by Gina LaManna
“What were you doing tonight?” he asked, his fingers brushing against my wrist as he stopped walking. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I told you, visiting a friend.”
“You can’t mean the gargoyle.”
“His name is George,” I deadpanned. There was no other way to explain the situation, even if I’d wanted to. “I like being alone there at night. Nobody else knows about it.”
He nodded, his gaze softening. “It’s a nice place to think.”
“It is,” I agreed with a smile, grateful he didn’t push further. I tried not to look into his eyes, but it was too difficult. I liked him already, and that couldn’t be good. He was a human, and I was a witch—two things that didn’t go great together.
“If you ever do want a friend to talk to—a real, live person—I’m here.” He smiled a genuine smile. “I promise I won’t talk much, but I would buy you a drink.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” I twirled and walked away from him, stalling for time. “Very forward of you, Detective Beck.”
“Ainsley…” he called after me, and at first I thought he wanted to press me for an answer on his drink offer. But, when I turned around, his gaze was serious. “Stay away from your thinking spot for a while.”
“May I ask why?”
His expression darkened. “I was there for a reason tonight, believe it or not, and it wasn’t because I was spying on you.”
“Darn.”
“I’m looking for someone, and I’ve heard he frequents the building you were at tonight. Big guy, lots of tattoos, dark hair. You didn’t see him by chance, did you?”
My mind raced. That’s a description of Ace, I thought before clearing my throat and shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m glad. He’s dangerous, so I’m warning you to stay away from there. I can’t tell you more, but I hope you’ll trust me on this.”
I managed a nod and muttered a goodbye before trundling the rest of the way home. Beck waited on the street, so I offered a wave as I pushed through the gate of my apartment complex. He still didn’t move, not until I unlocked the main doors and slipped out of sight into the hallway.
One last glance out the window showed him retreating in the same direction that’d brought us here. I watched for one second longer until he turned the corner, and then I continued down the hallway toward my door, unlocked it, and immediately collapsed against the other side, sliding to the floor with my head in my hands, too exhausted to move one step farther.
Sometime later, I managed a shower. I polished off the Pop-Tarts in my cupboard and then climbed in bed, sending my dad a quick text message asking if he could drop off my broomstick in the morning. When my eyes wouldn’t close, I poured a glass of wine and turned on The Bachelor. After three episodes and a heart-to-heart with Harry the blowfish, I finally eased into sleep.
Chapter 13
“One o’clock today, got it? Don’t be late!” Millie’s soft voice streamed through the phone, pulling me from my wine and Pop-Tart induced dreams. “I worked really hard to get you this interview, okay? It’s in the magical section of the library. Look nice, please!”
I rubbed a hand across my eyes and thanked Millie, hanging up the phone and then nearly passing out in fright at the sight of my reflection. My makeup was smudged, my hair was a disaster, and somehow, the drool mark on my pillow looked like the state of Wyoming. Apparently it’d been a rough night of sleep.
Leaping out of bed, I raced back to the shower and began scrubbing. I washed my face until it was raw, and then moved on to my hair, telling myself over and over again that all this primping was for my interview at the library, and not for the off chance I’d run into Beck again—or Ace, for that matter.
By the time I’d finished my getting-ready process, I’d fixed the colorful ends of my hair into a messy bun low against my neck, hiding most of the color. I could’ve dyed the purple back to black with a spell, but too much Hair Hexing really did a number on my split ends.
Slipping into a black pencil skirt and a white blouse, I looked in the mirror and thought maybe—just maybe—I could pull off this librarian thing. Next, I dug through my desk until I found an old pair of sunglasses. I popped the lenses out, stuck the frames on my nose, and voila. Librarian transformation complete.
Doing one final spin in the mirror, I declared myself librarian material. There was only one problem.
My interview was at one in the afternoon, and it was only ten in the morning.
I debated having breakfast, but since my shirt was white and I didn’t dare risk staining it with food or drink, I passed. A text message and a missed call from my dad caught my eye; he’d dropped my broomstick in the janitor’s closet inside my apartment building.
I grinned, hopped down the stairs, and retrieved my broomstick from where my dad had magicked his way past two locked doors. My fingers itched with excitement as soon as skin touched wood—I wanted to fly again, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take one more spin by the mansion. I still had no idea how I’d get inside the place, but it was possible that just by being there I’d get the epiphany I needed.
So, I grabbed my broomstick, added a Frizzing Freeze charm to my hair, and then took off muttering an Invisibility Incantation as I sailed through the French doors of my apartment.
I made it to the castle in a short, uneventful trip across the skies. Staying high, I dipped just below the clouds to remain on course. With an interview approaching, I couldn’t start anything too risky.
I landed in a patch of trees a block or two away from the gates to the mansion, tucking the broomstick between the trees and muttering a quick Camouflage Charm that made the broomstick blend right into the tree, as if it were one of the gnarly branches.
“Good job,” I said fondly, patting my broomstick. “I’ll be right back.”
Sauntering through the street, I did my best to blend in with the other businessmen and women out for lunchtime strolls, making my way toward the front gates. Peering through the sturdy bars, I soaked up the sprawling expanse of lawn that led up to a small moat that was built for looks rather than function, judging by its small size and lack of alligators.
Beyond the moat, the real beauty of the grounds began. Rosebushes, lilacs, trees full of apples, lemons, pears, and all sorts of fruits that should never bloom in Minnesota grew to epic proportions. Wreaths of flowers hung from trellises while paths wound around dainty fountains and quaint ponds brimming with goldfish.
Magic lived here, there was no doubt about it. Though I hadn’t initially detected it the night of the crime, it’d been there the second I’d inched too close to the roof, too close to the secrets locked inside.
I rested my fingers against the gate, surprised that none of the other lunchtime walkers had stopped to admire the beauty. I supposed they were all used to it by now.
“I’m buzzing you in right now,” the intercom crackled. “Hurry up, you’re late.”
I jumped back, clasping a hand over my heart. “What?”
The voice roared louder. “Yes, I’m looking at you. Come in already! He won’t wait for you much longer.”
I took a deep breath as the gates began to swing open. “Me? But—”
“Yes, for the interview. You’re here for the housekeeper position, aren’t you?”
Glancing down at my librarian outfit, it slowly dawned on me that I could pass for a maid. Then it hit me that the housekeeper at the Frost King’s mansion had just disappeared, according to Detective Beck.
Putting two and two together, I reacted on instinct. “Yes, of course,” I said, hurrying through the gates before the voice realized I was a fraud. “Sorry I’m late.”
I forced one high-heeled foot in front of the other as I carried myself forward, doing my best to look like a housekeeper. I’d never been able to afford a housekeeper at my own apartment and neither had my parents, so I had no clue if I was doing a good job of it. I briefly panicked, wondering if the Frost
King expected me to be a human. Crap, I thought. He’d be able to sense my powers. Unless he’s looking for a witch?
Too late now, I thought, finding the front door open a crack. I pulled it farther open and called out a soft hello before stepping one foot into the hallway. I called out again, but there was still no answer. I took a step farther into the hallway. “Hello, it’s me…uh, Miss…um…I’m here for the interview.”
I turned around, the words ringing in the empty hallway. Then, with a jarring slam, the front door swung shut. Next, the lock clicked with the finality of a closing coffin.
The same garbled voice greeted me from down the hallway. “Do come in, we’ve been expecting you.”
Chapter 14
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I rounded the corner of the front entrance and took careful steps forward, each one sinking an inch into plush carpeting. From my position just inside the front door, I couldn’t see much of the castle, but what I could see was incredible.
Traces of the Frost Clan’s heritage gleamed from every surface, starting with an ice sculpture situated in the entryway. The icicles were made to look like shooting stars, leaping from the base of the fountain. Rows of glittering white lights dangled from every doorway.
Raising my hand, I touched the tip of one. Sharp, and cold. Very, very cold. If I wasn’t mistaken, they were made from real ice.
A few more steps took me from the shooting stars display into a dim hallway that led to a dead end. Only one room sat along this hallway, tucked into a corner of the estate that likely wasn’t meant for the Frost family, as it was neither decorated nor welcoming. In fact, it reminded me of a dentist’s lobby.
The door was open. “Hello,” I said. “It’s…” I trailed off again, realizing I didn’t know my supposed name. “It’s me,” I finished. “I applied for the housekeeper position.”
“Ah, yes, come in.” A harried man stood behind his desk and waved me into the room. “You’re late.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I got lost.”
He swore under his breath, shuffling through papers on his desk as if I wasn’t even there. I took the moment to study him, thinking he looked like a bedraggled fashion student. His forehead was pinched with worry as he unearthed a sheet of paper, scribbled some numbers onto it, and frowned. Then he sat back down behind his desk and closed his eyes.
I folded my hands in front of my body and glanced around the office, wondering if he’d forgotten all about me. After a minute of silence, I decided to check on him and leaned closer. Still breathing—thank goodness for small miracles.
Hair the color of sand swooped across his head, the cut neither long nor short, but stylish. Our outfits nearly matched. Like me, he wore black pants and a buttoned-up white shirt, except his pants were tighter than my pencil skirt, and his shirt was a brighter shade of white than mine. Also, his glasses were real, while mine lacked lenses.
“I can wait outside if you’re busy,” I said. “I’m great at waiting.”
“Sit down,” he said sharply, rapping his knuckles against the desk. “You read the rules and requirements I sent over for this position?”
He gestured to a stack of papers on his desk that was several inches high, the cover page reading in big, block letters: Rules and Requirements for Housekeeper Position.
I nodded. “Of course I did. What sort of idiot wouldn’t?”
He raised his eyebrows, as if I should’ve been surprised by the requirements. Tugging at the sky-blue bow tie around his neck, he pushed the stack to the side and adjusted the only colorful article of clothing on his body. “And everything there is satisfactory to you?”
I nodded again. “Of course.”
“Because I’m only asking once. That includes payment method, terms of the contract, wages, and hours. You don’t want to negotiate any terms?”
I found myself a bit concerned about what terms I was accepting on behalf of the new housekeeper. Surely it wasn’t a good sign if even the boss was suggesting I negotiate. So, I sat up straighter and prepared to sound smart. Unfortunately, sounding smart came out in the form of an English accent, and a bad one at that. “Well, sir—” I stopped abruptly and cleared my throat. “Sorry, I’m not British. I don’t know why I did that.”
“The terms.”
“I’m just nervous,” I explained in regular American English. “Look, I want the job. The terms and conditions gave me pause, but I’m willing to give them a try. Maybe we can add a clause that says you and I can revisit the terms and conditions in ninety days.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “Seven days. You’ll know within a week if this is working for you.”
“Even better. Let’s get these details ironed out as soon as possible.”
Turning his thick glasses on me one more time, he gave me a final, scrutinizing look. “I’ll ask you a few questions now. However, I’ve already checked with all of your references, and they seem to line up with what we are looking for, so this is more of a formality. Sound good?”
“Go ahead,” I said, wildly relieved that the actual housekeeper had excellent references. I really needed to send her a thank you card. “Ask away. I’m an open book.”
He asked for an hour.
After lying my way through a multitude of questions about my experience dusting, organizing, and cooking, I finally sighed, realizing I needed to get to the library for my real interview. “I thought you’d checked with my referrals and learned I was capable of keeping house? Is there anything else…” I squinted at the nameplate on the desk. “Mr. Raymond? If not, I’d like to get started.”
“The contract states you’ll start tomorrow,” he said. “You have one night after accepting the job to say your goodbyes and retrieve your things. One bag should be enough. We’ll supply most of the necessities here. You did read it all, didn’t you? I stressed the importance of the contract, of reading it cover to cover.”
“Of course I did,” I said, shushing him in the most motherly tone of voice I could muster while trying not to freak out on the inside. “I just want to take a quick look around and get my bearings, figure out what to pack, that sort of thing.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Until the contract goes live, I can’t allow you to see all parts of the estate.”
“Then I’ll see the parts you’ll allow me,” I said. “I have an hour before I need to leave.”
Glancing over my forehead at the doorway, he sighed. “Fine, a quick walkthrough, but that’s it. If the Frost King sees you here, he won’t be happy.”
I bowed my head, my mind reeling with the information. Then, there’d been the small detail that Mr. Raymond had not once asked about magical abilities, which had me wondering if they expected the housekeeper to be a human. Either that, or they knew I was magical and had assumed it so thoroughly they didn’t bother to ask.
The dilemma had me wondering why, if the housekeeper had been a witch, did she call the human police in a time of crisis? Most magical folks veered away from human law enforcement if possible. Had she been so thoroughly spooked she wanted help from any means possible? Or had she perhaps been too afraid to go through magical channels?
Whatever the answer, I couldn’t sign that contract. A contract with a hint of magic was a bear to undo, and I had no doubt Dimitrius would ice his paperwork with a network of tricky charms.
“Is that all for today?” I asked. “I assume we’ll sign on the dotted line after seven days once we’ve reviewed the terms and conditions.”
“Fine,” he said. “Though your access will be limited to the main rooms and your living quarters for the time being.”
I blanched at the words living quarters. I should have figured it out when he’d said pack a bag, but the reality of what I’d done was just starting to hit me. I had to scope out the castle and get out of here before things got worse. “Thank you. Now, will you walk me through, or may I walk on my own?”
Mr. Raymond looked at his paperwork with
a longing expression.
“I don’t need a guided tour,” I said. “I can see you’re busy. I’ll let myself out in a few minutes.”
“I’d see you out, but I’m swamped,” he said. “I’ll give you a map. Other staff members and guards will be walking around, so don’t get any ideas about pulling a funny stunt.”
“I’d never,” I said, lying through my teeth and hoping he didn’t notice.
He spun around in his chair, pulled out a form from behind the desk, then bent over it and scribbled furiously with a highlighter. His elbow moved at lightning pace, and by the time he handed me the document, it was color-coded with more shades than the rainbow. “This is a map of the estate, all the rooms, halls, etc. The key is on the bottom to match the colors with their meaning.”
I scanned the map and read in my head.
Blue—clean once a week
Green—dust daily
Yellow—organize daily
Brown—needs deep clean
Orange—off limits until Friday
Red—off limits permanently
“So, you’d like me to clean this room.” I pointed to a large room color coded fire-engine red. “Am I reading this right?”
He gave me a livid stare, a small cloud of smoke gathering above his head.
“It was a joke,” I said quickly. “It’s off limits. I can read.”
Slowly, the very slight halo of steam faded from around Mr. Raymond’s hair. The man was most certainly magical, and he was a wizard with anger issues. Humans assumed the phrase steam coming out of the ears was a joke, but really, didn’t most rumors have their roots in reality?
“Okay then, I’ll be going now.” I turned quickly away and vanished down the hallway before Mr. Raymond took away my privileges to roam free. Little did he know, I had no plans to stick around until Friday. In other news, I owed the real housekeeper a cake—a very, very big cake—for any inconvenience.
Looking down at the page, I noticed a name across the top. Guide for Lilah Mayflower had been scribbled in the margins. “Lilah,” I whispered, trying the name on for size. “Lilah Mayflower, at your service.”