How Sweet Magic I Read online

  “Very funny, Argus. We’re here on important business.”

  Argus forked a square of chicken into his mouth. “Hmm? Really? Now what could you ladies possibly need with an old First Wizard like myself?”

  Betty pressed a hand to her hip. “It’s not the First Wizard part we’re interested in.”

  He dabbed the corners of his lips with a linen napkin. “No? What then?”

  Betty placed her palms on the table, wedging herself between two women. “We’re interested in the First Sorcerer part of you.”

  Argus’s mouth twitched. His gaze narrowed on Betty, and then without cutting his eyes from her, he said, “Everyone, will you please excuse us?”

  The other residents at the table scattered like cockroaches. I mean, never in my life had I seen old folks move like lightning—greased lightning at that.

  Argus gestured with his non-pinky-ringed hand. “Ladies, please have a seat.”

  Mattie hopped in my lap. She raised her nose, getting a good whiff of the chicken, I’m sure.

  Argus sliced the meat. “You wish to speak about the art of sorcery? Something I discuss with a very few privileged people?”

  “Can the dramatics, Argus,” Betty snapped. “You and I both know this entire town is aware of your past. Just because you talk like a gentlemen now doesn’t erase what you used to dabble in.”

  He gave Betty a tight smile. “Then what can I do for you?”

  Betty nodded toward me. “My granddaughter ran into a sorcerer today. I think he did something to her, but since my magic doesn’t bend to the ways of your kind, I can’t tell what.”

  His gaze flickered to me. “And how can you be sure, young lady, that it was sorcery you encountered?”

  “Rufus Mayes walked into her store and zapped her with his finger.”

  Argus choked on what I could only presume was a chicken bone. He lifted his water glass and took several long sips. “Rufus Mayes? He’s banned from Magnolia Cove.”

  “Tell him that,” Betty spat. “Someone, somehow let him in. We’ve notified the police, but that doesn’t change the fact that he touched my granddaughter and I want to know what he did to her.”

  “So do I,” I said. “Please, Mr. Amulet, if you can help me, I would be forever grateful.”

  “Forever is a very short time to me, my dear,” he said.

  I nearly rolled my eyes. Yes, I knew he was old and he wouldn’t live for another ten years or so, probably, but hey, he could still show a little respect for my thankfulness.

  Sheesh. Some people.

  With a feeble hand Argus clasped the cane resting beside the table. He pushed his chair back and rose, leaning on the instrument.

  “Ladies, come with me.”

  We followed Argus out a side door into the gardens. It was peaceful, with only the chirps of songbirds interrupting the silence.

  “The Werewolf War of ’52 is how I got my bad leg. It’s stayed with me ever since,” he murmured as we passed a hibiscus with bright pink petals.

  “Werewolf War?” I said.

  “Yes. Most of my kin fought in the faction that won. I was lucky enough to be among them, though I didn’t get away scot-free. Lost my leg. The synthetic one that replaced it isn’t quite as good, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years.”

  “Was there a bombing or something? Is that how you lost it?”

  A rich, velvety laughed escaped Argus. “Of course not, my dear. I was attacked by a sorcerer. His spell killed my leg, though it spared my life. It was a small price to pay for a beating heart.”

  “I agree,” Betty said. “An arm or a leg is nothing compared to a life.”

  Argus’s eyes glinted with something—more amusement, maybe. “Though some might disagree. The government didn’t. They thanked me for my service.”

  We reached a shack behind a large elephant ear bush. Argus poked in his pockets until he found a key. He unlocked the door and gestured for us to step inside.

  The shack, as I had referred to it from the outside, was nothing like that on the inside.

  The bulbs buzzed with electricity when Argus snapped them on. Crystals of all colors were immediately illuminated. Red and yellow, azure and teal, lavender and onyx—the entire room was filled with them. Some sat on shelves, others were suspended from twine that dangled from the ceiling, while others were set in statues. A stone gargoyle stared at me with ruby crystal eyes. I shivered.

  Competing for space on the shelves next to the crystals were what I could only think of as talismans. These were shapes constructed of iron or steel, with feathers and rocks attached to them. They came in circles and triangles, pentagrams and squares. Even though the designs were simple, there was something intimidating about them.

  In fact, the entire room seemed to hum with an undercurrent of energy. One corner in particular stole my attention. It was a rack of shelves lined with clear vials. In the vials were colored powders, eyeballs, feathers, bones—an assortment of organic substances that I could only figure were used in the art of sorcery.

  “What in hell’s bells is this place?” I said.

  Betty swatted me.

  “What?”

  “The cursing. No granddaughter of mine curses.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t consider hell to be a curse word. When it’s a place as well as an expression, it’s PG.”

  “Says you,” she huffed.

  “That’s exactly right,” I said smugly.

  “Ladies,” Argus said, “this is my retreat from the sterile halls of the center. It’s where I come to remember who I am.” He ran his fingers down one of the feathers hanging from the ceiling. It was gigantic, as if it had fallen from a whale-sized bird.

  “What is that?”

  “A griffin tailfeather.”

  My jaw dropped. “A griffin?”

  Argus’s lips twitched in amusement. “Yes, my dear. I am a collector of many things, including magical creature elements.”

  Mental note—do not let Argus near Hugo.

  “I don’t harm the creatures, of course. I only take something if they’re willing to give, otherwise the magic wouldn’t work. Not my magic, at least. There are others who trade in creatures. That’s not me.”

  “Yes, I know all about people trading in creature parts.”

  Just yesterday I’d helped solve a case involving dragon bloodstones. In fact, I had found myself on the wrong end of a gun. If it hadn’t been for Axel Reign, my kind-of boyfriend, I wouldn’t have survived at all.

  Argus shook a finger at the feather. “That particular bird was instrumental in assisting with a spell I was working on. Unfortunately she became wounded. She had a nest, and I brought food to the babies. To repay me, she offered a tailfeather. I’ve never had a reason to use it.”

  Argus gestured for me to stroke it. I slid my fingers down the orange and brown spots. It was silky and soft. “Amazing. What can you do with it?”

  “Oh, a variety of things. It can be a tonic that helps other magical creatures; it could potentially stop time, though I don’t know for how long or if the world would be stable enough to actually handle such a thing.”

  “Amazing,” I said, mesmerized.

  Betty shuffled between us. “Yes, all of this is wonderful, Argus, but we’re here for a reason. Time might not’ve stopped, but it’s certainly wasting away while whatever bug Rufus gave my granddaughter goes to work.”

  “Yes, yes, Betty,” Argus cooed. “I haven’t forgotten why we’re here. Your granddaughter clearly has an interest in my workroom. I was only explaining a few things to her. No harm. No foul.”

  Argus caned his way over to a bench and sat. He motioned for me to join him. I did, feeling more like a patient in a doctor’s office than a witch about to be inspected by a sorcerer.

  “My talents may be a bit rusty,” he apologized.

  Betty crossed her arms. “The only thing rusty about you is the bit of red growing under the handle of that cane. Your talents are as good as they
were half a century ago, Argus. There’s no reason to pretend they aren’t.”

  He chuckled softly. “Aren’t you confident?”

  “I am. Always will be. It’s the Craple in me.”

  Argus placed a soft, warm hand over mine. “Close your eyes, my dear. Let me take a look and see what I can see.”

  I closed my eyes, though I was tempted to peek. Argus placed a palm to my forehead and hummed something.

  “Ah, yes. Ah. Tell me, when Rufus touched you, did you feel something?”

  “Yes, it felt like energy zipping over my head and down to my feet.”

  “But it didn’t hurt,” he said.

  “No. It only felt strange.”

  “I see.” He released his palm. “You may open your eyes.”

  Betty padded forward, throwing a shadow over me. “Well? What is it? What did that scoundrel do to her?”

  Argus grabbed his cane and cradled both hands over the silver handle. “It appears as if Rufus has cast a bonding spell on your granddaughter.”

  Betty’s lips pursed so far they disappeared. After a moment of casting Argus with the stink eye, she said, “What sort of bonding spell?”

  Argus leaned away, resting his back on a row of shelves. “From the looks of it, it appears as if whenever she uses her power, it won’t work for her, but instead will fuel Rufus.”

  I gasped. “He said he wanted my magic.”

  “And that’s how he plans to own it,” Argus said, rising. “Whenever you work your power, it will go to him, essentially rendering you powerless.”

  “So he’ll own my magic?”

  Argus nodded. “That is correct.”

  I shot Betty a concerned look. At that moment I felt an ache bloom at my temples. That was bad. Very bad. Axel had explained to me that as a head witch, I had to blow off my power every once in a while.

  And a headache was always the first sign that I needed to work some magic.

  I brought my fingers to my lips but resisted the urge to gnaw on them. “If I don’t own my power and it goes back to Rufus when I use it, that means I won’t be able to purge the excess, which means my magic could kill me.”

  Argus swiped a finger beneath his bottom lip. “I’m afraid, my dear, that you are correct.”

  THREE

  “What am I supposed to do?” I said frantically. Part of me wanted to rein in my panic and play this cool, but that part of me didn’t win.

  Betty studied Argus. “Do you know a way to stop the spell?”

  Argus riffled through his vials, blowing dust off a few and tapping the clear glass. “Perhaps. It will take some time for me to work up the proper spell. It’s a tricky job, reversing such complex magic.” He chuckled. “Rufus is nothing if not creative and imaginative.”

  My hopes, though they didn’t crash and burn, certainly petered out a bit. “When do you think you’ll have an answer for us?”

  “Oh,” Argus said, eyeing the green, goopy contents of a particularly revolting-looking vial, “return the day after tomorrow. That should give me plenty of time to decipher what I need to do. This may require dusting off a book or two.”

  “We’ll return then,” Betty said.

  This was one of those times when I wished Axel was here. Unfortunately, last time we’d spoken, he said that work would take him from town for a few days.

  Of course work would take him away when his soothing voice and smile would be two things guaranteed to lift my spirits.

  Betty and I followed Argus out, where we were met by a young man in a suit. He was tall with sandy hair that he swept out of his green eyes with a shake of his head.

  “Granddad, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “My dear Samuel, when at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Argus turned to us. “Ladies, meet my grandson, Samuel Amulet. He visits me nearly every day and is more concerned with my well-being than is natural.”

  Samuel punched his hands in his pockets. “My grandfather looks innocent enough, but he tends to stay in trouble around here. I like to check in, make sure he’s walking the straight and narrow.”

  “And how narrow do you think he’s going to do that with a Sorcerer’s Shack out here?” Betty said gruffly. “There’s enough magic buzzing in those four walls to blow the roof right off Magnolia Cove.”

  Samuel eyed her questioningly. “The town doesn’t have a roof.”

  Betty fisted her hands on her hips. “Youngster, if I say this town has a roof, it has a roof.”

  “I wouldn’t argue with her if I were you,” Argus said. “Betty Craple practically runs this town.”

  “As I said,” Betty said proudly, “if it weren’t for me, Magnolia Cove would implode.”

  Mattie started off toward the main complex. I tugged Betty’s jumpsuit. “I think we’ve disturbed Mr. Amulet enough. We have our answers. Thank you,” I said to him. “We’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” Argus said.

  Samuel waved. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Pepper Dunn.”

  He took my hand the way a Southern gentleman is taught, by holding it as if he would raise my hand to his lips. But instead he only gave a slight wag.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

  “How do you do?” I replied.

  Feeling his green eyes burn into me for a little too long, I pulled my hand away and turned toward Betty.

  A young blonde nurse exited the main center and greeted us. “Mr. Amulet, ready for your physical therapy?”

  “My dear,” I heard Argus say as we slipped inside, “if you’re the one massaging my leg, I’m ready for anything.”

  With that, the three of us left the First Witch Center and headed to the car.

  “I know you’re worried,” Betty said as she fastened her seat belt, “but Argus is the best sorcerer around.”

  “What about Axel?”

  Betty’s gaze slashed right and left. “Do you see your boyfriend nearby? Because last I checked, he was out of town. Plus, he’s a wizard, not a sorcerer. He may know a thing or two, but when it comes to combatting Rufus’s skill level, we need wisdom, not beauty.”

  Mattie curled up on Betty’s lap. “Thank you, I know I’m beautiful.”

  I laughed.

  Betty pulled her pipe from a pocket and slid it between her teeth.

  “You’re not going to smoke in here, are you?”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “I prefer if you wait until we get home. Some scent won’t come out of the fabric.”

  “That’s the least of your problems from the look of this old car. Besides, you’re already risking old person smell just by having me in here.”

  I cranked the engine. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “No need.” She took a long puff and exhaled. “I’ll just pretend I’m smoking. Helps me think better.”

  I steered us back toward downtown. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Obviously the second most important issue that’s occurred today.”

  “Which is?”

  “How the heck did Rufus Mayes manage to get his butt back in Magnolia Cove?”

  “Right.” I eased on the brake as we reached a stop sign. They didn’t want to work, so I pumped them a few times until the brake fluid finally lubricated the joints enough to stop.

  Betty shot me a worried look. “Is this thing safe?”

  “You smoke a pipe, which could give you cancer, and you’re asking if my vehicle is safe?”

  “It’s a valid question.”

  Once the intersection was clear, I pressed the gas. “It’s safe enough. The whole brake thing is a new problem. I’ll see if Axel can check it out when he returns to town. But anyway, you were talking about how Rufus got in.”

  “The spell used to ban him was created by three people—me, Barnaby Battle, who’s the new mayor, and Sylvia Spirits, who owns the witch hat store.”

  “Witch hat store?”

  “Yeah.
It’s a controversial item. Sylvia says the hats amplify your powers, make you a stronger witch.”

  “Well? Does it work?”

  Betty exhaled a pretend puff of smoke and then watched what would have been rings dissipate in the cabin.

  “You’ve seriously got a problem,” I said.

  “I like my pipe. When you get to be my age, kid, it’s the little things in life that bring happiness.”

  I smirked. “It’s already the little things in life that bring me happiness. Anyway, so what do you want to do? Visit Sylvia?”

  Betty nodded. “Take a left on Wishing Well Road. Her shop’s at the corner of the next residential street.”

  I stopped the Camry in front of a green cottage with white shutters. It was late summer, and encore azaleas bloomed bright pink on either side of the door.

  The wood shingle sign in front of the cottage read CHARMING CONICAL CAPS.

  “That’s a mouthful,” I said.

  Betty unclipped her seat belt. “As I explained, it’s more for advanced witches than a newbie, and even then many magical sorts don’t buy into it.”

  I tapped the steering wheel. Glancing at my chipped polish, I realized that boy, I sure could use a manicure. Perhaps there was a magical store in town that would do such a thing. In fact, if I asked, I was bound to find one.

  “But if Sylvia was one of the three of you who created the spell that kept Rufus from entering, she must be a powerful witch.”

  “Oh, she’s one of the best, that’s for sure. But the whole hat thing isn’t for me.”

  “Why not?”

  She smiled secretively. “You’ll see.”

  We hopped out. Mattie stretched her back legs. “Y’all, I’m gonna head back home if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough ridin’ around to last me a week.”

  “Nap time?” I said.

  “You got it, sugar.”

  Mattie padded off as Betty and I made our way to the cottage. I let her lead, unsure if a hat would pop out and attack me on entering.

  Hey, crazier things have happened.

  Like today with Rufus, for instance.

  When she opened the door, hats of all shapes and sizes greeted us. Some sat on mannequin heads while others were draped over pegs. Several were propped on hat stands, and a few hovered in the air, about head height. They bobbed and spun in gorgeous pinks, ivory, citrine, onyx, emerald, lime, lavender, aquamarine. I swear, Sylvia covered every color of the rainbow with her hats. If you needed one to match an outfit, you wouldn’t be disappointed.