by Amy Boyles
“Sure.”
She practically floated from the office. Once my mother vanished out the door, I turned to the mayor.
“Mayor, there’s something we need to discuss.”
A dreamy expression filled her eyes. She stared off in the distance, and I knew Winnifred was fantasizing about hosting my mother in an event and then all the people would see Witch's Forge—a grimy town overrun with vines.
Yeah, folks would want to stay here.
Not.
“Mayor, I need you to change the law that witches of different powers can’t marry.”
The mayor blinked at me. “I’m sorry?”
“I need you to change that law.”
“Why?”
Here went nothing. “Because I think that law is killing this town.”
She scoffed. “Nonsense. That law is what keeps the balance in Witch's Forge. It’s been like that for years. Besides, everyone knows that if witches of different magics marry and have children, those children will be born without powers. They will be sterile. That would kill the town.”
I shook my head, but she continued, “The power within us is what keeps the town magical.”
“But your magic doesn’t work. It makes sense that sooner or later babies will be born without any magical ability, if you keep to your theory.”
“None have been born so far,” she said proudly.
“But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.” I sighed heavily and clasped my hands. “Mayor, you hired me to fix this town by marrying folks. The magic in this town is beginning to affect even my work. When Jimmy made the initial match of Belinda Ogle and Langdon Huggins, it appeared right on paper—each had the other’s name stamped on the bottom—but when I met with Belinda and used my magic to see her match, it wasn’t Langdon. In fact, it was a wizard in a completely different magical clan.”
The mayor gasped. “It must be wrong.”
“It isn’t wrong. My magic isn’t. Not about this.”
The mayor flicked her hand at me. “Then move on to another person. Find a match where the two witches are in the same magical town—a Fire Town witch and a Fire Town wizard.”
I sank into a chair. “Don’t you think that if two folks from the same town were going to be soul mates, they would already know each other and be together?”
The mayor’s cheeks burned bright red. I had her there. “I can’t go changing that law. Witches wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.”
I cocked my head. “Is that what you really think? I want to save Witch’s Forge. But to do that, I need your help.”
“Changing the law won’t help.”
I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Tell you what. If I can prove to you that the law needs to be changed, will you do it?”
She stared at me for a moment. “Perhaps.”
I glared at her.
Mayor Dixon swallowed loudly. “Yes, okay. I’ll propose we change it. But you’ll have to create a miracle if you want me to make that happen. It’s hard to get folks to change their ways.”
I rose. “You know, Mayor, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while finding people’s soul mates, it’s that when love is in bloom, people are more than happy to change things about themselves. It may not be permanent, but they’ll change nonetheless. I think you’ll also find that the younger generation, those who are ready to get married, would be more than happy to see the law revised.”
The mayor eyed me skeptically. “You may be right, Charming, but I still need proof.”
I walked to the front door and turned around before exiting. Emily entered from the back office. I nodded to them both.
“Then proof is what I’ll get you.”
When I reached the house, Pig was running around the kitchen, squealing like a, well, pig.
Rose laughed. She was slicing up vegetables for the pig to eat while feeding her chocolate kisses on the side. My mother was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Mama?”
“Oh, she’s inspecting the house, trying to get the darned thing to create her bedroom just the way she wants it.”
I rolled my eyes. “And here I thought this was going to be a short visit.”
My mother’s voice drifted in from the doorway. “I’m staying as long as you are, Charming, so you might as well figure out how to get along with me.”
My gaze darted to her. She flicked a long tendril of red hair over her shoulder and smiled smugly.
“I know you’re joking. You’re the one who always puts down my abilities.”
My mother scoffed. “I don’t put down your abilities. I love what little magic you can do. You’re very talented at your little matchmaking thingie.”
I shook my head at Rose. “See? She just put me down.”
“It did sound that way, Glinda.” Rose dropped another chocolate into the pig’s mouth. She grunted with pleasure. “I’m sure that’s not how you meant it.”
“It is,” I protested. “It’s how she meant it. My little powers are no match for hers.”
“My dear, you’ve never even attempted to use more of your powers.”
“That’s not true. Remember when I tried to make it snow?”
My mother sauntered into the room and plucked a radish slice from the cutting board. “Yes, I remember. You tried, poor dear.” Her teeth crunched into the vegetable. “Some of us just have different talents.”
“Like math and science,” I said snidely.
“Exactly.”
I shook my head in frustration. I did not come to Witch's Forge to have a come-to-Jesus discussion with my mother. I preferred when she was in Nepal, attempting to save the world instead of me.
I didn’t need saving. I was doing just fine, thank you very much.
I also didn’t need to have my mother nagging me, and me yelling at her for nagging me. Or for following me around, as it was.
I sliced my hands through the air. “For now, let’s call a truce.”
My mother blinked at me blankly. “I was never waging war.”
“Oh me neither,” Rose blurted out. “The last thing we need in this town is a war. Can you imagine—all that kudzu exploding and more grime covering the streets?” She shuddered. “Why, it’s enough to want to take this little potbellied pig and go live in a tent in the wilderness.”
She considered that. “Granted, the tent would need running water and a bathroom. Probably a mosquito fogger, too. Oh, and a bed for Sweetie Pie to sleep in.”
I cocked a brow. “Is that what you’re naming the pig? Sweetie Pie?”
Rose laughed. “Oh no, that’s what I call my handsome lover who visits me once a month.”
I raised my hand in a stop gesture. “That’s enough.” I turned to my mother. “I call a truce. I won’t pick at you, and you won’t pick at me.”
“Wonderful.” Mama smiled. She tapped a finger on the table, and a crystal glass filled with ice, tea and lemon slices appeared. “Want one?”
I couldn’t tell if she was goading me or not. Mama knew I couldn’t work that kind of magic. But since I’d called a truce, I’d better stand by it.
“Sure.”
She magicked me a glass and I sat.
“Now,” she said authoritatively, “let’s get down to business. What’s going on with Jimmy’s disappearance?”
My eyes flared. “You want to help me?”
She tossed her hair over one shoulder and said, her voice dripping with spite, “Really, Charming, you act like I’m the enemy.”
“Sometimes you act like that,” I said barely above a whisper.
She shot me a look that could’ve fried me on the spot and sipped her tea. “What’s going on with it?”
I got her up-to-date on what I’d learned so far, minus my theory about why the town’s magic was broken—or cursed, if you wanted to believe the mayor.
“And that shredded shirt, where’d you get it?” she asked after thinking about it for a few minutes.
“The house gave it
to me. But not right away. For some reason the structure kept hold of it.”
She scoffed. “These old magical homes are particular. Sometimes you have to be specific in what you ask for. Other times the house will give you everything plus the kitchen sink when all you wanted was a toothbrush. I agree, it’s peculiar.”
“Not as peculiar as the vampire police,” Rose said.
My mother cocked a brow at that. She hated vampires almost as much as I did. “Vampire police? That’s a new one.”
I nodded. “Yes, and out of all the people in this town, a vampire would have the strength to shred the shirt barehanded. I have the feeling the vampire chief is hiding something.”
My mother smiled. “Vampires are dangerous.”
The gleam in her eye told me where Mama was going with this. “They are, and if I was looking for clues about Jimmy, I bet we might find something at the chief’s house.”
“It’s risky,” she said. “We should leave that to the police—oh wait, he’s the police.”
My mother rose with a flourish. Her skirts dusted the floor in a romantic, almost gothic sort of way.
She downed the rest of her tea and stared at us. “Well, what are we waiting for? It’s about to be dark, and if we’re going to break into the vampire’s house, we’d better start planning how to do it.”
“Break in?” Rose said, flustered. “We’re going to break in like common criminals?”
My mother shook her head. “I prefer not to talk so commonly about the situation. And bring the pig. We’re going to need some help with this.”
THIRTEEN
The manor, as I had started referring to it in my head, was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Rose, my mother, the pig and myself sat in the bushes about a hundred yards away.
“Do you think this is far enough that he can’t hear us?” I said.
“From all my studies, yes,” my mother said. “It looks dark in there. I don’t think he’s home.”
“What about a manservant?” Rose said. “In the movies vampires always have manservants.”
“I didn’t see one when I was here before,” I said.
“You were here before?” Mama snapped.
I dismissed her concern with a wave. “Yes, and I’m still alive. At least I have an idea of where to go. So. How do we get in?”
My mother pulled a hairpin from her hair. “Leave that to me.”
Ten minutes later the three of us were stumbling around in the dark manor.
Someone clomped on my toe. “Ow!”
“Sorry,” Rose whimpered. “Glinda, we need light.”
A moment later a ball of water glowing with light appeared in my mother’s palm.
“Show-off,” I murmured.
She shot me a dark look. “Sorry,” I said. “Forgot about the truce.”
“Open your hand,” she commanded.
Two more balls of light appeared—one in my palm and one in Rose’s.
“We need to split up,” I said.
“Oh no,” Rose argued. “That’s how people die in the movies.”
“What is it with you comparing everything to movies?” I said.
She shrugged. “I just thought popular culture was an easy reference to make.”
“You have the pig with you.”
“I’ll stay with Rose,” Mama said, sighing. “We’ll check down here.”
“I’ll head to the bedroom,” I said. “If there’s proof the vamp did something to Jimmy, then I want to know about it.”
I slowly stepped up the marble staircase. See? Manor. This house stuck out like a sore thumb on steroids.
The ball of water and light wobbled in my hand. I was surprised my mother hadn’t been really cocky and stuck a goldfish in the middle of it.
Her voiced floated up the staircase. “I didn’t put a fish in it because the light might’ve hurt its eyes.”
I shook my head. Typical that she’d figure out what I was thinking.
I sighed and pushed on, remembering I was in the lair of a vampire. If he caught us, we’d be supper—literally. We had to be quick and quiet.
At the top of the stairs several doors broke off to the left. I slowly opened the first one and found it to be a guest bedroom.
The second door was the same, as was the third. Finally I reached a set of double doors. The hinges squeaked when I opened them. I cringed. Thank goodness the vamp wasn’t here.
Behind the door sat a suite of rooms. The furnishings were simple if not lavishly built.
“Bingo,” I whispered.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. The room smelled of Thorne—wet grass, vanilla and a hint of musk.
Not that I’d wanted to notice how the man smelled, but I couldn’t help it when he stood right over me the night that Langdon had been killed.
Lots of dark wood sprinkled the room. From what I could tell the walls were a hunter green. Yes, I walked right up to them with the ball.
A glass case full of mementoes stood in one corner. Relics from the past had been placed carefully on each shelf—an old pair of eyeglasses, an antique apothecary bottle, a WWII helmet, and a marble statue of a goddess that looked like it had been plucked right out of Ancient Rome.
Perhaps these were memories from his past. If so, Thorne was old—I mean really old. So old I didn’t want to think about it.
I moved on, going over to his wardrobe. There wasn’t a closet in the room. Instead Thorne used an old wooden wardrobe to store his clothes. I opened it and found the usual—shirts, slacks, socks—nothing interesting.
I frowned and faced the space. The walls were lined with personal pictures—some taken with a camera, some painted.
Like I said, the guy was old.
That seemed to be the most incriminating thing about him. There wasn’t anything in the space that suggested he had anything to do with Jimmy's disappearance.
I crossed to his mirror, where a small stool sat in front of it. I stared at my own reflection. In the low light, holding the orb, I looked to have deep shadows under my eyes.
I needed to get some sleep.
But I wouldn’t sleep well until I found Jimmy and ensured the stability of my company.
Something draped over the stool caught my attention. I moved the watery ball of light to it.
The plaid pattern suggested a shirt. I picked it up. It was a shirt. As I held the orb behind it, I realized that not only was it a shirt, but it was also a clue.
I gasped.
The back had been shredded exactly like Jimmy's.
I knew it! I knew the bloodsucker had something to do with Jimmy's disappearance. He’d probably done it! Why the heck would a town of witches trust a gang of vampires to do their justice for them?
It was so totally wrong.
Vampires were ruthless killers—everyone knew that. They drank blood—human blood. A town full of witches was a perfect feeding ground for them. Why couldn’t anyone see that?
I balled the shirt and tucked it in my waistband. “Let’s see what the mayor says when I show her this.”
I rushed downstairs and found my mother and Rose in the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open, and Rose stood in front of it.
“I wonder if he has an apple,” she said.
My mother peered over her shoulder. “There’s one. In the back. I’m sure he won’t notice if it’s missing.”
Rose plucked it from the refrigerator. “Good eye, Glinda.”
“What are y’all doing?” I hissed.
Rose shrugged. The refrigerator door stood wide open, illuminating both my mother and aunt. “I’m getting a snack for Pig. She’s hungry.”
Rose handed the apple to Pig, and the little potbellied swine sniffed it before delicately taking it in her jaws.
I slapped my forehead. “You’re supposed to be looking for clues.”
“There might be a clue in the fridge,” my mother pointed out.
I folded my arms. “Like what?”
“B
ags of blood.”
I prayed to Jesus for serenity but received none. “Are there bags of blood inside?”
“Well no,” Rose admitted.
Then it occurred to me that it was strange that a vampire would have a refrigerator, much less food.
I crossed to them. “Let me see in there.”
Rose moved out of the way, and I sneaked a peek. It was a fully stocked fridge with lots of vegetables—asparagus, zucchini, yellow squash, artichokes, and also meat wrapped in butcher paper.
“Is this guy just pretending to be a vampire?” I mused.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Charming,” Rose said. “The way he looked at me sent a swirl right to my woman parts. Only a vampire can do that after you’ve gone through menopause.”
“Thank you, Aunt Rose.” I shook my head. “I really appreciate too much information when we’re sneaking around a house,” I added with a dose of sarcasm.
“We haven’t found any clues,” Rose said. “Have you?”
“Yes!” I pulled the shirt from my waistband. “It’s ripped. Exactly like we found in the house.”
“Let me see that.” My mother plucked it from my hand. “How strange. It looks like whoever did this didn’t draw any blood.”
“I know. That vampire must be quite talented with his claws.”
Mama shook her head. “I don’t think this is the work of a vampire.”
I frowned. “You don’t?”
“Let me see if we can figure out who it belonged to.”
My eyelids flared with surprise. “Can you do that with magic?”
“I could,” she said smugly, “but luckily it’s stitched right here in the collar.”
Now why hadn’t I looked there? “What’s it say?”
She turned her palm, and the ball of light slipped from her hand and buoyed beside her, illuminating the shirt.
I leaned in and gasped. “Langdon Huggins. Oh my gosh. That’s the man who was murdered—or spelled or something. He had a ripped shirt? But why would Thorne rip his shirt and leave him alive only to return later and kill him?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Mama said, “I don’t think—”
From the front of the house a lock snicked. I shot Rose and Mama a frantic look.
