Southern Sorcery

by Amy Boyles

  “Because you’re super cool,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Hardly. But those were the three who created that particular blend of magic. So Battle needs to be interviewed. I’m on it. And I’ve also got to figure out how to break your spell. Battle may have an idea for that, too. He’s not a sorcerer, but he’s powerful.”

  “Okay,” I said, kneading my fingers into my shoulder.

  “You need a shoulder rub?”

  I gulped. “Why do you ask?”

  He smirked. “You’re rubbing and sometimes the tension from a headache will cause muscles to knot in other areas. Like the shoulders and neck. I’ve got a magical touch.”

  I have no doubt.

  “Sure,” I said, feeling daring.

  I turned my back to him and moaned as he gently pressed and eased away the knots I could feel lining my neck. “That is like heaven,” I said.

  “Anything I can do to help,” he said. “Why don’t you lay on your stomach?”

  I quirked a brow at him. “Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

  He chuckled. “No, I don’t. You need to relax.”

  So I did. I eased onto the couch and let Axel work my muscles until they were butter. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I awoke the next morning.

  Sunlight winked through the blinds. I was still on my stomach, and a line of drool ran from my mouth onto the pillow beneath my head.

  I bolted up. “Holy crap. My rear end is going to be in a sling and Betty’s going to shoot me straight to the moon.”

  Axel padded into the living room wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. I’d seen him naked in the moonlight once before, but no, I’d never seen his man chest in the light of day.

  Oh. My. God.

  Little tuffs of black hair sprinkled the top of his pecs, but for the most part he was hairless, and the six-pack that was his abs, I swear I could’ve bounced up and down on them. I yearned to press my palm against his solid form and stand there for like, ever, feeling the heat wafting off him and salivating at the sheer hotness of him.

  Because hallelujah and praise Jesus, Axel was hot.

  He handed me a cup of coffee. I took a quick sip and laid it down. “I’d love to stay, but Betty’s going to kill me. I’ve got to get to the store, open up, feed the animals, all that stuff.”

  In full panic mode, I raced across the room and snatched my purse from a chair.

  “I’ve already talked to Betty.”

  “Do you want me dead?”

  He chuckled and pulled his freshly washed hair into a tight tail. “I explained what happened and that you fell asleep. She agreed to work the shop for you today. And,” he said, pressing the coffee back into my hand, “I need you here to figure out that spell. I can’t break it if you’re not around.”

  I exhaled. “Okay.” I grimaced, still not sure I one hundred percent believed Betty was all right with the situation. “Are you sure Betty’s fine with this?”

  He smiled. The dimple in his cheek popped. “Cross my heart. Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast, and we’ll get to work.”

  I tugged at my shirt. “What about clothes? A shower?”

  “We’ll stop by the house and get you some. We’ll be swinging by there anyway on our way to our first stop.”

  “Oh? Where’s that?”

  Axel tapped his fingers against his hips. “To visit Barnaby Battle and find out exactly what went wrong with the spell that’s meant to keep Rufus out.”

  ELEVEN

  I decided to shower at Betty’s house. So after a meal of a perfect Southwestern omelet, because a Southern one would include barbecue pork, biscuits and gravy—things that were awesome on their own but not so awesome in eggs—we headed over to the house.

  Amelia’s eyes widened to saucers when she laid eyes on Axel. “Well good morning,” she said.

  Betty stopped sweeping the hearth. She crossed to me and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Spell’s still there.”

  Axel’s cheeks reddened. “I haven’t had a chance to work on it, though I was able to calm the headache.”

  “Good thing.” Her eyes washed over me. “Hopefully it won’t take too long to get this thing solved. Town’s already found out about Rufus. There’s a little bit of an uproar about it.”

  “No surprise there,” Cordelia said. “The one man who’s supposed to stay out is sitting in jail.”

  Amelia pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “What if someone breaks him out? Like in a Western. What if then he hides in a cave in town, steals money and does bad things?”

  Everyone was quiet. Cordelia snapped the newspaper she was reading. “Your imagination’s running away again.”

  Amelia crunched on a slice of bacon. “Can’t help it. It’s what I do.” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, I’d better hurry. I don’t want to be late for my job interview.”

  My jaw dropped. “At the Vault?”

  Amelia straightened the hem of her skirt. “That’s right. Betty got me in overnight. Worked some kind of magic. Everyone wish me luck.”

  We all wished her luck and Amelia left. I went upstairs to shower and dress. While I was slipping into a pair of lightweight pants and a sleeveless T-shirt, I noticed Hugo.

  I pulled him from his cage. The dragon curled up on my shoulders. “Looks like you’re coming with me today, boy.”

  I padded back downstairs and found Axel and Betty in deep conversation. They parted quickly when they saw me.

  “You ready?” I said.

  Axel rose. “He coming with us?”

  “Is it okay?”

  Axel nodded. “It’s great. We might need him.”

  “You think?”

  He placed a hand to my back. “You never know.”

  We hopped in his Mustang and headed up a hill to a house overlooking the town.

  “Is this Battle’s house?” I said.

  “You got it.”

  We parked and climbed out. The front yard was fenced, so I put Hugo down and let him play in the clover that dotted the grounds.

  Axel knocked on the door. It swung wide, and there stood a tall man with a gleaming smile, a shock of white hair and a tan so deep it looked like he sprayed it on every morning.

  The men shook hands. “Axel Reign. Good to see you. I hear we’ve got a bit of a situation in town. Come on in.”

  The home was older, with tall ceilings and simple cloth furniture. The tables and chairs were dark oak and mahogany, clearly antiques. The living room smelled of Old English, suggesting that Battle took good care of his belongings. Or at least someone did.

  We sat in the living room, and a young blonde woman entered. “Daddy, can I get you anything?”

  It was Delilah, the nurse from the First Witch Center.

  “Delilah, come in and meet Axel Reign, if you haven’t before.”

  Delilah nodded at Axel. “I know him from the home.” She turned her pretty brown eyes on me. “And you’re Pepper, Betty Craple’s granddaughter. Nice to officially meet you, though I know I saw you last night, right before Mr. Amulet’s body was found.” She shuddered. “Horrible. He was such a wonderful man.”

  I nudged Axel. “Delilah saw Argus not long before he died.”

  She nodded. “At least, it didn’t seem like that long. But then before I knew it, he was dead. Killed himself.” Her gaze drifted to her father. “But I see y’all have business to discuss. Can I bring some tea? Coffee?”

  Barnaby extended his hand toward a room with large pocket doors. “That’ll be fine.”

  The doors rumbled as Barnaby slid them apart. Once we were inside, he closed them tight and pointed to a couple of horsehair chairs. I sat straight backed, waiting for Axel to talk.

  Looked like Barnaby didn’t want to wait. “You’re here because of Rufus.”

  “Among other things,” Axel said darkly.

  Barnaby slid his fingers over his eyebrows. “Let’s start there. Y’all are here because a spell that I helped construct failed
in some way.”

  “According to Sylvia Spirits, it didn’t fail,” Axel said.

  Barnaby thumbed his large belt buckle. “But surely it must have for Rufus to have entered.”

  I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, but I was with Sylvia when she took a look at an image of the spell. To her, every piece seemed to be in place.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I’ll disagree with you.”

  “No need to be excused,” I said.

  Barnaby stared at me.

  “What I mean is that I don’t take any offense to you disagreeing at all. Disagreement is a healthy thing. I mean, if we all got along all the time, the world would be, wow, so boring. Don’t you think?”

  He stared blankly at me.

  “Sorry, I talk a lot when I get nervous.”

  “No need to apologize, my dear.”

  A rap came from the door. Barnaby slid one side open, and Delilah entered carrying a tray of coffee and tea. She settled the tray on the table.

  “Is there anything else I can get y’all?”

  “No, that’ll be fine,” Barnaby said.

  She exited and Barnaby started serving. “Poor girl’s a mess since the whole thing with Argus happened. Who can blame her? They were close, those two. So close. Sugar in your coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  I took the cup and sipped. Axel raised his hand, passing on the refreshments.

  “But from what you’re telling me,” Barnaby said, “it seems as if the spell was either undermined to the point that Sylvia couldn’t tell that it had been tampered with or Rufus found a way around it.”

  “How?” I said.

  “He would’ve slipped through,” Axel said, “not disturbing it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Barnaby sat on the couch. “Think of the spell as intersecting lines, sort of like a very dense, very thick web. Under any normal circumstances, Rufus wouldn’t be able to slip through, but if he found a way to bend those threads, those fibers just enough that something could pass, then Rufus could slip into Magnolia Cove.”

  “And that’s what you think happened,” I said.

  “Either that or Sylvia lied,” Axel said.

  Barnaby shook his head. “I have no reason to think she would work with Rufus. None of us would. That’s why we were each picked—we uphold the law and believe in Magnolia Cove. We don’t support the sort of magic that Rufus Mayes practices. So, where does that leave us?”

  Axel flicked dirt out from under his nails. “It leaves us with the fact that once Rufus is gone, we have to change the spell again, hopefully to one he won’t be able to break.”

  Barnaby snickered. “We didn’t think he could overcome that one.”

  “Magic is fluid,” Axel said. “Ever changing.”

  “Which brings you to your next point,” Barnaby said.

  Axel lowered his voice. “I think Argus Amulet was murdered.”

  Barnaby exhaled a deeply. He smoothed his eyebrows again with his thumb. “Proof?”

  “I was hoping you could help me with that.”

  “What do you need?”

  Axel pulled the vial labeled DEADLY NIGHTSHADE from his pocket. “I need skunk root. Do you have any?”

  Barnaby nodded. He crossed to what looked like a cigar box and opened it. The shiny lacquered wood reflected the sunlight and made the wood appear to ripple like water.

  He plucked a vial from the velvet lining and handed it to Axel. “A pinch?”

  Axel nodded.

  Barnaby uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount in his palm. He then pinched a tiny amount between his forefinger and thumb. Axel opened the vial, and Barnaby dropped it in.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  Black smoke blew from the top. It poured from the lip, slipping down the sides like a dark, rolling fog. Something about it gave me the willies. I shivered.

  “I’m checking to see if this is really nightshade,” Axel said, studying the reaction.

  “But you said last night that it was.”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t that vial. This is the one the police had.”

  My jaw dropped. “How did you get it?”

  His cheek twitched. “I didn’t. Betty did. Nabbed it from Garrick before he ever even made it out of the First Witch Center.”

  “She’s got some stones, that’s for sure,” Barnaby said, chuckling. “Leave it to Betty to steal evidence right out from under the nose of the police.”

  I folded my arms. “So she didn’t buy that Argus was a suicide, either.”

  “There’s not much Betty Craple buys,” Barnaby said.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I said. “Okay, so the vial leaking black mist that’s almost as thick as blood is the original vial that Argus injected himself with. What have you learned?”

  Axel studied me. His lips ticked up into a smile that sent a wave of tingling nerves crashing through me.

  I bit down on my lips, trying not to let the smile that wanted to tease out do so. Why? I don’t know. I guess I wanted to focus on the task at hand.

  “I’ve learned,” Axel said, still locking gazes with me, “that when nightshade reacts with skunk root, it creates a reaction. Skunk root is a reagent and is used to test other potions. It can tell you if something is deadly, or if a potion is fit to be drunk, simply by its color. But when skunk root reacts with nightshade, it creates a very simple yet lovely teal-colored reaction.”

  “That’s black,” I said.

  Axel nodded. “So it’s not nightshade.”

  “What is it?”

  Barnaby snapped the cigar box closed. “Skunk root reacts with two liquids that give off black mist. I know, because I’ve studied the chemistry of the substance for years. The first reaction is when skunk root is mixed with water. Something about the way the carbons attach causes it to give off ebony vapors.”

  “That’s not water,” I said.

  “No, it isn’t,” Axel said. “The second reaction that Barnaby is referring to is a very well-known but uncommon substance. Hard to get ahold of, but can be made with the right ingredients.”

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Strychnine,” Axel said. “And there’s no way Argus voluntarily injected himself with poison.”

  “No,” Barnaby said. “Argus Amulet was murdered, and this reaction proves it.”

  TWELVE

  Axel corked the vial and tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll take this to Garrick, let him know what he’s really up against.”

  Barnaby traced a finger over a glossy mahogany desk. “I’ll get together with Sylvia and Betty, see if we can figure out how Rufus slipped in.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He smiled. “Don’t thank me. There’s a reason we’ve kept that young man out of this town. The only question, though, is whether or not he had something to do with Argus’s murder.”

  Anger flashed in Axel’s eyes. “I’m going to let Garrick decipher that. I’m more concerned with the spell he cast on Pepper.”

  Barnaby nodded. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

  “Will do,” Axel said.

  The two men shook hands and we left. I waved to Delilah as we approached the front door.

  Axel stopped, his hand on the lip of the door. “Delilah, did you see anything strange that night? Anything at all?”

  She pressed her lips as her eyes danced back and forth. “I just really don’t remember seeing anything odd. Nothing out of the norm.”

  “If you do remember, let your dad know. He’ll get in touch with me.”

  She smiled. “Will do.”

  I collected Hugo from the yard, where he was busy running after a butterfly, and we got back in Axel’s car.

  “How could Rufus not have been involved with Argus’s murder?” I said. “It all makes so much sense. I mean, that’s the first thing I thought, too.”

  Axel turned the key, and the engine roared to life. “I don’t kno
w, but I’m going to give this to Garrick, let him work on it.” He tipped his head and gave me a dark, intense glance. “I’ve got other things to worry about.”

  Meaning me, I assumed. “Okay.”

  We arrived at the station about five minutes later. Axel slid into a spot. “You want to come in or stay here?”

  “I’ll come. I’m not going to let Rufus get to me.”

  I wrapped Hugo around my neck, and we stepped inside. Axel aimed us straight toward Garrick’s office. He greeted a few officers as he walked. I noticed that they kept a wide berth. My guess was that they didn’t want him to blow their desks away as he’d done to the doors the night before.

  Brought the dragon, did you?

  I stopped. A cold streak of ice shot up my spine. I slowly turned to the line of cells in back. There stood Rufus, grinning at me.

  Wondering if that was me in your head? Well wonder no farther—yes.

  I stared at him, and instead of being afraid, I was simply angry. So I marched over to his cell and pointed my finger at his chest.

  He sneered like he owned the joint or something. “Listen here, you get out of my head or I will personally let my little dragon give you a sunburn.” I patted Hugo. “And I don’t think you’d like the way he’d go about doing that.”

  Rufus raised his palms in surrender. “Understood.”

  “Good,” I said. I turned to find Axel glaring at Rufus. “Come on. Let’s go find Garrick.”

  A few minutes later we sat in his office. A massive scowl marred Garrick’s face. He sank his head into his palms and sighed.

  “And you’re telling me that you somehow got hold of evidence. Evidence that I realized was missing a little after we left the crime scene?”

  “I received it from a source,” Axel said.

  Garrick leaned back. The swivel chair creaked as he stretched his long legs onto his desk. “And I’m guessing that person would’ve been Betty Craple.”

  “I don’t reveal sources, Garrick.”

  The sheriff sighed. “I get it.” He glanced at the vial, turning it this way and that. “Strychnine, huh? Doesn’t sound like the type of poison one of our people would use.”