Crazy For Brew

by Annabel Chase

  I felt a twinge of pride. "Karen Duckworth is the head librarian there. If you ever need help with finding anything, she's amazing."

  "Thanks for the tip." Micki began tapping her foot in a fit of anxiety. "So what's going to happen to me?"

  "First, let's go back and discuss the events that led to your arrest," I said. "Tell me your story, and that might help me decide how to proceed."

  Micki heaved a sigh. "Like I said, everyone was talking about this place, and I’d just had a bad experience with a client. I decided to take a leap of faith, you know? Sometimes you have to close your eyes and jump."

  "I know exactly what you mean," I said. Boy, did I ever. If I hadn't taken my own leap of faith, I wouldn't be married to Daniel right now.

  "So I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night," Micki said. "Took me days to get here. I don't have wings or a broom like a lot of other paranormals.”

  I consulted the file. “You’re a succubus, right?"

  She nodded. "A lot of us end up doing this kind of work, especially where I was living. It's perfectly legal where I come from, so I didn't think anything of it when I came here. I guess I should've realized if this place was as backwards as I'd heard that prostitution would be a problem."

  "When did you arrive in town?" I asked.

  "About a week ago," she replied. "I'm renting a room near the church. It's cheap and clean, and that was good enough for me."

  "And have you had any clients since you've been here?"

  She nodded. "A couple. I understand now, though, why they seemed confused when I expected payment."

  I bit back a smile. I could imagine how jarring it would be to think that you'd gotten lucky with the new romantic interest only to discover that it was only a job for her.

  Micki set up straight in her chair. “The one dude thought he was really something special. He kept bragging to me about how important he was in town." She snapped her fingers, trying to remember the name. “Larry? Larsen? No, that wasn't it."

  “Lorenzo?” I queried.

  She clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, a werewolf, right? Fancy guy.”

  I bowed my head and fought back laughter. "Yes, Lorenzo Mancini is the alpha of the pack in Spellbound."

  “That’s the only place he’s the alpha, if you know what I mean.”

  My hands flew to cover my ears. “That’s more than I need to know, thanks.”

  Two blond heads popped in unexpectedly.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” I said. “Britta.”

  “Sheriff?” Micki whirled around, alarmed.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’m in a meeting, Sheriff. How can I help?” Although I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to speak to them about the strange behavior I’d been witnessing.

  “If we’re finished, I can go,” Micki said, and I didn’t miss the hopeful tone in her voice.

  “Okay, we’ll talk again soon,” I said.

  Micki hurried past the Valkyrie sisters like she was afraid of catching a disease.

  “Loving your new statue,” Britta said. “Totally inspirational.” The sisters laughed.

  I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m half ready to reduce it to rubble under the cover of darkness.”

  “I think you look great,” the sheriff said. “Very happy.”

  “Very happy,” Britta agreed, snickering.

  I gave her a playful punch on the arm. “At least you two are acting normally. I was worried I’d be met with more horrible behavior.”

  Sheriff Astrid crossed her arms. “Horrible behavior?”

  “You haven’t noticed? I guess I should be relieved. Lucy spoke poorly about Spellbound in front of a family of new residents,” I said.

  “Lucy?” Britta repeated. “As in Mayor Lucy Langtree?”

  “One and the same,” I said. “I was horrified. Lucy never talks like that. She’s the bubbliest paranormal I know, and she loves this town.”

  Sheriff Astrid didn’t appear convinced. “Maybe she was having a bad day.”

  “No, it’s weirder than that,” I replied. “Something’s going on, and I think we need to look into it.”

  Sheriff Astrid’s whole body tensed. “Listen, just because someone is acting out of character, that doesn’t mean it’s a crime.”

  “It’s not only Lucy. Begonia is acting strange, too, and whatever’s making them act that way probably is a crime,” I insisted.

  Sheriff Astrid sighed. “My office is up to its helmets in red tape right now with all the local changes. I don’t have time to chase any tails. I’m sorry, Emma. You know I usually trust your instincts, but this doesn’t seem to rise to the level necessary for an official investigation.”

  I understood. Life in Spellbound had become overwhelming for many residents since the curse was broken. The changes were exciting, yet still tough to cope with.

  “It’s okay,” I said, relenting. “If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

  She gave me a thumbs up. “Britta and I were just talking about how much we missed your poker nights. Any plans to resume those now that you’re back from your honeymoon?”

  Poker night probably wasn’t a great idea under the circumstances. Lucy always attended poker night, and so did Begonia.

  “I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know,” I said. “Maybe in a couple of weeks.”

  “Will I see you at harp therapy this week?” Britta asked.

  I nodded. “I’m in desperate need already.”

  “Cool,” Britta said. “Finally everyone can stop asking when you’ll be back.”

  “Nobody likes a change in routine,” I said.

  “Too late for that now that the curse is broken,” Britta said. “The whole town’s routine has changed, whether they like it or not.”

  I liked to think that a change in routine was a small price to pay for freedom. But maybe not. I guess I’d find out soon enough.

  The first thing I noticed in Mix-n-Match was a large display of colorful bottles in front of me. It reminded me of the end caps in human world stores—a marketing tactic. In fact, the whole shop had been completely overhauled.

  "Good morning, Emma," a cheerful voice said. I spotted Paisley behind the counter at the back of the shop. “Admiring our new look?"

  “I am. What's the occasion?" I asked.

  "The coven worried that we might face some competition, now that the borders are open,“ Paisley said. "They decided to spruce up the shop in order to remain attractive to customers."

  "It looks good," I said. "I love seeing all the colors on display." Not that I had any idea what half of them were. I wasn't that experienced yet. "Is Jemima still on her road trip?"

  If the coven really wanted to appeal to customers, they’d keep the surly witch away from customers.

  "Yes, she sent a message from Wisconsin recently,” Paisley said. “She seems to be having a wonderful time. I have a feeling she may decide not to come back.”

  Was it mean to cross my fingers?

  "I'm hoping you can help me," I said. "I'm trying to find a few ingredients. Sophie thinks they’re fairly uncommon.”

  Paisley came out from behind the counter and joined me in the aisle. “For a specific spell?"

  I produced a piece of parchment with the spell written in Laurel’s precise handwriting.

  Paisley scrutinized the page. "I know for a fact that we have these items because I just sold them last week. Same items to two different customers.”

  My radar pinged. "You did?" What were the odds of that?

  Paisley looked thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure. I remember thinking it was a funny coincidence. Like you said, those two items aren’t typical purchases, certainly not together.”

  "Would you mind telling me which customers bought them?”

  Paisley chewed her lip. “I’m not sure I can. The coven wants to institute a confidentiality policy in the shop."

  That was an interesting development. "Did they say why?"

  "I got the i
mpression that they’re worried about an inspection from coven headquarters and want to keep our information out of their hands,” Paisley said. "You should speak to Professor Holmes. I was only half listening because Britta kept sending notes with her sister’s owl. It was distracting.“

  My brow lifted. "Britta was using the sheriff's official messenger owl to send you notes?" Sheriff Astrid would be livid if she knew that.

  The color rose to Paisley's cheeks. "I asked her to stop, but you know how Britta is. She thought she was being subtle."

  The Valkyrie was as subtle as Thor’s hammer. “You said the coven wants to institute a policy, which suggests they haven’t done anything official yet, right?”

  “I guess that’s true,” Paisley said. She focused on one of the bright orange jars, deciding. “You didn’t hear it from me, but the first customer was a vampire. Igor Underkoffler. I remember thinking it was odd for a vampire to need these particular items.”

  “I don’t suppose you asked what he intended to do with them.” Paisley was far too polite.

  “Of course not. It’s none of my business."

  “Igor Underkoffler,” I repeated. "Any relation to Piotr?" It had to be; the name was far too unusual. Piotr Underkoffler was the creepy vampire that owned the local funeral home that the vampires used. I’d never had any interactions with him that didn't leave me feeling queasy.

  “Yes, Igor is Peter's younger brother," Paisley said. "I'm surprised you haven't crossed paths with him yet." She paused. "Then again, I guess it makes sense since he works at the cemetery. He tends to stick to a traditional vampire schedule of daytime sleeping and nighttime working."

  "He’s the cemetery caretaker?" I queried.

  "That's right," Paisley said. “And the other customer was a werewolf called Greta. She actually told me why she wanted the ingredients, although it sounded like she was oversharing out of nervousness. I assumed she was lying."

  "You didn't press her on it?" I asked.

  Paisley shook her head. "What would be the point? I sell a lot of items that could be used for malevolent purposes. I’d rather leave the investigative stuff to Sheriff Astrid…and you, apparently."

  "The sheriff isn’t convinced there’s a problem. Besides, she has too much on her plate right now. A few snappish comments aren’t going to be enough to get her involved.”

  “Snappish comments?” Paisley queried.

  “From paranormals who are normally very pleasant. Have you noticed strange behavior from your friends? I’m not convinced this is an isolated incident."

  Paisley frowned. "Now that you mention it, I've exchanged a few cross words with friends in the past couple of days. You think these items have something to do with that?"

  "That's what I'm trying to figure out," I said. “We found a spell called Bittersweet that makes paranormals disagreeable and those two items are key ingredients.”

  Paisley stared at the parchment again. "What would be the point of making residents disagreeable?" Her gaze slowly rose to meet mine. "Do you think it has something to do with CRAPI?”

  "That's certainly top of the list," I admitted. "But I hope I’m wrong. Talking to these two customers might help push me in the right direction."

  “Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help," Paisley said. "I don't want new paranormals to get the wrong impression of Spellbound. Most of us are thrilled to have new blood after all these years."

  "I wish everyone felt the same as you did," I said. "Can I have a sample of the rhudoberry and fizzlewick seeds to take with me? If it turns out to be the right spell, we’ll need the ingredients to reverse it.”

  In the meantime, I’d pay a visit to these two customers. If Igor Underkoffler or Greta had any involvement in turning my sweet friends bitter, I was determined to find out.

  Chapter 6

  It was close to midnight, and a miserly sliver of moon barely illuminated my path. Daniel had offered to accompany me, but then Gareth pitched a fit about all the unpacked boxes, so I asked Daniel to work on those instead. In exchange, Gareth would meet me at the cemetery and leave Daniel in peace.

  At the mere whiff of a midnight feast, Sedgwick decided to join the excursion as well. He flew a safe distance overhead as I drove the car to the outskirts of town.

  I drove south of the Great Hall until I reached another wooded area of town. I was suddenly glad to have Gareth meeting me there. The trees here seemed taller. The night even darker. I was already on edge, knowing that I'd be speaking to the brother of creepy Piotr Underkoffler. He was, by far, one of the few paranormals in town that could give me nightmares.

  I parked Sigmund far enough away so that Igor didn’t hear me coming. No need to give the vampire advanced warning.

  “You drive like a grandmother on her way to a rheumatology appointment,” Gareth said, appearing beside me.

  I ignored the jab. "What's he like?"

  Gareth looked at me askance. "How should I know?"

  “You're both vampires. Didn't you have any interactions with him?"

  Gareth shook his head. “Not really. You've met all my friends. I imagine Igor hung with a younger crowd."

  I noticed an eerie glow in the distance. What would be causing that? A bonfire? Spell’s bells. What if I was about to interrupt some sort of twisted vampire ritual? Ice chilled my veins.

  "Don't disappear on me," I warned Gareth. "I need moral support." And possibly life support.

  "If I disappear, it won't be on purpose," Gareth said. "You know I’m still perfecting my movements.”

  This much was true. Gareth had been working tirelessly to be able to appear anywhere he wanted in Spellbound, as well as to make contact with the physical world. He’d made great strides since we first met.

  Not to worry, Your Highness, Sedgwick said from above me. If this vampire gives you any trouble, I've had plenty to eat today. Mind the danger zone and you won't get caught in the fallout.

  I groaned. Don't do anything unless I ask you to.

  What was that? Sedgwick asked with mock innocence. The wind is terribly noisy up here.

  Slowly, I crept toward the cemetery, and the sheen of light grew brighter. It couldn't be a bonfire. While orange and red were evident, I also noticed a faint glow of purple, blue, and green. That made no sense.

  “Lovely colors,” Gareth remarked.

  I put a finger to my lips. “We’re stalking,” I whispered.

  Gareth arched an eyebrow. "Why are you shushing me? You’re the only one he'll be able to hear."

  Hmm. Good point.

  "I hear music," Gareth said.

  I stopped to listen. "I do, too." In fact, the music was familiar—it was a song my grandparents liked to play. I guess Igor had discovered modern music now that the borders were open.

  I approached the gates of the cemetery, and the source of the colorful lights became abundantly clear. A bevy of Chinese lanterns swirled above the cemetery in a cheerful variety of colors. Igor Underkoffler was oblivious to our presence. He was far too focused on his dance partner—his caretaker’s shovel—as they danced under the watchful eyes of the Chinese lanterns. The Piña Colada Song echoed in the darkness. If you like piña coladas…On one of the tombstones rested a glass filled with red liquid and a stick of celery. Igor was hosting a party for one and having a blast.

  I cleared my throat.

  "You'll have to be louder than that," Gareth said. "Make that noise you do while you're sleeping. That snore could wake an entire village from a sleeping spell.”

  I folded my arms and glared at him. "I do not snore."

  "Ask your new husband," Gareth said. "He'll tell you."

  I made a louder noise at the back of my throat. Igor twirled around and smiled when he noticed me. He didn't seem the least bit embarrassed or surprised to see someone. In fact, he continued dancing with the shovel all the way over to the gate to greet me.

  "Welcome to the cemetery," he said, as pleasantly as if he were welcoming me to LEGOLAND.<
br />
  "Hi," I said. "You’re Igor, right?"

  "I am," he said. "I'm the caretaker here."

  “I’m…”

  He held up a hand. "I know who you are, Emma Hart. I've seen your statue." His gaze drifted down to my chest and back to my face. "I do believe there may be some false advertising at work."

  My lips formed a thin line. "The statue is not promoting anything. It's in honor of Spellbound Day."

  He continued smiling, and extended a hand. I stared at his open palm. Did he expect me to dance? He grabbed my hand and released his shovel in one swift move.

  Apparently, he did.

  I could hear Gareth chuckling in the background as Igor and I tripped the light fantastic.

  "Tell me, Emma Hart. Do you like getting caught in the rain?" he asked.

  "Hard to say, as it never rains in Spellbound," I said. That was the result of the protective bubble that all paranormal towns enjoyed. Thanks to magic, the grass still grew, and the lake never dried out.

  I inclined my head toward the tombstone. “Do you always have Bloody Marys while you're working?"

  He followed my gaze to his cup. "It's okay. It's a virgin."

  I raised an eyebrow. "No alcohol?"

  "No blood," he replied.

  Well, he was a vampire.

  "My old friends prefer that I treat my time here like a celebration," Igor said. He was so remarkably different from his creep-tastic brother that I couldn’t even believe they were related.

  "I guess old friends isn't really a euphemism," I said. "You really did know a lot of these paranormals before they died.”

  Igor began to weave his way through the tombstones with fancy footwork. "This is Zane. We dated very briefly about seventy-five years ago. He had a poet's heart, but you'd never know it by the way he acted. He put on a sensible front that everyone bought. Sometimes, I bring Shakespeare's sonnets and read them to him.”

  My heart melted. Zane may have had a poet's heart, but Igor seemed to have a poet's soul. "That's incredibly sweet."