by Gina LaManna
For any news or sightings of the culprit, please reach out to Cindy Sherbert at the Wicked Weekly tip line.
I TROOPED BACK UP THE stairs holding the newspaper in one hand and a cup of regular coffee in the other. I hadn’t had the energy to make a Caffeine Cup this morning and had merely flicked on the old coffee machine stashed in the kitchen cabinet.
The headlines this morning exhausted me for some reason. On behalf of X and his exponentially increasing workload, my eye twitched in agitation. The last thing everyone on this island needed was an influx of petty crime. Not only petty, but nonsensical. Tomatoes? Who in their right mind could possibly need a wheelbarrow full of tomatoes? Not to mention Betty Baumgarten’s bottoms—an even bigger head scratcher.
Glancing at the third story, I briefly wondered with unabashed selfishness whether the bridge’s closing would lighten the influx of customers this morning. Since the West Isle Witches were the only ones gutsy—or foolish—enough to live on the same side of the island as The Forest, all customers had to cross either the Upper or Lower bridge in order to reach the bungalow. Since the Upper Bridge led straight into The Forest, there was only one normally viable option. One that was now down for cleaning.
I tossed the paper on the bed, then shortly after, I followed its trajectory and crawled back under the covers. Just for a minute, I told myself as my eyes closed. Just one little minute.
One little minute...
Many minutes later, I opened my eyes to find the early morning darkness had lightened to a shimmering sunlight and the sound of Gus clattering below filled the previously silent house.
I stretched, noting the loud clamor to Gus’s movements. He had the habit of pounding around louder and louder as the morning grew later in hopes of waking me at a reasonable hour. To him, reasonable was before eight a.m. We had different definitions of reasonable, though it had been months since I’d slept in past seven. The customers of yesterday must have kicked a new bout of exhaustion through my bones.
Unable to procrastinate longer, I slid out from my cozy covers and muttered a prayer of gratefulness to my self-populating closet as it suggested an array of choices for my mood this morning. Mostly black dresses. Apparently, my moodiness was obvious even to an inanimate object.
On second thought, I pushed past the dresses and pulled a more unlikely ensemble off the racks—a sweater, thick and chunky and knitted with gusto. Despite the always-summer conditions of the island, I tossed the sweater on with a pair of jean shorts and bright blue flip flops to match.
The material was airy enough to prevent me from dying of heat, but more importantly, there was enough material to hide an unwanted glow. Tucking the charm inside the neckline, I waited, watched, and sure enough, there was the now-traditional morning flash of light from the heart.
The sweater didn’t hide it entirely, but it would work for now. By the time I finished my morning routine, Gus’s clattering downstairs had reached epic proportions. If I didn’t join him in the storeroom soon, he’d send a hex upstairs to drag me down by the ears.
“Morning, Gus,” I said, stepping lightly into the storeroom, determined to put on a positive face. “How’s it going?”
He grunted his typical greeting without looking up.
“Great,” I said. “I’m feeling well, thanks for asking.”
His eyes flickered to me, then did a double take at my attire. “You are?”
“Oh, this? Just switching it up,” I told him. “I miss the seasons from the mainland, especially sweater weather.”
Gus didn’t look convinced, but he could care less about fashion—especially when there were more pressing matters on his mind. “I picked up the supplies on my way over this morning. You were still sleeping.”
“Thanks.”
“The silver and stardust are on backorder, what with...” Gus trailed off and cleared his throat. “Let’s say my usual line of supply has been interrupted.”
Liam. Liam had been Gus’s line of supply, and therefore mine as well, and he was no longer a welcome man in these parts. Though Ranger X and I had begrudgingly agreed to work with him to save the Master of Magic from attack, we couldn’t instantly forget Liam’s recent wrongs.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave the sign out that Long Isle Iced Tea is unorderable. Hopefully it’ll be a slower day today, what with the bridge being sudsed.”
“About that...” Gus moved creakily toward the door to Magic & Mixology and pressed it open a crack. “Take a look.”
The door creaked as I stuck my head through which, in retrospect, was a huge mistake. A sea of people swiveled their expectant expressions toward me as they waited impatiently for the bar to open.
I slammed the door shut and stared in open-mouthed surprise at Gus. “What’s that?”
“High demand.”
“I thought the bridge was closed.”
“Someone set up a damn ferry. A ferry to shuttle people across.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it clear? They want to see you.”
I inhaled a breath, struggling for calm. “I am already behind on the Mixes I was supposed to create for today. The backorder list is going to become astronomical, and who knows when...”
I was about to say when Liam will return, but I stopped myself short.
“When what?”
“My relationship with X is already bumpy thanks to the stupid article,” I said, changing the subject to love. Gus hated to discuss love, especially with me. “I was hoping to talk to X today, but I won’t get away from the bar at this rate.”
Gus frowned, probably not convinced, but distracted enough. “I’ll clear them out. Keep the shop empty. Not much we can do if we’ve run out of supplies, anyway.”
“We can’t do that. I’m here to serve the islanders. To help keep people safe and, more equally it seems these days, to help them feel safe.”
“We aren’t a store. They want to buy ingredients, or spells, they can head to the supply store or talk to MAGIC, Inc. You’re the Mixologist, Lily.”
“And being the Mixologist takes on different forms depending on what people need,” I said. “You know that. It’s not a simple nine-to-five.”
“Nine’a’what?”
“I’m just saying, this isn’t a job I can take off for a day whenever I want.”
“You might be superhuman, but you aren’t invincible,” Gus argued. “You can only do so much in a day.”
I exhaled a breath that felt stale, as if it’d been stuck in my lungs for ages. Sucking in fresh air, I shook my head again. “I’m going to open the bar for a bit. I’ll take a long lunch hour to talk to X and get started on the outstanding orders.”
“Your choice,” Gus said. “What would you like me to do?”
“Prepare the ingredients. If they’re separated, chopped, diced, soaked, washed, etc., Mixing will go a lot faster.”
Gus nodded, pleased with my assessment. He was likely also pleased that I’d given him the job that required silence and concentration in the background. He had never been one who played nicely with crowds, preferring to study magic in quiet solitude.
As I stepped toward the door, a burst of warmth around my neck gave me pause. A quick glance down gave me the news I’d expected: My mother’s charm glowed pale blue. I hesitated, holding a hand to it as I waited for the glow to fade.
Turning to Gus, I tried for nonchalance when I spoke. “Do you know any spells that deal with items?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know,” I began, then paused. For some reason, my mother’s necklace and its newfound quirks felt private to me. Only Trinket had seemed to notice, and she hadn’t exactly handled it well.
Gus waited, still, thoughtful. His eyes flicked once to the hand I’d clasped at my throat.
I dropped my hand. “Things. A spell where you can take an item and read what the user is thinking or hear the last words they’ve spoken. Or something similar. I don’t think I’ve ever read about one.�
�
“Why?”
I had the feeling Gus knew I wouldn’t answer the question, so I dodged it easily. “No reason. Just wondering.”
“I haven’t ever used one,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean one can’t exist.”
“I suppose.”
“I’ll take a deeper look this afternoon,” he offered. “But you do remember, Lily, that you’re the Mixologist. If a potion doesn’t exist...you make one.”
Gus’s response startled me. “Yes, but it would be incredibly complicated, and—”
“And what?”
I fell silent.
“Don’t tell me you’re not ready for it,” Gus said, ambling toward the vials, his eyes already alight with the hint of a challenge. “You’ve been through years, decades of magic since you’ve arrived. You’ve improved by leaps and bounds— more than I could’ve ever dreamed.” Gus pulled a book off a shelf, cradled it to his chest, and turned to face me. “It’s a pleasure to serve as your assistant.”
“Gus—”
“You might be the strongest Mixologist yet.” Gus stepped across the room, his eyes fixed on the chain around my neck. At the last moment, he lifted his gaze toward mine. “Don’t shy away from your powers. Don’t busy yourself as a clerk. You have the ability to help people on a scale grander than anyone on this island can comprehend. You cannot lose sight of that.”
Gus’s comments felt like a chaste reminder, a warning, and a compliment all in one. It took me several long seconds to comprehend all of it. In that time, Gus shuffled back to the table and cracked the book open, easing himself onto the bench before it.
“Go on,” he said, flicking a pair of reading glasses onto his nose. “I’ve got work to do. Also, I ordered more To-Go vials. This ain’t a store, as I mentioned, and we didn’t have enough. Mimsey will bring them by later.”
In a bit of a haze, I stumbled back toward the door of Magic & Mixology, taking a moment to gather myself. I took a calming breath, then pasted on the peppiest expression I could muster and stepped through the entryway, greeting the customers with a wide grin.
“Hop in line,” I instructed. “As you’ll notice by the sign, we’re out of several ingredients due to the high demand, and...”
I trailed off as a series of squeaks and giggles sounded from the back of the crowd. A pleasant voice preceded the wake of destruction, muttering apologies as she pushed herself to the front.
“Sorry about the toe,” Poppy said, her blond hair bobbing merrily in the sea of other heads. “Out of my way, sorry—important Mixologist business.”
As my cousin burst through the crowd, I caught myself stunned into inaction as I watched her carry a dusty old box forward. Leaping to attention, I took the package from Poppy’s arms and poured her a glass of water.
“Poppy! What’s going on?” I asked. “You look dusty.”
“I was helping my mom and Trinket at the supply store this morning—you know, day off dispatch at Ranger HQ.” She grinned happily at me. “I heard Gus talking about the crazy business you guys have been drumming up and thought I’d help.”
“You don’t have to do that, Poppy. We’re okay, really.”
She glanced skeptically at the sign, the list of out-of-stock options that seemed to grow with each passing breath. “Right. Well, here are some back-up vials and bottles. They should last you through lunch at least, and my mom is having more delivered tonight. You might want to give them a quick rinse, though—they’re sort of dusty. Found them in the attic.”
“Thank you, Poppy, that’s—”
“Alrighty, folks,” Poppy shouted, clapping her hands. “Get in a single file line. I’m the store clerk for today, so if you want something, you’ll have to talk to me. Lily’s going to be focusing on her Mixes.”
“Let’s go,” someone moaned from the back. “Pick up the pace. I’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes.”
“That’s your own darn fault for getting here an hour before the bungalow opened,” Poppy snapped back. “Stop complaining, Chad, or I might just ignore your order.”
The patron named Chad grumbled some, but it seemed to do the trick. An awkward line formation trickled into place, and before I knew it, Poppy was passing out menus and taking orders like her life depended on it.
“Well?” she said, a minute later with a bright smile. “Whatcha waiting for? These orders aren’t going to Mix themselves.”
I returned Poppy’s smile with a grateful one of my own and hurried into the storeroom. Gus, ever efficient, already had the supplies for the Security Sampler Spells laid out and ready. He offered me one wry glance which I returned, and that was the extent of our communication. It was my way of thanking him and his way of acknowledging me, and nothing more was needed.
By lunchtime, we’d made huge progress on the backorders and had moved on to the recent purchases made that morning. At this rate, we’d be all caught up if we worked well into the evening.
Rolling my sleeves up, I wiped a thin layer of sweat from my brow. The sweater was still too warm for this weather, and it’d been made warmer still by the intermittent glowing and heat bursts from the charm around my neck. I ignored the discomfort and pushed another set of potions ready for packing toward Gus.
He packaged them automatically, reading quick snippets from an ancient spellbook between stopping up the vials and setting them snugly into boxes. He’d tried to be discreet about his reading, but eventually gave up and read openly.
“I’m going to give Poppy a break. Take one, too. Say hello to Mimsey for me,” I said pointedly. “Get out of here, Gus. We’ll be late tonight.”
He looked up as I spoke, as if surprised he wasn’t alone. “Right, right, I’ll just finish up with this and head out,” he said, in another surprising move. Gus always argued, and he hated taking breaks.
I watched him, wondering what he’d found in his research and if he was, in fact, looking up ancient spells having to do with items or possessions like I’d asked. I shrugged it off, heading out to Magic & Mixology where I gave the rest of the waiting line tickets to hold their place, then propped up a closed sign.
“Thank you,” I told Poppy sincerely once everyone had cleared. “Seriously. We are almost ahead on orders, and I would never have been able to do that alone. Gus and I were drowning over here.”
“I know,” she chirped, as she led the way back into the storeroom. “I’m happy to help. What are your plans for lunch?”
I cringed. “I’m sorry, I was going to try and find Ranger X. We have a few things to discuss. But if you want to catch a bite first or something, we can do that on the way.”
“No, no,” she said, waving a hand. Her bright expression didn’t diminish for a beat. “I’m going to head home and shower. I’m so dusty you could vacuum me right up.”
On an impulse, I reached out and hugged Poppy. She stood still for a moment in surprise, then reacted, her arms squeezing me tightly back. I savored the moment, the feeling of camaraderie and family. Unlike everything else these days, Poppy stood alone as a happy bright spot, dressed in a flowery skirt and pink tank top and glitter encrusted flip flops.
As we parted, a tickle of the dust coating her clothing drifted toward me, and as my eyes watered, I gestured for her to head home.
“I’ll go shower,” Poppy said, unable to suppress a giggle. “Want me back this afternoon?”
I gave a shake of my head. “You’ve done plenty—thank you. I do have one more question, though.”
“Ranger X is at HQ,” Poppy said slyly. “Elle can help you find him.”
I tried not to look sheepish. “Thanks.”
“Zin’s there, too,” Poppy said, this time with a frown. “She’s been hard to pin down lately.”
“I’m sure she’s busy. She said something about having one more big assignment to finish before her induction ceremony.”
“She did?”
Poppy’s surprise startled me. Not only did Poppy work at Ranger HQ, but she and Zin were
close—probably closer than Zin and myself.
“Er, maybe not,” I said. “She was in a mood about the article. I probably misunderstood.”
“Right. Sure. Well, I’ll catch you later, Lily.” Poppy pulled the door open but stopped short. “Um, you have company.”
It was my turn to frown as I approached the door. I hadn’t heard anyone knock, and I couldn’t see anyone outside. Stepping closer, I spotted the reason for my confusion. A disgruntled gnome with a squashed-tomato nose stood there with a hand on his hip.
“What’d I tell you about getting a step stool out here?” Chuck snapped. “I know you’re busy, what with doing Mixology things, but seriously.”
“Maybe you should consider coming back when the shop is open,” Poppy said, sidestepping my guest. “The sign says closed, Chuck. Get in line with the rest of the island.”
Before he could respond, Poppy raised her eyebrows at me, mouthed Sorry, and scurried down the path. I waved goodbye weakly in her direction.
“What can I help you with?” I asked, aware of Gus’s disapproving gaze on the back of my skull. “We are closed for lunch hour if you’re looking to get something from Magic & Mixology.”
“Lily, you’ve got to help us.”
“Us?”
“The gnomes,” he said, twisting stubby little fingers together and pulling his squat lips into a pout. “We ain’t as magical as the rest of the folks. Spells are hard for us to understand.”
“Why would you need spells all of a sudden?”
“Because...” Chuck peered around me, surveying the bungalow as if someone were listening.
Someone was listening. Gus. And Gus didn’t look very happy.
“What’s he doing here?” Chuck pressed. “This is a private matter.”
“Whatever can be said to me can be said to Gus,” I said firmly. “What’s happening out there, Chuck?”
He stepped through the door, scanned the beachfront behind him, and once he’d determined it clear, he spoke in a harsh whisper. “We need to keep ourselves protected. You will help us, won’t you, Lily? The Grove of Gnomes is vulnerable.”
