Full Moons, Dunes & Macaroons_A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Erin Johnson

  I cast back through my memory. Oh. He meant when he tried to pull me through a magic portal after revealing he'd been disguised as a circus strongman for a week without telling me. A man he'd killed, a little voice at the back of my head reminded me. I licked my lips. "You surprised me then. I didn't know—well, I didn't know what I do now. I thought you were trying to hurt me."

  Horace laced his long, pale fingers together. They looked sickly under the dim light. "An understandable reaction." His eyes lifted to mine. "My apologies."

  I waved my hand. "It's in the past. But uh, shouldn't you be going if you might be caught?"

  His lips parted into a sly grin. "They won't catch me… not until I'm ready to be caught."

  I frowned, not sure what to make of that.

  "Besides." He leaned closer across the scratched table. "I'm trying a different approach with you. I thought we could ease into a relationship, try taking it slow. Just a short meeting at first. Maybe longer next time."

  I nodded. "I've been thinking up ways to get in touch with you ever since you sent us to Wee Ferngroveshire."

  "You're a survivor." A lock of brown, wavy hair fell across his eye. "You should call it Monsters Rise."

  I nodded, my throat tight. A strange mix of excitement and terror coursed through me as I stared at the stranger who was my brother. "Right. Well, I wanted to thank you for saving me and—and I want to get to know you better. The truth of you." I held up my hand. "Not all the rumors."

  He stared me down, unflinching.

  "Unless… the rumors are true?" I gave a weak chuckle.

  "Some are." Horace sniffed. "And it's about time you started seeing the truth of things."

  Great. I seemed to be putting my foot in my mouth.

  "What can I tell you?"

  I let out the breath I'd been holding. Maybe he didn't hate me already. "Um… everything. Maybe it'd be good to start at the beginning, what happened at Wee—at Monsters Rise, when we were children?" I bounced my leg, my nerves getting the best of me.

  Horace sighed. "A lifetime ago. What did the old woman, Junie, tell you?"

  "That our mother was a mirror maker, and you were bright and loving and learning from her. That monsters came unannounced one night and destroyed the town… killed almost everyone. She said you ran, with me in your arms." Tears trickled down my cheeks and my chest lurched as I held in a sob. "She said you buried me in the snow and when she came to, you were gone, but she heard me crying and rescued me."

  He looked away. The grimy overhead light cast sharp shadows from his cheek bones. "And then what?"

  "And then… and then she survived as best she could, avoiding raiders and gangs until we made it to a human city. She adopted me out to the Bankses, they raised me in the US."

  The muscle in his jaw twitched again. "That's why I couldn't find you. I looked for you, you know? You were with humans." He turned to face me. "She should have kept you with our people."

  I shook my head. "She did the best she could, and the Bankses took good care of me." I slid my hand across the rough table and gave his wrist a squeeze. "Just like you did. I owe you, and her, my life."

  He sniffed. "Don't forget the Swallow."

  I froze. "The what?"

  He cocked his head to the side. "You didn't hear that part, hm?"

  I shook my head.

  Horace's eyes flitted to his folded hands, mine still resting on his wrist, then up to my face. "The monster that chased us up the hill was hideous. It had rows of sharp teeth and grabbing hands that plucked men up and ate them whole."

  My chin trembled.

  "Luckily, our parents avoided being eaten. Instead they were crushed when the first few monsters burst from the mirror shop below our rooms and the house collapsed."

  My eyes welled with tears. "The monsters… came through the mirrors?" I gulped, my throat tight. "Junie suspected something like that."

  He nodded. "Yes. A piece of the puzzle it took me many years to understand."

  "How did we escape if our parents were killed?"

  He shrugged. "The noise was horrendous. We woke immediately. They had time to shove you into my arms and toss us out the window. The snow was deep and I landed in a drift. Our home collapsed before they could follow."

  I pressed a hand to my mouth as a tear rolled down my cheek.

  "There wasn't time to cry or search the rubble. More monsters exploded from the wreckage and slithered and scrambled after us. I ran, with you in my arms, as the old woman told you. Screams, horrible screams, followed me. My legs ached and my chest burned as I trudged through the deep snow, you just a baby in my arms. I ran for our lives."

  I shook my head. How horrible.

  "The thing with the rows of teeth had a tail that whipped, side to side, and it caught me in the back and sent me flying into the snow, you buried beneath me. I just lay there, unable to move my legs. It had broken my back."

  I uttered a little cry and squeezed his wrist.

  "I feared I'd smother you. I managed to shove you out from under me. At least my arms still worked. Some snow must have covered me, or maybe the monster moved on to bigger meals, but it left us to freeze to death. I lay there, shivering until I couldn't feel anything anymore, listening to the screams and roars grow quieter and more infrequent, until I heard nothing at all." His lips quirked to the side. "Everyone was dead. Even you stopped crying."

  I let out a shuddering gasp.

  Horace cleared his throat. "The next thing I felt was warmth. It spread from my heart outward. It was golden and safe and electric. I could breathe again, could feel my fingers again—and then, blissfully, my legs. I thought for a moment it had all been a horrible dream. I rolled over to my back and found myself staring straight up into the face of a new monster. I opened my mouth and screamed. It dipped its face to mine and turned its head this way and that, like a curious bird. It had large, round eyes and I could see my reflection in them. A puny child, about to be eaten. But then it closed those eyes and the giant thing bent lower and placed its forehead against the whole of my body and the warmth deepened until I felt tingly and whole and light. It was the Swallow. It told me its name, somehow, without words. It said that it could give magic force to heal, but that it would change me. And I no longer felt afraid." Horace cocked his head to the side and looked at me across the table. "You see, Imogen? Not all monsters are evil." His lips quirked into a sardonic smile.

  I sniffled and squeezed his wrist tighter. My brows pulled together. "I don't think you're evil."

  His eyes widened, ever so slightly. He turned his head and cleared his throat.

  "She healed you, too. You were frostbitten and nearly dead."

  I shook my head, trying to process all of this. "So that's why we're swallows? Because of the creature that healed us? Huh." I bit my lip and thought of Hank. "Is that how all swallows get their powers?"

  Horace gave me a lazy blink. I wasn't sure what to make of that.

  He sighed. "The Swallow was the original. She pulled magical energy from outside herself and funneled it through her, to us, to heal. We've kept some of that power, I believe, and share the ability to pull magic from outside ourselves."

  I blinked. "This is incredible." I thought about my abilities (or lack thereof) with magic. "You know, I have been able to send energy to Iggy before, he's my baking flame, to help him grow bigger. Is it the same kind of thing?"

  "Perhaps." Horace chuckled, a deep sound. "You are capable of so much more than you know."

  That could be ominous. I chose to take it as a friendly compliment and smiled. "I hope you'll teach me."

  He nodded. "In time, I hope so as well."

  "So, then what happened? Why weren't you beside me when Junie came to?"

  "Ah. That." Horace licked his lips. "The old woman had reason to fear raiders and gangs. A group of such men came upon us. I had enough time to hide you, but they'd already spotted me. The Swallow was a gentle thing and fled to the forest. They took me and forced m
e to be a soldier in their child army until I grew up and became a soldier in their army of men."

  I gaped. "You grew up enslaved?"

  He winked. "They considered it more like indentured mercenary, but sure. It wasn't without its benefits. I learned to be cunning and fierce."

  "How did you escape?" I felt like the biggest jerk in the world for ever feeling upset with my adopted family.

  "We did a job for a nobleman, in title only, protecting his keep from some rival gang that was out for blood for some deal gone awry. He was an arms dealer, mostly, but dealt in anything that would make him money. And this was the time right after the treaty when the wilderness still stretched across most of the kingdoms. Well, this noble had never met a Swallow before, we are rarer than you know, Imogen, and he was impressed with my abilities."

  I frowned. "What abilities?"

  "There are many things we can do because of our access to an unlimited supply of magic. There are spells no one has ever thought of because they could not imagine having enough power to pull them off." His lips quirked to the side. "I have a lot to show you."

  A cool wave washed over my stomach, unease at the vagueness of his answer.

  "So this man bought me from my captors and I worked several years for him. He dealt with many rich and powerful people, royalty even, and I learned their secrets, as well as his. I learned some truths that needed righting and so I got out of the mercenary business and set myself to the revenge business."

  I gulped. "The Badlands Army?"

  He nodded. "Precisely."

  I blinked down at the table, trying to process everything he'd told me. I looked up. "You met Hank once, right? You both remembered each other, last summer at the carnival."

  Horace blinked. "I'd met your golden prince before the carnival, yes."

  I sighed, so enigmatic. "Can't you tell me more? I want to know everything about you."

  Horace held up a finger and looked back over his shoulder. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

  I held still. "I don't hear anything."

  "It's too quiet. No singing, no murmur of voices. The police have arrived, I imagine."

  My heart raced.

  "We met at this rat hole because criminals will hesitate to rat out another—they risk being caught themselves. But I imagine the price on my head is high enough to risk it." He shrugged. "It's time to leave." His mask of the other face slid into place, my brother gone. Horace shouldered his bag of papers and stood, gesturing for me to do the same. I grabbed the bag of spices and foods I'd purchased in the market and slid out of the booth as quietly as I could. He pointed behind me. "There's a back door there."

  I moved to the back of the alcove. The black door blended into the black wall, and in the dim light I'd have never seen it if Horace hadn't pointed it out. I slipped out and just as the door closed behind us, shouts came from the cantina.

  "He was just there, with a girl!"

  "They went out the back."

  I gasped and Horace pointed down the alleyway. "That'll lead you back to the main square. Run, I'll lead them off."

  I dashed away a few steps then spun around. "How will I contact you again?"

  Horace whirled. "I'll find you. I always will."

  Warmth flood my chest for a moment and I nodded—that was sweet. I frowned… or was it a threat?

  Horace turned and ran, and I did the same, heading in the opposite direction. My heart thundered in my chest and I didn't stop until I'd reached the safety of the crowds in the main square before the palace. I slumped against a wall and wiped the sweat from my brow and upper lip. As my chest heaved, I struggled to make sense of everything that had just happened. A monster, a Swallow, had healed Horace and me as children, giving us our unique powers. Horace wanted a relationship with me and though he was powerful and dangerous and had lived a hard life, he hadn't tried to hurt or coerce me. I blew out a heavy breath.

  One thing was certain though. I now had some enormous secrets, and wasn't sure I could tell any of my friends or Hank about them.

  7

  Tent Talks

  Emotionally and physically exhausted (I needed to do more cardio) I dragged myself back to the riad. I'd barely been let in to the central courtyard by one of the palace servants before Amelia rounded the corner and pounced on me.

  "There you are."

  "Here I am." I yawned.

  Her jaw dropped as she looked me over and shook her head. "You look a mess."

  "Gee, thanks Amelia." I stepped forward, planning on heading to the kitchen, but she stepped in my way.

  "Where do you think you're going?" She crinkled her nose. "Ugh, you smell like stale smoke and beer. Where have you been?"

  I held up the heavy bag of spices and fruits. The glass jars clinked together. "I went to the market to pick some things up for Maple, so I'm just going to head to the kitchen and drop them off."

  "Oh no you're not."

  I lifted a brow in surprise. "I'm not?"

  Amelia held out a slender arm and made a grabby hand gesture. "Hand it over."

  I lifted the bag and raised my brows in question, and she nodded. I passed it to her and she immediately gave it to the servant who'd let me in. "Please deliver this to the bakery at your earliest convenience." The servant bowed and moved past us through the courtyard where birds chirped and the calming sound of trickling water issued from the fountain.

  I folded my arms. "You're seriously not letting me in? Where am I supposed to go?"

  Amelia stepped closer and squeezed my upper arms. Her face softened. "I'm sorry. It's just, this is the biggest event of my career—planning a royal wedding? Come on, it's all I've ever dreamed of, and I'm a bit stressed. You know I love you, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Good." Her face hardened. "Because that was friend Amelia talking. Now this is event planner Amelia."

  I frowned. "Can't I just keep talking to friend Amelia?"

  She shook her head. "No. She's gone and event planner Amelia will not let you ruin the biggest day of her life."

  I scoffed. "Don't you mean the biggest day of Hank’s and Shaday's lives?"

  "No. They don't care as much as I do. Trust me. I heard what happened earlier and I cannot have your mess of emotions destroying everything I've worked for."

  My jaw dropped. "It wasn't that bad. It was just a batch of macaroons."

  "Imagine if it had been the wedding cake and hundreds of elite guests had tasted your angst and bitterness?"

  "Uh!" I curled my lip in indignation.

  "Friend Amelia here, and I totally understand how hard it must be for you to watch Hank get married. So maybe it's best if you took a break from this one?"

  "Wait, is that what friend or event planner Amelia thinks?" My brain was starting to hurt.

  "Friend Amelia is phrasing it as a suggestion, while business me is making it an order. Stay away from the bakery until you can keep your emotions under control. Which, let's be real, is only going to get less likely the closer we get to the big day. So let's just say, stay out of the bakery until we get back to Bijou Mer."

  I frowned and my voice rose to a whine. "Amelia, what am I supposed to do then? Just twiddle my thumbs? Come on, I'm a baker. It's what I do."

  She turned me around and marched me back out of the palace. "Not today it isn't."

  A few servants waited, mounted on camels, while a couple more held the reins of two riderless camels.

  Amelia swept her hand toward them. "Today you're going back out to the base of Damavash to clean up the site from last night's feast."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh goodie."

  "Come on, I'm going with you. It'll be—well, it'll be a good distraction. And hey!" She flashed a bright smile that matched her tightly coifed white hair. "The smell of the camels will cover up your odor."

  I flashed a sarcastic smile back. "Oh boy!"

  She rolled her eyes and with the help of the handlers, we mounted the camels and took off for the camp.

&nb
sp; The quiet of the camp during the day contrasted sharply with the music, lights, laughter, and general hubbub of the night before. Some of the lull may have had something to do with the police presence. A few Fire Kingdom officers in red stood to the side of the tents and spoke in low voices with Urs Volker and a few other Air Kingdom officers wearing black. I turned my head, trying to listen in.

  Clank!

  I jumped and brought my attention back to the task at hand. Amelia had taught me a new spell, well, a variation on one I knew. She'd put me to work not only levitating dirty plates, glasses, and utensils, but also had me directing the floating parade of cutlery into various chests and cases to be transported back to the riad and washed there. Only I'd gotten distracted and now my parade was experiencing a traffic jam. I took a deep breath and concentrated. I willed the never-ending line of dishes to their places, and the pace picked up again. Amelia had gone off to coordinate something or other, while the other palace servants watered the camels at the oasis and broke down the tables and chairs.

  After a full hour of mind-numbing plate levitation, while standing in the sun no less, I decided I deserved a break. I hadn't seen Amelia in ages to let her know, so I figured I'd just pop over to the oasis and soak my feet for a minute, and be back before she noticed. I pulled my hair out of its band as I walked between tents, their canvas snapping in the breeze. I pulled a strand of the red hair to my nose and sniffed. I made a face. Amelia had not been lying—I stank. I followed the sound of camel grunts and swishing palm fronds toward the pool of water. But as I rounded a corner, I paused.

  Up ahead stood Bernhardt Beckham's tent, where I'd seen him arguing with that journalist, Ms. L'Orange, the night before. I frowned as I remembered the heated conversation. She'd wanted something Bernhardt had. Maybe whatever it was, was in his tent. Maybe she'd wanted it bad enough to kill him for it. I walked closer and looked right, then left. The officers stood a good distance away, absorbed in their conversation with each other. I wasn't officially a detective, but I'd had a part in solving a few murders recently, and if I was banned from the kitchen maybe I could at least be helpful in pinning down Bernhardt Beckham's murderer. The tent flaps blew open as I approached, as if beckoning me to come in and investigate. There was no police tape, no guards standing outside. I bit my lip. Maybe I should just go to the police and tell them about the argument I'd overheard. But I didn't want to get Ms. L'Orange in trouble for no reason, and I hadn't had the best experiences with police officers in the past. I peeked into the tent. Maybe I'd find something inside that would give me a clearer sign as to whether she might be guilty or not. With one last glance toward the officers standing about, I ducked inside.