by Tegan Maher
We climbed into the SUV, and after we were buckled up and rolling, Sybil turned to Charity. What do you think, should we get the testing started?"
Charity nodded, and Eli and I glanced at each other like Christmas had come early. Luther, however, did not look as pleased.
Sybil put her finger to her lips and studied him for a few moments. "So, is it a be-nice curse?"
I'd studied up enough to know that one kicked in whenever you wanted to do or say something mean. Instead, you'd be forced to do something nice. There were also ones that worked in reverse, so if he had to be cursed, I was glad it wasn't with something like that.
Eli was all over it. "I'm gonna take your motorcycle out when we get back if you don't mind, Luther. Is that okay?"
Luther had a snazzy orange sportbike that was his pride and joy, so this would be a good test. "No, it's not okay. If you step within two feet of it, I'll break your knees."
"Woohoo, then," I said, warming to the game. "So not a nice spell. Maybe an opposites spell? No, because you would have had to say something nice when you just snapped at Eli."
Sybil turned around and looked at Charity, and understanding passed between them.
Charity turned to me. "Maybe it would be good for you to have dinner with James, Sage. I mean, he's settling into this—"
Luther interrupted her, his tone and expression manic but his words utterly agreeable. "She should for sure. She should give him a second chance because he's such a nice guy."
Somehow his look expressed that there were supposed to be a whole lot more expletives and derogatory nouns in that than what ended up making it in.
Sybil's lips curved into a wicked smile. "A jealousy curse. Oh, I'm almost positive I know who placed that curse, and she was a smart one. Pretty, too, and perfectly nice until you crossed her. Fortunately, I know she wouldn't have made it deadly, and I'm sure there's a kill switch. It won't take long to straighten you out."
"A kill switch?" Eli asked. "That doesn't sound good at all."
I nodded. "It actually is. It means she put something in there that would kill the curse."
Eli raised a brow and stared at Luther's clenched jaw. "If it involves mastering the lesson, I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to find another way around it."
Sybil flapped a hand. "Oh, there's no way he's gonna be able to inactivate it alone. He can't help himself. It's in his very nature to be that way, and to be honest, he does an admirable job of controlling himself most of the time, believe it or not."
"Not," I muttered. Then I started wondering why he was jealous of James and me on such a visceral level that it would actually activate a curse.
Sybil turned to me and shook her head. "Don't let it get in your head, sweetie. It just is what it is."
I sighed and decided to take her advice. After all, that seemed to be my entire life's motto at this point. The only way out of the craziness was to clean up my mess and move on.
And that's exactly what I intended to do.
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Other Books by Tegan Maher
Witches of Keyhole Lake Series
Witches of Keyhole Lake Shorts
CORI SLOANE WITCHY Werewolf Mysteries
Enchanted Coast Magical Mystery Series
Haunted Lodge Cozy Mysteries
Celestial Academy: The Witch Series
About Tegan
I was born and raised in the South and even hung my motorcycle helmet in Colorado for a few months. I've always had a touch of wanderlust and have never feared just packing up and going on new adventures, whether in real life or via the pages of a great book.
When I was a little girl, I didn't want to grow up to be a writer—I wanted to raise unicorns and be a superhero. When those gigs fell through, I chose the next best thing: creating my own magical lands filled with adventure, magic, humor, and romance.
I live in Florida with my two dogs. When I'm not writing or reading, I'm racing motorcycles or binge-watching anything magical on Netflix.
I'm eternally grateful for all the people who help make my life what is today - friends, readers, family. No woman is an island.
While you’re waiting on The Murderous Mirror, I invite you to try the first chapter of The Deadly Daiquiri, book 1 in my Enchanted Coast series!
THE DEADLY DAIQUIRI CHAPTER ONE
"Stan, what have I told you about bringing the Cupid's bow into the bar? And adjust your diaper. None of us want to see what's under that."
I heaved a sigh of exasperation. I loved my job, but sometimes I felt more like a babysitter at a daycare center than a cocktail waitress at a magical beach resort.
He scowled as he reached for his margarita. "It's a loincloth. And what do you want me to do—leave my bow and arrows in my room? They won't fit in the safe."
Cyri, the faerie sitting one table over, turned to look at him. "That's easy enough to fix," she said, adjusting her lavender ponytail. She dipped her finger into a waterproof pouch hanging from the pink lanyard around her neck, then sprinkled a small pinch of sparkling dust over the bow and quiver.
Stan watched in fascinated horror as the tool of his trade shrunk to a tenth of its size. "You can't just do that," he said, indignant. "What if I get called out to a job?"
She snorted. "That's like your fourth margarita. You're in no condition to fly, anyway. And I've only been with Aiden a few months. It would be a disaster if he accidentally knicked himself with one of those arrows on his way to the bathroom. I'm not ready for the whole L-word scenario."
I smiled as I walked away. Stan was in the middle of an existential crisis. His problem was that he was a romantic at heart, and his job wasn't just a job to him—it was his passion. Between the free-love movement and easy, DIY divorces, he was having a hard time believing he hadn't outlived his purpose.
So, he was on an extended vacation to find himself and decide whether or not he should retire. But just because I felt sorry for the guy didn't mean I could give him a pass on the bow. Can you imagine how the I love you, man phase of intoxication would work if a hammered cupid wanted to make the whole bar happy at closing time? Yeah, no love-laced arrows allowed.
I delivered the last drinks on my tray to a group of sunbathing selkies that were regulars, thinking how hot their seal-skin beach blankets must be. Before you get upset about animal cruelty, selkies are seals in the water but shed their skins to become human on land. The skins they were lying on were their own.
I couldn't blame them for keeping them secure though. Julius, their leader, had left his skin unattended at the bar when he'd gone to the bathroom a while back, and we’d had to lock down the whole resort for a couple of hours.
A beach attendant had mistakenly picked it up and thrown it into the laundry, and since I'd been the one to call for the lock-down and the one to find it, he'd granted me honorary membership in his pod. In short, when they came every few months, they requested me, and they always tipped generously. It was job security, but it made me feel good, too.
Angie, Julius's wife, passed the martinis down the row, taking a sip from the last one.
"Divine as always," she said, licking the vodka mustache off her upper lip. "Tell Bob he used just the right amount of anchovy juice."
I bit back a shudder at the phantom flavor and assured her I would
. As I picked my way through the tables back to the shade of the tiki bar, I picked up a few more drink orders along the way.
Plunking my tray down on the server's deck at the bar, I leaned over and rested my chin in my hand while I waited for Bob, the Bigfoot bartender, to finish telling a joke to a broody werewolf. I don't know why he bothered—the guy hadn't cracked a smile the whole week he'd been there. He'd eaten his weight in steak and was a fat tipper, though, so I guess Bob felt obligated.
The big lug tended to be a people-pleaser anyway, so the more somebody rejected his efforts, the harder he tried. That alone kinda made me want to crack the shifter with my tray for being such a buzzkill.
I shifted over a couple of feet and adjusted a fan so that it was blowing in my face. The heat was brutal, and there hadn't been a mermaid or water nymph around all day. I liked it when they came because it gave me an excuse to wade out to the water bar to wait on them—a definite plus when the thermometer pushed past ninety.
We also had a huge salt-chlorinated, zero-entry infinity pool that had a direct-connect to the ocean, so it was available to everybody. Unfortunately, it was closed for cleaning; a group of unicorns had their son's birthday party there the day before and ... kids were kids. So, no wading around the edges to deliver drinks. The fan would have to do.
Bob lumbered over to pick up my drink ticket. "Man, that guy's tough," he whispered. "I'm throwin' my best material at him, and nothin’. I can't get him to look away from that laptop.”
I tilted my head and examined the guy in question as he stared at the screen like it held the secrets to the universe. Good looking, as most werewolves were, but he lacked the lightheartedness that marked most of his kind.
"What's his deal, anyway?”
"No idea," Bob said, muddling mint and simple syrup for a mojito. "He's met with Cass a couple times, but that's it. And every time he has, his mood's seemed worse."
That wasn't an atypical response to dealing with our boss though, so it didn't add anything to the speculation. It would have been more unusual had he come away smiling.
Speaking of ...
"Maganti!" Somebody bellowed my last name from behind me.
Before turning, I pulled a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth, counting to five as I did.
My boss, Cassiel—otherwise known as the disgraced Angel of Temperance—was a blow-hard and an idiot. I wasn't sure who'd assigned him to be the figurehead of that particular virtue, but apparently, they hadn't been practicing it themselves when they'd made the call.
It had taken a few millennia, but he'd finally pushed his luck one too many times with the powers that be and was tossed out on his ear, much to the chagrin of everybody in the mortal realm, or at least those of us who lived on the Enchanted Coast. Managing the beach bar was his booby prize, and he lorded over it like the planet owed him a living.
As usual, he was already half in the bag, which meant he was gonna be even more horrid than he was when sober. He was the only downside to this job. Well, him and sand in awkward places, but the latter was an easy fix.
Bob finished making the last of my drinks and ambled the couple of steps back to me, a concerned expression on his heavy features as he set them down.
"Don't bait him, Destiny," he pleaded under his breath. "Just find out what he wants, do it, then ignore him. He's just looking for an excuse to can you. Again."
"He can try," I said, lifting a shoulder. He'd fired me the previous summer, for three weeks until word spread to my regulars. It seemed I had a following that had some pull with the higher-ups. Not only had I been reinstated, but I'd also gotten a raise. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well with Cassiel.
Still, I loved my job, and goodwill was a fickle beast. As a people person and a water witch who didn't want to live in the closet, the Enchanted Coast—a magical vacation resort on the Gulf of Mexico designed to meet the needs of paranormals—was the best of all worlds. So, in the interest of keeping the peace, I pivoted toward him, gritting my teeth and pasting on a smile.
"Yeah, Cass?" I said, putting everything I had into being pleasant.
Not even attempting to return the courtesy, he gestured toward the outside tables. "The place is a mess. That table needs to be bussed, and there are empty cups everywhere. And those fans are for guests only—not lazy waitresses."
I glanced around the area and ran my tongue over my teeth. "First," I said, still trying to maintain my fragile mask of civility, "that table is occupied. They're in the water. Second, there are exactly two empty cups, both of which just blew out of the trash can when you stormed by it and flexed your wings." I decided to let the fan comment drop. "But I'll get right on it."
I had no idea what the reason was for his animosity. He'd despised me from day one, even before he’d had to eat crow and hire me back. I could get along with the devil himself if he was willing to meet me halfway, but despite my efforts, Cass refused to play nice.
After a while, I'd given up. The only thing I could figure was I'd been offered his job before he was sentenced to it. I’d turned it down because I would have gotten paid less to do more after I added in my tips.
"And since you have time to stand around," he sneered, foul as always, "Go clean out the unicorn pen. People can see those rainbow turds from the hotel, and the cotton-candy smell is disgusting."
Bending over to pick up the cups, I muttered an anatomically impossible suggestion for what he could go do.
"What was that?" he asked, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me.
I heaved a sigh. As usual, I was gonna have to be the bigger person. "Nothin' Cass," I said, waving him off as I went for the shovel. "Just ... have another drink."
With one stroke of the ginormous ashen wings that marked him as a fallen angel, he was towering over me, swaying a little, the smell of old whiskey seeping from his pores. I straightened my spine as my magic surged. The last thing I was willing to do was to give in to a bully, even if he was an angel, and my boss to boot.
"Hey Cass," a centaur named Evan called from behind him, "cut her some slack. My drink hasn't gone empty all day, and she just finished busting her ass keeping a ten-top of gorgons happy. She's earned a minute in front of the fan."
Fiona, the leader of the gorgons he was referencing, exited the bathroom in time to hear Evan's comment, patting her turban to make sure all her snakes were safely tucked away. She glided over to me and handed me an extra fifty, assessing the situation as she did so. Cass was no stranger to her, nor was he a friend.
"Thanks, sweetie. You were a doll as always," she said, giving me a faint smile along with the bill.
She peered down her nose at Cass, her lip curled in disgust. "Bitter angel. Unless you'd like a peek at my girls, I suggest you be nice."
She was talking about the ones under her turban, not the ones under her bathing-suit wrap—you know, the ones that could turn him to stone. Fascinated as everybody else was with the exchange, they turned away just in case.
"That won't be necessary," he ground out, glaring at me.
"Pity," she said, flapping a hand. "The resort could use an angel statue and it would be my pleasure to donate one." She maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds, possibly hoping he'd give her a reason, then turned and strode away.
Cass turned to me as I picked up the cups and pointed an angry, albeit shaky, finger at me. "One of these days, I'm gonna find a reason to fire you for good."
My thin veneer of respect slipped, and I spun on him, my sense of fair play offended beyond reason. I hadn't done anything to deserve his attitude.
"Yeah," I said, shoving the cups down in the can with more force than was necessary, "and one of these days, my fairy godmother’s gonna grant my wish and you'll drop dead for good. But until one of those days arrives, I guess we're stuck with each other."
Mysteries Book 3)