Magic and Macaroons

by Bailey Cates

  With a crash, the door burst open, and Declan filled the frame.

  “Och, yer all right, then,” he bellowed.

  Or, rather, Connell did.

  Yip!

  Chapter 18

  Mungo ran out to the front yard and began barking in earnest to anyone who would listen. Connell blinked at me once, smiled ruefully, and was gone. The smile dropped, and Declan’s worried gaze took over. “Katie!” He pushed into the room. Heat flared against my back, the fire returning, real and untainted now but still hungry.

  “Are you okay?” Declan shouted and reached for my arm.

  “I’m fine.” My voice rose as I shifted to look at Mother Eulora. “But she’s not. I think there’s something wrong with her heart, and I know she inhaled some smoke.”

  Declan took one look at my companion and scooped her up in his arms with a grunt. We ran outside as the roof above the porch caught.

  A ladder truck and ambulance roared to the curb. Joe Nix jumped out and began pulling a gurney out of the back of the van as Declan lowered Eulora gently to the ground. I grabbed one of her wrists and chafed it, as I’d seen her apprentice do.

  “She’s on medication, but I don’t know what,” I said to Declan, as he felt for her pulse and checked her breathing.

  “Tanna,” she muttered. Her eyes flew open, pinning me where I leaned over her prone form. “She came home. She was inside.”

  “Shh,” I soothed. “We didn’t see her. She must have gotten out.”

  “Tanna,” Eulora said again, her eyes drifting shut. And then the paramedics were there with the gurney and bags of equipment, crowding me away.

  Declan, still kneeling beside her, raised his head and raked me with his gaze. I could see him mentally running through a checklist as he assessed my physical well-being. I forced a smile and backed away. I wanted him to concentrate on Mother Eulora, not worry about me. I was fine.

  Well, as fine you could be after escaping a magical fire.

  I called Mungo over and checked him for injuries. Other than a few singed hairs on top of his ears, he appeared none the worse for wear. Together, we melted to the edge of the activity, watching numbly.

  Where was Tanna? I’d assured Eulora she must have escaped the fire, but I also knew she’d be by Eulora’s side if she were able. Had that even been her we’d heard coming in the door? Wouldn’t an arsonist have been a little quieter?

  We couldn’t even see into the kitchen. Tanna could have been trapped there. My stomach tightened at the thought.

  The fire crew had hooked up to the hydrant and was directing jets of water at the blazing home. The rear of the house had already fallen into a pile of charcoal defeat, now wetly burping smoke from the crevices. It would be a complete loss, hedgehogs, altar, and all.

  Glancing at my watch, I felt a sense of disorientation. I’d been gone from the Honeybee less than an hour.

  “Katie?”

  I turned, and Declan swept me into his arms.

  “Ouch!”

  Instantly, he was checking me over. “This is a bad cut on your shoulder,” he said. “You’ll need stitches.”

  Craning my head, I tried to see. “It doesn’t hurt that much.” The wound was deep, though, now that I really examined it. At least an inch, and four inches long. The sharp ceramic from the exploding tchotchke had acted like a bullet.

  He grimaced. “It will. Come on. We’ll get it numbed before the adrenaline wears off.”

  I began to protest, but a wave of weariness almost brought me to my knees. Weakly, I nodded and allowed him to take me toward the ambulance.

  “Mother Eulora?” I asked.

  “Probably a heart attack, but she’s stable.”

  The ambulance started up and pulled away. “How will I get to the hospital?” I asked in bleary voice.

  Declan laughed. “In my truck, silly.” Then, more gently: “Don’t worry, Katie. I’ll take care of you.”

  I nodded again, relieved to let my lethargy take over. He would take care of me.

  There was a prick of pain on my upper arm, and Joe Nix was smiling at me over a hypodermic needle. “You’ve had one hell of a week, Lightfoot.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  Declan led me toward his king-cab pickup. He lifted me in, placed Mungo on my lap, and closed the door. The voices on the dashboard scanner nattered away, oddly soothing. But as he pulled away and turned in the direction of Candler Hospital, I finally put my finger on something. “Why are you in your truck when you’re on shift?” I asked. “Were you doing something separately from the rest of the crew?”

  His silence went on for long enough that it pulled me out of my stupor. “Declan?”

  “I didn’t come in response to the 911 call. That came in after I was already on my way. And the others couldn’t come just because I told them you were in trouble.” He licked his lips. “I’m pretty sure they think I’m crazy.”

  “But you were right— Wait. How did you know I was in trouble?”

  He shot me a look.

  I remembered his expression when he’d broken open Eulora’s door, the shouted words. “Connell?”

  “Connell.”

  “I saw him there in the doorway when you came in. Did he, uh, make life difficult for you with the other firefighters?”

  He gave a small shudder. “No. At least he didn’t do that. But he came to me, told me your life was in danger, that you were being attacked. He guided me to where you were.”

  I sat back against the seat. “Well, I have to thank him for that.”

  Declan half smiled and turned into the emergency bay behind an ambulance. “I’ve already thanked him.” He put the truck in park and faced me. “He’s taken quite a shine to you. I’m glad he’s not only looking out for me, but for you, too. But, Katie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was he talking about when he said you were being attacked?”

  “That fire . . .” I faltered, remembering. “It wasn’t natural. It was fast, hot, and—” I paused.

  “What?” he asked, using the smooth, calming tone he’d developed on the job. But I could see the dread in his eyes.

  “Smart,” I finished.

  He paled. “You mean it was sentient?”

  I shrugged carefully, no longer feeling bleary. My shoulder was starting to really ache. “I don’t know. Maybe it was my imagination. But I’d sure like to know whether your investigators find any evidence of arson.”

  He looked away, processing what I’d said. “A fire that fast had to have an accelerant.”

  “I figured. And, Deck? There’s a possibility Eulora’s apprentice, Tanna, was in the house, too. We heard someone come in before we realized what was going on. It could have been her.”

  “Or it could have been the arsonist,” he said, echoing my thoughts. He opened his door. “I’m calling Peter Quinn while they stitch you up.”

  * * *

  The scent of disinfectant almost overrode the smell of smoke that seemed to emanate from my every pore. I wondered if I’d ever get it out of my hair as the nurse, a middle-aged man whose name tag read MIGUEL, made short work of patching up my shoulder. He bandaged it elaborately with gauze and tape, and repeatedly warned against getting it wet for the next few days. Declan had parked his truck and checked on Mungo, and now stood quietly in the corner.

  The overhead light gleamed off Miguel’s shaved head as he leaned over and inspected his work before straightening. “Here. Take two of these.” He handed me a blister pack with six tablets. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “Hydrocodone. The doctor’ll write you a prescription for more.”

  “Will they make me feel funny?” I asked.

  “Probably.” He grinned.

  I nodded. “Okay. But I’m going to wait a
nd see how bad the pain is without them.”

  “Your choice, but you generally want to stay ahead of the pain.”

  “Katie—” Declan began.

  I cut in before he could chastise me. “I want to check on Eulora.” I slid to the edge of the examining table and put my feet on the floor. He grabbed my good arm as I wobbled, but then I straightened and took a couple of steps.

  “You go sit in the waiting room,” he said. “I’ll find out what happened to her.”

  I nodded, and he strode away on long legs.

  “You’re looking for that other lady who was in the fire? They admitted her,” Miguel said, tidying the area in preparation for the next customer.

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  “For now,” he said, meeting my eyes. “They took her to the cardiac unit. They’ll monitor her very closely—I promise.”

  I allowed myself to feel a frisson of relief. “Where’s the cardiac unit?”

  Miguel shook his head. “You should do what your boyfriend says. Go sit down, take it easy. He’ll be back soon enough.”

  My lips thinned. “I want to see her. What floor?”

  He lifted one shoulder, let it drop, and gave me the directions I’d asked for.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “The elevator’s that way.” He pointed. “And you might want to stop by the restroom. You have a bit of ash on your face.”

  I left the curtained area, shoulder throbbing, impelled by worry and guilt. If I hadn’t dragged Eulora into whatever mess Dawn had pulled me into, she wouldn’t be in the hospital, possibly fighting for her life.

  The “bit of ash” turned out to be a smear across one whole cheek and part of my forehead. Why hadn’t anyone told me until now? Standing over the sink, I scrubbed until my face was pink and clean. Then, stepping off the elevator, I followed the signs to the cardiac unit. The hallway opened into a forty-foot-square waiting room. I heard the voices before I stepped into it, so I wasn’t surprised to see a dozen people standing or sitting, chatting in low tones. I recognized a few of them from the photos on Eulora’s altar.

  Family.

  Then I noticed Cecelia. She saw me and waved.

  I waved back and turned to the nurses’ station positioned near the door to the stairwell.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the efficient-looking woman seated there. “Can you tell me what Eulora Scanlon’s condition is?”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you related?”

  “Afraid not. But the fire she was rescued from? I was caught in it, too.”

  The RN looked at my bandaged shoulder and my wild mess of smoky hair, then back at my face with sympathy. “She’s stable.”

  My lips thinned. “That much I know. Can you . . .” A movement in the window to the stairwell caught my eye, and I felt my jaw slacken. “Tanna?”

  The woman disappeared from behind the reinforced glass.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to the puzzled nurse and hurried to the door. Pushing it open, I heard receding footsteps from the next floor down and took off down the stairs. “Tanna,” I called. “Wait.”

  She didn’t wait. Using the railing to pull and steady myself, I clattered down the steps as fast as I could. My left shoulder throbbed. After two floors, my head was keeping time with it. I stopped, panting as if I’d never run a day in my life. No way was I going to catch up with Tanna if she didn’t want me to.

  But why on earth was she running away?

  Could Tanna have set the fire? Was her protective attitude toward Eulora a ruse? For what? And was Eulora still in danger?

  Slowly, I clumped back up the stairs. The nurse had left the desk and was talking to a gaunt, long-necked man in the waiting room. As I watched, Cecelia approached them, listening hard as he put his arm around her shoulder. The RN returned to her post, eyeing me with a mixture of curiosity and distaste. Apparently, taking off and shouting down a stairwell did not win me any prizes.

  Eulora’s great-granddaughter approached with the man the nurse had been talking to. I could see where Mungo had shed black fur on her white shorts only a few hours before.

  “Hi,” she said with a sad smile. “You were with Grammy when the fire happened?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re okay?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “What about Mungo?” she asked in a worried tone.

  “Don’t worry. He’s not hurt. He’s outside, waiting for me in my friend’s truck.”

  Her face cleared. “Good! Katie, this is my granddad.”

  I stuck out my hand. “Hi. You’re Eulora’s son?” His grip was dry and warm, his expression troubled.

  “Aaron Scanlon,” he confirmed. “My mother tells me you saved her.”

  “We saved each other,” I said quietly. “And the firefighters came to our rescue. We would have been trapped in the house without them.”

  Without him. Declan saved our lives. With Connell’s help, but still. A tremor ran through my core as I finally realized how close I’d come to dying.

  I shook myself. “How is Eulora?”

  “Stable,” he said. I was really starting to dislike that word. “She’s in some pain, and will need rest. The doctor is talking about a pacemaker. Of course, he’s talked about that for a while. She’s asleep right now. How did it start?”

  “The fire?” Had Eulora told him about the magical nature of the fire? Or how we’d combined powers to battle it? But I didn’t see suspicion in his gaze or get any strong vibes from him other than curiosity and concern.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I have no idea. It seemed to come out of nowhere.”

  Cecelia looked on, lower lip firmly clamped between her teeth. Her father was silent for a moment, then said, “Just now—you saw someone on the stairs?”

  “I thought it was your mother’s . . . assistant.” I assumed he knew his mother was a voodoo spiritualist if she was training Cecelia, but I didn’t want to step on any toes.

  His jaw set, and he looked away. “Tanna.”

  “Had she been to visit Eulora?” I asked. “We didn’t see her after the fire, and your mother was so worried that she hadn’t made it out of the house.”

  “She hasn’t visited. I’ll tell my mother you saw her, though. That should put her mind to rest.”

  Something was off. Aaron still wouldn’t meet my eye. Cecelia looked unhappy.

  “Eulora told me Tanna leaves whenever you come over,” I said to her. That got her father’s attention.

  “She is very protective of my mother,” he said. “She takes good care of her—at least that’s what Mom says. But she’s also a bit . . . possessive. Doesn’t pass on phone messages, tries to keep Mom to herself.” He considered me. “Of course, if you’re friends with my mother, you already know how Tanna is.”

  “Watch for her,” I blurted.

  His eyebrows rose. “I see. Yes, believe me—we all will. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course. Tell Eulora I was here?”

  “I will,” Cecelia said. Her grandfather smiled down at her and put his arm around her shoulders again as they joined the rest of the family.

  I headed back to the elevator. My shoulder hurt with every inhalation, but I still passed the drinking fountain without taking any pain pills. There was one more stop I wanted to make, and I wanted the clearest head I could manage. The nurse was happy enough to give me directions.

  Chapter 19

  The intensive-care waiting room was empty save for a woman who stood looking out the window. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her shoulders bowed. She looked up as I approached, blinking at me with quiet fatigue. Her white blond hair was layered just over her ears, and her short, blunt bangs framed light blue eyes very similar to the ones that had haunted my dreams for the past two nights.

 
; “Mrs. Taite?” I asked.

  She looked surprised. “Yes.” Her voice was high and soft. “Do I know you?”

  I shook my head, trying to ignore the low ache from my arm that reached all the way up my neck now. “My name is Katie Lightfoot. I’m one of the owners of the Honeybee Bakery.”

  Dawn’s mother looked blank.

  “Your daughter collapsed there,” I said gently.

  Her expression cleared. “Oh. Right.” Then she frowned. “So, you’re her friend?”

  “I’m afraid I only met her briefly before she fell ill.”

  “It’s very nice of you to visit her,” she said. Her voice rasped at the edges, but her eyes were dry. She turned to the window again, watching the breeze blow the United States and the Georgia state flag on the pole outside the hospital toward the east.

  “Is she any better?” I asked.

  “No,” she said simply. “I don’t understand what happened to her. We’d fallen out of touch lately. She left school, you see. She was studying sociology. Only had one semester to go.” She paused.

  I remained silent. Mrs. Taite wasn’t talking to me in particular. She just needed to talk to someone, and I was there.

  A few beats later, she continued. “She told me she wanted to work with her uncle. Franklin. My husband’s brother.”

  My ears perked up.

  “He was a bit of a black sheep, but Dawn likes black sheep. That’s probably why sociology interested her. She was interested in outsiders, as she put it. Puts it, I mean.” She stole a glance at me.

  I offered an encouraging smile. She turned back to the window and rubbed her hand over her face.

  “Dawn’s father died in an accident when she was a teenager. We were never close with Franklin after that, and I was surprised when Dawn told me he’d come to see her on campus. He’d apparently left the police department—he was a detective, you see. But he threw that away the same way Dawn threw away her education. He went off to be some kind of private eye, and asked my daughter to quit school and work for him. What kind of man would do that to his own family? Of course, Dawn insisted Franklin was more than a private eye, but when I asked for more details, she refused to tell me.” Her head tipped to the side. “We fought. Mothers and daughters always fight, of course, and we were no exception, but this fight was different.” She backed away from the window and went to sit in one of the cool-colored chairs lined up against the wall. “She hasn’t spoken to me for months. Now her uncle is dead and something happened to her, and I don’t know what.” Tears in her voice now. “I don’t know how to help her.”