His speech was so impassioned that I was inclined to believe him. “You swear you didn't put any potion in the vat at What Ales You when you inspected it?”
"Absolutely not," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "Even if I’d wanted to, I never would've gotten away with it. The janitor was in there the whole time. I thought maybe Mr. Burdock had told him to keep an eye on me and report back."
"I think Steve is just a hard worker," I said. "There's one more thing, Earl. I met the owner of New Brew the other day, and his assistant said that you were fairly rude during your inspection. You said you take pride in your work and you want to keep your job. In that case, I suggest you curb your attitude and keep your remarks to yourself. If I ever get wind of that kind of behavior from you again, I'll speak to the mayor personally."
Earl hung his head in shame. "That nymph…She heard me?"
"Loud and clear," I replied. "She and Toby are extremely nice, and came here for a fresh start. Toby already has a successful brewery elsewhere, and he's bringing his expertise to Spellbound. He's already helped our local economy by hiring Markos to design his office building and supplying local bars with his ale. I have a feeling they’ll both be making an effort to become part of the community, and we should encourage that.”
Earl clicked his teeth in a nervous gesture. “Crap on a bun. Maybe I should apologize. Do you think flowers would be inappropriate?"
"I think you should do whatever sends the message that you're truly sorry," I said. "If it were me, I'd much rather have a face-to-face apology, so that I could look you in the eye and know that you mean it."
Earl nodded. "If it’s any consolation, I don't really like most of the paranormals in CRAPI. Our meetings go on for hours, full of bellyaching. And don't get me started on the terrible snacks. Nobody in there can bake a lick."
"I have no doubt you could find a better use for your time," I said. “My husband and I volunteer at the care home. That's always an option. Or you could take a class. I know you mentioned karate, but you might find harp therapy enjoyable. It's definitely calming."
"I'll think about it," he said. "I should probably get back to my inspection. Don't want to fall behind and ruin my perfect record."
“Nobody wants that,” I said.
We stood in the open field, our cloaks billowing in the wind. The weather seemed too volatile for advanced broomstick flying, but I knew that if I said anything, my classmates would think I was trying to get out of it. Everybody knew about my fear of heights. I was still uncertain as to why they decided the advanced class was right for me. I’d barely made it through remedial.
Millie stood at the front of the group, ready to go. She’d always excelled in this area, and was eager to show off her skills to our more experienced classmates. Avery stood beside her, looking as confident and smug as usual.
Meg took her place in front of the group, and straddled her broomstick. "Today, we’ll be practicing speed. We normally restrict broomsticks to 25 mph, but now that the borders are open, we think it makes sense to practice up to 60 mph."
The witches and wizards gasped.
Avery raised her hand. "Is that safe? Won't the increase in speed result in more serious injuries in the event of an accident?"
"Outside of Spellbound, there are places where broomsticks can go up to even 80 mph,” Meg said. “We feel an obligation to prepare you for the world now, not just our small corner of it."
"You didn't answer my question," Avery said. "Don't the risk of fatalities increase?"
Meg simmered. "Avery, I would rather not alarm the rest of the class with evidence of outliers. If you develop the confidence and the skill for this assignment, then you will be equipped to handle potential problems in the air. I'd rather prepare you than leave you ignorant. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, Meg," Millie interjected. "Perfect sense. Thank you."
Avery shot her an annoyed look.
"Now," Meg continued, "the key is to build up speed slowly. Don't simply take to the air and immediately tap out at sixty.”
Avery raised her hand again. "What about turning while traveling at a high rate of speed? We can't simply jerk the broomstick, or we will fall to our deaths."
"You will not simply jerk the broomstick," Meg said through gritted teeth. "I will be showing you safe methods for maneuvering."
Millie elbowed the small blonde. "Just let her finish," she hissed.
Meg gripped the broomstick with both hands and chanted. She rose into the air like a feather in the breeze. Once she was above the treetops, the broomstick took off like a rocket, scattering a flock of birds. In the blink of an eye, her red hair was a barely visible dot in the blue sky.
"I hear that the academy will be competing in broomstick races this year," someone said. A wizard named Hirsch.
“I'm sure they won't just let anyone compete," Avery said, turning toward him. "You'll have to demonstrate a modicum of talent, I would imagine. So that rules you out."
Hirsch’s face turned as red as Meg’s hair. "I wasn't suggesting that I would compete. I just think it would be cool for us. We've never met students from another school before, not coven academies anyway."
When Meg returned, her hair was a tangled mess, and she seemed to have feathers stuck on her cloak. It seemed we would all be in need of practice.
“You'll need to take turns," Meg said. "Groups of three at a time. That way I can watch your technique, and lower the risk of collisions."
"Where's Begonia?" Sophie whispered.
“Right here.” Begonia huddled between us in an effort to disguise her tardiness.
“Why are you late?” Laurel asked.
“Demetrius and I broke up,” she said, as though she was merely commenting on the very fine weather.
Millie’s eyes bulged. “What? How could you let that happen?”
“He was acting like an infant,” Begonia said icily. “I got tired of mothering him.”
I stifled a groan. The antidote couldn’t come soon enough.
Laurel seemed to know exactly what I was thinking because she mouthed, “Soon.” Apparently, they’d created a single dose of the potion and then delivered it to Sophie’s mom for help in making a bigger batch.
“He said that my behavior was a complete turnoff,” Begonia continued, “and that he had no worries about me dating anyone else because no one would be interested in me like this. Can you believe that?”
“No,” Millie said slowly. “It’s a complete shock.”
“I don’t know why he would say such a thing,” Sophie said, struggling not to cringe.
The only good thing about Begonia’s bad news was that it distracted me from the lesson until it was our group's turn. Whenever I had to take to the sky, I had visions of an early grave, and Avery's remarks about fatalities didn't help calm my nerves.
I straddled my broom between Sophie and Laurel, and took off. My skin immediately felt tight on my face, like I was in a rocket ripping into space.
Sophie and Laurel jetted ahead of me, but I couldn’t bring myself to go faster. I had no sense of how fast I was moving, only that it was faster than I was comfortable with. My stomach began to churn, and I worried that my meal would reappear. As long as nobody was in the fallout zone, I would have to suck it up. Or, the opposite of suck it up, in my case.
My broomstick zipped forward, and the scenery rushed past me to the point where I could no longer discern a tree from a hill. If this was preparation for broomstick flying in the rest of the world, I was happy to remain grounded for life. It wasn’t like I had any interest in flying, even in Spellbound.
Before I had the chance to relieve my nausea, something even worse happened.
I fell.
Later, they would call it an air pocket. Whatever it was, it upended my broomstick while I was zooming along at an uncomfortable speed, and I went spinning head over feet until my hands slid from the safety of the handle.
I plunged toward the ground in a state of unus
ual calm. It seemed to happen in slow motion. I knew I was falling, and that the earth was fast approaching, yet I didn’t scream. I watched as my broomstick passed me on the way down, gravity somehow grabbing the piece of wood and dragging the broomstick to its bosom.
I focused my will and pictured a circus net below me, the kind that lurked beneath trapeze artists. “Like sand is dry and water is wet/comfort me with a safety net.”
I didn’t know how I managed to utter the spell, only that I did. I felt the material flat against my backside before I lifted back into the air.
Bounce.
Bounce.
By the time Meg arrived on the scene, I was a tangled mess of arms and legs in the holes of the net. Basically, I’d captured myself. I felt like clumsy Spiderman.
“Emma, are you okay?” Meg was panting as she reached me.
I extricated myself from the web and planted my feet firmly on the ground, where I was determined to keep them. “I think advanced broomsticking is too far above my pay grade.”
“But you made a net to catch yourself,” a wizard said, wide-eyed. Pretty sure his name was Ian. “That’s so cool. How did you have time to bust out your wand?”
“I didn’t,” I replied.
His mouth dropped open.
Avery elbowed him in the ribs. “She’s a sorceress, remember? She doesn’t need her wand. I’m not sure why she’s even in our classes.”
“I’m still learning,” I said. “And clearly not adept at everything.” I gestured to the broomstick two feet away on the ground.
“I think you should hire a tutor,” Avery said. “It isn’t fair to have you kill the curve.”
“Kill the curve?” I repeated. “You’re worried about me ruining your GPA?” I nearly laughed out loud. No one had to worry about that in law school, and absolutely no one had to worry about that at the ASS Academy, either.
“If you’re worried about the curve, Avery, you should worry about me,” Millie said.
Avery’s jaw clenched. “I hardly think so. Once a remedial witch, always a remedial witch.”
Millie whipped out her wand. “Take that back.”
Meg stepped between them and gave Millie a stern look. “Now, Millie. We don’t handle problems with magic.”
Millie shoved away her wand, annoyed. “I think you’ll find that’s exactly what we do.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Begonia forced her way through the crowd and gave me the stink eye. “Do you always have to be in the middle of drama? I mean, the curse is broken. You have your perfect husband and your ridiculous statue. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
I could have died in that fall and here she was berating me like I’d done it on purpose. She was one of my best friends, yet I couldn’t stand to be around her. I had to get my hands on that antidote before Begonia alienated everyone she loved, including me.
“Would you like to try again?” Meg asked me.
“One near-death experience per day is my limit, thanks.” I dusted off my hands. “I’m going to skip the rest of the lesson, if you don’t mind.”
Even if she minded, Meg wisely chose not to object. I collected my broomstick and stalked off the field, doing my best to remember that the real Begonia would be with us again soon.
It wasn’t easy.
Chapter 17
“Don't kill the messenger," Althea said, sweeping into my office the next morning.
"Those are not the words I want to hear to kickstart my day," I said. Yesterday was bad enough. “What's the problem?"
"You’re scheduled to enter the plea agreement with Rochester this morning," the Gorgon said.
“That's right.” Micki had accepted the sales position with New Brew, so I’d managed to satisfy Rochester’s criteria for the deal. “We still have two hours. I’m sure Rochester will take care of it.”
“He won’t, unfortunately," Althea said. "Rochester is down and out at the healer's office. He came down with a fever in the night and is incoherent. Boyd said there’ve been infections going around because of the new paranormals. We’re getting exposed to germs we’re not used to.”
Great. Another reason for residents to blame newcomers for ruining Spellbound.
“So what do we do?” I asked. “Ask the court for a stay until Rochester’s better and we can sign off on the paperwork?”
“It’s too late.” Althea pursed her lips. “They’ve gone and scheduled the court appearance with the other prosecutor. The elf.”
My eyes bulged. “Sara Santora?”
Althea nodded and her snakes hissed in agreement. “You’re due there in two hours.”
“Can’t we ask her to sign off on what Rochester and I discussed?” I asked, anxiety flooding my system. I was completely unprepared for a trial.
“The judge made it clear that she expects to see you there with your client. I’m sorry, Emma. I tried.”
I started reaching for files in a blind panic. “Can you please send a message to Micki that I need her here immediately? I’ll start working on my argument.”
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I struggled to prepare my case. I thought this would be a slam dunk thanks to Rochester’s reasonable deal. Now, all bets were off. I didn’t want to disappoint Micki, not when she’d come here for a new beginning and freedom from an oppressive boss. Ending up in prison would be a cruel irony. And Toby would have to hire someone else for the sales position. I had to do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.
I glanced up sharply when I heard the click of the door. “Micki, thank the gods.”
Her hair was disheveled, and she wore a half top with a micro mini-skirt and knee-high boots. Not exactly the outfit that was going to appeal to a judge.
“There’s a problem with my case?” she asked, and I heard the fear in her voice.
“It’s a change in plans,” I said. “We need to go to court. Sometimes these things happen. We just have to roll with it.” I gave her an appraising look. “The first order of business is to change your outfit.”
Micki looked down at her clothes. “I was in my nightgown when I got the message. I grabbed the first outfit I could reach.”
I had a feeling there wasn’t much in Micki’s wardrobe that would be appropriate for court. “We’re going to take a quick field trip to Ready-to-Were.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“A boutique,” I said. “My friend Ricardo is a whiz at putting together ensembles. He’ll sort you out, I promise.”
From the adjacent doorway, Althea cleared her throat. “You’ve got to fix the hair, too. Use your wand for that one.”
“You’re right. I won’t have time to squeeze in a salon appointment, too.” I put down my quill and stood. “Let’s hustle, Micki. There’s no time to lose.”
Twenty minutes later, Micki stood in front of the mirrors at Ready-to-Were as Ricardo circled her. “Something conservative, yet feminine.”
“Yes,” I said. “We need to look appealing, but not too appealing.”
Micki chewed her lip. “I guess it’s not that different from what I used to do.”
My brow lifted. “How so?”
“You need me to present a certain image to the judge, right?” Micki asked. “That’s what I did for my clients. I was their fantasy in the flesh. Most of the time, that meant presenting myself as attractive, likeable, and very into them, no matter how long their toenails were.”
I made a face.
Ricardo stopped in front of the succubus and observed her from head to toe. “I have an idea for you.” He hurried to the racks.
Micki groaned. “I don’t have to look like I own an antiques store, do I?”
“Have a little faith in Ricardo,” I said. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Micki wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure? Because he’s wearing purple pants with a green top and a scarf.”
“And he looks amazing, right? I mean, who else could pull that off?”
Micki rel
ented. “Yeah, I guess he does.”
Ricardo returned swiftly with an assortment of dress suits, skirts, and blouses on a floating rack. “Here, try these.”
I was about to point Micki to the dressing room when she began to strip off her boots and clothes right in the middle of the shop.
“Okay then,” Ricardo said, averting his gaze.
She slipped on the first outfit—a soft pink blouse with a knee-length black skirt. “I look like a teacher.”
“Good, perfect,” I said. “That’s the look we’re going for. You need to look like an upstanding member of the community.”
Micki narrowed her eyes. “And a view of my abs somehow prevents that?”
I inclined my head. “Micki, I’m not trying to pass judgment, honestly. I’m trying to help you stay out of prison. Humor me.”
Ricardo held up a different outfit. “Try this one instead. I think it will be more to your taste and solve Emma’s dilemma.” He grinned. “That rhymes.”
Micki changed into a tasteful green shift dress. The fabric accentuated her curves without being too clingy and revealing.
Micki smoothed the sides of the dress. “This is more like it. I still feel attractive in this. I’d even wear it for my new job.”
“I want you to feel comfortable in court, so that works,” I said. I gave the dress a good, long look. “Thank you, Ricardo. As always, your touch is magical.”
He wagged a finger at me. “Don’t be saying such things in front of your husband. He’ll get the wrong idea.”
I laughed. “How about shoes? She can’t wear the boots.”
Ricardo had a pair of kitten heels in his hand before I had time to blink. “Conservative, yet feminine. Just like I said.”
Micki slipped on the shoes. “I feel like Cinderella getting dressed for the lamest ball in history.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If we’re successful today, we’ll celebrate with a nice dinner out. You can wear something more to your taste.”
“Lots of luck,” Ricardo said. “I’ll put these on your tab, yes?”
“Yes, please,” I said.
Micki looked appalled. “I can’t let you pay for me. I have some money. Toby gave me an advance.” She reached for her original clothes.
Crazy For Brew Page 15
