Every Picture Tells A Fury (Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery Book 8)

by Annabel Chase

Chief Fox’s worldview expanded when he saw me die and come back to life. There was no way around the truth, though, not after he witnessed such a monumental event. There are certain things you can’t lie your way out of and resurrection is one of them.

  Mayor Wilhelmina Whitehead swooped toward us with a waiter in tow. “Good evening, you two.”

  “Mayor, it’s nice to see you,” I said to the statuesque woman. If I didn’t know for a fact that she was human, I could’ve easily mistaken her for an Amazon.

  “I didn’t expect such a great turnout this evening,” the mayor said. “I come every month and tend to see the same faces.”

  “I’m here for a purpose. I have a wall that apparently needs an oversized canvas that only Nari can supply.”

  The mayor shifted to Chief Fox. “And you? Does the station require a splash of beauty?”

  “Well, I figured a nice painting might do unless Eden wouldn’t mind stopping by on a regular basis and standing in front of the wall.”

  The mayor smiled at me. “If she’s in that dress, the station might find itself inundated with people turning themselves in.”

  “The objects are on the wall,” I reminded them, “but I appreciate the compliment.”

  “Do you have your eye on any painting in particular?” Mayor Whitehead asked.

  “I haven’t made it around the gallery yet, but I like this one.” I inclined my head to the nearest painting.

  “Don’t be hasty,” the mayor advised. “Tour the gallery before you make a decision. You never know what else will speak to you. It’s art, not a slotted spoon.”

  The server arrived with a selection of cheeses and I deliberated for a full sixty seconds before taking chunks of cheddar and manchego.

  The mayor frowned. “Oh, there’s Jayson Swift. I should probably duck for cover before he tries to schmooze me.”

  “Have a good night, Mayor,” I said. As soon as she was out of earshot, I swatted the chief’s arm. “You’re not supposed to flirt with me in front of people.”

  He couldn’t resist a grin. “What? I was being charming.”

  “Be charming when we’re alone. If you flirt like that in front of Helena, she’ll know it’s you.”

  “What’s me?”

  “She guessed that I’m involved with someone and wants to know more.”

  “She’ll have to catch us first.” He looped his arm through mine and steered me through the crowd. “Let’s do as the mayor suggested and look at all the paintings before you decide. Wouldn’t want you to settle.”

  The moment my gaze fell upon the next painting, I knew it was the one. It seemed to call to me. The color palette, the imagery—everything about it cried out for my living room wall.

  Chief Fox snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Eden.”

  “That one.” I pointed to the painting and the chief turned to study it.

  “It’s called The Rescue,” he said. “Seems appropriate.”

  A nymph rode a beautiful pegasus above a wild ocean, their bodies so entwined that the wings seemed to belong to both of them. The blues and greens of the turbulent waves and the white of the pegasus were ideal for the color scheme in the barn. The longer I looked at the picture, the more my chest filled with longing.

  “I don’t need to see any others,” I said.

  “The painting has chosen you, has it?” A petite woman with stick-straight dark hair and deep brown eyes appeared beside us. “I’m Nari. Welcome to my gallery.”

  “Nari, it’s great to meet you. I’m Eden Fury.”

  “And you’re the chief of police,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’ve seen you around, but we haven’t officially met.”

  “Sawyer Fox.” He shook her hand. “What did you mean when you said the painting has chosen her?”

  “It was an instant connection, yes?” Nari asked me. “Like meeting your soulmate.”

  My gaze flicked nervously to the chief at the mention of a soulmate. “Uh, yes. I guess so. I felt immediately drawn to it.”

  “And you’re in the market for a painting?” she pressed.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Then the stars are in alignment. How wonderful.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I love when this happens. It isn’t every day, so I like to savor the moment.”

  “This isn’t typical?” I asked.

  “People buying my paintings is typical, but forging an instant bond…” She shook her head. “That is something else entirely.”

  “I feel like it was meant for my wall,” I said, staring at the painting. “Like the spot has been waiting for this exact painting.”

  Nari smiled. “As I said, a soulmate connection.”

  “I hope I can afford it,” I said. “I just bought a truckload of furniture from Foster.”

  “The painting chooses wisely,” Nari said. “If you could not afford it, it would not have called to you.”

  Well, that was good news.

  “The ocean looks almost three-dimensional,” I said. “Like if I touched it, the waves would feel wet.”

  Nari seemed pleased by my comment. “Thank you. I use only the best materials and let the muse guide me. I’ll let you continue to look around. It was lovely to meet you.”

  “You too.” As I observed the artwork, I wondered whether Nari used more than paint to produce her pieces. They seemed to have a magical quality to them, although I sensed that Nari herself was a kitsune so she wasn’t directly responsible for any magic.

  Chief Fox nudged me. “Terrific. Jayson Swift just spotted me.”

  “What’s the problem with Swift, other than the fact that’s he an opportunistic scumbag?” Swift is the type of lawyer that made other lawyers want to take a shower and get the stink off after a meeting with him.

  “I had a run-in with him earlier today over a parking ticket.” The chief shook his head. “He’s got the holler tail.”

  I squinted at him. “He’s got a tail?” I cut a quick glance at the lawyer as he threaded his way through the crowd with a slimy smile. “I always thought he was human.”

  Chief Fox chuckled. “Not an actual tail. It means he’s in a terrible mood.”

  “Since when? Is this Iowa-speak?”

  “Apparently so. I thought it was universal.”

  I leaned closer, but not so close as to arouse unwanted attention. “Talk to me in Iowan,” I said in a sultry voice.

  His laugh was low and sexy. “Ever hear of puppy chow?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Even you can’t make dog food sound sexy.”

  “It isn’t dog food. It’s dessert.”

  “I’ll believe it when you make it.”

  “I’d be happy to.” He touched my elbow. “I’m going to the bar. Why don’t I swap yours for a fresh one?”

  I polished off the last gulp and handed him the empty glass.

  “Be right back,” he said with a wink.

  “Eden, I didn’t expect to see you here this evening.”

  I turned to see my stepmother, Sally. As usual, the vampire was impeccably dressed in a black pantsuit with a wide belt and black heels. A gold choker wrapped around her elegant neck and her hair and makeup were flawless.

  “I’m buying a painting for the barn.” I pointed to The Rescue.

  Sally brightened. “How marvelous. Oh, Eden, that’s a wonderful choice.”

  “How much is it?” my father bellowed, appearing beside Sally. I hadn’t even realized he was here. Art wasn’t exactly his thing.

  “I’m not sure exactly, but I can afford it.”

  “How do you know if you don’t know the price?” he demanded.

  “Because the painting said so.” Hmm. I’d clearly enjoyed a little too much wine if that was my answer.

  My father’s brow furrowed, but he refrained from comment. “I saw Helena over there. I didn’t know she was in town.”

  “She arrived unexpectedly today.”

  “I don’t like her hair,” my father s
aid. “It’s too short.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be gutted to hear your opinion,” I replied glibly.

  “She looks adorable,” Sally said, “although I do prefer longer hair on a woman. It’s more feminine.”

  “The only one Helena needs to please is herself,” I said. “If she’s happy with her own reflection, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

  “That’s obviously your mindset,” my father said.

  Sally nudged him. “Stanley, mind your tongue. Eden looks ravishing this evening.”

  “She’s a troublemaker, that one. Mark my words, her presence here means collateral damage.” My father cast a suspicious glance across the room at Helena where my cousin was balancing a full flute of champagne on her nose for an adoring crowd. For a temporal demon, she’s always been unusually social. It’s one of the reasons she lands on her feet more often than not. People tend to like her enough to give her a chance. Those outside of Chipping Cheddar anyway.

  “Dad, be nice. Helena’s never done anything to you.”

  “No, but she did plenty to you when you were kids. Don’t you remember that time she caused hallucinations at your birthday party? Those parents thought we’d drugged their kids.”

  I remembered it well, in fact, including my own hallucination. “We were both young and she wasn’t in control of her abilities then.”

  My father offered a derisive snort. “If you think that was an accident, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.”

  “No thanks. I’m maxed on out bridges. You’ve been selling them to me since I was about ten. If this were a board game, I’d control all the ports.”

  “Try to relax and enjoy yourself, Stanley. If there’s an issue, Eden can handle herself.” Sally took a dainty sip of wine. The elegant vampire was so different from my mother that it was hard to understand how my father could have fallen in love with both of them.

  “That’s right. Federal agent, remember?” I tapped an imaginary badge on my chest.

  “Sally, what a delightful surprise.” A man in a white shirt and magenta tie leaned over to kiss my stepmom on the cheek.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here. Stanley, Eden. This is Colin Andrew. He owns Majestic Cheese around the corner.”

  “Oh, right. Colin Andrews,” my father said, nodding. “You’ve mentioned those cakes made out of cheese.”

  “It’s Andrew,” Colin said, emphasizing the ‘w’. “No ’s’ at the end.”

  My father grimaced. “Two first names?”

  Uh oh. I felt a Stanley Fury rant coming on.

  “Andrew is my surname, not a first name,” Colin said evenly.

  Wrong answer, Colin.

  My father shook his head in disgust. “What ever happened to good, old-fashioned Andrews, huh? Why do people feel the need to be fancy special snowflakes? What do you have against the letter ’s’ anyway? My name begins with ’s’ and so does my wife’s. It’s a perfectly respectable letter.”

  Sally stroked his arm in an effort to soothe the savage beast. “Now, Stanley. Remember what the doctor said about letting yourself get worked up.”

  Colin wasn’t interested in my father’s heart condition. He’d been maligned and he clearly wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “I’ll have you know, Mr. Fury, that Andrew without an ’s’ is among the surnames of the earliest settlers in this fine country. Anthony Andrew was recorded in Virginia in the year 1623. The name—without an ’s’—dates back to the year 1237. You can find it in the ancient charters of Buckinghamshire.”

  “That’s a county in England,” I said.

  “I know what it is,” my father said crossly, his face now red with anger and indignation. “I need air.” He stomped off toward the exit with Sally close behind him.

  I smiled apologetically at Colin. “You’ll have to excuse my dad. He doesn’t leave the house much.”

  Colin took the moment in stride. “No worries. I’m here most months and once in a while there’s a patron to contend with who enjoyed a little too much free booze. Nari appreciates it when her friends play bouncer so she doesn’t have to be cross with anyone. She’s far too amiable.”

  “Oh, you’re friends with Nari?”

  “We went to art school together.”

  “Nice.”

  Chief Fox returned with a full glass for me and Nari by his side.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” I said. “Any chance I can claim The Rescue now? I don’t want to miss out.”

  “Consider it yours,” Nari said.

  “Well done,” Colin added. “You have a good eye.”

  Nari turned to admire her painting. “I hope it brings you as much joy as I had creating it. Come by tomorrow morning at ten and I’ll have it wrapped and ready for you.”

  “That’s perfect.” Chief Fox was scheduled to come by for lunch tomorrow, so at least he’d be able to help me with it. I didn’t trust myself not to hang it crooked.

  My phone vibrated in my purse. “Excuse me one second,” I said, stepping away from the group. I assumed it would be Sally to tell me that they were headed home, but Clara’s name flashed on the screen. “Clara?”

  “Yes, who else?”

  I pressed the phone to my ear. She sounded like she was calling from Mars. “Why do you sound so faint?”

  “I’m eavesdropping. I need you to get over here now. Something supernatural is about to happen.”

  “Where’s here? You’re the psychic, remember? I don’t know where you are.”

  “Empath,” she corrected me. “And I’m in the basement of Barely Buzzed Books.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Just get over here now,” she hissed.

  “I’m at an art gallery thingamajig. I’m wearing a dress.”

  “An incredibly sexy dress,” the chief whispered in my ear, prompting a pleasant shiver down my spine. I hadn’t realized he was right behind me.

  “I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

  “Lake Shitaqua,” Clara said—her version of swearing—and then silence.

  My gut twisted and I clicked off the phone. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

  The chief plucked the wine glass from my hand. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

  “Absolutely. Secret lunch at my place.” I brushed my hand against his, wishing it could be my lips.

  “Be safe,” he murmured.

  “That’s the plan,” I called over my shoulder, except it wasn’t my safety I was worried about.

  Chapter Four

  Once I left the gallery, I whipped off my heels and prepared to run at supernatural speed to the bookstore. I’d barely unstrapped the first shoe when I realized Helena was beside me.

  “You’re heading out already?”

  “Oh, sorry. I should’ve told you. There’s an emergency. I need to go.”

  “Go where?”

  I lowered my voice. “There might be a work issue I need to deal with.”

  Helena’s eyes glimmered in the streetlight. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Not a good idea.” I sprinted to the bookstore without a backward glance.

  The interior was dark and there was no sign of life. Knowing Clara was in the basement, I figured I’d try the front door anyway.

  “This is your emergency?”

  I whirled around to see Helena behind me. It was Grandma all over again. “I told you not to come.”

  “I was bored, but it’s too early to go home. I don’t want to listen your mother wax poetic about some guy she met in the supermarket checkout line.”

  I gave her a wry smile. “Welcome to my world.”

  “No, I want you to welcome me to this world.” She jabbed a thumb toward the bookstore. “Come on. You know I’m good in a fight.”

  Helena was definitely scrappy and I had no idea what I was walking into. For all I knew, it could be an ambush. “Fine, but follow my lead. No sudden moves.”

  I clicked open the front door and crept through the dark
ness to the staircase that led to the basement. Helena did as she was told and stayed right behind me.

  I didn’t dare call Clara’s name, not without knowing what was going on. I peered around the corner, but there was no sign of my friend. I knew that she’d been investigating the Puritan Club for an article she was writing for the newspaper, The Buttermilk Bugle. The club included descendants of the town founders and I’d recently learned that they held secret meetings in this basement. It was the only thing that made sense.

  A clattering sound echoed in the quiet and I darted forward to listen outside a closed door. Chanting. There was chanting.

  Uh oh.

  Slowly, I twisted the knob and peeked inside. A group of people in black cloaks stood in a circle outlined by burning candles. In the middle of the circle sat Clara, bound and gagged.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.

  “What?” Helena asked quietly. She shifted me aside for a sneak peek. “Is that Clara?”

  I nodded mutely, debating my options. I couldn’t go charging in there as Agent Fury, supernatural extraordinaire. What if they were only human dabblers? I suddenly wished I’d brought the chief instead of my demon cousin.

  The Latin words started rolling off their tongues fast and furiously. Okay, they were either trying to summon a demon or conjugate verbs. My money was on the demon.

  The good news was that meant I could intervene. I’d just have to walk a fine line between scaring them to death and stopping a demon resurrection.

  “Let’s get in there.” Helena urged me forward.

  I held up a hand to stop her. Not yet, my eyes told her.

  The chanting ceased and there was what could only be described as an awkward silence.

  “Who’s got the knife?” a muffled voice asked.

  “Not me,” someone replied.

  “Merciful Hecate. It’s amateur hour,” Helena breathed.

  Unsurprising, but glad to have confirmation.

  “Grier had it last.”

  A glint of silver flashed in the candlelight.

  “That’s a butter knife, moron.”

  “Fiddlesticks, I grabbed the wrong one,” a female voice said. The silver disappeared, stowed back in the deep recesses of the cloak.

  Clara’s derisive snort was evident, despite the gag. It was time to intervene before someone developed unexpected competence. Before I could make my move, Helena shoved me into the room and I stumbled over my feet.