Magic & Mercy

by Annabel Chase

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I am well aware you’ve released him since he’s standing right in front of me and I possess the keen power of sight.”

  Florian and I located my aunt on the phone in her office, dressing down the sheriff. Simon stood in front of the desk, his expression inscrutable.

  Aunt Hyacinth acknowledged us with a curt nod as she continued to express her displeasure. “Naturally, he’s innocent. He’s the household manager for Thornhold, not some trailer park mansion in Mystic Town.”

  Trailer park mansion? Now that I’d love to see.

  “If I decide he needs to leave town on an errand, he will leave town,” she insisted. “Is that understood?” She paused to listen. “No, of course there are no such errands, but I reserve the right to create one. Good day, Sheriff.”

  She set the phone on her desk and smiled at us as though she’d just finished a perfectly enjoyable conversation with a dear friend.

  “Mother, can we be of assistance?” Florian asked.

  Aunt Hyacinth smoothed her white-blond chignon. “No, darling. Thank you for offering. I have the matter well in hand.” Her expression hardened when her gaze settled on me. “What good is his infatuation with you if we can’t benefit from it?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. Infatuation seemed a tad strong.

  “The sheriff is merely performing his duties,” Simon said. “He’s treating me as he should. After all, I couldn’t expect him to ignore the evidence on my shirt.”

  Aunt Hyacinth clearly disagreed. “Burn that shirt as soon as it’s returned from evidence.”

  “I can easily remove the stain…” Simon said.

  “Absolutely not. That shirt is dead to me now.” She adjusted the neckline of her turquoise kaftan. “A starburst martini would be perfection right now, Simon. And bring refreshments for my guests, as well.”

  “I’m not a guest, Mother,” Florian said. “I live here.”

  “You live below deck,” she clarified. “Therefore, you’re a guest in the main house.”

  Simon gave a slight bow and retreated from the office.

  Aunt Hyacinth observed us with fresh eagerness. “Have a seat, my lovelies. How was the lesson?”

  “She’s a natural,” Florian said, sitting in the wingback chair opposite her. “Her broomstick license will be no trouble at all.”

  Aunt Hyacinth flashed a genuine smile. “Finally, an easy task with you. Did you practice turns and hand signals?”

  “Next time,” Florian said. “I’m confident she’ll master those with no problem.”

  “Excellent.” Aunt Hyacinth relaxed. “Simon mentioned you were at the conference, Ember. You’re covering it for Vox Populi, I assume.”

  “Yes, Bentley sent me,” I said.

  “Bentley,” she huffed. “I wish Alec would dislodge his head from…” She stopped herself. “My paper needs its editor back. You two are friendly. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from him.”

  My throat tightened. “No, I haven’t. Tanya says he’ll be back soon, though.”

  “He’s probably off finishing a novel,” my aunt mused. “He’s so secretive with his writing. Like an adolescent.”

  A tray of drinks drifted into the room unescorted and landed on the sideboard. A glass of sweet tea floated to me.

  “How did he know?” I asked. Simon never ceased to amaze me.

  Florian sipped his wistberry ale. “Mine wasn’t difficult to guess.”

  “Nor mine,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “We’re creatures of habit.”

  “Simon is a treasure,” I said. “There’s no way he had anything to do with the murder.”

  “Let’s hope the suspects the sheriff is about to interview take Simon off the table,” Aunt Hyacinth said. She inhaled the aroma of her cocktail before diving in.

  I stiffened. “He’s going to interview suspects now?”

  “That’s what he told me,” she replied. “He’s got three butlers in his office now.”

  I gulped down the rest of my sweet tea so as not as waste a drop. “I need to go.”

  “You know where the bathroom is,” Florian said. “No need to announce it.”

  “No, I mean actually go,” I said. “To the sheriff’s office. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “Good idea, darling,” my aunt said. “Make sure he’s conducting a thorough interview. I don’t like the idea of Simon being mixed up in any of this mess. Use your feminine wiles.”

  I opened my mouth to argue about the sexist nature of her comment, but decided silence was the better option.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, although I couldn’t promise anything. As much as the sheriff liked me, he hated my aunt’s interference more. I’d have to be careful how I inserted myself into the investigation. Luckily for me, I’d already established a history of meddling on behalf of the paper.

  “We’ll meet again later this week,” Florian said. “Make sure you practice.”

  I turned to scan the room. “Where’s Esmeralda? I’ll practice right now.”

  “You can’t fly to the sheriff’s office without a license,” Florian said. “He’ll be issuing you a ticket instead of allowing you to sit in on the interview.”

  Good point. Then I remembered the ‘H’ rune from Hazel in my pocket. Two birds, one invisibility spell.

  “Practice makes perfect, Florian,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring your broomstick back in one piece. Promise.”

  Florian eyed me. “It’s getting you back in one piece I’m more concerned about. I don’t want a Humpty Dumpty situation.”

  I laughed. “I’m not sitting on a wall like an egg-shaped moron.”

  “No, you’ll be much higher,” he said. “Even worse.”

  I placed my empty glass on the tray on my way out. “Then wish me luck.”

  “May the Goddess of the Moon smile upon you,” my aunt said. “But don’t get hurt, or I’ll consider it a personal insult.”

  I took Esmeralda to the patch of lawn at the side of the house and retrieved the rune from my pocket. The only downside to practicing the spell without a witness was that I wouldn’t know whether I’d been successful or not. There was also the minor detail of plummeting to my death while invisible. No witnesses for that either.

  I rubbed the rune in my palm the way Hazel taught me and focused my will. Essentially, I was attempting to use two spells at once—that involved more magic in one go than I’d ever tried before.

  “Caecus,” I said, and tucked the rune back in my pocket. Then I straddled the broomstick and gripped the leather strap. “Okay, Esmeralda. I’m counting on you not to make a fool of me. We girls need to stick together.”

  I infused the broomstick with magic like I’d done at the park. I glided into the air with a few jerky movements, then quickly leveled off. The sheriff’s office wasn’t far, but I needed to figure out where to land without trying to squeeze between buildings. I wasn’t advanced enough for parallel broomstick parking.

  “Flying is the best,” I told the wind. I spotted a long strip of grass not far from the office and circled a few times before I attempted to land. To my relief, no one looked up to see a broomstick flying all by itself. I didn’t want to cause panic.

  I landed with a thud—not as good as the park landing, but still respectable. I hid Esmeralda in the bushes on the side of the building and proceeded into the sheriff’s office.

  I walked straight past the reception desk and Deputy Bolan. I thought for sure he’d stop me with his usual scowl.

  I found the sheriff at a table in the conference room with three butlers—Belvedere was the only one I recognized. The president of the association seemed the most inconvenienced by the interrogation.

  “State your names for the record, please,” the sheriff said.

  “Theodore Belvedere.”

  “Joseph Butler.” I cocked my head. The butler’s name was Butler? Talk about a true calling.

  “Jeeves.”

  “Is that your first
name or your last name?” the sheriff asked.

  “Both,” Jeeves replied.

  "Shall I ring a lawyer before we begin?" Belvedere asked.

  The sheriff shook his shaggy brown head. "No need for that. I’d just like to have a conversation about your dinner the other night. I understand the three of you were out with the deceased."

  "Higgins," Jeeves said. "His name was Higgins."

  The sheriff nodded somberly. "Yes, it was. And where did you have dinner?"

  "The Flying Pig," Belvedere replied. "We’re all staying at the Gryphon, but the food there isn't up to snuff. I've been to the Flying Pig multiple times and have never had a bad meal there."

  "So the Flying Pig was your idea?" the sheriff asked.

  "That's right," Belvedere said.

  “Say, where’s Simon?” Joseph Butler asked. “He was at dinner, too.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Simon,” the sheriff said. “His presence isn’t necessary.”

  “Was the blood on his shirt a match for Higgins?” Belvedere asked.

  “That’s confidential information,” the sheriff replied easily. “Now, tell me about dinner.”

  "Higgins was out of sorts," Jeeves offered.

  “What makes you say that?" the sheriff asked.

  "He and I get together for a meal here every year at the conference," Jeeves explained. "This was the first time I've ever seen him inebriated."

  "Higgins was drunk?" I asked.

  "Yes, Rose," the sheriff said. "That's what inebriated means. I thought you had a good vocabulary." He turned around to address me. “Rose? Where are you?”

  Sweet invisible Elvis. No wonder no one bothered me on the way in. I forgot I was still invisible.

  “Um, give me one second.” How did I reverse the spell on myself? I fished the rune from my pocket and squeezed it in my palm. “Visus.”

  The sheriff’s brow lifted. “You know you shouldn’t walk around my office invisible, right? There’s an ordinance about that.”

  “I’m sure there is,” I said. “Sorry, it was an accident.”

  “You were accidentally invisible?” the sheriff queried.

  “I once had a master of an estate with a similar problem,” Jeeves said. “He’d perform magic whilst drunk and then forget to turn himself visible again. He’d wander the house for days, incensed that no one was paying him any attention.” Jeeves chuckled at the memory. “A fine wizard, albeit a tortured one.”

  “Anyhoo,” I said slowly. "I know what inebriated means.”

  “I know,” the sheriff said. “I’ve seen the evidence firsthand.”

  I groaned. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I just wanted to confirm that it means the same thing in the paranormal world."

  Belvedere smirked. "Yes, my dear. English works exactly the same as a language no matter which tongue speaks it."

  I resisted the urge to hex Belvedere with a wart on his nose. It would be harder to resist if I actually knew a spell to achieve that.

  "Did Higgins give you any reason as to why he was drinking heavily?" the sheriff asked.

  Joseph Butler cast a nervous glance at his companions before speaking up. "He mentioned a map. I'm pretty sure it was to do with that."

  "What kind of map?" I asked. "A map of Starry Hollow?"

  “Yes,” Jeeves said. “A treasure map to be exact."

  The sheriff and I exchanged glances. A treasure map?

  "We laughed it off," Belvedere said. "Thought perhaps he was playing a game with us. With his murder, now I'm not so sure."

  "What did he plan to do with the map?" the sheriff asked. "Did he intend to search for the treasure?"

  Three sets of shoulders shrugged in unison.

  "Did he show you the map?" I asked.

  "He said he didn't have it on him," Butler said. “Said it was in the small vault in the closet of his hotel room."

  "Well, it isn't there now," the sheriff said. “His room has been searched already. Any idea where it might have ended up?"

  “Not at all,” Belvedere said.

  "He did mention a place to me during our dinner conversation,” Jeeves said. "It wasn't a direct comment about the map, but he mentioned his intention to visit an inn.” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name. "It had something to do with ghosts. A well-known inn here in town."

  The sheriff slid his palms flat across the table. "Casper’s Revenge?"

  Casper’s Revenge sounded like a rollercoaster.

  Jeeves pointed a finger at him. "Yes, that was the name. Apparently, the spirits wait on you, much like a good household manager."

  "Thank you, Jeeves," the sheriff said. "That's very helpful."

  “Anything else you can think of?” I asked. “Did you see him after dinner?”

  “As a matter of fact, I saw Higgins arguing with someone in the breakfast line before registration," Joseph Butler said. He smacked his forehead. "The new fella. What's his name? Looks mildly Japanese."

  "Jenkins," I said. "Trevor Jenkins."

  Butler smiled, relieved. "Yes. That's him. I couldn't overhear them, but Higgins was clearly upset. I’d intended to ask him about it later, but I never got the chance."

  Sheriff Nash glanced over his shoulder at me. "You know Jenkins?"

  "He's staying at Palmetto House," I said. "I had dinner with him."

  "Did you now?" the sheriff asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  "Along with six others," I said. "Jenkins and Bates are two butlers staying at Linnea’s inn."

  "I guess it's time to have a chat with Trevor Jenkins, then," the sheriff said. "Gentlemen, that will be all for now. Thank you for your help."

  “Can we leave town?” Butler asked. “Not that I have any intention of doing so, of course. I intend to stay for the conference.”

  “I’d rather you hang around,” the sheriff said in a pleasant tone. “Since you’ll be here anyway, that doesn’t seem like much of an inconvenience.”

  “It’s no problem at all,” Jeeves said. “You have my details should you require anything else from me.”

  "If the household managers can be of any further assistance," Belvedere said, "please don't hesitate to call on us. We live to serve."

  The sheriff chuckled. "What a coincidence? So do I."

  Chapter 6

  The History of Starry Hollow at the community college was taught by a wereowl called Dr. Gladys Timmons. Dr. Timmons was a short, stout woman with mousy brown hair and large hazel eyes. As she stood in front of the whiteboard, I was seized with the sudden fear that she’d turn her head one hundred eighty degrees. I didn’t want to be subjected to an Exorcist moment during my very first lesson.

  The bell chimed and Florian slid in beside me. “Good to see you, cousin.”

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “I told you I was coming.”

  “I didn’t think you’d follow through with it. That’s not really your style.”

  I felt the eyes of the other students on us. An Adonis like Florian wasn’t likely to go unnoticed on a college campus.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” Dr. Timmons said. “We’re here to learn about the history of our town.”

  “I’m here for credits to graduate,” someone grumbled behind us.

  “I have no intention of boring you to death, so I will strive to make the class as enjoyable as possible,” Dr. Timmons continued. “There will be two major assignments due this term, on top of your regular reading assignments. The first will be a paper on the topic of your choosing. The second will be a group project.”

  “She doesn’t really mean that, does she?” Florian whispered. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  I sighed heavily. “Florian, this is school. That’s how it works.”

  “I bet you were really good in school, like Marley.”

  “Actually, I was an average student,” I said. “Nothing like Marley at all.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Not very Ros
e-like of you. We tend to excel.”

  I pressed my foot on top of his. “Be quiet, Florian, if you intend to stay.”

  Dr. Timmons walked us through the syllabus and told us which reference materials would include the required reading.

  I raised my hand.

  “What are you doing?” Florian whispered. “Asking questions is a sign of weakness.”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “Asking questions is a sign of needing an answer.”

  Dr. Timmons focused her owl eyes on me “Yes?” She scanned the student list. “Your name, please?”

  “Ember Rose,” I replied. “You have a list of speakers on the syllabus. Are they guest lecturers?”

  “Of a sort,” Dr. Timmons said. She seemed to notice Florian next to me for the first time. “Hmm. Young man, you have the distinctive look of a Rose.”

  Florian raked a hand through his telltale hair. “What gave it away?”

  “Your pompous air,” Dr. Timmons shot back. “Quickly followed by your exquisite physical characteristics.”

  Florian wasn’t sure how to respond. He laughed lightly. “I imagine we appear somewhere in your course.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Timmons said. “That should prove interesting.” Her gaze shifted to me. “And you, Miss Rose. You appear to be lacking certain physical traits. Are you a Rose by marriage?”

  We burst into laughter.

  “Florian, married?” I gasped for breath. “No, I’m his cousin. My father was a Rose. My mother was a Hawthorne.”

  Dr. Timmons stared at me. “A Hawthorne, you say?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “My mother grew up here. She died not long after I was born, then my father whisked me away to the human world.”

  “Is that why you do not go by Ember Hawthorne-Rose, in accordance with the custom of your coven?”

  “Probably too much of a mouthful for Maple Shade, New Jersey,” I replied. I wasn’t big on customs, probably why I didn’t bother to take my husband’s name when we got married, otherwise I would’ve been Ember Holmes.

  Dr. Timmons moved closer to inspect me. “Fascinating.” She tweaked my nose. “I thought you were nothing more than a rumor.”