A Touch of Magic

by Annabel Chase

  “Let me out,” he seethed. “Let me out and I promise not to tear you to pieces.”

  “The time for negotiation has passed, Marcel. This is a done deal.”

  I moved a few paces back and focused my will again—this time for a different purpose.

  “What are you doing?” Marcel cried. “You can’t use magic on me. I object.”

  I ignored him and continued my summoning spell. Sedgwick appeared in my arms, thoroughly annoyed.

  Did you mess up the spell again? Your precious Huey is on the desk in your office.

  “No,” I said. “This time I actually intended to get you here.”

  Why? He swiveled his neck.

  “I need you to get Astrid here,” I said. “She needs to come quickly. I’ve nabbed Milton’s murderer.”

  Fine. I’ll do your bidding, Your Highness. He gave a dramatic sigh. As usual.

  “Thank you, Sedgwick.”

  I don’t see Huey doing you any favors.

  “Huey is a stuffed toy.”

  Exactly.

  Once Sedgwick flew off, it didn’t take long for the sheriff to arrive.

  Astrid’s blond head poked in the doorway. “Emma?” She stepped into the warehouse and froze at the sight of Marcel in a makeshift wooden prison. “Marcel is the murderer?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Marcel growled. “It’s her word against mine. No one will believe a sorceress.”

  “I do,” Astrid said, removing her handcuffs and a magical cattle prod, out of an abundance of caution.

  “And that’s the problem with this town,” Marcel said, gripping the wooden bars. “The wrong sort are running Spellbound into the ground.”

  “The wrong sort are going around free after killing an innocent pillar of the community,” Astrid said. “We’re going to rectify that right now. Emma, will you help me escort Mr. Griffith to the jalopy? There was a tree blocking the road so we’ll need to walk.”

  “I can help, too,” another voice piped up. Britta appeared in the doorway. “If you need me, that is.”

  Astrid smiled. “Of course we need you. You’re my deputy, aren’t you?”

  Britta rushed toward us, eager to assist. “I’ll take this.” She snatched the magical cattle prod from her sister’s hand. “You know I’m better at using these things.” She winked at Marcel. “I have violent tendencies.”

  “Don’t we all?” Marcel replied glumly.

  Chapter 18

  Lady Weatherby strode into the classroom, her black cloak sweeping the floor behind her. "Welcome to another day of learning, witches. As I'm sure you know, today is the day that you’re scheduled to share your special project with me. I assume you have all been working diligently on your creative spells."

  We all murmured our assent.

  "Very well, then.” She gave us her version of a smile. “Which one of you would like to present first?"

  The door at the back of the classroom swung open and Professor Holmes entered the room. "Don't start without me," he said hurriedly. "I don't want to miss this. It sounds like there are some interesting spells to be presented today."

  “Indeed, Professor Holmes,” Lady Weatherby said. “I’ve heard much the same.”

  "Emma," Professor Holmes said. "It's my understanding that you've been working on a spell that would interest me. Would you mind presenting first?"

  "I would love to," I said. Really, I would rather stick my head in a bag and barf, but I would present first and take one for the team.

  I walked to the front of the classroom and began unpacking my bag. I placed the quills and parchment on the table in front of me and silently prayed that nothing would go wrong this time. Not in front of Lady Weatherby and her judgy twisted antlers.

  "First, why don't you introduce the spell?" Lady Weatherby prompted.

  "I call my spell Where There’s A Quill, There’s A Way," I said.

  "How adorable," Lady Weatherby said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  "The purpose of my spell is to control the quill without touching it. If the spell’s performed correctly, then the quill will write what I want to say on the parchment while my hands remain free to do other tasks. If the spell goes really well, then I could work on multiple parchments at the same time using multiple quills." It was sort of like dictation.

  Professor Holmes nodded, pleased. "Very ambitious."

  “Yes, ambitious,” Lady Weatherby agreed in her droll tone. “But let's see if it actually works."

  Now I was more determined than ever not to screw up. I held my hands out in front of me, palms flat.

  "No wand?” Professor Holmes queried.

  I glanced over my shoulder. "No. Is that okay?"

  Professor Holmes looked to Lady Weatherby for confirmation.

  "I think that is permissible," Lady Weatherby said. "After all, we want you to explore your particular abilities in a safe environment. This project is meant to be a creative endeavor, after all.”

  I turned back to the quills and continued the spell. "Two parchments and two quills/bend these items to my will."

  I focused fully on the task at hand. Two quills lifted and drifted to the inkpots before returning to the parchments. I watched letters form on the pages. Once I was certain that the connection between us was secure, I removed a book from my bag and began to read.

  "Miss Hart, may I ask what you’re doing?" Lady Weatherby asked.

  I took a seat on a nearby chair and placed my feet on the table while I read. "I'm performing another task while the quills are writing for me.”

  "Brilliant," Professor Holmes exclaimed. He moved closer to the table to examine the parchment. “Although I must admit, I don't understand what you've written."

  I glanced up from my book. "Is the handwriting too sloppy? Because I think I can adjust that in the spell."

  "No, I can read it just fine," Professor Holmes said. "I simply don't understand what it means. All work and no play makes Emma a dull girl."

  I snapped the book closed and went to review the text on the parchments. Sure enough, the quills had written identical statements over and over again. I grimaced.

  "Sorry about that," I said. "It's based on a scary movie I saw when I was a kid in the human world. It was called The Shining."

  "What did you intend for the quills to write?" Lady Weatherby inquired.

  "Two different proposals for modifications to the sentencing guidelines," I said. "I was trying to show that I could do substantive work using the spell." And I failed miserably. Good job, Emma.

  To my surprise, Lady Weatherby gave me an approving nod. "Well done, Miss Hart. I think the spell shows a lot of promise. If you manage to perfect it, please let us know. I think we would find it useful in the coven."

  My spirits lifted. I certainly wasn’t expecting that reaction.

  "Thank you," I said. "I will." I packed up my belongings and placed them back in the bag, returning to my seat.

  "Who's next?" Professor Holmes asked, surveying the room. "How about you, Laurel?"

  Laurel scooted from her seat and moved eagerly to the front of the classroom, clutching the antique magic mirror in her hand.

  “Ah, a mirror. This one looks interesting," Professor Holmes said.

  "I wanted to create a spell that allowed this mirror to show me the person I name in real time," Laurel said. "I was inspired by the magic mirror in Beauty and the Beast."

  The Peeping Tom mirror. A tale as old as time.

  “Isn’t there also a magic mirror in Snow White?” Millie asked.

  Laurel scrunched her nose. “That magic mirror acted more like a person. This one is indifferent. It just shows me the person I want. That’s it.”

  "We’re ready when you are," Lady Weatherby said.

  Laurel retrieved her wand and tapped the mirror gently. "Mirror, mirror in my hand/show us the only minotaur in the land.”

  The mirror showed us only static.

  "It's not working," Millie said.

/>   Laurel smiled brightly. "Actually, it is. The static means that Markos is indisposed. I need to try someone else right now." She closed her eyes and said, “Mirror, mirror, most bizarre/show me the town registrar.”

  The mirror glowed and we were treated to a vision of Stan, filling out paperwork in his office near the Great Hall.

  Professor Holmes clapped heartily. "Excellent work, Laurel. Another useful spell."

  "I concur," Lady Weatherby said. "Can you use it to find objects, do you think? Suppose I was missing my prized headdress. Would the mirror be able to locate a lost item for me?"

  Laurel's brow creased. "I don't see why not. I'd have to tweak it and see whether I can make that work. Thanks for the idea."

  "I must say that I am very impressed so far," Lady Weatherby said. "I'm glad you have put such thought and effort into the project."

  Millie raised her hand. “Speaking of thought and effort, I’d like to go next."

  I was surprised it had taken her this long to volunteer. I’d half expected her to shove me aside when I was presenting.

  Millie took her place at the front of the classroom and held up the necklace with the red amulet. "The purpose of my spell is to make me appear to be the ideal beauty when I’m wearing this amulet. I've taken the idea that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and created a spell around it."

  “A surprising choice," Professor Holmes murmured.

  Millie placed the necklace over her head and, once the amulet settled against her chest, it began to glow a deep red. She turned to face Lady Weatherby.

  “What do you think, Lady Weatherby?” Millie asked expectantly.

  Lady Weatherby’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. The movement would have been imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching closely for a reaction, which I happened to be. I was desperate to know what the stern head of the coven’s ideal beauty looked like.

  “Impressive, Millie,” Lady Weatherby said.

  “Turn to me now,” Professor Holmes said, practically giddy. He was like a boy wizard in a magic toy store.

  Millie faced the kindly professor and he laughed.

  “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said. “I’m not sure how useful it is, but I like it all the same.”

  “The assignment wasn’t to make the spell useful,” Millie countered, her nose in the air. “It was to be creative and I’ve achieved that.”

  “Of course you have,” Professor Holmes said gently. “No one is saying otherwise.”

  “Thank you, Millie,” Lady Weatherby said. “Next we’ll have Begonia Spence.”

  Begonia cleared her throat nervously and stepped up to the front of the classroom. “My spell creates a magical tattoo.”

  Lady Weatherby pursed her lips. “Temporary, I presume.”

  Begonia nodded profusely. “Of course.” She held up a few selections for Lady Weatherby. “Which one would you like to try?”

  Lady Weatherby clucked her tongue. “Oh, surely Professor Holmes is a better subject for magical tattoos.”

  Undeterred, Begonia turned toward the professor with her same plucky attitude. “Unicorn, butterfly, or a begonia?”

  He leaned forward and studied the paintings. “They’re all very pretty. What a talented artist you are.”

  “Thank you.” She shoved the papers closer. “Now choose one.”

  He straightened. “The unicorn, please.”

  I sucked in a breath. If the spell went awry like it had with the butterflies, Professor Holmes could be trampled to death by unicorns. We all could.

  “Where would you like the tattoo?” Begonia asked.

  Professor Holmes rolled up his sleeve and patted his upper arm.

  “Very well, then.” Begonia touched the unicorn with her wand and said, “As unique as a single golden horn/make a tattoo of a unicorn.”

  A small unicorn galloped through the air from the paper to the professor’s bare arm. It settled there, rearing on its hind legs and looking as majestic as one would expect. I breathed a sigh of relief that the spell had gone off without a hitch.

  “This is lovely, Begonia,” he said, admiring it closely. “Look at the level of detail.”

  “I daresay that I am amazed,” Lady Weatherby said, walking over to examine the tattoo. “This is extremely good work, Begonia.”

  Her face was flushed with pride. “Thank you. I enjoyed creating the spell.”

  “It shows,” Lady Weatherby said. “How long will the tattoo last?”

  “It seems to keep for an hour in my experiments,” she replied.

  “So you have an hour to show it off, Professor Holmes,” Lady Weatherby said. “Do make the most of it.”

  He smiled. “I think I will.” He nodded to the rest of us. “Thank you, witches. I’ve enjoyed this immensely.”

  Lady Weatherby addressed Sophie. “I believe you are the last to go.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sophie walked up to the front of the room holding a spray bottle.

  “Let me guess,” Lady Weatherby said. “You’ve made a perfume that smells like anything the wearer desires.”

  “No, but that’s a good idea,” Sophie replied. “To demonstrate my spell, I’ll need the assistance of Chairman Meow. Would you kindly ask him to join us?”

  If Lady Weatherby was surprised, she didn’t show it. She simply nodded and stared off into the distance, no doubt summoning her familiar telepathically. Moments later, Chairman Meow sauntered through the door at the back of the room, his little antlered headdress slightly askew. He stopped and sat at Sophie’s feet, awaiting further instructions.

  “Would you mind hopping up onto the table so everyone can see?” Sophie asked.

  He leaped onto the table and stared at Sophie.

  She spritzed the cat in the face with purple liquid. The proud cat closed his eyes and hissed in response.

  “Sophie, what in the name of Arabella St. Simon are you doing to my familiar?” Lady Weatherby demanded.

  “I’m not hurting him,” Sophie said defensively. “You’ll see.” She rubbed the purple liquid into his fur and the moment triggered a memory.

  “Great balls of fire,” I said aloud. Everyone turned to look at me and I winced. “Sorry, I just realized something. Carry on.” As much as I was enjoying everyone’s presentations, I couldn’t wait until class was over.

  “Are you quite finished yet?” Chairman Meow asked.

  Lady Weatherby nearly fell backward into her chair. “Chairman Meow?”

  The cat glanced at the witch. “Surely you recognize my voice, mistress?”

  And his tone. Egads, they had matching tones. For a brief moment, I worried that Sedgwick and I were more alike than I realized, but I quickly dismissed the notion. Sedgwick was his own owl, through and through.

  Lady Weatherby gaped at Sophie. “You mixed this on your own?”

  “I did, ma’am,” Sophie replied proudly.

  “There’s a mixologist in you yet,” Lady Weatherby said. “How long does the spell last?”

  “A few minutes,” Sophie said. “I tested it on a baby bird in a tree outside my window.”

  “Oh, wow,” Laurel said. “And it worked? You found out about the mom?”

  “Yes, thank the gods I was able to ask,” Sophie said. “The mom was coming back at night when I was asleep. If I’d tried to help the bird, she would have abandoned him.”

  Chairman Meow licked his paw. “Baby bird, did you say? And where might I find this nest?”

  “Nice try,” Sophie said. “He’s getting stronger every day. I think he’ll be ready to fly soon.”

  Chairman Meow did the feline equivalent of snapping his fingers in dismay. The sudden movement caused his headdress to shift further, pushing down his ear. “Honestly, can I please eliminate this staple from my wardrobe? It’s absurd.”

  Lady Weatherby frowned with concern. “You dislike the headdress? I’ve always considered it to be an honor to wear.”

  “For you, maybe,” he replied. “You have a human head, whereas
I am a cat, in case you haven’t noticed. Not to mention, the monstrosity itches my fur. It’s like a circlet of gnats.”

  I stifled a giggle. Lady Weatherby’s familiar was talking smack to her. A video recorder would have come in handy right now.

  “By all means, let’s remove it, shall we?” Lady Weatherby stalked over to the cat and plucked the tiny headdress from his head. “Happy now?”

  “Moderately,” Chairman Meow replied.

  “Anything else you’d like to share with the class before the spell wears off?” she asked, a dangerous glint in her eye. If I were Chairman Meow, I’d call it quits now or there might not be any tuna in his future.

  “Meow,” he said.

  “Hmpf,” Lady Weatherby replied. When she turned on her heel to place the headdress on her desk, Chairman Meow winked at Sophie.

  Clever cat. Then again, I’d expect nothing less from Lady Weatherby’s familiar.

  “Is class over?” I asked, my bottom partially off the seat.

  “Something urgent, Miss Hart?” Lady Weatherby asked.

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” I replied and swiped the spray bottle from the table in front of Sophie.

  Lady Weatherby flicked an elegant finger in my direction. “Why should today be any different? Go on, then. Solve your crime or whatever it is.”

  “Awesome,” Laurel said. “Somebody’s wrath upon this world is so over.”

  Chapter 19

  As it happened, I was not ending anyone’s wrath upon the world. Instead, I was about to gather the evidence to have my client acquitted.

  “Good afternoon, Boyd," I said, stepping into the healer's office. "I understand you have a cat here by the name of Esmeralda."

  Boyd smiled and nodded toward the door across the hall. "She's right in there. She’s awake and alert and we've been monitoring her closely."

  "How does she seem to you?"

  "It's a bit early to tell," Boyd said. "But she did eat a little bit last night and we’re hopeful that she'll start purring again soon."

  "How strong is she?" I asked.

  "Strong? Do you mean how many pounds can she lift?" He chuckled. "You're not planning to enter her in any competitions, are you?"