by Tegan Maher
Turns out, she was right. Seven hours later, Matt strode into the waiting room, his face split into the widest grin I think I’ve ever seen. By that time, Addy and Belle, along with Cheri Lynn, had shown up, too. It was a packed house.
“It’s a girl, everybody,” he exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. “She wants to show her off, so come on!”
I waited while everybody else took their turns oohing and ahhhing, then stepped forward. Something materialized in my hand right as I reached out to touch the newest member of our family. The necklace dangled from my fingers and Anna Mae’s bloodshot eyes widened in shock.
“Noelle, where did you get that?” she asked, her gaze glued to the piece of jewelry.
I shrugged. “I found it at the fairgrounds. It’s another of those mystery pieces that keeps showing up in random places. I reckon its rightful owner will turn up eventually.”
Tears ran down her face as she reached for it.
“It has an inscription on the back,” I said, surprised at her reaction.
“I know,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “To Faye. May we always be as happy as we are today. Love, Jesse.”
I scrunched my forehead in confusion. “How did you know that?”
“Because,” she said, crying freely now. “It was my mama’s. Daddy gave it to her on the day I was born.”
Her parents had died in a car crash over a decade ago, so I didn’t understand how it had ended up at the fairgrounds. Of course, magic didn’t always have an explanation.
Matt had moved back to her side. He laid his hand on her arm and said, “It looks like we have a name.”
Anna Mae nodded through her tears. “We do. Faye Amelia, after my mama and yours.”
I smiled down at little Faye and she smiled back as she grasped my finger in her tiny hand. I whispered a blessing over her and breathed a bit of my magic into it.
I glanced around the room at the wonderful, motley crew that was my family. All eyes were on our newest addition, and if one thing was clear, it was that little Faye Amelia already had every single one of us wrapped around her pudgy little finger.
And none of us would have it any other way. After all, we had our hard times as well as our good, but the one thing that never changed was the bond between us. We were family, and that meant everything.
As always, my life was blessed, and all was well in Keyhole.
Thank You!
I know my style isn’t for everybody but know that I appreciate your time and kind words via email and reviews. Also, if you’ve followed me through the series, thanks for allowing me a little latitude when I take a few sentences here and there to introduce our people and explain references to happenings in other books for anybody who may be starting here instead of with Sweet Murder. I want everybody to enjoy each book, and that helps. If you would take a minute to leave a review so others can decide whether this series is for them, I would be grateful.
To have the next book in the Keyhole Lake series, Murder at Midnight, delivered straight to your Kindle as soon as it releases, click here!
While you’re waiting, I’d like to invite you to try out The Deadly Daiquiri, book one in my Enchanted Coast Magical Mysteries series. I’ve attached a preview next.
The Deadly Daiquiri
Chapter 1
"STAN, WHAT HAVE I TOLD you about bringing the Cupid's bow into the bar? And adjust your diaper. None of us want to see what's under that."
I heaved a sigh of exasperation. I loved my job, but sometimes I felt more like a babysitter at a daycare center than a cocktail waitress at a magical beach resort.
He scowled as he reached for his margarita. "It's a loincloth. And what do you want me to do—leave my bow and arrows in my room? They won't fit in the safe."
Cyri, the faerie sitting one table over, turned to look at him. "That's easy enough to fix," she said, adjusting her lavender ponytail. She dipped her finger into a waterproof pouch hanging from the pink lanyard around her neck, then sprinkled a small pinch of sparkling dust over the bow and quiver.
Stan watched in fascinated horror as the tool of his trade shrunk to a tenth of its size. "You can't just do that," he said, indignant. "What if I get called out to a job?"
She snorted. "That's like your fourth margarita. You're in no condition to fly, anyway. And I've only been with Aiden a few months. It would be a disaster if he accidentally knicked himself with one of those arrows on his way to the bathroom. I'm not ready for the whole L-word scenario."
I smiled as I walked away. Stan was in the middle of an existential crisis. His problem was that he was a romantic at heart, and his job wasn't just a job to him—it was his passion. Between the free-love movement and easy, DIY divorces, he was having a hard time believing he hadn't outlived his purpose.
So, he was on an extended vacation to find himself and decide whether or not he should retire. But just because I felt sorry for the guy didn't mean I could give him a pass on the bow. Can you imagine how the I love you, man phase of intoxication would work if a hammered cupid wanted to make the whole bar happy at closing time? Yeah, no love-laced arrows allowed.
I delivered the last drinks on my tray to a group of sunbathing selkies that were regulars, thinking how hot their seal-skin beach blankets must be. Before you get upset about animal cruelty, selkies are seals in the water but shed their skins to become human on land. The skins they were lying on were their own.
I couldn't blame them for keeping them secure though. Julius, their leader, had left his skin unattended at the bar when he'd gone to the bathroom a while back, and we’d had to lock down the whole resort for a couple of hours.
A beach attendant had mistakenly picked it up and thrown it into the laundry, and since I'd been the one to call for the lock-down and the one to find it, he'd granted me honorary membership in his pod. In short, when they came every few months, they requested me, and they always tipped generously. It was job security, but it made me feel good, too.
Angie, Julius's wife, passed the martinis down the row, taking a sip from the last one.
"Divine as always," she said, licking the vodka mustache off her upper lip. "Tell Bob he used just the right amount of anchovy juice."
I bit back a shudder at the phantom flavor and assured her I would. As I picked my way through the tables back to the shade of the tiki bar, I picked up a few more drink orders along the way.
Plunking my tray down on the server's deck at the bar, I leaned over and rested my chin in my hand while I waited for Bob, the Bigfoot bartender, to finish telling a joke to a broody werewolf. I don't know why he bothered—the guy hadn't cracked a smile the whole week he'd been there. He'd eaten his weight in steak and was a fat tipper, though, so I guess Bob felt obligated.
The big lug tended to be a people-pleaser anyway, so the more somebody rejected his efforts, the harder he tried. That alone kinda made me want to crack the shifter with my tray for being such a buzzkill.
I shifted over a couple of feet and adjusted a fan so that it was blowing in my face. The heat was brutal, and there hadn't been a mermaid or water nymph around all day. I liked it when they came because it gave me an excuse to wade out to the water bar to wait on them—a definite plus when the thermometer pushed past ninety.
We also had a huge salt-chlorinated, zero-entry infinity pool that had a direct-connect to the ocean, so it was available to everybody. Unfortunately, it was closed for cleaning; a group of unicorns had their son's birthday party there the day before and ... kids were kids. So, no wading around the edges to deliver drinks. The fan would have to do.
Bob lumbered over to pick up my drink ticket. "Man, that guy's tough," he whispered. "I'm throwin' my best material at him, and nothin’. I can't get him to look away from that laptop.”
I tilted my head and examined the guy in question as he stared at the screen like it held the secrets to the universe. Good looking, as most werewolves were, but he lacked the lightheartedness that marked most of h
is kind.
"What's his deal, anyway?”
"No idea," Bob said, muddling mint and simple syrup for a mojito. "He's met with Cass a couple times, but that's it. And every time he has, his mood's seemed worse."
That wasn't an atypical response to dealing with our boss though, so it didn't add anything to the speculation. It would have been more unusual had he come away smiling.
Speaking of ...
"Maganti!" Somebody bellowed my last name from behind me.
Before turning, I pulled a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth, counting to five as I did.
My boss, Cassiel—otherwise known as the disgraced Angel of Temperance—was a blow-hard and an idiot. I wasn't sure who'd assigned him to be the figurehead of that particular virtue, but apparently, they hadn't been practicing it themselves when they'd made the call.
It had taken a few millennia, but he'd finally pushed his luck one too many times with the powers that be and was tossed out on his ear, much to the chagrin of everybody in the mortal realm, or at least those of us who lived on the Enchanted Coast. Managing the beach bar was his booby prize, and he lorded over it like the planet owed him a living.
As usual, he was already half in the bag, which meant he was gonna be even more horrid than he was when sober. He was the only downside to this job. Well, him and sand in awkward places, but the latter was an easy fix.
Bob finished making the last of my drinks and ambled the couple of steps back to me, a concerned expression on his heavy features as he set them down.
"Don't bait him, Destiny," he pleaded under his breath. "Just find out what he wants, do it, then ignore him. He's just looking for an excuse to can you. Again."
"He can try," I said, lifting a shoulder. He'd fired me the previous summer, for three weeks until word spread to my regulars. It seemed I had a following that had some pull with the higher-ups. Not only had I been reinstated, but I'd also gotten a raise. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well with Cassiel.
Still, I loved my job, and goodwill was a fickle beast. As a people person and a water witch who didn't want to live in the closet, the Enchanted Coast—a magical vacation resort on the Gulf of Mexico designed to meet the needs of paranormals—was the best of all worlds. So, in the interest of keeping the peace, I pivoted toward him, gritting my teeth and pasting on a smile.
"Yeah, Cass?" I said, putting everything I had into being pleasant.
Not even attempting to return the courtesy, he gestured toward the outside tables. "The place is a mess. That table needs to be bussed, and there are empty cups everywhere. And those fans are for guests only—not lazy waitresses."
I glanced around the area and ran my tongue over my teeth. "First," I said, still trying to maintain my fragile mask of civility, "that table is occupied. They're in the water. Second, there are exactly two empty cups, both of which just blew out of the trash can when you stormed by it and flexed your wings." I decided to let the fan comment drop. "But I'll get right on it."
I had no idea what the reason was for his animosity. He'd despised me from day one, even before he’d had to eat crow and hire me back. I could get along with the devil himself if he was willing to meet me halfway, but despite my efforts, Cass refused to play nice.
After a while, I'd given up. The only thing I could figure was I'd been offered his job before he was sentenced to it. I’d turned it down because I would have gotten paid less to do more after I added in my tips.
"And since you have time to stand around," he sneered, foul as always, "Go clean out the unicorn pen. People can see those rainbow turds from the hotel, and the cotton-candy smell is disgusting."
Bending over to pick up the cups, I muttered an anatomically impossible suggestion for what he could go do.
"What was that?" he asked, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me.
I heaved a sigh. As usual, I was gonna have to be the bigger person. "Nothin' Cass," I said, waving him off as I went for the shovel. "Just ... have another drink."
With one stroke of the ginormous ashen wings that marked him as a fallen angel, he was towering over me, swaying a little, the smell of old whiskey seeping from his pores. I straightened my spine as my magic surged. The last thing I was willing to do was to give in to a bully, even if he was an angel, and my boss to boot.
"Hey Cass," a centaur named Evan called from behind him, "cut her some slack. My drink hasn't gone empty all day, and she just finished busting her ass keeping a ten-top of gorgons happy. She's earned a minute in front of the fan."
Fiona, the leader of the gorgons he was referencing, exited the bathroom in time to hear Evan's comment, patting her turban to make sure all her snakes were safely tucked away. She glided over to me and handed me an extra fifty, assessing the situation as she did so. Cass was no stranger to her, nor was he a friend.
"Thanks, sweetie. You were a doll as always," she said, giving me a faint smile along with the bill.
She peered down her nose at Cass, her lip curled in disgust. "Bitter angel. Unless you'd like a peek at my girls, I suggest you be nice."
She was talking about the ones under her turban, not the ones under her bathing-suit wrap—you know, the ones that could turn him to stone. Fascinated as everybody else was with the exchange, they turned away just in case.
"That won't be necessary," he ground out, glaring at me.
"Pity," she said, flapping a hand. "The resort could use an angel statue and it would be my pleasure to donate one." She maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds, possibly hoping he'd give her a reason, then turned and strode away.
Cass turned to me as I picked up the cups and pointed an angry, albeit shaky, finger at me. "One of these days, I'm gonna find a reason to fire you for good."
My thin veneer of respect slipped, and I spun on him, my sense of fair play offended beyond reason. I hadn't done anything to deserve his attitude.
"Yeah," I said, shoving the cups down in the can with more force than was necessary, "and one of these days, my fairy godmother’s gonna grant my wish and you'll drop dead for good. But until one of those days arrives, I guess we're stuck with each other."
Chapter 2
After making himself a Jack and water, Cass strode past the mystery werewolf, who was at his regular spot at the bar, as if he didn't know him and out to a waterside table where two of his minions, a couple of shady-looking gargoyles, were sitting.
Amber and Dax, a local mermaid couple who stopped by once or twice a week, showed up not long after the exchange.
"Hey guys," I said, thankful for the chance to wade out into the cool water. "Your usuals?"
"Yes, please," Amber replied. "Can you ask Bob to put it in a tall glass? I have to pick the kids up later, so I need to keep it between the water markers."
"Sure thing," I grinned. She was one of the sweetest people I'd ever known, and they were fat tippers to boot. I loved to see them pop up.
On my way back to the bar, two bougie-looking women sitting at a patio table close to the pool flagged me down.
“Hey, ladies!” I said. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Destiny. What can I get for you? Bob’s margaritas are amazing, and he makes a mean rumrunner, too.”
The older of the two, a brunette with expensive highlights, pulled her oversized sunglasses down and looked at me over the top of them, brow raised. “I have my doubts. Bring me a martini, dirty.”
The younger girl, a strawberry blonde about my age, flushed with embarrassment and gave me an apologetic smile. “The rumrunner sounds awesome. I’ll give it a try. And some chips and salsa would be great, too.”
I felt bad for her and hoped the woman was nicer to her than she had been to me. For her sake, I bit my tongue and didn’t tell the battle-ax she was with exactly what she could do with her martini. Instead, I ignored her altogether and smiled at the nice one.
“I’ll be right back with that, and I’ll bring a couple menus, too.”
That elicited a real smile from her
, and a mild wave of inertia washed over me, followed by an echo of attraction. Whoa. A succubus. Usually, I was fully prepared or situations like that and had my magical guards up, but her companion’s rudeness had distracted me. She gave me an understanding smile.
The older woman gave a huff of disgust. “Don’t bother with the menu. I’m sure the martini will be bad enough.” She flipped a room card at me. “Put it on this.”
I glowered at the woman but zipped my lip. I didn’t need the hassle. I’d learned long ago that miserable people loved company, and I refused to play her game.
“Wow,” I told Bob when I made it to the bar. I wish I were the type of waitress to spit in somebody’s drink because that dirty martini would have a bonus ingredient. She’s awful.”
Bob gave a dismissive wave. “Screw her. If she wants to be miserable, let her. Life’s too short.” He waggled his brows. “Plus, there’s no need to waste a good rumrunner on somebody who wouldn’t appreciate it, anyway.”
Tempest, my black-and-white fox familiar, peeped an eye open from where she was curled up on a pillow in front of a fan. “Turn her into a gnat.”
I’d just taken a drink of water, and I about choked. “Say what, now?” The heat made her grumpy, but she was usually the voice of reason in our relationship.
She raised her head from the pillow. “Not for good or anything. I mean, obviously, you’d have to turn her back. But I swear, people like that stroll through life walkin’ on waitresses and bartenders and anybody else who has no choice but to put up with them, and there are zero consequences. Ten minutes as a gnat might do her some good. Teach her some respect. You’d be doin’ everybody in the service industry a favor.”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t do that, even if it would.”
She tilted her head. “Sure you can. It’s one teensy, weensy little spell.”
