by Sofia Belle
As the gun inched in the direction of my face, Rosie shouted “Go!”
I leapt into action at the same time she did, but her movement was louder. She tipped over the chair in which she’d been tied, the clatter echoing as it hit the floor. The noise was so startling that it drew Cris’s eyes away from me for a sliver of a second.
Luckily, I only needed a fraction of a second to make my move.
I reached for the donut case, grabbing a fat blob of fried dough hugging a pile of jelly, and hurled it as hard as I could at our captor, starting to murmur a spell that’d turn the jelly donut into a firecracker. It wouldn’t be enough to hurt Cris but hopefully enough to disarm him.
However, sometime between the donut leaving my hand and before it hit its mark, something went wrong. Terribly wrong.
Cris pulled the trigger. A shot blasted from the nose of his gun, the sound shattering my eardrums, breaking my heart even before I processed what’d happened. When the sickening sound of a body hitting the floor cracked through the silence, I closed my eyes, afraid of what I’d find if I opened them.
Chapter 18
** **
“Go on, open up, it’s okay.” The deep, rolling voice was familiar yet unexpected in the lingering reverberations from the gunshot. “You’re safe. We’ve got him.”
I opened my eyes and scanned the room from the ground. I’d somehow slid down the donut case and sat with my back to the glass, not bothering to move from my crouched position even after a look that told me that the girls were unharmed.
There was, however, an inordinate amount of red spatter around Cris’s face.
The good news was that it was jelly. The bad news was that I’d wasted an entire donut in self-defense.
“I never thought I would have the opportunity to say this,” Mystery Man said, a smile curving up his lips. “But I can’t believe you brought donuts to a gunfight.”
I shrugged, surveying the remnants of the food fight that had saved my life, still trying to figure out who had fired the gunshot. Sliding to my feet, I stretched and carefully stepped over the jelly splatters.
“Is he okay?” I asked, bending over to feel for a pulse. I wasn't a healing witch by a long shot, but any witches worth their weight learned a few basic charms. I began to murmur one, forgetting that others were around.
“What are you mumbling about?” Mystery Man asked.
I pretended not to hear him. “Cris is unconscious! We have to do something. Was he shot?”
Mystery Man held up a gun that looked all too realistic, and I figured that was all I’d get out of him.
“We have to call the police. Get him to the hospital.” I straightened up, wheeling around. “Don't just stand there, Mystery Man.”
“He's not dead, not by a long shot.” Mystery Man stood and handed the gun over. “Take this. It’s just a stunner. He’s out for a nap. He'll wake up refreshed in jail with cuffs around his wrists.”
I nearly dropped the gun. Firearms weren't really my thing. However, before I let go of the handle, a small insignia on the butt of the weapon caught my eye. The seal. The official seal of the Council of Magic.
“Mystery Man...” My lips parted as I struggled to complete my thoughts. “You're one of them. You're an Ambassador.”
The room fell silent. Amelie looked white as a ghost, and I doubted she understood anything that was happening. She mostly stared in horror at Cris, who was still sprawled on the ground. Rosie smirked from her now-upright chair in the corner.
Mystery Man bowed his head. “You might say that. Or you can call me Beckett.”
“Is that your real name?” I narrowed my eyes. Ambassadors were the equivalent of Secret Service agents in America. James Bond in the UK. Jason Bourne in fiction.
There were rumors such a society didn’t exist. However, with Mystery Man standing in front of me with his dark, brooding eyes, the wavy hair falling over his forehead, and his broad shoulders firmly squared, I believed it.
Mystery Man was already back to business. “Let's get Cris to the station. I have somewhere to be, and frankly, I shouldn't be here in the first place.”
“If you’re not supposed to be here, then why did you come?” I asked, my breath catching as he stepped toward me.
His lips hovered above mine, my eyes beginning to close as he leaned in farther.
“I'm here because you needed some backup.” His breath, spicy and hot, tickled my neck, and instead of going for a kiss, he took back the stun gun from my hand.
My eyes flashed open as one of his hands slid around my lower back and steadied my stance. I groaned in embarrassment. Here I was swooning like Cinderella when the man only wanted his gun back.
“I don't need help. And if you want to take Cris away, I'll need to see a badge first. Rosie, can you call the police?”
“I already texted the chief,” she said. “He's on his way over.”
“You have his number in your phone?” I raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Intriguing.”
“I like to crank call him sometimes in the middle of the night,” she said with a sarcastic eye roll. “And once in awhile I try to bug him so that he'll give me a quote for a story.”
“Does it work?”
“Never.” She crossed her arms. “He is the worst. No fun.”
“Right.” I hid a smile and turned back to Mystery Man. His lips tugged upward in a smile, too, which made mine fade. The sting of rejection didn't go away that fast. “Your badge, Mister Beckett?”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a thin, tattered black wallet. I frowned as he handed it over. It looked like something Cris—a kid with no money—should be carrying. From Becket, I had expected something sleek and leather and expensive smelling.
“It's a disguise,” he explained. “You think someone's going to try and pickpocket that piece of junk?”
I understood as soon as the wallet landed in my hands. It was an illusion; the wallet itself was made from fine leather, a beautiful material that slid soft against my skin. I took my time opening the pouch, savoring the exquisite parcel for the short moment I had with it.
Finally, I opened it. There, staring up at me, was the dark, handsome face of Mystery Man.
Above it was a name: Beckett Stone.
Below, a simple inscription: Ambassador #1.
I lost my breath for a few moments. Multiple moments. Three or four of them. I looked up, I looked down, I glanced at Rosie, and my eyes fell back on the page. “Number one?”
“Someone's gotta do the job.” He reached out and took the wallet back. “Are you satisfied?”
“Satisfied?” I echoed, my voice a weak imitation of what it had been a minute before. “Satisfied with you?”
He let out a bark of laughter so loud it shook some sense into me, and I managed a faux scowl at him. Then Rosie started cracking up, and I could feel the subtle tingling of a smile playing at my lips, and eventually, I laughed too.
“You meant to take Cris away to the station,” I said, nodding along good-naturedly. “Sure. But the police are coming here.”
Mystery Man glanced over at Rosie. “They're coming?”
She nodded. “Chief's on his way. Should be here anytime.”
“Good.” He bent over, pulled something from the pocket of his dark jeans, and then flipped Cris onto his side. Beckett tied Cris's hands behind his back with a zip tie, gave it a tug as a test, and then stood up. “That'll hold him until the cops come. He won't wake up for another twenty minutes, anyway.”
“But aren't you going to wait here?” I said. “After all, you're the one responsible for rescuing us.”
“Then I'll take my payment in another way.” Beckett gave a devilish wink in my direction. “This isn't my win to take. I was never here, understood?”
“What about your payment?” I blurted out.
“Sorry, pumpkin.” He shook his head, took a few steps toward the door, and glanced behind him. “I will see you again. Sooner than you think.”<
br />
Chapter 19
** **
“You got him?” Layla sat up in bed, her face bright.
“With a donut to the face.” Rosie leaned in, finishing the story of Cris's capture with a flourish and a wave.
“I'm really sorry about involving you two in this.” I took a step closer to the edge of the hospital bed and rested a hand on Layla's clammier one. “You two were trying to help, and look where it landed you both.” I shook my head. “I'm sorry.”
“You're apologizing?” Rosie gave a gleeful squeal and shook her head. “This is the most exciting thing that's happened all year. And guess what? I don't even have to interview anyone. I can quote myself! Can you believe it? Tied up in a chair by a murderer. I can spin stories for days. Plus you owe me an exclusive.”
“You're about as exclusive as they get,” I said. “You were the one tied up, not me.”
“You promised!”
I raised my hands, palms facing forward. “Yes, and I'll follow through. You'll get your exclusive. I just don't think you need it.”
“I can give you an exclusive for a small fee of one million dollars,” Layla piped up from the bed.
I laughed, watching as she hugged a box of donuts tight to her chest. Once the chief had arrived at Dungeons and Donuts and taken everyone's statement, his team had hauled Cris away.
Unfortunately, they’d closed the bakery for the rest of the day, but before they’d locked the doors, Amelie had packaged up a huge stack of donuts and sent them along to the hospital.
I squeezed Layla’s hand. “I'll never involve you in my wedding planning debacles again, I promise.”
“Are you kidding me?” Layla gestured to the donut box in her lap. “Let me ride along more often.”
Rosie threw her arm around my shoulder. “If you thought we were going to let you go traipsing around looking for a killer all by yourself, then you don't know us very well.”
“We love you,” Layla agreed. “And if one of us gets in trouble, we all get in trouble. That’s how it’s always been, and how it’ll always be.”
“That's beautiful,” the chief said, walking into the room from behind us. “But if we could avoid all of you getting in trouble, that would be best for everyone.”
Rosie acknowledged him first with a blank stare. “Maybe if you'd give me a little piece of news when I asked for it, I wouldn't have to go finding my own.”
The chief's face turned red, and the two teetered on the edge of an argument for one tense moment. Then, out of the blue, the chief grinned.
Rosie blinked in confusion. “Are you okay?”
“You are the bane of my existence,” he said with a good-natured tilt of his head, swinging an arm over Rosie’s shoulder.
Layla let out a low whistle. “Dang, get a room, you two. I think Mr. Shneezer just checked out of his bed next door, though I'd be cautious about going in there.” Layla whispered loudly, “I heard he had toucan flu.”
“Toucan flu?” I asked.
“That is not a real thing.” The chief withdrew his arm from Rosie's shoulder, and she looked almost disappointed. “Anyway, I should be going. I've gotten all the information I need from you ladies now, but I'll be back with follow-ups, I'm sure. Layla, I hope you have a quick recovery.”
Layla saluted the chief. “I'm here for you, boss.”
“I'm not your boss,” the chief said. “You're not a cop.”
“Honorary cop?” She tried again. “I mean, I had a big part in bringing the bad guy down.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.” The chief turned. “And stay out of trouble, ladies.”
I followed him out of the room. “What about Amelie? How is she holding up?”
“Don't worry, Bel. She's fine. She's staying with her family for a few days, and you know the Watts. They're a great family. Amelie’s a tough cookie, and frankly, she's more pissed off than anything else. She'll be fine.”
“And Cris?”
“He's locked up,” the chief said. “He'll have a trial like the adult that he is, and we'll go from there.”
“It's a little sad,” I said. “I think he really loved Amelie.”
The chief paused a moment, sucking in air between his teeth. Just when I thought he wasn't going to respond, he nodded. “We do crazy things for love sometimes, don't we?”
“Yes,” I said with a slow smile. “I suppose we do.”
“Oh, and Bel, I suppose I don't need these anymore.” The chief reached into his pockets and withdrew the donut bag and the note about meeting at midnight. “I am going to return them to you so nobody asks how they came into my possession.”
I looked at the floor, accepting the evidence as my cheeks grew red. “Yes, sir.”
As the chief disappeared down the hall, he called over his shoulder. “See you this weekend, Bel.”
I stood there for a moment, watching him go until something clicked. I called after him, “This weekend?”
“The Monroe wedding,” he said. “I agreed to be a plus one for Rosie. I'll see you there.”
I turned to Rosie, who was blushing. As a rule, Rosie didn’t blush.
“What?” She shrugged. “I needed a date.”
“I see you two scheming over here.” Madrina popped up next to my shoulder out of nowhere. “And if you’re brewing trouble, I don’t want to hear about it. Just make sure you brew it around your date tonight, Bel.”
“Shoot, the date!” I turned to Madrina. “I don’t have time for a date.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do.”
I bit my lip. Sitting around and listening to Ted Marbles talk about Zoonies and Zarnies and whatever else he was “investigating” in the paranormal realm was low, low on my to-do list for this evening.
I looked down, startled to see the note from Linda’s room sitting in my hand, instructing me to meet a stranger at midnight. I shouldn’t go. I should let sleeping dogs lie. Curiosity killed the cat. I knew all these sayings, and yet it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If I didn’t show up tonight, I’d never know who was waiting for Linda under the full moon. Somehow, I felt like I owed it to her to go. After my date with Ted.
“I’ll go out with Ted Marbles,” I said to Madrina. “But the date has a hard stop at eleven p.m.”
Madrina patted my shoulder. “Thatta girl. Works out perfect, seeing how his mother gives him a curfew of ten thirty on the weeknights, anyway. Now, go get ready. Your hair needs some fluffing, and you’ve got jelly donut coming out of your nose.”
Chapter 20
** **
The restaurant was nice, the food good, the company pleasant. On paper, my date with Ted Marbles was perfect. We sat at one of the side tables of Bubble & Broomsticks, sharing a bottle of wine and exquisitely prepared meals.
Even so, it didn’t feel right. Jo could tell, too. The owner kept sweeping over to our table, offering refills on everything from water and ice to olive oil as a ruse to whisper encouragement in my ear or to ask what was wrong.
She snuck up to the table for the hundredth time when Ted excused himself to use the restroom.
“Thanks.” I sighed as she secretly topped off my wine glass.
I wasn’t yet tipsy, but one more glass would put me into the buzzing zone, the pleasant space between one glass of wine and all of the wine.
“Maybe this will add some extra buzz when Ted explains his calculations again,” I said, raising my wine glass. “He’s such a nice guy, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying, Jo.”
She snorted. “You're a good girl, Bel. I'm sure Teddy’s mama is over the moon he’s out of the house and talking with a gal like you. Plus, you're making Madrina happy. It could be worse.”
“I have nothing to complain about,” I said. “Ted is nice. The food is delish. I just...”
“There are no butterflies! It’s okay to say it. I understand, sweetie. You gave it a shot and that’s all you can do. A girl can’t force love. Listen...
” She paused, her eyes flicking up as Ted returned from the restroom. “I'm gonna do something I normally wouldn't do. It’s for you, so play along.”
“No, Jo,” I whispered. “I'm just being a wimp and whining! I am a grown woman, and I can take care of myself. It’s not torture to be here, it’s good for me—”
My last comments were drowned out as she clapped her hands.
“All right, folks,” she said. “We're gonna try and clean up early tonight. It's a full moon, and I don't want anything weird happening in my kitchen. If you're done eating, let me know and I'll bring you your check.”
Ted slid into his seat. My face was frozen in a half smile as he looked at me then lowered his voice. “Smart of her,” he said. “You definitely do not want the Fargles messing with the food, and Fargles come out during the full moon. Check please.”
Jo brought over the bill with a wink. “Be safe tonight, you kids.”
“You too.” Ted nodded with a severity normally reserved for funerals. “I admire your foresight. The Fargles are supposed to be out in full force.”
“What are Fargles?” Jo leaned against the table and feigned curiosity. “Never heard of them.”
“They're invisible creatures,” he said. “ Almost nobody knows they exist.”
“What do they do?” Jo asked.
“They play with fate.” Ted's eyes were wide as coins. He explained further. “They make people fall in love. They change the path of who we are supposed to meet and when.”
“Ah, I see.” Jo straightened, waving Ted's credit card. “Well, I'll be right back with this. I'll hurry to avoid the Fargles.”
“Thank you for dinner, Ted. I had a nice time,” I said. Normally, I would've offered to pay, but Jo had discounted the bill to nothing—five dollars or something ridiculous. Instead, I left cash on the table for quadruple the bill amount itself.
“Me too. But I must get going now.” Ted accepted the credit card from Jo, scribbled an additional tip onto the slip, and together we headed out of the restaurant.
Behind me, Jo explained to the rest of the patrons that really, there was no rush to leave. The restaurant closing had been a false alarm.