Magic & Madness

by Annabel Chase

  “Maybe if you had your seat custom designed…” It probably didn’t help that the leprechaun was vertically challenged.

  The deputy fixed me with a beady stare. “If you’re going to insult me, I can tell the sheriff that you decided to conduct your own investigation. He loves when you do that.”

  “So what?” I said. “This is you babysitting me and keeping me out of his hair? I don’t think so. The sheriff said you and I are here to gather information for the case.”

  “We are.” The deputy parked successfully and we exited the vehicle. “Seers Row is the best place to start.”

  “Because it’s full of psychics?”

  “Because it’s full of suspects,” Deputy Bolan corrected me. “They hate this time of year because the carnival draws away their customers. Even the tourists head over to the carnival.”

  As we strode along the sidewalk, I realized just how many fortune-telling establishments there were on this street. Were we planning to visit each and every one?

  “What’s the plan, Deputy?”

  “She’s the plan.” He stopped in front of one of the nondescript buildings. “Hey, Veronica.” The deputy greeted a woman in a woven sunhat hovering in a doorway. Dark curls framed her face.

  “Deputy Bolan,” she said. “If it isn’t my favorite leprechaun.”

  “Veronica is known as the Voice of the Gods,” the deputy told me. “She’s been telling fortunes on this street for as long as I can remember.”

  She wagged a finger. “Now, Deputy. You make me sound old. No woman appreciates that.”

  “Veronica predicted my wedding,” Deputy Bolan said. “And I never expected to get married. Ever.”

  “Gay leprechaun or not, I saw the signs,” Veronica said. Her brow creased as she glanced upward. “Spell’s bells. Where’s my blasted sign?” She retreated into her shop and we ducked in behind her. “Jericho!”

  A dwarf emerged from a back room. “Yes, my compassionate overlord?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stop messing around with my sign?” she demanded.

  The dwarf appeared contrite. “You said you wanted your name bigger….”

  “I know what I said! I can hear the sound of my own voice.”

  “The voice of the gods,” Jericho said dreamily. “And such a sweet voice it is.”

  “Finish up the sign while I talk to Deputy Bolan and his lovely friend.” Veronica jerked a thumb toward her table and chair in the corner of the room. “We’ll be in my office.”

  We sat in two chairs and she took a seat in a plush purple chair behind a shiny disco ball. The ball was so large that she had to peek around it in order to see us.

  “Now my lovelies, what brings you here? A reading?”

  “Not today, Veronica,” the deputy said.

  Her face fell. “Business has been so slow ever since that carnival came to town. I dread this time of year. I told Jericho that next year I’m going on vacation. No point in hanging around.”

  “Why is the carnival bad for business?” I queried. As far as I knew, Madame Bovary had been the carnival’s sole fortune teller.

  Veronica tried to talk to me around the side of the disco ball. Finally, she gave up and yelled, “Jericho!”

  The hen-pecked dwarf scuttled over. “Yes, my liege?”

  Veronica clicked her fingernails on the disco ball. “How do you expect me to see my guests with this giant ball between us?”

  Jericho bowed his head. “It’s your crystal ball, my benevolent ruler. Where else would it go?”

  She removed her woven hat and set it on the table. “I can think of a good place right now,” she quipped. “Might be a tight squeeze, but I can make it happen.”

  Jericho scooped up the ball and nearly dropped it into Veronica’s lap. He clung to it, bouncing off the table and swinging around to set the ball on a taller, adjacent stand.

  Veronica snapped her elegant fingers. “Bring me my tarot cards.”

  “They’re in the drawer in front of you, my beloved,” Jericho said.

  She pulled open the drawer and her eyes sparkled. “So they are!”

  “We’re not here for a tarot card reading, Veronica,” the deputy said.

  The seer blinked at him in confusion. “Surely, you want to hear from the voice of the gods?”

  “Right now, we’d like to hear from the voice of Veronica,” I said.

  She peered at me. “You must be more relaxed or the images won’t come to me.”

  “You see images?” I queried.

  Veronica scooted around on the chair until she was comfortable. “That’s usually how the gods speak to me. They know I’m a visual learner.”

  “Are you left-handed?” I asked.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped.

  “I think there have been studies done that show left-handed people…paranormals are more likely to use visual parts of the brain.” Or something to that effect.

  “I’m ambidextrous,” Veronica replied haughtily. She clapped her hands together eagerly. “Now, which one of you would like to go first?” Her gaze darted from Deputy Bolan to me.

  “We don’t want a reading,” Deputy Bolan said firmly. “There’s been a murder….”

  “Nonsense,” Veronica said dismissively. “Everybody wants a reading.”

  Veronica cut the deck of tarot cards. “Choose seven.”

  In that moment, the room darkened. Bold lights flashed and familiar music pulsed in the background.

  “Do I hear the Bee Gees?” I asked.

  “Jericho!” she trilled. “I’m using tarot cards, not the disco ball.”

  The music abruptly stopped and the lights returned to normal.

  “I’m more of an ’80’s music fan myself,” I said.

  “Because of your father?” she queried.

  A knot formed in my stomach. “How did you know?”

  Veronica tapped one of the cards on the table. “I always know. It’s my job.”

  “In that case, who killed Madame Bovary?” Deputy Bolan asked.

  Veronica’s mouth resembled a fish. “Bianca…She’s dead?”

  “You knew her?” I asked.

  “We’ve met a handful of times over the years,” Veronica said. “Jericho! Did you hear about this?”

  Jericho bustled into the room. “No, my soft crab shell. A terrible tragedy.”

  “We were hoping that you may have heard something,” the deputy said. “I know how disgruntled the row gets when the carnival is in town.”

  Veronica burst into laughter. “And you’re suggesting one of us murdered her to eliminate the competition?”

  The deputy shrugged. “Maybe someone’s been suffering losses already, and the carnival was the final nail in the coffin.”

  Veronica slapped her hands hard on the table. “Absolutely not. That’s not how our community rolls. All the fortune tellers and assistants look out for each other, no matter how dire our financial circumstances.”

  Jericho batted his eyelashes. “I will always look out for you, my fragrant porcupine.”

  Fragrant porcupine? “Are all seers’ assistants as dedicated as Jericho?” I asked.

  “I like to think I’m a special case,” Jericho replied.

  “He’s special all right,” Veronica said wryly.

  “We appreciate your time,” Deputy Bolan said. “We know how valuable it is.”

  I cast a sly look in his direction. “While we’re here, maybe Veronica could answer a follow-up question that I had for Madame Bovary.”

  “You were read by her?” Veronica asked, seemingly intrigued.

  “Yes, briefly. She made a comment about doors. When I close one door, I’ll be ready to step through another.”

  “A bit trite for someone of her skill level. Did she read cards or crystals?” Veronica shuffled the tarot cards.

  “The crystal ball,” I said. “No Bee Gees music.”

  “No, as I recall, she works in silence,”
Veronica said. “Must be so boring in her tent. Why anyone would choose a carnival seer over us, I’ll never understand.” She placed the deck in front of me. “Choose seven.”

  I glanced at the deputy. “Is this how it normally works?”

  “It’s how I work,” Veronica said.

  I chose seven cards. “Do I flip them over?”

  “Yes,” Veronica said. “Unless you have no interest in seeing what’s in store.”

  To be honest, I was on the fence. Maybe it would be best to leave all the doors closed.

  I flipped over the seven cards. “I have no clue what they mean.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Veronica said. “Are you the Voice of the Gods? No! That’s me.” She studied the results. “Interesting.”

  “Is it really, or are you stalling?” I asked.

  Veronica glared at me. “You dare challenge my gods-given ability?”

  “Still stalling,” I said.

  Beside me, Deputy Bolan snorted. “She’s doing you a favor, Ember. Stop giving her a hard time.”

  Veronica examined the cards, her brow creased. “Such a jagged journey. No path is ever straight.”

  “None of the best things are,” the deputy quipped.

  “Anything about doors in those pictures?” I pressed. I saw lots of images but no doors.

  “Two paths will clear for you soon,” Veronica said. “It is you who must close the door to one of these paths. It will not be closed for you.”

  I wasn’t entirely certain on how to interpret that, but I could tell it was the clearest message I’d received on the matter.

  “Thank you, Veronica,” I said.

  “You are seated behind the wheel of destiny, dear heart,” Veronica said. “It may seem out of your hands, but the choice is yours to make. You only need the courage to make it.”

  After my outing with Deputy Bolan, Raoul and I met Ian in the woods behind Rose Cottage for another session on the familiar arts. The raccoon and I were learning more about our bond, as well as our capabilities. We had telepathy down pat, but we both needed to figure out our other skills. Because I’d grown up in the human world and Raoul didn’t know he was a familiar until we met, neither one of us was equipped to navigate this development on our own. Ian wasn't my first choice for a wizard to spend time with, but he was knowledgeable and patient when it came to my relationship with Raoul.

  "It's a bit chilly today," I said.

  Raoul smoothed his fur. Not for me.

  "Show off," I shot back.

  Ian looked from the raccoon to me. "You know you can do something about that, right?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Raoul can transfer some of his warmth to you," Ian explained. "It's part of your bond."

  I looked askance at my familiar. "I can feel what the trash panda feels?"

  Raoul scowled. Call me a trash panda again and you'll be feeling my teeth on your ankle.

  I laughed. "You basically just admitted you’re an ankle biter."

  "Why would I want to feel what my familiar feels?" I asked. "What purpose would that serve?"

  Ian paced in front of a row of live oaks. The enormous trees were a staple in the forest here and I never got tired of admiring them.

  "I can think of several examples,” the Master-in-Familiar Arts said. “If you were in a dangerous situation and one of you felt frightened, the other could transfer feelings of calm to diffuse the situation.”

  Raoul batted a few stones with his paws. I know which one of us would be the frightened one.

  "Says you!" I declared. Very mature comeback.

  “It could be of particular importance to you, Ember," Ian said. "If you feel too much—if your emotions are too intense, it can result in powerful magic that you can't control."

  He wasn't wrong. That was how I'd ended up in Starry Hollow in the first place. My life and the life of my daughter had been threatened by a mobster called Jimmy the Lighter. The intense fear had triggered my magic—magic that I didn't know I possessed until the moment I made thunder roll.

  So you’re saying that if she’s out of control, I can soothe the savage beast? Raoul queried.

  "Absolutely," Ian said. "You can also come up with a safe word between you. That way, if Ember feels under duress, she can think of the safe word and see whether you can offer assistance. By the same token, if you feel she’s in danger of losing control, you can think of the safe word and then use it to calm her."

  I scrunched my nose. "I don't love the idea that the coven thinks I might get so hysterical that I need a dude to bring me back to earth."

  "It doesn’t run along gender lines at all," Ian reassured me. "The fact that your familiar is a male is irrelevant."

  I thought of Precious and wondered whether my aunt and the white fluffy cat had a safe word. If so, it was probably “cocktail.”

  "What do you think our safe word should be, Raoul?" I asked.

  I don't know. I'm fond of garbage heap.

  I groaned. "First of all, that's two words. Second of all, I don't think the mention of garbage will snap me out of my emotional high."

  Fine, Raoul huffed. What about purple people eater?

  I shot him a look. “Still a phrase, not a word. Besides, what makes you think that mentioning a purple people eater when I’m on the verge of magical breakdown is a good idea?"

  Ian offered a patient smile. "May I suggest a word that triggers a happy memory? Perhaps something from your childhood, Ember?"

  I liked that idea. "My father loved ’80’s music. What if we used Cyndi Lauper? I’ll say her name really fast, so it sounds like one word.”

  Raoul shrugged. Never heard of her, but I can make it work.

  I tapped my finger against my chin. “Or I guess we can use Prince. He’s already one word. Or Madonna.” I was on a roll now.

  “No need to overthink it,” Ian said. “Hopefully, it will be a little-used trick, but it's important to understand what the two of you are capable of together."

  I know we’re capable of demolishing an entire pizza between the two of us, Raoul said.

  "Not exactly what I had in mind," Ian muttered.

  Too bad I can’t use this mind trick on anyone, Raoul said. Would’ve come in handy at the carnival yesterday.

  “Yesterday? Why, what happened?”

  I was scavenging—I mean, I was shopping near one of the tents when I heard an argument. Some fairy had his wings in a twist because of a psychic reading.

  My alarm pinged. “Was it Madame Bovary’s tent?”

  The raccoon pulled a face. How should I know? It was a yellow tent.

  “What was the fairy upset about?” I asked.

  I didn’t get the specifics, Raoul said. I got distracted by a snack wagon. He didn’t agree with something she told him, apparently. Got angry and told her never to come near his jewelry shop or she’d be sorry.

  “Sounds like a serious threat,” I said. Maybe the fairy decided not to wait for her to come near his shop. “Did you catch his name?”

  Fairy McFabulous Hair, Raoul said.

  “Oh,” Ian said. “I know who that is.”

  I shot the wizard a skeptical look. “Which gave it away?” I asked. “The fabulous hair, or the fact that he owns a jewelry store?”

  “Both, actually,” Ian replied. “It must be Nathan Speedwell. He’s very popular in Starry Hollow. Designs most of the jewelry himself.”

  “Talented guy.” I made a mental note of the name. Seers Row had yielded no information, but maybe Nathan Speedwell could shed a little light on the incident.

  Speaking of talented guys, let’s get back to business, Raoul said.

  “Fine. What's another situation where this might come in handy?" I asked. Because I wasn't prone to losing my temper, I figured there had to be a more useful reason.

  "That's easy," Ian said. "Right now, for example, you mentioned that you’re chilly, Ember. Why don't we practice having Raoul transfer some of his warmth to you?"
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  "Or I could just go grab a sweater from the cottage," I said.

  Ian wore a vague smile. "So practical, like a Rose. What if you were trapped in a cave and no one could get to you? You’re cold and damp, and the only way you will survive the night is if you can generate body heat?"

  "Why would I be trapped in a cave?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Ian said. I felt like he was finally losing patience with us. "You asked for potential scenarios, so I’m giving you one."

  "But couldn't I just use magic to light a fire?" I asked. Light and heat spells were among the first ones that I’d learned.

  "What if you couldn't use magic for some reason?" Ian said. "Maybe you dropped your wand on the way to the cave. Maybe you fell and hurt yourself. There are a limitless number of reasons."

  I don't know if they’d be limitless, Raoul interjected.

  Ian gave an exasperated sigh. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

  Raoul and I snickered.

  "Do you need a safe word, Ian?" I asked.

  The vein in Ian's neck throbbed. "We've made excellent progress to date. Let's not ruin it today."

  I turned to Raoul. "I'm cold, Raoul. How about spreading the warmth?”

  Raoul rubbed his paws together. I should just concentrate on sending her warm feelings? Is that it?

  "Basically," Ian said. "You will it to happen. As you already know, your will is essential in all spells and magic. Even though a familiar doesn’t need to focus his will as often as a witch or wizard, the ability is there, lurking beneath the surface.”

  Good to know, Raoul said. He closed his beady eyes and focused inward.

  In less than a minute, I felt my body temperature rise. "Wow! That really worked."

  Don’t sound so shocked, Raoul said. You always underestimate me.

  “No, I don’t,” I objected. “I just don’t think you can do it.”

  Raoul growled.

  “I think this is all we have time for today,” Ian said. He suddenly seemed in a rush to finish.

  “Really? It feels like we just started,” I said.

  “No, no,” Ian replied. “I checked the time. We’ve met the weekly requirement.”

  “But shouldn’t we finish the lesson?” I pressed.

  Ian began to gather his belongings in preparation for a quick exit. “No need. We’ll simply pick up where we left off next time.”