Spell Maven Mysteries- The Complete Series

by J L Collins

  I stretched my arms out overhead, groaning as the crick in my neck tightened. “I forgot how involved all of this is.”

  “Night of warmth, night so clear… Let us hold to all we hold dear!” a warbling voice sang from the gramophone in the corner of the room, hitting several high notes before Aunt Ginny rapped on the horn of it. The record skipped a few beats and the singer’s voice carried on, sounding a little worse for the wear.

  “We really ought to invest in a new one of these,” Aunt Ginny sighed, dusting one of the dozens of small snow globes she’d placed around the room. “But we rarely listen to it except during the holidays.”

  I half expected Uncle Gardner to poke his head around the corner and remark on how fruitless it was to spend money on unnecessary things. But who knew when he’d grace us with his presence? He was off destroying the Dark Market root and stem with the other Shadow Hands and even plenty of the civic MARC officers, while I was here. Stuck. Waiting for information. I was honestly surprised Tristan wasn’t down here pacing back and forth with me. Especially since his freedom from house arrest was on the line here.

  But then again, maybe the alone time with Brennrie was enough of a distraction for him. Ick.

  Aunt Bee directed a line of white pillar candles toward the mantlepiece. They hovered, lit, in intervals over it, casting light and throwing shadows on the dark pine needles and pinecones.

  A lot of the decorating and getting ready for the holidays was lost on me, raising Fiona-Leigh in the Human Realm. After all, standing in line for an hour so your whiny kid could see Mall Santa wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. Seeing everyone crowding around the mantlepiece and helping to get everything prepared for tomorrow night was kind of nice.

  Fiona-Leigh took a seat on the floor by Ciara, Reaghan’s oldest daughter, and peered over her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  Ciara laughed. “The Gala-Sponsored Winter catalog! It’s full of practically anything you could ask for.” She tapped several different images on the pages of the catalog, some of them staying static and in place while others glowed around the edges. “I’ve barely had time to pick out my presents, I’ve been so busy.”

  Fiona-Leigh frowned. “You just… pick out your presents? Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know… lame?”

  Ciara pursed her lips. “Hardly. How is getting exactly what I want, lame?”

  Fiona-Leigh looked up at me, silently begging me with her eyes to rescue her from her cousin’s spoiled ignorance. But if I had to deal with it from Reaghan, I didn’t see what I could do to help her chances any. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and all that.

  “Where did you want these?” I asked Aunt Ginny, pointing to the red and green taper candles lying in an old wooden box.

  She tapped her finger to her chin, scanning the room with a scrutinizing eye. “I think the ceiling would be best, lass.”

  Fiona-Leigh looked up at the high-pitched ceiling above us, one eyebrow arched. “Um. Isn’t that like a fire hazard or something? What about all the wax?”

  I slipped my wand from my back pocket and gave it a wave over the box of candles. “Float along, one after the other. Near the ceiling, spiral hover.”

  They floated one by one, red then green, circling high above my head, creating a spiral of sorts spreading out from corner to corner.

  I sent a shower of sparks upward and the wicks all caught alight, flickering before every one of them became a solid yellow flame. A small prick of guilt stung at my chest as I realized how much I wished Sully could see this place. After all the fuss he had put up about us not doing much decorating, he would have been amazed. But I pushed back against the thought—I wasn’t here to wallow.

  I beamed at Fiona-Leigh whose mouth was slack as she stared at my work and I took a small bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

  No one else got the reference of course, but she just laughed, shaking her head. “Nice. And I suppose the wax probably just disappears into thin air or something?”

  “Nope. These are eternal candles, just like the white ones. We’ve had them for what… always?” I turned to the aunts.

  “At least a couple hundred years, dear,” Aunt Bee murmured, working on a cross stitch. She pulled the last thread through and chewed on her bottom lip, frowning. “Oh, that’s not right at all.”

  Aunt Ginny looked over at Aunt Bee’s handiwork, pointing to something. “This, right here. You put a quarter stitch there. Your pattern needs a three-quarter stitch.”

  “How come the two of you never taught us embroidery?” Erie piped up as she walked into the room carrying a small platter of some freshly baked shortbread. I could smell it from across the room and my gosh, did it smell delicious.

  She chuckled and placed the platter down on a table where nearly everyone in the room was rushing toward. “Sure. I guess you can have some, too.”

  “You children are like a pack of wild warthogs! Careful, Gwennie-Bee. They might mistake your fingers for biscuits and bite them right off!” Aunt Bee said sitting back, her glasses low on her beaky nose.

  Sure enough, by the time the kids and Aunt Ginny had taken their fair share, the platter was covered in only crumbs. Erie groaned.

  “It’s fine. Not like I wanted any or anything,” I mumbled. Not like I hadn’t had any of Erie’s holiday desserts in fifteen years or anything…

  “Sorry,” Fiona-Leigh mumbled, quickly covering up her mouth as crumbs spilled out. She swallowed. “These are really good though, Erie.”

  “That’s right, just rub it in. It looks like we may need to go make another batch,” I said, turning to Erie.

  Everyone seemed to freeze. The mere mention of me making food in a kitchen was enough to frighten anyone, so I guess they had a point.

  “Oh, shut up. We all know I mean she’s going to do the baking and I’m going to be there for moral support.” And to do the gossiping of course. Erie was still a little bummed out because of what happened with the Sylphs in her care, so I was willing to talk her head off if it helped any.

  The front door banged open and Uncle Gardner came walking briskly into the parlor. “Evening everyone,” he mumbled, quickly crossing the room. It was the first time any of us had seen his face in two days. I stood up straight as if I were awaiting a brief from him or something. Gah. Even years later it was hard to break some of my old Shadow Hands habits.

  “Gardner. Darling? What are you doing coming home at this hour?” Aunt Ginny frowned. “The raids?”

  This seemed to shake him out of whatever he was knee-deep in. He glanced around to meet her gaze. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. The raids. We… it’s just been…” He let out a weird half-deranged laugh before stiffly walking around in a circle and collapsing on a chaise lounge not far from Aunt Ginny. “It’s been chaos. But we did it. We bloody well did it!”

  I for one, had only seen him this excited and relieved one time. And that was when I graduated from my Shadow Hands training at the academy. “The raids… on the Dark Market?”

  He nodded, clapping his hand to his forehead. “It’s done. We successfully raided the top members of that infernal place, with freshly inked warrants for their arrests. It went as well as we had hoped—no injuries, and only a few of us had to use force. We did run into a couple of members now on the run and who we will classify as fugitives once I get the proper paperwork in place, of course…” He was rushing through his sentences fast as lightning. With a sip from whatever drink Aunt Bee had summoned for him, he took a moment for a deep breath and sighed. “I must say, it feels good. Damn good.”

  My mouth hung open. All this time of patiently waiting, hoping that everything was in the right place for them to pull off this massive sting operation… and now it was done. It honestly didn’t even feel real to me. Maybe because I had nothing to do with it…

  I paused for a moment, replaying what he’d said over again in my mind. “Fugitives? How did they know ahead of time?”

  He shrugged. “So
mething we’ll have to look into. But for now, we’ve divided up teams. The MARC’s civil officers will handle plenty of it from here as they’re the most experienced with the process after we seize the criminals. But I have a smaller team I’m personally heading to search for the missing detainees.”

  I didn’t like the way this so casually rolled out of his mouth. “And who are these missing detainees? Anyone important?” The truth was, they were all important—that’s why they were the ones the MARC were so focused on. But I had a sinking feeling I knew where this was going…

  Uncle Gardner sat up with his elbows on his knees and his hands running through his closely cropped hair. “There were only three missing from their homes when we raided them. Shinto, the Djinn that specialized in trafficking illegal alchemy materials into the Dark Market. The Vampire, Mordred. He’s Enoch’s cousin who was also vying for the coveted position of Overseer of the Dark Market.”

  Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it…

  “And, unfortunately, the new supposed Overseer as well. Delaney Drakar. She, despite her position within the Dark Market, is a slippery situation already. Without her being there for us to collect and interrogate, we couldn’t search her home.”

  My cheeks burned. “Seriously? Shouldn’t she be like, suspect number one here? If she’s so slippery and hard to get ahold of, why weren’t there more obstacles in place for her to go into hiding like that?”

  Everyone else around us got really quiet, and Aunt Bee gave me a warning look. But I didn’t care. This wasn’t a joke—Delaney Drakar was a nasty person at best, and a renowned criminal who seemed to get away with more and more each time, at worst. I tended to think she fell under both camps.

  Uncle Gardner stood up slowly, his eyes like steel. “Are you saying that the raid was not successful? Even after I’ve just told you it was?”

  I sighed. How could he not see? “I understand that, sir. And it was successful, to some degree. But I would think capturing the Overseer of the Dark Market would be the biggest goal here. At least to question her if not arrest her and raid her property. I’m just concerned that with her family being such prominent leaders in the—”

  “Your concern is not needed, I assure you. We are hard at work on locating her. We understand what’s at stake here, whether you believe that or not.”

  It was very clear this conversation was over, as he looked me over one last time and walked back out the way he came in. My shoulders slumped. It took too long for everyone to start talking again, and I felt like all eyes were still on me as I got up too, wondering whether I should just go to bed early or not.

  Aunt Bedelia made her way over to me while I hesitated by the entryway. “You should really give your uncle a break, dear. He has been working so hard on this.”

  I swallowed, the guilt kicking in hard. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything. What they did is fantastic news. Really.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m just worried. And I have a million things running through my mind. I mean, what if she has something to do with the other case—the death of the Dwarf? It was so odd that his life-force was drained from him. Sort of like a Vampire, but without a single mark on him. With her connections I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with it.”

  She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Gwen. I know this is difficult for you, and no I’m not being condescending,” she quickly added, obviously peering into my head, “but you do need to let them handle it. If there’s a loose string somewhere then I’m sure your uncle will find it.”

  I knew what she was saying was true but still there was something nagging at me.

  “It hasn’t even been a whole day yet. Let everyone take some time to rest and enjoy what they have accomplished so far, dear. You should do the same.” She looked over my shoulder at our family. Fiona-Leigh’s laugh echoed through the room.

  “You didn’t see those records of Delaney’s in the Archives. She’s swindled so many out of their money. And worse. Maybe she had some information on Tiberius and—”

  “Tiberius?”

  “The dead Dwarf. Anyway, maybe he knew too much about… well, something… and she had to get rid of him somehow. She could’ve—”

  Her hand dropped from my shoulder instantly. “Gwendolyn! Are you not listening to me? You’re reaching—and not only that, but you don’t need to worry about any of this. You chose your path, and we all respect that, but you can’t have it both ways, child. You cannot insist on living a life as a human and then continue to concern yourself with your uncle’s cases! I’m sorry to put it bluntly but butt out of it!”

  I took a step back, her words hitting me like a slap to the face. Aunt Bedelia never raised her voice like this, least of all to me.

  “I—I, uh.” The words failed me, and I stammered, feeling useless at defending myself. All I could do was stand there and nod, not too different from when I would get in trouble with my parents as a kid.

  She shook her head, her expression softening. “I’m sorry Gwennie-Bee. I know you mean no harm and all you want to do is make sure your brother can leave the house safely. I don’t blame you, I feel the same way. But my point still stands. If you don’t want in with the Shadow Hands and all that comes with that, then you’ll need to leave their work alone. And maybe consider putting all that energy elsewhere.”

  I looked up at her. “Like where?”

  She held up the embroidery hoop in her hand, smiling as though she were handing me a gift from the gods. “I’ve got methods for idle hands, don’t you worry.”

  Well. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  8

  The Winter Solstice

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s, oh... Well, you’ll get better at it, I’m sure.” Aunt Bedelia looked on as I sat on the stool, sucking at the tip of my middle finger. Again.

  “How can you find this a relaxing hobby?” I said, rubbing at my finger. “I think I better stick to just taking pictures. This one is lethal.” Setting the small bit of fabric on the counter, I slid back off the stool. “And also, boring. I think I might be sub-consciously pricking my fingers just to keep myself awake.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Mom tried to show me once. It was a total disaster. I’ve had better success prying eggs out from underneath a dragon,” Erie mumbled, dipping inside the kitchen from the outside breakfast patio. She shook the ice off the bottom of her boots and closed the door behind her. “Something smells good in here.”

  The warm scent of freshly baked pies was thick inside of the kitchen. It was something I used to look forward to every year—coming in from outside and getting a face full of Yule pies and eggnog.

  During this time of year, the kitchen was pretty dark, save for the lanterns hanging around the place. A few large wicker baskets sat in the corner full of the root vegetables Aunt Ginny had collected through the fall, one of them with only the remnants of the giant pumpkin they must have used to turn into several spiced pies.

  In came Reaghan, wearing a thin shawl around her arms, her hair twisted up and away from her face. She brushed the dried mint hanging from the drying rack above her out of her face and she took a seat on a stool next to me. “So. Where’s the food?”

  The kettle on the stove emitted a high-pitch noise even though there was no steam pouring out of it, and I nearly flew back into the wall behind me. “Oh my cauldrons! I wasn’t expecting that.”

  The cast-iron oven door opened by itself and out floated not one, but two different cobblers, complete with perfectly golden crusts. My mouth was already watering to the point of me having to discreetly wipe at the corners. I hadn’t had one of her cobblers in a very, very long time.

  “Sorry, dear. I didn’t realize they were ready to come out. Watch it!” Aunt Bee warned, smacking my hands away from where the cobblers had come to settle on top of the wooden countertop. “They’ll need to settle first, and this one,” she said, pointing to the one on the left, “is not for you to eat. The
Archmage’s wife came by this morning and asked for some help.”

  I raised a brow. “Some help? With baking?”

  His wife was well known for being the perfect housewitch. Ne’er a stray hair out of place on her head, and her cauldron was always bubbling with something potent or delicious.

  Reaghan snorted. “The only thing that woman needs help with is keeping her man out of another woman’s bed…”

  “Reaghan!” Aunt Bee gasped. “No need to be rude!

  I looked away, doing my best not to laugh.

  She lifted a shoulder carelessly. “What? It’s the truth.”

  “Hm. And the truth is you don’t need any pie, my dear. It tends to upset your bowels, doesn’t it?” Aunt Bee replied, gesturing to Reaghan’s stomach.

  Reaghan didn’t look very appreciative. “I’m going to check and see if Dromythyus wants anything to drink. I think it’ll probably take a few of those before either of us can handle this evening’s festivities.”

  She slid back off the stool, her shawl swishing past me as she went. I looked back at Aunt Bee. “I… don’t think she liked that one bit.”

  We both grinned at each other. Someone had to put my cousin in her place every now and then.

  “Too bad for her, because I was just getting ready to offer her a slice of this one.” Aunt Bee pulled out a knife from the wooden block nearby, looking not unlike a crazy housewife in the ‘50s. “I guess that just means more for you, dear,” she sighed, working on cutting me a slice of the pure heaven inside the cast-iron pan.

  “I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” I groaned as I finally brought the forkful of blackberries and sugary crust closer to my mouth. The moment it touched my tongue with the heat of a thousand suns, I pulled back, wincing. “Hot, hot, hot.”