Champagne, Misfits, and Other Shady Magic (Dowser 7)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  I had no idea what I was looking at. I angled the sketch so Blossom could see it.

  The brownie tilted her head, thoughtful. “A diamond brooch?”

  “With that large a gemstone? Could it be a tattoo?” Though Rochelle drew both visions of the future and magical tattoos, I’d gotten the idea that the magical part was an ability she was still exploring.

  Blossom shook her head. “It looks as though you’re holding it.”

  Damn it. It did look like a three-dimensional object. I fished my phone out of my back pocket, tapping open my messaging app. “What did the oracle say when she gave it to you?”

  “Please bring this to Jade,” Blossom croaked.

  Rochelle could have taken a picture and texted it to me. Or waited and given it to me the next time she saw me. Instead, she’d uncharacteristically asked for a favor, and I had no idea as to the object’s relevance. “No warning? No timeline?”

  Blossom shook her head.

  I texted Rochelle.

  I got your sketch. I have no idea what it is.

  “It could be some sort of rune …” I gazed at the sketch while I waited to see if the oracle would respond to my text immediately.

  She didn’t.

  “I’ll have my grandmother look at it. Thank you, Blossom.”

  “Mistress.”

  The office phone rang almost at the same time that I felt magic slide across the soles of my sneakered feet. I grabbed the receiver.

  “Hello? Shoot, I mean … Cake in a Cup. How can I help you?”

  “Jade?” a familiar male voice said.

  “This is she.”

  “Okay, ah.” The unknown person cleared his throat, almost as though he didn’t want to be talking to me. “I think you’d better come to the shop.”

  My feet started to tingle. Then itch. Then I recognized his voice. “Dave?”

  “Yeah. Use the back door, okay?” Dave’s voice became muffled. “I’ll be right with you, sir.” Then he spoke into the phone again. “Now, Jade. I called you, but I should be calling the police.”

  “I’m already there.”

  He hung up.

  Ah, triple freaking damn.

  Itchy feet and Sienna’s high-school boyfriend on the phone. A completely nonmagical boyfriend, whose family had owned the butcher’s shop a block east of the bakery for three generations. Dave and I were part of the same small-business group. Whatever he was calling me for, instead of the police, wasn’t something he should know about.

  I hung up.

  Blossom took the sketch from me, carefully refolding it, then tucking it into her pocket. She patted my arm. “I’ll take this to your grandmother.”

  Then the brownie disappeared, leaving only a hint of lemon to mark her teleportation.

  I pulled out my cellphone and was texting Kandy as I exited through the bakery kitchen, finding the alley empty of werewolves and vampires. I left my sword in the office safe.

  The last thing the Adepts of Vancouver needed was for the police to be involved in whatever the hell was going on. And carrying a katana through the back alleys of Kitsilano wouldn’t help with any exposure problem that might have already been in the works.

  8

  A werewolf was gorging on raw hamburger in the walk-in fridge in the back of Dave’s butcher’s shop. And that was less concerning to me than the fact that something was really wrong with her magic.

  In my experience, a werewolf should have tasted like some sort of chocolate. But at best, this one tasted of raw cocoa nibs. And honestly, I knew they were all the rage lately, but I wasn’t a fan. I found them way, way too bitter. And crunchy. I wasn’t big on crunchy bits in my treats.

  The predator in the fridge hunched her shoulders, sensing my presence a long while after she should have smelled me, even with my magic tightly coiled behind my necklace and knife. She should have heard me come through the back door. She should have heard my sneakers squeak on the recently washed adobe-tiled floor.

  Dave, the owner and current operator of the family business, was looking through the round window in the center of a heavy swing door, dividing the kitchen portion of the butcher’s from the storefront. Spotting me in the middle of his workspace, he started to push the door open.

  Not taking my gaze off the werewolf in the fridge, I raised my hand, cautioning him. He nodded, then retreated. The door swung slightly on its hinges, allowing me a brief glimpse of the otherwise-empty storefront. It looked as though Dave had thankfully cleared out his customers and temporarily closed the shop.

  Dave and I had known each other since grade school, simply by virtue of having grown up in the same area. He wasn’t magical in any way. But he’d had a fling with Sienna many, many years before. Before he’d met his wife and had two gorgeous baby girls.

  Unfortunately, Sienna hadn’t been particularly circumspect about our family’s secrets. But some things went unsaid between longtime acquaintances. Things best left unspoken and unexamined. It had been far safer — for his own mental well-being — for Dave to think that Sienna and I were just a little crazy, rather than actually believing that a magical world existed in secret alongside the regular everyday world.

  Except that him calling me upon discovering a werewolf in his fridge meant that he had obviously seen and understood more than I thought.

  Still, no matter the ramifications, I seriously hoped he hadn’t called the police after he’d called me.

  Apparently — and erroneously — deciding that I wasn’t a threat, the werewolf dug back into the vat of ground meat. Her hands were misshapen. She was attempting to hold the large stainless steel container with what appeared to be a furry stub, while the hand she was shoveling meat with was half wolf claw, half human.

  I couldn’t see her face, but she was easily six feet tall, with short-cropped dark hair and prominent muscles. Though that might have been due to her partial transformation. She appeared to have medium-brown-colored skin, but I had no idea of her heritage. At least not her human roots.

  My phone vibrated in my back pocket. Perfect freaking timing. I really couldn’t ignore it, but I half-expected that as soon as I looked away, the werewolf in the fridge would try to scratch my eyes out.

  I pulled out my phone, glancing quickly at the incoming text. It was from Rochelle.

  >It’s you. Holding some sort of magical object.

  I texted back one handed.

  How do you know it’s my hand?

  >I know it’s you.

  I have no freaking idea what it is!

  >You’ll know when you know.

  Fanfreakingtastic.

  Always a pleasure, oracle. Got to go. About to get my throat torn out.

  >I doubt it. Not today, at least.

  Hilarious. You just knew everything was going to hell when an oracle started cracking wise about your pending future.

  Returning my attention to my immediate present, I tucked my phone into my pocket, clearing my throat.

  The werewolf in the fridge hesitated, then furtively glanced my way. Her eyes were a shocking topaz color, and completely human. Her nose, chin, and mouth were an awkward amalgamation of her wolf, half-form, and human form. Raw ground beef was mashed into what appeared to be a dark, spotted pelt across her mouth and cheeks. Her jaw was misaligned. The top half was still partially human in form, and the bottom half fully canine.

  The botched transformation looked painful.

  Where the hell was Kandy?

  “So … um …” I said. “You’re letting all the cold air out.”

  The werewolf let out a low-pitched, soft rumble of a growl, reaching for a huge pack of T-bone steaks without taking her hot-eyed gaze from me. She stumbled slightly, catching her balance on the tall wire shelving. Her legs weren’t the same length.

  Pity rose in me, filling my chest and taking my breath with it. I shoved it away. I didn’t know how to help the woman, but I also had to contain the situation.

  “Right.” I cleared my throat. “My
name is Jade. I’m here to … help. You wouldn’t be having any trouble with your magic, would you?”

  The werewolf chortled, then started choking on the half-chewed meat in her mouth. I fought the urge to grab the T-bone out of her hand before she skewered herself with it.

  “Okay,” I said. “That … this doesn’t look good, you know? I need you to …” I waved my hand helplessly. “Change back … to human.”

  The werewolf dropped the half-eaten steak, lurching to the side as she spun to face me. “Human?” she roared.

  At least I was fairly certain that was what she said. With her mangled jaw, I was surprised that she could form words at all. Either way, though, it had obviously been a bad suggestion, because she launched herself at me, teeth and claws extended toward all my soft parts.

  I had time to regret the fact that I was going to have to hurt her. Then I stepped to the side, tripping her.

  She went down hard, landing face first with her arms still extended. She seemed unaware that her body wasn’t functioning as she expected. Thankfully, she didn’t crack the tile.

  Before she’d even come to a full stop, I had grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her back and willing myself to ignore the screech of pain my roughness caused.

  Kandy came through the back door from the alley, almost taking it off the hinges. Her magic was glowing wildly in her eyes, and for the briefest of moments, as she paused to take me in — kneeling on the back of a werewolf in obvious pain — I worried that she was going to vault over the steel-legged counter dividing us and attack me.

  “What the hell is going on?” she snarled.

  I loosened my hold on the werewolf, but Kandy seemed to get herself under control. She waved at me to wait while she closed the door.

  The half-transformed werewolf underneath my knees started keening. Soft, quiet notes of pain. She didn’t fight me any further.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing the guilt of having hurt her.

  Kandy padded around the kitchen, halfheartedly tidying up the shelves of the walk-in fridge, then closing its door. She peered briefly through the window to the store. Then, once she had herself fully under control, she hunkered down beside me.

  “Look at me, wolf.”

  The werewolf’s sobs increased in volume, but she didn’t turn her head.

  Kandy nodded to me, and I loosened my grip on the woman. The partially transformed werewolf rolled to her side, still facing away from Kandy. She slowly scooted backward, sliding across the tile until she’d backed herself into the very corner of the room, leaning against a set of steel cabinets.

  Kandy glanced over at me. “Her magic? Same as the others?”

  “Different,” I said, shaking my head. “Muted. At least … I guess I don’t know what level it is normally. But she’s … not …” I hesitated. I didn’t want to suggest that the woman was handicapped or had some kind of disability. I had no idea. But still, that was what her magic tasted like. Not fully expressed. Unresolved.

  Kandy nodded. Her expression tight with concern, she turned her attention to the pained werewolf. “Do you know who I am?”

  The woman wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them into her chest. I noticed for the first time that she was wearing well-worn, neon-pink running shoes. She didn’t lift her eyes, didn’t respond.

  Kandy’s magic rose. Deep, bittersweet chocolate threaded through with hints of red berries slipped across my tongue, causing my mouth to water. Her eyes blazed brightly green, a hue lighter than her hair. “You will listen to me, werewolf,” she snarled.

  The magic laced through her command snapped toward the werewolf as if it might be grabbing hold of her.

  The woman’s head jerked up. More tears flooded her topaz gaze, but her own magic didn’t respond to Kandy’s. “Please … please …” she pleaded through her mangled mouth. “Don’t hurt. Don’t bite.”

  Kandy went very, very still. “Why would I hurt you?” she whispered. “I’m an enforcer of the pack. I’m here to protect you.”

  The woman shook her head, almost viciously. Then she snarled, “Werewolves … don’t … protect.”

  “You are a werewolf.” Kandy’s tone turned soothing.

  “Am … not.”

  Kandy scooted closer to the woman, who flinched, banging her head on the metal cupboard behind her.

  “Didn’t you know?” the green-haired werewolf asked. “Have you been bitten?”

  The woman started to shake. Frustrated tears flowed anew as she raised her hands before her. But the gesture was more desperate than defiant.

  “Magic?” Kandy asked without looking back at me.

  “Still the same.”

  “You need to transform,” Kandy said patiently. “I can help you.”

  “No! No!” the woman cried out, banging her head back on the steel door again. This time, she dented it.

  “Kandy …”

  My BFF sighed heavily — making me wish I’d never heard that sound from her. Then, with a flash of magic, she grabbed the woman by the throat, yanking her forward and pinning her to the floor.

  The werewolf didn’t fight. She just lay underneath Kandy’s grasp, weeping almost silently.

  I pressed my hand to my chest, willing myself to remain present. To not look away. To witness.

  “Jade,” Kandy said. “I need you to try to help.”

  I stepped around her, settling at the other side of the werewolf, even though I wasn’t a healer and had no idea what I could do. I laid my hand over the hand Kandy had wrapped around the werewolf’s neck.

  “Trace your magic …” Kandy murmured, speaking to the woman. “The energy that flows through you, that demands the transformation. Buried within that, you will find yourself.”

  The werewolf squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing else happened.

  Kandy’s magic shifted again, wrapping around her like a cloak. “Look at me, wolf,” she said. “You can do it. Smell my magic. Let it call to you. Follow me.” Hair sprouted along Kandy’s arms. I heard her bones crunch as they began to shift.

  The werewolf underneath our shared grip started breathing heavily. Fast panting. She was panicking.

  “Stop,” I murmured. “Wait. You’re scaring her.” I met Kandy’s blazing green gaze. “She’s scared of other werewolves?”

  Anger hardened Kandy’s jaw. “Bitten. Maybe.”

  I nodded, lifting my hand off hers. Kandy also loosened her hold. Then, frowning, she gathered the woman into her arms, so that she was sitting upright, facing me — and looking completely and silently panicked. She dwarfed Kandy, but the shorter and slighter werewolf held her without effort.

  Kandy started humming, some soothing tune I couldn’t identify. Then she slowly rocked the woman back and forth. Like a baby.

  A look of utter confusion replaced the terror on the woman’s face.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re not the biting kind.”

  “Not unless you ask nicely.” Kandy chuckled.

  Trying to ease the general tension further, I grinned at my werewolf BFF. “I see you forgot your backpack.”

  Kandy offered me her patented nonsmile. “You should think about doing an open mic night at the bakery. Comedy and cupcakes.”

  Laughing quietly, I offered my hands to the woman. She watched me carefully. “I’m a dowser. Not a healer. But maybe I can feel for your magic. And help it settle?”

  The woman nodded slowly. Then she placed her hand in mine. Her skin was hot and sweaty.

  “She’s running a fever,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Kandy said. “Her human body is fighting the transformation. She doesn’t look like a bitten werewolf to me, and it’s nowhere near the full moon.” When Kandy had bitten Henry Calhoun, the phases of the moon had affected him so much that he’d been forced into a change every month. Before he’d taken on Rochelle’s tattoo, that is. “She just looks stuck. But … yeah.”

  I closed my eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply a couple of times until the wer
ewolf subconsciously began to match my breathing. Then I looked for her magic, seeking out that cocoa-nib-flavored power. Without opening my eyes, I couldn’t be completely certain, but it felt as though it was gathered around the areas of her body that were partially transformed.

  “There you are,” I whispered. “I taste your magic.”

  “Taste?” the woman echoed, confused. “I … have … magic?”

  “Oh, yes.” I opened my eyes and smiled. “Kandy’s tastes of dark chocolate and red berries. Yours is cocoa nibs. Have you ever tasted cocoa nibs?”

  The werewolf nodded somewhat doubtfully. Though I assumed her uncertainty was about magic tasting like anything, rather than not actually knowing if she’d eaten nibs or not.

  “They smell like deep, rich hot chocolate, yes?”

  She thought about that.

  “But the taste is different.”

  “Bitter …” she murmured.

  “But sometimes you can pick up notes of bright berry or toasted nuts.”

  “Yes …” She breathed in deeply, as though she’d been hit by a revelation. Then her magic rose and gently shifted her back into her human visage.

  “Toasted walnuts,” I said, catching the deeper taste of the werewolf’s magic. Smiling, I met Kandy’s gaze over the woman’s shoulder.

  The green-haired werewolf loosened her hold on the woman, straightening up and pulling her to her feet in the same motion.

  The woman reached for the steel counter, steadying herself. Her gaze was on her perfectly human hands. She was still tall, probably six feet, and her topaz eyes were just as brilliant. But she now appeared to be in her early twenties, with tautly muscled medium-brown skin and a dark halo of coiled curls. Also, she was wearing the cutest light-blue, subtly whiskered, flared denim overalls — a look that only someone so tall and slim could pull off — over a short-sleeve white T-shirt. The overalls and shirt had survived her transformation, but one of her sneakers had been destroyed.