by Lucy True
Burgundy’s own heart plummeted at the judgment about Jenna’s sexual freedom. It wasn’t her place to defend her ex-girlfriend, but it also felt like a slight against Burgundy herself. Still, she bit her tongue and simply responded, “Did any one guy last longer than the others or come back to town?”
“No, never. Not that we weren’t thrilled when Sheila decided she was ready to procreate. We were ecstatic. It really didn’t matter who the father was, you know?”
Nibbling at her lower lip, Burgundy nodded and glared at the flower pens. Stupid flower pens. She wanted to stab one through the warlock, just for making such a mess of things. But instead she backed away from the counter and said, “Well, thanks for everything. I appreciate it, Mrs. Michaels.”
Burgundy left the town hall, her heart heavy. All of this was getting her nowhere. She was chasing elusive, perhaps useless information. And to what end? It wouldn’t stop the warlock. There was only one way to do that, she decided. One dangerous way.
As she opened her car door, she her cell buzzed in her coat pocket. She slipped her hand in and curled her fingers around the vibrating phone. A glance told her Jenna was calling, so she sat in the driver’s seat and answered. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“You first.” Jenna sounded out of breath and more than a little excited.
“I’ve got nada, zip, zilch out of town records, but thank you for asking. I take it you’ve got news, though.”
“I do. Meet me at your house.”
Burgundy frowned at herself in the rearview and fluffed her dark bangs across her forehead. It seemed like they were spending an awful lot of time together for a broken-up couple. She really wanted to go check on Charlotte, but Jenna was one of the few sane people remaining who took the situation seriously. That meant prioritizing their work over seeing how Charlotte was doing. “Why there?”
“Because it’s secure. Your aunt keeps wards on it, right?”
Oh yes, Aunt Iris kept her house well warded. If anyone tried to get in who didn’t belong, they were in for some nasty magickal surprises. Burgundy had lent her own energy to renewing those wards year after year, and was familiar with the layers of spells that kept her home safe and secure.
“The diner is too public and the library isn’t secure enough, even off hours. I want to talk to you somewhere private. Preferably a place even another witch can’t get into. Besides, Arthur might have some useful input.”
“That’s generous of you,” Burgundy said. “All he wants to do is be Puff the Critical Dragon. Unless he gets meat of some sort, don’t count on him to be useful.”
“Then,” Jenna said, “I will get him some damn meat. Tell me what he likes and meet me there. Lunch is on me.”
****
“TA DA!” JENNA TRILLED, sliding the take-out carton toward Arthur. Even from where she stood on the other side of the kitchen, Burgundy could smell the rich sauce coating the beef.
Sure enough, Arthur perked up and canted his head to one side inquisitively. “Beef broccoli?” he asked.
“Mmhmm. I’m told it’s your favorite.”
Burgundy covered her mouth with both hands to keep them from seeing her grin. If she burst out laughing, Arthur might question Jenna’s motives. It seemed, however, the firedrake was going to question them anyway. Because now he scrabbled back a few steps along the kitchen table and asked, “Why?”
“Why?” Jenna leaned down and reached out to scritch Arthur above his eyebrow ridge. In response, the tiny dragon’s eyes closed and he let out a sound similar to a purr. “Because you’re the best familiar in the world, that’s why.”
Arthur exhaled a misty cloud of smoke and then stretched out along the table, nudging up under Jenna’s hand. “Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll eat it. This time.”
After a few more strokes, Jenna left off petting Arthur, turned, and winked at Burgundy. “So,” she said as she opened a carton of rice, “dig in and get this – the Witches Council did have a break-in recently.”
“Please don’t tell me a bow and arrows were stolen.” Burgundy sat at the table after setting down two cans of soda, looked at her own carton of rice, and took a deep whiff. The green onions were piled on top, just the way she liked. It was hard not to give in to Jenna when she brought food. Then again, anyone who knew Burgundy well also knew the way to her heart was through her stomach. Charlotte had certainly picked up on that cue.
“Well, there’s no way of knowing for certain. They keep this stuff hush-hush, but my contact said it had to be a pretty big deal, because they’re sending Finders all over the world. Apparently there was one out my way, in the city.”
Finders were another group of people Burgundy had heard of, but she didn’t know much about them. Except that they struck fear in the hearts of even law-abiding witches. They were the Council’s enforcers, sent out into the world to find magickal offenders and bring them to justice.
Arthur let out a wheezing cough-laugh, pulled out of the beef broccoli, and shook his head. “Then they’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Yeah, why didn’t they investigate here?” Burgundy asked. How could help be so close and yet so far from them? “How long ago were they in the city?”
“About two days ago, so I’m afraid we missed the boat. But that’s a vital clue.” Jenna jabbed at the air with her fork for emphasis. A bit of rice flew off, hitting the floor, and Burgundy cringed.
“You are wasting good food in my house, Jenna. Now there’s a poor, lonely rice grain sitting on the floor. No one will ever love it. Ever.”
The blonde rolled her eyes. “Some things are more important than food and you know it. This is why you have to let me break the story wide open, because once I do, the Finder will come back, take care of your warlock, and fix all this trouble.”
“Ohhh nooo.” Arthur sat upright and regarded them both, eyes narrowed. “It’s not that simple. Trust me when I say neither of you want to tangle with a Finder. It might be the end of the warlock’s good time, but it could spell trouble for us, too.”
“Meaning?” Burgundy had never heard the firedrake sound so stern in his life.
The firedrake’s normally iridescent scales went pale gold, as if all the color had drained from them. “Finders don’t just locate the object and take it back. They eliminate the problem, which means memories wiped out and people disappearing, if that’s what it takes.”
This new insight into the Witches Council had Burgundy shuddering and she glanced at Jenna. “Is that true?”
“Not something my contact mentioned, but he didn’t sound too jazzed about having a Finder around, either. Apparently, they’re real ball-busters. Any wrongdoing that encompasses even innocent people is usually handled swiftly and aggressively, according to him.”
“They can’t make an entire town disappear, though,” Burgundy said. “Can they?”
The idea that someone, even a figure enforcing the law, could do such a thing sent ice surging through her veins. It didn’t seem fair that an exclusive group of people acted as judge, jury, and executioner for the rest of the magickal world.
“They’ll do what they must to keep their secrets,” was Arthur’s ominous response.
Burgundy looked at Jenna, whose brow furrowed pensively. There had to be a way to lure the Finder back, to get the warlock in his path, and put a stop to the madness. Then she realized, there was a way. All she had to do was find the right combination of time, place, and people...
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Let me get this straight.” Jenna gestured at the library, a frown marring her otherwise pretty features.
Even though Burgundy’s car was still warm, the blonde’s flailing hands added an unwelcome draft. November’s chill was doing its best to seep inside and Burgundy resisted to urge to bat at those hands as they wafted the rapidly-cooling air by her face.
“You think he’s going to waltz in there, shoot some arrows, and basically fall for something as amateur as this?”
“Why
wouldn’t he? He’s already been to the library at least twice,” Burgundy pointed out. “Perpetrators often return to the scene of the crime. They aren’t like lightning, you know.”
“A. Lightning can and does strike the same place twice. B. Where did you learn that – an episode of one of those cop drama shows on TV? Did the boys in blue teach you how to catch criminals with their witty banter and knowledge of forensics?”
Burgundy shuddered, more from the reference than the air. She hated any entertainment that involved gratuitous drama and violence, unless it was a horror movie she could mock. “You know me,” she told Jenna. “Set me up with a cheesy noir, B-movie, or chick flick, thanks. No sense in watching cop shows when I can see that stuff on the news. Anyway, it’s a proven fact or something. Perps like to gloat or try again, or, you know – whatever people who merit the term ‘perps’ do on their free time.”
Jenna closed her eyes for a moment and Burgundy bit back a laugh. Out of all the possibilities, this really was their best plan. Actually, it was their only plan, but she wasn’t about to admit that. What mattered was having the players in place and seeing if the star of the show would make an appearance.
“I can’t believe we’re going to do this to two innocent kids.” Jenna rubbed at her forehead. For once, she was sweating the details, not Burgundy.
“Well, remember Walter was already shot, but this temptation will be too good to ignore. Trust me.”
It was good to have at least some control over the situation. Or was it a set-up? They could call it whatever they wanted, Burgundy supposed. All that mattered was the opportunity offered to the warlock. Two young people, one spurning the other, and in a nice, private spot where he could take aim...
Until Burgundy sprung her trap. The moment the warlock made one move, he’d be toast. Well, not exactly toast, but they’d have him immobilized. After that, it would be up to Jenna to reach out to her contact and get a Finder out their way.
“Are you sure that’s going to work?” Now Jenna eyed Burgundy, less with reproach and more with skepticism, her eyebrow quirked up.
“Of course not.” In fact, Burgundy was pretty sure it wouldn’t. She had no confidence in her ability to time a throw just right. Even though she had the tool to bring down the warlock nestled in her pocket, that didn’t mean she’d be able to use it. “But we have to try. There are people getting sick out there and putting themselves in harm’s way because of these arrows. Someone needs to step up and I guess that someone is me.”
“Which makes no sense when Mayor Michaels could just slam this guy into the ground a few times using that celestial strength of his and be done with him.”
It was an enticing idea, but, unfortunately... “The warlock could escape at physical attempt at capture. I don’t know how, but they’re good at it.”
“Yeah, but you’re only a witch-in-training. You can’t even cast proper spells,” Jenna said.
“Right. Minimize what I am.” Burgundy reached for the door handle. It was true, but she was done beating herself up about it. Having Jenna rub it in was too much. “Look, I think the town has a fight fire with fire mentality, that’s all. I might as well try. That’s more than anyone else can do against a warlock.”
Even trying seemed, well, futile. Burgundy couldn’t out-spell a warlock any farther than she could throw him. Armed with one of her aunt’s sleep potions, she only felt a little better about her odds. Everything about their plan hinged on the warlock somehow knowing there were two “lovers” quarreling in the library auditorium, and shooting them to bring them together.
The part of the plan Burgundy doubted was her own ability to swoop in and save the day. However, she locked the car after Jenna got out and strode across the street to open the library. With Glen running the diner, she’d learned to live without coffee. He was too overwhelmed managing the wait staff to handle a simple to-go order. So she had thirty minutes to run through her usual opening tasks and set her trap, except she had to do all of it through bleary eyes and a lingering head fog.
It wasn’t enough time, but it would have to do. She also didn’t know how long Marian could keep up the charade she’d been assigned. Then again, maybe she was underestimating the younger woman. Marian did seem to enjoy at least a little drama, so maybe she’d be able to act out all day long. Whatever it took to get the job done.
When Marian arrived, she, Burgundy, and Jenna stood outside the auditorium. “Are you sure Walter is up for this?” Burgundy asked.
“Of course he is. He can’t resist my charms since he thinks he’s in love with me. He’s been following me like a puppy dog ever since he got shot.” Marian tossed her hair and gave them a confident smile. “I think Aunt Sylvia is much too nice, letting him stay with us so he doesn’t die from being in love with me. But whatever. It is kind of nice to have him do whatever I want.”
“Because taking advantage of someone who loves you is a great basis for a relationship.” Jenna’s voice dripped with sarcasm and she turned away, straightening her blazer and surveying the auditorium. “What makes you think the warlock will even try to get in here?”
There were no guarantees and Burgundy had to admit as much. “But,” she added, “he’s gotten in here before. Why he keeps coming here of all places, I don’t know. I figure if he wants to cause chaos, we let him. It might be the only way to move forward.”
Jenna tucked her lower lip under her teeth, but nodded. She spun on her heel and jogged upstairs. Left alone with Marian, Burgundy turned to her and tried to smile.
“Are you sure you’re willing to do this?” she asked.
“Absolutely. I’ll put on a real show, flip some tables. It’ll be glorious.”
The idea of willowy little Marian doing something like that was laughable, but Burgundy managed to bite back her response. “I’ll be listening. You both know the code phrase. If I hear it, I’ll run down and try to knock him out with the sleep potion. Ready?”
“Yes, but...” Marian reached out and caught her by the shoulder. “If I get shot and fall in love with Walter Falter of all people, will you do me a favor? Separate us and let me die, okay?”
It wasn’t the most encouraging statement, but Burgundy nodded and patted Marian’s grasping hand. “I’ll try not to let any of that happen. We open in five minutes, so good luck.”
She trotted up the creaky central staircase and glanced at the Grove Room. Jenna was at the round table in there, tapping away at her laptop. With all the time she was spending in Rock Grove, Burgundy knew she still had to find a way to work. She supposed that was the nice thing about being a journalist – that ability to go anywhere, anytime, to chase a story.
That kind of freedom and excitement in a job must have been nice, and Burgundy envied her a little. Sure, she loved Rock Grove and the peaceful library. Sometimes, though, she wished things were different.
The moment she unlocked the front door, Walter Falter came inside and stood looking at her. Sylvia followed and waited behind him.
“Well, hello Walter,” Burgundy said. “Are you ready?”
He nodded wordlessly. Walter wasn’t much for speaking, before or after the love arrow’s effects. The town’s computer repairman was tall and lanky, his dark hair falling across his forehead, almost into his eyes. Without any other response, he turned and walked down the main staircase. Sylvia merely reached out to give Burgundy’s arm an encouraging squeeze before following Walter to the stairs.
As she returned to the circulation desk, Burgundy thought it would be poetic justice if Marian fell in love with Walter, too. He was a nice guy and Marian needed to outgrow her high school mentality of being a “cool kid,” anyway.
That was what made them the perfect non-couple for the warlock to target. There was deep animosity there and it seemed that was what the warlock was going for in his strange little shooting spree. Every couple was all wrong. So wrong, it hurt to look at them in public.
Whatever the warlock’s motive, it seemed he was inte
nt on eliminating everything in his path. But what were the townsfolk standing in the way of?
The more she thought about it, the more off it seemed. If he was such a powerful warlock, he could just come in, take what he wanted, and leave. No. It seemed like he wanted attention. But from whom?
Burgundy pushed away from the circulation desk, thankful no patrons had come in after Walter and Sylvia, and strode toward the Grove Room. She was walking so fast, arms swinging and legs eating up the distance, that she didn’t see Jenna come out of the room.
They collided, knocking each other back to the carpeted floor. “Ow,” Jenna complained, rubbing at her hips. “Watch it, will you? This ass is made for spin class, not taking hits.”
“You need some more padding, baby,” Burgundy told her, rolling to her knees to rub her own sharply aching backside. Jenna kept moaning, until Burgundy snapped, “Okay, stop whining and get up. I have to talk to you.”
The blonde pushed herself to her feet and looked over her shoulder. She gave her butt a wiggle as if to confirm it still worked. Burgundy had to admit it looked good in the blue jeans Jenna wore. But she pulled herself back to the present and took her ex-girlfriend by the shoulders.
“The warlock isn’t after someone or something in particular,” she hissed.
“What? You mean he’s not out to cause chaos, madness, and broken butts?” Jenna kept rubbing hers and giving Burgundy a puppy-dog gaze.
“Stop trying to appeal to my sense of kindness. I’m not rubbing your ass. And no, everything he’s doing has looked totally and completely pointless, like all he wants to do cause trouble. But what if he wants to be found by the Witches Council?”
Jenna finally dropped her hands from her backside and shook her head at Burgundy. “That’s ridiculous. No one wants to get found by the Council, from what my contact told me. They aren’t to be messed with, Burg. Seriously.”
