The Witching Hour: 11 Enchanting Novels Featuring Witches, Wizards, Vampires, Shifters, Ghosts, Fae, and More!, page 29
I stopped, letting out a short sigh. “No, I don’t know who was on the balcony, but I think Aegis found something. He’s not saying anything, though. But it wasn’t Ralph. I know that much.”
Bubba considered this for a moment, then wandered off into the other room. I watched his tail pluming as the drafts in the old mansion ruffled through it.
The caterers had cleaned up after the party, so there really wasn’t anything to clean, and if there had been, Aegis would have done the dishes while I was asleep. He usually left breakfast for me to eat, but given the amount of leftovers I knew would be in the fridge, I had told him not to bother the previous night. The man could cook and bake like a pro.
Finally, I scribbled out my to-do list for the day—a never-ending trail of shopping and planning—and settled in for a morning’s work on turning the mansion into a place where people would want to come stay.
By one-thirty, my head was spinning from numbers-crunching. I squinted, seeing double as I turned off the ten-key. Time to go shopping. I had so many things I had to buy before we opened the next week that I was starting to panic.
Shouldering my purse, I told Bubba I was headed into town and firmly locked the door. As I tromped through the snow to my car, my fur-trimmed coat barely keeping the cold at bay, it occurred to me that I loved my new life, even when there were glitches.
My mansion was on the outskirts of Bedlam, but given how small the island was—twenty-six miles long and from two miles wide on the ends to fifteen miles wide at the center—driving into the town didn’t take very long.
Grateful I had the forethought to buy snow tires for my CR-V, I cautiously navigated Yew Tree Road toward the still-icy Thornbush Drive that would lead me into town. Obviously Harold Winsket had overslept. The chief of trash collection, he was also our snowplow operator during winter. When he couldn’t make it, Skerrit Tomas, his assistant, took over. Both of them were ferret shifters, and they were usually on the spot about their work. But the roads were covered in snow and ice, and the banks were only growing deeper.
As I eased down Thornbush Drive into the town square, I found myself smiling. Living in Bedlam made me happy.
Over the years the architecture had changed, but some of the old buildings were originals, going back to the early days of the island. The post office, city hall, and police station were a combination of red brick and gray stone—the same on the outside as they had been during the 1800s. Oh, they had electric lights now, and heating and plumbing, but the architecture stood true to form, and the buildings rose from under their cover of snow, full of old-world charm and strength. I had my doubts that they would survive a major earthquake, but then again, if the big one hit along the Cascadia Subduction Zone, we were all going to be running for cover.
Bedlam was a tidy town anyway, but she really spruced up for the holiday season. Multicolored lights encircled every tree along Main Street, and wreaths hung from the lampposts, shimmering with the brightly colored faerie lights. Downtown proper was built up around the central square, which acted like a gigantic roundabout.
In the center of the square itself was the city fountain, with a massive sculpture of a cat sitting on a crescent moon in the center. The water had been turned off because of the freezing temperatures, and a layer of snow dusted the cat’s ears and head, and the horns of the moon. There were four Yule trees, one at each corner of the fountain, and shoppers milled through the square, though no one lingered on the benches in this weather.
I found a parking spot in front of McGee’s Apothecary and, bracing myself against the chill, slid out of the car into the biting wind. Snowflakes were blowing every which way as I hurried into the shop. I needed to stock up on ingredients for several of my spells, and I also wanted to get some of Andy McGee’s elixir. It was the best tonic in the world, better than any multivitamin for energy and general vitality. I wasn’t sure what he put in it—he had developed a secret recipe—but it worked.
Andy’s daughter, Beth, was behind the counter when I opened the door. At the jangling of bells, she glanced up from her computer screen.
“Hey, Maddy. What brings you to town on a morning like this?” Her frown of concentration vanished, replaced by a wide smile. The girl was pretty enough, but more than that—she had the nature of a healer and just standing near her made anybody feel better.
I jammed my hands in my pockets. I’d forgotten my gloves in the car and just the short jaunt from the curb to the shop had left me chilled.
“I need some of Andy’s elixir, along with some other spell components.”
“One bottle or two?” She turned to the shelf behind her, to a row of bottles with old-fashioned labels affixed to them. They were reminiscent of tonic bottles from the early twentieth century.
“Might as well take two.”
“Two it is.” She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Now, what else can I get you?”
“I also need an ounce each of Muddle leaf, gooseberry root, sassafras grass, chopped valerian, coltsfoot, and two ounces of comfrey leaf. Two pounds of Dead Sea salt, a packet of graveyard dust, and a bottle of War water.” I glanced at my list. “Oh, and if you still sell those incredible chocolate thunder bars, I want three.”
Not only did Andy make the best elixir, he also made one of the best chocolate bars I had ever eaten. Nobody could say the man wasn’t talented with mixing things. He was one of the best alchemists in Bedlam, and he was one of the few humans. His daughter showed similar talents, even though she was only in her thirties.
As Beth bustled around the shop gathering my purchases, I took a seat in the small reading nook next to the window. Various magazines were scattered on the table—Dazzle, Star-Crossed, SpellCaster’s Monthly, and The Otherkin Gazette. The daily Bedlam Crier was on the table, too, and I picked it up to glance through the news. There wasn’t much—Bedlam was a fairly quiet community as far as sensationalism went, but I noticed a prominent ad for the Heart’s Desire Inn on the third page. Ralph and his brothers weren’t sparing any expense, it seemed.
“Here you go.” Beth finished weighing out my herbs and slid the plastic bags into a paper one. “I put the tonic in a separate bag to avoid any possibility of getting your herbs wet.”
I fit my credit card into the chip reader and waited, then entered my PIN when it prompted me. “Thanks, Beth. I have some shopping for the Solstice to do. Merry Yule, in case I don’t see you before then.”
She handed me my bags and receipt. “Blessed Yule to you, also. Don’t leave that Muddle leaf around where it can be confused for oregano, or you’ll have a few weeks of trying to sort out all the confusion.”
I locked the bags in the car, then walked the half block to Art World, where I hunted through the prints until I found a copy of “Woman, Reading.” It was an Impressionist-inspired painting by a relatively unknown artist of a woman wandering through a meadow, a book in her hand. Franny had seen it in a catalog I had been looking through and had loved it. While I drew the line at painting the kitchen pink, I decided I could give her this for Yule and maybe bring a little joy into her life. While the clerk was wrapping up the print for me, I flipped through another stack.
I was mulling over a painting of a rose garden when my phone beeped at me. Pulling it out, I saw a text had come in from a number I didn’t recognize. Frowning, I opened it to see a picture that stopped me cold.
“What the hell?”
“Excuse me?” The gallery clerk looked over at me from where she was wrapping my painting.
“Nothing,” I murmured, turning away and looking at the text again. The text was a photo of a painting, that much was obvious. And the painting was of Aegis, his arm around a striking blonde. They were holding goblets of blood, raised as if to toast the artist.
I caught my breath. Who had painted this? And who had sent it to me? I thought about asking the clerk but decided that wasn’t the wisest idea. I started to text back who are you? why did you send me this? then stopped.
The representative smiled at me. “Will this be all?”
My heart in my throat, I nodded. “Yeah, please ring me up.”
She quickly began tallying up the painting and tax. “All right, here’s your total.”
“Thanks.” I handed him my credit card and then, clutching the print for Franny, headed back outside.
What the hell was a painting of Aegis and a blond woman doing on my phone? And then, I stopped and glanced at the text again. The woman looked very much like the vampire Ralph had described to me. The one who supposedly paid him to swipe my hair.
“Crap.” I didn’t know whether to text the person back or not. Whoever sent it definitely wanted to make sure I saw it, but the phone number had a different area code. That didn’t necessarily mean much, given the way people moved around. My phone still had a Seattle area code. Breathing heavily, I decided to pay a visit to Ralph later in the afternoon to see if he could confirm whether it was the same woman. Or to find out if he had been the one to send the photo to me. I’d avoid texting back until after I talked to Sandy.
Fretting, I moved on to French Pair—a boutique that carried lingerie. Aegis’s favorite color was purple, so I shuffled through the teddies till I found a bustier and cute boy shorts in a rich plum shade. The bustier was jacquard, with a richly embroidered print in black on it. I held it up, trying to assess whether it would fit over my boobs or not. I was more than well endowed and it made some tops a bit problematic.
“Choosing a gift that keeps on giving?” Sandy’s voice rang out behind me. “I saw you through the window so I decided to join you before lunch.”
We had agreed to eat at the Blue Jinn Diner down the street.
I laughed. “I’m trying to. Do you think Aegis will like this?” I turned around, holding up the bustier.
“If he doesn’t, then he’s not the hot-blooded…” She stopped, then laughed. “Let me rephrase that. If he doesn’t, then he’s colder than… Oh fuck it. Yeah, I think he’ll like it.”
I glanced around the rest of the shop, spying a table of microfiber high-legged briefs. “I need some new panties. I love this brand. They’re the most comfortable thing next to going commando.” I sorted through the collection, choosing four pairs of blue, three plum, and two hunter green. I added two pairs of burgundy and three pairs of black panties to the pile. “There, two weeks’ worth.”
Sandy picked up a pair, running her hand over the material. “Nice. No seam lines to dig in.”
“They last for a long time, too. And they don’t fade.” My stomach chose that moment to rumble. “Come on, let me pay for all this and then we’ll go eat. I’ve got something to tell you about but I don’t want to get into it here.”
As I paid for the clothes, my worries came flooding back. “Sandy, do you know a good private investigator?”
She gave me a sharp look. “Why?”
“No reason.” I shrugged. “I may have some questions. Anyway, let’s go. I’ll tell you all about it over lunch. After lunch I was planning on shopping for furniture. If I’m planning on opening the B&B late next week, I have to finish decking the place out and I haven’t a clue what I want at this point.”
Bags in hand, we hurried through the falling snow. The storm had picked up substantially from just thirty minutes ago. “I’ll drive. We’ll swing back to pick up your car after lunch.” I shoved the bags into the back seat with the others and started up the engine.
As we waited for the car to warm up, I pulled out my phone.
“Have you ever seen this picture before? Somebody texted this to me. It’s a painting—but I have no idea who sent it to me.” I held out the phone.
Sandy stared at it, then shook her head. “No, I haven’t. But that’s Aegis. Who’s the woman?”
“I have no idea. I want to know when it was painted and who she is, and who the hell decided to text it to me.”
“Well, by the style of her dress I’d say it was painted during the late 1980s.” Sandy’s pursed her lips as she enlarged the photo. “She’s a real looker. Expensive, too. That haircut’s so precise you could shave your legs on the edge.”
“Thanks, I needed that visual.” I leaned over to glance at the picture again. “She’s wearing an expensive dress, though. That’s a Donna Laurenz, unless I miss my guess.”
“I think you’re right.” She snapped her fingers. “I have every Styalista published. I know I saw that dress in there. I’ll have Lihi get on it.”
“You don’t have to bother her—” I started to say, but Sandy formed a ring with her index finger and thumb and raised it to her mouth, whistling sharply. A moment later, a homunculus appeared. Twelve inches tall, she looked like a cross between a bat and a woman, with leathery wings and large ears. She was wearing a pink halter top and a pair of leather shorts with a hole cut in back for her long, rat-like tail. Lihi was cute more than anything, but I knew better than to underestimate her. Homunculi were dangerous if you crossed them, but Lihi was bound to Sandy by a mutual contract, so I wasn’t all that worried.
“Lihi, see this?” Sandy showed the homunculus the picture.
Lihi nodded. “What do you need, Mistress?”
“Please go through my back issues of Styalista and find this dress. I want to know what issue it’s from—what month and year. Also the designer’s name and if the story says anything about someone who may have bought the original.”
“As you will.” Lihi vanished as quickly as she had come.
“She’s cute.” I started the car. “How long has she been with you? I can’t remember.”
“About four years. We agreed to a seven-year contract to begin with. She’s handy and her pay comes easy. She loves crystals, and since she can’t enter this realm without being summoned, she can’t go hunting them herself. So I promised her ten quartz crystals per month, with a bonus of an amethyst and citrine at the end of the first year, and other gems at the end of other years.” Sandy grinned as she leaned back.
“You got off easy.” It seemed to me like Sandy was getting the best of the deal.
She snorted. “Not so much. She eats like a trucker. I go through a lot more food than you might think. And in her world, those ten crystals per month? Are quite a hefty payment. But we get along and I’m pretty sure we’ll both want to renew when the seven years are over. She’s incredibly handy and I like her sense of humor, though it takes some getting used to.
“So, who do you think the woman in the painting is?” Sandy asked as I turned left on Backslide Street—aptly named, given the gradient. I grimaced, coaxing the car up the steep hill.
“I don’t know. But given she appears to be a vampire by the tips of those fangs showing, I’d better find out, and find out quick. If Ralph confirms she’s the same one who hired him, then I need to talk to Aegis. I’m sure as hell not looking forward to that conversation.”
We topped the hill and turned onto Exxo Street. From there it was a block to the Blue Jinn. Easing into a parking space, I turned off the ignition. As the car settled, Lihi appeared again, her wings fluttering just enough to keep her aloft above Sandy’s lap.
“I found the information you asked for. The issue with that dress in it was released in October of 1987 and it’s a Donna Laurenz original. No copies were made.” The homunculus looked extremely pleased with herself.
“Good job, Lihi. Go enjoy yourself the rest of the day. I won’t be needing you till tomorrow, so take some time and have fun.” Sandy waved her off, and Lihi vanished with a smile on her face. “I told you, a Laurenz. 1987. If there were no copies, then whoever is wearing that dress in the painting bought the original.”
“I wonder how we could find out the name of whoever bought it. I doubt the designer—or her company—would release confidential records like that.” The wheels of my brain were spinning as we entered the Blue Jinn.
“We have a reservation. Gallowglass.”
The hostess ticked us off her list and led us into the depths of the restaurant. The Blue Jinn was a fancy steakhouse with a lounge. The bar, open from four p.m. till midnight, sported a stage for live music and the occasional dinner theater. We passed by the lounge to a booth near the back with a window overlooking the patio. The hostess handed us our menus.
“Your server will be with you in a few moments. Can I start you off with drinks and appetizers, or do you need a few minutes?”
I didn’t feel like alcohol. “Peppermint mocha. For an appetizer, I’d like a bowl of your New England clam chowder.”
Sandy ordered a cup of lemon tea and the lobster bisque. As soon as the hostess left, she leaned across the table. “I think you need to talk to Aegis about this, and soon. Seriously, Maddy. You two have something good going. He’s not going to ruin it by—” She paused as Rose Williams, a member of our coven, hurried over to our booth.
“Maddy, I don’t want to interrupt your lunch, but I think you should know that the Greyhoofs are spreading rumors about you.” She shoved her phone toward me. “Read what he said about you on Flitterbug.” Flitterbug was a social networking site for the Pretcom. I had very little to do with it. Social media in general irritated the hell out of me.
I reluctantly took her phone and glanced at the “flit”—as they called the posts. There, George Greyhoof had written:
don’t be deceived by the illusionary allure of bewitching bedlam. for true comfort, check in at the heart’s desire inn, where we cater to all your needs—both the sublime and carnal.
“Damn it.” I scanned through the rest of his posts for the week, only to find several less-than-flattering mentions of the Bewitching Bedlam. Including the insinuation that Aegis would feed off our guests. “I’ll box their ears.”
Sandy took the phone from me and read through the notifications. She silently handed it back to Rose. At that moment, the waitress brought our soup and drinks.
“Would you like to order now?”
I wanted to bark “No, go away!” but bit my tongue. The waitress hadn’t done anything wrong. Motioning to Rose to stick around for a moment, I glanced at the menu again.
