Storm a-Brewin'

by Nova Nelson

  “I just wish there was a way I could fix it,” said a woman’s voice from across the counter. I looked up and spotted the female ghost who’d followed me home the night before.

  I sighed heavily. This was getting ridiculous. Ruby wasn’t kidding about the thinning veil. I usually had a visitor like this once a week, tops. But two different spirits in two days was just plain obnoxious.

  “No offense,” I said, “but I’m busy.”

  She stared wistfully down at my sandwich. “I remember when I could taste things.”

  Without remorse, I bit into my sandwich and let out a little moan as my taste buds sprang into action.

  I dabbed yolk off from the corner of my mouth and said, “What’s your name?”

  “Perdita.”

  “Great. Here’s the deal, Perdita. Once I can help you move on, you’re going to be a lot happier. You’re not even going to wish you could go back in time or eat a fried egg sandwich. But for that to happen, you have to admit that you aren’t responsible for your boyfriend murdering you. Your misplaced sense of responsibility is more than likely what’s tethering you here rather than allowing you to move on. So, my question is this: are you going to admit that to yourself today?”

  Her mouth had formed a little o, and her misty eyes were like two full moons. “You want me to admit something that’s not true?”

  “I guess I have my answer,” I grumbled. “Okay, this is how it’s going to go down, then. You’re going to spend a little alone time thinking about what a garbage person your ex is. And if you come back before you’ve hit on the realization I just mentioned, I’m going to banish you. I don’t have time for this while I’m trying to get my business back open.”

  “So rude,” she said, crossing her arms. “Fine. You’re not the only Fifth Wind in this realm. I’ll go speak with the other one.”

  I chuckled. “Please do. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

  Later, as I licked off the last cheesy remnants from my fingertips, a knock on the door behind me made me jump, even though it was right on time. The sandwich was so engrossing, I’d completely lost track of time and space.

  In that way, the experience was a little like being possessed.

  I wiped my hands on a napkin and jumped up to let in the inspector.

  But he wasn’t alone.

  Two women stood behind him. Two women who had no business being at something so minor as a restaurant inspection.

  Mayor Esperia’s cherry-colored pant suit cut through the gloominess outside. And next to her, swallowed up in alfalfa-green robes, stood the High Priestess Serenity Springsong.

  The inspector’s brown pants and white shirt seemed extra drab next to the two elaborately dressed women, and his expression when I pulled open the door looked almost like a desperate plea to be let in so he could have a little breathing room.

  The mayor and priestess breezed past him without an invite or a word, and I had half a mind to close the door before they could step inside.

  But picking a fight with the heads of the High Council and Coven wasn’t a great way to start off an inspection, so I held open the door for them.

  “Afternoon,” I said as the inspector spread out his tools and devices on the countertop without even introducing himself.

  “Afternoon, Nora,” said Mayor Esperia. “I almost couldn’t believe it when I read about what happened. I’m shocked, absolutely appalled, that a witch would do this to another witch-owned business, even if, well, you know …” She shared a meaningful look with the high priestess, then was kind enough to spell it out for me. “Even if you do pander to the werewolf community.”

  “I think you mean ‘cater to.’ ”

  “Hmph! No, I meant pander. But that’s okay. We accept all types in Eastwind so long as they don’t pose a threat to others.”

  The priestess was being unusually silent. “And why are you here? Also to provide backhanded condolences?”

  Springsong wasn’t put off by the bluntness, though, or if she was, her voice didn’t show it. “The Coven always supports witches first, even if they’re not members. Our care for our kind isn’t limited by a person’s willingness to pay membership dues.” She beamed softly like she deserved praise for her heroic sentiment, but all I could think about was how people were paying dues to be a part of the Coven.

  What a waste of money.

  “I appreciate your support, although we’re all good over here. No one is expected to have lasting injuries, and I’ve scrubbed the place from top to bottom, so I have no doubt it’ll pass inspection and we can open our doors again tomorrow.”

  “But would you want to?” asked the mayor quickly. “Think about it, Nora. The tensions in this town are rising. This act of war was inevitable, really, considering how incompatible werewolves are with the rest of civilized society. People are looking for safe spaces where they can bring their family without risk of attack. Do you really think it’s responsible to run an establishment that encourages such a toxic mix of cultures?”

  My mouth was gaping open, but I was unable to shut it right away. Finally, I managed, “Yes, I do think it’s responsible to allow people of all types to eat in the same restaurant.”

  “Hmm …” Esperia said, raising an eyebrow at Springsong.

  The high priestess took the baton that was passed to her. “You’re new to town, and you haven’t seen how bad things can get. When these longstanding tensions rise up, it’s usually best to keep everyone separated until they feel safe again. It only has to be a temporary measure.”

  “I may be new to town, but I know how people work. No one becomes less fearful of those different from themselves by limiting their exposure. It’s easier to hate someone when you just read about them than when you sit down and share a meal.

  “And I know that freedom takes ten times as long to get back as it does to take away.” I was sounding a little like Liberty Freeman now, but, hey, there were worse people to sound like than the genie.

  The priestess nodded. “It’s your prerogative to hold such misguided beliefs. However, it’s the mayor’s job to keep people safe. It’s not her job to allow everyone to maintain their delusions of peaceful coexistence, especially when that coexistence ceases to be peaceful.” She motioned to the diner. “I’d say a silver attack on weres is anything but harmonious integration, and in a place that you claim fosters it.”

  I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around why they were here, but I did catch a whiff of where they were going with their arguments. “This is about the Werewolf Protection Act.”

  Mayor Esperia waved that off. “Oh, we’re not calling it that anymore, and we’ve tabled the larger legislation for the time being. We are, however, taking necessary measures to move forward with a few smaller laws that would allow the townspeople of Eastwind to feel comfortable leaving the safety of their own homes.”

  Oh boy. I could only imagine what they had in mind. “And that is?”

  “Currently we’re promoting Safe Haven laws, which have garnered massive public support.”

  Safe haven? I wasn’t sure what that entailed, but I’d done the assigned reading of 1984 in high school and knew a sneaky government euphemism when I heard one. “What exactly do the Safe Haven laws allow?”

  “Simply that any business owner may deny service and entry to whomever they deem a threat to the safety of themselves and their customers. Business owners may post signs designating their shops ‘werewolf-free zones’ for instance.”

  “Or witch-free zones?” I asked.

  Esperia’s nostrils twitched. “I suppose so, but who would want to do that? It’d drive away all the business.”

  “Considering we just had a witch attack a bunch of werewolves in front of an editor of the newspaper, I suspect quite a few business owners will want to keep witches out the moment they have the opportunity.”

  “Doubtful. It would sink their businesses in a heartbeat. Everyone knows witch purchases keep the Eastwind economy thriving
.”

  I suspected she meant she would sink their businesses with whatever tools she had available to her, including all the power of the Coven.

  “And will this ‘safe haven’ thing negatively impact businesses that don’t choose to discriminate?”

  Esperia looked aghast. “Of course not. Contrary to what you seem to believe, we strongly support a business’s right to choose how it operates. That’s what this is all about.”

  “Right,” I said, biting my tongue to keep the rest in.

  Just because the law would allow a place like Medium Rare or even Sheehan’s Pub to remain come-one-come-all, didn’t mean the Coven and Esperia wouldn’t find other ways to make those who disagreed with their fear-mongering pay.

  Luckily, there wasn’t a fairy’s chance in the Deadwoods that the High Council would pass the Safe Haven laws.

  The High Council was made up of seven elected officials representing a broad spectrum of creatures across Eastwind.

  They would need four votes for it to pass, so I did some quick mental math.

  The mayor would obviously be a yes.

  Siobhan Astrid, an elf, could also swing that way. While she seemed fairly inclusive, after all, she was good friends with Donovan and that was no easy task, but if she voted along the lines of all the elves and elven kind, including fairies and pixies … well, like Hyacinth, they could be a little elitist. So, Siobhan was a maybe.

  There was no way Quinn Shaw, a leprechaun, would vote in favor of it. Quinn owned a large stake in Sheehan’s Pub. The Safe Haven laws wouldn’t help their business. Plus, one of the very few things I’d learned from my studies with Oliver was that leprechauns had faced discrimination in every realm they’ve traveled to since records were first kept. I couldn’t imagine them turning around and being okay with discrimination toward others.

  Although, you never knew, did you? While some people learn from their own mistreatment and go on to fight for the rights of others, there are always those who escape their injustices only to turn back around and do the same terrible things to others.

  Octavia Pantagurel didn’t strike me as the type to tolerate this kind of nonsense. Having spent so much time around Anton in the Medium Rare kitchen, I’d learned that ogres may be short on words, but that didn’t mean they were short on thoughts. In fact, Anton spent most of his time outside of work at the library. If Octavia read half as much as Anton, there was no way she would vote for this stupid law. Readers are always the smartest people in the room, and it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the slippery slope the “safe haven” gibberish was heading down. I suspected she would vote against it.

  And then there was Liberty Freeman, the genie who was easily the most beloved person in Eastwind. He’d experienced his fair share of suspicion lately, and if there was anything he hated more than blind bias, it was restricting people’s freedoms. But did that put him on the side of the customers, whose freedoms would be restricted, or the business owners, whose freedoms to restrict would be expanded? Hmm … that wasn’t as clear cut as I’d assumed.

  Darius Pine, the head of the werebear clan, wouldn’t stand for this, would he? He was the closest thing to representation werewolves had on the High Council, and he took his responsibility seriously.

  But at the same time, he was best friends with Ansel, who’d had a real splinter in his paw about witches lately, trying to get Jane to quit Medium Rare and actually succeeding in getting his niece Greta to leave. Did Darius share the same view that weres and witches shouldn’t be mixing?

  He couldn’t, though. Not while he continued to let Eva stay in the lodge he owned on Fluke Mountain, right?

  And lastly, there was Count Sebastian Malavic. Who even knew where the vampire stood on any particular issue? My assumption was generally that if it benefitted him personally, he supported it, if not, he didn’t. Since he was the only one of his kind in town, his people’s interest and his own overlapped completely. The only reason he was reelected over and over again for hundreds of years running was because he poured so much of his dubiously acquired wealth into Eastwind.

  If you couldn’t tell, I wasn’t a fan.

  But Ted liked him well enough and said he was a good ally to have. And clearly Bloom had seen something in him at one point.

  Maybe the vote wasn’t as clear cut as I’d hoped it would be. Maybe there was a chance of the Safe Haven laws passing.

  The inspector popped up from behind the countertop. “All done.” Then he began gathering up his tools into his briefcase.

  “And?” I said. “Are we all good?”

  His cheery expression didn’t fade as he said, “Nope. I found a bit of silver underneath that tabletop.”

  “What? Which one?”

  He pointed. “That one.”

  I hurried over to it and set my hand on top. “This one?” I had to be sure.

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  I stared down at it. I could have sworn I’d gotten every inch of it.

  “That’s too bad,” said the high priestess unconvincingly. “Well, there’s always next time.”

  “I’m happy to reschedule for tomorrow,” said the inspector.

  “Yeah, okay,” I replied, having no other choice. “What department do you work for again?”

  He smiled. “No department. Just freelance.”

  “Okay, but who’s paying you?” I had a strong guess.

  “The High Council.”

  Yep. There it was. I turned toward Esperia and Springsong, who grinned back at me shamelessly. I don’t know what I’d hoped for from them, chagrin? But nope. Their expressions clearly said, “And what are you going to do about it?”

  There wasn’t anything I could do about it. “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Alfred.”

  “Glad to see my tax dollars are going to the right things, Alfred.”

  Once the inspector and his tagalongs left, each wishing me better luck next time in singsong voices, I grabbed a rag and spent a full ten minutes scrubbing down every millimeter of the table in question. They could keep me closed an extra day, but they had to let me reopen eventually.

  Didn’t they?

  Chapter Six

  There were a lot of ways that Eastwind was different from Austin, Texas. More than I could count. And one of them was that, in my old world, if I’d asked an officer of the law for the home address of a crime suspect, they wouldn’t have handed it right over.

  But Tanner did just that when I asked him for the address of Efarine Moulton, the witch who’d silver bombed the diner.

  Since I’d failed inspection and had the rest of the afternoon free, I decided to pay the woman a visit and see if my ghost radar didn’t go a little tingly when I entered her home. Maybe I could pick up on signs of a previous possession that Sheriff Bloom missed. Did I have a clue what the signs of a previous possession were? Nope. It was worth a shot to see if my Insight didn’t perk up. Wouldn’t be the first time that sort of thing happened, where I had no idea what I was doing and my Fifth Wind talents said, “We got it from here, stupid.”

  Was it risky visiting the suspect without actually telling anyone where I was going? Yes. But there were too many things that weren’t adding up, and with the free time on my hands, it was making me a little neurotic.

  I’d considered swinging by Ruby’s to bring Grim with me, but I knew it would be imperative to win over Efarine as much as possible to get to the truth, and, well, Grim didn’t always make great first impressions. Not to mention, Efarine’s familiar probably wouldn’t appreciate a giant, resurrected hellhound encroaching on its territory. Couldn’t blame the cat, though; I often felt the same about Grim.

  Efarine’s house was in the small Copperstone Heights neighborhood, not far from where Donovan lived, which was a predominantly witch area. Because of that, it was pricy, and Efarine’s home was no exception.

  I wondered if Warlock’s Wardrobe paid this well, or if, like Donovan, she came from a bit of money (bartendin
g in Eastwind paid about the same as bartending in Texas, meaning you couldn’t pay a mortgage with it).

  The houses in this neighborhood were older, but well maintained. While not gigantic like those in Hightower Gardens, they were still the type that would be passed from one generation to the next and a few even had names like Dawnsong Manor and The Shadethorn House on the front gates rather than street numbers.

  It was too bad this neighborhood was so full of witches and almost nothing else, because otherwise I would have loved to buy a house there someday. I always wanted a house with a specific name. Ashcroft Place? Fifth Wind Cottage?

  Yeah, creative naming still wasn’t one of my strengths (as Grim could and often did attest to).

  I pulled myself out of my daydreams, climbed the stone steps leading to her front step, and knocked.

  It was a moment before I could hear anyone on the other side of the door. Understandably, she was probably trying to figure out what I wanted from her. After all, she had been accused of terrorizing my business. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that I was here to get back at her or, at the very least, yell at her a bit.

  When I could hear her close to the other side of the door, I said, “Efarine. You in there? I just want to chat. I’m not angry, I promise.”

  “How do I know for sure?” she hollered.

  I rolled my eyes. “You can ask Sheriff Bloom. She’ll vouch for me.”

  There was a moment’s pause, then she said, “Too much trouble,” and opened the door.

  Her wand was pointed straight at my navel, and I took a quick step back, holding up my hands. “I’m just here to help.”

  This was probably a bad idea.

  If I’d brought Grim with me after all, he would have agreed, I was sure.