Sweet Tea and Sass

by Tegan Maher

  She patted him on his neck. "It's okay, Buttercup. I seem to have misread the situation."

  "Buttercup?" I mouthed to Bob, who raised his brows and shrugged. He was as out of his element as I was.

  Stephanie stepped forward and introduced herself to Julius and Angie, then offered her services.

  Angie, an olive-skinned woman with flowing black hair, seemed to have a better grasp on her emotions than Julius did. She'd always been the take-charge type. Her eyes roamed over me, Bob, and Tempest as she wrung the water out of her hair and twisted it into a knot on top of her head. "Where's the new manager? Off finding my husband's pelt, or passed out in his office?"

  I pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out as I led the group toward the bar. It was hot, and standing in the brutal sun wasn't doing anything to improve moods.

  Our silence was all the answer Angie needed regarding Cassiel. She rolled her eyes. "Why on earth they put a drunken angel with a crappy attitude in charge of a bar where people come to relax and have fun is beyond me. I'm glad they at least had the good sense to pick a competent waitress and bartender, anyway."

  Blake popped back into the shade of the bar holding a struggling Circe Blackwood by the upper arm.

  Angie took a step forward, murder in her eyes. "Thank you, Blake. I'll take it from here."

  Out of all of us, it was Stephanie who stepped forward to be the voice of reason. "We cannot judge her until we get the truth from her."

  She reached out and grabbed the now-terrified witch by the forehead and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Circe's eyes glazed over.

  When Stephanie released her, the entitled woman appeared dazed and unfocused for a few seconds before righteous outrage took over. Buttercup took a step toward her at the same time Angie did, and she snapped her mouth shut.

  Stephanie shook her head. "It's not her. She's petty, selfish, and a horrible person who will receive a harsh judgment when her time comes, but she doesn't possess the wits to steal the pelt."

  Circe gaped at her. "Did you just call me dumb?"

  The valkyrie lifted a shoulder. "I wouldn't call you the brightest star in the sky by any means." She turned to Blake. "You can release her."

  "But if it wasn't her, then who was it?" Angie asked.

  Bob, who'd been quiet, spoke up. "Maybe it's time to take a look at that brother-in-law of yours. Power is a great motivator."

  Angie glanced back and forth between Bob and Julius. "What's he talking about, Jules?"

  Julius sighed. "I didn't want to mention it, because I don't believe it was him, but Aron stopped by. He's understandably angry because he wasn't chosen as successor."

  "Julius!" Angie said, drawing her brows together. "Why didn't you mention this before? Out of everybody, he had the most reason to want to banish you from the sea!"

  He hung his head. “I don't want to believe it of him. He's family."

  Their family must have had way different dynamics than mine did. I had a couple cousins I was downright ashamed of. One of them boosted my grandpa's pickup in order to steal all the pink flamingos from her neighbor's yard, because she hated both the birds and the neighbor. Another had moseyed drunk into her ex's wedding reception at the local all-you-can-eat buffet and knocked the cake over.

  Another benefit of working eight-hundred miles away from your hometown, at least as far as I was concerned.

  Circe had used the diversion to slink away from the bar, but Angie grabbed her before she could escape. She gave her a good shake. "If you ever come near my husband again, I'll throw you in the sea and call upon the sharks."

  The witch's eyes darted to me for protection, presumably because I was a fellow witch. I just lifted a shoulder. "Told you so. If you ask me, you're lucky she's giving you a pass this time."

  Angie gave her another good shake, then shoved her toward to path that led to the hotel. "Don't let me see you again."

  My selkie friend had put the fear of the gods into the she-devil, because she beat feet around the corner and was gone before you could say sleazy tramp.

  Tempest spoke up. "I can tell you it wasn't your kin. I watched him leave, and the pelt was still hanging on the chair when he did."

  Well that was just great. Now we had no suspects and no pelt. Julius was going to be land-locked unless the tides changed, and fast.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "What else have you done to find the pelt?" Angie demanded of Blake.

  Bob had retreated behind the bar to make everybody a drink. He seemed to be of the mind that a little bit of booze may take the edge off, but again, being raised in the South where drinking was an art form, I was afraid it was throwing gas on a fire.

  Still, Angie took a sip of her anchovy martini—I still shuddered every time I saw the fish floating in the glass—as she waited for Blake to answer.

  "I've locked down the hotel and have ordered a room-by-room search. If the pelt is in the hotel, we'll find it."

  "And if it isn't?" she asked.

  Blake looked at her, and I felt bad when I saw the utter helplessness that crossed his face. He took a deep breath and released it. "All I can say is I'm doing the best I can."

  Sunlight flashed off something by the beach, and a sapphire tail flipped out of the water. Kadi and Beth, two of the mermaids who had been in the pool, swam until they were within a few feet of the beach, then turned around and transformed their tails into legs.

  Striding up the beach, I couldn't help but wonder why all sea creatures—and most paranormals in general—seemed to be blessed with extraordinary good looks, while witches just had to deal with whatever genetics we had.

  They pulled their long hair over their shoulders and wrung the water out as they approached us. Once they reached the bar, I made the introductions.

  "It's nice to meet you," Kadi said to Julius, Angie, and the other selkies. "I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."

  "Where did you guys go?" I asked. I knew they couldn't have gone far, because I'd cast the water barriers myself.

  "We thought maybe it was a good idea to talk to her dad," Beth said. "As the king of the Gulf of Mexico merpeople, he has some far-reaching connections."

  I glanced at Kadi, or rather Princess Kadi, I supposed. "Any luck?"

  Regret crossed her face and she shook her head as Bob handed her a Bahama Mama. I glanced at him, and he reminded me of the bartender version of my mother. When all else fails, offer refreshment. I almost giggled at the thought.

  "Thanks," she said as she took a sip.

  Beth took hers, and looked toward Kadi. "I'll get our stuff. We were in such a rush, we left everything behind."

  We sat silent, each of us wracking our brains for another avenue to explore, when Beth returned, scowling. "Destiny, somebody stole our towels. Our bags are still there, but that beach towel was a gift from my niece."

  I paused with my lime water halfway to my mouth and a lightbulb came on. I knew where his skin was, or at least I had another place to look

  . I set my water down on the bar. "I'll be right back."

  Without giving anybody time to ask where I was going, I snapped my fingers and landed in front of Margo, my feet moving practically before I fully materialized. Nobody but Blake could teleport beyond the sphinx.

  "What's the rush, sweetie?" she called after me.

  "I think I know where Julius's pelt is," I tossed over my shoulder.

  I ran through the hotel to the service elevators, and pushed the down button. The doors slid open, and I rushed toward the laundry room. A brownie named Lucinda was in there, pulling wet towels from a washer and stuffing them into an industrial-sized dryer.

  "Hey, Lucy," I said. "Did a cart of towels just come up from the tiki?"

  "Sure," she said, pointing to a red wheelbarrow. "That's it right there."

  I dug through the cart, hoping against hope that I was right. Sure enough, at the very bottom lay a black pelt with white spots, along with the towels Kadi and Beth had been using. I yank
ed them out, groaning at the weight of the pelt as I slung it over my shoulder.

  Glancing around at the mess I'd made while I was yanking the towels out, I cringed and apologized.

  "Come down to the tiki later and I'll buy you a drink." I said as I made a mad dash back toward the elevators.

  "You found it!" Margo said, delighted, as I rushed past her.

  "I did," I said, grinning as I snapped my fingers.

  I popped back into the tiki still wearing my grin, and handed a slack-jawed Julius his skin. I also passed Beth and Kadi their towels.

  "Where was it?" Blake asked, his brow creased.

  "In the laundry,” I said, smiling. “One of the new beach attendants must have mistaken it for a towel, though I have no idea how with as much as it weighs."

  We had attendants that went through at intervals collecting towels, linens, and other washable hotel property. It appeared they needed a little more training.

  Angie pulled me into a hug, and it wasn't until I saw the tears in her eyes that I realized how truly terrified she'd been. I hugged her back, happy that we'd found it.

  Julius called for rounds of drinks, and of course, that's when Cassiel appeared. He couldn't be bothered to help during a crisis, but when free booze was on the table, he was all in. Too bad Angie was the one with the credit card, because she wasn't as forgiving as Julius.

  Rather than offering him a drink, she gave him a suggestion that was anatomically impossible, even for an angel. I was sure I'd pay for my minute in the spotlight later, but that was okay with me; I had broad shoulders and was just glad I could help.

  Julius raised his glass. "To Destiny," he said, then paused and glanced at Angie, who nodded her head. "I bestow upon you honorary membership into our pod. Should you ever find yourself in need, we are at your service."

  He gave a little bow, and my eyes filled as I hugged both of them.

  "Thank you for saving my husband and keeping our family together," Angie whispered in my ear.

  I swiped a tear off my cheek and grinned, my heart full as I looked around at the people who'd become like family to me. The sea breeze tickled across my cheek and the scent of the sea filled my nostrils as the sunshine kissed my face.

  The Enchanted Coast truly was my paradise.

  <<<<>>>>

  The Christmas Crisis

  This story takes place on the Enchanted Coast. Santa’s having an existential crisis and doesn’t believe that Christmas needs him anymore. As the Spirit of Christmas ebbs, so does his magic, leaving the North Pole wide open for a takeover. Destiny needs to bring him around before all of his magic—and Christmas as we know it—runs out of time.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I love Christmas. It's my absolute favorite time of the year. My cousins tease me because I usually spend it at the tropical resort where I work and live and put up my Christmas trees—yes, multiple ones—in shorts and a tank top, but there's just something about the season that brings out the best in people no matter the weather.

  Since, as a waitress at a tropical tiki bar, I depend on the generosity of guests to pay my bills, it's only fair to say upfront that I benefit financially from the whole "goodwill toward all" thing, but that doesn't have anything to do with my passion.

  Maybe it's because, just for a little while, magic touches everybody, not just those who are blessed with it year 'round.

  Whatever the reason, I love it. That's why what I'm about to tell you about was one of the most terrifying events of my entire life. Don't worry, though. It is, after all, a Christmas story, and I wouldn't tell one that didn't have a happy ending.

  "I LOVE THE ENTHUSIASM, but do you really think we need lights on the beer taps?" Bob, our Bigfoot bartender and one of my closest friends, asked as I twined the mini-snowflake LEDs around the pull-handles.

  "Yes, Bob," I replied, stepping back to survey my work. "We need lights on the beer taps. Look how festive they are. I special ordered these since there's no plug-in on this side of the bar."

  He sighed. "I don't get your obsession with Christmas. I mean, I'm no Scrooge, but it's just another holiday meant to suck money out of our pockets in order to keep the kids happy. Every year, I end up buying generic gifts for people I don't even like just because I would be a Scrooge for not participating in the Secret Santa. It's borderline extortion."

  "You're just bitter because you drew Ed in bookkeeping for Secret Santa," Tempest, my black-and-white arctic fox, said. She was probably right. Ed was a goblin, and while he wasn't a bad guy, he was typical of his species: a little condescending and wrapped up in his work. The guy was richer than Midas and only worked because it was in his goblin nature, so that didn't help, either.

  "For the second year in a row," Bob pointed out, twirling his waxed handlebar mustache. "I had him last year, too, and ended up buying him a fountain pen because I couldn't think of anything better."

  "Fine, then," I said, adjusting the battery pack on the lights so it wasn't quite so visible. "I'll trade with you. I got Lou from human resources."

  He rolled his eyes. "Lou's great, but he's one of those fashion-forward guys that makes the rest of us look bad. He'd be even worse to buy for than Ed."

  "Does that honestly matter, though?" I asked, looking at him over my sunglasses. "I mean, are you gonna buy it yourself, or are you gonna shove it off on Jolene?"

  "I don't shove it off on her," he replied, drawing his bushy eyebrows down at me as he wiped off the bar. "She likes Christmas shopping."

  "Then why are you even worried about it?" Tempest asked, hopping up onto the bar to take the piece of pineapple Bob offered her from the pile he was slicing. "All you have to do is set whatever she buys for him on the table at the Christmas party."

  I flicked my wrist and sent a little stream of magic into the snowflakes so that they twinkled as well as lit up.

  "Here, watch out for a minute," he said as he rinsed the pineapple juice from his hands, then dug around in our junk drawer. Fishing out a roll of semi-clean clear tape, he handed it to me. "You do it because tape and hairy hands don't mix too well, but add a piece or two of that so that they don't keep sliding off. The last thing we need is lights that drop off into somebody's beer. I don't feel like doing CPR on anybody. It's exhausting."

  I gave a small smile. As much as he grumbles, I know he loves the holiday, too. His current state of crabbiness was most likely brought about by the fact that he hadn't decided on a gift for his wife yet. He agonized over it, but I couldn't blame him. Jolene was a sweetheart—a down-home country girl who'd give you her last dollar if she thought you needed it more than she did.

  "Have you figured out what you're gettin' Jolene yet?"

  He heaved a big sigh. "Not even close. I thought maybe I'd get her those curtains she's been goin' on about."

  "You're not buying her curtains for Christmas," I said, shaking my head. "Figure out something personal. Get her a nice piece of jewelry or something. Surely she's dropped some hints."

  He thought for a minute, then shook his head. "Nope. It's football season, so she's usually too busy complainin' about how she misses all her shows because me and the boys hog the TV."

  I rolled my eyes. "Get her a TV for the bedroom."

  As soon as I said it, he threw his hands in the air. "See, this is why I suck at Christmas. She may as well have dropped an anvil on my head. Why can't she just make a list?"

  "Because," Tempest said, with a pointed look. "She's like us. She doesn't want to know what's in a box before she opens it, but she does want to steer you in the right direction so you don’t buy stupid crap. Like curtains."

  "Hmm," he said. "She did ooh and ahh a little too much over those fancy UV-light hair remover things."

  As a fashion-conscious Bigfoot woman, I could see where that type of gift would appeal to her.

  "See, not you have two gift ideas," Tempest said. "Just quit being a lunkhead and pay attention."

  I stepped from behind the bar and walked around to the front
of the tiki so I could look at my handiwork as a whole. It was perfect. Almost a dozen strands of white lights lit up the inside, while I'd used colored ones to frame the outside of the structure. I'd strapped giant lighted candy canes to the support poles on both front corners, then wrapped strands of lights around them and hung wreaths higher up on the poles for good measure.

  Finally, on the back tables on either side of the bar, I'd put up cute little three-foot trees complete with decorations and fake gifts.

  Anywhere else in the world, I'd have worried a little about having so many lights on the palm-leaf thatched structure, since it was uber flammable, but that was one of the many benefits of living on a magical resort: everything was enchanted to be as safe as possible.

  "Excuse me," a man said from behind me, clearing his throat.

  I turned to find a skinny older gentleman in flip-flops, swim trunks, and a rumpled Hawaiian shirt shuffling toward me. He had a couple days of gray growth on his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. In short, he looked rough.

  I didn't hold that against him, though. It wasn't pretty much the norm for folks to overdo it on the rumrunners during their first couple days at the resort.

  I gave him a big smile. "Hi! Can I help you?"

  "You sure can," he replied in a gravelly voice. "I'd love a martini. And not one of those pumpkin spice or gingerbread or minty ones, either. Just a good ole-fashioned extra-dirty gin martini."

  "Comin' right up," Bob said as the man climbed up onto a bar stool. He shot me a curious look, but I just raised my shoulder. I'd been off for a couple of days, so I hadn't seen the guy yet.

  There was a reason Bob was the manager of the tiki, or at least the interim one: not only was he a martini master, he was also a huge people person, Secret Santa weirdness aside.