Spell or High Water

by Gina LaManna

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sorry, yes. Just sympathizing. It must be a very difficult situation for you.”

  “Sort of,” she said with a shrug. “But I guess there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  Except kill again, a little voice in my head said, and judging by Paul’s uncomfortable shift in my coat, he’d had the same thought. Yet here we were, alone in the woods, with a woman on the verge of what felt like a frustration-and-overbearing-mother-induced mental breakdown.

  “Do you want me to walk you back to the cottage?” I suggested. “I can talk to Edwin if you’re not feeling well enough to compete.”

  “And give my mother a reason to think she’s right again?” she snapped. “No. I’m competing if this stupid pageant isn’t cancelled. Who knows? Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe Edwin will come to his senses and cancel the thing. He should be rattled more than anyone, I’d think.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He just missed the murderer,” she said, her lips parting in confusion. “Didn’t you interview all of us? I thought you talked to Edwin.”

  “I did talk to Edwin, and I did interview all of the women,” I said patiently, “including you. But nobody brought up Edwin just missing the murderer.”

  Paul gave me a poke to the back of the neck with one of his booties that told me to back off, but I didn’t heed the warning. I was getting so close to overturning the one stone that could blow this whole case open. The one stone that’d cause the rest of the lies to crumble in a neat little cascade ... just like my stunt on the beach with the tower of rocks.

  I gave a shudder, thinking I needed to send another note to Burt and have him get a protective detail on the Beauty Cottage in case the killer planned to strike again. Eternal Springs might not have a robust police force, but we had plenty of rent-a-cops for the shopping areas and oh-so-dangerous ritzy golf courses. It would be better than nothing.

  “Susanne, I’m confused,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me this when I interviewed you at the house?”

  “I did,” she said. “I told you I saw Edwin that morning.”

  “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry, but I have extensive notes from all my interviews, and nobody mentioned seeing Edwin.”

  When she began to laugh, I wondered if she was a bit off. Her eyes flickered with recognition as she gave a cackle that sent a shiver down my spine.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, forcing a smile and trying to appear lighthearted. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “That’s right,” Susanne said, calming from her random bout of laughter. “I’m sorry. I told the other girl.”

  “The other girl?” I asked with a sinking sensation. “Did she tell you her name?”

  “I think it’s something like Cloud or Skype, or ... I don’t know, it was one of those hippie sort of names.”

  I could barely hide a smile despite my disappointment. “Skye. The newspaper reporter.”

  “Yes, exactly. Her.” Susanne poked at tugged at her lower lip in thought. “I think she must have interviewed me just before you or just after. I can’t remember the order, and I guess I left out the bit about Edwin when I talked to you. It really didn’t seem important, though. I mean, you don’t think ... .” She looked up, horrified. “You don’t think he killed Mary, do you?”

  “The truth is that nobody knows who killed Mary except the killer,” I said. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. And trust me, we will.”

  That last semi-threat earned another poke from Paul and his bootie. I’d have to take those shoes away when we got home. They had hard soles.

  The warning from my toad was unnecessary, however, because the threat flew right over Susanne’s head. She gave a shrug and looked down at her fingernails.

  “Well, do you want to interview me again?” she asked. “Go ahead, though I don’t think it will help. What purpose might Edwin have for murdering the star of his show?”

  Even as she said it, the truth of the possibility hit us both. It might draw attention to his show. Who knew? Maybe there’d been a personal clash between them that he’d covered up. Then he’d gone and cast suspicion on Abigail with the perfectly-timed video to distract me.

  “I saw him that morning,” Susanne whispered. “I was one of the only girls awake because — well, you know, I was running away from my mom. Headed out on my morning jog.”

  “Do you remember the time?”

  “Yes. My mother called and woke me at seven twenty-four. She said she was coming to see me, so I got my butt out of bed and on the road.” Susanne calculated. “It must have been around seven thirty-five.”

  “You don’t waste time.”

  “It takes her nine minutes to get from the hotel to the cottage. It’s a narrow window of opportunity for escape.” She gave a slim smile. “When I opened the door —.”

  “The front door?”

  “No, the back,” she said, “just in case my mother was really booking it.”

  I thought my swallow of surprise might be audible. Even Susanne’s face paled some.

  “Mary was found murdered out back,” she said. “You think that Edwin might have ... .”

  “I don’t know,” I said, but her surprise seemed genuine. I hadn’t cut Susanne from my suspect list yet, but she moved a few notches down. Right above Mason. “I think I need to talk to him.”

  “Maybe that’s why he’s keeping the show running?” she wondered aloud. “If he did it, he could be vying for publicity or, oh, no ... this is horrible. I just can’t believe it.”

  “Don’t say anything, okay?” I prompted Susanne. “We don’t know if he killed her for certain. There were several other people around that morning and it’s impossible to say without solid evidence.”

  “But it was someone,” she said. “Probably someone I know.”

  I couldn’t deny that, because for some reason I had the ugly feeling that I, too, knew the killer.

  Twenty

  After talking Susanne down and sending her trotting on her merry little way, I glanced one final time at the river and found it bubbling along peacefully.

  That went well. You have a way of finding yourself in delightfully troubling situations, don’t you?”

  “Delightful. You’re a hoot,” I told Paul. “No pressure, but now it appears we actually do have a giant slug in addition to a murderer on the loose.”

  I told you that already. You didn’t listen.

  “Consider me convinced,” I said. “I think we owe the coven another chat.”

  Paul groaned. “Is that necessary?”

  “Yes! If they can’t send help, the least they can do is give me some information on what we’re dealing with.”

  We trekked back, following the path the monster had left behind — my feet squishing through decay and sludge and broken flowers — until we reached home. I gave Bertha a wave to signal all was well. She started to ask where I’d been, but I made it up the steps and into the house before she could throw her window fully open.

  I dumped Paul in the kitchen sink, plucked off his hat and booties, and then continued upstairs to the shower, where I threw the water on as hot as it would go.

  It took a lot of toe tapping and impatient waiting for the room to steam up, but when there was enough condensation on the mirror to use it for finger painting I shouted for the coven to gather round.

  “One moment!” Margaret appeared, covering her ears with her hands. “Jeez, Evian. We had the volume turned all the way up and now you’re shouting. Relax for a second, will you?”

  “I don’t feel like relaxing,” I said, doing a bad job at hiding my annoyance. “Then again, I don’t exactly feel like fighting a giant slug back into the portal, but that’s on the agenda for some reason.”

  “Ask the other girls for help.” Margaret appeared distracted, glancing over her shoulder and waving at people behind her. Still gesturing, she turned back to me. “Skye or Kenna or Zola can help.”

  “
I’m working on it,” I said, “but they have lives too, and you know the rules. I saw him first, I have to banish him.”

  “Well, don’t you think prioritizing the supernatural being terrorizing Eternal Springs should be high on your to-do list?”

  “I suppose, but then again, I thought the coven might send some assistance,” I snipped. “You seem to be against that proposal, so I’m asking for your help in determining what I’m dealing with. At least if I know, I stand a chance at battling the thing.”

  “We’re ready to discuss.” Margaret sighed, then thumbed behind her. “You’ve got about half the coven here — it was short notice and the best we could do. Describe this monster to us. And keep things brief — we’re on a tight deadline.”

  “He’s, er ... it’s a giant slug,” I said. “Purple skin — like, a vibrant shade of it. He appears to feed on plants and flowers and living things. However, after the creature eats, his skin gets this coating of black slime that acts like a poison. Everything he touches dies. It also appears he enjoys being in and around water.”

  Margaret laughed. “Just like you!”

  “Will people stop comparing me to a monster?” I said. “I can’t help my tendencies. So we both like water? We’re not identical twins.”

  “Oh, give the little guy a break,” Margaret said patiently. “He’s a baby.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I’ve heard of this very creature,” she said, glancing at her colleagues for reassurance. Several heads bobbed in the blurry background, confirming her analysis. “You’re dealing with an interesting descendent — shall we say spawn? — of Poseidon.”

  “That explains his love of water,” I said dryly. “And some of the destruction.”

  “Was there a sheen to his skin?” Margaret asked. “This is very important.”

  “Yes, actually. A translucence that is actually quite extraordinary — Paul and I believe it makes him invisible.”

  “You’re correct. This particular brand of magic is from the natural family of spells.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You have skills with water, yes?” she asked. “Tell me: Do you think about them or do they come naturally?”

  “I think sometimes,” I scoffed.

  “Yes, but for the most part they come naturally, don’t they? Water is part of who you are. The spells are easy for you. The moon pulls against you as it does the ocean. Waves dance beneath your fingers and bodies of water welcome you with open arms, so to speak.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, this creature’s mother has a similar sort of natural magic. When her baby is born, she puts an invisibility enchantment on him for protection. It stems back to the day when magical species mixed freely with humans. Humans would hunt these creatures, so their parents formed ways to protect their offspring.”

  “So that giant monster is a baby?” I saw my own mystified reflection in the mirror. “That’s ridiculous. It’s ten feet tall and must weigh a ton!”

  “Yes. When it grows to adulthood — it takes only a few months — the invisibility enchantment will fade and the purple tone of his skin will turn gray. It’s easier to blend in with gray skin. However, it’s imperative you banish him before he outgrows babyhood.”

  “I wasn’t planning to keep him as a pet.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Well, I’m asking for help to banish him!”

  “At this stage of his life, the monster isn’t trying to be destructive. He’s like a human baby. He eats, sleeps ... er, excretes, and exists solely to accomplish his biological needs.”

  “And as he matures?”

  “He develops a way of thinking. He might realize his destructive nature has power and advantages, and he’ll begin to use them against you,” she said. “You need to get him back through the portal as soon as possible because it might only be days until he reaches adulthood. When that happens, his invisibility is gone. Even if the monster is careful, he can’t hide from everyone, and a mortal is bound to stumble across him and start asking questions.”

  I shuddered thinking of Buddy laying eyes on the poor slug. Even the monster didn’t deserve that. “How do you recommend I get rid of him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Margaret said, unable to resist a bit of sarcasm. “I would’ve told you not to make bad choices and burn the school down thirteen years ago.”

  “I get it, you’re frustrated. Still not my fault,” I said. “But we won’t go into that. Any real suggestions?”

  “You know him better than us. You’re both in tune with the water, so use that. He’s attracted to you, or your spells — that’s why he targets your garden for feeding. Though he probably won’t be back now that it’s a decimated mess,” Margaret added. “Bertha told us it’s horrible.”

  “Gee whiz, thanks Bertha,” I mumbled. “Fine. I guess I’ll be on my own then.”

  “Move quickly, whatever you do.”

  “I appreciate the encouragement. Feel free to send help.”

  “We have confidence in you.” Margaret issued a rare smile. “Don’t prove us wrong.”

  I shut off the shower and wiped the mirror clean, heaving with the frustration of it all. Use your skills, I mouthed to myself in a bad impression of Margaret. Easier said than done.

  Not only did I need to find the freaking monster, then I needed to lure him to the portal and give him a little shove inside, all before Kenna shunned me for my horrible singing skills at karaoke tonight. Not an easy task.

  However, something Margaret said stuck with me. Use the other girls. After all, weren’t Skye, Kenna, Zola and myself in this together? I reviewed my previous plan to beg Zola for help and decided it was the best option. After all, it’d been great to have backup the time we found ourselves mid-removal of a murderous mermaid from the beach. I would’ve lost a finger if Kenna and Skye hadn’t shoved her off me in time.

  Maybe if I created a trail bursting with blooming flowers and a pinch of magic I could sucker Bob — my shortened name for the creature — into following the trail to the portal. I had the water spells and surely Zola could hook me up with some plants. All I needed was a good bribe.

  Buzzing with the ease of my plan, I ran downstairs and found Paul sitting in an empty margarita glass, waiting for me to fill it to the brim with his favorite strawberry blend.

  “I know what to do,” I told Paul. “Your bath will have to wait.”

  Give me a bath or I’ll tell the coven you hid from their call last week. I covered for you, but I will snitch.

  I sighed, pulled out the blender, and threw in the ingredients for a double margarita. With an extra dose of attitude, I picked up the glass and sent Paul flying as I flipped it over, dusted it with lime juice and dipping it in sugar. Pouring the mixture into the righted glass, I gave a huff of relief.

  “There. Are you happy?”

  Ah. He climbed into the frothy beverage and stuck his front two feet behind his head. This is the life.

  Twenty-One

  With Paul basking happily in his margarita, I slung my rain jacket on and hurried down to Zola’s garden shop. Due to the festivities this evening, most residents of Eternal Springs were busy getting dolled up for the karaoke event or gossiping behind closed doors, which left Cackleberries mercifully empty.

  “Hi,” I said, leaning against the counter and gasping for breath. “Slow day today, huh?”

  Zola frowned. “What do you need this time?”

  “I can’t just swing by to say hello?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I have a problem.”

  Satisfied, Zola stuck a hip against the counter and pulled her gardening gloves off. “What’d you do this time?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said. “Let me remind you that someone — one of us — was lazy thirteen years ago and allowed the portal to open, which is why we have Bob.”

  “Bob?”

  “The giant slug. Paul
was right,” I told her. “I just got off the mirror with the coven, and the members agree. He’s some weird spawn of Poseidon, and I have to get him back through the portal before he matures into adulthood.”

  “So, what, you have a few years?”

  “Days? Hours?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Nobody knows, but I’ve been warned not to keep him as a pet. I think things get nasty when the slug develops hormones and a brain.”

  “Don’t we all,” Zola said with a sigh. “Well, all right then. What do you need from me?”

  “All of your extra plants.”

  “My extra plants?”

  “Living things,” I clarified. “I don’t care if they’re half dead and ready for the compost pile, I need anything with a bit of life left in it.”

  She frowned. “I sell most of my plants, Evian. That’s how I make a living.”

  “Something, anything? I need to make a trail to the portal with them. He likes to eat living things, and he’s drawn to the magic in my watering spell,” I said. “It’s a full moon tonight. It’s the perfect time to capture him.”

  “I told you, I don’t have a ton of extra plants, and you’re not taking my live and healthy ones.”

  I glanced around the garden and spotted a huge pile of compost and dirt and fading greenery. “What about those?”

  “We just weeded the gardens, those are ... .” She hesitated, glancing over to me with a new sparkle in her eye. “You think that slug of yours can differentiate between beautiful flowers and weeds?”

  “Judging by his taste in skin color, probably not,” I said, equally giddy. “It’s worth a shot! Can I have at ’em?”

  “I’ll throw in a few extra healthy plants to spice things up,” Zola said. “Consider it my donation to the good of the island.”

  “I owe you big time. Thank you so much.”

  “I know how you can repay me,” Zola said with a twinkling smile. “How about a little of that magical watering spell you have up your sleeve? My gardens could use a good dosing.”

  I groaned. “I can only do it under the full moon.”