Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock

by Georgette St. Clair

  Celeste pouted harder. “I need to make sure that Gerard proposes to me. What’s wrong with a little magical incentive?”

  “Prison. That’s what’s wrong with it,” Fiona said firmly.

  “What about illusion spell?”

  “I get that from a distributor, because it only grows in the south, and somebody bought up all of it this year. You can’t find any of it anywhere in the city.”

  “Luckily, I don’t need illusions or a love spell to get Erik to propose to me. It’s already in the bag,” Maegera said loudly, with a significant glance at Fiona.

  “Well, of course it is, dear. He all but proposed to you before he left for the Troll Wars. And all those love letters he sent to you! Now that he’s fulfilled his term of service, his patience will be rewarded,” Maegera’s mother Bitsy said, smiling broadly.

  Bitsy turned to Fiona. “Do be a lamb and fetch your best concoction to make Maegera smell like roses, won’t you? Erik simply loves the smell of roses.”

  Fiona felt as if all the blood had drained from her body. As if in a trance, she moved to the back of the store. Did Erik love the smell of roses? She couldn’t remember now.

  Maizie followed her back there, scowling. She grabbed a little metal scoop and shoveled several rose scented capsules into a tiny bag. “I’ll give it to her,” she said. “And don’t believe what she just said. Something stinks here. Have you ever even heard Erik mention her?”

  “No,” Fiona managed. “Not that he necessarily would mention his intended. To me. You know, last night he asked me if I was going to the Crystal Ball. Made a big deal of it. Would he ask me that if he was going to propose to someone else? I just – I don’t know. She’d be perfect for him. Her family’s very politically connected, her looks fit the part –“

  “Listen, Erik’s an uptight cop with a stick up his ass, but he’s not cruel. Or clueless. He wouldn’t ask you to watch him propose to someone else.”

  “Unless he has no idea how I feel about him,” Fiona said miserably. “Unless he was just asking as a friend.”

  “Sweetheart, everybody knows how you feel about Erik Bloodstone.” Maizie rolled her eyes and rushed off to deliver the rose capsules.

  “So, you’re marrying Erik Bloodstone! That deserves a congratulations!” Maizie said loudly as she handed the bag to Maegera’s mother. “I’m seeing him this afternoon. I’ll be sure to congratulate him on your good fortune!”

  “Oh, no... the proposal is meant to be a surprise,” Maegera’s mother said hastily. “Erik’s been planning it for ages. His mother told me. It would simply ruin everything if he knew that word was getting out.”

  “And those love letters!” Maizie continued as if she hadn’t heard. “I never figured Erik for a love letter kind of guy. I can’t wait to rib him about that!”

  “Those love letters were very private,” Maegera’s mother said angrily.

  “So private that you mentioned them loudly in the middle of a crowded shop?” Maizie pretended to look puzzled.

  Maegera’s mother fixed her with an ice cold stare, grabbed the bag of rose capsules, and slammed down a handful of coins. Without another word, she stalked out of the store. Maegera turned to her assistant, Bonnie, who was reading a William Shakespeare book that she’d plucked from her frayed cloth purse.

  Maegera pinched Bonnie’s arm viciously, and Bonnie cried out in pain. “Pay attention!” Maegera said waspishly, and rushed off to follow her mother, with Bonnie and her friends trailing in her wake. “Pay attention to what?” Bonnie wailed, rubbing her arm.

  “Erik is not going to marry that. No way.” Maizie shook her head.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time someone married for politics rather than love,” Fiona said unhappily. “Maybe he’s turned on by mean bitches.” Which unfortunately meant that he’d never be excited by her. She just didn’t have it in her.

  Head whirling, Fiona ducked into the back room to do some compounding. As she whipped up batches of various salves and scooped them into tiny ceramic pots, she struggled to banish thoughts of Erik from her head.

  Why was she even giving this a second thought when her crush on Erik was clearly hopeless?

  Because she wanted him so much. Because there was this little whisper of hope, so low that she could barely hear it, telling her that he really did have feelings for her.

  It was mid afternoon when Erik stopped by to pick her up. He wore his usual work clothing, jeans which perfectly accentuated the muscles of his thighs and his perfect round butt, a t-shirt which clung to the curved muscles of his biceps, with his wand at the ready in its sheath on his upper arm.

  The sight of him standing in her doorway, which his thick, golden hair flowing like a river of honey, took her breath away, and she felt every beat of her heart in the cage of her ribs.

  She’d worn an outfit that was flattering to her full figure, a peasant shirt with a low scooped neckline embroidered with flowers, and a red dirndl skirt that flowed over her generous hips. Not for any particular reason, of course, except that since she was temporarily working for the Twin River City Enforcement department, she wanted to present as personable an appearance as possible.

  Right.

  He leaned in for a kiss on her cheek, which she tried to assure herself lasted longer than it needed to. She breathed in his masculine scent and the light woodsy tones of his cologne. Had he put that on just for her? Behind his back, Renoir and Maizie both gave her the thumbs up.

  “Well, look who’s back,” Maizie said when Erik turned to greet them. “No, I haven’t been behaving myself, I’ll save you the trouble of asking.”

  Erik smiled. “I was pleased to hear that you’d joined the Bodyguard’s Guild. At least you found a socially acceptable outlet for your temper.”

  “Temper? What temper?” she smiled innocently. “Do take care of Fiona now, or I’ll barbecue your precious hair.”

  “Ahhh, that’s the old Maizie that I know and barely tolerate. I will indeed guard Fiona with my life. So you work for Fiona? You’re a bodyguard and...a store clerk?”

  Maizie flashed a feral grin. “It’s a questionable neighborhood. During the busy season, I just hang around and make sure that robbers know to give the store a wide berth if they don’t want to be fricasseed.”

  “Good to know. All right, Fiona, we’d better get going. If you can’t behave, Maizie, at least try not to get arrested on my shift. See you all later.”

  And he and Fiona headed out to his car.

  She thought about mentioning Maegera’s visit, but bit her lip and refrained. Mostly, she had to admit to herself, it was out of fear. Fear of what he’d say.

  If he said something like “Oh, good, you’ve met my fiancee then!” she might actually burst into tears.

  Erik was in a cheerful mood as they headed south. In the daytime, the crumbling buildings looked harmless, with none of the palpable sense of menace that cloaked them after dark. Still, Fiona held her purse close, remembering the other night.

  They chatted about work, about the troll wars, about the ridiculous requests of the women flocking to Fiona’s store…and before she knew it, all too quickly, they were at the warehouse. Time always flew when she was with Erik.

  The Jimson & Sons warehouse held artwork and antiques imported from around the world, some of them quite valuable. The business was located in a nondescript building of dull grey concrete, near the waterfront. There were multiple bays in the back of the building where trucks came to pick up cargo.

  Erik grabbed an evidence bag from his back seat and then opened the door for Fiona to climb out. “At night the doors are all shut, and there are protection wards on each door, and videocameras pointing at the doors. The crew pulled up in a stolen truck, all wearing masks and hats and overcoats. So we have no idea what they look like. They have a magician with them who overcame the protection wards. The alarms were set off, but they moved fast.”

  “No night watchman?”

  “There are only two
of them, who patrol the whole premises, but they claimed to be on other sides of the warehouse when the robberies occurred. It may be an inside job, but so far we haven’t uncovered any proof of that.”

  She and Erik walked towards the back of the building. “We’re starting at this scene first because it’s the freshest. We’ll visit the other scenes later. They still did some clean-up here, repaired the damaged door, but at least any current plant matter may not have been tracked away.”

  As they strolled up to the back door Erik asked, casually, “So, are you ordering a special gown for the Crystal Ball?”

  “Since I am working, and there’s no chance on earth I’ll be claimed, I didn’t bother whipping up anything special.” Fiona let out a rueful laugh. “That probably came out more bitter than I intended. The truth is, there are those who are meant for marriage, and I’m not one of them. It’s fine. I know what I’m good at; I stick to that.”

  Erik stopped dead, and looked down at her.

  “Fiona, why are you always so hard on yourself?”

  “Is it being hard on myself, or is it simply being realistic?”

  “I know your mother is dreadful, and that’s being kind about it, but that’s just one person.”

  “No, it’s not just one person. I’ve had it pointed out to me since I was a little girl. I’m fat. I don’t look like the other witches. Most witches are either born thin or they will suffer agonies for the better part of every day to maintain the body that everyone expects them to have. I’m not one of them.”

  “That makes you strong and courageous. And smart. It’s not easy to defy popular opinion.”

  She shrugged. “It may make me all of those. It also makes me single forever.”

  “I told you before, and I will tell you again.” Erik cupped the side of her face with his hand, and she felt that shameful heat sear through her again. “I’ve always found you beautiful.” His gaze locked on hers as they stood in the doorway of the warehouse, in the long dark shadows. And he bent down as if to claim her lips with a kiss…

  And a shout came from inside the warehouse.

  “Hey, warlock, where are you? You want to come look at the scene, or what?”

  A look of frustration and regret flashed across Erik’s face. Reluctantly, he stepped away from Fiona. The foreman, a human, appeared in the doorway, and they followed him inside, past aisles of boxes.

  Now Fiona didn’t know what to think. He’d actually meant to kiss her! She was sure of it! Could this still be a pity kiss? Was he trying to make the homely girl feel good about herself? That didn’t seem like Erik. Did he know what effect he had on her?

  The foreman pointed at one row of boxes where splintered wood still lay on the floor, and the top several boxes from a stack were missing.

  Fiona knelt down. She pulled her wand from her purse; although she had natural power without it, like all witches, it helped her channel her power and greatly amplified it.

  She examined some clumps of dirt that were clustered on the floor by the row that they were xamining.

  “I’m going to make all the plant matter in those dirt clumps grow large enough that I can examine it visually and, if necessary, take some of it back to my shop to identify it. However, keep this in mind; whatever I find, it could have been tracked in by anyone.”

  “That’s true, but it will give us a place to start. And if we visit several of the victimized warehouses that are owned by different people and employing different workers, and find the same plant matter at each site, then odds are pretty good that the plant matter came from the criminals.”

  “True enough.”

  She knelt down and pointed her wand, closed her eyes, and focused her mind. All thoughts of Erik and the warehouse fell away from her, and she pictured the green magic of the earth flowing through her, coursing through her veins and then flowing from the wand. She imagined flowers growing, cells frantically multiplying, splitting, multiplying again, leaves unfurling, blooms exploding open…

  And she opened her eyes to look. On the floor was a tangle of plant matter growing from the clots of mud.

  She examined several of the leaves critically. “Let’s see. This is Mountainfire, a plant that only comes from the far northern district. You don’t see it around here at all. And this one is an algae which grows by the docks.” She looked at one of the other clusters of leaves and hesitated a moment. “I don’t recognize this one.”

  “I can take it back to the station and give it to one of our experts.”

  “You have a green witch on staff?” Fiona asked skeptically.

  “No, sadly, we do not.” He looked at her. “Although we’d like to.”

  “If that’s a suggestion that I apply to be on the police force…you know me better than that. Listen, if I don’t recognize the plant, it must be quite rare. Let me give it a try, go through some of my books. If I don’t find anything then I’ll give them back to you.”

  Erik nodded and scooped up the other plant species. “This is quite helpful already. We can search the Wharf for anyone who’s travelled to the north recently.”

  He pulled out small paper bags from the evidence bag, and put the leaves in them.

  “Now we’re going to go to the Griswold’s warehouse. It’s close; it won’t take long. Then we can grab a late lunch, or an early dinner.” He glanced at her.

  “Unless you have other plans.”

  “Hmmm. Nothing big. I was planning a minor crime spree, maybe some looting, a little pillaging…”

  He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, Fiona. You really do want me to pull out the handcuffs, don’t you?”

  More than you know, she thought.

  “Well, if you’re going to be a wet blanket about it, I guess I could do dinner instead. Save the looting and pillaging for some other night,” she shrugged, keeping her voice casual.

  Erik was asking her out to dinner. As a friend? As a date? She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming “Just tell me what you want!”

  As they walked out of the warehouse, he placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, and she barely suppressed a shiver of desire.

  The Griswold’s warehouse was much smaller, in a brick building, and housed rare artwork. Erik and Fiona checked in at the front office, and were led by a secretary to a large, poorly lit room stacked with wooden crates.

  Sullen workers, annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of their work day, led them to a pallet stacked high with boxes.

  “This was empty before. I asked that the crime scene be left undisturbed,” Erik snapped.

  The foreman, a burly 7 foot human who clearly had some giant in his bloodline, shrugged indifferently. “We got work to do. I got a schedule to keep. We fall behind schedule, my salary gets docked.” He scratched at his blue dreadlocks, shot them an irritated look, and folded his arms. “How long you gonna take? This is cutting into my lunch hour.”

  Erik stretched himself to his full height. A sense of power rolled off him, and the air around him seemed to shimmer.

  “We’ll take as long as we need to. Longer if you keep this up. Do you have a problem with the Enforcer’s Department?”

  The half-giant blinked and took half a step back, then shot them a look of disgust and, spinning on his heel, walked away.

  “Don’t worry about it, Erik,” Fiona said, kneeling on the ground. “There’s clumps of mud here as well. I’ve got enough to work with.”

  Again, she pointed her wand at the clods of earth and sent her power pulsing down it, and again, tangles of green shot out of the dirt and leaves swelled and unfurled.

  “It’s the same mix as before,” she said, handing him two sets of leaves and wrapping the third set in her purse.

  Erik nodded appreciatively. “All right, we’ve made some excellent progress. So we know that at least one of the crew spends time at the dock, and who very recently came to our city, from the north. We can start checking through our criminal databases. And when we figure out what that other p
lant species is, we can narrow it down even more.”

  “I am good at what I do. I can’t deny it,” Fiona shrugged immodestly.

  Erik grinned as they walked out to his car. “This calls for a celebration! I’m thinking champagne. How about –“

  His cell phone rang with a series of musical tones that made him grimace. He grabbed the phone, flipped it open, and said “Hello, mother. Is there an emergency? I’m at work.”

  He paused, and said “What’s the emergency then? Is this something that you absolutely need me for? I’m at work, in the middle of a case - Fine, fine…I’ll be there.”

  He turned back to Fiona. “I’m sorry. My mother’s claiming there’s a mysterious emergency that she needs me for.”

  “Claiming?”

  “Mothers. You know how they are. They have their own agenda.” He sighed. “I’ll drop you off at your shop. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what time I’m coming to pick you up. And I promise next time we head out, I’m turning off my cell phone.”

  “Of course. Give your mother my regards.” Fiona tried to tamp down on the dull feeling of disappointment that swelled inside her.

  Chapter Seven

  Erik was far from pleased as he walked into his mother’s living room to find her sitting immaculately coiffed and beautifully dressed, at a table set for two. Her hair, which she’d allowed to go silver, was piled high in her head and secured with ebony combs. She wore a gown in the season’s current fashion, with neon flowers continuously opening and closing, which Erik detested. He was glad that Fiona wasn’t obsessed with trendiness; she always wore classic, pretty clothing that hugged her curves in a way that made his breath catch.

  Theodora Bloodstone was sipping tea, and when she saw Erik, her face lit up in a smile and she poured tea into his cup.

  He looked around the room. “Let’s see. The room’s not on fire, there are no invading zombie hordes, you’re not under attack by trolls…”

  His mother shot him a look of reproof. “You seem disappointed.”

  “I am disappointed to be interrupted at work under false pretenses.” He sat down at the table, but didn’t touch the mug in front of him. She gestured at it; he shook his head.