Magic & Mishaps Read online

  “Been there, doll,” Bonnie said. “Won’t ever go back neither.”

  “He wasn't a werewolf called Wyatt, was he?” Linnea joked.

  Bonnie’s expression clouded over. “No, a werejackal called Jarrod. I thought he was the love of my life. Turns out my life isn't over yet.”

  Linnea reached forward and gave the woman's hand a consoling pat. “Many of us have been there, sister. It gets better. I promise.”

  “I hear that a lot,” Bonnie said. “I’m in a support group for women with broken hearts and that’s pretty much the topic of all conversations.”

  “A support group? I thought that was called Thursday night at the bar,” Linnea said with a laugh.

  Bonnie swilled her wine. “It's been good for me, actually. I never had a lot of female friends before, but this group has been a lifesaver. They’ve become like family to me.” She glanced at Emma’s stomach. “Still would’ve been nice to make my own, though.”

  “This is our last trip as a twosome,” Emma said. “From now on, baby’ll make three.”

  “We’ve got Seers Row here if you’re interested in learning more about that baby of yours,” Bonnie said.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “Let me know if you decide to go. I can probably get you a deal with Veronica.”

  “The Voice of the Gods,” Linnea said. “I hear she’s the queen of psychics.”

  I suppressed a smile. “She definitely thinks of herself as royalty.” The sharp-tongued psychic bossed around her assistant as though he was a servant.

  Suddenly I felt the vibration of Alec’s phone between us. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Bentley,” he said quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.”

  “I hate to be a party pooper, but I’m exhausted,” Emma said. “Would it be terrible if Daniel and I retired early?”

  Bonnie rubbed her hands together. “More pie for me.” She held up a finger. “After I use the ladies’ room, though. I like to linger over my dessert.”

  “I like to inhale mine,” I said. “Goodnight, you two. It was great to see you again.”

  “Same,” Emma said.

  I watched as Daniel slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and they disappeared upstairs.

  “Another drink, Ember?” Linnea asked.

  I smiled and settled back in my chair. “It’s Friday. Why not?”

  Chapter Two

  I stumbled downstairs the next morning, still half asleep. You know you’ve had too much to drink the night before when your dreams involve dancing martini glasses and the sound of shaking pill bottles as background music. I was glad Alec had chosen to drive. Alcohol didn’t have the same effect on the vampire, plus I was a lightweight.

  I pushed open the kitchen door and stopped short. Marley stood at the counter holding a mortar and pestle. In front of her was the herb organizer that Artemis Haverford had given her for her birthday. Three animals formed a semicircle around her, watching her every move expectantly.

  Raoul gave me a critical look. What happened to you? You look worse than me after a rainy afternoon at the dump.

  I had a nice evening, thank you very much.

  I’m surprised you remember any of it, based on your appearance.

  I glared at him. It was only a few glasses of wine. A few more than I was capable of having, apparently.

  “Good morning, Mom,” Marley said brightly. “I’m practicing the fine art of herbology.”

  “Have you told your friends?” I inclined my head toward the spectators. “They seem to think you’re practicing the fine art of treat-making.”

  “Don't worry,” she said. “They've all been given a warning not to touch anything.”

  I moved to stand beside Marley. “Did you hear that, everyone? Not food. Marley is practicing a spell.” I paused and looked at the ingredients. “Which spell?”

  “See if you can guess,” Marley said. “I’ve got angelica, anise seed, catnip—which Bonkers keeps trying to sniff—and gardenia.”

  I studied the contents for a moment and pretended to think. In reality, I had no clue. “A hangover cure?”

  She laughed. “Nice try.”

  “A protection spell?”

  “What do we need protection from? We have our security team right here.” She made a sweeping gesture to the dog, the raccoon, and the flying cat.

  “Is it for extra credit?” I asked. If the academy was anything like her other schools, Marley would’ve already mastered the basics in her new class and was branching out to explore more advanced magic.

  “No, it's not for school,” she replied. “I just wanted to practice at home and see if I could create a positivity spell.”

  “Why would you need that?” I asked. Marley was already one of the most positive people I knew.

  “I don't need it,” she replied. “I just like the idea of creating positive energy in the house.”

  “Don't we already have positive energy here? Why do we need to manufacture it?”

  Marley’s smile faded. “I feel like maybe the sheriff left lingering negative energy in the cottage.” Her cheeks colored. “I don't mean negative as in bad. More sad.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “You really think so?” I hated that Marley felt the need to spend her time on a spell for such a purpose. She was an empathy sponge, for better or worse.

  “It's not just him,” she said. “You’re carrying it, too. I mean, I know you’re happy with Alec, but I think you still feel guilty for what happened with Sheriff Nash.”

  I noticed that Marley was wearing the heart-shaped locket Granger had given her—the one that included a photo of me on one side and her father on the other.

  I slung an arm across her shoulders. “Of course I do. I care for him and I know I hurt him deeply.”

  Marley set down the mortar and pestle. “And that's why I'm working on this spell. To blow out all the negative energy with an influx of positive energy. Like fresh air and sunshine pushing away the storm clouds.” She smiled. “It's basically science.”

  I squeezed her shoulder once before releasing her. “Why don't I make breakfast while you work on your spell?” At the mention of breakfast, six sets of eyes focused on me.

  Did someone say the magic word? Raoul asked.

  “I’m going to need a second job just to keep feeding all of you,” I joked. I went to the pantry for the dog’s kibble and PP3 barked eagerly.

  No fair, the raccoon complained. Why does he get special treatment?

  Because he's older than dirt, I said.

  Hmm, age before beauty, I guess, Raoul said.

  I dumped a cup of kibble into the terrier’s bowl and hurriedly returned to the pantry to figure out breakfast for the rest of us.

  “Don't forget I have an appointment this morning,” I told Marley. “Are you sure you're okay to stay home alone for a couple hours? I'll be back in time to make lunch.”

  Marley began to tidy up the leftover herbs and put them back in the organizer. “You've asked me a hundred times. It's daylight. I have three furry bodyguards. I'll be fine.”

  I hid my relief as I grabbed a container of oats from the shelf and crossed the kitchen. Part of me still couldn't believe my daughter was willing to be alone in the cottage for two whole hours. She was suddenly growing up before my very eyes.

  “You can text me if you need me,” I said. “Or head over to Thornhold. Even if Aunt Hyacinth and Florian aren't home, Simon will be there. Maybe even Mrs. Babcock.”

  “Mom, relax. I’ll be fine.” Marley carried the organizer and placed it back in the pantry. “I still don’t understand why you and Alec are going to couples therapy. Ginny Reynolds said that's how you know when your parents are getting a divorce.”

  “Not always,” I said. “Alec and I are trying to start the relationship off on the right foot.” I didn't want to offer any further details. As mature as Marley could be, I didn't feel the need to explain that Alec had baggage that we wanted to address. So
did I, for that matter. We both wanted to give this relationship its best chance, so therapy seemed like a smart move straight out of the gate.

  Marley threw her arms around my waist for a tight hug. “I love that you’re both all in.”

  I kissed her forehead. “Me, too, sweetheart.” I'd waffled on the sheriff and still hated myself for it. I didn't want to repeat my mistake with Alec.

  Waitress, I ordered oatmeal with honey and cinnamon. Raoul tapped his claws on the counter.

  I shot him a threatening look. “Keep it up and you'll be washing dishes.”

  At your peril.

  “Make sure you clean up these plants when you’re done,” I said. “I don’t want to come home to a mess.”

  The only way that’s gonna happen is if you stop living here, Raoul said, prompting dagger eyes from me.

  “I promise,” Marley said. “You know what would make things even easier?”

  I punctured the air with a wooden spoon. “Don’t you dare say an herb garden.”

  “Fine,” Marley said. “I’ll just think it then and send you subliminal messages until you cave.”

  I groaned. Good thing I was already going to therapy because, if this conversation was any indication, I was going to need a lot more of it.

  Dove Spiegel was an older man with long white hair that he wore in a braid down his back. His sun-kissed skin was heavily wrinkled, yet his teeth sparkled with a blinding intensity. No red wine or caffeine passed this guy’s lips. He wore faded jeans with a tucked-in shirt and a polka-dot bow tie.

  “You must be Ember Rose and Alec Hale,” the therapist said. “Welcome.” He motioned for us to come in.

  Alec extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Spiegel.”

  The therapist shook his hand. “Please. Call me Dove.”

  “I’ve never met a shaman before,” I said.

  “And I’ve never met a descendent of the One True Witch before, so I guess we’re even,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve seen members of your family around town, of course, but that's been the extent of it.”

  I took a moment to survey my surroundings. His office was an interesting mix of artifacts; the room almost had a museum quality to it. A long, tubular object affixed to the wall caught my eye and I went straight over to investigate.

  “Cool. What is this?” I asked. The object’s design reminded me of a snakeskin pattern with alternating blocks of red, white, and black.

  “It's called a didgeridoo,” Dove said.

  I laughed. “Sounds like a made-up word.”

  He cocked his head. “Aren't all words made up, Ms. Rose?”

  “Good point,” I said. “What does it do?”

  The shaman came to stand beside me. “It's a wind instrument crafted and decorated by indigenous Australians.”

  “Aborigines?” I queried.

  “If you like,” he said. “They've been using these instruments for about a thousand years, give or take.”

  I glanced at him. “How old are you?”

  He burst into laughter. “Not that old, I assure you. Nor am I an indigenous Australian. I just like stuff.”

  “Where should we sit?” Alec asked. I could tell he was relieved that there was no sign of swings like our last therapist had. Needless to say, he wasn't a fan.

  “Up to you,” Dove said. “Some clients prefer that blanket over there.” He pointed to a blanket covered in geometrical shapes on the floor at the far end of the office. “Others prefer a more traditional arrangement.” He pointed to the loveseat in the middle of the office.

  “Alec votes for the traditional arrangement,” I said. There was a note of gentle teasing in my voice. I couldn't imagine the stoic vampire sitting cross-legged on the floor and opening his soul—well, whatever he had in place of the soul.

  “She knows me well,” Alec said.

  The older shaman sat in a leather chair opposite the loveseat where Alec and I huddled together. “A couple of ground rules before we start.” He reached for something tucked into a pocket on the side of the chair. At first, I thought he was getting a remote control but there was no television.

  “Is that a mini didgeridoo?” I asked, squinting at the decorated stick.

  Dove smiled, flashing those pearly whites. “No, this is a talking stick. In our sessions, only the one holding the talking stick is permitted to speak.”

  “Oh,” I said. “We have something like that in coven rituals.” My hand flew to cover my mouth. I wasn't sure whether that kind of information was considered confidential.

  “If we want to speak, how do we signal?” Alec asked.

  “Simply raise your hand just like in school,” Dove said. “I find it helps keep the conversation flowing because we aren't talking over each other.”

  I laughed. “And by we, you mean us.” I gestured to Alec and I.

  Dove offered a Mona Lisa smile. “This session is more centered around getting to know you. In future sessions, it might be worthwhile to utilize some of my less traditional methods.”

  “You mean like sitting on the floor?” I asked.

  “For a start. I also use certain techniques that are particularly effective for clients who struggle to express themselves.” His gaze flickered briefly to Alec before returning to me. “I find trances to be especially useful in helping couples to better understand each other.”

  “Trances?” I queried. “Is that like hypnosis?”

  “Somewhat, but not quite,” Dove replied. “We can explore that further if and when the time comes.” He settled against the back of his chair. “So, tell me what brings you here.”

  I raised my hand, remembering the talking stick rule. Dove broke into a broad smile and passed it over to me.

  “We've just gotten romantically involved and we thought it would be healthy to develop a relationship roadmap,” I said. “Neither one of us has made the best choices in the past and, basically, we want to make sure we don't screw this up.”

  The therapist eyed me closely. “Why now? What's changed?”

  I wiggled the stick at him. “Don't you need this?”

  “You were right,” the shaman said. “It's really for the two of you, although I get the impression that you won't exactly be talking over each other.”

  I held on to the stick. “For me, I have a young daughter and I think it's important for her to see her mother in a healthy relationship. I'm her only role model and I have a responsibility to her.”

  His brow wrinkled. “So you want a healthy relationship for your daughter, but not for yourself? Why aren’t your needs important?”

  “I didn't say that.”

  Alec took the stick. “In a way, you did,” he whispered, and immediately gave the stick back to me.

  “Well, that's not what I meant,” I said. “Obviously, I want a good relationship for my benefit as well.”

  “Why a roadmap?” the therapist asked. “Why not let things unfold organically?”

  “Because neither one of us knows how to have a successful relationship,” I said. “We need some pointers.”

  “It's been my experience that understanding our past aids us considerably in the present.” The shaman tucked his legs to the side. He was remarkably flexible for his age.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, causing me to jump. I yanked it from my pocket and quickly scanned the screen for Marley's name. It was only Linnea, so I slipped it back in my pocket. She probably only wanted to know how I was feeling this morning. Ten bucks said she had a worse hangover, not as bad as Bonnie’s, though.

  “Well, Alec certainly has more of a past to understand than I do,” I said.

  Dove shifted his attention to Alec. “Yes, I often find that with vampires. It's understandable, wouldn't you agree?”

  Alec simply nodded.

  “You mentioned that this is a new relationship for both of you,” Dove said. “Tell me about your most recent relationships prior to this one.”

  I wasn't ready to
talk about Sheriff Nash. Wordlessly, I passed the stick to Alec.

  “I was dating a nymph called Holly,” Alec said.

  “And how would you describe that relationship?” Dove asked.

  My phone vibrated again and I felt the therapist's eyes on me. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I swear I'm not that popular.”

  “You could try turning it off,” he suggested.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I’ve left my daughter alone to come here and she's only recently been willing to stay home alone in the daytime. If she calls or texts, I want to be able to answer right away.”

  Dove regarded me. “And what will happen if you don’t?”

  I peered at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Will she come to any harm?”

  “She might,” I said. “That's the concern.”

  He leaned forward. “It's whose concern?”

  I wagged a finger at him. “I see what you're doing here, Mr. Therapy Man. Listen, Marley is an anxious child. She always has been. You would be, too, if you lost your father at a young age, and then your doting grandfather, and then were whisked off to a magical town you didn't know existed.”

  “Perhaps you should make an appointment for her as well?” he suggested.

  “She's been to see Rhys Meridien,” I said. I wasn't really comfortable with the idea of Alec and I sharing a therapist with my daughter. “Anyway, she's been making great strides recently, which is why I don't want to ruin it by not answering if she calls.”

  “But she isn't the one contacting you now.” He nodded toward the phone now tucked under my thigh.

  “No, it's my cousin. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait.” I set the phone on Do Not Disturb. I would have to check periodically to see whether Marley had contacted me.

  “Alec, you were telling us about Holly,” Dove said.

  Alec splayed one hand on his thigh, while the other hand gripped the talking stick. “It was something I rushed into. I met her while traveling and she relocated to Starry Hollow to be with me.”

  “Is that something you do often?” Dove asked. “Rush into things?”