Long Isle Iced Tea

by Gina LaManna

  “Then un-curse this damn house already, will you? It’s driving our population way down. Gnomes are moving out left and right! My grandmother’s too old to move and too terrified to stay. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Figure it out!” Poppy said, frowning at him. “It’s not Lily’s job to go traipsing into The Forest to check out a house that might be haunted from a gnome who might be telling the truth.”

  “Of course I’m telling the truth!” His face turned a shade of red dangerously close to purple. “I wouldn’t be asking for help if I could solve the problem myself. Gnomes hate asking for help.”

  “That’s true,” Poppy admitted, turning to me. “Stubborn little creatures. I don’t think he’s lying. The house might not be haunted, but he thinks it is.”

  “I’m right here,” he said. “And I have a name. Chuck.”

  “Chuck,” I said. “Do you think the house is haunted or cursed?”

  “I don’t know the difference. I didn’t study a whole lot of magic.”

  “I’ll come check it out,” I said, sighing. “But no promises. If it looks dangerous, I’m not going inside.”

  “Darn right, she’s not!” Poppy stuck a hand on her hip, leaned forward, and poked her finger right under the gnome’s nose. “I swear on your grandmother’s life, Chuck, if you harm a hair on Lily’s head I will sic her boyfriend on you.”

  “Ooh, scary,” Chuck said. “Who’s her boyfriend, the old coot who runs this place with her?”

  “Gnomes have no sense of age. That’s disgusting.” Poppy wrinkled her nose. “Her boyfriend is Ranger X.”

  At the last initial in his name, Chuck stilled completely. His red nose turned a lighter shade of pink, and the purple coloring in his forehead resumed its ruddy skin tone. “Er, right. Never mind then. Forget I asked. We’ll figure it out.”

  “No, wait, Chuck—I’ll come with you.” I stepped forward, looking to Poppy. “He’s right; it’s my job to help protect The Isle, and if there’s a curse instead of a haunting, maybe I can help.”

  “It’s not haunted,” Poppy argued. “But if it makes you feel better to check it out, at least wear a Comm device, and if anything—and I mean anything—looks wrong, don’t step foot near it. Hear me? I’ll be at work. Call me if you want backup.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “That’s what my sister said,” Chuck muttered.

  “What happened to your sister?” Poppy asked.

  “Let’s just say she doesn’t live in our colony anymore. The hauntings pushed her away. You ready, Mixologist? Grab your gun.”

  “I don’t carry a gun.”

  “What good are you then?!” he snapped. “I thought you used to be a human.”

  “On that note, I’m heading out,” Poppy said, blowing a kiss in my direction as she made her way out the front door. “Stay out of trouble, Lily.”

  “Wait here,” I said to Chuck once Poppy had gone. “I need to grab something.”

  “What sort of nut you got in there today?” Gus asked from his seat at the bar as I slunk into Magic & Mixology. “He sounds like an odd case even for you.”

  I leaned against the counter, surveying the sandy ground, the gleaming wood bar, and the tables beyond. The sound of waves always seemed amplified here, driving home the beachy atmosphere.

  Gus stared at the chalkboard behind the counter where the Mixologist’s list of cocktails was displayed. I watched him for a moment, then frowned.

  “I don’t only get nuts coming in here,” I said. “I get people looking for help.”

  “And what does this guy need—a hole in the head?”

  “He’s worried about a house near The Forest.” Even as I said it aloud, I cringed a bit. “He thinks it might be haunted.”

  Gus snorted into his cup of coffee. “Right, sure. Have fun with that one.”

  “I’m glad you’re concerned about my safety.”

  “The gnome colony is barely in The Forest. It only qualified on that as a technicality. That boyfriend’s cabin of yours is in a more dangerous location. You’re hardly going past The Twist.”

  That made me feel a little better about the whole adventure, but I’d never admit it to Gus. Instead, I pulled the vial from my travel belt and handed it over. “Have you ever seen this before?”

  Gus watched the curling black smoke for a long moment. So long that my hand tired of holding it, and I set it onto the counter in front of him. He stared for so long that eventually I poured myself a cup of coffee while I waited.

  Finally, he moved. One finger—the littlest one—pressed against the outside of the glass. At the first sign of contact, he flinched. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked you.”

  “I’ve never seen this magic before.”

  “Nobody has. Hence the reason I’m looking for some help. I need to reverse this curse, or whatever it is.”

  “It ain’t a curse,” Gus said. “I can feel when something’s cursed. This is… this is something else entirely.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I’ve seen things similar to it before…” He frowned and picked up the bottle between two fingers. “But that sort of magic ain’t a spell. It’s not a charm, an enchantment, or even a curse. This is elemental. Basic. Some sort of primal magic, and I don’t like it. Where you find this?”

  “I didn’t find it, I was taken to it.”

  “They Zapped you, didn’t they?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Lily, you were gone for five minutes before Poppy arrived. Even I can’t ignore that much,” Gus said with a slight smile. “Yes, if you’re wondering, time is compressed between Zappings. It might’ve felt like hours, but it was only minutes. Were you on official agency business?”

  “Yes, and sworn to secrecy. I can’t explain everything, but I do need to break this. Or reverse it. Or something.”

  “Does it feel familiar to you?” Gus looked at me with curiosity. “Any sort of magic you’ve seen used in the past?”

  I swallowed, alarmed he’d seemed to read my mind.

  “Feels a bit like mind bending, doesn’t it?” he asked. “I thought so, too.”

  “It can’t be, though. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “This ain’t blood magic,” Gus said, twisting the bottle closer to him. The vial sat an inch from his nose, black as coal, beaded like mercury. “Blood magic doesn’t work like this. But it’s that primal, evil sort of magic. The sort of magic that latches onto anything good and turns it dark.”

  The way he spoke sent whispers of fear across my skin. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve lived many years, Lily Locke, and I’ve seen things you haven’t even dreamed of. This isn’t the first time the dark has tried to taint the light, and it won’t be the last.”

  “What am I supposed to do about it?”

  “Exactly what you’re doing.” Gus snapped the vial into the palm of his hand. “Go check out that haunted house.”

  My jaw fell open further. “But—”

  “Give me some time with this. There’s something niggling at the back of my brain, and I need some peace and quiet to think. When you come back, we’ll talk.”

  “And this haunted house? What do you think about it?”

  “I think it’s a bunny rabbit,” Gus said. “The gnomes are stubborn people, sure, but they’re also cautious. I’ve been past that house a million times. Ain’t nothing in there except maybe a wild animal. It’s been abandoned for years, and there are no such things as ghosts.”

  “I don’t think your pep talk made me feel any better.”

  “Here.” Gus stood, slipped the vial into his coat pocket, and marched his way into the storeroom. “Follow me.”

  I deposited both of our coffee mugs into the sink before following him into the room with the waiting gnome.

  “Take this.” Gus pulled down a jar from the top shelf. “Use this. Rids a space of ghosts.”

&nb
sp; I frowned as he scooped a generous amount of white powder into a bag. I lowered my voice so only Gus could here. “This is nothing but baking flour.”

  “Maybe if you add the right chant it’ll work.” Gus’s shoulders were practically heaving with a mixture of glee and mischief as he handed over the sack of flour. It had no more magic than a blade of ordinary grass. “Put it in your travel belt, so you can keep your hands free—you know, to fight off the ghosts.”

  “And how does this chant go? Anything specific?”

  “You’ll figure it out yourself,” he growled. “Get out of here now, before the ghost gets into trouble.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying!” Chuck piped up from near the door. “We need to get moving. No time to waste.”

  With a wave to Gus, a sack of flour, and a disgruntled gnome as my guide, we set off toward The Forest. Though the day hadn’t been all bad, thanks to the personalized key from Ranger X, I’d been Zapped, introduced to Wishery, and recruited for a de-haunting mission all in one day. Still, what worried me most was the calla lily in the corner. Blooming and dying, blooming and dying.

  He was coming.

  Chapter 6

  “THIS IS IT.” CHUCK stopped abruptly before a little hut buried amid a palm tree grove. “The haunted house.”

  I surveyed the scene first, taking in the rectangular door built into the rocky stone face of a small hill. Bright palm trees created a miniature forest around the hut, shielding it from view of passersby. The oasis looked more like a vacation home than a dark and scary place.

  “I thought you said it was in The Forest.” I stepped closer, peeking through the palms for a closer look. The house itself was half built into the rocky hillside, made from old lumber that looked somewhat like driftwood. A cross between a beaver dam and a log cabin.

  “The Forest is right there.” Chuck pointed beyond the house where, in the distance, the blackness of the shadows stood.

  In recent months, I’d had to venture in more and more often. It was home to specialized ingredients for many of my potions, and I refused to ask Ranger X for an escort every time I needed to refresh my Dust of the Devil supply. No matter how many times I’d been through The Forest, it never got easier.

  Luckily, this house was not in The Forest.

  Gus’s words rang though my head, and I wondered if it wasn’t an animal who’d gotten locked inside. I waved for Chuck to follow me as I crossed a tiny stream that wound in a loose triangle around the house before pouring into a glittering little waterfall no taller than my waist.

  “It’s charming,” I told Chuck. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just a raccoon.”

  “What’s a raccoon?”

  I stiffened, having to remind myself that this was a magical island, not downtown St. Paul. “Or, you know, a fairy.”

  “Maybe it’s one of Glinda’s rug rats gone rogue.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or one of them new…what are they called? The things that live near the volcano.”

  “Fire Fox?”

  “Yes.” Chuck now seemed enthused. “Let’s go. I’ve heard they’re cute. I bet one got lost and decided to rest here.”

  We crept toward the front door of the makeshift residence, and the faint scent of charred logs became stronger. “Do you smell burning?” I asked. “Where is that coming from?”

  Chuck sniffed, then shook his head. “Gnomes don’t sniff too good. I can’t smell a thing.”

  Another few steps closer, and we were near enough to reach out and touch the door.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’m the one who called you for help.”

  I reached out, heart pounding, toward the rugged knob. A part of me hoped it would be locked and shut tight with no reason for us to go inside. As my fingers closed around the handle, a hand reached out and grasped my wrist.

  “Don’t be stupid!” Chuck said. “Get the potion ready. Who knows what’s in there? What if the Fire Fox is rabid?”

  I struggled to catch my breath and fight off an eyeroll all at once. From my belt, I withdrew the bag of flour and wiggled it in front of Chuck’s face until he gave a pleased nod.

  “Better,” he said. “You can never be too careful.”

  I untied the baggie just to make him happy, then resumed my position with my hand against the door. Before I could open it, there was a shuffle of movement from inside.

  “Did you hear that?” I whispered. “There’s something in there.”

  “Or someone.” Chuck’s eyes were wide. “I told you that it’s haunted.”

  I cleared my throat and knocked on the door. My desire to get this over with was stronger than my desire to run away. If we didn’t solve this today, Chuck would be back.

  “Hello?” I called. “Is someone in there? This is Lily.”

  “The Mixologist,” Chuck piped up. “And she’s got some dangerous potions ready to fire if you don’t come out with your hands up.”

  “I’m not firing any potions. We just want to ask you some questions.”

  A quiet thud came from inside, and then the shattering of glass. Chuck jumped, stumbled backward off a rock, and landed with one foot in the stream. Swearing, he yanked his foot out and scowled as I knocked once more.

  “Everything okay in there?” I asked. My adrenaline was in overdrive. My fingers clutched the bag of flour as if it had the power to save my life. My ears thudded with the sound of my heartbeat. “We’re just here to say hi.”

  Chuck returned to his position on the rock. “Well, go in there! Something is happening.”

  “I can’t just waltz in. It’s not my home!”

  “It’s been abandoned for years; that’s the problem. It used to belong to the Witch of the Woods—like, a hundred years ago. Then she got frustrated with all the visitors stumbling by and moved into The Forest. Nobody has been allowed to live here since. The Forest protects it, you see.”

  I’d seen firsthand the way The Forest, nature, and all living things on The Isle protected its grandmother—the Witch of the Woods. I understood that piece. What I didn’t understand was the racket coming from inside the abandoned building.

  “Hello?” I called again. “I’m going to try the doorknob in case you need help. Tell me to stop if you don’t want company.”

  Another piece of glass shattered. Chuck’s eyes grew wide. Our gazes met, and I twisted the handle and threw the door open.

  A cloud of screeching, vibrant orange in a flash of white came flying at us. I reacted on impulse, throwing my hands in the air, which sent flour sailing everywhere. The screeching grew worse, morphing into a pained shriek as Chuck yanked my arm and together we tumbled down the slope and landed in a heap at the bottom.

  “What was that?” Chuck leapt to his feet prepared for a fight. “I told you there were evil spirits in there! Where’s your potion? When’s it going to start working? Did you say your chant? I didn’t hear any chant.”

  “Chuck!” I gasped, holding onto my stomach as I recovered my breath. I’d landed on the stump of a tree and it’d taken all the wind out of me. “That’s not…an evil…spirit.”

  “You’re nuts. Did you hear that thing? Ain’t no human ever made a sound like that.”

  “Because it’s not a human!” Voice still raspy, I made my way to my feet and pointed toward the entrance to the house. There, covered completely by flour, stood Tiger. “It’s a cat.”

  “A…cat.”

  “Come here, cutie,” I said, making my way toward Hettie’s kitten. Thanks to the flour, his coat no longer shone vibrant orange, but a powdery white. “Sorry, buddy. It’ll wash right off.”

  “What do you mean it’ll wash right off?” Chuck lifted an arm to his nose, took a sniff, and inhaled a nose full of flour. A coughing fit took hold, and when he finished, he faced me looking extra disgruntled. “What is this?!”

  The cat wasn’t the only one covered in flour—Chuck looked like a very short, very wide ghost with a tomato for a nose.

  “Is
this a joke to you?” Chuck shook himself, causing a cloud of dusty white to settle at his feet. “This isn’t magic, is it? This is just you and that assistant of yours having a good chuckle at the stupid gnome.”

  “No, Chuck—that’s not it at all. Gus just doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Then he should’ve just said that. You went along with it, too. You’re not any better.”

  “I’m really sorry.” I stepped toward him, still clutching Tiger to my chest. “None of this was intended to make fun of you.”

  “Well, now y’all can share a laugh.” Chuck dipped a hand in the water in an attempt to free himself of the flour, but it only made him a pasty, sticky mess. He shook his hand off, spattering bits of doughy goo everywhere. “Hope I brightened your day.”

  “Chuck—wait! Please. This wasn’t a joke. You’re right, something was living in the house. We can say it was haunted if you prefer.”

  The idea seemed appealing to the gnome, but after considering it for a long minute, he shook his head. “Forget it. Thanks for your help, Miss Locke.”

  “Chuck…”

  He’d already turned away, his feet leaving trails of powder behind him. I started to follow him, but he didn’t seem interested in talking. I had to find a way to make it up to him somehow, a way to apologize.

  “Did Hettie send you?” I squeezed Tiger a little closer and nestled my cheek against his fur. “Is she trying to cause trouble?”

  The cat looked at me, hissed, and then jumped from my arms.

  When I reached to pick him up, I caught a glimpse of my face in the water’s reflection. The gnome and the cat weren’t the only ones covered completely in white. My face, my clothes, every inch of me was a complete and utter mess. No wonder he didn’t recognize me.

  I debated heading to Ranger X’s cabin. I did have a key now, and we were close enough, but I looked like a mummy and probably smelled like an old cake without any of the sweet. However, it would be far more practical to meet my grandmother and return her cat. The least she could do was feed me.

  “Come on,” I said to the cat. “It’s getting late, and you’ve haunted this house for long enough.”