by Zoe Arden
"Ooh! Stop at Coffee Cove on your way back and get me a vanilla latte, would you?" Trixie asked. "Just tell them it's for me. They know how I like it."
I thought some air sounded good, but there was something more important on my mind. My wand was still missing. I'd been able to dodge Eleanor and Trixie's questions about it, but that wouldn't last much longer. Especially with David Buyer's death hanging over my head. If I wanted to clear my name, I had to find that wand.
The sandy beach was just as golden as I'd remembered it from my arrival. I wiggled my toes in the sand as I searched the shore for any sign of my wand. After an hour of looking, I’d found nothing except some rocks. A small dinghy was tied up at the dock. I headed over to it, hoping that somehow my wand would be sitting inside, waiting for me. I was just giving up my investigation when a deep voice growled from behind me.
"Get away from my boat."
I turned to see a late twenty-something man with long dark hair and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. If not for the scowl on his face, he would have been attractive.
A man a few years younger, also with dark hair and a smooth complexion, was chasing after him. "Damon!" he called.
Damon cocked his head but didn't take his eyes off me. "I said, get away from my boat." Danger dripped from his every word, but somehow, he didn't scare me. Not in the way he meant to, anyway.
I scooted away from the dingy. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered. My hands were shaking. My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I hadn't felt like this since I was sixteen and had kissed Tommy Kendall behind the bleachers in the school gym.
"You should be," Damon growled. He walked past me, checking his boat as if he'd caught me drilling holes in it.
"Sorry about my friend's manners," said the man who'd been following Damon. He'd finally caught up. He had an easy smile and sparkling blue eyes, though not quite as blue as Damon's. "I'm Slater Winston. That grunting maniac over there is my cousin, Damon Tellinger."
Damon glanced at us then walked off in a huff. Cousins? I could see the resemblance. With their blue eyes and dark hair, they looked more like brothers than cousins.
"I'm sorry," I told Slater. "I didn't mean to—"
Slater waved me off. "Damon's just a little touchy today." He lowered his voice. "A friend of ours died last night."
"Oh," I said, my face going red. "You mean... David Buyers?"
"Did you know him?" Slater asked, looking at me with fresh curiosity.
"Not really. I just arrived on the island a few days ago. I don't really know anyone yet. I'm Ava, by the way."
I considered asking Slater if he'd seen a wand lying around anywhere. But if he and Damon had been friends with David, chances were pretty good he was human.
"Well, Ava, consider Damon and me at your disposal."
Damon grunted loudly from his boat. If looks could have killed, I would have been six feet under.
"Well, consider me at your disposal," Slater said uncertainly.
Despite Damon's brusque manners, I couldn't stop looking at him. "Is he always like this?"
"Actually," Slater said, looking back at his cousin. "He's usually pretty personable. I guess he just doesn't like you."
My face fell.
"Kidding!" he said. "I'm kidding!"
But the way Damon was shooting daggers at me, I didn't think there was much to joke about. For reasons I didn't fully understand, Damon Tellinger hated me. Too bad, because in the few minutes I'd known him, I'd developed the biggest crush of my life. Sometimes, fate was a prankster.
* * *
CHAPTER
NINE
.
.
.
* * *
"Take it. Just don't tell anyone I gave
it to you. And find your wand. Fast."
* * *
.
"Welcome to Coffee Cove. What can I get you today?" the girl behind the counter asked pleasantly. She had black hair that had been pulled back in a ponytail. Her ruby lips looked too dark to be natural, though I couldn't detect the unnatural shine of lipstick on them.
Don't witches ever wear makeup?
"Vanilla latte," I said, digging into my purse. "Oh, and it's for Trixie Rose."
The girl's eyes flicked up from her register. "Trixie, huh? You must be Ava. I'm Lucy Lockwood. About time you showed up here."
Before I could respond, Lucy spun her head around so fast her ponytail flew out behind her and whipped my face. In a loud, bellowing voice that sounded like she was calling a dozen ranch hands in for supper, she yelled, "Braaaaasss Monkeeeeeey!"
A young girl, perhaps eighteen to Lucy's early twenties, stood near the espresso machine. Her features were so similar to Lucy's, from her milky, blemish-free skin to her crimson lips, I knew at once they were sisters. Her hair, a dark brown instead of true black, was pulled high on her head. She was ignoring Lucy.
"Megan!" Lucy called. The younger girl looked at her now. "Shake your tail feather."
Megan had been engrossed in deep conversation with the boy next to her. With his bronze hair and golden skin, he looked like a stereotypical surfer. She moved away from him and began adding syrups and powders into a large mixing cup.
The boy's eyes followed Megan from machine to machine. She'd have to be blind to miss those googly eyes. He was clearly smitten. I could just make out his name tag: Brendan. When she didn't even cast him a sideways glance, I realized the conversation they'd been sharing had more to do with Megan's boredom than infatuation. At least on her part.
Lucy turned back to me. "That'll be four even." She made no mention of her call for a Brass Monkey, as if screaming such a thing was part and parcel of working in a coffee shop.
"Um, thanks," I said, handing her a five.
Her hand hovered in the air with my change. I reached for the dollar and her long red fingernail tapped the tip jar. She was scowling at me. "Forget something?" she asked and tapped the jar again.
"Oh, uh, keep the change," I told her.
Lucy's face broke into a wide smile and a peal of laughter erupted from her. "Just kidding," she said, handing me my dollar. Her laughter was so natural that for a moment I forgot all about the morning I'd had and laughed with her.
"Your order will be up in a minute," Lucy told me. "I'll bring it to your table."
"Thanks," I said and went to find a seat.
I'd spent the last two hours since my disastrous encounter with Damon walking the island, looking for my wand. So far, the only thing I'd managed to do was make myself tired. I plopped into a seat and looked around the Coffee Cove. The place was packed, yet somehow it seemed as though everyone had their own little space.
"Coffee's up," Lucy said a moment later. She plopped a large cup down in front of me. It was the size of a two-liter of soda and frozen solid.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Your Brass Monkey," Lucy said, cocking her head to one side. I hoped for Trixie's sake that Brass Monkey somehow translated to vanilla latte.
"You don't look so well," Lucy said. "The witching world disagreeing with you?" She smacked her lips together and a giant blue bubble grew out of her mouth. It almost touched my nose before it popped and Lucy sucked it all back in.
"Something like that," I mumbled.
Before I could stop her, Lucy had taken the seat across from me.
"So?" she asked.
"So?" I repeated.
"Lay it on me. What's got you looking like something the familiar dragged in?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Nashbugs!" Lucy slapped her hand hard on the table.
"Er, don't you have to go back to work?" I asked her.
"It's my break time," she said.
I turned my head slightly and saw Megan leaning against the counter. Brendan was touching her arm and she kept swatting his hand away like it was a fly.
"Um, are you... I mean, you're a..."
"Witch?" Lucy asked. I nodded. "Yep. So spill. What's up with you?"
I looked into Lucy's dark eyes and felt myself relax just the tiniest bit. She was close to my age and though her behavior was bordering on bizarre, it was also quite friendly.
"I... lost something," I told her.
"Oh yeah?" she asked. "Like what? Car keys? I'm a champ at finding car keys."
I shook my head. "Not exactly."
"What then?"
I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want to tell anyone. But the image of Sheriff Knoxx hung over me like a black cloud. He'd said David's death was either cake poisoning or misuse of a wand.
I needed a friend right now. I leaned in toward her. She leaned in toward me.
"I lost my wand," I whispered.
Lucy jumped out of her seat. "You lost YOUR WAND!?"
I reached across the table and clapped my hand over her mouth. "Sssh!"
She pulled my hand away. "Relax. There's a silencing charm around each table. No one can hear us."
I should have known there was something distinctly witchy about this place as soon as I walked in. It was much too quiet for the crowd it had.
"When did you lose it?" she asked.
"A couple days ago. When I arrived on the ferry."
Lucy looked out a large bay window in the far back of the café. You could almost make out the pier.
"Crumb bums," she muttered. "It's probably gone by now."
"It is. I've looked and looked, and I can't find it anywhere."
"Well, you'd better. Before your aunts' big party too. They're bound to make you do some parlor tricks."
"What are you talking about? What party?"
"Your intro party," Lucy said. "Didn't they tell you?"
"Intro party?"
I thought back to this morning when Trixie and Eleanor had announced their intention to throw me a welcome party. I hadn't realized they'd already set it in motion.
"I got their invitation a couple hours ago," Lucy said. "They invited the whole island. Even Mistmoor. Guess they want to make sure the people here know who they're dealing with."
"What do you mean? Why would anyone even come to this party? Who's gonna care about meeting me?"
Lucy laughed. "Probably everyone. Or at least, anyone who knew your mom. She was a powerful witch. Powerful and popular. Her death kind of shook people up, you know?"
"No, I don't know." It felt like everyone knew more about my life than I did.
"I'm sorry. You never even had a chance to know her, did you?" Lucy said, her dark eyes swirling with hints of gray. It was the second time since arriving someone had spoken about my mother's death like it was more than just a plane crash.
"How did she die?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to know.
"Hey, Luce!" Megan called from the counter. A man with pinpoint eyes and a large nose stood glaring at our table. I guess even witches got disgruntled customers.
"Sorry, gotta go."
"Wait. What about my wand? Is there any way I can track it down or something?" I knew I sounded desperate, but what can I say? I was desperate.
"If you'd have said something sooner... maybe. Wands have a sort of twenty-four-hour trace memory, but after that..." She shrugged.
I sighed. "So it's gone, then."
Lucy shook her head, her eyes looking alarmed now.
"It better not be. For your sake."
"What am I supposed to do? Send out a search party?"
"You don't get it. Wands are like guns. They have to be registered. When they're used, they leave their mark. Like bullets. If someone finds your wand and starts using it for... nefarious purposes..." Her voice trailed off. "Look, rumors move fast in Sweetland Cove. Right now, rumor has it that you..."
She stopped just before my face turned completely white.
"Lucy!" Megan called again.
"Coming!"
"Are you saying that everyone in town thinks I killed David Buyers?"
Lucy shook her head. "I'm saying that without your wand, it won't matter. If someone uses it, used it, to kill him... or anyone..."
"Then the wand will lead back to me. I'll be guilty of murder, even if I'm innocent."
"Precisely." Lucy's face tightened. "Hold on a sec," she said and ran into a back room. A second later, she emerged carrying a plastic grocery bag. She shoved it into my arms.
"Here," she said. "It's a loaner."
I opened the bag and saw a light brown stick almost identical to the one I'd lost. "It's your wand!" I said, touched that she'd trust me with it.
"You need something to help you avoid suspicion. At least until you get your own wand back."
"Are you sure?" I asked her. "I mean—"
"Take it," Lucy said. "Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you or we'll both be in trouble. And find your wand. Fast."
* * *
CHAPTER
TEN
.
.
.
* * *
"He's dead!”
* * *
.
The first party guest arrived at the bakery at six. Eleanor and Trixie had used what they called "complicated magic" to make the inside of the bakery seem much bigger than it really was.
"It's the only way everyone will fit," Eleanor had explained.
I'd greeted the guests happily. My long silky dress made me feel uncharacteristically flirtatious. The fabric was so light I could have been floating on air. The ocean blue coloring matched my eyes perfectly. My hair was twisted up into a loose bun, showcasing my long, lean neck.
By seven, I was already exhausted. I felt like I'd lived through enough parties to last me a year.
"Ava, this is Felicity Redfern and Sheriff Lincoln Maxwell," Eleanor said, spinning me around to greet yet another couple. So many names. So many faces. I could hardly keep them straight.
"Felicity and her mother own Cakes and Creations in Mistmoor Point."
"Oh," I said, happy to meet another baker. She was about my age with red hair and sparkling green eyes full of good humor. I extended my hand toward her. "Nice to meet—" but Eleanor was already dragging me to meet someone else.
"And this is Mayor Singer and his wife, Tazzie. Also of Mistmoor."
"Hello," I said, recognizing the mayor from my ferry ride to the island. His bushy mustache was unmistakable.
"Nice to meet you, Ava. You know, I don't normally come to this side of the island, but your mother—"
"And this," said Trixie, turning me toward a face I recognized immediately, "is Damon Tellinger. And his cousin, Slater Winston." She leaned close to my ear. "Strictly humans," she whispered.
I nodded at them. "Nice to see you again," I said, shaking Slater's hand. Damon stared at me a moment, then turned and went the other way.
"He's tired," Slater said, shrugging an apology.
Eleanor spun me around once more. "Here we have—"
"Aunt Eleanor," I said, holding up a hand. "I'm sorry. I need a break. My head is starting to ache."
"Oh, poor thing. Of course." She grabbed a huge chunk of lemon peppy bars from a nearby tray and shoved it into my hand. I could smell the sweet, refreshing lemon scent, lifting me like sunshine on a winter day.
"You go eat that and come back," Eleanor said. "We've got more people for you to meet."
I scurried away before Aunt Eleanor could change her mind. I made a beeline for the back door and was blocked by a tall figure in a dark blue suit. I racked my brain for his name. Windswept hair. Gorgeous green eyes. Friends with Damon.
"May I have this dance?" he asked.
Campbell!
He'd been one of the first people my aunts had introduced me to this evening. "Campbell, uh, yes, of course. Thanks."
I looked at the lemon bar still in my hand and stuffed it quickly into my mouth. I had to admit, I felt energized as soon as the sugary lemon touched my tongue.
"Sweet tooth, huh?" Campbell asked, smiling. "I've been munching on those chocolate walnut cookies all night. Have you tried them? They're amazing! I don't know if it's a su
gar rush or what, but I feel light as air."
I wiped my hands on a napkin and hid my smile. I'd made those cookies. They contained buoyancy extract. I'd figured that with all the dancing, a little buoyancy would be a good thing to add.
"You look great," Campbell said as he twirled me onto the dance floor.
"Thanks. You, too." And he did. In his dark suit, with his light brown hair and blue-green eyes, he looked like the type of boy I used to wish would ask me to prom. I'd always imagined that particular rite of passage had been better than staying home and eating junk food with Dad, which is what I'd done.
"How do you like Sweetland so far?" he asked. I remembered that Trixie had told me Campbell was S.H.—strictly human—so I made sure to leave out the part about losing my wand.
"Great," I said. He spun me again and I knocked into Polly Peacock.
"Watch it!" she snapped.
"Sorry."
Polly turned back to Slater, who she'd been dancing with. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. It wasn't even a slow song.
"So I guess they're a couple?" I asked Campbell, resuming our dance.
His brow furrowed. "For now."
I looked at him quizzically. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Just that Polly can be... fickle."
"Oh?"
"Let's just say she doesn't keep her boyfriends for long."
I wanted to ask more questions but decided that Polly's love life was of no importance to me.
To our right, I caught sight of Brendan. He was staring at Megan from the sidelines of the party.
She was dancing with Damon and looking at him like he was her last supper. Brendan's face furled up like an old vine the longer he watched them. When Megan nuzzled her head against Damon's neck, Brendan stormed outside.
"I guess love hurts," Campbell said, watching Brendan go.
"I'm surprised Damon's dancing with anyone," I said. "He doesn't seem the sort."
