“He’s still in the village? I thought he’d moved on—we haven’t had any reports in a week.”
I smiled. “Not moved on. She’s been at camp.”
He looked puzzled.
I spelled it out. “Nick, Mimi is the pickpocket.”
His eyes darkened. “Let’s sit down. I think you’d better explain.”
A few minutes later, we sat on his front-porch swing. He’d brought out some lemonade, and I clutched my glass as I tried to explain.
Trust yourself.
He was being more patient than I imagined possible, considering I’d just accused his daughter of a crime.
We swayed back and forth.
I took a deep breath and said, “Tell me what you know about the Craft. Tell me what you know about Mimi being a Wishcrafter.”
He glanced down, stared at the ice cubes bobbing in his lemonade. His gaze shifted to me. “Is that what she is? A Wishcrafter?”
“You don’t know?”
“I knew she was a Crafter, but Melina never told me what kind she was. We never really talked about it much at all, and hardly ever once she decided to marry me and raise Mimi as a mortal.”
“What changed?” I asked. “Why did you bring Mimi back to the village?”
We swung. Missy and Higgins were busy sniffing the front yard, stem to stern.
“I’d seen how unhappy it had made Melina, not being part of her Craft. She lost her powers when she married me. Did you know that?”
“I know Wishcrafters lose their powers when they tell a mortal about their abilities, yes.”
My heart was beating hard. Trust yourself.
“After she died, I realized I didn’t want Mimi to grow up not knowing who she is, how special she is. I brought her back here. I didn’t know what kind of Crafter she was, or who to approach about helping her. It’s not just something you can ask out of the blue. I haven’t even told Mimi that she’s a Crafter yet. I don’t know how to open a conversation like that. I know there’s someone in this village who could help her. I just don’t know who.”
“Nick, she already knows.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She’s been practicing her wishing spells. That’s how she was pickpocketing.”
He stood up, paced the porch. “I don’t understand.”
“When someone wishes for money, and a Wishcrafter grants the wish, it has to come from someone else. Someone loses the money, usually someone who won’t miss it or who has plenty to spare. So, when Mrs. P wished she had enough money to do something nice for her granddaughter, Mimi granted the wish. Later, Mrs. P inexplicably found a thousand dollars in her dresser drawer. If you add up the amount ‘stolen’”—I used air quotes—“from the tourists that day by the pickpocket, it adds up to a thousand dollars.”
His eyes went wide. “So the other day, in front of All That Glitters, when the man suddenly found that money in his pocket…”
“The woman had made a wish, remember? Mimi granted it. I expect, if you ask her, she’ll admit to granting wishes all over the village the last couple of weeks. When did school let out for the summer?”
He suddenly laughed. “A little over a month ago.”
Right when the pickpocketing started.
“Just so I’m clear, she’s not actually sticking her hands in someone’s pockets.…”
Smiling, I said, “No. It’s all done magically.”
“That explains a lot.”
I stood up. “You need to talk to her. Explain as best you can. Tell her as much as you know. The rest, she can come to me.”
He rose. “You?”
I smiled. Trust yourself. “I’m a Wishcrafter, too.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I thought Crafters couldn’t tell mortals about their powers without losing them? At least that’s what Melina said.”
“She was right. Kind of.” I explained about Halfcrafters. And how he was, by marriage, now half mortal, half Wishcrafter. My powers were safe.
He said, “Can I ask you something that’s been bothering me?”
“Sure.”
“The night of the break-in at Alex’s shop, the person who vanished. That was a Crafter, right? I mean, I figured it had to be.…”
“Mrs. Pennywhistle, looking for the birth certificate Mimi found.”
His eyes widened. “What kind of Crafter is she?”
“Vapor.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I have a lot to learn.”
We both did.
It was still only sprinkling, but it looked like the skies were going to open any minute now. “I should go. I promised Harper I’d help her get ready for the dance.”
Somehow I’d talked her into going. I’d played on her gunshot-wound sympathies a bit to help me.
“You’re going, too, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. You?”
“Yes.”
A second passed. Two.
“You’ll save me a dance, won’t you?” he finally said.
I nodded, and as Missy and I made our way home, all I kept thinking about were princes and frogs.
The dance was in full swing later that night as I stood with Mrs. P and Starla in the far corner of the massive tent.
“If you didn’t want to help with moving Alex’s things back to the shop, you just had to say so. You didn’t have to go get yourself shot.”
Mrs. P cackled at her own joke. She wore a fire engine red flamenco dress. Her hair had reached new heights.
“Anything to get out of manual labor,” I said. I glanced across the green to Lotions and Potions. It turned out that Vince was the one who’d sublet the shop from Mrs. P.
When I’d asked her how she felt about that, she said she was okay with it. In fact, she was going to work for him, helping him replenish the stock. “Best to have someone who knows what they’re doing in charge,” she said.
My gaze shifted to the bookshop, lingered on the CLOSEDsign in the window. No one knew what was going to happen to it.
“Come on,” Starla said. “Admit that it was your own form of liposuction. You just couldn’t stand that flaccid arm a moment longer.”
I laughed. “Guilty.”
We stood on the edge of the dance floor. Rain poured down beyond the safety of the tent. No one seemed to notice it. Or care. It seemed to only add to the magic in the air. The rain made me miss my mother something fierce, but in a strange way I also felt as though she were here with me tonight…almost as if the rain were her gift to me.
Harper danced by, looking slightly terrified and intrigued at the same time. Her partner was Abel Buchanan, the young undercover policeman who’d been in the bookstore the day I was shot.
I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the way Marcus Debrowski, who stood on the other side of the dance floor, closely watched them. Mimi and Nick danced by, and Sylar and Aunt Ve were practically glued together at the center of the floor.
He’d proposed last night. And she’d accepted.
I didn’t know how I felt about the engagement quite yet. Time would help sort things out, I supposed.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, heading for the punch bowl.
It was getting late and the crowd was thinning. The dance had been a huge success.
As I was trying to ladle punch into a cup one-handed, Harper appeared at my side and took over. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
“You’re having fun,” I said.
“You don’t have to make it sound like an accusation.”
We walked to the edge of the tent. The dinner tables here had been long abandoned, and it was relatively quiet in this corner.
“Not an accusation. Merely an observation.”
“I’m having fun,” she admitted. “Abel’s cute, isn’t he?”
“You liiike him,” I sang.
She gave me a wry smile. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“Absolutely.”
“Have you danced with Nick?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“He better get a move on. The night’s almost over.”
I glanced over her head, toward the dance floor where I’d last seen him. He wasn’t there. Instead, I spotted him and Mimi standing with Starla and Mrs. P. He was looking straight at me.
I smiled and looked away, thinking about the note I’d received from the Elder late this afternoon.
Well done.
“Darcy, I need your help,” Harper said, her tone… wistful.
“With what?” I asked. “Abel?”
She laughed. “No, I think I can handle him on my own.”
“Then what?”
“That.”
I followed her gaze to Spellbound Books.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with excitement. “I want to buy it. I have enough from our inheritance to put down a good chunk of a down payment, but I’ll need a loan for the rest. Will you cosign for me?”
I thought about what that would mean. “So you wouldn’t work at As You Wish?”
“I don’t think the Wishcrafter thing is for me.”
“And you’d live…”
“Over the bookshop.”
My stomach started aching.
She put her hand on my arm. “It’s what I want, Darcy. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I just didn’t realize it until I worked there. Will you help me? Please?”
I searched her eyes and could feel her determination. And as always when she asked nicely, I couldn’t say no. “Of course.”
Her smile stretched wide. “Thank you.”
“Am I interrupting?” a voice asked.
We turned. Marcus stood there, wringing his hands. He looked sheepish. And he only had eyes for Harper.
“Just finished,” I said.
“Good, good. Harper, I was wondering…”
If he was ever going to have a chance with Harper, he had to overcome this shyness.
“If you wanted to dance. With me.” He coughed. “Over there.” He pointed to the dance floor.
I held in a laugh.
Harper nodded.
As they headed off, I leaned against a tent support and stared out at the rain. A minute later, I felt a tug on the hem of my dress. At first I thought it must be Pepe, but when I looked down, I saw the face of a child staring up at me from beneath the tablecloth.
I moved a chair aside and crouched down. “Laurel Grace?”
She whispered, “Where are your wings?”
I smiled. “I had to leave them at home. I hurt my arm in a flying accident, see?”
Solemnly, she nodded. “When I broked my arm, my sling wasn’t that pretty.”
“I’m pretty lucky. A friend made it for me. Did you have a nice vacation?”
Her face lit up and she bobbed her head. “The best.”
“Good.” I heard Amanda calling for her. “I think your mom is looking for you. You better go.”
She scrambled back under the table; then a second later she reappeared. “Tooth fairy?”
“Yes?”
“I think you look even prettier tonight.”
Then she was gone, rushing back to her mother. I stood and Amanda waved. Dennis, too, before he wrapped his arm around his wife and took his daughter’s hand.
I turned and found Nick standing off to the side. “I agree with her.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Though I still want to see those wings someday.”
“Maybe. If you’re lucky. I don’t show them to just anyone. Did you talk to Mimi?” I asked.
He nodded. “You were right about the wishing spell. She found one of Mel’s old diaries and the spell was written in it.”
I was pretty sure that was a big Wishcraft Law no-no, but didn’t say anything.
A second passed. Two. He shifted from foot to foot. “Sylar paid me a visit after I saw you this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“He wanted to tell me Chief Leighton resigned today.”
I tipped my head. “What does that have to do with you?”
“Sylar asked me if I wanted the chief’s job.”
I felt my eyes widen. “What did you say?”
“That I’d think about it. Being on the pickpocket case made me realize how much I missed police work.”
“But?” I sensed there was one.
“It’s a big decision. I have to think about Mimi, too. I can’t ignore that it’s a dangerous job.”
The band announced the last song.
“But,” he said, “there’s enough time to think about that tomorrow. For now, would you like to dance?”
Smiling, I said, “I’d love to.” I started for the dance floor.
He grabbed my hand. “Not there, Darcy. Out there.” He motioned outside the tent.
The rain fell in a steady sheet, its sweet scent filling me with emotion, reminding me of my mom. Telling me just how much Nick cared for me to remember what I’d told him about my childhood.
Mushy gushiness spread throughout my whole body. My nerves tingled; my senses swirled. I couldn’t stop the huge smile spreading across my face.
I kicked off my shoes and accepted his hand. We stepped out into the rain. He carefully held me with one arm, making room for my sling, and with the other, he took hold of my free hand and held it tightly.
It had been a long, interesting week. It was easy to forget about gunshots and murder when wrapped in Nick’s arms. I’d be quite happy if I could wish to never be involved in another murder case for as long as I lived, but I knew it was pointless. I couldn’t grant my own wishes.
But as he held me close, I thought again about princes and frogs. And also about the wish I’d made on the four-leaf clover Mimi had given me.
As he twirled me, and I caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes, I had to wonder if sometimes, just out of pure luck or by beating the odds, my wishes could come true.
Later that night, as Darcy slept, she had no idea how closely she was being watched.
Or by whom. Which was for the best at this point, the observer reflected.
Darcy stirred, rolled. She was a restless sleeper. How long until she settled down? Settled in? Let the past remain in the past? Let her heart heal and embraced destiny?
A while, she figured. But with her help and Ve’s help, Darcy would come through just fine. She was sure of it.
Mimi needed someone like Darcy in her life. And Nick deserved happiness, too.
She just wished she’d been the one to provide it. But, alas, she couldn’t grant her own wishes, either. And besides, life had other plans for her. Important plans.
She’d had to pull some strings to get into this form, but at least this way she could still be part of their lives.
Darcy rolled again, reaching out and patting her observer’s head. And damn if she didn’t like it. She had only been in this body a few weeks, but she wondered if she’d ever get used to it, or to having animal instincts.
Or if she’d ever get used to seeing her ex-husband with someone else.
Time would tell.
“Good night, Missy,” Darcy murmured.
Or if she’d ever get used to that name.
Melina Sawyer yawned, stretched, and turned three times in a circle before curling into a ball next to Darcy.
Again, only time would tell.…
Read on for a sneak peek at the next Wishcraft Mystery,
A Witch Before Dying
Coming in August 2012 from Obsidian
“It’s going to be a horrible job, Darcy.”
Elodie Keaton’s voice was loud, clear, and completely distraught. She really needed to learn that a warning was never the best way to describe a potential job.
And, if I’d known what was ahead for me, I would have listened to that warning. Unfortunately, that morning I was too distracted to heed anything as I met with Elodie, As You Wish’s newest client, at her shop.
I was so enchanted by my surroundings that it was easy to say, “I’m sure the job’
s not that bad.”
I wasn’t much of a glitzy-glam person, but even I was charmed inside the Charmory as I stood in the midst of bright, shiny, sparkling, colorful bliss. Everywhere I looked there were gems of every cut and hue. In fanciful cases, handcrafted loose beads waited to be strung into custom bracelets and necklaces. Displays held vintage jewelry including pendants, charms, talismans, and amulets. Whimsical tableaus of stunning natural stones and minerals of various sizes, shapes, and colors. Like a magpie, I wanted to pick everything up and bring it home.
As You Wish, my aunt Ve’s personal concierge service, had received a phone call that morning from Elodie, wanting to hire the company to help clean out a cluttered house. Now that my sister, Harper, was no longer an employee, and Aunt Ve was currently bedridden with a summer flu, tackling this job fell to me. And as I was desperate to escape Ve’s germs, I’d volunteered to walk over to Elodie’s shop right away to talk with her about the details.
It was a short walk. The Charmory was just a block away from As You Wish, where I worked and lived with Ve. Both businesses were located in the Enchanted Village, a themed neighborhood of Salem, Massachusetts. The village was a tourist hotspot for those who came to see for themselves if the village slogan of “Where Magic Lives” was true.
It was, not that mortals knew it. The Enchanted Village offered a safe haven to hundreds of witches, or, as we called ourselves, Crafters. Here, we hid in plain sight among the mortals with whom we lived and worked.
There were many types of Crafters, such as Curecrafters (healing witches), Vaporcrafters (who had the ability to vaporize in thin air), Cloakcrafters (master clothiers), and even several like me, my sister, Harper, and Aunt Ve: Wishcrafters, witches who could grant wishes using a special spell.
And as I’d come to find out, Elodie was a Wishcrafter, too.
Well, partly. Elodie was technically a Cross-Crafter (a Crafter hybrid). Elodie’s wish-granting abilities, inherited from her father, were practically nonexistent. Her predominate Craft was Geocrafting—her mother’s Craft. Rarely were a Cross-Crafter’s abilities split equally—one gift was always stronger than the other.
Everywhere I looked inside the shop a bauble or glitzy trinket caught my eye. Elodie’s Geocrafting skills with clay, gemstones, rocks, and minerals were obvious. Tiny price tags hung from ribbons. Some of the merchandise was quite affordable, and some was out-of-this-world expensive. Undoubtedly, there was something in this store that would appeal to everyone, tourist, villager, mortal, or Crafter.
It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 27