My spirits soared at the sound of the chief’s voice. I longed to kiss his snout, but I had to control myself. With my family present, that kind of response was impossible.
“You can thank us later for restoring your power of speech,” my mother said.
“How about restoring my arms and legs?” Chief Fox asked.
“No can do,” my mother said.
“I heard what you told Eden,” he said. “You can. You just won’t.”
My mother heaved a sigh. “That was a lie. We can’t do it. Being able to communicate with you is the best we can do.”
My head jerked toward her. “What? You can’t use your dark…” I stumbled over my words, not wanting to say too much in front of the chief. “Your dark blue magic pouch?”
“Afraid not,” Grandma said. “Our options are limited.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?” I demanded.
“Eden, I don’t think you want us to do anything more…potent in the chief’s presence,” my mother said under her breath. “It’s bad enough he’s been exposed to our true natures at all.”
She was right. It was one thing for the chief to know they were witches. It was quite another if he witnessed one of their more powerful spells. It was hard to hide that their brand of magic was dark.
I focused on the fox. “What do you remember?”
He angled his head toward my family. “I don’t think you want me to divulge too many details.”
“Of course we do,” my mother said. “How else can we figure out what happened to you?”
“I was…with a friend,” he said. “One minute we were having a great time and, the next minute, I was a fox.”
“Where were you when this happened?” my mother asked.
“In my house,” the chief replied.
“What were you doing?” Grandma asked. “Watching television? Playing Little Critters?”
“What’s Little Critters?” the chief asked.
I waved him off. “It’s not important.”
“I wasn’t doing anything that would turn me into a fox,” he said.
My mother popped a hand on her hip. “Well, you must’ve done something or this wouldn’t have happened,” she said.
“You’re blaming the victim now?” Chief Fox asked. “Fine, if you must know, we’d just locked lips.”
My mother smiled. “Ooh, do tell. How was it?”
“Very nice. I’d definitely do it again if I get the chance.” I could’ve sworn the fox was smiling.
“I didn’t realize you had that kind of friend in town,” Grandma said.
“Because the chief’s personal life isn’t our business,” I said quickly.
“How did you know this happened, Eden?” Aunt Thora asked.
“His friend called me,” I said. “They know what I do and figured I could help.”
Grandma crossed her arms. “Being a fox is the least of his problems.”
I looked at her. “How so?”
“Now he knows about us,” she said. “We have to kill him.”
“No, we have to help him,” I said.
“I don’t recommend planning my murder when I can hear you,” the fox said.
Grandma shrugged. “Who cares? You’ll be dead.”
“What about a demon?” my mother asked. “Isn’t that your job, Eden—to figure out this stuff?”
I stifled a frustrated groan. “Neville and I have been doing the research, but we haven’t come up with a plausible option. I thought a shifter was a possibility.”
“Apparently not,” Grandma said.
“The LeRoux witches couldn’t undo the spell either,” the chief said.
My mother and Grandma exchanged looks. “I’m sorry,” Grandma said. “I think I misheard you because you’re a fox. Did you say the LeRoux witches tried to break the spell on you?”
“Yes,” the chief said.
I pressed my lips together. I was going to pay for that revelation. “I had to ask Adele first. She’s on the council.”
My mother smiled. “And clearly that was an exercise in futility because he’s still a fox.”
“What do we do now?” Chief Fox asked.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Now that you can speak, I think we should call Deputy Guthrie and let him know you’re alive. I think he was starting to doubt me.”
The fox directed his attention to my mother and Grandma. “Would it be possible to have privacy? I’m about to conduct official police business on speakerphone.”
“Yes, Chief Fox,” my mother said. “We understand.”
“And please don’t reveal my condition to anyone,” he said. “We can’t afford to have panic in the streets.”
“I highly doubt that would happen,” Grandma said. “There are other ways of keeping the peace besides a human in uniform.”
“No matter how attractive he looks in it,” my mother added.
Ew. It was bad enough to have my mother hitting on my boyfriend, but to do it while he was in his fox form? Ick.
I clicked on Sean’s number and put him on speaker. I listened to the chief fake a cough and reassure the deputy that he’d be better soon. Sean seemed to buy it. He told the chief all about Eloise and the snake.
“You’ve got it covered, Guthrie,” the chief said. “I trust you.”
“Thank you, sir.” I could practically hear Sean beaming through the phone. “If I may ask, why are you calling me from Eden’s phone?”
“Mine ran out of juice,” the chief said. “She came by to deliver a report and I asked to use hers.”
“Goodbye, Sean,” I called. I clicked off the phone and put it away. “That went well enough.”
“For now,” the chief said. “Eventually, he’ll want to see me.”
“We’ll figure it out.” We had to.
“The barn looks great from what I can see, by the way,” he said. “I look forward to spending time here. In my human form, of course.”
“Gods, I really hope so,” I said.
The fox looked at me expectantly. “Which part?”
I offered a shaky smile. “Both.” But I was beginning to worry that, soon enough, one of those would no longer be an option.
Chapter Thirteen
“I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before,” I said. I stood inside Treasure Trove and ogled the gorgeous interior. Gilded mirrors, chandeliers, a gleaming piano. It was like walking into a Newport mansion.
“I can’t believe you haven’t either,” Neville said. “It’s wonderful. You’ve been missing out.”
“There were antique stores in San Francisco that I used to browse in,” I said. “It was one of my favorite things to do when I wasn’t working.”
Neville cocked an eyebrow. “There were times you weren’t working, Agent Fury? Do tell.”
“Did someone say Fury?” A slender man emerged from behind a large armoire. “Oh, hello, Neville. I thought I recognized one of the voices out here.”
“Hello, Foster,” Neville said. “I’d like you to meet my boss, Agent Eden Fury.”
Foster looked me up and down. “Yes, of course. I see the resemblance to Moyer.”
“You can thank him for the recommendation that I come here. I didn’t realize this place was here.”
Foster leaned against the armoire. “Are you looking for a particular item? I understand you have a renovated barn to furnish. We could do wonders for that here.”
I felt a prickle of excitement at the thought of decorating my new home. “That’s a definite yes. Unfortunately, I’ll have to focus on that another time. Right now, I need to know if you have any items that would lend themselves to transmorphication.”
Foster didn’t bat an eye at the mention of a magical term. “You want to change someone into something else? I hope this isn’t to settle a family dispute. I know your people play hardball.” He chuckled.
“As enticing as the prospect is, no,” I said. “I can’t really say more than that. This is a confi
dential investigation.”
Foster swiveled, his gaze sweeping the shop. “I don’t believe I have anything in stock that would support a spell like that.”
“Have you sold any items recently that would have?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
“Nothing that connects to a spell like that,” Foster said. “A wingback chair. A pedestal table.” He mentally walked through his recent sales. “No, nothing springs to mind.”
“Do you have a book section?” I asked.
“I know where that is,” Neville said.
Foster smiled. “You certainly do. One of my best customers, apart from Moyer. If it’s written in an ancient language, Moyer is my first call. I don’t even bother to translate the titles.”
Neville led me to a single step that emptied into another, smaller room. Two walls were lined with bookshelves. The scent of leather hit me as I approached the first section.
“How are they organized?” I asked.
“The middle section is our best bet,” Neville said.
I stared at the dozens of spines. “But if there’s a book here, how does that help us? Wouldn’t the culprit have taken the book?”
“If they were smart, they would have read it here and not bought it,” Neville said. “That way, it can’t be traced back to them.”
I clapped my assistant on the shoulder. “Sometimes your brain is worth its weight in gold.”
Neville’s cheeks colored. “It is rather on the heavy side.”
I contemplated the rows of books. “Can you do a spell to see which books were most recently handled? Some kind of trace?”
Neville brightened. “Indeed, I can.”
“Do you have what you need?” I asked.
Neville unhooked his backpack from his shoulder. “While I always try to come prepared, I might need a thing or two more to complete this particular spell.” He glanced around the room. “Ah, right. There are a few items I can use in the front room. I’ll be right back.”
I strolled in front of the shelves, resisting the urge to tug books from their places while I waited for Neville to return. I didn’t want to interfere with the results.
He hurried back into the room and I noticed a wooden elevated cake stand. “It’s perfect. It’s made of acacia.”
“Are we presenting a cake at the end of the spell?” I asked.
“I need a stand made of a natural material for the candle,” he said. “It helps channel the magic. You can’t use anything synthetic or the spell won’t work properly.”
I gestured to the floor. “Apologies, Magical Martha Stewart. Carry on.”
Neville crouched down and pulled a candle and a packet of matches from his backpack, along with a sealed bag of herbs.
“Foster won’t mind that we’re about to light up in his shop?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “If any customers come in, Foster said he’ll keep them occupied in the other room until we’re finished.”
“He’s a real hidden gem, isn’t he?” It was a pleasure to meet someone intent on helping rather than hindering.
“That’s one of the perks of being an introvert,” Neville said. “You get to know all the best people by sitting quietly and listening.”
“I’ll keep a lookout in case Foster gets preoccupied with a customer,” I said. While the wizard performed the spell, I wandered in and around the furniture stock, mentally placing my favorite items in the barn. There was the loveseat that Sawyer and I would use to snuggle under a blanket on chilly nights. There was the dining table that we’d use to eat our breakfast before heading off to work—together, of course. He’d drop me off at the office and then…
“O wondrous infernal goddess?” Neville called.
I snapped out of my fantasy world where Sawyer and I apparently lived our lives like a Hallmark couple and hurried back to my assistant. “Any luck?”
“Afraid not. The only books recently handled are The Many, Many Letters of Alexander Hamilton and The Joy of Ancient Sex.”
I cringed. “Is that ancient sexual customs or sex with old people?”
“I opted not to investigate any further.”
“Smart man.”
“How’s it going in here?” Foster sauntered into the room.
“Unfortunately, we didn’t find what we’re looking for,” I replied.
“We did, however, find a book called All About Muffs,” Neville announced.
I swiveled to gape at him. “Excuse me?”
He wore an innocent expression. “What? They kept women’s hands warm in the colder months.”
I balked. “And I ask again—what?”
“The book is all about women’s fashions in Colonial America,” Neville said. “A fascinating read.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said.
“Have you tried the used bookstore yet?” Foster asked. “Perhaps they have what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks, that’s our next stop,” I said.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Foster said, as we headed toward the exit.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you when you realized you had the Sight?”
Foster smiled. “Too young. My parents thought I was bonkers, although they started telling people that I had a vivid imagination to make me look sane. They weren’t very understanding.”
“Did you grow up here?” I asked.
“No,” Foster said. “I came here on a trip one summer and felt a certain level of comfort. It was only when I met Moyer that I realized why.”
“You knew what he was?” I asked.
“I knew he was Other.” Foster straightened a trio of candlesticks. “I knew I was Other, too. I just didn’t realize how normal I was in comparison until I was introduced to more supers.” He laughed. “If only my parents knew.”
“You didn’t tell them?” I asked.
He bowed his head. “They died long before then. I think they’d be pleased to know that I found my place in the world though. Childhood is rough for kids like me. There’s so much confusion. Maybe if I’d grown up here where it’s more accepted…”
“I’m glad you’re happy here.” It was ironic in a way. Foster had found greener pastures in the very place I’d left—in search of greener pastures.
“I’m quite content,” he replied. “And the town was in dire need of a quality antiques shop. The other options are adequate, but they’re more for tourists, full of knick knacks and other tchotchkes.”
“You do have beautiful items in here,” I said. Everywhere I turned, I saw an item of interest. A turn of the century green trunk with black wood trim and brass detailing. A small mahogany drum table. A walnut grandfather clock. Best of all, no creepy dolls.
“Be sure to come back when it’s time to decorate that beautiful barn,” Foster said.
“I promise.”
Neville and I left the shop and the smell of curry burned my nostrils.
“Are you ready for lunch, Agent Fury?” Neville asked.
“I’d rather hit the bookstore first,” I said. “I’m feeling too anxious to eat. You go ahead though. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“You can’t perform the trace spell without me,” he said.
“I don’t know that I need to do one. It depends.”
Neville’s stomach rumbled and he laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Oops. I guess I should make eating a priority.”
I clapped him on the back. “Catch up with me when you’re done.”
“I’ll take Achilles for a walk as well. Let me stretch those tiny legs.”
“Good idea.” We parted ways at the corner and I carried on walking to Barely Buzzed Books. The shop was a newer addition to town and took over the original bookshop after I left for college. According to Grandma, it was owned by a ‘dirty hippie who hasn’t seen a haircut since 1979’ and she refused to step foot in there. Grandma also vented about the fact that the shop served tea but not coffee, as though coffee was a
requirement for book browsing.
A bell rang as I opened the door and the woman behind the counter offered a friendly smile. She was short and stout with cropped brown hair and perfectly square teeth. So much for a dirty hippie.
“Welcome. My name is Penelope. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
I scanned the interior. It had a homey feel, with garden furniture that functioned as seating and stacks of books that looked more like someone’s home library than a shop. I glanced at the floor and realized I was standing on an area rug with the design of a pentagram. The design was nearly lost amidst a riot of colors.
“Expecting any evil spirits?” I joked, and pointed to the rug.
Penelope followed my finger. “Oh, I just like the rug. I found it in the antique store here for my house, but it didn’t suit my living room so I brought it here instead.”
“It looks like it belongs,” I said.
“Thank you. Can I offer you any tea? I have a nettle tea with mint that’s sublime.”
“I’m good, thanks.” I approached the counter. “I’m doing an online university class and I need to do research on the weirdest topic.” I laughed awkwardly. “Transmorphication. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
The woman’s brow furrowed. “No, but it sounds interesting. What is it?”
“Changing one thing into another,” I said vaguely.
“Like water into ice?” she asked.
I hesitated. “Less science and more pseudoscience.”
“You’re taking a pseudoscience class? Awesome. Does it cover telepathy and astral projection?”
“Not quite. Can you tell me if you have any books on the subject?”
Penelope turned to her computer. “Let me take a look for you.” She typed on the keyboard and peered at the results. “Nothing under that term. Is there another one I should try?”
“Animal transformation.”
Penelope smiled. “Like werewolves?”
“Yes,” I said, without further explanation.
Penelope clicked the keys and squinted. “How about that? We have a few options. Well, sort of.”
I leaned over the counter, trying to see the screen. “What does that mean?”
“It means the book includes the topic but isn’t dedicated to it. Like maybe there’s a chapter on it or something. If it’s mentioned in the index or the Table of Contents, it’ll show up in the results.”
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