“I don’t have a favorite spell or anything,” I replied. “I just like feeling that connection to the earth. Sharing its power. It’s exhilarating. Alana says I should tap into that whenever I feel off because it’ll rejuvenate me.”
He grinned. “Yeah. That’s how I feel about letting the wolf loose. It’s exhilarating.” He paused for a beat. “Alana’s the academy druid, right?”
“Right.” I didn’t generally run around mentioning my druid therapist. It was a testament to how comfortable I felt with Callan. “She’s the main healer at Spellslingers.”
“You get hurt that often that you’re buddies? Maybe I can show you a few defensive pointers while we’re up here.”
I glared at him. “I’m not routinely getting hurt.”
“Tell that to the blunt end of Lucy’s weapon.”
“Hey!” I elbowed him. “I don’t just see Alana when I’m hurt.”
“Then why go?”
“She’s…She’s a good listener. Very wise. And kind.”
“You live with three other witches,” Callan pointed out. “I thought you were close with them.”
“I am,” I said. “It’s just that…” I was torn between owning my past and hiding from it. I knew which one Alana would advocate. “I started seeing Alana regularly during my first year.”
“Too much pressure?”
“Nothing like that.” I inhaled deeply. “I was kidnapped from the academy and taken to the underworld to be a demon’s bride.”
Callan reeled back. “Are you serious?”
“My friends rescued me and another survivor named Beth.”
Callan’s expression hardened. “And what happened to the demon?”
“Dead.”
He gave a curt nod. “Glad to hear it. I was ready to abandon this stakeout and go find him myself.” He took my hand and gently squeezed. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Thankfully, it’s over now.”
“Except you’re still living with the experience,” Callan said. “I guess that’s where Alana comes in.”
“She’s been a big part of my recovery,” I said. “She’s managed to get me to talk about things I never thought I would.” A light breeze tickled my nose and I sneezed into the crook of my arm.
“Bless you.” He fished a red handkerchief out of his jeans pocket.
“Who carries handkerchiefs?” I asked, laughing.
“Hey, do you want it or not?”
I took the handkerchief. “Thank you. Usually, I’m the one reminding everyone to pack tissues and a bottle of water.”
Callan smirked. “So you’re the bossy one.”
“Not bossy. Just prepared.” A cool breeze blew past us and several strands of hair streamed across my face and into my mouth. “Well, this is very attractive.”
Wordlessly, Callan pulled the strands free and tucked them behind my ear. “You’re talking to the wrong guy. Werewolves don’t mind hair.” The look on his face warmed me from the inside out. “Can I just tell you…?”
My arm shot forward. “Someone’s leaving!”
Callan jerked toward Toppers as an older man turned the sign to ‘closed.’ He wore a long jacket and shiny loafers. “Let’s go.”
“How?” It hadn’t occurred to me how we’d get down in a hurry.
“Can you conjure an invisible net to cushion our fall?”
My eyes bulged at the idea of jumping. “Our fall?”
The older man pulled out a key to lock the front door.
“Come on, Cerys. That’s our best bet.”
I pulled out my wand and focused my will. I imagined a giant net at the base of the building, ready to catch us. The ground shimmered with magic in the shape of a circle. “Okay, now.”
Callan didn’t hesitate. He leaped off the building in a single bound and landed smack in the middle of the invisible net. He bounced right to his feet as though he jumped off rooftops every day. Maybe he did.
It must’ve been more than a thirty-foot drop because I didn’t have time to draw a deep breath. My body was sucked downward and my bottom hit the net. I bounced onto the ground on my hands and knees. Very graceful. By the time I got to my feet, Callan was already crossing the street. I dissolved the net and hurried after him.
“Excuse me, sir? Can I bother you with a question?” Callan stood on the pavement next to the older man, close enough to be heard but not so close as to make the man uncomfortable.
“I beg your pardon?” he replied.
Up close, I could see the older man’s stocky build beneath the long jacket. His eyebrows were white and wispy and his nose sported a small bump.
“Sorry, I know it’s late,” I interjected. “We had to wait for our younger son to fall asleep, otherwise, he ends up fighting with his older brother and it’s chaos for the rest of the night.”
The older man offered a knowing smile. “I remember those days. Glad to be done with them.”
“Our older son needs a tuxedo for an event,” I continued. “Your place came recommended, but we’ve never rented a tux before, so we’re a little clueless.”
“Lovely. And who do I have to thank for the recommendation?” he asked. “I have many repeat customers.”
“Warren Jenkins,” I said.
There it was. A flicker of recognition.
“Ah, well if you’d like to come inside for a moment, I can get you a brochure with styles and prices,” the older man said.
“We don’t want to trouble you,” I said. “We can see you’re locking up.”
“It’s no trouble,” he replied. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The lights came on automatically when his foot hit the floor.
“Who knew there were so many types of tuxedos?” I said, trailing behind him. “I thought they were all black and white.”
“Oh no, my dear,” the man said. “Navy blue is very trendy right now.”
Callan stood in front of a tall mannequin in a red crushed velvet tuxedo. “I think this one would be great for a night at the symphony. What do you think, lemon drop?”
I glared at him behind the older man’s back. “I don’t think red is your color. Besides, we’re here for John.”
“John?” Callan mouthed, and I shrugged. We needed a name for our fictional son.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look far too young to have a son old enough for a tuxedo,” the older man said to me.
“I’m his stepmother,” I said.
The man moved behind the counter and pulled a book from the shelf. “And how do you know Warren?”
“John met him when he was looking at colleges,” I said. Callan gave me a thumbs up as he pretended to admire one of the navy blue tuxedos.
“Is that so?” the shopkeeper asked.
Before I could respond, the shopkeeper opened the book and blew green dust into the air. I clutched my neck—thinking I’d inhale poison—but nothing happened.
To me.
I heard movement behind me and whirled around in time to see an escrima stick slide out of the arm of the mannequin in the red velvet tuxedo. The mannequin didn’t have a head, but he had a weapon?
“Callan, duck!” I yelled, yanking my wand from my back pocket.
Callan dodged the stick and swiped the back of the mannequin’s leg. Red Velvet tipped backward and fell flat on its back. Callan plucked the escrima stick from its hand and beat the mannequin until it was scattered across the floor in pieces.
“That was the weirdest…” I didn’t finish. I stood next to Callan, gaping at the scene. All the mannequins now brandished weapons. Great. We were surrounded by enchanted headless mannequins. Just what I expected when we agreed to come inside.
The shopkeeper tipped an imaginary hat before bolting for the door.
“Not so fast, puppet master.” I aimed my wand and performed a freeze spell. He halted mid-step, a look of surprise on his face. Unfortunately, freezing him didn’t stop the mannequins from attacking us. We were on our own.
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Callan kicked a mannequin in the knee and its leg crumpled. The mannequin crashed to the ground and Callan stomped on it for good measure. He scooped up the dagger the fallen mannequin had been holding and used it to keep the next attacker at bay.
“Another one to your right!” I was so busy warning Callan that I didn’t notice the one sneaking up behind me. I only realized I was in trouble when I felt the cool metal blade glide across my shoulder blade. I winced and whipped around, using my wand to blast the mannequin backward. It crashed into the display window, toppling over two other mannequins that hadn’t yet moved.
“Cerys, you’re bleeding,” Callan said.
I felt the blood trickling down my back. As much as it hurt, there wasn’t anything I could do right now. “I’m fine.” I tried to use a freeze spell on an approaching mannequin, but I was too slow. Black and White Bowtie used a basler to knock the wand out of my hand. I jumped back before the Swiss dagger caught me in the stomach. I tried to pull magic from the land below, but either the town was too built up or there was a ward preventing me from accessing it. My money was on a ward.
I hurled my body against Black and White Bowtie and it staggered backward. Before it could regain its balance, I snatched my wand from the floor and aimed it at the advancing mannequin. I didn’t know how they could detect our location without heads, but they could.
“They’re made of fiberglass,” Callan said. “Use fire.” He wrapped one burly arm around a mannequin’s chest and pulled it against his body, squeezing until the mannequin broke in half. “I’ve always hated shopping.”
“Fire,” I repeated. “Yes, I can do fire.” If only Dani were here, I instinctively thought. No, never mind. I could do this. I was perfectly capable of performing basic elemental spells. I filled my head with images of fire and poured magic into the wand. Flames streaked from the tip of my wand, igniting the black and white tuxedo.
“Over here,” Callan said. He leaped to the side so that I could set another mannequin alight. The tuxedos turned to ash within seconds. The fiberglass was slower to melt, but it was enough to stop the attacks.
“I need to douse the flames before the whole building burns down,” I said. “We don’t want to draw the attention of human law enforcement.”
“We have ways of dealing with this kind of thing in Terrene,” Callan said.
“Even so, I’d rather not risk any lives.” I made sure every mannequin was rendered immobile and the weapons collected in a heap before completely dissolving the flames.
“Nicely done,” Callan said.
“Thanks.” I turned to face the shopkeeper. “I’m going to unfreeze him. Are you ready?”
Callan cracked his knuckles. “Yep.”
I was pretty sure I saw fear flash in the shopkeeper’s eyes, despite his frozen state. I released him from the spell and Callan immediately grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air.
“Start talking,” Callan said. He loosened his grip on the shopkeeper’s neck.
The shopkeeper coughed.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “Just tell us what we need to know.”
Callan glanced at me askance. “You don’t want to hurt him? Because I do.”
I shrugged. “It’s just an expression.”
“What did you do to those boys?” Callan demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the shopkeeper said.
“Warren Jenkins bought a tux from here and his friend drew your logo in the dirt,” I said. “There’s a connection.”
“I rent and sell tuxedos to hundreds of young men each season,” the shopkeeper said.
Callan’s nostrils flared in anger. “You attacked us with magical mannequins! Don’t stand here and act innocent. I’m giving you one more chance before I break both your legs so badly that not even a healer can fix you. What did you do to those boys?” he ground out.
“Nothing,” the shopkeeper said, visibly shaken. “I rent and sell tuxedos to hundreds of young men each season.”
“Right,” I said. “We got that part.”
“Who do you work for?” Callan asked.
The shopkeeper opened his mouth to reply, but he choked on his words.
Callan inched closer to the older man. “What was that now?”
The shopkeeper tried once more and again he choked. His eyes bulged as he struggled for air.
“It’s a spell,” I said. “Whoever he’s working for has an added layer of security. You keep asking and you’ll eventually kill him.”
Callan’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure that I mind.”
“Can you write down answers?” I asked. I rushed to the counter and snatched a business card and a pen from the desk. It was then that I noticed the name on the card.
“Stars and stones. You’re Mr. Hooks,” I said, incredulous.
Callan snapped his head toward me. “Hooks? The guy in Jennifer’s notes?”
“The man in Warren’s notes,” I said. “He said he knew about Warren’s biological parents.” My stomach sank. “That was a lie, wasn’t it? You used that information to lure him here to whatever end.”
I handed the pen and card to Mr, Hooks. Every time he tried to write a response, he began to choke. It was a sadistic spell.
“Enough, Callan,” I finally said. “We have to stop.”
Callan reluctantly agreed. “Is there anything you can tell us, Mr. Hooks? Anything you can say that will be helpful to our investigation?”
Mr. Hooks opened his mouth and pulled a long string of handkerchiefs from the depths of his throat.
“It’s like a magician’s trick,” Callan said. “Terrene shows are full of this kind of thing.”
“There’s something written on the material,” I said. I reviewed the letters as each segment of material emerged. “I’ll…never…tell.”
Mr. Hooks’ face turned bright red before he collapsed against Callan. The werewolf immediately felt for a pulse.
“Anything?” I asked.
Callan shook his head. “I need to call Mona. She won’t be happy.” He carefully placed Mr. Hooks on the floor next to one of the decimated mannequins.
“We destroyed our only lead,” I said.
Callan shot to his feet. “We didn’t destroy anything. Don’t blame yourself for what happened to Mr. Hooks.” He zeroed in on the blood on my top. “Cerys, you’re hurt. Let me look at your shoulder blade.”
I moved to raise my shirt and grimaced from the pain. “I can’t lift my arms over my head.”
“Then I’ll tear it off of you,” Callan said, as though that were an act he performed every day. Well, he was a werewolf. Maybe he did.
“That sounds…violent,” I said.
He squeezed his eyes closed. “Gods, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know. It’s okay, Callan.”
“You know what? I think it’s better if we get you to a healer,” he said. “It’s not a fatal wound.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.”
“Michael has a deft touch,” he said. “I’m all paws and claws when it comes to wounds.”
“It’s fine, Callan,” I said. “You don’t have to touch me.”
He flinched. “It isn’t that. I just don’t want to do more harm than good.”
“I know the feeling well.”
Callan’s gaze intensified. “I wish you felt like you could talk to me, Cerys, at least while we’re stuck with each other.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I need a healer. That’s all.” I ignored the hurt look in his dark eyes.
“Whatever you say.” I didn’t object as he slid a strong arm around my waist and assisted me to the door. “I’m here to support you, Cerys. Try to remember that.”
“I will.”
Chapter Eleven
It was Mona’s idea for us to pay a visit to an oracle. Callan was right about her reaction to Toppers—she was less than thrilled with how events unfolded in the formalw
ear shop. We shared the details while Michael tended to my injury.
“I’d go see Martha myself, but I’ve already filled my punch card for the quarter,” Mona said, exasperated. She watched with a critical eye as Michael cleansed and healed my wound.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I’m prohibited from seeking her wisdom for another two months,” Martha explained. “It’ll have to be you two knuckleheads. Try not to do anything stupid.”
I asked for an update on Ben before I was dismissed. Michael didn’t seem optimistic. “He’s stable.”
“That’s better than dead,” Kendall chimed in.
“Is there anything else you can try?” I hoped that my dream with Ben had meant something, but Callan had been right. It seemed to have been the result of my subconscious telling me about the logo.
Michael looked at Mona. “I’d like to hire a dream walker to come in, but apparently there isn’t enough money in the budget.”
“A dream walker would help Ben?” I’d heard of dream walkers. They specialized in getting inside someone’s head. Sometimes they were used like spies to gather information.
“I think so,” Michael said.
Mona folded her arms. “Ben’s human. It’s not just a matter of the budget. We can’t authorize a dream walker for a human. How would we explain it?”
“How would we explain any of this?” Callan demanded. “When that kid wakes up, he’s going to have stories that no one will believe. They’ll think he’s nuts. He’ll end up going from a medical hospital to a mental hospital.”
“The dream walker can get inside his head and persuade him that none of it was real,” Michael said. “That will wake him up and take care of the cleanup. A win-win.”
“The longer he’s unconscious, the more dangerous that boy’s situation is,” Kendall added. “We already lost another lead tonight. Let’s not add this boy to the list.”
“But if we use the dream walker, he’ll no longer be an asset,” Mona replied. “He won’t remember anything.”
“We can do this without Ben,” I said. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice him for the sake of a hypothetical lead. The risk was too great. “We’re going to see this oracle, right? And we can investigate Toppers. See if we can find a connection to someone aside from Mr. Hooks.”
Outwit: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Enforcer of the East Book 1) Page 12