Lucky Charm (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Annabel Chase

  "Please tell me this is a joke," the centaur said.

  "I'm afraid not," Professor Holmes said gravely.

  “Do we know anything about the spell?” Sheriff Hugo asked. “Is it one of those that only lasts for a limited time?”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea without knowing the particulars of the spell,” Professor Holmes said.

  A ball whacked Sheriff Hugo in the back of the head and he whipped around to locate the offender. Lord Gilder and Lorenzo each pointed an accusatory finger at the other.

  “This is unacceptable,” Sheriff Hugo muttered.

  “First we need to find somewhere safe to keep the council and Stan,” I said, raising my voice over the sound of screeching and laughter. “Then we can focus on finding the culprit and breaking the spell.” The ‘children’ were so noisy when they were awake—I wondered how parents accomplished anything with kids at home.

  “She pushed me,” Maeve cried.

  I turned around to see Maeve on the floor, wiping tears from her eyes. Mayor Knightsbridge fluttered in front of her, wearing a Cheshire Cat grin.

  “She tripped,” the mayor said, her eyes widening to the picture of innocence. “It was an accident.”

  “What did I trip on—your wing?” Maeve shot back. “My legs aren’t that long. I’m not Juliet.”

  “Hey,” Juliet objected. “Are you making fun of my height?”

  I rubbed my temples. This was going to be an impossible task. “I think we should separate them. Can we divide them up and each take a couple home with us?”

  They couldn’t be on their own in their current state. It was too dangerous.

  Sheriff Hugo groaned. “My place isn’t really kid friendly.”

  “I’ll take Maeve and Juliet,” Astrid offered.

  Well, that was a no-brainer.

  “I suppose I’m best suited to take Lady Weatherby,” Professor Holmes said. “I can take Stan as well.”

  Lucy chewed her lip. “I’ll see if Elsa can come to the Mayor’s Mansion and take care of her mother.”

  “That still leaves Lord Gilder, Wayne, and Lorenzo,” I said. If Gareth could interact with others, I’d consider taking Lord Gilder, but I didn’t feel comfortable having the head of the vampires alone in the house with me.

  “I’ll send my owl with a note to the pack about Lorenzo,” Professor Holmes said. “They’ll want to deal with him, I imagine.”

  Sheriff Hugo groaned. “Fine. I’ll take Wayne and Lord Gilder. They’re both familiar with my place anyway.”

  I waited until arrangements were made and most of the afflicted were out of the Great Hall before focusing on the investigation. Professor Holmes summoned Ginger to take Lady Weatherby and Stan to his house and watch them until he came home. Members of the mayor’s security team escorted her back to the mansion where Elsa awaited her.

  Only Professor Holmes, Lucy, and I remained.

  “We need to figure out who had an issue with the council,” I said.

  “I can think of someone right off the tip of my wings,” Lucy said. “I was getting my hair done in Glow and overheard Marissa complaining about Maeve McCullen just yesterday.”

  “Who’s Marissa?” I asked.

  “A siren who performs at the playhouse with Maeve. She was upset about not getting a part she wanted.”

  “Well, that’s a good start,” I said. “Where’s the best place to find Marissa?”

  Lucy chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I know she goes to knitting class for stress relief. That might be the best time to corner her.”

  “Great, thanks. I’ll check it out.”

  Professor Holmes chimed in. “If Marissa isn’t our spell caster, it’s possible that someone is overreacting to a decision the council made.”

  That made sense. The council made a lot of unpopular decisions. Residents constantly complained about the various rules and regulations that kept Spellbound in check.

  “How do we figure out the recent issues they’ve decided?” I asked.

  “That’s easy,” Lucy said. “The Book of Minutes and Minutiae will tell us.”

  I blinked. “The what?”

  “The minutes from the council meetings,” she replied. “Mayor Knightsbridge usually keeps the book in her office, but it would be here now, since they were at a meeting.”

  Right.

  She flew up to the dais and retrieved the book. “What’s the point of having the mayor’s assistant as a friend if I can’t come through in a crisis?”

  “Lucy, this is brilliant,” I said, turning to the most recent entry. “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s supposed to be super duper confidential,” Lucy said, frowning. “Please don’t tell anyone you read it.”

  “Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “The way the gossip mill works in this town, everyone will assume I heard the information from someone else.”

  “Too true,” Professor Holmes chimed in. “Now let’s see if the minutes from the last couple of meetings tell us anything.”

  “This one has potential,” I said, tapping the page. “An artist was denied permission to do a public show.” I squinted, trying to read the rest. “Looks like he wanted to paint in the town square or something but the council said no.”

  “Oh.” Lucy’s eyes lit up. “Is that Lachlan?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” I said. “Do you know him?” The name sounded familiar.

  “A little bit,” Lucy said. “He’s been to the Mayor’s Mansion for events. He’s quite a character.”

  I snapped my fingers. “I remember where I saw his name. It was a sign at the Spellbound Care Home, the last time Daniel and I were there to volunteer.”

  “He’s hosting an art class?” Professor Holmes asked.

  “Something like that,” I said. “I didn’t really pay attention, but I’ll find out. It might be a good opportunity to question him without raising suspicion.”

  “Imagine how excited all of the care home residents will be if they find out Lachlan can turn them into children again,” Lucy said.

  “They’re still in their adult bodies,” I reminded her. “I picture many broken hips and a few other orthopedic injuries.”

  Professor Holmes wore his approving Gandalf expression. Or was it Dumbledore? I couldn’t decide.

  “Sometimes you are wise beyond your years, Emma,” he said.

  “Thanks, Gan…I mean, Professor.”

  “Who else looks worth a visit?” Lucy asked, returning my attention to the book.

  We read through the minutes of one last meeting before completing the priority list. The artist, an herbologist, and…

  “Octavia Minor?” Professor Holmes queried, glancing at my notes. “Are you certain that’s wise?” Octavia Minor was my neighbor and the grand matriarch of the harpies. A woman not to be trifled with, lest you end up in her trifle.

  “She lodged a complaint with the council and they rebuffed her,” I said. “She’s a vindictive old woman. How can she not be included?”

  “Because she might eat us,” Lucy replied.

  I sighed. “She lives next door. In my experience, neighbors don’t eat neighbors.”

  “In your experience, people don’t have horns and wings either,” Lucy pointed out.

  Fair enough.

  “I’ll stop by when I get a chance. I promise to keep it casual,” I said. “They like to serve tea and finger sandwiches.”

  “Word of advice,” Lucy said. “Make sure they aren’t made out of actual fingers.”

  “And bring Sedgwick,” Professor Holmes advised.

  “He’s not an attack dog.” I said. “He’s a cantankerous owl.”

  “No matter,” Professor Holmes said. “He has sharp claws and an attitude.”

  “But I have a wand,” I said.

  Professor Holmes eyed me skeptically. “Yes, I’ve been at the receiving end of some of your… efforts. Be careful with it, Emma. The last thing you want to do is aggravate a harpy, least of all Octavia.
”

  I shuddered. If I managed to aggravate Octavia Minor, I had no doubt that it would, indeed, be the last thing I ever did.

  Chapter 4

  “You look worn out,” Althea said, when I entered my office. “Are you not sleeping again?”

  “Sleep is fine,” I replied. “Just new stress that I wasn’t anticipating.” I told her about the current state of the town council.

  “That can’t be good,” Althea said. “I remember some of those members when they actually were children.” She whistled. “Train wreck city.”

  “I just wanted to grab a few books from here and start investigating.”

  “Sorry. Duty first.” Althea handed me a file. “Some light reading before your appointment today.”

  "Would it kill you to give me a file the day before a client is due to arrive?"

  Her snakes hissed loudly, sensing her irritation. "Gareth never complained about my timing."

  Her assertion was easy enough to check and she knew it, so I had to assume it was true. Nevertheless, it would be easier for me to speak with my client if I had a little more lead time.

  I opened the file and reviewed the summary. A werewolf accused of aggravated assault. "This happened at the Horned Owl?"

  “That's what it says," Althea said. "I don't spend any time there myself, so I wouldn’t know.”

  I spent plenty of time at the Horned Owl, but I hadn't heard about this incident. My eyes widened when I saw the name of the victim. Edgar.

  "Edgar, the vampire?" I queried.

  "Yes, he was a friend of Gareth's."

  "I know. I met him on the golf course." When I first arrived in town, I went to see Gareth’s friends at the Spellbound Country Club. That’s when I met Demetrius Hunt, Samson, and Edgar.

  I pondered the information in the file. “At least Edgar is a vampire. He would have needed to do a lot worse than a beer bottle to do any real damage.”

  "True. Still, I've heard that Russ has a bad temper. Maybe this is his comeuppance."

  Everything I knew about Russ was contained in this file and that was exactly how I liked it. I didn't want my impression to be colored by other people's experiences with him.

  "Thank you, Althea. How long do I have?"

  “An hour. I'm running out to lunch. Can I get you anything?"

  "No thanks. I want to power through this. I'll eat later."

  She continued to stand there for a moment, staring at me. I glanced up from the file.

  "Is everything okay?"

  "It's not my place," she said, "but I feel like you haven't been eating that much lately. Are you handling everything…okay?”

  Althea was perceptive. Truth be told, my appetite had waned since I'd attended the Spellbound High School dance with Daniel, the fallen angel and my self-proclaimed spirit animal. I was trying very hard to ignore the fact that I was in love with him. It seemed my body was selling me out.

  "I'm good. Thank you for asking."

  "If you’re interested, I can recommend someone for you to talk to. Let me know."

  I inclined my head. "You mean like a therapist?"

  "Exactly. I'd encouraged Gareth to go at one point when he and Alison were having issues, but he refused. He was stubborn like that. I’d really appreciate it if you were less stubborn." She gave me a pointed look.

  A therapist. I’d never been to one, despite being a prime candidate in the human world. My grandparents didn't believe in therapy. They'd decided that true grit was all I needed to cope with the death of my parents. I wasn't completely messed up, so maybe they were onto something.

  “I’ll take it under advisement, Althea. I’d better get started on this file," I said.

  The Gorgon took the hint and returned to her office.

  I was still reading an hour later when my client arrived. Russ looked like many of the other werewolves I'd met in town. Thick, dark hair. A muscular body. A swagger. The package screamed werewolf with an attitude.

  "You must be Russ,” I said.

  He dropped into the chair in front of me and put his feet up on the edge of my desk. "So you’re the infamous Emma. Alex told me about you. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together."

  I gave his feet a gentle push off the desk. "Fun is not how I would describe this. You’re charged with aggravated assault. That's very serious."

  He chewed on his fingernails. Another werewolf trait I'd noticed. "The dude is a vampire. If I’d had deadly intent, then I would've used a stake, am I right?” For a split second, I thought he’d try to high-five me.

  "So tell me what happened. You were drinking in the bar and something made you angry. Why did you throw the bottle at Edgar?"

  "I went there with a few of my buddies after work to blow off steam. Edgar was there with a group of friends from the country club. I wasn't trying to hit Edgar. It was an accident."

  "Were you drunk?"

  "I'd say so. I'd had several beers at that point, plus three shots of Bitter Apple.”

  I needed to look into werewolf metabolism. It sounded like a lot, but with paranormal creatures, you could never be too sure.

  “You said it was an accident. You didn't mean to hit Edgar. If you didn't mean to hit him, why did you throw the bottle?"

  Russ turned his gaze to the floor. "I didn't throw the bottle at Edgar. I threw it at Henrik."

  "The berserker barista from Brew-Ha-Ha?"

  "That's the guy. Every time I go in there, he doesn't give me the heart in the foam on my latte. It pissed me off. When I saw him in the pub, I lost it."

  He threw a bottle at the berserker’s head because he wasn't getting foam hearts on his lattes? Althea was right. This guy had a major issue with his temper.

  "With all due respect, don't you think your response was disproportionate to the event?"

  Russ looked at me blankly. "Could you maybe use smaller words?"

  I inhaled sharply. "Why do you think Henrik doesn’t give you foam hearts? You're obviously taking it very personally."

  "I used to date his younger sister, Gigi,” he said. "She broke up with me about a month ago. I feel like he’s deliberately not giving me the hearts to taunt me."

  "Why did you and Gigi break up?"

  He continued to gnaw on his nails. "She felt like we were getting too serious. She wanted to take a break, but we all know what that really means."

  "Was Gigi in the bar that night?" I asked.

  His brow lifted. "She was. How did you know?"

  "I didn't know. I just wondered whether that was what set you off. You'd had a lot to drink. I thought maybe something prompted it. Gigi was the most obvious trigger."

  He nodded. "Yeah, she was there with her brother. When she saw me with my friends, she left.” His expression clouded over. "She didn't have to leave because of me. I wouldn't have bothered her. She said she wanted space and I had every intention of giving it to her." He gave me a sincere look. "If you love something, you set it free, right?"

  My thoughts inevitably turned to Daniel. "Yes, Russ. You do. And if you’re freakishly lucky, it comes back to you in the end."

  “I’m sorry about Edgar," he said. "I've got no beef with him. Of course, now it's drummed up all sorts of problems between the werewolves and the vampires."

  Oh. That didn't sound good.

  "What type of problems? Do Lorenzo and Lord Gilder know?”

  "Not sure. If it gets out of control, though, they'll know soon enough."

  "How is Edgar? Have you checked on him?"

  "Of course I did," he said vehemently. "I'm not an animal."

  That was debatable. “Is he still at the healers’ office or is he home?"

  "He's home," Russ said. "He's confined to his coffin for now. He said he'll be up and around soon enough."

  Russ must've done some serious damage with a broken bottle to knock a vampire out of commission like that. Werewolf strength in action.

  "I heard you’re trying to do something about lesser sentences for cr
iminals," Russ said. "When I first heard about it, I wasn't so sure. But now that I'm facing charges, I have a different attitude." He smiled vaguely. "So have you made any progress with that?"

  "As a matter of fact, I’m planning to attend the next council meeting to raise the issue. It's tomorrow."

  He brightened. "So is there a chance that if I'm convicted, my sentence will be reduced?"

  "I doubt it, Russ. Work like that can take years. It won't happen overnight." Nothing good ever did.

  Russ slumped in the chair. "It was stupid of me to throw that bottle. I should've hit my mark. I have a great arm. I never should've missed."

  "Russ, you do realize you'd still be sitting here if you'd managed to hit Henrik instead of Edgar?” Not to mention that Henrik could have been killed. Berserkers weren’t immortal like vampires. In reality, Russ was lucky that he hit Edgar instead.

  "Oh, I know,” he said, with a regretful sigh. “But at least I would've felt better about it."

  When I left the office, I noticed the town council and Stan in a nearby park. Lucy was attempting to keep them occupied with various bits of playground equipment. Maeve and Juliet were content on the swings, singing a nursery rhyme I didn’t recognize.

  “Help,” Lucy said, gripping my arm upon arrival. “I’m running out of ideas. Lorenzo keeps barking at everyone and laughing and Lord Gilder tried to bite the mayor when she sat at the top of the slide and refused to go down.”

  I noticed Chairman Meow in a patch of grass, batting at a dandelion. Lady Weatherby was stretched out on her stomach beside him, staring intently at a single blade of grass.

  “Lady Weatherby’s familiar is here,” I said.

  “I know,” Lucy said, with an exaggerated sigh. “She refused to leave him home. I’m pretty sure he’s reverted to the behavior of a kitten. When I picked them up, I saw him scratching the back of Lady Weatherby’s velvet sofa.”

  “He wasn’t in the Great Hall when the spell was cast,” I said.

  “No, but he’s her familiar,” Lucy explained. “It must be the psychic link.”

  I glanced around the playground. “Where’s everyone else? I thought Professor Holmes was helping you.”