Spellbinding Starters

by Annabel Chase

  “Look at you, Eden. Being so sweet.” She inclined her head. “What do you want?”

  I told her about summoning Paul’s ghost.

  “So now you want to use us for our magic?” My mother placed a hand on her ample hip. “I thought you found our magic beneath your lofty ambitions.”

  I closed my eyes and struggled to maintain my composure. “This isn’t about me, Mom. This is about trying to stop a killer before he strikes again. Who knows? If we don’t identify him soon, you could be next.” Gods be willing.

  My mother huffed loudly. “Fine, but I expect something in return. We’re not performing magical monkeys, not even for family. It takes a lot of time and effort…”

  I knew her speech could go on for a while, so I caved immediately. I didn’t have time to bicker. “I have an expense budget,” I said. Maybe. I’d have to ask Neville.

  My mother perked up. “Ooh, look at you, Miss Big Spender. Holding the FBM by the short and curly purse strings. Must be nice.”

  “No black magic,” I added quickly. “Just a garden variety summoning spell.”

  Her brow lifted. “Now you propose to tell me how to do my own magic?”

  “There’s no need for blood or anything else,” I said. “This kind of spell doesn’t require it.”

  “You telling me what I can and cannot do under my own roof, young lady?”

  “Do I need to show you my badge?”

  We stared at each other for a lingering moment.

  My mother broke first. “Fine, but only because it isn’t necessary for the spell. One of these days, someone might remove that wand from your posterior and beat you with it.”

  I sighed. “Can we just get on with it?”

  “I need Aunt Thora,” she said. “We have to wait until she gets back from her gardening club meeting.”

  Now that I had a working theory, I didn’t want to waste time. Not when there might be a demon killer on the loose. “Where’s the meeting?”

  My mother looked at me askance. “At the senior center. Why?”

  “Because I’m going to get her,” I replied.

  “Great. Let’s go,” Grandma interjected. I didn’t even notice her enter my mom’s bedroom. For an old woman with creaky bones, she moved like a Ninja.

  I whirled around. “There’s no need for a passenger.”

  “You won’t even know I’m in the car,” she said. “I’ll be as silent as the grave.”

  If only.

  “Your idea of silence is banging pots and pans at a slow tempo.”

  Grandma laughed. “Play your music loud enough and you won’t hear me. Oh, wait. You like that annoying noise that disguises itself as music. On second thought, I’ll sing.”

  Dear gods of Olympus. “Grandma, I won’t take you anywhere if you sing. You have to be quiet so I can think.”

  “Oh, is that the problem?” Grandma asked. “You mean if we’d have been quieter when you were growing up, you would’ve been smarter? Maybe you’d even have a full set of fury powers by now.” She looked at my mother. “That’s where you went wrong Beatrice.”

  “Oh, so this is my fault?” my mother shot back.

  “I am smart,” I said. “And I don’t want those fury powers. You think I like having wings?” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

  My grandma’s eyes rounded. “You have wings? Since when?”

  I groaned. There was no way I’d get out of this. “Since I left San Francisco. My…incident at work triggered a new fury trait.”

  Grandma clapped her hands. “Why didn’t you tell us? This is great news. There’s hope for you yet. Finally, your mother can stop casting her Lost Cause charm.”

  I froze. “Mom’s been casting spells? About me?” I shot her an accusatory look.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Grandma said. “She’s been at it for years and you didn’t notice.”

  “What do the wings look like?” my mother asked. “They’re black, right? Please tell me they’re black.”

  I closed my eyes, resigned to have the conversation. “Yes, they’re black.”

  “How big is the wingspan?” Grandma asked. “Your cousin Stella grew wings that were six feet. I remember your father mentioning it once.”

  “Yours are at least that, right?” my mother urged.

  “You’re going to be competitive about wingspan, too?” I asked. “Is there anything you’re not competitive about?”

  My mother and grandmother exchanged quizzical looks. “I’ve got nothing,” Grandma said.

  “My wings are perfectly proportionate to my body,” I said. I refused to give exact measurements.

  They both scrutinized me. “Hmm,” my mother said. “Maybe there’s a spell…”

  “Enough!” I said. “I need to get Aunt Thora.” I yanked the door open and marched outside. Princess Buttercup was sprawled across the front porch and I nearly tripped over her. She lifted her head a fraction when she noticed me.

  “You want to go for a ride?” I asked.

  Her ears perked up.

  “I’m not sharing a seat with that mutt,” Grandma said. “She smells like acidic farts.”

  “You’re not sharing a seat with her,” I said.

  “Good.” My grandmother walked down the steps to the driveway and paused at the passenger-side door of my car.

  “Because she’s sitting in the front.”

  “Well, she’s not sitting on my lap. I’ve already had two hip replacements.”

  “No, you’re sitting in the back or you can stay here.”

  Grandma’s eyes sparked with anger, but she opened the back door without another word. I opened the passenger door and Princess Buttercup came flying. She perched in the seat and hung her head out the window.

  “Watch that slobber of hers,” Grandma said. “She might burn people as we drive by.”

  “Buttercup doesn’t slobber,” I objected.

  “Oh, so she has issues with her sweat glands then? I’m sure Verity can write a prescription for that.”

  I ignored her and focused on the road.

  “Is this car cursed?” Grandma asked.

  I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “No, why?”

  “Then why doesn’t it go over forty miles an hour?”

  “Because I’m in a twenty-five mile an hour zone,” I said.

  “So what? You’re a federal agent. You get special dispensation.”

  “There are families out walking,” I said.

  “Ten points for that kid in the vest.” She clucked her tongue. “No parent in their right mind should dress a kid in a vest.”

  “It’s not the kid’s fault,” I said. “You used to dress Mom in black lace dresses.”

  “And she loved it,” Grandma shot back. “She felt like a Head Priestess in that dress. Maybe if we’d dressed you in more black outfits, you’d have come around.”

  My gaze flicked to the mirror. “You really think my lack of black clothing is what ruined me?”

  “No, I think your parents are what ruined you.”

  “I’ll be sure to let them know you said that.” I turned into the parking lot of the senior center. “We’re here,” I said, happy to change the subject.

  “Use the handicapped spot,” she said.

  “I can’t do that. I don’t have a sticker.”

  “I’m your sticker.”

  “Grandma, you’re not handicapped.”

  “Fine, then get one of your golf clubs out of the trunk.”

  “I don’t have any golf clubs.” I paused, the realization dawning on me. “Why do you need a golf club?”

  “It’ll help with the handicap issue.”

  “I’m not going to whack you in the knees with a club,” I said, exasperated.

  “I wasn’t thinking of whacking me.”

  Argh. “This spot is perfectly fine.”

  “I’m an old woman. I can’t walk all the way to the building from here.”

  “You don’t have to,”
I said. “You can wait in the car with Princess Buttercup.” I exited the car before she could object and ran into the building like it was on fire. Only after exploring every room of the senior center did I discover the gardening club met outside in the garden. Duh.

  “So if you’ll excuse Thora, she needs to come with us due to a family emergency.” Grandma stood in the middle of the gardening circle, authoritative hands on hips.

  Aunt Thora rose to her feet with the help of a friend. “No need to be dramatic, Esther. If you need me at home, just say so.”

  “We need you at home for a very special purpose that only you can…”

  I cleared my throat. “That’s enough, Grandma.”

  The entire gardening club had stopped whatever they were doing to stare at us.

  “Eden Fury, are you back home?” an elderly man asked.

  “Yes, Leroy. I told you she was,” Aunt Thora said gently.

  “It’s nice to see you, Leroy,” I said.

  Grandma ushered Aunt Thora away from the circle. “You can practice being polite another time. We’ve got business to conduct.”

  We walked around the outside of the building and back to the car.

  “What’s the emergency?” Aunt Thora asked. “We were just about to discuss different types of tomatoes. I love tomatoes, not as much as lemons, of course.”

  “We can discuss tomatoes all the way back to the house,” Grandma said. “Now get in the car.”

  Aunt Thora slid in the backseat with Grandma. Princess Buttercup was exactly where we’d left her. I had no fear of anyone trying to take her, not at her size.

  I explained the situation as we drove to the house and Aunt Thora’s expression grew brighter and brighter.

  “We haven’t summoned a ghost in decades,” she said. “Remember the last time, Esther?”

  “I remember,” Grandma said. “We wanted to know where Uncle Amos had left his stash of homemade gin. Supposedly, he had barrels of it hidden somewhere in town.”

  “In Chipping Cheddar?” I asked.

  “No, of course not. Uncle Amos never lived in this world. Otherworld.”

  “And he made gin?” I queried.

  “Nothing like you’ve ever tasted,” Grandma said. “Potent stuff.”

  “And you wanted it?” I asked. Badly enough to summon his ghost?

  Grandma squinted at me. “Maybe you’re not the only one who likes to drink and cozy up to strippers.”

  My face grew warm at the reminder of Chief Fox. “Do you remember how to summon a ghost?”

  “What do you need us for, Eden?” Aunt Thora asked. “Aren’t ghosts one of your specialties?”

  “Not all of them,” I replied. “And Paul wasn’t human. Who knows where his shade ended up?”

  “We can do this,” Grandma said firmly.

  I pulled into the driveway and we hustled into the house. My mother was already in the process of gathering the necessary items.

  “What’s the excitement?” Alice asked, swooping into the kitchen. “I sense a flurry of activity.”

  “We’re summoning a ghost,” I said.

  “One’s not enough?” Alice asked.

  “Ghost,” Ryan repeated. He sat in a highchair at the table, playing with…

  “Ryan!” I snatched the knives off the table. “Mom! Do you not pay attention? Ryan had three knives.”

  My mother looked at me like I was on hallucinogens. “Who do you think gave them to him?”

  “Verity would spit fire if she saw her son playing with knives.”

  “If Verity spit fire, I’d finally be impressed by your brother’s choice in wives.” My mother gave me a pointed look.

  “Who’s going to watch Ryan while we attempt the summoning?” I asked. Anton and Verity were at work and Olivia was at a play date, not that we’d ask a child to watch a child. Well, my mother would.

  “Ryan is fine,” Grandma said.

  “What about Sally?” I suggested.

  “Sally’s not remotely fine,” Grandma replied.

  I huffed. “To watch Ryan!”

  “I would be happy to keep an eye on the boy.” Alice materialized in the chair next to Ryan.

  “You don’t mind?” I asked.

  Alice gazed fondly at Ryan. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to enjoy the company of children.”

  “Just make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble,” I said, “and if he cries, come get me.”

  Alice nodded, but her gaze was planted on my nephew as he babbled to himself and piled his blocks one on top of the other.

  I let my family members amass the rest of the materials they needed and followed them outside to the backyard. I watched as Grandma marched over to the fence and levitated to see over the top.

  “Grandma, what are you doing?”

  “Pipe down,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m making sure that nosy Mrs. Paulson isn’t pretending to weed her flowerbeds.” Grandma returned to the ground and our group.

  “What makes you think she’s only pretending to weed?” I asked.

  “Have you seen her flowerbeds?” Grandma said. “Looks like King Kong and Godzilla used them as a wrestling mat.”

  “They’re in the privacy of her backyard,” I noted. “How can you see them?”

  Grandma gestured to the fence. “Weren’t you paying attention? I just showed you how I see them.”

  “Right, and Mrs. Paulson’s the nosy one,” I muttered.

  My mother finished lighting the candles. “Now we join hands.”

  “What good are the candles?” Grandma asked. “It’s daylight.”

  “I admit, odds of summoning a ghost is usually best after dark, but we need to act now,” my mother said. “Eden thinks time is of the essence.”

  “A demon has likely murdered three people in town so far,” I said. “Yes, I think time is of the essence.”

  We all stood in a circle and held hands.

  “Repeat after me,” my mother said.

  “Why you?” Grandma asked. “You’re not the oldest. You’re not even the second oldest.”

  My mother looked aggravated. “I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Why are you being difficult?”

  “It’s in my nature,” Grandma replied. “Like excessive body hair is in your nature.”

  My mother’s jaw tensed. “My body hair is perfectly normal.”

  “Now that you apply that special lotion Thora made.” My grandmother smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know about that.”

  “Could we get started?” I asked. “I could really use Paul’s help.”

  “Repeat after me,” my mother said again with a sharp look at Grandma. “Underworlds, hear our call.”

  “Underworlds, hear our call,” we said in unison.

  “Earth, wind, fire, and air. The elements are ours to command,” she said, and we repeated it.

  “We ask that you bring forth the wizard Paul Pidcock.”

  I heard my grandmother emphasize the latter part of Paul’s surname. Very mature.

  “Come into the light,” my mother said.

  “Come into the light,” we said in unison.

  I watched expectantly, but nothing happened. No ghost materialized. The candles continued to burn. The wind didn’t even blow.

  “I feel resistance,” my mother said, confused.

  “You must be doing it wrong,” Grandma told my mother.

  “That’s your answer?” my mother shot back. “It didn’t work, therefore, I must be doing it wrong? When’s the last time you performed a spell like this? Prohibition?”

  Grandma scowled. “When’s the last time you did? When you wanted a date on a Friday night?”

  They locked eyes and Aunt Thora and I released their hands so we could put distance between us. No need to get caught in the crossfire.

  “Maybe it’s not working because the moon isn’t visible,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Maybe it’s not working because Eden isn’t a full witch
,” Grandma said.

  I balked. “Now you’re blaming my genetics?”

  Grandma shrugged. “Why not? We blame genetics for your moody disposition.”

  I studied the materials on the ground and contemplated the spell.

  “Uh oh. She’s thinking.” Grandma took a step backward. “Watch out for shrapnel.”

  “What if someone’s blocking our access to Paul’s ghost?” I asked, ignoring her. “Is that possible?”

  My mother frowned. “I guess if the killer knows what we are and that we might try to communicate with the deceased, then they could interfere with contact.”

  “How?” I pressed. “Can any supernatural do that or would it have to be a certain type?” And how would the demon know who we are and what we’re capable of?

  “We should try again tonight,” my mother said. “When the moon is high.”

  “I don’t think the moon is a factor,” I said, understanding settling in. As a matter of fact, there was a demon in town that knew exactly who we are and what we’re capable of. “I think you’re right about the spell being blocked.”

  My mother straightened, pleased to be right.

  “What will you do now, Eden?” Aunt Thora asked.

  I glanced in the direction of my father’s house. “I think it’s time to practice the art of confrontation.” And thanks to my upbringing, there was no magic required for that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I saw Sally through the kitchen window and waved before opening the door.

  “Hello, Eden,” she said. “Care to join us for a drink? I was just opening a bottle of wine.”

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  My father and Gustav were in the living room, playing cards.

  “Eden, you look wiped out,” my dad said.

  “Investigations can be exhausting.”

  “Any progress?” he asked.

  “A bit,” I said. “I’ve narrowed it down to a demon.”

  My father’s curiosity was piqued. “You don’t say.”

  I looked past him for a better view of his guest. “Gustav, how long have you been in town?”

  Gustav hesitated. “A little over a week, I guess.”

  “Before I arrived home from San Francisco?”

  My father’s expression grew tense. “What are you asking, Eden?”