Wands Upon A Time (Spellbound Ever After Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

I smiled. “Geraldine was my adoptive mother’s name.”

  She pulled a face. “So what? I said Gertrude.”

  “I know, but the old-fashioned name made me think of her.” I sipped my hot water. “She’d be so thrilled for me now. I wish I could share this with her.”

  Dr. Hall shook her head, disappointed. “See what I mean? Clinger. You’re lucky I still allow you to make appointments with me.”

  I gave her a pointed look. “And you’re lucky I still show up for them.”

  Dr. Hall smiled, revealing her fangs. “Feisty. Maybe these sessions won’t be so boring after all.”

  Chapter Three

  I promised Althea I’d drop by the office after therapy. She’d been interested to hear about my introduction to the new head of the coven. Well, she said ‘interested,’ but I knew that translated to ‘nosy.’

  When I entered the office, the Gorgon was singing to the plant on my windowsill. I recognized the tune of Aretha Franklin’s Respect.

  “How do you know that song?” I asked.

  She glanced up at me. “We’re plugged in now, remember? Technology, girl. It’s amazing.”

  “Magic is amazing,” I said. “Technology is normal.”

  “Why can’t it be both?” my assistant replied.

  She was right. Magic was both normal and amazing in Spellbound. Why not technology?

  “So,” she prompted, “how was the new Weatherby? Every bit as intimidating?”

  “Well, I christened her,” I said. “So she has a lot in common with past authority figures in this town.”

  Althea burst into laughter. “No you didn’t.”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t deliberate.”

  “And yet, somehow, you manage to target those you dislike….”

  “To be honest, I haven’t made up my mind about her,” I said. “She actually handled the vomit situation with dignity and class.”

  “Hmm.” Althea processed this bit of news. “But she’s awful, right?”

  “She’s not going to be popular,” I said. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that much.” I crossed the room to sit behind my desk.

  “She can’t be holding a grudge,” Althea said, “because she sent a message a little while ago. She’d like you to come to her office tomorrow at ten.”

  “She must already be convening the task force.” I had to admit, I was surprised she’d opted to include me based on this morning’s performance. “I’m glad she’s taking the high road.”

  “Why did you vomit anyway?” she asked. “Did you forget to take your anti-anxiety potion?”

  Oh, boy. I wasn’t going to get through the day without more sharing, was I? “No, that isn’t why.”

  “You’re ill?” The Gorgon inched closer. “Hang on. The girls are trying to tell me something about you.”

  I knew she meant her snakes rather than her boobs. Understanding that distinction was pretty crucial, as far as I was concerned.

  I closed my eyes for a brief moment, resignation setting in. “I think I know what it is,” I said. I’d really been hoping to get through tomorrow’s appointment, but it was starting to seem impossible. “I’m pregnant.”

  Althea started. “You’re what?” She pressed her palms against her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”

  I managed a smile. “It’s true.”

  Althea paused to listen to the snakes beneath her headscarf. “Oh, that wasn’t what the girls wanted to tell me. They said to tell you that your hair looks glossier than usual. They thought you’d changed shampoos.”

  My head dropped to the desk and I remained there for a beat, with my head pressed against the grainy wood.

  “Wow.” Althea whistled. “Emma Hart is with child. How about them golden apples? How’s Gareth taking this development?”

  I dragged myself into an upright position. “Really well, actually,” I said. “I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

  “For now. Trust me, he’s going to be a pain,” she said. “He’ll be telling you what you can and can’t eat, I bet.”

  I smiled. “Already happening.

  “When are you going to gain some weight?” Althea asked, observing me closely. “Are you sure there’s a baby in there?”

  “If I ever stop puking, I might actually gain a few pounds,” I said.

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “Figures you would suffer from that.”

  I grimaced. “I had to stop taking my anti-anxiety potion because of the pregnancy, so the nausea is worse than ever.”

  “I can always whip up that home remedy I told you about before,” Althea said. “It’s perfectly safe for babies and knocks out nausea.”

  “The snake oil potion? No, thanks.” The mere thought of her home remedy made me feel nauseous.

  “Not just snake oil,” she objected. “It has Kraken liver, too. Of course, I’d have to get my hands on some. Kraken liver’s been outlawed for hundreds of years, as far as I know. Once they became an endangered species.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d be interested even if it were permitted.”

  “Why not?” Althea asked. “It has mint to mask the taste.”

  “No amount of mint in the world could salvage snake oil and Kraken liver. I think this would be a case of the treatment being worse than the ailment.”

  Althea shrugged. “Suit yourself, Great Wimpy One. Keep bowing down to that toilet deity of yours. It’s nothing to do with me.” Her snakes hissed in solidarity. “See? They’re insulted that you’d rather vomit than try their oil.”

  I stared at her undulating headscarf. “They can be insulted then. I feel awful enough these days. I’m not making my stomach any worse.” I sat behind my desk and immediately noticed a new file on the top of a stack of papers. “What’s this?”

  “What do you think?” the Gorgon asked. “Your new case.”

  I flipped open the file. “Percy Atkins. Accused of possession with the intent to distribute and smuggling.” My mouth formed a tiny ‘o.’ I hadn’t handled a smuggling case before. That was more serious than most crimes my clients had been accused of committing.

  Althea clapped her hands together in one brisk movement. “Oh, and the alleged smuggler will be here in”—a knock at the door gave her pause—“now.”

  “That’s him?” I asked, aghast.

  “Bang on time, too,” Althea said. “Off to a good start. The punctual ones always make better defendants.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Haven’t we discussed this? I need advanced notice.”

  The door swung open and Althea took the opportunity to slip into her adjacent office without further scolding. A faun entered the room, clutching his plaid hat in his hands.

  “Are you Emma Hart?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” I said. “Come in and have a seat, Percy. I was just reviewing your file.”

  “Not an ideal situation,” he said. He sat in that awkward and uncomfortable way that certain paranormals had when their lower bodies weren’t quite designed for chairs.

  “No, I guess not,” I replied. “Smuggling, huh?” I quickly scanned the report, trying to figure out what he was accused of smuggling and to where.

  “I want you to know I would never, ever break the law, especially to smuggle,” he said adamantly. “It’s against my nature. I give back to the community. I’m a lover of the great outdoors. I spend a lot of free time in the woods, cataloging plants and berries. It’s a favorite pastime.”

  “That sounds nice.” To my trained eye, Percy oozed sincerity and not in the slimy, charming way.

  “I’ve been so upset since my arrest,” Percy said. “I can’t sleep properly. Partly because I’m afraid of a prison sentence, but mostly because I can’t believe anyone would accuse me of committing such a heinous crime. It makes me feel terrible.”

  I threaded my fingers. “Why don’t you tell me exactly happened in your own words? Sometimes I find that more helpful than reading a sterile report.” Especially when my assistant hadn’t g
iven me the chance to read the report at all.

  “I was in Whispering Woods….”

  My brow creased. “There’s a Whispering Woods?”

  Percy nodded. “Just south of the Sacred Spruce Trail, adjacent to the Enchanted Woods.”

  “There’s a Sacred Spruce Trail?” I flicked my fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Forget it. I’ll take your word for it. Go on.”

  “I spend a lot of time in that area because there’s such an interesting array of plants,” Percy said. “Anyway, I was there last week, making notes about the discoloration of the leaves of a pigmy plant when I found angel dust.”

  I blinked. “Angel dust?”

  “Rare stuff,” Percy said. “And it was surprising because, to my knowledge, there’s only one angel in all of Spellbound.”

  “I know,” I said. “I happen to be married to him.”

  Percy’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Of course. You’re that Emma Hart.”

  “My husband has…dust?” I asked. That might explain the constant mess in the house that Gareth was forever raging about.

  “All angels have a certain amount of angel dust,” Percy explained.

  “Like pixie dust?” I queried. That I’d seen.

  “Even rarer,” Percy said. “So rare that it’s illegal to possess it if you’re not an angel.”

  “So you collected the angel dust and then got caught with it?” I asked.

  Percy rocked back and forth in the chair and I worried that the whole thing would tip backward. I felt oddly pleased that my maternal instincts were kicking in.

  “It was the worst timing,” Percy said. “Deputy Britta happened to be out for a jog and saw me. It’s impossible to miss angel dust. It glows even in daylight.” He paused, remembering. “Prettiest emerald dust you’ll ever see.”

  Green dust didn’t seem very pretty. “What did you intend to do with it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Percy admitted. “I was so surprised to see it and I’m used to collecting samples in the woods. It’s part of my cataloging process.”

  “I noticed in the report that you volunteer at Paws and Claws,” I said. “Is that correct?”

  “Yes, only on weekends.” He smiled. “Nothing gives me greater pleasure than looking after those innocent animals. They deserve love and affection as much as any other animal.”

  “How long have you been volunteering there?”

  “Not too long,” he said. “Why?”

  “Was it before or after the borders opened?” I asked.

  “After,” he said. His brow wrinkled. “Why does that matter?”

  I made a note in the file. “Doesn’t help your case.”

  “The fact that I volunteer my time doesn’t help my case?” he asked, slightly ruffled. “How?”

  “Because maybe you’re using that volunteer position for access to rare animals or animal parts that you plan to smuggle. Add to your inventory.”

  He reeled back. “Ms. Hart, that’s terrible.”

  “Even worse if it’s true,” I said.

  “I would never,” Percy said. He vigorously shook his head. “Ask anyone who knows me. I have too much respect for nature.”

  As a faun, that seemed likely, but I knew that, sadly, paranormals were capable of anything—just like people.

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Atkins?”

  “Please, call me Percy. I work at Cure-iosity Shop as a dispenser.”

  “What is it that you dispense?” I asked.

  “Medicinal potions,” he said. “We mix them as needed. Nothing is pre-made.”

  “And I suppose a rare item like angel dust would be highly sought-after for medicinal potions,” I said.

  “I’d never seen any before,” Percy said. “Only in books. We could charge an incredible amount of coin for it, though. That much is true.”

  I skimmed the report. “That also doesn’t help with the claims against you.”

  Percy’s gaze lowered. “No, definitely not. If anything, it bolsters the prosecutor’s case.”

  I studied the report for a quiet moment. “Did you see anyone else in the woods that day before Deputy Britta came along?”

  “Not a soul,” Percy said. “But that’s typical. It’s a lesser-traveled area of town. That’s why I prefer it. The plants are undisturbed.”

  “Did you tell anyone you were heading out there that day?” I asked.

  He laughed. “And what? Someone planted angel dust so that I’d find it and then sent the deputy out for a jog in my direction?”

  I splayed my hands. “I don’t know, Percy. I’m trying to connect the possible dots here. I don’t need the truth. I just need enough information to get you off the hook.” Egads, that sounded awful. I mean, it was important to defend my client, but I didn’t like the idea of getting someone off the hook, not if he deserved to be on the hook in the first place.

  “Is there anyone you know with a grudge against you?” I asked. “Someone who might want to frame you?”

  Percy twirled his thumbs. “I hate to cast aspersions, especially in light of what’s happening to me, but I have this co-worker…She’s an assistant dispenser right now, but she wants my job.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because she’s always trying to make me look bad,” he said. “And I know she needs the additional income because she’s always complaining about money.”

  “Is she qualified to do your job?”

  He nodded. “That’s part of what bothers her. She hates that I got the job and there’s no position available at that level unless I leave.”

  “That’s promising,” I said brightly. “What’s her name?”

  “Sammy Munez,” he replied. “She’s a pixie. You know how competitive they can be.”

  I actually didn’t, but I said nothing. “I’ll look into it, Percy. We’ll meet again soon, okay? I’ll have my assistant schedule a follow-up meeting.” The keyword there was schedule.

  “I heard you’re a really good defense attorney,” Percy said hopefully. “Is it true?”

  I slapped the file shut. “Well, Percy. I guess you’re about to find out.”

  Images of Amos Parker’s lifeless body on the cold forest floor prompted me to pay a visit to another elderly member of the Spellbound community. As old as Agnes was, I knew she wouldn’t be around forever. My chest ached at the thought.

  I waltzed into the Spellbound Care Home with a glamoured bottle of Succulent Succubus. The clerk in the shop told me it was the hot, new alcoholic drink and I knew that Agnes was fond of experimentation for reasons I’d rather not remember.

  “Goddess above, you’ve got a newt in the cauldron,” Agnes exclaimed, the moment I walked through the doorway of her room. She was seated cross-legged on the bed with the hem of her dress tucked in a ball in the middle. For all her age and wisdom, there was a childlike quality to Agnes that I adored.

  “How do you know?” My gaze lowered to my stomach. Was I showing already? I didn’t think so.

  Agnes hopped off the bed and padded over to me. She peered into one eye and then the other. “Yep. Pregnant.”

  “You can tell by looking in my pupils?” I asked. The old witch never ceased to amaze me.

  “No, I could tell when you replied with ‘how do you know’?” She cackled to herself. “You’re so easy, Hart.”

  “But you knew when I walked in,” I said.

  Agnes toddled over to the bistro-style table on the far side of the room and slid into a chair. “The rumor mill is churning. I heard about it after breakfast.”

  “I’ve kept it pretty quiet so far,” I said.

  “Not when you blab to Deputy Britta,” Agnes said.

  I groaned. “When did you see her?”

  “She came in earlier to return an escapee.”

  “An escapee?” I queried. “This isn’t a prison.”

  “No, but Gillian climbed out the window of her bathroom during shower time. As you can imagine, it caused quite
the stir downtown.”

  I cringed. “Naked?”

  “Not a good look when you’re the poster child for gravity,” Agnes said. “One of the staff performed emergency magic to cover her in a robe so no one passed out at the sight of her.”

  “Glad I missed the excitement.”

  “Guess so in your condition.” She pulled a deck of cards from her dress pocket. “What time is your appointment with Boyd tomorrow morning?”

  “You know that, too?” I crossed the room to the kitchenette and set the glamoured bottle of Succulent Succubus on the counter.

  “What can I say? Folks are interested. Can’t imagine why. It’s only a baby. I had one. You can see how that panned out for me.”

  I gave her a sympathetic smile. Lady Weatherby, also known as Jacinda Ruth, was now wiling away the years in a prison cell. How the mighty had fallen.

  “My child will be different,” I said. “Daniel and I have parenting goals.”

  “That angel?” Agnes scoffed. “Who are you kidding? You’re going to be raising that baby with Gareth.”

  “Gareth will no doubt play a role, but Daniel is the father.” I unscrewed the lid and poured a glass for Agnes.

  “You just let that angel fly around town with a tight butt looking handsome,” Agnes said. “That’s his job.”

  I placed her drink on the table. “No, it isn’t. He has a job. He’s the director of tourism for Spellbound now. And soon he’ll add ideal father to his resume.”

  She shuffled the cards. “What do you want to know about this baby?”

  I sat down across from her. “Will he or she be healthy?”

  Agnes pretended to snore. “Ask something more interesting.”

  “You asked me what I wanted to know and I’m telling you,” I replied. “The health of the baby is paramount.”

  She exhaled loudly. “Spoilsport.” She spread the cards facedown on the table. “Choose five.”

  “Why five?”

  “Do you have to question everything, Lawyer Lady? Just pick five.”

  “Why do you need to call me Lawyer Lady? That’s sexist. Just say lawyer.”

  “Such a militant feminist, too,” Agnes scoffed.

  I chose five cards and flipped them over. Agnes spent an agonizingly long time scrutinizing them as she sipped her drink. Occasionally, she made a noise that sounded important and I’d twitch in response. Finally, she met my intense stare.