Hell Hath No Fury

by Annabel Chase

  I spun on my heel and raced down the spiral steps. I returned to my car and made the quick drive to the wrong side of the tracks where the office was located. Nestled between a tattoo parlor and a donut shop, the FBM was hardly splurging on prime real estate. I snagged a parking spot out front and checked that the ward was down before entering the office. No need to embarrass myself today by bouncing off the door and into the street. Try explaining that to a human.

  “Agent Fury, finally,” Neville said.

  I pulled a face. “You act like I was lounging around in my pj’s, feeding potato chips out of the bag to my boyfriend in my attic paradise.”

  His brow lifted. “That sounds awfully specific.”

  “I told you I was checking the portal and I was.” Besides, we finished off the bag of potato chips this morning. Chief Fox is a huge fan of salt and vinegar chips, apparently.

  “Your beverage is on your desk,” he said. “Mind the temperature.”

  “Ooh, and a bear claw too.” A bark sounded from the back of the room and I waved to Achilles. “How was your treat? I bet it was delicious.”

  Achilles barked in response.

  “I guess there was no breakthrough if you’re here alone,” Neville said.

  “Unfortunately not,” I said, dropping into my chair and booting up my computer. “The witches couldn’t break the spell.”

  “Then what’s on the agenda?” he asked.

  I swiveled my chair to face him. “Talk to me about demons,” I said. “Which ones can turn humans into animals?”

  Neville rubbed his cheek. “Quite a few, actually. It’s not an uncommon ability. You also can’t rule out wizards, warlocks, and other magical beings.”

  “I can when I know every one of them within a twenty-mile radius,” I said.

  “Have you talked to your cousin?” Neville asked. “He’s a pretty talented warlock.”

  “Rafael? What reason could he possibly have to turn the chief into a fox?”

  “Maybe he and the chief had an interaction regarding the restaurant.” It is universally acknowledged that the best restaurant in Chipping Cheddar is Chophouse, which happens to be owned and operated by Rafael, a fastidious chef.

  “No way. Chief Fox would’ve mentioned it, and Rafael would’ve complained to everyone in my family about the injustice.”

  “What about your brother?” Neville asked. “He’s a vengeance demon that could risk doing something in town without your father’s blessing.”

  I burst into laughter. “Anton? Why would he want to transform the chief?”

  “You were worried about your family finding out,” he said. “Maybe you were focused on the wrong members.”

  I shook my head. “Anton is way too laidback to care, and he doesn’t share my mother’s attitude. He’s more tolerant.”

  “I guess he’d have to be. He married a druid.”

  My head jerked toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Neville said quickly. “I only meant that your parents wouldn’t be thrilled with a druid for a daughter-in-law.”

  “You’re right about that. To be fair, Verity doesn’t love having them as in-laws either. She’s more like me.” One reason we got along so well. “I think a demon is our best bet. Have you read the latest reports from Otherworld?”

  “Yes. There are no escaped demons that match what we’re looking for,” Neville said.

  “Then let’s see what we can find in the FBM database.” I heard the clickety clack of Neville’s new mechanical keyboard as he typed enthusiastically. “You sound like you and your horse are riding into town to hit up the saloon.”

  Neville kept his gaze on the screen. “I like the sound. I find it soothing.”

  “And I’m going to need noise-canceling headphones.”

  “I’m sending you a list of options,” he said. “You take the first half and I’ll take the second.”

  “Okey doke.” I opened the link on my computer and started with the first entry. “An animal demon? It can’t be that simple. That’s too on-the-nose.” I clicked on the entry and read the summary. “This demon leaves a distinct smell of wet dog fur in its wake.” I contemplated the description. “I didn’t smell any wet dogs when the chief turned into a fox.”

  “Here’s one,” Neville said. “A Cailleach demon.” He frowned. “No, wait. That demon can disguise himself as a fox, not other people.”

  “Well, I doubt the chief has been a secret Cailleach demon all this time,” I said.

  “Can we discuss your catchphrase while we research? We’re both good at multitasking.”

  “No one’s good at multitasking. It’s a lie we tell ourselves to feel more productive.” I leaned my head back and looked at him. “Neville, seriously. It’s not like I’m a superhero. A catchphrase isn’t necessary.”

  “Of course not. It is, however, fun.”

  “Spider-Man doesn’t have a catchphrase and he’s awesome, so I don’t think I need one.”

  Neville folded his arms, indignant. “He certainly does. He says he’s the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

  I craned my neck to look at him. “I don’t think that qualifies as a catchphrase.”

  Neville’s eyes glimmered with hope. “How about ‘let’s get fast and fury-ous?’”

  I fixed Neville with a hairy eyeball. “Cut it out. I don’t need a catchphrase.”

  The wizard slumped in his chair. “And here I thought you were adventurous.”

  “I’ll be more open to discussing this once Chief Fox is back to normal. This whole thing is stressing me out. Rosalie has me worried that he’s going to be trapped like this forever.”

  “I can see why that might distress you.”

  Neville began typing again and I tried to block out the sound. I continued to check the links on my half of the list. Many were easy to dismiss because the telltale signs were missing.

  “An Inari demon sounds promising,” I said. “They use foxes as messengers. Maybe a demon changed the chief into a fox to serve as a messenger.”

  “Then what’s the message?” Neville asked.

  I chewed my lip, wracking my brain for a sensible response. “I have no idea. Not very effective as a communication tool, is it?”

  “Are we certain the chief isn’t a secret kitsune?” Neville asked. “Maybe he didn’t know and something happened to trigger the shift?”

  “Like what—true love’s kiss?” I joked, snorting with laughter. The laughter stopped abruptly and I touched my fingers to my lips. Great Goddess! What if it was something like that?

  Neville peered at me, curious. “What is it, Agent Fury?”

  “Is that possible?” I asked. “Could the chief be a shifter without realizing it?” And, if so, why couldn’t he shift back? Did he need to be taught?

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Neville said. “There are plenty of stories about women who don’t realize they’re witches until they’re older or something dramatic happens to trigger their magic.”

  “Wizards too,” I said. “Harry Potter didn’t know he was a wizard until he was eleven.”

  Neville scoffed. “Harry Potter? Be serious. I’m talking about real witches and wizards, Agent Fury.”

  Achilles waddled between our desks and plopped onto the floor in a bid for attention. I felt a tug of sympathy. The poor pug had to be missing his human companion. I knew I sure was. I wheeled over to him and leaned down to rub his belly.

  “You should think about getting a dog, Neville.”

  “I prefer my canine interactions to be brief but meaningful,” the wizard replied.

  I glanced at him. “What does that even mean? You seem to enjoy having Achilles around. And you already discovered he’s a magnet for women.”

  Neville smiled. “Indeed I did. All this time I thought it was simply fodder for sitcoms.”

  “If you don’t want the daily responsibility, you could apply to foster dogs while they wait for permanent homes.”

>   Neville gazed thoughtfully at the pug. “That’s actually an excellent idea,”

  I bristled. “Try not to sound so surprised.” I rolled back to my desk and continued reading about the relevant demons.

  “What about an ancestral spirit?” Neville asked. “This area was once inhabited by Native American tribes. Perhaps it’s some sort of message.”

  “If that’s the case, then they waited an awfully long time to express their displeasure,” I said. “The original Puritans are long gone.” Which reminded me that I needed to talk to Alice about the secret club for Clara’s article.

  “You’re right,” Neville said. “It doesn’t fit the description anyway.”

  I leaned my elbow on the desk, weary from reading. “I hate to say it, but I think the secret shifter is our best theory right now,” I said.

  “Would it be so terrible?” Neville asked. “It would mean the acceptance of your family and automatic inclusion in the supernatural world. It solves your two main issues right there.”

  That was true. Although my family didn’t love shifters, the awesomeness of Julie and Meg robbed them of any meaningful objection. It would still be difficult to have the head of law enforcement as my boyfriend while quietly battling my family’s evil tendencies, but definitely easier than the current situation.

  “I guess it would have its perks,” I admitted. My phone lit up and I spied a text from my mother. Uh oh. I picked up the phone to read the missive.

  I need you to stop at the store on your way home since your grandmother refuses to undo the hex. We’re having company for dinner and I need a bag of potatoes and three pounds of stewing beef.

  “She never asks,” I mumbled.

  “Never asks what?”

  “My mother. She tells me instead of asks me,” I said. I typed back—No problem. Are you sure you want to entertain in your condition?

  It’s only family. I’d rather die than let your grandmother get the better of me.

  Fair enough.

  Each one was as stubborn as the other. “I have to go soon. I need to go to the store first, then grab the fox, then drive home. Are you okay to take Achilles again?”

  Neville sorted through paperwork from the printer. “Absolutely.”

  I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

  Chapter Nine

  I arrived home with two bags of groceries. I’d snuck the fox into the barn for now, until it was safe to retrieve him. John was gone for the day so there was no chance of scaring him. Aunt Thora stood at the island in the kitchen, chopping celery and carrots.

  “Who’s coming for dinner?” I asked.

  “Moyer and Tomas, and your brother with his family,” Aunt Thora replied. “It was already on the calendar so your mother decided not to cancel, despite her current condition.”

  “Did she forget I have my supernatural council meeting tonight?”

  Aunt Thora offered a sympathetic look. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “I can stay for a bit,” I said. “Hopefully I’ll get to eat, but no coffee and conversation afterward.”

  “You’ll be missed.” Aunt Thora started to remove the packages from the bags. “Perfect. I need to get the stew going or it won’t be ready in time. It might need a magical boost.”

  “I thought my mother was cooking.”

  Aunt Thora said nothing as she opened the package of meat and emptied it into the large pot.

  “You’re not obliged to do everything for them, you know,” I said. “You’re not a servant here.”

  Aunt Thora washed her hands. “And I suppose you’ve confronted them about Tanner.” She dried her hands on the dishcloth.

  “I’ve been considering it,” I said. “The timing isn’t right. Besides, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “Then don’t tell them I was responsible for squealing. I don’t want to end up buried under a lemon tree, not until I’m truly dead anyway.”

  “Is that the real reason you created the murder jar?” I asked. “A precaution?”

  She shrugged. “I thought it was a good idea either way.”

  “You thought what was a good idea?” My mother sauntered into the kitchen and I had to do a double-take. She wore her white hair in a sleek, straight style and a black dress that showed off the slightly curvier figure that came with age.

  “Someone’s embraced her new appearance,” I remarked.

  My mother plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and chewed. “If you think for one second that I’ll let Grandma win, you’d best think again. I’m going to be the sexiest, most confident old lady this town has ever seen. She’ll be so irritated that she’ll turn me back.”

  I had to hand it to Beatrice Fury. She was determined to be true to herself no matter what obstacles she faced. Even her magically-induced wrinkles seemed smoother. I’d envy her if she didn’t annoy me so much.

  “What time will everyone be here?” I asked.

  “Sooner than dinner will be ready,” my mother said. “What was the delay, Aunt Thora?”

  “She doesn’t work for you,” I said.

  My mother gave me a demure smile. “Honey, everybody works for me in their own way.”

  The doorbell rang, saving my mother from having her magic siphoned. I couldn’t hex her without a magical boost, but I could drain her dry for the rest of the evening. Let’s see how her wrinkles handled that.

  Anton bustled into the kitchen, accompanied by Verity and the children. Uncle Moyer followed closely behind with his husband, Tomas, an angel-human hybrid.

  “Look at the trouble we ran into outside,” Uncle Moyer said. “For once, everyone’s on time.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and Aunt Thora beamed at the sight of him.

  “It was close,” Tomas admitted. “I left a trail of angel dust on the carpet and Moyer nearly had a coronary. He insisted on hauling out the vacuum and sucking it up before we could leave.”

  “The cleaners had just been to the house this morning,” the demonic lawyer replied. “Can we at least keep it clean for a whole twenty-four hours? Is that too much to ask?”

  Aunt Thora smiled. “That brings back memories. I still remember Moyer presenting his and Charisma’s dolls with a list of rules they had to abide by if they expected to live in the playroom.”

  Tomas gave his husband an affectionate squeeze. “Heaven have mercy. You had to be the most adorable demon child that ever roamed the earth.”

  “How is Charisma?” I asked. Aunt Thora’s daughter lived in Florida with her husband, Marty. We didn’t see them often.

  “Her skin is about the same color as my leather loafers,” Uncle Moyer said. “And the same texture too.”

  “Now, Moyer,” Aunt Thora admonished him. “You be nice. Your sister’s not here to defend herself.”

  “Speaking of defending ourselves…” Tomas twirled around to confront my mother. “Do you have anything to say, gorgeous, or are we supposed to pretend we don’t notice you?”

  My mother gave him a sly look. “Honey, it’s impossible not to notice me.”

  “You got that right.” Olivia marched straight up to my mother with her hands cemented on her small hips. “Why do you look so old?”

  Ryan laughed and pointed. I couldn’t decide whether he was a toddler or a Mean Girl in training.

  “You can thank Great-Grandma,” my mother replied. “She thought it would be a good joke to make me old before my time.”

  “You wear it well,” Verity said.

  My mother smoothed the ruched fabric along her hips. “Don’t I though?”

  Anton crunched on a piece of celery. “You’re not considering leaving the house like that, are you?”

  “Why? Are you embarrassed by my appearance?” my mother asked.

  “No, but aren’t you?” Anton asked.

  I sucked in a breath. Uh oh. Wrong answer. I pretended to slice my neck and Anton quickly realized his mistake.

  “What I mean to say is, how will you explain thi
s to people you know?”

  My mother fluffed her hair. “I’ve decided to go incognito. Call myself Brenda. Try out a new personality while I’m at it.”

  “I think we could all benefit from that,” Grandma said, as she shuffled into the room.

  My mother rounded on her, pointing an angry finger. “No comments from you this evening.”

  “Ha! I’d like to see you make that happen.” Grandma brushed past her and reached for a slice of cheese on the island.

  My mother’s coral-colored lips curved into a malicious smile. “Challenge accepted.” She made a zipping motion with her finger.

  Please no.

  Grandma’s eyes widened as she tried to shove the cheese into her mouth and realized she couldn’t.

  “Beatrice, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Uncle Moyer said.

  “Hush, Moyer,” my mother said. “It’s a spell I should’ve done from the start. When she undoes my spell, I’ll undo hers.”

  “I thought you were happy with your new look,” Anton said.

  “Oh, be quiet, Anton,” my mother huffed. “How could any woman be happy looking like Santa Claus’s younger sister? I want my body back.”

  Hmm. For once, a standoff between the two of them could work in my favor. With my mother prematurely old and Grandma unable to speak, they’d likely be too distracted by their own obstacles to pay attention to me.

  As Anton stepped forward to intervene, I put a hand on his shoulder to still him. He shot me a quizzical look, but I only shook my head.

  “Why is Great-Grandma’s face so red?” Olivia asked. “She looks like a lava globe.”

  That was an apt description. At least if she erupted, the fallout would be directed at one particular witch. In the meantime, the house was going to be very uncomfortable until this issue was resolved. Unfortunately, they were the two most stubborn women I’d ever known.

  “You’re welcome to stay with us until this blows over, Mom,” Tomas said to Aunt Thora.

  She patted his cheek. “You’re an angel.”

  Tomas smiled. “Well, only half.”

  Grandma rose to her feet and everyone tensed, waiting to see what would happen next. Olivia seemed to sense the impending catastrophe because she kept glancing from Grandma to my mother. Ryan pushed his chunky body into an upright position and toddled over to Grandma. I held my breath, hoping that he wouldn’t do something to exacerbate the situation. My boyfriend was already a fox. I didn’t need my nephew to become a toad. If this kept up, I’d have an entire menagerie at my disposal.