Wizard in a Witchy World Page 8

  "Apparently, there was an anonymous tip that I'd taken Clarita," I said.

  "That's ridiculous," she said. "You were locked up."

  "You know that and I know that, but the cops didn't," I said.

  Gabriella followed me up the stairs to my apartment. The door was also replaced by a wide sheet of plywood.

  "I hope you have renter's insurance?" Gabriella asked. "The city won’t pay for this."

  "Even if they didn't have a good reason for knocking it down?"

  "A warrant is all the reason they need," she said.

  I lifted the edge of the plywood and it pulled back easily. Someone had already removed the panel and just laid it back in place. The damage to the door was considerable, like a power saw had been used to cut the frame out.

  "What a mess," I said, pushing the plywood sheet to the side.

  "What happened?" Gabriella asked.

  "Protection spell on the door," I said.

  "They couldn't just break it down?" Gabriella asked.

  "No. That enchantment would require magic to undo it. For the record, I was just trying to prevent fricking Shaggy and the neighborhood witch patrol from breaking my door down. I never figured on the cops," I said.

  "All this damage looks like it will be expensive to fix," she said.

  "Yeah. And no, I don't have renter's insurance," I said. "I've been meaning to, but no time."

  I flipped the lights on to find my apartment had been thoroughly trashed. Books were strewn about, chairs and couch turned upside down and stuffing literally ripped from the cushions.

  I sighed and set about righting the furniture so we’d have somewhere to sit. I found the kitchen table, flipped it upright and slid two chairs in place. All I could do with the couch was push the stuffing back inside and flip the cushions over to hide the tears.

  "Rain ticket on breakfast?" Gabriella asked.

  "No I'm in. I can clean this up later. I've hardly eaten for the last two days," I said.

  "Where's your truck?"

  "City impound. When Straightrod abducted me, it got towed," I said.

  "Straightrod said you attacked her and that's why she had to put you in the dungeon."

  "That's crap. I tried to walk out of her interview and the door was booby-trapped," I said.

  "What do you think that's about?" Gabriella asked.

  "The conversation went south when I admitted to being a wizard and wouldn't divulge my lineage," I said.

  "Magic is inherited and Straightrod is fastidious about tracing family trees. If she could figure out your lineage, she’d know your strengths," she said.

  "And weaknesses."

  Fifteen minutes after taking refuge in my bathroom, I emerged clean and shaved. Gabriella had used the time to clear a pathway through the room and had most of my books stacked against the wall, out of the way. She was standing by the piles, browsing through one of the books. She looked up and shut it with a snap, setting it back on the stack with an embarrassed look on her face.

  "Sorry. Just curious," she said, looking guilty.

  "Did you find anything interesting?"

  "The book? I couldn't even read it, but the pictures were interesting," she said.

  I stepped around the chair and was surprised when she flinched as I picked up the book.

  "Hey, seriously, no big deal. I invited you into my house. It’s natural you'd find these books interesting," I said.

  She sat on the edge of the cushioned recliner and I reopened the book - one of several taxonomies of mythical creatures from the middle-ages.

  "It's a beautiful tome," Gabriella said. "How did you find it?"

  "My family, I guess," I said. "The only thing I have from them are these books."

  "There are so many," she said.

  "Thirty-six," I said. "I should know, because Judy made me cast preservation spells on every one of them every year."

  "You can read this?" she asked as I flipped to a page I'd been wanting to look at since I'd met Amak. The picture of a female troll had been drawn by a Benedictine Monk, its similarity to Amak clear.

  "It's Latin, so it's not bad. Aramaic and Greek I struggle with," I said. "Although I only have one book of each of those."

  I handed her the book. "If you take me to breakfast, we can bring it along."

  Her raised eyebrows conveyed surprise. "What do you feel like eating?"

  "I'm starving, but I'm not picky," I said.

  "I've got a place," she said and stood, accepting the book. I followed her down to her Civic and jumped in the passenger side.

  Twenty minutes later, curiosity finally got the better of me. "Where are we going?"

  "Chatty Katty's," she said.

  "Ask a stupid question," I said.

  Gabriella smiled but didn't respond. Another fifteen minutes passed before we pulled into a parking lot next to a large, old house. Aside from a wooden sign hanging from an iron post, I wouldn't have known it wasn't a residence.

  She led me up the steps onto a wide porch and through the front door. My stomach growled at the smells that greeted us. The first floor of the grand old house had been converted into seating areas; tables and booths tucked haphazardly into every nook and cranny. The décor was every bit as eclectic, ranging from candles and garland to strings of lights and copper lanterns.

  A woman dressed in a long, dark green dress and an apron approached wearing a wide smile. My best guess put her in her mid-forties, maybe early fifties. When Gabriella turned toward her, the older woman tipped her head sideways with a sorrowful look. "Gabby, come here, dear," she said, pulling Gabriella into what I could only describe as a motherly hug. "I heard about Victoria and Benita. I'm so sorry."

  "It's horrible," Gabriella said, still held in the woman's embrace. "We don't know where Clarita is."

  "I know, dear." She patted Gabriella's back and allowed her gaze to settle on me. She snapped her head back and blinked her eyes.

  "Who is this?" she asked, pushing Gabriella away and reaching her hand into her apron. I could just make out the shape of a wand pushing against the fabric of the deep pocket.

  I held my hands up defensively.

  Gabriella placed her hand gently on the woman's forearm. "Mari, I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Felix."

  Mari made no attempt to greet me and stood her ground. "We'll serve no Left Hand here," she said. To the right, I felt a presence descend the stairs. At the same time, a third woman pushed through saloon styled doors at the back of the house, her face orienting on me as she emerged.

  Many of the restaurant's patrons turned to look at us, drawn by the attention.

  "Felix is not Left Hand," Gabriella replied, in a hoarse whisper.

  "Time out. No need to get hostile," I said. "I'll leave quietly."

  "No, Felix." Gabriella put her hand out to stop me. “This is a misunderstanding."

  I dared a look up the stairs and found myself looking at a woman similar in age to Mari with her wand already drawn.

  "Step out the door and bother us no more," Mari said. Her simple incantation pushed me toward the door. I wasn't about to cause a fuss, so I allowed the inertia of her spell to propel me.

  "His aura is shrouded, but I sense darkness." This from the woman who'd exited the kitchen.

  "He is not a witch! Stop it," Gabriella said.

  "What do you mean?" Mari asked. "I see his mystical energy as clearly as I see your face."

  "Felicia will back me on this. She has read him, as have I," Gabriella said.

  The mention of Felicia seemed to sway Mari and she lowered her hand. As she did, the urge to walk out the door diminished, although honestly, I hadn't felt overly compelled.

  "What are you then? You are no warlock," The shapely woman from the stairs pushed her way past Mari. Of the three of them, she was the youngest and most dressed up.

  "I should get business cards that read 'Felix Slade – Wizard' and right beneath that, 'I don't know my lineage, so don't ask!'" I retorted.
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  "So you claim. There hasn't been a wizard around here in decades." Mari elbowed her way back to the front of the group.

  "So I claim!" Gabriella declared, taking a step forward.

  "Girls. If Gabriella vouches for him, then that’s good enough for me to make him breakfast. Mr. Slade, do you promise to behave while you're here?" the older of the three asked.

  "Depends on the service, I suppose," I quipped.

  She held my gaze for longer than was comfortable, then laughed a short bark, "Fair enough. Big plate of huevos rancheros, in that case. You've already met my sister Marigold, the ironically named Willow is my other sister and I'm Bluebelle, although most people call me Belle."

  I held my hand out to Willow, who eyed me like I was trying to pass her a rattlesnake. I pulled my hand back, holding it up in defense. "Fair enough. Nice to meet you all," I said.

  "Back to your breakfasts," Mari announced to the handful of people still watching us. "How about a nice private booth in the back?"

  "Thank you, Mari. If I'd thought there was going to be a problem, I would have called first," Gabriella apologized.

  "Your boy here reads like a police blotter," she said.

  "I know, right?" Gabriella slid into a booth that looked over a large garden within a greenhouse. The restaurant separated from it by a glass wall.

  Mari allowed me to pass and I slid into the other side. "I'm right here, you know," I said.

  Mari patted the top of my hand. "You sure are, sweetie. Gabriella, would you like your usual?"

  "Yes, please."

  "I'll be back with drinks," she said and turned away.

  I watched her leave with a look of surprise on my face.

  "How does she know what I want?"

  "Belle already offered to make you huevos. It would be insulting if you asked for something different," Gabriella said, pulling the leather book we'd brought along. "What's the title of this?"

  "Taxonomy of Extraordinary Creatures," I translated. "Or that's pretty close."

  She leafed through the pages to a section on werewolves. "These pictures are amazing."

  I tapped an ornate heading with my finger. "You need to learn Latin."

  Mari returned and placed empty cups, a silver pot, and a tin in front of Gabriella. Before I could say anything, she poured delicious smelling coffee into my cup.

  "You didn't even ask if I wanted cream," I said, catching Mari's eye.

  "Certainly. Would you like cream with that?" she asked and walked away without waiting for a response.

  I stared after her retreating form.

  "Do you take cream with your coffee?" Gabriella asked.

  "No."

  "She's a witch, Felix. This is her life - think about it. She doesn’t have to ask," she said.

  I nodded in understanding. "Right. Good point," I sat back in the booth. It was the most comfortable I'd been in several days.

  "You look tired," Gabriella observed.

  Her eyelids looked as puffy as mine felt. "I am, but I'll get over it. How are you doing with all this? You have to be under a lot of stress."

  "I'm scared for Clarita. Killing Victoria was one thing, she was a powerful witch who had enemies. I could almost understand the past catching up with her. But Benita? No way. She wasn't even a particularly powerful witch. The only reason she was allowed in the coven was because she was Victoria's daughter," she said.

  "What about Clarita. Is she a witch?" I asked.

  Before she could answer, we were interrupted.

  "Hope you're hungry. Belle packed your plate about as deep as I've seen it," Mari said, sliding a platter filled with diced fried potatoes, green peppers, onions and four eggs over easy, all slathered with a pile of white gravy. "Belle nixed the ranchero sauce. Apparently, you're more of a cream gravy guy."

  I nodded my head in appreciation. She was right about that.

  The plate she placed in front of Gabriella contained a single pancake and a side of strawberries.

  "Thank you, Mari," Gabriella said.

  "You bet. And the hot sauce is behind the napkins," she said and bustled off.

  I reached behind the napkins, pulled out my favorite wooden-topped, glass bottle of hot sauce and sprinkled on a liberal dose. The food smelled so wonderful, I forgot about Gabriella for a few minutes.

  I finally paused long enough to take a big drink of coffee. Gabriella hadn't eaten a bite of her pancake yet and was staring at me, horrified.

  "What?"

  "Do you always eat this much?" she asked.

  "There's bacon in these potatoes. Do you want to try some?" I asked, ignoring her question.

  "Vegetarian." She picked up her knife and sliced a small hunk from her pancake.

  "No syrup?" I asked.

  "I hope you were just guessing about Clarita," she said.

  "Guessing what? That she's a witch? That's not much of a guess. Magic follows blood lines," I said.

  "Not always for witches," she said. "But Clarita is a very special little girl. She will possibly be the most powerful witch of her time, certainly within Leotown."

  "You can tell this already?"

  "Yes."

  "How many people know?"

  "It's a well-guarded secret. Which means just about every witch in Leotown knows. Victoria was proud of her grand-daughter. It was like she felt like she'd failed with Benita, but Clarita redeemed her."

  "That's a lot to lay on a little girl. How old is Clarita?"

  "Six years."

  "Ugh. I was six when I was abandoned," I said. "I don't remember my parents, other than some feelings."

  I sat back and put my fork down. I couldn't believe I'd actually told her that. Besides Judy, I'd never shared it with anyone.

  "I'm sorry, Felix. This must bring back some bad feelings," she said.

  "Was Clarita home when her mom was killed?" I asked.

  "Yes. The police have evidence that suggests that."

  "Like what?"

  "Her bare footprints were in the blood."

  I gritted my teeth. The callousness made my blood boil. "That's heinous."

  "Will you help us find her, Felix?"

  "I'm not exactly a favorite with you witchy types. How does Felicia feel about my involvement?"

  "She doesn't like it, but I'd make a deal with the devil if it'd get Clarita back."

  I nodded. She might just be doing that.

  BLOOD TRAIL

  "We should get going," Gabriella said. "I love the sisters, but they're unrepentant gossips."

  "Place has a nice feel," I said. "Judy would like it."

  "Going so soon?" Mari asked, appearing at our table. "Was something wrong? You've hardly touched your plates."

  "It was delicious," I said. I'd eaten well over half of the food on my plate.

  "Tell Belle we're sorry, but events of the last week have made eating hard," Gabriella said.

  Mari placed her hand on Gabriella's arm. "Be careful, child, you’re in a precarious position and are making decisions that will endanger many." Mari's speech wouldn't have been particularly creepy if her eyes hadn't fogged over as she warned Gabriella.

  Gabriella didn't even bat an eye, however, and patted the older woman's hand. "Thank you, Mari. I'm afraid we can't turn back. A girl's life is at stake."

  Mari's eyes turned back to normal. "Quite so, Gabby. My visions are not clear, only the danger to you and those around you. I cannot help but feel that Felix Slade is fuel to this fire," she said, looking pointedly at me.

  "What do we owe you?" I asked, trying to get Mari onto a different subject.

  "Belle won't accept payment. She says I was rude."

  "Not at all," I said. "You're protective of your friends. Hardly a fault."

  "Aren't you the charmer." A smile crossed her face.

  As subtly as I could manage, I dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table and followed Gabriella out of the home, turned restaurant. I wondered how many of the other patrons were witches and how many wer
e just here for the atmosphere.

  "Sorry about that," Gabriella said once we were driving out of the parking lot. "I hadn't expected such a bad reaction from Mari. They’re generally so nice."

  "Tell me about the attack on Benita," I said. "Amak said it was lycan."

  "The police blocked access to her apartment," Gabriella said. "We tried to go over, but there's police tape all over the place."

  "No ransom note for Clarita? A call or anything?"

  "Who would they call? Victoria was Benita's only family and now they are both dead," she said.

  "First things first, then. I take it your coven doesn't have a good way to locate Clarita?"

  "Do you?" she asked.

  "Not without her blood, but I have an idea. We need to go to my lab," I said.

  Mrs. Willoughby was out back when we arrived.

  "Is that trouble?" Gabriella asked.

  "Could be. Most landlords don't like it when cops destroy property because of a tenant," I said. "I'll talk to her."

  I walked up to the stoop where she sat in a padded vinyl kitchen chair.

  "Hi, Mrs. Willoughby," I said when I got close enough for her to hear.

  "Felix. We need to talk," she said.

  "I understand," I said. "I'm sorry about the police breaking down the door."

  "Second time in as many weeks. I know my home doesn't look like much, but it's all I have. I can't have it destroyed, no matter how much I like you."

  "I'll set things right, Mrs. Willoughby. The police let me go because I didn’t do anything wrong. They shouldn't have broken in like they did," I said.

  "I don't know what you're mixed up in and I probably don't want to." She looked up at me with something akin to pity. "I need you to move out, Felix."

  "One more chance, Mrs. Willoughby? I'll get the doors replaced. The apartment and garage will look better than they did before," I said.

  "I don't know, Felix." She was wavering and I felt horrible putting her in this position.

  "One month. If I don't have it fixed to your satisfaction, I'll leave," I said.

  Mrs. Willoughby dropped her head and thought. "I suppose I can live with one month. But if you bring any more trouble here, I'll be forced to ask you to leave."

  "Fair enough," I said.

  I walked back to where Gabriella was leaning against her Civic.