Amuletto Kiss

by Gina LaManna

  Ainsley muttered something unintelligible under her breath as she stood, then tossed her napkin to her seat. She stalked to the kitchen without another word.

  “Sorry,” Mrs. Shaw apologized, gesturing to her daughter. “It still upsets Ainsley when her father...forgets. Don’t worry dear, there’s nothing wrong. It’s nothing you did, it just...happens sometimes. He’ll snap out of it.”

  Mr. Shaw leaned in toward his wife and threw an arm around her shoulder. Then he shot an unnerving glance in my direction. “And who are you, might I ask?”

  “I’m, ah—Lily,” I said, thrown by the complete blankness of his stare. “Lily Locke. I am a friend of Ainsley’s visiting from The Isle.”

  “Give him a few minutes,” Mrs. Shaw said under her breath. “He’ll be back.”

  Frank stayed in la-la-land until halfway through dessert. Ainsley had returned to the table a few minutes after the incident, and though more subdued, she’d kept the conversation going with her mother.

  “You’re looking for the Master of Magic, aren’t you?” Frank shot me a sharp look out of the blue. One with such clarity and vitality I could hardly believe it was the same person who’d forgotten my name minutes before. “That’s not a good idea, Miss Locke. That sort of mission can get you killed.”

  “And, he’s back,” Ainsley muttered. “Sorry, I know it can feel strange to see him flip like that without warning.”

  I smiled at Ainsley, letting her know I wasn’t bothered by it—just surprised. “Mission? I don’t know that I’d call it a mission. I’m just looking for information on him.”

  Frank nodded knowingly. “I won’t pry for details; I imagine whatever you’re working on is quite confidential. But I’ll urge you to proceed with caution.”

  “What do you know about him?” I leaned forward, greedy to hear Frank’s knowledge before he fell into his blank abyss once more. “Have you ever encountered the Master in your work?”

  “Of course not.” Frank issued a light smile. “Nobody has.”

  “Except for the demigod,” I said pointedly. “Ainsley explained how that works.”

  “The assassin.” Frank nodded. “There are more demigods running around than you’d know out there. Don’t get yourself involved with any of them, Lily.”

  “Assassin?”

  “The demigod intending to take out the Master of Magic had trained as an assassin,” Frank said. “You didn’t read that far, I imagine?”

  “I haven’t gotten a chance to finish the article,” I said apologetically. “It’s a lot of information. How does one know if they’re dealing with a demigod?”

  “Well, they’re supposed to be registered with MAGIC, Inc.” Ainsley said. “It’s the law to report a birth with mythical bloodlines.”

  “We mustn’t forget that all laws exist for a reason. This particular one has been broken many times.” Frank shot his daughter a serious look. “See, most demigods consider it discrimination that they have to register, so many don’t. It’s easy enough for them to fly under the radar.”

  I tried a new tactic. “How would one go about finding the gods?”

  “One doesn’t,” Frank said firmly. “It’s best we keep ourselves out of their business.”

  “What if it’s my business to find the Master of Magic?”

  Frank exhaled a large sigh and offered a glance at his wife. “More coffee, please?”

  She nodded, patted his head, and then flicked her finger and the coffee pot floated in from the next room over.

  When it arrived, Frank poured himself a cup in the delicate china. “If you’re sincerely after the Master of Magic, the Keeper will already know you. The only way to the colony of the gods, and therefore the Master of Magic, is through him.”

  “He has been most impossible to find.”

  Frank laughed. “That’s the point.” He emptied creamer into his cup until it was milky white, and then he swirled it with a spell and a swish of his finger. “The Keeper will lead you to himself once he decides you’re worthy. If he decides you’re worthy.”

  “And how—”

  “I don’t know much more than that, I’m afraid,” Frank said. “Just that my only experiences with the ancient gods have been dicey at best. I sincerely recommend being careful, Lily.”

  “I will be.”

  “I do suppose, however, that if anyone could find the Keeper, it’d be you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Frank shrugged. “You have a peculiar set of powers. I’m not sure any of us truly understand what exactly you’re capable of—least of all you.”

  I bowed my head and accepted the pot of coffee as Mrs. Shaw floated it by me. I truly hated when people referenced my powers; it left me feeling awkward and unsure of an appropriate response. Most people meant their words like a compliment, but to me, it felt like one I didn’t deserve. I’d been born with this; I hadn’t created it myself.

  “Now, there’s an interesting idea,” Frank said, sounding fluffy and far away, as if he were drifting off again. “Interesting indeed.”

  “What’s interesting, dad?” Ainsley prompted. “What idea?”

  “Wouldn’t it be something if Lily trained with the Master?” Frank’s eyes sparkled at the thought. “Just think. One of the greatest minds in magic joined with one of the most powerful witches in the world. Unstoppable.”

  “Oh, I’m not powerful,” I said. “I mostly Mix up little drinks. I’m not out there saving lives like the Rangers or protecting the world like your daughter.”

  “But you will be powerful,” Frank said with startling confidence. “You have no idea, Miss Locke. If you ever do find him, promise me you’ll learn all that you can.”

  I couldn’t look away from his eyes. I merely nodded. Then just as quickly as before, Frank slipped into a happy state of confusion and dinner concluded. Ainsley excused us from the table with her voice pinched in pain. We stood, and she led me to the guest room once more.

  “Sorry about that,” she said as she let me in. “Nothing like my dad putting the weight of the world on your shoulders, huh?”

  “Oh, your parents are great. I really appreciate them letting me spend the night here.”

  “You made their year.” Ainsley gave a good-natured eye roll. “My mom was bursting at the seams with excitement, and my dad...” She took in a deeper breath. “Those were incredibly long lucid periods for him. It was really good for him to focus, so I owe you a thank you. I think you helped him, and I sincerely mean that.”

  “I didn’t do a thing.” Embarrassment nudged at me, blooming red onto my cheeks. “He’s the one who helped me.”

  “I don’t know if he helped anything at all, but he does enjoy discussing his work. He always does better when he has a problem to work on—that’s why he tinkers so much with human crap.”

  “Speaking of human crap...” I glimpsed at the bed where I’d foolishly left the papers sitting out. “Your dad wouldn’t happen to have a computer around here, would he?”

  “Three of them.” Ainsley shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t understand it, but he loves ‘em.” She left the room and returned a few minutes later with an old model. “Will this work?”

  “Perfect.” I accepted the laptop and hugged it to my chest, then gave Ainsley a squeeze with one arm. “Thank you.”

  “Night, boss,” she said. “See you in the morning. Better get you back on the island bright and early before Ranger X comes hunting me down.”

  After Ainsley left, I smuggled the computer under the covers with me and pulled the copied files closer. It’d been a while since I’d worked in a traditional human office, and I found my typing came back clunkier and slower than I’d anticipated.

  It took me a few minutes to plug the names of both men who’d been arrested for my mother’s murder into a few search engines. The first man—Adam Sherman—was easy to find. He’d been dead for over twenty years. He’d died in prison after being convicted for my mother’s murder.


  The other man, Samuel Palmer, was more difficult to pinpoint in my searches. Eventually, I landed on a small article in an independent news website that covered his release from prison just over a year earlier—he must have been released just after I’d been taken to The Isle. From what I could tell, he didn’t have much in the way of family or friends, nor could I find any current address or phone number for him.

  I gave in finally and muttered a version of my previous Map Maker spell over the computer, hoping that a little magic mixed with technology might work. I’d never bewitched electronics before and wasn’t sure it was possible, but it probably couldn’t hurt. Probably being the key word.

  I held my breath until the results kicked back something positive. It wasn’t much, but it was an address. An old address, but the only one available. It appeared Samuel Palmer hadn’t ventured far most of his life; this record listed him in the same Minneapolis neighborhood where he’d grown up.

  As I shut off the computer and pushed the files into a more secure location at the bottom of my magicked book bag, I was left to ponder Samuel’s current whereabouts. I shut off the light and pulled the fluffy comforter tight to my chest, wondering where I’d go if I’d gotten out of a twenty-four-year stint in prison and had nothing to my name.

  Would I go somewhere completely new?

  Or would I try to pick up my life where it’d left off?

  I drifted to sleep while my brain churned through the makings of a plan for the next morning. It would surely be a Hail Mary, a shot in the dark, a prayer for blind luck, but it was better than nothing. The files had given me a name—the name of the man who’d served a short lifetime for the murder of my mother.

  Trinket and I needed closure. I needed to hear the confession from his lips.

  And if, in fact, he was innocent...how had a human been locked up for the murder of a witch?

  Chapter 14

  “WE’RE SAD TO SEE YOU go,” Ainsley’s mother said as I stood on the front steps of the Shaw family home the next morning. “Are you sure you aren’t due for a vacation? You’re leaving so soon, and we’d love to have you stay for just a bit longer.”

  “Ma, she’s in the middle of a huge mission,” Ainsley said. “Leave her alone.”

  “Sorry, we just love to see Ainsley with a friend.” Mrs. Shaw winked at me. “It’s been so long since she had a real nice girlfriend. That Millie is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but she’s always been so interested in books!”

  “Mom, I’m right here, and there’s nothing wrong with Millie,” Ainsley said. “Also, I work a lot! Hello, that doesn’t leave a ton of time for people friends. Also, you neglected to mention my boyfriend.”

  “Praise be, she found a man who’ll put up with her crazy schedule,” Mrs. Shaw said making praying hands toward the heavens. “I never thought I’d see the day. Anyway, I’d better let you get going. Frank, let’s go inside and leave the girls to chat.”

  “Actually, do you have a second, Lily?” Frank asked, stepping forward. “I wanted to ask you about a few human things quickly. Ainsley, don’t yell at me darling, it’ll just take a second. I’ll walk her to the bus stop.”

  Ainsley looked to me for permission, and I nodded. “Sure, Mr. Shaw, no problem.”

  “Be careful, dad,” Ainsley said, and I could see the worry in her eyes. “I’m going after you if you’re not back in twenty minutes. And if we have to trace you to Florida again because you took a wrong turn and got lost, I will be royally pissed.”

  Frank let out a big laugh, an action that put smiles on both his wife and daughter’s faces. “I’ll be back. I’ve got my tracker on.” He raised his wrist to show off a small device that looked like a watch. “Shall we head out, Lily?”

  “Great! I’ve never actually taken the magic bus,” I admitted. “It’ll be nice to have someone show me the ropes.”

  After one last round of hugs and a bag of cookies for the road, Frank and I set off at an easy pace down the street. We walked in silence for half a block before Frank wrinkled his nose.

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about human things.”

  “I wasn’t convincing with that excuse, huh?” Frank asked, though it seemed rhetorical. “Yes, actually, I do need to talk to you about something. This, actually.” Frank pulled a small baggie from his pocket. Inside, there were beautiful little ferns, dainty and perfectly preserved. “They aren’t as fresh as I would’ve liked, but they should do the trick.”

  I sucked in a breath as I took the bag from him. “Are these Forgotten Ferns? Where did you find them?”

  “Better if you don’t know.”

  “You didn’t have to do this, Mr. Shaw—er, Frank. How much do I owe you for the trouble?”

  “Nothing. It’s my absolute pleasure. Maybe just, ah, keep this quiet from my wife. I don’t think she’d much like knowing I have a little stash of herbs in the attic closet.”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s one more thing, Lily.” Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrappy little piece of paper, dirtied and old. He handed it over. “This is yours. I didn’t realize it until late last night.”

  “What is it?”

  “Someone entrusted it to me a long time ago,” he said. “They told me I’d know when I needed it.”

  “Are you sure it’s meant for me?” I stared at the sheet of paper and saw what appeared to be an address. The letters and numbers meant nothing to me. “What is this for?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.” Frank said. “But the previous Keeper entrusted this to me before he retired.”

  “You knew the Keeper?”

  “I met him once while I was working. I believe this is a place where you might find him. He instructed me to never make copies, never memorize this, and never give it away...until the right time.”

  “How do you know this is the right time?”

  “Because there’s not a doubt in this mind.” Frank tapped his head. “And these days, my mind is full of fog and doubts. Believe me, Lily, he meant it for you.”

  I swallowed, tucking the Forgotten Ferns into my book bag and slipping the piece of paper into my pocket. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  Frank frowned. “I don’t know what you’ll find at the end of this journey, but it’s my duty to help you if I can. You know, us Guardians never truly retire.” He gave me a wink in conclusion. “It really has been my pleasure, Lily. I wish you the best of luck.”

  A tremor of emotion shivered over my skin. I tried to thank him again, but none of the words on my lips were sufficient, so I merely nodded.

  “Ah, here we are—don’t worry, the humans can’t see it.” Frank pointed to a supernatural sign above my head that read: THIS WAY TO THE ISLE. “Goodbye, Lily.”

  ONCE AINSLEY’S FATHER left me at the bus stop, I waited an appropriate amount of time before stepping back from the curb and taking a closer look at the Forgotten Ferns. When a bus arrived flashing a matching sign that read THIS WAY TO THE ISLE, I quietly slunk away as a few witches climbed down the stairs and emptied onto the sidewalk.

  I watched from behind a nearby building as one witch hurried away from the bus dragging a briefcase while another paused to light up a cigarette on the sidewalk. I waited until the bus drove away accompanied by a flash of light and a loud bang, wincing as it careened around a telephone pole.

  Once the bus chugged out of sight, I kept hidden for what I considered a sufficient amount of time while the newly departed passengers scattered in their respective directions.

  I continued to scan the area as I muttered a Map Maker spell onto my palm and input a new address. The address I’d found on the laptop last night; the address of the only living man who could tell me the truth about my mother’s murder.

  I knew from my previous Googling that the address wasn’t far, so I opted for the brisk half hour walk instead of using public transportation. The sun was shining and the breeze was
cool, but my fast pace kept me plenty warm. By the time I reached my destination, my heart was pumping and my nerves were at full tilt.

  I studied the dingy building in a small little bubble of Minneapolis, not quite in the downtown hustle and bustle, but in a tiny little community that fed off the lights, the action, the city itself.

  I suspected rightfully that the apartment complex in question would be quiet this time of day; it was the sort of place where people rolled into bed in the wee hours of the morning and emerged only after most of the workforce had put in a full day at the office.

  A quick Lock Lifter got me through the front entrance, but it was there that I stopped short. A woman stood checking her mail, and I realized I’d dumbly forgotten to peep through the door and make sure the lobby was empty.

  The woman turned, shooting me a curious expression. When she didn’t appear to recognize me, she frowned. She held a set of keys in her hand much too big for any one person, and with a gasp of both horror and surprise, I realized she was likely the landlady.

  “What are you doing? You don’t live here.” She hesitated, scanning me up and down. “You’re awake far too early to live in this building, and it looks like you’ve got yourself a proper paying job, which also counts you out as a potential tenant. Are you a cop?”

  “No, not at all,” I said, relieved she hadn’t questioned my Lock Lifter spell. “I’m actually looking for someone.”

  “I’m sorry.” A protective shield seemed to settle over the landlady. “I don’t know him.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  She locked the last mailbox with a resounding thud. “I don’t know him, don’t know her, don’t know whatever or whoever it is you’re looking for.”

  “Please, Miss—”

  “Hubick,” she filled in. “What don’t you understand, lady? Unless you’ve got a warrant, I’m not talking. My name would be mud if word got out I ratted on my tenants.”