Battle of the Hexes, page 8
“Exactly. And since they are, they might as well make themselves useful. Once they’ve served their sentence, they’ll be released back to the fae.” She waved her hand. “But you didn’t come here to talk about criminals. Or did you?” She gave me another knowing look and held up a pretty, vintage cut glass decanter. “Cocktail? I know you’re the expert in magical cocktails, but I make my own moonshine.”
“I don’t know about being an expert, but I wouldn’t mind one cocktail.” There’d be time enough for it to wear off before I drove back to town. Not to mention plenty of food, albeit in mostly sugar form. I kind of wanted to stick around and see what these ladies got up to.
“Oh, you’re definitely an expert.” She eyed the space around me with narrowed eyes. “Yes, indeed. As I thought. You’ve inherited Agnes’s ability in that department. Still developing, but you’ve got time. Bet you’ll be better than she was.”
“I can’t read people’s auras or whatever to decide what they need.” That had been a part of my grandmother’s gift.
“Not yet. Like I said, it’s still developing. As are the rest of your gifts.”
She sounded like she knew about me. “You know what kind of witch I am?” That was something that had stumped even Elvira and Enki.
Lemon glanced at that space again. “Of course. You’re an Elemental Eclectic.”
I stared at her, my mind racing with a million questions. Was it really that easy? Did she just...know? This whole time? “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “I never looked before. And,” she tapped a fingernail against her cocktail glass, “I never had this before. Moonshine makes it work better. Not just any moonshine, of course. Gotta be my particular moonshine. It’s magic.” She winked.
Of course it was. “I have no idea what this means. Being an Elemental Eclectic.”
“Elvira can tell you more than I, but you’ve inherited a variety of interesting abilities from various portions of your heritage. The cocktail thing from Agnes, although she was a Sea Witch, and you are not. But you will eventually be able to read auras. Your cocktail magic will get even stronger then. I imagine you’ll be adept at candle magic, too.”
Heat seared through me, and my fingers tingled, a sure sign I was about to have an epic hot flash complete with magical meltdown. I took a deep breath, trying to force it back. I did not have the time. Cool air wafted off the ocean and I suddenly felt better. “How about the blowing stuff up?”
She frowned. “That’s an interesting one. There’s a touch of Fire Witch in you. That’s the Elemental part. Somewhere in your background there’s a Fire Witch, but I can’t recall any of the Jones women holding that power.”
I shrugged. “Probably way back when they were in Scotland or something.”
Her expression grew troubled, but only for a brief moment before smoothing out. “Perhaps, but I’m not so sure.”
It had to be. There wasn’t really any other option. I rubbed my still tingling fingers against my jeans. “What else can you tell me about my magic?” I still had so many questions.
She shook her head. “Sorry, that’s all I’ve got. Not without a lot more...investigation.”
“What does that mean?”
She smiled somewhat enigmatically. “Magic, my dear. But not as you know it. Now is not the time, however. Soon, maybe.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” She wasn’t a witch, that I knew.
“I can see it.” She swirled her finger around my face. “There.”
“In my aura?”
“Sort of. But it’s more than just your aura. Some would say it’s your soul. Your true entity beyond the physical.”
I stared at her. “What the hell are you?” Then I bit my lip. “Sorry, that was rude.”
She laughed. “Not really. To be expected. Perhaps I’ll even tell you one day.”
“But not tonight.”
“Nope. Tonight we’ve got some drinking and dancing to do.” She held out a plastic cup shaped like a martini glass but hot pink, filled to the brim with pale yellow liquid.
I accepted the glass she offered and took a tentative sip. It was sweet, citrusy, with an undertone of herbs. There was a tiny buzz of magic to it, but nothing like the cocktails I made. They just made me feel relaxed, enhancing the natural good work of alcohol.
“This is really good,” I told her. The last of the tingling disappeared and I felt almost back to normal again.
“I make my own limoncello, too.”
“I’ll have to get your recipe.” I’d never made much of anything in the kitchen before, but apparently cocktails were my new gig.
“Sure. I’ll email it. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.” Lemon took a sip of her own drink then plucked a lemon bar from the table.
I took a deep breath. “I’m here to talk about a dead guy.”
Chapter 12
“You mean the guy they found at Eoinn’s?” Lemon asked.
“How many dead guys are there in this town?” It popped out before I could reign it in.
Fortunately, she wasn’t offended. Instead, she laughed. “Good point.”
I dug around in my purse and handed her the picture of Gilmore Benedict. “Here. This is the guy.”
“Yeah, I remember him.” She handed me back the picture. “I was just coming out of hot yoga with Abilene Simpson and Molly Tipanny when this guy comes up and asks where he can get cell service.” She shook her head. “As if everyone doesn’t know normal cell phones don’t work here.”
They didn’t. The magic interfered with the signal. I’d had to buy a special Miracle Bay phone called a Peach—yeah, I know—in order to call or text anyone outside of town. Or inside, for that matter. The only reason I hadn’t known about it was I’d never been to town before. Anyone who’d even visited knew about the Peach phones and usually had one to use while inside the magical fog barrier. Which meant the dead guy very definitely hadn’t been from around here. But then, we knew that already.
“What’d you tell him?”
“I sent him to the grocery store to get a phone, of course.”
“Was he magical?” I asked. Quintero had said he wasn’t. Even Eoinn claimed Gil had been mundane, but I wasn’t so sure.
She poured herself another drink. “How else would he get in town?”
“As we know, there are other ways.”
“And you’re trying to figure out those ways. What makes you think I’d know if he was magical or not?”
It was my turn to give her a look. “Please. There is nothing that goes on in this town that slips by you.”
She preened. “True.” She took a bite of lemon bar and moaned. “That new neighbor of yours sure knows how to bake.”
The lemon bars did look good. I decided one wouldn’t hurt. I was wrong. The dang thing was beyond delicious. I might have had a second one. Okay, three. “The dead guy,” I prodded around a mouthful of citrusy goodness.
“Right. He had magic, but it wasn’t... normal.”
“What do you mean?”
“She means,” said a woman, coming up to the table, “that while he clearly had magic, it was strange. Like nothing I’d ever seen before.” The woman was tall and spare, probably about sixty, with salt and pepper hair. She filled her lime green martini glass and took a deep sip.
“Abilene’s right,” Lemon said. “Strangest magic I ever saw, but he was humming with it.”
“So you don’t know what he was?” I asked.
Abilene shrugged. “No idea. He could have had rare magic, or he could have been hexed. Hard to tell with these things sometimes.”
“What sort of hex?” I asked.
“He could have been non-magical, and someone infused him with magic.” Abilene took another sip of her cocktail. “Never seen it done but heard of it.”
“Why would someone infuse a non-magical person with magic?” I mused.
“Lots of reasons,” Lemon said. “Not necessarily nefarious. Could just be to get him through the barrier, although there are much easier ways.”
“Those involve Council approval,” Abilene pointed out.
“True,” Lemon agreed.
“Would he be able to use the magic for anything other than sneaking into town?” I asked.
“Depends on the spell,” Abilene said. “Whether it was residual magic or active magic. Active means he could channel it into something. Residual wouldn’t do much but get him through the barrier. Maybe act as camouflage.”
“Which was it?” I asked, glancing from Abilene to Lemon and back again.
Abilene shrugged. “No idea. Maybe neither. I could sense the magic and its strangeness, but that was it.” She downed her drink in one go. “I’m back at it. You going to join us?”
I froze. “Me?” It came out squeakier than I’d like.
“Why not?”
“I-I’m not really comfortable... skyclad.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to go skyclad if you don’t want to, but it is liberating.” She danced off, butt cheeks jiggling, completely unconcerned about her dimpled backside and the cellulite on her thighs. I sort of wished I could be like her when I grew up.
“It was active,” Lemon said, reeling me back to the matter at hand.
“What?”
“The magic in your dead guy. Definitely active. It was either a part of him or someone infused him with active magic. Either way, it means he could have channeled it.”
“For what?” I asked.
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”
“No ideas?”
“Plenty,” she said with a shrug. “But none that make much sense.”
I picked up a fourth lemon bar. It paired really well with the homemade moonshine and limoncello cocktail. I really needed some of Lemon’s recipes. “For example?”
“Back in the ’70s, there was this group of bank robbers.”
I stared at her, unsure where this was going. “Okay?”
“They hit small town banks all up and down the coast. Nobody could figure out how they got in and out without being detected. In fact, the mundane police still have it listed as an unsolved crime.”
“Let me guess. You know what really happened.”
She gave me a smug smile. “Yes, I do. Your grandmother and I worked together to discover that the ringleader had kidnapped a young witch and forced her to infuse them with magic. One of the gang channeled it to render the group invisible. Another used it to open the bank vault. They were in and out in minutes without anyone the wiser.”
“Whoa. Let me guess. They kept the witch because she had to keep infusing them with magic.”
Lemon nodded. “Exactly. The magic wore off after each job, so she’d have to keep renewing it. By the time we found her, they’d nearly burned her out.”
“And the gang? You said they weren’t caught.”
Her smile was only slightly evil. “Oh, not to worry. They were dealt with.”
“Um, good.” I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know. “I thought the Council didn’t deal with mundanes. Not their purview and all that.”
“They don’t usually, but in this instance, these jerks kidnapped a witch, stole magic, and used it for nefarious purposes. The usual legal channels aren’t exactly equipped for that.”
She had a good point. “They didn’t, ah, kill them or anything?”
Lemon snorted. “Don’t be absurd. The council doesn’t kill people. Especially not mundanes.”
Well, that was a relief.
“Now are you joining us or what?”
I was feeling a little fuzzy around the edges with the alcohol and sugar. Probably not a good time to drive. “Sure. For a while.”
She pointed at my shoes. “I recommend going barefoot. Better way to connect with the Earth and her magic. Otherwise, do as you will with the rest of your clothes.”
“I think I’ll keep them on.”
She shrugged. “Boring, but suit yourself. Now let’s dance.”
She cranked the stereo, and everyone shouted and jumped, waving their hands wildly. I’d never seen so many jiggling body parts in my life. No judgment. It was just weird for me who’d grown up in a society where people—middle aged women, especially—were constantly shamed for their bodies. It was going to take a while for me to leave that part behind.
Lemon tossed some sort of powder onto the fire, and the flames shot up higher. A sweet, smoky scent drifted around me, and for a while I lost myself in the music, the dance, and the warm glow of the moon and stars.
As the party wore down, I managed to get my neighbor by herself for a moment. “Hey, Dahlia, how’s the new house treating you?” It was lame, but it was all I had.
“Oh, marvelous. I love it. It’s simply perfect.” She stretched leisurely. “Did you enjoy the evening?”
“It was different, but yes. I wouldn’t mind coming again. Just not sure about the skyclad part. For me, I mean.”
She shrugged. “It’s not for everyone. You could always get a ritual outfit. Something fun and floaty. That way you feel special.”
“I like that idea. Thanks.” Might as well charge in. “I was wondering, how long have you had your familiar?”
“Oh, not long. He showed up shortly after I arrived in town.”
“You didn’t have one before?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They’re rare, you know.”
I did know. Until her, I was the only one in town that had one. Scratch that, I was still the only one who had one because Froggy Kenneth was definitely not a familiar.
“I never thought I’d have one,” she continued. “I’m so lucky.”
“How’d you know that’s what he was?” I asked. “And not, you know, just an ordinary frog.” Not that Kenneth was an ordinary frog, but I wasn’t about to tell her the full truth. I had no idea yet if she was trustworthy.
“He told me, of course. Familiars can speak to your mind.”
“How interesting.” She was right, familiars did speak directly to your mind, but they spoke to everyone, not just their witch. Anyone magical could hear them. Froggy Kenneth very definitely could not talk. Unless “ribbit” counted as speech. Which meant... what? Someone had made her think Kenneth had spoken to her? Either they’d implanted a memory, or more likely, had somehow spoken directly to her mind in a way that made her think the frog had spoken. Question was, why?
This was going to take a lot more investigation.
Chapter 13
The lights were still on in the library when I drove by, which was strange because it was getting pretty late. I hoped nothing had happened to Elvira. Worried, I parked in the small lot next to the bike rack—currently occupied with a well-used all terrain bike—and made my way inside.
The Miracle Bay Public Library was located in a mid-century modern building with a wall of windows facing west, giving it an excellent view of the ocean during the day, and a gently curved roof that made it look almost like a spaceship. The interior had a simple, elegant design from the pendant lamps to the wood-framed leather armchairs, all original.
Elvira—resplendent in a yellow velour track suit—was supervising a young person as they shelved books. Her minion looked to be hardly old enough to legally work. They had a head of shaggy, mousey brown hair, pale golden-brown skin, and ears that were ever so slightly pointed. Not enough for full elf, but maybe half.
“Hey, G-ma. Thought you’d have knocked off by now.” I slunk into the chair next to her, my worry subsided.
“I’m training my new recruit. Bellamy, this is my granddaughter, JJ. She/her. JJ, this is Bellamy, they/them.”
“Hi, Bellamy. Nice to meet you.”
Bellamy gave me a shy smile which flashed a tiny dimple in their left cheek. “Hi.” They went back to shelving books, but they kept sneaking peeks from under their shaggy bangs as if I was terribly interesting.
I glanced at Elvira with a lifted brow.
“Like you, Bellamy is new to town. They haven’t met many witches before.”
“I’m three-quarters witch,” Bellamy offered shyly. “But I was raised by my grandfather who is an elf. He thought it was time I had exposure to my other heritage.”
“Bellamy’s witch powers started manifesting recently. Most unusual for one of elf blood to also have witch powers, but there we go. Life is full of mystery and magic.”
“Well, if anyone can help you with witch magic, it’s my grandmother,” I told Bellamy.
Bellamy gave me that shy smile again. “I hope so.”
“Why don’t you knock off for the night, Bellamy,” Elvira said. “It’s late, and JJ and I have business to attend to. I will see you in the morning.”
Bellamy whispered a shy goodnight and hustled out the door. My guess was the bike in the rack must be theirs.
“Do they live close?”
“Their grandfather, Thorven, just took over the antique and vintage hardware shop down the road.” She went behind the desk and switched off the computers, then went around shutting off the lights before ushering me out the door. “The two of them live in the apartment overhead. Much like you.”
“When exactly did they arrive?” I asked as she locked the library door.
She shot me a look that told me I hadn’t fooled her one bit. “A good three weeks before either your neighbor or your frog.”
“He’s not exactly my frog,” I protested. “So you think it’s a coincidence, then?”
“More than likely. Although one never knows. Pays to keep the mind open.”
I glanced around, but my car was the only one in the lot and there was no sign of Elvira’s Vespa. “Did you walk?”
“Of course. It’s hardly far. And going home is all downhill.”
“Well, you might as well ride with me. We can talk about what I found out while I drive you home.”
“I have a better idea. You can drive me home, then we can hit Twisted Whiskey while we talk.”
“I thought they only did flights.” Not that I minded whiskey, but I preferred it in cocktail form.
“I had a talk with Yarrow a while back, and she’s now offering whiskey-based mixed drinks. You’ll like it.”
