Amuletto Kiss

by Gina LaManna

  I handed over a folded and laminated piece of stock paper that pre-populated a menu for an individual customer’s tastes. As I ran my finger along the outside of it, neat little scrolls listed a variety of rather harmless security spells on the page before me.

  “I can get half of these at the supply store,” the first man said, referencing my aunt’s shop not far from the bungalow. “These are no more than glorified pranks.”

  “They’re very effective alarm systems,” I said. “I’m not sure what more you’re looking for.”

  The first man shifted uneasily, but the second bore no hesitation as he pressed against the counter and leveled his gaze on mine. “We read that article. Joey and me, we’re neighbors. We have families and friends and things to protect.”

  “Listen, that article—”

  “Weren’t you there?” the smaller man asked. “Did you see The Faction?”

  “I saw Peter for a short while,” I said, sounding cross, “but I think there’s a slight over exaggeration about how much danger the islanders are in. At least, in your own homes.”

  “But you don’t deny The Faction is preparing for some sort of war?”

  How could I deny such a thing after all I’d seen? My slight pause, the firm set of my jaw, was the only answer the men needed.

  “If you won’t help us,” the tall, lanky man warned, “we will go elsewhere.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Good luck to you.”

  “That’s it?” The shorter of the two rose to his toes and leaned further over the bar, his face now inches from mine. “You’re the Mixologist, Miss Locke,” he said on a hiss. “I thought you were supposed to protect this island. Or, maybe you don’t care since you just showed up here out of the blue. Some of us—we love this place. Our families are here. We can’t just leave—”

  “It’s not like that—”

  “Gentlemen.” Gus’s gravelly voice rolled over the beachfront as he appeared in the door, his cane pounding extra loudly against the floor. “What seems to be the problem?”

  It wasn’t that Gus looked intimidating: He was an old man, gruff and rumpled with pale eyes that surveyed the room with startling clarity. In terms of loyalty to the island, however, there wasn’t a soul who could question Gus’s. He’d served willingly as the assistant to the Mixologist for more years than many islanders could remember.

  “Nothing,” the shorter man grumbled, leaning back on his toes. He stabbed a finger randomly at the menu. “I’ll take that one.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure, it’s—” His face reddened as he read the selected name. “Fine, I’ll take this one. And this one.”

  He jabbed at a few more intimidating looking spells. While I surveyed them, calculating the necessary ingredients on the spot, the taller, lankier man settled against the counter and leveled his gaze at Gus.

  “I’ve got a problem,” he said, his voice low. “What’s this newbie doing telling us we can’t protect our family?”

  “She ain’t a newbie any longer,” Gus growled. “She’s done more for this island in her short time here than most people have in a lifetime.”

  “She’s not a lifer,” he argued. “I want to protect my family. I need a spell stronger than...” he paused, glancing at the menu and selecting one of the gentler ones. “Rabbit Repeller.”

  My face flushed red. “That’s just listed as a gardening aid!”

  “If you want a stronger spell, here’s how you get it.” Gus clacked his cane on the steps as he climbed down. When he reached the bottom, the sand swallowed the familiar thumps. “You can head to the mainland and inquire at MAGIC, Inc. like the rest of us. Or, if you fancy a quicker fix, I’m sure The Faction leaders will have no problem trading you a few spells for your loyalty.”

  “That’s not what I’m after. You’re twisting my words.”

  “I’m not twisting anything.” Gus inched closer. “I’m giving you some options. Lily says she don’t sell spells that hurt others; you want to hurt others, you go to The Faction. What’s so hard to understand?”

  “I want—”

  “You protect yourself and start injuring innocents, and you’re no better than them. Get out of the Mixologist’s bar.”

  “Gus, you know me; you know my father,” the taller man argued. “We’re loyal. You saw the article. We need to be ready.”

  “We are ready. The Rangers are initiating new recruits at a faster rate than ever. We’re surrounding this island with more complex spells than you can comprehend. We have guards on high alert and more—so much more than you or I could ever understand. The best are on it, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy flushed at the nickname. “I hope you’re not wrong.”

  Gus merely crossed his arms. “There are other avenues for you to pursue if you’re looking for curses. We know that’s why you’re here.”

  Though I felt like a bug on the wall, I couldn’t help my mind flashing to Liam. If anyone could acquire complex, potentially dangerous supplies and spells, or even curses, it was him.

  In retrospect, Liam’s morally ambiguous connections now made sense. He had connections high up in The Faction—as high as one could get. It was no wonder he could move next-to-illegal supplies easily on and off the island undetected. The Faction had probably been feeding his business this entire time.

  I felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. For not looking deeper into the man behind the mystery, for not asking the right questions when I put in orders for difficult-to-find supplies. Everyone had seemed so certain, so sure, Liam had The Isle’s best intentions at heart. Finding out it wasn’t so, being made a fool in front of my father, had been a difficult blow to move past.

  Even now at the thought of it, a surge of anger coursed through me. A crackle of blue electricity snapped between my fingers, and I quickly moved them below the bar before anyone could notice. Gus, forever observant, barely blinked, but I could tell he hadn’t missed it.

  “I recommend you make your choice and get out of here,” Gus said, probably before I could explode at our customer. “What’ll it be, Jimmy?”

  “I’ll take what he got,” Jimmy said, nodding at his shorter neighbor, his voice turning to a grumble. “And I’ll take the Rabbit Repeller, too. Nasty bunch of critters this season——they’re eating my wife’s lettuce.”

  “Now, that we can do for you,” Gus said, sounding mildly appeased. “Lily—you got the order?”

  “Yes,” I said tersely. “I’ll have to Mix a few things. Does tomorrow morning work for pickup?”

  The men nodded and took their leave, the taller one somewhat begrudgingly. As they left, I collected the menus and slid them back into place, flexing my fingers to make sure the sizzle of magic had calmed.

  “Shouldn’t be too bad,” Gus said nonchalantly. “I think we have most of the supplies on hand. I’ll head inside and start preparing the ingredients for you.”

  “Gus?”

  He stopped, his cane resting on the first step going into the storeroom. “Yes, Lily?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What was that all about?”

  For a moment, he feigned innocence. “Which part?”

  “Don’t,” I said, more snappish than I’d intended. “Please don’t patronize me. You didn’t need to come out here; I could have handled them myself.”

  “Jimmy was being a clown. I’ve known him since he was...” Gus paused to gesture around his waist. “He needed to see reason—seems he forgot the point of the Mixologist’s duty.”

  “I’m the Mixologist. I can remind him. I’ll handle my customers.”

  “I’m your assistant.” Gus didn’t back down. “I serve the Mixologist in any necessary capacity, and I won’t sit around when someone like Jimmy’s being hard-headed. He needed some sense knocked into him.”

  “Let me knock it next time.”

  This was my home, my bar, my career—my life. My entire existence had somehow shifted since I’d learned from my au
nts that I had witch blood in my veins, that I’d been born into the role of Mixologist.

  I no longer thought of myself as a Mixologist—I simply was the Mixologist. It would forever be linked with my identity.

  “Try to understand, Gus. I can’t have people thinking I’m weak. Not in a time like this.”

  “Anyone who thinks you’re weak is a fool.”

  “You saw the article; they’re scared.” I glanced down at my hands, unable to ignore the blue glow on the tips of my fingers. “Tensions are high all around, and we need to be the ones keeping up appearances. Those of us facing The Faction need to be strong, and we need to appear strong for everyone else. Please, Gus, for the island.”

  He looked ready to argue again, but before he could open his mouth, another set of feet wandered toward the bar—a set attached to very long legs, a wispy body, and the face of a supermodel.

  “Hello,” the woman purred. “I’m here to order—”

  “Here you are,” I said, handing over the menu of security spells. “I assume you’re looking for this?”

  “Actually, I’m throwing a party, and I need to purchase ten vials of Long Isle Iced Tea.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Ten vials? That’s a hefty amount.”

  She laughed deep and hoarse, a strangely exotic sound. “It’s a big party. You know, rumors still circle the island about the success of yours.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Let me see what I have in stock. It’s been flying off the shelves lately.”

  Gus silently disappeared into the storeroom. Faint clanks of vials led me to believe he’d begun preparing the orders of security spells, and I was grateful for his unspoken display of support.

  “Let’s see, I have nine right here...” I shuffled a few vials. “It’ll be somewhat expensive—the ingredients are difficult to find, especially with a silver this pure.”

  The woman pulled out a pouch and set it down, clinking it against the counter. “Cost is no issue.”

  “Wow. That’s some party.”

  “Don’t tell anyone.” She inched toward me with a conspiratorial wink. “But it’s for one of the largest magical institutions in the world.”

  “MAGIC. Inc.?” I blurted. Then waved a hand. “Forget I said that.”

  She winked. “Call me Rhonda. You must be Lily.”

  I extended my hand and shook hers. “Are you a party planner?”

  “Something like that.”

  I silently tallied the vials once more, but we were still at nine. “Let me check the storeroom,” I said, and ducked inside for a moment.

  Gus was there, ready with a vial. “This is the last prepared one. Are you sure you want to sell it?”

  I shrugged. “Why not? Let’s get another batch started.”

  He confirmed with a grunt and returned to the table. I could practically see his To Do list growing, and I made a mental note to make sure he got out of here on time this evening. If Gus started working late again on a regular basis, Mimsey would have my head. The two had been seeing each other for months now, and their honeymoon phase didn’t seem to budge with the passing of time.

  As I returned to the bar, my thoughts of Gus brought about a pang of longing for my own relationship. A relationship that now felt strained, despite my best efforts. I’d worried things between X and I wouldn’t go back to normal after his near proposal at the end of my time spent in Wishery, and it appeared my concerns were coming to fruition.

  I clutched the vial tight in my hand, so tightly I nearly cracked the glass as I replayed Ranger X’s promise. He had said he’d wait until the end of time for me to be ready. Could that possibly be true?

  “Everything okay?” Rhonda’s eyes scrunched as she watched my stiff movements. “Not a huge deal if you don’t have that last vial.”

  “Oh, I have it.” I forced a smile. “Let me grab your change, here.”

  “Keep it.” She waved a hand and winked. “It comes out of the party fund.”

  I nodded my thanks and packaged up Rhonda’s purchases. Money didn’t mean much to us on the island—we took care of our own around here. If someone needed a Mix and couldn’t afford to pay, it’d never stop me from providing them with the necessary one. However, Gus and I did need to make purchases from afar at times, and money happened to be a universal language understood in all corners of the earth.

  “Have a nice party!” I offered her the parcel, relieved to have an order that wasn’t a security spell. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Rhonda flashed me a winning smile and agreed, then picked up her package and sashayed out of the bar. While she left, I counted up the coins, forcing myself not to wonder where Gus would get the pure silver and stardust needed to replenish my supply of Long Isle Iced Tea now that our relationship with Liam was, in a word, complicated.

  I delayed my return to the storeroom by puttering behind the bar for a few moments. I put on the ingredients for a Caffeine Cup and polished the counter while I waited for the beverage to brew.

  My mind crowded with thoughts of Ranger X, wondering what damage control would look like. The article had surprised and affected both of us. I took a few deep breaths, knowing I should explain myself to him—that it’d be easy enough to clarify I’d had nothing to do with the article being published early.

  He’d believe me. He was my love. He was a good, honest man—as well as an incredibly powerful force to reckon with, and his reaction to seeing the headline in the paper had been nothing but a knee jerk emotional one. I knew all that.

  However, I’d had my own emotional reaction to his outburst that left me wondering. Unease percolated in my gut, and there was a deep sense of unrest in realizing that X’s immediate conclusion had been to assume I’d leaked the article in spite of his wishes.

  As I scrubbed, harder and harder, I couldn’t help the flash of hurt that racked my body. I would never betray him, yet somehow, he’d believed it possible. Somewhere deep down, he’d suspected me of going behind his back for something as stupid as Peter’s article—and that worried me. Against everything else, we needed to trust one another. Isn’t that what love is all about?

  Ranger X’s doubt hurt worse than Liam’s betrayal, even though the latter had become a man I’d viewed as a friend, a confidant, a well-intentioned—though dangerous—fixture of the island. He’d fooled Ranger X, Gus, and a slew of islanders into believing his loyalties had been firmly on our side.

  I’d spent the last few weeks tracing back over every one of our interactions, struggling to unearth signs I should have seen.

  The thoughts brought me nowhere fast and always led to the same place: betrayal, darkness, and anger.

  Despite Liam’s murky loyalties, Ranger X and I had agreed to work with him on a mission that was larger than all of us. We needed to save the Master of Magic. He was the man—the entity—who controlled our magical world.

  According to the stories, without the Master of Magic, our world would crumble. Life as we knew it would cease to exist if the balance of magic was destroyed. Liam had claimed the Master of Magic was The Faction’s next target. He hadn’t shared the when, the how, or the why, only that we needed to be ready at a moment’s notice.

  I took a few deep breaths, rotated my shoulders, and cracked my knuckles as the Caffeine Cup setup gurgled to completion and left me two piping hot cups of magical coffee. I gathered them, forcing the swirling thoughts to the back of my brain as I re-entered the storeroom.

  “We’ll need more silver and stardust,” I began as I climbed the stairs. “We’re wiped out of Long Isle Iced Tea as you’ve noticed. I’ll also need the basics for the Security Samplers: rosemary, a hint of acid—I don’t think we keep that on hand—ginger, lemon—”

  “Don’t you dare ruin this, Lily Locke!” The front door burst open, and in typical fashion, Zin stormed in, her short black bob cutting sharply around her face. “I swear, if you ruin my chance to become a Ranger, I will...”

  She trailed off at the sight of Gus holdin
g a very sharp knife over a vanilla bean. Meanwhile, I gently set the Caffeine Cups on the table in the center of the room and faced my petite, dark-clothed cousin.

  “What’s that, Zin?” I asked, my hand raising to land on my hip. “Did you need something?”

  Her eyes clouded, but she was outnumbered. Not that she’d do anything rash, but she’d clearly come for an argument, and frankly, I was glad. I needed someone to be honest with me, to hash things out so we could move on with our lives.

  “Never mind,” she grumbled. “I was just—”

  “Tell me what you came to say,” I said, an edge to my voice. Raising one hand from my hip, I gave a warning sign to my assistant. “Stay out of this, Gus.”

  “Ranger X is on a tear,” Zin said, some of the fire coming back into her voice. “That stupid article. Did you have something to do with it? Because the only time Ranger X ever curses at his employees is when you’ve done something that upsets him. And let me tell you, my mother would’ve washed his mouth out with soap after our meeting at HQ this morning.”

  A terse smile at the thought of Trinket swirling soap around Ranger X’s mouth broke off a corner of the tension. “I’m not dragging you into my relationship with the details, but yes. He’s angry with me.”

  Zin’s eyes crinkled. “What’d you do?”

  “Nothing,” I said curtly. I refused to have an argument with Zin that really needed to be had with Ranger X. “How am I ruining your chances of becoming a Ranger? I thought you were a shoe-in. The ceremony is in just a few days.”

  “It is.” Zin pursed her lips. “I have one last assignment that needs completing before my paperwork is official.”

  “What’s the assignment?”

  “It’s confidential,” she said, thoughtfully. “Ranger X hasn’t told you?”

  “Not if it’s confidential Ranger business. We’re in a relationship; we’re not colleagues.”

  Zin shrugged as if the two were interchangeable, but she seemed mildly appeased. “Well, with this stupid article, all of the Ranger and trainee schedules are being eaten up by bogus calls and paranoid people. Our free time is zilch for personal cases.”