Cloaks and Daggers

by Annabel Chase

  “How can this happen?” Sophie asked. “She’s guilty.”

  “Sometimes cases can be overturned when the process was somehow deemed improper or compromised,” I said. “The paranormal world is different from the human world, but there are still standards that have to be met.”

  “And Lady Weatherby found a lawyer willing to poke holes in Spellbound’s process,” Millie said.

  “I can’t imagine it was difficult,” Laurel said. “Paranormals on the outside will likely assume our methods and processes are more primitive. It’s fine for shops and ambience, but they don’t want our old-fashioned approach in the legal system.”

  “Are you saying you think it’s right that she be freed?” Millie asked, clearly aghast.

  “No, of course not,” Laurel said. “But I can see the angle and why a judge would go for it if the lawyer presenting the paperwork is clever enough.”

  “Which this one apparently is,” I said. “You’re all connected to the case. Do you think you’ll turn up at the hearing?”

  Sophie shook her head adamantly. “Not me. I hope I never lay eyes on that witch again.”

  “Me neither,” Begonia said. “I don’t want to remind her that I exist.”

  Millie examined her fingernails. “I’m not afraid of her or anything, but I’d rather not listen to a judge set her free.”

  Laurel scribbled notes on a piece of paper. “I’m making a list of pros and cons.” She considered the results without sharing the details. “I think I’ll pass. The cons list is longer by two.”

  “I’ll report back then,” I said.

  “Are you sure you want to see her?” Begonia asked.

  “No,” I admitted, “but I don’t want to live in fear and denial either.”

  Millie glanced at a spot on the floor. “What’s that mark?”

  I hesitated. “Do you really want to know?”

  She slapped a hand over her face. “It’s where the elf died, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I thought I cleaned it thoroughly. I’ll make sure to have another go.”

  “What’s the latest on that?” Laurel asked.

  “I’m glad you asked,” I said. “I could use your help.”

  “What if it was your father?” Millie interrupted.

  I tipped back my chair and nearly fell. “What?” I demanded.

  “Your father,” she repeated. “He’d been at your house before they came, right? He knew the layout. He could have snuck in, killed the elf, and snuck out again. With so many extra bodies in the house, who would have noticed?”

  I grasped for a reasonable response—one that didn’t involve knocking Millie on the head with the matching candlestick.

  “Millie, that makes zero sense,” Laurel said. “What reason would a demigod have for breaking in here to murder an elf that worked on a television show?”

  Millie crossed her arms and glowered. “You said yourself that he destroyed places and killed indiscriminately. Maybe he was in a murder-y mood.”

  I gripped the edge of the table in an effort to stay calm. “Look, I don’t know how I feel about Calix yet, but I don’t think for one second that he had anything to do with Andrea’s death. It’s far more likely that the killer was someone known to her.”

  “Well, if bodies start popping up left and right in town, don’t come crying to me when you realize the demigod with the army of the dead is involved.” Millie’s jaw clenched.

  “If bodies start popping up left and right, then we have a zombie apocalypse on our hands and Calix will be the least of our problems,” Begonia said.

  “Unless he’s the leader of the zombie apocalypse,” Millie said, ever stubborn.

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten in my head. “Will you help me perform a locator spell? That’s what I really need right now.”

  Millie unclenched. “Isn’t one long-lost relative enough for now?”

  I splayed my hands on the table. “I’m trying to find the victim’s journal.” Thanks to Sheriff Astrid, I had a strand of Andrea’s hair to use. “It wasn’t with Andrea’s personal effects, which means the killer likely has it.”

  Laurel’s eyes flashed with understanding. “And they took it because it says something incriminating.”

  “That’s the theory,” I said.

  Begonia’s lower lip fattened. “I thought you invited us over to play with the baby,” she said.

  “You can see Diana too,” I said. “Cuddles for everyone.”

  “No thanks,” Millie said. “I’ll take another biscuit instead.”

  “It’s probably too soon for her to be exposed to so many paranormals anyway,” Laurel said. “She hasn’t had all her protective potions yet.”

  “Mind the small witch,” Gareth said, poking his head out of the wall. “She knows best.”

  I ignored him. “She has an appointment later today, as it happens. No need to worry about her immunization schedule.”

  “My mom says that the more germs you’re exposed to when you’re young, the more resistance you build up,” Sophie said.

  “Welcome to parenthood,” I said. “Conflicting advice for every occasion.”

  “Where do you want to perform the spell?” Sophie asked. She surveyed the dining room. “There’s enough room in here.”

  “No spells in the house,” Gareth said quickly. “Take your mess outside.”

  “We won’t make a mess,” I told him. “We’re more experienced now.”

  “Aye, experienced at making a mess,” the vampire ghost said. “You can’t even make a pot of tea without staining the countertop.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the foyer. “Outside.”

  “Sorry, witches. Gareth insists that we perform magic outside.” I pushed back my chair.

  “He’s very bossy for a dead guy,” Millie said.

  “Do you think you’d be any better?” Begonia shot back.

  Millie appeared thoughtful. “I would make the best ghost. I hope I get to hang around somewhere and make life miserable for others.”

  “You do plenty of that now,” Begonia grumbled.

  “It’s good to have goals,” Millie said. “Reach for the moon and you’ll land among the stars.”

  “Or fall back to earth on your butt and leave a giant crater,” Sophie said. “We need candles for the spell.”

  I froze, thinking about the candlesticks. Sheriff Astrid had the murder weapon in evidence now, so I only had the matching one. Still, it seemed appropriate. “I’ll grab this one from the dining room and then there’s a small box of them in the kitchen pantry.”

  “I’ll get them,” Begonia offered.

  As the others began to file out of the house, I heard Diana’s cries from upstairs. Uh oh.

  “Is that the baby or an injured animal?” Millie asked.

  “That’s Diana,” I said. “She’s supposed to sleep for at least another hour.”

  “I thought babies were supposed to do whatever they feel like,” Millie replied.

  I stood at the bottom of the staircase, debating my options. “Yes, that’s more accurate.”

  “I’ll keep her occupied,” Gareth said. “You do your spell.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Magpie and I will keep her entertained, or if that Cloud Hopper of yours comes home, I’m sure he can bore her back to sleep.”

  “Thanks, Gareth,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

  Clutching the candlestick, I went to meet the other witches outside. They’d already set up the circle and lit the candles that Begonia had found. I added the candlestick to the center of the circle and Laurel lit the wick.

  “I feel like it should be dark,” Sophie said. “Doing a spell like this in broad daylight seems strange.”

  “Anybody in the neighborhood can see what we’re doing,” Begonia added.

  “Except we don’t have any close neighbors,” I said. “The Minors are the only ones that pass by regularly.” And they certainly wouldn’t object to magic in the
yard. Darcy was the only uptight one, but even she would be fine with coven activities.

  We joined hands around the perimeter and began to chant. A gust of wind rushed through the circle, nearly extinguishing the flames. When we reached the critical moment, I retrieved Andrea’s hair from my pocket and held it over the flame of the candlestick. A wave of energy propelled me backward and I stumbled, managing to catch myself before I dropped straight onto one of the other candles. The witches stopped for a moment, distracted by the near mishap.

  “Keep chanting,” Laurel urged.

  Their voices resumed and I rejoined the circle. After a long moment, I expressed my disappointment. “It’s not working.”

  “I think it is,” Millie said. “You wouldn’t have experienced that magical surge otherwise.”

  “The journal is either being blocked or it’s been destroyed,” Laurel said.

  I frowned. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

  “Should we try again and make sure we did it right?” Sophie asked.

  “We did it right,” Laurel insisted. “There has to be another explanation.”

  “Thanks for your help, witches,” I said. “It was worth a try.”

  “Will we see you at the academy anytime soon?” Begonia asked as she gathered the candles.

  “Hopefully tomorrow,” I said. “I thought I’d drop in for part of a class so I don’t fall too far behind.”

  “I bet there’ll be gossip about Lady Weatherby too,” Millie said. “It might be worth showing up just for that.”

  You’re probably right,” I said, although I didn’t want to think about the hearing right now. I stared at the remains of the magic circle, my mental gears clicking away. Laurel was right—the journal was either hidden or gone forever. The problem was figuring out which one.

  I sat in the waiting room of the healer’s office that afternoon, waiting for Diana’s turn. It seemed like she needed to be weighed and imbibe potions to protect against diseases every other day. Daniel was hard at work at the tourism office, so Calix had insisted on joining us. He said it would be “delightful” to see how his granddaughter compared with other infants.

  “It’s not a competition,” I said, for probably the fourth time.

  “Dearest daughter, everything is a competition,” Calix said. “Scarcity of resources. Kill or be killed. Your gods versus my gods. All a natural part of life.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I think the world has changed quite a bit since the days of yore.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you had a dead elf in your house recently,” he replied. “You won that competition.”

  I shook my head, trying to make sense of his statement. “I won?”

  “It could have just as easily been you, sunflower. I’m eternally grateful that it wasn’t.”

  The demigod walked around the room, captivated by all things mundane. He must have gaped at the new fish tank for five full minutes without blinking. I suspected it was a staring contest with the fish that he was determined to win. My father, the demigod--no battle too small. No foe too tiny to vanquish.

  Diana began to fuss so I pressed her closer to my chest and hummed.

  “What’s so special about this dead elf anyway?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” I was relieved that we were the only ones in the waiting area during this conversation.

  “The deceased elf from your dining room,” he said. “Why must you devote so much attention to finding her killer? It seems as though you spend your free time in pursuit of this creature instead of concentrating on your own offspring. Humans and paranormals die every day. Why does it matter?”

  My mouth opened and closed like the fish in the tank. “Are you questioning my parenting?”

  “Not at all. I only mean to suggest that the elf isn’t worthy of your time and attention.”

  Anger rose in my throat. “Andrea Morton was a living, breathing being that didn’t deserve to be brutally murdered. Her killer should be brought to justice so nothing like that can happen again.”

  Calix frowned. “But it will happen again. Every day. In every corner of the world, someone dies a horrible death. Such is the nature of life.”

  “Well, aren’t you a bowl full of cherries?” Grover Wells stood framed in the doorway. With his boyish appearance, the druid healer looked like he’d stepped straight out of the pages of Kindergarten Druid magazine.

  I shot to my feet. “Hi Grover,” I said between hums. Diana continued to squirm and make soft sounds of dissatisfaction. “I’d like you to meet Calix, my father.” The words still rang hollow in my ears. In my mind, my father was still Barron Hart, not a demigod called Calix with a questionable past.

  Grover shook my father’s hand. “An honor to meet you, sir. Are you…?”

  Calix rubbed his knuckles on his lapel and then blew on them. “I believe demigod is the word you’re looking for.”

  Grover gaped at him. “Awesome.” He looked at me. “That’s so cool.”

  I forced a smile. “Isn’t it though?”

  “What can you do?” Grover asked. “Can you smite?”

  Calix jabbed him good-naturedly with an elbow. “See?” he said to me. “He gets it.” He grabbed Grover around the neck and rubbed the top of his head. “I like this druid. Perhaps you can take him as another partner.”

  Heat flooded my body. “That’s not how we do things around here, Calix. And please don’t hurt the baby’s healer, Calix. You’re stronger than you probably realize.”

  “Dad,” he corrected me. He released Grover and the druid guided us to the first exam room.

  “That’s a beautiful granddaughter you have there, sir,” Grover said. “Real talented too.”

  Calix brightened. “How so?”

  I placed Diana on the table and stood close by in case she decided to impress us by rolling over for the first time. According to the book, she had a while before that happened, but I reminded myself daily that she was a special hybrid baby and all bets were off.

  “Didn’t Emma tell you?” Grover asked. “I’m pretty sure Diana saved her life.”

  Calix beamed at the baby, who currently had her tiny fingers curled around her tiny toes. Everything about her was so very delicate. It was a wonder that any babies lived to adulthood when they seemed so fragile.

  “There was some healing involved, but it might have been because she absorbed the amaranth,” I said. “We don’t know for sure whether it was the plant or the baby or a combination of the two.” I wasn’t willing to rush to conclusions about my child’s abilities and I certainly didn’t want the entire town of Spellbound to think this baby could heal whatever ailed them. That was dangerous territory.

  “Emma, don’t be so modest,” Grover said. “Your baby has incredible healing abilities.”

  I thought of the wound Agnes had given her and how quickly it had faded. “How about we focus on the usual stuff?” I moved over so that Grover could weigh and inspect the baby.

  He made cooing sounds as he handled her. “Top percentile for height and weight. That’s a good-looking curve.”

  Top percentile, not average! I’d have to report back to the new mom group and put that smug Karyn in her place. Not that it mattered, of course.

  Calix whacked Grover on the back. “What do you expect? She’s the great-granddaughter of the goddess Nyx. It’s impossible for her to be average.”

  “It’s not really anything to be proud of,” I said. “It’s not like we can control our height or weight.” Well, not our weight at this age anyway.

  Calix sucked in a breath. “My sweet cherub, how can you say such things? Your daughter deserves your unending accolades. She is your legacy.”

  “Okay, that sounds a bit dramatic,” I said.

  Grover seemed enraptured by the demigod. “I love your attitude, sir. I hope to leave a legacy too someday.”

  Calix inclined his head toward the druid. “You see? You need to learn how to win over the masses
. I can teach you.”

  “Have you forgotten there’s a statue of me in the town square?” I clamped my hand over my mouth. What was I saying? I had no interest in winning over the masses. I just wanted to live my life with my gorgeous husband and our darling daughter. I had no plans for greatness.

  Calix wagged a finger at me. “I think we should bring Diana to see it so she can understand her mother’s appeal. Perhaps a picnic in its shadow where we can bask in its glory.”

  “I’ll consider it,” I said, if only to make him stop talking about it.

  Calix turned to the druid. “Tell me more about my granddaughter. What kind of powers does she have?”

  Grover went through the checklist in his file. “It’s too soon to tell for most things, but we’re monitoring her closely.”

  “What about wings?” he asked. “Will she inherit those from her father if she doesn’t have them already?”

  “It’s possible they’ll grow,” Grover said.

  “And spell casting?” he asked. “Will she do that too?”

  “What do you care?” I asked. I moved between him and the baby. “Just let her be Diana Hart-Starr. Let’s not worry about how we can define her.”

  “I’m only showing an interest in my grandchild,” Calix said. “I don’t mean to upset you, sunflower.” He gently squeezed my arm.

  “I’m not your sunflower,” I said, shaking him off. “I barely know you.”

  “And I’m trying to rectify that,” he said.

  Grover backed away. “I’m sensing you need a family moment.”

  “We’re not a family,” I said, more firmly than I intended.

  “Daughter, you seem angry,” Calix said. “Perhaps we should discuss this underlying hostility.”

  Grover slipped out of the exam room and closed the door behind him.

  “I’m not angry. Just frustrated.” I focused on Diana and tried to calm myself. Generally I found her presence soothing, but right now I felt too discombobulated.

  “Why?” Calix asked.

  I blinked away the tears that clung to my lashes. “You show up out of nowhere and tell me you want to be a family. You don’t think that’s bizarre?”