Tea & Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  “Why?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

  “Because it doesn’t truly belong to you. There’s a good chance this isn’t an artifact issue at all. It’s a rogue magic user issue. And the fact that someone was able to manipulate the channels to have the assignment given to you…” She let the thought die on her lips, leaving me to determine the terrifying truth on my own.

  Someone intentionally gave the wrangling assignment to me. Because, once I’d failed, the Assembly couldn’t send another investigator out to find the culprit and deal with it.

  Humans weren’t the only ones who had a double jeopardy law on the books.

  I probably wouldn’t care anyway, in the end. Because the only way I was allowed to “fail” an assignment was to die.

  7

  An Ill Wind Just Blows

  To say I was surprised to find a Quilleran at my door when I arrived back at Croakies would be a slight understatement. Not, mind you, that she was at my door, but that she was “at” my door and hadn’t blasted through it or used a magical key to unlock it and let herself inside.

  Quillerans generally didn’t waste energy on mundane things like manners, rules or human law.

  It wasn’t Candace this time. It was her sister Felicity, whose dark brown hair and matching brown shirt and ankle-length brown skirt were perfect representations of her dour personality.

  The only color on her entire person was in the muted yellow of her angry eyes.

  “Well, hello there,” I said to Felicity as I approached, waggling my brows suggestively just because I knew it would put her in a dither.

  Her eyes went wide and she clutched her suitcase-sized bag protectively across her middle. “Naida. I wanted to talk to you.”

  I pushed past her, inserting my old-fashioned key into the lock and blocking her view as I turned it three times to the right and then a half-turn back to unlock the door.

  I’d gotten the key when I purchased the rights to Croakies and had tried to chuck it, along with the locks, in favor of shiny new hardware for all my doors. But the locksmith, a practicing sorcerer who was dating my bestie Leandra at the time, had assured me the lock was the best in anti-theft magic available, so I’d decided to keep it.

  I shoved the door open, grabbed a few pieces of mail off the carpet, and glanced over my shoulder. “What can I help you with?”

  Felicity stood in the open doorway and glanced around the shop for a moment, her gaze wary. She stood on the threshold so long I was beginning to wonder if she was waiting for an invitation to come inside.

  Like a vampire.

  If so, she’d be waiting a while.

  I ignored her as I settled my purse behind the counter and sorted through my mail.

  After a moment, the soft scuff of a shoe on the worn carpet told me Felicity had thrown caution to the wind and come inside. I looked up to find her standing several feet from the door, her gaunt face tight with worry.

  It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for her.

  Nah.

  “What did you want to talk to me about, Felicity?”

  The woman looked down at the bag she was clutching close and, for the first time, I realized the bag was moving. I narrowed my gaze on it. “What do you have in there?” I tensed, pulling energy into my fingertips in case I needed to put the whammy on her or whatever she’d brought into my store.

  I said a quick prayer to the goddess that it wasn’t a snake. I couldn’t abide snakes.

  “I…I thought maybe we could do a trade.”

  I let the energy recede just enough that I wouldn’t accidentally blast her with it when I came out from behind the counter. I wasn’t trained as a warrior. I had only enough power in my core to turn her hair frizzy or make her pee herself. A useful tool for the beautiful but perennially mean girl in the cheer squad, but not much good when battling dark magic witchery.

  I kept my distance just in case. Then I thought of Mr. Wicked. Had I left him in the artifact library? Or had he been in the bookstore when I’d left? I placed my hand on the counter and slid his cubby a surreptitious glance.

  The door was open a crack and I didn’t’ see him inside. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, the tightness in my belly receding.

  My relief plunged into my colon as the surface beneath my fingers warmed and rolled.

  I snatched my hand away from the Book of Blank Pages sitting on the countertop.

  How had that gotten there?

  Felicity’s attention was drawn to the book. Something told me not to let her see it. I quickly leaned sideways, resting my forearm on the tome and fighting not to recoil when the surface bubbled beneath my skin.

  The witch held my gaze for a moment and then slowly inserted a hand into the bag, her eyes locked on me the entire time.

  I tugged my energy forward again, stepping away from the counter. I didn’t bother trying to hide it that time, letting her see it spitting at my fingertips and glowing in my gaze. “What are you doing?”

  She smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Why? Are you planning to curl my hair for me?” She snickered meanly. “I was only going to get this…” Her hand came out of the bag and she was holding a…bullfrog?

  I blinked. “You brought me a frog? Why? Is this one of those psychedelic frogs that you’re supposed to lick when you want your evening to be just a little bit more entertaining?”

  “You’re really weird, Naida.”

  I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.

  “No. I thought, since you like the other frog so much, you might like this one even better.”

  “Why would I like it better?”

  “It’s bigger. And it croaks out the tune to Night of the Fairies on command.”

  “Night of the Fairies, huh?”

  She nodded.

  I waited a beat and then laughed. “You must think I’m really stupid.”

  “Of course. But I’m not lying. I can prove it to you.”

  I shook my head. “So, you can magic this poor frog to sing a song. That’s a parlor trick. Why are you really here, Felicity?”

  Her expression tightened with anger. A soft breeze rose up in the room and it blew her long brown skirt around her bird-like legs. The frog in her grip croaked in alarm and leaped out of her hands, hopping toward me and disappearing behind the counter.

  “I want that frog, Naida.”

  Was it my imagination or had the witch’s voice deepened a few octaves?

  The breeze in the room turned into a gust, blowing the mail I’d just brought inside off the counter and onto the floor. Felicity’s lank, brown hair blew away from her face, making her look like a powerful and extremely unattractive angel.

  I backed up, my hand falling to the book on the counter. As I touched it, the cover flew open and the pages started to flip.

  I grabbed it and tugged it off the countertop, shoving it onto the paper-strewn shelf underneath.

  A deep, throaty song sounded at my feet. I yelped as the bullfrog hopped onto my shoe and squatted there, black eyes bulging with fear.

  Okay, they’d been bulging before. But I was pretty sure I saw a glint of terror in their inky depths.

  Felicity raised her arms and the wind strengthened. Books started flying off shelves and crashing to the floor, their pages ripping and pieces of the paper flying around the room.

  I needed to do something, anything, to stop her from destroying my store.

  But what?

  I tried to think but my mind was in panic mode.

  Beneath the counter, the pages of the book continued to flicker forward through the ancient volume and then back again as if searching for something.

  “Give me the frog!” Felicity’s voice boomed through the shop.

  A freestanding shelf unit near the back wall lifted off the floor, the dozens of children’s books it held flying into the air and slicing toward me, like missiles. I ducked as a book entitled, “The Care and Feeding of Your Invisible Friend” flew rig
ht at my head and smashed against the wall above the register.

  “Stop it!” I screamed.

  Felicity ignored me.

  The signed picture of me, Lea, and the rest of our supernormal women’s soccer team the year we won our league lifted off the screw holding it to the wall and shot toward me like a lance, glass first. My hand shot up in self-defense and I threw out enough energy to halt it an inch from my face, grabbing it out of the air and tucking it safely behind the counter.

  “Felicity, just stop it!”

  “Give me the frog.”

  I shook my head. “Not going to happen.”

  Another shelf lifted off the ground and I realized I had to do something or she was going to destroy the whole place.

  I ran in her direction, intending to throttle her into stopping. But five feet away from Felicity, I hit a wall of wind that not only stopped me but slowly pushed me back. I dug in but couldn’t get enough purchase on the floor to stop the backward motion.

  Felicity flung her hands forward and the force of the gust tripled, flinging me backward until I crashed painfully into the wall.

  Groaning, I fell to the carpet and crawled behind the counter.

  The book had stopped flipping pages. I glanced at it, thinking I’d see another picture of the frog or even the clock tower. But it was neither.

  A lightning bolt skimmed across the page.

  Very helpful.

  I glanced over the counter and my eyes widened. Something was happening behind Felicity. Something dark and shadowy surrounded her, seeming to wrap around her like a cloak. She turned pale, her eyes widening as the shadow covered her arms and they began to lower. The wind lessened. Felicity shrieked in rage and spun, her hands flying up like claws and wrapping around the shadow as if it had substance.

  I watched in terror.

  What in the…?

  Felicity fought the shadow back, sending energy into it until it disappeared in a sulfurous gust of air. Then she turned back to me.

  Her yellow gaze blazed with evil light, sparks literally shooting from her eyes. Ice filled my belly and crept along my spine.

  The woman was seriously scary. And she looked like she wanted to kill. Me.

  I started to back toward the door to the artifact library. I needed to get through the door. Hopefully, the extra security would hold her off until I could find something back there to fight her off with.

  But the wind was suddenly behind me, pushing me toward the witch.

  I couldn’t stop myself from moving toward her.

  I grabbed onto the counter, my feet flying up into the air as the wind increased. If I let go I would fly right at her.

  My fingers ached in an effort to keep from being drawn toward Felicity.

  They started to slip.

  The book, a fear-filled voice said in my ear. Use the book.

  I had no idea where the voice was coming from. I didn’t know why I could hear it in my head. I didn’t know who it was. But I was out of options. I reached for the book, straining mightily to touch it.

  But I couldn’t reach it. And my fingers began to let go.

  The door behind Felicity opened and Lea stood there, a murderous look on her face. “Felicity Quilleran, get thee gone from this place!” She threw her hands into the air and blasted the Quilleran witch with a double beam of energy.

  The light hit some kind of barrier and sizzled, framing Felicity like a fiery hoop in a circus act. The wind died down to a breeze again and my feet hit the ground.

  But it started to build again almost immediately.

  And worse, Felicity was heading for Lea, an oily ball of black energy sizzling in each hand.

  Use the book! the voice in my head screamed at me.

  I decided I had nothing to lose. “Down!” I screamed to Lea, and then I dove for the space beneath the counter.

  I didn’t look, didn’t take the time to move the book. I slapped my palm over the picture of the lightning bolt and hit the ground as the energy roared away. I jumped to my feet as the energy slammed into Felicity with a meaty smack and shoved her out the door on an explosive roar, leaving behind a fiery trail that died out with a snap and a sizzle.

  “Lea!” I shrieked, running for her as the door slammed closed behind the witch.

  My friend was lying on the floor, unmoving, her arms protectively covering her head.

  “Lea?” I went to my knees beside her, reaching to touch her arm. “Are you okay?”

  She slowly started to move, rolling over with a groan. “What in the name of the goddess was that?”

  I pulled in a deep, relieved breath. “I have no clue. But I’m really glad it was there.” I took Lea’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Is anything broken?” I asked my friend, looking her over for any obvious wounds.

  She grimaced. “You mean, besides your store?”

  My gaze followed hers around the shop. “Blasted Quillerans,” I muttered angrily. “Why can’t they leave me alone?”

  Lea brushed dust off her usual flowy skirt. “I have a few theories on that, but they’ll wait for another time.” She limped toward the counter. “Is Mr. Wicked okay? The frog?”

  Her question spurred my memory. “Frog!” I ran over and looked behind the counter, not seeing the singing bullfrog on the floor or the shelf. I was starting to panic when I opened the door to Wicked’s hidey-hole and saw his squishy countenance staring out at me.

  “Bawump,” he growled out, his thick throat bulging.

  “Thank the goddess.” I leaned back against the wall. “He’s okay.”

  Lea peeked over the counter, her face registering surprise. “Have you been feeding Mr. Slimy steroids?”

  “No, I think he’s in the artifact library with Wicked. Felicity brought this guy along with her. She tried to trade him for Mr. Slimy.”

  Lea nodded. “I take it from the condition of your store you refused?”

  “Something like that. Although this guy can apparently belch out Night of the Fairies on command.”

  Lea’s face split into a wide grin. “Really? Frostbite!”

  I opened my mouth to correct her and then decided against it. My friend had been a member of the nerd squad her entire life. Not even being a witch could save her from being considered too odd to be a friend. She’d always tried way too hard to fit in. Unfortunately, that included misusing current slang with aplomb.

  She came around the counter and I scooted out of the way as she bent down and scooped the singing frog into her hands. She held him at eye-height to look into his protruding gaze. “Sing Night of the Fairies.”

  He stared at her for a long moment and then his ugly lips opened. “Bawump.”

  Lea frowned. “He’s broken.”

  I sighed. “Felicity probably lied to me. I doubt he does anything with that mouth other than snatch bugs out of the air.”

  My friend continued to stare at the amphibian for a long moment. Finally, she turned to me. “Can I take him?”

  I blew air through my lips. “Is a frog ugly?”

  Her grin returned. “Thanks, Naida. Let me go put him in a safe spot and I’ll come back to help clean this up.”

  “That’s so sweet. Thanks, Lea.”

  The door opened before Lea and her new, non-singing bullfrog reached it. Sebille walked through, her face paling until her freckles practically glowed. “Caterpillar armpits,” she muttered, her eyes wide. “What happened in here?”

  “Felicity Quilleran happened,” Lea said as she moved past my assistant, heading for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.” Then I realized a warning was in order. “Hide all your teacups,” I called out. “You have no idea where that butt has been.”

  Sebille walked across the store with a shell-shocked look on her face. She stared around, a frown taking over her features. “Have I told you that I hate the Quillerans?” she asked.

  “Not in the last five minutes.”

  Dropping her ugly canvas bag onto the counter,
she finally met my gaze. “What’s with the frog? Are you starting an amphibian-ary.”

  I bent to pick up a book. “Nope. I’m a frogist, remember. I’m bigoted against the entire frog race, singing or no.”

  Sebille seemed to consider my words. She opened her mouth as if to ask a question, and then snapped it shut with a shake of her head. “Then why?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows. For some reason, they thought I’d be open to a swap.”

  Sebille rolled her eyes. Then she rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll start in the back row.”

  “Thanks, Sebille.”

  8

  Grandmother, What Big Teeth You Have!

  Lea and Sebille didn’t leave the shop until almost ten at night. By that point we were all shuffling around like extras on a bad zombie film. My lank, grubby hair was hanging in my face and my clothes were covered in dust and cobwebs. It didn’t take me long, as I started picking up the books Felicity had thrown about with her power, to realize that everything needed a good cleaning.

  What started as a book rescue operation, soon became a Spring-cleaning exercise.

  My hands were raw from the wet rag I’d used to wipe everything down, my back was sore and my feet were killing me.

  I shuffled into my room above the store and Mr. Wicked trotted in behind me, jumping up onto the bed and hitting his pillow immediately. I glanced into Mr. Slimy’s box and found him staring at me, unblinking. “I brought you a present.” I was so tired I barely had the energy to unscrew the lid on the jar I’d carried up, setting it on the bottom of the frog’s box and watching as the flies Sebille had trapped wandered out and were snapped from the air by Mr. Slimy’s disgusting tongue.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, yawning widely. I glanced toward the kitchen and the bathroom, longing for a snack and a shower but having the energy for only one.

  I finally decided my empty stomach was more important than a shower and shuffled toward the kitchen.

  Wicked bounded over when I filled his bowls with food and water.

  I grabbed a banana from the counter and tried to peel it, discovering I was too weak even to manage that. I grabbed a steak knife from the silverware drawer and lopped off the top of the banana, slicing the peel down the side.