The Wayward Deed (Vacancy Book 2)

by A. K. Caggiano

  Mr. Ouvelette had spent too much time around humans, he joked, after Lorelei had figured out what he wanted was an electric toothbrush. For some reason he didn’t quite have the word for it, but he’d purchased one, lost it, and just didn’t feel fresh without it which the manor didn’t quite understand when conjuring up a new, albeit manual, one.

  With that crisis averted, Lorelei left his room and pulled out her phone to call Constance at Steadfast Sundries and put in an order for paints she’d seen in one of their ads. She popped into room 332 for privacy—a couple of gnomes had just checked out of it that morning, and the faeries would be done cleaning it by now.

  But instead she found Ziah sitting in the center of the guest bed absolutely surrounded by papers and books. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, she had neon green highlighter smudged on her cheek, and she was wearing glasses.

  Lorelei hung up before the first ring went through. “Uh, whacha doin, Ziah?”

  “Freaking out,” said the succubus, crumpling a page in her hand along with the bed sheets.

  “I can see that.” She wandered up to the bed and picked up a paperback workbook, the cover reading Charming Allegiance: A Field Guide to Residency in The Material Plane in the closest thing to comic sans font the charmed folk had.

  “My test has been moved up to March,” she said scratching her forehead. “It wasn’t supposed to be for another year and a half.”

  “Your residency test?” Lorelei thumbed through pages filled with moving diagrams, articles with footnotes you could expand, and one of the pages even started to play a song. She closed it quickly at that, eyes jumping to the other books scattered around, each a test booklet or a history tome. “All of this for Moonlit Shores?”

  Ziah laid a hand on a fat, older book. “This is for Moonlit Shores. Everything else is just about living on this plane as opposed to the nether.”

  “Haven’t you lived here your whole life?”

  “Pretty much, but I’m still daeva, so I’m not technically a charmed resident until I pass the test.”

  Lorelei screwed up her face. “That’s dumb.”

  “Tell me about it. But it’s necessary, and the test is a whopper.”

  Lorelei grabbed a different book from the bed and began to read, “Under the Charmed-Transcendental Astral Travel and Projection Act of 763, seven wayfaring sites between the two planes were approved. What are the latitude and longitude of any three of these sites?” She looked up. “They want you to know exact coordinates?”

  The succubus nodded gravely.

  “That’s crazy!” She flicked back to the beginning of the book. “Wait, okay, it says here there are only ten questions on this thing. You can memorize ten things, you do that just about every morning.”

  “Yeah, ten random questions of a possible three thousand three hundred and thirty three.”

  “Oh, shit.” Lorelei fell into a heap on the foot of the bed.

  “I have been studying, I just thought I had more time. I got a call from city hall that they had an opening—a cambion got caught smuggling illegal goods between the planes and lost their spot, and since I’ve been such a model resident,”—this she said with a snarl—“they gave it to me.”

  Lorelei tapped the book on her knee. “So, if you pass you become an official resident of Moonlit Shores and the Material Plane, but what happens if you fail?”

  “I don’t have to go back to the nether permanently, but I won’t ever get to vote or apply for any licenses, and if I ever get in trouble things will be a lot more difficult, but the only real problem is my temporary work charter won’t be renewed.”

  Lorelei’s eyes went wide. “Well,”—she flicked through the pages—“looks like we need to get to studying, huh?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Oh, yes I do. And so does everyone else. We should be quizzing you every chance we get.” Lorelei cleared her throat. “What are the first twenty-one words of Xayn Ahstun’s Disputation on the Influence and Potency of Necromancy?”

  Ziah sat very straight and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a warlock in possession of a corpse must be in want of a spirit.”

  “It says soul, not spirit, does that matter?”

  Ziah’s misty eyes told her it did.

  “Okay, that’s still, like, ninety five percent right! Let’s try again.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THE RIGHT HANDS

  “Watch this.” Lorelei touched Ziah’s arm and pointed as discreetly as she could to the sitting room doors. Mr. Ambros had just returned from his trip into Bexley, had greeted them warmly, and was headed to sit by the fire and stave off the chilly outside air. Likewise, Mr. Felps was coming out of the sitting room, having just warmed up after his own trek to Bexley that afternoon that he had so excitedly told Lorelei about only half an hour prior. Mr. Ambros and Mr. Felps expected to pass one another, perhaps offer a polite greeting, and never think of the other person again, and if Lorelei’s prediction was right, that absolutely wasn’t going to happen.

  She had been waiting for this moment since lunch. Well, not this moment, specifically, with Mr. Ambros and Mr. Felps, but a moment that looked something like this. She’d discovered something strange, even for the manor, just after breakfast, and at lunch she was on the verge of confirming it, and this moment, just after dinner, was going to cinch it.

  The two men ran straight into one another.

  Mr. Ambros, about twice as big as Mr. Felps, grunted, doubling over, his fluffy tail poofing out. Mr. Felps, a gnome and so only a bit over three feet tall, staggered backward and bounced off the door, twirling into the foyer. Ziah covered her mouth, perhaps stifling a tiny laugh, but Lorelei inhaled sharply and pointed a bit harder. “Did you see?”

  As Ziah rushed over, inquiring about injuries, Lorelei just shook her head. Why did this keep happening?

  Both men collected themselves, embarrassed but neither damaged, and then after a long look at one another as if no one else in the manor existed, they hustled off to their rooms.

  Ziah watched the two men scurry up the stairs, each taking a different flight, and they were quickly both out of sight. “It was like they didn’t even see each other.”

  “No,” said Lorelei, pacing toward the sitting room. “That’s the thing, they did, they looked right at each other! It’s been happening all day.” She squatted and peered down at the hardwoods. “I think the floor is slanted or something.” She ran a hand along the apparently level boards before her.

  A blustery wind blew in as the manor door opened. A woman in a scarlet, knee-length coat entered carrying a case in the shape of a violin.

  “Daphne?” Ziah walked over to her, and the woman took her outstretched hand.

  “Ziah, it’s so nice to meet you.”

  The succubus looked her up and down and grinned. “You’re right on time. I love punctuality.”

  Lorelei was looking up over her shoulder at the women from her spot squatting on the floor. Daphne seemed immediately taken by Ziah, but that was the case with everyone. The difference here seemed to be that this was one of her clients, and Lorelei quickly looked back to the maddeningly level floor.

  “Best of luck, Lore,” Ziah said, headed for the stairs. “I have an appointment. Let me know if we need to, I don’t know, have the place sanded maybe?”

  At that, a pipe in the wall creaked.

  “Oh, don’t be offended,” she said, petting the banister as she went. “Everyone needs their floors buffed once in a while.”

  Lorelei watched her go, the woman in the red coat with the violin just behind. “Good luck up there too, I guess?”

  Ziah’s throaty laughter filled up the foyer until she disappeared, and Lorelei focused back on the floor. There was something wrong, and she was going to figure it out no matter what it was Ziah thought was more important upstairs.

  The double French doors were certainly wide enough for two people, and there was no fur
niture obstructing the way into the sitting room, just the back of a couch over ten paces away. She stood straight and set her shoulders back, staring down the exact middle of the open doorway.

  At this, Aly trilled from the check-in desk, lifting up her head from a long nap. “Watch this,” Lorelei instructed her. “I need someone to help me figure this thing out.”

  Ask and you shall receive, said magic, but she didn’t hear that.

  She huffed and walked straight forward, and straight forward she went until she was standing in the sitting room, everything completely normal. Inside, Mr. Ecknees was rocking gently by the fire, and a set of dryads were cuddled up on the loveseat by the front window.

  She put her hands on her hips and turned back, looking over the entry from the other side. It was swagged with a garland, red bows and pine cones embedded into the fake-snow flecked boughs. It was actually quite nice despite all the plastic, in its center the faux sprig of mistletoe Hana had managed to secure by climbing up on a side table, only falling twice in the process.

  Lorelei set her sights on the floor again, and instead of walking, she shuffled her feet to see if she could feel for a dip.

  There was no damn dip.

  Lorelei paced the foyer. Three times, three times, guests had run right into one another in the doorway, and each time, each and every time, they had acted so shocked then stared at one another as if striking one another also struck up some epiphany before running their separate ways. She stopped her pacing and went through the arch again, arms akimbo and painfully slow.

  “What are you doing?”

  Lorelei really wished Conrad would stop showing up at the least opportune time. She snapped her arms down to her sides, spinning around and trying to very casually lean against the back of the couch in the sitting room. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He took two careful steps forward through the foyer then stopped when Aly meowed from across the room. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  She shrugged and clasped her hands together. Since she’d spoken to him in the conservatory about a week prior, she hadn’t seen much of him except for the day before when they were in the kitchen grabbing lunch at the same time. He was extremely grumpy, but Bridgette had also stormed out a few minutes before that, and she figured the two were related as his mood was so often dictated by the witch’s presence. “You must need something,” she said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be up here.”

  “That’s not fair.” He frowned crossing his arms. She raised her brows at him and waited, then he deflated. “It’s just a coincidence that I actually do need something from you right now.”

  She pointed at him. “Oh, I just knew it, Conrad, you—”

  “Waste your energy getting all irritated with me if you want,” he said, “but you’re still going to have to help me.”

  Lorelei wandered back toward the foyer, her head cocked. Well, wasn’t that interesting and predictable. “Oh, I will? Why’s that?”

  He closed the gap between them, eyes narrowed at her like he was about to say something that would definitely get on her nerves. They met in the doorway. “Because the dilemma I’m in is all your fault, and I’ve got to take…to take you…” Conrad’s voice trailed off as his face lost all of its snark. His shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep, ragged breath.

  Lorelei’s brain tingled, her heart acted as though she’d slammed three cups of espresso in a row, and whether it was just the past three months coming to a pent-up head or simply the deepening animalistic look he was giving her, she had the sudden and intense urge to pounce on him, throw her legs around his waist, and tackle Conrad to the ground. Desire shot its way through her chest and down into her belly, propelling her forward before she could even think. She absolutely had to kiss him, and now.

  And then they headbutted one another.

  Lorelei staggered into the doorway and crumpled against the frame, a hand up on her forehead, stars bursting in the back of her eyes. She was dizzy for a long and strange second as Aly bounded over to her and started yowling in her face until she could clamber back onto her feet.

  “Oh, by Aphrodite’s apple, that really packs a wallop, huh?” Philomena’s too-chirpy voice for the ache already mounting itself in Lorelei’s head was in her ear. The woman waved a stubby hand as her vision returned. “Hey, you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  There were four, but only for a second. “Two, I think.”

  “Good job. Hopefully the other one’s still in one piece too.” Philomena sat Lorelei on a bench by the front door and went to Conrad to give him a shake. He grunted and told her the year after what might have been a moment too long of thinking.

  Philomena then stood herself right in the entry to the sitting room and stared upward, hands on her hips. “Yeah, it’s a little too strong. Too much eros maybe.”

  Lorelei rubbed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “The kitchen girl, Hana, she asked me to enchant this plant thing—well, it’s not really a plant thing, is it? It’s synthetic, fake-like, but she asked anyway. Said it was supposed to make people kiss, but it was broken, so I fixed it with a spell.”

  Lorelei got back to her feet, the room no longer spinning. “The mistletoe? Hana had you enchant it?” She stole a peek at Conrad who was already staring at her wide-eyed.

  “I zhuzhed it up a little. Well, a lot. Maybe too much. I thought it’d be fun!”

  Why she couldn’t have zhuzhed it just the right amount, Lorelei would have to swear about later. “Well, undo it, please, before someone gets a concussion.” Her unending responsibility to the guests disappointed her for a long second.

  “Oh, fine, spoilsport.” Philomena dug into her pocket and pulled out a little golden tube that she held up to her lips and aimed at the mistletoe. A blast of something hot pink puffed up and collided with the plastic, covering it, then turned to black before shaking itself off and disintegrating, leaving the mistletoe’s leaves and berries looking untouched.

  “What kind of magic is that exactly?” Conrad went up to her, pointing at the tube.

  “Oh, ho, interested?” Philomena flipped around the little shooter in her hand and held it up. “Deviation from the standard, of course, made a couple improvements to it so it works on items and not just people.”

  He lowered his voice, glancing into the sitting room and back to the foyer. “You have a license for that thing?”

  “No, sir, I was born with it.” She watched him try to puzzle it out, then she laughed and pointed to herself. “Cupid.”

  Conrad sneaked a quick glance at Lorelei before coughing out a laugh. “Oh, because I was going to say—”

  “And you’d be right to say! It’s not for everybody, this kind of power.” She tossed the peashooter once more. “It’s only safe in the right hands.” As the weapon landed back into her palm there was a ping, and a puff of pink smoke shot out of its end, zipping across the foyer and taking out one of the glass panels in the open French doors to the dining room. “Oops!”

  Hana stood in the doorway, a room service tray in her hands, stopping still at the sound of shattering glass right next to her head.

  Conrad gave Philomena a withering look then crossed the room to mend the panel in the door. Aly barreled over behind him, and he caught her, holding the alalynx aloft and away from the dangerous mess as he collected the shards of glass.

  “What’s going on?” Hana’s too-sweet look gave away immediately that she already knew exactly what was going on.

  “Don’t charm this thing again,” Lorelei said to both Philomena and Hana, pointing to the mistletoe.

  Hana’s eyes lit up as they jumped from Lorelei over to Conrad who was casting a spell with a blue light to mend the pieces of glass to one another. “Ooo, who kissed?”

  “No one,” Lorelei said quickly. “But a few migraines probably got handed out.” She pointed to the spot on her forehead that she knew had to be red.

  Hana mumbled something like a curse wor
d under her breath, frowned deeply, then eyed Philomena. “Okay, we won’t enchant the kissletoe anymore.” She crossed the foyer with more of a bounce to her step than she should have had and headed upstairs to deliver the tray.

  Lorelei sighed and looked over Philomena. She didn’t have wings or a bow and arrow, but she was dressed in a magenta turtleneck with hearts patched onto both elbows and she did carry that peashooter. Philomena shrugged. “Anyway, I came down here to check if—”

  “She’s with a client now,” said Lorelei, “and so far, Ziah doesn’t have any cancellations.”

  Philomena huffed, hands on wide hips again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She smiled wide and strutted off into the dining room.

  Conrad turned from the newly mended window, the pane of glass just losing the last of its blue glow. He rubbed at his chin, a red mark there, presumably where it had collided with Lorelei’s forehead. Aly had scaled up his arms to sit on his shoulder, wrapping her tail around his neck.

  “That was weird,” Lorelei mumbled then shook her head, “and painful.”

  Conrad sucked in a breath over his teeth, walking up to her. “That looks bad. Sorry I can’t mend this.” He reached out and ran his thumb over the spot on her forehead. Shivers ran down the back of her scalp. He didn’t need a spell to do that.

  She swallowed. “So, you wanted something from me?”

  His eyes jolted with panic, darting over to the mistletoe, then Aly started grooming his ear. He snatched her off his shoulder and held her out. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I have this appointment thing scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and you’re coming with me.”

  Lorelei took Aly from him, the alalynx purring like an old engine. “I am?”

  “In Bexley. I need someone to…well, there’s been a miscommunication, and I can’t exactly show up alone. It’s with an attorney.”

  “Woo, that sounds boring.” She grinned.

  He took a deep breath. “I hope it is.”

  CHAPTER 12

  BENT THE TRUTH

  Lorelei shivered as they passed through the train station’s entry. It felt weird and wrong and like not existing, but when they stepped out onto the platform, everything returned to normal. A family of gnomes waited on a bench, and the same old man snoozed over by where Lorelei had picked up the luggage on her first journey there. Conrad strode across the tile, ignoring the massive divot and the dark tunnels as if they were hardly there, probably having used the station tucked into a cave in the forest a hundred times, but for Lorelei it was still a wonder how it could be there at all—from the outside the place just looked like a crevasse in the side of a rock.