Hexes and Vexes (Amethyst's Wand Shop Mysteries Book 1)
Page 9
A dumpster rattles and I wave my wand just in time to block the brick flying my way. It changes course and crashes into the wall next to me, exploding into pieces.
Thank goodness for my fast reflexes. If that had been my head…It doesn't stand thinking about. This is why we say please to objects. They can be deadly.
Another brick comes barrelling my way with a speed and accuracy which can only be achieved by magic. This man has to be the one that killed Grandpa Dobromir with a flying knife. If anything, he's making himself look more guilty of it by showing off the same kind of magic now.
With another flick of my wand, I take control of a discarded can on the ground and send it onto a collision course with the brick. It knocks it from its trajectory, making it miss me by a hair.
Close. Too close. Maybe I need to make a shield?
Or not. I can see flying objects coming towards me, and what is it they say? It's better the devil you do know than the one you don't.
My heart beats a mile a minute, which only increases the amount of adrenaline coursing through me. And here I thought retail was exciting.
My hand tightens around my wand, my voice shaking. “This is the PPD! Show yourself.” A little bit of a lie, but I'm sure Ambrose can forgive me for it. I think. I have no idea if I'm allowed to say I’m the paranormal police or if it's a violation. I'll worry about that later, when I'm not in the middle of what can only be described as a magical duel.
Cool. I've never been in one before. I can tick it off my bucket list now.
A shadow moves through the alley and the man from earlier faces me, his face wrought. He raises his hand, his wand catching a bit of light.
Heartwood, H grade, pine. That’s the wand that killed Grandpa Dobromir.
He has to be the guy we came here for.
“Umberto?” I call, trying to remain calm. My hands are sweating and it’s making it hard to keep a steady hold of my wand. I should’ve put a grip sleeve on it after all.
The man doesn’t reply. Instead, he slashes his wand through the air and the dumpster comes flying towards me, knocking me off my feet. I thud to the ground, my wand rolling away.
Shit.
I crawl forward, pain shooting through my side. I think the dumpster hit me in the ribs. Oof, that hurts.
Behind me, I can hear the dumpster move. The wheels shriek and the lid clatters as it thunders over the rough stone, barrelling towards me.
I reach for my wand, but my fingers push it even further away. Just a little further…
Got it!
Armed with my wand, I snap around but it’s too late. The dumpster is coming at me faster than I can react. Instead of calling for my magic, I leap out of the way and crash into the wall, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Today is my lucky day.
“Are you okay?” A hand tightens around my arm and pulls me up, helping me back to my feet.
“Ambrose.” I didn’t think I’d ever be this relieved to see his handsome, boring face. Before I can say any of that, I gesture to the figure. “It’s him. It’s Umberto.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I saw his wand, it’s him.”
Ambrose clicks his jaw as he reaches into his coat. He pulls out a small cylinder and with a snap, it extends into a long staff. The wood is light with uneven darker patches. It reminds me of driftwood or maybe something bleached. A crystal sits on top, captured by some roots or branches.
It looks well crafted and strong, befitting of its wielder.
It's beautiful. Not in the same way that wands are either. The staff's beauty is wild and untamed. It's what Ambrose said before. His staff is an extension of his magic, and I can see that in the way it's formed and the way it fits in his hand. Just like my wand is perfect for me, Ambrose's staff is perfect for him.
He swings the staff through the air and conjures a gust of wind that topples Umberto off his feet. The crystal on top of the staff glows and another hit knocks out the suspect. Without wasting a single second, Ambrose rushes over and clicks Umberto’s wrists together with his handcuffs.
Done in less than fifteen seconds.
Impressed, I push myself up from the ground and dust off my clothes. That was quite an encounter.
Ambrose drags Umberto along, his face contorted with anger. “What were you thinking?”
I look over my shoulder but there’s nobody there. Eventually, I point at myself. “Me?”
“Yes! You could’ve got seriously hurt!”
“I just didn’t want him to get away,” I defend myself weakly. “I’m sorry, I know it was stupid. I won’t do it again.”
My apology seems to calm him down.
He sighs. “At least you know. Now, come give me a hand. He’s heavy.”
I hurry forward and help carry the unconscious guy to Ambrose’s car. With a bit of pushing and pulling, we manage to lock him into the backseat, making sure to secure him properly.
With him in our custody, Ambrose finally cracks a smile. “Well, all things considered, that went well.”
"For everyone except the dumpster." I glance over at the mangled contraption, glad I'm not the one who has to deal with that. "And Umberto."
Then again, that's what happens when you wake up and decide to kill someone. You have a really bad day coming your way. I'll remember that the next time one of my customers annoys me. It's handy life advice.
"Now what?" I ask Ambrose.
"We take him back to the station and hand him over for booking. They'll send someone over to his place to do a search, and hopefully that'll give us all the answers we need."
I nod. That sounds like the kind of thing I can get on board with. Especially if it means I can avoid paperwork.
19
I tap my foot against the bar floor and glance at the clock on the wall for what feels like the hundredth time. Is he going to turn up? I hope so. I want answers for how the case has been wrapped up. Apparently, Ambrose's boss didn't want me hanging around the station for the interview and the rest of it. Which sucks. But if I can persuade Ambrose to give me a more permanent position as a consultant, then perhaps that will be different in the future.
The pub door opens, and a harried looking Ambrose hurries in. He scans the faces of each of the patrons, relief covering his features as his gaze lands on me.
My heart lifts with joy as I realise he's happy to see me. I can't explain why this man has gained such influence over my life in such a small amount of time, and yet he has.
I gesture to the bartender, who starts pulling the two beers I ordered when I arrived to be poured now.
"Sorry, Amy, the chief wanted a debrief."
"That's okay, but only if you give me one too."
Ambrose chuckles. "I expected nothing less and came prepared," he promises.
"Excellent. I like it when a man's prepared."
"There's not really much to tell though," he admits. "It's pretty much a done and dusted case."
I'm a little disappointed, but that doesn't take away from the fun of catching someone.
The bartender comes over and sets the two cold beers down in front of us.
"Thank you."
He disappears again, leaving the two of us alone again, but this time with booze. Yum.
"So, what was it that Umberto stole? A weapon? A curse? A..."
"Nothing like that. It was a wind chime. Or more accurately a stone inside a wind chime."
I blink a couple of times. "A wind chime?" I repeat.
"Sorry."
"Does it do something?"
"No, I don't think so. It was gifted to Dobromir by the same Wind Coven Umberto used to be part of. It disbanded when he was young and he confessed that he considered the stone to be a rightful heirloom of his. He wanted it back."
"But why kill Grandpa Dobromir?" It doesn't make sense. He killed a well known figure to witches everywhere for a wind chime?
"He couldn't find it and thought using Dobromir's blood along with the spell would reveal where t
he stone was hiding."
I shiver. "So if Grandpa Dobromir hadn't been home..."
"He wouldn't have died, no. I suspect Umberto would have ransacked the house, and maybe he'd have found it, but maybe he wouldn't have."
Loss floods through me. Poor Grandpa Dobromir. A classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Was Umberto commissioned to steal it..." I muse.
"I'm sorry, Amy, this is a simple burglary gone wrong with some second degree murder to cover it up."
"Oh." My shoulders slump. How disappointing.
"Some cases are like that. I'll try to bring you a serial killer next time," he promises.
Next time. He wants to work with me again.
“A toast. To Grandpa Dobromir,” I say, heaving my glass in the air. The old witch deserves it, and not just because he died. He also brought me together with someone who I hope will become my friend. Or maybe already is. We have spent a lot of time in one another's company, and I don't think Ambrose has threatened to kill me once. It must be a new record for me.
“To Dobromir,” Ambrose replies.
We clink our glasses together and I take a big sip, savouring the refreshing taste of my beer. It’s a quiet evening but we have good reasons to celebrate.
“So. How did you enjoy consulting on a case?” Ambrose asks.
“Loved it. So much fun following up clues, checking alibis. Although I didn’t like the waiting for results and stuff. That sucked.”
He laughs and takes a sip from his own beer. “It sure does.”
"How did you enjoy having me around?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. Maybe I shouldn't ask, but if I don't, then I'll never know the answer. Sometimes, it's better to be direct about these things.
“It was… interesting.”
“I did good, didn’t I?”
“You did… reasonable,” he jokes.
“Oh come on, admit that without me, you wouldn’t have solved this case.”
Ambrose pulls a face. “I’ve solved much more difficult cases.”
“But without my expertise about wands, you’d never have got the right lists and narrowed it down to Umberto Vice.”
“I might have. This is not my first rodeo," he reminds me, but there's a teasing quality in his voice.
“What about the emblem? You’d never have figured that out.”
“That… might be true,” he admits.
“Aha! So I was invaluable.”
“You were… helpful. That’s as far as I’ll concede.
I snort as I take another sip, almost choking on the beer. “How about a deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
“You let me come along on your next case and I’ll prove just how invaluable I am.”
He laughs. “No can do.”
“Pleeease.”
"I can't let you do that because I already put in the request for you to be a consultant."
My jaw drops. "You did what?"
"I have the paperwork here." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded over piece of paper along with a pen. "All you have to do is sign it, and you can come along with future cases."
He hands it to me and I unfold it eagerly, trying to contain my excitement. I scan the terms, nodding along with all the ones I agree with.
"Hang on a moment, you want me to sign this and say that any harm that comes to me isn't the responsibility of the PPD? With no compensation?"
"For the injury. You'll be paid for the hours you work on the case though," he points out.
"I will?"
"Yes. And expenses."
"Oh."
"You seem surprised. Did you really think we'd expect you to catch murderers for free?" he asks.
"Well… yes."
"Oh, Amy."
"I'm just in this for the fun," I counter. "But being paid is also good. I do like to eat."
He chuckles. "You submit an invoice at the end of the month for a fair amount for the work you've done."
"What's a fair amount?" I wonder aloud.
He shrugs. "I guess it's how much you'll lose with the shop being shut."
Hmm. That's not very much. I'll have to do some research on what police consultants should charge before the end of the month. That gives me a few more weeks to get all my ducks in a row.
"Great. Where do I sign?"
"Here." He flips to the back page and points to the dotted line.
"Hang on, I have just the pen for this." I pull up my handbag and dig around until I find the box I'm looking for. I click it open and pull out my travel quill.
"I thought you didn't use quills for signing legal documents?" Ambrose asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Normally, I don't. But you seemed disappointed that I didn't use one before, so I've been carrying this one around waiting for the opportunity to."
"I can't believe you have a travel quill," he mutters.
I shoot him a look. "Can't you?"
"All right, I can." The bemusement comes through every word.
I dip my quill into the ink and blot it a couple of times to try and stop the leaking I always worry about when I'm signing legally binding stuff.
With a flourish, I sign my name on the dotted line, signing my soul over to the devil. Well, the PPD. Who some people think are the devil. But not me, from my experience, they're positively lovely.
"Now what? Do I get a cool badge saying I'm a consultant? Is there a dress code? Do I have to get up before six, because I'll tell you now, that's my hard limit."
"No badge, I'm afraid. You already know you can wear what you want, and you'll be up before six if the body is found then."
"Acceptable. Murder is the only reason to get up that early."
He shakes his head in bemusement. "You're one of a kind, Amy."
"And that's what makes me so perfect," I point out.
"Indeed it is."
I pick up my beer and take a long sip. What an excellent day. A murderer brought to justice, and I'm now a consultant for the PPD. Nothing like this ever happens in the wand making business. Except that all of this happened by being in the wand making business. But that's beside the point.
A loud klaxon sounds from Ambrose’s pocket and he shoots me an apologetic look as he picks up the phone. “Hello, this is Detective Ambrose. Yes… No. Yes… In… twenty minutes. Yes. Okay, thank you.”
I manage to keep silent until he hangs up. “What was that?”
“I’ve got another case. Well…” He gives me a thoughtful look. “We have another case. Are you up for it?”
I can’t contain the massive grin stretching across my face and even add in a salute, for good measure. “Consultant Amy, ready for duty.”
Epilogue. Unknown
Several Months Later...
* * *
He stared at his fingers as they deftly went through the motions of stitching. This was going to be the way he was remembered, as something better than a mere serial killer. He didn't care if people knew his name, or what he'd done, so long as they recognised what he was capable of.
He wanted credit for his art. His creation was better than any that could be shown on film. The stitching between the parts was neater. It would be impossible to see that he had used multiple sources if he hadn't picked them carefully enough to ensure that it was obvious.
With one final drag of the needle, he finished the stitch and snipped off the thread. He needed to wash his hands before he did the next bit, or he'd smear blood all over his masterpiece. He hurried over to the sink and scrubbed his hands. Red tendrils of blood swirled amongst the clear water and turned it into a pinkish hue. He watched it for a moment, admiring the unique patterns.
But he didn't have time to waste on this. He had to get his art carefully loaded into his van so he could display it properly. There was no point in creating something this beautiful if no one was going to be able to see it.
Once everything was in place, he could start planning his next piece. He
had grand plans for it that he couldn't wait to see through.
And the best thing of all was that he wasn't going to get caught. No one would suspect it was him behind this, which would leave him free to create his art as much as he wanted.
Thank you for reading Hexes and Vexes, we hope you've enjoyed it! If you want to read more of Amy and Ambrose's adventures (and meet Ambrose's dog!) the series continues with a new murder in Witches and Stitches: http://books2read.com/witchesandstitches
Co-Written Books by Laura Greenwood & Arizona Tape
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Fangs For Nothing
What The Fangs
Fangs For All
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Twin Souls Trilogy, co-written with Laura Greenwood (completed paranormal romance)
Soulswap (also in audio)
Soulshift (also in audio)
Soultrade (also in audio)
Twins Souls Boxed Set (also in audio)
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Dragon Soul Series, co-written with Laura Greenwood (paranormal romance)
Dragon Destiny
Dragon Heart
Dragon Outcast (Audiobook Available)
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Renegade Dragons, co-written with Laura Greenwood (completed paranormal romance)
Fifth Soul (also in audio)
Fifth Round (also in audio)
Fifth Flame (also in audio)
Renegade Dragons Boxed Set (also in audio)
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