Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus

by Lydia Sherrer

  “What in the world is going on here?” she demanded of the room in general. Suspicion aroused, she moved to the desk and cut the tape holding the other two boxes. Reaching in, she pulled out a bubble-wrapped coffee cup from one and a pack of granola bars from the other.

  “I do believe, madam, that you’ve been had,” the young man said, a look of consternation on his face.

  Lily whirled on him. “This is your fault, I’m sure of it.”

  “What? Don’t look at me. I haven’t touched these boxes. I only wanted to look—that is, I was only trying to be helpful, and—”

  “I knew it! What did you do? Where are my things?”

  Her increasingly loud cries had finally attracted attention, and several employees came at a run.

  “What’s going on? Please, Miss Singer, lower your voice,” the office manager said, putting a calming hand on Lily’s arm.

  Embarrassed, Lily shut her mouth. It was quite unlike her to get this agitated. She was usually calm and collected. But there was something about that young man which put her on edge. It was as if his very presence raised her blood pressure.

  Being an introvert, she always found interpersonal interaction awkward and considered it easiest to hide behind the fortifying wall of professionalism. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was head librarian of McCain Library and there was work to be done.

  Calmly, things were explained, items were examined, and alarmed looks were exchanged by the staff. Robert was sent to double-check the inventory, ensuring he hadn’t brought out the wrong boxes. Of course, the fact that the auction house had never sold a single young adult novel or coffee cup was a pretty clear indication the items had been swapped.

  As they waited for Robert’s return, Lily felt a hand grasp her bicep and pull her toward a corner of the room. Glaring up at the young man’s face, she tried to ignore her quickening pulse.

  “So, you know if they report this to the police you’ll never see your stuff again, right?” he muttered, keeping an eye on the rest of the room. His carefree charm had evaporated, replaced by a much more businesslike demeanor, though it did little to dampen the mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “Yeah, and you know why that is?” she demanded, wresting her arm from his grip and poking him hard in the chest. “Because this is your doing! I’m sure of it. Why else would you be hanging around, eager to get your hands on my box of books? Go on, confess.” Arms crossed, she glared at him.

  Placing a hand on his chest, he gave her an indignant look that, once again, didn’t quite hide the twinkle in his eye. “Me? Steal? You wound me with your baseless accusations.”

  Lily snorted, the unladylike noise gaining her a raised eyebrow from her companion.

  “If you were as smart as you are beautiful,” he drawled, “you’d realize that, had I taken the books, I’d have no reason to bandy about here, attempting to steal your box of terrible teen fiction. I only wanted to look at them, nothing more.”

  There it was again, that infuriating insult wrapped up in a compliment. But this time she refused to take the bait. “And if you were as honest as you are impertinent, you’d have asked politely to see them instead of trying to trick me. I don’t buy it. What are you up to?”

  Instead of replying, the man glanced over at the gathered auction house employees as they whispered among themselves. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be evaluating them. Finally, he turned back to her. “I’ll make you a deal. You ask the auction house to give you a day before reporting this to the police, and I’ll help you find your things. And explain what I’m up to,” he added in response to her stubborn glare.

  Lily shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “Not happening. I’m not working with you. You’re impolite and reckless. If that had been my box of books, you could have damaged some extremely valuable antiques. You’re going to tell me everything you know, right now, and then you’re going to leave and never bother me again.”

  Sighing, the man drew closer, speaking in a voice so low Lily had to lean in to hear him. “Look, without my help, you’re never going to see that stuff again. It’s…special, right? Not something you’d want…normal people messing with? Well I’m guessing someone else knew it was ‘special,’ too, and used their ‘special’ powers to make it disappear. Being a rather special person myself”—he chuckled at his own joke—“I can help you find them.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Lily considered his words, trying hard not to let her face show the surprise she felt. If she was not mistaken, this man was implying that he was a wizard. But he couldn’t be. Wizards could recognize each other. The telltales were faint, but any wizard could sense magic nearby if they were looking for it, and it took serious cloaking spells to hide that sort of aura. She hadn’t gotten a single whiff of magic off this man. And yet, there was something about him, something…different. It was a bit of a leap, but she decided to play along. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Madam Barrington how her artifacts had mysteriously disappeared. Looking for them herself seemed like a much better plan than reporting things to the police and going home empty-handed.

  “Fine. But this isn’t a partnership. We’re doing this my way and you will do what I say,” she said, emphasizing the “I” with a forceful poke to his sternum. “And every word out of your mouth had better be the truth, or so help me I’ll find something very ‘special’ to do to you. Got it?” Another poke.

  “Alright, alright. Jeez, lay off with the finger, will you?” the man complained, looking askance at her as he rubbed his chest. “How do you plan to convince them to let us investigate?”

  “I don’t know,” Lily said, frowning. “Just ask, I suppose.”

  Now it was the man’s turn to snort. “Good luck with that. No, we’ll tell them I’m a PI, and you’re retaining my services to investigate the issue and bring about a quiet resolution. Minimal fuss. No public record. They’ll jump at that.”

  Lily’s eyebrow shot up. “And are you a private investigator?”

  “Of a sort,” he said, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

  “I see.” She was about to follow that with “no lying,” but then realized that, as “special” people, it was their job to lie to mundanes to keep them in happy ignorance, for their own protection as much as for wizards. “I suppose it can’t hurt. But what makes you think they’ll believe you?”

  “Because I’m a professional,” he said, winking and tipping an imaginary hat. “Sebastian Blackwell, at your service.” Before she could comment, or even return the introduction, Robert emerged from the back room and all attention focused on him.

  The older man, a nervous, haggard look on his face, confirmed that the items were indeed missing and not simply mislaid. At this point Sebastian jumped in, charm turned up to full blast. It took convincing, specifically some offhand comments about newspaper headlines and the fragility of professional reputations, but he was able to get the office manager to agree to their request as well as allow them to question the employees and inspect the storage space.

  While Sebastian’s suave, unconcerned manner grated on her nerves—and she was still trying to keep her pulse from picking up every time he turned those handsome, chocolate-brown eyes on her—by the time the conversation was over, Lily had to give him some grudging respect. The man knew how to talk, there was no doubt about it. She suspected he regularly talked his way into, and out of, all sorts of mischief with that silver tongue of his. It was a skill she’d never seemed to grasp, and to this day she dreaded conversation unless it was about books or work.

  She didn’t like Sebastian. They would never be friends, and she looked forward to the day when she would be free of his smug, self-satisfied voice. But at least he seemed competent enough that they might, just maybe, find the stolen artifacts.

  Chapter Two

  Uneasy Allies

  “Never be friends, huh?” Sebastian asked in amusement, one eyebrow raised as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, soap and
scrub brush forgotten.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how annoying you can be. Believe me, things could have easily gone the other way.”

  Sir Kipling yawned, showing pink gums and sharp, white teeth. “Yes. I kept wondering why you didn’t simply curse the impertinent wretch and get on with it.”

  Lily choked back a laugh, pursing her lips to stave off the grin threatening to march across her face. She was only partially successful. “Oh, I don’t know. His impertinence sort of grows on you, don’t you think?”

  “Wait, my impertinence? What are you talking about? What did Kip say?” Sebastian looked back and forth between them, perturbed.

  “Nothing, really. He’s just surprised your mouth hasn’t gotten you killed yet.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute. My mouth?” Sebastian looked affronted. “What about you? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were a professional contortionist, with how much time your foot spends in your mouth.

  Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

  “Heck yeah. Not to mention your little ‘holier-than-thou’ act. That’s going to get you killed some day.”

  She scowled, attempting to cross her arms before realizing she still held several unidentifiable pieces of dirty clothing. She dropped them in disgust. “Fine. Since you think you know so much, why don’t you continue the story and we’ll see if Sir Kipling agrees with your description of me. After all, he has known me for…wait, how old are you Kip?”

  “That’s hardly a polite question to ask,” he replied.

  “Oh, come on,” Lily said. “You’re a cat, not a woman.”

  “No, no. I meant not polite to you. Cats never ask for each other’s age. They just know.”

  “And how do they know?”

  “Cat magic.”

  Lily sighed in exasperation, refusing to continue a long-running argument between them. He claimed cats simply had a better understanding of the world in general, and physics specifically, than humans. That’s why they could accomplish such impossible feats. Sir Kipling called this “cat magic,” ignoring Lily’s constant attempts to make him admit that the being who had gifted him with intelligence had also given him “real” magic.

  “Look, never mind,” she turned back to Sebastian. “The point is, I’ll bet your version is just as skewed as you seem to think mine is. Go on, let’s hear it.” She made an impatient gesture, cleaning forgotten.

  “Well,” Sebastian began, clearing his throat, “after my masterful persuasion of the office manager…”

  About a year and a half ago, and one impertinent wretch later:

  While Sebastian enjoyed mystery and intrigue as much as the next person, that didn’t make him any less displeased with the turn of events. This was supposed to have been a simple job, easy money. He should have known better. Fate seemed to have a grudge against him.

  His one consolation was the stunningly pretty girl he’d stumbled upon. Intelligent, graceful, refined, she was the picture of feminine perfection. Even better were her reactions. He hadn’t had this much fun teasing a girl since high school. It was a shame she was a wizard. They were the most sanctimonious lot of gits he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. Hopefully she would have the sense to stay out of the way and let him handle things. He didn’t need a bunch of flashy magic making his job harder.

  “Well, Mr. Holmes, have you solved the mystery yet?” came an impatient voice behind him. He made a face she couldn’t see, then straightened, brushing off his hands as he turned to confront her scowl. They were alone in the storage room at the back of the auction house where he’d spent the last few minutes combing the area for clues.

  “Colonel Mustard, with a candlestick, in the library,” he quipped, taking off and polishing an imaginary monocle as he gave her his most serious expression.

  “What?” She looked utterly confused.

  “You know, the…never mind,” he said, giving up. Waste of a good joke. “There’s no sign of a break-in. The back door is one of those industrial ones with no handle on the outside. You can’t get in unless you’re let in. Robert says he packed up and labeled the boxes this morning, so all the items were here as of about six hours ago.”

  “He could be lying,” the attractive wizard pointed out.

  Sebastian shook his head. “He wasn’t.”

  “How would you know? Do you read minds?” she said, making no effort to hide her sarcasm.

  He shrugged, resisting the urge to dig out the coin from his pocket and start playing with it. “Maybe I’m just good at reading people. Look, for now, let’s assume I’m right,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall her protest. “The point is, if someone didn’t break in by ‘normal’ means, that leaves two possibilities: either it was an inside job, or our thief was magical. Or both. You’re the wizard, can’t you check for—I don’t know—magic residue or something?”

  “Hush!” the girl said, looking around with a startled expression. “Don’t just come out and say it like that. Someone might be listening. And how do you know I’m a wizard?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. “Have you been following me?”

  Sebastian grinned. “Not yet, though I’d be happy to oblige.”

  She scowled, obviously not satisfied with his answer.

  Chuckling, he made a dismissive gesture. “It wasn’t hard. Your lot are easy to spot. You all hold your noses so high, like you think you’re drowning in sewage or something.”

  “Excuse me?” the girl spluttered, proverbial thunderclouds gathering overhead, and Sebastian decided this was the right moment to back off. No point in prolonging an already vexing situation.

  “Hey, don’t take it personally,” he said. “You’re all raised to think you’re God’s gift to mankind, the superior race. It’s no wonder you don’t know how to act like normal people.”

  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because his companion’s eyes flashed alarmingly and her voice grew dangerously quiet. “I’ll have you know, buster”—more chest poking—“that I didn’t know I was a wizard until I started college. I was raised on an Alabama cotton farm and have had to deal with things that a pretty boy like you couldn’t imagine. If you want to hold some juvenile grudge against wizards, be my guest. But right now we have a job to do, so shut it. Or I’ll shut it for you.”

  Wow, Sebastian thought, thoroughly impressed. That was magnificent. He wasn’t about to push his luck, but there was something about her reactions that made him want to keep poking at her. Every time he did, she surprised him with something delightful and unexpected. For the moment, though…

  “Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re not a normal wizard. I get it. Now could you please get off my foot?”

  “Oh!” She jumped back, almost knocking over a pile of boxes behind her. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t realize…” she mumbled, eyes downcast as she steadied the teetering pile. There was that blush again, Sebastian thought. Man, oh man, was it adorable.

  When she didn’t look up again, or speak, he paused, puzzled at her sudden change in behavior. She acted normal enough, even plucky when challenged. But get her embarrassed or self-conscious and she shut down. He sighed.

  “Look, if we’re going to work together, we should at least introduce ourselves properly.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sebastian Blackwell, witch for hire.”

  She finally looked at him. Her expression had gone politely blank, though there was a hint of wary curiosity behind her eyes. “Lily Singer, head librarian at McCain Library of Agnes Scott College.”

  Sebastian’s ears perked at the mention of Agnes Scott and he felt a twinge of apprehension. If she worked there, then surely she knew…no, better not to mention it. No point opening that can of worms.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Singer.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Blackwell.”

  She gripped his hand briefly, then dropped it as if it were a hot potato. His skin tingled where they’d touched, and for s
ome reason he couldn’t help smiling.

  After a suitably awkward pause, Sebastian clapped his hands together. “Well, that was fun. Now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, let’s find some stolen artifacts, shall we?”

  He thought he saw the twitch of a smile on Lily’s lips, but perhaps he’d imagined it, because the next moment she looked as serious and businesslike as, well, a librarian. Which she was.

  “You mentioned magic residue,” she said in a prim voice. “I can tell you that no spells were cast on anything in this room. That doesn’t mean a wizard didn’t enter and leave using a spell cast elsewhere, but it would have been self-contained. Nothing here has been touched by magic.”

  “Got it. Next step is to check the security cameras, which they’re probably doing right now, so hopefully they’ll give us a peek. Then we need to question the employees.”

  Lily looked uncomfortable at that, which made Sebastian chuckle.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the questioning. You just use your little wizardy-sense to let me know if there’s any hocus pocus going on, got it?”

  She glared at him, that adorable look where she thought she was being intimidating, but actually looked about as ferocious as an angry kitten. “I would appreciate it if you’d treat the situation with a bit more gravity. Potentially dangerous magical artifacts have gone missing, artifacts that could cause serious damage in the wrong hands. People could get hurt, and you’re treating it like a game.”

  “Life is a game, Miss Singer. The only question is whether you’re going to enjoy it or crimp everyone else’s style with that grumpy face of yours.” With that, he spun and headed for the door, ignoring her gasp of indignation. He was glad she couldn’t see the grin on his face. She might start poking him again.

  A preliminary examination of the security footage revealed nothing at all, which in itself was revealing.

  “Play that back,” Lily requested, leaning over Robert’s shoulder. Being the resident expert on magic, she’d taken a front seat to the spectacularly boring stream of absolutely nothing. But her sharp eye must have caught something in the sped-up replay, because when Robert went back to the section she’d indicated, they witnessed something very strange: the back door opening and closing on its own.