Magic & Mischief

by Annabel Chase

  “About you, darling. You’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of devotion to your daughter. Don’t you realize you’re putting the same pressure on her that you believe your father put on you?”

  I stood rooted in place. I’d never considered the hypocrisy of my actions. I’d always believed I was being selfless, sacrificing my happiness for hers—no doubt the same belief my father held.

  “I just want to put her first,” I said. “I get such a short time with her before she grows up…”

  Aunt Hyacinth remained silent, letting the realization sink in.

  Oh. “It isn’t the same,” I insisted.

  Aunt Hyacinth patted my arm. “Of course not. Would you like a cocktail? I’ll have Simon bring two fizzlewick martinis.”

  “Sure. Why not? I could use a drink after the weird day I had.”

  She inclined her head. “So the rumors are true? About the artwork?”

  “You’re seriously plugged in around here, aren’t you?”

  Aunt Hyacinth offered a vague smile. “I’m on the Council of Elders, my dear. We’re like the all-seeing eye of Starry Hollow.”

  “That’s…creepy.”

  She rang a silver bell and Simon appeared with two cocktails on a tray. He handed one to each of us.

  “Thank you, Simon,” my aunt said. “How is Marley getting on with her cookie?”

  “Enjoying it immensely, my lady.”

  “Excellent.” She sipped her drink. “That will be all for now.”

  “As you wish.” Simon bowed and left the room.

  “I heard you employed an interesting skill to defend yourself against the…vengeful fruit.”

  “I used astral projection like Marigold taught me.”

  “And you were able to control a pair of scissors in your apparitional form.”

  I nodded. “I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it did.”

  “That’s impressive, Ember. You realize that, don’t you?”

  I laughed. “I was impressed. That’s for sure.”

  “Wren says you’re a natural with a wand, too.”

  “He’s jumping the gun,” I said. “I only held the starter wand. I didn’t get to do much with it yet.”

  Her gaze flickered over me. “Be that as it may, I’m pleased with your progress so far.”

  “Speaking of progress, how’s Florian doing with his volunteer work?” I’d been so wrapped up in my own life, I had no idea whether Florian was keeping up his end of the bargain.

  “Like you, he’s decided to work with the tourism board.”

  Ruh roh. Poor Aster. She took her role there very seriously.

  “That’s great. I’m glad he’s making an effort.” I took a huge gulp of the martini.

  “I think you’ve inspired him, Ember. He sees how you’ve worked hard and quickly become a member of the community. He wants that for himself.”

  That was wishful thinking. “I think it’s more likely the offer of a new boat that’s inspired him.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Perhaps.”

  “So when can I see pictures of my parents?” Persistence was my middle name, or should have been.

  My aunt smiled demurely over the rim of her cocktail glass. “All in good time, Ember. All in good time.”

  I found Ashara practicing in the performing arts arena. The venue was like a small stadium, open air with bleacher-style seating. It didn’t take long to see why she needed to practice in a place like this. From the back of the arena, I saw flames shoot high into the sky. Ashara stood on the stage, waiting for the ball of fire to return to her. I watched in awe as she opened her mouth wide and swallowed the flame whole.

  Great balls of fire—literally. My feet were cemented in place. Her act was absolutely mesmerizing. She produced another ball of fire in her hand and began to juggle, creating two more fireballs to keep in the air. Ashara’s ‘art’ was nothing like fruit paintings. This woman was a true performance artist.

  After a few more minutes, she noticed my presence. No doubt her routine required her full concentration.

  “The arena is closed now,” she said. “I am here only for a practice session."

  I took a few hesitant steps toward her. "I'm not here to see the show," I said. Although now that I'd had a sneak peek, I was inclined to buy tickets. I’d even bring Marley with me. She’d be enthralled.

  Ashara inclined her head. "Why are you here?"

  "I came to talk to you about Trupti."

  Her expression remained blank. "What about her? Did something happen at her exhibition? I was sorry I could not attend, but I had an engagement of my own."

  "The show was good," I said. "I was there. I understand you sent a gift the next day."

  Ashara nodded. “That’s right. I sent her a fruit basket. Under the circumstances, I thought it was appropriate. I wanted to apologize for missing the show."

  "You know her paintings of fruit are an expression of trauma," I said.

  Ashara chuckled lightly. "To be honest, I have never truly understood Trupti’s art. Just as she does not understand mine." With that statement, Ashara burst into flames and I gasped. The woman literally set herself on fire with her own body.

  She burned brightly for a moment, before the flames dissolved. Ashara stood on the stage, still fully clothed.

  "How did you do that?" I asked, stunned. "Are you a witch that controls fire?"

  If I could control rain or wind, then it seemed likely that some witches could control fire.

  "I'm a phoenix shifter," Ashara said. "My very essence is fire. It is not so much that I control the flames as they are part of me."

  "What else can you do?" I moved slightly closer to the stage, but not so close that errant flames would singe my eyebrows.

  "I am just about to practice my finale," Ashara said. "Stay and you will see."

  I sat at the end of the nearest bleacher, mesmerized. Ashara brought her arms to her sides and closed her eyes. Her body began to glow yellow, then orange, then a deep sunset until she burned red from the inside out. Wings sprouted from her back, large and flamed. Her human body morphed into what could only be described as a firebird. She shot into the air like a firework and exploded into a million particles. It was the ultimate light show. As the pieces drifted back to the ground, they turned to black ash. One by one, they continued to fall until they formed a black pile of debris on the stage. When the last piece fell, the black ash began to take a human shape, rising from the stage floor. Finally I could make out Ashara’s outline. The black ash turned to black skin and hair. My jaw hung open as I watched Ashara reform in front of me. She bowed and I clapped heartily.

  "Great popcorn balls of fire," I said. "That has to be the most incredible thing I've seen in Starry Hollow."

  Ashara smiled broadly. "Thank you very much. I have been preparing for weeks."

  "I have to be honest. Trupti has this idea that the two of you are competitive, but your art is nothing alike. Why would she think that?"

  Ashara crossed the stage and came to sit beside me on the bench.

  "Trupti and I have a long history of competition in the art world. We were both in the market for patrons at the same time. My act was different then, less showy. I had not truly embraced my inner phoenix at that point."

  “So Trupti gained more patrons," I said.

  She nodded. "To be fair, her artwork was more interesting then. We seem to have swapped roles over time. I feel that her art has gone stale, while mine has evolved."

  "She thinks you put a curse on the fruit basket that you sent because you were jealous of her show," I said.

  Ashara’s brow furrowed. "What kind of curse?”

  “All the fruit from her paintings came to life and attacked us."

  To her credit, Ashara didn’t laugh. In fact, her expression turned grim.

  “That must've been very upsetting for her.”

  “She was barely functional. I didn’t know a vampire could be traumatized like that.”
/>   “Our art is essentially an extension of ourselves. It must've felt deeply troubling. Self-hatred run amok.”

  "I'm just glad I was there to help," I said. "If she’d been alone, I don't know what might've happened."

  Ashara pressed her lips together. "Best not to dwell on such things. I will send her a gift to let her know I'm sorry and that I’m thinking of her."

  I cast a sidelong glance at her. "As long as it isn't a fruit basket."

  Ashara managed a small smile. "Indeed."

  Chapter 7

  After my visit to Ashara, I went to the office to give my article on Trupti’s show a final polish. Part of me wanted to ask Bentley to read it and give it his blessing before I turned it in to Alec, but I was too pigheaded to ask for help. Knowing Bentley, he’d mark it up with a red pen just to be a jerk.

  When I arrived at my desk, Bentley was hunched over his keyboard, typing with unusual slowness.

  “What’s wrong, buttercup?” I asked. “Still upset about your girlfriend?”

  “She’s definitely not my girlfriend,” he said.

  “Are you messaging her right now?”

  “No, I’m working,” he said sullenly. “I blocked her on MagicMirror, so she can’t message me.”

  Ouch. “That seems harsh. Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “She lied to me,” Bentley said. He seemed so unlike himself—so defeated.

  “But the two of you have been messaging for a while,” I said. “Don’t you feel like you got to know the real Meadow?”

  He gave an adamant shake of his head. “She was an illusion. A fantasy. There is no real Meadow.”

  At that moment, the front door swung open and a pretty young woman stepped inside. She had large brown eyes and smooth, bronzed skin. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and I immediately recognized the silver scarf tied at her throat. Evidently, so did Bentley.

  “Meadow?” he croaked.

  She followed the sound of his voice. “Bentley?”

  He pushed back his chair, thoroughly confused. “But…I don’t understand.”

  She blinked. “You told me where you work. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to seem like a stalker.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t show up at the gallery,” Meadow said, taking a hesitant step forward. “I lost my nerve. Please don’t block my messages.”

  “You didn’t show up?” Bentley repeated. “But you did. You were there.”

  Meadow scrunched her perfect nose. “No, I wasn’t. I got cold feet.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you so much that I worried you wouldn’t like me in person.”

  Bentley covered his mouth with his hands, trying to come to grips with what happened at the art gallery.

  “Can you confirm that you’re not a yeti?” I asked.

  Meadow faced me. “A yeti? No, of course not. I’m a nymph. Bentley knows that.”

  Bentley closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t be as wonderful as you seemed.”

  “Bentley,” I said. “Do you know what this means? That yeti was your nightmare come to life.” It all made sense now.

  “But why would someone curse me?” Bentley asked. “I know Trupti blamed Ashara…”

  “It wasn’t Ashara, and I don’t know why you were targeted.” Not yet anyway.

  “Will you ever forgive me?” Meadow asked.

  Bentley closed the gap between them. “Of course I will. Would you like to go for a coffee now so we can talk?”

  Meadow broke into a huge smile. “I would love that. Are you sure?”

  “Definitely.” Bentley turned toward me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Why would I mind?”

  “You’ll be the only one here,” Bentley replied.

  I glanced around the office. “Tanya will be back soon.” Not that it mattered. Why would I object to being alone in the office? It wasn’t like it was a haunted house.

  Bentley and Meadow were still gazing at each other when they left. I had to admit that I felt a brief pang of envy. I didn’t mind that it was just Marley and me—I wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone in the world—but there were moments when I longed for the companionship. The spark of hope. Not that I would confess that to anyone. The heartbreak of losing Karl was enough for one lifetime. I didn’t want to go through that kind of loss again, even a breakup would be too much for me to handle. And Marley was older now. She’d remember more. I couldn’t hide in the closet and cry like I used to, with PP3 whining outside the door. The only safe place was the shower, where I could rinse away my tears before drying off and facing the day.

  I busied myself with finishing the article about Trupti’s show. I’d need to ask Alec how he wanted to handle the strange nightmare curse that was plaguing residents. I bet Milo Jarvis was a victim, too. That would explain his nude public speaking at the board meeting.

  What was the commonality among the victims? I couldn’t think of any link between Trupti and Bentley except for Alec. Was it revenge against Alec for something? Then why not curse him directly? And it wasn’t like Alec particularly loved Bentley. They had an employer/fanboy relationship at best. There was always a chance that one of them had been cursed by accident. Maybe the spell caster had missed his intended target. Of course, that didn’t take Milo into account.

  I tried to focus on my notes from the art gallery. I wrote about the inspiration for Trupti’s paintings and tried to describe the art without sounding like a complete moron. I didn’t know how to talk about art. I sighed. I’d need to ask Bentley for help after all. Of course, he’d likely insist on getting credit…

  “Miss Rose.”

  I jumped. “Alec, how do you do that?”

  “My brain sends a message to my mouth…”

  “Hardy har.” I glared at him. “And here I was talking about your polite deference.”

  His green eyes glimmered. “Is that so? And with whom were you engaged in such riveting conversation?”

  “Sheriff Nash.”

  His smile faded. He plucked a bottle of water from Bentley’s desk. “Forgive me. I am rather parched."

  The vampire made drinking a glass of water look like a sensual experience. Just watching the way his lips touched the rim of the bottle’s lip made my body tingle. When he set the bottle down and looked at me, I quickly glanced away.

  "Shields are up," I whispered to myself. I pictured my thoughts wrapped in the black cloak the way Aster and Sterling had taught me. A huge black cloak with Velcro. And thick, braided rope.

  Alec’s mouth quirked. "Struggling with something?"

  My eyes widened. "Who, me? Nope. No struggles here. How was your water? Delicious, right?”

  "It hit the spot." He paused. "That is the human expression, is it not?"

  "It is," I said. "So would you like to read what I’ve written so far about Trupti’s show? I thought it was best to leave out the part about the paintings attacking us. No one would ever want to buy from her again."

  "Very wise, Miss Rose. She is a dear friend of mine. I would not wish to do her career any harm."

  "Me neither." I noticed a gradual shift in his expression. Why was he looking at me like that? "Alec, is everything okay?"

  He blinked. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

  "I don't know," I said. "You had a funny expression on your face. Like I was Tweety Bird and you were Sylvester."

  He cocked his head. "I have no earthly idea what that means."

  The door opened behind us and a woman stepped into the office wearing a red dress. It reminded me of the one I wore to Trupti’s show. The woman looked mildly confused.

  "Can I help you with something?" I asked.

  She didn't have the chance to respond. Alec lunged forward, fangs exposed, and pounced on the woman. I watched in horror as he grabbed her around the waist and tilted her head to the side, presenting him with a bare neck. Sweet baby Elvis. W
hat was he about to do?

  His head reared back and I screamed, "Alec, no!"

  It was too late. His fangs sank into her vulnerable skin. Oddly, she made no sound. She simply sank into the bite the way you would into a kiss. A soft moan escaped her lips and he bit down harder. Blood trickled down her neck and into the cleavage of her dress.

  My heart pounded. “Alec, what are you doing? You’re hurting her."

  He ignored me, lost in bloodlust. His grip on her grew tighter and his fangs sank deeper. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help this woman, but I also wanted to help myself escape before he turned his fangs on me.

  I glanced around the room, trying to figure out the best way to deal with the situation. I wasn't even sure what the real defenses against vampires were. Not that I had any garlic on hand, but would that even work? I had to learn things, not just for my sake but also for Marley’s.

  I surveyed the room for anything that might help. I certainly didn’t have access to any crosses. I pulled out my phone and searched for an image. It was the best I could do. When I found a good one, I held up the phone in front of Alec’s face. He stopped sucking his victim’s blood long enough to glance at the screen.

  "Why are you showing me a picture of a pagan cross?"

  I looked quickly at the screen. "It has to be a particular kind of cross?" Although this one looked fancy, I figured a cross was a cross.

  "You're right," he said. "It doesn't matter because crosses don't do anything to vampires. That's simply a myth."

  I fervently began to Google protections against vampires. I didn't really have time to figure out how to separate the wheat from the chaff.

  "If you go to the website by Dr. Byron Von Clamps," he said, "he has some excellent information about vampires."

  When he returned his focus to his victim, I pretended to type in Dr. Van Clamp’s name. Instead, I shot off an S.O.S. text to Sheriff Nash. He was probably kicking himself for giving me his number. It seemed so long ago that we’d gone to the high school to check Yuri's locker.

  The text was marked as sent. Now I just had to stay alive until he arrived. Watching the way Alec was devouring this poor woman, I wasn't sure whether five minutes would be long enough. Maybe if I could distract him for a few minutes…