This Magick Marmot

by Sharon Pape

  Since Paul wasn’t telepathic, he kept it going. “What did he get?”

  I considered saying it was a mutt of questionable ancestry, who suffered from a curvature of the spine that affected its gait and could have benefitted from the help of a skilled orthodontist. But Paul would see right through my ruse the moment he laid eyes on the marmot. I swallowed a sigh. If Merlin was forced to send Froliquet back to wherever she’d been, he would come unglued. I was on the verge of admitting the truth, when a better idea popped into my head. “Why don’t you come by this evening to meet our new addition? You should see her with your own two eyes.” We settled on 7:30. He would be off duty, and I’d have plenty of time to get Tilly and Merlin onboard with my plan.

  When I explained the situation, I made sure Froliquet was busy fending off the lovesick Isenbale. Merlin flew into a tizzy at the mere thought of losing his familiar. My aunt managed to calm him down by threatening not to serve dessert for the next two days if he didn’t behave. He feigned an attitude of calm by compressing his lips and remaining seated, but his frantic energy needed an outlet. His foot pumped up and down on the floor to the beat of his anxiety and his fingers drummed an accompaniment on the tabletop.

  Tilly fixed him with her eyes. “This plan will only work if you’re in possession of your faculties. Do you understand?” Merlin’s head bopped up and down.

  “Merlin,” I said, “how long can you maintain a glamouring before it starts breaking down?”

  “An hour, maybe three.”

  “There can’t be any maybes for this to work. We’ll keep it under an hour. You cannot mention this to Froliquet. If she knows what’s coming, she could sabotage it.” Merlin mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

  We all agreed that glamouring the marmot so that she appeared to be an acceptable species under the town code would be less risky than actually transmuting her into that form. We also agreed she should look like a dog. We rarely agreed so easily and that alone made me worry about impending disaster. If anything did go wrong, Merlin could be exposed for the wizard he was, and I would lose my status as an honest and upstanding citizen. And that was only the tip of the iceberg that could sink us all.

  The doorbell rang at seven thirty on the dot. Merlin, Froliquet and I remained in the living room while Tilly went to open the door. I wanted Paul to see us as a normal family gathered together after dinner to chat. If it hadn’t been the middle of summer, I would have asked Tilly to light the gas fireplace to add another element of cozy warmth to the scene.

  Froliquet had no idea she appeared different to the world. To me she looked like a small dog with an overbite and coarse brown fur. Merlin’s spell had changed her tiny ears into long, floppy ones and elongated her nose and mouth into a doglike snout. She was the homeliest pooch I’d ever seen, but we weren’t planning to enter her in any dog shows.

  Tilly ushered Paul into the room and offered him a seat. “Thanks, but I can’t stay. Isn’t somebody going to introduce me to the new member of the family?” He hunkered down close to where Froliquet was snoozing.

  Tilly took care of the honors. “Paul this is Froliquet. Froliquet meet Paul.” The marmot didn’t bother to open her eyes, for which I was grateful.

  “Nice to meet you, Froliquet,” he said, stroking her back. “Merlin, where did you get her?” Paul was really pushing the due diligence.

  I jumped in before the wizard had a chance to say the wrong thing. “He got her at the animal shelter. She was there for two years, but was always passed over for the prettier dogs. Merlin insisted on saving her.”

  “You did a good thing, Merlin,” he said, getting to his feet. “Oh, I should tell you that according to Beverly, this little lady chased after her with a bloodthirsty look in her eyes and saliva dripping from her jaws.”

  “Does that seem likely?” I asked.

  He laughed. “No, but it has Beverly written all over it. In any case, I have to inform you that all dogs must be up to date on their shots and leashed when out in public.”

  Merlin had started to doze off. Tilly shook his shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

  “How’s a fellow supposed to sleep with you bellowing in his ear?”

  “A fellow isn’t supposed to sleep when entertaining guests,” she whispered loudly enough for the neighbors to hear. I looked at Paul and mouthed the word sorry. He winked at me.

  “It’s all good. I’m going to head out and let you folks get on with your evening.” He leaned down to give Froliquet a last pat. With the worst possible timing, dragon spikes suddenly sprouted along her spine and in a second were gone again. Paul jumped back, rubbing his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as if I had no idea what happened.

  “You didn’t see that a second ago?”

  “See what?”

  “There were…I mean, it looked like—” he stopped, perhaps realizing there was nothing he could say that would sound rational. “I guess I’m overtired.”

  “You put in long hours,” I commiserated, taking his arm and turning him away from Froliquet, whose snout was in the process of stretching to the length of an anteater’s, before snapping back to its original size. I steered him toward the door. Merlin’s spell was going haywire and we couldn’t have Paul there to witness it. There was just so much he would chalk up to fatigue. It bothered me how good I’d become at deflecting questions and flat-out lying to hide the true extent of our magick. But as my grandmother Bronwen always warned me, “Don’t assume the witch trials can’t happen again.”

  I closed the door behind Paul and hurried back into the living room where poor Froliquet was growing and losing animal parts too quickly to count. Tilly gave Merlin a well aimed kick in the shins to wake him again.

  “Good Lord, woman,” he sputtered, “what has possessed you?”

  “If you’re not alert enough to monitor your spells, they seem to lose cohesion,” I said now that he was awake. I kept my tone even, trying to bring calm and reason to the situation. “You need to be more careful in the future.”

  “Nonsense, that’s never happened before.”

  “But it’s happening now,” Tilly said. “Wake up and smell the coffee.”

  He sniffed the air. “Coffee? I could use some coffee. Might there be any more of that lovely banana bread to enjoy with it?”

  Chapter 24

  At the end of the day, Sashkatu and I headed home. The five other cats gathered around me the moment I walked in. No one complained about starving, so I plunked myself down on the hardwood in their midst and spent a good twenty minutes cuddling them. I enjoyed the interlude as much as they did—okay, probably more. It was nice to be needed for more than my opposable thumbs at mealtimes.

  The only one who didn’t enjoy the love fest was Sashkatu, who’d spent the entire day with me. He sat down outside the circle of his peers to remind me with frequent, irritated meows that he was at death’s door and only an immediate infusion of food could save him. It was a contest of wills and he eventually won. But he didn’t play fair. When he didn’t make any headway with me, he let the others know, in ways cats alone understand, that they’d better get with the program—his program. I often wondered what he held over their heads to get his way.

  The only chore I set for myself that evening was to call the last alum who had responded to my email. I remembered her as soon as I saw her name on the reply. Carina Ardsley. We were close friends for a time in middle school, but drifted apart in high school. Looking back from my adult perspective, the only reason I could attribute to our parting of the ways was the fact that she became a cheerleader. The girls in that group were a tight clique and Carina had always liked fitting in as much as I shied away from it.

  When she answered the phone, the years fell away and I was swept back into my adolescence. “You sound exactly the same,” I said with a laugh, forgetting about any sort of greeting. And i
t was quickly obvious that identifying myself wasn’t necessary anyway.

  “Oh Kailyn—so do you!” We spent the next fifteen minutes reminiscing. “I was so bummed I couldn’t make it to the reunion,” she said, “at least until I heard about Genna. I get the chills every time I think about it. And now you’re investigating her death. Do you have any suspects?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t talk names at this point. I really appreciate your responding to my email. You wrote that you’ve seen Scott’s ghost.”

  “Yes. Scared me half to death. He was outside my bedroom window one night. I haven’t told a soul, other than my husband and my sister, and now you. I don’t want people to think I’m losing it, you know. But I’ve always felt like I could trust you. Besides, you wouldn’t be asking if I’d seen anything unusual, unless something weird was going on.”

  “Well you’re right. He seems to have visited a number of the alums.”

  “Do you have any idea why he’s chosen to haunt some of us?” She whispered the word as if someone might overhear her and cart her off to a padded cell. “I never did anything to him to deserve payback.”

  “We have a working theory, nothing solid yet. It seems that the people who have seen him were at the lake the night he died. Can you tell me what you remember from that night?”

  “Not that much really. It was very warm and somebody suggested continuing the party down at the lake. All the cheerleaders were going, so I hopped in one of the girls’ cars and off we went. There was a lot of drinking and laughing at the lake, but I recall thinking it was maybe getting out of hand—the drinking part. I was actually looking for a ride home when I heard the screams. The cops came and ambulances—all the flashing lights. It felt surreal, like a dream you should be able to wake up from.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I remembered how warm it was. And it made sense that Carina had chosen to go to the lake if the other cheerleaders were going. Not having been there, that was as much as I could corroborate.

  “Is it possible Scott somehow blames me for his drowning?” she asked. “I swear I wasn’t anywhere near him at the lake. And I never went into the water.” She was pleading her case to me as if I were a judge and could set him straight in some afterlife court.

  “I’ll let you know if I figure out why he’s visiting people from the lake. At this point, all I can say is that everyone who has seen his ghost was at the lake that night.” Except for me, but I’d already told her too much. I still had a soft spot in my heart for Carina and our once upon a time friendship.

  The phone rang again before I could put it down. “Hi, how’re you doing?” Travis said and barreled on without waiting for me to reply. “When are you available to make the trip up to see Ashley? I feel like we’ve been coasting on that.”

  I’d had similar thoughts of late. “Name two days you’re free.”

  “We can drive up this Thursday and meet with Ashley either later that day or Friday. If she opts for Friday, we’ll spend another night and leave for home the next morning.”

  “Okay, I’ll call to see if she’s willing to talk to us on either of those dates.” I’d wait until she was onboard, before asking my aunt to take care of my beasties. “If we can make it work, I want to stop on the way back to talk to Tony.” Aside from a few quick calls to make sure he was on the mend, we’d never had a chance to talk to him at length after the hit and run.

  “We’ll make it work. I’m convinced Genna’s killer is the one who went after Tony. We have to find out what set the two of them apart from the others at the lake.”

  I filled Travis in on my conversation with Carina. “So your theory about the ghostly visitations is still holding. There’s something else I want to run by you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “We never discussed the question of Genna’s murder and Tony’s close call being tied to the hauntings. But I’ve certainly been thinking of them as two ends of the same search for revenge and justice.”

  “I have too. Otherwise the odds of them playing out at the same time would be way too high.”

  “Then we’re on the same page. Let me call Ashley before it gets too late. I’ll get right back to you.” I found her number in my list of contacts, but I didn’t immediately dial it. When I asked to visit her, I had to word it the right way. She had to be aware that Duggan considered her a suspect. Subtlety was not his strong suit. She had nothing to gain by speaking to me, unless she thought I was on her side.

  I spent ten minutes working and reworking my pitch. Primed and ready, I punched in the numbers. Waiting for her to pick up, I felt like an actor waiting in the wings for her cue. When the voice mail came on, it threw me. “Ashley, hi, it’s Kailyn.” I wanted to sound casual, but I sounded stiff, like I had a knife at my throat. “I’ll be up in Maine for a couple of days and I’m hoping we can get together.” Way too perky. The message sounded like Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. I didn’t mention Travis, because we’d already decided I would see her alone. She was bound to be more open and trusting without my journalist boyfriend in tow.

  She returned my call an hour later as I was drifting off to sleep. She seemed upbeat about my visit. “My time is kind of limited though. I spend most of the day baking and working in the shop. I leave around two and there’s someone who takes over until closing. Would three o’clock Friday work for you?” I told her it would. What she didn’t know was that any time she proposed would have worked for me. She was the sole reason we were driving to Yarmouth, Maine.

  Chapter 25

  We were zipping along I-95. The car smelled like breakfast. We’d stopped at a fast-food drive-thru for eggs, ham and cheese on biscuits with large coffees. Travis ate his while he drove, alternating between the sandwich and the coffee without taking his eyes off the road.

  “It’s a kind of braille you learn on road trips, when you’re chasing down a story.” he said, when I tried to convince him to eat before getting back on the highway. “Broadcasting from the site of breaking news before the other outlets is the name of the game. Stopping to eat can knock you out of the running. Speed has always been important, but in this hi-tech age it can make or break you.” When I didn’t say anything for a few minutes, he asked why I was so quiet.

  “I was thinking about how everyone’s always rushing to get somewhere. If I could teach teleportation, I’d be the next instant billionaire.”

  He stole a worried glance at me. “You can’t teach that, can you?”

  I laughed. “No, teleportation isn’t possible without the right DNA.”

  “Hey wait a minute, what about the time you tried to take me with you? Were you experimenting?”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it experimenting,” I said. “I was trying to save your life.”

  “For future reference, I don’t know if I want to live without all my parts in the right places.”

  “I was almost certain you’d be fine. I’ve tried it with inanimate objects and plants, even a frog I caught in the garden. Everything came through unscathed.”

  “If I were an amphibian or a ficus that might be more comforting.”

  “What happened to my courageous reporter who throws caution to the wind to catch a killer and sweep a girl off her feet?” I was enjoying his discomfit more than I should have. “I’m teasing you,” I relented. “It’s actually in the scrolls Merlin’s been translating. ‘As long as the sorcerer holds fast to another, both are protected during the process of teleportation.’”

  Travis wasn’t ready to put the question to rest. “Just how good are Merlin’s translation skills? He’s not always what I’d call a hundred percent.”

  “They’ve been spot on so far. Don’t forget, it’s not really translation for him. He lived before the scrolls were even written.”

  “Good point.” Travis reached for my hand and held it tightly. “Let’s try to stay away from the subject of magick for the rest o
f this trip. I want to concentrate on being courageous and romantic.” I would have been a fool to argue with that.

  We made it to Yarmouth in the mid afternoon and after checking into our hotel, we took a walk through the Village Center. According to the online guide, the center had cafes and shops, including Baked to Perfection, Ashley’s pride and joy. But we almost missed it altogether. It was a narrow little shop, wedged between a variety store and a soup and salad cafe.

  “Ashley should be gone by now,” I said to Travis. “I want to nose around inside.”

  He laughed. “And maybe sample a thing or two?”

  “Well you can’t grow up with an aunt like Tilly and not be addicted to sugar. But I also wanted to chat with Ashley’s one employee.”

  Bells over the door announced our arrival. An elderly woman with snow-white hair wound into a bun on top of her head was behind the counter. A plastic nametag pinned to her blouse read Connie. She was nibbling on a cookie when we walked in. She stiffened and shoved the remainder of the cookie into her mouth as if we’d caught her doing something illegal. For all we knew, she’d been told to stop eating the wares. She put her hand over her mouth and tried to chew subtly. Travis and I browsed the glass counters and pretended not to notice.

  Some of the trays were empty, except for crumbs, others nearly so. The shelves on the back wall held a few breads and rolls. In a small refrigerated counter were pastries with whipped cream and custard. Breakfast had been hours ago. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the éclairs. I asked for one with dark chocolate icing. Travis succumbed as well, taken down by a large cream puff.