Old Haunts

by Nova Nelson

  I was temporarily at a loss for words. But to be clear, it wasn’t because he’d said anything that had hit an exposed nerve.

  Okay, maybe he’d hit a nerve or two. But…

  “For fang’s sake, Landon! What are you trying to do here? Don’t you think it tore me apart when he and Eva left? Don’t you think I’ve dreamed of finding ways to track him down? But it’s not realistic!

  “We got lucky. That portal that opened in the center of town, those things that crawled through it could have killed everyone. The fact that they didn’t is, frankly, unfathomable. And you want me to tinker with that magic all over again to find someone who, for all practical purposes, is probably safe and sound in another world? Siren’s song! Despite all that, I’ve finally moved on and am happy again. Why are you trying to ruin that?”

  His determination was starting to wither now. “I’m not. I’m just—”

  “I know you always liked Tanner more than Donovan. You and everyone else in this dragon blasted town! But what do you expect from me?”

  Now he was speechless. He opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again.

  “Exactly. You’d better get back to Grace. She’ll wonder where you’ve gone.”

  He took the not-so-subtle hint and turned on his heel, disappearing through the spectators.

  Was this his payback for the trash talking during the match? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and I didn’t get a chance to keep trying before someone grabbed my arm out of nowhere, making me jump a foot into the air.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh, sorry,” Bryant Watson said.

  I looked down at where his hand was still on my arm, and he quickly let go.

  “Have you seen Dmitri?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Who?” I’d worked with Bryant for over a year now at Medium Rare, but I knew very little about him. I wasn’t even sure of his age. Werewolves weren’t sticklers for birth records other than documenting which pack each was from, so his employment records were no help in estimating his age (I’d checked). Bryant had a youthful face, making him appear around my age or a bit younger, but his full head of gray hair dated him.

  “Dmitri Flint.”

  I shook my head again. “I don’t know who that is.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Right. I forget you never go to Coven events. Dmitri is an East Wind. But more importantly, he was supposed to be my teammate for this. We’re up next, and I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Maybe you can see if Liberty will push your match back.”

  He frowned, and a deep crease appearing between his brows.

  “Either way,” I said. “Have fun. After all, you have the night off.” I’d gone ahead and shut down Medium Rare early so everyone could make the tournament. Well, everyone except for the handful of teenagers who waited tables. Greta Fontaine and her gang would have to find other trouble to get up to tonight, since it was adults only in the pub.

  Bryant nodded, his concern none the less apparent, and disappeared through the crowd.

  Donovan’s voice pulled me away from a heated match between the Lytefoots and Jane. “There you are. I thought you might have split to go chase some ghost.” He handed me a fresh drink, and I took it gladly. “Nope. Just being social.”

  “You ready? We’re up next.”

  “Who are we playing?”

  He hesitated before saying, “Stu and Ezra. But don’t worry, I heard Stu’s in a slump.”

  I ignored him and looked up at the scoreboard on the wall. Stu and Ezra had cleaned house against Zoe and Oliver in the first round. There was no way they could have earned such a decisive victory if either one of the players was in a slump. Great.

  When Liberty announced the next two matches for the second round, one of those being ours, two spectators in particular began cheering. I looked toward the source.

  Ruby and Sheriff Bloom sat on two golden stools that definitely didn’t come from Sheehan’s. The angel must have conjured them up herself. And who was going to correct her about standing room only?

  But when I looked at the vocal pair, it became abundantly clear that they were not, in fact, cheering for Donovan and me.

  “Traitor,” I said to Ruby as I passed them.

  She shrugged shamelessly. “I like to cheer for the winning team, that’s all.”

  Bloom raised her glass of red wine, and Ruby clinked it with hers. The women burst into peals of laughter.

  “Great to know the town is completely unprotected tonight,” I said to Sheriff Bloom.

  “Oh please, my presence here doesn’t prevent me from doing my duty, should an emergency arise.”

  “No, but the wine might,” Donovan said.

  Bloom arched an eyebrow at him. “Looks like I’m being replaced as the town’s most judgmental resident.” She turned to Ruby. “Guess I can finally retire.”

  “And we can finally take that trip to Avalon we’ve been talking about for years.” They burst into another fit of laughter, and I figured it was time for us to get a move on—it would do Donovan no good to keep mouthing off to the sheriff.

  Stu and Donovan were matched up on one end of the table, and Ezra and I were on the other. I would have preferred to go against Stu just because I thought I could get in his head easier. He and I had worked so closely together that I knew a few buttons I could push to throw him off his game and give myself an opening.

  But not Ezra. The South Wind was as much a mystery to me as he’d ever been. Pretty much all I knew about him was that he had stopped aging around 40 years ago, had once carried on with Ruby (and had recently taken it up again while the love spell covered the town), and he could sell fool’s gold to a leprechaun for a premium price. None of that gave me an advantage as far as I could tell, but I tried it anyway.

  Stu and Donovan tossed first, and Donovan gave us a narrow lead. Now it was my turn to not screw things up. Ezra tossed first, but not before I mentioned that I’d seen Ruby giving Count Malavic a sultry glance.

  But the South Wind simply laughed. “Her and everyone else who thinks no one is watching.” Then he slid a puck right into the center of the target.

  Sphinx’s riddle! So much for that.

  I grabbed my puck and inhaled to steady myself. Donovan was staring down the board at me, his startlingly blue eyes intense and cutting.

  … Could I see myself marrying him?

  My toss looked promising for all of half a second before it went wide into the gutter.

  Donovan cringed and said nothing, and I cursed under my breath.

  Focus, Nora!

  Why was I even thinking about marriage? It wasn’t like I was set on it with Tanner when he was still around. I was just as unsure of it then.

  Wasn’t I?

  Ezra had another incredible toss, and I glared at Landon through the crowd. This was his revenge, wasn’t it? I beat him, so he gets in my head but acts like it’s totally unintentional.

  A North Wind would play that long game.

  I shook the thought away. A North Wind could think up that long game, but Landon wouldn’t. This was all on me.

  I focused and this toss was a little better. It scored us a point, which was nothing like the ten Ezra had already put up this round, but it was better than nothing.

  When his next toss collided with his puck in the bullseye, causing both to explode and earning him ten more points, Donovan lost it. He threw his arms into the air and turned to Liberty. “There’s no way! I’ve played against Ezra before and he’s not this good.”

  Ezra shrugged. “I’ve been practicing.”

  “Practicing magic,” Donovan snapped back.

  For fang’s sake, was this going to go to blows?

  “Throw Stringfellow out!” Ruby barked.

  I shot her a sharp look, and she sipped her wine.

  “Hey,” I said, stepping between Donovan and Liberty before he tried to pick a fight with a freaking genie. “Let it go. It was just a good shot.” Donova
n clenched his jaw, but did as I asked.

  But by the final round, I was firmly in agreement with Donovan. There was just no way Ezra wasn’t using magic. And if anyone had doubt about that, his fourth and final shot in the last round should have obliterated it. His puck was clearly headed for the gutter when the direction of its spin changed completely and it headed back for the middle of the table, landing a half inch from the innermost circle of the target.

  Donovan was beside himself, gesturing wildly, pacing, and appealing to Liberty. But I still had one shot left. If I could somehow aim so that it exploded the closest one of Ezra’s pucks at just the right angle, I could possibly set off a chain reaction through two of the other ones. That would erase just enough of his points that we would be tied and head into another round.

  I lined it up, ignoring the distraction of Ruby’s and Bloom’s chants for “Team Stuzra” and Donovan’s continued appeals, and focused. I could make this shot. Maybe not every time, but it was one I’d done before while practicing in Donovan’s living room.

  The puck slid down the table, crashed into the closest of Ezra’s, causing a minor explosion, just as planned.

  But that was it. The angle wasn’t quite right, and the domino effect didn’t come to pass. We’d lost.

  It sucked, but I wasn’t exactly heartbroken. At no point had I expected to make it to the finals, so it was only a matter of when we were eliminated.

  As Donovan continued to beg and plead with Liberty that Stu and Ezra should be disqualified for breaking the magic rules, the winners approached me.

  Stu Manchester nodded. “Good game, Ms. Ashcroft.”

  “Back atcha.”

  “Nah,” said the deputy, “I played my worst game in a while.”

  I smiled and shrugged. “At least you got it out of your system.”

  Ezra said, “I thought you had it on that last one.”

  “It would have taken a real stroke of luck,” I said. “Or magic.”

  “Ah,” he said, “but we both know magic is against the rules.” He winked.

  I nodded. “And we both know you hate rules.”

  He chuckled but neither confirmed nor denied the implication, and the two men left to thank their cheering section.

  Donovan had stopped yelling at Liberty, which either meant the genie had lost patience and blinked him out of existence or Donovan had wandered off to use the restroom or get another drink. Either way, he hadn’t even bothered to come tell me “good game” or reassure me that I didn’t blow it. Maybe he was mad at me.

  I decided I didn’t care that much if he was. It would blow over. He was competitive, I already knew that from last year’s Lunasa cook-off and, well, everything else he ever did. Being competitive wasn’t a sin. Gaia knew I was competitive as all get out now and then.

  I spotted Zoe and Oliver, who I hadn’t yet said hello to tonight.

  “For what it’s worth,” Oliver said as soon as he saw me, “I believe Ezra might have been using magic.”

  I waved him off. “It’s fine. I don’t care that much.” I nodded at Zoe. “How’s it going?”

  As always, she grinned like I’d paid her a compliment just by acknowledging her. “Oh, great! I mean, we got out on the first round, but that was to be expected. I’m pretty terrible, and we were up against the Lytefoots. They’ve had hundreds of years to practice.”

  Oliver’s eyes were glued to her as she spoke, like every word was a little gift just for him. He rubbed her back and said, “You did really well.”

  I bit back a grin that I knew would only embarrass him and said, “I think I’m almost ready for the next test.”

  Our tutoring arrangement had turned into distance learning as of late, and I think we were both fine with that. While Oliver wasn’t the worst company, I don’t think he felt the same about Ruby and me. Not that he didn’t like us, just that Ruby didn’t like to play by the rules, and I took every chance I could to get out of reading the textbooks and spell books he pushed on me. Our lessons were officially stressing him out, not to mention depriving him of quality Zoe time.

  So we’d made arrangements with Mancer Academy to have Oliver simply test me each time I thought I’d mastered a section of content. How did we convince them of that? They never thought the Coven would sign off on it, and they were happy to pass the buck along. Unfortunately for the Academy, they weren’t aware of extenuating circumstances: namely, that I hadn’t gone straight to the Eastwind Watch with what I knew about High Priestess Springsong killing her predecessor, and that meant it was in her best interest to keep me happy in whatever small ways she could. The Coven signed off on the new educational structure quick, fast, and in a hurry.

  Nothing like a little potential blackmail to grease the wheels of bureaucracy.

  “What do you mean, the next test?” Oliver asked. “You still have to retake the last one.”

  “I thought we were skipping over the practical tests. You know I’m still terrible with a wand, and I’ll probably always be.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t just pass you when you don’t know how to perform basic spells.”

  “Yeah, you can. It’s easy. No one will even know. And if anyone in the Coven finds out I couldn’t blast my way out of a paper bag, I assume it’ll only make their day. Maybe even their week.”

  Zoe was nodding along amicably with me, but Oliver only looked even more uncomfortable, so I said, “You know what? Why are we even talking about this in a pub? Let’s forget about it and pick it up again on Monday.” That seemed to cheer him, and I stepped to the side to keep from blocking their view of the next matches.

  I knocked into something solid and on instinct said, “Oh sorry,” before seeing that it was Ansel Fontaine I’d bumped into. He didn’t even notice. He clutched a beer in his hand and glared at the table where his wife and sister were about to take on two leprechauns I didn’t know.

  Darius Pine stood on the other side of him. The two werebears had been eliminated in the last round, and they appeared to be having a good sulk about it.

  “She must have been practicing without telling me,” Ansel growled. “That’s the only way they could have beaten us.”

  Darius just grunted.

  “For a second there,” Ansel continued, “I thought Sasha was going to throw the game just to get on your good side.”

  “Oh, shut it. No sister of yours would do that.”

  “If she would, it’d be for you.”

  “Why you don’t give that a rest? That was years ago. We were both practically cubs.”

  Teasing Darius appeared to be putting Ansel in higher spirits, because he said, “Sure, and now you’re full-grown bears. It could be fun. And now that she’s back on the market again—”

  “Don’t be weird.”

  “What? I’d love to have you as a brother-in-law! You should take it as a compliment.”

  “I’m not going after your newly single sister, Ansel.” Darius paused then added, “We both know I’d find a way to screw it up anyhow.”

  Poor Darius. He was practically cursed when it came to romance. The sleuth leader of Eastwind’s werebears had the worst luck with women of anyone in Eastwind. Well, except maybe Stu. But Stu didn’t try half as hard as Darius did in that arena. And Darius had looks going for him in a big way.

  Donovan appeared with a fresh drink and I expected him to hand it to me, but instead he took a sip from it. “Good game,” he said stiffly.

  “You didn’t get me one?” I nodded at his drink.

  “Huh? Oh. I got you one earlier. I didn’t know you wanted another.”

  I decided not to point out that I hadn’t asked for one earlier either, but instead I just said, “It’s fine. I have to use the ladies’ room anyway.”

  * * *

  There was a long break before the final match, during which Jane, now eliminated, located me in the crowd. As we had begun recapping some of the night’s events, Sasha Fontaine hovered behind Jane, but didn’t involve he
rself in the conversation. As Jane laughed about her husband’s sulking, it occurred to me to wonder if Sasha was Greta’s mother. Ansel had a couple of younger sisters, but if this was the mother of the young waitress at Medium Rare, the awkwardness made plenty of sense; Greta’s mother had forced her to quit her job working for me during the worst tensions between witches and weres only half a year ago. While she’d since let her daughter return, I had no reason to believe she’d suddenly taken to witches.

  Thankfully, Jane didn’t give two licks about that. She chose her friends based on who she liked, not who people thought she should like.

  But still, Sasha kept her body angled away from us, and when I asked her a question about the match to try to get her involved, she walked off.

  “Sorry,” Jane said. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “Why not? It seems personal.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Ah, yeah, well, I guess it is.”

  “That’s Greta’s mom, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Say no more.”

  Jane nodded. “She’s not usually such a…”

  “Snob?” I supplied.

  “Yep. But don’t think that’s me defending her for her bigoted beliefs. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand times that she needs to broaden her horizons. Woman doesn’t listen.”

  Liberty announced that it was almost time for the final match, and half the crowd stampeded to the bar to get another drink.

  Going against the crowd, I saw Donovan. This time he had two drinks and handed me one. “Sorry about last time.”

  Jane stuck her hand on her hip. “You didn’t bring me one? Some gentleman.”

  He finished a long sip then said, “You had your chance for free drinks from me, and you turned them down.”

  “Fangs and claws, boy. The ink had hardly dried on my divorce papers, I was your supervisor, and you’re a good ten years younger than me.”

  Now this was something I hadn’t known about. I leaned back and indulged myself in this little bit of unexpected entertainment.