Nice Day for a Mage Wedding: Casino Witch Mysteries 4

by Nikki Haverstock

  Colleen turned to her. “You agree?”

  She swallowed down her mouthful of food, a visible lump going down her throat like a snake swallowing an egg. Tears sprang into the corners of her eyes from the effort, but at least she didn’t speak with her mouth full again. “Sure,” she croaked then cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m not convinced or anything, but I don’t disagree, and if Ella thinks it’s a murder, then I wouldn’t bet against her.”

  “It is good that she has a friend like you.”

  Vanessa beamed, and I tried to tamp down my own jealousy. I hadn’t received a compliment like that.

  Colleen put her cup down and faced me. “Is it the death vision that bothers you? That is what didn’t feel like murder.”

  “I’m… not sure. Something is weird, and I think that’s it, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure.” I hadn’t even realized that I felt that way until she asked, but once I thought about the question, I realized that something felt off. Even with my limited experience, the vision felt different.

  “But it isn’t weird in the same way that Edward’s vision was weird?”

  I blinked at her while my brain tried to process who Edward was in relation to the case. The change in subject had been too quick, but after a few seconds, I remembered that I had told Colleen about the problems I had with the vision of Olivia’s father’s death.

  “No headache or passing out with Ned’s vision, but…” I closed my eyes and relaxed, replaying the vision in my mind of Ned’s passing. This time I tried to pay attention to things I hadn’t paid attention to before. Was the vision distorted? Were the sensations as crisp? Did my head hurt?

  And there was something, but it was slick, like a film of oil on the surface of water. When I tried to focus on it, it slid away. The edges of the vision seemed to have flickers of black, like shadows, but when I turned my head, they raced away. I couldn’t nail down what was going on before the vision ended.

  “I think I need to compare it with Edward’s vision.” I closed my eyes again and took a few extra breaths. I didn’t want to relive the vision or the crippling headache, but knowing that something was off with Ned’s vision really left me no option but to plunge in.

  Edward’s vision started, but rather than focusing on the things I had before, I tried to pay attention to the same things I had in Ned’s vision. A headache was already starting, digging in behind my eyes and starting to spread across my forehead. But there it was, the wrongness that I had found in Ned’s vision. Different but the same.

  I would have missed it with the headache squeezing my head like it was in a vise, but once I was sure, I stopped the vision. Opening my eyes, I listed a bit on the couch and swallowed away a wave of nausea. It wasn’t as bad as it normally got when I watched the whole vision, but it was enough to ruin my morning.

  I placed a hand over my mouth in case I got sick, but I nodded to Colleen. In a tight voice, I spoke. “Yes, Edward’s vision had the same thing. I never noticed before. Ugh, I feel awful.”

  Vanessa hopped up and dug the rune out of her purse. “Oh, I can help.”

  The subtle working of Vanessa’s magic filled the air around me, sweet and sugary. Even the aura flipped my stomach, and I dry heaved a few times until the spell grabbed hold through the rune and the sickness slid away. She was getting better and faster at the magic.

  The headache receded behind my eyes until I felt well. Exhausted and hungry but much better physically.

  I opened my eyes. I grabbed Vanessa’s arm and squeezed twice in a physical “Thank you.” With my other hand, I snatched a doughnut from the tray and jammed it into my mouth with a sigh.

  Colleen watched the exchange then held out a hand to Vanessa. “May I see the rune?”

  Vanessa passed the rune over. “Granner made it for us. One of us is always getting hurt, and she thought this would help.”

  For the first time, I could sense Colleen’s aura as she explored the rune with her fingers and magic. It was both tough and tender, sandalwood and orchids. The aura should have been at odds with itself but instead felt perfectly balanced, as though it was stronger for being a mix of opposites. Much like her personality, I was learning.

  When she was done, she returned it to Vanessa. “It is very well made. I would expect no less from Granner Santini, but be careful. Runes are very powerful, and that amount of power can have strange results. Is it just for nausea?”

  “Healing in general. Either me for Ella or Ella for me.”

  Colleen nodded, and though she didn’t repeat her warning, it still hung heavy in the air.

  Before realizing it, I ran my hand over the bracelet at my wrist. What risk was I running, allowing Thomas, a man I knew so little about, to permanently attach a spell to my wrist? I had been unwilling to give it more thought, but wasn’t it basically a rune that connected us?

  I should have asked then and there, but I didn’t want to admit the risk I was taking. Plus, weren’t there more important things at hand? “If Ned’s and Edward’s visions were altered in the same way, does that mean the deaths are connected?” I took another bite and chewed more slowly this time.

  Colleen tipped her head in thought. “Or two people using the same spell or the same person but the deaths are for different reasons, but honestly… they are probably related. I spoke to a friend yesterday, and she said that she didn’t even know if a death vision could be altered, but if it could, then it would be both very costly magicwise and likely that only a select few people could do it. If a bunch of zebras suddenly ran by, we would assume they all came from the same place rather than several unconnected zebra happening to pass at the same time.”

  I chuckled at the imagery. “Who is your friend?”

  “That… is not important, but this is.” Colleen dug into her purse and pulled out a small vial. “My friend and I put this together. Death visions are primal magic, an imprint on earth of the eternal, and as such, they are difficult to corrupt. This should clear your vision.”

  I accepted the potion and felt the magic vibrating inside. “Both visions?”

  “Just one. And I’m not sure it will even work, but if it does, it should be easy. Pull up one of the visions, and as it plays, take the potion. It should strip away any magic that was used to alter the vision. Why don’t you start with the more recent vision, and if it works, then I will make you a second potion?”

  Everyone watched me like I was a circus animal ready to perform. Even Patagonia watched me with teal eyes though her attention was centered on the doughnut fragment that I was still clutching between two fingers.

  I uncorked the potion, taking a sniff. The smell inside reminded me of mushrooms, and the aura of magic was Colleen’s mixed with an unknown magic worker. The unknown aura reminded me of smoke, not the stale, musty scent of a hotel bar but rather pipe smoke. It was woody and elusive, something I could imagine from an old wizard in a library, surrounded by leather books containing centuries of knowledge. I would need to keep an eye out for the mage that matched the aura.

  Patagonia crawled into my lap, and I held the vial near my mouth as I prepared for the vision of Ned’s death. As it began to play out, I took the potion. The sensation of drinking felt as though it was happening at a great distance or in someone else’s body, as I was deeply immersed in Ned’s final moments.

  Then the world in my mind started to shred. Images, emotions, and details peeled away and revealed a vision that was similar but different.

  No longer was Ned calmly drinking from a mug at a desk. Instead he was pacing the room, ranting into a phone, his emotions a mix of anger and unmitigated terror. He was storming around his office, making it more of a mess than it was already. Grabbing stacks of files, he threw them in a box then stopped to rant around the room.

  “After all this! Now they want to hang me out to dry. Well, no one pulls the wool over my eyes.” He jabbed a finger into his chest for emphasis. He stormed around the room, moving a few more files, grumbling under his br
eath then pulling a large book out onto the desk. It was similar to the book I had seen where he kept the financial records but different. The cover was a dark maroon.

  He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and poured a generous slug of it into his mug then picked up the phone and dialed a number.

  He was smugly satisfied as he spoke roughly to a voice on the other end of the line. “You need to get over here now and help me with the books.”

  There was a long pause as the other person spoke. Ned grabbed the mug and took a long drink. “Well, I have news for you. Those books were cooked. They’re fakes, and your handwriting is all over them… it doesn’t matter. When it comes out, I will gladly point to you as my accomplice… you’re writing is all over these books, and the rent you are paying is way lower than anyone else’s in the building. You are going to look guilty as sin and—”

  He cut himself off in a fit of coughs, pounding a fist on his chest as his face slowly turned red. That was when I noticed the aura of magic in the room. It must have been building for a while, but I hadn’t noticed. It was muffled somehow, like looking through a hazy window or listening for a sound with a buzzer going off. I strained to pick it up, but something was blocking it. I couldn’t clearly sense the aura, but whatever it was had an edge of offness about it. Something unpleasant. Whenever I felt that I might have nailed down the aura, it seemed to shift, and I was sure I was wrong.

  Ned dropped the phone, gasping and gurgling until the noise stopped completely. He thrashed at his desk, knocking items everywhere, but only briefly before he stilled completely in the chair. His eyes stared straight ahead, his face purple.

  A thin, tinny voice came through the receiver, but I couldn’t make out the words. The vision faded, and I shuddered hard. That was more like what I had come to expect. The rush of fear when he knew he was dying tightened my throat, and once more I felt sick.

  Opening my eyes, I nodded, trying to convey the message that the potion had worked. I tried to speak, but the words couldn’t make it out.

  Bear kneeled next to me, handing me a bottle of water, the lid already removed. He patted my back. “There, there. Take your time, Ella.”

  Patagonia nuzzled my neck as I brought the water to my mouth with a shaky hand. After a few sips, mostly getting the water into my mouth, I was able to speak. “Definitely not an accident. There was magic at work, but I can’t tell you what. And he was definitely involved in something illegal. I know what to look for: an extra set of accounting books and an unknown and unknowing accomplice. This person didn’t realize that things weren’t on the up and up.”

  Colleen nodded. “I am glad it worked. I will get another dose for Edward’s vision, but perhaps you should wait awhile before you take it?”

  I shook my head. “I will take it whenever it is ready.” I paused, surprised by how sure I was that I was willing to push on through the discomfort to find the truth. I had fallen into all this, the visions, the murders, even the whole magical ball of wax. But somewhere along the way, I had come to find meaning and satisfaction in the work. It felt good to realize that. I smiled wryly. “I mean, that is why I chose to be a Monza, right? To right the wrongs?”

  For once, Colleen looked unsure then checked her watch and stood. “I must get going. I need to meet with a few other people.”

  “When can we… talk more about… stuff?” I felt as awkward as if I were trying to ask her on a date. I wanted, no, I needed to know if she was thinking of taking me on as an apprentice.

  “Tomorrow morning,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll arrange a time.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After Colleen and Bear left, Vanessa and I destroyed a lasagna we baked. Nothing was left in the metal foil container by the time we were done, and I finally felt steady enough for us to return to the mini mall.

  Their parking lot was fuller than I had previously seen, from a battered old minivan to a fancy black town car with blacked-out windows. Apparently, everyone in town wanted to go shopping.

  After I parked my car and triple-checked that all my windows were fully up, we walked to the martial arts studio. But as we got closer, we slowed down. The doors were locked, the lights off, and a large Closed sign hung in the window. It didn’t appear to be a normal closure, as a small crowd of women stood around in yoga pants and carried mats.

  I had hoped to talk to Mary Anno, the confused seer. She had said she had information for me, and it would have been a lot more convenient if she just told me who the killer was, and while she was at it, she could tell me if the same person killed Edward and perhaps killed my father. And why I couldn’t remember my mother. And if she was dead or alive. I sure had a lot of unanswered questions in my life.

  “What’s up? The studio’s not open?” I addressed the general group though I focused on a few of the ladies who I recognized from the first time we had come to the studio.

  A blond woman with short hair, big round eyes, and arms that could do some damage looked up from her phone. “You work for the management, right? Are you Ella? This was pinned to the door. Open it, and tell us what it says.”

  I took the envelope from her and found myself opening it before I even realized it. She didn’t appear to be a mage. She was just good old-fashioned used to being in charge. The other women crowded around, hoping to find some answers to their questions.

  I scanned the letter and repeated what I felt was relevant to them. “It appears there’s been a family emergency and they needed to leave for a few months, but they prepaid their rent on the space, so they are definitely planning on coming back.”

  The crowd murmured disapprovingly but started to head toward their cars, no longer interested in me.

  Vanessa came to read over my shoulder. “Is that all it says?”

  I passed her the note to read. “No, the second half is for me. Let’s go to the office and find the books I’m looking for.”

  Vanessa trailed along behind me, reading the note before trotting to catch up. “I don’t get it.”

  “Neither do I.” Irritation tightened my voice. Why couldn’t Mary have waited to talk to me in person so I could ask questions?

  Vanessa started reading the note aloud. “‘I’m pretty sure I remember what I was going to tell you. I think the Taj Mahal is a good example for you. How he started with a focus but got distracted by the job. I know that will help you with your problem.’”

  “Clear as mud.”

  “So is that the answer to who killed Ned?”

  I unlocked the door and flipped on the light. “I have no idea. I don’t even know the story of the Taj Mahal.” I crawled under the desk to see if the second set of books was hidden there.

  Vanessa closed the door behind her and, opening up a file cabinet, thumbed through the folders. “What does the second set of books look like?”

  I crawled out from under the desk and grabbed the one with the tan cover that he had kept out. “Just like this but with a maroon cover.”

  “And the purpose is…?”

  I tapped the tan cover. “This is the set that he would show the property owner’s accountant. It should show what they are expecting to see. Then he would have a separate set for his own use that showed what was really going on.”

  “But if this set”—she gestured to the book out on the desk—“is balanced, then how can he steal any money?”

  “Oh, there are a million ways, and every crook seems to have their own slant.” I was nerding out on accounting, my first passion before I found I could work magic, but I would always have a soft spot in my heart for auditing. “So maybe he writes in that expenses are really higher than they are, and he grabs the difference. Or he tells the tenants that rent has gone up but enters the old amount, then writes fake reimbursement checks that he cashes himself. Oh man, there are just so many ways.”

  I started to get excited. Once we found the maroon set of books from my vision, I could compare them and see what kind of scam he was runni
ng. This could blow the case wide open. That would prove to Colleen that I knew what I was doing and would be the perfect apprentice. I spotted the rent check I had gotten from Linda Harris. Grabbing it, I flipped open the book to where he had been recording rents.

  I looked at the amount on the check then did a double take. “This is for one hundred and fifty dollars. That can’t be right. I mean, this isn’t the nicest place, but surely rent must be more than that.”

  “Some of the rooms in the hotel are more than that a night. You must be reading it wrong.” She came around to look at the check herself. “Huh, that’s weird. Maybe it’s just part of the rent.”

  I pointed to the memo line. “October rent in full.” I found the page in the book. “That’s even weirder. He recorded that she paid eight hundred dollars in rent.” I flipped through the book, double- and triple-checking. “Looks like everyone’s rent is eight hundred dollars. Then why is her check for one fifty?”

  I got a tingling in the back of my brain. Something was off. I recognized the feeling from my time auditing. I was hot on the track of something, but what?

  “Maybe she had a deal going with him. Maybe he paid the balance of the rent if she… you know.” She waggled her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner.

  “Something is off, but he’s dead, and I came to her to get a replacement check. Wouldn’t she give me the correct amount? I need to see if there are any other checks around for rent to compare—oh!”

  I found the pages for the rent for the commercial spaces and found the amount being paid. “Remember when we talked to Ellen, she said they signed up because he gave them such a great deal? Three hundred bucks? Look!” I jabbed my finger at a box with a handwritten number inside.

  “Nine hundred dollars. So this is great news. You thought he was keeping two sets of books, and this proves it, right?”

  I screwed up my mouth. “Yes, but… this is backward. Normally he would record a lower amount, not higher. How is he making up the difference between what people are paying and what he is giving to the property managers? And why?”