder case or the search for the missing spell book. Not that you should repeat any of that,” I quickly added in a whisper. “Most people don’t know the Book of the Wise is missing.”
Arcas, who’d gone through the Outer Sanctum, knew what was at stake just as well as any other Witch. “Hm. I haven’t really heard much. What I know, Zoya told me.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “She’s a pretty regular customer at the bar now.” He smacked the bar top lightly, but still sent everyone else’s drinks shaking. “I’ll take another of these,” he called out, holding up the empty bottle.
“Me too,” I called out, smiling as one of the other bartenders leaned over from the end and slid two more bottles our way. “So, she’s been coming to the bar a lot?” Two things I had not expected to hear together in a sentence—Zoya and bar.
Arcas popped open the top using the tip of his horn, leaning down so I could do the same. “I don’t think she wants everyone to know, so she comes to my place instead of Denbigh’s more . . . populated cafe. She’s been real bent out of shape over Rourke. Everyone knows she was in love with the poor bastard.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I dribbled some of my drink down my chin. “What? I didn’t know that! How come I didn’t know that?”
He shrugged, though he seemed pretty delighted to one-up me on information. “It’s all she ever talked about at the bar. She’s a terrible drunk, you see. Always crying, nearly wailing about unrequited love. And she practically lives at the Athenaeum so . . .”