Halo Effect

by Annabel Chase

  Halo Effect

  Spellbound Ever After Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 8

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter One

  The house was unusually calm. I seized the moment and settled into a chair at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea. Diana was sound asleep in her crib and Daniel had already left for work. Flower Power started this week and, as Spellbound’s director of tourism, he’d been working nonstop on the preparations for the first annual flower festival. Today was the ‘preview,’ where ticket holders would be able to get a sneak peek at the event. As excited as I was to see the fruits of his labor, I was equally excited for it to be over so I could have my husband back. That being said, I was pleased to see him with a job he enjoyed after being directionless for so many years.

  I surveyed the quiet kitchen. It seemed odd that Gareth didn’t make an appearance. The vampire ghost usually found a way to disrupt my moments of solitude. Maybe he’d stayed out late the night before and was still recovering, not that the dead undead needed to power nap.

  “Emma!”

  I jerked back from the table and spilled the tea all over my lap. Ignoring the mess, I ran up the steps two at a time to Diana’s room. I burst into the room, my heart pounding, to see Gareth, Magpie, and Sedgwick surrounding the crib.

  Panic gripped me. “Gods above. What’s wrong?”

  The trio turned to look at me.

  “We’re not sure,” Gareth said.

  I rushed to the crib and peered at Diana. She was in a seated position, bouncing a rattle in the shape of an elephant off the mattress and gurgling. She squealed with delight at the sight of me.

  “Mama,” she said happily.

  My pulse slowed. “She seems normal to me,” I said.

  “Aye, exactly,” Gareth said.

  Therein lies the problem, Sedgwick added.

  “I spilled tea and nearly had a heart attack because you’re dissatisfied with the amount of normal in her paranormal?” I lifted Diana out of the crib and kissed her chubby cheek. “Do you think you’re going to will her abilities into existence by creepily staring at her?”

  There is nothing creepy about staring owl eyes, Sedgwick sniffed.

  I beg to differ.

  “She’s falling behind,” Gareth said.

  I smoothed her dark cowlick. “Behind what? According to the healer’s office, she’s hitting all her milestones.”

  “Precisely.” Gareth slapped his forehead. “Do you not listen, woman? She should be off the charts, not on them. Diana should be so far ahead of her peers that the healers need to create a new chart for excellence in infancy and name it after her.”

  Gareth needed to get a grip. Or a hobby.

  “I want her to have a normal life,” I said. “If that means she’s average for her age, then so be it.”

  Gareth staggered backward and clutched his chest. “Average? Not even above average?”

  I pressed my cheek against Diana’s smooth skin. “Average is not a death sentence, Gareth.”

  “Maybe not now, but what if…?” The vampire ghost clamped a translucent hand over his mouth.

  “What if what?” I asked.

  He released his hand and dropped his voice to a whisper. “What if her intelligence is average, too?” His expression clouded over. “I knew you shouldn’t have married that daft angel. He’s mucking up her genes.”

  I laughed. “Daniel is an extraordinary angel. Would I have settled for anything less?”

  Gareth appeared unconvinced. “I’m beginning to think you’d have been better off with the minotaur.”

  I shifted Diana to my other hip. “Markos is lovely, but he was never the one for me. You know that.”

  Gareth tapped his chin. “I suppose it’s too late for you and Demetrius.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He and Begonia are very happy together. Besides, Daniel is the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that.”

  Gareth scrutinized the child in my arms. “Her grandfather is a demigod. Her great-grandmother is a goddess. How could she not have inherited more power?”

  “She’s still a baby,” I said. “There’s plenty of time for development. And she can already see you, remember? That’s pretty special.”

  “Aye, but I expect more from this wee one than the ability to converse with the resident ghost. Your father made a name for himself from a young age. He plundered and pillaged.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that seriously what you want for Diana?” I kissed her forehead. “Can you see someone as sweet as this wanting to reduce civilizations to ash for her own entertainment?”

  Gareth seemed to take my point. He folded his arms in defeat. “She should at least be able to breathe fire. Even Magpie can do that.”

  I glanced at the cat, now seated on the nursing chair like a king on his throne. Magpie wasn’t nearly as intimidating with a smiling cloud pillow behind him.

  “If Diana starts breathing fire before she learns to sleep through the night, we’re all in trouble,” I said. “Listen, I need to get ready. I’m supposed to be at the academy in twenty minutes.”

  “You might want to change your outfit,” Gareth said. “You look a mess with that stain on your lap.”

  I sniffed the air. “And I think this average baby needs a diaper change. Whose turn is it?”

  Suddenly the eager trio had something better to do than overanalyze my child. Gareth disappeared into a wall, Sedgwick flew out the window, and Magpie streaked past me and out the door.

  I sighed. “It takes a village, my ass. Looks like it’s you and me, kid.” I placed Diana on the changing table and set to work.

  I managed to make it to the academy with two minutes to spare, which was a relief given that High Priestess Limpet was a stickler for punctuality and not above a good, old-fashioned public shaming.

  The High Priestess paraded to the front of the classroom with her two small dogs nipping at her heels. She wore a canary yellow dress and a matching pointy hat that made her look like Big Bird from Sesame Street.

  Sophie squeezed her eyes closed as the High Priestess passed our row. “Don’t look directly at her or she might burn your retinas.”

  The High Priestess cleared her throat for our attention and smiled at us. “Good morning and welcome to this special assembly.”

  Millie batted her eyelashes. “Really, all her assemblies are special.”

  Laurel shushed her.

  “I have decided that this coven is in dire need of a crash course in the Ethics of Magic,” the High Priestess continued.

  “Shouldn’t we have taken this years ago?” Millie grumbled.

  “Dire need seems a bit of a stretch,” Begonia whispered. “It’s Lady Weatherby who was ethically challenged and we don’t need to worry about her anymore.”

  That was true. Not only was Lady Weatherby no longer the head of the coven, she’d recently moved away from Spellbound.

  The High Priestess craned her neck to look at Begonia. “Do you have something to add to my statement, Miss Spence?”

  Begonia lowered her head. “No, High Priestess.”

  Laurel’s hand shot up. “I do.”

  The High Priestess heaved a sigh. “I ha
ven’t even started yet, Laurel. How can you possibly have anything to add?”

  “Ethics vary depending on the magic user,” Laurel said. “I’m curious how you can come up with a list that applies to everyone.”

  Limpet’s smile was tight. “Ethics should not and will not vary in this coven. There is only one set of acceptable guidelines and I’m about to impart this wisdom to you, if you’ll give me half a chance.”

  Laurel shook her head. “No room for nuance with this witch,” she muttered.

  “The first rule is…”

  Avery waved a hand from the front row. “Is it a rule or is it a regulation?”

  The High Priestess seemed thrown off by the question. “What’s the difference?”

  “A regulation is more formal than a rule,” Avery said. “It’s more exact.”

  “Too much nuance with that witch,” Laurel muttered.

  The High Priestess’s face reddened. “It’s do-as-I-say. Is that clear enough?”

  “Good thing she doesn’t teach law,” I whispered to Begonia. “She wouldn’t be able to handle basic discussions.” Although not all my law school classmates had been as sharp as Laurel and Avery, there’d been plenty of lively debates. It was pretty much expected.

  The High Priestess tried to recover her composure. “Now, where was I?” She consulted a notecard that she pulled from her pocket. “Ah, yes. There are basic tenets that every practitioner of magic must follow. Can anyone guess what the first one is?”

  Laurel and Millie bumped arms in their race to be first to raise their hands.

  “Millie, we haven’t heard from you yet today. What say you?” The High Priestess watched her expectantly.

  “Do no harm,” Millie said.

  “Well, we’re not medical doctors, but yes. I’d say that’s close enough. We are obliged not to use magic to cause harm to others, nor to take advantage of them.”

  “What about harmless pranks?” a witch called from the back row.

  “What about them?” The High Priestess narrowed her eyes. “Do I seem like the sort of High Priestess who condones pranks?”

  “No, ma’am,” the witch mumbled.

  “Can anyone name another tenet?” The witch surveyed the room with a cheerful smile. She appeared awfully chipper about the subject of ethics.

  I raised my hand. “Acknowledge when you’ve made a mistake.” I had a feeling the High Priestess struggled with that particular one.

  “Very good, Ms. Hart. Not all style and no substance, are we?” She addressed the rest of the class. “Acceptance of responsibility for our words and deeds. Very important. If you make a magical error, you must own up to it, especially when it’s inadvertently injured another in some capacity.”

  A witch named Izzy raised her hand. “So if I mean to turn Avery into a frog, but I accidentally turn a bird into a frog instead, do I need to acknowledge it?”

  The High Priestess’s dainty laugh echoed in the room. “That’s rather like if a tree falls in the woods, does anybody hear it?”

  Avery glared at the witch over her shoulder.

  “If you’re simply practicing and no harm is done, then I don’t see a need to acknowledge the error,” she continued.

  “What if the bird belonged to someone, but Izzy didn’t know it?” Laurel asked.

  The High Priestess frowned. “I don’t think we need to tackle too many hypotheticals. I only intend to cover the general principles today.”

  In other words, she didn’t have an answer.

  Izzy snorted. “How can a bird belong to someone? They have wings for a reason.”

  I twisted in my chair to face him. “I have a bird as my familiar. An owl.”

  “That’s because you’re not actually a witch,” she sneered.

  Laurel turned to glare at her. “Whether Emma is a witch or not is irrelevant. You asked how a bird can belong to someone and she answered you.”

  “Although I would argue that Sedgwick doesn’t really belong to me. We’re companions.”

  The witch’s face radiated annoyance.

  “Who can name a third tenet?” the High Priestess asked.

  Begonia wiggled her fingers, uncertain. “Don’t be selfish?”

  “I don’t have that on my list,” the High Priestess said.

  “Therefore, it doesn’t exist,” Laurel murmured.

  I nodded solemnly. “The list is life,” I said, doing my best Schindler’s List impression.

  The High Priestess plowed ahead, undeterred. “You will get what you give.”

  “Reap what you sow?” Avery asked.

  “I believe I said it more succinctly,” the High Priestess sniffed. “If you put negative energy into your magic, you will get negativity back. If you put positive energy into it, you’ll get that in return. Your intentions matter.”

  “Boomerang effect,” Laurel said under her breath.

  “Karma’s a witch,” Sophie added, smiling.

  “Also, as with anything worthwhile, magic requires great effort. If you are unwilling to put in the necessary work, you will fail.”

  “Welcome to my pep talk,” Laurel said.

  I suppressed a laugh.

  “If you feel a certain spell violates your ethical standards, then I’d advise you not to perform it,” the High Priestess said.

  Izzy raised her hand. “So if I tell Professor Holmes that a transmogrification spell violates my personal standards of ethics, then I’ll be excused from performing it in class?”

  The High Priestess appeared unamused by the question. “I take magical ethics very seriously, young lady, and so should we all. This is not the time for jokes. Integrity is a lost art and I’m determined to reintroduce it to this coven.”

  Izzy’s cheeks flamed and she sank lower into her seat.

  “And now I’d like you all to welcome our newest member of the coven and a new teacher at the academy, Juniper Brimstone,” the High Priestess continued.

  I shot a quizzical look at my friends. This was the first I’d heard of a new teacher.

  “Juniper, why don’t you stand up and say a few words?” the High Priestess asked.

  A slender witch with curly hair the color of a sunset glided to her feet to face the coven. She looked about forty years old with cheekbones that would’ve made the statue of David weep with envy.

  “Thank you, High Priestess. I’m so pleased to be here,” Juniper said. “This is my first time in Spellbound and it’s everything I hoped it would be. This town is a marvel. It’s like stepping back in time.” She flashed an engaging smile. “I’m from California, so I’m used to the sand, surf, and clean lines. I have to say, this is quite a change, but one I was ready for.”

  “Miss Brimstone will be teaching several new classes, so I’m sure most of you will get to know her sooner rather than later,” the High Priestess said.

  “I specialize in plants and flowers, so the fact that my arrival coincides with the flower festival seems like a sign from the gods,” Juniper said.

  Murmurs followed the announcement.

  “How about a warm welcome for our new addition?” The High Priestess motioned for applause and we reluctantly clapped our hands.

  “It’s too early for applause,” Millie whispered. “I haven’t had any caffeine.”

  The High Priestess looked at Miss Brimstone. “We hope you’ll be as happy as we are at the Arabella St. Simon Academy.”

  “I’m sure I will be,” Juniper said. She nodded at the room before returning to her seat.

  The High Priestess ran through a few more items of business before dismissing us. On her way out, she stopped at the end of our row.

  “Millie, as the Voice of the Coven, I expect you to write an article on ethics. I hope you took copious notes.”

  “Yes, of course, High Priestess,” Millie said quickly. “Word for word.”

  “Excellent. I’d like to see a draft on my desk by tomorrow morning.” She continued out of the classroom with the dogs trotting beside her.<
br />
  “You just lied about taking notes on ethics,” Laurel said. “Do you not see the irony?”

  “She acts like we’re all criminals that need to be reformed,” Sophie complained. “Just because Jacinda Ruth had issues doesn’t mean we’ve all been tainted by her.”

  “It’s a way of making herself feel superior,” Laurel said. “She puts herself on an ethical pedestal so she can look down on the rest of us.”

  “Nobody’s more ethical than Emma,” Begonia said. “You should be teaching the coven.”

  The back of my neck grew warm from embarrassment. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “You always do the right thing,” Begonia said. “Even when it’s hard.”

  “She’s right,” Sophie chimed in. “Everything I learned about ethics, I learned from you.”

  “That’s very sweet,” I said. “I think Limpet handled it fine, though.”

  “You agree with everything she said?” Laurel asked.

  I cast a glance at the youngest member of our group. “I suppose. Didn’t you?”

  “I don’t think it’s as simple as she made it sound,” Laurel said. “What if you have a good reason to use magic to cause someone harm?”

  “What qualifies as a good reason?” Millie asked.

  “Self-defense,” I said. “I’ve definitely used spells to protect myself and others. Spells that ended up hurting someone else.”

  “But the way Limpet explained the principles, self-defense is no excuse,” Laurel said.

  “I’m sure it’s not as black-and-white as that,” I said. “I think she was trying to give a basic overview.”

  If I’d learned anything as the defense attorney in town, it was that there were always grey areas to consider. Details mattered. Reasons mattered. It might not get you off the hook completely, but it could mitigate your sentence. There was a huge difference between five years in prison and six months of community service.