Spellbinding Starters

by Annabel Chase

  Ricardo rushed forward to greet us, kissing Lucy on both cheeks. “You are a vision, as always, Miss Lucy.”

  Wearing bright turquoise trousers and a fuchsia and turquoise striped shirt, Ricardo was quite a vision as well. I wasn’t sure what I expected a wereferret to look like, but Ricardo certainly wasn’t it.

  “Ricardo, I’d like you to meet Miss Emma Hart, Spellbound’s new witch.”

  When he leaned forward to kiss my cheek, I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You witches are all the same,” he said with a friendly laugh.

  Since when were handshakes a witch thing? I just wasn’t keen on the idea of a wereferret’s saliva on my skin. Yikes, that sounded racist even in my head. I was going to need an attitude adjustment if I was going to fit in here.

  Lucy was right about Ricardo’s taste, though. The shop was full of gorgeous clothing in all cuts and colors. There were no sizes. If you liked something, you tried it on and it automatically catered to your body. Nothing ever had to be tailored to fit. It was easily the best thing about Spellbound so far, aside from the coffee.

  I stood in front of a mirror and studied my reflection. This was the fourth outfit I’d tried on and it looked just as amazing as the first three. That had never happened to me in the human world. I’d always needed the same tops and bottoms in multiple sizes because I never knew what would fit. And even when it fit, that didn’t mean it looked good on me.

  “Are you sure this isn’t a magic mirror?” I asked. I had images of me walking around town in one of these outfits and quickly discovering the attractive cut was an illusion.

  “No magic mirrors in here, Miss Emma,” Ricardo assured me. “Our clothing is carefully selected from the best magical manufacturers.”

  I was in heaven. “How many am I allowed to have?” I asked Lucy. She hadn’t told me what the budget was.

  “With a sale this good, get as many outfits as you like,” Lucy said.

  “We’ll be changing over to a new collection soon,” Ricardo explained. “We need to move inventory.”

  Then this was my lucky day—and I never had lucky days.

  Once the clothes were paid for, I turned to Lucy. “Should we lug these back to the car?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “They’ll be in your closet when you get home.”

  My eyes popped. “What? How?”

  Ricardo grinned. “It’s fun having someone new in town, no?”

  Lucy clapped her hands. “It really is.”

  “You should take her to the Wish Market,” Ricardo said. “I’ll bet she’s never seen anything like that.”

  Ricardo wasn’t kidding.

  The market was unreal. It was an outdoor shopping area tucked down a side street parallel to the town square. There were stalls filled with unusual food and drinks. Above the stalls were floating shelves piled with handmade hats, scarves, and other small items.

  “Take a basket,” Lucy urged, and I picked up a woven basket from the table beside the entrance.

  “How can I possibly reach the top shelves?” I asked. “I don’t have wings like you.”

  “There’s no need,” Lucy said. “You simply think of it and it appears in your basket. Like this.” She closed her eyes and I watched in awe as a bag of bright purple apples appeared in the basket. Well, they were the shape of apples anyway.

  “That’s incredible,” I breathed. “Everything looks so good. I don’t even know where to start.” I loved food. I wasn’t so great at cooking it, but I definitely loved to eat it.

  “Let’s walk down the main strip and, whenever you see something you like the look of, just wish it into your basket.”

  “Now I understand why it’s called the Wish Market.”

  I loaded up on everything that screamed ‘eat me.’ I had no idea how to prepare any of it, but I didn’t care. I was having too much fun. Lucy was the perfect companion for a day like this. She seemed to delight in my enjoyment.

  “I’m going to need a cookbook or something,” I said, as we headed back to the car.

  “There are a few excellent ones in the bookstore,” Lucy said. “We’ll stop there another time. We want the food sent to your house before it spoils.”

  As Lucy revved the magical engine, an impatient driver began honking incessantly. “I’m not going to move any faster because you’re honking at me,” she muttered.

  We proceeded to sit there while the other car horn went ballistic.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  Lucy folded her arms. “Sitting here longer for no reason, obviously. I’m not letting that harpy get her way.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “She’s obviously in a hurry.”

  Lucy smiled. “Exactly.”

  Now that I had clean underwear and matching socks, I turned my attention to the house. Its size was overwhelming—about ten times the size of my apartment. Although certain rooms were a little creepy, I knew they could be beautiful with the right touches. A house like this in eastern Pennsylvania would cost far more than I could've ever afforded on the salary of a public interest lawyer.

  I decided to explore Gareth’s study today. I thought it would be a good opportunity to see if he brought his work home with him. Maybe there were files here that he didn’t keep at the office in town and I could brush up on Mumford’s case.

  I located his study on the main floor in the west wing. The room was, of course, enormous. With its high ceilings and intricate woodwork, I could imagine this room as it may have once been used. Maybe a ballroom or a drawing room with ladies in gowns. Despite the dismal paint colors, the room still held astounding beauty. The colorful stained glass windows only added to its appeal. I looked around in wonder. This was actually going to be my home office. It was a far cry from a laptop on the sofa in front of the television.

  I walked over to the desk. It appeared to be made from reclaimed wood. An interesting choice for a vampire. Surprising that he would have wanted to surround himself with so much wood. On the other hand, he’d left the home’s original features intact. Maybe because he appreciated all that this house had to offer. Looking around, I had the overwhelming feeling I would have liked him.

  I sat down in the chair and began examining the contents of the folders on the desk. It felt odd not to be opening a laptop. I would have to get used to the lack of technology. It didn't seem to bother anyone else. Then again, they didn't have the same experience with technology that I did. Like most people I knew, I’d come to depend on it.

  I flipped through the papers in the first file. A trespassing case against a werewolf. That case closed a few weeks ago. I had to admit, the idea of a werewolf traipsing across my lawn in the middle of the night made me feel a little uneasy. I looked to see who the claimant was. Someone named Calliope Minor. Calliope sounded familiar. I was fairly sure she was one of my neighbors. I shuddered. So there was a very good chance a werewolf might decide that my yard made a good shortcut. They probably wouldn't dream of cutting across a vampire's yard. Now that an inexperienced witch had moved in, all bets were off.

  I opened the next folder. A shoplifting case. An elf called Chip was caught stealing sweets from Taffy’s. A candy shop presumably. A long explanation was included as to why he had taken the sweets. I opened a third file. This one did not include a case.

  I studied the paper more closely. It had been drafted by Gareth himself. A petition to have holy water removed from the church. He argued that its use was discriminatory and created a health and safety issue for vampires. I set down the paper and thought about it. Were vampires going to church in Spellbound? If not, then why did Gareth care whether there was holy water inside the church? I checked the file for any other relevant names. This looked like a recent project.

  To my left, papers scattered to the floor, startling me. I whipped around to see a cat standing on a tabletop. I wasn't a huge fan of cats. I always had the irrational fear that I’d wake up to find one standing on my chest and suck
ing out my soul. Too many horror movies as a kid.

  "Hello there," I said, forcing an unconcerned tone. "No one mentioned that Gareth had a cat. Are you supposed to be here?"

  The cat hissed at me. It was—to be blunt—an ugly cat, hairless with an angry face and a half-chewed ear. I couldn’t even tell what color it was supposed to be.

  "You must be hungry," I said. "If you did belong to Gareth, then that means no one’s been feeding you."

  I left the file on the desk and walked down the corridor to the kitchen. The cat trailed after me, meowing incessantly. It wasn’t a pleasant sound like the cats I’d seen in YouTube videos. It was more of an urgent screech.

  "Don't rush me now. Just because you've decided to come out of the woodwork." I began opening cabinets in the kitchen to see if I could find any cat food. I hadn't noticed evidence of it before. Not that Gareth had much in the way of dried goods. His refrigerator was stocked full of bottles of blood, but not much else.

  In the walk-in pantry, I found what I was looking for. Rows of cat food cans. "Someone's a fan of tuna."

  I plucked a can from the shelf and rummaged through the drawers for a can opener. All the while the cat moved in and out of my legs. A trip hazard. He’d decided he was really hungry now and wasn't going to let me forget it.

  I located a small dish and emptied the can into it. I had no clue how much to feed a cat. I set down the dish on the floor and watched the cat devour it. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I found another dish and filled it with water, setting it beside the food.

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Cat.” We’d only just met. It seemed too informal to call him anything else. “I wish you had let me know sooner you were here."

  To be honest, the cat creeped me out. It wasn't cute and fluffy like the ones in posters with motivational sayings. This one looked straight out of the insane asylum.

  I made a mental note to find out if anyone was interested in taking on a pet. Maybe one of Gareth’s friends. I would hunt down a new owner as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Unfortunately, I had no idea when that would be. I was due to start witch classes tomorrow morning. Between classes and my new job, I was going to struggle to find free time.

  I glanced down at the cat, finishing up the bowl of water. “I guess it’s you and me for a while.”

  Mr. Cat looked up at me and hissed.

  “Right back at you,” I said, and stuck out my tongue.

  Chapter Five

  The classroom at ASS Academy reminded me of a chemistry lab. There were bubbling beakers of various colors, and long, perfunctory tables with stools in front of them. Four young women sat on the stools. The youngest looked to be about thirteen.

  "You must be the new witch,” the youngest one said. “My name is Laurel."

  "Nice to meet you, Laurel," I said, although I’d never get used to being called a witch. It still sounded like an insult. “My name is…”

  “Emma Hart,” Laurel finished for me. “We know. It’s all anyone can talk about.”

  I guess I wasn’t surprised that my sudden appearance had made the local gossip rounds. “So what kind of class is this?"

  “Beginner Spell Casting,” Laurel said. “We also do Beginner Potions and Basic Skills.”

  I didn’t ask what Basic Skills included—deciding where to place my wart for maximum impact?

  "So are you all new witches, too?” I asked the others.

  They exchanged uneasy glances.

  "We are what you might call the remedial class," another witch said. “I’m Millie, by the way. And this is Begonia and Sophie.”

  “So why are you in the remedial class?” I asked.

  “Because we haven’t managed to pass all the tests,” Begonia said. “Each time you fail, you have to start all over again.”

  “That seems a bit harsh,” I said.

  “Not when you’re dealing with such powerful magic,” Sophie replied. “If we’re not proficient, we could hurt someone.”

  "Who’s the instructor?" I asked. “Maybe she’s not doing such a hot job.”

  Laurel giggled. “I wouldn’t say that to her face. You might end up with a horrific rash.”

  “On your face,” Sophie added.

  "She’s the head witch,” Millie explained. “Lady J.R. Weatherby."

  “Lady Weatherby?" I repeated. She'd been a member of the council in the Great Hall.

  "That's her," Begonia said. "If you didn't know her by name, you can usually identify her by the scowl on her face."

  "Yes, I got the impression she wasn't the warmest coal in the fire." More like the tundra.

  “She’s very tough,” Millie whispered. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  I had no intention of getting on anyone’s bad side in Spellbound. Any number of them could roast me and toast me with the flick of a finger.

  “Glad to see you’re all on time for a change.” Lady Weatherby swept into the room and everyone stood perfectly still.

  “Yes, Lady Weatherby,” they murmured in unison.

  She took her place in front of the class and glowered in my direction. “I trust you’ve all met the new student, Miss Hart.”

  “Thank you so much for having me,” I said. “I really…”

  “I have not asked you a question, Miss Hart,” Lady Weatherby said.

  Laurel leaned over and whispered. “We only speak in response to a question.”

  Oh. Like standing in front of a judge, in a way. I could do that.

  “Today we will be reviewing the basic defensive spells. For the sake of our new student, can someone please refresh our memories as to what these are?”

  Four hands shot up eagerly.

  “Begonia.”

  Begonia’s straightened her back and grinned broadly. “The four basic defensive spells are: the Blowback; the Spasm; the Sleeping Beauty; and the Shield.”

  “And which one of you would like to demonstrate?”

  Four hands shot up again. For a remedial class, they seemed to have their act together. I wondered what the issue was.

  “Sophie, please step up to the front of the class.” Lady Weatherby’s stark gaze settled on me. “And Miss Hart, you will assist her.”

  I wasn’t sure how I could assist Sophie since I knew nothing about casting spells, but I followed her to the front of the class all the same.

  “Stand about ten feet apart, please,” Lady Weatherby said. “Start with Sleeping Beauty.”

  I suddenly felt like the boy with an apple on my head. What was his name? William Tell? No, that was the father’s name. The son was called Robert.

  Sophie produced her wand and took aim. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

  “I’ve had my fill/sleep you will.”

  Nothing happened. I popped one eye open to see Sophie snoring loudly on the floor.

  “Can anyone with working eyesight tell me what Sophie did wrong?” Lady Weatherby asked.

  Three hands shot up.

  “Laurel?”

  “She was holding her wand backwards,” Laurel said.

  “Very good.”

  Lady Weatherby snapped her fingers and Sophie awoke on the floor. She rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room.

  “I did it again, didn’t I?” she asked, rising to her feet.

  Four heads nodded.

  “Remember, Sophie,” Lady Weatherby said. “The narrow end gets pointed at the object of the spell. You hold the broader end.”

  Sophie stared at her wand, tears brimming in her eyes. “There’s not much difference.”

  “Maybe she needs a piece of colored tape around the base of her wand,” I said. “Then she can remember which end is the one she holds.” When I was younger, I took piano lessons and my instructor labeled the keys with coded colors to help me learn faster. I’d found it very helpful.

  Everyone looked at me. Sophie actually winced.

  Lady Weatherby narrowed her eyes at me. “Miss Hart, need I remind you that no one asked you a question.
”

  I clamped my mouth closed.

  “Sophie, the Spasm spell,” Lady Weatherby ordered, and I noticed the hint of a smile on her face.

  Sophie took care in pointing the correct end of her wand at me. “Letter and stamp/give her a cramp.”

  My stomach seized and I doubled over, groaning in pain. It felt like the beginning stage of an acute case of Montezuma’s Revenge.

  Lady Weatherby snapped her fingers and the pain subsided. I stood erect and rubbed my stomach.

  “Sorry,” Sophie mouthed quietly.

  I raised my hand this time. “Lady Weatherby?”

  Her mouth formed a thin line. “Yes, Miss Hart?”

  “Do you always say these little rhymes for the spells?” I asked.

  “You are free to use these, or to make up one of your own. It is the combination of the witch’s will, her wand, and the incantation taken as a whole that makes the spell effective.”

  I was already imagining the infinite potential for rhymes. As a child, I’d loved nursery rhymes, although my grandparents weren’t fond of reading them. In fact, they tended to avoid books. It was a minor miracle that I’d developed such a keen interest on my own.

  “Now the Shield, Sophie,” Lady Weatherby said. “Miss Hart, begin walking toward Sophie.”

  I took a few steps forward and Sophie raised her wand. “If you don’t yield/I’ll raise my shield.”

  I looked to Lady Weatherby for confirmation and she urged me forward. I stubbed my toe on an invisible wall. It was reminiscent of what happened to me at the town border.

  I rubbed the tip of my foot.

  “When do we use the Shield spell?” Lady Weatherby asked.

  Laurel’s hand rose first and Lady Weatherby nodded.

  “If we are in danger and want to keep our attacker from hurting us,” Laurel said.

  “Couldn’t all the spells be used for that?” I asked, and quickly realized my mistake. My hand flew to cover my mouth.

  “If you are under attack by a yeti, for example,” Lady Weatherby began, “you would not want to use the Spasm or Blowback spells. They would not have a strong enough impact on a larger creature to allow you time to escape. Sleeping Beauty or the Shield would provide a better defense.”