A Touch of Magic

by Annabel Chase

  “Because this way is more fun,” Kitty replied.

  “I can’t believe it,” Sophie said. “My spell worked.”

  “Your spell didn’t work,” Millie objected. “You’re only supposed to be able to hear the thoughts of your familiar. Instead the animals are all talking. Out loud.”

  “But this is so much better,” Laurel said, kneeling in front of Delilah. “How about you? Can you talk?”

  “Meow,” Delilah replied and Laurel’s face fell. “Just kidding! Of course I can talk. Did you really think I’d be the one that couldn’t? I can talk circles around these other bozos.”

  Laurel broke into a broad smile. “This is amazing.”

  It really was. Sophie’s unintentional spell was even better than the one she’d planned.

  “What’s so amazing about a bunch of cats talking?” a male voice asked. “Cats talk all the time. You just can’t understand us.”

  Us? I turned around to see Magpie sitting in the doorway. Holy Talking Hellbeast. “Magpie?”

  “Don’t look so shocked,” Magpie replied, his whiskers twitching. “I’m highly verbal.”

  “But you’re not a familiar,” Sophie said.

  “He kind of is, though,” I said. “He’s Gareth’s.”

  “I’m nobody’s anything,” Magpie said tersely. “I’m a lone wolf.”

  “Technically you’re a lone cat,” Millie said.

  Magpie rolled his eyes. “By the gods, you’re an insufferable witch. How do the rest of them put up with you?”

  Millie sucked in a breath. Insulted by a cat!

  Sedgwick flew from the mantel to perch on a nearby chair. “This playdate suddenly became a lot more interesting.”

  I laughed and opened my mouth to respond when I realized something. “Sedgwick, you spoke out loud.”

  The owl twisted his neck. “I did?”

  I pointed at him. “You just did it again!”

  “I heard you,” Sophie said.

  “This could be dangerous,” Sedgwick said. “I’m liable to say all sorts of things in the name of mischief.”

  “You’ll do no such thing or I’ll confine you to the upstairs for the rest of the week,” I warned.

  Begonia giggled. “His voice matches his personality.”

  “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Sedgwick replied curtly.

  “It means you sound like a grumpy old man,” Momo replied.

  Sedgwick flapped his wings in an agitated gesture. “I’ll show you grumpy.”

  “No one doubts that,” Poca chimed in.

  The room erupted in a cacophony of animal voices. I tried to calm everyone down, but the animals were too busy arguing to listen.

  A shrill whistle stopped the vocal madness. Sophie stood on the dining room table, her expression a mixture of amazement and annoyance.

  “Can we stop bickering, please?” she implored. “You’ve been given the opportunity to talk to us and this is how you spend it? We don’t know how long the spell will last. You should choose your words wisely.”

  “Wisely,” Momo giggled. “Like an owl.”

  Sedgwick jerked his head toward the cat and glared. “Are you mocking me, feline?”

  Oh boy.

  “I hate tuna,” Momo announced. “I think you should know that. I only pretend to eat it because you seem so happy to give it to me.”

  “And you couldn’t have told me that before now?” Sophie asked.

  “Be thankful I’m telling you now,” Momo said. “I usually spit it out in the rose bushes when you’re not looking.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. “No wonder I can’t keep them alive.”

  “What about you, Magpie?” I asked. “Any list of grievances?” I was sure the list was long.

  Magpie regarded me with a serious expression. “You’ve been good for Gareth. And good for me,”—I couldn’t believe my ears—“even though I find you dreadfully annoying.”

  Ah, that made more sense.

  “I appreciate your candor,” I said. I wished Gareth were here to witness this moment. “Anything you want to say to Gareth?”

  Magpie opened his mouth but only a mewing sound came out. In fact, all of the cats were back to their normal sounds.

  “It didn’t last very long,” Sophie said glumly.

  “Long enough,” I said. “You can still try this spell on your baby bird.”

  Sophie clapped her hands. “You’re right. Either way, I’ll get my answer.”

  I thought of my uncertain trip down memory lane and sighed. Now if only I could get mine.

  Chapter 13

  With interviews of Carolina, Hugo, and Lucy out of the way, it was time to expand the investigation. I agreed to accompany Astrid to Lumberland, where Milton had been using a spare office to run his campaign. It was a good-sized complex for a town like Spellbound. There was one large building in the middle, flanked by two smaller buildings.

  "I think it's the one on the left," Astrid said, pointing.

  We parked the sheriff’s jalopy and headed for the door. Only a handful of people were inside, folding up tables and packing boxes. They froze when they noticed us.

  "Good afternoon, Sheriff Astrid,” a man said. He was of medium build with shaggy brown hair and a youthful face. A brownie. I didn’t know much about brownies, only that they were personable and liked to be useful. “We’re trying to finish up clearing out the space so that Lumberland can have it back."

  "Don't worry," Astrid said. "Lumberland hasn't complained. We wanted to talk to you about Milton."

  The brownie nodded somberly. "It's a devastating blow. Milton was the best candidate for mayor. We would’ve seen some drastic changes in this town." He stuck out his hand to Astrid. "I'm Max, by the way. I was his campaign manager."

  "Nice to meet you," Astrid said. "This is my associate, Emma Hart. Who else is here?"

  A lithe woman with curly red hair held up a finger. “I’m Sinead, a campaign aide for Milton." I could tell by the lilt in her voice that she was a banshee, like Maeve McCullen.

  Another aide was in the back of the room, separating signs from their posts. As burly as he was, he was no taller than my chest. A dwarf.

  "That's Ricky," Max said. "He works here, but he also worked on the campaign, so he does all of our heavy lifting. We sent everyone else home the morning after the murder. There was no point in carrying on.”

  "That's understandable," Astrid said.

  "What will you be doing with all of the campaign paraphernalia?" I asked.

  "Milton was big on recycling," Sinead replied. "The signs will go to the recycling center and the posts will go back to Lumberland for reuse."

  "He seemed to have a lot of influence here, considering he sold the company a year ago," Astrid said.

  Max shrugged. "This place was like his second home. He never stopped coming here. The new owner didn't mind. Milton hosted all his meetings here before the campaign began. He even held a fundraiser in this room to raise money for a garden at the elementary school."

  "Who bought Lumberland from him?" I asked.

  “Marcel Griffith,” Sinead said. “He’s been a big supporter of Milton’s. He was in here every day during the campaign. Gave us any supplies we needed.”

  “He left about an hour ago,” Max said, “but you can usually find him here after hours. He likes to work late.”

  "Thanks," Astrid said. “Good tip.” She surveyed the room. "I imagine there was a lot of chatter in this room after Milton's death. What are the current theories?"

  Max laughed. "You’re asking us? You’re supposed to be the investigator.”

  Astrid put her hands on her hips and gave him a menacing look. "And that's exactly what I'm doing now. Investigating. You all spent the most time with him in recent weeks, apart from his wife. You’re in the best position to know whether anything was amiss."

  Max visibly shrank from Astrid's intimidating frame. You didn't want to mess with an angry Valkyrie.

&nbs
p; "Obviously, there were rumors," Sinead interjected. "I'm sure people have already pointed the finger at his opponents.”

  "And what's been the consensus in here?" Astrid asked. “Did you all decide it was Hugo or Lucy?"

  "Or both of them together," Max said. "That's my theory, anyway."

  I tried to disguise my shock. "Do you really think Lucy and Hugo would work together to murder their opponent?" I asked, struggling to keep my tone even. “One still has to win against the other."

  “They just wanted to keep major change from happening here," Max said. "Lucy and Hugo represent the status quo. Either one of them will keep things ticking along as they have been. Milton was the only one committed to real change."

  Now my curiosity got the better of me. "And what kind of real change do you think Spellbound needs? From where I'm standing, overall it seems like a wonderful place to live."

  "Of course you would say that," Max replied. "You haven't lived here long enough to see the downsides."

  I quickly backed off. I didn’t want to get dragged into a political discussion in the middle of an investigation.

  “You’re not aware of any problems that concerned Milton?” Astrid asked.

  “No, he seemed excited about giving back to the community,” Max said. “Every new day created the possibility for change.”

  “How about you, Ricky?” I called to the burly dwarf. “Anything to add?”

  “He will be missed,” Ricky said. “I worked for him when he owned this place and Marcel kept me on.”

  “Did he keep everyone?” I asked.

  Ricky nodded. “We’ve been fortunate here. Milton and Marcel are both good bosses.” He frowned. “At least Milton was a good boss.” He kicked a box in frustration. “I hope you catch the son-of-a-wereweasel.”

  “That’s the plan,” Astrid said. “Thanks for your help.”

  The moment we stepped into the restaurant, I felt a pleasant vibe. A band called Jolly Octopus played on the far side of the room and patrons were engaged in light conversation. One glance at the room told me that everyone was having a grand time. I looked up at Daniel.

  "This was a good choice," I said. I'd never been to Red Velvet before. Gareth had mentioned it in passing as a particular favorite of the vampire set, so I suggested to Daniel that we give it a try. Anything to avoid the fairy community. I got the distinct impression that some fairies were holding me personally responsible for the downfall of Elsa Knightsbridge and her loyal mother.

  "That remains to be seen," Daniel said, surveying the room. "I see an awful lot of vampires. You know they’re not my favorite group."

  "That's just because you've always viewed them as competition," I said with a smile. Back in Daniel's womanizing days, his biggest threat would have been the sexy vampire set. Speaking of sexy vampires, my gaze fell upon Demetrius Hunt and a familiar face.

  “Wait. Isn't that Begonia?" Daniel asked.

  I nodded. “She’s been interested in him forever, but she hadn’t decided whether to break up with Claude.”

  “Do you think she’s broken up with him or is she going out behind his back?” Daniel asked.

  “No clue, although I’m surprised she didn't tell me about a date with Demetrius.”

  "I'm not," he said, placing a protective arm around my waist. "She knows you two have a little thing. She probably kept it from you deliberately.”

  "Nonsense," I replied. "Begonia knows that I have no interest in him. I like him very much, but I happen to like someone else a lot more."

  He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Tell me his name so I can go and beat him up."

  I nudged him playfully. “You wouldn't dare. You’re trying to restore your halo, remember?"

  A hostess appeared in front of us. "Table for two?"

  "Yes, please," Daniel said.

  We followed her to the only available table in the restaurant, which was, of course, directly next to Demetrius and Begonia. Daniel groaned softly.

  "Fancy seeing you two here," I said.

  Begonia looked slightly embarrassed and I wondered if there was any truth to what Daniel had said.

  Demetrius rose from his chair. "Isn't this a nice surprise?" He looked as tempting as ever in a dark purple shirt and dark jeans. "Why don't we push these two tables together and you can join us?"

  I felt Dan stiffen beside me. "We don't want to intrude on your date," Daniel said.

  "It's no imposition," Demetrius said, without so much as a glance at Begonia to gauge her feelings on the subject.

  "What do you think, Begonia?" I asked.

  She forced a smile. "Of course, I would love that." Her pretty blue eyes said the exact opposite. Either Demetrius didn't know how to read her, or he wasn't trying to.

  Demetrius pulled our table until it was smack against his. "We've only ordered drinks so far. If you’re interested, we can share appetizers."

  “We’ll look at the menu first, thanks,” Daniel said. I could tell he had zero interest in sharing anything with Demetrius.

  "So, Wings of Glory, how’s life after Elsa?" Demetrius asked.

  Daniel's jaw tensed. "I prefer to look ahead rather than behind. To be perfectly honest, I have sympathy for Elsa."

  Demetrius expressed surprise. "Sympathy? Really? I would have thought you’d like to see her strung up by her wings." He unfolded his napkin and placed it neatly on his lap. "I would have felt emasculated after a situation like that. You’re a tougher angel than I would ever be."

  "That's not news to me," Daniel replied and I placed a firm hand on his thigh under the table. I didn't want a pissing contest over dinner.

  "So what made you to come here tonight?" Demetrius asked. "This is primarily a vampire hangout. I thought it would be nice to take bring Begonia here for a taste of something different."

  “Gareth recommended it," I said. "He thought it might be good for Daniel and me to go somewhere away from the Knightsbridge crowd." I glanced across the room and my mouth dropped open. "Holy long-term infatuation. Is that Lord Gilder with Dr. Hall?"

  Demetrius craned his neck to follow my gaze. "How about that? Is that your doing?"

  I stared in disbelief. "Who knows? Who cares? I'm just so happy to see them out together." And I would definitely need to interrogate Dr. Hall during my next therapy session.

  "There's plenty of time for patron watching," Daniel said. “Why don't you spend two minutes on the menu before you play matchmaker to the rest of the room?"

  "What's your recommendation, Dem?” I asked.

  "He says he likes some kind of meat with a blood-red orange sauce." Begonia’s hands rested on the table and she seemed unhappy with the situation.

  "Is that what you’re going to order, Begonia?" I asked. I wanted to smooth things over, but I didn't know how.

  "No, I think I'm going to order the lamb,” Begonia said.

  Daniel tapped his menu. "The stew looks good to me. I'll go for that." He peered at me over the top of his menu. "We can share anything you like. I pretty much eat anything."

  "A man with a lust for food and life,” Demetrius said. "Are you sure you're not a vampire?"

  “Quite sure," Daniel replied curtly.

  "Is there a special method to ordering here?" I asked, trying to change the subject. Some places in Spellbound seemed to rely on magic, while others were more traditional.

  "We have a server," Demetrius said. "A succubus called Jana. She also sings with the band, so you'll hear her later if you stay long enough."

  As if she'd been summoned, Jana appeared at the table to take our order. We let Demetrius order the appetizers and a round of drinks for Daniel and me. Daniel insisted on ordering our mains. He didn't want Demetrius to take control of our date. It was both sweet and infuriating.

  "So, what are your thoughts on the election?" Demetrius asked. "Now that Milton is dead, what are Lucy's odds?"

  "I think they’re pretty good," I said. "But, then again, I am biased."

  "I would
have voted for Milton," Demetrius admitted. "Lucy is the beneficiary of his death in my case."

  "Did Milton ever come here?" I asked, casting a glance around the room. Maybe there was someone I could talk to about him.

  "He did, actually," Demetrius said. “Lumberland offices aren't far from here, so it wasn't unusual for him to stop by for drinks or a meal on his way home. He tended to work late."

  “Do you know if he had a regular table or server?" I asked.

  Daniel chuckled. "We’re here for dinner, Emma. Not so you can crack the case."

  "Waste not, want not," I said.

  Jana appeared with our drinks.

  "Mine almost looks too good to drink," Begonia said.

  “And it tastes just as good as it looks," Demetrius said, winking at her. "Kind of like you."

  Begonia flushed at the compliment. Oh boy. She was a goner when it came to Demetrius. I could certainly understand why. I found him charming and sexy, too. I was only human after all.

  “Thank you, Jana,” I said, admiring my cocktail. A Lacecutter. “Do you happen to know whether Milton Braun had a regular table?”

  Her pleasant expression faded. “Yeah, he did. Mine.”

  Jackpot. “Really? You waited on him often?”

  “Often enough that he gave me a small piece of the company,” she replied. “He came here all the time when he owned Lumberland. Less often once he sold it to Marcel Griffith.”

  “He gave you a piece of Lumberland?” I queried.

  She nodded. “Not much, but it was nice to be acknowledged.”

  “Would you mind telling me how much money that is?”

  I felt Daniel’s foot press gently on top of mine. He didn’t seem to approve of my line of questioning.

  “A tiny percentage of the profits,” she said. “He made sure his contract with Marcel continued it. He knew I didn’t want to wait tables for the rest of my life. I guess it was his way of acknowledging it. A symbolic gesture, you know?”

  “Marcel didn’t object?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I guess not.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Listen, I need to get back to the kitchen because I’m singing in about twenty minutes.”