Mocha had gone from apprehensive to apparently approving, something that made me nervous. The store was full of old-style antiques, burnished wood and the ticking of several grandfather clocks. It felt warm, almost like a throw-back in time.
“This is the first time we’ve met in this form,” the old woman said.
I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or Mocha. “Hello,” I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.
“It’s been a long time,” she said, a warm smile in her voice. She turned to look at me now, although now she looked surprised, as if she hadn’t noticed me enter. “Who are you?” she asked, her tone pleasant.
“Louise,” I said, taking a careful step forward.
The noise she made was almost a hum, the melody like a hint of a memory that disappeared before I could grasp it. “Sam’s daughter,” she said.
Wishing I’d remembered my phone, I balled my right hand into a fist to give it something to do. Then I deliberately uncurled it. “You knew my mother?”
“What brought you here?” she asked, apparently completely ignoring my question.
I didn’t know how old she was, but maybe she just simply hadn’t heard it. “A will,” I said, not sure how literal she meant. “Or if you meant to this shop, my dog.”
I got the feeling my words amused her although I couldn’t hear any laughter and she didn’t move.
“I’m Adelaide,” she said, smoothing the crocheted afghan on her lap. Bells tinkled as she did so, and I noticed them woven in. Once I noticed the first ones, I noticed the rest. There were bells in various places, from small to large, from bright and new to old and distinguished. If it hadn’t been for the bells placed around the place, she could have been anybody’s elderly old granny.
Something felt something off about her that I couldn’t really place. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. “Magic?” I guessed. I had said the word out loud before I could think it through. Was it taboo? Was I not supposed to mention it?
If I was wrong, had I just revealed the magical world to a human?
I so wasn’t qualified for that.
“Yes,” she said. “Although a different magic than yours.”
I nodded, as if I knew what that meant. I had absolutely no clue. Were there different types of magic? Then again, Wren had mentioned something about different bloodlines. Maybe that was what it was.
“You’re Sam’s daughter,” she said again, seemingly fascinated by it. Her eyes were scrutinizing me intensely, like I wasn’t who she expected, or how she expected me to be.
“I really should finish my breakfast,” I said, holding up the bag of food from the gas station. My stomach growled loudly in the quiet, and I winced.
“How remiss of me,” Adelaide said, the picture of an apologetic young maiden. “Please, call me Addie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, glancing around the shop. “And to see your shop.”
“It’s very nice to finally meet you,” she said, her smile warm. “I always wondered what happened to Sam. I’m sad to hear she’s dead.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it like a fish, feeling chilled all over. How had she found out? I had only told Wren and the others less than twelve hours ago.
“You can take the stairs in the back up to your apartment,” she said warmly. She nodded towards the nondescript door. “I have the other apartment up there, and this will take you right up to the rooms.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say; my brain was jumbled and words weren’t coming easily.
“You look like her,” Addie said thoughtfully. “Have you ever heard that?”
“I heard that a lot growing up.” My smile was full of memories. Especially once Dad had died, it had always been Mom and I together. Two peas in a pod, I remembered one of my elementary school teachers calling us.
“Good.” Addie seemed satisfied by that. She turned to look at Mocha. “Take care of her.”
Whatever Mocha said, I didn’t hear. But from Addie’s expression she had said something. With a curt nod, Mocha nodded and headed towards the door.
“Bye,” I said awkwardly, and then I followed, beating a hasty retreat.
When I got to the top of the stairs, Mocha was standing there, her face boring into mine.
“She knew your mother?” Mocha looked unusually intense.
“Apparently.” The sandwich I’d eaten sat cold in my stomach. “I really need coffee.”
“If it will help you think faster, I don’t think we should delay.” Mocha chuckled, almost, then trotted towards my apartment.
“I don’t plan to let anything stop me from eating this time,” I said dryly. “Anyone else you plan to introduce me to? I’ll try to finish eating first.” I paused. “Do you need food?”
Mocha snorted, as if I’d made a joke. Maybe I had. I turned the corner, heading towards my apartment door. I made it two steps before I froze. There was something slumped on the floor in front of my apartment door, and it wasn’t moving.
“Please don’t tell me–”
“It’s a dead body,” Mocha said, sounding cheerful.
Excellent. Apparently, my dog liked to play amateur sleuth.
“Are you sure they’re dead?” I could tell it was a woman when I got closer. I didn’t see any rising or falling, so it didn’t look like they were breathing. “CPR?”
“I wouldn’t bother,” Mocha said, moving towards the dead body. “No, this has a different party in store.”
I gave her a blank look but then followed her closer still. It took the hair, clothes, and the mention of a store to jog my memory. I needed coffee.
“Really?” I asked no one, my exasperation through the roof.
“Yep,” Mocha said, sounding far too cheerful.
I stared down at Mildred, entirely unenthused. “I didn’t murder her.”
“Oh, I know that,” she said in a tone that wasn’t at all reassuring. “But you’re the only one who can hear me.”
I groaned. “So nobody else can hear or verify my alibi.” I paused. “Michelle, though—she saw me. Maybe there’s a camera.”
“Maybe,” Mocha said, although she didn’t sound convinced. “You’d be surprised how easy those are to mess with.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you trying to frame me?”
Mocha looked offended. “Why would I do that?” Amusement danced in her eyes. “No, you did that all to yourself. I’m just watching.”
“You need a hobby,” I muttered to Mocha. Turning back to Mildred, I crouched down and reached out with shaking fingers, touching my first two fingers to her wrist and looking for a pulse. She was cold and clammy, and there wasn’t a heartbeat. I really would have to call the police.
“Moving here was such a bad idea.” I scrubbed my non-touched-a-dead-person hand across my forehead, sitting back on my haunches.
“Let’s have fun,” Mocha said, showing off her very warped sense of humor.
I shook my head, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed 911.
**
I was still up in the hallway when I heard the sirens. I stood at the top of the stairs, not sure whether to go downstairs or to wait where I was. Mildred’s dead body was laying there, as dead as, well, a doorknob.
I didn’t think my day could have started off any better. Who didn’t want to find the person who had fought with them—their first night in a new town—dead in front of their door? Nothing like a murder investigation to get to know people.
Mocha was sitting at my side, looking as calm as if she was just checking her social media feed.
“Can they see you?” I asked, uncertain.
“The magic ones can,” Mocha said, almost entirely unconcerned. “The rest should be able to. It depends.”
“Of course,” I said, like that explained everything. It didn’t.
The first person I saw was Theo’s twin, the red hair making him stand out.
“You?” Ethan seemed surprised. Like we hadn’t
just met the night before. Then he frowned. “Didn’t you –”
I sighed. “Yep.” He had clearly identified who it was and put two and two together.
“Do you have an alibi?”
I glanced at Mocha. “I’m told you can’t talk to her.”
“That’s true,” Ethan said regretfully. “Not that we assume you’re lying, but –”
“You need objective evidence, and the like.” I understood. I’d watched more than enough crime shows in my lifetime. I was new to the town and had no track record. What was the saying? Trust, but verify? Not that I meant I liked it, especially not in these specific circumstances.
“Where were you?” Ethan asked.
“I went to the gas station,” I said, although I wasn’t particularly optimistic about that young lady’s observational skills.
“Did you talk to anybody?” Ethan asked.
“Michelle at the front desk,” I said. “Although I’m not sure how much attention she was paying.”
“We’ll have someone go talk to her,” Ethan said. “Maybe they have a camera.”
“Like on TV?” I sounded skeptical. “Do all gas stations have cameras?”
Ethan quirked an eyebrow at me. “Here, they should.” Then he frowned, looking troubled. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Long day?” I asked, somewhat sympathetic.
“You could call it that.” He looked rueful. “New magic beings are always complicated, locality wise.” He glanced at me and then he winked, his eyes and smile dazzling. “Nothing for you to worry about, of course.”
I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure how to tell him I wasn’t interested, or if he just was this flirty with everybody. Maybe they got so few new magic beings that I was the new Bella Swan.
There was a noise off to the side, and Ethan’s attention was sidetracked. “Hold on one second.” He turned, moved a few steps, and then spoke towards a curly-haired woman coming up the stairs. “Sally, keep an eye on her.” He jerked his head towards me.
He then headed down the stairs, skipping them with his long legs and surprisingly not falling. Sally glanced at me, assessing. She was dark-skinned, with shoulder-length tight curls and a face that wore skepticism easily.
“Lou,” I said, offering my hand.
“Sally.” She shook it, but said nothing else.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” I asked, speaking out loud. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Sally, Mocha, or myself.
Sally didn’t speak, but Mocha leaned in and pressed her head against my knee. “The truth will come out,” she said. There was an ominous silence. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll figure out why.”
“Later you’ll explain that in English,” I told her.
More people were heading up the stairs, crowding it. Ethan caught sight of me, gesturing for me to head his way. I wasn’t surprised when Sally followed a half-step behind me.
Ethan had moved away by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, standing near the gate and talking to a young man in street clothes. He wasn’t officially part of the police contingent, but not away from it, either. Ethan smiled, pleased to see him. Maybe he was just that flirty to everyone.
But then he leaned over and gave the man a quick kiss.
Did that go past flirty? I hoped so.
“That’s his fiancée,” Sally said.
“Oh,” I said, not really able to offer much other commentary. “I really need coffee,” I said, as if it would magically make it appear. So much of my life had changed so quickly. It was hard to take in.
“You’ll get there,” Sally said, her smile warm and reassuring. Some of the distance had disappeared.
“Can you read my mind?” I asked, alarmed.
She shook her head. “I’ve just heard about you,” she said. “When we heard it was you calling, we brought on the special squad. We’re all magic users.”
“Oh, does that mean I’m special?” I quipped. It fell flat.
Sally’s eyes were shrewd, and although she came across as friendly, I could tell that she was still assessing me. “We don’t know what to do with you,” she said, and there was enough truth to it that it was unnerving.
I tried to look casual. “Well, I’m not a murderer,” I said, even though I was pretty sure a murderer would say that.
Facts were good and all, but if they couldn’t be proven, they weren’t worth anything.
Chapter Six
Waking up took me longer than expected. There was the glorious moment of stretching, arching your back and yawning. Then the realization dawned. The ceiling was unfamiliar, and the prior day’s memories came flashing back. I was in a new town, in a new place, and under investigation for murder.
I needed coffee.
I flopped back against the pillow, wincing at how scratchy it was. That was it. I was doing some shopping today. I still hesitated, despite it all. If I went shopping, was that a commitment? Was I staying here, instead of leaving the option to bolt open if I wanted to take it?
At the least, I was getting a coffee maker. Long-term or temporary, it was a necessity.
“The thing downstairs is a coffee shop,” Mocha said dryly.
I almost fell off the bed. In all my stretching, I hadn’t noticed her perched on the far side of the bed, watching me. I’d remembered the murder investigation, but the magic stuff had slipped my mind. Yet it felt more normal than it had the day before. Maybe it was sinking in.
“Can you read minds?” I asked skeptically.
“I live here now,” Mocha said, doing her dog yoga. Bum up in the air, eyes closed as she suddenly became twice as long as she had been. Not literally. Still, it was impressive the various ways animals could contort themselves. “Are you always this jumpy?”
“It’s not normal I find out I’m a witch,” I said. Rather reasonably, even.
“You still don’t believe it, do you?” Mocha sounded intrigued by that.
“It’s not something I ever expected to come up,” I said honestly. Besides Mocha, I hadn’t really seen any hard evidence, and there was a voice in my brain that was still convinced it was an elaborate prank. I hadn’t seen or done any magic, nor seen wands, brooms, or spells. The runes and the door could have been set up ahead of time.
Mentally I rewound my thoughts. I had a paranoid streak, but that was probably going too far.
“I need coffee,” I said, scrubbing a hand through the fringe on my forehead.
“And to get dressed,” Mocha added.
I looked down at my pajamas. “Now you’re just being picky.”
“My nose is a lot better than yours,” she said pointedly.
I scowled at her to show my displeasure, still a bit discomforted with the whole talking dog thing. I grabbed a pair of jean capris and a tank top since it was sunny and warm outside. I could feel the heat even through the windows.
“You’re taking forever,” Mocha observed.
“Says the one that doesn’t have to put on clothes,” I said without any real bite.
“That’s because my kind are smart,” she said. “Not dumb enough to involve ourselves in human rituals like that.” Apparently it was possible for a dog to look smug.
I wondered—and I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time—what kind of creature she actually was. Was she an enchanted dog? Or was she something more complicated than that? All I had to go on were story books from growing up, and I didn’t think they were the most accurate resource.
“If you’re quick, I’ll let you break into the coffee shop,” Mocha said.
I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean, break in?”
“Mildred’s coffee shop is the only one on this side of town,” Mocha said offhandedly. “No one could compete with her.” She paused. “No one good, anyway. The gas stations still have coffee.”
“The coffee was that good?” I said skeptically. Even in small cities, there were often multiple coffee shops, sometimes every other block.
Mocha’s s
mile wasn’t kind, inasmuch as a dog could smile without showing teeth. “No one wanted to argue with the family name.”
I thought of the woman I’d encountered. She hadn’t looked like any sort of distinguished family to me. “Family name?” I was still skeptical, but Mocha didn’t look like she was lying. “Prominent family here?”
“The Astors,” Mocha said, her tone a mix of surprise and disgust. “It’s a long story.”
I waited, just in case she wanted to share.
She didn’t. “Aren’t you done yet?” Mocha sat on her haunches, glaring at me. “We’ve been waiting forever.”
“It’s been 15 minutes,” I said, glancing at the clock. Okay, maybe it had been half an hour, but close enough. “Besides, you’re a dog. You don’t drink coffee.” Unease roiled my stomach. “Do you?”
Mocha’s snort echoed in my mind. “I wish,” she said. “Unfortunately, I require the same food as my current form.” She looked pointedly at me.
“I don’t have any,” I said, perplexed.
“That’s stop number one after we get you some coffee,” Mocha said patiently.
Focused on coffee, I finished getting dressed and then grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet, then headed out the door. It locked behind me, and it surprised me to realize that I didn’t have to even use the key. Nerves prickled across my back, the little hairs on my neck standing up. I wasn’t used to this magic thing, not at all. But thinking about it was for later-Lou, post-coffee Lou. Lou with more brainpower.
I headed down the steps, hearing the click of Mocha’s nails on the polished wood. Out the back door, out the gate. I closed it behind me and then looked for Mocha. Mocha, who wasn’t there.
“Really?” I said, hands propped on my hips. I scowled at where she had been and turned to take a step in the direction of the coffee shop. Then I froze. There was a guy standing in front of the door to the coffee shop, a cute guy. Tall, broad-shouldered, and slender but muscled. His hair was black with hints of grey, but he didn’t look older than early thirties. His eyes were light blue, as piercing as ice.
Deja Brew Page 6