Magic & Mishaps

by Annabel Chase

  “Rose,” the sheriff began. There was an edge to his voice I didn’t like.

  “Enough questions,” I said firmly. “If you’re not going to arrest him, then we’re going.” I grabbed Alec by the hand and stood.

  Neither the sheriff nor the deputy made an effort to stop us.

  “Please feel free to contact me if you need anything else,” Alec said, as I practically pushed him out of the room.

  Sheriff Nash stood and watched us leave. “You can count on it."

  Chapter Four

  “Marley, I’m home,” I called. I poked my head into the kitchen to see that the counter was now clean of plant life. I returned to the living room of the quiet cottage. “Marley?”

  I made my way to her bedroom and froze in the doorway. “Sweet baby Elvis,” I said. “What’s going on?” Raoul was tucked under the covers wearing an old-fashioned nightcap on his head like the kind featured in illustrations for ’Twas the Night Before Christmas.

  I’m sick, Raoul said weakly.

  “So you decided to crawl into Marley’s bed? What’s wrong with yours?”

  No one’s there to bring me soup, he croaked.

  Marley appeared carrying a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. The aroma filled my nostrils and, for a fleeting moment, I was back in New Jersey with my dad on a wintry day off from school. Funny how a certain smell can transport you back in time. Music, too.

  “Why did you have soup in the bathroom?” I asked.

  “I was wiping off the bottom of the bowl,” Marley said. “A little bit dribbled down the sides and I didn’t want it on my sheets.” She set the bowl on the bedside table and made sure to place a protective pad underneath so the heat didn’t discolor the wood.

  “How did you know he was sick?” I asked. “You can’t hear him.”

  “No, but I can see him,” Marley replied.

  Raoul offered a pathetic cough.

  “Maybe I should call a healer to come and see you,” I said. Cephas would do a house call if I asked nicely.

  I’ll be fine, Raoul said. A little tender loving care will revive me…eventually.

  I rolled my eyes. My familiar was going to milk this opportunity for all it was worth. “What hurts?”

  What doesn’t? My stomach. My head. My chest. I’m a walking infection.

  “What did you eat today?” I asked. “Anything aside from the oatmeal I made?” I couldn’t think of any ingredients that would make him ill.

  Raoul shook his head.

  “I’ll have to cancel our lesson with Ian,” I said. “No point studying the familiar arts without my familiar.”

  Marley cast a suspicious glance in my direction. “You don’t sound disappointed.”

  “I don’t? Hmm, I’ll have to practice for when I call him.” Ian was a nice enough wizard, but there were more interesting ways to spend my free time—like watching the paddle fan spin above my bed.

  Raoul moaned softly.

  “I think you should get some sleep,” I said. I adjusted the covers around him and smoothed his fur. “We’ll check on you later.”

  “The soup should stay warm for a bit if you want to try some,” Marley said.

  I escorted Marley out of the room and we returned to the living room. “When did this start?”

  “About an hour ago,” Marley said. “I let Bonkers out to fly and took PP3 out to pee. When I came back inside, Raoul was sideways on the sofa.”

  “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

  “Because I didn’t need any,” she shot back. “I had the situation under control.” She peered at me. “Why were you so late? Did therapy go badly?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I said. I didn’t want to offer any details. “You don’t need to dote on Raoul. It’s not like he’s even your familiar.”

  “No, but he’s yours,” Marley said. She folded her arms. “Am I not supposed to care about him just because he’s not my familiar? Am I not supposed to care about Alec because he’s not my boyfriend?”

  I sighed. “Stop making good analogies. You’re too young.”

  “Raoul deserves to know that someone cares about him,” she said.

  “You think I don’t?”

  “You don’t always act like it,” Marley said.

  “He’s a raccoon with annoying tendencies,” I said. “You’ll understand…”

  She held up a warning finger. “Don’t you dare say when I’m older.”

  “Fine, I won’t, but it’s true. You may be an old soul, Marley Rose, but that doesn’t mean you know everything.”

  “Do you want soup?” Marley asked. “There’s more in the kitchen on the stovetop.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I wanted to update Linnea on what happened with Alec at the sheriff’s office.

  I’d only just sent off the text when Marley burst through the kitchen door. “Raoul is sick because of me,” she blurted.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The spell I was practicing this morning,” she said, panting. “I gave up because it wasn’t working. I found some of the mixed herbs on the floor by the trashcan.” She sucked in a quivering breath. “They had bite marks. He ate them, Mom.”

  “You mean the herbs that I told you to clean up?” My voice was even, but I felt the anger bubbling beneath the surface.

  “You know how Raoul is,” she said. “He probably took the mixture out of the trash.”

  There was no time to argue. “We should call Calla.”

  The white-haired crone arrived at the cottage with remarkable speed, given her advanced age.

  “I didn’t hear your car,” I said.

  The former High Priestess wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Why would you? I flew here on my broomstick.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “They let you do it and you can’t manage a popcorn spell without trashing your microwave.”

  “Touché, Calla.”

  She surveyed the room, her rounded shoulders pivoting left and right. “Where’s the victim?”

  “We prefer patient,” I said.

  Calla’s bony hand gently patted my cheek. “Whatever you say, duckling.”

  “Raoul’s in here,” Marley called. My little eavesdropper.

  I guided the elderly witch to Marley’s bedroom where Raoul was still cocooned in her covers. He didn’t seem any better.

  Calla stooped over the raccoon. “Hmm.”

  “Is that a good or bad noise?” I asked.

  “I’d like to see the mixture he ate,” the crone said.

  “I’ll get it,” Marley said, hopping off the edge of the bed. “I put it in a sealed container.”

  “Good thinking,” Calla said.

  Marley shot from the room to retrieve the herbs. Calla poked and prodded Raoul all over his body. He twitched and twisted in an effort to avoid her investigative fingers.

  Are you sure herbology is her specialty? Raoul croaked.

  She’s highly qualified, I said.

  Maybe we need a healer, the raccoon said.

  Trust me. Calla is your best bet. If these herbs are to blame, she’ll know what to do better than Cephas would.

  Marley returned with the sealed bag and handed it to the crone. She opened the bag and sniffed the contents. Then she pulled each plant part out and chewed it while Marley and I watched in confused silence.

  “That one is always so bitter,” she said with a soft cackle.

  “What did I do wrong?” Marley asked.

  Calla observed her. “The proportions were off. You had too much catnip and not enough angelica.”

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  “That’s all I detected,” Calla said. “Your bandit friend should be back to his normal self by morning.”

  Raoul raised a paw. Define normal.

  “He prefers trash panda,” I said.

  Raoul scowled at me.

  “So if I get the proportions right, then the spell should work?” Marley asked.

&nbs
p; “I suspect so,” Calla said.

  “I asked my mom for an herb garden,” Marley said. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea for a budding herbologist?”

  Calla winked at my daughter. “Pun intentional, right, duckling?”

  “Puns should always be intentional,” Marley replied.

  “I don’t make a habit of getting in the middle of mother-daughter disagreements,” Calla said. “If I get a bone broken now, it may not heal.” She cackled. “That being said, if memory serves correctly, there used to be an herb garden at this cottage. On the left side of the property. Well stocked. I believe it was torn up after…” Her voice trailed off.

  After my mother died, I thought to myself.

  Marley seemed hearted by this revelation. “See, Mom? It was meant to be.”

  “I think giving Raoul space to nap was meant to be,” I said. “The rest we can discuss later. Thanks for coming, Calla. We really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. I was only watching one of my shows, Hawaii Healers,” the crone said. “And I can stream it whenever I like.” She grinned. “I like to pause the screen when the hunky druid is shirtless. I haven’t seen abs up close like that in fifty years.”

  Until now, Raoul said weakly as he patted his stomach.

  “Should he be delusional?” I asked Calla. The raccoon stuck his tongue out.

  “No more than usual,” Calla replied. “Marley, if you need any advice on herbology, you know I’d be happy to help. If I have to suffer through teaching your mother, I might as well balance out the experience with a good student.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  Calla shrugged her hunched shoulders. “I’m too old to lie.”

  We spilled out of the bedroom and I closed the door to give Raoul peace and quiet, not that he ever gave me any. Still, once in a blue moon, it was nice to be the bigger person.

  My phone buzzed and I glanced at the text from Linnea. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Calla asked.

  “Not me for once,” I said. “Would you mind hanging out here with Marley and Raoul a while longer? I need to run to the sheriff’s office.”

  “I thought you two weren’t involved anymore,” Calla said.

  “It isn’t personal,” I said. At least not this time.

  “Take your broom,” Calla said. “Weekend traffic is terrible right now.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” I grabbed the broom from my closet and hurried out the door.

  “You want to interview the angel as a suspect?” I asked, flabbergasted. I stood in the sheriff’s office where he was about to interrogate Daniel in the interrogation room.

  “He was present at the crime scene all night,” the sheriff said.

  “As a guest of the inn,” I said. “So was his heavily pregnant wife. Yes, you’re right. Maybe it was a bizarre satanic ritual where they required blood for their unborn child.”

  “Now you’re just being silly,” the werewolf said.

  I threw my arms up in frustration. “As silly as you. It wasn’t Daniel.”

  “I’m starting to think you’ve got a soft spot for tall blondes,” he chided me. “Guess I never stood a chance.” He raked a hand through his brown hair.

  “I met Daniel and Emma in Spellbound,” I said. “They’re heroes there. They saved the town from a curse.”

  “Doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of murder,” the sheriff replied. “We’re more complex creatures than that, Rose.”

  “Not him,” I said. “The guy has a halo. They don’t just give those out at the dollar store, you know.” I wanted to conjure a frying pan and smack his cheek with it. “Have you completely lost your senses?”

  “Rose, let me do my job, please.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and attempted to budge me.

  “You just don’t want to believe they’re a normal, stable couple,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “And why wouldn’t I want to believe that?”

  “No reason,” I said. I didn’t come here to argue with the sheriff. I came here to help an innocent angel. Questioning Alec was bad enough. Daniel was absurd. He didn’t even have fangs.

  The sheriff released me. “An innocent woman died on Friday night. Leave me to catch her killer in case he decides one wasn’t enough.”

  He made a good point. The faster he dismissed Daniel as a suspect, the faster he could move on to the real culprit.

  “Which room are they in?” I asked.

  He inclined his head and I went to check on Emma and Daniel. They had to be completely unnerved by now.

  “Ember, thank goodness. A friendly face.” Emma labored to her feet. She shot the sheriff a guilty look. “Not that you haven’t been polite, Sheriff.”

  “He’s not offended,” I said.

  “Rose, would you mind escorting Ms. Hart to the waiting area?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’d like to sit in on the interrogation,” Emma said.

  “We’re just asking him a few questions,” Sheriff Nash said. “Nothing to be alarmed about.”

  “I’m not alarmed,” Emma replied. “Okay, I’m mildly alarmed.”

  “We don’t generally allow spouses to sit in the room…” he started.

  Emma raised her chin a fraction. “Then consider me his lawyer.”

  The sheriff blinked in surprise. “You’re a lawyer?”

  “What’s wrong, Sheriff? Pregnant women can’t be lawyers, too?” Emma asked with a slightly amused expression.

  The werewolf shook his head. “No, no. Of course not.”

  “And I thought Spellbound was behind the times.” Emma clucked her tongue.

  “I’ll watch from the other room,” I said. I darted into the adjacent room before he could stop me and made myself comfortable. The two-way mirror took up most of the wall between the rooms.

  Daniel sat uncomfortably in a chair, his white wings crushed against the wood. At well over six feet, he was tall to begin with and the enormous wings didn’t help, however beautiful they were to admire.

  Sheriff Nash sat down opposite him, while Emma joined her husband. Deputy Bolan was nowhere to be seen.

  “State your name for the record,” the sheriff said.

  “Daniel Starr.” The angel paused. “There’s a record?” He cast a sidelong glance at his wife. “How official is this?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said soothingly. “It’s just a formality and then this nice sheriff will cross you off his list and continue his search for the actual killer.” She fixed Sheriff Nash with a thousand yard stare. “Won’t you, Sheriff?”

  Sweet baby Elvis, that little—well, not-so-little sorceress was more formidable than she appeared.

  “I have no axe to grind with your husband, Ms. Hart,” he said. “I’m only doing my job.” He returned his focus to Daniel. “When did you first come into contact with the victim?”

  “At the inn,” Daniel replied. “Emma and I met her on Friday after we checked in. She was a little worse for wear that morning. She’d been drinking the night before, apparently.”

  “And it’s my understanding you had dinner together on Friday night,” the sheriff said.

  “Yes, a group of us,” Daniel said.

  “And after dinner?” the sheriff queried.

  Daniel shrugged his broad shoulders and the wings followed. “I don’t know what Bonnie did. Emma and I went to bed before everyone else. She gets tired early now.”

  “Understandable,” the sheriff said.

  “Do you have kids, Sheriff?” Daniel asked.

  The werewolf winced, which made me wince in response. “No,” he said.

  “This is our first,” Daniel told him. He gave his wife’s stomach an affectionate pat. “We’re pretty nervous about the whole thing, to be honest.”

  “Don’t blame you,” the sheriff said. “Responsibility for another life is a big deal.”

  “The biggest,” Daniel agreed.

  “And were you in the r
oom with your wife the whole night?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “I wouldn’t dare leave. I won’t even go to the bathroom until morning.”

  The sheriff frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because Emma suffers from insomnia,” Daniel said. “If I woke her, she’d have a hard time getting back to sleep. That’s not good for her or the baby.”

  “I take a potion for it,” Emma interjected, “but I’ve cut back because I don’t want to take anything while I’m pregnant.”

  “And when you woke up in the morning, your husband was there?” the sheriff asked.

  “Snoring away,” Emma said.

  “That was you,” Daniel said accusingly.

  Emma swatted her husband’s arm. “I can’t hear myself snore.”

  “Exactly,” Daniel said.

  “Did you hear or see anything unusual at any point that night?” Sheriff Nash asked.

  Daniel and Emma exchanged thoughtful glances.

  “I don’t think so,” Daniel said.

  “Why wouldn’t she scream?” Emma asked. “If someone broke into her room in the middle of the night, she should have screamed and woken me up.”

  “Unless Bonnie was sound asleep when the killer entered,” the sheriff said.

  “But she most likely locked her door,” Emma said. “A woman who lives alone gets in the habit of doing that.”

  “Unless she has a vampire ghost roommate,” Daniel said, grinning at his wife.

  “And a hellbeast that roams the halls,” Emma added.

  “So what are you thinking?” the sheriff asked.

  “There was no break-in, so I think that the victim knew her killer,” Emma said. “That she voluntarily opened the door and that’s why we didn’t hear any odd sounds and there was no damage to the door.”

  Sheriff Nash stroked the stubble on his chin, appearing thoughtful. “I guess you could argue she knew you, Mr. Starr. If you went up there in the night, she would’ve opened the door for you.”

  “What makes you think that?” Daniel asked.

  “I understand the victim was intoxicated that night,” Sheriff Nash said. “Maybe she was feeling a little frisky and let you know.” He angled his head toward Emma. “You’re traveling with a pregnant wife. Maybe your needs have been…ignored.”