Pawsitively Swindled

by Melissa Erin Jackson

“Oh my God, Amber, hi!” Kim said, breathless. It was hard to know if Kim had just been doing jumping jacks or if this was her default tone. “I came by the shop earlier to see if you wanted to get lunch, but the Bowen girls said you were out and they had no idea where you went or when you’d be back.”

  “I’ve had the weirdest day,” she said. “But weirdest of all? Bianca Pace knows I’m a witch.”

  “What?” Kim practically screamed into the phone. “I’m coming to your place with two bottles of wine. Be ready to talk.”

  Amber dropped her phone into her purse—Kim had hung up without another word—and hazarded a glance toward Simon’s house. Bianca stood before one of the windows, her arms crossed. Amber was too far away to see her expression, but she figured “glaring” wasn’t a bad guess. Gulping, Amber pulled away from the curb. The list of people who knew about her abilities seemed to be growing at an alarming speed.

  Her safe—but lonely—reclusive lifestyle was quickly becoming a thing of the past.

  Chapter 5

  After an animated conversation with Kim, a bottle of wine, and watching in amusement as Kim semi-drunkenly waltzed around the studio apartment with Alley in her arms, Amber relieved the Bowen girls at 3 p.m. so they could enjoy the rest of their Sunday. Even with the festival a little over a month away, Sunday evenings would still be slow enough that she could work the shop comfortably alone for a couple more weeks. She kept busy by assisting customers, filling phone orders, and working on more spell ideas for her graduation-themed animated toys. Her current challenge was a giraffe whose head kept snapping off mid-neck every time she tried to add a movement spell to flip the graduation cap off its head without use of its hooves.

  It was nearing 6 p.m. and she was behind the counter restocking the tea supplies when the bell above her shop door chimed. She groaned. Why did customers have to come in five minutes before closing?

  Blowing out a breath, she turned around and placed the basket of tea on the counter, then plastered on a friendly face and opened her mouth to greet her customer. But the smile and cheery welcome died immediately.

  Jack Terrence was standing her in shop.

  Amber swallowed. “Hi, Jack.”

  Her face flamed. Why must her voice crack as if she were still a nervous teenager?

  He skirted around the pair of pyramid-shaped bookshelves that prevented a straight shot from door to counter, and then stopped in front of her. He hadn’t shaved off the short beard he’d started growing recently, and she resisted the urge to tell him how much she liked it. “Hey,” he said. “Can we talk?”

  Ugh. Three words that struck fear in anyone’s heart.

  Would he turn on his heel and walk back out if she said no? It had worked the night of the gala, when he’d sat beside her and told her that the memory-erase spell had malfunctioned—that he remembered everything now. She’d told him then that she couldn’t talk about it—not yet anyway. Too many potential witnesses. Too much cleanup for her to do after the gala ended.

  “Maybe sometime next week then?” he’d asked, brows raised.

  She’d agreed, he’d wished her a nice evening, and she’d been avoiding him ever since. It had been over two weeks at this point. Then, to be safe, she also started avoiding his brother Larry, which meant avoiding Purrcolate at all costs.

  When Jack called, Amber didn’t answer. She didn’t reply to text messages or emails; it was the same treatment she was giving Aunt Gretchen. The list of people she steered clear of was growing even faster than the list of people who knew her secret.

  Amber bit her lip now as she studied Jack’s uncharacteristic borderline irritated expression.

  Clearly, since he was standing before her, right at closing, he had finally grown impatient with her juvenile reaction to, well, everything. He would no longer take no for an answer. He’d respect her boundaries, she knew, but if she shut him down again, especially in person when she so very clearly had run out of excuses, she could very well could lose him entirely. Which was worse than hashing this out with him.

  “Sure,” she finally said. “We can go upstairs. I have to feed the cats.”

  As she rounded the counter so she could lock up, he stayed rooted to the spot, silently watching her walk past him one way to the door, then the other toward the stairs. She stopped at the “Employees Only” door and glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “My apartment is up here.”

  Once they were upstairs—Jack still hadn’t said a word since he’d asked if they could talk—he stood near the top of the staircase while she busied herself with feeding the cats. Tom and Alley both seemed unsure if the new visitor or their food bowls should be the focus of their attention—which was saying a lot in Tom’s case.

  Finally, Amber turned to face Jack and managed a small smile. She wrung her hands, then folded her arms tight across her chest. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  Without a word, he walked over to her small couch and sat down. He gestured for her to do the same.

  There was a small comfort in knowing that she didn’t have to hide the half-formed spells littering both the coffee and dining room table. He already knew.

  Her heart thumped hard as she sat next to him, her knees pressed together, and her gaze focused on a small pile of brightly painted plastic peacock feathers lying on her coffee table. Was he upset with her about the spell wearing off? Would he want Aunt Gretchen to come back to recast it? Would Amber have to watch the recognition go out of his eyes once more, like a room going dark? She wasn’t sure she could go through that all over again.

  “Are you avoiding me because you hate me now?” he finally asked.

  Amber’s head snapped up. “What?”

  Jack frowned slightly. His back was rounded, his shoulders up by his ears, and his dark brows were pulled together. He almost looked angry. “I know now that you tried to keep me from learning any of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to her apartment, but she suspected he meant magic in general. He kept his gaze focused on anything but her. “You’re holding onto big secrets—secrets your parents fought to keep from everyone, even from you, your aunt, and your sister—and I know letting anyone in on that has to be a big deal for you. Sharing it with people who aren’t witches, I mean. And I … God, Amber,” he said, turning to her suddenly and taking one of her hands in his.

  Amber flinched at the contact, more from surprise than anything else, but she didn’t pull away either.

  Jack didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy squeezing her hand and staring at her as if the intensity of his expression would tell her everything his words were failing to convey. “You told me who you are, I freaked out, and just … left. You had just been through hell and I … left. I’m the worst kind of jerk.”

  It was then that Amber realized she’d started crying. Now it was she who couldn’t look at him. Her bottom lip shook as tears tracked down her face. She felt too wrung out to wipe them away.

  In a softer tone, one hand still gripping hers, he said, “I like you a lot, Amber. I always have. And … seeing what that guy—what Kieran—did to you … it scared me so dang bad. Mostly because I realized I could never protect you from something like that. Somehow I felt terrified and totally worthless at the same time. Me asking your aunt to erase it all wasn’t just a ‘holy crap, this stuff is terrifying,’ but also ‘holy crap, she deserves to be with someone who can make sure nothing like this ever happens again.’”

  Amber looked up at him then, her vision burry from the tears.

  Before she could reply, he said, “I know that’s unrealistic. It was selfish, too. I was just thinking about myself and how scared I was, not that I should have stuck around to at least make sure you were okay.”

  That made Amber cry harder. It was everything she’d wanted him to say—everything she’d shamefully let herself fantasize about as she lay awake after a nightmare had forcefully pulled her from sleep in the middle of the night. But she knew she wasn’t blameless in all this.
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br />   “I was awful to you,” she said.

  He stilled, then cocked his head at her. “You were awful to me?”

  “I lied to you so many times. When Kieran was here, I used truth spells on you every time we talked,” she said. “It started to get so easy to explain away every strange thing that happened. I lied and made up ridiculous excuses—all because I really like you too, Jack. I just didn’t want you to get caught up in any of this. My family and I didn’t know who to trust when Kieran was here. The Penhallow switched faces so many times, it was hard to know who was who. Then I ditched you at the end of our date … I mean, of course you followed me to Edgar’s house. You were worried about me—I knew you were worried—and my weird behavior led you straight to the one place I didn’t want you to go. If something had happened to you that night, I—”

  He reached up and cupped her face. “Stop.”

  Amber took in a shuddering breath.

  Jack dropped his hand from her face but still held onto her hand. That intense look was back. “Maybe we can both agree that we were the worst kind of jerks?”

  Amber let out a surprised, watery laugh. She sniffled. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

  Brows arched, he said, “Only if you forgive me. My offense was way worse.”

  “Kinda.”

  He gasped in mock offense.

  Smiling, Amber said, “I really am sorry, though. I shouldn’t have—”

  “What? Shouldn’t have gone out with me?” he asked. “Shouldn’t have been endlessly charmed by me?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Then his serious tone was back. “What’s the alternative? Keep to yourself until another witch shows up in Edgehill, or pack up and move? Seems like a lonely way to live.”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  “Well, I promise I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said. “Even if that’s just as a friend. I want you in my life, witch powers and all, in whatever capacity you want.”

  “I want you in my life, too,” Amber managed before she started crying again.

  She didn’t know what “in her life” meant yet, but she’d take it—whatever it was.

  Jack got up to get her a tissue from the box on her counter, then thought better of it and brought the whole thing. He gave her a couple minutes to compose herself before he asked, “Can I ask you something a little weird?”

  She cocked a brow at him. “We’re not well past weird already?”

  He laughed. “Are you and Connor … seeing each other?”

  “Definitely not!”

  There was a slight smile at that. “I’m not being a jealous creep, I swear. It’s just … he seems kind of obsessed with you? We’ve met up a handful of times recently. He claimed it was for a story he was doing for the Gazette on the Best of Edgehill competition.”

  “I’m really sorry you lost,” Amber said quickly. “I’m not sure I ever said that.”

  He waved the apology as if it were a pesky fly. “We’ll take them next year. And, honestly, as long as it didn’t go to the she-demon, it’s all good with me.”

  The she-demon was Paulette Newsome of Clawsome Coffee. While Amber had felt sorry for Jack’s loss, she had been delighted about Paulette’s.

  “Anyway,” he said, “he found ways to bring you into the conversation every time we talked. At first it seemed normal, since you’re on the Here and Meow Committee. But I think now that my memories are back, and the competition is over … I don’t know, the clarity makes something about it all seem really strange now. I don’t think he knows about you being a witch, but it feels like he might be close to a theory.”

  Amber only reveled in Jack’s casual use of “witch” as if it were as normal as saying “brunette” before the rest of what he’d said had caught up with her. “What kind of theory?”

  “Not sure,” he said. “But … he seems to think you’re more than one person? He mentioned that he thought there were some eerie similarities between you and Cassie Westbottom—you know, that woman who was helping the chief with Chloe’s disappearance—and I swear he was trying to hint that you were like the same person.” Jack laughed, shaking his head.

  “Uh … that was me.”

  Jack immediately stopped laughing. “Wait, what?”

  “Glamour spell,” she said. “The chief has known for a while that I’m a witch, and he needed some help finding Chloe, so I glamoured myself to look like someone else so it wouldn’t be strange to anyone that Amber Blackwood was there.”

  “Except Connor noticed.”

  “He followed me one day,” she said. “I went to a deserted part of town, glamoured myself to look like Cassie, and then when I was driving back out of the area, Connor was there. There was no reason for him to be there unless he was following me.”

  Jack slumped a little. “That doesn’t seem … great, right? What if he publishes something about this? Wouldn’t that bring more attention to you? I’m guessing you want to lay as low as possible because of the Penhallows.”

  Amber heaved out a breath, staring off into space. Wonderful. Another thing she needed to worry about: Nosy Connor Declan getting even nosier. A couple months ago, Amber had briefly considered the idea of dating Connor, but his job at the Edgehill Gazette had complicated things when he’d started questioning her as if she might have something to do with Melanie’s death. He’d been snooping around ever since. Things got even more complicated when it became clear, at least to Amber, that Willow was still carrying a torch for her high school crush. Connor was all Willow’s, as far as Amber was concerned.

  “Maybe I should have Aunt G wipe his memory,” she said.

  Jack laughed but sobered quickly when he saw Amber’s pinched forehead.

  When she glanced over at him and saw the worry in his eyes, she laughed lightly. “I was kidding!”

  But Amber would need to figure out something—and soon.

  Two nights later, when Amber was rudely roused from sleep by her cell phone, she already knew who it was. Given how bright it was growing outside, she guessed it was at least seven in the morning this time, but why on earth was he always up so early lately?

  Briefly puzzled by the unfamiliar number on her screen, she groggily asked, “Can’t this wait?”

  “No, it can’t,” a decidedly female voice said. A very frantic-sounding woman.

  Confusion cleared the grogginess. “Who is this?”

  “Bianca.”

  Shock made her sit up. “Bianca?”

  She blew out a shaky breath. “My dad was arrested late last night … or, I guess early this morning, technically …”

  “For what?”

  Another shaky breath. “The murder of Chief Jameson.”

  “What?” Amber said, loudly enough that it started both cats awake. Tom hissed for good measure before darting under the bed. Alley glared at her from Amber’s other pillow, then tucked her face under a paw and went back to sleep.

  “I was his one call from the Lincoln County Jail this morning,” Bianca said. “County, Amber. How is my dad in County? He’s almost two hours away in a place filled with thieves and murderers.”

  Amber’s head spun. “What happened?”

  “He led the Q&A at the town hall meeting with Mayor Sable last night,” Bianca said in a rush. If Amber had to guess, she’d say the woman was pacing as she talked. “Then, later, there was this big fancy dinner for a bunch of prominent people from town.”

  Amber remembered Bianca showing up to Simon’s house with a garment bag. “Oh, that’s what the suit was for.”

  “Right,” Bianca said. “It was at the chief’s house. Dad wasn’t really excited about it because he’s not really the partying type, but other members of the safety committee were going to be there, so he felt like he had to at least make an appearance. He was hoping it would be a way to schmooze with leaders of the town and, I don’t know, make some important decisions, maybe? But it sounds like it was just an excuse for people to get sloshed on Chief Jameso
n’s liquor supply.

  “Dad’s words were really slurred when he called me from the party. He told me: ‘A vase smashed and the chief is really angry and he’s not very nice, you know?’ And then he said something like, ‘I think my drink was drugged, baby. I think they drugged me. My magic is dying.’”

  “Dying?” Amber asked. “What does that mean?”

  “Medications and drugs can have a really strange effect on magic sometimes,” Bianca said. “I think after they drugged him, someone at the dinner party killed the chief, and now they’re pinning it on my dad.”

  After a pause, Amber asked, “Is there any way he was drunk?”

  “No,” Bianca said. “My grandpa—Dad’s dad—was an alcoholic, and Dad hasn’t touched alcohol since he was twenty-five. He said he could tell he would be as bad as his dad, so he gave the stuff up. I mean he drinks the occasional beer or whatever, but never in my life have I seen him drunk. We’re very close.”

  Amber blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to say, Bianca.”

  “Dad wants your help.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Because you have memory magic,” Bianca said as if that were obvious. “There’s a black hole in his mind from about 9 p.m. until 1 a.m., when all of a sudden he was in the back of a cop car. He’s supposed to get arraigned on Thursday—in two days. I didn’t even know what that was; I had to look it up. They’re going to set his bail, get him a lawyer, and set court dates.”

  “How I am supposed to help him if he’s in jail?” Amber asked.

  “Come with me to the arraignment.”

  “I don’t think they’re going to let me get anywhere near him,” Amber said. “I’m not even family. How am I supposed to get into physical contact with a prisoner?”

  “With your magic, obviously!” Bianca snapped. “He didn’t do this, Amber. There’s absolutely no way. None. And he asked for you specifically! He knows you can get to the bottom of this. What’s the point in having magic if you don’t help people with it?”

  “I don’t really know if—”