Spell's Bells (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  Agnes sank into the nearest chair, seemingly exhausted without the energy from the wand. Security rushed over to restrain her.

  “Promise me you’ll come again soon,” Agnes called. “And bring another bottle of Fangtastic.”

  Only in her demented dreams.

  Chapter 6

  The stern expression on Lady Weatherby's face told me that today's class would not be fun and games. Not that it ever was when the head of the coven was teaching, but the glint in her steely eyes suggested a more serious agenda.

  "In light of recent events, I have decided that today's class will focus on psychology,” she announced.

  Psychology? That was a sharp left turn from the usual curriculum.

  Millie raised her hand and Lady Weatherby nodded for her to speak. “We didn’t study psychology last term."

  Lady Weatherby scowled. "Thank you, Millie. I am quite familiar with the covenant curriculum."

  “So when you say recent events, do you mean Emma's arrival?" Millie asked.

  "In truth, I was referring to a more recent incident." She paused and directed her attention to me. "It occurred at the Spellbound Care Home. A dangerous witch was given access to a wand. Only luck determined the happy outcome."

  Luck, my ass. I worked some serious magic in that care home, not that she’d give me any credit.

  No one dared to look in my direction. Everyone knew this latest lesson had something to do with me.

  "Psychology is the study of behavior and the mind. It can play an important role in how we deal with other supernatural creatures within our town borders, especially those who are a menace to society.” Lady Weatherby clasped her hands in front of her. “For example, had a certain witch been aware that Agnes was well known for manipulation and mayhem, she may opted to handle the situation differently."

  My hand shot into the air. Despite my fear of Lady Weatherby, I felt an overwhelming urge to defend myself.

  “Imagine that,” Lady Weatherby said. “Miss Hart has something to say on the matter.”

  "A member of the town council suggested that I speak with Agnes. If she were so dangerous, then maybe the council member should have been the one to advise the innocent witch that the meeting came fraught with certain dangers. Furthermore, Agnes lives in a care home, not a prison. She’s hardly a menace to society."

  Lady Weatherby fixed her gaze on me and a shiver ran down my spine. She may as well have snapped a leather belt in my face.

  "Agnes is not a menace to society as long as she does not have access to magic. Had the witch in question been better informed, she would have known to leave her wand behind. As it happens, she did not consult with the relevant witches before foolishly deciding to take it upon herself to visit the former head of the coven. Security should have known better than to let you pass without removing any magical items.”

  Lady Weatherby seemed uncharacteristically emotional. Even when she was upset, she typically remained cool and collected. Today, however, I was beginning to see cracks in her smooth veneer.

  "If she's not in prison and has committed no crime, why is she not allowed access to magic?" I asked.

  "Even the best witches can succumb to human frailties," Lady Weatherby explained. "Agnes has moments of lucidity, but she also suffers from dementia. Trust me, you do not want a magic wand in the hands of someone who forgets her own name half the time."

  Agnes suffered from dementia? I never would have guessed it. She seemed wily and lucid in my presence. Still, Lady Weatherby's strong reaction surprised me.

  "So is it her dementia that makes her manipulative or was that always part of her personality?" I asked.

  Lady Weatherby's expression hardened. "She has always been a manipulative old woman. The dementia only makes it worse."

  Mixed in with her anger, I also detected what I could only interpret as sadness.

  "So if she was the former head of the coven, did you take control directly after her?" I asked. During our conversation, Agnes had seemed miffed by Lady Weatherby's rise to power. She’d even used Lady Weatherby’s given name—Cindy Ruth—which Gareth had told me was a great secret.

  "It was as surprising to me as to anyone when the ritual revealed my leadership role,” Lady Weatherby said. “A coven does not typically pass from mother to daughter."

  I froze. Mother to daughter? My head swiveled in both directions, looking for confirmation from my classmates. Did everyone know that Agnes was Lady Weatherby's mother? The only expression of surprise was on my own face. Talk about a bombshell.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Did you just say that Agnes is your mother?" In some ways, it explained so much.

  "Indeed," Lady Weatherby said crisply. "Prior to me, she was known as Lady Weatherby. Stripped of her title, however, she reverts to Agnes once again.”

  I mean, I always knew that Lady Weatherby had a mother and father because…well, biology, but it was hard to imagine the partnership that spawned the witch in front of me.

  "Do you ever visit her?" I asked. Based on my interaction with Agnes, I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

  "That's none of your business," she snapped. "Not that it matters. When the person you’re visiting doesn't even recognize you, there isn't much point."

  "With all due respect, Lady Weatherby,” I said. “You recognize her. Isn't that enough?"

  Lady Weatherby brushed my comment aside. "Let's get on with the lesson, shall we? Now witches, we will begin by learning the two primary theoretical perspectives.”

  My thoughts drifted away as she droned on about functionalism and structuralism. I thought about my relationship with my grandmother. Had I been lucky enough to see her into old age, I would have visited her as often as possible. Time was fleeting, although I suppose life in Spellbound created a different set of expectations. Agnes could be in that care home for decades. In moments like this, I could understand Daniel’s angst. Lady Weatherby didn’t appreciate the time with her mother because she had all the time in the world. The parameters were different from those in the human world.

  Despite Lady Weatherby's claims of manipulative behavior, it made me sad to think of Agnes alone in the care home. Okay, Agnes was scary and more than a little crazy, but I glimpsed that fun side of her. And she was smart. She still had a lot to offer the residents of Spellbound. I decided right then and there that I would visit her again, although I wouldn't be so foolish as to bring my wand. Or hard alcohol.

  Maybe just a small bottle of wine for me.

  Mike the wereweasel stood on my front porch at quarter to seven.

  “Mike, you’re early," I said as brightly as I could. Good thing I wasn't invested in the date or I’d have been mortified.

  "I figured you’d be pumped for the night to start," Mike said.

  Yes, pumped. “Thank you. Won't you come in?"

  He gave me a surprised look. "You're inviting me in already?"

  Beside me, Gareth groaned. "Devil below. This guy is such a loser."

  I did my best to ignore Gareth. If Mike had information about Sophie, then I needed to hear it. I couldn't end the date before it even began.

  "Just for a few minutes, while I finish getting ready."

  Mike entered the foyer and looked me over. "You look good and ready to me.”

  "Stars and stones," Gareth complained. "Is that his attempt at sexy talk? Make it stop."

  Magpie rushed onto the scene and skidded to a halt at Mike's feet. The wereweasel jumped back at the sight of the hairless wonder with a half-chewed ear.

  "Snake on a stick," he cried. "What is that?"

  I picked up Magpie and cuddled him, praying that he didn't bite off a chunk of my face in the process. "This is my precious cat, Magpie. I hope you like cats because he's very special to me."

  Gareth choked back laughter.

  “Oh, I love cats," Mike said unconvincingly. I wasn't sure what the relationship was between weasels and cats. I’d have to ask Gareth when we were alone.

  I
rubbed my face against Magpie’s body and instantly regretted it. My skin began to burn from the rough surface. I placed him quickly on the floor before he decided to show his true colors.

  "Let me run upstairs and I'll be ready to go," I said. I raced up the steps to my bedroom to grab the packet of truth powder Sophie had acquired for me. Gareth beat me there.

  "Oh, how I wish I could accompany you this evening," he said, overflowing with giddy energy. "I haven't seen a good comedy since Maeve’s play about a monkey butler in Victorian society.”

  "I hope Sophie appreciates the lengths I'm willing to go for her," I said. "Mike seems like a real piece of work." Even worse than Lars, if that was possible.

  "Please invite him back here afterward," Gareth begged.

  "Not a chance," I said.

  "He looks like he's ready to unbutton his pants right now," Gareth said. "Are you getting a reputation already?"

  I straightened my shoulders, indignant. “Absolutely not. I've had exactly two kisses in the entire time I've been here and they were both with the same vampire."

  Gareth studied me. "Was there tongue?"

  I shook my finger at him. "You have no idea how much I want you to be solid right now."

  Gareth chortled. "Have a good time, love. Don't be out past curfew or I’ll send Sedgwick to fetch you.”

  Forget it, Sedgwick said from his nearby perch. It’s my night off.

  “Owls get a night off?” I queried.

  It would behoove you to read the town regulations once in a while, Sedgwick said. All messenger owls get time off.

  “But you’re more than my messenger owl,” I countered. “You’re my familiar. I think that changes the nature of the relationship.”

  Sedgwick groaned. Lawyers, he muttered.

  With a quick spritz of perfume, I rejoined Mike downstairs and off we went.

  I assumed because the date took place during dinner hours that we would actually be going out to eat dinner. My mistake. Mike drove us in his orange jalopy to the southeastern end of town where the Shamrock Casino was located. The building had enough fey lanterns to light up New York City. The parking lot was jammed and I wondered who all these people were inside.

  "I hope you're feeling lucky tonight," Mike said, giving me an obnoxious wink. "Because I sure am."

  I stifled a groan. "I've never gambled before." But I was too hungry to think about gambling. They served food in a casino, right?

  Together, we walked to the entrance of the casino. Mike opened the door and walked in ahead of me, not even holding the door open long enough for me to slip in behind him. Instead, the door whacked me on the back on my way in. Okay, so manners weren't his strong suit.

  Blinking lights drew my attention the moment I stepped into the lobby. The interior was bright, colorful, and noisy. It reminded me of a children's arcade, except everyone in here looked well past their prime.

  "Where would you like to start?" Mike asked.

  I felt overwhelmed. Everywhere I turned, there were loud machines, card tables, and bodies. This was the kind of environment that triggered my anxiety.

  "Why don't we start with something you enjoy?" I suggested. "If I watch for a little while, I may be able to learn a thing or two."

  Mike seemed pleased by that suggestion. "Let's stop by the bar first and load up on drinks."

  Load up? My stomach rumbled. I hoped appetizers were an option. There was no way I could drink alcohol on an empty stomach, not with my track record.

  The bar was located not far from the entrance to the left of the casino floor. The bar top was lower then usual and I quickly realized why. There were three bartenders working the bar right now—all leprechauns. They were, in all seriousness, absolutely adorable. I resisted the urge to pat each one on the head. Too condescending. They wore green vests trimmed in gold with black trousers. The only thing missing was a top hat. I assumed that the outfit was for the benefit of the casino rather than the way leprechauns normally dressed in Spellbound.

  Mike stepped up to the bar and rapped his knuckles on the counter. "What do we need to do to get some service around here?"

  Wow. We literally just arrived and Mike was acting like we’d been here for an hour. Impatience seemed to be one of his many flaws.

  "Welcome to Shamrock Casino," the bartender said. He sported red facial hair and mischievous green eyes. "What can I get for you this evening?"

  "I'll have an Irish special," Mike said.

  The bartender's gaze shifted to me. "And for the lady?"

  Mike seemed to forget I was even there. He moved aside so that I could approach the bar.

  "I'm not familiar with the drinks here," I said. "What do you recommend? Anything that’s light on alcohol?"

  Mike elbowed me in the ribs. It was meant to be a playful gesture, but he jabbed me hard enough that I winced.

  "Sorry," Mike mumbled.

  "I'll have a lime tonic, please," I said. Lime tonic contained zero alcohol, which was probably for the best. "Do you have any snacks?"

  Mike cast me a sidelong glance. "I thought chicks didn't eat on dates."

  Chicks? ”They do when they're hungry."

  The leprechaun grinned at me. "I can get you some light refreshments. Tell me where you'll be playing and I'll send it over."

  "We’ll be at card station number four," Mike said. He turned to me. "Let's go. We’re losing precious minutes."

  He steered me to a card table at the far end of the casino. The table was full of players with only one seat available. Mike took it and I had no choice but to stand behind him. The woman behind the man.

  "Watch and learn," he said.

  It was crystal clear to me why Mike was having a hard time making a love connection. He needed someone to show him the error of his ways. Somehow, I didn't think he would welcome constructive criticism.

  He set down his ale on the table and I decided to make my move. I fished the packet of powder from my pocket.

  “That’s a nice watch, Mike,” I said. Distraction 101. “Is it real gold?”

  He twisted to his left to show me the watch and I used my right hand to empty the powder into his drink. It dissolved instantly, just as Sophie promised.

  “A birthday present to myself. Guess how much?”

  I still didn’t fully understand Spellbound money. There were a lot of gold coins and bartering. Sort of like medieval times, or what I imagined medieval times were like.

  “Um, a bag of gold coins?” I ventured.

  “Fifty thousand gold coins,” he said, shoving the watch in my face. “It’s solid, baby.”

  I was beginning to regret the truth powder. If Mike was this much of a braggart without magical help, I had the sinking feeling that I was about to unleash an ego monster on an unsuspecting casino.

  Mike turned back to the table as the cards were dealt. The deck of cards was similar to the one Agnes had in the care home. These cards included numbers, though. They played with green and gold chips and I realized that the entire theme of the casino revolved around leprechaun lore. The flashing lights reflected the colors of the rainbow, the gold coins represented a pot of gold, and the shamrock design was on every machine. It was like an indoor theme park for Irish gamblers.

  The dealer was also a leprechaun. His red beard was fully formed and he looked slightly older than the bartender. He dealt a hand to each of the seven participants. Mike was sandwiched between an elderly gnome with the requisite pointy white beard and a centaur in a derby hat. The rest of the players looked too human to identify.

  Mike took a long swig of his drink and tensed when he checked his hand. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was unhappy with it.

  “That’s a pretty girl you have on your arm,” the elderly gnome said to Mike. “Maybe you should be a gentleman and find her a seat.”

  Mike kept his gaze fixed on the cards in his hand. “She knows where the chairs are.”

  The centaur overheard the exchange and leaned his head ov
er. “Buddy, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but if you have any hope of making a good impression tonight, you might want to think twice before leaving your date on her feet behind you.”

  “What’s the difference?” Mike said. “I’ll have her off her feet later, if you know what I mean.”

  Bile rose in my throat, burning my esophagus. Was the powder taking effect? It was hard to tell.

  “Listen, weasel,” the centaur said. “I think you’re being disrespectful.”

  Mike stuck his nose in the centaur’s face. “And I think you’re an abomination. So let’s agree to disagree.”

  Oh no. I had to get Mike away from here before a fight broke out. The centaur could knock him unconscious easily. I couldn’t risk missing my chance to interrogate him about Sophie.

  “You know what?” I interjected. “I’d love to try a slot machine, if that’s okay. I find card games slow and a little boring.”

  Mike tossed down the cards. “My hand sucked anyway.”

  The centaur shot me a sympathetic look as we left the table. It was nice to know there were gentlemen in Spellbound.

  We settled in front of a slot machine. Mike never once offered me coins to play or a chance to pull the handle. It was silly of me to care, but I couldn't help it. My grandparents had instilled manners in me and that was one of the traits I had no intention of losing.

  “I wore my best cologne tonight,” Mike said, yanking on the handle. “It’s good, right?” He bent his neck toward me and I pretended to sniff.

  “Very nice,” I lied. I had to speak up now. I couldn’t tolerate another minute of Mike. "So I heard you’re the one who spoke with the sheriff about seeing Sophie and Freddie together.” I tried to keep my tone casual.

  Mike was intent on the symbols flashing in front of him. "Yeah. What about it?"

  "Sophie swears she was never with him," I said. “She barely knew him. We’re such good friends. It hurts my feelings that she would lie to me."

  Mike pulled the handle again and a few coins dropped out of the bottom. He scooped them up and continued to play. “Your friend is a tease. She acts all sweet and nice, but it’s minotaur shit.”