Gram Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  Light flared above the pavilion amid a loud buzzing sound. I looked up as the silvery glow filtered through the patterns in the roof and painted the floor with magic enhancing symbols.

  Queen Sindra’s people flared brighter and the symbols started to glow, pulsing with latent energy.

  A thunderous cacophony of sound announced Theo’s arrival at the edge of the forest. Trees crashed to the ground all around him, ripping the grass and tearing into the adjacent trees as he stepped though, his car-sized fists held down at his sides.

  His usually gentle expression turned murderous when he saw the unmoving form of Birte, crumpled near the pavilion.

  She’d returned to her human form. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

  My heart tore as I looked at her, bleeding and scored with electrical burns and lying oh so still.

  “Sebille!” I screamed.

  In her usual fashion, she ignored me.

  I turned my attention to the witches and LA, watching as they sliced an athame across their palms, chanting over the bloody hands as they held them over the symbols and dripped blood over each one.

  Fat, white candles flickered around the outside of the trap and their chanting had put the cats into a trance, their sigils glowing again as they stood in their places, unmoving and glassy-eyed.

  Theo stomped the ground and roared. Hebe sent a bolt of lightning in his direction but he side-stepped it, surprisingly agile for a creature his size.

  His big hand wrapped around the goddess and he lifted her off the ground, lifting her to a spot way too close to his face.

  I grimaced. “Please tell me he isn’t going to bite her head off or something equally gross?” I prayed to myself. “Please no, please no, please no,” I chanted.

  Theo opened his mouth and roared right into her face.

  Hebe’s golden hair flew backward and the skin on her face retreated, making her look like she was staring into a wind tunnel.

  Then he shook her like she was a pair of dice in a cup and threw her to the ground.

  When Theo lifted his foot to stomp the clearly dazed woman, I screamed. “Theo, look out!”

  The witches slammed their palms down on a special symbol at three points in the spell and light flared under their palms. It spread inward, encompassing the carefully drawn sigils and surrounding the cats in a golden glow.

  The magic shot upward, flared across the pavilion ceiling and then skimmed downward to coat the open sides and send a layer of golden light across the floor.

  It tingled the bottoms of my feet for a beat before it retracted back into the spell and hovered there, spinning slowly as the witches finished their chanting with a shouted power word that gathered the energy and sent it shooting toward the goddess.

  Seeing it heading his way, Theo threw the woman into the air and the magic found her, twisting around her like a golden rope and completely encompassing her from her toes to the top of her head.

  Hebe fell to the ground in a boneless pile, unmoving.

  Silence eased through the structure and filled the clearing.

  With an unhappy groan, Theo slowly eased back to his normal size.

  The fairies gave up lighting the roof and buzzed down to us.

  I caught Sebille’s eye and pointed toward Birte. “Help her, please?”

  She nodded and buzzed off, followed by the rest of the Fae.

  Their light quickly flared as they surrounded the fallen dragon shifter.

  Theo knelt nearby, tears glimmering in his gaze.

  I looked at my friends and found them drooping wearily on the bench of one of the picnic tables.

  “Nice work, you guys.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without Rustin,” Deg said. “It was his idea to augment it with blood magic.”

  I nodded. “Where is he, anyway?”

  We looked around, finding no sign of the ghost witch. “He must have gone home.” But I frowned in worry. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear like that. But in this case, I would have felt better if he’d let me know he was all right first.

  Mr. Slimy was also MIA. Wicked and the other kittens were chasing each other around the tables, pouncing on the occasional unsuspecting cricket.

  A cheer went up and I glanced over to find Birte sitting up, blinking in confusion.

  I caught Theo’s eye and gave him a thumb’s up.

  A tiny hand touched my arm. I turned to find Hobs looking up at me, his expression sad. He held out the figurine. “I promised.”

  Nodding, I took it from him. “You did promise. And you kept your promise. Thank you, Hobs. I owe you one.”

  He nodded, sniffling. “You’re welcome. You gave me my freedom and a place to stay. I’m grateful.” He turned away, his head hanging low.

  I realized in that moment that he thought I would send him away because I’d gotten what I wanted from him. What a horrible life he must have had. “Hobs, don’t leave.”

  He turned hopefully, his eyes still swimming with unshed tears. “You need Hobs to do something else?”

  I smiled. “I do.”

  He looked almost disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”

  I touched his shoulder. “I want you to stay at Croakies and keep Wicked and Slimy out of trouble. Do you think you could do that?”

  His oversized eyes closed and he seemed to suck air in a slow, deep breath. A single tear slipped down his cheek before he looked at me again. “I can do that.”

  I squeezed his tiny arm. “Good. I’m glad.”

  “Hey, hobgoblin!” Hobs looked up to find Sebille standing next to a teeter-totter in the nearby playground. She jerked her head at the equipment. “I’ll bet you three sprinkle-covered donuts I can send you flying ten feet off the end of this thing.”

  Hobs bounced up and down, clapping gleefully. “Fifteen feet?”

  Sebille let her smile widen. “If you can do twenty I’ve got a brownie with your name on it back at Croakies.”

  He squealed with delirious happiness and ran in her direction.

  Laughing at them, I shook my head.

  “You need a ride back home?” LA asked.

  “No. But thanks for all your help. I owe you guys big time.”

  LA gave me a weary hug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.”

  I watched them leave and then remembered Grym. I quickly dialed Lea. When she answered, I spoke before she could. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

  “He’s much better. Madeline made it back and she’s checking him over now. It appears we got most of the magic out of his system.”

  My smile slid away. “Most of it? What about the rest? Is it going to cause him any more problems?”

  “We’re just not sure. Madeline thinks he can stay ahead of it by taking his true form once a week or so. But we’ll keep working on it. The artifact you retrieved might clear it right out of his system. We just don’t know.”

  She was right. I’d forgotten about our plan to reverse the spell with the artifact. “Good. I can’t thank you enough for your help, girlfriend.”

  She laughed. “Yes you can. You can take this kitten to your house tomorrow. She’s bouncing off the walls. It’s like she thinks she’s missing out on something. She’s been driving me crazy.”

  I knew exactly why Hex had felt the need to be somewhere else. “I think she’s going to feel better shortly.” I told her about LA and the witches. “They plan on stopping by.”

  “Icicles!” Lea exclaimed happily.

  I shook my head. “Hey, Rustin didn’t show up there, did he?”

  “He’s working on Grym with Madeline. Did you need to talk to him?”

  I felt the last bit of tension leave my body. “No. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. He and Slimy disappeared.”

  “Mr. Slimy’s holding court in the pond with Wally.”

  Wally was Lea’s non-magical bullfrog.

  “He keeps trying to get Wally to talk but it’s not hap
pening.” She laughed.

  “Poor Wally,” I lamented. “I’ll talk to you in the morning?”

  “Sure. Unless you want to bring Wicked by for the kitty party?”

  “Not tonight. But thanks.” All I wanted was to take a long, hot shower and go to bed. I was beyond beat.

  There was a loud thump behind me, followed by happy shrieking and a shrill shout that made me smile.

  “Again!”

  My cell rang. I answered it without looking at the ID, assuming it was Lea again. “What did you forget?”

  A brief silence met my question. And then, “Naida Griffith?”

  “This is Naida. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Katherine Geras. Would you mind telling me why you sent me a picture of my guards in pink tutus?”

  Oopsies! “Uh, yeah, about that…”

  “Again!”

  The End

  Read More Enchanting Inquiries

  Did you enjoy Gram Croakies? If so, you might want to check out Book 4 of Enchanted Inquiries, Croakies and Scream.

  Please enjoy Chapter One of Croakies and Scream as my gift to you!

  Okay, I’ll admit it, this is my least favorite time of year. Yeah, I understand the magic of the season…I get that…but most people don’t have jobs that involve wrangling magic. During the last three months of the year magical influences run rampant. And that means a lot more work for me.

  And this year is the worst of all.

  Why, you ask?

  Because I’m not only trying to wrangle the out-of-control magic artifacts flying around all over the place. This year, I also have to try to keep a magical cat and a talking frog out of trouble.

  Goddess take the wheel.

  Things are about to get really ugly.

  Croakies and Scream

  “Watch out!”

  I ducked just in time to keep from getting hit by Nurse Ratchet’s bedpan. The nasty curve of dented and pocked metal shot past where my head had been and clanged into the wall, clattering down onto my sales counter as Sebille leaped the magical vacuum cleaner currently trying to suck up Mr. Slimy and smacked the bedpan down as it tried to rise again.

  I grabbed the frog, giving him a smile that I hoped would help his eyes sink back into his head before they popped out, and hurried over to dump him into his fish tank for protection.

  “Incoming!” Rustin’s voice shouted and I turned to find Blackbeard’s sword skimming through the air, SB the parrot riding its hilt and painting the air around him blue.

  I ducked sideways as the sword slashed toward my heart and reached out, clasping the hilt and sending SB into the air on another wave of foul language overlaid by bleeps.

  The parrot dropped onto my shoulder among a cloud of feathers, huffing out a breath as I fell backward, my knees finally giving out on me.

  “Avast ye, Lass. Tis the bleepin’ devil’s own stirrin’ the bubblin’ cauldron this eve. We’ll be blessed ta find the bleepin’ back end of the moon without losin’ our bloody tail feathers to a bleepin’ magical trickster.”

  I sucked air, watching as Rustin wrangled a golden theater mask that kept trying to fix itself onto his ghostly face. I knew I should go help him, but I needed a minute to gather my breath and count all my fingers and toes.

  “Time check!” I yelled, praying the response would be the right one. It had been a long eight hours and I didn’t know how much energy I still had in me.

  The mask thwacked onto Rustin’s face, sending him reeling backward to smack against a bookshelf and send several magical volumes tumbling to the floor.

  The vacuum locked onto the pile of books and took off in that direction, putting Berbie the Loving Bug to shame with its speed and maneuverability.

  With an alarmed squeal, I threw myself onto the machine just before its sucky parts glommed onto the books and inhaled them whole into its insatiable bag.

  I’d already lost two tea cups, one bank deposit bag, thankfully empty of cash, my favorite pair of sneakers, a bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jelly, a hairbrush, and we’d almost lost Sebille’s giant bag to the machine. We would have lost it too, if all three of us hadn’t jumped in to hold onto the bag and wrestle the rabid vacuum to the ground. Sebille had yanked the frayed plug from the wall at that point and we’d all taken a deep breath in relief. She’d shoved her bag into a cabinet and closed the door on it, just as the vacuum’s cable had lifted off the ground and inserted its plug into the wall again.

  It had been a downhill battle for sanity ever since.

  Rolling violently beneath me, the vacuum shoved itself off the floor, nearly managing to unseat me in the process, and fought my tightly wrapped arms to get to the books.

  “Time!” I shrieked, sweat pouring down my temples and my last nerve unraveling before my very eyes.

  “Ten, nine, eight…”

  I gritted my teeth and held on.

  “Seven, six, five…”

  Sebille skidded past, a dancing mop in her arms and her red hair sticking up as if she’d snacked on a lighted bulb for dinner.

  “Four, three, two…”

  The world dipped and whirled. The magic-drenched engine beneath me roared, and Sebille’s head hit the wall with a hearty, whack, whack, whack as the mop gave it everything it had and then some.

  “One!” Rustin screamed.

  Nothing changed for a moment. I was still being beaten to a pulp by the determined vacuum. Sebille’s head was still denting my wall. And Rustin peered through the front window through the eyes of the golden mask, which was clinging to his wispy countenance as if it had been magically glued there by Elmer the glue god himself.

  The dividing door slammed open and Wicked shot through on a yowl, Casanova’s chair hot on his heels. The chair stopped in the middle of Croakies, turned this way and that, assessing its targets, and then shot right at Sebille, slamming into her just as the sun rose over the horizon and everything went quiet and still.

  I dropped to my butt on the carpet, sneezing as the vacuum coughed out its last, dusty breath. Sebille collapsed under the chair’s attack on the back of her knees and sighed, momentarily glad for the chance to rest.

  It didn’t last long. She soon started shrieking and shot to her feet as the chair no doubt molested her and then took off across the store, dancing from leg to leg in obvious pleasure of its coup.

  A final, alarming clang announced the theater mask’s landing on the table beneath the window.

  I scrubbed the back of my hand over my brow, mopping up sweat, and let the breath heave through my lungs. “I’m just going to come right out and say it. I hate Halloween.”

  Sebille shoved the mop to the floor and leaned against the wall. “Amen and amen.”

  I looked at Rustin. Around midnight, when the mystical veil restraining magic had first dropped, he’d had a few minutes to enjoy being almost fully formed. I’d enjoyed seeing the look of wonder on his face as he examined his hands and looked down at his feet, which were actually touching the carpet. Unfortunately, his pleasure had been blasted away ten seconds later by the herd of ghost bison running from two spectral American Indian warriors on painted ponies.

  If I squinted, I thought I could still see the hoofprints compressing his wispy form.

  I shoved to my feet with a groan. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you guys in a few hours.”

  Sebille nodded. “Don’t expect to see me before three this afternoon. I’m going to need serious fudge ripple and peanut butter heaven ice cream therapy to get over being made a sex object by that ferking chair again.”

  I felt my eyes go wide. “You have ice cream?”

  She pasted a glare on her pale, freckled face. “Don’t even think about trying to beg some. It’s going to take every last spoonful of my stash to recover from last night.”

  I didn’t have it in me to fight. I headed toward the dividing door, yawning widely. “Will you check the locks and wards?”

  Sebille grunted her agreement and I started up
the stairs to my apartment. A moment later, soft footfalls behind me announced Wicked’s arrival. He shot past and slipped through the apartment door, which I’d given up on closing since my cat always opened it again anyway.

  The sound of wings fluttering above my head reminded me I hadn’t returned the artifacts to their assigned spots. With a weary groan, I turned and flung out a hand, sending my seeking energy toward SB. “Take the sword with you,” I told him, my jaw cracking under another yawn.

  “Fair seas to ya, Lass.”

  I saluted him.

  A beat later, the mop and the vacuum cleaner floated through the door on a wave of green energy. Sebille trudged through after them, heading toward the spots on the shelves from which the magic had pried them loose. It occurred to me that I could follow her and see where she’d moved her stuff.

  I hesitated, torn by warring desires to drop into bed versus finally discovering where Sebille was resting her fiery red head these days.

  Eventually, weariness won out and I trudged upstairs, praying the following night would be better than the last. A prayer that wouldn’t be answered.

  The coming midnight would be Halloween eve, and the magic veil would be the thinnest it had been all year.

  Nothing good was gonna come from that.

  Check out the entire series here: https://samcheever.com/books/#enchanting

  Also by Sam Cheever

  If you enjoyed Gram Croakies, you might also enjoy these other fun mystery series by Sam. To find out more, visit the BOOKS page at www.samcheever.com:

  Reluctant Familiar Paranormal Mysteries

  Yesterday’s Paranormal Mysteries

  Gainfully Employed Mysteries

  Silver Hills Cozy Mysteries

  Country Cousin Mysteries

  About the Author

  USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes mystery and suspense, creating stories that draw you in and keep you eagerly turning pages. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 80+ books.