Spell Maven From Spell Haven

by Megan Marple

  Fiona-Leigh lifted her pale, freckled shoulder and scrunched up her nose. “He was a sociopathic witch with friends in high places—most of them total prejudiced misogynists who wanted power—and now the highlight of his day is finding a new way to lick his own furry butt. Seems pretty simple to me.”

  “Huh. Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  She hopped back up from the bed and stretched her arms overhead, revealing a slim patch of white stomach and the fact that she had lost all traces of cute baby roundness. I frowned.

  “I’m just waiting for someone to pinch me and tell me this whole thing is a dream,” she yawned.

  “Well it’s not, my dear.”

  We both turned to see Aunt Bedelia staring at us, hovering in the doorway. “Now that I’ve had a moment to rest, I think we best get down to business, ladies.”

  4

  "My, this smells delicious Gwennie," Aunt Bedelia called out from the dining room.

  "What do you call it?"

  Fiona-Leigh giggled at the other end of the table before taking a bite.

  "It's called a hot dog," I replied, holding up the bottle of ketchup. "This'll make it taste

  even better, believe me. And sorry we don't have anything . . . fancier. I didn't realize we were having company today, mind you."

  Aunt Bedelia waved me off as I topped her hot dog. "No need to apologize, dear."

  I settled down into my seat, looking across the table at my aunt. "All right, you have us all gathered here now," I said, eyeing Oisín who had just hopped up onto the table, his eyes taking in the hackneyed dinner with interest, "so what is it we need to talk about, exactly?"

  Aunt Bedelia gave a great dramatic sigh, pushing her plate away before folding her hands out in front of her on the table. "I wish it were under better circumstances. But I'm afraid it's not the case. Something has happened in Spell Haven, and I'm worried it won't bode well for the rest of us. The Dark Market has grown several sizes in the past couple of decades or so, oh wait . . ." She cleared her throat, shrugging. "I guess you would know that. So the Dark Market has acquired some new territory so to speak. New members, new customers, too. It was pretty well-regulated up until very recently. Now it has turned into something uglier."

  I spooned some relish onto my hot dog, watching her patiently. "Okay. But we knew it was going to do that, didn't we? Uncle Gardner specifically said the reason why we needed to bolster security on the Dark Market and its surroundings was because of this very thing. And that was years and years ago, Aunt Bee. So what's the difference now?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fiona-Leigh leaning in, absorbing everything.

  "The loyalty within the Dark Market has become somewhat split. There are different factions fighting to overtake one another. And well, your uncle thought he had it under control. He had some sort of agreement between the MARC and the Dark Market’s Overseer."

  I raised a brow at her. "Overseer?"

  "Yes. Like I've said, it has grown quite a bit larger since you left," Aunt Bedelia replied hastily. "His name was Enoch. He was a vampire who had been working in the Dark Market for decades, I'm sure of it. Many knew who he was, and he was actually pretty well-respected among us witches. You know how we tend to . . ."

  I snorted. "— treat the vampires like second-rate citizens?" I finished for her. I had many memories of having witnessed it myself. With all the magical creatures that lived in the Other Realm, vampires were the least trusted by everyone else. Even the Fae, who were the oldest among us, would give them the stink eye from time to time.

  A fork clattered to the table, and Fiona-Leigh gasped, her jaw hanging open. "Vampires. Are. Real?"

  I hung my head. "Yes, Fi. At least they are where she comes from. And no, before you ask, they do not sparkle."

  "Where we come from," Aunt Bedelia corrected me softly. "Which I'm sure your mother would love to tell you more about, right Gwendolyn?" She gave me a knowing look, placing her fingers together on the table. "And we’ll get to that, my dear, but things have gone to the nymphs lately back home, and there's the problem of Enoch."

  "And what's the problem with him?" I asked, wiping at my mouth with a napkin. "Are the MARC having trouble reigning him in or something?"

  She shook her head. "Well . . . no. It's just that he's, you know, dead."

  I nearly choked on my food and thumped my chest to help get it down, my throat burning. "What? He's dead?"

  "But I thought vampires were already dead?" Fiona-Leigh countered, her red brows knitted together. "Or is that like, not a thing?"

  Aunt Bedelia looked down at her plate. There was more going on underneath the conversation we were having.

  "Something else is wrong," I guessed. My stomach clenched in on itself at the memory of receiving the letter that came along with Oisín when Fiona-Leigh was a baby. "It's not Uncle Gardner, is it?" I tried very hard to keep my voice from wavering.

  "Oh, no, no, Gwennie. It's not that," she said softly, slowly standing up. "Enoch had a very tight-knit circle, like I said, there are many who worked within the Dark Market that were very loyal to him. One of those people . . . was Tristan."

  I froze, not wanting to move for fear that if I did she would go on to tell me even worse news.

  "Tristan worked for Enoch and from the way it looks, after the initial investigation into Enoch's murder, Gardner had no choice but to list him as the main suspect. He's wanted for questioning at the MARC, but . . ."

  "But?" I repeated, trying to keep it together.

  "He's missing. Your uncle went looking for him almost a week ago. Gardner just got back and said there was no sign of him anywhere. He's not in his apartment, he's not with his ex-girlfriend. We just can't find him, Gwennie," Aunt Bedelia said, her voice thick. She splayed her hands across the table, leaning forward, meeting my gaze. "And that's why I came here. We need your help."

  "Wait," Fiona-Leigh said, tilting her head to the side. "Who's Tristan?"

  I closed my eyes, trying to keep the image of a little chubby hand in mine, out of my head. "Tristan is my little brother."

  5

  Fiona-Leigh jumped to her feet, something wild flashing in her eyes. “You have a brother? I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me he’s a freaking leprechaun or something, are you?”

  “Fiona-Leigh,” I said through my teeth. “I get that you’re upset, but I’m still your mother. Don’t talk to me like that.”

  She bit back whatever words she was about to deliver and sank into her seat again.

  Composing myself the best I could, I turned back to Aunt Bedelia. “Tristan’s missing. For over a week now. And even Uncle Gardner can’t seem to locate him,” I recalled aloud, ticking off the facts in my head. It was just the slightest of bit of my previous training trying to take over, but I shook it off, clearing my throat. “Right. I-uh, I don’t know what you’re wanting help from me for. What can I possibly do that would be of any service to you?”

  “I’m going to ignore your tone, that someone else, who doesn’t know you, would think sounded unsympathetic and uncaring. We need your help because no one knows him quite like you do. You’re his sister . . . he might seek you out if he knows you’re looking for him.”

  The last time I’d seen my brother, he couldn’t care less about what I did. He wasn’t even there when I told everyone else goodbye. He was too busy worrying about ways he could get himself kicked out of the Outer Sanctum.

  “And why would he do that? He knows where I am . . . Sorta.” I mean I hadn’t exactly sent out a forwarding address, and the laws concerning going between realms were incredibly strict when I came through, but still.

  Aunt Bedelia’s frustrated sigh carried a heavy weight. “Gwendolyn Brady, do not pretend to be indifferent toward him! I know better, child, in case you’ve forgotten,” she said, tapping her bony finger to her temple. “You care much more than you’d ever let on.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, leveling a gaze at her. “I don’t see how I can
help. If Tristan wants to stay gone, he’ll find a way. Not to mention the kind of trouble it sounds like he’s in. I can’t just leave my whole world behind to go track down a grown man-child.”

  The truth was that no matter how hard I tried to hold it back, my heart stuttered and wanted to climb up my throat at the thought of something happening to Tristan. He’d always been the type of cute kid who was the worst judge of character, and that seemed to always land him in trouble one way or another. That he’d fallen in with the lot running the unsavory Dark Market wasn’t much of a surprise, but that didn’t mean I wanted to give up on helping him out of trouble.

  The problem in all that though, was the redheaded, freckled girl with the big blue eyes who was staring at me from across the dinner table. Fiona-Leigh did not need to get mixed up in any of this business—it was too dangerous. Without any real way to defend herself, she’d be a sitting duck for sure. And I didn’t raise her in some tiny town at the very tip-top of Georgia just to go dragging her back into the thick of things.

  My daughter is off-limits, plain and simple.

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Aunt Bedelia’s reach into my mind was quick and sharp like a poke from a thumbtack, and when I met her gaze again, her shoulders slumped. She saw the resolve there when it came to Fi.

  “We go look for him, then. That’s what we can do, Mom,” Fiona-Leigh chimed in, looking around the table. “The three of us should be able to come up with something. You two have all your powers or whatever, right? And you can show me how to do whatever you do,” she added, wiggling her fingers around in front of her face. “Unless I should be expecting a big guy coming to take me to a magic school in the mountains somewhere.”

  I froze, seeing the path she was headed down.

  “Actually, dear, it’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Aunt Bedelia tried to head her off, giving me a knowing look.

  "I won't lie . . . this is sorta kinda the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. I mean everyone always thinks they’re different from everyone else, and I guess I did too. I never really thought anything of it, though. But now I guess it just makes sense, doesn't it?" The smile that worked its way across her face tore at my soul.

  "But don't worry, Mom. I promise I'll be one of those witches who only does good with her powers and doesn't go and blow up a science lab or anything. Potions are a thing, right? Do you make them? And how do you use your powers exactly, anyway? And Aunt Bee said something about you being an Alchemist? That's working with potions though, right? Or is it metals . . . I can't remember now."

  "Fi, it's not like that,” I said.

  "Okay, I should probably shut up now. Go ahead, I promise I'm listening," she said, her eyes full of excitement. “I know with great power, comes blah blah blah. As long as I get some cool kind of wand or something, I’m in.”

  It was the one thing I'd hoped I could go my whole life without having to explain to her. Looking at her, so hopeful and so ready to be accepted into my world, was only making it that much harder. "Your father, he um. He wasn't a witch."

  "Right, so he was like a wizard or something?"

  I shook my head slowly, wishing there was another way to put it. "Sweetheart. A male witch is still a witch, we don't call them wizards or warlocks or anything of the sort. They're just witches."

  "So, genderless.” She clapped her hands together. “I like it."

  "A witch and a human cannot . . . your father was human. And because of my genetics and my DNA, they don't mix well with a normal human. The average human, I guess I should say.” I took a deep breath. “All the evidence and all the lore that I read up on, all the research I've ever done, points back to it."

  Fiona-Leigh tilted her head to the side. I didn't mean to confuse her, but it was clear I was doing just that. "I don't understand. It points to what?"

  I sighed, there really was no other way to say it. "You're not a witch, sweetheart. You're human. Without magic, I mean. So nothing's changing for you, you're still the same person you've always been and —"

  "– but that's just because I haven't grown into my powers, right? I'll get them someday, like when I turn sixteen or eighteen or some random age, right? Or, or, I have to do some sort of test? Like Hercules’ trials? I'm not ordinary — I'm not. I can't be!" Angry tears welled up in her eyes as they widened. Fiona-Leigh was trying to accept what I was telling her, but it just wasn't computing.

  “It’s not something you should be upset over, Fi, really. Think of how much easier it is this way! You won’t have to worry about not fitting in with everyone, and you can keep living your life here, knowing what you know.”

  "So that's it then? I'm just some plain boring human, while the rest of our family — a family I'm only just finding out about — has powers."

  I bit my lip. "I can only imagine how much it must hurt to hear this but —"

  Fiona-Leigh cut me off and stood up, her chin quivering as she stared me down. "Hurt? I don't even know how to feel about any of this. It's like I'm Dorothy, and my house just landed on the yellow brick road. And even though Glinda the Good Witch has come, you're basically telling me I'm still inside the house, stuck in black and white, and not able to go anywhere. How could you do this to me?"

  Reaching out to her only made her angrier and I winced as she stormed off out of the room instead, pushing my hand away. The door slammed shut behind her and she left me alone, to face what I had done.

  6

  Erie sat back on her heels, shading her eyes from the sun as we took turns lazily flinging stones across the pond. Even in the quiet breeze where I was completely alert, my mind kept tripping over the image of Adam’s smiling face. The curve of his jaw was just barely covered in stubble that was a shade darker than the burnt auburn of his hair.

  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you Gwennie?” Erie mused.

  Nearby, a crow let out a squawk. I ran my hands over my arms, not sure why I was so cold all of a sudden. Ghosts never roamed the edge of Hag’s Pond during midday. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I can’t help it.”

  It was like my mind was a never-ending loop of Adam Pecora images. I had to make an effort to keep away from Aunt Bee. All it would take was one slipup and she’d know I was thinking about him. About a human.

  “When are you going to see him next?”

  I chewed at the corner of my thumb—an old habit Uncle Gardner took to breaking me of. According to him, it was a tell of nervousness, and the very last thing Shadow Hands want is for others to see their weaknesses. It makes them easy prey for other magical beings. “Tonight, I hope. Dad is taking Tristan out to the caves, and it’ll probably be a few hours before he gets back.”

  Erie snorted. “Uncle Nat and his cave fishing, I swear. I thought Tristan hated going out to the caves. I bet he tries to worm his way out of it. And in that case, I’d be extra-careful if I were you.”

  She had a good point, but I refused to let it spoil my hopes. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t be gone too long. And besides, no one would think to look for me at the gateway. What would I be doing there?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? I can’t believe you want anything to do with a human, anyway. I mean sure, he’s probably crazy cute, but what good would that do if you got caught up in another fight with the vamps down at the Dark Market? All he’d be able to do is make great bait.” She turned to me, her snow-white hair practically blinding me under the light of the sun. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Gwennie.”

  Grabbing her hand in mine, I smiled, despite the urge to roll my eyes at her. “I know you’re just looking out for me. I appreciate it. But Adam isn’t just some human. I’d like to think I’m a better judge of character than that.”

  Erie nodded. “You are. But pulling humans into our realm just feels . . . cruel, you know? Dad’s always saying one of the main reasons we keep magic from them is for their own protection. Imagine knowing all about Danann and never being able to fully enj
oy it. Or worse, actually living here, powerless.” She frowned. “It would be pure torture.”

  Uncle Gardner had only said that the humans’ ignorance led to our bliss about a thousand different times. It was something drummed into our skulls from the moment we stepped into the Inner Sanctum’s Shadow Hands Academy until we graduated, which for me, was coming up soon. I leaned my head against Erie’s. “Which is precisely why I don’t plan on moving Adam into the manor anytime soon.”

  I rubbed at my temples, pushing my fingertips deep to try and smother the throbbing. There isn’t enough coffee in the world to get me through all of this mess with Fiona-Leigh.

  “Knock-knock,” Aunt Bedelia said as she paused at the entrance to the kitchen. “You look like you could use a good tincture or two.”

  I didn’t feel like pointing out that she was never that great in the apothecary, so I just shrugged. “Put in an order for some Nightshade Nightcap and call me next week to make sure I’m just sleeping and not actually dead.”

  Her hands were on my shoulders in an instant, and I wasn’t about to stop myself from crumpling against her. My whole world felt like it was doing the same, anyway.

  “Shhh, I know dear. I know. You tried so hard for Fiona-Leigh’s sake. You are the mother I always knew you’d be. I can see it in your mind, you know,” she whispered, cupping the back of my head.

  I knew I was making a mess of her shawl but it was to keep everything inside. The tears kept coming and there was no point in trying to stop them.

  The next morning wasn’t much better, with my face splotchy and puffy bags under my eyes. Fiona-Leigh’s room was shut but I could hear her moving around inside. From somewhere upstairs in the tiny room, I could just make out Oisín humming “O Fortuna.” By the time I made it into the kitchen, Aunt Bee already had the kettle on the stove, steaming away.