Magic & Mercy

by Annabel Chase

  I rubbed the edge of my nose. “Nope. Very real.”

  “And you’re taking my class,” she said. “Why?”

  “Because I want to learn more about paranormal history,” I said. “I was raised in the human world. I have zero knowledge, except what I’ve learned since I’ve been here.”

  “It would be helpful for her job, too,” Florian said. “She’s a reporter for Vox Populi.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Timmons said. “Your aunt’s enterprise.”

  “She takes great pride in it,” I said. “Sometimes it would be useful to know more about the town’s history when I’m writing a story.”

  “Absolutely,” Dr. Timmons said. “Without a firm grasp of history, we are doomed to repeat it.”

  Since I had her attention, I decided to dive right in. “Do you know anything about town treasure maps?” I asked.

  “I know they’ll sell you a replica of one for five silver coins in the local shop.” She smiled. “Doubtful you’ll find any treasure as a result, though.”

  “You don’t believe in any of the pirate vampire stories?” I asked. I knew all about Captain Blackfang from his son and the owner of the Whitethorn pub, Duncan, otherwise known as Captain Yellowjacket.

  “Oh, I know all the stories,” Dr. Timmons said. “The treasures themselves I’m not so sure about. They may have existed at one time, but I believe they’re long gone. There are far too many ways to unearth treasure using magic.”

  Just because the treasure didn’t exist, didn’t mean the murderer knew that. If the killer believed the map would lead to treasure, that was motive enough for the murder of Higgins.

  “There will be sufficient time in the semester to discuss local lore,” Dr. Timmons said. “Let’s at least try to remain on track the first day, eh?”

  “Yes, sorry for the thread derail,” I said.

  “Back to today’s lecture,” Dr. Timmons said, resuming her place in front of the class. “On the founding of Starry Hollow.”

  At the end of the lecture, the professor reminded us to choose our paper topics by the end of the week. I already knew I wanted to focus on pirate lore; anything that would assist the investigation.

  “I bet Delphine will be a great resource for our papers,” I said. “She’s incredibly smart and helpful.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Florian said. “If I ace this class, Mother will be sure to bankroll my motorcycle. The Arctic trolls need a good six months’ notice to begin work.”

  I tried not to appear too pleased with myself for slipping Delphine in under his nose. I was a regular Starry Hollow matchmaker. Soon, I’d give Artemis Haverford a run for her money.

  “Great,” I said, making sure to keep the eagerness out of my voice. “I’ll set it up.”

  Are you sure you want to wear that?

  I scrutinized my reflection in the mirror. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Raoul, my raccoon familiar, came to stand beside me. You’re wearing black from head to toe. It’s too depressing. You look like you’re ready to go to funeral, or join a convent.

  “Maybe that’s the look I’m going for,” I said. “I don’t want the sheriff to get any ideas.”

  You invited him to dinner in your home, and you’ve farmed out your daughter for the evening, Raoul said. You’ve already given him ideas.

  Marley was at Florian’s, probably enjoying takeout from one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Sometimes it was good to be a Rose.

  “It’s the result of pure laziness,” I said. “I didn’t want to get all dressed up to go out and interact with other paranormals. This way, when he leaves, I can climb straight into bed.”

  He probably thinks before he leaves, he’ll climb straight into bed.

  “He knows me better than that,” I said.

  Raoul scampered over to my closet. What about a red dress? That’ll get his attention.

  “I don’t need to get his attention,” I said. “I’ll be the only one here with him.”

  You’ve been avoiding red, he said. Is it because of the vampire?

  Heat rushed to the nape of my neck. “What are you talking about? I’m not avoiding anything because of Alec.”

  Only because Alec’s been avoiding you. Hell’s bells, he’s been avoiding the whole town. Raoul shook his head in disbelief. That’s some powerful mojo you worked on him.

  “Can we please stop talking about Alec?” I insisted. “Granger will be here soon and I need to cook dinner. I’m behind schedule.”

  Oh, it’s Granger now, is it? He made kissing noises.

  “He asked me to call him Granger. Don’t be annoying.” I paused. “I guess it’s too late for that.” I adjusted the front of my shirt. “This is what I’m wearing. If he doesn’t like it, too bad.”

  Raoul punched the air. There’s that Jersey girl attitude that gets you in trouble.

  I started to head for the stairs.

  Hey, where are you going? he called.

  I turned to face him. “Downstairs to make dinner.”

  Aren’t you going to do something with your hair first?

  I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nostrils. “Why, Raoul? What’s wrong with my hair?”

  Maybe a messy bun, he suggested. Guys dig that look and you’re a natural when it comes to messy.

  “Gee, thanks.” I grabbed a hair clip from the dresser and put up my hair. “Messy enough for you?”

  Raoul gave me the okay symbol, not so easy for a raccoon.

  I hustled downstairs to the kitchen to start dinner.

  Are you sure you should be using magic for this? Raoul questioned me. From what I can tell, you stalled on your magical ABCs. I don't know how smart it is to try and conquer meatloaf.

  “He seems like the comfort food kind of werewolf," I said. "Meatloaf is the logical choice."

  Raoul scampered from the countertop and dropped to the floor. Meatloaf sounds good to me. I'm happy to take the leftovers, I'm just not sure you should be using magic to make it.

  "I realize that we’re still getting to know each other," I began, "but I will be the first to tell you that I am a terrible cook. The only thing I'll be putting in front of him without magic is a bowl of macaroni and cheese. And even that comes out of a box. With fake powdered cheese.”

  Raoul tapped his claw on the floor, thinking. Maybe you should ask one of your cousins for help.

  "Not Florian," I objected. "He's too spoiled to learn how to cook, even with magic."

  That's because he never had to learn, Raoul said. He always has his mother's staff to tend to his every need. Must be nice.

  "Well, he's not getting waited on right now, not with Simon preoccupied."

  I don't know why the sheriff is wasting his time with an investigation, Raoul said. Everybody knows the butler did it. He rolled onto his back, unable to contain his glee.

  “Hardy har," I said. "I'm glad you're cracking yourself up because no one else is amused."

  Raoul flipped back to his paws. Tough crowd.

  "You need to go so I can concentrate," I said. "Besides, PP3 will wake up soon and he'll freak out if he smells you here.” I'd been trying to keep my familiar as far away as possible from my dog. PP3 was set in his ways and adding a new raccoon to the family was not going to go over well.

  I'm your familiar, Raoul said. I should take precedence over a mangy mutt.

  I shook a finger at him. "It's that kind of attitude that makes me not want to introduce you. PP3 is getting on in years and he knows it. I don't want him to think for one second that he's being replaced."

  How can he possibly think that? I'm not a pet like him. It's a different relationship.

  "We've had enough drastic changes in our lives this year," I said. "I'm surprised he's managed as well as he has."

  Oh, look at the time. You'd better get a move on if you expect to finish this before he gets here.

  I huffed. Before I could say another word, he leaped onto the counter and disappeared out
the kitchen window.

  I turned and stared at the magical recipe book. I could rock this meatloaf. I just had to focus. I turned myself invisible and flew on a broomstick without anyone noticing. I should be able to manage a meatloaf.

  I held my wand the way Linnea had shown me and focused my will. I pictured a juicy meatloaf cooking in the oven. I felt my eyes sting from the onion and imagined Worcestershire sauce. I infused the meat with tenderness, not the emotional kind, of course. I meant for the meat. Once I was certain all the elements were in place, I said in a firm voice, “Coquino.”

  I waited a minute before opening the oven door, afraid to see the results. I tried to peer in the window, but it was too dark to see the interior of the oven. What was the spell for creating light? It made me nervous to try to do too many spells at once. I’d already done it once today and I knew how magic depleted a body’s resources. I didn’t want magic to drain my energy before the sheriff arrived. I had to build up to it like my more powerful cousins. I glanced at the clock on the wall. I didn't have much time left. I aimed my wand and said, “Lumina.”

  Every light in the cottage flickered and died.

  "Oh, no!" What had I done? Sheriff Nash would be here any minute.

  I touched the oven door and it felt warm. Without light, I wouldn't be able to see whether the meatloaf was done. Not that it mattered. We couldn't have dinner like this. Then I made my next mistake.

  I opened the oven door.

  Ground beef exploded. Bits of meat flew in every direction, sticking to my hair and clothes. A tiny piece of onion smacked me in the eye.

  "It burns!" I ran to the sink to rinse out the onion and soothe my eyeball. I glanced at my reflection in the microwave door. My eye was bright red and angry-looking. Chunks of meat hung from my hair. This was a complete disaster. Raoul was right. I should have known better.

  PP3 appeared at my feet, barking.

  I placed a hand on my hip. "What? Like I did this on purpose. I need to run upstairs before he gets here, or I'll never hear the end of it."

  No sooner did the words leave my mouth than the doorbell rang. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. This was a bad omen. I should never have invited him to dinner. This was the gods’ punishment for what I did to Alec. The universe was telling me, in no uncertain terms, that it disapproved of me.

  PP3 ran circles around my legs, yapping up a storm. I scooped him up in my arms and he began licking the ground beef from my shoulder.

  "That's enough," I said. "You need to behave for our guest. I have a feeling he won't be staying very long."

  PP3 squirmed in my arms. I placed him gently on the kitchen floor and closed the door behind me. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin a fraction before heading to the door.

  When I finally opened the door, the sheriff had just raised his arm to ring the bell again. He took one look at me and burst into laughter.

  “Wow,” was all he could manage.

  I pretended there was nothing amiss and simply held open the door. "Come in, Sheriff."

  "I told you to call me Granger, especially when I'm coming over to your house for dinner." He crossed the threshold and immediately noticed the lack of light. It became even more noticeable once I closed the front door, as we were suddenly bathed in darkness.

  I heard the Sheriff's low chuckle. "No light, and you’ve drenched yourself in meat. You're really trying to set the mood, aren't you, Rose? I would've thought you'd want to take things a bit slower."

  "Trust me, this was not what I had in mind when I started."

  "No doubt. What can I do to help?" Although it was dark, I could feel his presence. I could also hear PP3 scratching at the kitchen door.

  "I'm sorry,” I said. “I tried to make you a nice dinner. That clearly didn't happen."

  "What about the lights? Did you blow a fuse or something?" He edged closer to me. “I know how your temper tends to flare.”

  “Ha ha. I don't know," I said. "I tried to add light to the oven so I could check on the meatloaf. Instead, all the lights went out. Too much magic in one day for this witch.”

  Even in the darkness, I could feel the Sheriff's grin. "You’re making meatloaf for me?"

  "It seemed up your alley," I said.

  He sniffed the air. "Yep. Smells good. Mind if I have a taste?" Before I could respond, I felt his warm hand on my shoulder.

  "You may as well," I said. "It's either this, or peanut butter and jelly."

  I felt his lips on the curve of my neck and shuddered as he nibbled my bare skin.

  "I do like peanut butter," he murmured. "But this tastes good, too."

  "Are you actually getting any meat?" I asked. It was difficult to talk when he was having such a mind-numbing effect on me.

  "I'm working on it," he said. "Might take a while. Hope you don't mind."

  Did I mind? "I told you I want to take things slow." I forced out the words, despite my body’s inclination to go faster.

  "Why do you think I'm still on your neck?" he teased. I heard the desire in his voice and my whole body tingled in response.

  “You should probably stop,” I said unconvincingly.

  “I brought you a present,” he said between nibbles. “Maybe you can try it on now. See if it fits.”

  “I’m not trying anything on while I’m covered in meat,” I said.

  “You could try me on,” he said suggestively. “See if I fit.”

  Sweet baby Elvis. I was going to be a puddle on the floor if he kept this up much longer.

  A sharp bark from PP3 brought me to my senses. I snapped back and cleared my head.

  "We should really fix these lights,” I said in a no-nonsense voice. “Let me see what I can do."

  "I'll help you," he said. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

  I moaned and stepped out of his reach.

  "I need to go into the kitchen where the dog is," I said. "You know he's not sure about you yet." PP3 was territorial. He didn't like the smell of the wolf. "I need my wand."

  “Or we could go out to eat," he suggested. "Might be easier."

  I hesitated. I needed to clean myself up either way, and, after what just happened between us, it was probably safer to pass the evening outside of the cottage.

  "All right then, Granger," I said. "Let me run upstairs and clean myself up." It wasn't worth using magic at this point. I didn't trust myself.

  “Take your present,” he said. “Maybe you’ll decide to wear it.” He thrust a gift bag into my hand.

  I fumbled toward the steps, clutching the bag, and managed to trip on my way up. There was no way to disguise the loud thump.

  "You need a hand, Rose?" he asked. "I'd be happy to escort you to your room."

  "No, no," I called in a panic. "Don't come up. I'll be fine."

  In the still of the darkness, I heard him chuckle again.

  "Wereass,” I hissed.

  And the chuckle quickly escalated to a belly laugh.

  Chapter 7

  The gift from the sheriff was a red T-shirt that read Proud Broomstick Mama. He’d accused me of being the paranormal version of a helicopter mom recently, so the gift was intended to be funny.

  “You’re actually going to wear it?” he said, as we left the cottage.

  “I’m proud, remember? Says so right here.” I pointed to my chest.

  “I like you in red,” he said. “I also like when you draw attention to your chest.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was no better than Florian. “Thanks for the shirt. It’s cute.”

  “Where would you like to go to dinner?” he asked. “Somewhere new? Or a trusted favorite like the Lighthouse?”

  “How about we try the Flying Pig?” I suggested.

  He broke into a grin. “Rose, you have a detective’s brain. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “I prefer to have my own brain, thanks.” I stopped in the driveway. “Don’t you think I should drive? After all, I invited you to dinner.”

&n
bsp; He didn’t hesitate. “No, thanks, Rose. I’ve seen the way you drive. Must be those New Jersey highways. Adds an extra ten pounds to your pedal foot.”

  I slipped into the passenger seat of his car without complaint. He could withstand much more alcohol than I could and still drive in a sober state. If the latter half of the night went anything like the former half, I was going to need a copious amount of alcohol to power through.

  The Flying Pig was located off Coastline Drive, not far from the Whitethorn. It wasn’t as old or atmospheric as the ancient pub, but it had its own appeal. The wooden sign creaked as it swung in the sea breeze and the image of a winged pig seemed to glow in the moonlight.

  “Have you ever been here?” I asked, standing out front to take in the view. The stars twinkled above and I listened to the gentle lapping of the waves on the rocks below.

  “Not often,” the sheriff said. “No particular reason, though. I just have my usual watering holes, I guess.”

  “I trust the butlers’ judgment,” I said. “If the food and service is good enough for them, it has to be above average.”

  “I’ll take that leap of faith,” he replied.

  The moment we stepped inside, I knew we’d made a mistake.

  “Alec.” I couldn’t disguise the shock in my voice. He looked amazingly good, probably because I hadn’t seen him in weeks. He was back to wearing custom suits and slicked-back hair. His green eyes glinted in the dim artificial light.

  “Good evening, Hale,” the sheriff said stiffly.

  The vampire inclined his head in that civil manner he’d mastered so well. “Sheriff. Miss Rose.”

  Miss Rose. I tried not to react to his formal address. When he was under the opposite spell, he’d called me Ember and I’d relished the change.

  “When did you get home?” I asked. I made sure to cloak my thoughts because Alec had a habit of reading them; one of the perks of being a powerful vampire.

  “Last evening,” he replied. His intelligent gaze shifted to Sheriff Nash. “Date night?”

  “It is, as a matter of fact.” I heard the note of pride in the sheriff’s voice. Ugh. “Last time I saw you was on stage doing your best impression of ‘the Boss.’”