Mermaid Fins, Winds & Rolling Pins

by Erin Johnson

  Mermaid Fins, Winds & Rolling Pins

  A Cozy Witch Mystery

  Erin Johnson

  Contents

  1. Magic Practice

  2. The Library

  3. The Job

  4. The Rusted Wreck

  5. Fins

  6. The Shipwreck

  7. The Kitchen

  8. The Club

  9. Clubbin’

  10. Tanning

  11. Pirates

  12. Police

  13. A Private Island

  14. Pirate Talk

  15. In Memorium

  16. Meeting

  17. Baking

  18. The Rehearsal Dinner

  19. Party

  20. After-Party

  21. A Plan

  22. The Trap

  23. The Showdown

  24. Saved

  25. The Wedding

  26. Back at the Palace

  27. Family History

  28. A Quiet Night

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  A note from the author

  About the Author

  1

  Magic Practice

  The blue feathered quill lay on the solid wood table in front of me. The very, very distant quill, on the very long table. Hank placed a warm hand on my shoulder. Tingles danced up the back of my neck and flitted around my stomach.

  His deep voice held a smile. "You're talented and powerful. You've got this."

  I licked my lips and glared at the feather. Come hither, I willed it. It felt natural to stretch my open hand toward it. I spread my fingers wide. Right, cause my finger placement was the problem. I closed one eye. Come on, you stupid quill, fly into my hand already.

  I huffed and let my arm drop. I glanced up at Hank and shrugged. "I'm hopeless." Concern flitted across his handsome face. I folded my arms and plunked my head down on them. Frustration burned in my chest. I needed to focus. But every time Hank came near, he was all I could think of. And he was the only other swallow I knew and could learn from… except for Horace, the guerilla leader of the Badlands Army who tried to kidnap me. No thanks. My shoulders sagged. I was such a mess.

  Wooden chair legs scraped across the mosaic tiled floor as Hank slid closer to me. The sound echoed through the cavernous space of the royal library. A deep silence followed, reminding me of how alone I was with the handsome prince.

  "Yeah, we have been trying a whole hour. If you haven't completely mastered your powers by now, it'll probably never happen."

  I grinned, my forehead still heavy on my arms. "I know. I should be witch of the year by now."

  Hank placed his hand on my back, just a light touch at first. Then he let it sit heavier—it nearly spanned my shoulder blades, rising and falling with my breaths. His warmth felt good in the dim, cool room.

  "Look, I've seen you perform spells ten times this big and challenging. You've just got to fine tune it."

  His thumb moved up and down, stroking my back. My breath hitched. I rolled my eyes at myself. That's all it took, huh?

  "Come on."

  Burying my head in my arms wasn't helping things, so why not? I stood, and Hank's hand fell from my back, leaving my skin where he'd touched me feeling cool and empty. Hank rose slowly beside me, and I focused on the quill to avoid looking at him. I blew my bangs out of my eyes.

  "I'm sorry I'm being such a… such a brat." I rolled my head to the side and glanced up at him. He was so tall.

  He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I babysit for my brother Stephen's kids sometimes. You should meet his four-year-old. He could give you some lessons. Compared to him, your brattiness is pathetic, frankly."

  I grinned in spite of myself and turned fully toward him. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take you up on those lessons. If he gets what he wants from you, it might be worth it." The second the words left my lips, I wanted to swallow them up. I'd veered into the danger zone of flirting.

  Candlelight sparkled in his eyes. "You don't need lessons for that. I'd do anything for you."

  Heat flushed through me, from my cheeks to my chest to my core.

  His grin froze, then his eyes opened wide and he leaned back, blinking. "I just meant"—he scratched the back of his neck and looked down to hide his blush—"in a normal, not awkward sort of way."

  I pressed my lips together in a tight smile. I'd be replaying that moment later and savoring it. For now, though…. "Back to my futile attempts at magic?" I gave a dry chuckle. Smooth, Imogen, real smooth.

  Hank darted a glance at me, then nodded and angled himself toward the table in front of us. "Try closing your eyes."

  His voice came out gruffer than usual, as if speaking in a normal tone was an effort. It made every inch of me alive and aware of him. Closing my eyes heightened my other senses. He moved closer and his bare forearm brushed against mine. The hair on my arms and neck raised.

  "Visualize it happening."

  Oh, I was visualizing something happening.

  "Focus on the feel of it, the feather against your hand, the cool of the metal."

  My entire body buzzed as I focused instead on the tickle of Hank's arm against mine. I struggled to inhale in a normal way, every breath scented with his cinnamon-and-sugar smell— he always sneaking down to the bakery to work alongside us when he could.

  "Pull it to you. You have to want it with everything you've got." He slid behind me. "And once you know what you want, you need to pull the energy to do it. For others it comes from within. For us swallows, we have to feel for an outside source. It could be the energy of these books, or the flames of the candles—something that makes you feel full of energy."

  With my eyes closed, I couldn't see the energy of these things exactly, but something shifted. In the same way I knew where Hank stood, I thought I could sense the location of the candle flames. Maybe I was just imagining it? The sensation felt so new and strange it pulled my attention away from the handsome prince behind me. I emptied my mind of everything but the energy of the closest candle flame. The shape grew clearer in my mind. I could picture the long teardrop shape, burning clean and steady. But how to draw the energy to me?

  As if reading my mind, Hank spoke. "Think of it like eating. You take in food as fuel to power yourself. Some foods make better fuel than others, some are more pleasurable to eat. Decide what fuel you want to take in and just—it's hard to explain—but you swallow it."

  I kept my eyes closed but smiled. "Hank. Your words are helping, but I think I might need you to back up a bit. You're a little distracting." An understatement.

  He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

  He stepped away, his shoes clipping away on the tiled floor. The cool of the air around me helped to clear my head. I sought out the candle again and found it more easily this time. I visualized eating it and a warm glow grew in my chest. But it didn't seem enough. I'd need to pull more energy.

  One by one, I sought out each of the two dozen candles in the room, visualizing them in my mind. The tingles came back, this time from the excitement of magic. I'd never been able to feel sources of power like this.

  I kept my attention focused in front of me. I knew if I cast my mind behind me I'd find a very potent source of energy, but not the kind I needed for lifting the quill.

  Holding all the bright candles in the darkness of my mind, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs, but also inhaling energetically. I pulled in the energy of the candles. A wind blew tendrils of hair across my collarbones and rustled my bangs. Heat danced up and down my arm
s and legs. Similar to the heat Hank inspired, this crackled and danced through my veins, itching to be released.

  I reached out both hands and found the quill in my mind. As Hank had instructed, I visualized the stiff but soft fibers of the cobalt-blue feather in my hand. I lifted my arms and imagined the quill lifting as well. The wind picked up.

  Hank gasped. "Imogen."

  I opened my eyes and lurched backward, pressing my hands to my mouth. For another split second, twenty books hung suspended in the air, the quill hovered below them, and the massive wooden table floated above the ground. Icy fear replaced the heat in my veins and the items crashed to the ground, the books falling on their open pages.

  "Oh no. I'm so sorry." I rushed forward and knelt to gather them before their pages creased. I clicked my tongue at myself. Too late.

  Hank rushed up and crouched next to me. He snapped his fingers and the dozens of candles I'd extinguished relit themselves.

  I didn't look up but kept fussing with the books, stacking them in my arms. "I've ruined them."

  He lifted his palms and touched the books, till I handed them over to him. He set them aside. Then he took both of my hands in his large, warm ones. I lowered my eyes.

  "Imogen? Hey."

  I sighed and looked at him.

  He dipped his head and held my gaze. His brows lifted in the middle and his mouth twitched towards a smile. "That was amazing."

  I ducked my head again and stared at the colorful mosaic tiles of the floor.

  "What's wrong?"

  Embarrassment burned in my chest. I lifted my eyes to his face. "I don't know. I just—freaked out, I guess."

  He pulled his lips to the side, never breaking eye contact with me. "I get that. Like, every time you allow yourself to go there and access your magic, you panic and shut it down because you're afraid it's going to get out of hand?"

  How did he always say the right thing? I nodded.

  His throat bobbed. "That's how I felt when I first started my lessons."

  "Well… shouldn't I be scared?" I frowned. "It's like when I first learned to drive. I couldn't wait to, but then once I got behind the wheel and realized my adopted dad expected me to drive the thing on real streets with other people around, I was like, are you crazy? I shouldn't be allowed to do this, I have no idea what I'm doing! I feel the same way now. Like, what if I get out of control and pull energy from someone without meaning to and they get hurt… or worse? Or the spell gets out of control, like it just did. Or—"

  Hank squeezed my hands. "Take a deep breath."

  I tried to, but my chest clenched up tight.

  Hank looked down. "You've been doing magic subconsciously probably your whole life."

  I nodded, still struggling to inhale through my tight lungs.

  He spoke again, maybe more to himself than to me. "But every time you try to access it on purpose, you panic—it's like you're censoring yourself."

  I frowned. It did feel like I was holding myself back. "But why?"

  He looked back up at me.

  "Why am I so afraid? I mean, is that normal?"

  Hank pressed his lips together, then let out a breath before he spoke. "I don't think it's too common. We pull our magic from just about anything around us. That's an unlimited supply. When I started learning, the potential seemed overwhelming."

  I nodded. Overwhelmed seemed like the perfect word for how I felt.

  "But others pull from within themselves. I think that lends them a greater sense of control—an understanding of their power and their limits."

  I shrugged. "Guess Spider-Man’s uncle was right."

  Hank cocked a brow.

  "With great power comes great responsibility."

  Hank chuckled. "Human thing?"

  I smiled. "Yeah."

  "Well, this spider uncle seems pretty wise. With more practice you'll feel more confident, and this won't seem so scary."

  I nodded. "I'll have to take your word for it." I swallowed. "But I'll keep trying."

  Hank grinned. He gave my hands a gentle squeeze, then shifted and stood, pulling me up with him. "Let's take a break."

  I let out a sigh. "Yes." I bounced on my toes and lifted a brow at him. "Should we go steal some scones from the bakery? You distract Maple and I'll nab us a snack."

  He grinned. "Only if you nab the honey, too."

  "Well, obviously."

  I took a step toward the door, but Hank caught my wrist and held me.

  "You wanted to look for books that mentioned Monsters Rise. Want to do that before we become pastry thieves?"

  My smile dropped. Chills crept up the back of my neck as I remembered my last harrowing moments with Horace. After he'd revealed his true self and tried to kidnap me for his army, he'd left me with a maddening clue before disappearing through a magic portal.

  Hank studied my face, concern pulling his brows together. "Or we could abscond with scones now?" He stepped closer. "I'm sorry. Are you thinking about Horace?"

  I shook my head, then nodded. "No. Don't be sorry. I do want to find some answers. There's just something about him. I know he wanted another swallow for his army, he told me so. But—it felt like something more too." I threw my hands up. "And now that I know he can disguise himself, I keep walking around thinking he could be anybody."

  Hank's face clouded. "I know. Me too." His eyes focused on mine. "We've put in security measures that should make it more difficult for Horace to move around in disguise. We have magic gates and guards posted at checkpoints around Bijou Mer and at the entry to the palace." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "It's not going to be pleasant to pass through, I'm sorry to say, but if it'll keep you safe, it's worth it."

  I turned my head and peered at him through one eye. "This sounds like a doozy of a pat down." I tapped a finger to my lips. "Though with the right guard… might not be so bad."

  Hank's eyes grew wide.

  "I'm joking."

  "Oh." He grinned. "No pat down. It's a magical gate spelled to shut down access to any outside source of magic—so if Horace tried to enter wearing a disguise, he'd lose the power needed to maintain it, and we'd see him for who he truly is."

  "Wow." I raised my brows. "Quite a handy device to have on hand." I lifted a brow. "So it only affects us swallows, right? Since we're the only ones who pull on power from outside ourselves."

  Hank nodded and looked away. "Yeah." He scratched his neck. "My father had it built when I was a kid for when my powers got out of control."

  My brows shot up. "Out of control? Like what I'm worried about?"

  He looked up. "No. It was different. I was younger and this was before they found my tutor. You already have more control than I did. At least that's what I've been told. I don't remember much, except my mom looking afraid, and then the gate." He huffed. "I hated that thing."

  "I'm sorry you went through that."

  His lips quirked to the side, but he kept his gaze on the tiles at our feet. "Thanks."

  I itched to reach for his hand but forced mine to stay at my side. You know, for propriety's sake. Though most of the time with Hank I wanted to ditch propriety—such a drag. "I can't imagine trying to figure your powers out alone. If I didn't have you to teach me, I don't know what I'd do."

  That got a smile out of him, and like I'd stepped into a cool shower, my whole body came alive and tingly. He arched a brow. "I do. You'd seek out some circus strong man to teach you."

  My mouth dropped open and I swatted at his arm. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

  He chuckled and dodged me. "Nope." He gave me a lopsided grin and my legs grew weak. "Come on. Let's find some books, then we'll sneak some scones to eat while we pore through them."

  I pointed at him. "Deal, but I'm going to hold you to the scones part."

  He hooked his long pointer finger around mine. "Deal. Do you want to try the summoning spell?"

  I hated to let go of him, but I pulled my hand back. I ducked my head in a mock
bow and twirled both hands at him. "No, by all means, do the honors."

  He straightened and squared his broad shoulders. I bit my lip to stifle my sigh. When on official business, he wore the blue and gold uniform of the Water Kingdom's royal house, and it, of course, looked great on him. But I preferred him as he was now. In a trim button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tan pants, and comfortable-looking leather shoes.

  "Ready?"

  I shook myself and stopped ogling him. "Yep."

  "Stand close. I'm pulling books from all over the library. Tens, even hundreds might come flying in here."

  He didn't have to tell me twice. I snuggled right up against his right side and looked up at him. "It'd be just my luck to get taken out by a flying book. Lamest injury ever."

  He nodded in agreement. "Nerdiest, for sure." He lifted his broad hands, spread his fingers wide, and closed his eyes. I inched closer to him—for safety… no other reason at all.

  His brow furrowed in concentration. "All right, I'm going to summon all books with any mention of Monsters Rise."

  I gulped. He took a deep breath and let it out in a measured way. A pulse of magic rushed through me, like a strong wind. It sent the pages of the loose books I'd knocked down flapping. Then it subsided. I waited for the books to come flying in… and waited. Hank peeled his eyes open, and I shrugged at him.

  "Maybe I got the spell wrong." He rubbed one hand over the other wrist.

  The book-lined room sat still and quiet. I shook my head. "Or there aren't any books that mention it."

  Hank ran his hands through his hair. "How? We've got the best library in the kingdoms. There are over four hundred thousand books here."