A Witch Too Late

by Paula Lester

  “What can I do for you folks?” he asked without making eye contact.

  “I was wondering if I could speak with a manager. I have some questions about a delivery that was made to me.” Cas eyed the sprite, wondering if he was well.

  “A delivery? Made already, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what could you possibly have questions about, then?”

  “Marvin! You aren’t arguing with customers, are you?” A female sprite with white hair in a ponytail appeared next to the first one. She didn’t look too hot, either. “I’m sorry, folks, we had a little party earlier, and most of us drank a mite too much spoiled milk. Oh. Please don’t tell our boss I said that.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she blushed with what Cas guessed was embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word,” Cas reassured her with a smile.

  “Thank you.” The white-haired sprite looked relieved. “I’m Miriam. Sorry about Marvin; he’s grumpy because of a bad headache. Between you and me, he can’t handle the hard stuff. Marvin, why don’t you drink some water and take a ten-minute break? I’ll handle this.”

  Marvin nodded and headed back through the door he’d come out of, but Cas heard him mutter something about ungrateful customers who couldn’t just be happy with their deliveries. Miriam closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then she opened them again and smiled brightly. “Now, what were your questions?”

  “A package was delivered to me a few days ago, but I think it was late. Like, really late. So, I was just wondering if you could maybe track where it came from and who sent it to me. There wasn’t a return address on the box.”

  “Late? Wait a minute, I’ve heard about this case. It was Bixbie’s delivery, wasn’t it?”

  Cas nodded.

  “I thought so. He wasn’t able to come back to work at all this afternoon. He missed the party, but he was at the ADSP conference, and I heard he had a party of his own there. I guess we all got carried away with the milk today. That happens to sprites sometimes. Very festive creatures, we are!”

  “That’s nice. Festive is good. So, is there any way to track my package?”

  “That case is interesting,” Miriam said. “Cascade something, right?”

  “Lorne, yes, but the package had my maiden name on it. North.”

  Miriam tapped the keys of a computer on the counter. Cas noticed that her hair and nail color matched—both were the white of egg-shells. Every few moments, the sprite narrowed her eyes or clucked her tongue and then clicked like mad at the keys again. “Yes, quite interesting. That package got lost for about. . . well, that isn’t possible.” She pecked at the keyboard again. “Hmm. I’m going to have to ask Clark, my supervisor, about this. Why don’t you two come on back with me? I’ll show you around. Just give everybody a little leeway, if you don’t mind. Most of us are feeling the effects of too much of the hard stuff right now.”

  “Of course. Thank you,” Cas said. Miriam opened a swing-out door in the middle of the counter and motioned for Cas to join her. Echo jumped down and followed the women through a large opening in the wall with long slats of heavy plastic hanging down in lieu of a door. They entered a cavernous warehouse, and Cas’ eyes and ears were assaulted with wondrous sounds and colors. The music was on full-blast.

  Packages of all sizes, shapes, and wrappings floated around the room, some putzing and others zooming at top speed. Sprites were everywhere, manning machines, pushing carts, and loading pink vans backed up to loading docks.

  “Here, you’ll need this.” Miriam handed Cas a helmet. “Watch out for flying packages.”

  Miriam slapped a hard hat over her own shock of white hair and took off into the chaos, zipping around carts and whizzing past sprites. Cas struggled with the helmet for a few seconds, but it was way too small. She set it back down, took a deep breath, and sprinted after Miriam, Echo on her heels.

  There were a couple near misses, but she made it to the other side of the warehouse to stand next to Miriam without getting a head injury or running over any workers. They were in a section of the huge room dominated by shelving, which spanned the space from floor to ceiling. Miriam chatted with a tall sprite holding a clipboard. He was still short enough for Cas to get a good view of the bald patch in the center of his powder blue hair.

  “Here she is, Clark,” Miriam said. “Bixbie delivered a package to her a few days ago that, according to the computer, has been stuck in our system for thirty-four years.”

  “Thirty-four years?” Cas and Clark both exclaimed at the same time.

  “Yes. I’m sure it can’t be right, but . . .”

  “The computers are never wrong, Miriam. You know that.” Clark rubbed his temple, and Cas realized he must have a hangover too. How could these people deal with such loud music and fast movements while hung over?

  “At least, the computers have never been wrong before. And it’s not completely unheard of for a package to be lost for a while. Remember when that Alice Caugherty woman ordered the amaranth-spotted galliwasp from Brazil and it got caught in the loop up between the third and fourth floors? It was there for six months before it finally dropped out onto its proper track. Luckily, it was a long-lived lizard and a magical one to boot, but boy, was it angry. Poor Alice had a hard time calming it down, that’s for sure.”

  Miriam giggled. “Oh yes. I remember Alice’s face when I delivered it to her. She didn’t remember ordering the poor thing and had no idea what she’d been wanting to do with it.”

  “Excuse me, please. How exactly do things work around here? I mean, once a package arrives, what happens to it?” Cas asked.

  “Oh, when we get a parcel, it’s here until it’s delivered. It’s never out of our hands and doesn’t go through a middle man. Every box, envelope, and container entrusted to us is put into a nipper and—”

  “Sorry,” Cas interrupted. “What’s that?”

  Clark spun on his heel. “Here, I’ll show ya.” He crossed to a nearby shelf, opened a box, and withdrew a diaphanous length of fabric about a foot wide. “This is a nipper. Put anything you want inside, and that baby is on lockdown. No magic is getting in or out. Watch.” Clark put the material on the concrete floor, dropped his clipboard on top of it, and jumped back.

  It was a good thing he’d moved away. The nipper exploded like an inflatable tent. The edges of the material grew ridges like pointed teeth that clamped over the clipboard like a shark swallowing a seal. For a moment, it looked like a large, swollen bladder, but then, with a hiss of air, the thing deflated to form a perfect shrink wrap around its contents.

  Clark picked it up and held it out for Cas to inspect. “See? Whatever’s inside is on magical lockdown and can’t do any mischief.” He yanked at the zig-zag seal along one side of the package, but it didn’t tear. “Nothing is getting in or out.

  “We have to do that because of the large number of magical items we handle, of course. Wouldn’t want all kinds of crazy stuff happening in here because package contents went wonky. The drivers have a special device to take the nippers off moments before delivery, and then, whatever’s in the package is free to do whatever it is that it does.”

  “I see. And my package was lost in this warehouse for thirty-four years?”

  “Almost, yes. Sorry about that. We’ll have to launch an investigation into how it occurred.” Clark rubbed his head again and then he yawned.

  “I do appreciate your time. I just have one more question. Can you tell me who sent the package?”

  Clark and Miriam both stared at Cas as though she’d sprouted a unicorn horn and started prancing around flinging fairy dust. They exchanged a quick glance, and Miriam finally answered, “No, we can’t. That’s privileged information. You could lodge a complaint and maybe eventually be able to find that out, but it won’t be easy or quick. We protect all of our clients, both those who ask us to make deliveries and those to whom we deliver things.”

  “Of course. I understand. I’ll giv
e some thought to lodging the complaint. Thank you so much for your time. Should we see ourselves out?”

  “I’ll walk you back up to the front,” Miriam said. “Clark, are you going to the Founder’s Day parade tomorrow night?”

  “Right now, all I want to do is sleep for a couple days.” In fact, Clark had flopped down on a wooden box, and his eyes were already about seventy-five percent closed. “But I suppose I’ll probably be feeling better by tomorrow night.”

  Miriam and Clark said goodbye, and the white-haired sprite took Cas and Echo back to the front door of the warehouse’s lobby. She gave them a pleasant goodbye, sat down, laid her head on the counter, and went to sleep.

  Outside again, Cas felt disappointed. “Well, that didn’t get me too far.”

  Echo scratched his ear with a back paw. “Let’s take a break and get some dinner. All this sleuthing is making me famished.”

  “Okay, where should we go?”

  Echo said he knew the perfect place, and they took the courser back downtown. It left them in an alley that smelled like a pile of long-dead fish. Cas plugged her nose and jogged out to the sidewalk.

  “So where is this place, Echo? Echo?” She looked around when she realized the cat wasn’t by her feet, but she couldn’t find him. Finally, she peered back into the alley and saw that he was on top of a garbage can, peering in. “Echo!”

  He jumped down and ran to her. “I’m so sorry. I have a hard time resisting that lovely smell.”

  Cas felt her face begin to twist at the thought of eating whatever made the horrible alley odor, and she forced it back into a pleasant expression. She reminded herself that her human sensibilities were different from cats’. Echo didn’t seem to be very sensitive, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Can we please just go into the restaurant?” she pleaded.

  “Of course. Follow me.” Echo pranced down the sidewalk and past a few storefronts before entering a door that was propped open. Cas followed him. She paused to glance at the restaurant’s sign: The Cat’s Cauldron - Affordable American Food, Casual Dress, Pets Welcome.

  Cas had assumed Echo would need to sneak in and that she’d drop food to him under her seat or something. “I’ve never seen a restaurant where pets other than service animals were allowed. Isn’t it a health code violation or something?” Cas glanced down at Echo. “Oh, I’m sorry. No offense.”

  “None taken. This is a diner for witches and their familiars. That pets welcome business is so humans don’t get suspicious if they happen to stumble into the place and see some of us here with our humans.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s nice.” They entered and were greeted with a sign that said: Seat yourself. Please clean up after your pet as necessary.

  The place had two big dining rooms, and Echo sauntered into the one on the left. He hopped onto the bench seat of a booth, and Cas slid into the opposite side. A waitress was standing at their table before Cas’ backside hit the seat. She handed Cas a menu and directed Echo’s attention to the tabletop. Under the glass were pictures of various pet-friendly dishes. She pulled out a pen and a notepad and stared at Cas with one eyebrow raised.

  “Oh. Okay. Um, what’s good here?” Cas asked. She looked up at the waitress, a girl of no more than seventeen with straight, jet-black hair that fell to her mid-back, a long, rather pointed nose, and large but narrowly set eyes. She had a milky complexion marked by acne in several spots. A ring decorated each of her fingers. The name tag pinned to her shirt read Sandy.

  “Um. Everything, I guess. I don’t know—I don’t really eat that much. The fries are good, I think. Maybe the BLT?” Sandy smacked her gum a few times and continued to look at Cas, pen poised.

  Cas smiled at the girl. “Okay, I’ll take that, then. A BLT with fries. And a chocolate milkshake.”

  “Yeah. Do you know what you want yet?” Sandy asked Echo. He lifted a delicate black paw and placed it on one of the pictures under the glass on the table. When he removed it, Cas saw that he’d chosen a pâté and sardine platter.

  “With a saucer of non-dairy milk on the side, please,” he said.

  “Sure. Your stuff will be right out.” Sandy stuck her notepad in her apron and turned on her heel.

  “Very efficient girl,” Cas murmured.

  “Did you learn anything interesting at our two stops today?” Echo asked.

  Cas thought for a minute. “Not too much at SunSprite, but the convention center was interesting.” She leaned in close and spoke as softly as she could, confident that Echo’s ears could pick up what she said. “That pixie, Sapphire, definitely has a bone to pick with Lavania. She thinks the Archsiren burned down her charms shop, and she’s pretty ticked.”

  Echo cocked his head to the side. “Interesting.”

  “And I keep thinking about that man at the Gazette. The one who was angry about his music festival permit not being approved. Bear Barns.”

  Echo nodded slightly. “Yes, he really seemed to dislike Lavania.”

  The waitress arrived back with the food, set it down, and disappeared again in a flurry of motion.

  Cas started to call the lady back to ask for ketchup but then realized she’d left a bottle right in front of her. “Wow. She’s kind of amazing.”

  “Yes, the service here is quite exceptional.” Echo dove into his pâté with vigor.

  They ate in silence for a while. Cas was hungry, and the food was great. She hadn’t had a chocolate milkshake in a long time. Splurging had been a good idea.

  The door swung open, making the overhead bell tinkle. Cas recognized Dzovag Livings as he blew into the room like a hurricane. He seemed more disheveled than when she’d seen him outside the council chamber the day before. For some reason, he still sported the same bright orange shirt and tie under the tailored blue suit, but now they were quite wrinkled. His jowls jiggled as he walked to the counter and barked at Sandy, “Order for Livings.”

  He surveyed the room with narrowed eyes while the waitress gathered his food. His gaze fell on Cas. Dzovag tossed a few bills on the counter, snatched the bag, and marched straight over to their table.

  “I saw you outside the High Court’s chamber yesterday. I don’t know who you are, but you had better not be taking up all their time with something foolish. Some people in this community have real issues, like me, and the Court is taking its sweet time approving my request. It’s ridiculous! Whatever you have going on, I’m sure it’s not nearly as important as my business. So learn how to take care of your own problems and get out of my way.”

  Cas’ mouth dropped open. Livings turned and rushed out the door before she could gather her wits. When Sandy dropped off the check, Cas still stared after Dzovag.

  “He’s an unpleasant man,” the waitress said as her eyes followed Cas’.

  “What in the world is his problem?” Cas finally found her voice.

  “He wants to build a luxury hotel by the hot springs. He says it will bring in lots of money, but of course, most of that money would come from humans. A lot of supernaturals don’t want it. Right now, we can manage the humans because we try to keep the hotels and other stuff they like around the outskirts of town. But this hotel would be smack dab in the middle of it,” Sandy explained.

  “And near the hot springs, which is a haven for many of us,” Echo added.

  “I see. Well, he sure seems adamant about getting it built.”

  “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks. I’ll take the check up for you when you’re ready.” Sandy wandered away to check on a man and his Rottweiler on the other side of the dining room.

  “Hmm. Livings and Lavania sure seemed to be angry with each other yesterday,” Cas said.

  “Yes, they were. He seemed to believe the Archsiren might stand in the way of his hotel,” Echo agreed.

  “Well, I’d say he’s suspect number three. So Sapphire, Bear, and Dzovag. Quite the motley crew of potential killers. And I have no idea how to narrow it down from here.” Cas sighed.

  Wit
hout warning, Cas had the spine-tingling feeling that she was being watched. The hairs stood up on her arms, and she scanned the room. She happened to glance out the window. And that’s when Cas spotted her: the auburn-haired lady who had been following her stood on the sidewalk, watching. But the second their eyes met, the other woman looked away and hurried off down the sidewalk.

  Cas tossed some cash on the table and sprinted out of the restaurant. She caught a glimpse of auburn hair as the mystery woman turned the corner at the end of the block.

  Cas jogged to the corner but slowed down to peek around. The woman’s footsteps were silent as she retreated down the sidewalk. She glanced over her shoulder at Cas but kept moving.

  “Wait!” Cas cried out. “Who are you?”

  But the woman said nothing and continued on. Cas followed, intent on finding out who this person was once and for all. The woman made a quick left into the fish-scented alley, and Cas followed, sure she’d be able to catch her. But the woman moved full speed forward, even though she headed toward a brick wall blocking the end of the alley.

  “Hey,” Cas called when the woman couldn’t go any further. “I just want to talk.”

  But the woman didn’t slow down when she arrived at the wall. She went through it. Just like the door to the council chamber had gone right through Denzel that morning.

  The mystery woman who’d been following Cas all over town, was a ghost.

  Chapter 12

  They decided to call it a night and went back to Cas’ house for some rest. Echo dashed off right away, headed for the guest room. Cas made a circuit through the house and checked all the windows, making sure they were shut tight. She hoped that would keep the cat safe and inside so he wouldn’t get into trouble with the council. Though Cas suspected it may be futile. If Echo wanted to break out, he would.