Magic & Maladies

by Annabel Chase

  “Ivy Rose was one of the most powerful witches in our coven’s history,” he said. “Too powerful, even for herself. It was said that she had inherited the most gifts from your common ancestor.”

  “The One True Witch?” I queried.

  He ran his thumb along the carvings of the wand. “That’s the one. I’ve been a general believer that the magic of the ancient witch has been diluted over the centuries to become meaningless, but Ivy is one of those cases that gives me pause.”

  “Is that why you resent my aunt? You think she overplays her abilities?”

  He faced me. “Who said that?”

  “Someone observant,” I said. “They weren’t trying to start trouble. They were only trying to help me find someone willing to help me without ratting me out to my aunt.”

  “There is so much concentrated power here,” he said. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

  “Can’t stop feeling it. The wand in particular seems to have a lot of negative energy attached to it,” I said. “We’ve tried cleansing it, but the power seems locked in, if that makes sense. Marley’s been using it, but something about it just doesn’t feel right. Almost as though it’s holding back.”

  Magnus brought the wand to his nostrils and smelled it. “I see what you mean.”

  “Are you some sort of secret wizard-shifter hybrid? What’s with the olfactory obsession?”

  “We all have our magical strengths and weaknesses,” he said. “I have developed an acute sense of smell, mainly to detect magic.”

  “Before you even think about shoving the wand up your nose, tell me what you know about Ivy and her use of excessive force,” I said. “Did she hurt someone? Was she evil?”

  “No, she was most definitely not evil. She was an excellent witch and a devoted High Priestess. She simply didn’t have the training that would have aided her in honing her skills. She had more power than she could handle and no one equipped to mentor her. She needed someone at least as strong as she was, but that individual wizard didn’t exist, sadly.”

  “What about her upbringing? She attended the Black Cloak Academy. She became High Priestess. I don’t think they hand that title out willy-nilly.”

  “No, they most certainly do not.” He turned his attention to the Book of Shadows and attempted to open it. The cover didn’t budge. “Merciful Hecate. I can’t open it.”

  “Nope. Seems to be warded shut.”

  He gaped at me. “And your aunt had this in her possession but was unable to undo the spell?”

  “Not this one,” I admitted. “I found this one buried in the garden. I haven’t mentioned it to her.”

  Magnus gave me an appraising look. “Have I mentioned you’re really growing on me?”

  “Let me say this—I don’t enjoy going behind her back. Mostly because I don’t want to incur her wrath, but also because she’s been unfailingly kind and generous to us. I hate to feel this way, but I do and I can’t ignore it.”

  Magnus produced his wand. “A bit of recon, if you don’t mind.” He uttered an incantation as he dragged the tip of his wand around the edges of the book. “Fascinating.”

  “You can’t open it?”

  “I don’t even want to try until we know more. It could be booby-trapped.” He tucked away his wand. “You think her Book of Shadows has helpful information in connection with the wand?”

  “It’s her most personal possession,” I said. “Whatever isn’t in those archives will be in here. I guarantee it.”

  “And somewhere between their story and her story will lie the truth.” Magnus inhaled sharply. “I would be willing to take a look in the archives for you. I admit, the petty part of me finds a fallen Rose a worthy subject of study.”

  I nearly threw myself at his slipper-clad feet. “Would you? That would be so amazing.”

  Magnus squinted at me. “Why is this so important to you? More importantly, why is it a secret?”

  “Mainly, I want to be sure that Ivy’s personal effects aren’t going to cause any harm to my daughter,” I explained. “My aunt is all about family, yet she’s kept Ivy’s wand and grimoire in her possession for years. Instead of handing them down to one of her own children, she gave them to mine, which she didn’t even know existed until the last year. I just…don’t trust it.”

  “Understood. I’ll nose around the archives and let you know what I find.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’ll be like an auror for the Ministry of Magic.”

  “Thank you so much, Magnus. I really appreciate it.” I started for the staircase, but he moved to block my path.

  “I’ll do it on one condition.”

  Ugh, terrific. I knew there had to be a catch. “What’s that?”

  “You help me put together this Lego set with Ron and the giant spider. I’m having terrible trouble with the legs and I want to resist using magic. It’s more fun to do it the human way.”

  Personally, I found it more frustrating than fun, but I wasn’t about to turn him down given what he was willing to do for me. “My fine motor skills aren’t the best, but I’ll give it a try.” The mention of the word ‘try’ automatically triggered Yoda’s voice in my head. “Do or do not. There is no try,” I mimicked under my breath.

  Magnus’s gaze flicked to me. “What’s that a reference to?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “I made it up.” The last thing this wizard needed was an introduction to Star Wars. Next thing I knew there’d be a full-scale Millennium Falcon in here.

  Magnus handed me a box filled with tiny pieces. “Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I stood on Tyra Langley’s doorstep and searched for the bell. Although I didn’t find one, I noticed an indentation in the shape of a head in front of me on the door. I realized that I was probably meant to place my face in there for recognition. It seemed more science fiction than magical, but I decided to give it a whirl. I stood on my toes and rested my chin on the narrow ledge and waited. I wasn’t sure how she handled shorter visitors like dwarfs and leprechauns. This method suggested an extreme prejudice. A moment later, a disembodied voice emanated from the other side of the door.

  “I don’t know you,” the voice snapped.

  “No, my name is Ember. I’m writing a story about Shayna Masters and was wondering if you could answer a few questions.” It was slightly awkward to talk with my head somewhat on a platter.

  “Why would any publication worth its salt write an article about that beast?”

  “Shayna was a member of this community,” I said. “She was a successful business owner and she was brutally murdered at a local wedding. That warrants coverage in my view.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered.

  I returned my head to its normal position. “Do you think I might be able to come in so that we can discuss this in a more civilized fashion?”

  I heard a small groan. “Fine, but you have to take off your shoes and use my special anti-germ tonic on your hands.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” I said. Reasonably neurotic.

  The door cracked open and I slipped inside. The first thing I noticed was that the interior of the house was bathed in light pink. It was like walking inside a ballet slipper. Even Tyra wore a flowing pink dress with spaghetti straps. Each finger sported at least one ring—all rose gold. When I looked down to take off my shoes, I saw that even her toes wore rings.

  “Here’s the tonic.” She spritzed my hands with clear liquid from a bottle that she kept on a table in the entryway. The shoes went into a tray underneath the table. It reminded me of airport security.

  Tyra walked into an adjoining room, the hem of her dress swishing around her ankles.

  “I understand you were one of Shayna’s regular customers,” I began.

  “Not anymore,” Tyra said. “And not just because she’s dead either. I told her I would never set foot back in her shop again and I meant it.”

  “Would you mind telling me what happened?”


  “She tried to cheat me, that’s what happened. Nobody cheats Tyra Langley. I’m one of the most respected wardrobe designers in the nation.”

  “How did she try to cheat you?” I set my purse on the cushion next to me and noticed Tyra flinch.

  “Would you mind ever so much keeping your purse on your lap?” she asked.

  I cast a quick glance at my purse. “Is there a problem?”

  “Well, you know how purses are. You bring them to a restaurant. You set them down on the dirty floor at your table where food has fallen and shoes have crossed over a hundred times.” She scrunched her nose in disgust.

  “And you’re worried about the bottom of my purse leaving germs on your sofa cushion?”

  She offered a relieved smile. “Exactly. I’m so glad you get it.”

  Sheesh. King Arthur himself couldn’t pull that stick out of her butt. I dutifully moved the bag so that it was no longer besmirching her pristine cushion. “I’m surprised someone with your exacting standards would be willing to shop in a place like Be-switched. All those items are secondhand.”

  “Oh, I know, but Shayna had every item cleaned the moment she acquired it. I trusted her. She maintained a wonderfully diverse inventory filled with high quality items. That troll definitely had an eye, I’ll give her that.”

  “So what changed?”

  She slotted her fingers together and rested them on her knee. “I was sourcing a wardrobe for a pilot episode of a television show and I knew that Shayna had some vintage clothing that would be perfect.”

  “How did she try to cheat you? She tried to overcharge you because she knew you really wanted them?”

  Tyra’s expression soured. “No, worse than that. I honestly don’t know what possessed her to do it. She had to know that I would figure it out.” She drew a delicate breath. “Two of the dresses she claimed were vintage were actually from Bull’s-eye.”

  “The chain store?”

  “Yes. Can you believe the audacity of that woman?”

  “Are you sure she knew that they weren't authentic?”

  “Oh, she knew. From what I gather, she’d heard about the project in advance and went and found dresses that she knew would seem appropriate. Apparently, she didn’t have anything in stock and didn’t want to lose my business to anyone else. Shayna could be fiercely competitive.”

  “And what happened when you found out?”

  “Well, I went to confront her, of course. I couldn’t let her get away with that. I marched right down to Be-switched and demanded a refund.”

  “And did she give you one?” I had noticed the no refund policy on a sign in the shop.

  “She refused. I was outraged. She knew perfectly well that she’d tried to fool me, and even in the face of that, she wouldn’t admit any wrongdoing or refund my money.”

  “That must’ve made you very angry,” I said.

  “You’re not kidding,” Tyra said. “I warned her that I would drag her reputation through the mud and that she would regret ever trying to take advantage of me. I mean, my entire reputation depends upon making the right choices. If I had produced those dresses for the show and someone had discovered the truth before me, my career would be over.”

  Sounded like a pretty strong motive for murder to me.

  “I understand you attended the wedding where Shayna was murdered.”

  She flinched. “Yes, I was there. And I requested a seat far away from Shayna so that we could avoid each other and spare everyone the discomfort.”

  “Did you have any interaction at all with her at the wedding or the reception?”

  “Not a word. Not even a glance in her direction. You can ask my date. I didn’t even bother to stay for the rest of the reception after my first drink because I didn’t want to have to deal with her. Plus, I couldn’t abide a reception on the beach.” She shuddered. “All that sand everywhere. Nightmare.”

  “Do you recall how long you stayed at the reception?”

  “Not even half an hour,” Tyra said. “My date and I went out for a lovely meal afterward at Maison Magique. If you haven’t been there, I highly recommend it. It’s superb and I know the owner keeps a very clean kitchen.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Her alibi would be easy enough to check out.

  Tyra unclasped her hands. “I’m sorry she’s dead, of course, and I hope they catch whoever’s responsible. I’m not a monster.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m sure she rubbed the wrong paranormal the wrong way. It was bound to happen eventually, given Shayna’s robust personality. Personally, I wouldn’t have dared get close enough to be able to murder her. Just breathing the same air as that vile creature made me reach for my inhaler.”

  And with Tyra’s germ anxiety, it was unlikely that she’d have ventured within spitting distance of the portable toilets.

  My phone buzzed in my purse. “Excuse me. I always have to check in case it’s my daughter.”

  “Oh, you have a child.” She seemed doubly relieved that she’d hosed me down with tonic.

  The text was from Linnea. Need you. Urgent.

  That didn’t bode well. Nothing was ever urgent with Linnea.

  “Thanks for your time,” I said quickly. “I need to go now.” I sprang to my feet and hustled toward the door.

  “Don’t forget your shoes!” Tyra called.

  The moment I stepped outside, I called Linnea. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you busy?” Linnea sounded like she was whispering.

  “Who cares? You said it’s urgent. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but would you mind coming down to The Arched Cat?”

  “The yoga studio on Thistle Street?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’m here for class with Iris Sandstone and Granger is here acting like a dog in heat. I don’t even understand why he’s at a yoga class. He’s wearing denim for goddess’s sake. There’s no flexibility in that material.”

  Yes, because that was the most alarming issue right now. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I clicked off the phone and raced to my car.

  I didn’t want everyone to know about Granger. Of course, he wasn’t doing himself any favors by acting out in public. The Arched Cat would be full of coven members. Word was bound to get back to Aunt Hyacinth, which meant that the Council of Elders would be informed. Iris Sandstone was the High Priestess of the coven. How foolish could he be? Then again, Granger had always had a bee in his bonnet about my aunt and our family. He resented her unofficial authority in town. He felt that my family was paid too much deference simply because of our name, not that I disagreed. Personally, being a descendent of the One True Witch didn’t change my perception of myself, it only changed others’ perceptions of me. Briefly, I wondered whether Ivy had experienced any backlash as a powerful Rose. Maybe it made her unpopular or put her at odds with coven members who weren’t from a prominent family. In Ivy’s day, the only type of celebrities in the world would have been paranormals like the One True Witch. It would have been an impossible burden to bear.

  I parked as close as I could and ran the couple of blocks to the yoga studio. The yogis were in the process of unrolling their mats as I entered. I spotted Granger flexing for one of the witches in front of the mirror. While she seemed amused, the High Priestess did not. Iris watched from the front of the studio, a dangerous glint in her eye. I decided to deal with her first so that I could give Granger my full attention.

  “Ember, I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re more than welcome to borrow a mat, but you might want to change first.”

  I glanced down at my clothes. “I’m not here for yoga,” I said quickly. “I can see that Sheriff Nash is making a nuisance of himself. Maybe consider me your saving grace?”

  Her gaze darted from the sheriff and back to me. “At first I thought Wyatt was here to harass Linnea. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was the sheriff.”

  “He’s not himself right now, but he will be. I promise.
”

  Iris regarded me silently, seeming to understand that I was asking for discretion. Finally, she said, “Very well then. If you manage to extract him now, I’ll say no more about it.”

  I clasped my hands together in a gesture of appreciation. “Thank you so much, Iris. You’re the best.”

  Linnea mouthed a silent thank you as I maneuvered myself next to Granger and looped my arm through his. “So sorry to interrupt, but I need the sheriff for a very important matter. It’s about the murder he’s going to solve all by himself.” I didn't wait for a response from either one of them. I simply dragged the werewolf into an empty corridor. Before I could detach from him, he snaked an arm around my waist and pressed me against the wall.

  “This was your plan all along, was it?” he murmured. “To get me alone?”

  I pushed my hands against his chest to put distance between us. “No, Sheriff. If I’d wanted that, there are a thousand other places I could have tracked you down. I need you to check yourself before you wreck yourself.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “Okay, nobody says that anymore, but I still need you to do that. Your behavior is out of control.”

  “Then try to keep up,” he said. Without warning, he pressed his lips to mine. I was so shocked that I acted on instinct, grabbing him by the earlobe and pulling. Hard.

  “So that’s a no?” he said, wincing.

  “Granger Nash, stop it this instant. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “No, I’m trying to get myself kissed by the prettiest witch in town.” He cocked his head, looking at me. “Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem interested.”

  “Granger, you know I’m with Alec now. You need to calm down these wolf hormones of yours. You have gone full Wyatt and nobody is amused.” Except maybe Wyatt.

  “What's the big deal?” he asked. “My personal life is my business. If you and I want to explore our inner animal in the hallway, nobody has to know.” He lowered his hand to the small of my back and I smacked it away.