Batter and Spells

by Zoe Arden

  Eleanor and I exchanged a look. I could tell she wanted to get out of here. Even though she knew it wasn't Sheriff Knoxx, it was still too unsettling for her.

  "All right," I reluctantly agreed and we headed back toward the car. Sheriff Knoxx agreed to drop us off, but it wasn't a far walk and I thought Eleanor could use the air. She was normally the most composed person I knew. Ever since the wedding planning had started, she'd seemed a lot more frazzled.

  I glanced to our left as a wave crashed down on the shore. There was someone there, watching us amongst the jagged pile of rocks that climbed toward the sky. They were dressed head to toe in black, not an ounce of skin exposed even though they were at a beach.

  "Eleanor, do you see that?"

  "What?"

  "That person." I was already walking toward them. They saw me coming and disappeared behind a large boulder. I saw their foot poke out as they began climbing. It wasn't a cliff exactly, just a tall pile of rocks that had sort of fused together over the years.

  "Ava!" Eleanor called after me, but I pretended I didn't hear. Who was this person and why were they watching us? There was something nefarious about a person dressed all in black while at a beach.

  I reached up and grabbed hold of the first rock, bracing myself for the climb. It wasn't an easy one but it wasn't exactly like climbing Mount Everest. My foot found a nice series of groves and I made my way to the center of the pile, where I could hear stones scattering over the ground.

  "Ava!" Eleanor was shouting my name, running after me.

  The figure in black was just ahead of me. I could hear them even though I couldn't see them. My foot slipped out from under me. I barely caught myself as I fell face first toward a razor-sharp stone. I brushed myself off and stood up. I was at the edge of the rock pile, about fifty feet up.

  I looked down, a mistake. My head got dizzy. It was almost a straight shot into the ocean. From this height, though, I wasn't sure you could make it. There were more rocks down there, hiding beneath the water. If I was lucky, I might miss the water and land on a patch of sand instead, breaking my bones instead of drowning.

  I heard a noise and turned too late. A pair of hands jolted out of nowhere. They pushed hard against my chest and I felt myself careen over the side.

  "Aaaahhh!"

  The black masked face looked down at me as I caught hold of a rock that was jutting out horizontally. My hands slipped and my feet dangled in the air beneath me. For a second, I thought he might help, then the mask disappeared.

  I searched frantically for a foothold but found nothing. There were voices now, running, yelling. Colt was there. He reached over the side with his COMHA-issued super-wand just as I fell. A bolt of blue shot out and wrapped around my waist like a rope. It didn't stop me from falling, but it made me fall slower. I missed the water, landing on the ground like a dancer on a cloud.

  Eleanor pulled me into a hug. "You could have been killed!"

  "Did you see him? Did you get him?" I was looking frantically around the beach. Except for our small group, it was empty.

  "See who?" Eleanor asked.

  "The man in black. He pushed me off the rock."

  "Ava," Eleanor said, looking at Sheriff Knoxx and Lincoln. "You fell off the rock. I saw you."

  "No, I was pushed."

  Colt was back down now. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. "Let me take you home. You need to rest."

  "I don't need to rest," I snapped. "I need to find whoever just tried to kill me because I'm betting it was the same person who killed the sheriff's lookalike over there."

  I could tell by the blank faces that they had not seen what I had seen.

  "Doesn't anyone believe me?" I asked.

  The resounding silence said it all. No.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  THREE

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  Tazzie Singer's office was just like I remembered. I didn't think she'd changed a thing since Mayor Singer had died at the hands of Margaret Binford. Unlike Sweetland's own Mayor Thomas, Mayor Singer had been much beloved by the people of Mistmoor.

  "Hello, Ava," she said, greeting me warmly.

  I hadn't told anyone where I was going today. Eleanor and Colt had spent the night trying to convince me that I had imagined the whole thing on the rocks—the man in black had been a sun spot, the push had been the wind. It was ridiculous, and it was making me mad. I needed to get away, to figure things out for myself.

  My father, at least, had expressed doubt that I'd simply imagined the whole thing, but Sheriff Knoxx reminded him that it had been a high-tension situation. The dead body on the beach, the possible assassin lurking around Mistmoor. The problem was that no one besides me had seen the man in black, if it was a man at all. I couldn't be sure.

  "Hi, Mrs. Singer," I said.

  "Oh, Ava, call me Tazzie." She shook my hand graciously.

  I smiled. Tazzie was a warm, likable woman. Her gray hair was slightly frizzy at the ends and she had a tendency to smile when she really wanted to frown, but those were just some of the reasons I liked her. The people of Mistmoor Point had really supported her after Herbert died. They'd asked her to step in as acting mayor, and as far as the town was concerned, she'd done an excellent job. Which is why it was so surprising that she wasn't farther ahead in the polls.

  Mayor Singer had a loud, boisterous personality when he was alive. His office reflected that. There were bright paintings on the walls and a giant clock made to look like the one in Madison Square Garden. Two oversized chairs sat opposite his desk. Tazzie offered me a seat in one.

  "What can I do for you, Ava?"

  There was a light knock on the door and Hadley Miner's head poked in. Her brown hair was cut into a loose, wavy bob that reflected her bright personality. She was closer to my age than Tazzie's, though I suspected she was still a good ten years older than me even if she didn't look it. She had been Mayor Singer's right-hand woman when he was alive, a secretary for the ages. When Tazzie took over as acting mayor, she'd done her job with the same grace and dignity she always had. Tazzie adored her.

  "Sorry to interrupt," Hadley said, "just thought I'd see if you needed anything. Coffee or tea?"

  Tazzie looked at me. "Coffee would be nice," I said. Hadley disappeared back behind the door.

  "Now then, Ava. Why are you here?"

  Another reason I liked Tazzie—she cut to the chase.

  "I was attacked yesterday at Mistmoor Beach."

  Tazzie's eyes went wide. "I haven't heard anything. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, thank you. The thing is... no one believes me."

  There was another light knock and the door pushed open again. Hadley returned with steaming mugs and coffee all around. She set sugar and honey on the coffee table and lingered a moment, her eyes inquiring if there was anything more, or perhaps just wanting recognition for a job well done. Sometimes it was the little jobs that mattered the most but so often went overlooked.

  "Thank you, Hadley," Tazzie said. "I'll call if we need anything else."

  "Sure thing," she said and went back out.

  "Now then, what do you mean no one believes you?" Tazzie asked me.

  "No one saw it happen," I told her. "They think I got scared and tripped, that I imagined the whole thing."

  Tazzie frowned. It lasted a second before turning over into a light smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what this has to do with me."

  "I'm not sure either. I thought my attack might be related to your attack but now I don't know."

  "Oh, is that it?" There was relief in her voice. She wasn't a woman who liked being confused or uncertain. I hadn't noticed how on edge she seemed at first but now that I heard her voice relax and saw her shoulders fall, I realized she was carrying a mass of tension within her. "I doubt the attacks are related, Ava. Mine was a mugging, pure and simple."<
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  I almost spit out my coffee. "I'm sorry? A mugging? What about the assassin's list that was found?"

  "Oh, that... well... that's just a theory. I trust Sheriff Maxwell but I really don't see how one isolated event should impact the election. I refuse to drop out of the race. Herbert would have wanted me to go on."

  "You mean you're still running in the election tomorrow?"

  "Of course I am."

  There was another knock on the door. "Excuse me," Hadley said, all smiles. "Sorry to interrupt again, but I just found this sitting on my desk and thought I better give it to you. It's marked urgent."

  She walked a large manila envelope over to Tazzie, who took it and set it in her lap. Big, black, block letters were etched across the top spelling out her name. Beneath it, in red, was the word "urgent."

  "Who gave this to you?" she asked.

  Hadley shrugged. "I went to use the bathroom and when I came back it was just lying on my desk."

  Tazzie opened it, peeked inside. She turned it upside down. A tri-fold letter fell onto the floor. Tazzie picked it up and opened it. Her pupils turned to black quarters. Her pink lips turned white.

  "What is it?" I asked, alarmed.

  "Nothing," she tried to say, but it barely came out. "A bad joke."

  Hadley was leaning over her shoulder, reading. She looked at Tazzie, her face serious. "This is a threat, Tazzie, not a joke." She reached for the letter but Tazzie pulled it back. "We need to call the police," she reasoned.

  Tazzie shook her head, folding the letter back up. "Nonsense." Her hands were shaking and the letter slipped to the floor. I snatched it up before she could and read it.

  DROP OUT OR KAYLA DIES

  It was cold and to the point. My throat felt like desert sand as I tried to swallow.

  "They're threatening your daughter?" I asked.

  Tazzie angrily snatched the letter back from me. "It's just a joke," she said, more like yelled. "A bad one. Now, please, I have a lot to do before the election tomorrow."

  She indicated the door. I stood up slowly, walking toward it, thinking. I paused with one foot in the reception area, one foot still in her office.

  "Do you have any idea who would want you out of the election?" I asked.

  She pursed her lips, silent. Hadley answered for her. "Thaddeus Black. I've never trusted him."

  Tazzie shot Hadley an annoyed look.

  "Just a joke," Tazzie muttered under her breath. She rose from the chair and shut her office door on me. We were done.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

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  "Can you turn up the volume?" I asked Trixie. She was the one closest to the radio. Because of everything that had happened so recently between Mistmoor Point and Sweetland Cove, the outcome of Mistmoor's mayoral election was hot news.

  Trixie turned the dial. Election results were rolling in. They would be updated hourly and broadcast all day until the winner was announced. The Mystic Cupcake was surprisingly empty for mid-afternoon. We chalked it up to election day. Everyone wanted to be at home listening to their radios or watching the television. What else could it be? Normally we were packed at this time, especially being the only bakery in Sweetland Cove.

  The door chimed and I looked up from the magazine I was flipping through. I'd stopped on an obscene ad—a beautiful blonde witch was trying to sell me pre-made frosting, as if any self-respecting witch would use such a thing!—and Colt stepped inside.

  "Hi," I said, setting the magazine aside.

  He walked right past me, grumbling something incoherent, and grabbed a chocolate lava joy cupcake from behind the counter. Trixie, Eleanor, my dad, and I watched as he sucked it down in two swift bites.

  "Sorry," he said, his mouth so full it came out slurred.

  "It's okay," Aunt Eleanor said, looking baffled. Colt never ate with so much... gusto. Chocolate frosting was smeared all over his face. He tried to wipe it away and just made it worse. A chocolate fingerprint stuck just under his right eye, like an ink blot.

  Colt was the type of man who always looked put together. No matter what was going on in his life, he managed to look as though he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ. His suit was neatly pressed, his shirt wrinkle free, his shoes shined to a high gloss. Even when he wore pullovers and jeans, he looked dashing.

  I watched the chocolate move around his face, spreading. He was sporting a heavy five o'clock shadow.

  "Um... Colt?" I asked. "Is everything okay?"

  "Sure, fine," he said, reaching for a second cupcake. "You don't mind if I grab another, do you?"

  We all shook our heads. My dad arched one eyebrow in a classic Spock move. What's with him? When Colt silently retreated to our back room, I silently followed.

  "Hey, are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

  "Yes! Why do people keep asking me that?" It was snappish and so unlike Colt that I forgot to be angry.

  "Er, you have chocolate on your face. Here," I pointed to my mouth, "and here," I pointed to my eye, "and here," I pointed to my nose.

  Colt let out a long, shaky breath that was more grunt than air. "Ugh!" His hands balled into fists and he slammed one of them into a pile of cinnamon raisin dough we'd been letting rise.

  "Okay, I'm officially worried. Whatever it is, just tell me," I said, resting my hand on his shoulder. He looked at me, his dark blond hair swaying gently as shook his head. It was growing out again. I liked it.

  "My dad," he said.

  "Oh." I drew in a breath, bracing myself for bad news. "Did the Council on Magic and Human Affairs come back with a verdict?"

  "Not yet... but Dean Lampton called me into his office today."

  I burned up just hearing the name. Dean Lampton was the worst, most egotistical head of COMHA I'd ever met. Okay, technically he was also the only head of COMHA I'd ever met, but I was certain that my opinion of him would hold even if I'd met a million heads of COMHA.

  It was unfortunate that Dean was also Colt's boss. He'd fired him not all that long ago, during the whole vampire fiasco. That was still the easiest way to put it—the vampire fiasco. It basically consisted of three vampires with alternating ideas on how to live as a vampire in a human-witch world.

  Colt's father, Russell, a former COMHA agent himself, had faked his death years before when he was turned into a vampire by the evil Vlaski Ambrose. Melbourne Hammond, a vampire resident of Sweetland Cove who had been well liked until this all went down, had also faked his death. Melbourne had been trying to stop Vlaski from taking over the world. Russell and teetered on the edge of helping Vlaski until he'd finally decided to get away from the dark side and help me and his son instead.

  "And?" I prompted.

  Colt was staring off into space.

  "And... Dean told me to expect bad news. The Council wasn't swayed as much by your testimony as I'd hoped."

  "I'm sorry. It's so unfair. You just got him back after a decade, over a decade, and now you're going to have to give him up again. At least this time you'll know where he is."

  The way Colt looked at me, I knew I wasn't helping.

  "Yeah, because seeing my father behind bars is so much better."

  "Than thinking he's dead? Drained of all his blood by Vlaski Ambrose, the evilest vampire to walk this planet? Left to suffer and wither away like a piece of bad meat? Yeah, I'd say it's much better, Colt."

  "Well... when you put it like that..." His cheeks turned pink. He looked at his shirt sleeve and finally realized his crisp white button down was covered with chocolate.

  He searched his suit coat for a handkerchief, dabbing one end in water before wiping his cuffs with it. A slip of paper fell out of his pocket as he cleaned himself up. I picked it off the floor, half opened. A drawing of Russell Hudson stared back at me, a knife plunged deep into his head.

  "What is this?" I demanded.

  Col
t looked at it, took a beat, then said, "Nothing."

  "Nothing? It doesn't look like nothing. It looks like a drawing of your father with his head sliced open."

  Colt grabbed it back from me but not before I could unfold the rest of it. In scraggly, serial killer handwriting were the words All Vampires Must Die. I realized then that the knife in Russell's head wasn't a knife; it was a stake.

  Colt bunched it up and threw it in the trash. "It's nothing. I get a dozen of those a day. I don't know why this one got to me."

  "A dozen a day?! Colt, why didn't you tell me that?"

  He rolled his shoulders. "My dad faked his death for thirteen years and came back as a vampire. It made some people... uncomfortable. I don't feel like I need to talk about it all the time. I know he's not a bad person, even if no one else does."

  "Colt, you're not the only one who knows Russ is a good man. He saved my life, remember? I know what kind of person he is." And then, because there was nothing else for me to say, I hugged Colt. Hard. He turned his face to mine so that our lips met. When we parted, I could see that he'd relaxed just the tiniest bit.

  The swing door opened and Trixie stuck her head. "Ava, you better get out here." She retreated to the front without further explanation. Colt and I looked at each other then went to join her and the rest of my family.

  Lottie Mudget was out front, looking through our display cases and gossiping, her most favorite pastime. Whatever she was saying must have been a doozy, because she had the rapt attention of both my aunts and my father, who normally didn't give one rat's tail about gossip.

  "I'm not saying I would ever go there, certainly not," Lottie said, her pudgy fingers dirty imprints on the glass I'd just cleaned. "I'm loyal to my stores just like I am to my familiars. I only thought you should know that Mystic Cupcake has a little competition now. That way you can prepare your defensive."