I waited for the last students to trickle out before entering the lobby. A woman with sparkling silver reading glasses sat behind a reception desk.
“Can I help you, miss?” she asked.
“Hi, I’m looking for Sean, the guidance counselor,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You look a little old to be a student here. Is he expecting you?”
I cleared my throat. “Thank you for your keen observation. As a matter of fact, I am a little old to be a student here. I need to speak with him about a private matter.”
“I see.” She gave one more cautious look before pointing down the long corridor. “Third door on the left.”
“Thank you.” I walked down the stretch of corridor until I reached the third door, where I noticed Sean’s name on a plaque. I knocked and pressed my ear against the door to listen for a response. The marching band chose that moment to walk by and, even without their instruments blasting, it was too noisy to hear properly.
“Come in,” a muffled voice said.
I opened the door to see a tearful dwarf seated in a chair opposite Sean. He looked like a much younger version of Deacon, the jeweler.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were with a student. It’s loud in the corridor.”
“That’s okay,” the dwarf said, wiping his nose with a striped handkerchief. “I was about to go. I have chess now anyway.”
Sean smiled. “Viktor is an excellent chess player.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I’m partial to checkers, but only because I never learned chess.”
Viktor gave me a shy smile before vacating his seat. “If you can master checkers, you can master chess. You should try it sometime.”
“Thanks, maybe I will,” I replied.
I waited for Viktor to close the door behind him before I spoke. “Is he okay?”
Sean rubbed his eyes, clearly tired after a long day. “Nothing I don’t deal with on a regular basis.”
“Teenage hormones?” I queried.
“I wish,” Sean said. “That would be easier in some ways. This is more of an existential crisis.”
I glanced at the closed door. “Your students are suffering from existential crises?” It seemed to me they should at least reach middle age before that happened.
“Think about it,” he replied. “They’re young with their whole future ahead of them. A future that can only unfold here in Spellbound.”
Oh. Now I understood.
“That must be tough,” I said, considering it from a younger paranormal’s viewpoint. I could remember sitting in my classroom in sixth grade and counting the years until I graduated. Even then, I believed I could go anywhere. Do anything. Spellbound students didn’t have the luxury of dreaming, which only strengthened my resolve to break the curse.
“So which one is yours?” Sean asked with a pleasant smile.
I balked. “Which one?”
“Which student?”
My eyes snapped open. “You think I’m old enough to have a child in high school?” I touched the top of my head. “Do you see grey hairs?” If so, I needed to color them before the wedding.
He quickly realized his mistake. “No, no. I assumed maybe a young stepmom or an involved aunt. We have a fair number of those.”
That sounded better. I took Viktor’s empty seat. “I’m Emma Hart.”
His brow lifted. “You’re the sorceress.”
“That’s right. I’m here to talk to you about your brother.”
Sean’s cheerful expression faded. “Are you working with the sheriff? Because I want answers about his death and I want them yesterday. I know my brother, and Seamus wasn’t in any kind of trouble.”
“I completely understand your frustration, Sean,” I said. “His death must’ve come as a horrible shock.”
“It did.” Sean’s gaze intensified. “So do you have any leads?”
“We’re working on it,” I said. “We’re tracking possible suppliers of hemlock. If we can find the right one, maybe he or she can lead us to the killer.” I figured this was enough information to placate him and keep him talking to me.
“I try not to think about the hemlock part,” Sean said, shuddering. “It’s too awful.”
“His neighbor is concerned about the house sitting empty,” I lied. “Do you know if you’ll inherit it? I’m sure Tomlin would be relieved to know someone’s moving in soon.”
Sean nodded. “That’s what I’ve been told. No surprise that Seamus didn’t have a will and I’m his next of kin, so it’s pretty straightforward.”
“You’re his older brother, right?” I asked.
“That’s right. Three years older.” He straightened his tie. “Typical birth order personalities. I was the high achiever and he was…not.”
“I’m surprised your mother left the house to Seamus instead of you,” I said.
Sean gritted his teeth. “She was always coddling him. She knew I could take care of myself, so she thought it was a way of helping Seamus get a wing up.”
“Did that bother you?” I asked.
Sean drummed his fingers on the desk. “Not really. I expected it from my mother. I think it was half the reason Seamus had such a hard time taking care of himself. When my mother was alive, she always stepped in instead of letting him fail.”
Another vote for tough love. Maxwell didn’t seem to be alone in that regard.
“You disagreed with that approach, I take it.”
Sean’s wings crushed against the back of the chair. “I expressed my opinion often enough, to the point where my mother and I had to agree to not discuss it anymore. It was negatively impacting our relationship.”
Ugh. It was terrible when family dynamics got out of hand.
“I hate to ask, but what happened to your father? No one’s mentioned him.”
“He died when I was ten,” Sean replied. “My mother never remarried and we became her world. I think she sensed Seamus needed her more, at least back then. He was only seven when our dad died.” He swallowed hard. “It became a habit, you know? Taking care of Seamus. Making sure he was okay all the time.”
A role Leanne likely filled after Seamus’s mother died, until it became too much for her.
“So you never made an effort to claim the house, or at least get half the value?” I asked.
His nose wrinkled. “No, of course not. I intended to honor my mother’s wishes. I didn’t agree with her, but it was her house to give.”
“I guess that’s the bright side of a dark situation,” I said. “You get the house anyway.”
“I hate to admit it, but it couldn’t come at a better time, really,” Sean said. “I was considering selling my house and getting something bigger. My wife is pregnant with our third and we’re short on space.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Thanks. I’m sorry the baby will never get to meet Uncle Seamus,” Sean said. He gripped a quill on his desk and squeezed. “I won’t pretend he was the best uncle in the world, but he was our only extended family member on my side. He has memories…had memories of our mother that I didn’t have because they had such a close relationship.”
“As nice as Seamus was, is there anyone you can think of that may have had a score to settle with him?” I asked. Even though it didn’t sound like the brothers were tight, Sean could still have been privy to certain information.
“I know he owed Maxwell money and I assume you’ve already spoken to Olaf,” Sean said.
Ruh roh. This was the first I’d heard of Olaf. “Remind me who that is.”
“The wizard,” Sean said. “He owns The Black Hat.”
I shook my head.
Sean groaned. “I can’t believe no one has mentioned Olaf.”
“Why would a wizard have a beef with your brother?”
“I heard about it from one of my students, so word got around,” Sean said. “You’d be surprised how much these kids pick up in town. Anyway, my brother was known
to gamble on occasion, and he recently lost a bet with Olaf.”
“What kind of bet?”
“I don’t know the nature of it, only that Seamus owed Olaf some pixie dust, but didn’t pay up and Olaf was not a happy wizard.”
Seamus failed to make good on a promise to a wizard? And then died from hemlock poisoning? Olaf suddenly moved to the top of my suspect list.
“I’ll make sure Astrid knows about this,” I said, assuming she didn’t already.
A knock on the door interrupted our conversation. An elf appeared in the doorway, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Can I talk to you, please?” she asked, her voice scratchy from crying.
“Let me get out of your way,” I said apologetically. “Thanks for your time, Sean.” I gave the elf a pat on the shoulder as I passed her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll get better. It always does.”
Chapter 11
“What’s the special today?” I asked.
“Bucksberry fizz and caviar,” Agnes replied.
“In your dreams,” I shot back.
Agnes eyed me. “You could make it happen. One little flick of those sorceress fingers.”
“Agnes.” I used my warning tone to make it clear bucksberry fizz and caviar would not be on the menu today courtesy of me.
We made our way to the cafeteria of the care home where I’d promised to join her for lunch so we could discuss the coven’s most recent findings. No sooner had I pushed open the double doors when a voice shrieked in horror.
“Watch out for the kittens!”
I whirled around, hoping to avoid whatever kitten calamity threatened to unfold. The floor around me was bare, however.
“Hazel’s hallucinating again,” Agnes whispered.
“Nothing wrong with my hearing, Agnes Weatherby,” Hazel said. The elderly elf stood next to one of the long tables, which was currently empty. The lunch crowd hadn’t quite meandered in yet. “And I am not hallucinating. There must be a hundred kittens on this floor. You’re simply as blind as the bat you rode in on.”
“I’m a witch,” Agnes huffed. “We don’t ride bats.”
“I admit to having ridden one or two in my day,” Hazel said. “Vampires are delightful creatures. Terribly sexy.” She gestured wildly to my feet. “Watch it! You’re on that little one’s tail.”
I gingerly lifted my foot so as not to crush the imaginary kitten.
“Aren’t they the sweetest?” Hazel said, staring down at a kindle of adorable kittens only visible to her.
“I take it you had cats before you moved here,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” Hazel replied. “Witches aren’t the only ones. Of course, mine can’t talk to me the way familiars can, but I don’t mind. We have our own ways of communicating.”
“I’ll bet,” Agnes muttered.
I pretended to admire the kittens on the floor. “They’re all lovely. Such beautiful eyes.”
“Aren’t they, though? I’m so grateful the care home allows pet companions.” Hazel bent over to stroke one and I felt a pang of sympathy. While I understood the reasons why the care home didn’t allow actual pets, I couldn’t imagine severing such an important bond.
I cast a furtive glance around the cafeteria. “Let me know if you see anyone official,” I said in a hushed tone to Agnes.
Her lips curled. “That was a quick one-eighty. Taking one for the team, are we?”
“Don’t get excited,” I said. “I’m not planning to make a habit of it.” Besides, it would be a good test of my manifestation skills. If I could manifest kittens, maybe my mother’s letters weren’t far behind.
“Ditch the doubt,” Agnes hissed. “I can feel it oozing out of you. You’re a sorceress, my dear. Don’t be afraid to act like one.”
I closed my eyes and gathered the magical energy into a ball in the pit of my stomach. Once I felt secure, I focused my will, stretched out my arms and said, “Hats, gloves, scarves, and mittens/cover this floor with adorable kittens.”
I heard the sweet sound of purring before I even opened my eyes. There were kittens everywhere. Hazel was stooped over, laughing as the kittens licked her hands.
“They always lick me,” the elf said. “They must like the taste of salty elf.”
Even Agnes enjoyed the feline attention. She sat on the floor as the kittens piled on top of her, clamoring for attention.
“I’d like to see you get up from that position,” I said.
The double doors opened and I inhaled sharply before relaxing again. “Welcome to Catty Corner, Silas.”
The genie floated in, gobsmacked by the scene. “I’m tempted to point the finger at Agnes.”
“Would I magic in a hundred kittens?” Agnes snapped.
“Too right,” Silas said. He floated lower so he could pet as many kittens as his hands could reach. “It’d be frogs or snakes with you. Nothing cuddly.”
“Why do you think I find you so appealing?” Agnes shot back.
Silas perked up. “Did my ears deceive me? Or did you just admit you find me appealing?”
“These kittens are distracting me from my usual bad temper,” Agnes said.
Silas grinned. “Maybe we should have kittens here more often.”
The doors opened again and Estella glided into the cafeteria in her magical wheelchair. The dwarf’s look of glee was unmistakable. “Kittens!”
“I think they’re a big hit,” I said.
One of the cafeteria workers came out from behind the serving station to stroke the kittens’ soft fur. “It’s a health and safety violation, but I won’t tell.”
“Performing magic is also a care home violation,” Estella said.
“They wouldn’t dare ban Emma from coming here,” Agnes said. “Or they’d have one ornery witch to contend with.”
“And they’d have a riot on their hands,” Silas said, giving me a wink. “She’s our favorite visitor.”
“Personally, I prefer that hunky Daniel,” Hazel said, ensconced in kittens. “But I’d be disappointed about Emma, too.”
“Emma’s brought you kittens,” Silas said. “How can she not trump the Harp Plucker?”
Hazel gave him a dismissive look. “What do you mean, you delusional old genie? These are my kittens.”
No one bothered to correct her.
The clock struck twelve and more residents drifted into the cafeteria, eager to sample the day’s options. They stopped short upon seeing a hundred kittens swarming the room.
“Is the giant stashing food under his bed again?” one of the elderly pixies asked.
My stomach churned at the thought.
“Someone needs to report him,” her companion said. “We can’t have his snacks running loose.”
Note to self: locate the giant’s room and sweep for kittens.
“I hate to break up the paw-ty,” I said, “but I’ve got to send these kittens away before word gets around.”
“I’ll forgive you for that terrible pun because I’m holding a kitten,” Agnes said. When she rubbed noses with one of the kittens, Silas’s mouth dropped open.
“Can we do this again sometime?” he asked. “I rather like this side of her.”
“You like all sides of me,” Agnes said. “Or have you forgotten the other night?”
I smacked my forehead. Okay, definitely time to recall the kittens. I summoned my magic, focused my will and said, “No one will know, no one to blame/send these kittens from whence they came.”
In the blink of an eye, the kittens were gone. There was a disappointed groan, except from Hazel, who continued to pet her hallucinatory kittens.
We grabbed trays and joined the line for food.
“Tell us about the wedding plans,” Estella said. “Let us live vicariously through you.”
“I think you should get married right here in the cafeteria,” Silas said. “You can’t do better than the lime gelatin dessert we’ve got.”
“They don’t want their guests to hate them,” Agn
es snapped. “There’s enough of a line in town for that.”
“Hey,” I objected.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Agnes said. “It’s more him than you. That angel did a lot of damage back in the day and memories are long.”
“I rather like Daniel,” Silas said. “He helped me improve my poker face. Turns out I had several tells.”
“Don’t worry,” Agnes said, bumping him with her hip. “You still do.”
“We’re still making decisions about the reception,” I said. “I’ll let you know once I have more information.”
“Give us an update on the curse then,” Silas said, holding up his plate for another helping of meat.
I hesitated. “I’m meant to keep it within the coven.”
“I’m in the coven,” Agnes said. “You’re telling me.”
“I know, but I can’t discuss it in front of the others,” I said. “Lady Weatherby…Sorry, Jacinda Ruth expressly forbade us from talking about it to outsiders.”
Agnes’s wrinkled brow gained a few more creases. “My friends here are very wise and have seen and done a lot in this world before they ended up here. Silas has had several run-ins with enchantresses.”
Silas nodded solemnly. “If by run-ins, you mean sexual relations, then yes, I have.”
Agnes groaned. “Keep your memories in your pants, Silas.”
“I’ll be ready to make new ones after lunch,” he whispered in her ear.
I cringed. “Silas, would you mind terribly if I ate lunch with Agnes alone? As much as I agree with her about your…worldly experiences, I don’t want to break my promise to the coven.” I’d only just been invited to attend these meetings and I had no desire to be cast out.
“Fine, fine,” he said, and floated away to join Hazel at a table. “Message received.”
“I feel terrible,” I said, once he was out of earshot.
“Don’t,” Agnes said. “I plan to tell him everything after you’re gone anyway. You won’t get blamed for that.”
“Next time, don’t tell me you plan to do that,” I said. “Ignorance is best.”
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