Charms & Clouds

by Emilia Spring

  “I think so,” I said, looking around the shop. I was struggling to bite back a yawn.

  “And you’re reopening the shop?” Diane’s eyes followed the path mine had.

  I nodded. “Primary focus on aquatics,” I said. “The little hamster and gerbils went to live at the elementary school.”

  Diane smiled. “That was nice.”

  I nodded, not sure what else to say. I wasn't going to give a rundown of how Gianna was doing to anybody who asked. The poor kid had been through enough.

  “What about you?” I asked, feeling a bit uneasy.

  Diane looked at me, her eyebrows raised.

  “How are you doing?” I clarified.

  “Good,” Diane said. “We’ve been a bit busy, obviously, since Clara died.” She made a face.

  I thought of her words. We got more creative. Diane had said they were friends. “Are you going to her funeral?” Had Diane been tripped up, caught in a lie? Or was it something else? Maybe she had joined in with the heckling to fit in.

  Diane nodded. “Clara and I went back a long way.”

  “I can't imagine how much you’ve had to deal with.” I winced at my wording, but I couldn’t take it back.

  Diane looked distracted. “The human world's been shook, too.” She shook her head. “Stabbings.” She looked troubled. “Who would stab someone twelve times?”

  I remembered Riley had mentioned something about them, and nodded sympathetically. “World’s going to madness.”

  She smiled at me. “If you need anything,” she said, “Please feel free to reach out to me and ask.”

  Tentatively, I had someone on my side. Diane had been nice to me since I’d arrived. I reached out and shook her hand when she offered. “Thank you,” I said, and the words were genuine.

  I didn't plan to do anything of the sort, because the last thing I wanted to do was invite more people to fuss over Gianna. But it was nice that she’d offered. Of all the council members, she was the friendliest.

  Well, scratch that. Marguerite very clearly had a soft spot for Gianna. Just not for me.

  “Have a good day,” Diane said, a smile on her face.

  I watched her leave, heading towards the door so I could see her getting in a small seat Corvette and driving off. Obviously, she did something that made money. Did the Witch’s Council give their members a salary? Where did that money come from? Were there magic taxes?

  It was that sort of stuff that I found baffling. Nobody wrote those in the rulebook. Or in fiction.

  I rocked back and forth on my heels for a few seconds, considering.

  “Marguerite can take care of herself,” Theodore informed me.

  “I know.” I turned to look at him. He had swum to the front of his tank and was staring at me, something akin to concern on his face. But if she hadn't told us about the threats, what did that mean?

  “You're worrying over somebody who doesn't need it.” He sounded mildly aggravated. Jealousy?

  I turned to look at him, fixing him with a look. “As opposed to you, who needs to be worried about?”

  He looked affronted. “My lunch is late by 20 minutes.”

  I glanced at the clock. Of course he was right. “Fine,” I said, heading to the freezer to get him his meal. “You live in a tank, getting catered to. Your life is not that tragic.”

  He sniffed. “I’m constantly abandoned to my lonesome with only feathered fools for company.”

  Craig screeched out a squawk, and even Apple made an offended noise.

  Theodore threw a not-at-all intimidating look in their direction as best he could. “You can't understand, human.”

  “I have a name,” I pointed out.

  “Human fits you better.”

  I looked at him, holding the small cup with his meal just above the top of the tank.

  He sighed, apparently realizing I wasn't going to give in. “Natalie, may I please have my lunch?”

  “Yes you may.” I smiled at him, as cheesily as I could, then gently poured his lunch in. Theodore glared at me some more, and then went to eat. I headed out of Glass Oceans, locking it behind me. I wanted to go to the main house. I didn't know who was going to be around this time of day – it was pretty early, and I knew at least one of the aunts liked to sleep in – but I wanted to ask about the threats and find out more.

  If Marguerite hadn't told anybody, well, that wasn't really that strange. Marguerite very much liked to take care of herself. But it worried me.

  My mind spun over everything as I drove. So much had happened in such a short time. That sort of defined my time in the town. Avery and I were hosting a mock practical for Sam later, based on the information Clementine had given us. I was quite curious to see what the exam would look like. I mean, I definitely had to go witness it. I wasn't going to miss the dinner.

  Yeah, yeah, I was going there to support her. The food was just a really tasty secondary benefit. I pulled up in front of the main house, not surprised to see only two cars there. I knew Sam and Avery had their own cars, even if I couldn’t exactly keep track of which one they were. I knew enough to know their cars weren’t in the driveway, which meant they were somewhere else.

  I mean, they didn’t live at the main house. Just nearby. That was something I would have to figure out later, but for now I was grateful to have my own space. Even if I did share with the ghost. Oh, and a preteen witch who could sense ghosts. I went up to the front door, unlocking it and pushing it open. “I'm here,” I called out.

  “We can sense you,” Clementine said, popping her head out of the kitchen and giving me a baffled look. “You really don’t have to announce yourself.” She had bits of flour everywhere, even in her eyebrows.

  “Do you make anything that doesn't include flour?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “This is sugar,” she said. “No wonder you can't cook.”

  I huffed in her general direction, then headed towards the living room, hoping to find a more sympathetic audience. Aspen was sitting on the couch, watching some baking show.

  “Clementine’s cranky,” Aspen said absently. She looked at me with those bright blue eyes of hers. “What do you want to know?”

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it. How did she know that I was here for something?

  “You don't normally come here in the middle of the day,” Aspen said. “Instead, you’re normally at the shop.” She paused, seemingly thinking. “You also didn't dawdle to talk to Clementine long, instead going to find somebody else. You wouldn’t be looking for Sam or Avery, because you could contact them. So, consequently, you're here to ask one of us a question.” She went and paused her show, and then leaned back to look at me.

  For someone who seemed spacey, she paid a whole lot of attention. It took me a few seconds to reboot my brain.

  She reached up grabbed some of her long silver-white hair and started plaiting it. It was apparently what she liked to do with her hands when she needed to. “Sit.” She nodded to the couch.

  I sank onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other, then uncrossing them, nerves making me jittery. It wasn’t Aspen that made me nervous - I was starting to like her, even though I didn't really know that much about her. Curiosity won out. “Can you really see time?”

  She smiled. “When needed, I can see the past, present, and future.”

  My hands twisted in my lap. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Isn't that hard?”

  She inclined her head. “It does take quite a toll,” she agreed. “I've gone a bit mad, I'm afraid.” There was a smile on her face, which indicated that she didn't seem bothered by that at all.

  I wasn't really surprised. The truly mad people didn't seem to be too upset by their madness.

  “How did you do that thing in the warehouse?” I asked, asking a question I hadn’t been brave enough to ask before.

  Aspen smiled. “That was easy,” she told me. I looked at her. At this point, easy and magic didn't seem to go hand-in-hand.


  “I didn't have to dredge up the past on its own,” Aspen explained. “I was able to access her memories.”

  I tried to hide inching a tiny bit further away.

  Aspen smiled at me, reassuring. “Don't worry,” she said. “I never access memories without a good reason. It’s quite rude.”

  I mean, that was putting it politely. If she could get into somebody’s head, and read everything – there was nothing to hide from her.

  Aspen studied me in silence for a few seconds, then reached and started playing her program again, quieter this time. “What did you come here to ask?” Her voice was gentle and not judgmental. There was something kind to her, mad or not.

  “Somebody mentioned today that there were threats against Marguerite?” I glanced at her show out of the corner of my eye.

  Understanding dawned on Aspen's face. “Yes, we've been alerted to their presence.” Her eyes were curious. “Who told you?”

  “Diane, from the Council.”

  Aspen looked thoughtful. “She's not bad.”

  I shrugged. Of the council members I’d met, she was my favorite. If I had to pick one, which I didn’t.

  “Is Marguerite worried about them at all?” I wished I had a bracelet or something on my wrist to play with, even if it meant I risked doing something insane with whatever was in it.

  Aspen looked at me, half a grin on her face. “She's not worried about anything. If you hadn't noticed, Clementine is a bit on edge.”

  Based on the sugar comment, I agreed. “What’s she doing in the kitchen?”

  “She stress bakes.” Aspen looked quite pleased. “We’re going to be stocked with enough sweets and goodies to keep the fridge and freezer happy for the next two weeks.”

  I stared at her.

  “You're free to take as many home as you'd like,” Aspen said sincerely. “She makes a ridiculous amount. The downside about living with a kitchen witch. It’s hard not to eat everything in sight.”

  Why didn’t I move in? The food was freaking delicious.

  But then again, I really did value having my own place. Or as much of my own place as it was with the audience that came with it.

  “Was there anything else?” Aspen asked, smiling at me.

  “Not really,” I said. “Do you know where Sam is?” Avery was her daughter, but I had a feeling that Aspen kept an eye on everybody. I wasn’t particularly looking for her, but it gave me a convenient excuse to leave before her gaze burned a hole in my arm.

  Aspen smiled. “She’s just returning from the soup kitchen,” she said politely. “In fact, I'm pretty sure I can hear her car outside.”

  I heard the sound of a door slamming. From this distance I couldn’t tell who it was. How could Aspen? “Thanks.”

  Aspen waved a hand at me, turning back towards the TV. “Not a problem.”

  I darted out of the main house, skipping saying goodbye to Clementine in case she was still cranky. I met Sam near the front door, and grabbed her hand and dragged her back towards Ruth. Half-exhausted and half-annoyed, she let me. “You’ll make me late,” Sam muttered.

  “Clementine’s stress baking,” I said with a shrug.

  Sam groaned. “There's going to be so many dishes. Shoot me now.”

  I blinked at her. “There's no super special kitchen magic technique to do the dishes?”

  Sam’s expression didn’t give me much hope. “Turn on water, put soap on, scrub scrub scrub, done.” She sighed. “Most of our aunts don't like dishwashers.”

  No wonder they were all mad.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked, taking a closer look at me.

  I sighed. “Did you hear about the threats against Marguerite?”

  Sam frowned. I felt a flicker of satisfaction that I hadn’t been the only one kept out of the loop. “No,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Where did you hear about them?”

  “Diane from the Council came and told me. Then Clementine confirmed it.” I glanced back inside. “She’s in a mood.”

  “She’s always in a mood,” Sam muttered. She ran a hand through her frazzled hair, causing bits of it to stick up. “I've been so sidetracked with this exam.” She sighed. “Can we practice later tonight?”

  “Of course,” I said. “We’re doing that mock exam for you tomorrow, remember?”

  “Oh, that.” Sam sighed. Had she forgotten? I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  She exhaled, and then wrapped me in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into my ear before she let go and headed into the main house.

  “Huh.” That was probably the least drama-filled I had ever seen her. I was glad to see she took her exam seriously, at least. Although it did scare me more about my exams; if they got melodramatic Sam so out of sorts, what would they do to me?

  I glanced at the clock on the front of my phone. There was just enough time to stop at the police station and talk to Riley before I made it to Gianna’s school. It was difficult, having to juggle the investigation, taking care of Glass Oceans, taking care of Gianna, and attempting to not burn my house down by accident. But it was worth it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I parked at the police station, pleased to see Riley's police car sitting out in front of it. And by police station, I meant the magical version of it, which was this sort of unassuming brick building that I would have sworn that Riley lived in. She was always there.

  I pushed open the door and smiled at Melody at the front desk. Melody narrowed her eyes at me, so I pulled out my secret weapon – a cinnamon roll I had snuck from the main house before actually leaving. Melody’s eyes widened.

  “Clementine’s stressed,” I told her.

  Her eyes lit up. “Excellent,” she said, as if Clementine’s distress was the best thing to happen to her all week.

  To be fair, given the quality of the baked goods I'd eaten, she really wasn't that far off.

  With her permission, I headed back past the ‘employees only’ door. I couldn’t get into any of the interrogation rooms or anything, but I didn't really care. Instead I headed straight for Riley's office. I might have had the location memorized. Maybe.

  I poked my head in her door, surprised to see she wasn’t there. Still, there was no better place to wait, and I wasn’t going to go through anything most likely. I did have that much respect for her. Instead I sank into her chair, wincing at how it creaked. It was one of those fancy rolling desk chairs, it was supposed to be comfortable.

  No wonder she was cranky and tired, if this was what she was forced to work in.

  I picked my feet up and decided to test whether or not the chair could spin completely in place without knocking anything down. It did, but it also hurt my back.

  “What are you doing?” Riley asked, her hand on her door frame.

  “Your chair sucks.” I stopped the chair facing the desk and raised my eyebrows in her direction.

  She sighed. “I know. The key word there is mine.” She gave me the same look. “Can I have it back?”

  “I don’t know, can you?” I snarked.

  “That wasn’t even funny.” Riley shook her head, but she was grinning as she watched me get up and sink into the chair on the other side of her desk.

  “You know it was.” I leaned back in the chair, rejoicing in the fact that even the wooden monstrosity was more comfortable than her rolling thing.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, in the humoring tone of voice that she used for me. Well, for me when I was being trouble. Which was always, in her opinion.

  “Threats against Marguerite,” I said. I watched her as she sank into her chair, saw her wince as she settled. That was going to do a lot of damage to her back.

  She rolled her eyes. “I don't handle those.”

  I was not impressed. “You may not handle them, but you certainly know about them.”

  Riley turned on her computer, tapping at her keyboard and not looking at me. Then she looked at me over the screen. “You're not gonna leave me alone until I tell you, are you
?”

  “Nope.”

  “What did I do to get stuck with your family?” Riley muttered.

  “You were very, very good in your previous life?”

  “I doubt that.” Riley didn't look impressed, but I could see a hint of a grin pulling up at the corner of her lips.

  I sat there, patient. She would crack eventually.

  With a groan she pulled up whatever she needed to. “Generic paper threats, and we think they’re specific to her but depending on the perpetrator’s agenda, could include the Council. That's why everybody's been notified.” She looked at me. “Marguerite's gotten worse before.”

  I looked at her, slightly baffled. “Before?”

  She raised an eyebrow. ““People with her cheerful demeanor do occasionally make enemies,” she said as dryly as she could.

  That was one way to put it.

  Riley leaned back in her awful chair. That had to hurt her back, and I winced sympathetically.

  “You need anything else?” she asked, looking weary.

  “You need a vacation,” I said bluntly. I think in my couple months in Pine Lake I had only seen her not look like that twice.

  “I'm the main magical liaison. Do you think I really get a vacation?” She seemed amused.

  “Isn't that, like, in your contract or something?” I was fairly certain that the government got cranky if people were denied vacations.

  “Oh yes,” Riley said dryly. “The government is very up-to-date with magical issues.”

  I gave her that point. “If you hear anything more, or find anything out, let me know, please?”

  Riley looked like she wanted to say no, but then her defenses crumbled. “Fine.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don't let it get around that I like you.”

  My grin turned almost evil.

  She groaned, her head falling into her hand. “Go. Just go.” She shooed me away.

  I cackled, heading out the door.

  I went to pick Gianna up from the glassblower’s the next day, since she’d decided to go there with Avery. She seemed a bit closer with Avery than she did with Sam, but Gianna liked to help, and liked to learn. It was a good way to spend a Saturday. Okay, especially for her. I may have taken a nap.