“No,” Gareth cried. He lunged forward and his body went right through the wooden table and disappeared through the floor.
“Uh oh,” I said. “That wasn’t meant to happen.”
“No worries,” Laurel said, whipping out her wand. “Clean up spells are easy. I do them all the time at home. My mom hates a messy house.” She focused on the blots of ink and said, “Stains of ink/be gone in a blink.”
I watched as the table and parchment were restored to their ink-free appearance. By the time Gareth materialized, everything was in perfect order.
“I suppose I need to work on that one a little more,” I said.
“Do us both a favor and practice somewhere safe,” Gareth said. “Like the Grey sisters’ cave.”
I laughed. “I bet that’s the first time anyone described their cave as safe.”
“I’ve said and done many things I never would have imagined since you came to town,” Gareth said.
“Well, you did die before I got here,” I pointed out. “You can’t blame me for that.” Although I had no doubt that he would if he could.
Laurel sniffed the air. “Do I smell something burning?”
My body jerked. “The cookies!” I ran into the kitchen, my mind racing. I’d taken the cookies out of the oven. What could possibly be burning?
I stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene. Cookie crumbs dusted the floor. Sedgwick was perched on the counter, a guilty expression in his large owl eyes. The remaining cookies on the tray were burnt to a crisp.
“I took them out of the oven,” I said. “How could this happen?”
Gareth appeared beside the oven. “Yes, but you didn’t turn off the oven. The stovetop was still warm enough to continue heating the cookies.”
I smacked my forehead. “Sedgwick, why didn’t you tell me?”
Gareth noticed the messy floor. “Because he was too busy eating.” He inclined his head. “At least your friend knows a good spell for this mess. Clean up in aisle seven, Laurel.”
“She can’t hear you,” I said, still staring at the blackened cookies. “You’re a ghost, remember?” Ugh. My mother would be so disappointed in me.
Laurel appeared in the doorway. “Can I help?”
“I sure hope so,” I replied, because it seemed abundantly clear to me that I was incapable of doing anything right. Maybe that was why my real mother gave me away. Maybe she knew I would never be the sorceress that she was. Or maybe it was all my imagination and I couldn’t even be part of a memory spell without screwing it up. Everyone said Sophie was the inept one, but they were wrong.
It was me.
Chapter 11
I took a vow of silence during the questioning of Lucy, partly because of our friendship and partly because I didn’t trust myself not to say the wrong thing and mess up the interview. My confidence was officially shot.
"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Britta asked.
"I'll be right here," Astrid replied. “I just think that you’ll be less biased in your questioning."
"But I don't want your job," Britta said and I could hear the fear in her voice.
Astrid laughed and clapped her sister on the back. "Believe me, I know. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you prefer parking tickets to murder investigations. But a good deputy knows when to step in and offer assistance to the sheriff. I'm here to tell you, Deputy Britta, that time is now."
Britta nodded solemnly. “Okay, then. I’ll do my best."
"I know you will."
The three of us entered the office together. Lucy sat alone at the table, looking as nervous as one would expect. She knew why she was here. Despite her friendship with us, the whole process still had to feel intimidating.
"Who brought the poker cards?" Lucy joked and immediately covered her face with her hands. "Oh my. That was a terrible attempt at humor under the circumstances. I'm sorry. I'm really nervous."
Britta swaggered toward the table and turned her chair backwards, straddling it. Oh no. She looked like she was about to do her best Bad Cop impression.
"And why are you nervous?" Britta inquired. "Is it because you killed Milton? If you confess now, that would save us a lot of time and effort. You’re all about fiscal responsibility, am I right?“
Lucy's gaze flickered from Britta to Astrid. She raised her brow as if to say are you serious?
"I swear to you on the grave of my dearly departed mother that I had nothing to do with Milton Braun's murder." Lucy held up a hand in an oath-like gesture.
"That's what a guilty person might say," Britta said.
I resisted the urge to groan. Poor Lucy. Astrid had no idea what she had just unleashed.
"I was near the podium during the time of the murder," Lucy said calmly. "I never left the stage area. Ask anyone. The only time anyone saw me talking to Milton was right next to the platform before my speech."
Britta turned to her sister. "It doesn't mean she couldn’t have hired someone to kill him, right?" Britta whipped back toward Lucy. "Who did you hire to kill your political rival?"
I bit the inside of my cheek, desperately trying not to intervene. Why was Astrid allowing this to continue? It had to be because she wanted to give Britta a chance to shine. Sadly, that day was not going to be today.
"Britta, you can't be serious,” Lucy replied. “Mayor Knightsbridge has only recently left her post in disgrace. Do you honestly believe that I would jeopardize the reputation of the entire fairy community by engaging in less than fairylike behavior?"
Britta cast a sidelong glance at us. "She raises a good point." The Valkyrie deputy turned her attention back to the alleged suspect. "Let's play a little game called Shag, Marry, Kill.”
Lucy looked taken aback. "Excuse me? What kind of question is that?" To her credit, Lucy looked more amused than outraged.
Astrid opened her mouth to speak, but I gripped her arm in an effort to stop her. I was curious to see where Britta was taking this line of questioning.
“Lucy Langtree is allowed to shag, marry, or kill three residents of Spellbound,” Britta said. “Name them.”
Lucy cleared her throat, thinking. "Okay, I suppose if this is an official line of questioning." She tapped her chin. "I would marry Ricardo because he has the best fashion sense of any male I've ever known and he’s a lot of fun to spend time with. I’d shag Demetrius Hunt because…who wouldn't?" She pointed at me. "Except you, of course. The only known living female to ever have resisted his charms. And I’d kill Milton Braun because he was a monkey wrench in the election, except he’s already dead. So, can I choose someone else?”
I heard a sharp intake of breath and realized it had come from me. "Why not Hugo?” I interjected. “It seems to me that he’s the bigger threat to your campaign."
"Yes, but then there would always be tension with the part of the community that supports him. Milton would be the more sensible choice. I have a chance to build a consensus without Milton splitting the vote."
Britta folded her arms and gave us a satisfied smile. "My work here is done."
"I'm not admitting to anything," Lucy said. "I'm just being honest with you, which is what I'm pretty sure you wanted."
"You’re free to go, Lucy," Astrid said. "Thank you for your patience.”
Lucy mustered a smile as she fluttered out of the office. "Anytime."
Once Lucy was safely out of earshot, Astrid turned to her sister. "I wasn't sure where you were going with that, but I see now."
Britta fist bumped her sister. "That was good, right? I got her to admit that she would kill Milton."
"It definitely was an interesting tactic," I said. "But do you actually think Lucy is guilty?"
"Hell’s bells, no," Britta replied.
"Then let's not waste our time on a suspect we know isn't guilty." Astrid crooked a finger at her deputy. "Let's go, Deputy Britta.”
Britta leaped eagerly to her feet. "Where are we going?"
"To fill out the paperwork," Astrid said, resis
ting a smile. "Now comes the fun part."
Britta groaned. "I'm pretty sure you mean that we should go out for an ale or two. That makes much more sense when you’re talking about fun."
"Maybe afterward, if you fill it all out correctly,” Astrid said. “It will be your reward.”
"Now that's an incentive I can get behind," Britta said.
"How about you?" Astrid asked me. "Are you interested in a couple of drinks?"
"I'd love to, but I’ve got plans."
Astrid shook her head. “I swear you’re the busiest person in Spellbound.”
“I beg to differ,” I said. “I think you just interviewed the busiest person in Spellbound.” Only she was too modest to admit it.
“How would you have answered the question?” Britta asked me.
“Shag, Marry, Kill?” I queried and she nodded. “Daniel, Daniel, and not Daniel.”
Astrid threw an arm around me. “You’ll make an excellent politician yet.”
“Don't get too comfortable in the classroom, Miss Hart," Lady Weatherby said. "Today we will be taking a field trip."
I gave her a suspicious look. "We never go on field trips." Not to mention we were about to begin one of our sorcery sessions. The idea of going on a field trip alone with Lady Weatherby made me uneasy.
"Not to worry," Lady Weatherby said. "It's a familiar place. I daresay you'll be comfortable there."
Now my curiosity was piqued. "The ice cream parlor?"
"No," she said crisply.
"The Horned Owl?"
Lady Weatherby heaved an impatient sigh. "Just wait and see. All of your questions will be answered in due course."
She started for the door and I followed. I was relieved to note that she didn’t have her broom. I wasn't sure how I felt about riding on a broomstick with Lady Weatherby. Despite my anti-anxiety potion, the odds of barfing all over her cloak would be pretty good.
We drove in her black jalopy to a familiar nondescript building.
"The Spellbound Care Home?" I queried. "Am I supposed to be practicing necromancy or something?"
Lady Weatherby's mouth quirked. "We will do nothing of the sort. I have decided to enlist aid in your tutelage."
Lady Weatherby was admitting that she needed help? Mark this day down on your calendars, folks. There was only one person in the Spellbound Care Home who could render the kind of help we needed.
"Does she know we’re coming?" I asked.
Lady Weatherby vacated the jalopy. "She does not. To be perfectly frank, I was still of two minds as to whether to come here today until the words left my mouth, but your instruction is too important to leave to one witch. The responsibility is too great, even for me.”
Wow. Her words made me feel special…and a little afraid of myself.
We entered the front lobby of the care home and were immediately greeted by the receptionist.
"Please be sure to leave all wands and brooms in your vehicles," she reminded us. Not that I would forget.
I nudged Lady Weatherby with my elbow. "Did you bring her any offerings?"
Her jaw tightened. "Do I look like an amateur to you? I am her daughter, after all." She patted her cloak and gave me a knowing look.
If nothing else, I knew that Agnes would be happy to spend time with her daughter. If teaching me how to become a benevolent sorceress was the impetus for the reunion, then so be it.
Lady Weatherby signed us in and we walked down the hall to the elderly witch’s room. Thankfully, the door was ajar. When it came to Agnes, if that door was closed, no way would I barge in. Some sights could not be unseen.
Agnes was seated at the small table by the window, dealing out cards. She barely glanced up to acknowledge us.
"Mother," Lady Weatherby said. Greetings didn't come much cooler than that.
"Daughter," Agnes replied. "I see you brought a bit of dark magic with you."
"Hey!" I objected. Agnes knew me better than that.
The old witch cackled. "You're so easy to goad. Haven't you toughened her up yet, Jacinda Ruth? Or is that why you’re here?“
Lady Weatherby bristled at the use of her given name. "Miss Hart and I have embarked on a special program, whereby I try to teach her how to use her sorceress gifts appropriately."
Agnes set down the rest of her cards and stared at us. “And you want my help. Interesting.”
"That's the idea," I said. "Apparently, with my powers comes great responsibility. Like Spider-Man."
The witches frowned at me. Okay, so Spider-Man was not a common reference in this room.
"I thought you might enjoy the challenge," Lady Weatherby said. "I know how you feel about idle hands."
"Oh, my hands are never idle here," Agnes said. "I have a boyfriend and plenty of cards to keep these hands busy." Her face split in a wicked grin.
"How is Silas?" I asked.
“As horny and annoying as usual," Agnes replied.
Lady Weatherby stiffened. "There is no need for vulgarity in my presence."
"Prude," Agnes said. She eyed us both. "What? No gift?"
Lady Weatherby produced a bottle from the interior of her cloak. "I was not raised by a fool."
Agnes rubbed her hands together eagerly and approached the counter. "You pour. I'll get three glasses down, shall I?"
Lady Weatherby held up a hand. "None for me, thank you."
Agnes gave her a look that would have frozen the devil himself. "I said I'll get three glasses, shall I?"
Lady Weatherby bowed her head, her antlered headrest slightly askew. "Yes, Mother."
Well, well, well. This was going to be an interesting dynamic to witness.
I watched as Agnes poured the amber liquid into three shot glasses. She handed one to each of us.
"Now don't go puking in my bowl again," she warned me.
"That would be my preference, as well," I said. I was fairly certain that my stomach lining had become as iron as Raisa’s teeth since my arrival in Spellbound.
We each downed our drink and Lady Weatherby placed all three glasses carefully in the sink. I had no doubt that she was fastidious at home, too.
"Now I'd like to find a room to work in," Lady Weatherby said. “A manager told me that there was a meeting room available for the next hour. The Snowflake Room."
"Yes," Agnes replied. "They usually have bocce ball in there at this hour, but one of the trolls went apeshit yesterday and started throwing balls at the participants. Anger issues."
We traveled down the hallway together and I noticed that Lady Weatherby kept a careful distance from her mother, as though she didn't want to accidentally brush against her. I didn't know why their relationship was so fractured, but maybe time alone with them would yield answers. Never mind that they were here for my benefit, not theirs.
The meeting room was the size of my dining room and living room combined. Plenty of space for sorcery practice. Maybe she’d let me practice my special project in here, as well.
Lady Weatherby took out her wand and began chanting as she walked around the perimeter of the room.
"Hey," I said. "You snuck in your wand."
Lady Weatherby glanced at me over her shoulder. "I am the head of the coven in this town. Do you really think I would ever leave my wand behind?"
Well, I certainly wasn't going to tell on her. "What kind of spell are you doing?"
Lady Weatherby shushed me as she continued her walk around the perimeter.
"She's doing a protective spell around the room," Agnes explained. “If we’re going to be messing around with your brand of magic, we need to place ourselves in a bubble of sorts. For our protection, as well as everyone else's."
"I thought we were only doing basic sorcery," I said. “Is the risk really that great?"
Agnes shrugged. "Probably not, but you know Jacinda Ruth is as cautious as they come."
As much as I was inclined to agree with Agnes, the truth was that Lady Weatherby had taken a huge chance in supporting me when many re
sidents wanted to turn their backs. That was not the behavior of a cautious witch. That was the behavior of someone who was willing to take a risk on me. No matter what else she did, I would never forget that.
Lady Weatherby tucked her wand away and faced me. "First, I'd like to try a manifestation spell again."
Agnes jerked her head. "You had her doing a manifestation spell already?"
"I thought that was a basic one," I said.
"It's basic enough, based on what I've seen of her abilities," Lady Weatherby said to her mother. "And she nearly managed it last time, but there was an interruption."
Yes, the interruption was that I realized who had killed Walter Rivers, a troll that was discovered frozen to death by Larkspur Bridge.
"You want me to try and do that spell again?" I asked.
Lady Weatherby nodded. "I thought Agnes could offer pointers this time." She explained to her mother that I’d summoned Sedgwick instead of the item I wanted.
Agnes scratched her head with a pointy fingernail. "Yes, your will is very important in sorcery. Much more so than in witchcraft."
"Is that why I don't need a wand?" I asked.
"It is why a wand is less important to your kind," Agnes said. “Your magic is much more powerful and organic. You don't need to channel it through a wand like we do."
"Is that why I can see Gareth without channeling his spirit through a particular item? Kassandra needs to channel him through Magpie in order to see and hear him, but I don't have to do any of that."
"That seems to be the case," Agnes replied. "But before we get on to business, let's cover the good stuff. How are things with his Holy Hot Butt?"
I couldn't resist a smile. "Daniel is wonderful. Thank you for asking."
“The sex is outstanding, right? Please tell me it's heavenly."
"Mother!" Lady Weatherby snapped. "Miss Hart and I are not here to discuss such intimate matters. Let's stick to magic, shall we?"
"Prude," Agnes mumbled.
"Do you remember how to do the manifestation spell?" Lady Weatherby asked.
I thought for a moment. "Yes, I think so. I focus my will, like in witchcraft.”
“That’s right,” Agnes said. “Pull the magic out that’s within. Picture the very thing you want right here."
A Touch of Magic Page 9