Magic & Maladies

by Annabel Chase

  She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands on her hips, examining the herb garden. “Your daughter certainly has a knack.”

  “That’s why I keep my distance,” I said. “Whatever the opposite of knack is, that’s what I have.”

  “Right, so I see wormwood and elderberries,” Hazel said. “We can use those. You’ll want some licorice root, too.”

  I contemplated the tidy garden. “Do I dig them up or what?”

  “You can use a spell. Might be safer than letting you loose with gardening tools. I’ll hold the bowl so you can cast.”

  I handed her the bowl, then brandished my wand and aimed it at the wormwood. “How will this mixture help me with Craig?”

  “We can cast a spell with it. Just a pinch of this in his drink and he’ll speak nothing but the truth for at least an hour.”

  That sounded promising.

  Wormwood separated from the rest of the plant and drifted into the bowl. I shifted my focus to the elderberries and aimed my wand.

  “These can be tricky because of the berries,” Hazel warned.

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the elderberries exploded, bits flying in all directions. Even worse, the roots tore from the ground and scattered as well.

  “Uh oh,” I said. There’d be no hiding this mess from Marley unless I acted quickly.

  Hazel bit her lip. “Well, that wasn’t what we intended, is it?”

  “Marley has music lessons, so I should have time to fix it before she gets home.”

  Hazel placed the bowl on the ground and dusted herself off. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  My head swiveled toward her. “What? You’re leaving?”

  “I don’t want to get caught in a mother-daughter squabble. Brings up too many uncomfortable memories.”

  “You had a mother? And here I thought you were raised by the circus.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes at me. “Next lesson we do runes.”

  “Next week?”

  “No, we’ll be tacking another lesson on this week. There’s no mess when we’re dealing with symbols.”

  “That’s not what you usually say about my handwriting.”

  Hazel took another look at the mess before turning to leave.

  “What about the spell?” I called.

  “Craig can wait,” she replied. “It’s not as though he’s going anywhere.”

  No, I thought glumly. He certainly wasn’t.

  “Mom, what are you doing to my garden?”

  I froze on my knees where I’d been frantically trying to salvage the elderberries. Slowly, I turned to see Marley at the edge of the yard. “You’re home early, sweetheart.”

  “My music lesson was cancelled, so Bonkers and I walked home.” She marched over to gauge the situation. “Why is there a section missing?”

  “Well, it’s a funny story…”

  “Is it?”

  My gaze dropped. “No, not really. I was trying to experiment with elderberries and I accidentally destroyed the batch.”

  “How do you accidentally destroy elderberries?” she demanded. “And why were you experimenting at all?”

  “Hazel offered to help me with herbology so that I could be a better caretaker of your garden,” I said. A partial truth. “I know how important it is to you and you’re obviously a natural. I just want to be more of a help than a hindrance.”

  Marley’s expression softened. “You’re trying to learn herbology for me?”

  “Of course. You know I’d do anything for you.”

  She rushed forward and threw her arms around my neck. “You’re the best mom in the whole multiverse.”

  I planted a kiss on her cheek. “Are you watching Marvel movies again?”

  “No, I’m reading a book at school by a wizard called Thalan who believed in a multiverse. I’m pretty sure that’s where humans got the idea.”

  I smiled. “Look at you, talking about humans as though you’re not one.”

  “Only half, remember?” She pulled out her wand. “Here, let me help you dig that hole. We’ll make it a little deeper this time. I think I went too shallow with the last batch anyway. Maybe that’s why the roots came up so easily.”

  I moved back to let her work. “Don’t grip it too tightly. Remember what your teacher said.” I didn’t recall exactly, but it was something akin to Marley maintaining a death grip on her wand and needing to loosen up. A lesson for life, really.

  “We should do the shovel instead of the spade because we want to go deeper this time,” Marley said.

  “You’re the garden boss.”

  She aimed her wand at the shovel and said, “Excavo.”

  The tool lifted into the air and moved to strike the earth. The moment it made contact with the ground, it bounced off and landed on its side.

  “That’s okay, Marley. Try again.”

  She squared her shoulders and exhaled before raising her wand at the shovel. “Excavo.”

  The spell resulted in the same result. “Here,” I said. “Let me try.” Part of me hoped to fail so that Marley didn’t suffer another blow to her confidence. We’d already endured that not too long ago and she was finally getting back on track.

  I focused my will and aimed my wand. “Excavo.” The shovel bounced off again and landed in the garden with a thud.

  “This didn’t happen when you planted the herbs the first time,” I said.

  “No, but I didn’t try to go as deep. Maybe there’s more rock under the top layer than I realized.”

  “I don’t think that’s due to rocks,” I said. “It seems more like some kind of protective barrier.”

  Or a shallow grave, Raoul interjected. Maybe they moved the headstone but they didn’t move the body.

  I whipped around. “Sneaking up on us and throwing in a nightmare scenario?” I said. “Thanks for that.” One viewing of Poltergeist as a child was enough for me.

  “Should we try the old-fashioned way?” Marley asked. She reached down and picked up the shovel.

  “Good idea. Maybe the barrier is only for magic rather than plain digging.” I grabbed the spade and we started to dig.

  Two pizzas says it’s a casket, Raoul said.

  So if it’s not a casket, you owe me two pizzas? I asked.

  No. Either way, you owe me two pizzas.

  I rolled my eyes and kept digging. The tip of my spade hit something hard. “Marley, there’s definitely something here and I don’t think it’s a rock.”

  Raoul peered over my shoulder excitedly. Come on, lucky corpse.

  I heaved away more dirt until I could reach the object. “I think it’s a book.” The brown cover was worn and faded. I used the spade as leverage to pry the book from its hiding place. Dirt flew in all directions and I coughed.

  “Who would bury a book?” Marley asked. “That’s so disrespectful.”

  “Yes,” I said with the hint of a smile. “Much worse than dog-earing a page.”

  “Only monsters do that,” Marley shot back.

  I wiped away the remaining granules of dirt and set the book on the ground in front of us. “It looks like there used to be words on the cover, but they’re too faded to read.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t open it,” Marley said. I heard the anxiety creeping into her voice.

  “Why not?” I asked. “Are you afraid something’s going to jump out? It’s a book, not a box.” I turned to give Raoul a pointed look. “Hear that? Not a box.”

  “What if the book was buried there so that no one could open it?” Marley asked. “What if there’s a demon trapped inside or something and we set it free?”

  I stared at her. “I told you that you weren’t ready to watch Buffy.”

  Marley exchanged guilty looks with Raoul. “I may have mentioned it to Florian and he liked the idea of a cheerleader turned vampire slayer.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said. I’d have to give Florian a tongue-lashing later. Right now I had a mystery book to deal with. “Why don
’t you go inside the cottage and lock the door?”

  Marley balked. “And leave you out here with the book? Do you have a death wish?”

  Sometimes I think she does, Raoul said.

  “Listen, you watch from the window,” I said. “If something goes south, you can call Aunt Hyacinth or Alec.” I offered an encouraging smile. “Honestly, sweetheart. I think it’ll be fine. It just looks like an old book that somebody wanted to keep safe.”

  Marley’s gaze darted to the book and back to me. “Okay. I do want to know what’s in there. Maybe there’ll be cool recipes. Or a diary.”

  Or preserved food, Raoul added.

  I narrowed my eyes at the raccoon. “You go with Marley.”

  Why can’t Bonkers do it? She’s the familiar.

  Because Bonkers is adorable. I need you.

  Raoul kicked a pebble before turning toward the cottage. Marley fell into step beside him. I waited until they were safely installed in the cottage before placing my hands on the book. I wasn’t sure whether it was my imagination, but I definitely felt energy emanating from the book. I couldn’t tell much beyond that.

  I sat for a moment with the book in my lap. The handwriting on the cover was long and full of loops, but there was no mistaking the words ‘Book of Shadows’ and ‘Ivy Rose.’

  Sweet mother of baby Elvis’s pearl!

  “I think the summoning spell might have worked after all,” I whispered. I hugged the book and ran into the house with it to show the others. “You’re never going to believe this.”

  You found pizza crust that didn’t get moldy? Old news. Raoul swatted his paw.

  “No.” I slapped the book onto the table. “This is Ivy’s Book of Shadows. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  Marley bounced over to investigate. “You think the summoning spell directed you to find it?”

  “I think there’s a connection. Maybe Ivy’s spirt couldn’t speak to us directly, but her Book of Shadows might have something to say instead.” I tried to open to the first page, but the cover refused to budge.

  “What’s wrong?” Marley asked.

  “It’s warded shut,” I said.

  Marley tried to pry it open, too, but without success. “I guess it makes sense. If it’s personal, she must’ve warded the way I used to put a lock on my diary.”

  “You never used a lock,” I said. “Not that I would know,” I added quickly.

  Marley ran a hand across the cover. “I can’t believe it. Her Book of Shadows right in my herb garden.”

  “Let’s keep this between us for now,” I said. “I’d like to be able to open it before Aunt Hyacinth demands a look at it.” Depending on what was inside, maybe we’d never get it back.

  “How will you open it?” Marley asked. “She was one of the most powerful witches in our family history. It will take a lot of skill to break one of her spells.”

  Marley was right. I hadn’t even managed to clean the negative energy from her wand yet and Ivy Rose continued to grow more complex by the day. Clearly, Ivy—or someone else—had intended to keep her secrets literally buried. Although I wasn’t the powerful witch that Ivy had been, I had another skill in my wheelhouse that they couldn’t have anticipated—stubbornness.

  After all these years, Ivy Rose’s magic was about to meet its match.

  Chapter Nine

  “So what exactly do we do on a girls’ night?” Aster asked. We sat in the formal living room of Palmetto House, the inn owned by my cousin Linnea.

  “You’ve never done a girls’ night?” I asked. Not that I was one to talk. I could count the number of friends I had in Maple Shade, New Jersey on one hand.

  Aster sat on the sofa with her ankles crossed and her hands clasped neatly in her lap. “I suppose there are women at all of the galas and cocktail parties that I attend with Sterling.”

  I shook my head adamantly. “No, no. That is not a girls’ night out. The fact that there are women present does not make it one.”

  Aster gave us a helpless look. “So what are we meant to do? Shall I change into my pajamas?”

  “Yes, and right after that we’ll braid each other's hair,” I said.

  “My hair is very fine,” Aster said, running a hand through the white-blond tendrils.

  I chucked one of the decorative pillows at her head. “We’re not actually doing that. That’s like the guy fantasy of what we do.”

  Aster sighed with relief. “Thank the gods. The thought of either one of you touching my hair was enough to send me for mother's smelling salts.”

  “How about a drink?” Linnea asked. “I can whip up margaritas.”

  “What's a margarita?” Aster asked.

  “Oh, Ember introduced me to them a few weeks ago,” Linnea said. “The mixture of salty and sweet is much more appealing than I would have guessed.”

  Aster seemed hesitant. “I don’t know. I have to leave first thing in the morning to relieve Sterling.”

  “Hey, I’m impressed that he’s stepping up tonight. Major props him.”

  Aster relaxed slightly. “Yes, I was quite pleased that he agreed to it. He even canceled a meeting in order to be home with the boys. When I mentioned it to Sterling’s mother, she said how wonderful it was that he was babysitting so that I could go out and socialize.”

  Linnea sucked in a breath. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Isn’t that absurd?” Aster asked. “Sterling is their father. He doesn’t get paid an hourly wage in order to care for his own sons.”

  “It’s generational,” Linnea said. “Although, to be fair, Wyatt’s mother would never say such a thing. She was the best reason to marry into the Nash family.”

  “Speaking of the devil,” I said, “where did he take Bryn and Hudson tonight?”

  “No idea,” Linnea said. Aster and I followed her into the kitchen while she set to work making the margaritas. “The unrealistic part of me hopes that they’re sitting at a table playing a wholesome game of dominoes tonight, but I know better.”

  “You think they’re playing something that they shouldn’t?” I could see Hudson possibly indulging, but Bryn was far too sensible.

  “No, I’m afraid that Wyatt is leaving them on their devices while he does whatever he pleases,” Linnea said. “You know, the usual. As much as I want them to spend quality time with their father, it never seems to actually result in quality.”

  “Well, I left Sterling a list of instructions and a timetable,” Aster said. “He’s meant to check off each item as he completes it.”

  “Are you testing him?” I asked. “Like you said, he’s their father. Maybe you should leave the evening up to him.”

  Aster laughed. “Sterling wouldn’t know what to do with the boys.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “He was one himself once upon a time. Do you think he’s forgotten what it was like?”

  Aster tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the counter. “I suppose you have a point. Even so, I think I’ll just make a quick call to check on them.” She reached for her phone, but Linnea grabbed her by the wrist to stop her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Linnea said. “You have to show him that you trust him. You don’t want to undermine his confidence by constantly checking on him.”

  Aster slipped her phone back into her pocket. “That makes sense. All right, I’ll do my best to focus on girls’ night and leave Sterling to boys’ night.”

  “Need any help with those margaritas?” I asked.

  Linnea twirled her wand in the air. “I have all the help I need right here, thanks.”

  Half an hour later, we lounged on the back patio in our pajamas with a fraction of a pitcher left. Aster was the easiest to get drunk because she rarely indulged in more than one glass of wine or cocktail in a week. She also had the body of a supermodel and those slender frames were great for catwalks, but not so great for holding liquor.

  “How is Marley getting along at the Black Cloak Academy?” Aster asked. “Has she settled in
?”

  “Seems to be, thanks. She’s always coming home with stories about this one’s spell and that one’s new cauldron.” She also seemed to be making friends, which made my heart soar. Nothing made me happier than seeing my child happy.

  “That’s great,” Linnea said. “If any child belongs in an academic setting, it’s Marley. She and Bryn are similar in that way.”

  “Why don’t you two flash your magic more often?” I asked.

  “Flash our magic?” Aster echoed. “What does that even mean?”

  “You’re both so powerful, but you don’t use it often,” I said. “When I first met you, you were like some kind of superhero-supermodel hybrids bursting into my apartment to rescue us.”

  “I’m sure it seemed that way,” Linnea said. “You’d never encountered magic before.”

  “Plus it was a dangerous situation,” Aster added. “Lives were at stake. We had to act quickly.”

  “You have to remember that Mother was stunned when you were detected,” Linnea said. “There was no time to assess. It was all systems go.”

  “I want the twins to be as capable without magic as with,” Aster said. “That means leading by example.”

  “Is this your form of rebellion?” I asked. “Your mother is so hung up on legacies and power, maybe the two of you subconsciously turned away from magic as a result?”

  Aster and Linnea stared into their glasses.

  “I really like this drink,” Aster said. “It doesn’t even taste like alcohol.”

  “That’s what makes it dangerous,” I said. I didn’t force the issue of their rebellion. This was meant to be a fun night with my cousins, not a therapy session.

  Two and a half margaritas down the hatch and I was debating whether to confide in them about my research on Ivy. Apparently, my locked vault combination involved the word alcohol. It occurred to me that their mother might have told stories about Ivy over the years. After all, Ivy had been a High Priestess. Hyacinth would have shouted that one from the rooftops. It would be easy enough to make the inquiry seem nonchalant, especially when Marley was now the proud owner of both the wand and the grimoire. I took a deep breath and decided to test the waters.