Long Isle Iced Tea (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 4)

by Gina LaManna

“Leave Peter for me to handle.”

  “Why?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “How do you know he’s not doing this for attention?”

  “Doing what? Kidnapping himself?”

  One of his shoulders raised in agreement. “You have to admit, it’s getting eyes on his article. People know his name today, and he’s finally been right—for once.”

  “He wouldn’t do all of this for attention.”

  “And you know him well enough to swear on it? Look, Lily,” Ranger X continued quickly. “You see the good in everyone, and I love that about you. But sometimes it’s not the good you need to be looking for.”

  “Of course it is! I’m skeptical, too, but there was something different this time. Peter was really upset last night.”

  “Or a great actor.”

  “He wasn’t acting!”

  “Just let me and my team investigate, please? Don’t put yourself in the middle.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “At least promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I nodded, recognizing this as an olive branch. “I’ll do my best. You do the same.”

  “Agreed. Then, tonight, we’ll meet. You’ll not stay alone until things are safe.”

  “That doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”

  “I’m hoping it’s not hard to convince you,” he said, a question hinting around his statement. “I won’t comment if you look into Peter’s disappearance, but you can’t fight me on this.”

  I extended a hand, waiting for his to join mine. “Deal.”

  When X was finished getting ready, we headed back downstairs, and he left for HQ. As I took stock of the storeroom in the light of day, it hit me that Gus hadn’t yet arrived. Usually, he’d grab the paper, sparing me from the humiliation of being spotted in my pajamas. A tickle in my spine had me wondering if things were worse than I’d thought at Mimsey’s.

  Before I had the chance to worry more, a sound from the front door had my shoulders at ease. “Gus,” I said, turning. “You’ll never believe what happened this morn—”

  However, it wasn’t the grumpy old man I’d expected standing in the doorway. Instead there stood a small, petite woman with eyes full of uncertainty. Zin.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured, holding a duffel bag as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I’d like to take you up on your offer. Do you mind if I stay here for a while?”

  Chapter 23

  “I REALLY CAN’T HAVE more,” I said, waving Zin off as she attempted to pour me another Caffeine Cup. “This would be number six for the day.”

  “Ah, you were up early with X?”

  I nodded, filling Zin in on the morning events—the paparazzi attack, Peter’s disappearance, the scare last night.

  She frowned. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that yourself. If I’d been here, maybe—”

  “It worked out fine. It’s unusual to see a storm like that on The Isle, and I suppose it freaked me out. I’m sure last night was nothing more than a strong wind.”

  “No, Lily, I mean it.” Zin’s hair framed her face, the dark strands making her pale skin stand out further. “I was being stubborn and stupid, and I’m really sorry.”

  “Forget about it.”

  “No! It’s not okay. Ever since I found out I was a Shiftling, I’ve been feeling...I don’t know how to describe it. Off.”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t know—just different.” Zin looked up from her mug and found me there. “It’s a combination of things. Part of me thinks I don’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Another part of me feels this huge pressure. Like I am expected to be something extraordinary because of my Uniqueness, and I’m just not.”

  “You are.”

  “That’s what I mean! People keep telling me that, but I didn’t do anything to become a Shiftling! It’s like being born with...I don’t know, two different colored eyes. Red hair. Long legs. I can’t help it. I don’t feel any different, and I don’t act any different. Except maybe stupider.”

  “You’re not acting stupid, Zin, you’re readjusting to a huge piece of information. It’s a big thing, whether it feels like it or not.”

  “The pressure, though, to do amazing things—”

  “Stop! When I said you’re extraordinary, it had nothing to do with being a Shiftling.”

  Zin’s eyelashes fluttered. “But that’s the only thing that sets me apart from anyone else.”

  “That’s so entirely false. I thought you were great from the day I first met you.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course!” I smiled at her and waited until she smiled back. “You’re amazing because you work harder than anyone I know. The determination you have...” I shook my head. “If I had half of it, I’d be the best Mixologist this island has ever seen.”

  “Lily—”

  I raised a hand. “Zin, you changed a decade old society, the Ranger Program, to include women. Do you know how big that is?”

  “It wasn’t easy, I guess.”

  “No, and the best part? There was no magic involved. You were worried if you even had a Uniqueness.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing! Generations of witches and wizards and shifters and all sorts of paranormal folk have come before you, and never once has a woman made it to the ranks of the Rangers. They still wouldn’t if you hadn’t broken through the barrier.”

  “Yes, but—”

  I halted her with a raised hand. “That’s why you’re incredible, and that’s why people admire you. So what you’re a Shiftling? You’re still the same Zin we know and love. Sassy and dark and brooding and badass.”

  “I’m not that sassy.”

  “You can be,” I said with a wink. “But that’s not the point. The point is that being a Shiftling shouldn’t change anything except to add another tool to your toolbelt. You’re already a Ranger, so use it to your advantage to help others.”

  “You’re the Mixologist,” Zin said, hesitation in her gaze. “You have even more pressure than me. How do you deal with it?”

  “That’s the thing.” I gave a dark laugh. “I’m not special, either. People seem to think I am, but I’ve been born into this role—I don’t feel as if I’ve earned it.”

  “But you are still learning. You’re new to this, and—”

  “And so are you?” I offered her a small smile. “I don’t always deal with the pressure well, Zin. “Sometimes I cry, and sometimes I lean on Ranger X, and sometimes I count on you and Poppy. So, I guess there’s your answer: I don’t do it alone.”

  Zin shook her head and pushed her cup away. “I feel so embarrassed. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you for help.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s already forgotten.”

  “I just... on one hand, I wanted my independence so badly that I forgot—” Zin stopped abruptly. She blinked, then blinked again. She’d never cried before in front of me, and it seemed she wasn’t happy about the threat of tears now. “I forgot that I was lucky to have you all. And now, it’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late!”

  “Poppy’s gone! Still missing!”

  I bit my lip. “Then, let’s find her.”

  “How do we start?”

  “We still don’t know that she didn’t run away. You know as well as I do that learning something new about yourself can be hard.”

  “You learned about a whole new life of magic and witches and Mixology—”

  “—and you learned of your Shiftling nature. Even X is learning new things,” I said. “And Hettie. We all do it, and we all process it differently. Poppy might be sorting through things on her own.”

  “I think we need to assume something has happened.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if she’s off licking her wounds, she’ll be back. But if not, we’re wasting time.”

  “You think this might be linked to the other island disa
ppearances?”

  Zin tilted her head to the side. “It’s hard to say. She doesn’t fit the bill, but it’s possible.”

  “Mimsey thought so, too,” I said, and filled her in on the full story. By the time I finished, Zin’s face was even paler than before. I pushed the newspaper toward her. “We’ve got five disappearances now including Peter.”

  “Six if you count Poppy.”

  “Peter thinks they’re all linked,” I said. “Which means we should start from the beginning.”

  “Hello, Jonathon,” Zin said, looking at the photo from the first person to go missing. “Let’s hear your story.”

  Chapter 24

  JONATHON’S STORY BEGAN at a large house that looked more like a southern plantation on the mainland than it did an island beach home. Tall white columns held up a sturdy roof while a manicured front lawn sloped toward the grandiose front doors.

  Zin shot me a look as we approached the outside gates. “We didn’t come around this area much as kids.”

  “Where are we?”

  “This is a small colony for politicians, some of the island’s business people, islanders like that. I’m guessing our friend’s parents have something to do with MAGIC, Inc.”

  “Really?”

  “There aren’t that many companies for magical folks that pay real well. And typically, paranormals don’t care about money all that much.”

  We approached the door cautiously, Zin sniffing around for protective spells and alarms while I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. An older gentleman answered, and I gave him a polite smile.

  “Are you Jonathon’s father?”

  “Oh, no. Mr. Pritchett is not available at the moment.”

  “Um, is his wife?”

  “No.”

  “Charles, is that my masseuse?” a voice called from behind. “If so, tell him he’s late, and I won’t stand for—” The woman belonging to the voice stopped talking abruptly as she appeared in the door behind Charles. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lily,” I said, “and this is my cousin, Zinnia.”

  “And what do you want?” The woman had severe gray hair and a long stick between her fingers that looked like an elegant cigarette. A fur thing was draped around her shoulders as she lounged against the doorframe.

  “Well, we came to talk to you and your husband—”

  “My husband is busy.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said. “Maybe you have a second? It’s about your son.”

  “Henry?”

  “No, uh... Jonathon,” I said, forcing myself not to look surprised. “You have another son?”

  She’d looked mildly disinterested the second I mentioned Jonathon’s name. “Of course I have another son. My eldest, who runs the Hex department for MAGIC.”

  “And Jonathon?”

  “What about him?” She looked unperturbed at the mention of his name, and I had to wonder if she even knew he was missing. “Is he in some sort of trouble?”

  “No, well, I hope not. Have you seen him lately?”

  Mrs. Pritchett frowned, her eyebrows bending inward as she calculated. “Oh, yes. Maybe on his birthday? No, that can’t be right. We were vacationing in the Caribbean then. Has it been over a year? My, how fast time flies.”

  “Over a year!” Zin gaped at her. “How has it been a year since you’ve seen your son when he lives on your property? He does live here, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, but unlike Jonathon, I keep very busy, as does my husband.”

  “And you haven’t seen him in a year.”

  “I don’t feel the need to keep tabs on him,” Mrs. Pritchett said, a haughty tilt to her chin. “He’s an adult and can handle himself. He lives on our property, but it’s his own space.”

  “Of course.” I jumped in before Zin’s grumbles outweighed everything else. “But surely you’ve heard the news that he’s missing?”

  “Missing?” She turned the word over a few times. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

  “He’s been gone for well over a month,” Zin said. “Even the Rangers are looking into it.”

  “Like I said, he’s an adult, and—”

  “An adult who is your son and missing,” Zin repeated. “You haven’t noticed?”

  “Who did you say you are again?” Mrs. Pritchett snapped. “Coming here, asking me questions about my personal family business. It’s as if you think you’re—”

  Charles leaned over, repeating the words into his employer’s ear. “Zinnia and Lily. Lily Locke.”

  I hadn’t given him my last name, which meant he must have recognized me. At first, the names clearly meant nothing to Mrs. Pritchett. Then, with a slow realization, she turned to face me.

  “Lily Locke?” she murmured, just barely above a whisper. “The Mixologist?”

  “Yep,” Zin said. “The Mixologist.”

  I didn’t have time to agree before Mrs. Pritchett turned, gesturing for us to follow her into an extravagant living room. The couches looked like artwork, and the art looked like pieces of ancient history.

  Charles poured three sweating glasses of cool water, handing the dainty pieces of glassware to the three of us on a silver platter.

  “Sit,” Mrs. Pritchett said. “And tell me why you’re here.”

  I sat, but Zin continued to prowl around the edges of the couches. Mrs. Pritchett mostly ignored her as I began to speak.

  “We’re looking into some of the disappearances happening on The Isle. Have you read anything about them?”

  “Of course. I’m a liaison between MAGIC, Inc. and the warlock association of France.”

  “That’s a mouthful of a title,” Zin said. “What does that have to do with the kidnappings?”

  “I am current on all society events. What I’m not current on is why you believe Jonathon might be involved.” She picked up a photo of her son. It wasn’t Jonathon. “I can understand why someone might be after my Henry. Look at the dear boy’s face. Who can resist it?”

  “Did Jonathon play in some sort of underground game community?”

  Mrs. Pritchett dismissed the idea with an extended sigh. “Don’t be silly. He shied away from any sort of social interaction.”

  “There are rumors about him being some sort of brilliant game strategist,” I said. “You haven’t seen anyone coming and going, anyone who might have more information about your son?”

  “They’re just rumors. Jonathon’s only interest was doing the exact opposite of what we asked of him. Lounging around free of rent instead of pursuing a successful career like our Henry.”

  For the duration of our stay at the Pritchett’s, we were bombarded by ‘my Henry’ this and ‘my Henry’ that. Mrs. Pritchett had an entire photo album dedicated to Henry, and she showed us every picture in it.

  “Do you think she remembered we asked about Jonathon?” Zin mumbled after we’d said our goodbyes and begged a quick departure. “She couldn’t stop talking about Henry.”

  “No wonder Jonathon wasn’t on great terms with his mother,” I agreed. “She pretends the poor guy doesn’t exist.”

  “Golden boy and ugly duckling.”

  “It’s sad. I can see how he might be a target for the SINGLES program. His mother hasn’t even noticed he’s been gone.”

  “I’d call him a prime candidate,” Zin said grimly. “If we hadn’t had other disappearances on the island, I’m not sure anyone would’ve noticed him missing.”

  “Do you think he has friends in this gaming community?”

  “I would imagine, but how do we find them?”

  I stopped as we turned onto the main path winding its way up the east side of The Isle. “Do we know who reported him missing? Obviously, somebody noticed.”

  “And it certainly wasn’t her,” Zin said with a nod toward the house. “I bet X would have that information.”

  “Let’s visit the rest of our list, and then swing by HQ and ask him.”

  We reviewed our list, looking for Drew, the second person t
o go missing. Unlike Jonathon, however, this man didn’t have any family to speak of. If Peter’s research was to be believed, Drew might have a tie to Jonathon via their gaming community. Other than that, however, he was a dead end.

  “Who reported Drew missing?” Zin looked up. “Someone had to notice these people were gone. Who?”

  “Let’s finish up here first. We have Manuel’s fiancé, Sophie, to visit, and then Magdalena’s family. After that it’s...”

  “Poppy,” Zin murmured. “And Peter.”

  “We don’t know Poppy’s missing. Does she have any friends or acquaintances, maybe on the mainland, that she might’ve gone to visit?”

  “Poppy’s never been to the mainland. Everyone she knows is here.”

  “The Isle is a big place. People, creatures, have stayed hidden here for years.”

  “You think Poppy’s hiding out in The Forest?” Zin raised her eyebrows. “She calls me to kill spiders.”

  I cocked my head to the side, trying to think of some other logical explanation. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “Let’s find Sophie.”

  “She’s not far. Her address lists her right near Main Street.”

  I glanced in the direction we needed to go. “Any chance you want to take the scenic route?”

  “Who are you trying to avoid?”

  I squinted. “Harpin.”

  “Any particular reason why?” she repeated.

  “Do I need one? He’s a jerk.”

  “Fine.” Zin raised her hands. “Scenic route it is.”

  The scenic route took us on a pretty little path along the river that split the east and west halves of the island. Flowers bloomed along the edges, and sunlight filtered through wispy clouds and bounced off our shoulders. If we weren’t on the hunt for missing islanders, it would’ve been an altogether pleasant stroll.

  We found Sophie sitting outside a small house on her makeshift front porch. She lived on the northeast side of the island, halfway between Midge’s B&B and Sea Salt eatery.

  The young woman sat on her front porch, staring out at a gorgeous view of the lake, rocking back and forth in a creaky old chair.

  “Who are you?” she asked tiredly as we climbed the front steps. “And what do you need?”