Magic & Mercy

by Annabel Chase

  She brightened. "An excellent point. The show must go on." She faced the pixie. “Make a note, Niamh. Send a message to all the butlers with a revised schedule attached. Butlers adore schedules."

  “Quite true, Miss Wells,” Simon said.

  Tish stroked her chin. "Yes, we actually have a two-day gap between the end of this conference and the start of the next. It's entirely possible to carry on. Miss Rose, I'm so grateful for your suggestion."

  I didn’t ask how she knew my name since it seemed to be a common occurrence. I was the long-lost Rose child, a novelty act.

  “Occasionally, I have a good idea,” I said. “Try not to let word get out, though. The less competent I appear, the more I'm able to accomplish." I winked at her.

  “Make a note, Niamh. Miss Rose has a sense of humor.” Tish moved to stand beside the sheriff. “Cause of death?”

  “Looks like stab wounds,” the sheriff said. He held up a corkscrew. "Someone tried to open him up like a fine bottle of wine."

  I winced at the gruesome sight. "That's awful."

  "Sure is. The worst part is that there were multiple stab wounds until the murderer decided to twist to this into his gut. My guess is that was the deathblow.”

  I closed my eyes, unwilling to see the gory details on the corkscrew itself.

  “That looks like one of the corkscrews from our Wine Cellar Room,” Tish said.

  “I noticed that room on the convention center map,” I said. It was located just to the right of the lobby, not far from the restrooms.

  The sheriff gave me an appraising look. “Because it had the word ‘wine’ in it?”

  “Because there was an interesting session there in the afternoon,” I countered.

  "I'll have to take this one to the lab," the sheriff said to Tish. “I imagine you have extras.”

  “Of course, Sheriff.” Tish lowered her voice. “I may need to cancel drinks tonight if I need to prepare for tomorrow’s revised schedule.”

  Drinks? I looked from Tish to Sheriff Nash.

  “It’s a community thing, Rose,” the sheriff said, seemingly reading my thoughts. “A chamber of commerce event with business leaders.”

  “You’re not a business leader,” I pointed out.

  “Ta-ta for now,” Tish said. “We’ll talk later, yes?”

  The sheriff nodded as Tish and Niamh left the scene.

  “Do I detect a little jealousy?” the sheriff asked, barely suppressing a grin.

  I poked him with my elbow. “Of what? She’s like a hundred years older than me.”

  He chuckled. “A little jealousy is nice, Rose. Strokes the ego. And you’re right, she’s probably a good hundred years older than you.”

  “Seriously?” I’d been kidding about the age difference. “What is she?” Tish had too much color in her cheeks to be a member of the undead community.

  “A succubus,” the deputy interjected, appearing incredibly pleased to share this information with me.

  “The type of paranormal that’s all about sex as food?” I queried.

  “In a nutshell,” the deputy said, pleased with his revelation.

  I cast a sidelong glance at the sheriff. “And how often do you and Tish meet up for…drinks?”

  The sheriff didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “Once a month, when the group gets together at the Wishing Well. You know the Wishing Well. You and I have had a few drinks there together, too, as I recall.”

  “Not the kind of drinks you probably have with her,” I said pointedly.

  “As adorable as this development is,” the sheriff said, kneeling beside Higgins, “I need to finish up here so we can transport the body.”

  "Deputy Bolan, if you’re finished with the witness statements, you can escort Simon to my office for questioning.”

  I’d need to let Aunt Hyacinth know about Simon without tipping off the sheriff. He’d be irritated if he knew I ratted him out since he viewed my aunt as an obstacle at the best of times.

  "Well, the good news is that the butlers will need to stay in town until the case is closed,” I said.

  The sheriff frowned. "How is that good news?"

  "They need to stay at local hotels and eat at restaurants," I said. "That's revenue for Starry Hollow."

  The sheriff shook his head. "That sounds like your aunt talking. There are more important things than money, Rose."

  "I know that," I replied indignantly. I could say that with the confidence of someone who grew up with not very much of it. "I'm just trying to think of the bright side."

  The sheriff looked over his shoulder at the body. "Somebody died a horrible death today, Rose. I certainly can't see the bright side of that."

  “Does Mother know?” Florian asked, aghast.

  “She does now,” I said. “Poor Simon. I shouldn’t have drawn attention to the blood.”

  We stood in the middle of Adelaide Rose-Brixham Park, preparing for my broomstick lesson. He seemed an unlikely teacher, given that, in the time we'd been in Starry Hollow, I’d never once seen him straddle a broomstick.

  “Nice shirt,” Florian said, glancing down as I removed my cloak. “Maybe a little too on-the-nose for today’s lesson.”

  I looked at my green T-shirt and smiled. Broom Hair, Don’t Care was emblazoned across my chest, along with the silhouette image of a witch riding a broomstick. “Ha! I swear it wasn’t on purpose. Marley saw it in a shop and insisted I buy it.”

  “It’s cute. I like the ones for fairies that say things like Glitterati in sparkly letters.”

  “You just like an excuse to ogle their chests,” I said. “Now explain to me again why you’re the one in charge of my broomstick lesson?"

  "I was a master broomstickman in my youth," he boasted. If it were anybody else making such a claim, I’d laugh. Knowing Florian, however, he probably mastered the broomstick before he was old enough to walk. My cousins were blessed by good fortune in every respect.

  "Let me guess,” I said. “You were a gold medalist in broomstick flying in the coven Olympics."

  Florian pointed the handle of the broomstick at me. "I can tell by your New Jersey tone that you’re being sarcastic, but the truth is that I did medal in the Broomstick Challenges when I attended the Black Cloak Academy," Florian said. “And, for the record, there's no such thing as a coven Olympics."

  "Well, maybe there ought to be," I said. "It would be much cooler than Quidditch. That game makes no sense whatsoever."

  He squinted. "You’re using that vocabulary again that escapes me."

  "It's called the wizarding world of Harry Potter," I said haughtily. "It wouldn't kill you to crack open a book every now and again."

  "Yes, yes, we all know how you and Marley enjoy your literature. I’m not a complete heathen. I enjoy a good history book now and again."

  At the mention of history books, my thoughts immediately went to Delphine, the town librarian. Delphine Winter was a witch in the coven with a mad crush on Florian, not that he had any clue. Delphine was smart and pretty, but painfully shy; definitely not the type to catch Florian's attention. He tended to prefer the effortless ones. He also tended to avoid witches completely because he knew it was his mother's preference that he date within the coven. Florian had a habit of not doing as he was told, a leftover personality trait from childhood.

  "I should have asked Delphine to help me with my lessons," I said, casting a sly glance at my cousin. “She’s good at everything, too.” In reality, I had no clue whether Delphine was good at flying on a broomstick, but I wasn’t one to let facts get in the way of a good setup.

  Florian blinked. "Who's Delphine? Another mom from school?"

  My face scrunched in annoyance. “Since when do I have mom friends? No. She's the librarian in town and a member of the coven. How do you not know her?"

  Florian shrugged, unperturbed. "It's impossible to know everyone."

  "You mean it's impossible to know everyone who doesn't have big boobs and glittery hair."


  Understanding flickered in his eyes. "So she's flat-chested and plain. That explains my ignorance.”

  I folded my arms. "Florian Rose-Muldoon. Wouldn't you like to meet a woman with substance? Delphine is as smart as they come."

  Florian looked blank. "And what am I meant to do with a conversationalist?"

  I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Delphine is a lovely witch. You should give her a chance."

  Florian gave me an odd look. "I'm starting to think maybe you want to give her a chance. If she's so wonderful, maybe you should consider changing teams."

  I stretched out my hand and wiggled my fingers. "Let's get on with the lesson, please. Otherwise, I might find myself beating you over the head with this broom."

  "You wouldn't dare do that to Esmeralda."

  I balked. "You named your broomstick Esmeralda?"

  "It's much nicer than riding Herbert."

  "Who's Herbert?" I queried.

  "That was Aster’s broomstick. I'm sure he’s buried somewhere in her closet. She hasn’t ridden for ages. Not since she and Sterling first started dating."

  I straddled the broomstick and gripped the leather strap at the end the way I’d done during the broomstick tour.

  "What's the deal with Sterling anyway?” I asked. “He's barely around. The only time we ever see him is for Sunday dinner, and I think that's only to escape the wrath of Aunt Hyacinth."

  Florian rearranged my hands so that my grip was looser and further apart. "You've noticed, too, have you? I haven't said anything to Aster, but I feel like the whole coven has noticed. He hasn't attended a meeting in months."

  "Do you think they’re having marital problems?" I asked. It wouldn't surprise me with twin four-year-old boys. He seemed to work nonstop as the president of Hexed Brewing Company, and Aster was the director of several nonprofit organizations, including the tourism board. Their lives had to be exhausting. I only had Marley, who was fairly self-sufficient, and I felt like my life was spiraling out of control half the time.

  "I keep meaning to talk to her about it," Florian said. "But I feel like she’s been avoiding me lately. We used to spend a lot more time together."

  He hopped behind me on the broomstick. I felt it rise gently, as though recognizing his presence.

  "For the ones at the broomstick tour, I didn't need to do anything special," I said. "The broomstick seemed to know what to do without any magic from me."

  He nodded. “They’re especially designed for the tour," Florian said. "For a regular coven broomstick, you need to infuse it with your own magic. Esmeralda obviously has mine, but I'm trying to contain it so that you can take over."

  "So what do I do now?" Obviously, I couldn't use a wand, not with two hands gripping the handle and the strap.

  "First, you need to focus your will," he said. "That's always rule number one with magic. If you don't focus your will properly, you could end up doing more harm than good."

  "Then what?" I asked. "Should I picture us flying?"

  "That's part of it," Florian said. "You also need to say the magic word."

  "Please?" I joked.

  "I thought your magic word was fuggedaboutit."

  "Is that Rose-Muldoon humor? If so, you need to work a little magic on that."

  “Scansio,” he said.

  I repeated the word. Esmeralda jerked before beginning to climb. "How do I steer her?"

  "The same as you would a horse," he said. "Use the leather strap to guide the broomstick. If you want to go higher, pull up. Lower, pull down. You get the idea."

  The higher we flew, the more carefree I felt. Strong gusts of wind blew back my hair and I felt empowered. Flying was exhilarating. I didn't know where Marley inherited her fear of heights, but it certainly wasn't from me.

  "You’re a natural," Florian said. He didn't bother to hide his surprise.

  "Inevitably, I was going to be good at something," I yelled over my shoulder. It was difficult to hear with the wind whistling in my ears.

  "Too bad broomstick flying isn't as useful as it once was," Florian said.

  We flew back and forth over the park and I spotted the gatehouse at the entrance. It was a beautiful structure, with stone walls and powder blue shutters. It reminded me of something from a fairytale.

  “Does someone live there?" I inclined my head toward the gatehouse.

  "The gatekeeper," Florian said. "An ogre called Finch."

  "An ogre?" I echoed.

  "That's right. The Finch family has been in charge of the park for decades. His father was the gatekeeper before him, and his grandfather before that."

  "You sure like to keep things in the family here," I said. "Didn't we fight the Revolutionary War to avoid all that?"

  "Why don't you ask your smart friend Delphine about that? Maybe over a bottle of wine and a topless pillow fight?”

  "I don't need to," I said. "I'm taking a local history class at the community college. Maybe I’ll learn about it there.”

  "What made you decide to that? Your schedule already makes me queasy."

  "It was after I spoke to that history teacher, Maisie, at the sand sculpture competition," I explained. “She encouraged me to learn more about paranormal history. I thought it would be good for when Marley asked her hundred questions a day. It would be nice to actually know the answer to one of them without telling her to Google it.”

  “Good thinking," he said. "Maybe I'll join you."

  "Join me?" Why on earth would Florian want to do that? He was a lad of leisure.

  "There's a new motorcycle I have my eye on," he said. “It’s custom designed by Arctic trolls. This might go a long way toward convincing Mother to foot the bill."

  I groaned. "Florian, why don't you get a job?"

  "I have a job," he argued. "It's called being a Rose-Muldoon. I'm working with the tourism board now. I did so well with the sand sculpture competition that Aster has given me more responsibility. And Mother also has me doing more with the Rose Foundation.”

  I had to admit, Florian came into his own during the sand sculpture competition. Despite the elf’s murder, the competition had been a huge success for the town, which pleased Aunt Hyacinth to no end.

  "What about some type of broomstick competition?" I proposed. "Maybe you could have some form of Olympics. This park is perfect for a large crowd."

  “Definitely something to consider,” he replied. “Speaking of future competitions, how does Marley like her gift from Mother?”

  “I assume you mean the unicorn.” I hesitated. “Linnea seems to think there are strings attached to Firefly.”

  “There are always strings attached to Mother’s gifts. She uses them as either a carrot or a stick, depending on the situation.”

  “I don’t want Marley to feel obliged to her,” I said. “It’s an unhealthy dynamic.”

  He chuckled. “You mean like mine?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes.”

  “Tell Marley to take it and run,” Florian suggested. “She’s only ten. I imagine Mother is simply trying to win her over while she’s still young and impressionable.”

  That was my aunt’s first mistake. Marley was young, but never impressionable.

  “Take Esmeralda in for a landing,” Florian instructed. “Just ease up on the descent.”

  Aside from a few bumps, we landed with relative ease.

  “Not bad,” Florian said. “Next time, we’ll practice the hand signals. You need to know them all to pass the test. And you’ve got to check over your shoulder more. Blind spots are a big deal.”

  “Hand signals?” I asked. “I need to let go of the broomstick?”

  “Only with one hand,” he said. “Couldn’t you ride a bicycle with one hand?”

  I soured. “I never learned to ride a bike.”

  “Never?” He seemed appalled. “I thought all humans rode bikes. I’ve seen your movies.”

  “I didn’t do a lot of things, Florian,” I said defensively. “My childhood, apparently,
wasn’t as normal as I thought it was.”

  Florian dusted off Esmeralda. “Can I ask you something?”

  “If it’s about the sheriff or Alec Hale, then no.”

  “No, I don’t intrude in romantic affairs like Mother,” he said. “I’m wondering why you don’t have any mom friends.”

  Mom friends? “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t seem to socialize with any of the mothers from Marley’s school. I see groups of them out together all the time. Trust me, they’re hard to miss. You only spend time with the family socially, unless you count smooching the sheriff or Alec in a bar somewhere.”

  Although the thought had occurred to me on occasion, I usually brushed it aside. It had been the same in New Jersey, so I didn’t expect that part of my life to be much different.

  “I’m so busy with work and coven lessons,” I said. “When do I have time to hang out with other moms?”

  “I think it would be good for you to make an effort,” Florian said. “Get together with other women who understand your life.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, Florian. None of them would understand my life.” Paranormal or not, my crazy life would be a foreign concept to them.

  “You might be pleasantly surprised,” he said.

  I examined him closely. “Is this a ploy to meet more women? You’re going to use me as a wingman?”

  He brightened. “Now that you mention it…No, definitely not. I prefer an unencumbered girlfriend. Honestly, I’m only thinking of you and Marley. She might like it if you were a bit more connected to her world. She’s already so entrenched in yours.”

  Florian was right. Marley was far too invested in my personal life. I needed to find a way to integrate more into hers. “Thanks, Florian. That’s actually kinda sweet of you to think of it.”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders. “I have my moments.”

  “Maybe your mother was having a sweet moment, too,” I said. There was a first time for everything. “Maybe that explains the unicorn.”

  “Could be,” Florian said. “Only time will tell.”

  Chapter 5

  “This is an outrage. I demand justice.”

  Uh oh. Florian and I were barely through the door of Thornhold after my broomstick lesson when we heard Aunt Hyacinth’s agitated voice shaking the foundation of the house.