Buzzz! Buzz! Buzzzz! Fae rammed the tender skin between Val’s fingers with what felt like a heated electric stinger that made his nerves scream.
“Oww!” He grabbed his hand. The coffee trickled down his sleeve. “That hurt. Why did you do that?”
Buzzzz.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want me to bring up the past.” Wow, what a grouch. “Don’t worry, it will never happen again.”
Buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Good God, either he had gone mad or else the annoying sounds the Fae made by flapping her wings were beginning to make sense. “You want me to pour more coffee into my palm, offer it to you?” Then wait for the pain when you decide to sting me again?
Buzz. Buzz.
He must be a sap. Tipping the cup over his hand, he carefully trickled more warm coffee into his palm and pushed his damp sleeve up his forearm. “Here you go. I’m doing this for Estele. I don’t want her to feel I’d be disrespectful to her or anyone close to her. I think she’s someone special.”
Fae swooped down and sipped the coffee from the edge of the puddle. Buzz.
“I’m glad you agree.” If he listened carefully, it was easy to understand the Fae’s message. The Fae language was as subtle and soft as the down on a baby duckling, and bloomed in the back of his mind like a surfacing thought. How had he missed it before? The Fae lighted on the base of his thumb, sipping coffee. “Can I ask you a question?”
Buzz.
“You know Estele, right? Do you think that under ordinary circumstances, i.e. not thrown together and forced to fight evil, that she would ever be attracted to a guy like me? I don’t mean to sound insecure. I’m just asking because she seems to have a real resistance to brujos. I’m hoping to get past it. But who knows. The trust might never be there.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzz.
“So, you’ve never seen her doing something ordinary like going to the market with a man and doing errands, like she did with me tonight?”
Buzz.
“You think she’s lonely? That’s pretty sad. A woman like Estele shouldn’t have to be alone.”
Buzzzz! Buzz buzz.
“I know. She told me about how her magic can sometimes be wayward, and I think she’s afraid to hurt others, but I see so much potential in her. She has magical skills I can only dream of. Estele’s amazing.” Maybe it was a mistake to open up to a Fae? Would he regret it? How vulnerable had he made himself sound? “Are you going to say anything to Estele about this?”
Buzzzzz.
You never know? That comment wasn’t very reassuring. He’d kept his promise and now it was time to get going. “Do you want to go back to your mitten?”
Buzz. Buzz.
“You want me to roll down the window so you can fly around the fairgrounds and do recon? Okay, I can do that. I’ll also leave the glove box open so you can go back inside when you’re finished.”
Buzzz.
“You’re welcome.”
Estele bit into the burrito Bruno had made for her and rolled her eyes with pleasure. The beans were tender but firm, the lime rice fragrant, the pork was perfectly seasoned and had the slightest hint of cinnamon, and the guacamole was spicy and rich. All the flavors were perfectly in balance. “Un-freaking-believable! I could eat one of these every day.”
Bruno bowed his head humbly but betrayed his satisfaction with the slightest smile. “My honor.”
“The alquimista de sabor crew are certainty into honor, aren’t you?” So what went wrong with her dear old dad? She’d love to know the story there.
“Sí. We are the middle ground between Old World knights, New World shamans, and chefs. We harness the power inherent in nature and turn it into alchemical spells to be consumed and expressed through emotions and behavior. It’s a potent combination of talents to juggle, and not for everyone.”
Should she even bring this up? It might not be wise to expose her deepest insecurities while standing on top of a building bubble of evil. “My father was a brujo, but of a different kind.”
Bruno’s eyes sparkled. “What was his predilection?”
She swallowed too much too fast. The salsa was killer good. “Uh?”
“What sort of magic did he practice?”
“To be honest, I don’t know.” How sad was that? She’d grown up thinking a brujo was a brujo and gave zero thought to any subtlety or distinctions among their ranks. In fact, the main lesson her mother had ingrained in her was to stay away from them.
Bruno chopped his way through a large pile of vegetables with the efficiency of a machine. “Your father never told you what his specialty was? Perhaps he was protecting you from malicious acts of rival sorcerers?”
Protecting her by abandoning her? That didn’t seem like a decent plan. Estele set her burrito down. This was one of the few subjects that could ever dim her usually robust appetite. “He left us—just disappeared one day.”
Bruno’s brows lifted. “Just disappeared?”
“Yep. He said he was going to the store and vanished. Not cool. It happened right here in San Buena. We had everybody looking for him, from the police to the enchantment community, but we never found a trace.” There was no need to add that everyone thought he’d left to escape her mother’s nagging.
“I’m so sorry to hear this.” Compassion shone in Bruno’s eyes that were the same uncanny golden-gray color as a coyote’s. “It must have been very hard growing up without him.”
It was. “A lot of people grow up without a dad.” Too bad her mother was a wreck too.
He set his knife down on the chopping block and focused solely on her. “It’s hard to be alone in the world. It affects you deeply and changes you in ways you can’t foresee.”
At least she wasn’t completely alone in the world. She had friends who forgave and indulged her. Grandma Lena had been a godsend. However, men and positive male role models had been lacking. She didn’t want to think about how that oversight had changed her, except thoughts of Val dominated her mind. It felt so good to be around him. She wanted to trust him, and having a partner to share a problem with instead of enduring it alone had been an eye-opener. Was that what others had all the time, a reliable partner to lean on when the going got rough? “Maybe I spend too much time alone?” She’d been doing it to spare others the effects of her wayward magic, which got even crazier in crowds or social situations.
“Being a person of exceptional powers and learning to balance alone time and social time is an art in itself. Personally, I am a loner. My calling as an alquimista de sabor claimed me early in life. I never married or had children, but my brother did. When I least expected it, my nephew came to me, wanting to learn my ways. At first I discouraged him and sent him away with the warning that the ways of a brujo would take him too far from society. I dreaded what my poor brother would say to me. But with time and persistence, Valentine proved to me that he was sincere in his desire to learn. He quickly became the best and most devoted apprentice I have ever seen. In a word, he is impeccable. Valentine is the son of my heart that I never knew I needed.”
Why was he telling her this?
He looked worried. “Sometimes the people you never asked for are the ones you need most.”
Why did she feel so nervous, like a flock of butterflies was about to take off in her belly? “Is there something wrong? I feel like I’m missing something in this conversation.”
“This is Valentine’s first flight as a full-fledged brujo. It’s like a graduation. I’ve taught him everything I know and must now bow to a master teacher to take him further.”
She picked up the last half of her burrito and bit in. Holy moly, were they waiting for some other weird character to show up and take this circus to another level? “Who’s the master teacher?”
A strange intensity glowed in Tio Bruno’s gaze. “You are. Valentine was given a mark to identify his ally—”
“I know about the ink-wizard’s tattoo.”
He picked up a cleaver and diced toma
toes. “Yes. Undeniably, the portrait of the ally is you.”
“I believe I’m Val’s ally.” That part was easy to swallow. She even liked saying it, for goodness sake. “Something between us clicks. But I think you’re absolutely mistaken about me being a master teacher! Seriously, I would laugh at that concept but it’s not funny. My magic has hurt people. For crying out loud, I’m on academic probation at the Master Mage Magic Academy and graduation is iffy, as in if ever. That’s not a recipe for being anyone’s master teacher.”
The pounding of the cleaver against the chopping block halted. Bruno glanced up. “Yet I’m convinced you’re Valentine’s master teacher.”
“Sir, I just made a solid argument for why that was highly unlikely.”
“Every fledgling brujo must pass the test of crisis. That is a given. Usually the tests are small-scale and personal in nature. Facing a deep-seated fear… mastering a skill set. But his first crisis call is in your hometown and involves far more than a personal test for Valentine—it is a trial on a colossal scale with the safety of thousands on the line. That cannot be coincidence. There is no room for failure. Fate does not toy with beginners in such a manner. Valentine will succeed or die trying. I strongly suspect you must be both his ally and master teacher.”
Licking a fleck of guacamole from her lips, she thought about all he had said. She mastered nothing except screwing up her magical spells. “We’re doomed.”
The door opened and Val entered the truck. He looked at Estele and smiled, then headed straight to the sink to wash his hands. “Parking Fairy got her coffee. We had a little chat and I think things are good between us.” He glanced around. “Where’s the captain?”
She popped the last bit of burrito into her mouth and moved toward the sink to wash her hands too. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a few minutes, but that’s normal. He comes and goes as he likes. Maybe he went looking for the ghosts of crewmates. I suppose some of them might be still hanging around?”
Val looked into her eyes. “What’s the plan, beautiful? I’m at your service.”
What was the plan? Was she really in charge of seeing to it that a massive bubble of malevolence was neutralized? She unzipped her purse just enough to place her hand inside and touch the Heart of Hecate. The ruby lit the moment her fingertips grazed the surface. What should they do first? What could they do at all? If the stone was going to offer clarity in a situation, now was the time to test it.
To her surprise, a complete thought rushed into her mind with the same violent force as a vacuum filling space. “Umm. We should try to reach out to the carnies. Look at those guys. They were working like automatons last night and they’re still on the job. They have to be close to exhaustion. Let’s offer them some enchanted coffee and food and see if we can’t break the spell they seem to be under and get a few of them to talk. Maybe somebody knows something about Luther?”
Bruno interrupted. “Who is Luther?”
“What is Luther is more like it.” Val poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “He’s a big guy, like cattle-sized big. I’m not completely convinced Luther is human. Something’s not right, and he seems to be intimidating the owner of the carnival, Marge, aka Madame Shamansky, the all-seeing eye of destiny. Her title is ironic because she parked her carnival on top of a bubble of malevolence. You’d think a professional psychic would have seen that coming.”
Estele turned to Bruno. “We think Luther might be exerting undue influence over the carnival and its crew. Last night, they all seemed to be under some sort of thrall. They were like glassy-eyed zombies brandishing power tools and forklifts. It was creepy as hell. Except for an obnoxious clown, no one acknowledged us or even blinked. I suspect heavy-duty magic at work.”
She honed in on Bruno. He seemed to be hanging on her every word. How novel was that? “We have to find a way to break the spell. You have the most experience as an alquimista de sabor. I’m going to put you in charge of spellcasting on the food. What are the lowest levels of enchantment we can use to cast a counterspell and still get results? These people have already been exposed to a lot of enchantment, and we need to avoid delivering what might be a toxic dose.”
Bruno appeared uneasy. “As an alquimista de sabor, there are strict protocols I must follow. I cannot offer someone bewitched food or drink without also providing them with a clue the item is indeed enchanted. Over the centuries, brujos have earned an unfortunate reputation for being tricksters, but that reputation is unjust. An example is the words ‘Brujo Tacos’ clearly displayed on the sides of my food truck. Anyone approaching my truck is alerted to the possibility that the food has been prepared and likely ensorcelled by brujos.”
Estele shook her head. How could she say this without it coming out all wrong? There really wasn’t a way. “Dude, that’s just a super sneaky loophole. I can guarantee you that no one thinks real brujos are driving around in taco trucks handing out enchanted food. How about we include a verbal warning: ‘Enjoy your coffee, it’s enchanting.’ Or ‘This salsa will cast a spell on you.’ That way we’re covered in case we get called before San Buena’s enchantment community’s ethics committee, which for the record, I’ve been called in front of before.” She shrugged. “Mistakes happen. I didn’t mean to do it.”
Bruno stared at Estele with the same conflicted intensity as a dog would stare at a burger patty that fell off the grill. “This is an emergency and the public is in grave danger. I will accept that solution.”
“Terrific!” Estele held up her palm and waited to be high-fived. Bruno appeared deep in thought and did not respond. After an awkward moment of nothing happening, she lowered her hand. “Okay, I guess we just jump in. Start with the coffee. Brew a lot. At this hour, it should be easy to push a free cup of joe on a work crew that may not have had any liquid or food in hours. Let’s start there.”
Val was quick to open and fill the top of a large, catering-sized coffeemaker with fresh grounds.
She watched Val’s every move as he added a bit of chicory and a cinnamon stick to the coffee. “How much does that hold?”
“Five gallons, but there’s a lot of people out there.”
Her gaze ricocheted between Val and Bruno. “Do you know what sort of spell you’re going to cast?”
Bruno stopped chopping vegetables long enough to give her a worried look. “What do you suggest?”
Estele’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I’m going to delegate that decision. You’re the food wizards, for crying out loud. Those carnies out there are behaving like army ants. It’s obvious the men have lost their free will and higher thought functioning. What would give it back to them? Think.”
With a brooding expression, Bruno rubbed his jaw in thought. “Sometimes simple things can be disruptive to magic. For instance, a spell cast at night can often be destroyed or diluted by sunlight.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I’ve heard that.” The comment reminded her to call Fredi as soon as their plan was underway. “What else works?”
“Sometimes a spell-breaker can be paired with a physical action,” Val added.
“What sort of physical action?”
“A shock to the nervous system.” Val fiddled with the monster coffeemaker, closed the top, and hit a glowing green button. “Like an unexpected shove or a slap on the face. Physical contact disrupts the flow of the spell and gives the victim of enchantment a chance to sober up.”
Slapping? Seriously? They were going to turn the fairgrounds into a Three Stooges spectacle. “So, we’re going to encourage people who are behaving like glassy-eyed members of an insect hive to sip hot coffee and then slap their faces? I see no way this can go wrong. Let’s do it.” She peered out the truck’s window. “Hopefully, we won’t have to do much slapping. The sun is rising. Pretty soon we’ll have spell-cleansing sunlight in the arsenal as well.” She reached for her phone. “While the two of you are busy enchanting—”
“Ensorcelling,” Bruno gently corrected Estele. “Brujos are s
orcerers. We prefer the term ‘ensorcelling’ to ‘enchanting.’ Enchantment is for witches.”
Enchantment certainly wasn’t just for witches. Was Bruno subtly trying to distance himself from witches, namely Esposito witches, by splitting hairs? “By my reckoning, enchantment is for everyone in the supernatural community. If you have reservations about working with me or any other witch, you should say so now.”
Val’s answer came lightning fast. “Estele, I have no reservations about joining forces with you.”
Bruno didn’t look so sure. “You’re so young and have no real experience as a team leader. Your family history—” He heaved a deep breath. “—does cast doubt in my mind, but I will respect you because fate has indicated you are our best hope.”
Damn. It hurt to hear it, but could she blame him? “To be honest, I feel the same way. I understand completely. I have doubts too. Ask Val how I reacted to the news that I was an ally and the one to battle whatever it is that’s threating to erupt under our feet.”
Shaking his head, Val frowned. “Tio Bruno, Estele was so humble and self-deprecating. I don’t believe she’d make a claim she couldn’t deliver on. She’s my ally in this mission and I’ve seen firsthand how powerful she is. As mere brujo food wizards, we can’t come close to what she can achieve.”
Wow, Val was really standing up for her. It felt great until she realized how shitty it would feel if she let him down.
Bruno’s pale eyes flashed. “Power and wisdom don’t always travel together. We are vulnerable precisely because she’s so powerful and so inexperienced. Evil might snatch her up as easily as a crocodile grabs a paddling dog from a pond.”
Eww. That was an ugly image. “You’re 100 percent right,” she said. “Even I don’t trust me. I have no idea why”—dare she mention the Heart of Hecate? No—“people started trusting me yesterday with valuable stuff, or why they sought me out believing I was their ally, but they did. Yesterday was a very eventful day. Today, I find myself in charge of loads of crazy stuff. Am I going to run from it and say, ‘Not me, I can’t handle this?’ No. I’m going to be a grown-up and figure this puzzle out one piece at a time.”
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