by Maher Tegan
Demon Debacle
A Witches of Abaddon’s Gate Mystery
Tegan Maher
Magical Words Publishing
© 2021 Tegan Maher
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised.
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Contents
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Connect with Me!
Other Series by Tegan Maher
About Tegan
14. Marked by Fate
Chapter 15
Untitled
DEMON DEBACLE
by Tegan Maher
1
“Why can’t we do this later?” Calamity, my Arctic Fox, sneezed as my dust cloth sent another flurry of dust motes floating through the air.
“Because we keep putting it off, which is why it’s gotten this bad.” I waved a hand in front of my face to clear the dust, wrinkling my nose as I felt my own sneeze coming on.
Since my shop, Potions & Lotions, was closed today, I’d decided to tackle taking inventory of all my herbs and ingredients. I tended to put it off until I couldn’t wait any longer because it wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but I was at point critical. I was out of several different potion ingredients, and I knew for a fact that at least my bat wings and dandelion oil were about to expire. Calamity, who was often the yin to my yang, was right there with me when it came to cleaning, so I had to have enough willpower for us both.
She scowled at me. "You’re a witch, so there's no excuse for us to be sneezing from dust. I get that you're out of ingredients, but jeez. You need to get a better handle on that dusting spell so we can just set it and leave rather than wasting half a day doing it like non-magical people do.”
I sighed, unable to defend myself because she was right. If I was being honest, I hated to dust using magic just as much as I hated to do it by hand. It wasn't like sweeping and mopping where I could just put the broom and mop on autopilot. Every time I’d tried that with a duster, I’d ended up breaking something, and I’d just never taken the time to learn how to fine tune the spell. I had all the little bottles and knickknacks that I had to worry about knocking over, so it took almost as much time and focus as just doing it manually.
"Yoohoo!" April, my best friend and the owner of the magical bookstore next door, pulled my screen door open and popped her head in, cutting off Calamity’s whine. "So you're actually going to dust today?" She knew how badly I hated to do it and often encouraged my slacker behavior by luring me away for a movie or a shopping trip.
I pulled a jar of unicorn hair from the back corner of a shelf and examined it. I still had a few, but I’d need to talk to my cousin, Destiny, who worked at a magical resort and collected them for me.
“Yeah, I have to,” I said, setting the jar on the counter. “I almost made a wart potion with expired bat wings yesterday.”
She shuddered so hard that her blond ponytail shook. "Okay, one, the thought of consuming batwings for any reason is disgusting, expired or not, and two, what can they do to you if there expired?"
Calamity started to answer, but I beat her to it. In truth, the answer was nothing, but that wouldn’t have been any fun. I rounded my eyes and flapped the hand that wasn’t holding a jar. “Oh, it's awful. There are all kinds of weird side effects. Everything from mild vampirism to a crushing desire to stay up all night and eat fruit. Some people even report an irresistible urge to sleep in a closet hanging upside down from the bar."
I tossed a mischievous glance over my shoulder from atop my stool to see if she was buying it. To my delight, her eyes were wide, and she was listening with rapt attention. I struggled to maintain a straight face.
"Are you serious?" She was the first to admit she had very little knowledge of my type of magic, so sometimes I enjoyed teasing her. She had her little bookstore, and air magic was more her thing. Of course, she’d pay me back later by changing all my books to Pig Latin or something, but for now, her expression was worth it.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
She rolled her eyes and swatted my leg. "You're such a liar. I can't believe I fell for that."
“I’m sorry,” I said, grinning as I handed her two dusty bottles of her vervain root. "I couldn’t help myself, especially when you made it so easy."
“Seriously, though, what does happen if you use expired bat wings or lavender or”—she picked up a jar and turned about the same color as the putrid green inside when she read the label—“swamp water?”
I lifted a shoulder as I pulled the last jar of vervain root from the shelf, then set my duster in motion. At least I could do that much with magic. “Not much, usually, or at least nothing that can hurt you. Most of them just lose their effectiveness.”
Calamity hopped up onto the table and snagged a cookie from a container April’d brought with her. “Not all of them, though. Some stuff, like essential oils, go rancid. I can’t really think of anything other than that, though.” She glanced at me in consternation. “At least nothing that would make you want to hang upside down in a closet and eat fruit all night.”
I climbed down from my stool and pulled two Cokes from the fridge, then handed one to April before plopping down into a kitchen chair.
“Wow,” I said, stretching and rolling my head to loosen the tension in my neck. “I can’t believe it took me most of the morning just to do this side of the room.” I pulled my inventory list toward me and added the unicorn hair to it.
“Yeah,” Calamity said with a sigh from her spot on the chair beside me, “and you’re only halfway through.”
"Where do you even get all of these ingredients? The ones you don't grow for yourself, I mean," She asked as she dusted off the bottles closest to her.
"Different places. It depends on what I need. I have a lady who lives outside of town that sources my mushrooms and some of the herbs that I don't grow. For some of the more… unusual ones, I either buy them from vendors here in the gate or from connections I've made over the years. The problem isn't getting the ingredients, it's getting good ingredients. That can be a challenge, especially with stuff like swap water, frog legs, and bat wings."
She grimaced as she reached for two more bottles. "Before I met you, I just assumed that all of those weird ingredients were a witch stereotype. I didn't realize anybody actually uses them."
"Oh, you'd be surprised at what some of my products actually have in them. It's all 100% natural, but sometimes it takes a little out-of-the-box thinking to do stuff like cure warts, make skin soft, and get rid of some of those fine lines and wrinkles."
She raised a brow. "I've hear
d some of the older ladies rave about your anti-aging line, but—no offense—I thought they were just seeing results because they wanted to. You mean your stuff actually works?"
"Sure, or at least they work better than the stuff sold on human television. So far, nobody's found a recipe that will erase all the years, but I can definitely get rid of those fine lines. Of course, it makes my job a whole lot easier if people take care of their skin when they're young."
She laughed. "Please don't tell me that my moisturizer has swamp water or something else gross like that in it?"
I shrugged and waggled my brows as I added a couple of ingredients to my list. "It might be best if you don't ask questions that you don't really want the answers to. The real question is are you happy with it?"
She thought for a second as she rinsed out her rag and started on a fresh row of jars. "I suppose that is what matters, and I know it's coming from you. Maybe in the future, though, if I'm buying from somebody I don't know, I'll check the ingredients."
"Or, you could just only buy from me. At least then you'll know I'm using fresh eye of newt that are the real thing instead of knock-off stuff."
"Eww," she replied scratching her face up. "Come on now, that's not really a thing is it?"
"Nah,” I said, grinning. “I really am just messing with you now."
We spent the next couple hours restocking the freshly dusted shelves and finishing up the other side of the room, and I double-checked my inventory list and recorded the expiration dates as we did.
I dusted off my hands and admired our handiwork. "I wasn't planning to spend all morning doing this, but at least now it's done."
Calamity, who'd gone back to napping in her bed, raised her head. "Great! Now, can we go shopping?"
"Translation, can we go get something to eat?" April said as she washed her hands. "I'm on the same page. I skipped breakfast, and all I’ve eaten today is a handful of those cookies. I'm ready for something with more substance. What say we hit the diner?"
I nodded as I wiped the dust off the table. My stomach growled at the thought of food. "Yeah, I'm starving. Country-fried steak and mashed potatoes sounds amazing right now, and then we can hit some of the shops if you want to. I need to make a couple batches of product because I'm completely out of some things, but that can wait until tomorrow. I need to change clothes though."
Though I wasn't particular about my appearance, even I didn't want to go out with a dusty bandanna covering my hair.
"Same." She looked down at her shirt and tried to brush off a spot of dirt, but all she did was spread around. "I'll meet you out front in twenty minutes?"
"Sure thing. Bring a shopping bag. We’re gonna be hitting a lot of places, and I probably won't have room in mine.”
"You have a bottomless bag," she pointed out. "And you have it spelled where it never weighs more than ten pounds."
"So do you. That's why I made it for you. Besides, do you really want your fuzzy pajamas or those fancy coffee drinks you love brushing up against my swamp water?"
She screwed up her face in disgust. “You're right. I'll bring my own bag."
With that, she bolted out my back door, the screen door slamming shut behind her.
Rather than the twenty minutes we agreed on, I was standing outside ready to go ten minutes later. Ms. Beatrice, the wonderful little old witch who owned the flower store beside me, was outside sweeping her walk.
"Afternoon, Ms. Beatrice," I said smiling at her. The woman really was a joy to have as a neighbor. On top of always keeping a nice clean storefront, she also had a bit of an off-centered sense of humor that matched my own.
She glanced up from what she was doing and gave me a broad smile. "Good afternoon Mila. I thought maybe you’d gone to see Destiny or were having lunch with that handsome cousin of yours. It's not like you to stay out of sight this long."
"Nope, I was in the back doing inventory and cleaning the shelves and checking expiration dates. We just finished up, so April and I are going to go over to the diner to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to go?"
Her wrinkled face lit up with pleasure at the invitation. “That's sweet of you to offer, dear, but I have a knitting club meeting this evening."
I tilted my head at her. "I didn’t realize you knit. You'll have to show me some of your pieces sometimes."
She cackled and waved her hand at me. "Oh, sweetie, I don't really knit. I don’t have the patience for all that. I just go to those meetings to keep track of what those old bats are up to. Plus it’s the best way to find out what's going on in this town. Believe me, if there was any other way to keep my finger on the pulse, I'd take it. Though I do have to say, Esmeralda James makes killer sugar cookies."
I laughed because that was quintessentially Ms. Beatrice. Inside that innocent little old lady shell beat the heart of a politician. Or, more accurately, the heart of a southern woman who knew how to get things done. "I guess all I can say to that then is enjoy your cookies and try not to curse any of the bats.”
"I've managed to keep my cursing to myself for the better part of sixty years.” She gave me a wink. "For the most part."
“I guess when it comes right down to it, that's pretty much all you can do, then,” I responded, returning her wink.
"I suppose it is at that."
April bopped around the corner, so I said my goodbyes, and Ms. Beatrice went back to sweeping her walk.
Calamity hopped up onto my shoulder and I frowned at her. "It's a hundred outside. What’s the matter with your legs?"
“The problem with my legs is that they don't want to walk because it's hot outside,” she replied, wrapping her tail around my neck. Though her fur was fluffy and soft, I was already sweating, so it felt more like wool. "Well, at least you admit you're lazy."
We crossed the couple of streets to the diner, and the energy in the air changed. This part of town felt more like times gone by. Carts lined the street, and vendors sold everything from knockoff watches and produce to magical cures and curses. Just like anywhere else, dark things could be found if you knew the right people and had enough money. That didn't stop the tone in the air from being festival-like. The smell of fresh bread wafted to me from a nearby cart, and my stomach growled. I was tempted to stop and grab one of the fresh loaves, but April hurried me along.
"I don't feel like eating street food. I wanna go get an honest-to-goodness lunch, and if you buy that, we’ll end up eating it rather than putting something else in our bellies."
I knew she was right, but I made a note to buy a loaf on the way home. The little brownie who ran the cart was downright magical with her baking, and I always preferred to buy local. In fact, in Abaddon's gate, that was pretty much my only choice. We didn't have large box stores, and the one grocery store we did have didn't have a large produce or bakery selection. It really wasn't needed because those were all available from vendors all around town. But we did have several excellent bakeries and coffee shops, and we also had Choco latte, a coffee and sweets shop ran by an interesting man named Charlie.
We were only about two buildings down from the diner when chaos erupted. A man rushed by me, shoving me so hard in his haste that Calamity nearly fell from my shoulder. He bounced from me to the next cart and knocked a shelf full of vegetables over, then rushed along to the next and proceeded to fling candles into the crowd. Within just a second or two, constables brushed past me, obviously making their way toward the man. He caught sight of them though, and snapped his fingers, disappearing in the wake of it.
One of the officers, a tall faerie who looked to be about middle-aged, stopped beside me, frustration sprawled across his features. He’d been in my shop a few times buying sunscreen for his wife and kids, and herbs to help with anxiety for himself, and his name was Broch.
I touched his arm, careful not to startle him. "What just happened? Why did that guy go through here making a mess?"
He threw his hands up, and his brilliant sapphire eyes narrowed in frustrati
on. "I have no idea. Weird things have been happening all morning. In fact, it started last night when the bartender down at the Cracked Cauldron started lobbing liquor bottles at people. Shane was not pleased, but if he hadn't been there, somebody could've gotten seriously hurt."
Shane was the owner and lead bartender and was a bear shifter. He was approximately the size of a refrigerator, so the constable was right. It was a good thing he been there to save the day. Or the night, I suppose.
April stepped up beside me. "Did the guy tell you why he did it? I mean, he had to have had a reason."
The constable shook his head. "He says he doesn't remember doing it. We had two of our truth seekers interview him, and they both agreed that he was telling the truth. That doesn't change the fact that he did it, though."
I furrowed my brow and bit the inside of my lip, thinking. My cousin Michael and Kira, a fallen Angel and my friend, had been chasing lost souls that had escaped from the actual Abaddon's Gate for the last several months, and this sounded like something that was right up their alley.
Apparently, Calamity thought the same thing. "Have you spoken to Michael?" Kira was trying to maintain as low a profile as possible, so I figured it was best to leave her name out of things.
Broch shook his head. "No. I tried to call him last night because he knows everything that’s going on in this town, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again this morning and got the same thing. I left a message, but so far, I haven't heard anything back."
I sighed. That wasn't uncommon when you were trying to get ahold of Michael because he worked for the Paranormal Criminal Bureau of Investigations, or the PCBI. His work was so secret that I wasn't even sure what all he did, and I was one of the people closest to him. For that matter, I'd even work with them some, so I knew a little bit, but not anything close to everything.