Charmed Offensive Page 8

  “I’m not worried about daddy issues,” I said. “I had a loving father.” Barron Hart had been a good father, although he’d struggled to cope after my adoptive mother's death.

  Dr. Hall slapped her hands on her thighs and stood. “If we’re going to dive into such heavy topics, I'm going to have a drink. You’re not going to resent me, are you?” She didn't wait for my response before heading to the bar against the wall in her office.

  “I promise,” I said. “You do whatever it is you need to do to get through the day. Coping skills are important.”

  She poured herself a cocktail over ice and gave it a good stir before returning to the sofa. “You’re telling me. Coping skills are the key to life. I'm glad you’re finally figuring that out.” She swilled her cocktail. “Listen, if you’re still stuck on this daddy thing, then scratch the itch. I won't stop you.”

  I smiled. “Well, that's a relief. I don't know that I’d be able to overpower you if you tried.”

  “Personally, I think you should let sleeping vampires lie, but it's not my decision.”

  I frowned. “You think my father is a vampire?”

  Her expression mirrored my own. “No. If I had said let sleeping dogs lie, would you have inferred that your father is a dog?”

  I gave a quick shake of my head. “No, of course not.”

  “Do you want my advice?”

  I swallowed more of the mocktail. “There’s no point in answering this question because you’re just going to tell me anyway.”

  She winked. “You're catching on. If you insist on pursuing this, get it over with. Rip off the bandage now before the baby arrives. This is your issue, not your baby’s. Deal with it so that you can be present for your child when that thing finally shoots out of you.”

  My hands covered my belly. “It's a baby, not a cannon.”

  “No, you’re the cannon. The baby is the cannonball.” She clucked her tongue. “I mean, seriously.”

  “Gareth wants me to leave the past in the past, but Daniel said he supports me whatever I decide.”

  “He would say that, wouldn’t he?” Dr. Hall asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She snorted. “That Winged Wonder just wants to get into your pants.”

  I glanced down at my stomach. “Been there. Done that.”

  “I guess you need to ask yourself what’s the worst that can happen if you find him?”

  I shook my head. “If I think about it that way, then I’ll never want to find him. I told Daniel that I’d gather information first and then decide.”

  She scrutinized me. “And how do you intend to gather this information?”

  “A Warden of the West I met. He’s with the Agency of Magical Forces. He might be able to dig up more information. Daniel said he’ll drive me to Spellslingers Academy of Magic so I can meet with him.”

  “When do you plan to do this?”

  “Sooner rather than later, I guess. If I wait too long, I might run out of time.” I rubbed my stomach and the baby kicked in response. “This child is going to be feisty.”

  “Good, maybe there’s hope I’ll like your kid after all.”

  I shrank back. “You don’t think you’ll like my child?”

  She grimaced. “The offspring of Miss Bleeding Heart and the sappiest angel to walk the earth? Don’t take it personally, but chances are slim.”

  “Gee, how could I possibly take that personally?”

  Dr. Hall gulped down the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the table. “That hit the spot.” She rubbed her hands together. “So what else is going on? Are Daniel and Gareth behaving?”

  “For the most part,” I replied. “They seem to have an unspoken truce.”

  “It won't last,” Dr. Hall said.

  I shot her an annoyed look. “Thanks for the encouraging words.”

  Dr. Hall barked a short laugh. “If you want encouraging words, then make an appointment with that coddling fool, Thalia. You know I don't coddle my clients here.”

  No, she certainly did not.

  “What else is on your mind? I can tell something’s bothering you. You get those lines between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and poked her finger there.

  I rubbed the spot where she’d poked me. “I’m worried about Althea.” I explained what had happened.

  “Huh, sounds like you should’ve kept your mouth shut about Althea’s run-in with your client.”

  “Astrid didn’t even remember that part until after she decided to talk to Althea,” I said. “It isn’t my fault.”

  “But you still feel guilty.”

  “Of course I do! Althea is my assistant. The only reason she dealt with Mr. Geary in the first place is because he came to see me.”

  “And you’re letting your guilt lead you around by the nose when you should be winding down the amount of work you’re taking on.”

  “Josie doesn’t start yet,” I said.

  “Josie’s irrelevant,” Dr. Hall replied. “She wouldn’t do what you’re doing now anyway.”

  “She would if she wants to clear her client’s name.”

  The vampire groaned in exasperation. “Emma, you’re not hearing me. You always bite off more than you should.” She paused and smiled. “I should start doing that more often. That’s what fangs are for, am I right?”

  “Althea is my friend,” I said. “I have to help her.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to look for your father. You don’t have to let Gareth and his hellbeast live with you. You don’t have to fart unicorns and rainbows all over town, but you choose to do these things. Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Why don’t you put yourself first? Are you not important enough?”

  I blinked. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re always so busy making sure everyone else is okay. Trying to rescue everyone who falls in your path. I think it’s time you start focusing more on Emma, especially now when you’re actually going to be responsible for another life.”

  I stared at my stomach. “I am, aren’t I?”

  Dr. Hall swept my glass off the table and carried it back to the bar. “I don’t expect you to change overnight. Just something to ponder while you’re out there on your perilous quest for truth and justice.”

  “I’m only interviewing guys who like to garden. It’s not perilous.”

  She fixed me with a hard look. “Tell me that again once Althea is free and you’re unharmed.”

  “Fine, O ye of little faith.” I gave my chin a defiant jerk. “I will.”

  Chapter Nine

  I wanted to go straight back to Amanda the next morning and ask about her alleged relationship with the victim, but I’d already promised Agnes I would visit her at the Spellbound Care Home this morning and there was no way I’d renege on a vow to the cranky former head of the coven. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and convinced Millie and Begonia to join me so that we could discuss Millie’s bid to become the first Voice of the Coven with Agnes. Initially, Millie had objected to the idea, but I managed to convince her that Agnes would have insight on how to appeal to the rest of the coven. Begonia was kind enough to supply a bottle of Goddess Bounty as an offering because I didn’t want to be seen buying alcohol in my condition.

  I didn’t recognize the young elf behind the reception desk. Her cropped hair was dyed a bright shade of blue and she wore small gold hoops along the rim of her right ear.

  “Hi, my name is Emma Hart and we’re here to see Agnes,” I announced.

  The elf barely glanced up from her book. “Do you have ID?” she asked.

  Another ID checkpoint? Sheesh. Maybe I should’ve left the curse intact.

  I leaned forward to examine the elf’s badge with her name on it. “Darby, is it?”

  “That’s right,” the elf said. “I’m new.”

  I flashed a polite smile. “I can tell. I’m a regular visitor to Agnes and my friends…” I gest
ured to Millie and Begonia.

  “Sorry,” Darby interrupted. “She can’t have more than two visitors at a time. One of you will need to wait here.”

  The three of us exchanged glances. “That won’t work,” I said. “You see, Agnes is the former head of the local coven and we’re witches with an urgent coven issue. We need to see her together.”

  Darby remained unconvinced. “Two at a time.” On the one hand, I knew she was only trying to do her job. On the other hand, I hated bureaucracy for the sake of it.

  “What’s the reasoning behind the rule?” I asked.

  Darby straightened, seemingly pleased to know the answer. “To keep the building occupancy below two hundred.”

  “And how many are in the building now, based on the current number of visitors?”

  Darby glanced at the sign-in book. “One hundred and twenty.”

  “So we’re not in any danger of reaching capacity this morning, are we?” I asked.

  Darby snapped her fingers at me. “ID, please. Two at a time.”

  I patted my pockets. “I don’t actually have any on me. I’m the public defender, though. You can ask the sheriff.”

  “I think the sheriff has more important things to do than come down here and verify identities,” Darby said.

  “She has a point,” Millie mumbled.

  “I have ID,” Begonia said. She pulled an ID card from her pocket. “My hair doesn’t look as good in the photo as it does now.”

  Darby examined the picture. “No, it doesn’t.” She handed the card back to Begonia.

  Millie perked up. “That reminds me. I have ID too.” She reached into her cloak pocket and produced a handful of glitter. She blew the sparkles straight into the elf’s face. “Let us pass and remember none of our conversation.”

  The elf’s pupils dilated. “Enjoy your visit,” she said in a monotone voice.

  Begonia and I stared at Millie, unable to form words. Millie slipped her arms through ours and propelled us forward.

  “Keep moving,” Millie said. “Nothing to see here.”

  I waited until we were halfway down the corridor to Agnes’s room before I regained the power of speech. “What did you do?”

  Millie shrugged. “I’ve been working on another spell.” Millie had been dabbling in inventing her own spells ever since a class project required us to create our own.

  “And what on earth prompted the need for a glamour-type spell?” I asked.

  We paused outside Agnes’s room for Millie’s response. No way did I want the elderly witch to know about Millie’s spell. Technically, there was no magic allowed in the care home and with good reason. Agnes had a penchant for wreaking havoc whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  “My mom had been making these horrible stews for dinner because she joined a new cooking class and wanted to try the recipes at home,” Millie said. “My dad wasn’t saying anything, but I could tell he hated them, too. We didn’t want to make her feel bad, so I developed a spell to glamour her into making a different meal.”

  “But doesn’t she realize she isn’t making the stews?” I asked.

  “No,” Millie said. “My dad and I clean up and leave no evidence. She thinks she cooked the recipe from class.” She squared her shoulders. “I also use it to get a later curfew.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier for you and your dad to tell your mother that you don’t like the stews?” I asked.

  “Have you met my mother?” Millie asked pointedly. “Where do you think I get my dazzling personality? She doesn’t take perceived criticism well.”

  “You and your dad could offer to make dinner instead,” Begonia said.

  “Are you nuts? The kitchen is my mother’s domain. We’re not allowed to set foot in there while she’s cooking. Trust me, the spell is a much better option. Keeps the peace.”

  “So what’s your plan?” I asked. “To spell her until you move out?”

  Millie narrowed her eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Are you three going to yammer out there for the rest of the day?” a crabby voice asked. “I thought you were here to see me.”

  Uh oh. I wondered how much of our conversation Agnes had overheard. Only one way to find out.

  “There’s our favorite care home resident,” I said brightly, gliding into the room.

  Agnes was perched on the edge of the single bed. Her bony legs and arms extended from her hospital-style gown and she wore furry slippers that looked like they were made from yaks.

  “You look like you’re about to give birth to a legion of angels,” Agnes said. “How many babies are in there?”

  I leveled a look at her. “One.”

  She cocked her head. “Are you sure? Maybe that chubby druid made a mistake.”

  I gestured behind me to Millie and Begonia. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a couple of friends. We have coven-related questions.”

  Agnes peered over my shoulder to see them. “And here I thought you brought backup.”

  Begonia retrieved the bottle of Goddess Bounty from the deep recesses of her cloak pocket. “A gift for you.”

  Agnes nodded approvingly. “How’d you slip that past the new girl? I heard she’s following rules we didn’t know existed.”

  “We distracted her,” I said vaguely.

  “With what?” Agnes asked. “Your impending army?” She motioned to my swollen belly.

  My hands cradled my stomach. “Stop insulting the baby. It’s rude.”

  “I’m not insulting the baby. I’m insulting you.”

  Millie cast me a sidelong glance. “Maybe we should seek help somewhere more pleasant, like Raisa’s grave.”

  Agnes laughed and smacked her thigh. “Ha! I do like you.” She paused. “Sometimes.”

  “We’re here to talk about winning votes in the coven,” I said.

  “Not for a beauty contest, I hope,” Agnes replied. “My powers only extend so far.”

  I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue.

  “I don’t think we’d be seeking advice from you on how to win a beauty contest,” Millie said.

  “Nice one,” Agnes said. “Before we take on such a serious subject, someone needs to pour the drinks.”

  I shook my head. “None for me, thanks.”

  “I don’t really…” Millie started.

  Agnes arched a nearly bald eyebrow. “I think you’ll find that you do.”

  “Just sip it,” I whispered. “It’s best not to object.”

  Begonia moved to the kitchenette and set the bottle on the counter before opening the cabinet for the glasses.

  “There’s going to be a vote on the name of the academy,” I said. “Marjory Limpet wants to change it to the Sun and Moon Academy.”

  “She’s also giving the option of keeping the current name or proposing a new one,” Begonia added.

  Agnes shuffled over to the small round table by the window to await her drink. “She wants to get rid of the ASS Academy?” the elderly witch snorted. “I can’t imagine why. Is that why you’re here? You want to convince everyone to keep the asinine name?”

  “No, there’s also another vote to elect a Voice of the Coven,” I said.

  “And I’m in the running,” Millie added.

  “Limpy is really going all out on reform, isn’t she?” Agnes asked, as Begonia handed her a glass filled with Goddess Bounty.

  “She is, but I do think having someone in that role is a good idea,” I replied. “We certainly don’t want the High Priestess to be the main link between the rest of the town and the coven. She won’t represent us very well.”

  Agnes looked Millie up and down. “But you think you will?”

  Millie stared straight back at the elderly witch, her gaze unflinching. “I know I will.”

  “So you’re here to figure out how to win votes, eh?” Agnes asked.

  “There’s going to be an opportunity for short speeches and then a question and answer portion afterward,” I said. “T
he vote will immediately follow.”

  “Anybody can ask questions?” Agnes asked.

  I nodded. “I imagine some coven members will ask hypotheticals. If X happens, how will you handle it? That kind of thing.”

  “Well, for starters, you need ringers in the audience,” Agnes said.

  “Ringers?” Begonia queried.

  “They ask her questions that she knows the answers to, ones that make her look good,” Agnes said. “Come on, witches. That’s Politics for Dummies.”

  “The library received a new shipment from the outside world, didn’t it?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Maybe,” Agnes replied slowly.

  “Will you help us?” I asked.

  Her thin lips curved. “That depends.”

  I groaned. “We brought you Goddess Bounty. What more do you want?” Leave it to Agnes to up the ante. She’d arrive at the pearly gates of Heaven and demand an upgrade.

  The elderly witch pointed at Begonia. “You’ve got the magical tattoo place.”

  Begonia smiled proudly in response. “That’s right. Spilling Ink.”

  “I want one,” Agnes said.

  “You want a tattoo?” I sputtered.

  “A magical one,” Agnes replied. “On my left cheek.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed for mercy. “Please tell me you mean your face.”

  Agnes cringed. “Why would I want to ruin perfection? Of course not my face.” She focused on Begonia. “You’ll need to work with the crevices. My bottom has more wrinkles than Daniel’s shirts that Miss Feminism over here refuses to iron.”

  “It isn’t that I refuse,” I countered. “It’s that I’m not very good at it.”

  “That’s what magic is for,” Millie said.

  Agnes winked at her. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  “What kind of tattoo are you thinking?” Begonia asked.

  Bless her. The pretty witch didn’t bat an eye at Agnes’s request. Demetrius was a lucky vampire.

  “I’d like you to paint a butterfly with that magic ink of yours so that butterflies shoot out my…”

  I slapped my hands over my face. “Agnes!”

  The old witch cackled. “It’ll be great whenever I get examined. Shock the hell out of the healers.”