Hexes and Vexes

by Laura Greenwood

  That’s our cue.

  8

  I pace back and forth in front of the car, wishing I'd thought to get the keys from Grammie before she disappeared to pull strings for us. Ambrose is on the phone, hopefully he's smoothing the way for a warrant. And for me to go with him when he does.

  My phone pings, bringing me out of my thoughts. I pull it from my pocket and scan the text waiting for me.

  Go ahead without me. See you at home. Grammie.

  I chuckle. I’ve told her so many times that she doesn’t have to sign her messages but to no avail. At this point, it’s just endearing. But I don't want her to change. At least she isn't using text talk like my other Grandparents do. Teaching them it was a mistake. Especially since it's gone out of fashion.

  With a sigh, I pocket my phone and join Ambrose now his call has ended.

  “Hey.”

  He looks up. “Hey.”

  “Grammie is going to be awhile. Shall we take the bus back?” I suggest, looking around for a bus stop. The city has loads of them, surely, there’ll be one nearby.

  Ambrose scratches his stubbly chin. “I suppose I’ve got loads of paperwork to finish.”

  “Great, we’ll go to the station then.”

  He shoots me a weird look. “Actually… I really have a lot of work to do and we have to wait for the warrant until we can take our next action. I think it’s better if you go home.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment floods through me but I try not to show it. “Yeah, sure. Of course…Umm… I guess I’ll take a bus and you’ll take a bus… And we’ll see each other again when the warrant comes through?”

  “Yes, I’ll call you,” he says, looking at me expectantly.

  It takes me a moment before I catch on. “Oh, right. It would help if I gave you my number, wouldn’t it?”

  He smiles sheepishly as he hands me his phone. “Yes, please.”

  I can’t remember the last time I gave someone my number and this isn’t even for romantic reasons. I make sure to double check the digits and hand it back to him. Even if it is for a mundane reason, I'm more excited than I've been in a long time. there's so much possibility in this situation.

  Huh, maybe it's even better than giving someone my number with the goal of getting a date out of it.

  “I guess I’ll see you soon then," I say cheerily.

  “Yes.” He checks the street for cars and without much theatrics, he’s crossing to the other side.

  I watch his springy hair as he jogs away and leaves me with nothing more than the beginning of an adventure and a promise for more.

  I push my salad around my plate, regretting my decision to go for lunch. There's nothing I dislike more than disappointing food. It can ruin a whole day. But once I left the lab, I wasn't ready to go back to the shop. How can I do the mundane shop keeper things when I've been helping with a murder already today? It doesn't seem particularly fun.

  Hopeful, I glance at one of the waiters, trying to catch their attention. Maybe I can order myself something else… except the café is packed and none of the servers are looking my way. Shame…

  The door to the cafe opens, letting in a draft of cold air. I look up on instinct, surprised to find Doctor Riffin striding in. She sighs when she sees how busy the place is and as she turns to leave, we lock eyes. She stops in her tracks when she sees me and changes direction to walk towards me.

  "Amy, right?"

  I nod.

  "Do you mind if I sit?" she asks, gesturing to the empty chair at my table. Arguable, one of the only free seats in the place. Her voice is softer than while we were in the lab. If she's not careful, I may start thinking she doesn't dislike everyone on sight.

  "Sure, if you want."

  "Thanks. The place is packed. And I don’t like eating alone." She pulls out the chair and sits down opposite of me. Without any trouble, she waves one of the waiters over to order herself a club sandwich and a sparkling water.

  Before I can even say one word, the server bounces away, leaving me with my sad plate. I move some more of the salad back and forth and smile at Doctor Riffin. "If you don’t like eating alone, then why have you come alone?"

  "I didn't have time to make lunch this morning, and this is one of the best places within walking distance of the lab," she explains.

  Oops. I could have walked here? I probably should, then I could have gotten some loaded fries instead of this stupid salad.

  She sighs loudly. "I'm sorry for being short with you in the lab."

  "It's okay. I'm sorry too. I should have been more respectful of the time you were giving up."

  Doctor Riffin flashes me a thin smile. "It's not really your fault. I don't like it when people skip the queue to do things they think are more important when there's still a lot of other work to be done."

  "Sorry," I mutter, feeling like it's best not to go into a whole explanation about Grammie, Ambrose, and the PPD. This is one of those rare moments where I can tell that holding my tongue is better. I'm not good at recognising those most of the time.

  "It's fine." She waves away my concern right as the waiter sets down her glass of water. "Thanks."

  I stab a cherry tomato and put it in my mouth. It's almost good, but it isn't as ripe as it could be, and there's nowhere near enough salad dressing on my plate.

  "You should have your warrant soon," she says.

  "You posted it already?" My eyes widen.

  "Of course."

  "But you don't like people skipping the queue..." At least, that's what she's just said.

  Doctor Riffin leans back in her chair, a small smile playing off the corners of her lips, only adding to the natural elegance she seems to exude. It's not just the neatly pressed clothes, long legs, and stunningly tanned skin that are making her that way. It's something about the way she moves.

  And her eyes sparkle with the same magic I noticed in the lab. I wonder what it is? No witch I know has eyes like that. Neither does Ambrose. Could she be some kind of shifter? I honestly don't know enough about them to be sure.

  "Just because I don't like it, doesn't mean that I'll hold up work that's already been done," she explains, reminding me that I asked a question.

  Which is probably a good thing, or I'd spend the rest of this impromptu lunch staring at her.

  "Thank you, I'm sure Ambrose will really appreciate it."

  "Mmmhmm. Tell him he owes me one."

  My eyes widen. "You know him?"

  "Everyone knows everyone who works with the PPD. I'm sure you will in time."

  "Only if they let me," I mutter.

  "They will. That was impressive work you did in the lab. Have you used equipment like that before?"

  I shake my head. "Well, maybe once when I was doing my wand making qualifications, but as my Grammie will tell you, I'm not the best at paying attention while I'm in class."

  "Which means you're a natural. Perhaps if you ever get tired of consulting, you might consider doing some training at the lab." She pulls a compact silver card case from her handbag and retrieves one of the business cards from within, sliding it across the table.

  "Oh, err, thank you." I take it and drop it into my own bag. I'll find it later between the travel sized wand repair kit in there, and the empty packet of tissues. I should really clean it out more, but that's too much effort.

  I'm saved from saying anything else by the arrival of the Doctor's club sandwich. Unsurprisingly, it looks ten times better than the remains of my salad do. I push my plate away, no longer having the appetite for it. Maybe I'll stick some toast in when I get back to the shop.

  My phone trills, making me jump. I pull it out of my pocket with an apologetic smile to Doctor Riffin.

  Grammie.

  Uh-oh. She probably wants to know why I'm not back at the shop yet.

  "I'm so sorry, I have to go. It was good to see you again," I say, rushing to my feet so I can go pay.

  "You too," Doctor Riffin responds. "I hope I'll see you soon."

&
nbsp; "Me too." Even as the words escape me, I realise they're true. But I won't add that I want to spend more time in her fancy lab. I don't think she'll appreciate it.

  9

  The kettle whistles, announcing that it's done. I hurry over and pull out my mug, dropping a tea bag and two sugars in and pouring the hot water on top. I should have gotten everything ready before I even put the kettle on, but I've been distracted by my frustration over the radio silence from Ambrose. It's been a few days, and I haven't heard a peep.

  How long does it take to get a warrant? Maybe that's something I can find the answer for on the internet...

  No. I'm not going to be that person. I will wait patiently, and prove I'm a good little consultant in the first place. Except I hate waiting. And I'm terrible at it.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket to check if the sound is still switched on. If I'm inside, I prefer to have it on silent, but I'm not taking any risks right now.

  As expected, there are no notifications at all. I could call myself, but I get the impression that won't help my case.

  I finish making my breakfast and take it over to the table. If it were up to me, I'd take breakfast down to the workshop, but if Grammie finds out I've done that, she'll skin me alive. At least she'll use magic to put me back together again. That's a definite advantage to annoy a witch who loves me.

  I'm about halfway through when my phone starts buzzing. I drop my toast and fumble with the buttons, desperate to answer it.

  It has to be Ambrose.

  I pick up so fast, I almost manage to hang up instead of answer. I'm glad the person on the other end can't see me right now. Quickly, I bring it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Good morning!” a chipper voice says. “Am I speaking with Amethyst?”

  “Amy,” I correct him. “But yes, that’s me.”

  “Excellent. When it comes to electricity, are you the decision maker in your household?”

  “Electricity? Who is this?”

  “Sorry, I thought I introduced myself. This is Brian from Light Light Solutions. Did you know that over twenty percent of people pay too much for their electricity and don’t even know it?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Sorry, I don’t have time for this. I’m expecting an important call.”

  Brian isn’t easily shaken off. “Of course, when would be a better time to discuss your electricity habits?”

  “I’m happy with my provider so…” Why are telemarketers always like this? I wonder if they'd be any different if they found out I'm capable of turning them into a toad.

  Maybe. I've never actually tried it, so I don't know for sure that I can. But I have access to spells that would let me try, and that's the important thing.

  “Mornings, afternoons? Evenings?” he continues, oblivious to the dark nature of my thoughts.

  “If I want to change, I’ll contact you, okay?” I snap, a little harsher than intended.

  The line crackles. “Okay, I’ll write that down. Thank you for your time!”

  “Thank you,” I reply sarcastically, moving quickly to hit the red button before he can talk more.

  Annoyed, I put my phone on the kitchen counter and reach for the wand in my sleeve. With a little wave, the box of chocolate cereal floats down from the shelf and lands on the table. With another flick, a bowl and a spoon join me from the cupboards and it takes barely any work to assemble the second part of my breakfast. Somehow, sensible toast isn't going to cut it. I'm going to stuff my face with cereal which Grammie refers to of being made from cardboard and having the nutritional value of a space rock.

  With a last wave of my wand, my breakfast assembles and I slip it back into my sleeve. The magic is so nice and crisp when I’m well-rested. Maybe that’s why it’s more cooperative in the morning and less so when I’m tired in the evenings. Which is just my luck. My magic is a morning person.

  I eat some of my favourite crunchy cereal, making sure to keep an eye on my phone. Just when I’m finishing up, it rings again.

  Another unknown number.

  It better not be Brian from Light Light Solutions again.

  I pick up more cautiously this time. “Hello?”

  “Amy?”

  I recognise Ambrose’s voice immediately. “Hello!”

  “It’s Detective Ambrose,” he says.

  “I figured.”

  “Oh, good. The warrant finally came through and the CWC have agreed to cooperate. Their lists arrived first thing this morning,” he says. “How do you feel about coming down and combing through the data with me? I’m not very versed on wands and their specifications.”

  I bounce up from my seat, knocking the table with my knee. The bowl slides down the side and splatters on the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Ambrose sounds worried.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say. With another swish of my wand, the ceramic pieces float back together and it’s like it never broke. So handy. “Am I coming to the police station?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Would you like me to bring anything?”

  It sounds like he’s chuckling. “No, thanks. See you in a bit.”

  “See you.”

  Time to catch a murderer.

  10

  No one stops me as I walk through the station towards Ambrose's office. To my surprise, he left a guest pass with my name on it at the front desk, which I'm now wearing proudly against my chest. Not that anyone's looking. They really don't seem to care about what I'm doing here. But that doesn't matter. All that does is that Ambrose seems to be coming around to the idea of me tagging along with him. Honestly, it took much less time than I expected it to. After our first introduction, I really thought it'd take longer.

  Luckily for me, or extra luckily I should say, the door to his office is ajar. That saves the need for knocking.

  As I walk in, my view is blocked by a slender back and a woman with long legs. She has her hands all over Ambrose and is looking at him like he’s a piece of candy.

  I freeze. That is not something I want to see. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

  The two look up, their expressions vastly different. Ambrose looks embarrassed to be caught while the woman just seems bemused. She ruffles his hair and presses a kiss on his cheek.

  “I’ll see you soon." She throws him a seductive glance along with a wave, and then sashays out of the room with a swing in her hips many women would envy. Myself included.

  I wait until she’s completely gone and sit down in the chair opposite of Ambrose, but don't say anything.

  I’m curious but I don’t want to pry and lose my shot at working with the PPD. I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember, I’m not going to let my nosy, curious self ruin this for me...

  “So… Who’s that?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Eurgh. How can I be so stupid? Why would he tell me?

  Ambrose chuckles awkwardly. “Sasha… She’s a receptionist working in the building across.”

  “She seems nice,” I say, my words empty. I have no idea if she’s nice, we were in the same room for barely twenty seconds. I gesture to a folder on his desk. “Is this the list from the Centre of Wand Control?”

  “Yes, we can go over it together," he says. "We’re broken up, you know,” he adds hastily.

  “Huh?” To say I'm taken aback is an understatement.

  “Sasha. We’re not together.” Ah, a man of few words. That does get the point across, I suppose.

  I give him a smile which I hope reassures him that I'm genuine. “It’s none of my business.” I'm not interested in him for romance. I want to fight crime with him, it's as simple as that.

  “Right… It’s just… You know how it is with exes. It’s always a bit awkward, especially when there’s some back and forth, back and forth.”

  “I’m not judging. I hardly know you. Or her.” And it's not like I haven't had my own share of ex drama in the past.

  “True… I just don’t want you, or anyone, to get the wrong impressio
n.”

  Ah, this isn’t about me at all. He’s saying these things for himself. Maybe it’s hard to stay away from her. Who knows. Certainly not me. I’m usually much more interested in people’s personal life and the gossip surrounding them but I want to find the owner of the wand. Catching a murderer is much more exciting than whoever Ambrose is or isn’t dating. Though I have to admit, going on appearances alone, Sasha isn't the kind of woman I imagine he'd go for.

  I gesture to the list again. “Can I take a look?”

  “Yes, sure. There’s a lot of names on here. It’s for the entire country.”

  “Huh.” I flick through the pages. “I didn’t expect so many people to have wands with such an expensive grade wood. I wonder where all those customers are and how I can make them mine.”

  “Ahem,” Ambrose coughs. “Everything here is confidential.”

  “I know. I wasn’t actually going to try and poach them, that would be unethical.” But that doesn't mean I can't use this information to figure something out. Maybe I need to look into other digital marketing courses and learn more that way. Everyone's on the internet now. I'm sure there's a way to sell wands. Though that means getting the odd human who wants a wand for fancy dress or something.

  I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing. Magicless wands have no soul like the ones witches use, but I could expand my market that way. Even without the magical properties I imbibe in my creations, they're still beautiful handcrafted pieces...

  “If you say so," he mutters, cutting off my thoughts.

  “I’m insulted you think that,” I tease. “Anyway, how are we approaching this? We can’t go and check every person’s wand on this list.”

  “No, we can’t. We’ll narrow it down by people in the area, people likely to have bought from Elmer's Wand Wonders.”

  “Did we get his client list? I ask, crossing my fingers that he's come through. That'll make life so much easier, and will have taught Elmer a lesson.

  “No. I wish we’d have been able to get a warrant for his client list but the judge didn’t find the partial emblem on the tiniest sliver of wand enough proof that he’s involved.”