Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells

by Danielle Garrett

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “Harmony’s a big fan,” I told Holly, though I’d already given her a heads up when we’d made the plans over the phone a few weeks ago.

  “I’m flattered,” Holly said.

  Harmony took her hand and shook it vigorously. “I’ve followed your work for a while now. You’re like a celebrity in the potion world. I mean, you basically grew an empire in like eighteen months!”

  Holly laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it an empire, but I’m working on it. In fact, six weeks ago, I signed a lease for my first storefront. But that’s an insider secret for now,” she added with a wink.

  Harmony slapped a hand across her own mouth.

  “That’s incredible!” I said “Congratulations, Holly. I can think of no one more deserving.”

  “Thank you. I’m actually supposed to meet with a potential investor tonight after the conference,” she continued, nervously toying with the end of her long, auburn hair. It hung over one shoulder, nearly falling to her hip, tied away from her face with a gold band that glittered seemingly on its own. She was more dressed up than I’d ever seen her, trading in her easy, jeans-and-t-shirt style for an A-line dress and a pair of suede booties. The dress was a flattering eggplant color that worked well with her fair complexion.

  “I’m sure you’ll nail it,” I told her with a reassuring pat on her arm. “Listen I just got back from a client thing myself. Do you mind if I change really quick?”

  “Not at all,” she replied, looking to Harmony with a quirked grin. “We can talk shop while we wait.”

  Harmony looked ready to die of complete happiness, so I slipped away, leaving them to chat about eye of newt and leg of spider or whatever it was witches used in potions these days. It hadn’t been my best subject in academy.

  As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my cell phone rang. I scurried back to the living room, silently pleading with whatever goddess handled suppressing homicidal impulses that it wasn’t Evan Stimpton, and grabbed the phone.

  “Hello?”

  It was Francois. “Ana, we have a problem.”

  I pulled in a deep breath and released it. “Of course we do…”

  Chapter 2

  Francois launched into a hysterical recantation of the events leading to his frantic phone call, and by the end of his story, his voice was bordering on a pitch that only dogs could hear. Apparently, after leaving the venue, Evan and Charlene decided they weren’t happy with the final tasting of the wedding feast and called Francois to insist he change the entire menu and have a presentation for them the following afternoon so they could have time to sample everything and agree to the changes prior to the wedding.

  “This is unacceptable!” Francois shrieked.

  I held the phone away from my ear, wincing at the shrillness.

  “It’s clear these two idiots know nothing about cooking! Do they think I pull the ingredients out of my chef’s hat as I go along?” he barked. “Even if I were catering an intimate dinner party of six, I would laugh off such a suggestion, but this … this?! It’s a wedding feast for three hundred! I have half a mind to quit and let them all starve!”

  “Francois, please, take a breath,” I protested, even as my own blood pressure was rapidly skyrocketed up to match his.

  I knew the two were picky and impossible, but demanding the caterer rework the entire menu in less than a day and a half? That was an unfathomable request for even the most persnickety clients.

  “I’ll call Evan and explain that this simply isn’t possible,” I continued, a cold knot of dread expanding in my stomach. That was not going to be a fun phone call to make. But what other choice did I have? Francois had already ordered the groceries and had most of the dishes in various stages of completion.

  “He has no idea who he’s dealing with,” Francois fumed. “He thinks he can threaten me and my business—”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “He threatened you?”

  “He said, and I quote, if I don’t make it happen he would make sure ‘every friend and friend of a friend of his parents’ would know how unsavory the food was.”

  I winced. Said by anyone else, it would sound like a hollow threat, the kind spouted off in anger, but ultimately, toothless. When the same threat came from Evan Stimpton, it not only had teeth, it had long, bloody fangs. The Stimpton family was part of the haven world’s upper echelon of society, part of a network of powerful families who held sway over the Haven Council and the SPA, all of whom made lots of money and held lots of fancy events that required a reliable caterer. If Francois’s name ended up dragged through that particular puddle of mud, the result could be catastrophic for his business.

  “I’d rather walk away and forfeit the deposit and the money for the food than deal with this spoiled brat for one more moment!”

  “Francois, please don’t do that,” I begged, panic flooding my veins. “What would I do if you dropped out? No one could whip up a meal for three hundred on such short notice. It’s impossible!”

  “Exactly!” he boomed. He paused for a beat and then apologized. “I’m sorry, Ana. I know this isn’t your fault.”

  “I’ll make it right,” I promised. “I’m going to give him the night to cool off. I’ll call first thing in the morning. In the meantime, nothing changes. Okay? The menu will go ahead as planned.”

  Francois was still rattled, but when we ended the call, I was at least seventy-five percent sure he wasn’t going to back out and leave me high and dry.

  “Everything all right?” Holly asked when I finally emerged from my bedroom.

  I nodded but could feel the lines of tension on my face. “Let’s just say, I’m going to need one heck of a cocktail before dinner.”

  “I can’t get over how much you two look alike!” Holly said. “Who do you take after? Your mom or dad?”

  “Our mom,” we both said in unison, then cringed.

  “People used to say all three of us looked like sisters, which, of course she loved,” I explained.

  “Naturally.” Holly smiled. “Was she a potion witch?”

  Harmony shook her head. “She knew some spells, though.”

  I frowned. Harmony always did her best to paint our mother in a brighter light. “I don’t think she ever stuck with something long enough to master it,” I added tartly.

  “Oh,” Holly replied, reaching for her wine glass.

  Harmony shot me a dirty look, but I ignored her and sipped my martini. “What is the topic of your presentation tonight?” I asked Holly.

  If there was one way to get the spotlight off our family, it was to throw it back onto potions. Harmony and Holly could chatter endlessly, and I could finish my martini and try to prepare myself for the unpleasant phone call I’d have to contend with in the morning.

  Sure enough, Holly and Harmony spun off into their own conversation, most of which made little sense to me as it revolved around the technical side of things. I liked potions, but only the kind I could buy in the store to help with daily tasks. Potions that made my hair extra shiny, got stains out of my laundry, or helped me sleep. Holly could make all of those kinds of potions in her sleep. The stuff she was working on sounded more advanced, aimed to solve challenges well beyond my pedestrian needs.

  Harmony lapped it up and I braced myself, knowing I was looking at least another week and a half of her recounting of the dinner.

  “What about you, Anastasia?” Holly asked, drawing me back to the conversation. “If you could make any potion, what would it do?”

  I breathed a laugh. “Right now, it would turn my clients into happy zombies for the next thirty-six hours. One drop and wham! they’d be agreeable and love everything and get married without another complaint, scowl, or pouty whine.”

  Holly and Harmony laughed. “Tall order,” Holly said.

  “Magic lobotomy in a bottle?” Harmony added.

  I raised my martini glass. “I’d drink to that!”

  Despite my best eff
orts, Evan Stimpton wasn’t assuaged, and on the morning of the wedding, he was still loudly complaining to anyone who would listen that he was “disappointed” that the caterer hadn’t been willing to accommodate him. Francois was, understandably, furious, and half his staff looked ready to mutiny as he brandished a serving ladle and barked out orders like an over-caffeinated drill sergeant.

  “Francois!” I snapped, nabbing the ladle from his hands. He shot me a furious glare but I didn’t back down. I pinched his chef’s coat at the elbow and yanked hard. “A word, please.”

  Reluctantly, he followed me into the hall. I glanced both ways, not wanting to be overheard. As furious as I was, I didn’t intend on humiliating him in front of his staff members or any of the guests. With more force than I intended, I pressed the ladle into his chest and he snatched it from me. “You need to get it together!” I hissed. “Today is too important for both of us. You’re angry. I get it. I am too, but we’ve both worked too hard to let this all come crashing down on our heads.”

  I’d swallowed every last annoyance and complaint for six months. I’d more than earned my commission, and I wasn’t going to risk it for anything.

  Francois’s eyes went dark. “You said you’d handle this, Ana! You told me that you’d talk to that ingrate and smooth things over.”

  “I know.” Tension pulsed at my temples. I needed to get upstairs to my emergency kit and take a headache capsule. “I’m sorry, Francois. I really am. But please, can we just move on? The bride and groom might not be happy, but let your food speak for itself. They can badmouth it all they want, but the guests are going to love what you’ve made. Besides, think about it this way, we can’t be the only ones who find them unreasonable. I’d be willing to bet anyone they complain to is going to think they’re being impossible and not buy into their bad review. Most of their parent’s powerful friends are going to be out there. So, serve up your best, just like you always do, and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “That’s it?” Francois scoffed. “That’s your big inspirational speech? Let the chips fall where they may?”

  I sighed and threw my hands in the air. “It’s either that or hey, you, get back in there and cook!”

  That drew a smile. “I’m not sure I like this bossy side of you, Ana. Is that boyfriend of yours rubbing off on you?”

  I grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and steered him back into the kitchen. “Just think … five, maybe six hours from now, we’ll both be walking out of here with a big check in our pockets. Think dollar signs, Francois.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, stomping back to the center of the gourmet kitchen.

  I lingered in the doorway for a few moments, watching him flit from station to station like a honey bee, dipping a spoon here and there, sampling everything. He still clung to his ladle like a conductor’s wand, but the brusque tone of his voice smoothed over as he regained control of his emotions.

  Breathing a sigh of semi-relief, I turned away and went upstairs to check on the bride. Evan, his father, and the groomsmen were down in the basement of the huge chapel, playing poker. There was an hour to go before the ceremony. The bride and groom would exchange their vows inside, and then the guests would be ushered out to the expansive gardens for the reception.

  Normally, I would advise against an outdoor wedding in early spring, but Evan and Charlene came from the kind of money that allowed us to hire a team of specialists who’d come in the night before to cast charms around the entire event space. No matter what Mother Nature decided to do, their guests would enjoy an outdoor reception with perfect seventy-two-degree weather and not a rain drop in sight, sealed inside a magically enhanced bubble.

  “How are we doing?” I asked, stepping into the plush bridal suite. Charlene stood before a three-way mirror, her slim body wrapped in an ivory gown. She wore a flowing cape in place of a veil, which was held on her shoulders by a string of diamonds. The fabric flowed out to create a twelve-foot train. Her hair was pinned back in a mass of curls with diamond-encrusted hair pins shaped like flowers.

  “You look stunning,” I told her, approaching slowly.

  “Doesn’t she?” Charlene’s mother said, handing her daughter a small jewelry box. “Your something blue.”

  Charlene opened the box and found a pair of sparkling sapphire studs. I recoiled slightly, having too recently had a series of terrible events thanks to a sapphire.

  As I stepped back, a tray caught my eye and I realized the hors d’oeuvres Francois’s team sent up for the wedding party to snack on had gone untouched. Surely the food wasn’t inedible? I sighed and picked up the tray. “I’ll take this back to the kitchen, if you’re done with it?”

  No one answered me, so I turned away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you downstairs.”

  Charlene nodded and then stopped to admire the shine of her new earrings in her reflection. “They’re a little small, aren’t they?” she asked her mother.

  Tamping down the urge to roll my eyes, I hurried from the room.

  Almost there. Just a few more hours.

  I distracted myself with a little mental shopping, dreaming up the shoes I’d buy myself with part of the commission check.

  The wedding started right on schedule, and I watched from the back of the chapel as the ceremony began. The trio of flower girls momentarily stole the show, giggling as they threw rose petals at the guests they passed on their way to the alter. The small army of bridesmaids and groomsmen went next. When they were all in place, the music changed, and the wedding march piped from the antique organ at the pulpit. I scurried out of the way as the crowd stood expectantly, all heads turned to the double doors at the back of the chapel, waiting for the bride to emerge. I remained pressed against the wall, hidden behind a waterfall of roses and lilacs as two ushers opened the doors.

  A hushed flurry of excited whispers rippled through the audience as Charlene started down the aisle. The music swelled and I peeked at the other end of the aisle to the awaiting groom. I found grooms usually fell into one of two camps when seeing their bride for the first time. There was the emotional, crying-too-hard-to-speak groom and then there was the standing-in-silent-awe groom. Evan Stimpton was neither of these. His lips formed a tense line and his hooded eyes were dark and moody. Was he even looking at Charlene?

  The audience appeared to be a mixed bag, I noted, scanning the crowd. Some wore genuine smiles and clung to the hand of their own partner while others wore polite, almost pinched, smiles. I decided those were most likely Evan’s parents’ friends, only in attendance due to social pressure. Evan was paying for the wedding out of his own pocket—a fact he wanted to make sure everyone knew—but his parents were in attendance, sitting in the front row a few feet from the alter. Wait. Was the mother of the groom wearing black? To her son’s wedding? I leaned in a little closer and breathed a sigh of relief. The two piece skirt suit was navy.

  Ugh. At least she was smiling.

  During the planning process, Charlene struck me as something of a wild card. I never knew quite what she was thinking until it was too late and she was shooting her fiancé one of her sourpuss expressions that was guaranteed to land me—or whomever else was involved—in a telling-off by the groom-to-be.

  Charlene and her father reached the altar. Her father kissed her on the cheek and then turned to face the waiting wedding party. Evan took a step forward, but his polished loafer landed wrong and he buckled. The crowd drew in a collective gasp as the groom swayed, wobbled, and then went crashing down to the floor, landing right at his bride’s feet.

  He twitched once, twice, and then stilled.

  Chapter 3

  Everything happened at once. When it became clear Evan wasn’t stirring, Charlene screamed. Guests gasped in collective unison. Charlene’s father dragged her back while Evan’s mother swooped to her son’s side and his father spoke frantically into his phone. My legs were paralyzed for a moment, cold dread filling my entire body like liquid
cement.

  “What just happened?”

  I turned to see that Kait, my so-called assistant, had materialized at my side.

  “Why aren’t you outside?” I snapped.

  Kait Gerrick was more foe than friend, and while we’d been stuck together as a duo for this wedding, I retained the upper hand and had sent here out to direct cars in the parking lot to keep her out of my way.

  She scowled at me. “These shoes cost four hundred dollars. If you seriously thought I was going to be out scuffing them up on cement, you’re out of your mind.”

  “So what have you been doing this entire time?” I waved a hand before she could answer. There were far more pressing matters. “Never mind.”

  I stalked away and refocused on the chaos breaking out at the front of the chapel. My dress didn’t have pockets so I’d stashed my phone along with my purse under one of the pews. I stopped to collect it before hustling up the central aisle.

  Evan still wasn’t moving, his mouth gaping open like a freshly caught trout. “What happened?” I asked, stopping beside Ginger, one of Charlene’s bridesmaids, and one of the few who had treated me as a person, instead of just the help.

  “I—I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “He just … went down. He hasn’t moved. I don’t think he’s breathing.”

  Stars and brimstone. Several people were speaking into phones. The SPA and a team of emergency healers were likely already on their way.

  Turning to the panicked crowd, I held up my arms. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Please follow me out into the reception gardens. Healers are on the way and we need to give them space to work.”

  No one moved.

  “Now, please!” I added, clapping my hands and throwing a little more weight into my voice. I caught the eye of a shock-shelled usher and gestured at him. He elbowed the usher beside him and they sprang into action, rounding up pockets of guests and shepherding them to the doors that opened to the gardens. I recruited the ushers at the back of the chapel and within a few minutes, most of the guests were outside.