by Gina LaManna
“Myself included.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Start talking.”
“I’ve been looking for the Master of Magic. My latest...” he hesitated. “Let’s call it a quest—makes me sound more noble—brought me a little closer to ancient history than I’d like.”
I blinked. “You’re not making sense.”
“The Master of Magic can only be found via the Keeper—the person responsible for hiding the Master’s whereabouts.” Liam eyed me knowingly. “Find the Keeper, and you find the Master.”
“That would help if I knew where to find the Keeper.”
That fleeting smile was back, and for a moment, I wondered what Liam had to be happy about. Broken and bruised, an outcast from his home, he was pursuing a journey that could lead to his death—or any of ours. I couldn’t return his smile.
“I’ve been looking myself to no real avail. What I did learn is that the Master is protected by the ancients.”
“What do you mean, the ancients?”
“I mean that the Master of Magic is a position in our society that goes back centuries. Thousands of years or more. As long as there has been magic, there’s been a Master of it.” Liam raised an eyebrow at me. “Doesn’t it make sense the most powerful, the most ancient of figures, would be his guards?”
“So why would The Faction go after him now?” I asked. “And why are you here if you haven’t found any new information to share?”
“Because I’ve run out of time,” he said simply. “Your father is ready to move.”
“Does he know where the Master of Magic is located?”
“Not yet.” Liam’s gaze tightened. “I am almost certain he wouldn’t keep that secret from me. I’ve been searching for the Keeper under his direction and so far have only reported losses. Sometimes devastating ones.” He examined his hands, as if they were proof. “If he knows, it’s on his own time.”
“How kind of you to share nothing,” I said dryly. “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”
Liam raised both arms in surrender and extended them to me. “I suppose you don’t.”
“Then what do you suppose I do about it?”
“Find the Keeper. The Keeper and the Master cannot be manipulated.”
“Anyone can be manipulated.”
Liam shook his head. “The Keeper is carefully chosen and will never—can never—be found unless he reveals himself.”
“Which makes him impossible to find.”
“He has a way of knowing when someone is wanting his attention.” Liam chanced a smile in my direction. “In fact, I’d venture a guess that he’s already here on this island.”
My mind briefly flashed to Zin’s last task. Could her assignment be a misunderstanding? Did Ranger X have Zin tracking the only person who could lead us to the Master of Magic?
“I see you don’t disagree with me.” Liam capitalized on my silence and moved a step closer. “Perhaps you’ve noticed...things happening around you.”
“Nope,” I said fiercely, popping the p in frustration. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. How does my father plan to reach the Master if not through the Keeper?”
“Lucian has connections beyond your wildest dreams,” Liam said with a frown. “He seems ready to move forward with his plan. If he knows a way to the Master, he hasn’t shared it with me, but I can sense we’re hovering, waiting for something to happen. And when it does...”
“Lily, I found something!” Gus’s voice interrupted the tense conversation. “Get down here. I need to show you now.”
“That’s my cue to head out.” Liam stepped into the closet and raised his hand in a wave. “Send my greetings to X.”
“X?” I didn’t mean to sound startled, but it came out that way.
Liam sensed my uneasiness. His face crinkled with confusion. “Is everything okay?”
“Lily!” Gus hollered again. His footsteps sounded closer to the staircase. “You have to see this!”
By the time I turned back to the closet, Liam had gone.
I stared after him a moment, peering through the layers upon layers of fabric that I’d grown to love and appreciate in this nifty little closet. A closet I’d now have to destroy. Or at least install some protective measures to prevent people from arriving next to my underwear drawer.
“I’m coming,” I yelled down to Gus. “I’m just getting dressed.”
I figured that would buy me a few minutes. I needed to think. Wandering around to the other side of my bed, I inched the drawer open once more. Use what you have. Could that be Liam’s note? If so, why hadn’t he told me the information firsthand? And if not, then who in the world had slipped in and out of my bedroom without my knowledge? Had they, too, hacked my closet?
Gus’s frenetic pacing eventually drew me downstairs. The second I appeared on the bottom stair, he whistled and waved me over.
“Take a look at this.” Gus dove right in, first showing me the cover of the book he was reading. “Masters, Myths, and Magicks,” he read off the title page. “I couldn’t find a spell to do exactly what you wanted, but this might interest you.”
I scanned an almost encyclopedia-style entry in the book. The words were old, written in thin, looping script, some of the letters smudged and worn.
Kissing Curses
A sort of magic that’s intimate. Often times requiring an item of the subject’s to be held, used, burned, or tasted. When a Kissing Curse is properly concocted and managed, it can reveal the subject’s thoughts, desires, or wishes.
“Don’t you see?” Gus nearly shook with excitement. “There is a magic that will let you uncover the last words, wishes, or thoughts of a subject.”
“Kissing Curse,” I murmured. “Why is it a curse? Is it harmful?”
Gus scanned the rest of the entry as well as the potential side effects for this type of magic. His face paled. “I—er, well, it could be dangerous.”
“Is it harmful?”
Another long pause as Gus scanned. “Doesn’t seem so, unless the user is planning to steal the subject’s thoughts for nefarious action. The actual doing of the spell doesn’t appear to cause anyone harm. So long as the item you take from the subject isn’t...well, important or valuable. Then that’s just theft—magic or not.”
My hand clutched desperately at my mother’s chain. “Then why do they call it a curse?”
“Because it’s invasive, Lily. It’s an intimate thing to be inside someone else’s head. I don’t encourage it.” Gus’s fluffy eyebrows drew together in a more serious gaze. “I don’t know why you’re asking about it, but I trust you have a good reason. If it were anyone else, I’d bury this article.”
“I try to avoid curses.”
“Curses aren’t always harmful by definition, though many can be dangerous. Most magic is.”
“Thank you for finding this, but I can’t use it. Do good,” I murmured. “I can’t break my code. Can we just forget I asked?”
Gus looked hard at the necklace dangling beneath my sweater. “Here are the necessary ingredients.” He sat down and scribbled out a quick list. “In case you’re wondering, I wouldn’t judge you for taking a glimpse, Lily. It could bring you closure.”
I swallowed, accepting the list of supplies. “A curse, Gus—”
“Every spell has its place in this world.” He folded his hands on top of the table. “The word curse has only taken on a bad meaning because of the wizards who misuse it as a form of magic.” Tapping his fingers against the wooden slab, his eyes returned to the book. “Curse magic is a category of magic, no different than hexes, spells, or jinxes. It’s possible to use a curse in the very way it’s intended—to help.”
I folded the ingredients list and slipped it into my pocket. “I’ll be careful.”
“That, there,” Gus said, gesturing to my pocket. “Isn’t a complete list. Those are the base starting points from the ancient spell. You’ll have to tweak and adjust and revise it to fit your specifications. As for the ferns mentio
ned, you’ll want to be getting them quickly. It’s high season now, but once the supply is gone, they’re done for the year. There’s a farm to the northeast. Annabelle will know how to serve you.”
I nodded, quickly committing the items to memory.
“I think we’ll keep Magic & Mixology closed the rest of the day,” Gus said, reading my thoughts. “You can get a start on those ferns. I’ll leave an order sign up outside so people can put in their requests. It doesn’t make much sense to keep the store open if we’re fresh out of supplies.”
I considered arguing, but in the end, I gave up before I started. My heart wasn’t in it today. I needed those ferns, needed to get to the bottom of this glowing necklace. Needed to find out who had been in my room without permission, aside from Liam.
With a murmured thanks, I gathered up my travel belt and a few miscellaneous potions, stuck them into pockets, grabbed a tote for my errands, and hollered goodbye to Gus.
My feet set off toward the Lower Bridge out of habit. There were only two bridges on the island—one in the north and one in the south—and the latter was significantly less dangerous than the first. Hopefully the crew had cleaned up the sudsing soap by now so I could skip the ferry.
Halfway there, footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned to find Poppy breathing hard as she jogged to keep up.
“Power...” she gasped. “Walker.”
“Poppy!” I issued a genuine smile, then paused until she caught up. “I thought you had dinner with your mom?”
“We had a quick bite to eat. She had to get back to the supply store. Trinket called in sick today.”
I frowned. “Trinket’s sick? I can whip up a Fever Fighter or a Stomach Spelunker if that’s the issue.”
“I don’t think it’s serious.” Poppy wrinkled her nose. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Trinket never calls in sick. But I suppose she deserves a day off, so my mom’s covering, and I’m here because I wanted the company.”
Together we finished the trek to the Lower Bridge in near silence. Poppy was still struggling to catch her breath when we arrived, while my mind was busy worrying about Trinket’s supposed illness.
“That’s what I call squeaky clean,” Poppy exclaimed with a laugh. “Look, the bridge is back open.”
Sure enough, the Lower Bridge had never glistened brighter. It shone as though the wooden panels were brand new instead of decades old, and for the first time, I noticed some intricate carvings along the sides. Goldfish and dolphins swimming in circles below the bridge continued to leap and dance, though I glimpsed a few lingering bubbles shimmering against the surface of the water.
“Odd, isn’t it?” Poppy suggested as we crossed. “These pranks. Who could be behind it?”
“I wish I knew.”
Poppy chattered the rest of the way, in much higher spirits than a few hours ago when she’d caught Zin and me lurking outside her home. I couldn’t tell if she’d pushed the incident out of her mind, or if she was doing her best to ignore it, but I was glad either way. I had enough worries for the both of us, and her pleasant conversation helped ease some of the tension.
“Have you heard of Annabelle’s farm?” I asked. “Gus pointed me in her direction for some ferns.”
“Oh, of course! Pointe Farm,” Poppy explained. “It’s on this weird little peninsula that looks like a finger pointing out to distant lands.” She demonstrated, crooking her pointer finger like a candy cane. “Supposedly, she has the best soil on the island to grow a few really exotic plants. I’m sure Gus uses her supply often; my mother even has a few of her dried herbs in the supply store.”
“I hope she has the Forgotten Ferns.”
“Oh, it’s high season for them,” Poppy said with a wide grin. “They’ll be giving them away, she’ll have so many. What’re you using them for anyway?”
“I’m trying to add another signature potion to my Mixology Menu, but I haven’t ironed out the details yet. I’ll let you know more as soon as I do.”
“Do you have a name yet?”
I considered it. “Not yet. I guess we’ll see how the potion turns out. I don’t even know what it’ll do yet.”
Another few minutes and we came to Main Street, the core shopping and meeting center for islanders. Storefronts sat open, shopkeepers leaning against doorways and calling greetings under the sunny skies as we padded through. Poppy called back first name greetings to everyone.
“Here we are,” Poppy said, raising a hand and crooking her finger again against the horizon. “Do you see it?”
If I squinted and positioned myself just so, the outcropping of land sure did look like a pointed finger.
“You made it faster than I thought! Whew-wee!” A woman with shocking red hair and a spattering of freckles across her nose stomped toward us, a hoe in one hand and a watering can in the other. She wore a plaid red shirt under overalls and looked like Pippi Longstocking come to life. “Thought it’d take you a few minutes to get here, at least.”
“A few minutes for what?” Poppy asked. “Annabelle, this is Lily.”
“Lily Locke? The Mixologist?” A startled look overtook Annabelle’s face as she glanced at me. “Wait a minute. Why are you both here? I was waiting for the Rangers. Don’t you work for them?”
“Why would the Rangers be here?” Poppy’s pleasant chatter turned more severe as she stepped closer. “I checked the HQ logs earlier, and I didn’t see any visits planned for the farm inspections.”
“Well, it wasn’t planned!” Annabelle’s voice leaned toward huffy. “I didn’t plan on someone stealing half my gardens.”
“Someone stole your gardens?” A pit sunk in my stomach as I moved to Poppy’s flank. “What did they steal?”
“I’m not saying.” Annabelle’s lip flipped down in a pout. “I want to talk to the Rangers.”
“I work for Ranger HQ,” Poppy interrupted. “What happened, Annabelle?”
I rested a hand on Poppy’s arm. “It’s your Forgotten Ferns crop, isn’t it?”
“How could you possibly know that?” Annabelle rounded on me sharply. She straightened at Poppy’s stern look, and then sighed. “Yes. It’s my Forgotten Ferns—my babies. My little loves. They’re completely wiped out.”
“When did this happen?” I asked. “Was there any warning?”
“If there was warning, I would have protected my livelihood,” she snapped. “Of course there wasn’t warning. I just noticed it a few minutes ago. Whoever did it must have been here within the last twenty minutes because half an hour ago, I was out here watering my babies.”
“But how could someone...” I dumbly began to ask how one person could have wiped out an entire field within so short a time, but Annabelle read my expression and answered.
“Magic,” she said. “They took armloads of it, from what I can tell. A few patches of the fields were burned, but not much. Most of it was taken.”
“They’ve probably already left the island,” I said grimly. “I suppose we could check, but there are ways on and off The Isle that are too hard to detect.”
“Why are my ferns so important to the Mixologist?” Annabelle looked between us. “I’ve always supplied Gus with materials for your work, but never has a Mixologist come banging on my door in person.”
“It’s very important,” I said, sighing as both women stared and waited expectantly for more information. “Gus uncovered the makings of an ancient spell I needed in a book just today. Actually, it wasn’t more than an hour ago that he told me about it.”
Poppy’s expression tightened. “Do you think someone was listening? That someone was deliberately trying to sabotage you?”
“Unless there’s another reason to steal the ferns.” I looked to Annabelle for an answer.
“They’re valuable, of course—the land here is perfect for raising them into healthy plants, but I grow them every year; I have since I was a child and they towered over me.” She smiled at the memory. “Nobody’s ever stolen one before. My plants are safe and p
rotected. Speaking of, why didn’t my alarm spells go off?”
“That’s a question for the Rangers,” Poppy said. “If you sent word for them, they’ll be arriving at any moment. They’re busy right now, or else they’d have beaten us here. The island has been a little crazy lately. Maybe it’s the same person who stole all the tomatoes.”
“That sounds like a prank. Wiping me out of a year’s supply of my most famous product?” Annabelle shook her head. “That takes premeditation. Or, at least, a cold heart. That’s my livelihood.”
“Someone was listening.” I backed away from the pair. “I’m so sorry, Annabelle.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“Gus was telling me about your plants for the first time this afternoon. Someone must have been listening,” I explained. “They wanted to prevent me from getting my ferns for some reason.”
“You think all this is because someone is sabotaging you?” Annabelle gave a short laugh and shook her head. “Sorry, Mixologist, I know you’re important and all, but I can’t believe that’s the case.”
“Why not?” Poppy pressed.
“I have fields of the stuff! Someone would either need very impressive magic to wipe them out without burning it all, or, it was a premeditated action. If you didn’t even know about the ferns until this afternoon, I doubt this is your doing.”
I shook my head, but Poppy raised a hand. “Do you have any left, Annabelle? Anything that Lily could use?”
“Not a spec of it. It’ll be months before anything even starts to regrow. What’s the spell you’re trying to make, anyway?” she asked. “Why’s it so important?”
“It’s—”
“Lily? What are you doing here?” Ranger X appeared in a patch of trees nearby. He strode toward us with a smaller man, one I didn’t recognize, at his side. “Poppy, did you receive the call? I thought you were off today.”
“I was,” Poppy said. “Er—I am. I was hanging out with Lily.”
“Thank goodness someone is here to help.” Annabelle swung her hand around. “Ranger X and...”
“Ranger J,” the shorter, stockier man filled in.
Annabelle nodded a greeting. “My Forgotten Ferns are completely gone.”