“Nope,” Festus replied, claiming the second chair. “The psychopath is dead. Anton is dead, and we’re drinking his beer. That feels like a win to me.”
Just then, the office door opened and Miss Frobisher came in carrying a silver tray with two plates dwarfed by massive paper-wrapped burgers flanking an enormous cut-glass bowl filled with fries. “Will there be anything else, gentlemen?” she asked, putting the platter down in the center of the white table cloth.
“No, thank you,” Chase said. “This is great. Won’t you join us? There’s enough food here for an army.”
“That’s kind of you,” Miss Frobisher said, “but I’m a vegan.”
As the door closed, Festus mumbled, “I knew there was something off about that dame.”
“Not everyone is a carnivore,” Chase pointed out as he began to unwrap his burger.
“The trustworthy ones are,” Festus replied, biting into his burger and smiling happily. “I just may live,” he announced.
As they ate, an odd thought suddenly occurred to Chase. “You know, Dad,” he said, “this is more time than I’ve spent with you in human form in years.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Festus shot back. “I’m not a huge fan of the bipeds.”
Chase started to say, “You haven’t been since Mom died,” but thought better of it. Instead he said, “Does the hip hurt more when you’re in your human form?”
Festus washed down a mouthful of food and opened a second bottle of ale. “Yeah, I can’t get my weight off the damned thing unless I’m on three legs.”
“You must hate him,” Chase said quietly.
“Chesterfield?” Festus said, biting into a fry. “Yeah, I do, but not because he lamed me. He’s a reckless fool, working magic in front of humans, playing fast and loose with dangerous artifacts. He sees nothing but his own selfish plans. The risk of exposing our hidden world means nothing to him. Your mother died rather than betray our true nature. You think I’m going to just stand by and watch some Creavit scum out all of us while the humans break out the pitchforks and torches? Not a chance.”
“And yet Barnaby let Chesterfield off with probation back in ‘36,” Chase said. “What the heck was that all about?”
“Good question,” Festus said. “After Moira and I got Chesterfield contained, we put him in a holding cell in the In Between. Power was just radiating off that guy. Thirty-six hours later? Moira tested him with the touchstone and he couldn’t get it past bright blue. She decided he’d been juiced up on something when he fought us and that he really wasn’t such a big deal wizard after all. I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now.”
“So what did Barnaby do?” Chase asked.
“He kept Chesterfield in that holding cell for a month,” Festus said, “and tested him six ways from Sunday. Never one time did the guy register any real, viable power. Chesterfield came off as just a garden variety, low-level wizard. Started whining about how he’d gotten in over his head, said he’d never do it again, claimed he just wanted to live quietly among the humans. Damned if Barnaby didn’t buy it. The whole story was a load of bull.”
“What makes you say that?” Chase asked. “I mean if Chesterfield passed all those tests, maybe Moira was right that he was using something to augment his powers the day you fought him.”
“Not a chance,” Festus said, “and you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I had to shift every single day for three months before my hip stabilized and now there’s scar tissue in there.”
Chase blinked. “You never told me that,” he said. “Shapeshifters don’t scar.”
“No, we don’t,” Festus said, “but I did.”
When Chase pushed open the door of Miss Shania Moonbeam’s Divinatory Emporium, a gong sounded.
“Oh, brother,” Festus grumbled. “Here we go.”
“Behave,” Chase said, plastering on a smile as a short, round woman draped in layers of diaphanous, neon fabric emerged from the back room.
Instead of the fake gypsy seer accent they expected, Miss Shania said brightly, “Well, hey y’all! You looking to have your fortune told? Or maybe I can read the bumps on your heads?” She turned to Festus, “Your grandpa looks like he has a real bumpy head.”
“Grandpa?” Festus growled.
“This is my father,” Chase said smoothly. “Festus McGregor. My name is Chase. We were sent by a former client of yours, Glory Green.”
“Glory!” Miss Shania gasped. “Oh my goodness gracious! I have been worried sick about that girl. She just up and disappeared. Didn’t even give notice over at the state archives. Did she follow her dreams and start singing like Elvis? If she did, I’m gonna be green with envy.”
“‘Green’ being the operative word,” Festus said.
Miss Shania frowned, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Nothing,” Chase said firmly. “He said nothing. Glory did start a new life. She’s in . . . retail . . . working with a friend of ours. She told us that you know a local antiques dealer with a reputation for acquiring hard-to-find items.”
The woman’s face wilted. “Mr. Chesterfield,” she said. “You know he just up and died, right?”
“Did he now?” Festus said. “And when did this tragedy occur?”
“Just a few days ago,” she said, “and his people cleaned his shop right out. Didn’t even have the decency to put a funeral wreath on the front door. I think they must be Yankees. They don’t do like we do down here when it comes to the dead. ”
“His people?” Chase interrupted. “He had family?”
As if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Miss Shania pursed her lips and said, “Well, now don’t quote me on that part. I’m just assuming it was his people that did it because he must have left all that stuff to somebody and now the whole store is just as empty as a cat house on Sunday morning.”
Trying not to smile, Chase asked, “How did he die?”
“I’m afraid the voice didn’t tell me that,” Miss Shania said. “Sometimes they leave stuff out if the channel is bad. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh,” Festus purred, “we do. It’s so hard to get good reception from the other side.”
“It is!” Miss Shania said. “Worse than trying to get through on your cell phone when you’re back in the sporting goods section down at the Walmart.”
Shooting his father a murderous look, Chase said, “Would you mind telling us what the voice told you?”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s easy. It said, ‘Tell anyone who asks that Irenaeus Chesterfield is dead.’ Came through just clear as a bell.” Then her lip began to quiver. “But it scares me,” she said. “I think that voice was the Angel of Death himself.”
“Why do you say that?” Chase asked.
“Because since Mr. Chesterfield died, the voice in my head is gone. I think the Grim Reaper took his life and my gift, too.”
14
Mindy showed up not long after Tori and I finished breakfast. I was looking approvingly at the receipts for the weekend; SpookCon1 was definitely a success. Magic crisis or not, we did have bills to pay. When the bell on the front door jingled, I looked up to see a young girl dressed in black with an incongruously bouncy demeanor coming toward me.
“Hi!” she said, holding her hand out. “Are you Jinx? Tori told me I had to see you about being hired in the espresso bar. Is this a good time?”
As much as I might have wanted to object to the girl on sight, that simply wasn’t possible. The phrase “infectious personality” describes Mindy perfectly.
“Sure,” I said, shaking her hand. “Tori tells me that you have experience working as a barista? Can you tell me about that?”
Five minutes later, I’d already decided that in the coffee department Mindy’s qualifications put ours to shame. Who knew a certain large, overpriced chain had so many advanced training courses?
“So you worked as a barista while you were finishing college?” I
asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
That made me wince. “It’s just Jinx,” I said.
Mindy grinned. “Sure thing,” she said. “Yeah, I graduated last spring with a degree in film studies. Me and my friends, Nick and Kyle, are hoping to have a hit with the HBH Files. That stands for ‘Haunted Briar Hollow’ by the way. If we can go viral, who knows what might happen.”
Hoping to “go viral” might not sound like the most solid business plan, but it’s a standard “best practice” for a millennial like Mindy.
“Are Nick and Kyle looking for jobs, too?” I asked.
“Nick is working for the old couple in the corner grocery,” she said.
“George and Irma,” I supplied. “And Kyle?”
“He’s going to try to get hired at the pizzeria.”
Given my suspicions about Pete, that didn’t sound like the greatest idea in the world, but at least all three of them would be on the square where we could keep an eye on their activities.
“Okay,” I said, “you’re definitely qualified and we could use the help, so you’re hired. Go on over and tell Tori I said to get you started.”
“Thank you so much!” Mindy enthused. “This is going to be awe-some. I won’t let you down. I promise.” Then, leaning in a little, she whispered, “By the way. Your aura’s looking sort of muddy. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Taken aback, I said, “Actually, no. I got in late last night.”
“Don’t worry, Boss,” she said cheerfully, “I’ll brew you something herbal that’ll fix you right up.”
Unless “herbal” meant coffee, Mindy had a lot to learn about my beverage tastes.
Over lunch with the Moms in the storeroom, Tori practically glowed about our new hire. “My God, Jinksy,” she said, “Mindy took the espresso machine apart and cleaned the nozzles — without even looking at the manual. I thought it was working fine, but then she pulled a shot that was just this side of heaven.”
“Gloat, why don’t you?” I said. “Let’s not forget that Super Barista is in town to look into hauntings, including his Late Honor the Mayor, which could mean trouble for us. Has she mentioned the YouTube ghost video yet?”
The baseball video. Yeah. Let me tell you what happened with that.
Two Bigfoot hunters in town for SpookCon1 stumbled on a spectral baseball game at the high school field. Baseball is Beau’s new obsession, and since most of the people he knows are dead, he organized his cemetery friends in a league.
The ghosts didn’t realize they’d gotten an extra jolt of energy after they were exposed to the entire electricity-eating Ionescu clan. The experience made the spirits just corporeal enough to show up on video, including a shot of Duke charging the camera with teeth bared, which had people calling him a “hellhound.”
“Mindy hasn’t brought the video up,” Tori said. “Besides, most of the comments on YouTube are running in favor of it being a hoax. I think it’s actually good for us in terms of the tourist trade.”
Yeah, except for one little dead detail.
“What about the fact that one of the guys who shot the video has gone missing?” I said. “It’s only a matter of time before the whole story turns into one great big urban myth/unsolved mystery thing.”
We all grew quiet at the mention of the “missing” boy. The Strigoi Sisters killed him and left his body in an alley. At my insistence, Greer transported the remains to a different location where they could be found and returned to his family. So far there had been nothing on the news about the discovery, but we all knew it was coming.
“Deal with one thing at a time, Norma Jean,” Mom counseled quietly. “Greer said the boy’s death would look like an accident.”
An “accident” with four neat puncture wounds in his jugular. Still, Mom was right. We couldn’t deal with something that hadn’t happened yet.
Tori wisely decided to change the subject. “So,” she said, “dish already. How was your big night out in Shevington?”
“Cold,” I said. “Mom, you weren’t kidding about winters in the Valley.”
She laughed. “No,” she said, “I wasn’t, but wait until you see how beautiful it is at Christmas time.”
Even though we hadn’t found a way to reunite the whole family, Mom was already determined we would be spending Christmas with my brother and no one wanted to oppose her on the idea. Gemma saved me from having to make a response with a neat deflection.
“Where did you all have drinks?” she asked.
“O’Hanson’s Pub,” I replied.
“Oh!” Mom said, sounding like an eager little kid. “Do they still make Scotch Eggs?”
“For heaven’s sake!” I laughed. “Is everyone in love with cold, deep-fried, sausage-wrapped eggs?”
In one voice, Mom and Gemma both said, “Yes!”
Never one to leave food on the table, Tori said, “Do we need a girl’s night out at O’Hanson’s so I can try one?”
“That would be so much fun!” Mom said. “Let’s do it when things settle down. Did you have fun, honey?”
“I did,” I said. “Rube joined us.”
Gemma snorted. “Now you’re drinking with raccoons. What are we going to do with you, young lady?”
“He did most of the drinking,” I said. “I swear that guy has a hollow leg.”
“Most raccoons I’ve ever known have four hollow legs,” Gemma observed wryly. “They aren’t known as wild animals for nothing.”
Tori wasn’t interested in discussing mammalian drinking habits. She steered the conversation right back to Lucas. “So what about Mr. Tall Dark and Fedora?” she asked. “He was flirting with you big time Saturday night in the lair.”
Blushing, I said, “He was not.”
“Chase sure thought he was,” she countered. “Festus almost had to put his claws out to make him behave.”
“That’s Chase’s problem,” I said, and then added, “but I did find out something about Lucas I didn’t know. He told me he’s half Gwragedd Annwn.”
Tori shook her head. “Never heard of that one. What does it mean?”
“It means he’s a water elf,” Mom said. “What’s the other half?”
“Druid,” I said. “So what’s the big deal about water elves?”
Mom and Gemma exchanged a look. “Are you going to tell her?” Mom asked.
“Tell me what?”
“The Lady of the Lake was Gwragedd Annwn,” Gemma said.
Which meant absolutely nothing to either me or Tori, who said, “CliffsNotes, please?”
“The Lady of the Lake gave Excalibur to King Arthur,” Gemma said. “The Gwragedd Annwn are old and noble Fae. Lucas comes from a distinguished magical lineage.”
She didn’t use the word “royal,” but the implication was there.
“He didn’t seem to want to talk about it,” I said. “Greer told me that Lucas likes to be taken on his own merit rather than because of his family. Moira is his aunt.”
“Really?” Mom said. “I knew Moira was half elf, but I didn’t realize she was a water elf. That explains her interest in merfolk culture.”
Just then my cell phone beeped. It was a text message from Chase. “They’ve finished in Anton’s office and sent some pictures to Greer and Lucas,” I said, reading from the screen. “They’re going to talk to Miss Shania, then check out of the hotel and head back. Chase says Anton’s secretary is really broken up about his death.”
“Have you told Cezar about the girls yet?” Gemma asked.
Oh God. To be truthful, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. “No,” I admitted. “I haven’t.”
“Honey!” Mom said. “You have to get on the phone and talk to him this second. The girls could be a terrible threat to all of his people. What if they try to turn more of the Ionescus into Strigoi mort blasfematoare?”
Crap.
I agreed to call Cezar immediately. We cleaned up the remains of our lunch, and the others left me alone in the storeroom to pl
ace the call.
On Friday night, just before he’d supervised the removal of Anton’s body, Cezar Ionescu gave me his private number. He answered on the first ring. “Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton,” he said. “How may I help you?”
“You can start by calling me Jinx,” I said. “There’s been a development.”
As briefly as possible, I explained about the sighting of Seraphina and Ioana as well as Chesterfield’s role in their rescue.
“This is not good,” Cezar said.
Uh, yeah. I got that part.
“Anton’s burial is scheduled for Thursday,” Cezar said. “Because he was a public figure, he cannot simply disappear. The body has been staked, but we will still have an open casket service. When the human sense of propriety has been satisfied, the beheading will occur and Anton’s soul will be at rest. Should the girls choose to disrupt these plans at any juncture, the consequences could be serious.”
We agreed that Chase, Lucas, Greer, and I would attend the service to help with security just in case the Strigoi Sisters decided to pay their last respects. Cezar made it clear to me that he saw peace with the Fae world as a valuable asset for the Ionescus. That made our list of potential enemies shorter by one. Not bad for a Monday.
When Kelly came out of the storeroom with Tori and Gemma, her husband was waiting for her. “Hi, honey,” Jeff said. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure,” she said. “What’s up?”
When he hesitated, Gemma said, “Come on, Tori. Let’s go check on Mindy and see how she made it through the lunch run.”
As they walked away, Kelly frowned at her spouse, “Jeff, is something wrong?”
“No,” he grinned. “I think something might be very right. Come with me.”
To Kelly’s surprise, he led her outside and down the sidewalk past the cobbler’s shop, stopping in front of the vacant store on the corner. “What do you think?” he said.
Perplexed, she said, “About what? An empty building?”
Witch on Third (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 6) Page 12
