Magical Midlife Invasion

by Breene, K. F.

  “Right. Fine.” I motioned them toward the house. “Mom, Mr. Tom needs a little help with dinner. He doesn’t know if he can handle cooking for this many people.” Mr. Tom’s lips tightened, but he didn’t comment.

  “Oh yes, of course,” my mom said, lighting up. “I thought we could have Cornish game hens tonight. What do you think, Sir Tom?”

  “Mr. Tom, madam, and that would be fine.”

  “Well, with the cape ’n’ all, I thought maybe you’d like sir over mister. It really elevates the name, don’t you think?” She led him to the back door. “There is always Monsieur Tom. Now that would be snazzy, wouldn’t it?”

  “Dad…what about those rats? Did you attack that problem?” I asked, bouncing from foot to foot, the basajaun really close now. He clearly had something on his mind. I hoped to hell it wasn’t violence. I didn’t want to fight a being that could literally spike a human’s head.

  “Huh?” Dad looked away from the nearly-gray-it-was-so-weather-beaten wine barrel. “Oh, I set some traps. I found some in your shed. Don’t you worry, we’ll get that taken care of. By the way, what’s with moving that Chucky-looking doll into the TV room? Your mother said she didn’t do it. Your dolls are nice and all, but some of them…aren’t to my taste.”

  I gritted my teeth and ran my hands through my hair. Ivy House was clearly messing with my parents. Was there a way to put a house on time-out?

  “It’s probably Ulric’s idea of a joke,” I said, glancing back toward the trees. Austin was already walking that way, his stride long and powerful and graceful, muscles playing across his back with the swing of his large shoulders. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I turned away. He’d at least head off the basajaun, hopefully leaving it in the trees.

  Unless the basajaun had come for violence. Then there’d be a Bigfoot and a polar bear battling in the garden. When it rained, it poured, indeed.

  “Here, Pete, I could use a beer, whaddya say?” Niamh said, motioning him toward the house. “When Edgar gets through with what he’s doing, we’ll get him sanding that barrel down. He’s got the equipment somewhere, I think. Ye didn’t finish telling me about yer ancestors and all the places they lived in Ireland…” She gave me a long-suffering look. She was taking one for the team on this one. My dad loved to go on and on about his family roots.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right.” He turned away from the barrel. The basajaun slowed as he neared the tree line, not quite visible yet, but not far off. “Well…” He looked at the sky. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  “That’s here. It’s five o’clock here!” She motioned him in again. “Near enough, anyway. Close enough that it doesn’t matter.”

  The basajaun stepped through the trees, a bright red baseball cap perched backward on his much-too-large head, an orange construction vest barely clinging to his enormous shoulders, and a pair of cut-off sweats practically glued to his lower half. Everywhere else—hair. Dense hair covered his chest, partially obscured by his long and braided beard. It flowed over his head and down the side of his hairy face, his nose so prominent it was all one could look at. The hair draped down his arms and legs and puffed up on top of his bare feet.

  “Good Lord,” my dad said, having turned a little toward me. He’d spotted him.

  I held my breath. Niamh’s expression flattened. Austin tried to motion the basajaun back into the trees.

  “That hairy guy is sure tall. What’d you think, seven feet, eight? He dwarfs that Steele guy, and he’s a big guy.”

  I furrowed my brow, not realizing my dad had taken to calling Austin by his last name. That was odd. He also didn’t seem to have a real grasp on height. The basajaun was more like nine feet tall.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. His assessment seemed like a better number for his mental health. “He’s big, yeah. He’s a local. Kind of a recluse. Lives in a cabin in the mountains.”

  “Well, he clearly lost his razor. People probably think there’s a Bigfoot around here.” Dad shook his head and headed for the door. “Strange group of characters hanging around this house,” he muttered. “Almost as strange as the house itself. And the staff.” He lifted his voice a little as he reached Niamh. “What’s with the butler’s cape? I can’t figure it out. What’s he dressed up as?”

  “A gobshite, that’s what.” She led him through the back door.

  With them gone, I jogged across the grass. The basajaun caught sight of me and stepped around Austin, walking to meet me, his stride so big that we were moving toward each other at the same speed.

  “Hey…” I pointed at him. “I never did get your name.”

  “Yes. Sorry for the intrusion. Lovely garden you have. It is even nicer than the last time I was here. I dream of these flowers. There is such a beautiful taste to them…”

  I dropped my hand. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to let Edgar know—”

  “They taste even better than they look, and that is a true marvel. When we traded, I had no idea it was such a one-sided bargain. I was the true victor in that dealing. Often a person will offer quantity when they don’t have quality, but you offered both. I am humbled by your generosity.”

  “Oh no, I think the trade was equal. It—”

  “I come today because of that, and also because of our mutual respect and granting of safe passage on each other’s territories.” He looked between Austin and me.

  Austin had given him safe passage, but as far as I was concerned, I’d just agreed to let him eat some flowers and move along. I hadn’t realized we’d struck a deal for safe travel.

  But I pressed my lips together and lifted my eyebrows, listening. Basajaun had strangely specific rules regarding territory and trading and life in general, and I knew hardly any of them. Given the basajaun ruthlessly killed the people who broke those rules, I figured it best to see what was on his mind.

  “I have found a few trespassers on my mountain,” the basajaun said as Ulric and Jasper came out of the back door. Mr. Tom must’ve told them we had company. I wondered why he hadn’t bothered with Cedric.

  “Don’t you get a lot of hikers this time of the year?” I asked.

  “Trespassers meaning magical people who know the rules of established territories and don’t follow them,” Austin said.

  “Yes. You are both correct. I get a lot of hikers, who are such fun to slowly sneak up on in the trees, stepping out at the right time so as to give them an incredible fright. Why, just the other day—”

  “All due respect, Mr. Basajaun, but I’ve had a very long day.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What about those trespassers?”

  “Yes, of course. I apologize. My zeal for interacting with the public gets the better of me.” The basajaun adjusted his strained construction vest, which was surely cutting off the blood flow to his armpits. “Shifters have been using my mountain as a highway of sorts. I came upon the trails a week or so ago. At first it was just a single line over the mountain. I didn’t think much of it. It is a large mountain, and those not of this area do not realize it is my territory. But over the last couple days, they have come and gone freely. They have altered their course, and I can only assume it is because they have scented me. Instead of following my scent trail back to me and trading for passage, they are attempting to circumvent my authority. Yesterday, I scented what I think was a mage among them—”

  “I’ve never deciphered mages to have a particular scent,” Austin said.

  “Mages themselves smell like typical humans, yes, but if you pay attention, you can smell the magic on them. They do magic so often that it leaves a lingering smell, faint in some, strong in those more powerful. It is a spicy sort of smell that snaps at your nose.” He paused for a moment, studying Austin as Austin studied him. “I can lead you to the trail. Point out the flavor.”

  Austin nodded. “I’d be obliged. Name your terms.”

  I turned my lips downward, impressed. Austin clearly knew how to work with a basajaun.

  “If you identify the trespassers
who have been using my mountain,” the basajaun said, “I would ask that you turn the information over.”

  “Done.” Austin didn’t reach out to shake hands, and the basajaun didn’t seem to expect it.

  I swallowed, worry rising through me. Austin had told me we had time, but if there were a few shifters and they were already bringing mages in…

  “Was the mage powerful, or…” I asked, and my voice wavered.

  The basajaun’s light brown eyes held mine. He hadn’t struck me as particularly intelligent in our previous dealings, but maybe he had a different kind of smarts. From the emotions flickering through his eyes—excitement, humor, compassion, protectiveness—I gathered that he sensed my fear and was deciding which way to lean with it. I hoped he didn’t opt for a practical joke…

  He turned just slightly, giving me his full attention. “I remember that you said you were new to Ivy House. You are just a cub. Cubs must be protected and nurtured. They must be taught the ways. It is forbidden to attack one so new.” He nodded. “Yes, I will help. If you will allow me a daily flower break, I will help you with this threat.”

  “Ulric, go get Edgar,” I said quickly. I was not about to pass up the chance of recruiting such a fearsome ally, but I had promised that Edgar could be present the next time I traded with his flowers.

  “The magical worker who came over the mountain had a fair bit of power, yes,” the basajaun said as Ulric took off running. “I do not know about the shifters. I cannot smell their power level.”

  “With shifters, it’s usually determined by the animal—and they travel in accordance with their rank, the strongest usually at the back and the weakest in the middle,” Austin said. “I can show you, if you’ll return the favor and let me know if you find out anything about who’s crossing your mountain in the direction of my growing territory.”

  “It is a trade.” The basajaun nodded.

  “This trading thing is tedious,” I mumbled as Edgar loped behind Ulric, one running like a normal person, one looking like some sort of vaudeville act.

  “So you were the creature that scared the deer away last night?” I asked, my tension easing. “You were following it?”

  The basajaun frowned, the expression only evident by the changing configuration of his hair. “This is the first time I have been off my mountain in months. I have had plenty to interest me there.”

  Tension flowered inside of me again. Wishful thinking, clearly. There was still a Big Bad unaccounted for.

  “Hello.” Edgar licked his colorless lips as he stopped near the basajaun.

  “Edgar, the basajaun has agreed to help us in exchange for a daily flower quota,” I said, then held my breath, hoping he didn’t make this difficult.

  “Oh. Yes, we could use the help. For now, anyway.” Edgar smiled, his canines elongated again. “Ivy House has delivered to me an additional book, and I am making some headway, but sadly, it doesn’t contain anything in the way of a counter-spell. My research continues.”

  The basajaun shook his head slowly. Apparently he wasn’t picking up what Edgar was putting down.

  “Edgar, why don’t you talk about the restrictions with the flowers,” I said. “Didn’t you say you were going to create some sort of meal plan for the basajaun?”

  “Oh! Of course.” Edgar turned to the basajaun. “You must know that flower production takes time and love. I am better than most, but even I must wait for them to grow. For that reason, we’ll need to limit how much you eat at a time. I have planted more, with you in mind, but we only have so much space. Come, follow me—I’ll give you a sample of what I’m working on for you.”

  I watched them go, the basajaun stooping to catch every word.

  Austin looked out over the wood. “I’ll learn the way to smell magic. That will help me assess the prowler, if there is still a trail. If the magical presence in the street was of a higher caliber, we can assume he or she will be cautious. They’ll try to figure out who they’re competing with before pushing forward. Or they might just rush in, hoping to get there first. We need to bring in the other gargoyles.”

  I blew out a breath. “Ulric can work on a story to tell the parents.”

  Austin nodded and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “That basajaun gives us a leg up. Not only is he incredibly vicious, but he’s at home in the trees. He can move through the woods more stealthily than anyone our enemies have at their disposal. There is danger lurking, but we are equipped to handle it. After a full night’s sleep, you’ll see that.”

  I dropped my head to his shoulder. If it was Elliot Graves, he clearly had a team of people headed over the mountain, and who knew how many would come at us from the front. We’d be grossly understaffed, not to mention I had my parents holed up inside. Without Ivy House, Austin’s confidence didn’t ring true. It was a nice sentiment, and I appreciated the support, but it would take more than a night’s sleep to see us out of this. I could send out a summons for help, but the previous times it had taken a while for anyone to show, and when they did, one of those groups had a problem with a competing alpha. That wouldn’t help us now, with danger lurking just out of sight.

  We’d need to go it alone. This might be the time I was successfully kidnapped.

  Fourteen

  The next afternoon, I paused midway through sweeping on some makeup when I felt Austin step down on the property.

  He’d delivered on all of the promises he’d made the previous night. He’d learned how to decipher the scent of a magical user, retraced the prowler’s trail, deduced the unknown Big Bad out front was a middle-range magical worker at best—less than whoever was trekking over the Basajaun’s mountain—and stayed the night so I could sleep soundly.

  And I had. No nightmares had troubled me. Worry hadn’t kept me tossing and turning. I’d woken up refreshed and ready to figure this thing out.

  It was amazing how safe he made me feel.

  Come morning, he hadn’t shown any fatigue, but I’d tapped into our connection for long enough to feel it. I’d set to work on healing it without saying anything. After the breakfast forced on him by my mother, he’d given me a secret smile and whispered, “Thanks,” before heading out to check in with the people he had watching the town. The guy never took a day off.

  Not that I was complaining, given the situation.

  He’d texted in the early afternoon telling me to get ready; he had somewhere to take me. He hadn’t specified where.

  Now he was here.

  I was terrified he had bad news he didn’t want to break to me over the phone.

  Ever the optimist, though, I finished my makeup before checking to make sure I hadn’t spilled any powder on my shirt. Could be bad news, or it could be a trip to the winery he planned to buy for barrel tasting, or something else less awful than people coming after me. Given nothing had triggered my magical tripwire last night, which I had put near the flowers even though he’d said to put it near the grass, and Edgar hadn’t seen anyone at the front, Niamh and Austin reckoned the people interested in the house were taking a step back to size each other up.

  But it could be bad news. Austin and Niamh had made their assessment this morning based on very little information. I was nervous, which was why I’d decided to put on nicer clothes and some makeup. When I felt bad on the inside, jazzing up my appearance helped distract me. In this particular situation, it was also an excuse to escape Mr. Tom and my parents for a second.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs before Austin had made much progress at all, his slow pace making me more anxious. He was obviously reluctant to tell me whatever he’d found out.

  Mr. Tom stepped forward and pointed to the front sitting room.

  “In there, miss, while I greet Mr. Steele.”

  I frowned at him. Did Mr. Tom know what was going on? Oh God, they knew the attack was coming tonight and they didn’t want to freak me out too soon.

  My mother sat in a chair near the fireplace, book in hand. She smi
led at me as I sat down, and then lowered the book, clearly seeing from my expression that something was wrong.

  “What is it—”

  I didn’t hear her finish the question because I felt Austin’s arrival. I could sense him stopping at the front door and Mr. Tom opening it. His words were but a hum, washed out by my mother repeating her question.

  “Miss.” Mr. Tom stood in the doorway, his expression grim. “Mr. Steele is here to see you.”

  “Oh, how nice!” My mother beamed. “And good choice on your clothes, dear. Sophisticated and pretty, but casual. It’s inviting, but it doesn’t make you look like a sure thing.” She gave me an “okay” sign.

  Stomach churning, I didn’t comment as I left the room. Better for her to think Austin had come to whisk me away than to inform me that we’d shortly be attacked by two unknown forces with mages and shifters and who knew what else.

  In the foyer, though, the first glimpse of Austin took my breath away. He stood just in front of the door wearing stylish ripped jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a white dress shirt with cream-colored, somewhat metallic horizontal stripes—subtle, but just enough to showcase the girth of his muscular torso. A few buttons had been left open, showing the groove of his pec muscles without revealing too much. Man cleavage. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, displaying a shiny watch with diamonds around the face. His hair, long on top and short on the sides, was stylishly messy, swooshed just a little to the right in a way that enhanced his incredibly attractive face.

  He held an orchid plant in a distressed wooden base. The middle of the flower was a bluish white that exploded into purples and deep blues toward the outer rim, colors unlike any I’d ever seen in that type of flower. The base was stylish and amazing and exactly my taste.

  “What’s…” I glanced behind him, not sure what I was looking for, then around, wondering if I’d fallen back asleep somewhere and was dreaming right now. “What’s going on?”

  “You need a break from this circus,” Mr. Tom said. “You are wound up so tightly you’re about to crack.”