Hemlocked and Loaded

by Annabel Chase

  I smiled at the mention of Agnes. “She designed a spell for you?”

  Althea nodded. “Your girl Agnes is full of knowledge and power. I’ve said a hundred times it’s foolish to put that witch out to pasture. Lady Weatherby is talented, but her mother is a force of nature.”

  I didn’t disagree. Then again, I had a soft spot for Agnes and her special brand of crazy.

  Althea looked over at the empty windowsill. "Any luck with figuring out who poisoned our plant?"

  I followed her gaze. "Not yet. I've been preoccupied with other matters."

  "Speaking of other matters," she said, producing a folder. I was so fixated on the diaper-style headscarf, I hadn’t even noticed she was holding anything. “You have a new client coming in today."

  I pressed my lips together. "Let me guess. The client will be here in half an hour."

  Althea winked. “Nope. You’ve got at least an hour."

  I groaned. “Not too serious of an offense, I hope. I'm so distracted by life right now."

  “It’s a trespassing case,” Althea said. "A werelynx called Tomlin."

  I scanned the contents of the folder. "Okay, I guess I'd better review this now."

  "Is that my cue to run over to Brew-Ha-Ha for a caffeine fix?” she asked.

  I smiled. "I think we’re getting into a groove." As I flipped the page, Althea's attention was drawn to my hand.

  "Stars and stones," she said. "Emphasis on stones. When did you get that fine piece of jewelry, Miss Sparkle?”

  I held up my hand for inspection. “I thought you knew. We decided to make it official."

  “I wouldn’t forget news like that.” Althea made a noise of approval. “My, it is very official, isn’t it? I'd like to have something so official-looking on my finger."

  "Nothing is stopping you from buying yourself a beautiful ring," I said.

  "I think the paltry salary I get paid might be stopping me," she replied with a pointed look.

  "But when you love what you do, it's like you never work a day in your life." I flashed her a cheeky grin.

  Althea harrumphed. “That’s only what employees say when they don’t make a lot of money. Once you marry that wealthy angel of yours, you’ll never have to worry about money again.”

  “It’s not like I worry now,” I said. “The cost of living isn’t very high here.” And I’d been given Gareth’s house for free. Talk about a leg up in life. Not a day went by that I wasn’t grateful.

  "I guess Gareth is over the blood moon with all this wedding talk," Althea said.

  "That's putting it mildly. I think he knows it's the closest thing to heaven he's ever going to experience." I couldn't help but watch the snakes moving. They were mesmerizing. “I think your girls are staring at me.”

  Althea glanced down at her ample chest.

  “Wrong girls,” I said.

  “Oh.” Althea glanced upward. “That’s because they like you.”

  “Since when?” I asked.

  “Trust me. I know when they don’t like someone. They’re as blunt as I am. Any special request for your latte?" she queried.

  I shook my head. "Surprise me."

  Althea smiled. "Living on the edge for a change. I like it."

  She left the office and I took the little time that I had to review the case file. Tomlin was a thirty-five-year-old werelynx that had been caught trespassing on the property of Henrietta and Bob Akers. I didn’t recognize the address. Tomlin was single and childless. That sounded promising. Maybe he’d be a good candidate for speed dating. It never ceased to surprise me how many single paranormals were roaming around Spellbound.

  Tomlin arrived five minutes late and a little disheveled. His shirt was only partially tucked in and his hair looked uncombed. Okay, definitely not a good candidate for speed dating without a makeover.

  "You must be Tomlin," I said. "Please come in and have a seat."

  Tomlin shuffled in and carefully sat in the chair across from me. He seemed so nervous, I’d need to make a special effort to put him at ease.

  Althea bustled in right behind him. “Sorry it took so long. The line was forever because Henrik had a problem with the frother. One of the pixies had to step in with pixie dust.”

  “Althea, this is Tomlin.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Althea said to Tomlin.

  I sipped the latte. I tasted cinnamon and another unfamiliar flavor. “What’s the extra shot?”

  “I went with Zen,” she replied. “You have a lot going on. Zen seemed appropriate.”

  “You know me so well.” As Althea returned to her office, I leaned back in my chair and focused on Tomlin.

  "You can relax," I said. "I'm your defense lawyer, not the prosecutor.”

  He shuddered. “Having a lawyer seems so serious.”

  “It's kind of serious, but not the end of the world. And it’s my job to defend you. If you’re going to feel comfortable with anyone during this process, it should be me."

  He gave me an anxious smile. "Sorry. Do I seem nervous? I've never been in trouble before. Not officially anyway. I mean, I got in trouble as a kid plenty. Taking extra sweets from the jar and all that. I used to pocket coins I found in my friends’ couch cushions.”

  The werelynx didn’t seem to have the confident demeanor often associated with some of the larger shifters. As far as the food chain went, he wasn’t too far from the top.

  "Why don't you tell me what happened in your own words?” I asked. “Then we can talk about the best options for your case."

  Tomlin's knuckles were nearly white from squeezing the arms of the chair. I considered sharing my latte. This guy needed Zen in a major way.

  "I didn't realize I was on someone's property," he said. "I thought it was fair game. It wasn’t warded or anything.”

  "Were you within sight of the house?" I asked.

  He squinted, thinking. "I could see it, but it wasn't so close that I assumed I was in their yard."

  I reviewed the paperwork again. "I don't see any reference to signage. Was there any kind of obvious border?"

  Tomlin gave an adamant shake of his head. "No, I wouldn't have been there if I’d seen any indication. I didn't do it on purpose."

  "Was this the first time you’d been at this particular spot?"

  His gaze drifted to the floor. "No, it was probably my third time."

  No wonder the landowners had called Sheriff Astrid. They’d probably given him two free passes already. "Did the owners ever approach you?"

  "No, that's the thing. They never approached me at all. I never even saw them. I only knew that I’d done something wrong when the sheriff appeared on my doorstep to arrest me."

  That was odd. If they were so upset about it, why didn’t they let Tomlin know that he was trespassing? Or hire someone to ward the property? Demetrius had done that for me and I didn’t even have the excuse of unwanted visits from a werelynx.

  "May I ask what you were doing on their property?" I asked.

  Tomlin fidgeted in his seat. “Nothing bad. Looking for vegetables."

  "Wouldn't it be easier to go to the market?" I asked.

  “I’ve been teaching myself how to cook and I like to forage. Probably the animal in me,” he explained. “My girlfriend…Sorry, my ex-girlfriend was an expert forager, at least for home cooked meals. She always said food tasted better when you took it straight from the land. Geena did all the cooking for us—she’s a chef, you see—so when she left me, I had to figure all this stuff out on my own.”

  "What happened with Geena?” A chef sounded like an ideal partner to me. Delicious meals with no effort from me…yum.

  His expression darkened. "She left me for a werefox. Lives across town now. Probably cooks all his meals now.”

  "I bet she did a lot more than cook for you when you lived together," I said. That would explain his disheveled appearance. He was still learning how to take care of himself. At thirty-five years old, I would'
ve hoped for more independence.

  "Yeah, Geena did a lot around the house,” he said. “She thought I was lazy. That was a running tension in the relationship.”

  “Would you agree with her assessment?”

  He gave me a rueful smile. "I know I was lazy. I let her take control of everything, and I never offered to help. I think she got tired of waiting for me to step up." He paused. "Now I have to step up every day or things don't get done."

  Welcome to the real world, I wanted to say. "I'm sorry, Tomlin. This must be a difficult transition for you."

  He chewed his fingernail. "I feel like every day is a little better. I'm proud of myself when I learn to do something new. I think this whole experience has boosted my confidence, even though at first I was a complete mess."

  “Well, hopefully we can resolve this so that you don't have yet another mess to deal with."

  "Thanks," he said. "I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to foraging. I just wish they hadn’t let things escalate. If they’d come to me the first time, we could’ve avoided this whole thing.”

  "I totally agree, Tomlin,” I said. And now it was my job to find out exactly why.

  I sat cross-legged on the bed in the Spellbound Care Home. The common room was being used for arts and crafts, so Agnes and I were working on a manifestation spell in her room. Even though Lady Weatherby was in another curse-breaking meeting, I could tell Agnes was beginning to view that as an excuse not to visit her.

  “She always has something more important to do,” Agnes grumbled.

  “To be fair, breaking the curse is probably more important than anything else she could be doing.”

  “Fine, Benedict Arnold,” she huffed. “Be that way.”

  “You only know who Benedict Arnold is because I told you,” I said.

  “See how I apply knowledge I’m given?” Agnes asked. “It’d be nice for you to do the same. I don't understand why these letters are so hard for you to extract. How many times have we tried now?"

  Agnes and I had been working to retrieve a packet of letters written by my biological mother. I’d discovered their existence when I was placed under a spell in a lucid dream state and was determined to bring them to Spellbound so I could learn more about my past.

  "I stopped counting," I said. "Is it possible that the letters have some kind of protection spell on them in the human world? Something to keep them from being summoned by magic?"

  Agnes tapped her long fingernail on her chin. "That's the most intelligent thing I've heard you say…well, ever."

  I glared at her. "I'm sure I've said other intelligent things."

  "Not to me."

  "I challenge you to a game of Scrabble," I said, pointing to the box on her small table by the window. During one of my failed manifestation spells, when I asked for letters, magic misunderstood and brought me Scrabble.

  "I don't even understand what that game is," she snapped. “Unless there’s drinking involved, how is it fun to spell words?"

  "Says the woman who enjoys tiddlywinks," I shot back.

  Agnes narrowed her eyes at me in a way that reminded me of her daughter. "That is a game of pure skill and don't you forget it."

  "I'll take your word for it." I uncrossed my legs. "So let's say there’s a protective spell on the letters. What can we do to break it?" Without getting hurt, of course.

  Agnes thumbed through her pack of tarot cards that she left on the table. "I don't think I've ever had to break a protection spell on an object that was in another realm. Doesn't mean I won't try, of course. I like a challenge as much as any witch."

  In truth, Agnes enjoyed a challenge more than most witches. It was one of the qualities that made her behavior so difficult sometimes. Then again, it was also one of the qualities that made her willing to work with me on manifestation spells, no matter how many times I failed.

  "This is very interesting," she murmured, studying the cards on the table.

  "What is it?" I asked, coming to stand beside her.

  "Says right here that I'll be throwing you a wedding shower right here in the care home."

  I barked a short laugh. "Where does it say that?"

  "Right here," she said, and tapped the card with an image of a sun.

  I elbowed her gently. "You're so full of it. Tarot cards can't tell you things like that."

  "Are you telling me that you won't let me throw you a shower? I hear they’re a big deal in the human world.”

  "You’d want to do that?" It seemed out of character for Agnes to do something so domestic.

  "It's not like I'll ever get to throw one for my own daughter," Agnes said. "You're sort of the next best thing."

  "Gee, thanks," I replied sarcastically. I had to admit, though, it was awfully sweet of her. "What makes you think Lady Weatherby will never get married?"

  Agnes eyed me curiously. "Do you see any sign of my daughter giving attention to a male? The kind of attention that leads to marriage, I mean."

  "She’s dedicated to the coven," I said. “I’m sure that takes nearly all of her free time."

  Agnes snorted. "You seem to forget that I was the head of the coven once. I certainly made time to find a husband and bear fruit."

  "Lady Weatherby is not fruit," I protested. "She’s your daughter."

  "And stop calling her Lady Weatherby in my presence," Agnes said. "How many times do I need to tell you her name is Jacinda Ruth?"

  I patted her shoulder. "She’s not my daughter. She’s the head of the coven and so, to me, she’s Lady Weatherby. I'm sorry if that offends you."

  "It doesn't offend me," Agnes said. "It just sounds ridiculous to my ears. I wiped her bottom and rocked her to sleep. She will never be Lady Weatherby to me."

  And therein lies the root of their problem. Lady Weatherby wanted respect and her mother refused to give it. I often thought that Lady Weatherby was more to blame for their lack of a relationship, but once in a while, I glimpsed a part of Agnes that reminded me that their relationship is a two-way street.

  "So how about it, future Mrs. Cloud Hopper?” Agnes asked. "Do I have your blessing to throw a bridal shower for you?”

  What could I say? If nothing else, it would be highly entertaining. “I’d be disappointed if you didn't."

  You would think I’d handed Agnes the keys to the castle. Her wrinkled face lit up, making her look a few decades younger. "I'll make all the arrangements. It will be a surprise."

  Uh oh. ’Surprise’ and ‘Agnes’ in the same sentence didn’t bode well for me.

  "Do you need me to give you a list of invitees?" I asked.

  She flicked a dismissive bony finger. "The cards will tell me all I need to know."

  I didn't love the idea of my bridal shower being based on the whims of Agnes’s tarot card collection, but I didn't argue. I could see how happy it made her to do this for me, and I didn't want to disappoint her.

  "Okay, slacker," Agnes said. "Break time is over. Let's get back to that manifestation spell. Maybe one of these days you'll actually get the thing you want."

  I settled back on the bed and we talked about how to break protection spells in another realm. As always, Agnes proved herself to be more useful than she appeared. Even in Spellbound, residents had a tendency to dismiss the elderly as useless, but I’d spent enough time here to know that these paranormals were full of wisdom and knowledge that could never be replaced. I had no intention of taking her for granted. If there was one thing I’d learned in my short time on earth, it was the simple fact that life was fleeting, even an extended life like hers.

  Chapter 3

  Henrietta and Bob Akers lived on the closest thing I’d seen to a farm in Spellbound. From what I could tell, they owned about five acres of land with a farmhouse smack dab in the middle. The white clapboard house would have been right at home in Iowa surrounded by cornfields. I parked Sigmund in the driveway and walked up to the front porch to knock on the door. I half expected a dog to come charging out to greet me. Pets
aside, though, there was nothing better for a house than a welcoming front porch.

  A woman opened the door wearing an apron decorated with daffodils. Her hands were dusted in flour. Everything about her was wiry, including her hair and body.

  "Can I help you, miss?" she asked. Her face was lined and weathered, a sure sign of outdoor living.

  "I'm Emma Hart," I said. “I’m representing Tomlin Breezeway in the trespassing case, and I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. "If you’re defending that werelynx, should you even be talking to us?"

  “You don't have to talk to me," I said. "But I don't see any good reason why you wouldn't. I'm sure you’d like to put this matter behind you as quickly as possible, same as my client.”

  Henrietta seemed almost as nervous as Tomlin, which was surprising under the circumstances. She wasn’t the one charged with a crime.

  After a few moments of hesitation, she stepped away from the door to allow me entry. "Bob’s in the field right now, but he should be back soon for his snack. We stick to a pretty regular schedule around here."

  "I'm the same," I said. “Without a schedule, I’d fall apart.” Not to mention Gareth would ridicule me into an early grave.

  "How about something cool to drink?" she offered. "I have starmark juice."

  “Ooh, I’ve never had that,” I said. “I wouldn't mind trying it, if it isn't too much trouble."

  She seemed delighted. "You've never had starmark juice? Well, I’d consider it an honor to be the shifter that introduces it to you."

  Although I could tell she was a shifter, I hadn’t yet worked out which kind. "You’re not a werelynx, too, are you?"

  Her beady eyes popped. “Stars and stones, no. Bob and I are wereferrets."

  "Like Ricardo," I said brightly.

  Henrietta began to relax. "Yes, do you know him? He's a wonderful fella. So fashionable. Bob thinks he looks ridiculous, of course, but I adore his style.”