“It’s a Bloody Mary,” Samson said. “It’s already sour.”
“Who’s Brion?” I asked.
“A genie from the country club,” Edgar said, with a dismissive wave.
“Edgar had his privileges revoked for cheating,” Demetrius said. “Brion’s no longer a member of the club.”
“How did he cheat?” I asked. I didn’t know enough about golf to understand what would constitute cheating.
“He used his magic on the golf course,” Edgar said. “That’s strictly prohibited for obvious reasons.”
“And you saw him?” I asked.
“Several times,” Edgar admitted. “I let it go at first because he wasn’t a party to our game, but it began to interfere with my own enjoyment.”
“Magic makes things too easy,” Demetrius said. “The rules are in place to make sure everyone is on even ground. It’s more fun that way.”
For a vampire with a bad boy reputation, Demetrius seemed surprisingly reasonable and law abiding. Maybe his penchant for bad boy behavior was only tied to his libido.
“I guess it’s worth a conversation with Brion,” I said. “See if he holds a grudge.”
“Speaking of grudges,” Samson said, “I hear that Lord Gilder lost at dodgeball. Was he unhappy?”
“You could say that,” I said. “At the end of the game, he bit the ball with his fangs and deflated it.”
The other vampires laughed.
“I’ve often wondered what he was like as a child,” Edgar said. “I hate to be missing it.”
“We’re looking for a constant rotation of babysitters,” I said. “But I think you need to be in good condition to look after him. He’s…temperamental.” It occurred to me that I should really get moving.
“Feel free to send him my way,” Demetrius offered. “I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to put Lord Gilder in his place. The devil knows I’ll never get the chance again.”
“Thanks, Dem,” I said. “I may take you up on your offer.”
He inched closer and gazed at me with those dark, tempting eyes. “While we’re on the subject, are there any other offers of mine you’re willing to take me up on?”
I groped for words. His sex appeal was just so…appealing. “Not today,” I squeaked. “But thanks.”
Chapter 6
I placed a headband on my head and Sedgwick nearly fell off his perch.
What do you think you’re wearing? he asked.
“What does it look like?” I asked, turning to face him.
He squawked and flew back to the window. You have whiskers!
“Today is the cat party for Magpie,” I said. “So I’m dressed as a cat. I made headbands and whiskers for all the girls.” I touched the triangle ears on top of the headband.
You look ridiculous, he scoffed. If you’re planning to crawl around on all fours and lick those hairy arms of yours, I’m not sticking around to watch.
“I don’t have hairy arms,” I objected, but he was already gone.
Now that my transformation was complete, I retrieved a comb from my dresser and went downstairs to find Magpie. I found him on the windowsill, basking in the sunlight. For some reason, that struck me as funny. Although I knew typical cats liked to warm their bodies in the sun, I didn’t think Magpie qualified. I associated him with darkness, probably because his owner was a vampire. Or because he sucked the souls of the innocent while they slept. Either one.
“Listen up, Magpie,” I said, creeping toward the windowsill. “The other cats will be here soon. They’re coming here for your benefit and you need to be a good host.” I held my breath and reached for him, wielding the comb like a sword.
“What in the devil are you trying to do to my cat?” Gareth demanded.
Magpie hissed and dodged my grasp, leaping to the floor.
“I want to comb the millimeter of hair that he has,” I said. “He needs to make an effort.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Magpie does a wonderful job of grooming himself.”
I glanced down at the black and white beast with his half-chewed ear and angry face. “He looks like he lost a street fight with a pack of werehyenas and had to dig himself out of a back alley dumpster.”
Gareth gasped. “Bite your tongue, Emma Hart. That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
The wind chimes sounded and I tucked the comb into my back pocket. “They’re here. Be on your best behavior, please.”
I opened the door to a small parade of witches and their cat familiars. “Come on in. Welcome to the ‘pawty.’”
“Emma, you look so cute,” Begonia said, stroking my whiskers.
“Oh, thanks for reminding me.” I retrieved the bag of headbands and whiskers from the banister. “One for each of you.”
The girls put on their cat essentials without complaint. Magpie lurked in the living room doorway, assessing the situation. His tail flicked left and right. I had the feeling that he and I were going to differ on what constituted ‘best behavior.’
Because they were familiars, the cats’ personalities tended to reflect their witch partners’. Begonia’s cat was upbeat and pleasant. Laurel’s cat was inquisitive. Sophie’s cat was sweet and trusting, while Millie’s cat was intelligent with an air of haughtiness.
As the four cats moved toward the living room, Magpie made his displeasure known. The hissing was more powerful than seemed possible from a single cat. It sounded like a thousand worker bees alerting the hive to danger.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Gareth said. “He’s being a cat. This is his territory and it’s being invaded by walking balls of fluff.”
“They’re not walking balls of fluff,” I said. “They have just the right amount of hair for cats.”
Begonia bent over to stroke Kitty. “How dare you. She is not a fluff ball. Show some respect.”
“Magpie, don’t be rude,” I scolded him. “You’re the host. You set the tone.”
He swished his tail angrily and stalked toward the kitchen.
“Give him time,” Gareth encouraged. “He’s used to spending time alone. He’s an introvert.”
The witches followed me into the living room where I had the table ready for our guests.
Millie stopped and stared at the place settings. “Great sun and moon, what is this for?” She picked up one of the conical hats.
“It’s a party,” I said. “I bought party hats.”
“But we already have headbands.” Millie held it up to her head. “How do you expect these to fit us? They’re made for…”
“Cats,” I finished for her. “They’re not for us.” If Chairman Meow could wear a headdress with tiny antlers, I figured these cats could wear jovial party hats.
Sophie burst into laughter. “You expect our cats to wear party hats? Do you know anything about cats?”
My cheeks warmed. “They hiss a lot, like tuna, and fill up a litter box more than seems physically possible.”
Millie set the hat back on the table. “And they don’t do party hats. At least Poca won’t. I can’t speak for the others.”
“I think they’re adorable,” Begonia said, and held one out to her familiar. “What do you think, Kitty? Any interest?”
The tiger cat sniffed the hat and mewled before backing away.
“She says it’s a nice thought,” Begonia said diplomatically.
“I have more than party hats,” I said, rushing to the other end of the table. “Look, I bought tuna cookies.”
“Oh, they’re in the shape of a fish,” Sophie said. “How cute.” Momo jumped onto the table and batted the cookie with her paw.
“She can have it if she wants,” I said. “We don’t stand on ceremony here, do we Magpie?”
The hairless wonder had wandered in behind everyone to investigate. He leaped onto the table, scattering two party hats and knocking a tuna cookie onto the floor. Delilah dove for it and carried the cookie away in he
r mouth before another cat could swipe it.
“There’s enough for everyone,” I said. “Magpie, why don’t you try one?”
“He’s not comfortable with crowds,” Gareth said, framed in the doorway.
“These are all perfectly nice cats,” I said. “And he’s used to my friends by now.”
“Doesn’t mean he likes it,” Gareth replied.
“Why don’t we leave them alone for a few minutes?” I suggested, ushering my friends out of the living room and into the kitchen.
Laurel lingered behind, glancing over her shoulder.
“Laurel, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“What if he attacks them?” she asked, uncertain. “Delilah isn’t a fighter. She won’t know how to defend herself.”
“She has claws, right?” I asked.
“Don’t be a helicopter witch,” Millie snapped. “Delilah needs to learn how to socialize with other cats without you monitoring her every move. You baby her too much.”
“Because she’s a baby,” Laurel shot back.
“I don’t think Delilah has a problem socializing,” Begonia said. “I think Laurel is just concerned about her interactions with Magpie. He’s not a familiar. He won’t have the same…” She groped for the right words.
“They’re acting like Magpie is some kind of common street thug,” Gareth complained, following us into the kitchen. “I’m not a witch, but he’s my familiar, or as close to one as a vampire can get.”
My heart softened. “Relax,” I said. “It’s going to be fine. Magpie just needs to get used to having other cats in the house. As long as he knows they’re not moving in and using his litter box, I think he’ll come around.”
“You stay here,” Gareth said. “I’ll keep an eye on things in there.”
“Gareth is going to supervise,” I told them. “If he so much as swipes in a familiar’s direction, he’ll report back.”
We gathered around the kitchen counter and I could see the tension in Laurel’s shoulders. I tried to distract her with conversation about the town council.
“I spoke with Octavia Minor,” I said, “but I don’t think she had a hand in the youth spell.”
“Of course not,” Millie scoffed. “If she did, she wouldn’t waste it on the town council. She’d use it on herself.”
Fair point.
“Is it wrong that I enjoy seeing Lady Weatherby singing to herself and making daisy chains?” Sophie asked.
“I helped her make some yesterday,” Laurel said proudly. “We had a great time together. I showed her the spell to change the color of a ladybug and she acted like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.”
“She taught us that spell.” Begonia began to laugh, but a loud screech interrupted her.
Uh oh.
We raced to the living room to see that the party had gone horribly awry. A trial of broken fish cookies ran along the edge of the table and spilled onto the floor. Pieces of the shredded party hats were scattered around the room. Why had Gareth not alerted us?
Millie sniffed the air. “Do I smell cat pee?”
Begonia covered her nose and mouth. “Very potent cat pee. What does he drink—acid?”
“Don’t get involved,” Gareth warned, observing from the sidelines. “Let them sort it out.”
I watched as Magpie pinned Momo to the table and hissed in her face. Then, to my amazement, he gingerly lifted his paw and Momo escaped to the floor, curling around Sophie’s feet.
“She’s scared out of her mind,” Sophie said, scooping up her cat and clutching her to her chest.
Magpie stood in the middle of the table and surveyed the carnage around him. He was like the T-Rex at the end of Jurassic Park, asserting his dominance over the other dinosaurs.
“It’ll be fine now,” Gareth assured us. “He’s made his point.”
His point? Sure enough, I watched as Magpie jumped down from the table and slowly approached Kitty.
“Is he stalking her?” I asked quietly.
Magpie’s paw jutted out and tapped Kitty’s tail. Kitty turned around and I was sure she would hiss. Instead, she began to chase him. Magpie zipped beneath the table with Kitty hot on his heels.
“Spell’s bells,” Begonia breathed. “They’re playing.”
One by one, the other cats joined in until they were all embroiled in some feline version of tag.
“This is great,” I said. I’d never seen Magpie so playful. It gave me hope for our relationship.
“He just needed to set the rules,” Gareth explained. “It’s only when he feels safe that he feels free to let his guard down.”
“Is that your special theory on cats?” I asked.
Gareth gave me a slight smile. “No, lass. That’s my theory on everybody.”
I pulled Sigmund into a parking lot in town, where I noticed an elf and a dwarf arguing by the entrance. I stopped and tapped the glass of my window, making it disappear.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
The dwarf was red-faced and looked ready to erupt. “Sonny thinks he doesn’t have to pay to park today.”
I double-checked the sign. “It isn’t past six o’clock. Why would you not have to pay, Sonny?”
The elf glared at me. “Why should anyone pay anything while the council is dismantled?”
“The council isn’t dismantled,” I argued. “They’re on a temporary hiatus.”
“While they’re on hiatus, so am I,” Sonny said. He stomped out of the parking lot without a backward glance.
“Can you call someone to give him a ticket?” I asked.
The dwarf blew out a breath. “This has been happening all day. No one seems to think the rules apply while the council is out of commission.”
This was an alarming development and seemed to fit with Octavia’s experience. The last thing a town full of paranormals needed was a complete disregard for rules and regulations. As much as I mocked Spellbound’s penchant for red tape, it served a purpose.
“You should let Sheriff Hugo and Deputy Astrid know,” I said.
“I already did,” he said. “They’re too busy trying to keep the peace. Problems have been cropping up all over town.”
Yikes. And here I was arriving for a knitting class. To be fair, I was investigating the spell on the council.
I pulled two coins from my handbag and gave them to the dwarf. “I’ll pay for Sonny, too.”
The redness faded from his plump face. “Thanks. There’s an available spot straight down and to the left.”
I parked the car and hurried to class. I didn’t want to be late, especially when I’d never attended before.
The building was tucked on a side street behind Serendipity, one of the nicest restaurants in town. Once inside, a sign instructed me to head downstairs.
“Are you here to knit?” a friendly voice asked. A gnome. She was shorter than Myra, the church administrator, but with a more pleasant countenance.
“I’d like to learn,” I lied. In truth, I would rather stick a knitting needle in my eye, but I had to take one for the team.
“We always welcome new students,” the gnome said. “There are a few empty seats.”
I quickly scanned the room for Marissa. With her flowing hair and flawless features, she was easy to spot. I noticed the empty chair beside her and made a beeline for it before anyone else could claim it.
“Oh, hello. I recognize you,” someone said. “You’re friends with my sister.”
I turned to the young woman next to me. Tall, blond, and intimidating. “I didn’t realize Astrid had a sister.”
Her expression crumpled. “I’m Britta. Astrid’s the successful one in the family. I’m her loser older sister.”
“Britta, I’m sure that’s not true,” I said. “It’s only that we tend to talk about work when we’re together.”
“Even at poker night?”
Oops. “You’re more than welcome to join us for the next one.” Whenever that was. I barely had time to
keep up with what I had to do—forget about what I wanted to do.
The Valkyrie brightened. “I’d like that. I swear I won’t lose my temper.”
I gulped. Britta was a hothead? “Um, that would be appreciated.”
“That’s why she knits,” the voice on the other side of me interjected. Marissa. “It calms her.”
Britta smiled. “It’s been a game changer.”
I turned to the siren. “Hi, I’m Emma.”
“Marissa. Nice to meet you.”
The gnome dropped a woven basket next to my chair. It was filled with different colored balls of yarn and a set of knitting needles. “You’ll be needing these.”
“Thank you.” I glanced around to see what projects others were working on. A sweater, a scarf, a hat, a blanket. I could knit absolutely none of those items. The best I could offer was to order Chinese food and use the knitting needles in lieu of chopsticks.
“How hard is it to knit a sock?” I asked.
Britta laughed. “One sock? Why bother?”
I shrugged. “Sentimental reasons. Socks used to have a way of disappearing on me.” There’d been a dryer in the basement of my apartment building in Lemon Grove that was notorious for eating the mates to my socks. Thankfully, missing socks were no longer an issue for me in Spellbound. Talk about a game changer.
“I can help you with a sock,” Marissa offered.
I kept my eyes on the ball of yarn in my lap, careful to seem nonchalant. “Someone mentioned that you’re an actress," I said. "That must be exciting."
Marissa smiled brightly. "I am definitely living the dream. I know a lot of people complain about being trapped here, but I would never live anywhere else. I love the playhouse and I adore working with Maeve."
"Really?" I said. "I heard the two of you had a falling out recently."
She frowned. "I wouldn't call it a falling out. We had an argument, as creatives tend to do. We are very passionate about our art."
"What was the argument about?"
"I was supposed to play the role of Valerie in her new play, but, at the last minute, she decided that she wanted to play Valerie so she gave me the role of Moira instead."
"I take it Valerie is the lead role and Moira is a supporting role," I said.
Lucky Charm (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 5
