by Lauren Quick
Vivi opened the bag and pulled out the food containers and napkins.
Derek stumbled out of the office and ran his hands through his blond hair. “Food. Thank you.” He took a plate with a meatloaf sandwich and homemade slaw from Vivi. “We’re suddenly busy.”
“Good. I was beginning to worry. Clover seemed unmoored lately.”
“Me too. But she’s got an idea.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I think so. It’s not like anything she’s ever done before. You should talk to her,” he said and took a huge bite of sandwich.
Vivi didn’t know what to think. She finished putting out the lunch plates for herself and Clover and headed to the office to retrieve her sister. Clover sat behind her huge oak desk overflowing with sheets of parchments covered in inky scrawl. Clover’s handwriting was wild and loopy and beautiful. She seemed to be suspended in a gauzy cloud of energy. Her eyes were darting back and forth as if she were watching a movie that only she could see.
Vivi cleared her throat to get her attention and waited. No response. She cleared her throat again and walked gingerly up to her sister. “Clover,” she said.
Clover glanced up. “Did you bring the potion?”
Vivi smiled wryly. “Well, hello to you too.”
Clover shook her head. “Sorry. I was working. It gets a little disorienting sometimes.” She jumped to her feet and gave Vivi a hug. “Thanks for coming over. It’s good to see you.”
Vivi arched her brow as the two went to the kitchen. “Yes. I brought the potion. But we’re going to eat first before you change into another person.”
Clover took a plate. “Oh, good. You brought food, too. I don’t deserve you. You’re the best sister ever. But don’t tell Honora I said that.”
“Speaking of Honora, I haven’t seen her lately. How’s she doing?”
Clover told Vivi all about the body behind Honora’s apartment and that she’d gotten involved in the case.
“She can’t help herself. We all can’t. It’s like we get sucked into these situations and can’t get out. It’s like a tangled web and we thrash and thrash and can’t break free,” Vivi said in an exasperated rush.
Derek and Clover exchanged a concerned look. Vivi swallowed hard. Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t find Willow Cashing.”
Clover nodded. “Go on, honey. What’s happened?”
Vivi explained her new case for Lance. “I think she’s dead. But I have no evidence. All we have is a bloody scarf. And I saw her uncle, but he’s not talking or at least he’s not telling us everything, and yet he seems both defensive and desperate to find her. I turned him into Lance. He’s a suspect in her disappearance. What if I’m wrong?”
“You’re not wrong. You just might not be right,” Clover said.
“That sounds like wrong to me,” Vivi said.
“Not exactly. You just don’t have all the facts and the facts you do have might not be leading you to the right conclusion.”
“I agree that I don’t have all the facts. I’m going to get the cameo today from Lance to try again.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Thanks, I feel better. So what’s up with this new persona? I thought you weren’t using glamors anymore,” Vivi said.
“I changed my mind.” Clover picked up the swirling purple and pink glass bottle, popped the cork and drank the potion.
Her whole body suddenly jerked and a shudder shook her arms and shoulders. She bent over at the waist and clutched her stomach. Clover groaned. Her hair changed from dirty curly blonde to a short platinum blonde. Her body slimmed and her arms and legs lengthened. Her clothes vibrated and shifted, transforming into a stunning silk dress. Jewels adorned her pale thin fingers and a row of gold bangles ran down her wrists. A huge emerald necklace encrusted with diamonds sat at the base of her throat, casting off dozens of sparkles. She lifted her head, but it wasn’t Clover’s face that stared back at them.
Standing before them was another witch entirely. She held out her delicate manicured hand. “Hello, I’m Anise Witherspoon. So nice to make your acquaintance.” A chuckle bubbled up from her throat.
“Clover, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Vivi said. “Because you look great. Like catch-a-thief great.”
11
Honora sat behind her desk with her feet propped up. She’d just finished writing her report for Corder, making sure she didn’t leave out any details that might help him. With the names and descriptions of the witches and wizards in Witches of a Feather, he’d be able to keep track of them and proceed with his investigation. Now all she had to do was visit January Carter at Curious Magic, Rare Artifacts and drop off her report. Hopefully her association with the club would be short, if the names panned out and Corder could place one of the witches or wizards at the crime scene.
A knock sounded on the glass door, jolting Honora out of her thoughts. A young witch dressed in black with a messenger bag draped over her shoulder waved. “Delivery for Honora Mayhem.”
Honora motioned her into the office. The witch pulled a small parcel from the bag and placed it on the desk, before turning to leave.
“Thanks,” Honora said as the delivery witch dashed away.
The parcel was a simple box wrapped in brown paper. There was no seal and no return address. Honora cast out her senses. The package vibrated slightly. There was magic inside, but it wasn’t strong or dangerous. Honora flipped it over and used her fingernail to loosen and pull off the wrapping. The box inside was plain cardboard. She lifted the lid and peered down at a stunning gold necklace—a chain with a gold feather charm. She pulled it out and held it up to the light. It was delicate and finely crafted, the feather details carved into the gold. Infused with magic, the charm was charmed, literally. She set it down on her desk and inspected the box. Besides a piece of cotton batting, the box was empty. No note, no card, no explanation.
Did it really need any explaining? The message was clear—she was invited to be one of them. Leave it to Ophelia Lockwood to send jewelry. It was classy and luxurious and it was a chain—a golden leash, Honora thought. Once she put this on, she was one of them. She didn’t hesitate and unhooked the clasp and fastened it around her neck. A jolt of magical energy shot through her and in her mind’s eye she saw all of the other members and the voice of Ophelia Lockwood spoke to her. “Honora Mayhem, welcome. You are now a member of Witches of a Feather. You are our sister. You are family now. We are loyal to you and you to us.” The message ended and Honora wondered if there would be more to come. She had the feeling Ophelia liked to keep her guessing, like it was all a part of the club’s mystique.
Honora swallowed and touched the feather charm. There was no turning back now. She gathered up the parchment report, rolled it up, and tied it with leather cord she dug out of her desk drawer. She grabbed her jacket and headed out of the office to drop off the report, hopefully spurring Corder into action. It was more important now than ever.
Curious Magic, Rare Artifacts was one of her favorite places in Everland. She pushed through the door and was awash in the mingling smells of sandalwood, tarnished metal, old books, and candle wax. Wooden shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with old grimoires, knobby wizard staffs, cracked crystal balls, and magical orbs of all shapes and sizes. A scarred wooden table was littered with enchanted mirrors, velvet cloaks, and bowlfuls of precious stones. A worn map of Everland hung on a far wall, and globes of illuma lights cast haunting shadows over the cramped shop. A magical ward tingled as it scanned her body. Surprisingly the ward didn’t go off, but things had changed since she’d last been in the shop, namely she wasn’t carrying a weapon.
“What, no knives?” January barked. “I’m so disappointed.” She didn’t move from her perch behind the counter on a tall stool, her pointy-toed black boots d
angling off the floor. Her mass of curly gray hair was pinned up on her head, showing off a slender, yet wrinkled neck encased in a silver choker. January had been a fixture of the magic district for at least three centuries, and her age was rumored at four hundred and thirty-something. She was also a dear friend and mentor whom Honora hadn’t seen in too long.
“My job isn’t as dangerous as it used to be,” Honora said and stared longingly into the display case of sharp and shiny blades.
“Are you sure about that?” January asked.
“Of course.” She smiled, a little nostalgic for the old days. Danger had always been her bread and butter. She reached across the counter and squeezed January’s hand. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you and all this. It’s been too long.”
“I’m glad I haven’t seen you. It means you have a life, a full, rich, and eventful life, and that makes me happy.”
Honora pulled the parchment roll from her jacket and slid it across the table. January scooped it up and shoved it down the front of her black and green corset that was cinched over a silky black shirt without saying a word. Honora knew she would make sure Detective Corder got the delivery.
“I see they’ve sucked you in already,” January said, touching the base of her throat in the exact spot where the golden feather rested on Honora’s neck.
“I’m not sucked in. I chose to take the job and in doing so I joined the club to get close to them.” Honora shoved her hands into her pockets.
January pulled a knife out of the case and set it on the counter for Honora to admire. “You’re being used.” Brutal honesty was her way.
Honora picked up the blade and felt the weight of it in her hand. “The cops would have sent someone else if not me. I know what I’m doing. Corder is a good detective. I trust him.”
“He’s not the one using you.”
Honora arched her brow. “Then who is?” she asked, but deep down she already knew the answer to the question.
“Witches of a Feather. You slipped into their club like a hand into a glove. Don’t you think even for you, it was very easy? Too easy.” She jabbed a gnarled finger in the air at her.
“Yes, it was. I suspect they need another flyer and quick. I don’t know why and that’s what I’m going to find out.” Honora set the knife down.
“I don’t like them.” Crow’s feet marred January’s soft cheeks as she scrutinized her. “You have a darkness surrounding you, a sooty fog. I’m afraid for you. Something bad is coming. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Like the way you can sense a storm coming.” Honora smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Bad weather always passes. Isn’t that what you used to say?”
“This is different. It’s twisted and angry and mean. I sense wickedness so close to you, tightening around your neck like a noose.”
Honora touched her neck as she recalled the horrible marks on Constance’s throat. Could January be right? Was danger back in her life? She shook off the thought. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.”
“I hope so, dear child. Because something wicked comes for you, whether you’re ready or not.”
January claimed her persuasion was a gift for locating strange and powerful magical artifacts that many considered junk. Honora was thinking she had expanded her magical gifts since the last they’d seen each other. “Are you into soothsaying now?”
January snorted. “You know I’ve always had my ear to the ground. Why do you think handsome detectives come prowling around my shop, asking for my help? They know that I know things.”
Honora shuddered as she left the shop. January could be dramatic, but she wasn’t a fool. She was an intuitive witch. Honora would do well to heed her warning. The golden feather around her neck warmed and hummed, the magic engaging, calling to her. In her mind’s eye, Honora clearly saw a street and a glowing shop—Diabolical. It was in the Halo district and Honora was being summoned there. The charm around her neck went still and cold. If she went, she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a part of the club, for wearing the necklace and going to meet them meant that she was a member of Witches of a Feather, loyal to the core.
By the time Honora got to the Halo district, the sky had darkened. She’d stopped to grab a bite to eat. Her stomach had been grumbling; plus she didn’t want to seem too eager about being in the club, lest it look suspicious. She touched down on the seedy street. Diabolical wasn’t what she expected. The sign said the shop was for Extraordinary Charms. Honora wondered what that meant. A huge black and glass lantern hung outside of the shop, glowing with illuma light. The window was filled with strange objects—a gold crown, a battered violin, animal horns, music boxes, glass vases, and even handcuffs. Honora could feel the magic vibrating right through the glass. The one thing all the objects had in common was they were enchanted. They were all charms.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was filled with heavy black tables loaded down with all kinds of enchanted objects. Glittering black glass chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling. Heavy velvet drapes hung from the windows. Glass cabinets filled with charms lined the walls. She thought of The Charmery in Willow Realm and the beautiful jewelry and traditional charms worn on chains and bracelets. This shop was nothing like it. Yes, it had a beautiful allure, but there was a dark slippery undercurrent that Honora couldn’t put her finger on.
Honora strolled around the shop, glancing at the merchandise. None of the other members of the flying club had arrived. Good thing she didn’t rush over.
She admired a table decorated with numerous silk scarves. The soft fringe flowed through her fingers. A short, skinny wizard with huge bulging eyes hurried up to her. “Lovely choice. It would look divine on you.” He picked up the scarf and handed it to her. “Try it on. Drape it around your neck.”
Honora obliged him. The colors of deep forest green, indigo blue, and plum were swirled together in an interesting pattern.
“Here take a look.” The sales wizard held up a silver hand mirror for her to see herself, except when Honora looked at her reflection, the image was hazy if not downright blurry. Her brow creased.
“It’s a disguise charm. Isn’t it fabulous? All you have to do is wear the scarf and pull it up close to your face when you don’t want to be seen clearly.” A mischievous grin curled up on his face.
Honora couldn’t help but smile back. “Clever,” she said. “I’ll take it.” The scarf would be perfect for doing stakeouts, especially in close quarters. She handed him the scarf, but another item stopped her. A yellowed human skull sat on a crystal pedestal in the center of the table.
He saw her staring at it. “That’s a special piece. One of a kind. It’s a companion. It contains the life force of a powerful witch. I can give it to you for five gold pieces. And that’s a real steal.”
The eyes of the skull lit up, glowing red. “Five gold pieces,” it said, a scratchy voice emanating from the skull. “That’s despicable. I’m worth at least ten gold pieces.”
The wizard scoffed. “Seven if you’re lucky.”
“It talks,” Honora said.
“Like I said, it’s a companion. Inside the skull lives the spirit of a wise witch whose vast knowledge is of great value. Think of her as a confidante and a mentor.”
“Mentor. Hardly. That scrawny witch could use cooking lessons,” the skull said.
“I’m a flyer,” Honora said in explanation of her lean frame.
“Well aren’t you special? She’s way too cocky. I could never work for her.”
“Work for me,” Honora said with a grin. “How so? Would you sit on the shelf and make wisecracks all day?”
“It knows things,” the wizard said. “Its knowledge of spellcraft goes back centuries. It’s powerful like an oracle.”
“That’s the last thing I need
. Plus, my sister sees the future so I don’t need any help in that department. But thanks. It’s a unique and rare item. I’ll just take the scarf.”
“Of course,” he said and scurried behind the counter.
Honora paused and the skull’s eyes flickered. It spoke again, “Beware the darkness. Beware the well. It is deeper than a bottomless ocean. Use the tiny creature. It is your only hope of getting out. Beware the well.” The red eyes flared and went out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Honora asked, her body tensing. “What well?”
“Pay that grubby skull no mind.” Rachel walked up beside her. Honora had been so captivated by the charms in the shop she’d momentarily forgotten why she was there.
“Just doing a little shopping while I waited.” She strode over to the counter, paid for the scarf, and slipped it inside of her jacket. “Are you the only one here?”
Rachel had her hair slicked back. She wore a pair of clear goggles on her head and a white scarf around her neck. “They’re outside. Hope you haven’t been waiting too long. Ophelia is always late. Let’s go.”
Honora followed Rachel outside where Rex, two of the Nix sisters, and one of the Blackbury wizards were waiting. She couldn’t wait to see what a night with Witches of a Feather would be like. “Where are we going?”
“Ophelia has a job for us. And since you’re the newest member that means, she has a job for you,” Rachel said.