My mother regarded me warily. “And what is it you want from me now? I was right about him not being good enough for you. Besides, it’s all in the past. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“An apology would be nice.”
My mother didn’t do apologies and I knew this would be no exception. “What we did was for your own good, Eden. I’m your mother and I look out for you. I won’t apologize for it.” She lifted her chin haughtily.
My nostrils flared. I hadn’t intended to raise the topic at a family dinner, but it was too late to turn back now. I had to stand my ground or she’d know she could get away with it again. I had to lay the groundwork to protect my relationship with the chief.
“You had no right to interfere in my life,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.
“You’re overreacting, Eden,” my mother said. “He was a boy. A human. You had no future with him, so we saved you years of wasted time by cutting the relationship off at the knees.”
“How about I cut you off at the knees?”
My mother rubbed her hands together, her eyes glinting dangerously. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Eden, please don’t,” Aunt Thora said. She crossed the room to entreat me. “If it’s any consolation, I’m very sorry for my role in what happened. If I’d known the effect it would’ve had on you, I never would’ve agreed to it.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I said. I opened my arms to embrace her.
“Aunt Thora, no,” my mother yelled.
I wrapped my arms around her and triggered my siphoning power. I felt her dark magic penetrate my skin and seep into every fiber of my body.
My great-aunt slipped to the floor. Tomas spread his white wings and swooped to catch her. He flew to the sofa and placed her on the cushions.
I hurled a lightning bolt at my mother and she ducked in time. The streak of magic hit the grandfather clock, causing the bells to chime.
“Somebody move my favorite pineapple lamp!” my mother shrieked. She pushed out a hand as light sparked around it.
Moyer raced to the end table next to me and rescued the lamp as my mother unleashed a bolt of lightning. I swiveled to the side and the bolt hit the drapes, setting them alight.
“Not the drapes,” Aunt Thora moaned. “I sewed them myself.”
“And it showed,” Grandma muttered.
“Fire,” Ryan said, transfixed by the flames as they engulfed the heavy floral fabric.
“Stop this nonsense before you burn the house down,” my mother said.
I glared at her. “Worth it.”
Moyer appeared with the fire extinguisher and set to work diminishing the flames.
“How long do you intend to hold this silly grudge?” my mother asked.
“That depends. How long will you live?”
“Forgive me, Eden. We can’t all have eternal flames in our eyes.”
“We’re not talking about my immortality.”
“Well, maybe we should be.” My mother fixed a hand on her hip. “What kind of life do you think you would’ve had with Tanner? He wouldn’t understand the supernatural world. The fact that you’d outlive him and look younger than him, except for those bags under your eyes, of course. A little night cream goes a long way, Eden.”
A siren sounded in the distance.
“Hell’s bells, you triggered the fire alarm,” my mother said. “Are you happy now? The alert goes directly to the station.”
Moyer and Tomas exchanged glances. “Firemen?”
“How do we stop them from coming?” Anton asked.
“Stop them?” Tomas blurted. “Why would you do that?”
“Oh, it’s too late for that,” my mother said, not at all unhappy with this outcome. “They’re well on their way.”
The angel hybrid fell back against the sofa, relieved.
“What are you so pleased about? It’s not like they’ll be dressed for one of their calendars,” Grandma said.
“That’s called undressed,” Tomas said, smiling.
Aunt Thora emerged from her stupor. “Is everyone alive?”
“Everyone’s alive,” Tomas confirmed and gave her thigh a gentle pat.
“I feel dehydrated,” she said.
“That’s from my siphoning magic,” I said. “Have a glass of water. It’ll pass.”
The frantic hooting of the horn indicated that the firetruck had arrived. We fled the house and gathered on the front porch to enjoy the show.
“My, such a long hose,” my mother said, fanning herself.
“This is ridiculous,” Anton grumbled. “We can’t waste their time like this. The fire is out.” He marched forward to intercept them as they spilled out of the truck in their gear. “Thank you so much for coming so quickly.”
“That’s not a sentence you’ll ever hear from me,” my mother said.
Anton held up his hands. “It’s all taken care of, gentlemen. The fire isn’t a threat.”
One of the firemen stepped forward. “I’m afraid we still need to go inside and inspect the premises. Standard procedure.”
My mother’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh, they need to inspect my premises.” She held her arms wide. “Go ahead and frisk me, gentlemen. I won’t resist.” She batted her eyelashes. “Unless you want me to.”
Anton rolled his eyes. “They mean the house, Mom.”
Tomas offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you inside. I can show you the area in question.”
Olivia and Ryan ran across the lawn for a closer look at the bright red truck.
I darted after them and Helena fell in step beside me. “Just like old times, right?”
I shrugged helplessly. “If nothing changes, nothing changes.”
Chapter Ten
That night I dreamed of the chief. He was an old, white-haired man in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank and I still looked like me. We played cards and he kept forgetting the rules of the game. Then he referred to me as his granddaughter and my heart split in two.
I awoke the next morning drenched in sweat and trembling. My mother had done it again. She didn’t even know about the chief—didn’t use her magic to ‘protect’ me from another human—and yet somehow she’d wormed her way into my thoughts. Entangled her fears with my own.
“Great Daughter of Nyx,” I muttered and flipped back the covers. A message popped up on my phone and I relaxed despite myself.
Good morning, beautiful, it read. Even after a tumultuous night of family drama and bad dreams, the chief had a way of calming me.
I smiled as I typed a response. You have another lady in your life?
He sent the eye roll emoji, which made me laugh. Then the phone rang and his picture lit up my screen.
“Thought it would easier to update you on the case this way,” his deep voice said.
My spirits lifted. “You found something?”
“Unfortunately not. Deputy Guthrie stood sentry outside the gallery but she never came back. He managed to find a spare key so he locked up for her.”
That was disappointing news. “I’m going to see Kirby Germain today.”
“That’s the mage? Want me to come with you?”
“I think I should interview him on my own. He might be more willing to talk without a human present.”
“Fair enough. I have other avenues to pursue.” He hesitated. “So how lazy were you when you went to bed last night?”
My cheeks warmed. “Is this the polite Midwestern way of asking me what I’m wearing?”
He chuckled. “Guess I need to work on my game.”
I glanced down at my FBI T-shirt and drawstring shorts. “There’s strategically placed black lace.”
“Sounds nice.”
“And heels.”
“Now I know you’re yanking my chain.”
“That can be arranged.” An image from my dream flashed in my mind of an elderly and infirm Chief Fox and my mood instantly soured.
“Will you let me know
what Kirby has to say?”
I was relieved with the shift in topics. “Of course. Want to meet at the coffee shop later?”
“Is that wise?”
“No, you’re right. How about I swing by the coffee shop for both of us and meet you at my office?”
“Now that’s a plan.” Another pause. “You okay, Eden? You sound a little off.”
How could he tell over the phone? “There was an incident at dinner last night. An argument. It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing. You know you can always talk to me.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. No, not about this. “I know,” I said. “It was no big deal. Just my mother wearing her usual drama queen crown.”
“Maybe you need to relocate that barn.”
“I’ll get right on that and summon a tornado.”
“Can you really do that?” he asked.
I laughed. “Not on any grand scale.” Unless I siphoned magic from an elemental supernatural, but I decided not to go there. There was probably only so much truth the chief could handle.
“Hey, when you get to the office later, maybe you could change into something with strategically placed black lace.”
“I’d have to buy it first,” I said, feeling flushed.
“No need to go out of your way. You’d make a paper bag look good.”
“Well, I could swing by the grocery store too.”
He chuckled and all the tension from my bad dream melted away. Sweet Hecate, a good laugh could cure any ailment. We said our goodbyes and I set the phone on the bedside table. Alice drifted into the room with her hand clamped over her eyes.
“Are you decent?”
I peered at her. “Since when has that stopped you?”
“I suppose I meant to inquire whether you’re alone.”
“I am.”
She removed her hand and smiled. “I hear dinner was quite the affair last evening. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“Who’s talking about it?”
“Everyone in the main house. It was the sole topic over breakfast. Want to know what they said about you?”
“Not particularly.” I continued into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“Helena defended you.”
“I said I don’t want to know,” I called over the din of the rushing water.
“Aunt Thora did as well, although she went quiet after your grandmother called her a lemon-loving pinko commie.”
“What does that even mean?”
“No idea, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Verity is in the proverbial doghouse, it seems.”
“My mother was being ridiculous.”
“She says Verity provoked her and that you were being unreasonable and childish.”
I snorted. “I was being childish? Okay.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I have to interview a mage about a missing artist. The one who painted my new picture.”
“Oh my. That sounds worrisome.”
“Yeah. The chief and I are dividing and conquering. On that note, I need to hop in the shower so I can get moving.”
“Anything I can do?” Alice asked.
“If you hear anything about a kitsune named Nari during your eavesdropping endeavors, let me know.”
“I shall go forth and listen immediately.” The ghost disappeared right through the wall and out of the bathroom.
Kirby Germain’s house was far nicer than what I expected after seeing Nari’s artist’s loft above the gallery. It was located on an old stretch of road that, like our house, had once been part of Puritan farmland, except his parcel hadn’t been absorbed by a neighborhood. The house itself was a red-brick colonial with black shutters and a shiny black door.
I parked behind a Porsche in the semi-circular driveway and walked up to the front door to knock. No one answered, but I heard the faint sound of music. This time I rang the bell. When no one answered, I decided to check out the backyard and see if that was where the music was coming from.
The volume of the music increased as I headed toward the back of the house. I rounded the corner and halted in my tracks. The expansive lawn was green and flat and riddled with life-size statutes. A man stood in front of one of the statues applying a coat of translucent white paint and shimmying his hips to The Bee Gee’s You Should Be Dancing. It was only as I moved closer that I realized his backside was bare. Well, this was going to be interesting.
“Excuse me. Are you Kirby Germain?”
He continued popping and locking his hips, oblivious to my arrival.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “Hello!”
He spun around to face me and I was relieved to see that he wore a black leather apron that reached his knees.
“Hello there.” His gaze traveled from my head to my feet. He snapped his fingers twice and the music quieted.
“Are you Kirby Germain?”
“That’s right. And with whom am I having the pleasure?” He was an attractive man—I’d guess early thirties—with brown hair and eyes and thick lashes that my mother would pay good money for.
“Agent Eden Fury.” I flashed my badge—the one that appeared to be an FBI badge to human eyes, but supernaturals could see that I worked for the Federal Bureau of Magic.
The mage’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “And how can I be of service, Agent Fury? I promise my taxes are entirely up to date.”
“I’m not in the tax division.” I’d rather gouge my eyes out with celery sticks than work in the tax division of any organization.
“Then I suppose we can be friends.” His smile was dazzling.
“I understand you make your own paint.”
“I certainly do.” He gestured to a small table set up on the other side of the statue. There were rows of colors in different sizes and textures. “Are you in the market? I’d be happy to demonstrate what makes Kirby’s Creations the one-stop destination for any artist.”
“Is that what you’re doing out here with these?” I gestured to the statues. “Testing your wares?”
“Absolutely. This is a new line that I haven’t started selling yet. I’m in the experimental phase.” He winked. “Which happens to be my favorite. It’s when I really feel that creative flow. You know what I mean?” He closed his eyes and rocked his head from side to side.
“What exactly are you testing?” I asked, stepping closer to the table to examine the paints.
“As you can see, some of these paint colors are mixed with crushed gems and other stones.”
“And the gems and stones are enchanted.”
He seemed surprised. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“You’re a mage. It seemed like a logical conclusion.” Plus, Nari had mentioned it.
His expression brightened. “Care to see a demonstration? I haven’t shown anyone yet, so you can say you were my first.” He wiggled his thick eyebrows suggestively.
“I’d love to see what you can do.” Crap. That came out wrong. I tried again. “I’d like to see what your paints can do.” There. That was more appropriate.
He twirled his paintbrush in the air. “If you look closely, you’ll see that this white paint is mixed in with a few enchanted crystals.”
I squinted and saw the sparkle of pale pink and blue. “Yes, I see the different colors and textures.”
He raised the paintbrush but then seemed to think better of it. “You might want to stand back for this.”
I hopped back about two feet and watched closely, my curiosity piqued.
Kirby spread a layer of paint over one arm of the statue and then the other. My eyes rounded as the arms sprouted white feathers. He continued painting until the entire statue had morphed into an angel. The wings fanned out and the ‘angel’ lifted several feet in the air before returning to its place on the lawn.
It took me a minute to find words. “Great balls of fury,” I breathed. “That’s…”
“Amazing? Incredible?
Inspiring?” He flicked the tip of his brush in the air. “Go on. Hit me with your favorite adjectives.”
“I’m impressed. You’re like a modern-day Pygmalion.”
He lit up. “And that, my lovely agent, is what I’m planning to call this line of paints. The Pygmalion Paint Collection.”
I cut a glance at the angel. “You choose a design to paint and then the enchantment brings the statue to life?”
“Something like that,” he said. “I need to work on the longevity. Right now, the dynamic aspect only happens when the paint is still wet. Once it dries, the statue returns to its solid, immobile state.”
“Wow. That is really something.”
“Thank you kindly. I aspire to greatness.” He bowed and I was happy to be standing in front of him rather than behind.
“Do you always paint half naked?”
He gave me a cheeky smile. “I wasn’t expecting company.” He spread his arms wide. “As you can see, there’s no one around for miles. I do my best work out here under the big blue canopy.” He looked skyward.
“And your mood music,” I said.
“Well, naturally. Music inspires me. Moves me too.” He snapped his fingers twice again and the volume increased. He bopped his head to Madonna.
“Disco to Madonna? You have quite an eclectic playlist.”
He set the brush on the table. “Would you like to see another one?”
“Yes, definitely.” I pictured something like this in my father’s yard and stifled a laugh. It would drive Stanley Fury out of his mind if a statue occasionally sprang to life and then reverted back to its static form again. Father’s Day gift, perhaps?
Kirby contemplated the options on the table and ultimately chose a brown mixture with flecks of gold. “This one will make an excellent security system once it’s been refined.” He proceeded to paint a second statue and I watched in awe as the nondescript figure turned into a frightening gryphon that roared in protest before reverting to its original state.
I was so amazed by his creations that I almost forgot the reason for my visit. “I can see why you like this part of the process. It’s pretty cool.”
“I wake up every morning and congratulate myself on being such a lucky mage.”
“I own a picture that was created using your paints, but I don’t think it will do anything like this.” I gestured to the would-be gryphon.
Every Picture Tells A Fury (Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery Book 8) Page 9