Magic & Mishaps

by Annabel Chase

  “What’s wrong with doves?” Tanya asked. “They’re beautiful white birds.”

  “With less-than-beautiful white poop,” Bentley said. “She’s worried about the fallout, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think you just said what you mean,” I told him.

  He pointed at the screen. “Butterflies are the compromise. You can even choose the colors.”

  “Why buy them?” I asked. “Why not get someone to conjure them?” What was the point of living in a magical town if you couldn’t rustle up a few butterflies for your wedding?

  “Then I’d have to pay for the magic,” he said.

  “Either way, you’re paying for it,” Tanya said, nodding toward the computer screen.

  “How about I do the spell for you?” I said. “Consider it my gift.”

  The elf launched a thin eyebrow. “Because you’re too cheap to buy me an actual gift?”

  “I’m not cheap,” I said. “I just don’t want to buy something you don’t need. I hate gifts for the sake of them.”

  Bentley and Tanya exchanged worried glances.

  “What?” I asked, looking from one to the other. “I can manage a simple butterfly spell.” I’d get Wren or Linnea to practice with me if I had to. How hard could it be?

  Bentley hesitated. “We’ll see.”

  I shot out of my chair. “Everybody knows ‘we’ll see’ is the coward’s way of saying no.”

  Bentley looked directly at me. “Then no.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Aw, come on. I can do it.” Now that I’d had the idea, I wanted to do it. “I’ll be Ember Rose, First of her Name, Bringer of Butterflies.”

  Bentley rolled his eyes. “You’re rewatching Game of Thrones again, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t forget Yarrow,” Tanya added.

  I growled at the mention of my birth name. “That one didn’t stick.”

  We were so intent on our conversation that we didn’t hear the door open.

  “Is someone writing an article on butterflies or is this a personal matter?” Alec towered over us and Bentley quickly closed the window on the computer.

  “I was just telling them how my family doesn’t want me to write about Bonnie’s murder,” I said. “I can’t play favorites, though…”

  Alec cut me off with a pointed look.

  “Oh. You want Bentley to write it?” I asked, trying to interpret his silence.

  “I don’t want anyone to write it,” Alec said.

  “It’s a murder investigation,” I replied. “Someone has to cover it.” Since when did Alec shy away from a story like Bonnie’s?

  “I would like you to cover the bridge renovations,” Alec said.

  I gaped at him. “Bridge renovations?”

  “It’s no small matter,” Alec said.

  Bentley started to laugh but quickly covered it with a loud noise at the back of his throat.

  “Bentley, I’d like you to tackle the excrement issue,” Alec said.

  Bentley gulped. “Excrement issue?”

  “A large animal has been leaving deposits around town, but no one has seen the responsible party,” Alec said.

  Now it was my turn to suppress laughter. The bridge was definitely the better of two crappy assignments.

  “Can I talk to you in your office?” I asked.

  Alec responded by turning on his heel and continuing to the back of the room to his private office. I closed the door behind us.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  The vampire maintained a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I dropped my voice in case Bentley and Tanya had decided to eavesdrop. I knew I would in their situation. “You would never ignore a story like Bonnie’s. Is this because you’re still technically a suspect? I don’t have to mention the identities of the suspects.”

  His jaw tightened. “Of course not.”

  I edged closer to him. “Then what? Bonnie’s story is important. Someone killed that woman and left her like a discarded sock.”

  Alec turned away. “I agree that it’s important and Bonnie deserves coverage, but the killer doesn’t.”

  I touched his arm. “You’re worried it’s a serial killer?”

  He twisted to look at me. “I’m worried it’s a vampire.”

  “But it isn’t you.”

  “Do you think that will matter once the fear-mongers start beating their drums? Vampires have spent centuries trying to repair our reputations. One incident like this and the progress is quickly forgotten.”

  “You’re worried that it will kick-start an anti-vampire sentiment?” I asked.

  “Always,” he said. “Every time a vampire kills, I brace myself for the potential backlash against my species.”

  “What about your professional integrity?” I asked. “That’s been important to you, too.”

  His thumb stroked my cheek. “Yes, and it still is. Believe me, Ember, I don’t make this decision lightly, but I would rather wait until the sheriff has arrested the real killer before publishing anything.”

  “Because then you can find the angle?”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I’d rather focus on the specifics. Right now it would be pure speculation, which allows residents to focus on vampires as a group. Once we know more, we can focus on the details. The motive.”

  “And shift the focus away from the species.”

  He kissed my forehead. “I’m glad you understand.”

  “Can I still write about Bonnie?” I asked. It wouldn’t be the first time I wrote an article about the victim and not the crime. “She deserves positive press. I already overhead someone in the Caffeinated Cauldron say that Bonnie was a prostitute who’d brought the wrong client back to Palmetto House and paid the price.” Linnea would be horrified if she knew that local paranormals were painting her inn as a whorehouse.

  Alec regarded me for a silent moment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

  Tanya's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. “Pardon me. I hate to interrupt, but there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

  Alec frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  “Mr. Danvers,” Tanya said.

  Alec scowled. “Lawyer.”

  That sounded serious. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  I opened the door to escape to see an unfamiliar man beside Tanya. “If your name is Ember, I think it’s best if you stay,” he said. “I need both of you.” He patted his briefcase.

  “Mr. Danvers,” Alec said cordially.

  Tanya made herself scarce and I returned to Alec’s desk.

  Danvers set his briefcase on the floor beside one of the chairs. “Do you two always hole up like this while the rest of the staff is out there?”

  Alec’s nostrils flared. “We’re having a work discussion that doesn’t involve the others, not that I owe you an explanation as to how I run my office.”

  “Are you Alec’s lawyer?” I asked.

  “Not quite,” Danvers said.

  “Ember, this is Wesley Danvers, the lawyer for Vox Populi,” Alec said.

  “You work for my aunt?” I asked.

  The wereferret nodded. “She asked me to swing by here and take care of some paperwork.” He reached down and popped open his briefcase, plucking the top sheet from a stack of papers. “This is just a formality.”

  I tried to read the paper. “What’s just a formality?”

  Wesley placed the paper on Alec’s desk. “An official statement acknowledging your personal relationship.”

  I shot Alec a quizzical look. “Why do we need to make an official statement at work?”

  “Because your aunt wants a paper trail to protect the newspaper in the event that either one of us sues,” Alec said.

  “Sues for what?” I was clearly missing something.

  “Sexual harassment, that sort of thing,” Wesley said. “There’s an imbalance of power here. You’re dating your boss. My client wants to make sure that any personal
problems don’t spill over and become legal problems for the newspaper.”

  I stared at the document. “Is she kidding?” Why would she not have spoken to me about this instead of sending her lawyer over without warning?

  “Does Hyacinth ever joke about anything?” Alec asked.

  I snatched a pen off the desk. “I’ll sign it. I don’t care what it says. If she’s going to be ridiculous about us dating, then so be it.” I scribbled my signature on the dotted line.

  Wesley turned his attention to Alec. “How about you? You want your lawyer to review it first?”

  Alec scanned the sheet of paper. “I’m comfortable with it.” He took a pen and signed his name in elegant loops.

  “Tell her we put up a fight and it took you hours to persuade us,” I said. “Then you can bill her for the time.” A win-win as far as I was concerned.

  “Cheating a client isn’t in my wheelhouse, but I appreciate the offer,” Wesley said with a wink. He tucked the signed document into his briefcase.

  I escorted him to the door. “Tell my aunt if she wants us to sign anything else, she can present us with the documents personally or not at all,” I said.

  Wesley chuckled as he crossed the threshold. “Great Goddess. You are a Rose, aren’t you?” He tipped an imaginary cap. “Have a good day.”

  “Unlikely,” I grumbled and slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter Six

  “I can't focus,” I complained. I sat at my dining table with the Big Book of Scribbles open in front of me. Hazel was seated across from me with a cup of herbal tea. She’d spotted Marley’s herbal organizer in the kitchen and went to town creating her own blend.

  “So what else is new?” Hazel asked. “You’d rather focus on anything other than runes. I've seen you study cracks in the wall more closely than your textbook.”

  “This is an old cottage,” I objected. “Foundation issues can be serious if not addressed.”

  “That’s how I feel about your magical education,” Hazel replied. “You’re in a foul mood. Is this because your aunt made you sign that waiver at work?”

  “How do you know about that?” Was no unnecessary legal act sacred?

  Hazel appeared nonchalant. “Your aunt has a tendency to talk when she’s had more than one cocktail. Some unscrupulous coven members might take advantage of that on occasion.” She raised the cup to her lips and sipped.

  “I still can’t believe she did that,” I said. “Like Alec or I would really sue the newspaper if something went wrong in our relationship.”

  “Oh, I’d bet good coin it has nothing to do with protecting the newspaper and everything to do with Hyacinth making a point.”

  “And what point would that be?”

  “That she’s in charge,” Hazel replied. “Professional. Personal. Doesn’t matter. That witch owns you, Ember Rose, and don’t you forget it.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “That’s ridiculous. Nobody owns me.”

  “You live in her cottage, work for her newspaper…” Hazel began.

  “This is my cottage,” I said firmly. “I inherited it from my parents.”

  “On her land.”

  I folded my arms. “Okay, now you’re really going to see a foul mood. I’m very appreciative of all her help. Marley wants to create an herb garden outside and I told her no because I know my aunt would disapprove.”

  Hazel blew a raspberry. “Poppycock. You don’t want an herb garden because you’ll destroy every plant you come in contact with. It would only serve as a constant reminder of your failures.”

  I glowered at her. “Let’s get back to runecraft.”

  “Praise the Goddess of the Moon,” Hazel said, turning her gaze upward. “She’s ready to focus.”

  A cough from the bedroom interrupted us. “Hang on. My patient is awake.”

  “Patient? Isn’t Marley at school?”

  “She is.” I scraped back my chair and went to the kitchen for another dose of magical medicine. I emerged with a dropper filled with amber liquid and headed for Marley’s bedroom. Hazel watched me with interest.

  I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the darkened space. “Hey, buddy. I’m here with your drops.”

  The raccoon’s mouth opened automatically, so I tiptoed over and dripped the liquid into his mouth.

  “What’s in the dropper?” Hazel asked from the doorway.

  “A potion from Calla,” I said. “Something to improve his condition.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be working,” Hazel said. “He looks like garbage.”

  “That’s a compliment as far as he’s concerned,” I said.

  Raoul nodded weakly. Thank you.

  “I’ll be back in a little while,” I said. “Hazel and I need to get through this lesson, okay?” I rubbed the top of his head and left him in peace.

  We returned to the dining table where the Big Book of Scribbles waited for me. Blargh. Now I needed a potion to feel better.

  “How long has he been like this?” Hazel asked.

  “A couple of days,” I said. “He ate something he shouldn’t have.”

  “Doesn’t he always?”

  “One of Marley’s mixtures,” I said. “She was working on a spell and it didn’t pan out.”

  Hazel threaded her fingers together. “How’s Marley getting on at her new school? Already at the top of her class, I imagine.”

  “She loves it,” I said. Nothing warmed a mother's heart like seeing her child as happy as mine was. I felt like I'd won a gold medal in the Parenting Olympics.

  At that precise moment, the front door flew open and Marley burst in with tears streaking her cheeks. “I hate school!”

  There was no time to ask for an explanation. Marley ran upstairs to my bedroom and slammed the door. At least she remembered her own bedroom was occupied. Typical Marley. Even in the midst of her own crisis, she was considerate of others.

  I examined Hazel. “Are you trying to punk me?”

  Hazel seemed too shocked to have orchestrated this. “Of course not.”

  I trudged upstairs and knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer. Slowly, I opened the door and peered inside. The covers were pulled all the way over her head.

  I perched on the edge of the bed. “What happened?” I asked.

  “I’m a failure,” came the muffled reply.

  “Since when?” I asked.

  “Since the beginning of the week.”

  “It's Monday,” I reminded her.

  “Since the beginning of last week,” came the amended response.

  I tugged on the top of the sheet. “Move the covers so I can see you.”

  Marley smacked down the top of the sheet. Her face was pink and her eyes still tearful. “I’m bad at magic. I wish I'd never inherited it. I want to be like Dad.”

  “Is this because of Raoul? That was an accident. He shouldn’t have eaten the mixture. He was warned.”

  Marley sniffed. “If I hadn’t messed up the proportions, he might not be sick.”

  “Marley, you’re just learning witchcraft. You can’t expect every first try to be perfect.”

  “It’s more than Raoul,” Marley admitted. “All I do is make mistakes. In my regular school if I made a mistake, I used an eraser. In magic school, I make a mistake and someone gets violently ill or something gets destroyed. The consequences are so much worse.”

  Hazel appeared at the foot of the bed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but I thought maybe I could help.”

  Marley pushed herself up so that her back was against the headboard. “Were you bad at magic too?”

  Hazel laughed. “Me? Good goddess, no, I’m a rockstar, but your mother is another story.”

  My head swiveled in the direction of the crazed clown. “Hey! That's not fair. I was a grown woman when I came into my magic.”

  Hazel crossed her arms. “And yet with all that power and all that life experience and an army of tutors, you still can't manage to read an entire s
heet of runes.”

  “That's because it's boring,” I said.

  Marley stifled a giggle. “Mom is pretty bad sometimes, isn't she?”

  Hazel nodded enthusiastically. “I would go so far as to say that she’s my worst ever pupil—and I taught Larry the Lackadaisical. He was considered the laziest wizard in school.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Hazel. “Come on. I’m not that bad.”

  Hazel sailed past me to address Marley. “You’ve only just started your magical journey. Give yourself a break, dear. It will get better, I promise.”

  Marley’s fingers curled around the top of the sheet. “I’ve always been good at everything,” she said. “I don’t know how to handle being a loser.”

  “You’re not a loser,” I said.

  “Then I guess this will be a character-building opportunity for you,” Hazel said. “Not that being bad at magic has built your mother’s character.”

  “Watch your tongue, Hazel, or I may just hex it,” I warned.

  “Ha! You’ll probably end up hexing your own by mistake,” Hazel said.

  Marley started to laugh, which prompted me to laugh too. I couldn’t resist that mischievous smile.

  “Come and help your mother with runecraft,” Hazel said. “That will boost your ego a bit.”

  I stood as Marley peeled off the covers. “Can I have a snack, too?” she asked.

  “Of course you can,” I said.

  “And an herb garden?” she added.

  Hazel stifled a laugh. “A shrewd negotiator, that one.”

  “No comment,” I said.

  “I’m going to check on Raoul before I eat,” Marley said.

  “I gave him another dose of Calla’s potion not long ago,” I said. “He’s probably asleep.”

  “Hazel, after you’re finished with my mom’s lesson, would you mind helping me with homework?” Marley asked.

  Wow. Marley asked for help with homework? Things were much worse than I realized.

  “I would be thrilled to have an engaged and capable student for once,” Hazel said, shooting me a triumphant look.

  “That works for me,” I said. “I need to run out and speak to someone for the article I’m writing.”

  “Don’t be too long,” Hazel said. “If you’re here for part of Marley’s homework, you might actually learn something.”