Hotter Than Spell (An Elemental Witches of Eternal Springs Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  I ignored her and spread my arms as though I were embracing the trio. “Three creatures without a soul. Return them to their demonic hole.”

  The wind blew so hard around us, that even the sarcastic trees bent to its will.

  “My leaves,” Myra cried. “I’m naked without my leaves!”

  “You’re naked without your bark,” Agatha countered. “Your leaves are like accessories.”

  “Ah, good point,” Myra replied.

  The wind whipped around us. Even Stuart sought refuge at the base of Earl’s trunk.

  “Puppies,” the second monkey wailed. “We only wanted puppieeeeeeees!”

  Their wings melted first, followed by their hairy brown bodies. With a final howl of despair, they disappeared into the dirt.

  I stared at the circle of scorched earth, checking that they were truly gone before relinquishing my fiery lasso. One flick of my fingers and it vanished.

  “Are they dead?” Stuart asked, flying over to investigate.

  “No,” I replied. “I’ve only sent them back to the other side, the place they came from.”

  “You saved me.” Stuart gazed at me in amazement. “You like me. You really like me.”

  “I didn’t just save you, Stuart,” I said. “I saved the puppies of Eternal Springs.”

  “And us,” Earl said. “Don’t forget us.”

  “That magic lasso was killer,” Stuart said. “I’ve never seen you use fire like that before.”

  It was then that the realization hit me. I had used fire—a real fire spell, not some watered-down version—and I’d used it well. “Thanks, Stuart. It feels…good.” It really did. I felt more like myself than I had in ages.

  “You, my dear, are a badass,” Myra pronounced.

  “It’s one thing to send them back to their hellhole, but who’s going to clean up all their poop?” Agatha asked.

  “You’re never satisfied,” Myra said.

  “Maybe my standards are just higher than yours,” Agatha shot back.

  “Your branches aren’t even higher than mine,” Myra retorted smugly.

  At least they were turning on each other and not on me. “I’ll see what I can do about the monkey poop. In the meantime, I have a murder to solve and a band competition to run.”

  I returned to the clearing where my scooter awaited me, a swagger in my step.

  I was ready to rock.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The time is nigh, Gerald called.

  I bolted upright in bed. Streaks of sunshine invaded my bedroom. Another sunny day. Yes! I punched the air. Perfect weather for a Battle of the Bands competition on the beach.

  Thanks for waking me, I said.

  I’m downstairs and breakfast is on the table.

  I flipped the covers back just enough so that I could slide out without messing up the bedding. I’ll be right there. I wanted to be the first to arrive at Anchors Away and the last one to leave. That was the only way to make sure the event went smoothly from start to finish.

  I came downstairs to a steaming bowl of oatmeal and banana drizzled with honey.

  One of your favorites, miss.

  “Gerald, this is so sweet,” I said. “I know you’d rather have eggs and bacon.”

  You’ll need a healthy breakfast for the long day ahead.

  I pointed my spoon at him. “And this is why Stuart will never unseat you, not that it’s possible anyway.”

  You and I have a long history together, Gerald said. It isn’t a simple matter of companionship.

  “Too right.” I devoured my oatmeal and gulped down the cup of tea that Gerald had also prepared. It had just the right amount of milk and sugar.

  I don’t suppose you want me along for moral support. Gerald gave me a hopeful look.

  “You know I’d love that, but hundreds of people dancing and drinking…I’m afraid you’d get trampled, especially when you’d have to hide your wings and not fly.”

  Very well then. Gerald heaved a sigh. At least Master Lucas will be there to support you.

  I sucked down the last of my tea. “Lucas and I haven’t actually discussed it, but I assume he’ll be there. Goddess knows he’s spent enough time flying people to the island for it.”

  You’ve been much more relaxed since you left with him yesterday.

  “I feel more relaxed.”

  Do you think he’ll be around more often now?

  I swallowed the last spoonful of oatmeal and looked at my pink fairy armadillo. “Are you concerned, Gerald?”

  Concerned, miss?

  I brought my empty bowl and cup to the kitchen sink. “You sound like you might be concerned about Lucas coming around. Are you worried about our secret?”

  I suppose it’s a bit of that. He fluttered to the sink, his bottom dipping to the floor the entire distance.

  “We’re on the same page then,” I said. “I’m worried, too. Hestia has a point. I’m used to hiding my identity from people, but I’ve never been close enough to anyone to care.”

  Maybe that’s the reason you haven’t, Gerald suggested. You know it will be an issue at some point.

  “Superman didn’t have these problems,” I said. “Lois Lane was thrilled to be with Superman. I’m not sure Lucas would feel the same way about dating a witch.” It would be like Luke finding out Darth Vader was his father. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still.

  Stuart is the other part of it, Gerald confessed.

  I laughed. “Gerald, you know perfectly well that you don’t need to worry about Stuart replacing you. It will never happen.”

  But he doesn’t give up, Gerald said. And he’s forever breathing down my neck, waiting for me to misstep. It’s most unpleasant.

  “I can see how that might be stressful.” I headed upstairs to shower and change. Gerald trailed behind me. “What if we offered Stuart an official role?”

  A witch cannot have two familiars, Gerald protested. It simply isn’t the done thing.

  “No, not as a familiar,” I said. Stuart had proven himself loyal and useful recently. He deserved something for his efforts. “Maybe there’s a reference in the coven handbook. Some antiquated position he can have. That might get him off your back.”

  Or I could cast a protective spell around the house.

  “I’d rather not. Those have a way of backfiring,” I said. I turned on the shower. “You can research it today while I’m at Anchors Away.”

  I shall draw you a hot bath upon your return.

  “Thanks, Gerald. You’re the best.”

  And don’t you forget it, miss.

  While I wasn’t the first person to arrive at Anchors Away, I was close enough. I was pleased to note multiple bartenders behind the bar instead of just one. My pleas for additional staff had not fallen on deaf ears.

  Equipment was strewn across the sand as the sound crew prepared to set up for the competition.

  “Things are moving along. It’s going to be a great day, Kenna.” Mack gave me a thumbs up from behind the bar.

  “Thanks, Mack,” I called. “Knock wood for me.”

  He made a big show of knocking on the palm tree that jutted from the middle of the bar.

  “Um, I don’t mean to nitpick, but, technically, a palm tree is a type of grass.”

  Mack quickly knocked on the bar top instead. I spent the next hour running around like a preschool teacher, admonishing grown men for infantile and dangerous acts and desperately trying to keep everyone on task before the spectators arrived. Once the stage and speakers were ready, I ventured out to the beach where the bands’ trailers were lined up. The trailers were smaller than average because they had to be pulled by golf carts. I counted the correct number of trailers and breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

  The venue finally opened and spectators poured in. I couldn’t believe how many people were already here.

  “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Kenna,” Buddy said, ambling his way toward me. Mitzi walked beside him, dressed as if she w
ere headed to a Vegas nightclub.

  “Thank you, Buddy,” I said.

  “Hopefully, that drummer’s death won’t overshadow the event,” Mitzi said, unhelpfully.

  “No one’s talking about it now that they know it was drug-related,” Buddy said.

  I resisted the urge to argue. I had to keep Buddy on my good side, especially today.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. Except for the simple fact that the killer was still at large.

  I heard Evian’s voice as she introduced the first band. The crowd cheered. It was the perfect excuse to extricate myself from Buddy.

  “I’ll talk to you when it’s quieter,” I yelled over the din. I maneuvered my way through the bodies and stopped by the bar to check on Mack.

  “Hey, Kenna,” Mack greeted me. “So far, so good, right? These four fellas here are from a place called Spellbound. Isn’t that a funny name for a town?”

  My mouth nearly dropped open. To the naked eye, they looked like four regular young men. As a witch, I could see right through their glamours to the paranormals they really were.

  Once I gathered my wits, I asked, “Which band?”

  “Look Mom, No Wings,” one guy replied. An elf. His glamour required the least amount of magic because the only paranormal part of him was his pointy ears.

  “Where’s Spellbound?” I asked.

  “Pennsylvania,” he said. “Near the Poconos.”

  “This our first East Coast tour,” another guy said. Beneath his glamour was a huge set of wings. “We’re really excited to see new places.”

  “Welcome to Eternal Springs,” I said. “And good luck today.”

  “Can I get you a drink?” Mack offered.

  “Not now, thanks,” I said. “I’m just making sure everything’s running smoothly.”

  “There you are.” Lucas stood before me in all his manly perfection.

  “You’re wearing a shirt,” I said.

  Lucas grinned. “Is that disappointment or relief I hear?”

  I dodged the question. “They’re good, right?”

  “Not too shabby,” he said. “Have you had anything to eat or drink yet? Why do I get the feeling you’ve been going nonstop since you woke up?”

  “I ate breakfast,” I said. “Gerald made me oatmeal.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Lucas was so easy to talk to that it was hard to keep my guard up.

  Lucas laughed. “Your armadillo made you breakfast? Now there’s a trick I’d like to see.”

  I smiled, as though I’d meant to be funny. “You should see how he makes the bed. Perfect hospital corners.”

  Lucas gave my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I like that you’re so calm right now. This is your big event and you’re cracking jokes. I love it.”

  “Kenna? Cracking jokes? That doesn’t sound right.” Skye elbowed her way through the crowd to stand beside Lucas. “Maybe someone’s cast an opposite spell on her.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “If only there was such a thing. I’d use it on you in a heartbeat.”

  Lucas appeared thoroughly amused. “You two fight like sisters.”

  “Good thing we’re not related or I might have been stuck with that same sour expression,” Skye said.

  I gave her an exaggerated smile. “Why don’t you focus on covering the event, Skye? At least I’m providing your readers with something that might actually interest them for a change.”

  Skye stuck out her tongue before continuing to push her way through the crowd.

  Fat Gandalf was third, as Rachel had demanded, and it was during their set that I noticed Zola get passed over the top of the mosh pit. I wondered how many rum runners she’d already sucked down. The day had barely begun.

  On a trip to the ladies room after my third sparkling water, I bumped into Lizzie. She stood in front of the mirror, applying a bright coat of coral lipstick.

  “How do I look?” she asked, smoothing the front of her sparkling mini-dress.

  “Much better than I would after having three kids,” I said truthfully. That body did not look like it had housed three babies.

  Lizzie gave her reflection a satisfied smile. “I’m on next.”

  “You are?” I mentally scanned the list. “I don’t remember seeing your name.”

  “I’m joining the Temperamental Toddlers. Their lead singer thinks we harmonize really well together.”

  I’m sure he’s thinking they’d do other things well together, too. I couldn’t imagine Mike would be too pleased about it.

  “Is your husband here?” I asked. “He must be excited to see you perform.”

  Lizzie’s jaw tightened. “Mike’s working, of course. Barb is home with the kids, so that I could come here.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “This is my big shot and I’m not missing out because some idiot has a circuit breaker problem.”

  Okay then. Lizzie had all the charm of Cruella De Vil. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she sauntered onstage in a coat made of puppy fur.

  “How long will your mother-in-law be in town?” I asked.

  “Not long enough,” Lizzie snapped. “She came for the funeral and seems ready to run back to Baltimore. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t want to spend more time with her grandchildren. God knows I spend enough time raising them.”

  Yikes! I didn’t have kids, but that didn’t seem like the best attitude for a mother. Maybe I’d feel differently if were in her position…but I hoped not.

  “It sounds like you don’t have the chance to get out much,” I said. “Do you ever hire a babysitter so you can go to a class or meet up with friends?”

  “Mike won’t allow it,” she said. “He says we need to save the money for the kids’ college funds. With his mom in Baltimore and my parents in Denver, there’s no one around.”

  “What about Tiffany?” I asked. “She might like to spend more time with the kids now that Pete’s gone. It’s another connection to him.”

  Lizzie snorted. “My kids aren’t made of metal. That’s the only way they’d interest Tiffany. The worst part is they don’t even nap anymore. I get zero breaks until Mike comes home.”

  A thought occurred to me. “So were you home with the kids the day Pete died?”

  “Of course. Where else would I be?” She shimmied her shoulders and adjusted her cleavage. “There. That’s better. Time to go. Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck,” I said weakly.

  I had no doubt that Lizzie was telling the truth. Three little alibis and no nap schedule meant there was no way she could have murdered Pete in the bathroom here. Not a stone-cold killer then, just a stone-hearted package of unpleasantness.

  Lizzie Simpson may have the voice to win the competition, but she was certainly no prize.

  I left the bathroom and headed for the bar to get another bottle of water. On my way, I was straining to listen to Lizzie and the band when I bumped into a man with the best handlebar mustache I’d ever seen.

  “You’re Miss Byrne, aren’t you?” he said.

  “I am.”

  “You’ve done a marvelous job here,” he said. “I’ve been to other competitions like this, but yours has been top of the heap.”

  “Thank you so much.” I shook his hand. “Are you in a band?”

  “Elvis have mercy, no,” he said. “I’m the manager for Pigs in Blankets. Felix Monroe.”

  “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

  “I worried the whole event would be overshadowed by Pete’s death,” Felix said. “He would insist that the show must go on, though, so I’m glad to see that it is.”

  I angled my head. “You knew Pete?”

  “Oh, yes,” Felix said. “I guess there’s no reason to keep it a secret any longer. He was going to join us as our new drummer.”

  “What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.

  “Pete signed with us,” Felix said. “He was planning to quit Fat Gandalf after today and come on tour with us.”
>
  “What happened to your regular drummer?” I asked.

  “He decided to retire after the competition. He doesn’t want to tour anymore.” Felix stroked the end of his mustache. “It’s exhausting, I admit. I don’t know how some of the older musicians manage. You have no idea how many bottles of ibuprofen we consume each year.”

  “Did Pete tell his bandmates?” I asked.

  Felix shook his head. “He said he wanted to wait until after the competition, to keep up morale. He planned to tell them after the winners were announced.”

  So Pete was heading for the mainland whether Fat Gandalf won or not.

  “When did he sign the contract?” I asked.

  Felix blew out a breath, causing his mustache hairs to twitch. “The morning of his death, sadly. We met at my hotel. His wife was with him, and she was not too happy about it, let me tell you.”

  My radar pinged. “Tiffany was with him? What did she say?”

  Felix looked thoughtful. “That he was making a mistake, but she’d support his decision.”

  “She never mentioned it when I spoke to her,” I said.

  “I guess she didn’t think it mattered anymore,” Felix said. “He’s not going anywhere now. No point in upsetting his bandmates further. They sounded good earlier, all things considered.”

  “I guess you still need a drummer.”

  “We do, but it’s not the end of the world.” He smiled. “There are plenty of candidates here today. And I get to listen to them all, so thank you for that.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “Enjoy the rest of the competition.”

  Felix carried on walking, but I stood motionless, absorbing the information about Pete. Pete was leaving no matter what and Tiffany knew it—but she had an alibi for that morning. I’d checked it myself. There had to be a part of her story I was missing.

  As I reached the bar, I heard people calling my name.

  “Kenna! It’s Kenna, everyone!”

  I whirled around to see a few of the bands from karaoke night waving me over. I recognized the faces but didn’t remember their names.

  “It’s the beautiful Kenna Byrne,” one of the men said, sloshing his beer everywhere as he raised his glass. “Good job on all this.”