Magical Midlife Invasion

by Breene, K. F.

  “Jessie’s mom. Got startled by the pink-haired one and threw a potato at his head.”

  Niamh knew Ulric’s name, but since he wasn’t officially on the team, she treated him like an intern. It was actually quite hilarious.

  “She tried to hit Ulric with a potato…” There were at least five follow-up questions Austin needed to ask, but his mind split in too many directions to grab one of them.

  “Yeah. He startled her, and she grabbed the closest thing at hand.” Niamh huffed out a laugh. “Would’ve hit him in the face, too. Slow, though. He saw it coming.”

  “She’s an older Jane.”

  “Yeah. Who hasn’t battled. Good aim, though. And did ye hear the el’ lad the other day? Gettin’ ready to grab a rock himself and help me with those tourists?” She nodded slowly. “Jessie comes from fire.”

  “We could’ve guessed.”

  “It’s funnier to see it in action.”

  He had to concede that.

  “Edgar told you what the spell was?” he asked her, getting them back on track.

  “Yeah, the tripwire. He’s thinking the base spell is a simple tattletale situation. Anyone crosses the line, and the spell weaver—Jessie, obviously—will be alerted. The trespasser won’t be the wiser.”

  “The base spell. So she could alter it, then?”

  “He thinks so, yeah.” She paused at the threshold to Ivy House’s property line, turning back to look over the street like he’d just done. He wasn’t sure why she was dragging her feet.

  He wasn’t sure why he was, either.

  “The text will draw out her ability to create the spell, but she’ll need to alter it on her own,” Niamh said.

  “That’s for the best. Start with something non-dangerous, and then work at changing it through study and practice.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “All this learning magic is bollocks. It would be easier if she came already knowing everything so she could start throwing her weight around.”

  “Weren’t you the one talking about retiring?”

  “That was before I got the energy of youth—”

  “Martha!” Pete’s voice rang out across the front yard, originating from an open window on the second floor. “Martha, your glasses are in here!”

  “Oh, how’d you get that window open?” Martha’s face appeared behind the screen. “I tried earlier and it wouldn’t budge.”

  “I didn’t open it. It was open when I got up here. You must’ve gotten it open and forgot. Do you know how to work that shower?”

  “Yes. Turn it toward H. For hot.” Her voice drifted away as she probably moved into the bathroom to show him, clearly not having seen Austin and Niamh standing on the sidewalk.

  “Or Ivy House opened it for them when they weren’t paying attention,” Niamh murmured, head tilted up, watching the newly empty window. “I don’t trust that house not to cause a little mischief.”

  “You think Ivy House is going to out Jess?” Austin asked.

  Niamh’s gaze roamed the large expanse of the building. “Maybe not out her, but it’s already messing with them. The images in the wooden carvings changed at least twice yesterday evening, and I only noticed because her el’ lad was staring. He thought something was off, I could surely tell. Didn’t pass any remarks, though. Noticed, then looked away. If I had to bet on it, I’ll say that Ivy House will aim for something a little more obvious just to see what happens. This is the same house that likes to send people sprinting out of it in horror.”

  Austin had to concede that point. Despite technically being an inanimate object, the house had a mind of its own.

  He took a deep breath and eyed the front door. Time to get the show on the road.

  “Dreading going in there, huh?” Niamh said.

  Yes. Because, if he was being really honest with himself, he knew that once he went in, he wouldn’t want to leave. Heading home alone lately had seemed like a punishment. His solo lifestyle wasn’t a comfort to him anymore. He kept reaching for the phone, wanting to talk to Jess or invite her to the bar, even on his nights off. Maybe especially on his nights off, when he could devote more time to her. He’d never had a friend like her, even when he was younger. He’d never thought about anyone this much.

  He’d never been so wary of someone changing his life so completely since walking away from Destiny, the woman who had nearly ruined him.

  “Dreading trying out Jess’s spell and potentially getting blown up again,” he deflected.

  A motor started up from somewhere behind Ivy House.

  “Ah, here. C’mere. This’ll take your mind off things.” Niamh plucked at his shirt.

  He glanced at the front door, feeling Jess moving around inside, somewhat annoyed, probably from dealing with Mr. Tom or maybe her parents. He felt the pull of her, the need to be with her, to train her. Coaxing the magic out of her and watching her shape it into something magnificent… He was probably the luckiest man on earth. Every time they trained, he could see envy in the faces of the gathered gargoyles, wishing they’d been granted the rare privilege. Probably envious of Jess’s smiles when she mastered a particularly complex spell, or the way she fawned over him when she hit him with something nasty. The pain was worth her apologies, worth her touch as she inspected the damage, worth the pleasing feel of her magic as she healed his ailments.

  He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Yeah, okay.” He started after Niamh, who surprised him by heading for the side of the house. “Where are we going?”

  “Edgar is going to mow the yard.” Niamh picked up the pace.

  He didn’t bother asking why he should care. Why she did. The people of this house were strange. Jessie had told him it was easier to roll with it, and he’d found that to be true.

  At the property line, he paused for a brief moment before finally stepping over it. Almost immediately, he felt a surge of recognition from Jess, followed by…dare he say pleasure? She was happy he had come.

  He hated how good that felt.

  At the back corner of the house, Niamh crouched beside a large bush with blooming red and white flowers. About fifty feet away, on what looked like his second trip across the lush green grass, Edgar pushed an older-style lawn mower, green flying up in its wake, coating his purple sweats. Pollen tickled Austin’s nose, and the overwhelming floral scent slapped around his senses. The vampire had gone way overboard with the flowers. Way overboard. The basajaun eating up the garden had addled the vampire’s brain. Further addled it, he should say.

  “Why doesn’t Edgar get a mower that has a bag to catch the grass?” he asked. “Or hell, get a ride-on mower. Mowing all this grass and the lawn up front must take him forever.”

  “If there is anything that vampire has, it is time. He likes to fill up his days. He mows, then he rakes up the fresh-cut grass, then he prunes, then he fancies around with the flowers…”

  “He should probably spend more time learning to make doilies if he ever hopes to get one halfway decent.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Seen those, did ye? Yeah, he’s hopeless. I burn ’em in the winter just so he has a reason to give me more. It keeps him busy.”

  Something metallic clattered within the mower. Edgar paused and stared down at the machine for a moment before looking behind him.

  “Keep moving, ye gobshite. A little farther. Don’t get suspicious,” Niamh murmured, riveted to Edgar.

  “What are you hoping for?” Austin whispered.

  “Just wait,” she said.

  Another object clattered through the mower, followed by a third, pinging and clacking around the parts before rattling out the back and flying up at Edgar’s body. More followed, sounding like metal popcorn popping. The vampire yelped and then jumped before pushing the handle forward again, staring at the grass in front of the mower.

  Niamh began to chuckle. “Janey Mack. Only he would keep going.”

  A flurry of pings and pops now, more foreign objects rol
ling through the cutters and gears of the lawn mower. The sun caught their exit, glittering on metal, before what looked like a host of little spikes stabbed into Edgar’s legs.

  He screamed and jumped, dancing in place like someone was shooting at his feet. He pushed the lawn mower forward again, sending another score of metal projectiles through the machine and at him. He shrank back from the onslaught but didn’t move to the side to get out of the way, opening himself up for some body shots, the small slices of metal stabbing into his stomach and upper arms.

  “Nooo!” he howled, his face pointed toward the sky, but he persisted in pushing forward, doing nothing to stopper the flow.

  The absurdity of the scene, and Niamh’s helpless laugher, brought forth chuckles from Austin.

  In the house, he felt Jess run toward the back door, anxiety pooling within her. Someone (or several someones) was on her heels, though he couldn’t feel who. While he did have a magical connection of sorts to the other protectors, he barely felt them when he tried and not at all when he didn’t, and he didn’t have much of the ability to sense who moved around Ivy House. He wondered if that trait was only granted to people who actually lived on or near the property. He was fine doing without.

  Finally stopped for a moment, Edgar plucked one of the items from his person and studied it for a moment. He slipped it into his pocket and looked down at his legs, the lawn mower idling, the rotors surely still turning in that older machine. In a feat of perseverance or stupidity or both, Edgar slowly grabbed the handle and bent to push it forward.

  “He’s going ta keep going, the donkey.” Niamh leaned forward, shaking with laughter. “What is he at? He’s a fair queer one, all right.”

  “What’s in the grass?”

  “Nails.” She guffawed into her cupped hand. “I half hammered a bunch of nails into the ground.”

  “Why?” he asked Niamh, utterly bewildered. Or maybe he was asking the question of the cosmos.

  “Just to keep him on his toes, sure. ’Tis good to have some wee danger in our everyday lives.”

  More spikes rolled through the machine. The vampire yelled, dancing again, but continued to push the mower, crying out with each new onslaught. Austin couldn’t look away.

  Jess ran out from the back door and into the grass, headed for Edgar.

  Austin was moving before he’d consciously thought of it, exploding out of the bushes and running to cut her off.

  “No, no, Jessie.” Edgar put out his hand, still pushing the mower, amazingly enough. He looked like he was tap-dancing. “This is a dangerous job. Don’t approach.”

  Austin caught Jess when she was within feet of Edgar, ripping her up off the ground and holding her against his chest to stop her from going any farther. She twisted within his grasp, trying to see Edgar. Ulric and Jasper flanked Austin, faces hard as they scanned Edgar’s shimmering body, specks of shining metal amid seeping black blood.

  “Oh, gross, vampires bleed black?” Jess said, clearly unable to help herself. A beautiful blush seeped into her cheeks. “I mean…”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Earl jogged out next. “Edgar, what is happening? Has the lawn mower attacked you? Why are you screaming?”

  “It’s…” Edgar finally shut off the mower and then looked down at his legs, one hand still on the handle. “I’m not sure. It seems there is something in the grass. Have no fear, Jessie. I will root them all up and throw them away so no one will step on them. I’d hate for someone to be enjoying the lovely day and get one of these stuck in their feet.”

  “There has to be an easier way to root up whatever they are,” Ulric said, a smile spreading across his face.

  “They’re nails,” Niamh said, catching up. She pointed at the ground in front of the mower. “Look like ’em, anyway. I wonder how those got there…”

  Austin glanced at her. She put her finger to the side of her neck and pulled it across her throat. “Snitches get stitches,” she mouthed. She clearly did not care about his higher status within the Ivy House council.

  “Oh. Nails?” Edgar moved out from behind the mower.

  Jess pointed at his legs, his sweats tacked to his thighs and shins. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  Edgar put his hands on his hips and bent, surveying the ground. He reached down, gripped one of the offending spikes with his fingernails, and pulled it out. “So they are. Yes, how strange. I wonder if whatever has been eating my flowers has also taken to nailing the grass down.”

  Jess wiggled in Austin’s arms, asking to be put down. He released her, feeling her slide down his body until she was standing on her own. Uncomfortable, parts of him aching but thankfully not showing it, he stepped away and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Something is still eating your flowers?” Jess asked, looking at the ground below her feet. “Would anything that ate flowers also hammer nails into the grass? That doesn’t sound plausible.”

  “Stranger things have happened around here.” Edgar looked toward his cottage, and it was anyone’s guess what he was talking about, but if it had been initiated by a person, Austin suspected that person was probably Niamh.

  “Show me the newest flowers that have been eaten,” Austin said, ignoring the nails.

  Jess glanced from Edgar to Austin. “Can you handle the flower situation while I go show my dad where the towels and everything are, and then we can chat about it?”

  “Sure.”

  She pointed at Edgar. “Are you okay? You’ve still got…nails stuck in you.”

  Niamh put a fist in front of her mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter. Jess finally noticed, and a knowing gleam lit her eyes. She shook her head.

  “One thing at a time,” she murmured as she turned. “I’ll be back.”

  “Miss,” Mr. Tom said, hurrying after her as if seeing his window of opportunity narrow. “This is a good chance to talk to you without that woman always underfoot.”

  “That’s my mom, Mr. Tom, be nice.”

  “Yes, miss, I know, and she is a lovely woman…except when she is stealing the laundry out from under me. Why, she even took my laundry! She shrank my favorite pair of purple sweats.” They reached the back door, and Mr. Tom grabbed the handle and pulled it open for Jess. “Have you seen the refrigerator? Condiments everywhere! No rhyme or reason—”

  The door shut behind them.

  “Sounds like it’s going well,” Niamh said, her eyes teary from laughter. “That Earl could do with a little razzing, too.”

  “When did you become a practical joker?” Austin asked, motioning for Edgar to lead the way. He seemed completely oblivious of the implications of what they were saying.

  “Do ye need to ask? I got the promise of an action-filled life, and instead find myself looking at half-eaten flowers in the biggest swamp of daisies I’ve ever seen in my godforsaken life.” Niamh tagged along with them.

  “There aren’t that many daisies. Besides, they add a nice pop of white,” Edgar said, leading them to a patch of tulips cut through with lilies and speckled with the aforementioned daisies. The garden was starting to look like his doilies.

  The last row of crowded flowers did have a noticeable bare spot, the green stems ending abruptly, the buds or petals stripped away entirely. The rough breaks in flora bespoke teeth, the cuts not even and the ends smashed. The missing flowers were clustered together, as though an animal had been grazing.

  “The basajaun made a much bigger mess,” Austin said, bending to sniff. The flowers were so plentiful that they overwhelmed his senses, any other scents completely washed out. He coughed with the onslaught, then sneezed three times in quick succession, his eyes watering.

  Edgar put a hand on his heart and bowed his head. “I do, of course, believe Jessie when she says it is not likely that basajaun. I do not doubt her for a moment. She is not the type of person to lie…”

  “But?” Austin asked.

  “Well.” Edgar grasped his hands in front of him. “It’s just that th
e basajaun did only eat the flowers, not the stems. He made an awful mess when he was permitted to eat the flowers, but at the moment he does not have permission, so maybe he is showing restraint. I can’t think of anyone else that could sneak onto these lands without anyone knowing. Ivy House would alert us if it were anyone dangerous, though her lax treatment of flower theft is a dereliction of duty, in my opinion, even if it was deer. Which it still could be, even though deer poop gets all over. I haven’t seen any poop.”

  “All animals poop,” Austin said, trying to step lightly through the flowers. A calla lily crunched under his boot. Edgar drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t see any tracks.”

  “Correct. No hooves. Deer leave hoofprints—”

  “We get it,” Niamh said. “You don’t think it’s a deer.”

  “The basajaun didn’t leave any tracks when he ransacked my flowers the first time,” Edgar said. “Their magic keeps them from being detected in that way. No poop, and no tracks.”

  Austin turned as Jess reemerged from the house in a flowing tent of a dress that blew against her side and outlined a shapely hip. He meant to turn away, his body tightening, but instead followed the outline to the swell of her full breast, unencumbered by a bra. A familiar ache overcame him as he watched her legs churn the fabric, sucking it into creases he’d dreamt of exploring. With his tongue.

  He ripped his gaze away and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I’ll speak to Jess. Maybe it’s time to head up the mountain. That basajaun has a soft spot for her. I doubt it’ll lie.”

  “Speak to me about what?” she said as she reached them.

  “Visiting your hairy friend on his mountain. Maybe you can finally try your hand at scaring hikers.”

  He earned a smile. “I’d be up for it. But we have to be back by dinner or my mother will pitch a fit.”

  Austin looked back at the house, seeing Cedric jogging toward them, often late to the party, Earl not in tow. “No Earl?”

  She rolled her eyes, resting her hand on his arm and nudging him toward the trees.

  “No,” she said dryly, steering him deeper into the wood with the rest falling in behind them, Ulric and Jasper flanking the group. “He’s staying behind to, quote, make the parents more comfortable, unquote. What he’s really doing is protecting his interests. He doesn’t like that my mom is cooking and cleaning. It’s stressing him out. I think he is determined to wait on her whether she likes it or not. Unfortunately, she has the same end game with him. She’s about to go to the grocery store and Mr. Tom is trying to head her off. It’s warfare in there.”