Hemlocked and Loaded

by Annabel Chase

  I removed my cloak and set it on the back of a nearby chair. “I’m no one? Thanks a lot.”

  She snapped her iron teeth, a reminder that her ghostly form still had one foot (or mouth) in the land of the living. “Sit down, dearie. Have a bowl of my special soup.”

  I glanced at the bubbling cauldron and the smell wafted over to me. I wasn’t sure what made it special, other than the fact that a scary ghost witch was preparing it.

  “You’re far more advanced than Gareth,” I said. “He barely manages not to fall through walls.”

  “I have far more experience,” Raisa said. “And my lingering spirit is of a different sort.”

  I scrutinized her. “How so? Spirits are spirits, aren’t they?”

  Raisa’s toothpick legs carried her to the cauldron. “That’s like saying witches are witches. Of course they’re not all the same. Ghosts—spirits—they have their differences.”

  “I see your point,” I said. “Listen, I came to apologize about you not being invited to the bridal shower. It wasn’t a deliberate snub. My friends knew you wouldn’t be able to come to the country club.”

  Raisa stirred the contents of the cauldron. “And they were too frightened to deliver the invitation as well, I reckon.”

  “Let’s face it. Your place isn’t exactly homey.” I pointed behind me. “That skull above the door could stand to go. Make the cottage more inviting to visitors.”

  “Perhaps I should add a swipe of lipgloss to it and mascara around the empty eye sockets,” Raisa suggested. “Would that do?”

  “Congratulations. You’ve managed to make it creepier. You have a true talent, Raisa.”

  She peered at me from her place at the cauldron, her face expressionless. “You speak to me like no one else ever dared to.”

  A chill crept up my spine. “You’re not going to toss me into that cauldron as punishment, are you?”

  Raisa’s laugh was low and—dare I say it—affectionate. “You have warmed to me, haven’t you, dearie?”

  “Are you suffering from self-esteem issues all of the sudden?” I asked. Raisa had never been particularly well-liked in the Spellbound community. That was part of the reason she lived alone in the woods where no one had even been aware of her death.

  Raisa cackled, sounding more like herself. “Hardly. I’ll leave those pathetic types of emotions to the living.” She scooped out soup with the ladle and poured it into a bowl. “So tell me, dearie, how was this event called a bridal shower?”

  “A lot of fun, actually,” I said, accepting the bowl. “You were missed.” I sat at the table where a spoon awaited me. “You knew I was coming to see you, huh?”

  “Always,” Raisa replied. She joined me at the table with her own bowl.

  “You first,” I said good-naturedly.

  “All this time and you still lack trust,” she said, although I could tell she wasn’t truly offended.

  “The first time I came here, you fed me a potion that could’ve killed me,” I reminded her. “Pardon me for being cautious.”

  “Need I remind you that I’m already dead,” Raisa said. “I can suck down the entire cauldron and haunt this cottage for years to come.”

  I tapped my spoon absently on the table. “Fair point. Now I’m losing my appetite.”

  “Eat, my dear girl,” Raisa insisted. “You need your strength. Dark days lie ahead.”

  I froze. “What did you say?”

  Raisa met my gaze. “It’s an expression, dearie. Surely you can decipher its meaning.”

  I opted to stay silent about my mother’s letters. “We’re talking about my bridal shower. How do dark days figure into it?”

  Raisa flashed a Mona Lisa smile, and I caught a glimpse of her iron teeth that sent a ripple of fear through me. I was pretty sure people admiring the portrait of Mona Lisa in the Louvre didn’t have that experience.

  “How goes the coven efforts to break the curse?” she asked.

  “You’re the know-it-all, Miss Dark Days,” I said. “You tell me.” I swallowed my first spoonful of soup. It tasted like a mixture of chicken broth, spices, and a pinch of something sweet. I desperately hoped there were no snails or puppy dog tails.

  Raisa picked up her bowl and drained the soup from it in one impressive gulp. “You’re very close, my dear. I feel it in my bones.” She glanced around the cottage. “All my bones.”

  “What will happen to you if we break the curse?” I asked, thinking of Gareth.

  “My body is buried here and here I shall remain,” Raisa said.

  “You won’t move on to…anywhere else?” I queried. Heaven, hell, Valhalla, the underworld.

  “No, no,” she replied. “I am destined to haunt these grounds forevermore. My ghostly prison. Such is my fate.”

  I swallowed another mouthful of soup. “Do you ever get lonely?”

  Raisa cackled again, although the sound was softer this time. “A horrible witch like me doesn’t get lonely, Emma. We have earned our solitude.”

  That seemed an odd thing to say. “That’s how Daniel used to feel. That he deserved to be alone without love. It wasn’t true, not for him and not for you.”

  Raisa’s bony fingers reached for mine. “Like it or not, you will change us all, dear girl. So pure of heart you still are.”

  “I thought that was a good thing,” I said.

  “Oh, make no mistake. It is. Not everyone likes change, however. Many fear it with irrational gusto. We tend to be creatures of comfort, of safety. When someone threatens that existence, we often react negatively.”

  “Sounds like what Demetrius said.” And he wasn’t wrong, except we’d been discussing my mother’s letters at the time, not the curse. “Are you saying we shouldn’t break the curse? That we should leave it be because everyone’s used to it?”

  “Not at all,” Raisa replied. “I only want you to be prepared for the consequences.”

  “As in ‘be careful what you wish for’?” I asked. My stomach felt warm and full.

  “Everyone should heed that advice,” Raisa said. “Should the coven succeed, there will be sweeping changes in Spellbound, mark my words.”

  “Because of paranormals choosing to leave?”

  “And those choosing to arrive,” Raisa said. “The entire character of the town is at risk.”

  “At risk makes it sound like a bad thing,” I said. “Maybe there’ll be an influx of wonderful paranormals who can’t wait to experience life in Spellbound.” I tilted my head. “You were well traveled before you came here. Any chance you were familiar with the term ‘Warden of the West?’”

  Her eyes grew sharp and focused. “Of course. Enforcer of the East. Warden of the West. Keeper of the North. Sentinel of the South.”

  “Daniel knew them, too,” I said.

  “Where have you heard these terms?” Raisa asked. “You weren’t familiar with the paranormal world before you came here, as I recall.”

  “There’s a mention of a warden in my mother’s letters,” I said. “I manifested a packet of her letters from the human world and have been reading through them.”

  Raisa clucked her tongue. “Your powers are remarkable. And why does your mother discuss such matters? Was she a fugitive of some kind? That wouldn’t surprise me. The sorceresses I knew were always in trouble. Too much beauty and power spoils the package.”

  I finished the last drop of soup. “She wasn’t a fugitive. She chased the fugitives. Apparently, she was one of the Wardens of the West.”

  Raisa fell silent for a beat. “Such a dangerous job, even for a talented sorceress.”

  “Did you ever meet a warden?” I asked. “Maybe you met my mother once upon a time.”

  Her sharp features melted into a faraway expression. “Not the Warden of the West, no. I met the Enforcer of the East once—the European branch--when I was younger and very foolish. He was a genie. Extremely powerful and even brutal when the job required it. I was glad to leave an ocean between us when I came to this countr
y.”

  “I guess brutal is sometimes a necessity when your job is to apprehend dangerous criminals,” I said.

  “I suppose.” She gave me a quizzical look. “But not for you.”

  “What’s not for me?”

  “You would no more be brutal than a fish would walk on land. Though you have much power, your sense of compassion far outweighs it.”

  “That’s nice of you to say,” I said. “On the other hand, I don’t run after scary criminals who might kill me. Maybe I’d behave differently then. I mean, I threw Mumford across a room with a spell when he attacked me. I’m not above hurting someone else to protect myself.”

  Raisa pressed her thin lips together. “Self-defense is a very different matter, dearie.”

  “What was in the soup?” I asked. “And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I know better. I can always taste when you’re up to something.”

  Raisa’s pale brow lifted. “You knew and yet you ate it anyway? Why?”

  I shrugged. “Because whatever it is, I trust you.”

  Raisa stood silently for a moment, contemplating her answer. “It was a potion designed to extract information.”

  That must have been why I revealed the information about my mother, even though I’d originally decided not to mention it.

  “You wanted to know about the progress in breaking the curse,” I said. “But I would’ve told you about that anyway.”

  “I wasn’t sure, dearie.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked. “If you can’t leave anyway, why does it matter to you?”

  “If the floodgates open, I want to be prepared,” she said. “As I said, dark days lie ahead.”

  I set aside my spoon. “Prepared for what?”

  Raisa lifted a bony finger. “Our doom.”

  Chapter 17

  The Tiki Bar was just as swanky and cool as the last time I visited for Markos’s opening night party. Since it was off-hours, there were only a handful of customers. I spotted Markos deep in conversation with one of his bartenders over at the Polynesian-style bar. With his seven-foot minotaur frame and giant horns, he was hard to miss. I was surprised to see Beatrice by his side. For an office manager, she seemed to spend a lot of time out of the office and glued to the minotaur. Even though I was wary of the witch, the fact that she appreciated Markos in his true form as much as in his human form spoke volumes to me.

  "Emma," Markos exclaimed when he saw me. "I'm so glad you're here."

  "I'm sorry Daniel couldn't make it," I said. "He had to help with an emergency at the Spellbound Care Home. There was an issue with the roof. His wings come in handy every once in a while over there."

  “Maybe I should go look at the building this week,” Markos said. “I bet they could use a little renovation to spruce things up."

  “That's a wonderful idea," I said. "I don't think the building has been updated in quite some time. With your talent, I'm sure you could come up with something amazing." And the paranormals who lived there deserved amazing.

  Markos grinned. "Beatrice and I had just been discussing charitable projects for the coming year. The care home would be a worthwhile project, for sure.”

  That was one of the things I loved about Markos. As successful as he was, he was constantly thinking of ways to pay it forward. He didn't just collect his gold coins and move on. Instead, he tried to find ways to improve existing structures, as well as create new ones.

  "Would you like a drink?" Beatrice asked.

  I hesitated. I wasn't sure that I trusted Beatrice enough to get me a drink. With her track record, she’d probably put a diarrhea spell on the liquid before passing it to me.

  "No, thank you," I said. “I’m only here to check out the menu for the reception." Although revisiting the space now, I was forced to acknowledge the venue was too small for our guests. I didn’t want to disappoint Markos, though.

  "Brad has a copy of the drinks menu," Markos said. "We have several packages to choose from."

  I took the list of packages and studied it. The offerings were much more interesting than those offered by the country club, not that I was surprised. Markos had a penchant for creativity, even in the food and beverage industry.

  "Beatrice, would you do me a favor and grab the dessert packages from inside?” Markos asked. “I left the papers on my desk."

  Once Beatrice slid off the stool and retreated indoors, Markos turned his enormous minotaur face back to me. "I know I’m probably spitting in the wind here, but is there any chance you might change your mind?"

  "Change my mind?" I asked. "You mean about where to have the reception?"

  His eyes bored into mine. "Not where to have it, but whether to have it at all."

  I placed my hand on his bulging arm. "Markos, you know I care for you, but I love Daniel wholly and completely. There’s no one else in the world for me. Besides, if you stopped to really think about it, you’d realize you’re already over me. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."

  His large forehead furrowed. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  I smiled. “I mean a pretty witch by the name of Beatrice. You can't possibly tell me that you don't have feelings for her. The two of you already look like an old married couple, and I mean that in the best possible way."

  Markos rubbed one of his horns thoughtfully. "Really? I’ve been under the impression that we have a nice compatible employer–employee relationship. You think it's more than that?"

  I rolled my eyes. Some men were so clueless. "I've seen the way she looks at you, Markos. Trust me, that is not the way an employee typically looks at her boss. But what I’ve noticed even more is the way you look at her. I think maybe your brain just hasn't caught up to your heart."

  Markos snorted. "It wouldn't surprise me." He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "She's never once cringed at the sight of my natural form. I know for a fact there were other employees at my firm that needed to get used to me walking around in full-blown minotaur mode. But Beatrice has only ever showed respect and affection."

  "Sounds like an ideal partner to me," I said.

  "I'm sorry it took so long," Beatrice's voice interjected. “It was hidden under a pile of order forms."

  Markos chuckled. “Looks like I might need an office manager in all my offices.”

  Beatrice handed me the packages menu. As with the drinks menu, Markos's creativity was on full display. Each dessert was more sumptuous than the last one.

  "My only concern is that my place is too small for your guest list," Markos said. "Between you and Daniel, I would think you'd end up inviting most of the town."

  "To be honest, that's my concern, too," I said, relieved that he’d mentioned it. "Then again, I don't think there’s anywhere big enough to accommodate all the paranormals we want to include." Even the country club had a maximum limit.

  "I completely understand if you need to go in another direction," Markos said. “I’d just really like to be involved somehow as more than a guest. You've done so much for me, Emma. I only want to return the favor."

  "Your friendship has been more than enough," I said. “The paranormals in this town have changed my life.” An idea took shape as I glanced around the Tiki Bar. "What if we did want to invite the whole town?” There truly wasn't any place large enough to hold everyone.

  “What are you thinking?” Markos asked. “The grounds of the Mayor’s Mansion?”

  “No. What if we held multiple receptions at the same time? That way we could include everyone and also get to patronize our favorite places."

  Markos stared at me. "I know Daniel is well off, but will he want to spend so much money on receptions he won't even attend?"

  "I think we will attend, though," I said. "Let's not forget the guy has wings. He can fly us from one reception to another throughout the evening, so we get the chance to spend time with everyone. And even those who don't know us will still get to have a great night."

  “You’ll effectively shut down the whole town,�
�� Markos said. “The council will probably make you apply for a special permit.”

  “Fine with me,” I said. “This is the perfect opportunity for Daniel and I to thank everyone for making Spellbound the special place that it is. A town is nothing without the people…or paranormals who inhabit it.”

  The more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea. A huge party that included everyone in town. It would be unprecedented. Shifters, fairies, pixies, dwarfs, and witches. Every paranormal under the moon.

  "There's something I need to tell you both," Beatrice blurted.

  “You don’t like the reception idea?" I asked. It wasn’t a perfect plan, of course. We’d need to split up the guests and they’d be scattered across town.

  Beatrice shook her dark head. "Emma, I've been wrong about you and I want to come clean." She hesitated, her gaze shifting to Markos. Whatever she was about to say seemed to make her very nervous.

  Markos sensed her discomfort. “What’s wrong, Beatrice?”

  The witch turned back to me with a pinched expression. “I was the one who put you in the waking nightmare in Dr. Hall's office." She lowered her head. "I'm also the one who poisoned your plant."

  I'd suspected the waking nightmare. The plant, however, took me by surprise. “The one in my office? You broke in and poisoned my plant?" It wasn't me she had to worry about—it was Althea's wrath. The Gorgon had been very attached to that plant.

  Tears spilled down Beatrice's alabaster cheeks. "I was so jealous of you that I couldn’t think straight. Every time I was with Markos, he mentioned your name. It didn't matter that you were with Daniel, I still could tell he had feelings for you and that I would never stand a chance." She fished a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. "I'm really sorry. Those were terrible things to do and it's not who I am. You're a good paranormal, Emma, and I can see why he would fall for you. You do all of these selfless tasks for others, and so does Markos. All I’ve been concerned with is myself." She looked up at the minotaur. "I don't deserve you, Markos. You deserve someone like Emma.”

  I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to speak for Markos, but given our conversation a few minutes ago, I knew Beatrice was wrong about his feelings.