Love Spells Trouble

by Nova Nelson

  A sly smile crept over Donovan’s lips, and I knew just what he was thinking. “Never tried that, but I’m open to it,” he said.

  “Yeah, could be fun.”

  Ted put his head in his hands. “For the love of brimstone … Drink.”

  Donovan coughed against the sting.

  The drink was definitely stronger toward the bottom of the cup.

  It was good timing, though, because once my eyes uncrossed, I spied Eva approaching the table, grinning serenely as usual.

  I glanced quickly at Donovan, and we nodded before gulping down the rest of our drinks.

  “Hey, Nora,” she said. “Ted.” The reaper nodded to her without saying a word. She slid into the booth next to Donovan, cozying up and flashing him a grin. When none of us spoke, her grin faded. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Donovan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I saw two more familiar faces enter the bar. My stomach dropped. “Oh no.”

  The rest of the booth turned to look.

  Ansel and Jane paused just inside the door as the werebear looked around purposefully. And before I could do a thing to stop it, he found who he was looking for and made straight for him.

  Darius never saw it coming.

  And by “it” I mean his giant werebear best friend who hurled himself forward, knocking him clear off the barstool.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A table full of leprechauns scattered like bowling pins when the two large werebears skidded across the floor of Sheehan’s, knocking right into them.

  After the initial burst of noise from shocked patrons, the only sounds in the pub were Ansel’s and Darius’s grunts as they threw punch after punch and Fiona Sheehan’s screams as she begged them to knock it off.

  Donovan urged Eva out of the booth so he could extricate himself, then he rushed over to separate the men.

  While I was glad that Donovan didn’t go for his wand, it was also an objectively stupid move on his part. Almost immediately, Darius Pine’s fist made contact with Donovan’s jaw.

  Donovan stumbled back, and I knew this was only going to get worse.

  “Watch out,” said Ted, motioning for me to move out of his way. I did more than that, though, I got up and ran for the exit. I needed to send an owl to Tanner. If he didn’t respond, then I’d be forced to send up the Bloom signal.

  Another loud crash exploded behind me as I opened the heavy pub door, but I didn’t bother looking back.

  The owl perch outside the pub was empty when I found it. Fangs and claws! What now?

  Ugh. I would have to summon the sheriff. Was it too soon? Was I overreacting? Would she be upset?

  “I already sent for Stu.” I turned toward the voice and found Oliver wringing his hands anxiously. “I hope he gets here soon.”

  Sweet. Baby. Jackalope. “Stu Manchester? You better hope he doesn’t get here soon!” This train was speeding off the tracks in a hurry. “We need Tanner, not Stu.”

  “Huh? Why?” asked Oliver. Then it dawned on him. “Oh. Ohh.” His eyes widened. “Yeah, we’d better call Tanner.” He raised his wand and a jet-black owl appeared out of the darkness and landed on the perch. Oliver simply said, “Deputy Culpepper. Emergency,” and the owl took off again.

  Less than a minute later, a figure shot out of the darkness. It was Tanner.

  My brain struggled to process the sight, though, as his broom came to a halt just a few feet in front of me. I didn’t even know he could ride one of those.

  He dismounted and Oliver said, “Inside,” and the three of us hurried in.

  Ted had managed to get the situation mostly under control, keeping a hand on each of the werebears’ shoulders while they caught their breath.

  Since the reaper didn’t have a hand to spare for Fiona, she was still beside herself, sobbing, as Donovan struggled to keep her from throwing herself at her former lovers.

  Jane stood by looking entirely unamused, her hands on her hip as she arched a brow at her ill-behaved husband.

  “What the spell is going on here?” Tanner said, hurrying over to Ted.

  “You nailed it. Heh. It’s a spell.”

  Tanner’s mouth fell open as he looked from Darius to Ansel then to Fiona.

  “I don’t know what came over me,” said Ansel. He turned to Darius. “Sorry, brother.”

  Darius had a solid trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, but he still managed to say, “It’s all right. Sorry I punched you in the throat.”

  Ansel nodded. “Sorry I punched you in the … you know.”

  Darius cringed. “Oh, I know.”

  When Fiona continued to wail, Tanner shot a spell her way to cuff her arms behind her back and tether her to the bar top.

  “Thanks,” said Donovan, letting go.

  “Don’t mention it,” Tanner replied. Turning toward the bloodied men, he added, “You two done?”

  They nodded like chastened children, each staring at the ground.

  Ted allowed his hands to hover tentatively over the two culprits’ shoulders, and when it was clear they weren’t going to pick up right where they left off, he took another step back and chuckled nervously. “You two were really going at it there.” He then walked behind the bar and laid a hand on Fiona, who quieted. When he whispered something to her I couldn’t hear, she nodded, and he set out making her the same potent drink she’d made for Donovan and me.

  “How about shots of that all around?” I suggested.

  “Good thinking. Heh.”

  Tanner addressed the stunned patrons that looked on silently. “Okay, everyone just relax and settle in. We’re all good over here. Go on about your merry—”

  The pub door opened again, and a bulky silhouette appeared.

  When Stu Manchester stepped into the dim lighting of Sheehan’s dressed in uniform, his eyes roaming around for the reason he was called in on his hours off, I waited too long to react.

  Everyone did.

  Especially Stu.

  The deputy took in the strange scene—the scattered tables and chairs, the werebears with their clothes torn, Ted manning the bar—and he only had a moment to process the disparate data before Ansel’s massive fist made contact with his face.

  “You come after Jane, and I’ll kill you,” Ansel roared, and chaos erupted again. Tanner shot a binding spell at the enraged werebear, and the cords wrapped around one of Ansel’s arms for only a moment before the arm sprang fur and doubled in diameter, snapping the cord.

  “Oh swirls,” Tanner said. He tried again, this time hobbling Ansel and causing him to stagger just long enough for Stu to crawl out of the way.

  Both of Ansel’s arms had shifted, and a moment later, his legs began to change, and the binding spell snapped again. The guttural sound that came from him then was no longer human.

  Stu’s back found the wall, and his eyes grew wide as Ansel towered over him.

  “Good Gaia,” Tanner moaned, “this is gonna hurt.” Then he holstered his wand and charged into the fray.

  Hurt? That assumed he wouldn’t be knocked out cold immediately or worse.

  Ansel had lost control, completely manipulated by the spell, that much was clear. The magic had combined with his overly protective instincts and short fuse, and it wasn’t painting a pretty picture. Not only was I worried what Ansel might do to Stu and Tanner, I was worried what might happen to him, either immediately or as a result of his actions.

  If ever there was a time to send up the flare, this was it. No more worrying about over-reacting.

  Fiona had taken to hollering again, but this time it was Darius holding her back.

  Donovan whizzed past me to back-up Tanner, who ducked just in time to avoid a swat of Ansel’s club-like arms. I aimed my wand at the ceiling and reached out to Sheriff Bloom in a half prayer.

  She was there in an instant, gliding through the front door, which opened effortlessly for her without her touching it. Entering with her was a stream of light that illuminated the
pub, causing the swirling dust accumulated over the years, stirred up by the most action this place had seen in decades, to shimmer around her.

  A flick of her hand and Ansel’s intended blow found nothing but air as he hung, suspended two feet off the ground, out of arm’s reach of anything. The thick hair covering his body disappeared and he returned to his regular form. His shirt had been ripped clean off, but thankfully for everyone, least of all him, his pants managed to just hang on, covering his sensitive bits.

  Now that he was properly restrained and defenseless, Jane marched straight over to him and slapped him forcefully across the face. “What’s wrong with you? I didn’t ask you to defend my honor.”

  Then she crouched next to the huddled mass of Stu, cradling his head in her hands and cooing reassurance to him.

  Sheriff Bloom observed in silence then turned to me. “You were right to call me, but perhaps do it a little sooner next time.”

  “Right.”

  “Please listen up,” said the sheriff. “It’s come to my attention that this town has fallen under a powerful spell. We’re working to sort it out, but until we do, I need you all to please just keep it in your pants, okay?”

  “What kind of spell?” asked a gnome from the corner by the scufflepuck tables.

  “A love spell, unfortunately.”

  Stu Manchester spit out a mouthful of blood and said, “A love spell? Over the entire town? Who is powerful enough to do that?” He tried to get to his feet, but Jane forced him to remain on the ground.

  Bloom’s lips tightened. “It’s being looked into.” She turned to me and said in low tones. “Any closer, Detective?”

  “Yeah, I think I know what’s behind it.”

  She lifted her eyebrows toward the hairline of her blonde pixie cut.

  The bar was still silent, so I leaned even closer to whisper into her ear. In doing so, I accidentally caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like a bouquet of lavender and lilies. The smell was so delicious, I almost forgot what I was about to say. “An archetype.”

  She moved away from me quickly, whipping her head around, her eyes wide. “Oh.” She blinked three times. “I hope to goddess you’re wrong.”

  “It’s the genie, isn’t it?” hollered a man’s voice. I looked around but couldn’t place the speaker.

  “It is! That new lady genie!” hollered another man.

  Bloom asked quietly, “Do you know how to stop it?”

  “I have a vague idea.”

  “Great. Count me in. Whatever assistance you need, I’m there. If we don’t—”

  “Gabrielle.” A smooth Eastern European voice cut through the space. The crowd parted, and Count Malavic stepped forward, holding his red wine loosely in his hand as he gazed longingly at Sheriff Bloom.

  When her eyes found his, I knew we were in trouble. “Bastian,” she breathed.

  “Oh, you’re kidding me,” I murmured. Donovan looked back and forth between the two, piecing it together.

  Malavic crossed the room swiftly, and the sheriff met him halfway. They paused just a foot from each other. “I messed up, Gabrielle. I never should have let you go. I know we aren’t exactly made for each other, but this undead heart feels like it might meet its final death if I can’t have you back in my arms.”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t be affected,” I snapped at Bloom.

  She remained in place, staring at Malavic with something akin to shock, her mouth hanging gently open. She snapped it shut and swallowed hard. “I’m not affected. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t … We didn’t … I would never …”

  But when her chest began to heave the closer he came, I knew this was as good as settled. With Bloom out of the game, Sheehan’s Pub was about to become a make-out point at best, a fight club at worst. Either way, it was time to take his show on the road.

  “No accounting for taste,” I muttered, then hurried to grab Tanner and Donovan. “Follow me.” I nodded for Eva to come as well, and to her credit, she didn’t ask why. Maybe she was just as eager as me to get out of the close quarters.

  We entered into the cool October air and I paused, unsure what to do next. Then it hit me. We were still short a person.

  The owl was back on its perch, and I grabbed a bar napkin from one of the outdoor tables and turned to Donovan. “You can write with that thing, right?” I nodded down toward his waistband.

  His top lip curled. “Nora, now’s hardly the time to—”

  “Your wand,” I clarified. “You can write with it?” I kept from meeting his eyes as there was no longer Ted or a sober sour to keep me from sticking to him like black cat hair on a white sweater.

  “Oh, right.” He pulled it out, and I relayed the message to send to Liberty. Once the owl was off, I indicated we should keep moving away from the pub and led them toward the next destination.

  “Where are we going?” asked Tanner. “We’re not just running away, right?”

  “Not at all. We’re making a quick stop, then we can figure out how to deal with this archetype.”

  “What’s an archetype?” asked Eva.

  “It’s complicated. I’m not entirely sure I understand it.”

  Tanner rotated his right shoulder slowly as he winced against the pain. “Are we going to talk about what just happened back there or not?”

  I groaned. “You mean the fact that Gabby Bloom and Sebastian Malavic clearly used to have a thing?”

  Tanner nodded emphatically.

  “I have to say,” said Eva, “knowing that an angel ended up with a sleaze like Malavic makes me feel better about some of my romantic mistakes.” When Donovan whipped his head around, she quickly added, “Not you, don’t worry.”

  “Yeah,” said Tanner, “nothing could make her feel better about that dumb mistake.”

  “Hey, speaking of dumb mistakes,” I said, steeling myself for what I knew needed to be said but would be difficult to get through, “the, um, love spell thing? Are either of you affected by it?”

  Eva and Tanner exchanged looks before looking back at me. “No,” said Tanner.

  “Not that I can tell,” said Eva.

  “Great,” I said. “Now, um, if you two could just do Donovan and me a favor and physically separate us.”

  Tanner rolled his eyes and his head along with it, saying, “Not that again.”

  But Eva just said, “Noted.”

  Donovan did his best to explain archetypes to Eva on the rest of our brisk walk, but we hadn’t yet gotten to the reason why we suspected it was one by the time we arrived in Fulcrum Park.

  The place was mostly empty. Two male fauns held hands, giggling to one another on one of the wooden benches partially concealed by a row of shrubberies. It was a clear night, still except for the occasional gust—whether by the elements or the Winds of Change—and the last few summer tree-frog holdovers still called to each other.

  While the fountain got most of the attention, the entirety of Fulcrum Park at night was gorgeous. Hovering oil lamps lit the walkways throughout, and I’d often heard about the full moon celebrations held there, though I’d never taken the time to attend one myself. It seemed a strange time to be considering it, given everything that was happening, but I was. I promised myself I would make it to the next one, and bring my sexy date.

  Just me and Roland. No! I mean Donovan! Ach! Tanner! Just me and Tanner!

  Clearly, first things first.

  Liberty was already waiting for us by the fountain when we arrived, and, as requested, he’d left Emagine at home.

  “They’re turning on her,” I told him. “Assuming they’re not too busy making out or throwing punches, they’ll come looking for her soon.”

  “Not worried,” he said. “There are places everywhere for genies to hide where we can’t be found. We need to take down this spell, though. It’s getting more powerful, I can feel it. I just keep thinking about … well, other women.”

  “About that,” I said. “Remind me of the nam
es of your past girlfriends?”

  He ran a large hand over his bald head. “Where to start, really? There was Circe, Morgan, Lilith, Morgause—”

  “Wait,” said Eva. “Back up. Morgan’s last name wouldn’t happen to be le Fay, would it?”

  Liberty cringed. “It would. Is that bad?”

  Was that bad? The name didn’t mean anything to me. Circe sounded familiar, though I couldn’t place it, and Lilith just reminded me of a music festival I went to back in college.

  Eva addressed me rather than Liberty. “If we’re facing what you say we’re facing—”

  “Which is?” Liberty asked.

  “An archetype,” I told him.

  His eyes went wide. “You think I dated an archetype?”

  “It would make sense,” said Donovan.

  Liberty stared at the ground and shook his head. “I knew I had a type, but I didn’t know it was so literal. This does shine a new light on it, though.”

  “And it also shines light on another thing,” said Eva, “and that’s what archetype this is that we’re facing.”

  I motioned for her to get on with it.

  “Circe was a sorceress in Greek myth. She lured Odysseus toward her island of Aeaea and tried to trap him and his crew there. She seduced him and turned his men into pigs. Morgan le Fay was King Arthur’s half-sister and described in Arthurian myth as a sorceress. And Lilith, well, she’s a little more complicated. There are conflicting accounts, but she was said to be a demon or some sort of seductress. She was also the first wife of Adam in the various interpretations of the Old Testament, which would make her the original ex in Judeo-Christian mythology.”

  I held up a hand to stop her. “You think all those women from mythology have dated Liberty?”

  Eva shrugged. “Them or perhaps a version of them. I’m not sure, but I don’t think it matters. Either all of them in our various Earth mythologies were the same archetype and she’s reappeared in this realm, or it’s an archetype who chose those same identities for the sole reason of what they represent. And when you locate out the commonality between them, it becomes pretty clear what kind of an archetype we’re dealing with.”