by Gina LaManna
He didn’t need to complete the thought for me to understand his point. When he clicked off the line, I laid back on the couch and inhaled a few deep breaths.
I lay there for a long time. It was late, and it should’ve been easy to move from the living room to the bedroom, seeing as my place had only two rooms plus a couple tiny closets that some real estate agent called a bathroom and a kitchen. I could circle my floorplan in twenty-eight steps flat, but somehow I couldn’t drag my feet off the couch.
As I drifted to sleep, I shivered. That icy, rumbling voice coursed in circles through my brain, and the wisp of a shadow in the upstairs window of the castle called to me for help.
This time, the voice had a name.
The Ice Princess.
Chapter 4
Sometime later, light streamed through the windows, and I woke to the sound of someone screaming.
Leaping off the couch, I knocked over the wine glass as I landed on my feet in my living room in a stance that might have earned me a black belt had I ever been motivated to enroll in karate lessons.
“V!” I shouted back at the cat. The feline was perched over the tank, licking his lips at Harry. “Get out of here! I left you food outside so you wouldn’t eat my one friend in this world. Stop it!”
I was pretty sure V tried to bark at me, so I hissed back. Thankfully, the phone rang at that moment and scared both me and the cat.
I picked it up, glancing at the caller ID; even witches used some human technology. It was way easier to dial a phone than conjure up some sort of long-distance chatting spell. “Hi, Mom.”
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear my twenty-three-year-old, happy birthday to you!”
“Mom, you don’t have to sing Happy Birthday every year anymore. I’m an adult.”
“I have cake for you!” My mother ignored me and continued with her bribery. “Your favorite kind! With all the layers and the frosting.”
“Did you make it yourself?” I held my breath, hoping the answer was no. My absolute favorite cake was Neapolitan, and it was incredibly difficult to get right. I should know, since my mother had been trying for twenty-three years straight, and each year it flopped—literally, fell over. We’d usually end up putting candles in Twinkies from the 7-Eleven around the corner.
“I did! But it’s a little mushy. You should probably come over before it collapses.”
“It’s…” I paused, looking at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even nine in the morning, I’m not ready for cake.”
“Well, you’re never ready for the next phase of your life, dear. You just have to take a leap of faith sometimes.”
“I wouldn’t call eating a piece of cake ‘the next phase of my life’, Mom.”
“No, but the logic applies for other things, too, like making friends and finding partners and babies and houses and… Okay dear, can you come eat cake?”
My mother was the queen of sunshine. She loved sprinkles and family and happiness. One mention of something unpleasant and she vanished faster than Harry the blowfish at the sight of V.
“Can we at least make it this afternoon?”
My mother clapped her hands in the background, then tried to muffle her excitement with a cough. “Do you have plans?” she asked, her voice booming with joy. “With another person?”
I rolled my eyes. “Millie said she’d buy me lunch.”
“Oh, goodness. That’s great. Come over after lunch then, and I’ll serve dessert. Bring Millie.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
“Must you be so short?”
“I’m not being short!” I did a few deep breathing exercises my mother had taught me in preparation for childbirth, although from my understanding, I needed a man in my life to have to worry about that happening. “I just said goodbye. Goodbye.”
“How about I love you? Would it kill you to tell your mother you love her?”
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “Goodbye.”
“I love you my birthday princess,” she said. “See you this afternoon!”
I lay back on the couch as I clicked off the phone. I was already exhausted, and I’d only talked to my mother, a fish, and a cat. What a way to start my birthday.
As I lay there, wondering if it was worth the effort to search for a pack of the Hangover Helpers my dad had purchased from the Spell Shop down the street or if I should just stick with the cheaper alternative of human-strength Advil, I found my mind being drawn back to that shadowy figure in the upper window of the castle. Who had been moving around in there? And what was the maid so afraid of that’d made her clam up when the cops arrived?
Eventually, I got up off the couch and decided a glass of water and human-sized Advil would have to do the trick. I had a good job, a job I loved, but it didn’t pay the best.
Witches and wizards didn’t become Guardians because they wanted to get rich; they became Guardians because of the thrill, the rush, and more importantly, the satisfaction of knowing our job helped people, impacted lives in an often very big way.
Work was spotty at times, and I had to earn every job; one successful mission didn’t guarantee the next. We were sort of like independent contractors to MAGIC, Inc., and I’d seen many a good Guardian displaced by the next up-and-coming, hungrier applicant.
Having just wrapped up a big gig, I was pretty sure my promotion would come in the form of another assignment sooner rather than later, but even so, nothing was a guarantee.
Technically I had a side job helping Declan with his secret project, but it wouldn’t show up on my record if nobody ever knew about it. Better to save money while I still had a few coins in my pocket and skip the Hangover Helper. An Advil would do for now, and I could save the big guns for a different day.
My phone beeped with a text from Millie. Like her, it was short, succinct, and fluff-free.
Happy Birthday. Lunch at one?
I texted her back with lots of smileys and even an emoticon of a turd because Millie had a hard time loosening up. She loved books, thrived inside their pages, but sometimes it was hard to pull her nose out of them. During the few instances when I managed to draw her attention away from her nonfiction manuscripts the size of tombs, she spouted words large enough to have their own zip code. Eating lunch with her was exercise for my mind.
Even so, we’d been friends since we’d learned our first curses. She’d hexed me and made my hair glow green during a game of hide and seek, ensuring I stood out like a sore thumb. I’d hit her back with a Screecher Spell that made her mouth shout random words until we’d both lost the game.
However, what we’d lost in a game of tag, we made up in a lifetime of friendship. Millie was serious and studious, as loyal a friend as I’d ever met, and she balanced out my wild side. That last part was my mother’s assessment; I still don’t think I have a wild side. I’d call it more of a creative interest in trouble.
Since Millie wanted to meet at a restaurant on the other side of town, I figured I’d better get moving. A quick shower, a harsh word to V and some nicer words to Harry, a few swipes of mascara and some extra red lipstick completed my morning routine. Then I sat around and watched reruns of America’s Next Top Model until I was running late. I debated flying, but Millie didn’t like it when I made a show of things, so I took the bus.
By the time I reached Rose Cafe, a little place frequented mostly by humans, I was annoyed at the mortal world. Riding the bus was not fun, and it wasn’t even convenient. The guy next to me smelled like he hadn’t showered in three days, and there were at least five human kids swinging around the poles in the middle of the bus like monkeys. Next time, I was taking the broomstick, no matter what Millie said.
She probably wouldn’t have even noticed, based on the fact that it took me three shouts of her name, excessive waving, and a poke on the shoulder to get her attention. “Hi, Millie!”
“Oh, hello!” She looked up, shoving hugely round glasses up her nose and smoothing her already
straight hair. “Did you just get here? Happy birthday!”
Pushing a manuscript as dusty and hard to read as an original copy of the Bible across the table, she stood up and gripped me in a quick, efficient hug. Then she smiled and gestured for me to sit down in front of a waiting cappuccino.
“My favorite!” I melted inside a little, and decided not to tell her that actually, I’d arrived several minutes ago and could’ve ordered and eaten my lunch by now, but she was too busy ignoring me for her manuscript. “Thanks, Millie, and thanks for meeting me for lunch. Whatcha reading?”
Millie’s eyes lit up like they always did when books were mentioned, and she launched into an extremely long history about someone named Makowski the Giant. I mostly zoned out and made shapes with the foam on my cappuccino until it melted to nothingness.
“Sorry, I am probably boring you half to death,” Millie gushed enthusiastically, not bothering to wait for a head nod to continue her explanation.
I tried to pay attention, but she had a new historical figure she’d obsess over every week, and this was half of our routine—her lengthy monologue, my distracted musings. I gave a valiant effort, but it was hard to concentrate when everything she was telling me had happened centuries before.
For the moment, I was more concerned with the modern-day Frost King and figuring out why in the world he was back in MAGIC territories when really, he belonged in the Iron Range. There were rules and treaties and laws over his boundaries and his being here unannounced was worrisome. Add to that Mr. Davis’s off-the-record concern, and I could practically hear the alarms blaring. Something was going on, and I had to figure it out fast.
The waitress tried to approach us at least four different times, but Millie kept waving her away, her soft brown eyes and soft brown hair glistening under the sunlight as she recounted all of her book. It was probably word for word, but I couldn’t say for sure since I was busy cleaning my nails out when the waitress finally broke through and asked for our order.
“Anyway, how’s your birthday?” she asked. “Sorry, I guess I got a little long-winded there. I just came from the library around the corner, so it’s fresh in my mind.”
“You picked this place because it’s close to the library, didn’t you?”
She blinked, her expression like a dog caught on the furniture when it knows better. “No.”
I laughed. “I know you too well, Mills. Anyway, my birthday is fine. Going to my mom’s for cake today.”
“That’s fun!” she said half-heartedly. My mom could be overwhelming, sometimes too overwhelming for Millie.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make an excuse for you if you’re busy,” I said. “No obligation. My mom misses you though, and if you come over with me it’ll really help dilute the nagging.”
She grinned. “I feel bad, but I really want to finish this book today, and it’s due to the library soon…”
“Really, no problem.” I shifted in my seat. “I’ve been training all my life to make it through dinner with my family on my own.”
“What do you want to tell me?” Millie narrowed her eyes at me. “You’ve got something you’re hiding.”
“What?” I hedged. “Nothing.”
“Talk,” she demanded. “Men? Work? Which one is it?”
She broke through my resistance quickly, as only Millie could. We’d confided in each other for ages, everything from crushes to employment to parents. I was bursting to tell her about those alluring amber eyes and get her opinion.
Like the good listener she was, she waited until I’d dumped the entire story of the previous day on her, from my party and the close encounter with Ace to the annoyingly handsome detective and the spine-tingling shadow in the castle window. I started babbling at some point, just talking and talking, even though I wasn’t particularly chatty by nature.
She blinked. “You’re bored.”
“What?”
“You’ve never talked so much in your life,” she said. “You’re looking for trouble because you’ve been out of work, and now you’re bored out of your mind. Have you heard when you’ll be reassigned?”
“That’s not true.” I eyed my empty mug. “And no, I haven’t. Apparently mum’s the word over at MAGIC these days.”
“Here’s my advice: find something to occupy your time because right now, you’re looking for trouble again.”
“I never look for trouble!” I pouted, pretending she wasn’t correct in her assessment. “Trouble finds me. I’m just trying to help.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “Are you gonna see this Beck again?”
“Hopefully not.” I shrugged. “It didn’t go well the first time, and I’d prefer not to flirt with arrest.”
“Quite the contrary,” she said. “He’s got you mesmerized.”
“He’s the police. If I see him again, that means I’m in trouble.”
“Well, you’re good at getting into trouble.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way before.”
“What about Ace?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve had a crush on him for ages. He almost kissed you, and that wasn’t the number one story for your day, let alone the week. This is big.”
“Leave it alone,” I said. “I’m not focused on men, anyway. I need to find a job first.”
Her eyebrows crinkled. “Lily was a big win for you. I don’t understand why you haven’t been handed a promotion yet.”
I shrugged, remembering the highly classified call from my boss earlier this morning. “They’re not required to renew our contract or give us any notice. Right now, I’m a free bird.”
“Are you doing okay financially?”
“I keep a rainy day account for such things, so I’ve probably got about three months of comfortable living. If I get an assignment within that time, I’ll be good. If not…” I shrugged. “Then Harry the blowfish is going on a diet.”
“Apply at the library!” Millie practically floated out of her seat in excitement, and I had to put a hand on her shoulder and push her back into the seat before humans started staring. “We have our biggest seasonal sale coming up, and they’re looking for part-time employees over the next month and a half. It’ll be perfect!”
“I’m not the librarian type,” I said, wiggling my arm where the tattoos I’d gotten for my eighteenth birthday decorated my skin.
“Sure you are!” Millie grinned. “Book people are weird.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Millie laughed in her high-pitched sort of giggle that only someone as cute as her could pull off. I’d sound like a ditz if I laughed like that, so I refrained. “Come on, you’ll get to see me a lot. I can help you out since I already work there.”
Our food came then, and I promised to think about it. As I thought in silence, I realized that working at the library would be a good cover for my under-the-table assignment with Mr. Davis. It’d keep people from wondering how I spent my time, where my money came from, and why I wasn’t more frantic about the next assignment.
We lapsed into the silence, as per our longtime meal rule: eat first, talk later. By the time we were done and had topped our meal with dessert, Millie had convinced me to let her submit my application at the library. In turn, I’d come up with a good excuse for why Millie couldn’t show up at my parents’ house that afternoon.
“Happy birthday,” she said again as we hugged goodbye. “If you don’t have plans for tonight, stop by and we can watch a movie. Your choice.”
I grinned. “No documentaries?”
“No documentaries.” She winked. “However, I will not be offended if you ditch me for a date with the mesmerizing Detective Beck. In fact, if either of your men call, I insist you accept their invitations, and then meet me back here tomorrow so I can hear all about it.”
Waving goodbye, I took the bus back to my place. I had a job application in the pipeline, a man on the mind, and a cake waiting for me. Life wasn’t all bad.
Chapter 5
“You’re late!” My mother’s voice trilled through my Bluetooth. “Where are you, dear?”
“I’m one second away! Tell Dad to look out, I rode the broomstick today.” I adjusted the tiny bud in my ear and disconnected the call, crashing through my mother’s French doors exactly one second later.
Like the rest of the magical world, my parents had installed a broad set of Ghosted Glass doors on the third level of their home. I stuck the landing this time, balancing myself against the wall with a few quick steps as my father dodged out of the way. He must have been working on something attached to the landing pad, also known as the welcome mat, because the thing was in tatters.
“Hi there, pumpkin!” My dad looked up from a crouch on the ground, where he was already back to work examining the rug beneath my feet. He smiled at me, his round face splitting into a wide grin that pushed his cheeks outward like a chipmunk—or maybe it was the pair of goggles strapped to his head that had so much magnification on the lenses his eyeballs appeared to be the size of small planets. “Happy birthday!”
“Hey Dad, what are you doing?”
My dad shooed me off the rug, said something that sounded like poppycock, and returned to futzing with his project du jour.
“Can I help you with anything?”
He glanced up then, as if surprised I was still around. “Hi there, pumpkin,” he said again. “Happy birthday!”
“Thanks, Dad.” I reached out and pulled him into a hug. My father was a large man, broad shouldered and sturdy, even if the muscles he’d maintained in his younger prime had turned a bit softer, and the six-pack of abs had turned into more of a single pack.
As I squeezed him tight, an array of photos stared back at me from over his shoulder. This was the entryway to the house, a lofty attic meant solely for entering and exiting via flying, and my mother had gone to town on the walls with her decorations.
Photos from the distant past were nailed here and there and everywhere, interspersed with pictures snapped last week. Every person in our family—probably every person my mother had ever waved to—was represented on these four walls in one picture or another. The place was wallpapered with photos.