Grimoires, Spas & Chocolate Straws

by Erin Johnson

  Iggy's eyes widened. "If that's true, he should be more concerned about making her angry. She is the black widow." He drew a line across his throat… or where a throat would be if he weren’t a flame.

  I tried to nod.

  A few minutes later I could hardly bear it anymore. I struggled to move my shoulders, but couldn't. "Iggy, how much time is left?"

  "The sand was out a bit ago."

  "Why didn't you say anything?!"

  Iggy chuckled. "You said you liked it."

  I clicked my tongue. "The guy said we shouldn't go longer than twenty minutes—max! And the timer was set for fifteen. You've got to get me out of here." I struggled to move and my chest tightened with panic. "Is Hank even still breathing?"

  "Calm down." Iggy spun away from me in his lantern, puffed himself up with a huge breath, then shouted. "Oi! This one's done cooking!"

  I winced. "You probably just startled everyone."

  Iggy chuckled. "Yeah, well, all of them were over there chatting up the ladies. If I hadn't shouted you'd probably be roast pudding by the time they found you."

  He had a point.

  "Apologies, miss." The guy with the straw hat appeared above me and bowed. This time he held a wooden hoe in his hands. "Ready?"

  I tried for a nod. So ready.

  He scraped some sand off me, and one of his coworkers ran past me and worked on Hank to my left.

  "Mm? Already?" he muttered, groggy.

  Well, at least my boyfriend was alive, though I begrudged him being able to relax and enjoy the experience. It was like when I couldn't sleep sometimes and would be up at four in the morning, grumpy with Hank for slumbering peacefully. It didn't really make sense for me to be mad at him. I grinned to myself. Then again, he didn't seem to mind when I woke him up… and kept him awake with some after-hours activities.

  "There you go." The man shoved the hoe into the sand and left it to stand on its own, then opened his arms wide, like a capital T. "Open your arms out."

  I was surprised when I was able to move my arms.

  "Slowly," he cautioned as I pushed to a sit.

  Sand tumbled from the front of me and the towel fell off my shoulders. I took an unhindered breath. "Huh." My head swam, light and tingly, and a rush of joy flooded through me. I giggled.

  "And she's finally lost it." Iggy shook his head.

  I glanced left at Hank, who sat upright beside me. We smiled at each other, then I broke into giggles again. His face scrunched up and he chuckled along with me. I felt weirdly alert… and giddy, full of energy. I wiggled my legs free and unsteadily rose to my feet. The sandman lurched forward and grabbed my elbow. Then he dipped and handed Iggy to me.

  "You're all right? Feel good?"

  I nodded, surprised at my own answer. "I feel amazing."

  He beamed. "See? I told you. Doragon signature treatment—come back soon! Tell your friends!" He waved me over toward the changing screens, then moved over and worked on Maple. Hank and I shuffled through the sand, back to the wooden walkway.

  "I can't believe you slept the whole time." I nudged him with my shoulder.

  Hank grinned. "It was a power nap."

  We passed rows of buried spa goers and I scanned them, looking for round glasses guy. I found him in a back corner, tucked way back under the balcony away from the sea. I shielded my eyes and squinted.

  Yep, that was him, buried to his neck, and apparently, like Hank had been, fast asleep already. When we reached the changing areas, I handed Iggy to Hank, gave my guy a quick kiss (though I wanted to linger for more), then ducked behind the screened-in area. I rinsed off in the outdoor shower. The sand piled up on the stone tiles at my feet and I was soon joined by Maple, then Annie.

  When I gripped the handle of my locker, my wrist tingled and the tattoo disappeared as the lock clicked open. That was cool. I pulled out my clothes and dressed, then waited for my friends in the shade under the balcony, enjoying the cool sea breeze on my face. The sky was deepening to a brilliant fuchsia and orange as the sun dipped closer to the water. Even though we'd traveled all day, the sand bath had left me refreshed and energized to explore the town that night, or take a walk along the beach with Hank.

  Once everyone was rinsed and dressed, we headed up the wooden walk, skirting the back of the hotel.

  "I thought I was about to die at first." Wiley shook his head.

  "Thank you!" I half-turned and nodded at him.

  "Eet was a firrrst for me… but not the last, I tink." Yann grinned and I was happy to see a smile back on his face. Maybe the sand bath had been just the thing to lift his spirits. I turned to hide my grin. It had left his fair skin as red as his beard though.

  "I loved it!" Sam practically skipped along. "Ssshed a ssskin and everything."

  We were about to head left around the corner when I literally ran into Miss Sara.

  23

  In Deep Sand

  “Oh!" I jumped back, then reached out to steady Sara. "I'm so sorry, are you all right?"

  She pressed her pretty eyes closed for a moment, a tight smile on her face. "No, I'm sorry." She rolled her eyes to the sky above. "It's my fault—I've been a bit scattered lately."

  "Understandable." Hank smiled pleasantly. "You've got a busy spa to run."

  She looked us all over, then glanced behind us, to the showers we’d just come from. Her gaze lingered on Yann, and her face broke into a huge smile, lines creasing the corners of her eyes. "You've had the signature treatment? What did you think?"

  "Oh, eet was genius!" Yann moved forward, edging past the rest of us as if caught in Sara's tractor beam. He towered over her, and they had eyes only for each other. "I deedn't know eet before, boot I lofe getting buried."

  My eyes widened. Don't give her any ideas, Yann!

  Sara let out a shaky breath and they leaned toward each other. I frowned at Hank, then Maple. Had Sara and Yann forgotten the rest of us were here?

  A shout broke their trance. Then came another. We all turned and Miss Sara held a hand over her eyes to shade them.

  Behind us, under the shade of the balcony, the sandmen ran towards the farthest back corner. Sara kicked off her heels and stepped into the sand. "What's going on?" She hurried toward where her workers were gathering, and my friends and I followed. The sand bathers' eyes sprung open and they craned their heads, unsuccessfully trying to see what all the commotion was about.

  The man who'd helped us earlier looked stricken as he peered at each of his coworkers. "Who buried him? Answer me! Who?" His hand trembled as he held up a cracked hourglass, the sand frozen mid-pour. "The timer! Who broke it?"

  No one spoke.

  "Well, get him out!" The whites showed around the man's eyes.

  I gasped as I realized who it was they were standing around.

  "It's the big guy with the glasses." Iggy widened his eyes at me. His gaze darted to Sara, then back to me, and I gave him a tight nod to show I understood. The same one who'd argued with Miss Sara earlier.

  The four workers grabbed their hoes and hurriedly scraped away the sand from the man's round belly and limbs. I frowned—hadn't there been five of them? The four sandmen, and the host who'd greeted us. I didn't see the guy with the kerchief around his face… unless he'd pulled it off and I'd miscounted.

  The host knelt beside the big man and pressed a hand to his forehead. He paled, then looked up. "Call a healer!"

  Miss Sara, running, reached them first. She pressed a hand to her mouth as she looked down at the man, his eyes closed behind his fogged glasses. I gasped as I ran up behind her. His shoulders and face were cherry red, and his head lolled to the side. I felt for Hank's hand. He pulled me to his side and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Even though my heart beat wildly in my chest, I relaxed a little, comforted to have Hank near.

  One of the workers took off running, presumably to call a healer. Miss Sara's chest heaved, but she kept her face composed. She knelt down, more gracefully than I could have in her tight dress, an
d pressed two trembling fingers to the side of the man's neck. She held them there for several long moments. No one spoke. She sucked in a sharp breath and lurched to her feet.

  Her breaths came in short pants as she staggered away a few steps. I tensed, waiting for her to speak.

  Sara's throat bobbed and she looked like she might be sick. "He's dead."

  24

  Tea Deliveries

  The next morning, we rose from our luxuriously soft beds on the floor, all piled in a room together like a big slumber party. I'd expected to have a fitful night, between the unfamiliar space, the energizing spa treatment, and of course, the death. But I felt surprisingly rested and ready for the day. We said hello and goodbye to the guards, us leaving as they stumbled home after a long night of protecting the fishing boats.

  I pulled Misaki to the side for a moment before she lay down, while the rest of my friends headed downstairs for breakfast in the hotel's posh restaurant.

  "Did you hear about…?" I lifted my brows.

  Misaki stifled a yawn and nodded, bags beneath her glassy eyes. "I saw Miss Sara on the way up. She filled me in." She gave a little shake of her head and her top knot bounced, the rest of her hair loose about her shoulders. "I can't believe it was Nazo Suzuki."

  I nodded. We'd all stayed with Miss Sara, Yann close at her side, until the healers and authorities came. They’d covered his body and upon initial examination found no signs of foul play. He seemed to have died of a heart attack.

  Iggy and I had given statements about when we'd seen him led off, but none of the sandmen fessed up to being the one who buried him. That wasn't exactly surprising, since it became clear he'd been left in the sand for at least half an hour. Someone's negligence had likely gotten him killed.

  Still, a little voice in the back of my head reminded me that I thought I'd seen five sandmen… not four. They'd retrieved his belongings from his locker and found identification that pegged him as Nazo Suzuki. The authorities had been surprised, though if Miss Sara was, she hadn't shown it. Apparently he was a big-deal hotel and restaurant critic. His word in the local paper could make or break a business. But he'd always kept his identity secret.

  I pressed a hand to my chest. "I felt like I couldn't breathe lying under all that sand…. It must've been a terrible way to go."

  Misaki frowned. "I'm surprised he didn't cry out or anything." She shrugged. "Hopefully he went quickly and painlessly."

  The healer had examined Nazo Suzuki's flushed chest and face and proclaimed that while the redness might have been due to the sand bath, it might also indicate that he'd died of a heart attack. The healer hadn't been surprised, considering Mr. Suzuki's size and the strain that must've been placed on his heart from being buried in that heat for so long.

  Misaki yawned again. "Miss Sara's conducting her own investigation to figure out which of her workers is responsible for leaving him buried so long."

  I lifted a brow. "They were all pretty distracted by the group of pretty girls who came in around the same time."

  Misaki rolled her eyes. "Of course they were." She clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Good to see you, but I'm about to fall over." She gave me a little squeeze and edged inside the room. "See you later!"

  "Sleep well!"

  I peeked around her and waved to Jun, Kenta, and Ben. "Have to admit, I'm glad to see Misaki looking tired." I thumbed at her as she wandered toward the en-suite bathroom. "I didn't think this girl ever ran out of energy."

  Jun adjusted his glasses, an admiring smile on his face as he glanced at her. "A giant squid attacked our boat last night and grabbed the fisherman. Misaki dove into the water and spelled him free, then rescued him and swam him to the surface."

  I gawked.

  She leaned out of the bathroom, a smug smile on her face. "And then I finished three more hours of my shift." She winked.

  Yeah, okay. The girl had stamina.

  I met the others downstairs. Today was the day for tea deliveries, and Hank, Maple, and Annie worked out the logistics as I munched on orange slices.

  Rhonda and Francis passed by the open doorway to the restaurant, then doubled back. Rhonda flashed a bright smile and waved before bouncing over to our table. She plucked up one of my slices of toast and grabbed a knife to smear butter over it. "Hey, guys! Did you hear about the dead guy?"

  Faces at nearby tables swung our way.

  Francis, hovering a few inches above the polished wood floor, lifted his long, pale hands. "It wasn't me."

  I frowned. "Yeah, we know."

  Maple and I took turns filling Rhonda and Francis in while the seer devoured the rest of my toast and miso soup. She waggled her brows at me. "So… is our resident detective on the case then?"

  I lifted my brows. "What? Me? No." I shook my head, and Maple couldn't hold back her smile.

  I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I admit, I might be a little prone to investigating."

  "You mean sticking your nose in other people's business." Iggy munched on a gray stick. He'd ordered driftwood from our confused waiter when we'd sat down, but they'd actually brought it to him. Five-star service, in my book.

  "I'm surprised." Rhonda, who'd been sitting on the table, hopped off. "I thought you'd be all over this."

  I shook my head and smiled at Hank beside me. "This time, I'm just enjoying my vacation with my boyfriend."

  Rhonda pursed her lips, but didn't say any more. "We've been out living it up all night. For a little seaside town, this place has some great bars." She waved as she and Francis headed back out into the lobby. "See you suckers tonight. We're heading up to the room to sleep." She winked at Francis.

  I grimaced. "The guards are up there so don't…" I trailed off as they'd already walked out of hearing distance. "…do anything gross," I finished.

  After we ate, we split into three groups—Hank, Iggy and I took one sheet of paper, a list of the spas on the far side of the main street. Wiley, Maple, and Cat took the deliveries that wound up the cliff, off the main road through town. And Sam, Yann, and Annie took those closest to the hotel and spa.

  Hotel workers escorted us to the stables around back and the tea shipment they'd kept safely locked up in a storage closet. We'd thanked them, divvied up the baskets based on the addresses on their labels, and then split up to make our stops. Hank and I chatted happily as the enchanted baskets floated along behind us.

  Thank goodness Hank knew a levitation spell—those suckers were heavy! Plus, he kept them far enough back that only my eyes and nose watered—at least I wasn't sneezing my head off like I had in the back of the cart. I sniffled, and Hank conjured up a soft handkerchief and handed it to me.

  I took it with a smile and dabbed at my nose.

  "Remind me to brew you up an allergy potion."

  I grinned up at him. "You can make that?"

  He nodded. "I feel bad I didn't think of it earlier."

  I tucked the hankie in my pocket and waved a hand. "Aw, I'm all right. Once we get these delivered"—I jerked a thumb at the baskets behind us—"I'll be good."

  He reached for my hand and squeezed it.

  The street was even busier than it'd been yesterday, which made for slow going. We weaved our way between the revelers, our huge baskets of tea in tow. Peddlers with carts or trays hanging from their necks sold magically glowing jewelry and tiny vials of swirling potions. We passed a fortune teller's tent, draped in velvet, and strode by food stalls, the mouthwatering scent of fried food filling the air. Magically dancing jelly beans tinkled against their glass jars at a candy booth. The beat of the huge drums vibrated in my chest like a second heartbeat and the sea breeze brought welcome relief from the heat of the bright sun warming the top of my head and shoulders.

  It was good to have so much celebration around us, and a purpose—it helped chase away the memory of finding Nazo Suzuki dead yesterday.

  We stopped in and made deliveries at several spas, a bookstore, a coffee shop, and a beauty parlor.

  I sniffled. "Are
we almost done?"

  Hank's hovering quill scratched another business off our list and he looked over. "You're not having fun?"

  I grinned. "Of course I am." I bit my lip. "I'm just getting hungry."

  Hank chuckled. "Of course you are." When I elbowed him, he batted me away. "Okay, I admit it, I am too." He showed me the parchment. "Dango's Tranquility Spa—this is our last stop."

  I looked up at the faded wooden sign that hung, slightly askew, above the door. "Huh." I looked across the street, to where Sara's Doragon Spa stood. "We're back."

  25

  Dango's Tranquility Spa

  As we pushed inside, a little bell tinkled, announcing our arrival. My brows lifted in surprise. The place couldn't have been more different from Miss Sara's… or from any of the other elegant spas we'd visited that morning, in fact. A mustached man waved at us from behind the counter that took up nearly half the cramped lobby. Brass keys hung on the wall in rows behind him.

  He spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Dango's Tranquility Spa. I"—he bowed—"am Dango."

  "Hiiiii!" A shout sounded from a back room.

  Dango gave us a simpering smile. "And that is my lovely wife—our talented cook."

  "A family establishment." Hank gave him a friendly smile and gestured for me to lead the way. I had to step around a couple of pots of drooping orchids and an untidy pile of shoes that extended well past the doorway. Water stains marred the low ceiling, and despite the fact that the ocean was right across the street, not a single window let any light into the dingy space. Why wouldn't they want that view?

  I cleared my throat and tried not to breathe through my nose. Dango's wife must've been cooking eggs… and fish.

  CRASH! I jumped.

  "Just dropped a pot!" the wife shouted.

  Dango turned his head and boomed, "Careful, flower!"

  I lifted a brow and Iggy and I exchanged looks. Tranquility Spa, huh?