Spellbinding Starters

by Annabel Chase

  “Is Kenny in trouble?” Mrs. Whitaker asked. She was a statuesque woman with auburn hair and a few fine lines around her mouth. Her forehead, on the other hand, suggested monthly Botox injections. “I warned him to slow down on school roads.” She gave an apologetic smile. “New drivers, you know how they are.”

  “I’m not here about your son, Mrs. Whitaker,” the chief said. “We’d like to speak with your husband.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Lawrence is in his office. Right this way, please.”

  I tried not to gape at the furnishings as we passed through the house. Every piece of furniture appeared to be worth a small fortune. Georgian highboys and Queen Anne accent chairs. No Pottery Barn for the Whitakers.

  “Lawrence, Chief…” Mrs. Whitaker squinted at his badge. “Chief Fox is here to see you with his lovely assistant.”

  “I’m not his assistant,” I said.

  “This is Agent Fury,” Chief Fox said. “FBI.”

  Lawrence and his wife both appeared stunned.

  “Can I offer you anything to drink?” she asked, quickly recovering.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “Mr. Whitaker, if you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions,” the chief said.

  Lawrence Whitaker was a slightly balding man in a crisp blue collared shirt. He sat behind a substantial mahogany desk.

  “What is this regarding?” Lawrence asked.

  “Chief O’Neill,” I said.

  Lawrence flinched. “Sad news about the chief. We played golf together.”

  “We understand he also arrested you last month,” Chief Fox said.

  Lawrence reached for the cell phone on his desk. “I think I’ll call my lawyer.”

  “No need for a lawyer,” the chief said. “We’re just talking.”

  Lawrence’s nostrils flared. “I don’t have anything to say.”

  “Because you pushed Chief O’Neill into the bay?” Chief Fox asked. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to admit that.”

  Lawrence released his grip on the phone. “I wasn’t even in town the day Mick died.”

  Well, there went that theory.

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  “I was in Miami on a business trip. I came home the following evening. You can check my records.” He tapped the screen of his phone. “In fact, I still have my ticket in my Apple wallet.” He showed us the screen.

  “We’ll still need to confirm that you actually boarded the flight,” the chief said.

  “Do whatever you need to do,” Lawrence said snidely. “But if you need anything else from me, you’ll have to call Jayson Swift.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Chief Fox pushed back the chair and stood. “You should know that if I ever catch you drinking and driving in this town, there isn’t a fancy lawyer on earth that will be able to extricate you from those charges.”

  Lawrence tipped an imaginary cap. “I consider myself warned.”

  Now he was the kind of guy I wouldn’t necessarily mind handing over to my family for their special brand of justice.

  We left the office and found Mrs. Whitaker hovering by the front door. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “He’s generally better behaved.”

  “He’s a grown man, not a toddler,” I replied. “And his type of bad behavior can have serious consequences.”

  She wrung her hands. “He’s promised me he’ll get help.” She kept her voice low so as not to be overheard.

  Chief Fox gave her a stern look. “For your sake, I hope he does. If he doesn’t, he’ll be trading the bar for a whole set of them.”

  Chapter Nine

  I awoke the next morning to find the house buzzing with the arrival of more relatives—apparently, Uncle Moyer and his husband, Tomas, had been invited to breakfast to celebrate my return home, not that anyone bothered to tell me.

  I climbed down the steps, still dressed in my favorite heart pajamas.

  “Eden, you spectacular creature. Come here.” Tomas opened his arms wide and I wrapped mine around his taut waist.

  “Still working out, huh?” I asked. Solid abs didn’t lie.

  “Gotta look good to do good,” Tomas replied.

  “You really don’t,” I said, releasing him. “But that’s okay.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little vanity,” my mother said. She gave Tomas a kiss on the cheek. “In fact, some of us could use a little more of it. Might help with her dating life, or lack thereof.” She fluttered her eyelids in my direction.

  “What about your uncle? My abs aren’t solid enough for you?” Uncle Moyer gave me his version of an embrace, which involved a one-armed hug and two firm pats on the back as though he were burping me.

  “It’s great to see you both,” I said. “Tomas, your hair is lighter again.” They’d stopped in to visit me in San Francisco two years ago during their tour of wine country.

  Tomas ran a hand through his golden hair. “The sun works wonders, my dear.”

  “Not for Eden’s hair,” Grandma interjected. “It absorbs all the light. It’s like a black hole.”

  Tomas’s gaze flicked from me to my mother. “Seeing you two together again—Beatrice, you could be Eden’s older sister.”

  I tensed. “You realize that’s a compliment for her and not for me, right?”

  My mother fingered her gold necklace. “And what? I don’t deserve compliments anymore? I’ve aged out?”

  “When do I age in?” I queried.

  “Would anyone like a slice of fresh lemon in their tea?” Aunt Thora asked.

  Uncle Moyer and Tomas raised their hands.

  “The smell of lemons is just heavenly,” my great-aunt said, inhaling the scent before placing the lemon on the chopping board.

  “Like you would know,” Grandma said. “The nearest you’ve been to Heaven is Tomas over here.”

  “Same,” Uncle Moyer said with a devilish grin.

  My mother handed me a cup of tea and I sat at the round table with our visitors.

  “How’s your practice?” I asked Uncle Moyer.

  Tomas rubbed his husband’s back. “Voted best in the county three years straight now.”

  “They don’t call him Moyer the Lawyer for nothing,” Aunt Thora said. She placed a cup of tea in front of each man.

  “They call him that because he is a lawyer,” Grandma said.

  “And it rhymes,” Uncle Moyer said. “Tomas the Lawyer doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

  Tomas winked. “And I’m far too lazy to practice law. I leave the hard work to my gorgeous husband. True grit makes him even more attractive, if that’s possible.”

  “I guess the state bar doesn’t know about your extracurricular law practice,” I said.

  “Certainly not,” Uncle Moyer replied. “They would disbar me on the grounds of insanity if I told them I was actually a demon drafting contracts with humans.”

  “To trade their souls,” Grandma said proudly. “It’s like I raised you myself.”

  “My practice isn’t as niche as that,” Uncle Moyer said.

  “According to the information I’ve been reading, the FBM has had to intervene in many cases involving demon lawyers,” I said.

  Uncle Moyer sipped his tea. “I don’t doubt it. There are far too many unscrupulous lawyers out there willing to dupe unsuspecting humans into unfair bargains.”

  I blew steam off the surface of my tea. “You don’t think it’s unfair to take the souls of humans?”

  Uncle Moyer straightened in his seat. “My contracts are always clear and in the common tongue,” he said. “I don’t want any disgruntled parties. It only results in headaches down the road for me.”

  My mother sailed over to the table with a plate of croissants and set it in the middle. “You two are definitely a case of opposites attract if ever there was one,” she said, and squeezed Tomas on the shoulders with both hands. “At this rate I’d be happy to attract anyone at all—opposite, similar, doesn
’t matter.”

  “You took the ‘doesn’t matter’ approach the first time and look what happened,” Grandma said.

  “That’s my father you’re talking about,” I said. I didn’t care that my mouth was stuffed full of buttery goodness.

  “Are you sure?” Grandma said. “I didn’t say the first time she got married.”

  I bit my tongue. This conversation could easily go downhill quickly if I let it.

  “It isn’t all smooth sailing with Tomas and I,” Uncle Moyer admitted. “Sometimes the opposite issue can cause ripples on otherwise calm waters.”

  “Like when?” my mother asked. “You two have one of the best relationships in town.”

  Uncle Moyer and Tomas smiled at each other. One was as handsome as the other, especially when they were showing teeth.

  “You know Tomas is supposed to act as an invisible hand in this world,” Uncle Moyer said.

  “I do dole out the goodness,” Tomas said.

  “Except he leaves his feathers everywhere,” Uncle Moyer explained. “It’s almost as though he wants credit for his good deeds.”

  “I’m only part angel,” Tomas said, by way of explanation. “What can I say? The human part of me is sloppy.”

  “You should see his halo,” Uncle Moyer continued. “I polish it every Wednesday because Tomas leaves his grubby fingerprints all over it.”

  “It’s my halo,” Tomas replied. “Who else’s fingerprints should be on it?”

  Uncle Moyer shook his head. “I’m just glad we have the time and money to combat these issues. I can’t imagine couples with lots of kids and little money to outsource their burdens. No wonder the divorce rate is so high.”

  “You two are lucky in many ways,” my mother said.

  “And how about you, Miss Eden?” Tomas asked. “Have you been getting lucky in many ways?”

  “Eden couldn’t get lucky wearing a rabbit’s foot tied to a horseshoe,” Grandma said.

  Tomas wrinkled his nose. “Certainly not. That outfit would put anyone off.”

  “I’m too busy to worry about dating,” I said.

  “You don’t look busy,” Uncle Moyer said, noting my heart pajamas and unkempt hair.

  “She’s here all the time, hiding in the attic and talking to herself,” Grandma interjected. “She’s like a hermit.”

  “I am not! I’m constantly out and about. That’s what happens when you have a job.”

  Grandma gave me a sharp look. “Is that a dig at me? Let me tell you something, young lady. I’ve had plenty of jobs and raising your mother was the hardest one of them.”

  My mother’s head jerked toward her. “Hey!”

  “Well, maybe you’ll meet someone in connection with your new job,” Uncle Moyer said. “That’s how I met Tomas, after all.”

  “Don’t boink someone you get out of prison,” Grandma said. “That might fly in Thora’s branch of the family, but not mine.”

  “Firstly, no one says boink,” Uncle Moyer replied. “Secondly, Tomas was imprisoned for protesting. He’s a social justice warrior.”

  Tomas shrugged. “I am that.”

  “Just out of curiosity, what does the FBM have you doing?” Uncle Moyer asked. “Are you acting as a guardian in case the portal reopens?”

  I shuddered at the prospect of the portal ever reopening. “No, it’s more straightforward. Any use of magic in my jurisdiction gets investigated.”

  “Not any use,” my mother interjected. “You don’t go after us for making potions to heal.”

  “Or hinder,” Aunt Thora added, with an accusatory look at my grandmother.

  “No, we don’t tend to bother with small traces of magic like that,” I said. “Or good magic.”

  “Why not good magic?” Tomas asked. “It seems to me that can be as disruptive to human life as bad magic.”

  “Because we generally see so little of it,” I said. “There was an executive order a few decades ago to cease all interference with good magic.”

  “So the tooth fairy continues her dark reign,” Uncle Moyer said, his jaw tightening.

  “You have issues with the tooth fairy?” I asked.

  He frowned at me. “She collects the bones of children and pays good coin for them. She may as well be harvesting their organs.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” I wasn’t about to argue with Uncle Moyer. He could browbeat anybody under the table with logic, except maybe Grandma.

  A knock on the door interrupted our discussion. “I’ll get it,” my mother said and disappeared around the corner. She returned a moment later with Clara behind her. Everyone made a fuss over my old friend, making her feel welcome, and I felt a rush of warmth for my family. They had their shining moments—few and far between—but they had them nonetheless.

  “I am so thrilled to see the two of you making trouble again,” my mother said, giving Clara a squeeze.

  “Yeah, about time you ditched that walking set of boobs,” Grandma said to Clara. “I’ve seen the two of you in town and it made my skin crawl every time.”

  “That’s the lotion I made for you,” Aunt Thora said. “I told you it was made with crushed cockroaches.”

  Clara took the dig at Sassy in stride. “I’m definitely glad to have Eden back. There are some holes that can only be filled by a particular person.”

  I smiled up at her. “You just want the rest of my croissant, don’t you?”

  “Are you offering?”

  I passed her the half a croissant. “Why don’t I show you my fancy digs? I need to get dressed anyway.”

  “She means the attic,” Grandma said.

  “Thanks for the interpretation.” I scraped back my chair. “It was so great to see you. Thanks for coming over.”

  “We expect to see a lot more of you now that you’re home for good,” Uncle Moyer said.

  For good.

  I resisted the shiver that threatened to overtake me. Instead, I grabbed Clara by the hand and we headed up to the attic to talk in private.

  “You’re really living in the attic?” Clara surveyed the boxes and cobwebs. “No one even bothered to clean?”

  “It’s only temporary,” I said. “I’m sorry about what Grandma said about Sassy. That was rude.”

  “But not surprising.” Clara sat on the mattress while I got dressed. “Sassy is misunderstood. Once you get to know her, you’ll understand her behavior better. She’s more vulnerable than we ever realized.”

  “Well, sure. If I puncture her artery, she’s vulnerable,” I said. Wishful thinking, I knew.

  Clara wore a vague smile. “Your brand of violence has always been more verbal than physical.”

  “And I’m so sorry about the way I treated you,” I blurted. “I know I wasn’t a good friend and I want you to know that I do feel terrible about it. I have for years.”

  Clara took my hand and I felt a jolt. Grief washed over me and I instantly knew what I was experiencing. Clara’s feelings. She was experiencing my emotions as an empath, while my magic siphoning skills were allowing me to experience hers. We both began to cry.

  “Oh, Eden. I’m so glad you’re home.” Clara released my hand in order to throw her arms around me and the connection broke.

  “I promise to never do anything like that again,” I said. I’d bottled up my feelings for so long, and now the emotional dam was bursting.

  “I sort of understood,” Clara said. “Even without you telling me. You were never happy here.” She pulled back and inclined her head to study me. “But now you’re back. I’m not really sure what to think.”

  I told her about what happened in San Francisco and how I ended up here.

  “I’m so sorry, Eden,” Clara said. “I know how much you wanted to have a normal human life.”

  I managed a smile. “It’s okay. I’m glad to see you again and life at home isn’t so bad.”

  Clara cocked an eyebrow. “I just felt your emotions, Eden. There’s no need to lie.”

  I laug
hed. “Okay. Let’s just say my feelings are complicated.”

  “I see Anton around sometimes,” Clara said. “Your niece and nephew are adorable.”

  “Thanks. I’m just getting to know them. I’m not used to little ones.”

  “Think of it this way. You can be the guiding light that keeps them from succumbing to the dark side.”

  “I like that.” I sat down to put on my socks and shoes. “Olivia is the one to watch. She’s going to have powers. Ryan is less clear. They keep trying to coax the evil out of him, but I can’t tell if it’s futile. He’s only a year old.”

  “There’s plenty of time.” She paused. “Not to change the subject to a less pleasant topic, but have you had any luck with the investigation?”

  “Nothing so far,” I said. “Everyone’s been cleared.”

  “That’s too bad. How’s Sean taking your involvement?” Clara stifled a giggle. “I can’t imagine very well.”

  “I suspect he’s taking the arrival of the new chief even less well,” I said. “As much as I don’t want to be evil, the whole thing fills me with joy.”

  “People can’t stop talking about the new chief,” Clara said.

  “What have you heard?” I asked.

  Clara smiled. “That he’s much too handsome to be a cop in a backwater town like Chipping Cheddar. That’s what Sassy’s been telling everyone since that night at the Cheese Wheel.”

  Uh oh. “And has she already sent Tanner packing?”

  Clara shook her head. “Have you seen him?”

  “Briefly,” I said. “I didn’t linger.”

  “Probably for the best,” Clara said. “He hasn’t changed much. You noticed Sassy isn’t wearing a ring. That’s because Tanner keeps jerking her around. I know he’s cheated on her, but Sassy refuses to believe it.”

  For a fleeting moment, I actually felt sorry for Sassy. “It’s not like she can’t meet someone else. Sassy is awful, but she’s pretty.”

  Clara laughed. “That’s what we used to call her, remember? Pretty awful?”

  “But you two are friends now, so I guess that’s not a good nickname.”

  Clara cast a sidelong glance at me. “It might surprise you to learn that Sassy has a decent sense of humor, even when it comes to herself. I’ve told her some of our stories from high school, even the ones that don’t paint her in a good light, and she’s been a great sport.”