by Bella Falls
Someone tapped me on my arm, and I jerked it back in surprise. Flint’s brother Clint put a finger to his lips and gestured for me to follow him. I left the scene a little perturbed at not being able to find out all the details. The gnome picked his way through another team’s campsite over to the row where Lucky’s Seven were settled.
“What does he want?” Dash asked, startling me.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m following him,” I hissed. “Why are you coming with me?”
The shifter raised his eyebrow. “Because trouble tends to find you.”
“I can take care of myself,” I insisted.
“Hey,” Clint interrupted in his squeaky voice. “I asked you to be quiet so you don’t draw any attention to the situation.”
I scrunched up my nose and apologized. “Sorry, Clint. What’s going on?”
Horatio stepped into the light of their campfire. “I am afraid we are in desperate need of your services tonight, Holmes.”
When my troll friend called me by his special nickname, invoking the famous fictional detective, it meant nothing good was about to happen. “Why?”
Horatio looked at Clint and then back at me. “Because I fear that we have lost our leprechaun. Lucky has vanished.”
Chapter Five
Frosted fairy wings, why did Horatio and the other team members want to involve me? The whole thing could be a very minor problem that would solve itself as soon as Lucky returned from doing whatever he was doing.
Dash shook his head. “He’s probably in the crowd checking out the aftermath of the explosion.” I nodded my head in vehement agreement.
“No, he’s not.” Clint frowned in frustration. “I quietly checked with Steve and Henry. We’d left Lucky behind tending our own smoker when Fireball got out of control.”
Something tugged at my gut, but I didn’t want to listen if not for any other reason than I had enough to deal with on my plate tonight. “Maybe he went into town to get something or found some other friends to drink with.”
Horatio shook his massive head at me. “Please, Charli. Listen.” He patted the gnome’s shoulder to continue.
Clint stumbled forward at the troll’s heavy-handed touch. “I came back to get him because I knew he wouldn’t want to miss out on what was happening. But when I got here, the lid to the smoker was left open.”
I waited for further explanation, but got nothing back but eager gazes. Confused, I prompted for more information. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Yes,” all of the men, including Dash, replied in unison.
“Once the meat’s on the grill, you only open it to baste or to briefly check on the progress. You never leave the lid completely open for any significant amount of time. If you do, you’ll lose all the heat and smoke,” explained the wolf shifter.
I shrugged my shoulders. “So he left the lid open. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s disappeared.”
“But I found a half-drunk glass of beer.” Clint walked over to a table by the smoker and picked up the glass half-full with an amber liquid. “Lucky would never leave any drink he poured for himself. Especially not this brew.”
Dash crossed his arms. “Is there something special about your beer?”
All of the present teammates glanced at each other. “That’s not the point,” said Clint.
The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. “Okay, you might be right. But what do you want me to do about it? Shouldn’t you be talking to one of the wardens?”
Horatio stepped forward, holding up a piece of fabric. “I found this located on the ground near the smoker. Perhaps you could use your talents to help locate our friend.”
I accepted the rag, which felt slightly damp. Wrinkling my nose, I lifted it up to try and figure out why it was wet.
Dash stopped me. “Are you seriously going to stick that near your face without knowing what could be on it? What if someone dosed it with some form of chemical to knock Lucky out?”
“Do your supersonic senses pick up anything?” I snapped at him, even though he wasn’t wrong.
“That’s not the point,” he argued. “But no, I don’t detect anything artificial. It could be enchanted though.”
The fabric didn’t have the tingle of a lingering spell still hanging on it. “Honestly, I think it might just be water. Or maybe his sweat.” The more I thought about it, the more I agreed with the latter possibility since it made sense he might have wiped his brow while working near the hot smoker.
“Do you detect his presence from it, Holmes?” Horatio asked.
“With this?” I held the fabric by the tips of my fingers and curled up my lip. “Hold on. Let me try.” I’d have to grasp the rag hard to make a connection. Ignoring the source of the dampness, I closed my eyes and concentrated.
Nothing. No tremor of magic. No slight tug of direction. The fabric felt like a blank object in my hands.
“That’s weird,” I said louder than I meant to. “But a leprechaun is a type of fae.”
“Why would that matter?” asked Dash.
A low voice penetrated our group. “Because some of the fae’s powers act differently and are harder for Charli to detect. What I want to know is, what are you trying to find?” Mason joined us, standing directly on the other side of me.
“There are reasons that make us believe that Lucky’s disappeared somehow. They want me to find him using this rag.” I waved the fabric at him. “But I can’t pick up anything.”
“Did you spellcast at all?” the detective asked.
Lowering my voice so not everyone would be privy to my methods, I spoke out of the corner of my mouth. “You know I haven’t had to do that in a while.”
“But I also know that finding objects over people is the easier task for you,” Mason countered.
“If you gave her a little room to do her thing, she might have already picked up on Lucky’s trail.” Dash loomed a little closer to me, staring the detective down.
Mason took the shifter’s words as a challenge and closed the distance as well, trapping me between the two of them. “I don’t think she needs your help.” His chest puffed out a little more, and I found myself sandwiched between an awkward situation and disaster.
“Guys.” I attempted to separate them without much success. “How about you both give me some space.”
Despite the strength I used to push them away from each other, it took the two men an extra beat to comply. Once I got the requested space, I rolled my shoulders back to relax and focus.
Closing my eyes, I did my best to initiate my magic. “In case our friend has gotten lost, I cast this spell on the fabric tossed. Where oh where has Lucky gone? Help me find the leprechaun.”
I released my will and felt a light tingle of magic flicker to life and roll down my arms into the rag. I waited for the familiar connection. As seconds ticked by, I felt an odd pressure creeping me out. I opened one eye and found the lot of them watching me with nervous anticipation.
“Anything?” asked Clint.
Still nothing. There was absolutely no thread of connection or anything there for me to catch. I furrowed my brow and spoke the dreaded truth. “No.”
“We’re wasting time. I should get the other wardens involved and set up a search party if you think something’s happened to Lucky.” Mason took out his spell phone.
I stopped him from texting or calling anyone by reminding him in a lower voice of the town council’s wishes. “Nana wants things to go as smoothly as possible this weekend. It’s not even the first full day of the event, and you want to alert everyone that we have a missing person?”
Dash uncrossed his arms and held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Give it here.”
Mason scoffed. “I’m not giving you my phone.”
“Not your phone,” Dash sneered. “Give me the rag.”
“Why?” Mason and I both asked.
“Stop delaying. Give. It. Here.” Dash reached out for the fabric and plucked
it from my grasp. He brought it up to his nose and took in a deep whiff, his nostrils flaring. “Yep, this definitely belonged to Lucky. I recognize his…odor.”
“Can you find him from that?” I quirked an eyebrow at the shifter.
Mason smirked. “I thought most werewolves didn’t like using their scenting abilities like bloodhounds.”
I cringed at the clear insult and elbowed him hard enough in his side to make him grunt. Mason had his reasons not to like Dash, but in this situation, he needed to find a way to get along with the shifter.
“I will do what it takes to help a friend. More than what you seem to be willing to do right now, Detective,” Dash spit out.
“I’m the warden here. I should have the evidence.” Mason snatched the rag out of the shifter’s hand.
Unimpressed with their childish behavior, I blew out an exasperated breath. I cocked my head to the side and asked him, “And what are you going to do with it?”
The detective’s arrogance fumbled when he recognized my displeased tone. “I’m not sure, but…hold on.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Opening them again, he held the fabric up and gazed at it. “I don’t think Lucky’s that far away.”
“How do you know?” I made no effort to hide my doubt.
“I don’t know, it’s just a feeling.” Mason pointed behind the team’s area. “I think he went that way.”
“So now you’re the bloodhound?” Dash teased. “We’ll see about that.” He took long strides in the direction Mason had indicated.
The detective ignored the rest of us and hurried behind him, leaving me dumbfounded and stock still where I stood.
“Your party is departing without you, Holmes,” encouraged Horatio.
The troll’s repeated nickname for me startled me out of my surprise, and I stumbled forward. It didn’t take long for me to catch up to the two bickering boys scanning the edge of the mowed field.
“I’m telling you, he’s back here to the right.” Mason’s anger outweighed the authority he attempted to throw around.
“And I say that we should get in the brush and look around. That’s where his scent is strongest,” argued Dash with a growl.
I cast a dim light ball, and the two stopped facing off with each other and gave me their attention. “You two put aside your egos. If Lucky’s hurt and we’re delayed getting to him because you can’t work together, I will—”
“Hex our hineys,” Mason completed.
“Seven ways to Sunday,” uttered Dash with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Charli.”
We didn’t have time for arguments and apologies. If neither of them could get it together, then I needed to take the lead. I pointed at the shifter. “Why do you want to search in the brush?”
Dash took careful steps into the tall grass. “There’s an indent here in the weeds as if someone trampled them. And it definitely has Lucky’s scent all over it.” He crouched down, taking in deep breaths through his nose. “The good news is that I don’t smell any blood.”
I sighed in relief. What he said made sense, so I questioned the detective next. “And why do you think we need to search further down?”
Mason held up the rag and grimaced at it. “I can’t tell you why. I just know that Lucky isn’t here. He’s somewhere down there.” He pointed again in a direction away from us.
Thinking quickly, I came up with a plan. “Dash, you stay here and see if you can find anything useful. And if you pick up any other scents, let us know. Mason, take me to where you think we should be looking.” I held up my hand to stop the wolf from starting another argument with protests. “We won’t be that far away. And if you need us to come back, you can text my spell phone. If you still have my number.”
He winced at my intentional jab. “I’ve got it.”
Feeling a little like a witch with a capital B, I took Mason by the arm. “Take the lead, Detective.”
The ball of light bounced in front of us, giving out enough illumination to guide us safely but not shining so bright that it might attract attention. The further we got away from Dash, the more Mason relaxed.
He put a hand over mine. “I hope you know that finding Lucky is a high priority for me.”
No way would he got off that easily. I let go of his arm, slipping my hand out from under his. “Really? Because it looked like you were about to come to blows with Dash instead of doing your job.”
“That’s not fair. You’ve got to know it’s not easy for me to see you with him. It took everything I had in me to walk away when we came across his campsite, but I did it because I knew you needed to talk to him.” His voice rose loud enough to scare the chirping cicadas into silence.
“I know,” I acknowledged. “But we can’t focus on that right now.” Nor could I pester him about why he had a gut feeling of where the leprechaun was. Or the big fat fact that I didn’t.
Mason stopped, his body stiff on high alert. “Take a few steps back,” he instructed.
Obeying, I held onto him to make sure we didn’t fall over. Inch by inch, he turned his body counter clockwise until he faced the side of the field. “I think he’s somewhere close.”
My spell phone pinged and vibrated in my pocket. Taking it out, I read the message. “Headed your way.” So the wolf shifter did know how to use his own technology to get in touch with me after all.
“Let’s wait for Dash,” I suggested and ignored Mason’s automatic grunt of displeasure.
Without the sound of pounding footsteps any normal human would make, Dash approached us using his shifter stealth. “There’s a faint trail away from that area.” He lifted his head and sniffed the air. “And I can smell Lucky again. Only stronger this time.”
“Do you detect anyone else with him?” Mason asked, his detective instincts beating out his jealousy.
Dash concentrated. “No, no one else but you two.” He gestured for the warden to plunge into the bush. “After you.”
“No, your senses might be able to pinpoint the leprechaun more accurately. I’ll follow you.” Mason nodded his head with professional resolution.
I rolled my eyes at both of them trying to make a good impression in front of me. “Someone go or I will, and I know how both of you hate when I find the body.”
Pixie poop. Saying those words made me realize that although Dash could sense Lucky being close, there was a real chance we might not find him alive. “Hurry, please,” I begged.
Dash entered carefully into the brush lining the field, using his shifter sight to find his way. Mason followed behind. He stopped and turned, holding out his hand for me. I waved him off, determined to walk on my own.
“Detective.” Dash’s sharp voice pierced the darkness. “Get over here.”
Mason crashed through the tall weeds with me right behind him. When we got to where the shifter crouched, my ball of light illuminated the leprechaun’s face.
“Is he…?” I couldn’t finish the question.
Dash put two fingers on the leprechaun’s throat to check for a pulse. Tense seconds ticked by, increasing the agony waiting for an answer to the question I couldn’t finish.
Lucky groaned, and I almost screamed in fear and relief. He tried to open his eyes, but it took him a couple of attempts.
With pained effort he leaned up from the ground on his elbows. “What are ye three doin’ here, staring down at me?” His hand flashed to the back of his head. “Oh, me noggin’. I feel completely banjaxed. Where am I?”
“Try not to move too much until we can assess your injuries,” instructed Mason.
Dash stood up and backed away, allowing the warden to do his job. I took the wolf shifter’s place in front of my friend and held his hand. “Are you okay, Lucky?”
“I’m not sure yet, but by the looks on your faces, especially this lass goin’ all soft, I’d say ye thought I might not be amongst the livin’.” Against Mason’s instructions, the leprechaun sat up. He groaned and clutched the side of his head.
My concern g
rew and the light orb brightened. I squeezed Lucky’s hand. “Do you know what happened?”
His jaw went slack. “You don’t know why I’m here?”
I shook my head. “We only knew what Clint told us. That you stayed behind to tend your barbecue when the big explosion went off. When he came back, you weren’t there.”
Panic spread over the leprechaun’s face. “What explosion?” He looked between Mason and me. “What did I miss?”
“You don’t remember the ground shaking and the big ball of fire erupting into the sky?” Dash asked from behind me.
“Are ye daft? I think I would remember if someone blew somethin’ up. Wouldn’t I?” His eyes pleaded with me, and it broke my heart to see such a strong friend of mine weak and afraid.
I patted Lucky’s hand and let him go. “I think it’s time.”
“For what?” Mason asked.
Standing up, I turned to Dash, hoping he would understand my request. “To find my grandmother.”
Chapter Six
By the time Dash brought Nana to us, we’d made it out of the brush. Despite our protests, the leprechaun refused to be coddled, and he’d taken great pains to walk himself. In agreement about not wanting too much attention, the only thing he allowed was to be examined on the edge of the field right behind his team’s campsite.
Doc Andrews flashed a conjured pinpoint of light in and out of Lucky’s eyes. “Well, I don’t think you’ve suffered any major damage that I can tell while examining you here in the dark.”
Nana touched our town doctor and healer on the shoulder. “Less griping and more assessment, Wilbur.”
“What about this lump on me head?” Lucky rubbed the spot and winced. “And the fact that I was knocked out or that I cannot remember much of what happened right before?”
Doc Andrews nodded in consideration. “You may have a concussion and will need to be watched. I’d feel better if you came back with me to my office so I could give you a more thorough once over.”
