“How are you feeling? I assume you are doing well if Tabby Trout released you from the hospital.”
I startled a bit at Colleen using Dr. Trout’s nickname. I only knew her first name was Tabitha because it was on the door of her lab. No one at the hospital had ever called her that, at least not when I had been there, but it wasn’t the right time to focus on that.
I was tempted to ask how well they knew each other, but there was something in her tone that was already unsettling me. My stomach turned, and I had a vague sense of dread, but I wasn’t sure why.
“I feel okay. I’m sore and stuff but ready to get back to work. People need me.” I smiled brightly. Previously she had been all about duty and such, so I assumed she would be pleased with my response.
Instead she looked away, and the answer seemed to disappoint her. “Why did you decide to be a Monza?” She faced me, her eyes suddenly very intense. Her shields were tightly up, and I couldn’t read any emotions to that question.
“To help people. I guess… I mean there were a lot of reasons, and they’ve changed a bit over time.” I could sense that whatever was wrong was getting worse, so I tried to list all the reasons. “People seem to come to me more for help, and I like that. I like helping them. And my skills really match up with helping people. Being able to read a death scene, sensing emotions, sensing the auras of magic. I can help people.”
My throat tightened with emotion. It might not be why I first became a Monza, but now it was true. The truth hit me so hard that I felt off balance as I finished, “It just… felt like my calling.”
Colleen looked down. Physically, her body language was starting to close off.
Words started pouring from my mouth. I knew I could convince her, but I wasn’t saying the right things. My response was to say everything. “But I have so much to learn. I don’t understand anything about being a Monza. That is why working with you is so important. I’ll learn anything.”
She stood up. “I wanted to help but—but I just can’t.” She avoided my eyes and strode toward the door.
“Tell me what I am doing wrong. I’ll change. Really.” I followed behind her, practically begging.
“It’s not you, Ella. These things are hard to explain, but I just can’t help you. I’m sorry.” She left and closed the door behind her.
I was too shocked to move, and when I did, I ran to the door and threw it open, but Bear’s car was already gone.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
Morning light gently woke me. The sky was still the soft pink of sunrise, and my loft was quiet. For a moment, I felt only a vague sense of confusion as to why I was on my couch, then I shifted my stiff body, and my memories all came back. As I remembered that Colleen had decided not to train me, my heart literally hurt in my chest, and I struggled to hold back tears.
I had counted on that for so long. I was sure that Bear’s relative would be willing to train me just as he had, as Auntie Ann had, but I had been wrong, and I felt at loose ends. What was I supposed to do?
Quite literally, it was Friday, and that night was the rehearsal dinner, and Saturday was the wedding, but then what? I mean, why was I even in Rambler? Because my dad left me a loft and the building it was in? I could sell it. Certainly Bear or Badger would want to buy it, and if they didn’t have the money, they could go in together.
There was no reason why I had to stay. I loved Vanessa and her whole family. Well, maybe not Vin, but that didn’t mean I had to stay. I would miss everyone, but maybe I was being a fool to stay. My father hid my entire existence for a reason, and that led to me declaring myself a Monza and following the old ways. But was I being a fool? If I left and settled down anywhere else in the world, wouldn’t I be safer?
I wouldn’t have to be a Monza if I lived in Denver, Colorado, or London, England, or… anywhere but here. I could go by my dad’s name again. I could proudly introduce myself as Gabriella Ramono. I wouldn’t have to tell anyone that I was a Monza. I wouldn’t have to be a Monza.
But was that how it worked? Before I was a mage, I could change my profession. If I stopped wanting to be an accountant, which I did for a while, I just stopped. But was Monza the same? Magic changed everything, and I could have bound myself to my new choice. What would the repercussions be if I stopped living the lifestyle?
Anger flared up in my chest so fast that it took my breath. That was what Colleen was supposed to teach me. She was supposed to explain these things!
Maybe if I left today, I could skip the wedding as well. Maybe Thomas would have some suggestions. If I wasn’t a Monza, then I wouldn’t need to think twice about dating him.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and spooned in a generous amount of sugar and cream, then pulled out half a strawberry pie. I needed the sugar to help heal my body, replace my magic, and make me happy. Mostly the latter.
I contemplated the idea of all my problems disappearing as I drank my mug down to empty and finished off the rest of the pie. I should have felt great, but I didn’t. I felt empty.
Vanessa came shuffling down the hall, her eyes barely open. I pushed a mug into her hand. I had fixed it just the way she liked it—sugary milk with a hint of coffee—then I found a sleeve of mini chocolate donuts that she loved and tore open the package and poured them out on the counter in front of her.
She drank the whole mug down in one gulp then shoved two donuts in her mouth.
I was going to need to find more, so I refilled her mug and opened the fridge for more food. “If you could just pick up and go anywhere and do anything, what would you do?”
She swallowed hard, the wad of food making a lump in her throat, then she coughed. “Hawaii. I’ve never been. I want to see the volcano then just sit on the beach and do nothing in the sun.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe try surfing? Going snorkeling? What’s up? Do you want to go on a vacation?”
I found some toaster pastries and put a strawberry one and a brown-sugar one on each side of the toaster. “No, I meant like forever. If you could do anything anywhere, what would you do?”
She screwed up her face in thought until the toaster ejected the steaming food that the manufacturers had the gall to describe as part of a healthy breakfast. Of course, since I was a mage, the metric ton of sugar actually was healthy, but I doubted that was what they meant.
“Did you forget the question?” I passed her the pastries. “Don’t forget that they’re hot!”
But she had been quicker than me and was now waving her hand in front of her mouth and puffing air in and out to cool that chunk she had bitten off. Finally, once she was able to swallow and had set aside the food to cool, she answered. “I had to think. You know that questions like that are serious, right? I could give a flippant sarcastic answer, or I could be honest. If I’m going to be honest, then it needs to be real. Words have power, and when you put them out into the world, they pick up bits of magic and become real. At least that is what Granner says. Or do you want a joke answer, like being the person that applies oil to the chests of action stars?” She waggled her eyebrows at me.
I laughed. “I wanted a real answer. So tell me.”
“I think I would be here. I know that is kinda boring, but I like being near my family and you. Our training has been—now never tell my mom this ’cause she is going to gloat so hard—but training has been really fulfilling. I like it. Isn’t that crazy after years of whining and complaining about having a mom that makes me train full-time? Suddenly there is nothing I would rather do. And I really like this solving-crime gig we have. I want to do a lot more of that. So I guess I am where I want to be. Huh, weird.”
She had perked up significantly while talking and no longer looked so sleepy. Her injuries were also healing, and she looked much better if I didn’t look too close at her hair, which appeared to have been cut with a Weedwacker.
She puttered around the kitchen, looking for something more to eat, when she seemed to realize the underlying sig
nificance of my question. “What would you do? Are you thinking about leaving? You wouldn’t really leave me, would you?”
“Colleen stopped by last evening and said that she couldn’t train me.” I resisted the urge to burst into tears. Perhaps I was all cried out.
“Oh, bummer. That sucks. But I’m not sure she could teach you anything that Mom couldn’t.” There was a defensive note in her voice that I hadn’t heard before.
Since we had met, we had done everything together and made a pretty good team. She had way more experience but was younger. I was more mature and driven and had pushed hard to try to catch up. Even when our skill with magic was even, she still knew more about mage society and always would. I would always be an “immigrant” to the culture.
Being a Monza was something we didn’t share, and it never occurred to me that she might feel left out. “Your mom is crazy smart and a great teacher, but even she will tell you that she doesn’t know much about being a Monza. No one does except other Monzas.”
“So? Are you just going to leave, then?” Her tone was one step away from a toddler throwing a tantrum.
I wanted to snap back at her that I had had a rough few days and I missed my dad. That I was sick of running from secrets I didn’t understand and being constantly at risk. But I didn’t because I was supposed to be the more mature one and mostly because she was my friend. She had been there for me every time I needed her and forgiven me when I had been an idiot, which happened more than I cared to admit. I took a long drink of my coffee and calmed my mind.
“I don’t know what I want to do, but maybe I would be safer training somewhere else. You and your mom could go, too. We could all travel and train and have big adventures.”
That stopped her. I could see her rolling the idea over in her mind before dismissing it. “Mom’s sick of traveling, and so am I. Not that I would turn down a vacation, but that is different than living out of a suitcase for months at a time. A new town every few months. I’ve had enough of that for a long time. But even if I wanted to, what about our work here?”
“Our work?”
“Solving crimes. Finding who made Legacy, who killed Uncle Edward or your dad. Are you all done with that? Just going to give up and let the bad guys win? I didn’t think you were that kind of person.”
I swirled the coffee around in my mug, watching the color shift as the cream rose to the top and mixed in. I never bothered to stir my coffee, feeling that it was a waste of a clean spoon when I would drink it unmixed.
Could I walk away? That seemed impossible, but was it because I was stuck in a rut? A dangerous, life-threatening rut? Or was it hard to walk away because I was already where I was supposed to be? If I was, then why was life so difficult? Why didn’t Colleen want to mentor me and teach me what I needed to know?
It wasn’t quite an audible voice, but it was a thought in my head that was crystal clear despite never thinking it before. I needed to take control. I had learned what Bear and Badger thought I needed to learn. I learned what Auntie Ann thought I should. And I wanted Colleen to do the same, to tell me what I should do next. I had been passively accepting everything life threw at me and reacting, but what about acting?
Maybe I felt so adrift because I needed to start chasing things instead of just waiting until something happened to and for me, like a child.
“I want control,” I stated out loud, startling Vanessa.
“What?”
“I want to find the killer, of Ned, of Edward, of my dad. I want to learn more about my gifts. I want to figure out how Patagonia and my link works. I want to find the people behind Legacy and make the marshal deal with them. I want…”
I wanted to date Thomas, but that seemed outside the scope of my current rant, and I wasn’t sure if that was really what I wanted. I had been denied it by circumstance, but I hadn’t really explored my feelings yet. I knew I was attracted to him, but was that the same as wanting to date him? Words had power, and I wasn’t ready to put those words out there.
“So wait, you’re not leaving?”
I shook my head. “Maybe one day but not yet.”
“Then why did you get me all worked up? Jeez o pete, Ella, it’s already been a tough enough week without you jerking me around like that.” She pulled out a pint of ice cream and didn’t even bother to get out a bowl. It was the most decadent and expensive ice cream I had in the freezer.
“I need to be more proactive. So what if Colleen doesn’t want to mentor me? I’ll get someone else, or I’ll figure it out on my own. And we need to solve Ned’s murder, and soon. It’s all tied up in Legacy somehow, and once we figure that out, we’ll be one step closer to solving everything.”
“Everything?”
“Hey, don’t ruin my buzz. I feel… great! Empowered, excited, and in control. I’m not going to let a little setback ruin my mood. Things are going to be different from now on.”
“Awesome. What are we going to do first? Talk to Dr. Trout? Bear? Go back to investigating?”
“We’re going to get our hair cut. We look like a couple kids’ dolls after they got ahold of the scissors. Besides, a whole new attitude means a whole new look. Maybe some kind of punk-rock look. Grab your stuff, and let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The salon was already pretty busy when we came in. It was Friday, and ladies were getting ready for nights out. It was a human establishment and a little pricier than I would normally use, but it had several advantages. First was the fact that my stylist, Lexine, was not a chatterbox. I could come in without feeling like I was on the receiving end of a two-hour-long interrogation. We always talked politely at first, but mostly I could sit in comfortable silence. When I had first moved to Rambler, after my father’s murder and my meltdown at work, this had been a blessing.
Another reason was that Lexine never pressured me to lop off my butt-length hair. Other stylists would go on about modern styles and how a shorter cut would frame my face. They felt the length was matronly, dated, or perhaps just ugly. They would complain about how long it took to dry or how much product it took. I was never sure why they felt they had any opinion on my hair, but when I started with Lexine and she didn’t comment, I was tempted to cry in relief on the spot.
Lastly, she was really good about squeezing me in when necessary. And that was the factor that saved me. The receptionist was on the phone and looking down to write in the calendar when she asked if we had an appointment.
I said we didn’t and tried to explain it was an emergency, but she spoke right over me.
“I’m sorry, but we are really swamped, but next week I could get you in—eek!” She squeaked out the last bit when she finally looked up and caught sight of Vanessa’s and my hair.
Vanessa’s hair poofed out around her, not in her normal volume of naturally curly hair but in uneven chunks that frizzed. Mine was even more horrifying. Neither of us were wearing makeup, and it was probably only our clean clothes that signaled that we hadn’t just dragged ourselves out of a car wreck on the way over.
The receptionist held up a finger, signaling us to wait, and ran from behind the desk. “Lexine!” she screamed, the panic in her voice causing heads all around the salon to turn and stare.
I did my best not to fidget as Patagonia twined between my legs. She had a contentious relationship with the place. She was not a fan of the noises or smells, and the staff, being humans, often tried to kick her out, and she resented that. It was an ongoing fight with the receptionist. I didn’t think there was any real animosity. It was a high-end salon that specialized in “the customer is always right,” but neither Patagonia nor the receptionist were willing to lose face.
Lexine came out, her calm demeanor hiding the spike of panic and fear she experienced at the sight of us. First, she checked that both of us were okay before moving on to the thing she could handle.
“Do you know how you want your hair cut?” She looked between us, waiting to see who would reply first.
; Vanessa started, as she had chatted the whole way over about her goals. “Short and sassy. Something that screams, ‘New and better.’ I’m thinking young, hip, and a bit edgy.”
I sighed. She was much more enthused about the new cut than I was. I was having second thoughts, but based on the state of my hair, I had no choice but to forge ahead. “Same for me, but I would like to keep what length you can, and nothing too hard to style or maintain. I need to be able to pull it back into a ponytail still.”
She nodded. “I’m booked solid all morning, so either you can come back later, or I can squeeze you in between clients, but I warn you, it will take a while.”
We agreed and were sent off to get shampooed and sit under a heat cap with a conditioning solution that would hopefully salvage as much hair as possible.
The salon was packed, and Vanessa and I were shuttled off in opposite directions. As the hours crept by, it gave me a lot of time to think.
I attempted to do some internet searches on my phone, but it was barely getting a signal deep inside the salon, and maybe it was the magic I had used recently, but my phone was acting up more than normal.
Lexine said she would get to me in a few minutes, and if I wanted to stretch my legs, now would be a good time.
I went out to their balcony and pulled out my phone to call Dr. Trout, who picked up after a few rings.
“Did you get the stuff from the murder mall?”
She snorted. “Yes, we did. Ran a few tests, and while I can’t say they are all a match, I haven’t eliminated any yet.”
“That has to mean something, right? You are testing like six things, and none have been eliminated.”
“Five so far. It is a good sign.”
My gut said that eventually she would be able to prove the items from the mini mall were ingredients in the creation of Legacy. Which meant Ned had been mixed up in Legacy production.
Ellen had said that Ned had given them a low rent to move in, practically paying them to be there. And Mary had said that always the same stores moved in when one left. A florist was replaced by another florist, a bakery by another bakery. This was most likely done so the items would continue to be carried by the new store owner. The pressure from the importer hadn’t hurt either.
Nice Day for a Mage Wedding: Casino Witch Mysteries 4 Page 15
