by Lauren Quick
“It’s a peach but in a small bite-sized delivery. Like a peach married a berry. It won’t bite back. I promise.” His eyes twinkled.
A hybrid.
Clover popped the berry into her mouth to an explosion of flavor—sweet, delicate, and lush. She groaned while chewing, causing the wizard’s face to light up. After swallowing, she asked, “How long have you worked at Sugar Snap? I’ve never seen you before.”
“This is my first season with them. I came on to help with new products like the peach berry and others. I’m Pete,” he said with an affable grin.
Pete, she thought, remembering the name she’d heard last night. So this was Gwen’s new wizard—her savior. Clover had to admit he was charming.
His warm and casual demeanor was infectious. He worked the crowd, showing off the new fruit and chatting up the customers. As a salesman and spokesperson for the farm, he was doing a great job. “Have another sample if you want.”
“How about I buy some,” Clover said, handing him a gold coin and scooping up a basket of peach berries to take back to her house.
“Help yourself. Don’t hesitate to ask any more questions.”
“How did you grow these? A bush or a tree?”
“Neither. We used a new vine technique that’s been in development for years and recently got approved by the counsel of magical growers.”
“Really? Sounds interesting. That must use a lot of experimental magic like hybrid conjuring, growth spells, really advanced stuff.” Clover tossed out a few phrases to gauge his reaction.
He arched his brow, either impressed or suspicious, she couldn’t tell. “I’d like to think we’re on the cutting edge. Many growers underestimate the potential of spellcraft farming, but not the Winters.”
“I always thought of Gwen and Grady as old-fashioned country farmers. I never knew they were into this kind of magical growing.” Talk about weird science. But still she had to admit the final product was delicious, and if approved by the grower’s council, he might have a point and a lucrative product.
“They’re changing with the times. Gotta keep up or get left behind.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from the Meadowlands.”
“No, I’m stationed in Stargazer City, but I travel a lot for work.”
Interesting? Wonder who he really works for?
“Are you working on additional fruits?” Clover asked.
“This is just the beginning. Gwen has big plans for the farm and I intend to support her the whole way. She’s a real star.” His face glowed with admiration.
Clover decided to push her questioning. “What happens when one of the products doesn’t turn out?” She rolled a berry around in her hand. “They can’t all turn out this wonderful. Any unexpected mishaps on the farm?”
The kind that destroys the soil or backfires?
“Risks are part of success. Like I always say, in farming you have to get your hands a little dirty.” He cocked his eyebrow at her and then shifted his tone, lowering his voice, “There was that watermelon meltdown. Don’t ever try to marry a watermelon and a blueberry, no matter how sound the spellcraft. They just don’t play well together.” He casually brushed a lock of hair out of his warm brown eyes, oozing charm.
Clover took another tactic. “Where are the Winters? Are they in town today? I’d love to catch up with them.”
“Grady’s back at the farm. It’s a busy day, but Gwen is around somewhere. I can tell her you stopped by if you like.”
“Sure, tell her Clover Mayhem wanted to say hello.”
Recognition flashed in his eyes, and a pile of peach berries spilled across the table, but the expression on his face remained calm, if not for a little twinkle of calculation in his eyes. “Really nice to meet you, Ms. Mayhem. I’ve heard a lot about you and your party.” His voice deepened. “Terrible news about your neighbor. You must be devastated. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to meet him.”
“It was a tragedy. We’re all dealing with the grief in our own way.” Something about the last part of his comment didn’t ring true. “I must say I thought for sure you’d met Oliver. I heard the Winters were interested in his land.” The statement flew from her mouth before she could stop herself, revealing information she shouldn’t have known.
His brow creased. “I don’t know anything about that. Won’t you excuse me? Seems I have a mess to clean up.”
Clover made her way through the crowd and wandered the market. Her stomach lurched. There was something strange about Pete that she couldn’t put her finger on. He was both charming and a little conniving, or maybe he was just a salesman pushing new hybrid fruit. Was he the nice wizard or was he the opportunist? She couldn’t tell.
But what she could tell was that the peach berry was a huge hit. Why would the Winters be so stressed out with such a good product? She could see why they would want more farming area with such a hit. But maybe that was the problem. The success of the berry put more pressure on them to expand and produce more products. But was a cute fuzzy berry really a motive for murder? She’d have to find out.
On her way to visit the law offices, Clover took a little detour and stopped into one of her favorite shops, The Charmery, but she wasn’t there to gossip with owner, Lavender Blue. She was there to shop for some magic.
Since Clover was notoriously misplacing her wand and forgetting spells, she liked to wear her magic in the form of charms. She browsed the long displays of charms that Lavender had masterfully created in all shapes and sizes and metal types. Not only did she make the vessel to hold the magic, but she also consulted with clients on the magical spell encased in the metal. Most of the charms were jewelry pieces worn on necklaces, bracelets, or as rings.
Clover pulled up her sleeve and shook a silver charm bracelet down to her wrist. It was woefully empty. She hadn’t restocked it in months, but after everything that was going on, she’d decided it was time to get some backup spells to have on the ready just in case she needed some instant magic.
She leaned over her a glass case and admired a silver snowflake.
“That would be the perfect charm for a freezing spell,” Lavender said and tapped her thick finger on the counter.
“I’ll take it,” Clover said, unhooking her bracelet and laying the snaky silver on the counter.
“That looks pathetically empty. What are we going to do about that?” Lavender wiggled her eyebrows.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to buy some charms.”
“Good little witch. You should really be prepared after what happened. Everyone’s a little spooked.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Clover always felt safer with a loaded charm bracelet at the ready.
“What else would you like?” Lavender asked, pulling the snowflake charm out of the case.
“I’m thinking about a few wards and stunning spells to go with that one. How about a few lightning bolt charms for the stunning spells and the sun charm for the wards? Easy to remember that way.” And easy to activate in an emergency.
“Good choice. Do you want to enchant the charm yourself or would you like the charms preloaded?”
“Preloaded.”
By preloading the charms with magic all Clover had to do was snap them off her bracelet and utter the one-word activation spell when she wanted to use them. She could load the magic herself, but Lavender was the charm expert and her spells were always powerful and rarely, if ever, backfired.
“I’ll have them ready in a jiff. Give me a few minutes,” she said and headed for the back room to do her magic.
Clover drummed her fingers with nervous anticipation on the glass case while she waited. Next stop—the will reading.
9
Before Clover had left Nocturnes, Arnica had been kind enough to write down the name and add
ress of Oliver Yearling’s lawyer. Clover fingered the wrinkled piece of parchment. The law office was located down a thin cobblestone street a few blocks east of Main Street. She tucked the peach berries into her tote bag and walked as fast as she could before she lost her nerve.
The metal sign hanging over the door read: Wilford Rutherford, Esq.
A tiny bell rang overhead as Clover pushed the door open and stepped inside the office. She was faced with a crowded hallway, packed with at least a couple dozen witches and wizards. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It wouldn’t surprise Clover if the whole town showed up to gawk.
“One moment, one moment,” muttered a bedraggled witch with a large black key clutched in her wrinkled hand as she pushed through the crowd to unlock a door. Her voice was shrill, piercing the noisy crowd. “If you’re here for the reading of Wizard Oliver Yearling’s will, please take a seat in the conference room. If you’re not here for the reading, please go away. Wizard Rutherford will be in shortly.” She unlocked the door and steered clear of the thundering herd of witches jostling and shoving their way inside.
Luckily Clover was able to maneuver into the conference room filled with chairs and found a seat on the far side of the room, giving her a panoramic view of the other attendees.
Besides a few neighbors and witches and wizards she’d seen around town, Clover hardly recognized anyone. Crystal Crown, a reporter from Witch World Daily, was sitting front and center, a reed pen in her hand, balanced over a pad of parchment. Within hours the story would hit the paper. Moments later, Gwen Winters appeared in the doorway and exchanged a few curt words with Austin, but he brushed her aside, apparently not wanting to speak with her.
Austin attended the reading with the frizzy blonde witch who’d greeted mourners yesterday on his arm. He wore a dull black suit. His face was drawn, tired, and he sat stiffly in a seat in the front row without looking around the room. A public reading of such a private matter had to be torture for him. Normally, Clover would sympathize, but then she remembered Oliver’s sad, cold corpse resting in her yard and her sympathy drained away. But still, why would a private wizard like Oliver stage such a public reading? His relationship with his son was getting more interesting by the minute.
Right as the door to the conference room was about to shut, a thin hand darted in and grabbed the door. In walked Juniper and Sheriff Gardner. Clover’s stomach fluttered as she imagined what they were thinking. They both scanned the crowd for suspects, mentally taking notes, she imagined. Making his way to the far side of the room, the sheriff nodded to Clover and Juniper smiled at her politely, before taking up positions like sentries.
Wearing a formal black robe, Wizard Rutherford entered the room at a quick clip, a roll of parchment and black box tucked under his arm. He was a short wizard with a hunch in his back and a ring of gray hair rimmed his bald head. Thick black glasses covered the majority of his small, round face. He took a seat behind a table at the front of the room and pulled out his wand.
“Let’s get to it, shall we? I am both honored and saddened to proceed over the reading of the late Wizard Oliver Yearling’s last will and testament that I have before me.” He patted the parchment roll. “He was a good wizard—hard-working and ambitious. We met as young wizards at Haven Academy and remained friends and associates until his unfortunate passing. He came to me numerous times over the course of our acquaintance for professional guidance on estate management and for drafting the will.”
The crowd grew restless—feet scuffing, neck craning, throat clearing. Most wanted him to get on with it and read the will.
“I find these proceeding difficult, but I assure you the will I read today is the latest and most current will created by the deceased.” His knuckles were white, hands suddenly clenching the parchment roll for dear life.
“Latest!” Austin barked, jerking up in his chair. “What do you mean latest will?” His entire body tensed. “When exactly was this will issued?”
“One month ago to the day.” The lawyer remained stone-faced.
“You’re saying it’s a new will!” Austin leapt to his feet. “I’d like to see the documents for myself.” He grabbed for the parchment, but Rutherford was too quick and kept them close. Gasps filled the room, followed by low mumblings.
With cat-like grace and speed, Sheriff Gardener stepped between Austin and the desk, using his shoulder and arm to push the angry wizard back. “Take a seat, sir. I realize this is a terrible shock for you, but let the wizard do his job.”
A look of bewilderment on his face, Austin pushed back against the sheriff, who admirably held his ground against the shocked and irritated wizard. Surrendering from a futile fight with the sheriff, Austin regained his composure. His irk turned back to the lawyer. “How could this have happened without my knowing? Why was I not informed?”
Wilford gave Austin a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry, but this will was your father’s wishes. His motives are entirely his own. I have no idea why he wouldn’t tell you about it. As his legal council and the executor of his estate, I’m here to verify its authenticity and read the will. Its contents were entirely up to your father.”
The statement seemed to pacify him. With an annoyed glance around the room, Austin smoothed his jacket and reluctantly took his seat. “Carry on then. Enlighten us on whatever my father has decided.”
“Actually, I won’t be doing the reading myself.” He unrolled the parchment and tapped the paper with his wand. A spell glided from his lips and the page began to tremble. A ribbon of black ink peeled up from the document and glided on the air like the string of a kite blowing in the wind. The floating ink strung together, creating a sentence in the air for everyone to read. Goosebumps raced over Clover’s arms as the magical spell leapt to life.
Someone in the room blurted out, “It’s an illusionist document.”
The lawyer glanced up with an impish grin. “Yes, it is. One moment, please. We must have quiet.”
An illusionist document was a spell that brought a formal document to life. As the words began to spool out in front of them, a voice began speaking the sentences. Seconds later Clover realized the voice belonged to Oliver Yearling. He was reading his own will aloud. A shiver went up her spine. But the reading got even creepier when a thin veil of smoke formed and Oliver’s faint image appeared above the parchment as if he were right there in the room with them, haunting them with his presence.
The crowd gasped and chattered. Austin’s spine stiffened. Scanning the room for trouble, the sheriff, who had casually moved to the side, also tensed. Wilford waved his wand and the spellcraft stopped Oliver in mid-sentence. “I realize it’s unusual, but completely legal and perfectly safe. I’m sorry for the additional shock. The illusionist documents have a way of surprising people.”
Clover tried to study Austin’s reaction. Seeing his father’s image and hearing his voice again so soon after his death had to be a shock. Her view of him was less than ideal, but she noticed his jaw tense, and his companion whisper in his ear.
The crowd quieted, and Wilford tapped the parchment to resume the enchantment.
Oliver Yearling’s image spoke. “To my devoted son, Austin Yearling. Words cannot convey my love and gratitude for having such a wonderful son. I am forever proud of you and your accomplishments. I leave you my house, a quarter acre surrounding it, and all of its possessions.”
Whispers rose again and Wilford hushed the shocked crowd for the second time. Clover swallowed hard. The house was only a miniscule portion of the huge property and though receiving the house was a generous inheritance, it was obviously not the bulk of the senior wizard’s landholdings, not to mention the gold that Oliver must possess. It appeared that Austin had been cut out, but for whom?
Oliver Yearling didn’t make them wait and answered the question as if on cue. “I am leaving the land, my beloved
labyrinth, and rest of my fortune to the love of my life, a witch who has brought me great happiness over the years. A joy mere possessions cannot repay.”
The room was stunned into complete silence. Joy and love were not concepts freely associated with grumpy Oliver. The will made sense now. Clover’s cantankerous neighbor had a secret lover all this time. And Clover had a good idea she knew who it was.
Austin was slowly coming to grips. “This is impossible! Love of his life?! My mother died years ago, and I assure you that she was the love of his life,” Austin blurted. His companion tried to console him, but he brushed her aside. Clover’s gaze shot to Gwen Winter, but if the witch was shocked or amazed, her expression didn’t show it. If Austin didn’t get the land, there went their chance of getting a deal with him.
Wilford cleared his throat. “Please be patient and hold all questions and concerns until the will has been read in its entirety.” His nerves must have been getting to him because he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow before reengaging the spell.
The spell continued. “I will not name her publicly, but she knows who she is, and if she chooses to come forward to claim the inheritance, she will have proof of our relationship to verify the claim. My dearest love, my divine witchling, the choice is up to you.”
Witchling was a word used to describe a very young witch, usually under the age of twenty, or as a term of endearment. Clover hoped Oliver was using it as the latter.
Oliver’s image faded—the illusion gone silent, the ink returning to the page as magically as it had appeared. The room buzzed with shock and excitement.
“This is impossible!” Jumping to his feet, Austin braced both hands on the table. “What is he talking about? Who is this mysterious witch?”
“I’m sorry to say this, but your father claims he was madly and deeply in love. Unfortunately he refused to tell me her name in respect for the witch’s privacy. But I can assure you these are his wishes.”