Greta studied me closely. "My husband hasn't put you up to this, has he?"
"Your husband?" I echoed. "What does he have to do with anything?"
“J.D. is the best husband in the world," she said firmly.
I was confused. "I'm not here to quiz you about your marriage, Greta."
She remained suspicious. “Then why are you asking me about what I bought?”
I could tell I’d have to come clean in order for her to do the same. "There’s been odd behavior from certain residents. Sweet and kind paranormals are acting the opposite. I'm trying to identify whether a spell is in play and, if so, who did it and why?”
Greta appeared mildly relieved. "That's got nothing to do with me. My potion is for personal reasons, and it ain’t called Bittersweet. I got the recipe from the healer's office. Ask Boyd if you want to double-check." As the druid healer in town, Boyd was certainly a plausible resource for potions and tonics.
“Whatever it is, the potion must not have the same effect," I said. “Because you seem perfectly pleasant to me."
"I'm not the one who takes it," she said. "I slip it into my husband's coffee in the morning."
"You want your husband to be unlikable?"
She bit her lip, debating how much to reveal. "No, it don't work like that. It makes him…less interested in me.”
Now I was thoroughly confused. "You said he was the best husband in the world. Why would you want him not to be interested in you?"
"Not in general," she said. "And not forever.” She blew out a breath. “I only use it during the fertile time in my cycle.”
Suddenly, it all became clear. Greta was using the potion as a form of birth control.
“Oh, I see.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
"I love my kids," Greta insisted. "But five is plenty. I barely get through each day without collapsing into a heap at the end of it. My husband comes home for dinner and plays with the kids before they go to bed. He don't see all the work I do while he’s gone.”
“Maybe you could talk to him about it?" I suggested. That way she didn't have to sneak around feeding him potions.
She gave an adamant shake of her head. "He would take it so personally. He’d think it's because I don't fancy him anymore, which couldn't be further from the truth. And we have our alone time, although not as often as we used to. I’d just rather that alone time not result in another pup." She paused and looked at me. "I bet you think I'm plain awful, don't you?"
Impulsively, I hugged her. "Greta, I don’t walk in your shoes every day. You have to do whatever you think is best for your family. I believe that you love your husband and your kids. I could feel that the moment I stepped into your backyard.”
Greta gave me a hard squeeze before releasing me. "I do feel guilty about it, but my husband's ego is so fragile. I feel like being upfront would hurt our marriage more than sneaking behind his back.”
I zipped my lips. "Your secret is safe with me, I swear.”
I left the Pines with plenty of new information, yet no closer to the truth. It was time to pay a visit to someone with vast knowledge of witchcraft and the sharp mind of a criminal.
It was time to see Agnes.
The Spellbound Care Home seemed to be one of the few unchanged places in town. That wasn't surprising, considering there was a waiting list to get in. If I were the entrepreneurial type, I'd build a private care home somewhere else in town because there were plenty of takers in this aging community.
The receptionist greeted me with an unusual air of deference. Normally, she made me sign in and patted me down for contraband. Agnes was known in the care home as a bit of a troublemaker. The former head of the coven was an accomplished witch with a mischievous streak. A dangerous combination at her age. Still, I had a soft spot for the elderly witch.
"Go straight in, Ms. Hart," the receptionist said.
I hovered in front of the desk. "Are you sure? I might be hiding a bottle of Goddess Bounty in my cloak." Goddess Bounty was Agnes’s alcohol of choice, and one that I tended to use for bribery purposes.
“If you are, then I'm sure it's for a very good reason,” the receptionist replied.
I was slightly disappointed by her sensible attitude. Arguably, there were changes at the care home, after all.
I wandered the hall, greeting familiar residents and staff along the way. Daniel and I often volunteered here, so I knew many paranormals at the care home aside from Agnes.
"Stop playing Mayor of Wrinkletown and get in here," Agnes snapped from inside her room.
I ducked into Agnes's room to find her on the floor in a pose that could only be described as lewd, despite being fully clothed. My hands flew to cover my eyes. "Spell’s bells, Agnes! What are you doing?"
"You act like you've never seen yoga before," Agnes said, dropping to the floor on her bottom.
“I wouldn't describe that as yoga," I countered. It looked more like a frenzy associated with a pagan fertility ritual.
“You should try it," Agnes said. "Relax those five thousand knots in your body. Your husband will thank me."
"My husband is perfectly happy with my body the way it is, thank you," I said.
Agnes leaned forward and rested her chin on her knuckles. "Really? Do tell. I'm still waiting for the juicy details of your honeymoon. Did you wear that negligee I bought you?”
“Agnes, it really isn't healthy to try to live vicariously through me," I said.
Agnes howled with laughter. "Believe me, Emma, if I wanted to live life as a prude, you'd be my first port of call. As it happens, my romantic life is far busier than yours.”
I didn't doubt it. I knew Agnes had an ongoing relationship with Silas, an amorous genie in the care home.
"I didn't come here to talk about my personal life," I said.
“Yes, but that's the price you pay when you visit me," Agnes said. She hesitated. “Speaking of paying the price—any word on my unworthy spawn?"
I knew she meant her daughter, Lady J.R. Weatherby. Lady Weatherby was the head of the coven when I arrived in town and was recently removed from power when the coven discovered that she deliberately obstructed their progress in breaking the curse.
"To be honest, I haven't made any inquiries since I got back from my honeymoon," I said. “I’ve been trying to focus on the future of Spellbound, rather than its past."
Agnes nodded. "Can't blame you there. She's a scourge on the coven's good name. I'm embarrassed to have raised her."
Agnes and her daughter had always had a rocky relationship, and I was closer to Agnes, despite my frequent interactions with Lady Weatherby. I didn’t believe she was an inherently bad witch—we just happened to fall on opposite sides of the same issue.
"I don't suppose she’ll be able to visit me if she's rotting away in a prison cell," Agnes said. "Not that she came very often anyway. Still, it removes the hope."
I produced a familiar bottle from beneath my cloak and set it on the counter of the kitchenette. Agnes's eyes grew round.
“You waited until now to show me that?" She sprang to her feet with more energy than I knew she was capable of. Her bones cracked, but she paid them no attention. She was too busy bolting toward the bottle. "I've been missing this. You were away too long."
"I'm sorry, Agnes," I said. “There's so much happening right now. On top of everything else, Daniel and Gareth are still trying to figure out how to live together."
Agnes mimicked me. "Excuses, excuses. That's all I hear." She poured two glasses of Goddess Bounty.
“None for me, thanks," I said. "Save it for yourself."
"Nonsense," she scoffed. "You know I only drink alone if I absolutely have to.”
I quirked an eyebrow. "There's no reason anyone ever has to drink alone. It's totally your choice."
"Says the woman who doesn't live in a care home," Agnes said.
“It's my lucky day. My two favorite ladies in one cramped space.” Silas drifted into the room. His genie form was a
lways a source of amazement for me. His top half was all man, while his bottom half was a mini-tornado.
I crossed the room and kissed his cheek. "You look well.”
He smirked. "How can I not, with this one keeping my energy level up?"
I cringed. These two were meant for each other in ways I did not want to imagine. I handed him my glass. "Cheers. A gift from outside the care home."
"Emma, I always appreciate your visits," Silas said, tipping back the glass and sucking down the drink. He made a noise of contentment. "That would curl my toes if I had any."
I laughed. “It’s not for the casual drinker.”
"So how’s everyone adjusting to the new Spellbound?" Silas asked. "Is it fire and chaos in the streets?"
"That's one of the reasons I'm here," I said. “There seems to be something going on."
Agnes strangled a groan. "Again? Emma, do you not have your own work to do? A new client?”
“As a matter of fact, I do have a new client,” I said. "A really nice succubus called Micki.”
Silas’s brow lifted. "How nice are we talking?"
I gave him a pointed look. "Yes, that nice."
Agnes looked from Silas to me. “What? What am I missing? I don't miss things. I'm too clever for that."
Silas chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You certainly are. I believe what Emma is saying is that her client is a lady of the evening, and I don’t mean a vampire.”
"Of course you don't mean a vampire," Agnes snapped. “Emma already said she's a succubus. Clean out your ears." Agnes refilled the two glasses and handed one to Silas.
“She moved here from Sparkle City, where prostitution is legal. She didn't realize that she’d have a problem here.”
“It’s been quite some time since I was in charge of anything except a rebellion in the cafeteria, but I do believe ignorance is no excuse to breaking the law,” Agnes said.
“Not usually," I said, "but we’re in a unique situation right now. Lots of paranormals are moving to Spellbound, oblivious to the fact that our laws and regulations might be different from what they’re accustomed to.”
“Do you think they’ll legalize prostitution here?" Silas asked, a little too eagerly.
“Too late for you to enjoy that perk," Agnes shot back.
Silas stroked her grey hair. “Then I suppose I'll have to save it all for you. I don't consider it a hardship."
Agnes rolled her eyes. "Save your sweet talk for later. We have company."
“Let me speed up so I can get out of your hair.” And retain my sanity. “I’m trying to figure out a spell that might cause paranormals to be unpleasant. Friends of mine are acting rude and irritable, and it’s completely abnormal for them. I know there’s something going on, but I can't figure out what it is. I found a spell in a coven book that seems to fit the description, but I don't think that's the one being used."
Agnes squinted. "What makes you think it's a coven spell?"
I shrugged. "I guess that's always my assumption, but both my leads from Mix-n-Match were dead ends." And, in the case of Igor and the cemetery, a literal dead end.
“Have you researched fairy spells?" Agnes asked.
“No, why?” I queried. "I thought fairy spells were more about transformation and positive changes."
Agnes wagged a finger at me. "That's what those chirpy do-gooders want you to think. They have their own dark arts, just like we have ours.”
Nothing surprised me anymore. “Who's the best fairy to ask?"
“Your friend Lucy Langtree would be a good place to start," Agnes said.
I plopped on the edge of the bed. "I can't ask Lucy. She's one of the paranormals affected."
Agnes shrugged her bony shoulders. "So what? You said she’s acting unpleasant, not stupid. She can still answer your questions about fairy spells. If she’s truly impacted, she won’t even realize you’re talking about her.”
Agnes made a good point. "Okay, I'll go to see her at the Mayor's Mansion.” In fact, I could stop on my way home from here since it was around the corner.
“When will that husband of yours be volunteering in the cafeteria again?" Silas asked.
"I'll have to check his schedule," I said. "Why?"
“Whenever the ladies here get excited is a good day for me," Silas said with a sly wink.
Agnes bumped him with her hip. “You'd better watch it, genie, or you'll find yourself shoved into the nearest lamp."
“And you'd better watch how hard you jerk those hips or you might be in need of a replacement soon," Silas advised.
They stared at each other, tempers threatening to flare. That was my cue to leave.
“Thanks for your help," I said. "I'll check in with you soon. Try not to drink my gift in one sitting."
Agnes glanced at the bottle on the counter. "Then I guess we'll have to do it standing.”
I smacked my forehead. "I'm definitely going now, before someone has to call a healer.”
“Hey,” Agnes said. “I’m not the one who got drunk here and hit my head on the toilet seat.”
My jaw tightened. “You’ll never let me live that one down, will you?”
“Why would I?” she countered. “It was the most fun I’d had in ages.”
I left the room before they could say another word. Their laughter followed me all the way down the hall and back to the reception area.
The receptionist smiled at me on the way out. “You always leave her in such good spirits. The entire care home thanks you for your service.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply said—“you’re welcome”—and promptly left.
Chapter 8
The Mayor's Mansion was only a couple of blocks away. The impressive building seemed more designed for royalty than the elected official of a small town. The main door opened as I arrived, and a tearful couple emerged from the mansion. I recognized them as elves by their telltale ears.
"I heard that she was such a sweetheart," the woman sniffed, as her partner comforted her. "I've never been so insulted in my entire life, and I worked as a middle school teacher back in Rainbow’s End. That job is thankless.”
The man gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I'm sure she was having a bad day. It can't be easy governing a town like Spellbound under the circumstances. We have to give her the benefit of the doubt."
The woman wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't know, Herb. Maybe coming here was a mistake."
I felt compelled to stop them. "I'm sorry to eavesdrop, but is everything okay?"
The elves blinked, still seemingly traumatized.
“Your mayor," the man said. “She needs a few lessons in the social graces. We thought Spellbound would be a welcoming place for us. So quaint and charming.“
“Today is not the first incident," the woman continued. "Yesterday, a young woman told me that my nose looked good enough to ski off of." She absently touched the slope of her nose. "Are the residents here always this cruel?"
"Absolutely not," I said. "I'm so sorry you’re having a bad experience, but I can promise you that it’s not typical. When I was new to town, everyone made me feel at home. I would’ve been miserable without their support."
The elves exchanged glances. "I suppose we'll give it a little more time," the woman said. "I'd hate to give up so soon."
Nichole appeared in the doorway. "Emma, thank the gods. Could you come in?" The young werewolf looked frazzled.
“Hang in there,” I told the elves, before entering the foyer of the mansion. I lowered my voice. “What’s going on?”
"You tell me," Nichole said, clearly distressed. "She's not acting like herself at all. In fact, she reminds me of Mayor Knightsbridge."
I shuddered at the mention of the former mayor. “It’s that bad?”
Nichole nodded. “She called me an imbecile and threw a shoe at me because I highlighted my notes in green instead of pink. A shoe! With a pointy heel!”
“This is getting out of hand
," I said. "Is it safe to go in now?"
Nichole cast a worried glance over her shoulder. "I can't make any promises. Just have your wand ready in case you need to react."
This was very bad. Whatever was happening was impacting Lucy's ability to do her job. She’d worked really hard to get elected, and I would hate to see her lose the residents’ confidence so quickly.
I straightened my top. “Okay, I'm going in."
“I'll wait out here, if you don't mind."
"That's probably for the best," I said. I headed down the long corridor to Lucy's office on the left-hand side. The door was ajar, so I let myself in. "Good afternoon, Madam Mayor."
Lucy scowled when I entered the pristine office. "I asked for a latte with a shot of endurance. This is clearly a shot of slow-n-steady.”
“Is there a significant difference?" I asked.
Lucy tossed the coffee cup into the trashcan. "Of course. The significance is that one is called endurance and the other is called slow-n-steady. It’s not brain surgery.”
Yikes. This was going to be harder than I thought. I decided to start with something positive. "I came by to invite you to my house for poker night. It's been so long since I’ve hosted, I thought it would be a good time to start them up again in a couple of weeks. I know how busy you are, so I want to make sure you work it into your schedule."
"I assumed you were too good for them now that you’re married," Lucy said.
“What does poker night have to do with my marital state?" I asked.
Lucy examined her pink fingernails. "Well, if I were married to Daniel, I'd much rather be spending the night playing games with him than the decrepit harpies next door."
"Lucy," I exclaimed. "You like the Minors.” Not everyone did, of course. They were a tough family to get along with, but Lucy was the type of paranormal to get along with everyone. That was one of the reasons she got elected.
"Whatever," Lucy said. "Send that owl of yours with the date and time, and I’ll have Nichole schedule it.”
“Great, I will," I said. "The other reason I'm here is to ask about fairy enchantments.”
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