Spell Maven From Spell Haven

by Megan Marple

  “Why’s that?” Fiona-Leigh questioned. “What do you mean?”

  Oisín delicately licked at his paw before rubbing it behind his ear, his great yellow eyes widening. “Generally speaking, the Shadow Hand at the right hand of a Shadow Hand Mage is the next in line. So should something happen to Gardner . . .”

  “Osh! Don’t talk like that!” I hissed at him.

  “ . . . Then pretty boy would be in charge of the whole force. Just your usual command line, at least.”

  I shook my head, wishing not for the first time, that Oisín had taken up residence with Bedelia instead. But the two of them fought like cats and dogs, no pun intended.

  “You know, I really like Erie,” Fiona-Leigh said, going for the quick change of subject much to my relief. “I can see how the two of you were really close.”

  Smiling, I sank down at the table with my plate of toast. “She and I got along fabulously. She was like the big sister I never had. Which is funny, because her two older sisters hardly paid us any attention. It was like we were in our own little world whenever we were together.”

  “She took me to the Menagerie . . .” It was like watching a flower bloom in real time, seeing the way her eyes lit up. “And Mom, holy cow. It was amazing.”

  “Oh, yeah? What did the two of you end up doing?”

  She rehashed the tour Erie had given her, starting with the Menagerie’s unhatched dragon eggs, all the way up to the young unicorn they’d just rescued from the Dark Isle. All the while, Fiona-Leigh barely took a long enough breath in before going right into the next creature.

  “But it was so weird, though, because she kept telling me how cows were like a rare species there. Can you imagine that? We see them all over the place when we’re driving outside of Midnight Pitch!” she laughed. The sound of it settled my nerves even more until even I was laughing.

  “No kidding. So imagine how surprised I was when I first got here and nearly ran smack-into a whole farm of them up the road. I remember how all I could think of was how much I wished Erie was there with me to see them.”

  “Yeah, it was cool hanging out with her. I can’t believe she doesn’t have any kids—she’d be one of those super chill moms, I bet,” Fiona-Leigh replied, pushing a lock of red behind her ear. “You know what I mean,” she quickly added when I rolled my eyes.

  “Mm-hm. I know what you mean. You mean that I’m one of the lame moms who actually give a crap about their kids. How very tragic.”

  “No, I mean like how she’s so go with the flow about things. She said that was her thing, and your thing was to be on top of everything, all the time. Sounds about right, if you ask me. I guess I’m not too surprised at some of the stuff. Erie also can make a mean crepe.”

  I laughed. “Whereas my crepes are . . .”

  “Total crap,” she answered casually.

  “Hey! I wouldn’t go that far. They’re not that bad. Are they? No, wait. Don’t answer that,” I waved my arms up in surrender as Fiona-Leigh stared me down with her thin eyebrows cocked.

  “I do miss real food,” Oisín announced before walking back into the kitchen. “And a dinner from Erie never disappoints.”

  Fiona-Leigh bounced up on the balls of her feet. “Why don’t you come with us tomorrow? You can go to your five-hundredth year high school reunion, even!” she added with a wink. Oisín blinked at her slowly. I half-expected him to throw in a slow clap at the end.

  “Dear Fiona-Leigh, I’ll have you know that we did not have high schools back in my day. And I am not a day over five-hundred and seventy-five.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Man, Osh, even I didn’t know you were that old. Are you for real?”

  He stuck his little nose in the air, his long whiskers trembling. “While the idea of no longer being stuck in the same house as that flea-bitten mongrel sounds appealing . . . I think I’ll have to pass on the invite,” Oisín said, totally ignoring my comment. His fluffy tail swished from side to side. “Maybe next time.”

  I shrugged. “Well, the offer still stands. I’m sure you’ll start itching to join us before you realize it.”

  But Oisín just snorted, the sound rather comical coming from a cat. “If I start itching, the dog will be to blame.”

  14

  The next morning didn’t bring much peace from Fiona-Leigh’s pestering. Even though I’d brought her along with me to Spell Haven, it was only to make sure someone was able to keep an eye on her. “But I could help!”

  Fiona-Leigh eyes narrowed at me. “You’re being so unfair right now. Just because I don’t have any powers like you.”

  “Yup, you got me. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be part of an official magical police investigation.” I immediately regretted saying it because I already knew where she was going to steer the conversation.

  “Right. The same magical police investigation that you yourself aren’t officially a part of?” When she stood with her hand on her small hip, hanging on to the only real, fair point she had, it reminded me of someone I knew.

  I sighed. “Fi. C’mon. While I may not be throwing on a badge and joining up with MARC to put together the murder case, I will be checking out some places and people I’d rather you stay away from. I’m not saying I couldn’t use your brain, or that you aren’t smart enough to come with. I just want you safe—is that so much to ask?”

  Fiona-Leigh has a pretty good head on her shoulders, but I knew she was struggling between wanting to be a part of what was happening—my concern be damned—and reluctantly obeying. Ever since the truth about my family came out, it was anyone’s guess as to which one she’d pick.

  Low heels clicked across the stone floor as Aunt Ginevra made her way into the parlor. “Gardner’s just spoken with Gentry. He’s on his way.”

  “Woo-hoo,” I said, twirling my finger around in the air. “Fun to be had by all.”

  Aunt Ginevra just shook her head at me, but Fiona-Leigh’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “What’s all that about? Did I miss something?”

  I hadn’t really had the chance to explain my uncle’s vexing second-in-command. “He works with Uncle Gardner. And he’ll be helping me. Sorta. Maybe.”

  This was not going to satisfy her in the slightest. Fiona-Leigh raised a brow at me. “Uh-huh. And is Gentry Whitemourn going to be going with you today?”

  I nodded.

  She copied me, gnawing on her lip. “And I’ll get to meet him?”

  Grinding my teeth, I looked between her and Aunt Ginevra. “I suppose you will, yes. But we’re not going to be hanging around here for very long. We have things to do—I have things to do, rather. He . . . Can go jump off Misty Tree Bridge, for all I care,” I replied, a little ashamed at how childish I sounded. “What?”

  There was no mistaking the smile that was threatening to spread across her face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  The sound of the heavy front doors opening startled me, and I tried to relax the weird twitch in my eye and prepare for the next few sure-to-be-aggravating hours. I just needed to stay focused on the task at hand. My fingers idled over the wand hidden in one of the many pockets in the cloak I was wearing, itching to get started.

  Was it weird that I could feel his presence before I saw him? Almost like tasting the rain before a storm rolled in. I knew I was just letting him get to me, so I recalled my favorite heart-rate calming trigger and pressed my thumbs to my index and middle fingers behind my back. My shoulders immediately relaxed right as Gentry walked into the parlor with an easy stride.

  “Hello, Gentry,” Aunt Ginevra beamed up at him.

  He gave a little bow toward her. “Good morning, Mrs. Brady. I saw that your calendulas are coming in nicely around the front windows.”

  This of course, earned a hug from her. “You are too sweet, lad. I thought they were looking fine, myself.”

  His eyes drifted over to me.

  “Gentry,” I simply said, keeping all emotion in check.


  “Brady.” He managed to keep the smirk off his face this time. “I trust that you’re ready to head on over to headquarters?”

  “I am. And from there, we’ll be starting at the beginning. Where the murder took place.” Next to me, Fiona-Leigh slid her arm inside my cloak and around my waist—something she rarely ever did. When I looked at her I noticed her cheeks were much pinker than usual. Her freckles seemed muddy in comparison.

  “This is my daughter, Fiona-Leigh,” I explained. “Fiona-Leigh, this is Gentry Whitemourn.”

  To his credit, Gentry gave another little bow to her, his tousled brown hair falling into his eyes as he looked back up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Fiona-Leigh. How are you liking Spell Haven?”

  I could almost hear her heart skip a beat.

  “Um, it’s cool. I—uh, like the animals.” Her cheeks went from pink to red.

  He nodded. “We do have some magnificent creatures here. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your mother for a little while.”

  I was a good girl and kept from letting my eyes roll to back of my head, but it was clear he had Fiona-Leigh eating out of the palm of his hand. She could talk for hours about bringing down the patriarchy all she wanted, but there was no accounting for being smitten with an older man, it seemed. Not that Gentry was old, just old for her. If I had to guess, he was probably four or five years younger than me. At least thirty, for sure.

  “We better get to it,” I finally said, leaning in to hug Fiona-Leigh before letting go. “Please listen, okay? And don’t go snooping around the manor. It’s a lot bigger than it looks, believe me.”

  Gentry moved aside and let me pass between him and one of the antique cream-colored chaises. “After you.”

  The carriage transport was idling in the circular drive, missing a driver. It was one of the MARC’s own extended carriages with four rows to fit plenty of people. I’d taken Fiona-Leigh to Atlanta with me one time for a work-related thing and man, if only they had known about these things. The traffic alone, had been enough for me to swear off ever going in my boss’s place again.

  Pulling my cloak tighter around myself as the wind blew, I yanked open the door and ignored the way Gentry tried to catch my eye from the other side.

  I hated the idea of having to make small talk with him, so I figured it was best to just get into the vehicle and get to the MARC building with as little talking as possible.

  “Do you know where to go once we’re briefed at headquarters?” I asked him as soon as we were both inside.

  The wind was really knocking the carriage around, so much so that the back door blew wide open before he mumbled the incantation and we began to move. “Yes. I was the one who headed the initial crime scene investigation.” The side-eye he was giving me could’ve burned holes in a dragon’s hide.

  I let his gruff reply go with a shrug, considering I forgot about reading that in the file. “Onward and upward, I guess.”

  Unlike my vain attempt to get the transport going on the way to the MARC headquarters last time, the carriage ride was practically bump-free. I had to remind myself that this was every-day life for Gentry so of course it was so effortless for him, while I had been forced to learn how to drive cars in the Human Realm — my rusty old green Jeep included.

  “So, did you read the file?”

  I pursed my lips together. “Yes.”

  “I just wanted to be sure. Since you didn’t seem to realize that part about me heading the initial —”

  “— I’ve read that part,” I snapped. “And we really, really don’t have to do this. We can handle looking for Tristan without having to talk much to each other. In fact, I would prefer it.”

  I could’ve sworn he snickered, but Gentry held his hands up in defense, the wheel steering itself as he let go. “Hey, if that’s how you want to do things. You won’t hear me complain.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and looked out the window. How hard would it be to get Uncle Gardner to see reason? Maybe if he saw that it didn’t make any sense for the two of us to work together, he might just pull pretty-boy from helping me. One could only hope.

  The rest of the ride was quite silent, thankfully.

  Overhead, the sky was patterned in fluffy white clouds with the sunlight threading gold around them. Another beautiful day in Spell Haven, despite the gusts. The Fae must be in good spirits with us here, lately. You can always tell when one of the higher-ups in the Fae royal court were having a spat with a witch—there’d be beautiful weather one minute and lightning storms and hail the size of golf-balls, the next. And not just any hail, because that would be too easy. No, I’m talking magical hail. The last time I was here for an incident like that, everyone who came in contact with the hail suddenly had hair sprouting all over their body that made them look like werewolves in desperate need of a good grooming.

  The Fae had a pretty interesting sense of humor.

  The differences between the bustling town of Spell Haven and sleepy Midnight Pitch are enough to write a whole book about, but if there’s one thing I missed the most about my hometown, it was how convenient magic can be. While there were still plenty of people hawking their wares in the main town square, you had other options, too.

  There were menus full of items you could buy without having to do much more than lift a wand, at least if you were an Alchemist like me. All you’d have to do was flip through the Weekly Magiczine, tap your wand on a picture of whatever you were wanting to buy, and it would tally up your total. You could even order delivery—something the local vampires in town were huge fans of.

  The closest thing I had to that kind of service back home was Pizza Hut.

  The MARC building loomed ahead, disrupting the beautiful skyline with its foreboding stone structure. I pictured the plaque by the front iron gates that I’d passed numerous times:

  1825 Gowan Lane

  The Magical Acts and Regulation Control, founded circa 1558.

  Coinnitheoirí Draíochta A Choinneáil Ar An Tsíocháin –

  Keepers Of Magic, Keepers Of The Peace

  The carriage slowed to a smooth stop right outside of the gate. Gentry hit a button I hadn’t noticed, and a small screen popped up on the would-be dashboard. It sort of reminded me of one of those newer built-in touch screen displays in a car. Not my car, obviously.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  My Uncle Gardner’s transparent, floating head appeared over the screen, his voice suddenly booming through the carriage as if he were barking orders at us from inside of it. “Report to my office, you two. I have a meeting with the head of The Children of the Moon Society shortly, and the last thing I need to deal with is a grumpy werewolf.”

  Gentry nodded. “Will do, sir.”

  “Um, yes sir,” I added, not sure if Uncle Gardner could even see me. When his head swiveled to face me, his eyes softened. Okay, so maybe he could.

  “Thank you.” With that, he was gone.

  I waited until Gentry had pushed the button again and the whole interface had disappeared before I sat back against the seat. “Well, that was . . . new.”

  “Recent upgrade to the transportation energy grid. The transport mage got the idea from the Human Realm, funny enough. I guess they can be useful from time to time. The smartest bunch of them, anyway,” he shrugged, pocketing a small shining disc into his cloak pocket.

  Personally, I knew a whole bunch of smart humans. It was pretty hypocritical of him to compliment them and insult them all in one breath. I guess it’s a habit of his.

  Raising a brow, I pointed to his pocket. “Transportation energy grid? Interesting. I didn’t know they finished setting that up yet. Is that electrum?”

  His mouth gave a little twitch. “Yes.”

  I waited a beat and then, “And what’s it for?”

  “It syncs the carriage with the grid. So if for instance, I needed to take my hands off the steering wheel I could. The carriage would follow the grid to wherever I will it to go. This,” he
tapped his pocket, “will lock my intention to the grid. We’ve only started using it inside MARC. It’s not widely available. Yet.”

  So. He was apparently capable of holding a reasonable conversation if it involved cars. Typical.

  “We better hurry up and get inside,” I mumbled, sliding out of the carriage.

  But before I had a chance to shut the door, something squeaked from one of the back rows.

  Gentry looked over his shoulder, confused. “Did you hear—?”

  “Yep,” I replied, peeking around the window until I saw a flash of red. I jumped back into the seat and leaned over, snatching up the woolly cloak that was lying in an oddly-shaped heap along one of the furthest back rows. “Fiona-Leigh Brady! Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

  She peered up at me innocently, giving me one of those “please don’t murder me” looks.

  “Um. This isn’t where I left my retainer?”

  I grit my teeth. “Yeah, no crap. Get out. Now.”

  “A stowaway, huh?” Gentry stood at the front of the carriage wearing an amused grin.

  Nudging Fiona-Leigh to book it, I shook my head behind her. “More like a child who’s looking at her first week of summer stuck in her room when we get back home.”

  “You have to admit it, though. The girl has guts.”

  “I don’t suppose you have kids, do you, Whitemourn?” I asked once the gates opened up for us. “Because I have this crazy feeling like maybe not so much.”

  But it was too late. Fiona-Leigh was already staring at him with little hearts in her eyes.

  Good grief.

  15

  The immaculate lobby was bustling with the usual busy folks hurrying to get to their desks and offices on time. I even caught sight of what must have been the group my uncle was scheduled to meet with—werewolves, judging by their sheer size and grizzled-looking faces. The smaller female werewolf with the streak of brilliant white through her ponytail rounded on the others who were grumbling to one another.