by Amy Boyles
The man pointed to the animals. “I’m passing through and thought I’d stop in. Never been in a familiar shop before, and certainly never in one as famous as this.”
I grinned. “I don’t know if this store is famous, but we do our best to match familiars with witches and wizards. Do you have one?”
“A familiar? Me? Nah,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his neck. “I’m the sort of wizard who works alone.”
I eased my shoulder against a wall. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“Thank you.” He pointed outside. “Lots of folks milling about out there.”
I glanced out the window and noticed the man’s car. It had to be his car because it was sporty, silver and very foreign. So foreign I had no idea who the maker was. Past the flashy vehicle I noticed Sheriff Garrick Young directing other police officers.
The stranger scratched his chin. “There something special going on?”
I frowned. “Not that I know of.”
But from the way Garrick was pointing, it looked like something very special was going on. But right now it didn’t concern me. What did was Donovan.
I smiled. “I’ll be in back if you need help with anything.”
He nodded.
I returned to the office, where, to be honest, I half expected Donovan to have disappeared. Don’t ask me why I had such an irrational thought. I think it was because he’d appeared from the grave and part of me believed that he wouldn’t stick around forever.
But lo and behold, he sat exactly where I’d left him. The bell tinkled again, signaling that the stranger had left.
A wave of relief filled me. Not because the customer was gone, but because Donovan was here. Here. He wasn’t really dead.
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Really?” he said.
I clicked my tongue. “Yep. Once this is all cleared up, I’m sure the town will want to throw a party in your honor.”
He rubbed his forehead. “No, no. I don’t need attention like that. At least, not until this whole thing with Johnny is figured out.”
A flutter of panic flitted in my chest. “But how will you prove your innocence? That you didn’t know the truth about the vampire bat?”
He scratched his head. “I need to meet with the Sensational Singers, get them to admit that what they sold me was tainted goods. A vampire cursed to be a bat shouldn’t be able to bite a human. Something was wrong with the spell placed on the creature.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“They’re supposed to be on their way here, to Magnolia Cove.”
My eyes flared with surprise. “They are?”
“Yeah, they are. They can’t get in since they’re not technically witches. I think they’re some sort of relations to fairies. They promised to meet me outside of town when they arrived.”
“Do they know what you want?”
He grimaced. “Not exactly. If they knew I needed them to talk to a member of the werewolf mafia, it wouldn’t go over well.”
I crossed and sat back at the desk. “Why? Because they’re afraid of them?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
The thought of facing off against the werewolf mafia made vomit creep up the back of my throat, so that would be a yes. “Most definitely. Okay, then. What’s the plan? I know you’re here, but I’m the only person who does.”
“And that’s the way we need to keep things,” Donovan said. “The fewer people who know about me, the better, because if word gets out to Johnny before I have a confession from the Sensational Singers, I’m dead meat.”
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one finds out about you.”
A snap, crackle and pop sounded from the front of the store. I rose, uncertain what I had heard.
A short, squat body that was mostly boobs filled the hallway. Betty Craple, my grandmother and Donovan’s sister, entered.
She pulled a corncob pipe from her mouth and sized up Donovan. “It’s too late. The whole town already knows you’re here. And as far as I can tell, they’re on their way to greet you.”
THREE
My jaw fell. “How does the entire town already know about Donovan?”
Betty strode in wearing a bright orange jumpsuit with racing stripes zipping down the sides. Even though I was tempted to comment on how glaring the color was, under the circumstances I kept my mouth shut.
Betty shot a line of fire from her finger into the pipe. Smoke immediately filled the room.
“There’s no smoking in here,” I said.
Donovan waved me away. “I told her for years. She never listened.”
Betty pulled the pipe from her mouth and glared at him. “You son of a gun. Faking your own death. I knew there was something smelly about the whole thing, and it wasn’t that decaying-scent spell you cast on yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Betty.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
“How did you know he was here?” I repeated.
“Some sort of magic spell,” Betty said. “Soon as your feet touched the store, I had the strangest sensation that you were back, Donovan.”
Donovan rubbed his tired-looking face. “A spell. Johnny had a spell cast on the town.”
“What kind of spell?” I said.
He rubbed his face. “A spell that would alert him if I ever entered Magnolia Cove again. He must’ve gotten a hair off me at some point to have a wizard or witch work such magic.”
Betty snorted. “Not a very good spellcaster since it let the entire town know that you’re back. It’s one thing to cast magic that will alert one person, quite another to announce it to an entire town.”
“Yeah,” Donovan said, “that’s a problem.”
My brain raced into damage-control mode. “Okay. What can we do? Can we hide you? Tell people it was a mistake? Putting you out in the open exposes you. If Johnny Utah wants to hurt you, you’ll become an easy target.”
Betty exhaled a plume of smoke. “What’s this? Who’s Johnny Utah?”
Donovan rubbed his face. “Let me explain.”
I shook my head. “No time. Let me sum up—Johnny Utah is werewolf mafia hell-bent on either killing Donovan or making him kill a vampire bat that was supposed to stay a vampire bat but apparently sucked on some chick named Princess and may or may not have turned her into a Princess Vampire Werewolf.”
I inhaled a deep gulp of air. “Got it?”
Betty nodded. “Got it.” She turned to Donovan. “In that case, let’s see if we can sneak you out the back door. I won’t work magic on you. That may send another signal to Johnny.”
“How?” I said.
“Because it may bounce off Donovan and register like a satellite ping to the witch who’s tracking him.”
Realization hit me. “So it’ll make Donovan easier to find.”
“Right,” she said, taking Donovan’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I reached the hall right as the back and front doors slammed open. A wave of folks streamed in.
Betty froze. Her body went all popsicle and became stiffer than a wooden board.
“Donovan,” someone called out.
“We heard you’re here,” said someone else.
“We can’t believe it,” came another voice.
Betty shot my uncle a look filled with fear. “Quick,” she whispered, “hide.”
But it wasn’t done quickly enough. Suddenly, what appeared to be the entire town flooded into the cramped office. Folks I’d never seen before spilled into the room, all hugging and kissing Donovan.
I sank a shoulder onto the wall. “Well,” I said to Betty, “looks like the cat’s out of the bag, just like you said it was.”
Eventually we were able to get the throng of folks away from Donovan, but not before the rest of town discovered that my uncle had come back from the grave.
I sat on the porch swing at Betty’s house, taking a minute to enjoy si
mply being alone. After having a gazillion people swarm me in my own store, I had felt overwhelmed. My nerves were fried, to say the least.
A car squealed to a stop in front of the house. I glanced up to see the cherry red Mustang come to rubber-burning stop.
The engine died, the door flew open and Axel Reign filled my line of sight.
His blue eyes speared my heart to my spine. I inhaled a sharp breath and watched as he strode toward the house.
Every step he took oozed animal sexuality in a way that electrified the air and caused every hair on my body to whip to attention.
“Hey,” he said in a husky voice.
“Hey yourself.”
He studied me as if trying to read my mind. I wasn’t sure if he could or not but I sure as heck couldn’t read his. The very air around him seemed to solidify and contract with a primal energy that made me salivate.
“I hear Donovan’s back,” he said.
“You want to see him?” It was more a challenge than anything else. Did he want to spend time with me or see my supposed-to-be-deceased uncle?
“I like laying eyes on you,” he said.
“Then lay on.”
He paused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, you can look, for goodness sake. Are you here to see me or Donovan?”
His mouth quirked into a smile so delicious I wanted to lick it. “How about both?”
“You can do that.”
“How about I kiss you first.”
Heat flushed my face. “Betty’s inside.”
My grandmother had a nasty habit of jeering me about kissing Axel. I think she was getting in rib-jabbing time that she’d missed out on since we’d only recently met.
Axel leaned over and placed each hand on an opposite side of the swing, blocking my escape. “I’m glad she’s here. She can watch.”
And then he kissed me so sweetly my toes curled and I’m pretty sure my hair frizzed.
A few minutes later we were rocking side by side on the swing.
“I can’t even explain it,” I said. “If one person knew, then a thousand people did. It was like fleas multiplying. I’ve never seen anything like it. And what’s even stranger, is that I want to tell people that he’s here—I feel a weird compulsion to do that.”
“It’s the spell,” Axel explained.
He had his good arm wrapped over my shoulder. When I say good arm, that’s because only two weeks ago Axel had been shot in the shoulder with a silver bullet—a bullet that, if it had pierced his heart, would’ve killed him.
Yes, I realize a bullet to the heart would kill anyone, but Axel isn’t just anyone. He’s a werewolf. As it was, the silver in the bullet helped shift him back to his human form.
And was I ever glad for that.
Anyway, we sat on the front porch as the sun burned down the horizon. I wedged myself into the cup of his arm. He pulled me close as he brushed hair from my forehead.
“I take it you didn’t know anything about Donovan faking his own death,” I said.
“The last thing I knew was that we were burying him,” Axel said with a growl in his voice.
“You’re ticked.”
He ran his fingers through my hair. “Your hair is so silky.”
“Like in a commercial?”
“Better.”
I twisted to look at him. “Is that possible?”
“There are many soft things in life. Butter is one. Fried butter is a crunchy alternative. Have you ever eaten fried butter?”
My eyes flared. “I was just thinking about it today. Can you read my mind?”
He smiled. The corners of his blue eyes crinkled so deliciously. The dimple in his cheek popped, and my heart melted just like said butter. “Great minds think alike. What do you say we blow this joint, head on out to the Texas State Fair and have some deep-fried everything?”
I laughed and nestled back into him. “I think that would be deadly to my waistline.”
“Sweetheart, your waistline is perfect.”
Butterflies did jumping jacks in my belly. I glanced up at him. Axel studied me carefully. I noted the straight nose, the bow of his full lips and the line of his jaw. As the tension built between us, thick like a humid Alabama day, my gaze darted away.
I felt so much for him that sometimes the heaviness of it intimidated me, made my heart flutter and my head swim. I didn’t quite know what to think about it, and yes, sometimes running away was easier.
I didn’t say it was the best choice, no, but Axel was patient and I wasn’t going anywhere. I mean, I wasn’t leaving Magnolia Cove. I might go inside to Betty’s, but I wasn’t about to desert him.
I was thinking too much.
“But anyway, have you been down Bubbling Cauldron Road?” I said.
Axel nodded stiffly. He raked dark hair from his eyes. “They’re setting up for a party.”
“A party?”
“For Donovan,” he said.
Realization hit me. “That’s part of the spell that was put on him, I’m guessing?”
Axel quirked a brow. “Has to be. I don’t know where this Johnny Utah got the wizard or witch to work such elaborate magic, but whatever’s going on, it’s no secret to the town that Donovan’s alive.”
“But I saw Garrick and a bunch of police working earlier, right when Donovan returned. Before the entire population of Magnolia Cove stormed the store.”
It didn’t make sense that the police were setting up for Donovan’s party. What had they been doing?
Just then Garrick Young made long strides down the sidewalk. He took the porch steps two at a time and stopped right in front of us.
He removed his wide-brimmed fedora and fingered the edge. “I got a strange phone call today.”
“I’m sure you did,” Axel said. “That’s bound to happen when folks rise from the dead.”
“About that,” he said. “Donovan Craple is alive and well? Not buried up on the hill at Witch’s End Cemetery?”
“Apparently not,” Axel said.
“Is that some sort of crime? Faking your own death?” I said.
Garrick shook his head. “At this point I don’t know.”
“He didn’t collect insurance money,” I said. “At least I don’t think so.”
Garrick shifted his weight. He was tall-six foot five with a lean frame. He was strong, you could tell, but I wasn’t interested. Garrick and my cousin Cordelia were kind of a thing, plus Axel kinda got me in a super cool sort of way.
Garrick cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got an entire town creating a party without filing for one permit. This party is going to be the size of a festival, and there’s a dead guy who’s not dead anymore holed up in your house.”
I flicked my flip-flop from my foot, letting it drop to the wooden floor. “I don’t think he’s up for a party.”
Garrick’s face fell. He pointed toward downtown. “Y’all can go tell all the folks hanging banners that. They’re creating a festival for a guest of honor, and if Donovan doesn’t show, I think that’s going to be one ticked-off mob.”
I tried to smile hopefully but I didn’t want to give Garrick any encouragement regarding Donovan attending, because he wouldn’t. He’d already said as much.
Axel took my hand and guided me off the swing. “Come on. Let’s figure this out, Garrick.”
We went inside. Donovan sat in the living room talking to Betty and my cousins Amelia and Cordelia.
“No, they call them giants, but they’re really not as big as you’d think,” Donovan said.
“Really?” Amelia said. “I thought Yeti were huge.”
Donovan cocked his head left and right. “I mean, maybe if you’re short, they’re tall, but under normal circumstances they’re not that big.”
Garrick cleared his throat. Donovan’s gaze swiveled to the officer and immediately landed on the silver star pinned to his left breast.
“You must be the new sheriff,” Donovan said, standing. “How’re y
ou doing?”
Garrick shook and let his hand drop. “Not too well. I’ve got an entire town planning a welcome party for you, and rumors are circulating that you’re not going.”
“Oh that,” Donovan said. “I just don’t think it’s right for me to go.”
Garrick balked. “Right or wrong, the energy in this town is off the charts right now.”
“It’s the spell,” Betty said.
“What spell?” Garrick said.
Donovan ran a hand down his chest. “Someone placed a tracking spell on me so that they’d know if I returned to Magnolia Cove. I think it’s having some sort of weird effect. Now everyone in town knows I’m here.”
“But it’s also made them hyperexcited,” Axel said. “They all want to see you.”
“Darn right it’s made them hyperexcited,” Garrick said. “I’ve seen witches swinging from light poles this afternoon, shouting that Donovan’s back and they’re so happy.”
Donovan’s eyebrow shot up. “Really? That’s weird. I just wouldn’t think the spell would have that sort of effect on people.”
“Go downtown,” Garrick said. “You’ll see.”
Donovan shook his head. “I’d better not.” He crossed to the dining table and poured himself a sweet tea. Ice clinked as he filled a glass to the brim and pulled a long sip.
Garrick stepped forward. The wood floors creaked under his weight. There was power and intimidation in the way he moved. I’d never seen Garrick like that. I’d seen him angry. I’d even seen him ticked. But I’d never seen him like this. I felt he was close to bursting with frustration.
“You don’t seem to understand,” Garrick said. “You have to go to the festival, at least to show your face. Those people out there, they’re a powder keg. I don’t know what on God’s green earth has gotten into them, but if you don’t show your face, they will rip Magnolia Cove apart.”
“Prove it,” I said. I didn’t know what made me say it, and right after I challenged him, I brought my fingers to my mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“Let’s see if that’s true,” Betty said.
She clapped her hands. An image of Bubbling Cauldron Road appeared on the far wall of the room. On one end of the street was a park where a couple of months ago the Cotton and Cobwebs Festival had been held. Now there were streamers everywhere, pictures of Donovan plastered to light poles and people chanting.
