Lucky Charm (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Annabel Chase

  “Boyd needed him. A spell to fix the roof of the healer’s office or something. He’ll be back soon.”

  Based on the rowdy behavior in front of me, it wouldn’t be soon enough. I dropped to my knees beside Lady Weatherby to see what she was doing.

  “Are you trying to do a spell?” I asked.

  She continued to fixate on the blade of grass. “No,” she replied. “I just can’t believe how green this grass is. Have you ever seen such a brilliant color? It’s magical all by itself.”

  Her childlike wonder was surprisingly sweet. “There’s magic all around us,” I said. “It doesn’t always need to come from a wand.”

  “Or a witch,” she agreed. “Maeve’s singing voice is magical and she’s not enchanted.”

  I paused for a moment to listen. “It really is.”

  Lord Gilder and Lorenzo landed on the grass beside us with a thud. Each was trying to sink his teeth into the flesh of the other one.

  “I’m stronger,” Lorenzo growled.

  They were in the bodies of an adult werewolf and an adult vampire. I had no way of breaking up this fight without risking my life.

  I noticed the professor’s broomstick leaning against the frame of the swing set and picked it up.

  “Okay, I want everybody’s attention.” I tried to use my best authoritative voice. “Now.”

  “You’re not my mother. You can’t tell me what to do,” Maeve said, folding her arms.

  “I can and I will,” I said. “I’m in charge until further notice.”

  “You can’t be in charge,” Wayne said. “You haven’t lived here long enough. No one will listen to you.”

  The troll was sensible even under a youth spell.

  “What’s the broomstick for?” Lady Weatherby asked. “We all know you can’t fly one.” She giggled and I chucked the broomstick at her head.

  She ducked and turned to glare at me. “Hey!”

  That got Lord Gilder and Lorenzo’s attention. They stopped fighting and gaped at me.

  “If you can dodge a broomstick, then you can dodge a ball,” I yelled. I was fairly confident they’d never seen the movie Dodgeball.

  “What ball?” Juliet demanded.

  I turned to Lucy. “Um, can you magic me up a small, red rubber ball?”

  Using her wand, Lucy pointed at a round stone on the ground and muttered an enchantment. The stone expanded and morphed into a red rubber ball.

  “And a whistle, too, while you’re at it.”

  Lucy pointed her wand at a piece of mulch and abracadabra-ed it.

  “Perfect,” I said. I put the rope of the whistle around my neck and held up the ball. “Listen up. This is the ball you need to dodge. You’ll be split into two teams, separated by a line in the dirt. The object is to hit the players on the opposite team with the ball without crossing the center line until you’re the only team with members left.”

  Mayor Knightsbridge snatched the ball from my hands and immediately slammed it into the side of Lord Gilder’s head. The vampire rubbed his temple and showed his fangs to the feisty fairy.

  “Don’t you threaten me with those toothpicks,” Mayor Knightsbridge said. “I’ll shove my wand right up your…”

  I blew a whistle. “Okay, kids. I will divide the teams.”

  Once the game started, they seemed to settle down. The play was rough, as I expected given they were in their adult bodies.

  By the time Professor Holmes returned, the game was half over. The defeated players sat cross-legged on the sidelines, cheering on their teammates.

  “What’s happening here?” he asked. “Why are you letting them attack each other?”

  “It’s dodgeball,” I said. “They’re playing the game.”

  “And very well, too,” Lucy added. “They’ve been a delight to watch.”

  “What spell did you use to get them to behave?” Professor Holmes asked, incredulous.

  “No spell,” I said. “Just a few clear parameters and a central goal.”

  “Impressive,” he said, just as Lorenzo attempted to turn furry in the middle of the game.

  “No shifting, Mancini,” I bellowed, blowing my whistle. “That’s rule number fifteen, remember?”

  The fur receded and Lorenzo put himself in timeout.

  “I need someone else to take over when this game is finished,” I said. “I have work to do.”

  “Yes, Ginger and Meg will be stepping in after their aerobics class,” Professor Holmes said. “Have you had a chance to speak with anyone else on the list?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I heard that some people thinks it’s a coup attempt and Sheriff Hugo is questioning known subversives.”

  The professor’s brow wrinkled. “Then wouldn’t the new leaders have taken over by now?”

  “Exactly.” I tucked my wand in the back of my waistband. “He’s wasting his time.”

  “More importantly, he’s wasting valuable time,” Lucy said. “We don’t know what the repercussions are if we can’t change them back quickly. What if they’re stuck like this forever?”

  I shuddered. It was one thing to be locked in a childlike state for a brief period, but to live out an extended or immortal life as a child trapped in an adult body…It was a far worse fate than simply being trapped in Spellbound. They were the governing arm of this town and their fates rested in our hands.

  The ball froze in midair and the remaining players dove to the ground, expecting it to land nearby.

  “Lady Weatherby, you’re in violation of rule twelve,” I said. “That’s a timeout for you.”

  “It wasn’t me,” she protested. “You weren’t even looking.”

  “I have eyes in the back of my head,” I said. Totally believable in Spellbound.

  The ball dropped onto the center line and Lord Gilder grabbed it.

  “Make way for your lord and master,” he cried, sending the ball careening into the mayor’s stomach. She doubled over and let loose a string of swear words that burned everyone’s ears.

  “Inappropriate language and a direct hit. Mayor Knightsbridge, you’re out,” I said, blowing the whistle.

  We had them under control right now, but for how long? I only hoped we could reverse the spell before it was too late.

  Chapter 5

  I forced myself to visit the Minor house and speak with Octavia before I lost my nerve. As though I’d flashed the bat signal, Sedgwick appeared overhead as I walked up the front path to the harpies’ house.

  “I probably could use a bat signal with you,” I mused. “You’d think there were actual bats flying around up there and swoop right in.”

  What in Athena’s name is a bat signal? he asked.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Will you perch on the widow’s walk and wait for me in case things go south?”

  You know I’m uncomfortable hanging around here, he said.

  “And I’m uncomfortable sticking an apple in my mouth and climbing onto her dinner plate, but that’s what I’m about to do because it’s necessary.”

  The front door opened, causing me to squeal like a pig. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

  "This is an outrage,” a voice said sharply and the hair on my arms stood on end.

  The matriarch’s regular voice was frightening enough. Her angry voice was enough to make giants quake.

  Octavia stood in front of me in human form. My feet begged me to run, but I stood rooted to the ground. "Octavia, is everything okay?"

  "If by okay, you mean that werewolf piss will make the herbs in my garden grow, then yes everything is stellar." She stepped onto the porch, hands on hips. She radiated anger and aggression, her usual qualities.

  "Werewolf urine? What do you mean?"

  "It seems that the shifters think it's a free-for-all now that the town council is more useless than normal.”

  Already? How did this sleepy town manage to move at breakneck speed? It was mind-boggling.

  “They’re ignoring the ordinances and doing whatever
the hell they please. I even caught two werelions fornicating on the edge of my property in their animal forms.” She bristled. “It sounded like the murder of a small village."

  I couldn't decide which incident bothered her more—the fact that her garden smelled like werewolf pee or the fact that someone else was getting busy other than her. The harpy looked old enough to have dated the Crypt Keeper. I wasn't sure how busy she was capable of getting under any circumstances.

  “You can file a complaint with the sheriff's office,” I said.

  “The sheriff’s office,” she repeated with a scowl. “The first order of business when the council is back in their right mind is to replace that good-for-nothing centaur. This is his big chance to prove himself and he’s blowing it majorly."

  I was inclined to agree. If ever there was a time to step up and prove his mettle, this was it. Unfortunately, his bad habits were so ingrained that he seemed incapable of performing his duties.

  "You should speak to Astrid," I said. "She’s highly competent."

  Octavia grunted as her gaze moved across her front garden. “Have you had any issues with shifters on your property?”

  “I don’t think so.” I was pretty sure I’d notice noise that sounded like the murder of a small village. I wasn’t exactly a sound sleeper.

  She narrowed her eyes at me and a shiver ran down my spine. “Why do you think that is?”

  I honestly had no idea. My yard was as close to the woods as hers with the added bonus that my house wasn't full of vindictive harpies.

  "Your guess is as good as mine,” I said.

  She inclined her head in a birdlike fashion. “Did you have the coven ward your property?"

  "No, although it has come up in conversation on occasion." I certainly wasn't capable of doing it myself. I lacked the level of skill required.

  "Well, I hope the spell gets reversed soon before this town plunges into chaos. There are far too many dangerous creatures here to allow entropy to set in. If we’re not careful, we’ll have the inmates taking over the prison.”

  "I couldn't agree more."

  “I need to head over to the Wish Market. My daughters claim to be too busy to pick up a few necessities for the woman who suffered through birth for them. Don’t take it personally, but I have more important things to do than blow oxygen in your direction.”

  “Um, technically we breathe out carbon dioxide.”

  “You’re a real oddball. You know that?”

  Octavia ambled down the porch steps and reverted to her harpy form. I watched in awe as the aging human woman shifted into the form of a part bird, part woman. Wings sprouted on her back and sharp talons cracked through her knuckles. To my relief, she didn't turn back to look at me before taking to the air. I knew it was a face that would give me nightmares. With a loud shriek, she disappeared over the treetops.

  Once my heart rate slowed, I headed home. If nothing else, I knew with certainty that Octavia played no role in the youth spell. She relied on the town rules and regulations to get her way and was unhappy with the present situation. She was the last person to want the council incapacitated.

  I sighed. One suspect down. About a hundred to go.

  Despite the town council youth crisis, I had to keep my eye on my own client’s ball. I decided to visit Edgar to check on his progress and follow up on Russ’s case. As a close friend of Gareth’s, I knew Edgar would talk to me.

  His house was located on the north side of town, not too far from the country club. Even though it had a wraparound front porch and a colorful exterior, the style was more Southern Gothic than Victorian. There were even paddle fans installed on the porch ceiling and I wondered what powered them. Presumably magical energy.

  I debated whether I should knock first and go inside. If Edgar was stuck in his coffin, then he wouldn’t be able to come to the door. Before I could decide, the front door opened and I was greeted by a bald, stocky man with stooped shoulders.

  "Yes?" he said.

  "Hello," I said, trying to hide my surprise. I didn’t expect Edgar to have a butler. "I came by to see Edgar. I heard about his accident and would like to see how he’s doing.”

  The butler squinted at me. “’Twas no accident, miss. Chucked the bottle straight at his head, he did." He pulled open the door and stepped aside. “Your name, miss?”

  "Emma Hart," I said, and stepped into the grand foyer. It was nothing like Gareth’s house. When I’d first arrived, the walls were dark and dismal and the blackout shades made the interior feel too much like a haunted house. Edgar's house, on the other hand, would have fit neatly in the pages of Architectural Digest. Everything was tastefully done, from the intricately carved banister to the gleaming hardwood floors. I had to hand it to these vampires. If it had been me, I would have built my house out of bricks and made all of the flooring out of tile. To their credit, they seemed very comfortable being surrounded by potential stakes.

  I followed the Hunchback of Jeeves down a back staircase. Like Gareth, Edgar seems to prefer the lower level for his master suite. It was only when I heard voices that I realized Edgar already had company.

  "Master Edgar, a visitor. May I present Miss Emma Hart?"

  He stepped aside and I saw the group of vampires gathered around Edgar’s coffin, laughing and drinking. Demetrius was there, looking amazing as always in a snug T-shirt and formfitting pants. His dark eyes lit up when he saw me.

  "Emma," he said, coming over to greet me. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

  "I heard about Edgar and I wanted to see if he was okay," I said. "Gareth would never forgive me if I didn't check on him."

  At the mention of Gareth’s name, everyone stopped talking. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never told them about my ability to see Gareth in the here and now. I sucked in a breath. Now was as good a time as any.

  “Gareth sends his regards. He would have loved to come himself, but he’s restricted in his movements. We're working on it, though.”

  They all stared at me, silent and deadly serious.

  A vampire I didn’t recognize sipped from his blood red cocktail and said, "Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Behold, I am about to do a thing in Israel at which the two ears of everyone who hears it will tingle.’”

  Edgar rolled his eyes. "Dante, how many times have I told you not to quote Scripture in my house?"

  “You can tell me as often as you like, but you can’t stop the word of God,” Dante replied. “Nothing can.”

  I thought it was best to stay out of their disagreement. The only thing worse than a religious disagreement was a religious disagreement between vampires.

  “You can communicate with our Gareth?" Samson asked. For a group of undead, they seemed remarkably startled over someone communicating with the dead.

  "Yes," I admitted. “I’ve been able to see and hear him for some time now. I wasn't sure whether I should keep it secret, so I didn't exactly shout it from the hilltops. A lot of people seem to know, though, so I think it's time to come clean."

  “Does the coven know?” Edgar asked.

  “They do. They weren't sure what to make of it at first."

  Dante studied me closely. "And do they know now?"

  “Not yet,” I said. “But I think it's good for Gareth to still feel a part of the community. If everyone knows he's around, that might lift his spirits." Or was it spirit?

  "I'd love to see him when I'm feeling better," Edgar said. "Perhaps we could try a séance." The other vampires murmured in agreement.

  “A séance?" I asked. "Is that really something that would work? When I asked…" I nearly said Raisa, but I quickly realized that was a situation I needed to keep to myself for now. I got the distinct impression that Lady Weatherby and Professor Holmes wanted to keep my interaction with the dead witch under wraps. "I was under the impression that there were very few seers in town."

  “Kassandra," Dante said. "She'd be perfect."

  "You just want to ogle her neck during the s
éance," Demetrius accused.

  "And you don't?" Dante challenged him. “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

  Edgar rolled his eyes again. "Last warning, Dante. Don't make me throw you out of my house."

  "Would you be amenable to hosting the séance at your house?" Samson asked.

  "Would you mind if I checked with Gareth first?" I asked. "I'm sure it will be fine, but I wouldn't feel right agreeing to it without his permission."

  "Understandable," Edgar said. "You are such a reasonable girl. A fine choice for his replacement."

  Finally. Perfect opening. "On that note," I said, "would you mind giving me your version of events from the night at the Horned Owl?"

  Edgar's expression softened. “Right. I see. You’re representing Russ, are you not?"

  I shrugged. "The public defender’s job never ends."

  "We were all there," Demetrius said. "We saw Russ throw the bottle and hit Edgar."

  “Russ doesn’t dispute that he threw the bottle,” I said, “but he says his target was Henrik.”

  “Henrik was in the next group over,” Samson said. “The bottle looped left before it reached the berserkers.”

  “Is there any reason you can think of that Russ would lie about his intended victim?” I asked. “If he meant to hit Edgar, why not just say so?”

  “To my knowledge, I have no quarrel with the werewolf,” Edgar said.

  “Other than the fact that you dislike shifters,” Dante added.

  Edgar glared at his friend. “I’m not a racist. I simply prefer my own kind, a sentiment I tend to keep to myself. Russ had no reason to attack me.”

  “So did you assume it was an accident from the beginning?” I asked.

  “I don’t suppose I gave it much thought,” Edgar said. “I simply believed he enjoyed one too many shots of whatever toxins he was injecting himself with that night and threw the bottle in a typical aggressive werewolf fashion.”

  “Was there anyone at the pub that night with a reason to attack you?” I asked.

  Samson snapped his fingers. “Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing Brion there.”

  Edgar groaned. “Do you have to mention him? My drink has soured.”