Pawsitively Cursed

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  They nodded.

  “Okay, at the end of shift, Willow can glamour me to look like a customer and I can stroll on out of here with the others. Then, once the Quirky Whisker is closed for the night, what if you two use your magic to lure him to the shop. Maybe a ton of healing spells? You two can talk to him while keeping the wards up—maybe using that box of cats again? Oh, what if we magic them to look like Valentine’s cats rather than Christmas ones so he’s not suspicious about why they’re out again? Once he’s here, Willow can text me that he’s preoccupied, and I’ll book it to Edgar’s house.”

  “I tried calling him all day and the phone just rings and rings …” Willow said. “I even sent him a really cryptic letter! I bought stamps and everything.”

  “I’ve tried quite a few times on my cell too,” Aunt Gretchen said. “Nothing.”

  Amber hoped he was just ignoring them and not that Kieran had already paid the poor man a visit. “Any objections to the plan?”

  “I would just like to state for the record,” Willow said, “that I think it’s highly suspicious Aunt Gretchen’s plan looks a lot like a ploy to get herself out of dealing with the exhausting tourists.”

  “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Aunt Gretchen grinned. “And now I can catch up on my soaps.”

  Amber laughed.

  The following day, during her lunch break—which was sorely needed without Aunt Gretchen helping them in the shop—Amber called Jack.

  He answered almost immediately. “Hey, Amber! How are you doing? Any better? Was it a concussion?”

  A concussion? Then she remembered the fashion show and Fake Olaf and her tumble over a set of chairs.

  “A minor one, yeah,” she said. “But I feel a lot better. Trying to rest as much as I can.”

  “Good, good,” he said. “Cool, cool.”

  “So … about that rain check. How do you feel about an early dinner tomorrow?”

  “I would love that,” Jack said.

  Amber felt a little guilty that she was using Jack as a way to be out of the studio tomorrow night, but she really did want to see him. She felt awful for running out on him the night of the fashion show without saying much. But it had been a … very weird night. The last she’d heard, the chief and the mayor were calling it a freak insect attack. Within hours of Kieran’s assault, the starburst marks on people had gone from a black scorch with tendrils of black snaking out of them, to large red welts surrounded by fairly significant bruising.

  Amber wondered if Kieran was behind that, or if that had been a natural progression of the marks’ healing when only a “half dose” of magic was used. The starburst marks would have been much harder to explain away. No video—not even from cell phones—from the chaotic night had been aired or shown up online, though the Channel 4 news team had brought up the fashion show often. Amber wondered if Kieran had something to do with the lack of footage too.

  The Edgehill Community Center had been closed since the evening of the “infestation” and an intense round of fumigation had started yesterday.

  Amber was sure it was only a matter of time before the question of “Where were you the night of the exotic insect attack?” became part of Edgehill’s commonly discussed history.

  Amber and Jack settled on Mews and Brews. Knocking back a couple of Cat Scratch beers before her attempt to get the Henbane grimoire from Edgar sounded not only enjoyable, but vital. After she, her sister, and her aunt had come up with their plan, Amber had been unable to sleep.

  When she got off the phone with a very jazzed-sounding Jack, she yawned deeply, then made herself yet another cup of green tea.

  Amber was lucky Willow was as skilled with illusion spells as she was, because she was able to stroll out of the shop at six without anyone being the wiser. The number of things that could go wrong with their overall plan seemed too numerous to count, so Amber did her best not to think about them. She needed to focus on her part of it: wait for Willow’s text, then haul tail to her cousin’s house and hope he let her in.

  In the meantime, she would enjoy her time with Jack.

  Mews and Brews was a ten-minute walk from the Quirky Whisker. She tried to enjoy the stroll.

  Last night, Amber had rushed an “ill” Aunt Gretchen to the doctor. Willow had met them there a couple of hours later. When they left, Willow had helped both her aunt and a tearful Amber into her car, leaving Amber’s in the hospital’s parking lot overnight. Amber had been impressed with her own acting skills and hoped Kieran had been watching in smug satisfaction that he’d indirectly made Aunt Gretchen so ill, and not in suspicion that the Blackwood women were up to something.

  The restaurant was half cozy sit-down, and half bar—the two separated by a glass wall. They had both the best burgers and best beer in town. Amber walked into the sit-down section, then asked the girl at the maître d’ podium if she could use the restroom. The front entrance was so crowded with people, the waitress hardly glanced her way as she pointed out the direction of the bathroom.

  Amber slipped inside, grateful only one of the two stalls was currently occupied. She pretended to take care of business, then stood in front of one of the sinks, pretending to look for something in her purse. She’d caught a brief glimpse of herself in the mirror and had been fully creeped out that the face looking back at her wasn’t her own, so she kept her gaze averted. She’d seen enough, though, to know the illusion Willow had put on her was fading. The false face had blue eyes when Amber left the Quirky Whisker, but now they were back to her usual brown. The ends of her falsely blond hair were turning brown too.

  The woman in the stall finally came out and washed her hands. Then she touched up her lipstick. And fluffed her hair.

  Meanwhile, the beauty spot on Amber’s right cheekbone had just vanished.

  Get out, lady! Get out!

  The woman must have sensed Amber staring at her, because she glanced over then. Amber tried to smile at her, but it was more like a grimace.

  The woman offered her own fake smile, threw the paper towel she’d been holding into the trash and said, “Have a nice night” before sauntering out.

  When the door finally closed, Amber flipped the lock on the inside of the door. No sooner had she done so, someone tried to get in.

  Hurrying back to the sink, Amber turned on the tap. Willow had told her that the best way to knock an illusion loose was a shock to the system. Amber let water pool in her cupped hands, then cast a quick incantation to turn the water ice cold. Aside from sleep spells, the ability to drastically alter the temperature of water had been a favorite pastime when Amber and Willow were kids. Especially when one sister was taking a shower and the other was annoyed that her favorite shoes were missing.

  Amber splashed two handfuls of freezing cold water on her face now, wincing and cursing as she did. Goosebumps broke out on her arms. When she glanced in the mirror, her face was back. How had Neil spent years wearing someone else’s face?

  A fist pounded on the door.

  Amber hurried over to unlock it. “I’m so sorry! I must have locked it on instinct.”

  It was the same lady who had been in the bathroom with her a minute ago. She did a double take. “I … uh … think I left my phone in here.”

  Amber stepped aside as if she were granting someone entrance to her home. This lady must have thought she was more than a little screwy.

  As the woman crept past her and into the stall she’d been in earlier, Amber dabbed her face with paper towels. Thanks to another of Willow’s no-smudge spells, Amber’s makeup hadn’t been affected by the ice bath.

  Phone in hand, the woman came back into view behind Amber. “I heard you lock the door the second I left. There was another woman in here, wasn’t there?”

  Amber shrugged. “Nope, just me.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed. “Hmm.” Then she left without another word.

  Shaking the encounter off, she fished her phone out of her bag. Jack had sent her text a minute ago, an
d said he was on the restaurant side at a table.

  Amber found him poring over the menu when she slipped into the chair across from him.

  He started. “Oh, hey.”

  “Hey.” She pulled her cell out of her purse and placed it on the table. She tapped the screen so she could quickly see if she’d received any text notifications between leaving the restroom and arriving at the table. An unobstructed picture of a sleeping Tom and Alley filled the screen.

  When she looked up and he smiled at her like she was the greatest thing he’d ever seen—and not like a witch who confused innocent people in bathrooms—her stomach gave a little flip. She had no time for stomach flips tonight, so she quickly snatched up her menu to give herself something else to focus on.

  Nearly everything on the Mews and Brews’ menu was both cat and movie-themed. Much of the artwork on the walls were posters from classic movies but starring cats. They were all hand drawn by the owner’s son.

  Amber ordered the Catsablanca burger, which was smothered in white cheddar cheese, and Jack decided on the Merry Pawpins. His could also be called “everything but the kitchen sink,” because nearly every burger fixing one could think of was on that thing.

  “Ambitious,” Amber said.

  He grinned at her.

  She really wanted a Cat Scratch beer or seven, but if she was going to have to bolt out of here in a hurry, she supposed she’d need all her faculties in order.

  While they discussed the various odds and ends of their day—mostly seeing who could top who in Today’s Most Annoying Customer category—Amber knew it was only a matter of time before he asked her about her head injury and what she thought had happened during the fashion show. It found its way into most people’s conversations one way or another.

  It took him until they were halfway through their dinner for him to broach the subject. “So how are you feeling? You know … with the whole …” He gestured vaguely at his skull.

  “Better. I think most of it was the shock of the fall. It happened so quickly.”

  He paused for a moment, then took a long sip of water. “Were you … did you see someone there you knew? I mean—” He chewed his lip. “It seemed like everyone was trying to run out of the auditorium, yet you were running toward something. Or someone. And then I could have sworn I heard the chief ask ‘Where is he?’”

  Crap. Jack was more observant than she gave him credit for. Stalling for an answer, she quickly tapped her phone screen. Still no messages.

  He must have taken her phone-check as a sign that she was uncomfortable with his line of questioning, because he said, “I’m not trying to be nosy or anything.” He scratched the back of his neck, then leaned toward her a bit, looking more conspiratorial than suspicious. “It’s just that the insect story is a little weird, isn’t it? No one heard buzzing. No one saw anything flying around. I hear a lot of gossip at Purrcolate and no one is really buying the crap the chief and the mayor are dishing out.”

  Amber’s heart rate ticked up from a slow stroll to a light jog. Was he merely curious or was he accusing her of something?

  “Connor Declan said he’s been interviewing a lot of the staff about that night and none of them buy the insect story either.”

  “I didn’t know you and Connor were friends.”

  “We’re not. Not really … he just stopped by Purrcolate to ask me some questions since we provided the refreshments. Wanted to know if I’d noticed anything weird that day.”

  She tapped her phone again. It felt like a nervous tic now. A tic that likely made her look both rude and potentially flighty.

  But then her paranoid mind started to whir. What if Willow hadn’t texted yet because they’d been unable to get Kieran to show up? What if the man sitting in front of her asking all these questions was Kieran?

  After mentally uttering the truth spell, she asked, “What do you think happened during the attack at the fashion show, Jack Terrence?”

  Robotically, he said, “I don’t know. But I think you and the chief know more than you’re letting on.”

  Amber’s magic retreated.

  Jack’s face flushed bright red. “Oh man. I didn’t mean to actually say that. I don’t think you’re guilty of anything. The whole thing just seems strange and I could have sworn the chief hated you a month ago and then this incredibly strange thing happens and you both seem to know what’s going on when no one else does and—”

  “Jack,” she said, and he quickly shut his mouth. She could work with this. She just needed to soothe his anxiety. She realized she truly did like Jack; she wasn’t ready to scare him off yet. “You know how that maid, Wilma, was killed at the Manx?”

  He nodded, brows creased, clearly unsure of why the conversation was now headed in this direction.

  “The chief and I both think whoever did it had meant to harm my aunt, but Wilma was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My aunt mentioned an odd man loitering in the hallways at the Manx, so we’ve been keeping an eye out for him based on my aunt’s description of him. I thought I saw him at the fashion show. It was totally unrelated to the attack there; an unfortunate coincidence that I spotted him during the chaos. I saw the guy and just took off running. I wasn’t really thinking it through.”

  Jack winced, frowning slightly. It looked like he was currently mentally kicking himself in the butt. “I’m such a jerk.”

  “No, not at all,” she said. “I totally get why you thought it was all related. And it was such a weird night.”

  “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” His face flamed again. “Was it the guy, by the way? The one who attacked Wilma?”

  Amber shook her head. “Wasn’t him.”

  She wondered where Kieran was now. She tapped her phone.

  “Does the chief really think the guy is still in town?”

  “Hard to say.” She focused on Jack again, willing herself to keep her hands away from her phone screen. “But as long as my aunt is in town, there’s reason to believe he might still come after her. The chief says we can’t be too careful.”

  Jack nodded absently at that. “Any idea why someone would want to hurt her?”

  “Nope. Which makes it even scarier.”

  Their food arrived and Amber was grateful for the momentary distraction. Mostly because she felt terrible about lying to Jack, but it was better this way, wasn’t it? If she kept him in the dark, the truth couldn’t hurt either one of them.

  But she wasn’t sure she even believed herself anymore.

  Jack had somehow managed to plow through his Merry Pawpins without covering the front of his shirt in sauce. Once the waitress had cleared their plates and brought them a dessert menu, Jack reached a hand across the table, palm up. She placed a hand in his. “I’m sorry this turned into an interrogation. I was just worried.”

  “I know,” she said. “I appreciate it. You’re very sweet.”

  He smiled at that. “Speaking of sweet. I believe you still owe me a raincheck on dessert. Have you ever had the Sundae Meowtain?”

  “I have not.”

  “There’s an option to add a tuxedo or brindle brownie. I suggest the brindle—chocolate and caramel.”

  “Sold!”

  After finishing the decidedly delicious Brindle Brownie Sundae Meowtain, they left the restaurant. Amber’s nerves were starting to get to her, worried something had gone wrong back at the shop.

  Be patient.

  “Where are you parked?” he asked as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, each with their hands stuffed into the pockets of their zipped-up jackets.

  “My car’s actually still in the lot at the hospital.”

  He quirked a brow at her.

  “My aunt got sick last night, so I had to rush her over there. She’s fine,” she added quickly when she noticed Jack’s stricken expression. “Turned out just to be a bad stomach bug.”

  “It’s too cold for you to walk back to your place,” he said. “I’ll drive you over to get your car.”
<
br />   “That would be great.”

  The smile he angled at her made her stomach twist even further with guilt.

  The car ride from Mews and Brews to Edgehill General took about fifteen minutes. She’d only checked her phone twice in that time span, which she thought was commendable.

  That was, until Jack said as they idled at a light a block away from the hospital, “Is everything okay? You expecting an important call? From the doctor, maybe?”

  Amber realized then it had actually been three times in fifteen minutes and she dropped her phone into her purse as she mentally chastised herself for being the world’s rudest date. “The chief said he might have a lead on Wilma’s attacker. He said he’d call if he heard anything.”

  Lies upon lies upon lies.

  Making things up on the spot was growing easier for her. This was why she stayed locked away in her shop and studio. It was easier to have secrets when you didn’t have anyone to keep them from.

  Amber directed him to where her car still sat. He put the car in park, and turned slightly to face her. “So I was wondering if—”

  Amber’s phone buzzed loudly twice in rapid succession. She flinched. “Sorry!” Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out her cell.

  He’s here.

  Go.

  “Oh crap.”

  “You okay?”

  “I … uhh …” Amber swallowed. “Yeah. Yes, I’m good. Sorry, but I need to go. It’s my … it’s my aunt again.”

  Amber’s hands shook as she scrambled for the door handle to let herself out.

  Jack was there seconds later, staring at her with confusion and worry lining his forehead.

  “I had a great time,” she told him. “Sorry I’ve been so distracted. Just family stuff, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Of course. I hope she’s all right.”

  She gave him a quick hug goodbye, then unlocked her car. “I’m sure she will be.”

  Her phone buzzed again and she winced. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Have a good night, Jack.”

  Seconds later, she zipped out of the parking lot.