All Spell Breaks Loose

by Annabel Chase

  Mike hoisted his pint higher. “Cheers to that, vampire. Women are the worst.”

  Demetrius stopped in his tracks and regarded Mike. “You’ve got girlfriend troubles, too?”

  “Why do you think I’m drinking tonight?” Mike replied. He took a dramatic swig of ale and slopped the liquid down the front of his shirt. Charming.

  “What’s her name?” Demetrius asked.

  “If only there was just one,” Mike said. He paused to belch. “Women are all the same.”

  “Excuse me?” Phoebe whirled around from her place at the bar. “Women are all what?”

  Uh oh. That wasn’t the outcome we wanted. I couldn’t hurry to silence Phoebe or Mike would notice me.

  “Now Phoebe,” Demetrius said, holding up a hand. “Let the guy blow off steam. He’s obviously been hurt and needs to vent.”

  “Damn straight,” Mike said.

  “He’s still standing,” Phoebe said.

  “So what does that mean?” Demetrius asked.

  Phoebe balled her fists. “It means he hasn’t been hurt enough.”

  Demetrius chuckled and positioned himself between them. “I’ll take care of him, Phoebe. You go back to enjoying your night out.”

  Phoebe shot Mike one last menacing look before turning back to Sheena.

  “What’s her problem?” Mike asked sullenly. “Can’t a guy express his opinion without getting trounced on? It’s a free country.” His brow furrowed. “Except for the fact that we can’t leave town.”

  Demetrius didn’t waste the opportunity to follow up on his remark. “I’ve heard rumors that the curse might be broken soon.”

  “Because of the unicorn horn?” Mike said, seemingly unimpressed. “I don’t know. Emma’s so happy to be marrying Giant Chicken Boy, she may not care about breaking the curse with her magical horn.”

  Demetrius couldn’t resist a chuckle. “Giant Chicken Boy? That’s one I haven’t heard before.”

  Mike grinned. “It’s those white wings and the awkward way he walks. I keep expecting him to cluck.”

  Awkward? Daniel moved like a dream in motion!

  “I don’t think she’s too caught up in the wedding,” Demetrius said, “but I heard she’s having some issues remembering how to do her sorceress magic.”

  “Really?” Mike asked. “How could she forget? Didn’t she only start learning it five minutes ago?”

  “I guess so,” Demetrius said. “I heard somebody’s out to get her. Maybe they tried to mess with her head.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard,” Mike replied. “Girl’s a basket case.”

  When I opened my mouth to object, Begonia put a finger to her lips.

  “If this curse is ever broken,” Demetrius said, “I’m going straight to California to find myself a beautiful blonde.”

  This time, Begonia opened her mouth to object. I quickly put a finger to my lips.

  “That sounds good to me,” Mike said. “I’d like to go to Mexico and try tequila.”

  “Tequila on the beach,” Demetrius said dreamily. “Now that’s a plan. Maybe I’ll join you.”

  Mike swallowed another mouthful of ale. “I hope the rumor isn’t true.”

  “What rumor?” Demetrius asked.

  “That she’s having issues remembering magic,” Mike said. “She’s a stuck-up witch, but she’s our only hope for getting out of here.”

  “She’s a sorceress, not a witch,” Demetrius corrected him.

  “Who cares?” Mike said. “Like I said, they’re all the same.”

  As much as I wanted to dump a barrel of ale over Mike’s head, I restrained myself. He clearly wasn’t the culprit and, if we did manage to break the curse, he’d be Mexico’s problem soon enough. I’d need to send the country a consolatory fruit basket.

  We snaked our way toward the door and Demetrius met us there a minute later.

  “Mission accomplished,” the vampire said. “Not your guy.”

  “Thanks, Dem,” I said. “You definitely took one for the team.”

  Begonia glared at her boyfriend. “A blonde in California, huh?”

  Demetrius pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. “All a ploy to get him to talk. And it worked. I see why you get involved in these cases, Emma. It’s thrilling.”

  “Is that why I get involved?” I asked. I honestly had no idea. ‘Thrilling’ didn’t sound like me.

  “You usually stumble your way into these things,” Begonia said.

  “Okay, that sounds more like me,” I said. “Speaking of my thrilling life, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night. I’m going to go home and try to sleep.”

  “We’ll take you home,” Begonia said.

  Phoebe appeared beside me. “She’s right next door. I can take her.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I said.

  Begonia and Demetrius exchanged glances. “One more drink?” he asked, and she nodded. “Goodnight, Emma.”

  “Goodnight,” I called over my shoulder. Phoebe and I stepped out into the inky black. “Is anyone else coming? I guess you have room in your car.”

  Phoebe’s throaty laugh set my teeth on edge. “Hart, you’re such a card.” In the middle of the parking lot, she transformed and the contents of my stomach nearly exploded. Nails became talons. Her lips protruded until they formed a sharp beak. Her hair smoothed into feathers and giant, dark wings extended from her back. Without a word, she grabbed me like the claw from an arcade machine and lifted us both into the air.

  As soon as my feet left the ground, I squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn’t bear to look. I felt the air swish around me as we sailed through the night sky, my legs dangling. No wonder I took anti-anxiety potion every day. This experience was terrifying.

  It wasn’t long before I felt the earth under my feet once again. I dropped to my knees and inhaled deeply.

  Behind me, Phoebe shrieked with laughter. “You’re welcome. Thanks for the cookies.”

  Before I could respond, she shot into the air and blended with the darkness. I remained on the ground for another minute, trying to steady my heartbeat. If someone was really out to get me, all he needed to do was launch me into the air and I was toast.

  A ghostly figure appeared beside me on the front lawn. “Rough night at harp therapy?” Gareth asked.

  I dragged myself to my feet. “You have no idea.”

  A huge head with curved horns appeared in the doorway of my office and I nearly fell backward in my chair.

  “Emma, are you busy?” The voice was friendly enough, albeit unfamiliar.

  I shook off my nerves and forced a smile. “Hey, there…big fella. How’s it going?”

  The Giant Horned Guy entered my office and took a seat across from me. His waist was surprisingly narrow for a…whatever he was.

  “Big fella?” he echoed. “That’s a new one.”

  “Really?” I had no idea whether to reveal my current problem. What if he was the culprit and was only here to test my memory?

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s what you call me behind my back. To my face, it’s always Markos, which is ideal since that’s my name.”

  Markos. He gave off a very pleasant vibe. “It’s not like ‘big fella’ is derogatory,” I said. “I’m sure lots of guys would love that nickname.”

  He grinned. “I’m sure they would.”

  We stared in awkward silence for a moment. I wondered whether I should know the reason for his visit.

  In the end, Althea saved us both from our social incompetence. She flung open the side door and was taken aback to see Markos seated there. Her snakes had an immediate hissy fit.

  “Calm down, girls,” she scolded them. “It’s only Markos.” Gently, she patted her headscarf. “Yes, yes. I know you dislike minotaurs, but he’s a friend.”

  Phew. I relaxed slightly.

  “I can change shape to human if it would make them more comfortable,” he offered.

  Althea practically melted into the floor. “No, but
thank you. The girls have a tendency to overreact.”

  “It’s understandable,” he replied. “I’m an intimidating presence.”

  Except he sounded like the nicest guy on earth. “What brings you here, Markos? Do you have a case for me?”

  Althea groaned. “Have mercy. I hope not. Emma’s got quite enough on her plate right now.”

  “No worries,” Markos said. “I’m not here to burden her. You had asked me for the final menu for the reception, so I decided to drop by with it rather than send an owl.”

  “Oh,” Althea and I said in unison.

  He set a parchment on the desk. “I know we had a preliminary discussion, but I wanted your final stamp of approval.”

  I scanned the menu items. Everything seemed top-notch. “My wedding is going to be amazing,” I murmured.

  Markos and Althea laughed.

  “I sure hope so,” Markos said. “You deserve a perfect day.”

  I glanced helplessly at my Gorgon assistant. “So, um, is there anything else we need to decide?” I was finding it difficult not to be mesmerized by the sheer size of the minotaur.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Beatrice and I are working hard to make the reception a success.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Beatrice!” There was a name I recognized. “She’s in the coven.”

  Markos gave me an odd look. “Yes,” he said slowly. “And how are the plans for the other venues? Is everything coming together?”

  Other venues? I gulped. How many receptions did one wedding need?

  “As far as I know,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

  “If you need help with anything at all, Emma, you only need ask,” Markos said. “Beatrice and I are more than happy to step in. You know I’m a taskmaster.”

  “Yep. Sure do,” I said, wagging a finger at him. “I know all about you and your task mastering…big fella.”

  He cocked his giant head, examining me. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You seem off.”

  “Pre-wedding jitters,” Althea interjected. “She’s been acting strangely with me, too.”

  Markos seemed reassured. He slapped his hands on his tree-trunk thighs. “If you decide to change anything on the menu, let me know. Send Sedgwick or drop by the Tiki Bar.”

  “I will, thanks,” I said.

  When he rose to his full height, Althea’s snakes went wild again. I could see the lumps and bumps beneath her headscarf.

  “Put a lid on the cauldron,” Althea said sharply. “He’s going.” She shot him an embarrassed look. “I apologize for their rudeness, Markos.”

  He waved her off. “None taken. Take care, ladies.”

  I watched his seven-foot frame exit the office. When the door clicked closed, I turned to Althea, my mouth hanging open.

  “A minotaur?” I queried.

  “With a huge crush on you, no less,” Althea said. “Don’t worry. You let him down easy. Now he’s with Beatrice. It all worked out for the best.”

  “He seems incredibly sweet,” I said.

  “Oh, he is,” Althea said, fanning herself. “If I were a few decades younger, I would’ve gone for him myself.”

  “You underestimate your youthfulness,” I said.

  Althea dropped into the empty seat. “Stop it. I’m past my prime and I know it.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding,” I said. “They’re a great opportunity to expand your social horizons.”

  “Especially because you’ve invited the entire town,” she said.

  I invited the whole town? Was I some kind of bridezilla, desperate to show off?

  “It’s nice to include everyone,” I said vaguely. Apparently, my wedding was like an elementary school birthday party. Invite the whole class so no one felt left out.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed the posters around town,” Althea said. “There’s one in Brew-Ha-Ha, too, on the notice board.”

  I took another look at the menu. “He has a fantastic selection of food here.” I noticed the open bar notation and nearly had a heart attack. “We’re paying for multiple open bars for the whole town?” How rich were we? In Lemon Grove, I barely had enough money to pay my rent each month. How could I afford this?

  “It’s a kind gesture,” Althea said. “Everywhere I go, residents talk of little else. I can’t get through the Wish Market without someone mentioning the wedding.”

  “Daniel’s very generous,” I said. He had to be.

  “He has the money,” Althea said, “but it’s your generous spirit that’s fueling this whole operation and don’t you forget it. I don’t want you to be one of those women who loses herself once she’s married. I don’t care how wonderful Daniel is. You continue to be you, understood?”

  I nodded. “Sounds good to me, since I don’t know how to be anybody else.”

  Althea smacked the sides of the chair and laughed. “Girl, you are truly one-of-a-kind, you know that?”

  “Not as one-of-a-kind as Markos,” I said. How many minotaurs could there be?”

  “He’s one-of-a-kind in Spellbound,” she replied, “but there are plenty of minotaurs in the paranormal world. Maybe one day you’ll get to see for yourself.”

  Yes, one day, maybe I would.

  Chapter 13

  I didn’t have time to open my mouth before the receptionist at the Spellbound Care Home ushered me inside.

  “Stop by the cafeteria on your way to see Agnes,” the fairy called. “You’ll want to see what they’re working on.”

  What could they be working on in the cafeteria? Lunch?

  I wandered down the corridor, trying not to look as lost as I felt. When I spotted the double doors to the cafeteria, I sighed with relief. It was anxiety-inducing to walk around a strange building, or at least a building I should’ve remembered but didn’t.

  I slipped inside the cavernous room and inched over to lean against the wall. A young woman with red hair like a flame stood at the front of the room, painting on a giant canvas. She was dressed in black from head to toe and sported a nose ring.

  “Which color should we add next?” she asked the assembled group. “Maybe a warm color like burnt orange?”

  “Red like your hair,” someone called.

  She offered a friendly smile. “I knew you would suggest that, Herbert. You’re obsessed with my hair.” She stopped talking when her gaze alighted on me. “Emma, so cool that you’re here.”

  “Hi,” I said with a feeble wave.

  “We’re painting a group picture today,” the young woman said. “Do you want to hang with us?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m here to see Agnes.”

  “Something to do with the wedding, I bet,” she said.

  “Yes, something like that,” I replied vaguely.

  “Linsey, how about we add yellow flowers?” an elderly voice piped up from the back. “The canvas looks a little on the bleak side right now.”

  “She doesn’t want to paint flowers,” someone else shot back. “She’s a berserker, not a garden gnome.”

  “I think yellow flowers are an awesome idea,” Linsey said, and gave me a wink.

  I quietly returned to the corridor and continued the search for Agnes’s room. I didn’t want to ask, since everyone assumed I knew where to go. It seemed best to keep a lid on my current condition, despite the out-of-control gossip mill.

  I stopped to hover in front of an open doorway. An old woman sat on her bed, hunched over a ball of yarn. She seemed to be struggling with the knitting needle.

  “My fine motor skills are terrible, too,” I said.

  The old woman’s head snapped to attention and she quickly stuffed the yarn and the needles under her pillow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your knitting.”

  “I don’t knit,” the old woman said. “That’s for losers.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. Maybe she suffered from dementia. This was a care home, after all. “I’m looking
for Agnes. She’s a witch here and kind of a big deal. Former head of the coven.”

  “A big deal, eh?” she replied. “You’re hilarious. Come in, Emma. I’ve been working on my speech. I know you want first right of approval.”

  “Your speech?” I queried. “Are you Agnes?”

  The old woman squinted at me. “Of course I’m Agnes. What’s wrong with you?”

  “You haven’t heard?” I asked. I needed Agnes to know, since that was the reason for my visit. “Someone gave me a potion that caused memory loss. The council thinks it was deliberate.”

  Agnes hopped off the bed and came closer to inspect me. “What kind of memory loss?”

  I gave her the update.

  The elderly witch circled me with a glint in her eye. “How can no one reverse the spell on you? What’s the coven coming to? In my day, we would’ve sorted this out in the blink of a frog’s eye.”

  I cocked my head. “Do frogs blink?”

  “Of course they do,” she snapped. “Don’t you pay attention?”

  “To frogs’ eyes?” I asked. “Not really.”

  Agnes clucked her tongue. “The academy has gone to rot. Jacinda Ruth needs to get her act together or suffer the consequences.”

  “I think everyone’s efforts are focused on breaking the town curse,” I said. “They’re so close. They don’t want to take their eyes off the prize.”

  “They need you for that,” she argued. “Don’t they see this is why you’ve been targeted?”

  “It’s a theory we’re considering,” I said.

  She waved her frail arms in the air. “Not a theory. A fact. What’s the matter with that daughter of mine? Sometimes I want to shove one of those twisted antlers right up her…”

  I balked. “Lady Weatherby is your daughter?”

  “I only admit to it on occasion,” Agnes replied. “She certainly doesn’t admit to being my daughter unless pressed.”

  “Sounds like a complicated relationship,” I said. “I wish I had a mother to have a complicated relationship with.”

  Agnes softened. “You have plenty of maternal figures in your life, Emma. I know no one can replace your mother, but you’re not alone.”

  I smiled, despite the threat of tears. “I’ve definitely gotten that impression as everyone tries to bring back my memories. It’s nice to know.”