spies and spells 01 - spies and spells

by Kappes, Tonya

I waved my hands above Mick, drawing him weightless into my arms. The sound of footsteps was getting closer to the little office we were in. With a snap of my toe against the concrete floor, Mick and I were transported onto the street in the front of the building.

  Vinnie’s doors were open. I put Mick in the passenger side, then jumped in the driver’s side. Vinnie took off in the direction of the hospital. Mick was going in and out of consciousness. He would glance over at me every once in a while, groaning with pain.

  I didn’t say a word. He was going to be okay, I would make sure of it, but I didn’t want him to be able to remember any of it.

  “Who are you?” he mumbled once we got to the hospital.

  I jumped out, flung my hand in the air, creating a wheelchair to stick him in. I stood behind him, blowing a steady stream, sending the wheelchair with him in it straight into the emergency room. From a safe distance, Vinnie and I watched as the emergency staff rushed to his side. Tapping my nose, I called into the cold night air, “Verm, beedon.” I cast my fingers toward the emergency room, closed my eyes, and pictured Mick in my head. “Pre, dea, com.”

  Chapter Nine

  Vinnie’s tires squealed all the way home. He jerked to a stop and backed into the garage and opened the car door.

  “I guess I’m getting out here.” My hands were still shaking from what had gone down at the warehouse. I had never seen anyone get shot, much less killed. If only I had laid a hand on the informant and healed him, only that would have put me and my family in danger. No one could know our heritage.

  The back door was wide open and a blue glow came from inside the house.

  “What on earth?” I asked and slammed Vinnie’s door. The night air had gotten humid from the rain last night. I knew the Spell Circle was coming for their cleansing but I’d never seen the door wide open or a blue glow while they were here.

  A simple cleansing ceremony didn’t require much work and most often the ladies spent their time together gossiping about other witchy issues I cared nothing about. A quick hello was the good southern girl thing to do, and then I’d retreat to my room.

  Tonight was going to be no different. Tonight was behind me and that was where it needed to stay. The spell was in place for Mick to forget all about me and all was good. I could go back to my normal boring life, learn my way around the diner kitchen, and hopefully get on with my life’s journey.

  “What is going on in here?” I questioned as I stepped into the kitchen from the back porch. I followed the glow into the family room.

  All of the furniture was gone. Auntie Meme, Pixie, Flora, Charmary, and Glinda, who consisted of the Spell Circle, were head to toe in white, including the dust on their faces. Each of them had to be in their mid-to-late eighties. There was a white candle lit in the middle of the room.

  “Where are Mom and Lilith?” I asked.

  “Have you had a life changer, dearie?” Pixie only stood four feet. She was as tall as she was wide and I considered her the craziest of them all. Her hair was cut in a buzz cut and you could almost see her scalp. She claimed it was quicker for spells to get through then penetrate through all the hair follicles.

  “No.” I shook my head, hoping to shake out the memory of Mick and the informant getting shot.

  “Are you sure?” Glinda slid next to us. She was more of the grandmother-ing type with her long flowing dresses, middle-age spread, and caring eyes. Her hair was always neatly cut to her shoulders and parted down the middle.

  “I’m sure.” I gulped letting her take me by the hands and lead me into the middle of the room. “Auntie Meme, what is going on?”

  “There seems to be a little darkness in the air. It could just be,” Charmary rolled her thin-skinned hands in the air. Her thin frame stood six feet tall. She was a little bit of a freak, but very nice. Her hair was also grey and it was half pinned up and half down. I was sure she didn’t get ready in front of a mirror. I never understood how they didn’t just wave their hands and clean themselves up.

  “Be still, Maggie,” Auntie Meme warned, dragging a box out from the foyer closet where we kept our winter coats.

  Pixie grabbed a shaker instrument, Flora grabbed the drum, and Charmary grabbed a bell. The three of them began to play in no certain harmony while Glinda clapped her hands, her arms extended in front of her and clapped in circles. Auntie Meme ho-hummed to her own beat as they used their feet to stomp around the room, running the instruments from floorboard to the ceiling. They somehow ended up around me, chanting, playing and clapping until one loud thunderous jolt shook the house, stopping them in their tracks.

  “We must go.” Pixie dropped her instrument, as did the others, dispersing in all directions.

  “What is going on in here?” Mom rushed in from the kitchen; Lilith was closely behind her. “I thought you were doing a cleansing ceremony not a purification ritual.”

  “Now what have you done?” Lilith asked the all important question.

  The last time we had to go through one of these was when I was a child and the neighbor’s cow had gotten loose and was found dead on our property. I was the one they found standing over the animal. Right in front of the owner, I touched the cow, bringing it back to life. Auntie Meme lost all of her marbles and made us clear out all the furniture for a protection spell because she was sure the neighbor was going to accuse me of being a witch. Little did he know. But he never did. He assumed the cow was sleeping and all was well.

  “You can never be too sure.” Auntie Meme rushed to the back and pulled out a few of the dried smudging bundles Mom kept in there for such occasions.

  Mom, Lilith, and I got in the middle of the room and held hands letting Auntie Meme light the smudging stick. She used a large eagle’s feather to fan through the smoky bundle letting it float around us. The smell of rosemary and prairie sage filled the space and air in my lungs with each breath.

  “Claster pepelexa dron.” Auntie Meme broke the circle and stood in the middle of us causing us to take a few steps back because she was whipping the smoldering hot bundle a little too close for comfort. “Let this smudge take on a pure faction of its own.” She gave it one last fling in the air before bringing it down to her mouth and blowing the smoke in certain directions. Mainly toward me.

  There was no getting around witchy senses. Auntie Meme and her Spell Circle knew I had some sort of life-changing event tonight and I’d say seeing two men get shot and one dying was pretty life changing. Only my mouth was sealed. It was over. The package was delivered. I’d put a memory spell on Mick and now my hands were no longer dirty.

  That’s what I wanted to believe. Unfortunately my witchy senses told me it was just beginning.

  Chapter Ten

  Over the next week I kept to myself, doing my normal routine. Go to work, go home, supper at five p.m., and bed. Every day. I had almost put the whole Mystic Couture debacle behind me in hopes Mick had forgotten about me—with the help of an extra wave of my hand—when I dumped him in the wheelchair.

  “Coffee?” I asked the customer behind the menu at the counter and held the pot up. I had counter duty today, which wasn’t bad since I didn’t have to walk around so much, just back and forth.

  “Yes, Maggie. That would be nice.” Mick dropped the menu down from in front of his face. His dark thick brows wiggled up and down, his blue eyes danced with amusement. There was a five o’clock shadow on his face I had never seen, making him even sexier than before. “You didn’t think I forgot about you?”

  I put the pot on the counter and held on until the earthquake in my body stopped and I gained awareness of what was going on around me.

  My head was about to spin off my shoulders. I had given him a memory spell right after I dropped him off at the emergency room and a little extra oomph. There was something wrong with me. With my spells. I gulped.

  “How do you know my name?” I whispered, leaning over pouring the coffee in his mug, trying to steady my hand as my heartbeat increased—as did my respirati
on.

  “Sugar?” He held the glass sugar container in the air, shaking it.

  I reached under the counter and grabbed the sugar bag from the condiment caddy and dropped it in front of him.

  “Maggie,” he tsked. “This isn’t happiness to see me.” He grunted, closing his eyes. “Do you mind refilling the sugar? My side hurts from the bullet wound.” He groaned putting his hand on his left side. “You know the bullet wound, don’t you?” His eyes lowered, they were as clever as a terrier. “I mean, you were there.”

  I grabbed the bag and refilled the sugar. My insides were boiling. I slid the container back to him.

  “Your sister.” He pointed to Lilith who was over at a four-top table. “Lilith, is it?” He picked up the coffee mug, taking a sip. His eyes bore through the steam.

  “How are you?” I asked. I tried to discipline my voice to maintain complete control and not to bring more attention to him then he already required.

  Lilith walked behind him giving me the thumbs up with a big smile planted on her face, like he was there to ask me on a date.

  “Thanks to you.” He set the cup down in front of him. He ran his finger around the rim. “I’m alive.”

  “Great. You’re welcome.” I kept my voice monotone. I tapped the pad of paper with my pen, “What do you want to eat?”

  For a second I wanted to tell Auntie Meme to give him a mind-erasing potion in his food, but then she’d ask a bunch of questions. I’d taken care of the package and the informant on my own. Now I would work on Mick.

  “I’m not hungry. I just got out of the hospital and their food was delish.” He smacked his lips together. “Have you ever tried their non-shaking Jell-o? How do they do that? Hard as a brick,” he joked.

  “Then what do you want?” I growled.

  “I want you to come to the office and tell me exactly what your involvement is in my investigation. I want you to tell me exactly what was going on before I walked in the office in the Mystic Couture warehouse. I want to know everything you know,” he answered with a staid calmness. “Not to mention why you would give the bad guys their package back. Really it’s considered conspiracy, an offense that would put you behind bars for a very, very long time.” His eyes seductively slid up and down my body. “You’d make a fine prison wife.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.” I twitched my nose, sending a little memory loss spell.

  He reached up and scratched his nose. A sign I knew he got the spell.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” He rubbed his nose harder. “And that car of yours.” He shook his head. “You weren’t driving it when you dumped me at the hospital.” He picked up his cup and held it close to his lips. “Classy move by the way.”

  Why in the hell wasn’t the spell working on him? Anger hit my eyes.

  “Have I hit a nerve, Maggie?” There was a bridled anger in his voice. “You get off at two, so I’ll expect you by three this afternoon.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. He set his cup on top of it.

  “I’m not coming.” I gave him a hostile glare. My adrenaline level began to rise.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” He tossed his head side-to-side with a playful grin across his face. “So I took the liberty to look up this sweet family diner. The Brew. It seems there aren’t a whole lot of records on the place. Like none. That is a red flag for someone like me and SKUL. I mean, all the other shops in the Louisville area, hell, in the entire United States pay taxes, pay for buildings, pay employees and there are records.” He shook his head. “There are no records of this place. Anywhere.”

  A sudden chill hung on the edge of his words. So what if Auntie Meme didn’t open The Brew the mortal way or she didn’t pay taxes, or we weren’t in any sort of business deal? A thunderbolt shot right through me.

  “Three o’clock.” He stood up. He tapped on the counter. “Not a minute late.”

  “Well?” Lilith squealed when the diner door shut behind Mick.

  “Well what?” I played dumb, throwing his mug in the dirty bin.

  “He did ask you out.” She bounced on her toes. “I heard three o’clock.” She tapped her supersonic ears.

  “Stay out of it,” I grumbled and wiped down the counter where he had sat, not taking my eyes off Vinnie.

  Mick had his hands planted in his jean pockets walking around Vinnie, stopping to look in each window.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m here to see Mick. . .” I hesitated pulling out his business card from my clutch. “Mick Jasper,” I told the lady at the desk.

  I looked around. It was definitely not as fancy as the Mystic Couture offices. It was old. There was wood paneling on the walls. Old oil paintings hung crooked on the walls. The dingy orange carpet was wall to wall.

  “You are here for a cleaning or filling?” she asked, running a finger down her appointment calendar.

  “Filling.” Mick stood next to an old hollow plywood door. The tarnished plate on the door read the word patients. “Maggie.”

  “Where am I?” I questioned, stepping through the door.

  “You are at SKUL headquarters. SKUL stands for—”

  I interrupted him, “Secret Keepers of the Universal Laws.”

  “Very good.” He looked startled by my answer. “How did you know that?” His words had bite. “How do you know half the stuff you know?”

  I followed him in silence down the hall that not only looked like a dental office, but smelled like one.

  “That is the reason I asked you to come down here.” He stopped at another door, opened it, revealing an elevator. “To tell me how you know things. And that car.” He shook his head and hit the B button.

  The elevator went down.

  “Of course we can’t let the world know where we are headquartered. Only a select few know.” He smiled with his hands clasped in front of him. “I guess you are one now.”

  “Not by choice.” I met his accusing eyes without flinching.

  “I see you are still a little bitter.” He walked in front of me down a hallway between cubicles divided by glass.

  “Good afternoon, Mick.” A couple people emerged from their desks, shaking Mick’s hand as if he was a celebrity.

  “Good to see you back, buddy.” Another guy patted him on the back when we passed.

  “Mick!” A blond woman wearing blue pants, a tucked-in white button-down with a badge clipped on one side of her belt, a gun on the other, jumped between me and Mick. She threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy you are okay.”

  “Ouch,” Mick grimaced. “Still hurts.”

  “You poor baby.” Her shoulders scrunched up to her ears. Her hands flew over her mouth. “I’ll have to make you some of my homemade chicken and dumpling soup. What if I bring it over Friday night?” She squeezed his arm.

  “Can we please get this over with?” I stepped up between their little date-making conversation. “I’ve got things I need to do, like go back to work and clean up so we can open tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a perp with you.” The blonde looked me up and down. “Nice necklace. Is that a ruby?”

  “Something like that.” My brows rose, I stared at Mick.

  “She’s not a perp, just a witness,” Mick corrected the bouncy blonde.

  “Oh.” She rested her hand on her gun, shifting her slim figure to the right. “Let’s hope you can help catch a cop killer.” She threw her words at me like a dagger.

  “I didn’t die.” Mick smiled, gesturing me to go into the office door.

  “Thank God,” she said before she turned and walked back to the hole from which she came.

  The thought of how ugly she’d look with a big zit on the edge of her nose was a tempting spell and I had to force my hand down to my side.

  “Please take a seat.” Mick pointed to a chair. It seemed he had found his southern manners he seemed to be lacking.

  He took a seat next to
me. The nameplate on the big mahogany desk read Burt Devlin.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  I kept my eyes straight ahead. “No.”

  A few moments later the older, silver-haired gentleman I had seen in the parking lot over a week ago walked into the office and sat behind the desk. He thumbed through the files on his desk, pulling one out from the middle of the stack.

  “Good afternoon, Miss—” He looked at me.

  “Park,” I answered, giving my hair a graceful toss behind my head. The smell of the diner breezed around me. I would have much rather gone home, gotten a shower, and changed my clothes before I had to be here. But no, Mick demanded three o’clock. Here it was almost three-thirty. Waste of my time.

  “Ms. Park.” Burt smiled, clasping his hands and resting them on the file he had plucked out from the pile. “I understand you found Agent Jasper and dropped him off at the hospital.”

  “I. . .” I stammered, running my hand over the red stone, trying to get some sense of what I was supposed to say.

  “Yes, sir, she did,” Mick confirmed. “Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

  I sat in silence.

  “I mean, when I went to The Brew this afternoon for lunch, we had discussed what she saw, sir.” Mick turned to me. “The Brew is your family owned diner, correct?” he asked.

  I didn’t have to answer to know what he had lingering over my head. Yes, The Brew was our diner. Did my Auntie Meme go about getting the diner the right way? Through the sale of the building? Getting a food licensing permit in order to open the diner? No. Probably not. If I knew my family, which I did, I was sure it was a wave of the hand kind of deal.

  “Ms. Park?” Burt asked.

  “I’m sorry, I was just in the right place at the right time.” I smiled, slowly rubbing my finger over my stone. “I was driving home from a friend’s house and I saw Mr. Jasper, excuse me,” I cleared my throat, “Agent Jasper stumbling down the sidewalk.” I stopped talking and looked over at Mick, whose mouth was gaped open, listening to my lie. There was no way I was going to say I was returning the package to the informant.