Magic & Mystery (Starry Hollow Witches Book 2)

by Annabel Chase

  I peered over her shoulder. “I don't see the broomstick tour on there. That was incredible. You get such a great view of the town. Marley wants to do it again." And Marley was deathly afraid of heights, so that was high praise, indeed—pun intended.

  Thaddeus offered a sheepish grin. "Aster feels that we should highlight other aspects of Starry Hollow.”

  “Absolutely," Aster said. “Witches from around the country can ride broomsticks. They don't need to join a tour."

  I hesitated. "I see your point, but not everybody in our tour group was a witch or wizard. Because the broomsticks are operated by magic, all sorts of paranormals took advantage of it."

  I looked through the rest of the brochure. It seemed like a brochure from any beach town in America. It emphasized the location, the wide, sandy beaches, and the pristine water. At least it included a list of shops and a directory.

  “What's the Wish Market?" I hadn't noticed that in my travels through town.

  "Nothing special,” Aster said. “Every paranormal town has one. That's why it's only listed in the directory."

  Thaddeus cleared his throat. "Perhaps your cousin would like a little more information, considering she has no experience with Wish Markets in the human world."

  I looked at Aster expectantly.

  "Of course," she said. "How silly of me. I'll do better than explain it. How about I take you there?"

  "I don't have time today," I said. "But I'd love to go another time." Whatever the Wish Market was, it sounded pretty cool.

  "Absolutely," Aster said. “We’ll make the arrangements."

  “So, what do you promote as the big selling point of the town?" I asked.

  “You’re looking at it," Aster said, tapping the brochure. "Sun, sea, and shops."

  “What's your slogan?" I asked.

  “Slogan for what?" Aster queried.

  “The town,” I replied. “How do you grab the attention of potential tourists?”

  Aster shook the brochure at me. “I told you already.”

  “Okay, in the human world, lots of tourist destinations have slogans. Virginia is for Lovers. What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas. Disney World uses the Happiest Place on Earth or Where Dreams Come True.”

  Thaddeus puffed out a breath of air. “Dreams coming true in the human world? Most unlikely.”

  “What about other paranormal tourist traps?" I asked. “What do they emphasize about their towns?”

  “Well, there’s Mistfall,” Aster said. “They emphasize their unique atmosphere.”

  “I have no frame of reference,” I said, “but I assume not all paranormal towns are like this one.”

  “Obviously not,” Aster snapped. “That’s why we have a healthy stream of tourists. For the beaches.”

  “And excellent dining,” Thaddeus added.

  I found it hard to believe that was all Starry Hollow had to offer other paranormals. I was going to need to get to know the town better so that I could offer suggestions. Coming from the human world, of course, everything about Starry Hollow seemed interesting and amazing.

  “Did the new china arrive?” Aster asked.

  “The box is in your office,” Thaddeus replied.

  “Excellent,” she said, and her heels clipped across the wooden floor to a private office in the back room.

  “You have an office here?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “I have an office anywhere I serve on the board.”

  She snapped her fingers and the box popped open. Plates floated out in a nearly stacked pile and landed gently on the desk.

  “What are those for?” I asked.

  “Collectors,” Aster replied. She held one up for my inspection. On the plate was a hand-painted image of Palmetto House, Linnea’s inn, with ‘Starry Hollow’ written in gold script underneath.

  “That’s pretty,” I said.

  “Tourists love the architecture here,” she said. “I try to include a variety of popular buildings. The Whitethorn was last year’s plate.”

  “What’s the Whitethorn?” I asked.

  Her eyes rounded. “You haven’t been there yet?”

  I shook my head. “Another restaurant?”

  “A pub down past Fairy Cove and the Lighthouse. It’s one of the oldest establishments in town. You can feel ancient magic at work in there.”

  I shivered at the mention of ancient magic. “What do you mean?”

  She inhaled deeply. “You’ll have to experience it for yourself. There are lots of stories associated with the Whitethorn. Vampire pirates, hidden gold. It’s fascinating.”

  “Vampire pirates?” I echoed. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

  “Captain Blackfang and his band of merry marauders,” Aster said.

  “How could there be pirates on the high seas?” I asked. “Isn’t it the magic of the paranormal towns that protects them from the sun?”

  “It’s part of the legend,” Aster said. “Their ships were enchanted. You absolutely must go to the Whitethorn.”

  “The only pub I’ve been to is the Wishing Well,” I said.

  Aster tried to disguise her dismay. “I know it’s convenient to the cottage, but it really doesn’t attract the right sort of clientele.”

  “The sheriff isn’t the right sort of clientele?”

  “I don’t mean Granger specifically,” she said. “It just tends to be where shifters and other non-users of magic congregate.”

  I bit back a smile. “You sound like your mother.”

  “Thank you,” Aster said.

  “Well, I enjoyed the Wishing Well, so I’ll probably go again, but I’d love to check out the Whitethorn. It sounds awesome.”

  “Maybe Sterling and I can hire a babysitter and take you one evening.”

  I pondered the offer. The thought of uptight Aster and her equally uptight husband hanging out with me in a vampire pirate pub wasn’t very appealing.

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know,” I said.

  “I suppose you don’t have any leads on Florian,” she said. “I know Mother is concerned. She had three juniper juleps at lunch today.”

  “Oh, is that a lot more than usual?”

  Aster cocked her head. “More? No, it’s far fewer. I’m worried about her mental health.”

  “That’s…understandable.” I coughed. “Well, Dakota gave us a lead, so she wasn’t a complete dead end. Apparently, all three frogs get their hair cut at the same place. Maybe someone there knows something.”

  She groaned. “I don’t know why Florian insists on going to that dreadful shop when there are plenty of appropriate salons in town.”

  “Probably because he knows it bugs you.” What else were brothers for?

  Aster tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind her ear. “You’re absolutely right, Ember. Whenever he thinks we’re pushing him, his instinct is to resist.”

  “Because he’s a Rose?”

  She snorted. “Certainly not. It’s because he’s a child trapped in a man’s body. We need to free the child, so the man has a chance to live his life to the fullest and stop wasting it.”

  “I think you’re overlooking one key fact,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We need to free them both from the frog’s body first.”

  Aster sighed. “Yes, Ember. We certainly do.”

  Chapter 5

  I was surprised to see the sheriff's car pull up in front of the cottage the next morning. Now what? Was he here to warn me against interfering in his investigation again? I thought we'd reached a truce at the Lighthouse, but maybe not.

  I didn't wait for him to come to the door. Instead, I met him at the wrought iron gate.

  "Good morning, Rose," he greeted me. “Your flowers are looking a little rough around the edges.” He nodded toward one of the rose bushes.

  I glanced at the flowers wrapped around the fence. “Am I supposed to do something for them? I assume Aunt Hyacinth uses a gardener.” Because I certainly had n
o skills in the floral department. Someone had brought me an orchid recently and I put Marley in charge of it so that I didn’t kill it.

  “I’m sure she does,” the sheriff said. “For a powerful witch, your aunt doesn’t do much for herself.”

  "What brings you here, Sheriff?" I asked. “Are you going to arrest me for chewing too loudly at lunch yesterday?"

  He cocked his head, pretending to think. "That loud sound was you? And here I was blaming termites in the woodwork."

  "Hardy har," I said. "I hear the Pot of Gold is looking for a new act. If you're in the market for a second job, you should swing by."

  He eyed me curiously. “Been to the Pot of Gold already, have you?"

  In truth, I hadn’t been to the comedy club, but I'd heard mention of it during a meeting of the Council of Elders. The club was owned by Mervin O'Malley, a leprechaun on the council.

  "I'm not here to give you a hard time," the sheriff said. "As much fun as that is. I'm heading over to Snips-n-Clips and thought I'd see if you wanted a ride."

  I gave him a suspicious look. "Why? I thought you wanted me to stay out of your investigation."

  He shrugged. “Same reason I let you come to the Lighthouse. Dakota mentioned it to both of us, so I figure you'd be turning up there anyway. I may as well do the guy a public service and save him from answering the same questions twice."

  "And it enables you to keep an eye on me," I said. "Make sure I don't cause any trouble."

  He wagged a finger at me. "Smart and pretty. Rose, you're turning all the stereotypes on their heads."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere," I said. "Let me just grab my handbag."

  As I turned back toward the cottage, I heard a low growl coming from behind the rosebush. I stopped and peeked around the corner. Prescott Peabody III was in a crouched position, his tail stiff. I scooped him up in my arms.

  "What's the matter with you? I'm only going out for a little while. I'll be back in plenty of time for your dinner. For crying out loud, you've just had breakfast."

  The sheriff appeared behind me. "It's not that. It’s me. He smells the wolf."

  I looked back at PP3. "Is that true, buddy? Does this guy stink?” The Yorkie licked the tip of my nose in response. “You don't have to be territorial. He’s not moving in on your turf."

  I glanced at the sheriff over my shoulder. “Tell him you’re not a threat."

  The sheriff chuckled. "Why? You think he’ll believe me?"

  "Why wouldn't he?”

  The sheriff hesitated. “Okay, fine. Listen up, little fella. I’m making no claim on your territory. You can pee anywhere you like." Sheriff Nash glanced at me. "Will that do?"

  PP3’s growl subsided. I carried him back into the cottage, retrieved my handbag, and closed the door.

  "Your chariot awaits, miss,” the sheriff said, opening the passenger side door.

  "At least you don't want me to ride in the back," I said.

  "Not today," he said. "But it wouldn't surprise me in the least if that day comes."

  I slid in beside him and gave him a look of mock indignation. "What are you suggesting? I'm harboring latent criminal tendencies that will emerge in time?"

  He started the car and pulled away from the cottage. "Maybe not criminal tendencies, but definitely troublemaking tendencies. I have a sixth sense about these things."

  "Is that a wolf thing?"

  He kept his gaze fixed on the road. "Nope. That's a sheriff thing."

  Snips-n-Clips was located on Juniper Street, two blocks off Coastline Drive. From the outside, it looked like a traditional barbershop. It even had the rotating red and white pole out front. The interior, however, was another matter. The moment we stepped through the door, I noticed floating razors and a bar set up in the corner of the room. A couple of customers were enjoying a glass of ale in their chairs, while a magical razor worked its way around their heads.

  “Beer at this hour?" I queried.

  The sheriff seemed unconcerned. “Breakfast of champions. Anyway, it's probably a breakfast ale."

  I cast a sidelong glance at him. "Breakfast ale? Is that a real thing?"

  "It is here. It's chock-full of magical properties. Like stopping for a coffee with a shot of confidence.”

  The receptionist spotted us standing in front of the door and gestured us over to the front desk.

  "Good morning, Sheriff Nash," the woman said. "Are you here for a haircut?"

  "Not today," he said. “I’m looking for Ben. Is he around?"

  "He sure is," she said. "He ran into the back a minute ago to retrieve a bottle of bucksberry fizz for one of the customers. He requested something more festive than ale."

  "Talk about VIP service," I said. No wonder Florian came here. It seemed that each customer was treated like royalty. I wasn't sure how comfortable I’d be with magical razors near my throat, though. Seemed too risky to have them unmanned. I wondered how much his business insurance ran him.

  A slight man emerged from the back with a champagne-shaped bottle and sporting the telltale ears of an elf. He stopped short when he saw the sheriff.

  “Excellent. Have you finally decided to try somewhere other than your mother's kitchen?" Ben asked.

  Sheriff Nash broke into a broad smile. "Don't go revealing all my secrets, Ben."

  "Sorry about that, but anyone with half an eye can see that it isn't a professional cut." He placed the bottle on the bar and proceeded to pop the cork. "If you just let me take care of this customer’s drink, I'll be with you in a moment."

  "There's no rush," the sheriff said.

  I knew what the sheriff was thinking. That gave us the opportunity to look around and scope out the employees and the clientele in case there was a clue. The only woman present was the receptionist and she seemed far too old and plain to attract the attention of the three bachelors in question. Of course, maybe that was the problem. Maybe they’d spurned her and she'd taken her revenge.

  "So how long have you been working here?" I asked her.

  "Since Ben opened the shop five years ago," she said. "I helped him establish the magic in here. That's why I own a quarter of the business."

  My brow lifted. And here I thought she was just the receptionist. My radar was clearly switched in the off position this morning.

  "How did you help him establish the magic?" Maybe she was a witch.

  “Technically, it was a fairy friend of hers,” Ben interjected. “But Robina oversaw everything. She was basically the project manager.”

  "I'm actually a fairy, too,” the receptionist said, and noticed my confused expression. "I know what you’re thinking. I've got no wings."

  The sheriff took a renewed interest in the receptionist. "You served time?"

  I jerked my head toward the sheriff. Served time?

  "Yes, Sheriff," she said. "The name’s Robina Mapperton. I hail from Blue Moon Valley."

  "That's another paranormal town," the sheriff said, for my benefit. “We should have a record of your relocation to Starry Hollow in my office.”

  “That’s right,” Robina said. “I had to turn in my passport when I arrived. If I ever want to leave here, I need to apply for it to be returned."

  He nodded. “Thanks for your disclosure."

  “How do you know Ben?” Robina asked the sheriff.

  “We played basketball together on an intramural team last year,” the sheriff said.

  “Nearly won the championship, too.” Ben approached us with a flute in each hand. "Since the bottle’s open, can I offer you a light refreshment?"

  “Not while I’m on duty, but thanks,” the sheriff said.

  "I don't know what it is," I said. "I wouldn't mind trying one, though." I plucked the flute from his hand and took a sip. It was fizzy and sweet.

  "The customer that requested the bottle is celebrating,” Ben said. "He's getting married tomorrow."

  "Lucky him," I said.

  "Or unlucky him," the sheriff said, "depending."
<
br />   Ben laughed. "Sheriff Nash, that's awfully cynical of you. I happen to think marriage is the best decision a man can make in his life."

  "I'm sure your wife would be happy to hear you say that," I said.

  "Oh, Ben's not married," Robina said, with a regretful sigh. "Not for my lack of trying."

  Ben blushed, turning the ends of his pointy ears a bright pink. He was attractive in that elfin sort of way. Cute, rather than undeniably hot like Sheriff Nash.

  "Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?" the sheriff asked.

  "Of course," Ben said. "My office is just this way." He turned back to Robina. "You'll hold down the fort, won't you? Make sure nobody nicks an artery."

  She smiled. "You know you can count on me."

  We followed Ben into a bright and sunny office adjacent to the main room. He perched on the edge of his desk and gestured for us to have a seat.

  I dropped into one of the chairs, still sipping my bucksberry fizz. The more I drank, the more delicious it tasted.

  "So, what brings you here?" Ben asked. "Robina hasn't violated her parole, has she?"

  The sheriff shook his head. "I'm not here about Robina."

  "Why is she missing her wings?" I interjected. I’d been dying to ask since the moment she mentioned it.

  “Sometimes fairies have their wings clipped as punishment for their crimes," the sheriff explained. "In some cases, they simply bind the wings together, but in more serious cases, the wings are removed."

  My eyes grew round. "How serious?"

  "It doesn't matter," Ben said. "Robina has been with me for five years and she’s never been anything other than honest and hard working. This place couldn't have been successful without her help."

  "You'll have to forgive Miss Rose," the sheriff said. "She didn't mean to be rude. She’s new to town and doesn't know a lot about the paranormal world."

  Ben's expression brightened and he fixed his attention on me. "You’re the missing Rose girl. How exciting. Your cousin Florian is a customer here."

  "I know," I said. "That's why we’re here, in fact."

  Ben frowned. "Is there a problem? I would think if he was unhappy with the service, it wouldn’t require the sheriff's involvement."

  "I'm not sure if you've heard the news," Sheriff Nash said, "but Florian Rose-Muldoon is currently living life as a small green frog."