by Nova Nelson
“You can buy multiple things at once… if you’re willing to pay for it.” She swatted gently at the angry spirit, who was now trying to strangle Ruby but doing little more than giving her a slight frog in her throat.
Ruby mumbled from the corner of her mouth, addressing the spirit, “You should know your anger is not unique. Every ghost like you I’ve ever met was nothing but a pain in the neck.”
Thankfully, though, this one would be easy enough to manage as soon as she got the right ingredients from the next stop on her errands…
Chapter Two
The bell above the door chimed airily as Ruby and Clifford entered the dim space of Pixie Mixie Apothecary.
Kayleigh Lytefoot, one of the two pixies that ran the place, was helping a customer behind the front desk, but smiled and nodded at Ruby as she entered. “Be with you in a second.”
“No need. I know my way around.”
She usually confined herself to the main section where the herbs and teas were kept, and she would be visiting it before she left. But at the moment, she had more pressing matters wrapping their chilly fingers around her throat.
She made straight for the necromancy section to grab what she needed for a proper anchoring spell. She’d just run out of a few crucial ingredients the day before. She remembered the days when being out of butter or milk were what spurred her to finally go grocery shopping. Now it was any of the necessary ingredients she needed to pin a spirit to a single location so she could move about freely without the attachment.
Because the necromancy section was rarely frequented by patrons—and had contained little more than a few small jars beyond their expiration date before she’d come to town—it was situated in the far back corner of the apothecary. She weaved between two heavy wooden rows of shelves upon which glass bottles and small coffers filled the space and below which sat large barrels of bulk ingredients. Running through her shopping list in her head so as not to forget anything, she turned the corner and nearly ran straight into something, or rather someone, massive and rather solid. “Oh! Pardon me!”
She looked up and found herself staring into the stern face of a man—or, to be more precise, a werebear—whom she knew only casually. Despite it hardly being spring, his chocolate colored hair already had sun streaks of copper running through it, and his face, all clean corners and lines, looked like it might have been chiseled by one of the Italian masters.
Her mind jumped back to a steamy scene from The Were and the Maiden and she swallowed hard, trying to push the lurid images from her mind.
His stoic expression cracked and he grinned down at her through ocean-blue eyes. “Ruby True.” His voice was deep and rich, and it washed over her.
“Zax Banderfield, if I’m not mistaken.” She took a step back to allow herself a little space to breathe.
“I see my reputation precedes me.”
“Of course it does,” she said. “Everyone knows you sit on the High Council. And people talk.”
There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Are you intimidated, then?”
“As someone whose reputation also clearly precedes her, I could ask you the same.”
“Me? Intimidated by you?” He leaned back and looked down at her small form, arching an eyebrow as he did.
“Oh please,” she said, “size doesn’t matter.”
He grinned. “Sometimes it does.”
Clifford stepped forward and growled, and Zax appeared taken aback. “Case in point,” he said, motioning at the massive hellhound. “But to answer your question truthfully, yes, I’m a little intimidated.”
“As you should be,” she snipped. “No man, regardless of stature, is immune from a fear of death.”
“Too true. But some learn to embrace it.” He bowed his head politely. “Nice to officially meet you, Ruby. I hope we run into each other again soon.” He paused. “But, you know, not in the course of your professional pursuits.”
As another sultry scene from The Were and the Maiden spun its way through her mind, she refrained from commenting about mixing business with pleasure and instead said, “And nice to meet you as well.”
He didn’t depart right away, though. Instead, he added, “If you ever have occasion to visit Fluke Mountain, send me an owl ahead of time. I have connections at Treetop Lodge and most of the restaurants, and I’m happy to get you first-rate accommodations.”
She offered him as platonic of a smile as she could muster. “Very kind of you, Zax. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ghost trying to literally strangle the life out of me at this very moment, and I’d like to attend to that.”
She didn’t miss the horror flash across his face before she and Clifford sidestepped him and made their way to the necromancy supplies.
As she shoveled what she needed into her a few small, burlap supply bags, tying the end of each in a knot before slipping it into her large woven tote, Kayleigh’s voice caught her attention from a few aisles over. Clifford’s floppy ears were already raised when Ruby froze to listen in.
“What kind of wounds, did you say?” Kayleigh asked.
The spirit squeezing Ruby’s neck loosened her grip slightly and began yelling instead. Ruby shushed her quickly, not for fear of her being overheard, but so that Ruby could overhear the conversation a few rows away.
Sure, eavesdropping wasn’t one of her nobler hobbies, but it had proven professionally useful more than not. Besides, something in her gut was telling her to listen up. And she’d be a fool to ignore her gut after all the times it had saved her hide.
Zax’s baritone voice responded. “Gashes. From claws. Virgil didn’t give me many details, only that he was in a bit of a scrape out in the Silent Reach on Monday.”
“Is that common?” Kayleigh asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Not so much lately. Sometimes bears have it out—we prefer to settle disputes physically—but just between us,”—he lowered his voice, and Ruby instinctively leaned closer to the source—“these cuts were deep. The only times I’ve seen their match were on dead bears. He’s lucky to be alive, especially after waiting a day to ask for help.”
“Yes, he’s lucky. Sounds like you’ll need extra hidebehind fur to help pack the wounds,” she said. “It’s a little pricy, but it does wonders to prevent permanent scarring.”
Ruby listened to Zax’s heavy footsteps and the breezy flutter of Kayleigh’s wings as the pixie led him away to the far side of the store.
Ruby glanced down at Clifford, neither saying a thing, even telepathically. It was obvious the hellhound was considering what he’d heard as well…
She didn’t know much about Zax, other than the fact that he was head of the Eastwind werebear sleuth, sat on the High Council, and was as breathtaking to look at as an untouched mountain range at sunset. A part of her was secretly thrilled to know that he also took good care of his bears. Stopping by the Pixie Mixie for medical aid? She couldn’t imagine a werewolf pack leader going to that effort, and forget about the High Priest doing that for one of his witches…
She discovered a newfound desire to visit Fluke Mountain sometime soon, despite never having thought twice about venturing that far outside the heart of town. It might be nice to move from cobblestone streets to piney foot trails. And maybe the spirits would have a more difficult time finding her if she weren’t in her usual spot.
The ghostly hands tightened around her neck again, shocking her back to reality.
No, the spirits would still find her. They had a knack for it and nothing but time on their translucent hands.
Didn’t matter. A vacation to Fluke Mountain was out for all kinds of reasons.
Ruby cleared her throat against the frog forming in it from the ongoing attempt to strangle her. While it helped clear her airway, it also prompted the ghost to try a new technique for causing Ruby pain, and she drove her fist into the Fifth Wind’s stomach again and again, causing it to rumble audibly. That was a sign that it was time to get a move on if she ever kne
w one.
She gathered up the rest of the ingredients on her mental list and brought them up to the counter just as Zax was leaving with his goods. Kayleigh waved goodbye to him and sighed once he was out of sight. She blinked a few times as she turned to Ruby. “He’s quite something, isn’t he?”
Ruby hesitated. “Well, yes, I suppose, but I thought you weren’t interested in…” She let the words hang, hoping the insinuation didn’t offend.
Kayleigh chuckled breezily. “Just because I’ve chosen to spend my life with Stella doesn’t mean I’m immune to the charms of someone like him.”
“Fair enough,” Ruby said, unloading the last of her baggies into the counter.
The pixie, who couldn’t be more than three feet from head to toe, grabbed the first one, weighed it in her small hand as she fluttered steadily in midair, and added, “It’s hard to imagine why a man like him would still be single.”
Ruby sensed where this conversation was going and wasn’t sure if she wanted to follow along. “Oh, it’s not that hard.”
Kayleigh’s head shot up to look at her. “How do you mean?”
“Well, he’s a bit full of himself, isn’t he?” She thought of the look in his eye when he asked her if she found him intimidating. Ha! As if she would be intimidated just because he held power in this town and was tall enough that she could climb him like an evergreen tree…
Clifford growled from beside her. Had she let that thought seep through?
“Apologies,” she said.
“What you think on your own time is your choice. Just leave me out of it.”
Kayleigh shrugged and weighed another bag before jotting a line in her ledger. Then she asked, “Can a man be full of himself if he backs up all the hype?”
Ruby sighed. “That’s a question for philosophers, and I’m afraid I don’t qualify.” Although, despite her lack of qualifications, it was a question she considered fully during her walk back to the house. And this time, she made sure Clifford didn’t get a whiff of it.
Chapter Three
Stopping by her home before visiting the tearoom hadn’t been in her initial plan for the morning, but neither had picking up an overly aggressive spirit attachment during her errands.
So, after unloading her haul from the Pixie Mixie and anchoring the spirit, Mirna, to a copper bowl on her parlor table, Ruby went to meet with her potential client.
If she had to leave her home, A New Leaf was where she preferred to be. Her love for a hot cuppa came second only to her love of being left alone to read a good book, and A New Leaf mirrored her appreciation for the drink. And because it was small and a handful of blocks away from Fulcrum Park at the center of town, the place had a calm and cozy feel to it that allowed her to breathe and savor the aromatic experience.
The client was already waiting for her when she and Clifford arrived. Clifford made straight for the large, overstuffed dog bed that the elderly owner, Harley Hardtimes, kept around specifically for the hellhound to lounge on while his witch conducted business or simply read and sipped her tea.
“Thanks for waiting,” Ruby said, taking the seat opposite a frazzled faun woman. “I had a small business matter that came up.”
The faun nodded, causing her tangle of dark curls to bounce almost comically around her face. On the whole, Ruby liked fauns. They had no long-standing grudges with any of the other creatures around town, unlike almost every other group. The worst tensions were undeniably between the witches and werewolves, the second worst between the leprechauns and pretty much everyone.
But this faun wasn’t like most of the fauns Ruby had encountered. Sure, she had the same small horns, goat legs with hooves, and all the other physical features, but she also had dark circles under her eyes and seemed rattled to her core.
And Ruby’s presence didn’t seem immensely comforting. “Let’s jump right to it, shall we, Mrs. Goldhorn? Tell me what you’re experiencing.”
The woman grabbed the cloth napkin from beside her empty teacup and began wringing it absentmindedly. “Things have gone missing. Small things, but lots of them. Sometimes they turn up in strange places, but mostly I haven’t been able to find them anywhere.” She went on describing a situation that, while puzzling, didn’t strike Ruby as anything a typical ghost could or would do.
Once she’d run out of story to relate, Mrs. Goldhorn seemed much calmer. Or perhaps less jittery and more exhausted, which was about as much as Ruby could hope for.
“Yes, I see why you’re concerned.” Ruby placed her open hands on the tabletop, palms up, and said, “If you please.”
Mrs. Goldhorn was hesitant but steadied herself and set her hands in Ruby’s.
Ruby closed her eyes. Tapping into her Insight in a public place wasn’t easy, but A New Leaf was familiar enough territory that it wasn’t impossible. And she’d practiced this very skill many times before.
After a matter of a few short minutes, Ruby had seen in her mind’s eye all that she’d needed to see.
She loosened her grip on the faun’s hands. “Mrs. Goldhorn, do you by any chance have children?”
“Yes. William and I have twins.”
“And are these twins, say, between the ages of eighteen months and three years?”
Mrs. Goldhorn blinked. “Yes. They’ll be two years old next week.”
“Right.” Ruby sighed. “I didn’t sense any traces of a spirit within your home. However, I did get a rather clear image of two toddlers slipping a series of small objects into their diapers.” She paused and let the implication set into her formerly promising client. “I believe there might be a small cache of treasures hidden under one of your sofa cushions. But thankfully, your house is not, at present, haunted by anything beyond a couple of toddlers.”
Mrs. Goldhorn forced a smile and nodded.
Ruby recognized that look. It was disappointment disguised at relief, and it appeared on the face of nearly every potential client to whom Ruby delivered this kind of news. Because as much as a haunting wasn’t ideal, it did serve well to break up the monotony of everyday life, and some people were absolutely starving for a disruption to the mundane. She suspected most of them didn’t even realize that about themselves until the moment when their ghostly concerns were laid to rest. Coming into the consultation, they likely believed themselves to be genuinely concerned about the possibility of a haunting and in a hurry to remove it… rather than excited that their humdrum life might be turned upside down.
After all, everyone wants to feel special or chosen in some way, even if the one doing the choosing is an entity hellbent on your destruction.
Once Mrs. Goldhorn had paid the small but fair consultation fee and left the tea shop, Harley approached with a hot cup of Ruby’s favorite blend.
“Another dud?” he asked in his usual convivial tones. While most witches weren’t so keen on Ruby and considered her a potential threat to their undisputed control in town, that had never been the case with Harley, even though he was an active Coven member and lived just down the street from the High Priest himself, out in the Copperstone Heights neighborhood. Harley spoke to her like a loving grandmother might. Not grandfather, no. There was nothing paternalistic about him, and she liked that more than she could say.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. But at least I made enough for the cost of the tea and, perhaps, a muffin?” She held up the two copper coins and Harley beamed.
“Looks like enough for a slice of the carrot cake, too, if you feel so inclined later.”
“Oh, I suspect I’ll feel so inclined.”
He requested she give him a nod whenever she needed more hot water, and she agreed. Although, the West Wind seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever she was ready for a refill.
She’d just taken the first cautious sip to test the temperature when the door of A New Leaf opened swiftly, and a tall, slender silhouette appeared in the doorway. A tall, slender silhouette with giant wings.
Sheriff Gabby Bloom spotted Ruby across the dim space
of A New Leaf and smiled. She hadn’t known the Fifth Wind would be here, but it wasn’t a difficult guess. Bloom made straight for the psychic’s table; there was business to discuss, and she couldn’t afford to be away from the station for long.
Ruby motioned to the vacant chair across from her, and Bloom took it, looking to Harley Hardtimes and confirming with a nod that her usual would do.
Bloom angled her body in her seat so she could sling an arm over the back of her chair. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Ruby was watching her intently with that usual twinkle in her eyes. Bloom had always thought that there was something about the Fifth Wind’s air of confidence and curiosity that hinted the woman was only ever a few moments away from being neck-deep in serious danger… and wouldn’t have it any other way (even if Ruby did constantly insist she’d rather be at home with a book). Maybe that was why Bloom enjoyed her company so much. Of course, as Sheriff of Eastwind, she couldn’t openly admit that she enjoyed spending time with troublemakers—or trouble magnets, as the case may be—like Ruby True. Already, half the town thought she was crazy for enlisting Ruby’s help as often as she did, regardless of the high success rate when the two teamed up.
“Yes, fancy that,” Ruby replied. “I know I’m incredibly hard to find. I could be any of two places at this time of day.”
Bloom noticed a teacup-size half circle of moisture on the table in front of her. “You just meet with a client?”
Ruby sighed. “Potential client. Turns out her house is literally crawling with kleptomaniacs in diapers. But no ghosts.”
Bloom was used to some of what Ruby said making zero sense, so she let it go. “I might have some work for you.”
Ruby blew a raspberry, waving her off. “Oh, let’s not jump right into business before we’ve covered the necessary pleasantries of gossip. You always have the best of it.”
Grinning, Bloom nodded. “You’re right. I do.” Harley approached and she thanked him for her tea then waited until he was out of earshot before diving into it. She wasn’t usually one for gossip, but it was refreshing to listen to Ruby’s take on it… because it was usually Bloom’s take on it, too. “I heard the Stringfellows threw one heck of a second birthday party for their son last weekend.”
