Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

As suddenly as the flames came, they were gone. I panted, trying to catch my breath as Beau hovered over me, the weight of his body pressing against mine. He examined me quietly, concern painted across his face. Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t injured, he leaned back on his heels and helped me up.

“Spell’s bells, Gemma! What was that?”

“I—I don’t know!” I stuttered. I was too stunned to say much more.

“I think that’s enough for one night,” he said. “Maybe we should get some rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I said. I tucked my training wand back into its box. I wasn’t so sure I’d be ready for another mishap like that anytime soon.

I downed my glass of wine in one gulp, then shuffled up the stairs, stopping to pet Titus and Smallish where they dozed by the fire. I pulled my new blush pink satin pajamas from my shopping bag with a half-hearted smile. At least I didn’t have to sleep in my clothes tonight.

After changing into them, I slipped into bed without a word, waiting silently until I saw the lights go dark and felt the strength of Beau’s arms wrapped around me. I snuggled back against him, grateful that he recognized my need to be held, and even more grateful that he was allowing me to wallow without judgment.

I settled into a pattern of slow breathing, replaying the unfortunate wand event over and over in my mind until I finally passed out from exhaustion.

12

After yet another an unsuccessful struggle with the shower, I changed into one of the new outfits selected by David— dark wash skinny jeans with a fitted v-neck sweater in a rich shade of teal, paired with caramel stiletto over-the-knee boots, a pair of gold and vivianite earrings with a matching pendant, and a form-fitting camel coat. Despite my annoyance at not being able to shower, I didn’t feel dirty. My hair still had a commercial-worthy gloss and bounce, and cascaded over my shoulders in soft curls. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever looked so good.

Still, I needed to find someone to fix the inoperative plumbing in my apartment. And while I was thinking about it, show me how to work the stove.

Smallish and Titus were still curled up in the same fireside spot we left them in last night, so I tiptoed across the apartment to head downstairs. I told Beau our familiars could stay here today. I had a lot to accomplish. My errands would be easier without Titus in tow, but I wasn’t quite comfortable leaving her alone here. I felt much safer with a more experienced Salem cat keeping an eye on her antics.

I ducked behind the checkout counter and dragged out the weighty coin lockbox before wrestling it into my familiar tote. I lifted the satchel with ease, delighted to find it was as lightweight as ever. I wondered if David knew his gorgeous creations had so many practical applications, like hauling massive amounts of heavy coins to the bank.

I swung the satchel over my shoulder and left to meet Destiny at Aurora’s Coffee Shop. Over cinnamon cappuccinos—good goddess were they delicious!—we discussed the continuing murder investigation.

“I have to say, I agree with Detective Otto, which isn’t a phrase I’ve uttered often in my life,” she said. “I just can’t see Mason killing anyone, especially not Morty.”

“Is he really as nice as everyone says he is?” I asked. “I mean, seriously. No one is that nice.” I brought my coffee cup to my lips, allowing the artfully prepared combination of coffee, cinnamon, honey, and milk to wash over me like a soothing balm.

“Mason is,” she said with a shrug. “And Clarence.” I paused, setting my cup down at the mention the jinn’s name. “Aha! I knew you two would hit it off!” She pointed at me. “I can’t wait to tell David! Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I mean, he’s—,” I sighed, unable to find the words to describe the jinn. “He’s everything everyone said he would be. And he seems so kind! Like, genuinely caring. Sensitive, even. But still so masculine. And not in that annoying, possessive, testosterone-overload kind of way.” I shook my head, hoping it would shake the sticky memory of Clarence’s lips brushing across my skin. “He did ask me to dinner, though. I told him I needed some time to think about it. And he was okay with that.”

“Don’t spend too much time thinking,” Destiny said. “A hundred women are clamoring to get their pretty fingers on Clarence Hakim.”

“I’m not too concerned. Clarence seems incredible, but I’m afraid Beau stole my heart the moment I met him,” I said.

“You and every other single witch in town,” she said. “Just be careful with Beau. As beautiful as he is to look at, he’s notoriously noncommittal. Married to academia, with no room for romance in his life.”

“He does seem really hung up on me being his student,” I said. “So, there may not be a future for us, anyway. Maybe I’m imagining Beau’s attraction to me. It’s entirely possible it’s all in my head. Men are generally territorial. They can usually pick up on another man’s interest in a woman, but Clarence wasn’t even phased when Beau showed up with lunch. Beau seemed a bit agitated to find him there, but Clarence just glossed right over it.”

“That’s not surprising,” she said. “Clarence is a class act. When I think about how good he is to his plantation workers… Such a good guy.” She smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Which brings us back to Mason. You’re really convinced he’s the murderer?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “I haven’t even met the guy yet. But I know I didn’t do it, and I haven’t found any other suspects. When Beau repaired the front door lock, he confirmed the magical wards were still in place on the shop, so it’s unlikely someone was able to get in and out undetected. With no sign of forced entry, who else could it be?”

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “I just hate to think of Mason as a killer, you know?”

“That seems to be the general consensus. But still… I have to stop by the Bank of Salem to make a deposit for Montcrief’s and open a personal account. I thought I could check out Mason’s alibi while I’m there. I just hope someone will be willing to talk to me about him.”

Destiny looked thoughtful. “You know… there’s one person there who’d probably be happy to confirm Mason’s alibi,” she said. “I could ask Patrick. He and Mason go way back. If Mason is innocent, he’ll want to help clear him of suspicion.”

“Are they close enough that he’d lie for Mason?”

“In most cases, yes. But not in this one. Mortimer Montcrief was old money, one of the bank’s best customers. And there is nothing more important to a leprechaun than money. Drinking, fighting, and women come in a three-way tie for close second. If Mason had anything to do with Morty’s death, Patrick is duty-bound, as Taoiseach, to tell the truth. Even if that means hurting a friend in the process.”

“Seems like leprechauns have an interesting moral code,” I said.

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it. I’ll walk to the bank with you, just two friends handling their financial business. I’ll ask Patrick about Mason’s alibi while you make your deposit.”

“Are you sure it’s not an imposition?”

Her melodic laughter rang through the coffee shop. “Honey, I don’t offer to do things unless I actually want to do them,” she said. “Besides, hanging out with the new witch in town is more fun than I’ve had in ages.”

“In that case, let’s go play detective.”

The Bank of Salem was unlike anything I’d ever seen, even in movies. As we crossed into the lobby, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of it—much larger than it seemed just by looking at the building facade—but also by its opulence. The floors and walls were made of seamless white marble with sparkling gold veining, and aside from a massive stained glass skylight depicting a pot of gold sitting in tall, green grass at the end of a rainbow, the ceiling was covered in gold leaf. A long, gleaming gold teller desk staffed by several preoccupied leprechauns, each wearing a uniform of emerald green blazers and gold satin ties, sat at the far end of the lobby.