Deaglan continued to study her silently, and Bannon felt her heart miss a couple of beats. What did the damn pixie do?
“No, you’re fine,” he said at last, chuckling as she picked up the sharp letter opener on her desk and waved it at him threateningly.
* * * *
“We have a problem,” Bannon said. “This place should be crowded. There’s hardly anyone here.”
“It’s the middle of the week,” Deaglan reminded her, looking around them at the nearly empty park. Most of the rides were silent, and the vending booths didn’t have waiting lines for their goods. Deaglan didn’t have to wonder what was keeping everyone away. Most of the tourists were afraid to come to the festival after experiencing the last few nights of mischief. He thought the colorful green and gold banners looked gloomy flapping in the wind without an audience to admire them. It was like looking at Christmas decorations under a weak winter sun after the holiday.
Taking Bannon’s hand, he pulled her away from the ice cream vendor where they had just purchased a pair of double scoop minty green cones with chocolate sprinkles. “It will pick up tonight.” He tried to reassure her, hating the miserable look on her face.
“No, you don’t understand,” Bannon protested. “We’ve always been full. It doesn’t matter if it’s the weekend, or the middle of the week, day or night. I’m telling you that something is wrong, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
Deaglan looked around him at the dejected faces of festival volunteers he could see.
“Look at them,” Bannon encouraged him, noticing the direction of his attention. “They have poured their hearts into this, and it’s being ruined.”
Deaglan steered Bannon to a nearby picnic table. Together, they settled on the bench side by side to look out over the park. At this time of day the bandstand was empty, but a few local children stood on the stage, pretending to perform for an audience.
“I feel like crying,” Bannon confessed. “Without our tourist trade, every business in town will suffer. I’ve worked so hard to prove to my parents I can handle the inn, but without Blansett’s tourist trade...” She shrugged.
“I trust your instincts,” Deaglan said quietly. “If you say something’s off, then I believe it. I can’t get a reading on the negative energy because so much of it surrounds each incident. After the broom race, I think every witch in Blansett cursed the spell maker.”
He grinned, taking a lick of his cone. “Whoever cast that greased handle spell better have good shields.”
“I hope their karma runs out before they totally destroy the St. Patrick’s Day celebrations.”
Deaglan nodded in agreement, taking a few minutes to appreciate the sweet minty flavor of his cone. When he popped the last bite into his mouth, he turned to face Bannon. “Let’s think about this. Who has something to gain by ruining Blansett’s festivities?”
Bannon thought about his question. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anyone. We might have a few teens that would think greasing the brooms was hilarious, but they wouldn’t purposely set out to destroy the whole week.”
A local family walked by, waving at Bannon while trying to control twin toddlers that had noticed the merry-go-round.
“See what I mean?” Bannon asked. “It’s all locals. There are very few tourists today, and we need them. Tourism is the lifeblood of Blansett.”
“Do you think it could be a disgruntled entity causing problems?” Deaglan asked. “Is someone getting revenge for being treated unfairly? Or what they perceive as unfair?”
Bannon shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone. The mayor gives everyone a second chance if they screw up, and it’s been quiet around here for the last few months. We really haven’t had anything big happen since the demon. And the only other magical town is a hundred miles away, so it’s not like we’re in direct competition.”
“Demon?” Deaglan asked. “Are you sure the demon was banished?”
Bannon nodded. “Yeah, he’s definitely gone. Chief Kal Burke is a demon hunter. He used his wife and her cousins, who are all powerful witches, to help him entrap the demon.”
There had to be something they were missing. Despite the fact each of the incidents was minor, the consequences were wreaking havoc on a small town’s economy. “If it’s not the demon, then it has to be someone who has something to gain by hurting Blansett. What’s the name of the other magical town?”
“Eastsage.”
He frowned at the mention of the name. Something tickled at his memory, and then it hit him. “That’s the town that got into trouble for terrenes disappearing, isn’t it? The court tried to prove that the mayor’s husband and his clan had been using terrenes for a food source. He’s a master vampire.”
“I don’t know much about it really,” Bannon said. “I was away at the university when it happened. But I do know that anyone Helena-Marie deems too unstable, or dangerous, to live in Blansett usually moves to Eastsage. There are no restrictions on dark magic there.”
Deaglan nodded his agreement. “I remember it now,” he said. “There was a trial in the Seelie Court over the fate of Eastsage, but the Unseelies pushed back hard enough that I believe the mayor ended up with only a warning and her privileges as an ambassador to the terrenes taken away. The Unseelie faction didn’t want anything happening to the one sanctuary that will take them in without question.”
Bannon snapped her fingers as a thought hit her. “It was a powerful vampire that pushed Firenze into the dunk tank. What if he’s behind all this? But why would he disrupt the festivities with such petty stuff?” She tossed the last of her cone into a nearby receptacle. “Unless he wanted a cause a distraction so he could hunt, but why wouldn’t he just go for a kill, if that’s what he’s after?”
Deaglan shook his head. “Because the Seelie Court would carry out a death penalty if he or his wife harmed humans after being warned. But let’s not jump to conclusions. We may be off track here. Let me do some research and see what I can find. First, we need to know if that was Geoffrey Goodbloode at the dunk tank. If it was, then we have to prove they are deliberately sabotaging Blansett for their own reasons. Whatever those might be.”
“I’d say soaking dozens of people on a cold night and causing brooms to run rampant through a crowd qualifies as sabotage.”
Deaglan gave her an indulgent smile. “Sorry. If we took that to the Seelie Court, they would howl with laughter. The court is not fond of humans either, but they don’t want the paranormal population brought into a bad light by savagery or murder. It’s their desire to keep the Seelies and Unseelies from being hunted like they were in the Dark Ages. They will have very little sympathy for the humans if they deem this nothing more than raucous pranks. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they would secretly condone it as long as no one got seriously injured.”
Chapter 6
Wednesday, March 15
Despite the previous low turnouts, tonight the streets of Blansett were full of tourists and locals alike waiting for the release of the fireflies. It was one of the festival’s most popular customs. Children were moved to the front of the crowd, and their fireflies would be of the magical variety, large enough for little hands to grab. The simple enchantment guaranteed every child would capture a firefly and claim a prize tonight.
The adults were on their own, but prizes would be given for certain colors of fireflies. Bannon had been around enough to know that everyone who participated in the running would end up with some sort of gift if they put any effort into catching a firefly. The gifts were magically suited to the participant, ensuring they would love whatever they won.
At the front of the line, a bright green ribbon stretched across the street, holding the runners back. Ellen Massey, one of Blansett’s minor dignitaries, held up a large pair of scissors for the crowd to see before clipping the ribbon in half to signal the start of the run.
Bright flashes of light zigzagged through the crowd, causing laughter and excitement. The children�
��s section was already half a block ahead of the adults, who were deliberately held back to keep from trampling the little ones. The children would turn right on Center Street, and the adults would turn left. All of them would meet back up later to claim their prizes and enjoy refreshments.
“I got one. I got one,” Bannon heard a woman yell from the front of the pack.
“Well, catch one for me,” her husband answered, causing a ripple of laughter back through the crowd.
A grunt of male surprise to Bannon’s left caused her to glance over. She saw a middle-aged man clutching his hand shut with a look of almost childlike joy. She smiled at him, giving a thumbs-up in his direction. Such a simple way to bring happiness, Bannon thought. She was proud of her town and its efforts to make life fun and exciting. Blansett wanted to prove to the world that magic and mundane could live side by side in peaceful coexistence, sharing the best of both worlds.
The crowd of runners was thinning as people caught their fireflies and dropped out of the race. Along the street, participants stopped to catch their breath and peek inside closed hands to see what color they had captured. A few had brought jars to trap the fireflies in until they caught one of every shade.
Bannon’s first awareness that something was terribly wrong came when she heard screams of terror and one woman fell to the side, clutching at her throat as if she couldn’t breathe. Several of the town’s healers, who had been running with the crowd, were breaking loose from the throng and administering to the fallen.
“Damn,” she heard Deaglan say as he slapped at his neck and kept bushing his hair.
The runners had stopped and were thrashing about, slapping at the air and dancing in circles like demented leprechauns. Pandemonium broke out around her, and at last, Bannon understood why. The wings buzzing past her were not fireflies; they were angry bees.
* * * *
“This has gone too far,” Deaglan said, holding his hands around a warm cup of coffee liberally splashed with good Irish whiskey. “People could have died today. The healers dealt with five cases of anaphylactic shock. Thanks to their powers, no one was hospitalized, but if they hadn’t been able to reach them in time…”
“Did any of the children get stung?” Bannon couldn’t bear the thought of any of the tiny revelers getting hurt.
Deaglan shook his head. “More proof this was a curse instead of a freak accident. Had it been normal bees, they would have mixed in with the children.”
“Thank the goddess,” Bannon whispered.
“I won’t allow them to do this to our town,” Deaglan said. “I’m going to pay a visit to the mayor. If she will let me handle this, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Bannon almost shivered at the look on his face, but she couldn’t help focusing on the words he’d spoken. “Our town?” she repeated.
Deaglan stared into her eyes and smiled for the first time in hours. “Yes, Bannon. Our town. I feel like I’ve come home.” He hesitated before asking. “Have I?”
The hope and vulnerability on his face squeezed Bannon’s heart. Swallowing the lump in her throat and blinking back tears, she leaned across the table to plant a kiss on his lips. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh yes.”
“When this is over, we need to talk,” he said, “but first, we need to find out what’s going on. Chief Burke has his hands full, and his deputies are on overtime just taking care of the normal festival headaches. This is our chance to do something to help, if the mayor will give her blessing.”
Chapter 7
Thursday, March 16
“What mischief do you have planned for tonight, love?” Geoffrey Goodbloode asked his wife, Celia. “I particularly liked the Running of the Bees.” He chuckled at the memory. “And I was able to take a few sips of blood without anyone noticing in the excitement.”
Celia frowned disapprovingly. “Geoffrey, we discussed this. You promised not to feed while we are in Blansett. It’s too risky.”
Geoffrey shrugged carelessly. “No one noticed, including the victims. I only took a taste. Besides, they will be joining us in Eastsage before long. I put the thought in their minds they should visit.”
Not in the mood to fight, Celia ignored Geoffrey’s revelation. Her husband would do as he liked anyway. She had little control over him or his blood descendants. Instead, she decided to answer him with her plans. “I thought I would lock them all out of the civic center during the spaghetti dinner tonight.”
Geoffrey arched one eyebrow in disbelief. “That’s a bit tame for you, Ceel. I expected more for the grand finale. Or, at the least, something more dramatic.”
Celia shrugged one shoulder. “I plan to wait until everyone is seated and then have the fire alarm go off. When the crowd rushes outside, I’ll lock the doors behind them.” She gave a laugh. “That’s when the downpour will hit, complete with a thunderstorm and lightning.”
Geoffrey’s thin lips curled. “Now that’s better…”
Celia smiled at his approval. “The fire trucks won’t start, so they won’t be able to respond to the fire alarm.” She ran a finger slowly down her husband’s chest. “And at the festival, the band will have to stop playing because of the lightning. The shelter tent will blow down in the wind, and all the rides and booths will be shut down temporarily. That should create the desired effect. Hungry, cold, and wet tourists are not going to stay around for long.”
“Well planned,” Geoffrey praised.
“I think we should head back to Eastsage,” Celia suggested. “Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, and the celebrations will officially be over. We’ve already diminished Blansett’s crowds for the week, and after tonight, I can’t imagine many will stay to watch a parade.”
“Can you leave them with rain for tomorrow?”
“I’ve already planned showers for the day, but it won’t take long for their coven to break the spell.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Geoffrey said with satisfaction. “All we have to do is convince the terrenes it will rain all day and the remaining die-hards will give up. Some of them may even drive a couple of hours to see our parade in Eastsage.”
* * * *
Bannon smoothed down the sexy black dress she’d picked for Deaglan’s benefit and looked at herself in the mirror. Turning around on her high heels, she felt comfortable with her selection. The black material would hide any spaghetti stains she might incur during the evening, and the dress was softly clingy in all the right places. She finished the outfit with an emerald green sweater that heightened the color of her eyes.
Tonight’s proceeds from the spaghetti dinner would be used to furnish the fire department with new equipment and help with park maintenance. The fire department auxiliary always decorated the civic center with loads of purple shamrocks and sparkling decorations that resembled a high school prom. There would be a live band later and dancing for those who didn’t head over to the park directly after dinner. The event had become a hit with locals and tourists alike, especially couples and the older crowd who enjoyed ballroom dancing.
A knock at her door alerted Bannon that Deaglan had arrived. She opened the door to him and stepped back, breathless at his appearance. He’d put on a dark suit for the occasion, and his auburn hair sparkled with highlights of red and gold. His eyes, framed by long lashes, seemed especially sexy tonight, but then each time she saw him, he was growing more attractive to her.
“Wow, look at you,” he whispered, taking her hand and twirling her around slowly. “I won’t be able to keep my hands off you tonight.”
“I hope not,” Bannon answered, tiptoeing up to plant a kiss on his lips.
Deaglan wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, lowering his head to get a better angle on her mouth. He kissed her deeply, twisting his head in several directions to make sure he’d tasted her thoroughly. With a sigh of pleasure, he gently but reluctantly pushed her away.
“I have to stop if we want to make the dinner tonight.”
Bannon smiled up at him
and retrieved her purse from the pine stand beside the door. “I’ll change the subject then and save you,” she offered. “Did you see Helena-Marie today?”
Deaglan took the keys from her hand, locking the door, and adding his own spell of defense across the threshold. “Yes, I did,” he said, taking her arm as they walked down the steps.
“She’s dealing with another threat to Blansett and said she would love our help. She feels this is just a nuisance attack, but agrees that it’s escalating to a dangerous level. We both think the dinner tonight may become a target for the vandals.”
“I’ve been thinking of that all day,” Bannon said. “You don’t think they will try to poison the food or anything, do you?”
Deaglan shrugged. “I think anything is possible after the fiasco last night. We need to keep our eyes open and pay attention to every detail. I’ve already cast a protection spell over the food and drink, but there are so many ways to sabotage the meal.”
“Did you find out anything about the Goodbloodes?” Bannon asked, settling into the car while Deaglan held the door for her.
Opening the driver’s side door, he slid inside. “Yeah,” he answered, “they’re dangerous.” With a wicked grin, he pressed his foot to the floor and the rented Camaro peeled away from the curb with the enthusiasm of a Kentucky Derby winner.
Bannon was shoved back into the seat by the force of the speed. With a squeal of surprise, she cast a spell of protection around the car, hoping her shields would hold in place until they made it to the civic center. She should have known Deaglan would be the speed demon type. Otherwise, he was too good to be true.
Chapter 8
The civic center was crowded with diners. People were dressed in everything from casual clothing to semi-formal, depending on where they planned to spend the rest of their evening. Bannon noticed the dance area was bigger this year and decorated with low watt lighting, giving the dancers a bit of privacy on the floor.
Mystic Luck (Mystic Tides Book 2) Page 3
