Wands Upon A Time (Spellbound Ever After Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  “Thanks, boss,” he whispered back.

  I smiled at Jordyn on the way out. “Good luck!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Astrid stood on the pavement outside the office, placing a ticket on the windshield of the red jalopy. “Emma, I was hoping to run into you today.”

  “You have news about Amos Parker?”

  The Valkyrie appeared surprised. “How’d you guess? It was multi-organ failure.”

  “You were right about natural causes,” I said. “Listen, while I have your attention, have you heard any reports of late night activities in the woods? Places off the beaten track like Whispering Woods.”

  “Like where your client was caught with angel dust?” Astrid asked. “Is that why you’re interested?”

  “I’ve been hearing varying reports of unusual activity in the area,” I said. “Rare paranormal animals being abandoned there. Lights when there shouldn’t be any. That sort of thing.”

  “I haven’t, but I’ll ask around,” Astrid said. “Britta and I can search the area tonight, too.”

  Gus joined us on the pavement. “Sheriff, I’m Gus Parker. You sent a message for me. Is everything okay? Did I forget to pay a parking ticket?” He motioned toward the ticket on the red jalopy.

  “Gus, I’m afraid I have some sad news,” Astrid said. “Your father died during one of his birdwatching outings. The examiner says he suffered from multiple organ failure.”

  The middle-aged elf staggered to the jalopy and pressed a hand on the hood to steady himself. “Dad’s…dead?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it must come as a shock. He seemed healthy, right?”

  “Yes, especially for an elf his age.” Gus gazed at me through a veil of tears. “He’d been given a clean bill of health from Boyd last month. How could this happen so quickly?”

  “His age caught up with him,” Astrid said. “It happens to all of us sooner or later.”

  Gus wiped away tears. “I should’ve been with him.” He glanced at me. “He was alone when you found him?”

  “Yes, but in good company,” I said. “He loved nature, right? I heard birdsong, like they were serenading him to sleep.” It was a lie, of course, but it was a kindness that would have comforted me had the situation been reversed.

  Gus sniffed. “Birdwatching was one of his favorite activities. He spent countless hours tracking them, especially after the border opened. He was excited to see new species.”

  “I’m surprised that would result in new species,” I said. “Human world birds could come and go easily enough even when the curse was intact.”

  Gus shrugged. “Dad’s theory was that the changes in town were also having an impact on wildlife. That new animals attracted other new animals, stuff like that.”

  “I have your dad’s journal and binoculars at the office,” Astrid said. “If you want to stop by and say goodbye to your father, you can collect his personal effects afterward.”

  “Yes, I’d like that very much,” Gus said. “The journal was special to him.” He wiped away a stray tear.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Gus,” I said.

  He gave a somber nod before wandering away.

  “I’d like to see that journal,” I said.

  Astrid’s expression was puzzled. “Amos’s birdwatching journal? Why?”

  “It might have useful information.”

  Astrid inclined her head. “For what?”

  “If Amos spent as much time in that area as Gus suggested, then there might be notes about the strange happenings.” Maybe there’d be information that could help Percy’s case. “I promise I’ll look through it now before Gus collects it.” I had no desire to deprive him of his father’s belongings.

  “Okay,” Astrid said. “Let me know if you learn anything.”

  “I will.”

  I hurried to the sheriff’s office, eager to get my hands on the journal. I’d learned to trust my intuition and my gut was demanding that I read that journal. It was something I hadn’t done in the time loop yet so, hopefully, it would yield new information.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said, greeting the clerk. “Sheriff Astrid said I could take a look at Amos Parker’s personal effects before his son comes to retrieve them. He should be here shortly.”

  “Sure thing, Emma.” He walked into a back room and returned with a basket that contained the binoculars and the journal.

  “Thanks.” I plucked the book from the basket and stood at the counter to read.

  “You can sit with it in the sheriff’s office if you like,” he offered. “I know she won’t mind.”

  “I think I will.” At least I could put my feet up. I was going to need to get used to that—not being on the go all the time. The baby was bound to slow me down as the pregnancy progressed.

  I settled in Astrid’s chair and flipped through the thick pages of the journal. Amos’s tiny, handwritten script was difficult to decipher at first, but once I got the hang of it, I read the words easily. I decided to start at the most recent entry and work backwards.

  He catalogued each type of bird he saw by noting its appearance, sound, location, and then he drew a crude image of the bird at the end of the entry. Nothing unusual grabbed my attention on the first page. I turned to the previous entry and stared at the hand-drawn picture. I’d never seen a bird that looked like this before. Apparently, Amos hadn’t either because his description oozed excitement. If it had occurred on the day of his death, I would have suggested a heart attack. It was called a roc bird and was supposedly larger than an eagle and so strong that it could carry an elephant. Some bird.

  I have only heard tale of this bird and never believed its story to be true, Amos had written. Though I was not fortunate enough to see the entire specimen, I captured a feather and placed it here for posterity. I shall look upon it when I become too frail to traipse these woods and marvel.

  So Amos didn’t actually see the bird itself. He’d found evidence of its presence thanks to a feather. I glanced at the page, but there was no feather glued to it. I flipped backward and forward searching without success. Maybe it had fallen out.

  I traced the outline of the drawing, thinking. This was evidence of another rare creature in the Whispering Woods and Enchanted Woods area. Between the angel dust, the winged kitten, and the roc bird, this couldn’t be a coincidence.

  I scanned the rest of the journal but didn’t see anything noteworthy, other than Amos’s clear love of nature. At least he died doing what he loved.

  I returned the journal and left the sheriff’s office, my mind struggling to make connections. I knew more than I was aware of—I was certain of it.

  I called to Sedgwick in my mind. If he was within range, my familiar would be able to hear me. Goddess knew that he could hear me sometimes even when I didn’t want him to.

  You rang, my liege? Sedgwick swooped down from on high.

  “Oh, good. You heeded the Bat signal.”

  The owl’s yellow eyes rolled. Must I remind you again that I am an owl, not a bat?

  “Details,” I said with a dismissive flick of my fingers. “Listen, have you seen any monster-sized birds in your travels lately? You wouldn’t miss this one. It’s big enough and strong enough to lift elephants.”

  Sedgwick cocked his head. Elephants? The only scarily large birds I’ve seen recently are our neighbors.

  “I don’t mean harpies,” I said. “Something called a roc.”

  The owl sputtered. A roc? You can’t be serious.

  “Why not?”

  There is no chance a roc has been in Spellbound without being seen, Sedgwick said. The birds are legendary. They’re colorful birds that live on mountaintops with talons the size of swords.

  Hmm. “That does sound like a bird we’d notice, doesn’t it?”

  There would be a trail of carcasses to confirm its presence, Sedgwick said.

  The image of Amos’s lifeless body flashes in my mind, but no. There were no marks. No sign
s of a struggle. The report said organ failure.

  It was my understanding that rocs are extinct, Sedgwick said. Then again, we’ve been sequestered for so long. Information has always been potentially inaccurate.

  “They’re extinct or close to it,” I repeated. “So they’d be considered extremely rare.”

  Oh, yes, the owl replied. Not native to this continent either.

  “Then how would its feather get here?” I asked.

  Perhaps it’s not a roc feather at all, Sedgwick said. May I see it?

  “I don’t have it,” I replied. “It was supposed to be in Amos’s journal, but it’s not there. It probably fell out somewhere between the woods and the sheriff’s office.”

  I can hunt for it, Sedgwick said. I like a good challenge every now and again, aside from living in close quarters with a certain unnamed hellbeast.

  “Thanks, Sedgwick,” I said. “That would be helpful.”

  Helpful is my middle name, my familiar replied.

  “Let’s remember you said that once the baby is born.”

  Sedgwick opened his beak to make a noise, but then seemed to think better of it and flew away without another word.

  I continued to stand on the sidewalk, my pulse racing. I felt like I was on the verge of a breakthrough. The cheerleader’s voice inside me encouraged me to keep going. To keep pushing. Turn a different corner.

  I thought about Gus’s reaction to his father’s death. He seemed confused that Amos had died of organ failure. Yes, Amos was old, but also healthy. Could Amos have seen something so shocking that his entire body shut down? As unlikely as it was, I decided to do a little digging. I returned to the place where my day had started—the healer’s clinic.

  Boyd stood in the waiting area, chatting with a fairy. His expression registered surprise when he noticed me. I waited patiently until their discussion ended and the druid shifted his attention to me.

  “Hello, stranger,” Boyd said. “What brings you back so soon? Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “It’s not about me,” I said. “I’m hoping you can share a patient file with me.”

  Boyd seemed taken aback. “You know I’m not allowed to disclose personal information, Emma.”

  “You can if the patient is dead,” I said. “Confidentiality is extinguished.” There were no HIPAA privacy rules in Spellbound.

  Boyd rubbed his head. “Who’s the unlucky patient?”

  “Amos Parker,” I said.

  “Ah, Amos.” The druid lowered his head. “He was a good elf. I only saw him here last month. What happened?”

  “The report says natural causes,” I replied. “Multiple organ failure.”

  “Organ failure?” The druid appeared as perplexed as Gus by this revelation. “That’s impossible.”

  “In that case, now might be a good time to review the file,” I said.

  Boyd nodded, still shell-shocked by the news. “Follow me.” He waddled into the main office area. “I need the file for Amos Parker.” A folder materialized out of thin air and Boyd snatched it before it fell to the floor.

  “New system?” I asked.

  “We had it installed by fairies,” he replied. “Cuts down on manual errors and time. We get to treat more patients if we’re not spending it on admin.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  He opened the folder and scanned it. “His last visit was as I remembered. Excellent health. No sign of organ fatigue. He was spry for an elf his age. He attributed it to his nature walks.”

  “Is there any chance you could’ve missed the signs?” I asked. I hated to make the suggestion, but I didn’t know how else to explain Amos’s sudden death.

  “I won’t pretend to be perfect, but it’s pretty unlikely,” Boyd said. “Especially multiple organs. One would be hard enough to accept.” He fixated on the file. “Was he found in his home?”

  “No, he’d been birdwatching,” I said.

  Boyd chuckled. “Ah, yes. Amos loved to be outdoors. It was his calling, the way mine is to heal.”

  I lowered my voice. “There’s no way you could’ve accidentally done something bad to his organs, right? If they were healthy and you used too much druid mojo?” I thought of Boyd’s glowing hands over my abdomen and their power to heal. Anyone with the power to heal also had the power to destroy.

  “Technically, it’s possible, but the chances of me doing it accidentally are slim to none,” he replied. “I have far too many years of experience to overextend myself.” He noticed the tense expression on my face. “Not to worry, Emma. I take no offense. You and I know each other well enough by now.”

  I instantly relaxed. “I’m not trying to insult you or accuse you of anything. I’m only trying to understand.”

  He patted me on the back. “I know that, dear. You have questions about Amos and I share your concerns. Organ failure makes no sense.”

  “I’ll have to relay this information to Astrid,” I said. “She’ll want to know.”

  “But what does it prove?” the druid asked.

  “Nothing yet,” I replied. “But it raises questions that weren’t raised before. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think I’m finally getting somewhere.”

  “Finally?” Boyd queried. “Is this because of the repeat spell? You sound like you’ve been at this for ages.”

  I heaved a tired sigh. “It’s certainly starting to feel that way, Boyd.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I skipped my visit to the Mayor’s Mansion in order to meet Laurel at the town library. Although I’d been planning for us to research angel-sorceress hybrids, I wanted Laurel for more pressing matters in light of today’s revelations. Hers was exactly the type of cynical mind I needed for this assignment. At this point, I didn’t need a pep talk or someone to look on the bright side like Begonia or Sophie. I needed someone willing to peer into the darkness with me without flinching. As Laurel was literally swaddled in darkness these days, she was the ideal choice.

  The younger witch waited for me on a bench in the lobby. She stood, unsmiling—her typical expression these days. “Ready to hit the hybrid books?”

  “Yes, thanks for coming,” I said. “First we’re going to take a little academic detour, though.”

  “Why, what’s up?”

  At that moment, Karen Duckworth, the head librarian, emerged from her office. The vampire brightened when she spotted me. “Emma. Congratulations on the fabulous news.” She came over to hug me.

  “Thanks so much,” I said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that word reached the library by now. It is a hub of information, after all.”

  Karen laughed. “To be fair, I heard the news in Brew-Ha-Ha earlier today. One of the baristas was talking to Edgar about it. Edgar seems oddly excited, by the way. I think he fancies himself a potential godfather.”

  “This baby is going to have more godfathers than he or she can shake a rattle at,” I said. And they’d all be jockeying for position at the head of the cradle.

  Karen turned to my research companion. “How are you, Laurel? I like what you’ve done with your hair. Very sophisticated.”

  “I look like you should look, and you look like I should look,” Laurel said. She gestured to Karen’s pale cotton sweater and pencil skirt.

  The vampire smiled. “No need to conform to type.”

  “Agreed,” Laurel said. “Now, where can we find books on…?” She cast a sidelong glance at me. “What are we researching if not hybrids?”

  “I’ll tell you upstairs,” I said. “We’ll start on the third floor.”

  “Let me know if you need assistance,” Karen said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “We will,” I replied. I directed Laurel upstairs to the section on rare and extinct species.

  Laurel read a few of the titles. “You think your angel-sorceress hybrid baby falls under the umbrella of rare and extinct species?”

  “Certainly not extinct,” I said, shivering at the thought. “This is for the other rese
arch topic I mentioned.”

  Laurel leaned her elbow on the shelf. “You had me at ‘other research topic.’”

  “Roc bird feathers,” I said. “I want to know everything there is to know about them. Are they valuable? If so, what are they used for?”

  Laurel scrunched her nose. “I thought your client was arrested for possessing angel dust, not feathers.”

  “He was, but I have a gut feeling that this roc feather is somehow connected.” I felt so close to figuring out the link, I could taste it. “If I can connect the dots, maybe I’ll understand why I’m trapped and who did it.”

  “You haven’t made any more progress since this morning?” Laurel asked.

  “I think I have,” I replied. “I just need to put all the puzzle pieces together and see what the picture is.”

  “I like puzzles,” Laurel said.

  I smiled. “I know. No amount of makeup or black clothing is going to change who you are inside, Laurel.”

  The teenager fiddled with the pages of a book. “You sound like Millie.”

  I held up a hand. “I’m not complaining. You want to wear purple eye makeup and dye your hair, have at it. It doesn’t impact me.”

  “I feel like this is a rite of passage I need to experience for myself.” Her lips curved into a small smile. “And it’s annoying my family, which is the best part.”

  I dreaded the day my child decided to annoy me for sport. I never wanted to be at odds with my offspring, but I knew it was often a normal part of development. A way of establishing independence. Egads, there was so much change on the horizon.

  “Make sure it doesn’t go on too long,” I said. “We miss our Laurel.”

  “Like you said, I’m still me.” She continued down the aisle, perusing the titles. “I’ll prove it by finding this roc feather information in record time.”

  Laurel didn’t exaggerate. She found several books within minutes and piled them on the table between us.

  “Who knew so much could be done with a single feather?” I asked, reading yet another passage about the feather’s effectiveness in magical mixtures.

  “Everything from medical cures to necromancy,” Laurel said. “No wonder it’s sought after.”