Casino Witch Mysteries Box Set 2

by Nikki Haverstock

  But she had been quicker than me and was now waving her hand in front of her mouth and puffing air in and out to cool that chunk she had bitten off. Finally, once she was able to swallow and had set aside the food to cool, she answered. “I had to think. You know that questions like that are serious, right? I could give a flippant sarcastic answer, or I could be honest. If I’m going to be honest, then it needs to be real. Words have power, and when you put them out into the world, they pick up bits of magic and become real. At least that is what Granner says. Or do you want a joke answer, like being the person that applies oil to the chests of action stars?” She waggled her eyebrows at me.

  I laughed. “I wanted a real answer. So tell me.”

  “I think I would be here. I know that is kinda boring, but I like being near my family and you. Our training has been—now never tell my mom this ’cause she is going to gloat so hard—but training has been really fulfilling. I like it. Isn’t that crazy after years of whining and complaining about having a mom that makes me train full-time? Suddenly there is nothing I would rather do. And I really like this solving-crime gig we have. I want to do a lot more of that. So I guess I am where I want to be. Huh, weird.”

  She had perked up significantly while talking and no longer looked so sleepy. Her injuries were also healing, and she looked much better if I didn’t look too close at her hair, which appeared to have been cut with a Weedwacker.

  She puttered around the kitchen, looking for something more to eat, when she seemed to realize the underlying significance of my question. “What would you do? Are you thinking about leaving? You wouldn’t really leave me, would you?”

  “Colleen stopped by last evening and said that she couldn’t train me.” I resisted the urge to burst into tears. Perhaps I was all cried out.

  “Oh, bummer. That sucks. But I’m not sure she could teach you anything that Mom couldn’t.” There was a defensive note in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.

  Since we had met, we had done everything together and made a pretty good team. She had way more experience but was younger. I was more mature and driven and had pushed hard to try to catch up. Even when our skill with magic was even, she still knew more about mage society and always would. I would always be an “immigrant” to the culture.

  Being a Monza was something we didn’t share, and it never occurred to me that she might feel left out. “Your mom is crazy smart and a great teacher, but even she will tell you that she doesn’t know much about being a Monza. No one does except other Monzas.”

  “So? Are you just going to leave, then?” Her tone was one step away from a toddler throwing a tantrum.

  I wanted to snap back at her that I had had a rough few days and I missed my dad. That I was sick of running from secrets I didn’t understand and being constantly at risk. But I didn’t because I was supposed to be the more mature one and mostly because she was my friend. She had been there for me every time I needed her and forgiven me when I had been an idiot, which happened more than I cared to admit. I took a long drink of my coffee and calmed my mind.

  “I don’t know what I want to do, but maybe I would be safer training somewhere else. You and your mom could go, too. We could all travel and train and have big adventures.”

  That stopped her. I could see her rolling the idea over in her mind before dismissing it. “Mom’s sick of traveling, and so am I. Not that I would turn down a vacation, but that is different than living out of a suitcase for months at a time. A new town every few months. I’ve had enough of that for a long time. But even if I wanted to, what about our work here?”

  “Our work?”

  “Solving crimes. Finding who made Legacy, who killed Uncle Edward or your dad. Are you all done with that? Just going to give up and let the bad guys win? I didn’t think you were that kind of person.”

  I swirled the coffee around in my mug, watching the color shift as the cream rose to the top and mixed in. I never bothered to stir my coffee, feeling that it was a waste of a clean spoon when I would drink it unmixed.

  Could I walk away? That seemed impossible, but was it because I was stuck in a rut? A dangerous, life-threatening rut? Or was it hard to walk away because I was already where I was supposed to be? If I was, then why was life so difficult? Why didn’t Colleen want to mentor me and teach me what I needed to know?

  It wasn’t quite an audible voice, but it was a thought in my head that was crystal clear despite never thinking it before. I needed to take control. I had learned what Bear and Badger thought I needed to learn. I learned what Auntie Ann thought I should. And I wanted Colleen to do the same, to tell me what I should do next. I had been passively accepting everything life threw at me and reacting, but what about acting?

  Maybe I felt so adrift because I needed to start chasing things instead of just waiting until something happened to and for me, like a child.

  “I want control,” I stated out loud, startling Vanessa.

  “What?”

  “I want to find the killer, of Ned, of Edward, of my dad. I want to learn more about my gifts. I want to figure out how Patagonia and my link works. I want to find the people behind Legacy and make the marshal deal with them. I want…”

  I wanted to date Thomas, but that seemed outside the scope of my current rant, and I wasn’t sure if that was really what I wanted. I had been denied it by circumstance, but I hadn’t really explored my feelings yet. I knew I was attracted to him, but was that the same as wanting to date him? Words had power, and I wasn’t ready to put those words out there.

  “So wait, you’re not leaving?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe one day but not yet.”

  “Then why did you get me all worked up? Jeez o pete, Ella, it’s already been a tough enough week without you jerking me around like that.” She pulled out a pint of ice cream and didn’t even bother to get out a bowl. It was the most decadent and expensive ice cream I had in the freezer.

  “I need to be more proactive. So what if Colleen doesn’t want to mentor me? I’ll get someone else, or I’ll figure it out on my own. And we need to solve Ned’s murder, and soon. It’s all tied up in Legacy somehow, and once we figure that out, we’ll be one step closer to solving everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Hey, don’t ruin my buzz. I feel… great! Empowered, excited, and in control. I’m not going to let a little setback ruin my mood. Things are going to be different from now on.”

  “Awesome. What are we going to do first? Talk to Dr. Trout? Bear? Go back to investigating?”

  “We’re going to get our hair cut. We look like a couple kids’ dolls after they got ahold of the scissors. Besides, a whole new attitude means a whole new look. Maybe some kind of punk-rock look. Grab your stuff, and let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The salon was already pretty busy when we came in. It was Friday, and ladies were getting ready for nights out. It was a human establishment and a little pricier than I would normally use, but it had several advantages. First was the fact that my stylist, Lexine, was not a chatterbox. I could come in without feeling like I was on the receiving end of a two-hour-long interrogation. We always talked politely at first, but mostly I could sit in comfortable silence. When I had first moved to Rambler, after my father’s murder and my meltdown at work, this had been a blessing.

  Another reason was that Lexine never pressured me to lop off my butt-length hair. Other stylists would go on about modern styles and how a shorter cut would frame my face. They felt the length was matronly, dated, or perhaps just ugly. They would complain about how long it took to dry or how much product it took. I was never sure why they felt they had any opinion on my hair, but when I started with Lexine and she didn’t comment, I was tempted to cry in relief on the spot.

  Lastly, she was really good about squeezing me in when necessary. And that was the factor that saved me. The receptionist was on the phone and looking down to write in the calendar when she asked if we had an appointment.
/>   I said we didn’t and tried to explain it was an emergency, but she spoke right over me.

  “I’m sorry, but we are really swamped, but next week I could get you in—eek!” She squeaked out the last bit when she finally looked up and caught sight of Vanessa’s and my hair.

  Vanessa’s hair poofed out around her, not in her normal volume of naturally curly hair but in uneven chunks that frizzed. Mine was even more horrifying. Neither of us were wearing makeup, and it was probably only our clean clothes that signaled that we hadn’t just dragged ourselves out of a car wreck on the way over.

  The receptionist held up a finger, signaling us to wait, and ran from behind the desk. “Lexine!” she screamed, the panic in her voice causing heads all around the salon to turn and stare.

  I did my best not to fidget as Patagonia twined between my legs. She had a contentious relationship with the place. She was not a fan of the noises or smells, and the staff, being humans, often tried to kick her out, and she resented that. It was an ongoing fight with the receptionist. I didn’t think there was any real animosity. It was a high-end salon that specialized in “the customer is always right,” but neither Patagonia nor the receptionist were willing to lose face.

  Lexine came out, her calm demeanor hiding the spike of panic and fear she experienced at the sight of us. First, she checked that both of us were okay before moving on to the thing she could handle.

  “Do you know how you want your hair cut?” She looked between us, waiting to see who would reply first.

  Vanessa started, as she had chatted the whole way over about her goals. “Short and sassy. Something that screams, ‘New and better.’ I’m thinking young, hip, and a bit edgy.”

  I sighed. She was much more enthused about the new cut than I was. I was having second thoughts, but based on the state of my hair, I had no choice but to forge ahead. “Same for me, but I would like to keep what length you can, and nothing too hard to style or maintain. I need to be able to pull it back into a ponytail still.”

  She nodded. “I’m booked solid all morning, so either you can come back later, or I can squeeze you in between clients, but I warn you, it will take a while.”

  We agreed and were sent off to get shampooed and sit under a heat cap with a conditioning solution that would hopefully salvage as much hair as possible.

  The salon was packed, and Vanessa and I were shuttled off in opposite directions. As the hours crept by, it gave me a lot of time to think.

  I attempted to do some internet searches on my phone, but it was barely getting a signal deep inside the salon, and maybe it was the magic I had used recently, but my phone was acting up more than normal.

  Lexine said she would get to me in a few minutes, and if I wanted to stretch my legs, now would be a good time.

  I went out to their balcony and pulled out my phone to call Dr. Trout, who picked up after a few rings.

  “Did you get the stuff from the murder mall?”

  She snorted. “Yes, we did. Ran a few tests, and while I can’t say they are all a match, I haven’t eliminated any yet.”

  “That has to mean something, right? You are testing like six things, and none have been eliminated.”

  “Five so far. It is a good sign.”

  My gut said that eventually she would be able to prove the items from the mini mall were ingredients in the creation of Legacy. Which meant Ned had been mixed up in Legacy production.

  Ellen had said that Ned had given them a low rent to move in, practically paying them to be there. And Mary had said that always the same stores moved in when one left. A florist was replaced by another florist, a bakery by another bakery. This was most likely done so the items would continue to be carried by the new store owner. The pressure from the importer hadn’t hurt either.

  Did that mean that Bear’s client, the property owner, was involved? That would be nice since Bear would be able to give me information on that except… the second set of books. If Ned wasn’t embezzling, and he wasn’t unless the second set of books were faked as well, but if he was giving discounts to make sure that the correct businesses could afford to be there… that made the most sense. He was charging a lower rate to the renters, including Linda since her rent was also lower, then likely he was making up the difference himself. But if he was working with the property owner’s permission, there would be no need for all the subterfuge.

  “Ella, are you still there?”

  I had been lost in thought. “Oh, sorry. I’m trying to think. Did you learn any more about the signature of the makers of Legacy?”

  “Not really. For the main spell, we have the signature. The secondary spell, nothing. But I haven’t really looked into it more. Even if we learned more, there isn’t a lot I could do with the information.”

  “Couldn’t you, like, replicate it then match it up with someone?” Previously I had been able to match up a killer with the aura of magic I had experienced in a death vision, but that required the person to work magic around me. And I hadn’t been able to pick up a clear aura from my death vision, at least not well enough to use it to match up with a mage. Most likely, they had a way to hide their aura. Even when the potion had removed the rest of the fake vision, the aura had still remained hidden. That was a skill I needed to use.

  “Perhaps. The research I have been able to find is pretty sparse. There just isn’t a lot of use for it anymore. First you need the signature, which we have. It isn’t great, but it is good enough. Then you can reverse a detecting spell, but that is where the whole thing falls apart. It’s like building a flashlight to show something in the dark, but in this example, no one can see. So even if you reveal something with light, no one can sense it. You can build a spell to give people the ability to sense the spectral imprint of a mage user, but it can take a lifetime to develop.”

  I hesitated only briefly. I trusted Dr. Trout with enough already to know if I were at risk of her betrayal, so what harm was it to give her more information, especially if she could help me. “And what if someone could sense auras?”

  She gasped lightly in the phone but spoke in her typical controlled tone. Excitement threatened to break through. “What do you mean by aura?”

  “Oh, it’s a term I read in a book. What if someone—okay, I’m being stupid and confusing things by being vague. I can sense auras. In my head it is like a smell or sometimes a taste. When someone works magic, I can sense the flavor of their magic. I’ve been able to match up a spell with a user when—” I cut myself off from mentioning the death visions. One secret at a time.

  Dr. Trout didn’t demand to know why I had held this information back from her. Mages were secretive about their skills, both learned and innate. She seemed to be carefully picking her words, balancing her excitement with her natural caution. “I think I could get a spell to work. I…”

  Muffled noises came over the line. She had a hand over her phone as she babbled to someone. After a long time, her voice faded back in as she returned to the phone. “…make a basic tracking spell… no, I’ll explain in a minute. Ella? Did I lose you?”

  “Still here.” Lexine came to the door and gestured me inside. “Oh, but I need to go. I have to get my hair cut.”

  “Smart, yes, you’ll want something…” She turned away from the phone, her voice tinny as she spoke before returning. “Can you come over afterward? I think I can have some things set up. Great, see you then.” She clicked off before waiting for my reply.

  I slipped the phone into my pocket, chuckling at her obvious enthusiasm. She had an idea, and knowing her brilliance, it would work. But first I needed to trust in Lexine’s brilliance to turn my hair into something livable.

  It was probably no coincidence that I was getting my first new hairstyle in decades. My hair had been long ever since my dad picked me up after my mother disappeared. In fact, long hair was all I had ever known. It was fitting that I was about to go in for a big change on the same day I decided that I needed to take control of my life and future
.

  I smiled at Lexine.

  “I have some ideas, but they are pretty out there.”

  “That’s okay. I think it’s time for a big change.” If only she knew the half of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I waited patiently for Dr. Trout to open her lab door. I knocked again then looked around, startling when I caught Vanessa’s and my reflections in a window across the hall. It was going to take some time for both of us to get used to our new looks.

  Vanessa’s hair was short and reminded me of something that a flapper would have worn a century earlier. The gentle curls clung close to her face, and she couldn’t seem to keep her fingers from playing with the hair.

  My ponytail brushed my shoulders as I turned back to the door. My head felt significantly lighter with feet of hair gone, but the most shocking had been when Lexine had shaved the sides of my head, leaving only the center hair long. Given the bald spots from the fire, there really hadn’t been much choice, but I still felt like an escapee from a eighties punk-rock band, God Save the Mage.

  Dr. Trout opened the door and gave us both a once-over. “I like it. Much better than before.”

  I followed her in. “We didn’t have a lot of options, but I think I’m digging it.”

  Beth looked up from where she was organizing little glass containers of liquid on the table. “Whoa!”

  “Thanks,” Vanessa chirped, spinning around to give the full view. I realized with a start who she reminded me of: Betty Boop, the cartoon character that I had seen as a kid.

  It had taken us several hours to get over to the hospital after my call with Dr. Trout, and it was sliding into the late afternoon. But on the up side, in addition to the new haircuts, our nails were done, and makeup was now covering most of our bruises. Nothing short of a full face mask was going to hide all the damage, but no longer did it appear that we were on the run from the morgue.

  Dr. Trout gestured to two seats and went to the other side of the table with the vials. Once she was settled in, she launched into her speech, as excited as I had ever seen her.