Hell's Spells (Ordinary Magic Book 6)

by Devon Monk

  “Clean up those penguins!”

  “Don’t forget your dinner with Ryder tonight! Six o’clock! I won’t be there!”

  I sighed and wondered what it would be like to live in a town without nosey uncles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The community center was Bertie’s thing. The events she planned were her thing. Ordinary was her thing.

  And the Feather she used to claim Ordinary was her thing.

  Why she wasn’t tearing the town apart to find the Feather was beyond me. I was thankful, sure, but confused.

  Crow had said only someone she trusted could lift her Feather.

  But Crow was a trickster god. I knew he wouldn’t let a little truth get in the way of mischief.

  The interior of the old-school-turned-community center was cool and smelled of lemon cleaner, the floors scuffed from years of students’ shoes running through the halls. The hollow, thudding echo of my boots snapped back at me from the empty offices, open spaces, and meeting areas. Another, sharper footfall joined mine, and I knew I was being followed.

  “Delaney.”

  I turned. Ordinary’s only Valkyrie wore a blood-red silk blouse, a heavier bolero jacket in a subtle wash of purple. The wide-legged black pants brought the whole look together, as did the knife in her hand.

  “Hi, Bertie. I…your Feather? It’s stolen?”

  One well-groomed eyebrow ticked upward. “Come into my office. Sit.”

  She arrowed past me and was around her desk and settled before I’d even gotten through the doorway.

  Bertie watched me with hawk eyes.

  “Crow said he tried to steal a Feather once. A Valkyrie Feather.” I dropped into the chair, then sat up straighter. Coming into this office felt like sitting in front of the principal, no matter how old I was.

  “Did he?” she said. “I am not surprised.” The knife was not in her hand. It was slipped, along with three other blades, into a carving block on one side of her desk. “I reported it stolen yesterday and requested to talk to you.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait. So what can you tell me about it? When did you last see it?”

  She was so still for a second or two, I glanced at her chest to make sure she was still breathing.

  “The Feather was here when you were here Wednesday afternoon, Delaney. It was gone after that.”

  I pulled my notebook out and clicked the pen. “Did anyone else come through? To see you?”

  “Yes. Many people. I held a local vendor pre-event orientation.”

  “Can I get a list of who was here?”

  She leaned to one side, opened a drawer, and retrieved a single piece of paper.

  “Can I keep this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. So is there anyone you know who would have wanted the Feather…um…anyone you’d trust enough that they could take it?”

  Her hands spread across the top of the desk. “Delaney. I think you need to be very honest with me.”

  “Sure. I’m asking about the trust thing because Crow said you may already know who took your Feather.”

  “Crow.” The way she said it sounded like she needed to rinse out her mouth. “He thinks he understands Valkyrie Feathers?”

  “He did try to steal one.”

  “So you said, but he was not successful, was he? What did he tell you?”

  “He thinks Valkyrie Feathers are used to claim territory.”

  She hmmmed, then dipped her chin. Her hands lifted, fingertips perching on the desk edge, gaze sharp. “That is correct.”

  “If you know where the Feather is, why did you call it in as missing?”

  “I called it in and requested you return my call. Which you have not done. Until now.”

  “Valid. Do you know where the Feather is?”

  “It is in Ordinary.” She didn’t sound the least bit worried.

  “You know where?”

  “I have a basic idea. Do you?”

  There was something behind that, something I couldn’t read.

  “I don’t have any leads. That’s why I came by today. It’s a little like Thor’s hammer, isn’t it?”

  “It is nothing like Thor’s hammer,” she snapped. “Like a sorting hat of virtue.” She rolled her eyes. “Valkyries do not need an object to know the heart of any living being.”

  “So you’re telling me anyone could pick up the Feather and walk off with it? That isn’t adding up. You wouldn’t display it in your office where dozens of people,” I held up the paper, “stream through. It wouldn’t be safe, and it wouldn’t be like you to do so.”

  A very small smile drifted across her lips.

  “I am not telling you any such thing. I would never leave myself unguarded. But Crow isn’t the expert he pretends to be. It isn’t the worth of a person that allows them to lift a Valkyrie Feather. It is a personal choice a Valkyrie makes.”

  She was blushing. I’d never seen her blush in my life.

  Did Bertie have a boyfriend—or a girlfriend? Was that who she was talking about?

  I’d never asked about her private life, hadn’t wanted to know. I’d always seen Bertie as a perpetually annoyed woman—an unstruck bolt of lightning who got shit done.

  “Personal because the Valkyrie likes them?” I asked, trying not to smile.

  Her fingers drummed once. A warning.

  “Or maybe it’s personal because the Valkyrie thinks of that person as…family?”

  The drumming. Harder.

  “No, wait. I’ve got this. It’s personal because the Valkyrie is actually quite fond of a person, might even love them a little, and so she trusts them with something precious?”

  The drumming stopped. “That is all I will say on the subject.”

  I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “All right, sure. Good. Will you say who has access to your Feather?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Bertie. I need a list of suspects. Can you give me a hint? Or text me some phone numbers?”

  “No.”

  “Consenting adults can do whatever they please in Ordinary, as long as there are no laws broken.”

  “I am aware.”

  She wasn’t denying. She wasn’t affirming either. All I wanted to do was find out who she liked so much, she would allow them to burgle her.

  “The Feather would not be moveable by most people in this town. Under certain circumstances it is possible a god might be able to move it, but that would be highly unlikely.”

  I flipped my notebook to a clean page. “And what would those circumstances be?”

  “If I were in deathly distress, I may allow a god to use the Feather to find me. It is a hypothetical.”

  “Have you ever done that?”

  She drew in a quiet breath, then pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “So we can rule out the gods being involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That’s good. What about the other supernaturals? Could any one of them move the Feather?”

  “I suppose there could be spells, curses. There might be a demon or fae power…but no. I do not believe so.”

  “You’re usually definite on these kinds of things.”

  “And yet, this is Ordinary. What can and can’t happen here is not easily replicated in any other place in the worlds.”

  I loved that about my little town. We might be Ordinary, but we were certainly not normal.

  “So we’re down to mortals. Can you give me a list of mortals who might be able to pick it up? Mortals you like?”

  She just stared at me, giving me a look like I should understand something. Like, maybe, I should be telling her something.

  “I promise it will remain confidential. I can lock it up so the information isn’t accessible by anyone other than me.”

  Bertie watched. Just watched. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, though there was a knot in my gut. She was getting to the point of something, and I wasn’t following her le
ad.

  “I’ve decided to withdraw my complaint.”

  “You reported a robbery.”

  “I reported the Feather had been stolen and requested to speak to you.”

  “You…that’s the same thing.”

  “No. It is not. And here you are. I’ve spoken to you.”

  “But you want your Feather back, don’t you? It’s still an open case, and the information you’ve given me will help us find who took it.”

  “That is no longer necessary.”

  “I think it is. You might be okay with something so valuable on the loose in the town, but I am not.”

  “I assumed you would feel that way. Will I have full police support during the High Tea Tide?”

  “We’ve already said we’ll be there. Why the subject change?”

  “I’m very busy, Delaney.”

  I glanced down at my notes which were only marginally helpful, back up at her, then at the empty space on the shelf behind her. I had spent the entire time in her office not looking at that space, at where the Feather should be. Seeing the emptiness, the shadow where there should be gold, stirred something else in my gut.

  Something that felt like guilt.

  “If you’re sure,” I started.

  “I am.”

  “If you think of anything, give me a—”

  “I will.”

  “If you want me to have our officers drive by to make sure no one is doing anything—”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  I felt like I was in the middle of a conversation and completely missing the point. She made micro-shooing motions with her fingers. “I have appointments arriving any moment.”

  “Okay. I’ll…call me if you need anything, Bertie. Really.”

  Her gaze tracked me as I stood, as I stepped behind the chair and took a moment to rearrange it. I was stalling to give her a chance to say something. But the click of the front door opening, and the tumble of a woman’s laughter and another woman’s hushing whisper clued me in that her appointment had arrived.

  “Have a good afternoon, Bertie.”

  I stepped back through the door.

  “Oh, and Delaney,” she called. “When you do find my Feather, call. You and I will need to speak again.”

  Her fingers drummed again, hard, small hammers tacking her words down between us, nailing them into places where they could not get dislodged or ignored.

  “Sure,” I said. “Sure, I will, Bertie.”

  Then the women—they were starting a new fresh produce shop that was tied into community outreach—gave me a smile as I walked past them.

  At least someone was having a good day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  My phone rang. I pulled away from the coffee drive through before answering.

  “Chief Reed.”

  “Got a couple calls,” Hatter said. “Shoe’s out. I’m on desk. Myra and Kelby are working the crowd at the penguin flash mob.”

  “I’m north. What do you have?”

  “A domestic. Kids playing drums too loud in the garage next door. I’ve got Jean headed that way.”

  “And?”

  “Traffic light out at 17th.”

  “How soon until the linemen can get there?”

  “About an hour. They’re dealing with the blown transformer from that rock slide in Yachats.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Traffic was stopped to a crawl near the intersection. I pulled up on the shoulder, half blocking a fire hydrant, flipped on all my lights, and dug around in my glove box for a rubber band.

  I tightened the band around my pony tail, then strode into the intersection and positioned myself right in the middle of it, the broken lights above me.

  It was a four-way stop, but there were a lot of cars coming up from the beach that wanted to turn against traffic.

  To complicate things, the shops lining the street had front parking, and foot traffic was trying to use the crosswalks.

  I didn’t have a whistle, but I had a voice, so I shouted for the family of six to wait while I pointed at the north-south traffic, and waved them through, holding a palm flat for east-west.

  Next, I waved the family across. After that, east-west got their turn. A few shoppers caught the rhythm and rushed to get through on this rotation. I waved them on—gave a car creeping forward a dirty look—and once they were safe on the other side, got back into the flow.

  The sun was warm, the breeze light, and traffic unknotted and smoothed out. It didn’t look like a job that took concentration and effort, but the cars alone were challenging. There was something about small beach towns that brought out the distracted and grumpy in drivers.

  Add in tired kids, distracted shoppers, and I was very, very focused on making sure we all pulled this off without injuries.

  “Hey, Chief!” a voice yelled from the side of the street. “Need help?”

  Jame Wolfe and a couple of his cousins rambled down the sidewalk like a six pack of good-looking blue collar guys. Jame’s fiancé, Ben, was there too, moving without the limp, though still moving slowly. He had on a beanie, sunglasses, and long sweater coat that looked stylish with the scarf he’d wrapped around his neck.

  I waved them over. Each of the Wolfe boys took a spot on east-west with the blind corners, while Ben propped himself near the public parking area side of the crosswalk so he could give the okay to pedestrians.

  It was a good choice on all their parts. Werewolves were fast, but vampires were faster. If a kid got free and headed into traffic, I knew Ben would be able to catch them before something terrible happened.

  It took us a couple rotations through the traffic turns, but then we had it down like an old dance.

  Because it was the Wolfe boys, there was good-natured shouting and insults and jokes. They got the drivers and kids in the cars to be a part of it. Honking got into it. One side of the street beeped out “shave and a haircut,” and cars on the other side finished off with “two bits.”

  There was a lot of laughter and cheering when the cars got it right, but I wagged my finger at the Wolfes, and shook my head in mock reproach.

  The Wolves threw down a fake protest, right there in the middle of the road, making a big show of begging me for just one little honk. Just one more tiny beep.

  A pile of kids in matching T-shirts, on a field trip, who had stopped for a bathroom break, immediately took the Wolfe side of the argument. Dozens of little voices yelled “please” and “boo” and honked like a pack of tiny geese.

  I made a show of thinking it over before giving a big thumb’s up. The children shouted and cheered and the cars honked out “shave and a haircut,” but they were all off beat.

  The cars down the road couldn’t see our little street performance, but decided they should get in on the honking, and did so. With vigor.

  By the time the lineman showed up, sweat was running down my ribs, my neck, and sticking my uniform to my back.

  “Glad you could join us,” I said to him when he stepped out of his truck.

  “Got here as soon as I could. This shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Hour? More?”

  “Less. Half hour, tops.”

  He got to work and had it fixed in thirty-two minutes. Not that I was counting.

  “Here you go, Chief.” Ben held out a bottle of water. His voice still broke into a whisper without his control. They said it would heal given enough time.

  It was good he was a very long-lived man.

  I drank the water all down in one go. “Thanks. Did Hatter call you out here?”

  Jame sidled up next to Ben and pressed his arm across his lover’s back, needing to touch him.

  Werewolves were so tactile. It was cute.

  “We heard through the grapevine that the light was out,” Jame said. “We had the day off, didn’t have anything better to do.” He shrugged. “And we wanted to talk to you. About the Heartwood.”

  “Okay.” I dragged my sleeve over my forehea
d, then down my cheeks, soaking up the sweat. “Shoot.”

  “We want to search your house.”

  I paused mid-second wipe. “What, now?”

  Jame looked a little uncomfortable, but his voice was easy. “Yours is the only outside scent we found in the office from that day. And you…” Here he inhaled, his nostrils flaring, his chest expanding. “…still smell…something. Close. As if you’ve been close to it.”

  He turned his face into the breeze, his eyes following the even inhale and exhale of his lungs. Then his eyes landed on my Jeep.

  I stared at it too. It looked like it always looked, except it was parked half on the sidewalk.

  “What?” I glanced at the shops beyond the vehicle. The statue could be anywhere, among the driftwood knickknacks in the shops, among the second-hand treasures, cast-off memories ready to be discovered again.

  It didn’t make any sense for someone to steal the Heartwood then drop it off at a second-hand shop, but stranger things had happened. Especially in this town.

  “Where have you been?” Jame asked. The breeze had changed. He tore his gaze away from the Jeep.

  “I’ve been in the casino. A lot of people there, but not many of them from Ordinary. Myra was there, and Xtelle.”

  “Burned strawberries.” Jame snapped his fingers. “Xtelle.”

  “Yeah, and you’ll smell her around a lot more. She’s here to stay.”

  He twisted his lips. “If she can follow the rules.”

  “True. Also I met with the goddess Tala.”

  Jame nodded, still sniffing, but watching me.

  “Came back to town and went into the station. Saw Shoe and Hatter, then Jean and Hogan. Oh, and Stina and Panny. At the candy shop.”

  He nodded again.

  “I also ran into Crow, Ryder, Frigg, Odin, and Than yesterday. Today I was around Mrs. Yates and about half of Ordinary because Crow penguin-bombed her yard. I saw Bertie at the community center and those ladies starting the produce stand?”

  Jame shook his head.

  “Dana and Joan,” Ben said.

  “Right. I passed them in the hall, then I grabbed coffee from the drive through and spent the rest of the afternoon in the middle of the street sucking exhaust fumes.”