Spell Maven From Spell Haven

by Megan Marple

  Marina adjusted the dark beanie on her pale blonde head, surveying the three of us. “Wait. Who’s this guy?”

  Smooth as possible, I gave her my best motherly smile to ease her suspicions. “This guy is my younger brother, Tristan. He’s in town and when he realized we weren’t home, he heard us over here. Tristan,” I said, turning to look at him, “this is Fiona-Leigh’s best friend, Marina. Marina, Tristan.”

  Marina’s eyes couldn’t have possibly gotten any bigger as she took him in, her jaw hanging open slightly. The millions of questions that surely just popped into her head were just going to have to wait.

  “We actually have some family business to attend to, so I’m going to have to leave the ghost-busting to the two of you. I’m sure it’s just a stray cat. There’s plenty in the neighborhood, anyway.” The ease of the little half-lies was starting to concern me.

  I’d already made it to the front yard when Tristan tugged at my hand from behind. “We’ve got company,” he muttered.

  Sure enough, Sully approached us, an unfairly adorable yet curious smile on his face. The dark beard definitely had a way of contrasting against his white teeth. Ugh, what the heck am I thinking?

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked, wiping at the sweat on his forehead.

  I could feel Tristan’s eyes boring holes into the back of my head. This was so not a good time for this. Any of this, really.

  “I’m sorry to duck in and out. My brother here, happened to be in the neighborhood.”

  “Tristan,” my brother stuck his hand out, giving Sully a firm shake. Judging by the look on both their faces—probably a little too firm.

  “Oh, okay. I’m Sully. Nice to meet you, Tristan.” He turned his attention to me and I pretended not to notice the way he shook out his fingers. “You don’t have to run off just yet. The more the merrier.”

  I bit my lip. As much as I’d have loved to sit and stare at the lovely Sully Pritchett, there were more pressing matters to attend to. And Tristan was in need of a good smack-down. “That’s sweet of you. It’s kind of a family emergency, though—nothing bad, of course!” I quickly added, seeing the look on Sully’s face. “Just some stuff I have to sort out sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind.” It still took an added effort not to look at the way the corner of his mouth quirked up as he waved me off.

  “Nah, not at all. I’ll make sure to return the muffin tin with Fiona-Leigh.”

  “Muffins?” Marina and Fiona-Leigh called out in unison as they poked their heads around the corner of the house.

  Sully’s smile didn’t falter an inch as he looked over his shoulder at them. “You two were too busy dealing with some kind of um . . . Girl trouble, was it? They’re on the island in the kitchen. They’re probably not poisonous.”

  Fiona-Leigh eyed me suspiciously. “You made them?”

  “Have a little faith in me, all right? We taste-tested them. I think we’ll live to see another day.”

  Behind me, my brother chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day . . .”

  It definitely wasn’t the proper time to beat Tristan over the head with my favorite boot, so I turned and gave him the most unconvincing smile I could afford, pointing across the street. “You won’t if you don’t shut up and get to walking.”

  There was a low whistle behind me and I somehow could picture Sully’s crooked grin without even having turn around. The heat rushing through my cheeks was unmistakable as my brother glanced between me and Sully, piecing it together. I gritted my teeth together without another look backward and willed my little brother to follow me as I attempted not to trample over the pretty moss-covered flagstones that led back out to the sidewalk.

  31

  I waited until we were all the way inside my house to turn on Tristan. Judging by the expression on his face, I must have looked rather murdery.

  “You know, she reminds me an awful lot of you. Except, you know, the more fun version,” he said, pushing the curtain to the side as he looked back across the street. “She’s got that same ‘I’m nice but I will kick your ass’ sort of thing about her.”

  I ignored the pendant as it buzzed against my skin, the magic held within it trying to lure me to use it. To maybe even possibly turn him into a toad... Oh, he did not want mess with me.

  “I will refrain from immediately punching you in the face and ask you a simple enough question. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Hello to you too, big sister.” Tristan strode into the living room before sinking down onto the sofa, kicking back. The streak of dirt or grime or whatever the heck it was he smeared along the edge of the sofa, was about to send me into the danger zone.

  “Get off my furniture and answer the question,” I growled.

  With a sigh, Tristan stood back up. “No ‘I’m glad you’re alive even though there are a ton of Dark Marketeers looking to severely harm and maim you?’ Huh. Not the welcome I was hoping for.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We’re not going to do the whole greetings and pleasantries thing.” Jax ran into the living room until he noticed the new stranger and proceeded to bark like a maniac at him.

  “And why not? Is it so crazy of me to expect some kind of happiness from you to see that I’m still alive and kicking?” he yelled over Jax.

  I reached down and picked up the writhing little ball of fluff, shushing him. “You know why. Perhaps it was the part where you ran away from an active murder investigation in which you are the prime suspect, giving our entire family grief over it. Or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t bother telling any one of us that you were alive when everyone thought something horrible had happened to you. Don’t even get me started on you actually working in the Dark Market.”

  Tristan scoffed as he leaned against the mantel, his eyes narrowing at me. “Oh, that’s real fine of you to say, Gwendolyn! You, the same person who turned her back on said family to run off and live some fantasy life in the Human Realm. Without so much as a look backward on the rest of us, no less. Yes, please do go on about how I caused everyone grief.”

  His words were a sharp blade driven into my chest. Jax squirmed out of my hands and dropped to the sofa, growling, as I stumbled backward. I blinked. He had said what I always feared they thought of me—that I abandoned my family. Well. At least I knew how he really felt.

  I found my voice, but it was oddly hollow. “You’re right. Not that this is what I consider to be a fantasy life, but that I turned my back on you. For my daughter. To make sure she didn’t grow up in a world where she’d never fit in. I couldn’t face her feeling tortured like that every day, so I made my own kind of sacrifice for her. I don’t expect you to understand it, Tristan. But I did what I had to do for her.”

  The silence felt like it stretched on forever until it didn’t. “I wish it wasn’t like this.” He gestured between the two of us. “That you didn’t think I was some kind of lowlife working for all the wrong people.” He inspected the wood on the mantel, running a finger along the length of it. “There’s more to the story than whatever Uncle G probably told you.”

  Of course, that would be his first line of blame. Maybe some things didn’t change. “No offense, but I haven’t seen you in almost fifteen years. Add in the fact that everyone seems to think you went rogue, and I don’t know whether I should believe that or not.”

  The floorboards creaked underneath his feet as he shifted his weight and folded his arms in a way that reminded me of a sullen teenager.

  “C’mon, Gwennie. I’m still the same old Tristan. I’ve just picked up a few more scars here and there.” He absentmindedly rubbed a silvery, jagged line along his forearm, his eyes locked on mine.

  It was hard not to envision the last time I’d seen my brother, shorter, brighter-eyed and with none of the stubble on his face. The guilt I’d been keeping at bay was threatening to wash over me. I glanced over at one of the pictures of Fiona-Leigh hanging up on the wall. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . You’ve grown up and I wasn’t
there for it. So, I can’t really say I know you all that well anymore. I wish I could have been, though. I wish I had been there for you.”

  He waved me off. “No need to worry about that. Like you said, you had your own kid to think about. I can’t really be mad at you for that, now can I? And I don’t want to be mad at you for that.” His gaze dropped to his feet. This was one of those kinds of moments where a younger Tristan used to find it necessary to fill the silence with something completely obnoxious.

  Sure enough, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “So I won’t be mad at you. Why don’t you just let me get in one good move and we’ll be even?”

  One good…? I barely had time to roll my eyes before his foot arced a little too closely over my head for comfort. I ducked a few inches, frowning.

  Tristan was still pretty quick on his feet, weaving his body from left to right and back again with a simpering look on his face. His footwork had definitely improved, and when he pretended to jab at me with his right fist I was sure he’d actually connect.

  But years of training caught back up with me in an instant and I managed to dodge the fake-out, dropping to a crouch and sweeping his legs out from underneath him in the process before he even knew what was happening.

  It was a move I’d perfected by using Tristan as my practice dummy when we were younger. I was actually surprised he hadn’t seen it coming. Of course, that was when Tristan was a scrawny fifteen-year-old. Now he was taller and while it was clear he needed a good meal or two, I could tell he used to put time into weight training. My ankle throbbed from the contact and I tried to hide the grimace on my face as I jumped back up and held out my hand for him.

  His initial shock wore off and he sported the grin that used to win him his arguments with our parents and Aunt Bee. Not that it ever worked on me.

  “And here I was, thinking you’d gone soft after living with the humans.”

  “When you can’t rely on magic, you have to learn to use your imagination. Not to mention,” I explained with a grunt as he levied his weight into pulling himself up with my help, “Shadow Hands are well-known for their rigorous training. I don’t think that even a full-blown memory spell would be able to make me forget all those early morning laps. Ugh.” As healthy and fit as I was when I was going through the training, even I absolutely hated running. My older and yes, softer muscles ached just thinking about it.

  Tristan straightened up. “One of the lovely perks of being the family’s black sheep—low expectations to live up to. Even in the famous Gwen Brady’s massive shadow.”

  “Was that an implication that I need to lose weight or something? Because, rude.” I fought grinning back at him, reminding myself that I was still pissed at him.

  “More like the fact that your Miss Perfect side could afford an ego hit. But I daresay you got one,” he replied, looking around the inside of our little bungalow.

  “It’s no Brady Manor, but it does the trick. Anyway . . . I believe you were at the part where you actually got to the point and told me what happened to you?”

  Going back and forth and sizing each other up was the real trip down memory lane here. Even with the age gap between us there was still the whole sibling rivalry thing going on. I’d honestly forgotten how good Tristan was at aggravating me on purpose. Was it completely unhinged of me to actually miss it?

  “When you sit down.”

  I paused. “Why do I have to sit down? Is that for added effect?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head at me. “No, believe it or not. I just want you to stop pacing, that’s all.”

  My cheeks burned—I hadn’t even realized I was moving. “Okay, okay,” I said, plopping down on my sofa.

  “As I’m sure you remember, Enoch was on the MARC’s radar for a long time. Profiteering, illegal spell consumption and dealing, deadly potion sales to underage witches, fraud, running an underground fight club, several more—”

  “An underground fight club? Who does he think he is? Brad Pitt?”

  Tristan stopped short. “The guy’s dead now, so I don’t think it really matters who he thought he was. And I have no idea who you’re talking about, by the way, but I think you get the picture. You name it, he probably did it or paid some to. But the thing with Enoch is that he was a very smart vampire. Some of them go a little insane on that feeding on blood thing, but Enoch knew he needed to be more than just some strong vampire with fangs to get the kind of power he wanted. He was always a step ahead of MARC, keeping his hands clean. With what he promised those who were loyal to him, he had no shortage of supernaturals willing to take the fall for him. Not that he’d ever return the favor.”

  I leaned forward. Just picturing the look on Uncle Gardner’s face each time a guy like Enoch would slip through his fingers was sobering enough. “Okay. So the MARC knew that. Why didn’t they try to infiltrate and neutralize him?”

  “They tried. Didn’t work. Last I checked, there were at least four different Shadow Hands who got taken out in the process.”

  They were probably people I knew, too.

  “But that’s the thing. Being a Shadow Hand is like this big prestigious honor, right? You go through all that training and make it. Get the big ceremony and all the accolades after. A pretty public thing, you know?”

  I saw where he was going with this, stringing it together myself. “. . . So Enoch easily found out who was an agent and got rid of them. I can’t believe Uncle Gardner hadn’t thought that one through more.”

  Tristan shrugged. “You know how he is. Too proud to accept other’s suggestions. I never had the chance to tell him what I thought about it and what I thought I could do to help,” he let his voice trail off, looking miles away.

  “All right. So, no one could get in and stay in without tripping Enoch’s suspicions. Where do you come into all of this?”

  “I thought that was pretty obvious, but I guess not. I was already doing my thing in the Dark Market. Making connections, listening with one ear to the ground. I knew what was going on from the bits I heard here and there. And I knew there was a small group of them that were unhappy with the way Enoch was running the place. They didn’t think there was enough freedom given, and that he was basically kissing up to the MARC by appearing to obey the laws. They wanted a more ruthless leader, I guess.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” I sighed.

  “And he knew there was some dissent. He always had someone watching his back, just in case things got ugly. One person that really hated him though, was Delaney Drakar. And when her and her boyfriend had a big fallout in one of the main hubs of the market, it looked like they were on the verge of nearly killing one another. Enoch just happened to be there and saw the whole thing. He knew how much Delaney hated him and thought that it would be smart to use her ex-boyfriend against her. He pulled him into the inner-most circle and primed him to take her out.”

  Enoch didn’t sound like the kind of person I really should’ve been mourning, the more I thought about it. “He sounds like a breath of fresh air.”

  “I was already in the circle myself, so I saw the whole thing. Enoch thought he had it all covered, but really he had fallen into her trap. Delaney and her boyfriend didn’t actually break up. They staged the whole thing, knowing that Enoch was there and watching.”

  “And Enoch gave her the key to ruin him,” I finished for him. “I guess this time Delaney was one extra step ahead of him. But that still doesn’t explain how you got roped into this mess. Why were you there when he was murdered?”

  He was growing more visibly irritated by the second. “Because I thought playing hero was worth it. Enoch needed help with something and I volunteered, thinking I could get close enough to get the information the MARC needed on him to at least take out a search warrant. All I could think about was hurrying up with this self-imposed mission of mine because it was really cutting into my time with my girlfriend. It wasn’t me who murdered him though—it was Delaney’s guy. And since I happened
to be in the wrong place and the wrong time, he pinned it on me. No one gave me the chance to explain before he was gone without a trace. Delaney was there in an instant and practically did me in herself, just to prove that she had nothing to do with Enoch’s murder.”

  My heart sank as I watched the corners of his mouth turn down. My hand hovered over his, but I hesitated and pulled back. “Playing a hero?”

  “Well, yeah. I joined up in an attempt to take him out from the inside. To make it to the point where no one else could, and then rightfully deliver him over to Uncle G. I knew if someone they even remotely suspected tried to do it, Enoch and his marketeers wouldn’t let them get far enough away to snitch on them. And me being the outcast son of a well-known family in Spell Haven made me the perfect candidate for Enoch’s undertaking.”

  My jaw dropped. “You? You were trying to get the information on him? Are you absolutely insane? That’s a great way to get yourself killed, you know!” Leave it up to Tristan to find the quickest and most painful way to an early death. But if he was telling the truth…

  “I’m not saying I had the most righteous motive ever, but I never laid a hand on Enoch. You know me—I’m not that kind of guy. And trust me, I know plenty of them. I’ve worked for them. With them, even. But there’s still a line I’m not willing to cross and that’s probably what got me in trouble with the Marketeers in the first place.”

  It was like I’d emerged from underwater to take a gulp of air, my chest felt so much lighter as the weight of my heavy thoughts surrounding Tristan lifted off of me. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear him say he wasn’t responsible for Enoch’s murder. Maybe there really had been some part of me that wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure—though I definitely believed him now.

  It was stupid, I knew it, but I couldn’t help it as the tears welled up in my eyes. I sniffled, quickly wiping at them.

  The usual grin of his slid into a softened, knowing look. “Look, Gwennie. I’m . . . I’m really sorry. I should have told you when I first went into hiding. I had every chance to and instead, I let you worry about me. You know, it’s funny because I try to do the right thing, and all it does is land me in a deeper grave.”