The Case of the Power Spell Read online

My cheeks flush, immediately. Why does blood always rush to my face the instant I see Doctor Maxwell Shire?

  “Uh... yeah... sure, you can sit there,” I say awkwardly, while Janine delivers my drink.

  She quickly takes Max’s order, and then steps away. I wish she’d stay.

  I don’t feel like I’m in the right frame of mind to be on my own with a vampire.

  He grins at me. His eyes and teeth, sparkling white, reflect the bar lights above with a little twinkle. Is it strange that even his fangs look attractive to me right now? I must have more of a wine-buzz going on than I thought.

  Feeling a bit faint, I push the second glass away from me so that I don’t drink it too fast, due to my nerves. Instead, I reach for the food menu.

  The OP has extremely limited food options. Basically, there’s only three things on it: a small serving of gravy fries, a medium serving of gravy fries, or a large serving of gravy fries.

  Maybe I’d better eat something, to soak up the wine that I just drank so fast. It might help me survive this evening. Plus, I’m hungry.

  I’m looking at the menu, trying unsuccessfully to put out the fire that’s burning in my cheeks, when Max speaks up again.

  “You look lovely tonight,” he says. “Is that a new necklace?”

  My hand flies to the necklace around my neck. I hold onto the little pouch as Max continues talking. “That looks like a satchel, if I’m not mistaken. Let me guess—the Power Spell?”

  “How do you know so much about—” I lower my voice, and look around us to make sure no one is listening. No one is. “—Witchcraft,” I whisper. “Aren’t you a vampire?”

  “Penny, one of the great secrets of longevity is curiosity. A healthy dose of curiosity will keep the brain tissue from deteriorating. In fact, curiosity can cause new brain cells to grow, and new neurological synapses to form.”

  “And you’re curious about witchcraft?” I ask.

  “I’m curious about magic of all sorts,” Max says, with a grin. “And yes, I do find witches fascinating. Intriguing. Alluring...”

  He’s giving me this look, where his dark pupils seem to fuse with mine. I can’t tear my eyes away. I feel like he’s looking all the way into the depths of me—wherever that may be. It’s making me feel all tingly inside.

  Janine approaches, and deliver’s Max’s glass of Merlot. When he accepts it, he has to look away from me. With relief, I look down at the menu still in my hands.

  Whew. This guy is intense.

  “Are you thinking about some food?” Janine says, pausing on the other side of the counter, in front of me.

  “Oh, uh—yeah,” I say.

  “I wouldn’t call that ‘food’, exactly,” Max interjects. “Food is defined as a nutritious substance that animals and plants eat, in order to grow and thrive. That,” he points to the menu, “Isn’t nutritious, and certainly isn’t going to help you grow—at least not in the way you want to.”

  I let the menu fall to the table, and sigh.

  Janine’s still waiting for my answer.

  “You’d be better off peeling the sole of your shoes and eating that, than eating those fries,” Max promises.

  The thought of eating the bottom of my shoe makes my stomach turn. Maybe I’m not so hungry, after all.

  “I’ll pass,” I say to Janine.

  Janine collects the menu and walks away, leaving Max and I alone, again. Without anything else to distract me, I reach for my wine glass. I know that Max is still waiting to know more about my necklace. I don’t have to tell him, but I find that I want to. Max might actually have some helpful information for me.

  “Yeah, it’s the Power Spell,” I say, keeping my voice low. I’m leaning into him a bit, and he’s leaning into me. Our closeness makes me feel woozy, but I don’t want anyone to overhear our conversation, and this is the only way to do that.

  “I’m not sure if I really believe in it,” I whisper. “I’ve been wearing this thing around since yesterday evening, and nothing has happened. Well, nothing good has happened. Nothing that makes me feel more powerful.”

  Max grins at me. “You are so adorable. You know that, right? Your mind is so linear... it’s so precious to listen to you talk.”

  “I’m glad you get a kick out of this,” I say sarcastically. “At least someone does.”

  “You will too, when you’re a seasoned, wise witch looking back on it all.” He smiles knowingly.

  For a minute I actually feel better. The thought of being a wise anything is welcomed, given how clueless I feel at this moment. Then, I feel my frustration and annoyance return.

  “What are you talking about... how is my mind linear?” I ask.

  “Your mind is conditioned to think in a linear manner,” Max says. “It’s a pattern all humans are burdened with. In fact, it’s one of the four things that make you human. But once you graduate from being human, and you become a magical being, you begin to think differently.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “In spirals,” Max says. “Crazy eights. Spheres. Exponential curves. You can think anyway you want to think—just not linearly. Oh, dear Merlin, no. Linear thinking is dreadfully limiting. It locks you into a past, present, future paradigm, but that’s an illusion. Time isn’t linear.”

  I lift my glass to my lips—a motion I’ve done several times over the past few minutes, now that I think about it. I’m drinking this glass of wine way too fast, but I can’t seem to help it.

  “What does that have to do with the Power Spell?” I ask.

  Max sips his wine as well. He surveys me as he swallows. I can feel his eyes taking me in.

  When he speaks again, his voice is tender. “You’re so naive, Penny... so inexperienced. It’s very charming. Well, don’t you see? You thought that once you put on the necklace, and once the spell began working, you would feel more powerful.”

  “That’s what the book promises!” I say. “I’m counting on it! I need to feel more powerful, Max. This thing better kick in soon.”

  He laughs at my frustration. “It doesn’t work like that. First, you might feel less powerful. Then, you’ll feel your life changing—pulled in a new direction.”

  Ug. This does not sound fun. It sounds like a lot of work, actually.

  Max continues. “Eventually, you’ll circle around to a place with more power... more power than you ever dreamed of, Penny.”

  My ears perk up. Now that, I can handle.

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Oh, yes,” he says, his dark eyes sparkling. “I’ve seen the transformation happen before. It’s always early on in a witch’s journey, and it’s always beautiful to behold. It’s almost like witnessing a birth.”

  Witnessing a birth doesn’t sound beautiful to me. It sounds bloody and painful.

  “What if I never figure out what the missing ingredient is?” I ask him.

  “Oh, you will. All the witches I’ve ever known, figured out theirs. Usually within a few days... sometimes up to a week. It all depends on the witch. Don’t worry. It will come to you.”

  “I hope so,” I say.

  “Tell me, have you been having any dreams lately? Perhaps... vivid dreams?”

  “Nope,” I say. Then, recalling the dream of clouds I woke up from recently, I correct myself. “Actually, there was one, the other day. I was dreaming that I was above the clouds. I could see them below me.”

  “Mmm hmm,” he says knowingly.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “You’ll see,” he says.

  “But I want to know now!” I say. My voice rises with frustration. I lower it again. “Max, could you please just be straight with me? This is all really confusing and I could use your help.”

  “Patience, Penny,” he says. “Remember the three Ps?”

  “Patience, Persistence, and Playfulness,” I recite grudgingly. “The three pillars of witchcraft.”

  “Good girl,” Max says.

  I’m thinking back on something he said
earlier. Maybe if he won’t give me any more clues about the Power Spell, he’ll at least share information about the difference between humans and magical creatures.

  “You said that there were four things that define humans,” I say. “Linear thinking is one of them. What are the others?” I ask.

  “Penny, I’d love to tell you. Really I would. But you’re not ready to know. Believe me.”

  “I want to be ready,” I say. “This is taking so long. We’ve been working with the book for months, but it feels like we’re getting nowhere. I could really use an advantage, right about now.”

  My shoulders slump, and I look down at the base of my wine glass while I twirl it in my hands.

  “Don’t tell me...” he says. “Let me guess. Boyfriend trouble?”

  I keep staring at the glass I’m fidgeting with as I speak. “This morning, Chris said he had a present for me. He had this little box in his hand, and for a second I thought it was a ring.”

  Why am I talking to Max, of all people, about this?

  I should be talking to Marley, or Cora, or Annie... or anyone but Max. Yet here I am, blabbing away. I can’t seem to help it.

  “An engagement ring?” Max asks.

  I nod. “The thing is, I always thought that was what I wanted. You know, when I was a teenager, I’d dream about marrying Christopher Wagner. But this morning, when I saw that box, I had this feeling... I’m not sure what it was... but it wasn’t excitement. I didn’t feel that ‘yes’ that I thought I would.”

  “It’s because you’re changing,” Max says, carefully. “You and Chris are very different. And the more you learn to harness your magical abilities, the more your sense of being different is going to grow.”

  “But what if I don’t want it to?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—you don’t really have a choice,” says Max. “Magic affects you. You’re transforming, from the inside out. Humans and magical beings don’t make good couples.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Because,” says Max. “Humans should be with other humans. And magical beings, we need to be with other magical beings.” With this, he gives me a wink.

  I flush and meet his eyes. My eyelashes flutter. Oh, good lord.

  I need to get out of the OP. The combination of sitting next to Max and drinking wine on an empty stomach is going to my head.

  “I need to go,” I say abruptly, breaking eye contact and reaching for my bag.

  “Good talking with you,” Max says. “It’s always such a pleasure, Penny.”

  I stand, and walk all the way to the other end of the bar, where Janine is scrubbing glasses.

  Janine spots me and flips through her little notebook to my tab. “Are you out of here, hon?” she asks, ripping the bar tab out of her book and placing it before me.

  “Yes,” I say. After placing a twenty down on top of the tab, I give my face a little fan with one hand. “It’s hot in here. Isn’t it hot in here? I feel like I need some fresh air.”

  She shrugs. “I’m cold,” she says, while reaching into her apron for change. She places a ten and a few singles on the countertop. I take the ten and leave the singles.

  “It might have had something to do with the company you were keeping,” she says, glancing down the bar.

  I follow her gaze. Max is now chatting with a woman on the other side of him. His profile is visible, and I have to admit to myself that it’s handsome. Janine and I stare for a minute, and then Janine whispers, “Damn, he is good looking, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t have any opinion on that,” I say.

  She laughs. “Right. You’re with Captain Chris Wagner. I hear you guys were fooling around with a little bondage scenario up at Mill Creek today.” She gives me a wink.

  Has everyone in this town heard about that? I quickly change the subject, ignoring her comment. “Hey, am I wrong, or is Glenn usually in here every night? I wanted to ask him something.”

  “Yeah,” Janine says. She glances up at the wall clock. “He usually shows up around nine.”

  I follow her gaze. It’s ten of nine.

  “So late?” I ask. “I thought I’ve seen him in here before then.”

  “Well, he used to come in earlier. But now that he’s head chef over at The Place, he says he has more work to take care of before he can leave the kitchen and call it a night.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Right.”

  “You could just hang out for another few minutes,” Janine says. “I’m sure your friend over there wouldn’t mind talking with you some more.” She tilts her chin in Max’s direction.

  That’s just the problem.

  I don’t think I can handle another ten minutes of sitting next to Max Shire.

  “I think I’ll head home,” I say. “I’ll talk to Glenn another night.”

  “Okay, sweetie,” Janine says. She holds up the bills. “Thanks for this. Get home safe, okay?”

  “I will,” I promise.

  I make my way out onto the sidewalk without looking over towards Max once more. I’m afraid that if I look in his direction, he’ll catch me staring. He might even lock his gaze with mine, and then I’ll feel that crazy, tingly, zappy testosterone-estrogen thing again.

  I’ve had enough of that for one night.

  I’m a woman in a relationship. A nice, casual, slow-paced relationship. And so what if Max says humans and magical beings can’t have good relationships. Max doesn’t know what Chris is capable of.

  Max doesn’t know what I’m capable of.

  Chris and I have survived so much, already. What’s a few more bumps in the road?

  It’s nothing we can’t handle.

  At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

  I take a deep breath of the cool, night air and then unlock my bike. It’s dark out now, so I begin walking it down the sidewalk, instead of riding in the street. As I walk, pushing my bike along, I start to imagine ways that I might introduce my magical capabilities to Chris.

  ‘Hey, honey,’ I could say, one morning after waking up in his apartment. I’ll be standing in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized tee shirts, and nothing else. I’ll be stirring pancake batter. I’ll look over at him. He’ll be by the coffee machine, holding a mug in one hand and the coffee pot in the other.

  ‘Could you pass me the measuring cup?’ I’ll ask.

  Since his hands are tied up, he’ll say something like ‘hang on a minute.’

  I’ll smile. ‘Never mind,’ I’ll say. ‘I’ll just get it myself.’

  I’ll lift a little wand off the countertop, and wiggle it in the direction of the cupboards. The measuring cup will start floating towards me.

  Chris will smile, his eyes wide with amazement.

  ‘Sugar pie,’ he’ll say. He’s never called me sugar pie, but this is my daydream, and I’ve always wanted him to call me sugar pie. ‘How in the world did you do that?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t tell you?’ I’ll say, in answer. ‘I’ve been learning how to be a witch. I can do lots of things.’

  ‘That’s amazing, sugar pie.’

  He’ll finish topping off the steaming cup of coffee. He’ll walk over to me, and set it on the table in front of me. Then, before I’ve even had a chance to use the measuring cups that I so masterfully beckoned to me, he’ll sweep me off my feet, and twirl me around the kitchen, while kissing me. In between kisses, he’ll say—

  “Hey, watch it!” someone says.

  I pull myself from my daydream and see that I’ve almost walked right into Glenn. He’s sidestepping me as I barrel forward, head down.

  “Oh, sorry!” I say. “I was lost in thought.”

  Ridiculous, fanciful, unrealistic thought, I realize. There is no way that Chris would react to learning about my abilities with a smile and a kiss.

  No way.

  That’s not his style.

  I have no idea what he would do, but not that.

  Glenn is starting to walk pa
st me.

  I turn. I’d rather think about what was going on in The Place’s kitchen on the day Joe Gallant died, than think about my boyfriend’s potential reaction to the big secret I’ve been keeping. So, I call out. “Glenn, hang on a sec!”

  I steer my bike in a U-turn, and soon I’m walking alongside Glenn.

  He’s a few years older than me, about Chris’s age. He has a babyish face, due to the padding of fat that he wears around his cheeks and chin. His dark, spiky, straight black hair always sticks up in the back, as if he just got out of bed, and tonight is no exception. He’s wearing a stained tee shirt and checkered chef pants, and there’s a thick silver chain around his neck.

  “What?” he asks, as I fall into step with him. His tone isn’t nervous or demanding, nor does he display the ‘oh-this-girl-must-be-hitting-on-me’ attitude that Ralph did, earlier today. Instead, he simply sounds tired.

  “Long shift?” I ask. “I heard you’re getting out later than you’re used to, now that you are the head chef. You must be exhausted.”

  “Eh,” he replies, noncommittally.

  “Heading to the OP?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “Cool, cool.” We walk in step for a few more strides. “Hey, uh... I have a question for you,” I say. “Were you working on the day that Joe Gallant was found?”

  He turns his head, and looks at me, but I keep looking straight ahead.

  “What, are you with the newspaper or something?” he asks.

  I can see the OP up ahead. When we reach the door, I’m going to lose him. There’s no way I’m going back inside that bar.

  “No,” I say. “I’m...” Come on, come on, I think to myself. Think of something! Nothing comes.

  “Oh, that’s right. You're a detective, aren’t you?” Glenn says.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  As if that explains everything, he looks away from me, and starts talking. “Yeah, I was there. When I got into work, Ralph told me that Joe never turned up for his shift. Ralph said that he called Joe but Joe didn’t answer.”

  “Would that be normal?” I ask. “For Ralph to call Joe, I mean.”

  “Sure,” says Glenn. “Ralph was always doing stuff that Cliff couldn't get to. Ralph was Cliff’s right hand guy. If one of us didn’t show up for work, it would be normal for Ralph to give us a call to see what the holdup was about.”