Owl's Fair (The Owl Star Witch Mysteries Book 2)

by Leanne Leeds

  “I get it, I get it,” I said, holding my hands up. “I forget you guys have internet.”

  “Have it, use it. Well, some of us. In any case, the victims love everybody. In a drug or magic-induced sense.”

  “Except they don’t love everybody, they just love Pistachio,” I said.

  “That makes sense, then, with what Mom found out here. Your owl is upset with Pistachio because he’s trying to form his own religion.” Ami frowned. “Or maybe has his own religion? I wasn’t completely clear on the difference between trying to form one and having one, and to be honest, it sounds like nobody else is, either.”

  “Why didn’t he just say that instead of trying to eat the pixie?”

  “Since he’s Athena’s owl, he’s not allowed to pass judgment on religious beliefs. Apparently, the gods all got together years and years ago. They made some agreement that they can’t denigrate each other’s beliefs.” Ami held up her hands. “So he couldn’t tell you.”

  “The gods are religiously tolerant?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not trying to be lame-brained here, but are they aware of history? Like, in any capacity? If they are so tolerant, why have there been so many holy wars? The Crusades? Weren’t there, like, eight religious wars in France alone just in the late fifteen hundreds?”

  “Right, that’s a religious war. War is different.” Ami’s expression communicated that she understood how nuts her answer sounded. “They have rules about interfering with each other’s followers and dismissing each other’s beliefs. Waging war on one another’s followers?” she held up her hands and shrugged. “That’s apparently allowed.”

  I blinked. “That’s insane. Completely irrational and totally insane.”

  “It may be, but it’s also part of their rules.”

  I smiled thinly. “And you people wonder why I’m an atheist.”

  “Well, you may think you’re an atheist—and, hey, you may even be one. I’m not one to judge. But you’re also—currently—the person with a divine familiar. So whether you believe in them or not, believe in these rules or not? You need to at least understand them. Archie can’t pass judgment over the religion Pistachio Waterflash has founded. He couldn’t tell you what he thought about it or the problems he had with it.”

  “But he could eat Pistachio Waterflash,” I deadpanned. “He couldn’t tell me why he was upset, but he could tear a pixie limb from limb.”

  Ami nodded. “Apparently so.”

  “This is why I stick with potions,” Althea murmured. “They’re much easier to understand. They make so much more sense than religious philosophy and dogma.”

  Thanks to Aunt Gwennie, there was hot food for us with a tall glass of fresh lemonade. She watched Althea and me for some time, then said, “When you get done, I have a black forest cake for dessert if you’re still hungry.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, Aunt Gwennie, it’s after ten o’clock. If I have black forest cake, I’ll be up with heartburn all night.”

  She came forward and put her hand on my shoulder. “You know, you have a sister that can whip up an antacid that would put the latest and greatest human prescriptions to shame.” Aunt Gwennie nodded toward Althea, who was daintily eating barbecued chicken skewers. “You need to start leaning on us, Astra. The same way you leaned on your fellow soldiers at the ministry.”

  “I do! Well, okay, I don’t do it a whole lot—but I’m getting a lot better.”

  “You are, dear.” She sat down at the table and folded her hands. “A pixie war in Central Florida.” Aunt Gwennie made a tsk-tsk sound. “I had hoped once the Witches’ Council was gone, these types of things would go with them.”

  “People will always get annoyed at other people, Aunt Gwennie,” Althea shrugged. “It’s not like that’s ever gonna change.”

  “This is more than an annoyance, child.”

  “But it’s less than a war,” Althea told Aunt Gwennie. “At least at this point. Right now, we just have six pixies unhappy with their male leader and a male leader who pixie-dusted four women into followers. Worse things have happened.”

  “True, but these kinds of conflicts are never good. Large or small, war or skirmish. It threatens the peace in the area. A peace we’ve worked hard for.”

  “This isn’t so much a war as a civil war, really.” I slipped a piece of chicken off the skewer and popped it in my mouth. After swallowing, I asked, “Did you guys have much interaction with the pixies before this? They seemed to know who we were, but not firsthand.”

  “The pixies were very isolated. Everyone was, of course, when the Witches’ Council ruled the paranormals.” Althea nodded in agreement as Aunt Gwennie spoke. “Witches could get away with being recognized for what they were by humans, and that’s only thanks to the human witches. We simply blended in, and as long as we didn’t make any trouble? They—well, you, I suppose—left us alone. It wasn’t so for the other paranormal races.” My aunt raised her eyebrow. “Surely you would know more about this than us, Astra. After all, you were part of their government.”

  “Not that part,” I told her. “I chased fugitives. The judicial side of the government wrote a warrant for somebody for something. I got assigned to go find that somebody, and I did.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t really any more complicated than that. I wasn’t involved in the trials. I was more of a bounty hunter on salary, really.”

  “Just out of curiosity, how many of the people you hunted down were witches?” Althea asked thoughtfully.

  I thought about it. “Very few, actually. Maybe five percent?”

  “And that was typical?”

  “Of fugitives? Yeah, pretty typical.”

  “The last paranormal census said witches were forty-five percent of the paranormal population,” Aunt Gwennie pointed out. “I suppose the other ninety-five percent of people you apprehended were made up of the other paranormal species?”

  I nodded.

  “Sounds to me like you know more about it than you think,” Althea told me quietly.

  Before I could respond, a rock flew through the window.

  “Is everyone all right?” I asked my aunt and sister as we came out from under the table. Their faces fearful, they nodded. “I thought the house was warded?”

  “The wards protect us against people coming into the house that have evil intentions,” Althea explained as she got up and headed toward the broom closet. “I think we may need to rejigger the wording or something. Someone standing in the street with a flamethrower could burn the place down.”

  “What was that? Was it an accident?” I scanned around the floor and looked for whatever flew into the window hard enough to shatter it. In the corner, underneath the lip of the cabinet, sat a large gray rock with a rubber band wrapped around it. I could clearly see a piece of paper, folded, tucked inside. “I got it.”

  Retrieving the rock, I pulled out the paper and unrolled it. “If you don’t bring my sister out right now, I will find a way to get in there. Even if I have to hire a rogue witch to break your wards,” I read out loud. “Rex.”

  “Who’s Rex?” Aunt Gwennie asked, frowning.

  “Emma’s brother.”

  “Her brother?” Aunt Gwennie turned to look at the window. “Why didn’t he just come to the door and knock like a normal person? Was this necessary?”

  “Because he’s not a normal person,” I told her. “He’s a vampire.”

  “Oh. He’s a vampire,” Aunt Gwennie sighed. “That explains it. That young man can’t even get on the property, much less to the door.”

  “We warded the whole property against other paranormals,” Althea explained. “Not just the house, but the entire property. They can’t come here unless we walk them across the boundary line. Which is, like I said, at the end of the property.”

  I stared at the two. “And you two were giving me crap just a minute ago about working for an intolerant administration? Seriously?”

  “We didn’t give you crap,” my aunt told me, offended.

/>   “To be fair, Aunt Gwennie, I was kind of about to.” Althea pointed at me. “Valid point to make, sis. Regardless, the dude can’t get in. And if he tries, it’s gonna hurt.”

  “I’ll go get him—”

  “Wait a minute, you can’t go get him.” My sister’s eyes widened. “He’s a vampire! Are you crazy? They’re bloodthirsty killers.”

  “He’s Emma’s brother,” I told Althea. “If he found her here, that means he’s given her a little bit of his blood so he can keep tabs on her. And if that’s the case, he knows there’s something wrong with her. And if that’s the case?” I pointed. “My bet is he means it when he says he’s getting in here one way or another.”

  “They can do that? Track humans like that?” Aunt Gwennie asked.

  “Yes, they can do that, and a whole lot more. But so can we. What’s the difference?”

  Aunt Gwennie’s face half turned away from me. “Maybe we should get your mother—”

  I had lived among other paranormals for so long I’d forgotten this fear and prejudice existed—firmly—outside of Imperatorial City in the witch community. As much as people disliked the Witches’ Council, their supremacist ideals (that witches were the rightful rulers of all the paranormal world) produced a people full of arrogance against weaker supernatural species and a deep fear of species with equal strength.

  And, apparently, this prejudice was within my own family.

  “You guys are the picture of tolerance up until you actually have to deal with one of these other paranormal species that make you a little uncomfortable,” I told them both. “He’s not ‘a vampire.’ He’s Emma’s brother, she’s in trouble, and he’s worried. That’s why he’s here. You want me to, what, leave him outside standing at the curb because you have a general concern about vampires?”

  “They kill people!” Althea told me.

  “I’ve killed people,” I told her. “You want me to go stand by the curb?”

  We had talked little about my military service. None of my family asked specifics about what I’d done, and I hadn’t volunteered much information. But I’d been a soldier chasing fugitives.

  Sure, the Witches’ Council was corrupt as all get out. A lot of the people they sent us after? They didn’t deserve it.

  But a lot of them? They did.

  And a lot of them hid from us among friends of theirs who also deserved it.

  I didn’t kill many people, and I never killed unnecessarily.

  But I’d taken people’s lives.

  Other paranormals. Other witches. A few people in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never started the fights and never went in looking for one. I was not one of those people that started a mission looking for it to get violent. Wanting that to happen? Never me. But if violence found me?

  I would not be the one on the ground at the end.

  They stared at me as if they’d never seen me before, and the silence was heavy. It seemed to go on forever. Finally, my sister stepped forward.

  “Astra, you didn’t,” Althea whispered. “You’re just trying to make a point. That’s not you. You couldn’t have done that.”

  “I did, and I have,” I responded quietly. “Never wanted to; it was always something I felt bad about, but sometimes? Sometimes it’s just necessary. Wish it wasn’t. I wish we lived in a world where it wasn’t necessary. But sometimes it is, and when it is, there have to be people prepared to act.”

  “Oh, Astra,” Aunt Gwennie said, reaching for me.

  “No, now, look.” I held up my hands and tilted my head. “It appears to me I have a lot more experience with other paranormals than any of you. Book learning only gets you so far. Vampires are like anyone else—they’re just people. Some are good, some are bad. I don’t know which Rex is, but I do know he’s Emma’s brother, and he’s worried about her. We owe it to her to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  Aunt Gwennie and Althea glanced at one another, their expressions unsure.

  “If he makes a move, I can take him down. None of you will be in any danger. I can assure you of that.” They turned and stared at me. “Are we agreed?”

  They nodded, but they didn’t look sure of their answer.

  “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

  As I left the house, I was sure one of them was running to get my mother.

  “Rex?” I stopped at the edge of the grass, just before the boundary.

  I was confident, but I wasn’t stupid.

  “You’re Astra Arden,” the vampire responded, his voice Frank Sinatra smooth.

  “I am.”

  Rex was tall, lean, with dark brown eyes that seemed to burn straight into my soul. His skin was clear and smooth, freshly shaved, his brown hair tousled by the wind he had no doubt sailed through faster than the human eye could see to get here from Las Vegas. He was, like all vampires, overpoweringly handsome.

  You could take the most awkward, unattractive human, turn them into a vampire, and they inevitably became the most charming, elegant, attractive being. I always figured it had something to do with the vampire’s need to attract humans to feed. “I sensed that my sister was in trouble and came to find her. She wasn’t at her apartment.” He glanced toward Arden House. “She’s in there, isn’t she?”

  “She is,” I told him.

  “Have you hurt her?” he asked, leaning in slightly. Rex’s voice was only mildly threatening.

  “Emma is my friend. I would never hurt her.”

  He considered me with those intense brown eyes for a few seconds and then tilted his head. “She claimed that to me, and yet I’m here. I sense her in danger.” Rex’s face darkened as he stared intently at me. “How do you explain this?”

  “That, my friend, would take a while.”

  A pause and stillness again. “Are we friends, Astra Arden?”

  Well, Rex, that depends on you. Are you planning on drinking my entire family? Then no, we’re probably not friends.

  I took a deep breath and made my overture to the vampire.

  “I’d like us to be. You’re the brother of my closest human friend and partner. I’d like to be able to invite you in—past our wards—and know that my three sisters, my aunt, and my mother would be safe. Oh, and my owl.” I stared into the stranger’s face trying to read his intentions, but he was a vampire. Their intentions were inscrutable. “Can I do that? Can you give me assurances that you’ll harm no one on this property? And if you do, can I trust those assurances?”

  Thin frown lines appeared. “I cannot promise anything if I find you harmed my sister.”

  “You won’t. I haven’t. And no one in that house has or would.”

  His face was ordinary and yet powerfully attractive. It was a bizarre paradox. Vampires were strange, strange creatures. Everything about them at first glance seemed balanced, even unassuming. But if you watched them for a while, their stillness and quiet would nag at you. Something would seem off, wrong, odd—even if you couldn’t reasonably determine what it was. Your subconscious could sense the genteel mask hiding great chaos just beneath the surface—even as it struggled how to warn you of the maelstrom.

  It was a chaos and frenzy only their victims ever saw, and they didn’t live long enough to tell anybody what it looked like.

  “I am going to trust what you say, for now, Astra Arden. I assure you that if you invite me in, I will not harm anyone who shares the space with me within the wards. At least, while they are within the wards,” Rex told me with a gentle strength. “Is this oath enough for you?”

  I stared into the vampire’s eyes and felt a flutter deep in my chest. Their powers of attraction were not quite as strong on witches as they were on humans, not magical. However, vampires were still the walking definition of “sexy beast.” It was hard to ignore Rex’s magnetism. “It’s enough.” I reached out my gloved hand. “Emma’s sleeping, but I’ll bring you to her.”

  “Do you know what’s happened to my sister?”

  “I think so,” I told him as he steppe
d across. “But I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You might’ve found me to ask whether I would be all right with having a vampire in my home, Astra,” my mother said with imperious politeness.

  “Didn’t have time.” I pointed to the broken window.

  My sisters must have warned her Rex would be coming in the house because she was waiting, leaning against the archway frame, with her softly judgmental game face on. The archway leads to the hallway that leads to Emma and Alice sleeping on the sofa. It was a place I didn’t think it was wise to stand, but my mother had her own way of doing things.

  I suppose I should be grateful she wasn’t standing with arms outstretched shouting “You shall not pass!” like Gandalf to the Balrog in Lord of the Rings.

  Not that Rex was a Balrog.

  Archie perched beside her, his face unreadable.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t aware at the start of this evening we banned paranormals from the house,” I responded, trying desperately not to sound patronizing. I then turned to Archie. “Speaking of that, it makes me wonder how you got in here without being walked in. If non-witch paranormals can’t cross the boundary line.”

  Archie had shown up on the front porch alone.

  Or so it seemed at the time, anyway.

  “I am the goddess’s own owl,” Archie answered with a shrug. “This is the goddess’s own temple with the goddess’s own high priestess.” He held out a wing and tilted his head. “Obviously, I didn’t have a problem. I wouldn’t be very much use if wards actually worked on me, now, would I?”

  Well, that was presumptuous. He wasn’t a whole lot of use today.

  The two stood tall like they owned the place. Which, okay, in my mother’s case—she did. Archie’s expression was difficult to read. I couldn’t tell precisely what he was thinking, but he didn’t seem alarmed by Rex’s presence in the least.

  My mother, on the other hand, kept her wide eyes glued to the vampire with a cold, uneasy expression.