Spell or High Water

by Gina LaManna

  “Great,” Zola said. “Then I’ll see you here tonight. Now, shall we get started?”

  Zola and I made so many trips to and from the path that the wheelbarrow wore deep grooves into the ground and kept getting stuck. We’d both nearly twisted an ankle more times than we could count, but thankfully we’d escaped without serious injury.

  “There,” Zola said as we dumped the last wheelbarrow full of weeds and other greenery in a winding path that led directly to the portal. “I think that should be enough. Will it work?”

  “I don’t know.” I wiped a sleeve across my forehead and looked over the horizon where the sun had begun to set. Already the moon had risen in the pale blue sky. “I sure hope so, because I don’t have any other options.”

  The path of plants we created had the potential to draw the monster out of his hiding place, wherever that might be. Fresh-cut flowers crisscrossed with flourishing swatches of dandelions, interspersed with rows of herbs. Zola had donated some small fruit trees that probably wouldn’t last the year as an especially tasty treat near the mouth of the portal to seal the deal.

  Heading back to the grounds of our former school wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, but a necessary one. St. Joan of Arc had been a place for burgeoning witches to spend time learning their craft, experience high school and generally dog things human teenagers did, save for the whole magical element.

  “Try your full-moon spell,” Zola encouraged. “I’ve never actually seen you use it.”

  “I can’t yet. It’s not dark.”

  “But the moon’s out!”

  I grinned as Zola pointed upward. It wasn’t the traditional “shining by the light of the moon” lauded in songs, but it might be enough. “Doesn’t hurt to try, I suppose. If it doesn’t take I can come back when the sun sets.”

  Zola gave an encouraging nod. “Exactly. It’s not as if the fate of Eternal Springs rests on your shoulders or anything.”

  I closed my eyes and blocked out the distractions. I took my time envisioning the length of the winding, twisting bed of plants we’d created — plants that had a touch of magic in their stems, having been cared for by Zola — and felt the flow of life, of magic, through it. If anything, Bob would find our trap even more tantalizing because of the duality of my water magic joining with Zola’s earth tendencies.

  Next, I concentrated on the clouds, filtering through the mess of a storm that’d been kept at bay for the last few hours. I played lightly with the tenuous spattering of precipitation in the clouds, envisioning droplets of dainty rain falling in an isolated line over Zola’s plants. I merged the two magics and, when I felt ready, I invoked the spell: “Sprinkle water by the new full moon; then watch your garden grow and bloom!”

  When I opened my eyes, my first glimpse was of Zola’s face — and her jaw hanging wide open. I followed her gaze, pride blooming as I watched a light, delicate spattering of rain drip onto the flowers, seep into the ground and absorb into the newly-rooted plants.

  “Well, if that doesn’t work,” I said, turning to Zola, “I’m out of options. I’ll swing back after karaoke tonight. Speaking of, have you decided which song to sing?”

  Zola winced at me. “Is there an option to not sing?”

  “Let’s give Kenna all our slots,” I suggested, “to save the ears of the general public. You think she’d go for it?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Twenty-Two

  “What is loooove?” I wailed into my hairbrush. “Baby, don’t hurrrt me —.”

  What is that noise? Paul had basked in his margarita bath all afternoon, pulling himself out of it only once he’d licked all the sugar from the rim of the glass and digested the tequila. He hiccupped. You sound like a dying cow. I bet Bob can sing better than you.

  “Well, we won’t know until we find Bob now, will we?” I said, holding up one dress in front of my body and then switching it out for another. “Which do you prefer?”

  What do you think I am, your stylist? Paul burped. Go with the red. It’s sexy.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Please remove the word ‘sexy’ from your vocabulary. And that’s the last time I’ll put two shots of tequila into your beverage.”

  He turned his toad lips into a pout. Why can’t toads be sexy?

  I didn’t grace his drunken slur with an answer. “You don’t like my song?”

  The song is fine. It’s your voice that’s breaking my ears.

  “Fine, then stay home tonight.”

  Fine, Paul retorted. Can I get a hot tub in a bath of red wine?

  “No. You’re cut off.”

  But —.

  “Paul, no.” I pointed my finger at him like I might a petulant child. “I know you’re not all brave and whatnot, but I might need you to watch my back tonight after karaoke.”

  In case someone tries to murder you for breaking their eardrums?

  “Ha-ha, not funny. A murderer is on the loose, and I’m hunting monsters. Keep joking, Paul, and I’ll feed you to Bob.”

  You aren’t real clever with names, Paul mused as he flopped on his back inside one of my high heels. It was the perfect little chaise style lounger for him. Paul and Bob aren’t winning any awards for originality, are they?

  “Good. Bye.” I slammed my foot into my shoe, just narrowly avoiding squashing Paul’s toes. “Be the watch-frog for me.”

  I’m a toad.

  “Yeah, and watch-toad doesn’t sound as cool,” I said. “How do I look? Be honest. But not too honest.”

  Paul scampered to a better vantage point atop his dresser and studied me from head to toe. You look nice, Evian.

  “Okay, be more honest than that.”

  Paul’s eyes looked extra watery, and I wondered if toads experienced emotional rollercoasters when intoxicated, much like some humans. You look really beautiful, Evian. If that moron Mason is there tonight, he’d better ask you to dance.

  “Stop lying to me. Is my hair —?”

  I’m not lying. You look great. I hope you have some fun — you deserve it.

  “Fat chance,” I said. “Kenna always makes us sing, and I’d rather have a mermaid bite off all my toes one by one.”

  Paul nodded. Shame I can’t sing for you. They say I have a real deep, throaty voice.

  “I’m sure it’s beautiful, Paul. Sleep it off.” I gave my toad a lift downstairs to his porch bed. After shutting off lights and locking the door, I gave Bertha a wave as I stepped outside.

  She promptly dropped her binoculars. Then, the window came up. “Is that you, Evian?”

  “Yes, Bertha,” I replied patiently. “Who else would it be?”

  This was our little song and dance every time I came out of the house looking like a fancier version of myself. Thank heavens I didn’t date much or Bertha would have a bruised toe from dropping the binoculars on herself. Apparently I managed to look enough of a slouch that even a little hairspray and lipstick counted as a disguise.

  “You’re not going to Coconuts?” I called. “I hear you were a real siren back in your day.”

  “This old hip ain’t working right,” Bertha said. “Plus, sometimes I think I can hear the music from here.”

  More likely, Bertha didn’t feel like fighting Kenna for the microphone. Not that I blamed her. If I was old and could pull off the whole agoraphobic excuse as well as Bertha I might never leave the house, either.

  I puttered down the path, picking my way carefully. Due to the high heels, my walk to Coconuts was longer than usual.

  “May I walk you to the show?”

  A distinctly male voice caught me off guard and my klutz mode enabled. I took a step, a skip, and then I toppled headfirst into the bushes. A hand reached out to help me up, but I pushed it aside and fought the bottom of my dress to stay down as I reloaded myself back onto my stilettos.

  “Mason,” I said, as I tried to regain normal breathing patterns after my wipeout. “What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry.” His expression had worked itself in
to one of true remorse. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay? Did you hurt anything? You must have twisted an ankle in those shoes.”

  “Nope, I’m used to falling in them,” I said cheerfully, fighting off my wave of embarrassment with a fake grin. “Put them on and whoops! Timber, if you know what I mean.”

  “Then why do you wear them?”

  “Societal pressure. And Kenna.”

  “Look, I know this is probably inappropriate timing considering that I just about bowled you over, but you really do look gorgeous, Evian. Stunning.”

  My flush grew hotter. “Thanks. I should, ah, probably get a move on, though, or Kenna’s head will light on fire. She doesn’t like when I’m late.”

  “Who cares what Kenna thinks?”

  I almost asked him to marry me then and there. He did have a point. “Er — it’s complicated.”

  “May I walk with you?” He extended a hand. “If you’d prefer, I can give you a piggy back ride. I owe you one after sending you into the bushes.”

  I fought back the weird giggle bubbling up from my stomach. Giving a cockeyed nod, I let him slip his arm through mine and drag me along toward Coconuts.

  The road was mostly empty. Most people were probably at the bar already, fighting for a place on the singing roster that I’d gratefully give up if I had the choice. With my luck, Kenna had already signed me up. Maybe I could pawn it off on someone else.

  “Say, do you want to sing tonight?” I asked Mason.

  He frowned. “Together? I did say I owed you one, so I guess … .”

  “Oh — er, I meant, I hate singing. Kenna might try to force me to, however, and I will happily give you my spot.”

  “In that case, no thanks. I’d rather watch you flounder.” He winked. “I’m also wondering if maybe we can stop talking about Kenna for a second and talk about us.”

  “Us?”

  “You. Me,” he said. “Have you thought about what I said at all? Are you any closer to finding the murderer? I hate to sound impatient, but I’d really love to take you out, Evian.”

  “Why me?”

  “What do you mean, why you?”

  “I mean,” I started, already feeling the heat rush up the back of my neck, “why are you asking me out on a date? It’s no secret your roster of ex-girlfriends is as long as the karaoke list at Coconuts tonight.”

  “Not quite.”

  “Fine, but you get the picture.” I sighed. “My point is that you could ask anyone on this island out on a date, but here you are helping me out of the bushes.”

  “I wouldn’t be helping you out if I hadn’t made you fall in.” He gave a smile, but it was a lopsided one that lasted but a second. When it faded, he watched me out of the corner of his eye. “There are so many reasons I’m interested in you.”

  “Which is more appealing? The fact that I trip over my own feet or the fact that my toad says I sound like a dying cow when I sing?”

  He blinked. “Your toad?”

  “Oh. Er, yeah,” I said, struggling to cover up for my slip. Usually I was good about keeping my mouth shut about Paul, but I was flummoxed by Mason’s grip on my arm. “It was a joke. Though I do have a toad. Named Paul. Long story. Anyway, you wanted to talk about us?”

  “Let’s talk about you.” Mason stopped moving and shifted his body so we were face to face. “Evian, you’re friendly. You’re fun, and you make me laugh, and every day that I see you is a little brighter day than all the others.”

  As if on cue, the moon’s glow shone clearly down on us, casting lengthy shadows in every direction while encasing us in light. “Mason, I didn’t mean you had to talk about me. I’m just curious about why me and not someone more … stable?”

  “Because I’m not interested in anyone else,” he said. “We might not know each other all that well yet, but I know it’s something I’d like to explore. Of course you’re beautiful and I love your smile, but that’s just superficial. You make me feel happier, and I can’t explain why.”

  I gave an awkward laugh. “You make me feel happier too.”

  “I’m not saying you have to fall in love with me, Evian. I just thought it’d be fun to get dinner together. We can take things slow.”

  “But Mary ... .”

  “I know you don’t have a reason to trust me yet, so I’m not going to push you,” he said, raising a hand to brush a drooping curl from my face. “But I hope for my selfish sake, and for Mary’s, that this case gets wrapped up quickly so I can buy you a plate of tacos.”

  Though I’d tried to keep my guard up, something about the tone of Mason’s voice had me melting on the inside like an ice cube. I really, really didn’t want Mason to be Mary’s murderer. Maybe it was the magic of the full moon, or maybe I was finally opening to trying out something new, but this felt right, and I didn’t want this moment to end.

  “I suppose we should get on, as you said.” He broke the silence, nodding toward Coconuts, where the music had grown in volume. “Now, tell me more about this toad.”

  I shook my head and gave him a completely fabricated story about how I’d caught Paul along with Kenna, Skye and Zola back at school. It wasn’t all false, I supposed, and there was enough truth to have both of us laughing by the end of it.

  “So, are you allowed to date?” Mason asked, an air of stiffness to his words. “You know, what with your history and all?”

  “My history?”

  “The school — weren’t you set on becoming a nun or something?”

  “Er, sort of,” I said, wishing the creators had thought up a different lie — anything else. I would’ve rather had a fake mortician profile as my background. “But I’m not and that’s what matters. Moving along.”

  “Tell me about —.”

  “Actually,” I interrupted as we came upon the bar. “I’m really sorry, Mason, can I join you inside in a few minutes?”

  “Is it something I said? The whole nun thing really doesn’t bother me,” he said. “So long as, you know, it’s in the past.”

  “No, no — I just ... .” I nodded my head toward the back entrance to Coconuts, where a figure sat in the shadows. “I want to pay my condolences to Edwin before I find Kenna.”

  Mason’s brow furrowed. “I’ll wait here for you.”

  “Maybe put my name down on the karaoke list?”

  “I thought you hated singing.”

  “Buy me a drink?” I said. “I’m sorry. I’d just prefer privacy. It’s a sensitive subject.”

  He bowed his head, looking not quite convinced, but gave a firm nod. “I’ll see you inside, Evian. Be careful.”

  His warning seemed out of place, but somehow warranted. I watched as Mason disappeared into the bar. Once he passed the bouncers on duty, I made my move.

  Turning my back on the party, I snuck around to the dark alley behind the festivities to find Edwin. Apparently the beauty pageant coordinator had a habit of sneaking off to places he shouldn’t. All I needed was confirmation he’d seen Mary the morning of the murder and finally, I suspected, the puzzle would come together.

  Twenty-Three

  “Having a smoke?” I asked, feeling dumb the second the words came out of my mouth. Of course Edwin was having a smoke. A cigarette was pressed to his lips and its toxic fumes were marching straight up my nostrils.

  He raised his eyebrow in answer. “Aren’t you Encyclopedia Brown.”

  I gave a pointed cough. “Smoking can kill you.”

  “So can murder,” he said. “Did you want something?”

  I gulped. “Actually, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt.” I gestured to the empty alley behind the bar. “It looks like you’re very busy, but I do have a question for you.”

  “I answered all of your questions already.”

  “Right, but according to a source, you got one answer wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You told me you were dealing with ‘that stupid K-cup machine’ at the time of Marilyn’s murder.”


  “Yep, again, Sherlock”

  “I’m fairly certain you lied about that, considering I have two eyewitnesses that place you at the crime scene just around the time of Mary’s murder.”

  The cocky smirk was wiped clean off his face. “Who snitched on me?”

  “That’s not exactly a denial now, is it?” I crossed my arms. “What were you doing there?”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “No, but it looks mighty bad if you don’t.”

  “The police haven’t expressed doubt in my story, so while I am flattered by your obsession with me, I have no interest in engaging with you.”

  “Just talk to me.”

  “That would be engaging.” Edwin took the cigarette from his lips and pressed it out with a hiss against the cool cement wall. “Have fun at the party.”

  I closed my eyes as Edwin leaned in and blew a smoky breath right at my face. I did my best to seal my lips and nose to avoid the musty scent of him as he stalked off, and I held my breath until I reached fresh air.

  By the time I’d resumed normal lung activity, Edwin had disappeared. I followed his path toward the front door, thinking that our brief interaction had shown me a more colorful side of the pageant coordinator. Obviously he was hiding something about his visit to the Beauty Cottage on the morning of the murder. If he had simply been checking up on the girls, why not say so?

  “Don’t you dare say anything about our talk.” Edwin surprised me, blocking my entrance to the bar with a quick sidestep. He’d been waiting in the shadows for me to round the corner. “I didn’t kill Mary.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Look, I had a few questions for the girls that morning and I was just there to check up on them.”

  “Why didn’t you say so from the start? You had to imagine one of the girls would see you.”

  His cheeks turned pink. “I tried to be careful.”

  “You weren’t careful enough. Several people saw you.”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “The truth is that I ran into Mary at the cottage. We chatted in the backyard for a few minutes, and then I left.”