Helena paused to give them an admiring glance. “Have I mentioned how envious I am?”
“Once or twice.” I held out my arms. “Come on. I’ll hook my arms under your armpits.”
Helena settled into the crooks of my elbows and I sailed into the air and over the fence to Mrs. Paulson’s bedroom window. Helena reached forward and pushed up the window without resistance. She latched on and climbed over the windowsill. I waited a moment to make sure the coast was clear before folding my wings and climbing in behind her.
The room was dark and it took a second for my eyesight to adjust. The only light came from a nightlight in the shape of…I blinked twice. “Helena, is that a butt crack?” Mrs. Paulson seemed like the last person on earth who would have an inappropriate nightlight.
My cousin moved closer to scrutinize the nightlight. “I think it’s supposed to be a ladybug. You’re right though. Without the red and black, it totally looks like a butt crack.”
Mrs. Paulson remained perfectly still beneath the covers. With her head flat against the pillow and her eyes closed, she reminded me of a corpse in a casket.
Helena tripped on her way to the nightstand and a laugh escaped her. I crept over with one eye trained on Mrs. Paulson. The old woman’s breath was steady and there was no other sign of movement.
My gaze turned to the bedside table where I saw a gardening book with a ladybug bookmark poking out from the pages. In all these years, I had no idea she had a thing for ladybugs.
“A gardening book?” Helena asked, visibly disappointed. “Now can we go rearrange the pantry?”
“There’s another book underneath.” I half expected another gardening book but was delighted to see a bare-chested man on the cover of a paperback.
“Fabio?” Helena’s hand clamped over her mouth.
The model was, indeed, Fabio. “He has a sword, but I think he’s supposed to be in space,” I whispered.
Helena’s glee was palpable. “This is amazing.”
We whirled around to investigate the rest of the room and made a beeline for the bookcase.
“Jackpot,” I said.
There were at least one hundred paperbacks featuring Fabio on the cover. Fabio in a kilt. Fabio in front of an erupting volcano. Fabio on a haystack. I was so engrossed in the Fabio treasure trove that I failed to see Helena disappear into the closet. She emerged with a life-size cardboard cutout of the hair-blessed model with his signature bare chest. He wore tight pants with fringe down the sides and clutched a chain.
“I can’t decide if he’s going to whip me or lock up my bike,” I whispered.
“Why not both?” Helena asked. She jumped up and gave him a kiss on the lips.
“We should go,” I urged. We’d already pushed our luck.
At that moment, Mrs. Paulson stirred and turned her head in our direction. Helena ducked behind the cardboard cutout and I turned myself invisible.
“Hello?” she said softly. “Is someone there?”
Helena covered her mouth and tried not to laugh as she hid behind Fabio.
“Fabio?” Mrs. Paulson pulled the covers higher to cover her neck. “How did you get out of the closet?”
“I like to gaze upon your beauty while you slumber,” I said in my deepest voice. “It fills my heart with unspoken joy.”
She peered into the darkness, seemingly uncertain what was happening. “I must be dreaming,” she murmured. “The sweat on your chest looks so real. It’s glistening in the moonlight.”
“As does yours,” I said, and cringed at my response.
“Oh, Fabio.” She giggled and lowered the covers a bit to reveal a high-neck lace nightgown.
“Close your eyes and dream of me as I dream of you,” I said, maintaining my masculine timbre.
She closed her eyes and smiled. I practically shoved the cutout back into the closet and whisked Helena out the window. We landed on the ground on our knees in my backyard where we dissolved into fits of laughter.
“Don’t let anyone ever cast you in Cyrano de Bergerac. Your Fabio sounded like he didn’t make it past puberty.”
“Don’t worry. There won’t be a repeat performance.” I glanced up at the bedroom window. “Great Goddess, I hope she doesn’t remember any of that in the morning.”
Helena smiled broadly and extended a hand to help me to my feet. “Worth it,” she said.
The next morning I nursed a hangover that would’ve made the AbFab ladies proud. It was only when I went to find painkillers in the bathroom cabinet that I realized I hadn’t fully stocked my supplies yet. I threw my head back and groaned. The last thing I needed early in the morning with a pounding headache was interaction with my family, especially when we hadn’t fully resolved our fight over Tanner. On the other hand, I needed those painkillers or I’d end up with a paralyzing migraine by noon.
I roused Princess Buttercup from her spot on the dog bed and together we crossed the yard to the back door. I was hoping to slip in and out unnoticed, but everyone was already assembled in the kitchen. With dark shadows under her eyes and unkempt hair, Helena looked equally miserable.
“Well, well,” Grandma said. “Look what the cat refused to drag in.”
I hurried to the pantry and claimed the bottle of ibuprofen. “I’ll be out of your way in a second.”
“Helena says you two had a good time last night,” my mother said. “If I had realized it was a girls’ night out, I would’ve joined you.”
“There was an age limit,” I said.
Aunt Thora patted the lid of the teapot. “Sit down and have a cup with your pills. I can make you toast too.”
“Thanks, you don’t have to do that. I’ll make my own toast.”
“Nonsense. I made Helena’s. I can make yours.”
“Yes,” my mother said. “We wouldn’t want to trigger Eden’s persecution complex so early in the morning.”
“At least wait until noon,” I said. I popped a slice of bread into the toaster.
“Why not sleep in if you’re feeling so terrible?” my mother asked. “Are you such a martyr that you’re going to force yourself to walk around on two legs?”
“We can’t all spend the day on our backs,” I said.
Grandma perked up. “Zing.”
“Is there going to be another standoff or can I leave the drapes where they are?” Aunt Thora asked.
“I don’t have time to kill and bury Mom. I need to work today. There’s a missing artist and I need to find her.”
“Have you done a locator spell?” Aunt Thora asked.
“Yes, Neville and I did one at the office the other day.” I joined them at the table with my toast and Aunt Thora slid a cup of hot tea toward me.
My mother frowned. “Why would you perform a locator spell in that cramped office of yours? You can barely swing a cat in there.”
From her sun-drenched spot on the windowsill, Candy hissed at my mother.
“Why does the size of the office matter? I had one of her personal items and the spell showed us nothing.”
Aunt Thora squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea. “You have access to her gallery, don’t you? I’d do another spell there. I think you’d increase your chances.”
“I agree,” Helena said. “The artists I know have a deep connection to their work. That gallery is her heart and soul. You should surround yourself with as many of her pieces as possible.”
I shrugged and sipped the tea. “I’m willing to try anything at this point. So far, everyone loves her and no one knows any reason why she might have gone missing.”
My mother laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s a lovely sentiment, but there’s no conceivable way that everyone loves her.”
“Don’t measure Nari against yourself,” I warned. “Trust me. It isn’t a level playing field.”
My mother set down her cup and it clanked against the saucer. “Oh, Eden. Really. How long are you going to hold the Tanner thing against me?”
“You act like it was some harmle
ss prank. It wasn’t.”
“It was for your own good,” Grandma said. “And I’d do it again.”
My blood ran cold at the thought of a repeat performance. This was precisely why I opted to keep Chief Fox a secret. I knew they wouldn’t change their tune.
“Dating humans hasn’t worked out well for me,” Helena said. “Inevitably my powers get in the way.”
Aunt Thora was noticeably silent and I knew she was thinking about her own relationship with local lighthouse keeper Ted O’Neill, Chief O’Neill’s brother. They’d been separated in their youth because of his human status and it was only recently that she’d found the courage to rekindle their relationship. I hoped that she’d be my ally should my secret get out, but she had a history of being overpowered by my mouthier mother and grandmother.
“I should get moving,” I said. Now that I had a new plan of action, I was eager to get underway.
“If you’re going to do a locator spell, maybe you could also do the one we talked about last night,” Helena said.
“Do you have a personal item I could use?” I asked.
“Who else is missing?” Grandma asked.
“Not a who, a what,” Helena lied. “I lost something when I was in town the other day and asked Eden to help me find it.”
“We’ll deal with your thing later,” I said, eager to escape the main house.
As I left the house, I called Neville and instructed him to meet me at the gallery with his wizard toys.
“They’re not toys, Agent Fury.”
“They look like toys and you like to play with them. How do they not qualify as wizard toys?”
I could practically hear his eyes roll on the other end of the phone. “I will gather the necessary tools to complete the aforementioned task, O wondrous one, and meet you at the gallery in fifteen minutes.”
I prayed to the gods that this locator spell worked better than the last one. At this rate, I was beginning to lose hope that we’d ever find Nari.
Neville waited outside the gallery and we used a simple unlocking spell to override the basic mechanism. One of the perks of being raised by ethically-challenged witches was knowing how to break and enter.
“You seem a bit rough around the edges this morning, Agent Fury.”
“It was a late night. That reminds me, Agent Redmond’s in town.”
The wizard perked up. “Really? Should we invite him here?”
“It’s not a performance review, Neville. He’s here on another case.”
His expression crumpled. I knew how the wizard felt. His people-pleasing reflexes were stronger than mine.
We performed the same spell we’d done in the office, only this time we were surrounded by Nari’s artwork instead of Dungeons and Dragons figurines. Helena was right; I could feel the difference in energy. Even without the jacket, a connection to Nari would be more powerful here.
Neville’s eyes opened and he looked at me. “She isn’t on this plane.”
I blew out the nearest candle. “What does that mean? Do you think she’s in Otherworld?”
“No. The call is coming from inside the house,” he said in his best horror movie voice.
“What are you talking about?”
He crossed the room to flip on the light switch and nearly blinded me in the process.
“A little warning next time,” I complained.
He blew out the remaining candles. “I mean that she’s both here and not here.”
My chest tightened. “She’s a ghost like Alice?”
“Not a ghost.” He walked along the perimeter of the gallery, appearing to size up each painting as he went.
“Neville, now really isn’t the time for art appreciation.”
“I’m not appreciating it. I’m trying to determine…” He swiveled to look at me. “You have a keen sense of magical energy, Agent Fury.”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“Take a tour of the room. Where do you feel the most magic?”
“Nari works with magic-infused paint,” I said. “They’re all going to feel that way.” I stopped talking as the realization landed. “Great balls of fury! You think she’s inside one of her paintings?”
He clasped his hands behind his back and scrutinized another painting. “I do believe she is.”
“How?” I sputtered. “Why?”
He craned his neck to regard me. “Those are questions that hopefully she’ll be able to answer once you find her.”
I walked to each painting and stood in front of it, closing my eyes to try and focus on the energy level. It was like trying to pinpoint a ley line. I had to block out everything else including the dozens of questions racing around my head and let myself simply feel.
I completed a tour of the room with Neville pacing impatiently behind me.
“Well?” he prompted.
“They all feel the same to me. Are you sure your spell worked? Let’s face it. Getting sucked into a painting Jumanji-style is a little weird.”
“As opposed to all the other supernatural activity that’s happened in this town?”
“Good point.” I turned toward the office, thinking I would check there for energy when it occurred to me that a painting was missing. “Hang on. Where’s the painting she was working on when she disappeared?” I’d completely forgotten about it because it was no longer in its original place.
“Do you mean this one?” Neville pointed to the counter. Sure enough, the unfinished painting was on the floor leaning against the wall, partially obscured by the counter.
“Sean must’ve moved it when he was here,” I said. I didn’t even need to reach the canvas before I felt an intense thrum of magic. “Of course,” I whispered.
“It’s that one?”
“Yes.” I stared at the painting—what there was of it. I had no clue what it was meant to be. Nari had said she had an idea but didn’t want to share in case she changed direction.
“Not much of a painting. Are you certain?”
I pressed my hands against the sides of my head as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “Nari mentioned she was using a new set of paints for this and Kirby Germain said she sometimes takes samples before he’s finished his testing phase. I bet the paint went haywire and sucked her in.”
The wizard came to stand beside me. “Ah. It seems patience would’ve been a virtue for both of them.”
I shrugged. “She’s a creative who follows her muse.” Straight into an incomplete painting, apparently.
Neville folded his arms as he contemplated the mostly blank canvas. “If she’s trapped in an unfinished piece, it’s impossible to know what kind of plane it is. What kind of dangers she might encounter.”
“Doesn’t matter. Either way, I need to get her out.” I clapped my hands together, ready to go. “So, how do we do that?”
“I’m afraid this is above my level,” Neville said. “I can consult the wizard forum and see what other options exist.”
“That will take too long. Those wizards spend days just deciding on new user names.”
“Then what do you suggest?” His sun-deprived skin grew paler. “Not your family?”
I blew out a breath. “I hate to involve them, but it’s the kind of thing they can do.” I pulled out my phone and reluctantly called my mother.
“What is it, Eden?” my mother asked in a clipped tone. “Are you locked out of the barn already? If you’re going to insist on locking it, you should leave us a spare key.”
“I’m at Nari’s art gallery and I have a situation. Put me on speaker.”
“Are you sure?” my mother asked. “The last time I put you on speaker, you acted like the world was collapsing in on itself like a dying star.”
Inwardly, I sighed. “Gee, maybe that’s because you were at Chophouse on a date and I was telling you about my horrible menstrual cramps. Switching me to speaker phone seemed a tad inappropriate.”
I could practically hear my mother bristling. “You can be so di
fficult, Eden. Forever moving the goal post like that cartoon girl, Lacey.”
“Lucy.”
“See? You have to be right about everything too.”
I pushed aside my annoyance and pressed on, explaining that I believed Nari was trapped inside her own painting. “I can’t do it alone.”
“You’re a fury, for crying out loud. What are you afraid of?”
“No, I mean I can’t do it alone. It’s not possible.”
My mother hesitated. “I don’t even know this Nari and I have plans later. What if I get stuck in there too?”
“And I’m old,” Grandma shouted in the background.
“I’ll do it,” Helena piped up.
“Do you hear that, Eden?” my mother said. “Your cousin has agreed to help. I guess your family is useful on occasion. You should remember that the next time you’re busy shunning us.”
“No offense to Helena, but she’s a temporal demon, not a witch. She can only make me think I’m in the painting, not actually obtain an all-access pass.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Eden, but you’ll have to figure this out on your own. My magic is a burden, remember? It ruins your life, so I don’t see how it can possibly be of use to you now.”
She hung up before I could object. If my mother could stop being petty for five seconds and see that using her magic to help those in need was actually a good thing, a step toward redemption…It didn’t matter. She clearly had no interest in being better than she was.
“What now?” Neville pressed.
“Thankfully, they’re not the only coven in town.” I tapped the screen and waited for a witch to answer. “Good morning, Adele. I have a situation.” Once I explained, she agreed to help without hesitation. “Adele wants to know if we have any Lawsonia inermis. She needs it for the spell and she’s out.”
Neville nodded. “In the supply closet at the office.”
“We’re good to go, Adele. See you here soon.” I clicked off and scrolled to another number.
“Now who are you calling?” Neville asked.
“Chief Fox. I promised to keep him updated.”
Every Picture Tells A Fury (Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery Book 8) Page 15
