Love Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  “Right as rain. The feather with the Obsession sample arrived here shortly after you dropped it and Whom set to work right away healing the little runt.” Her eyes sparkled. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that he’s in Lurve.”

  I shoved at the covers, scooting back with the intention of laying down again. “The brownie?”

  She nodded. “I’ll let him tell you. You want tea?”

  “Yes! Please.” My stomach gurgled. “And some toast?”

  She rolled her eyes, clearly feeling put upon. But at least my double vision had resolved and there was only one of her. The thought of two Sebilles nearly finished what the poison had started.

  I shoved my feet back under the covers. My toes met warm fur. Something squeaked, and I yelped, jerking my feet back.

  A tiny white mouse clambered out from beneath the covers, ears and whiskers twitching with pique. Another followed on its tail and another. The entire “nest” encompassed six of the irritated little rodents. “What the?”

  Sebille turned away from the teapot. “Your medicine. They’re hiding from the cat.”

  I sighed. One of the downsides of using Doctor Whom was that he gave out mice as medicine. It probably seemed reasonable to him, being an owl and all, but for the rest of us, it was an exercise in frustration. I certainly wasn’t going to gobble the little guys. But I couldn’t just put them out on the street either. I had no idea if they knew how to fend for themselves out there.

  I patted the covers on my lap and the tiny critters filed over and curled up again, settling back to sleep with a chorus of tiny sighs.

  I grinned. “We’ll have to find homes for them, or Wicked and Hex will drive them crazy.” I’d had the “talk” with Wicked about eating my medicine more than once. But he had a cat’s instincts and didn’t seem able to keep himself from chasing them.

  Sebille handed me a steaming mug of tea and set the plate of toast down on the bedside table. I grabbed the heavily buttered slice and took a big bite.

  “I’m going back to the store. We’ve had a steady line of Ben E. Nigma fans pouring over the stock since we got back. There was a line around the block.” She shook her head. “Thank the Universe for Baca. She’s been a goddess-send.”

  “Baca?” I asked, crumbs spewing from my mouth.

  Sebille ignored my question, stepping through the door.

  “Bring me back a cookie!” I yelled after her. She ignored me, and I lay back on the pillow with a sigh, closing my eyes.

  I dozed. Waking up only when the mice all squeaked in alarm and dove back under the covers. I sat bolt upright, ready to grab Wicked if he jumped onto the bed to stalk them.

  But it wasn’t my cat. Hobs stood in the doorway holding a plate. He fixed me with a pale blue gaze filled with guilt. “Miss. I brought you cookies.”

  I patted the bed next to me. “Thanks. Sit. I think we need to talk.”

  He dragged himself over to me, looking miserable. I took the plate from him and set it on the bedside table next to the cold remains of the toast.

  Hobs stood beside the bed, eyes downcast and long fingers nervously twining. The little shock of light brown hair between his big ears lay limp against his pale skin, mirroring his dejected attitude.

  I couldn’t bear to see him so upset. Taking a deep breath, I got right to the point. “You stole the love serum, didn’t you?”

  He frowned, his gaze still not meeting mine. He pulled a hand out from behind his back and handed me the serum. It was in a small bottle, only three inches tall and rounded at the bottom with a narrow neck.

  I looked it over, noting the broken wooden stopper that seemed to have been glued back together.

  Just like that, a lightbulb lit in my brain and I knew.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not right. You didn’t take the serum. The brownie took it, didn’t she?”

  “It’s not her fault, Miss. That mean lady was in the vault. She was breaking everything. She didn’t see the bottle fall and the lid crack. Baca grabbed it and ran to hide until the noisy came on and the lady popped out of there.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “She only wanted to fix the lid, Miss.”

  I stared at the tiny bottle, wondering how something so small could cause so much trouble. I needed to make Hobs understand how important it was for him not to mess with the artifacts. I didn’t know how to start. Finally, I just started with the first question that popped into my mind.

  “Why?” I’d get to the rest after he told me why he’d broken my trust and endangered us all.

  “Baca’s my friend, Miss. I didn’t want you to make her leave.”

  I bit back a sigh. He obviously thought I was horrible. “This is not a playground, Hobs. Messing with artifacts is dangerous. In this case, people were hurt. You almost died. This is serious.”

  Then I remembered his little tux, and I asked, “Did you take some of this serum?”

  He shook his head. “Not on purpose. When she showed me I…” His chin dropped even lower. “I think some got on my finger.”

  Closing my eyes, I couldn’t believe the mess of accidents and coincidences that had occurred to bring the whole Cupid thing to boiling point. My eyes popped open again when I realized, if Baca and Hobs hadn’t taken the serum, Desiree might have gotten her hands on it. And she’d have done much worse things with it.

  An ugly thought occurred on the heels of that one. What if the brownie had intentionally left some serum residue on the bottle when she’d given it to Hobs? If she had, she needed to leave immediately. In the meantime, I had to make Hobs understand that he didn’t need magic to be loved. “Hobs, people should love you just because you’re you. If you need magic to create love, then it’s not really love. You know that, right?”

  He nodded, but he hesitated just long enough that I doubted he really did understand.

  I reached out and took his hand. It was warm, and the skin was baby-soft. “You’re very loveable,” I told him. “I love you. Sebille loves you. If Baca’s the right girl for you, she’ll love you too.”

  He sighed, his chin dipping lower. “I messed up, Miss. I’m sorry.”

  On an impulse, I pulled him closer and gave him a hug. “Yes. You did. Because you should have brought it to me right away. Sebille and I have been looking all over for that serum.”

  “I know, Miss. I was going to bring it. But then I started feeling all funny inside and I…I forgot.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to resist using the artifacts,” I told him in a quiet but firm voice. “But you can’t live here unless you do. You know that, right?”

  He sighed, tears glistening in his eyes. “Yes, miss.” He stood up. “I’ll leave.”

  I reached out and snagged his hand before he could get away from me. “No. I’ll talk to Sebille and Grym. They need to agree to give you a second chance…” Sebille because she worked with me at Croakies and I trusted her judgment. Grym because, technically, misuse of magical artifacts was against supernormal law.

  Hobs’ hopeful gaze lifted to mine. “Really, Miss?”

  I nodded and then laughed when he threw himself at me. “I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” I said. “But no more messing with the artifacts.”

  “Yes, Miss!” He turned toward the door, stringy muscles bunching to sprint away.

  “Hobs?”

  He skidded to a halt. “Yes, Miss?”

  “How did Baca come to Croakies?” I wasn’t surprised that, once she’d gotten inside, Sebille and I hadn’t seen her. Brownies did their work at night while others slept, cleaning and fixing things in the places where they lived.

  His smile fell away. “She was sleeping outside, Miss. In a box. I had to help her.”

  I sighed again. Thinking about that beautiful creature living on the street broke my heart. But I couldn’t let him keep bringing in strays. We’d be overrun, and the artifacts would be at risk.

  “I’ll have Grym look into her past. She can stay in the bookstore only
…for a while. But I’m not making any promises. If Grym thinks she’s untrustworthy, she’ll have to leave.”

  His smile returned. “Thank you, Miss! Baca wants to pay her way. She’s fixed lots of things with her tool belt.”

  I looked up at the spot on my ceiling where there’d always been a water stain. The stain was gone. “Yeah,” I said, realizing she had.

  Archie was coming through the door as Hobs shot out. My uncle jerked back with a laugh. “Whoa, there, son. Slow down.”

  He shook his head and then glanced at me. “Well, you look better. Sebille told me you were awake.”

  The void sorcerer was in his street clothes. “You’ve been signing books?”

  He nodded. “We just closed up. My fingers are cramping.”

  I laughed. Who would have ever thought my boring, bookish uncle would become a famous cozy mystery author.

  He reached into thin air and pulled two steaming cups of tea from a void. Grinning, he handed one to me.

  “You have your own personal void?” I asked.

  He nodded. “A necessity now that I’m doing two jobs. Three if I count helping you.” We shared a grin and sipped. “The boy looks good,” Archie said.

  “Hobs is much better.” I frowned, thinking of the pretty brownie. “I’m afraid he’s going to get his heart broken, though.”

  “It happens to all of us, Naida. He’ll be fine.” He crossed his hands in front of him, cocking his head at me. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure.”

  I drank tea and sighed at the warm feeling in my belly. “Did Grym tell you how it all turned out?”

  “He did. Apparently, Princess Desiree is now inextricably bound to her family’s lands, unable to leave until her two brothers return and release her. Uncle Lovelace will be living with Nina and Denzel for a while, and by all accounts, is buying out toy stores for baby gifts.”

  I grinned, feeling only slightly sorry for Desiree. She pretty much deserved her fate. “Lea and Grym are okay?”

  “They’re fine.” Archie’s eyes sparkled. “In fact, I was wondering if you were up to coming downstairs. You have visitors.”

  Grym! Excitement had me shoving blankets aside to get up. “Just give me five minutes.”

  Archie stood, the sparkle flaring brighter. “Brilliant! I’ll see you downstairs.”

  I quickly visited the bathroom, brushed my teeth and hair, and dressed in clean jeans and a feminine white blouse. I looked longingly at the cookies Hobs had brought me, my stomach rumbling, but decided I didn’t want to take the time to eat them.

  Then I bounced down the stairs, anxious to hear what had happened after I’d been poisoned and passed out.

  I hit the dividing door at a run and opened it without slowing very much.

  And screeched to a stop with my mouth hanging open.

  Grym was there as I’d hoped. But he didn’t look happy. He was standing near the tea counter. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he had a bunch of red roses gripped in one hand. He was clutching them so tightly, he’d broken the long stems and they were drooping.

  Sebille stood a few feet away from him, her long, freckled face the color of chalk. She was holding a rolled-up document of some kind in one hand, and the other was stretched out in front of her as if she was considering blasting our visitors.

  The ogres we’d met on our first visit to King Rhorr’s lands were standing just inside Croakies’ front door, which, I was relieved to see, was locked behind them, the Closed sign turned to the window.

  The ogres were also carrying flowers, and they were smiling.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, sending a worried look toward Maxine and Rick.

  Sebille handed me a scroll made of creamy parchment. I unrolled it and squinted at the abundance of teeny tiny characters written in the same language as the rental agreement we’d deciphered in the void. Across the top was a single short sentence, written in English, in large, black letters.

  King Rhorr Invites You to Attend a Special Event.

  “What’s this?” I asked Sebille.

  She continued to stare at the two ogres, mute and clearly astonished.

  I looked at Grym.

  He gave me a frustrated look and growled out. “It’s an engagement party.”

  “Whose engagement?” I asked, confused. Had this been what Rhorr meant after he’d called off the ogre with the club?

  Sebille finally turned to me, her iridescent green gaze wide in her face. She tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come. She swallowed hard and tried again. “Our co-engagement.” She jerked a thumb toward Maxine and Rick. “We’re apparently marrying them.”

  My knees went soft beneath me. “Huh?”

  Archie cleared his throat.

  Grym sighed. “At least we now know the contents of the small print at the end of that contract you two signed.”

  Sebille made a choking noise and dropped into a chair.

  I looked at my uncle. “But I thought you went to find out what it was about. You didn’t know?”

  His grin widened. “Rhorr wouldn’t see us. We decided to deal with it after we cleared up this Cupid mess.” I stared at him for a long moment, remembering Archie saying we were committed to something worse than giving away our firstborn child.

  And they’d never even seen the fine print. “That was mean,” I told him, frowning.

  He laughed gaily. “You deserved it. Who signs a contract with the ogres without reading the fine print?”

  Rick and Maxine nodded.

  Relief filled me. I laughed. “So this…” I swept an arm to indicate the two flower-carrying ogres. “You’re all just messing with us, right? To teach us a lesson?”

  Grym turned a glare on me.

  Archie laughed. “Not at all. You’ve made quite a mess for yourselves.”

  I stumbled over to sit at the table with Sebille, the world spinning wildly around me. “Goddess on a thigh master. What have we done?”

  “Apparently, you’ve gotten engaged,” Archie said, succumbing to hilarity that was entirely inappropriate.

  I turned a glare on him. “It’s not funny.”

  Grym finally gave in and laughed too. “It’s a little funny.”

  I shook my head, returning my gaze to the twosome at the door. I wondered if anybody had noticed that one of them was a girl. I paled, suddenly wondering which one I was supposed to marry.

  I didn’t wonder for long.

  Maxine winked and blew me a noisy kiss.

  * * *

  The End

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  Enjoy this taste of Book 1: Unbaked Croakies:

  How in the name of the goddess’s favorite sports bra am I going to do this Magical Librarian job? I have no idea what I’m doing. And the woman who’s supposed to be training me is…well, let’s just say she’s distracted and leave it at that. I guess I’ll bumble through. It’s become something of a trademark move for me.

  My name is Naida Griffith and I’m a sorceress. I actually found that out not too long ago. I’ve lived with an undefined something burning in my belly for a while, feeling as if something wasn’t quite right under my skin. Then, on my eighteenth birthday I started getting headaches. Bad ones. And random stuff started following me around.

  Recently I was approached by a group called the Société of Dire Magic to become Keeper of the Artifacts. A magical librarian. Given that magical artifacts have taken to following me around, I decided I might have an aptitude for the job. So I said yes.

  But in the first few days, I’ve been flogged by flip flops, bludgeoned by gnomes, and discovered a corpse in
a suitcase. Then there’s the woman who’s supposed to be training me. She’s…interesting.

  Will I survive the training long enough to get the job as artifact librarian? You might as well ask me if a caterpillar gets manis or pedis. Who knows? But I know one thing for sure. This gig is hard.

  I’m going to do my best to succeed. Or die trying.

  Unbaked Croakies

  I stood on the street outside the bookstore, frowning up at the ugly wood sign with the picture of a spotted frog on it. The yellowed white paint was chipped and scarred, and there was a black blotch near the frog’s mouth that looked like a fly.

  I kept expecting the frog’s tongue to snake out and snap it up.

  It was an ugly sign. World-class ugly. But it was oddly suited given the store’s strange name.

  Croakies.

  I mean. What kind of name was that for a bookstore?

  Soft footsteps came up behind me and I resisted turning.

  “Are you ready?”

  At just under six feet, the man was only a few inches taller than I was. I guessed he was about middle age. For a sorcerer that would put him in his eighties or nineties. He had piercing blue eyes that were a little darker than mine and longish, curly brown hair. He also had a truly forgettable face. I mean that literally. From one moment to the next I would often forget what the man looked like. In fact, the few times I’d seen him, I’d only been able to identify him because of the sorcerer’s garb he wore.

  The thought made me frown.

  I always remembered the piercing blue gaze. And the hair. But that was all that stuck in my mind.

  I knew him only as Agent A.P. from the Société of Dire Magic. A formidable group whose moniker seemed to strike fear into the hearts of everyone I spoke to about them. Supernormals, at least. Since I’d been raised by a non-magical grandma, I didn’t really know that many supernormals. But the few I’d met since A.P. had knocked on my door a couple of weeks earlier, had seemed more than half afraid of him.