The Magic Read online

  I made a vague uh huh sound as I looked around the farm, wondering where Dax had disappeared to. He couldn’t have gotten that far, could he? This was his house. Shouldn’t he have to handle this? I didn’t want to end up cursed, and Dax already turned into a beast. How much worse would it really be for him?

  “One of my clients wanted a love potion. Guess what happened?”

  “What?” Bookie asked before I could kick him.

  “Her love interest tried to kill her! And it wasn’t an isolated case, either. A beauty potion went bad—real bad. Poor lad can’t even leave his house. My reputation is ruined. I’m the best wizard of my time and now I can’t show my face in town. Especially after the torch… You know, it doesn’t really matter. It’s good I came here. Change is delightful.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll only be for about ten years or so, just enough time for my home to clear out the funk you two left behind.” He pointed at me as he answered Bookie, and then urged the donkey forward on a straight path to my haven.

  Before Bitters had taken more than a dozen steps, Dax was there to intercept him. “Bitters.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Bitters said, as if he’d been scouring the place looking for Dax.

  “What are you doing here?” There was enough chill in Dax’s voice to ice over the ground we were standing on.

  If it were anyone but Bitters, I might have felt a little bad about the greeting he received. But it was Bitters, and when had I cared about etiquette? Wasn’t going to start now.

  “I’m here to collect my debt,” he said as he pulled his donkey forward, and his crow cawed as if to second his statement.

  “What do you want?” There was no thaw in Dax’s follow-up question.

  “That house,” Bitters said, pointing ahead to the farmhouse and moving in that direction.

  Dax stepped in front of his path again, his arms crossed now. “You can’t have my house.”

  “Of course not! I just need a room in it, preferably large. I like fireplaces as well.” Bitters arced around where Dax stood in his way, and Dax was shaking his head, as if trying to restrain himself from killing the old man.

  “I’ll give you a cottage. You aren’t staying in the house.” Dax’s tone left no doubt that is was a take it or leave it deal.

  Bitters stopped and looked about the farm, specifically at the smaller structures scattered about the many acres.

  “I think a room in there would be best.” He pointed back to the large farmhouse.

  “Can’t do it.” Dax moved in front of Bitters again, making it clear there was no way it was happening.

  “Which cottage?” That friendly smile Bitters had arrived with was beginning to slip.

  “You can stay there.” Dax pointed at the one that had belonged to Becca.

  “I guess it will do for now, until you empty a room in the main house for me.” Bitters was in full grump.

  “Bookie, can you show Bitters to Becca’s old cottage?” Dax asked, but walked off before Bookie agreed. I’d seen Dax do that before. It was a neat trick how he gave orders couched in a polite questions. I was going to have to give that a go at some point.

  I saw the flicker of hesitation, and Bookie’s eyes searched out mine. I maneuvered myself slightly behind Bitters and then did a thumbs-up. Bookie had come back from the dead. The more I thought on it, a little curse wasn’t that big of a deal.

  Bookie waved Bitters along, and I watched them head toward the cottage.

  They were only about ten feet away when Bookie asked, “You aren’t going to curse me or something, are you?”

  Had I mentioned to Bookie on our walk how Bitters was known to hand out a curse or two? I might need to have another talk with him.

  “Not if I like the place.”

  As they walked farther away, Bookie put a little more distance between them.

  Yeah, definitely for the best if I did.

  Chapter 6

  I opened a couple of cabinets, trying to find something to eat for dinner. Dodger’s cooking was bad, but cooking for myself might even be worse. Ugh. It was almost like being back in the Cement Giant with a growling belly.

  Where was Dax? What was he eating? Or Bookie? What did people do to get food around here? There was no way everyone else knew how to cook. It was too crazy to be believed.

  I jumped up on top of the counter so I could get to the last cabinet, where I knew Tank used to stash his special jerky. Four pieces left. Just enough. I grabbed my dinner and jumped off the counter.

  The only thing that distracted me from my bad meal was Bitters pushing through the back door with arms heaped full of stuff. He looked around as he slowly made his way to the basement. I inched my way closer to him and his heap of clothing and bottles.

  “Open that for me?” he asked as he stepped in front of the door that led to the basement—Tank’s basement.

  I did as he asked. Not like Tank was here.

  “You didn’t see me, and I can curse you to make you forget.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t care enough to remember.”

  He nodded with a spark in his eyes as he walked through the door, and yelled for me to close it after he was a step down.

  I took my four-jerky dinner and went out to the back porch. No sense in sitting at the dinner table alone. This way, maybe I could figure out where everyone else got their food from.

  I was eating the last jerky when Bookie walked out of one of the larger barns that housed the horses and headed over to me.

  “Did you eat?” I asked.

  “No. Just got finished taking care of a sick horse. Gotta clean up before I even think of food,” he said.

  I didn’t call him prissy as he passed me, but I was thinking it.

  Last bite done, I would’ve ignored the sound of the bike getting louder if I wasn’t so damn hungry, but it was probably Dax coming back, and I needed to know where everyone was getting their food.

  I got up and walked around to the front lawn, where I saw Fudge trudging along on her horse, Tiffy riding in front of her, and Tank roaring up with his bike.

  I pushed past the other people walking as I broke into a sprint, getting to them before anyone else. Fudge was smiling and Tiffy jumped from the horse and into my arms, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  “Dal, you’re here!” she said, squeezing my neck as I swung her around.

  I placed her on the ground and turned to see Bookie had made it outside already. He helped Fudge off her horse, and Fudge had him in a bear hug.

  Tiffy tugged at my hand to get my attention. “You really pissed my friends off good this time,” she said.

  “What do you know?” I’d learned my lesson when it came to paying attention to what Tiffy had to say. No more blowing her off as a cute kid with a wild imagination.

  “That you’re persona non grata.”

  “Did they tell you why?” Not good news.

  “No, but be careful in the forest,” she said, and wrapped her arms around my waist before abandoning me to go see Bookie.

  Tank climbed off his bike, kicked out the stand, and then walked over to me, his eyes never leaving Bookie. He had to stop periodically to greet the people welcoming him home, but it only bought me a few minutes more until he reached me.

  “I thought he had the Bloody Death?” His voice was low enough that the crowd of people gathering to welcome Fudge couldn’t hear. He turned and shook another hand before returning his attention back to me.

  “Turns out it was just a flu,” I said during a pause.

  Dodger walked over and interrupted us for another minute, but as soon as he walked away, Tank started right back up. “Was he dead or not? Because you left a note that stated he was dead.”

  “I thought he was but he wasn’t. He was just really ill.” I smiled as wide as I could as Tank received another greeting.

  “I don’t think so. I saw the grave you dug. Why was there a fresh grave if he wasn’t dead?” Tank asked, and I hoped he didn’t have a
list of these questions for me. The first one was tough enough.

  Ummm, how to explain a grave? I really could’ve used a couple minutes of prep for this conversation. “I was digging it, but then I realized he was alive when I went to put him into it. I didn’t want to leave a hole in the ground, so I dumped the dirt back in it, obviously.” Because hey, when you almost bury your best friend alive, isn’t landscaping your first concern?

  Tank’s eyes narrowed and then he looked at Bookie and back at me. Then he kept looking at me.

  Time for some offense, because my defense was about as good as the limp bacon I’d been eating. “Tank, clearly he’s alive. What do you think happened? He decided to pop up out of the ground or something like a freaking vampire? If he died, he’d be dead.”

  Tank’s eyes narrowed a bit more, until I was wondering if he could still see out of them or if he was looking at the backs of his eyelids.

  His head tilted back toward the setting sun before shifting to where Bookie was, as if smoke and flame might erupt at any moment.

  Okay, there might be wizards and people like me that could read long-buried memories, and there might even be glowing mists of gold that spoke and morphed into people, but Tank was getting a little carried away now. “He’s not a vampire.”

  He clucked his tongue, not once but several times. One cluck was a hmmm, maybe. Multiple clucks were something altogether different, a slight against my integrity. And yes, I might’ve been lying to him, but not because I wanted to.

  “There’s something weird going on here,” he said.

  That wasn’t a question. I should’ve just let the subject drop. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, let him have the last word and call the conversation closed. But I didn’t do that so well, not since I’d gotten out of the Cement Giant. It was as if once I got my hooks in the concept of free speech, I couldn’t seem to unhook myself even when it was for the best.

  “If there is something weird, I sure can’t tell you what.” As far as being honest, that was the truest thing I’d said all week. Damn if I had an explanation for what happened. I still caught myself staring at Bookie.

  “I’ll wait and see on this.” Tank looked about the area. “Where’s Dax?”

  “Like I know?” I asked, sometimes wishing I could put a tracker on that man.

  He nodded, accepting that answer with no problem. Tank grabbed their bags and headed toward the house.

  Fudge finally let go of Bookie, and her eyes landed on me. I wasn’t going to cry. I was too tough for tears, even in the face of Fudge’s concern.

  But I might’ve misted up when she took me in a hug as fierce as she’d given Bookie. Luckily, my hair came to the rescue, so whether I got a little watery would never be known.

  “I worried about you,” she said as she held me tight to her.

  “I’m sorry I left you. I had to.”

  “I know you did.”

  I pulled out of Fudge’s grasp and she let me. She was like that. There as much as you needed her, but never smothering.

  “Why did you come back?” I asked as I linked an arm with her and we started walking back to the house.

  “Tiffy told me she saw Bookie. I knew this was where he’d come if he could, and I had to know if he really was okay. And I knew if Dax found you, you’d both end up back here, too.”

  Part of me wanted to drag her into the house and lock the door, while the other part wanted to shoo her off the property and as far from trouble as I could get her. “Fudge, you know it’s not safe here right now.”

  “I know that’s what everyone tells me, but I feel safer here than I did at the Rock after they were going to burn you out. I couldn’t stay there, and Tiffy is safer here.”

  She tilted her head toward Tank. “I wanted to come home, and so did Tiffy. That place wasn’t ever going to be home.”

  “What about Carmine? Wasn’t Tank getting serious with her?”

  “Fizzled out,” she whispered. “It happens a lot with Tank. This one showed a little more promise than some of the others, but after things went south, events played out as they usually do with Tank.”

  “What went south? Did more people get sick?” And then another thought struck me. Did they think Rocky was a Plaguer now?

  “No. After what they did to you and Bookie, things got a little heated. Tank found out the lengths they’d planned on going to get you and Bookie out of the Rock, and it wasn’t something he could stomach, especially not from someone he’d been sleeping with. It was different for all of us after we found out about that.”

  I didn’t say anything. Maybe I should’ve, but what did you say to that?

  Fudge patted my hand, and I grabbed it and squeezed it as we headed toward the house. They were all here now, and I couldn’t figure out if I should be happy or terrified.

  Chapter 7

  I’d had my best breakfast in months out on the back porch this morning. Everyone had been smiling, even Lucy, just as I had been last night. Then at some point during the evening, I decided that I was more scared for them than happy. It wasn’t safe here, not anymore.

  I yanked another weed in the garden and tossed it on the pile, only to realize it had been a spinach plant. I leaned back to sit on my heels and looked up as Paul, the guy who stood post at the gate in the morning, left his post and walked across the lawn. There was a rolled piece of vellum in his hand.

  Who was sending a message to Dax? It probably didn’t bode well, because messages rarely did. They were too much work unless it was something really important. I’d learned most of the important stuff wasn’t usually anything I wanted to know.

  Paul scanned the lawn and then turned and started walking toward me, probably wanting to know where Dax was. As if I’d have some clue. I’d barely seen him since we’d gotten back.

  Where was he, anyway? I needed to know what he was getting delivered, because it most likely was going to mess up my life, too.

  I looked around the field and then spotted him just returning to the farm, and I wondered if he’d been out there all night.

  Paul’s head turned as if he’d sensed the movement behind him, but he didn’t shift direction, just kept heading right to me.

  Great—did everyone think I was Dax’s errand girl now that I was sleeping in his room? I had to get out of that room. It looked bad, real bad.

  I looked over at the house. I really should go upstairs and move my stuff out. But where was I supposed to go? Bookie was back in his room and Tiffy had taken her room back last night. It felt wrong to kick her back out again and inconvenience everyone. Maybe I should pretend I was out of Dax’s room. I’d just tell everyone I was bunking with Tiffy. Yeah, that made more sense than uprooting everyone.

  Paul stopped in front of the garden and leaned forward toward me, letter extended.

  I leaned away from him and crossed my arms. “I don’t know why you’re giving me his correspondence. We aren’t together.” Seriously, how lazy was this guy? Dax was fifty feet away now, having stopped to talk to the butcher.

  “What?” Paul said, acting as if he hadn’t made that assumption. He thrust the letter closer to me. “It came for you.”

  I was glad I was already planted on the ground. “For me? No. You mean you want me to give it to Dax?” I asked, knowing he had to be mistaken. Who would want to write me a letter, especially one marked with a seal? A seal meant it was private, which at least quadrupled the chances of it being bad.

  “Unless there’s some other Dahlia in this place, it’s yours. Guy asked me to deliver it to you.” He looked down at the letter. “Franks is your last name, right?”

  Every part of me froze. I didn’t even blink. Only Dax knew my last name.

  I hadn’t been hiding it, not with any real effort. No one had asked and I hadn’t bothered to tell anyone. I had enough enemies out there without bandying my last name about for no good reason. It wasn’t unusual. A lot of people didn’t use a last name in the Wilds.

  I reac
hed out and took the letter from Paul, pretending that nothing at all was wrong, that my thoughts weren’t racing faster than Dax’s bike with an army of Newco on our tail, or that my insides didn’t feel as churned up as the dirt in my garden.

  Paul walked away, relieved of his chore as I shoved the note in my back pocket and stood. Whatever this was, I had to get away from prying eyes.

  I smiled all the way into the house, and it didn’t falter until I was shutting the door to Dax’s room. Letter gripped in my hand, I sat on the bed and broke the wax seal that was used for Newco. That guaranteed it wasn’t going to be good news.

  Dahlia,

  My name is Zarrod. I have reason to believe you are familiar with who I am. I’d like to invite you to meet with me in two days. We have some matters that need to be discussed. I’m hoping we can come to an agreement that will work for us both.

  Due to our unfortunate beginnings, I am willing to offer you Croq to wait with your people while you are with me. Knowing of your past together, I’m assuming this would be acceptable.

  If I don’t see you, I’ll know we aren’t going to be able to reach an understanding, which would be highly unfortunate.

  There was nothing else but a signature and a location.

  I felt like a hand had reached out from the letter and stabbed me in the chest, then pulled the knife out and stabbed me a few more times for good measure.

  I put the letter down beside me as I curled my legs up underneath me on the bed. What did I do now? It hadn’t been a lucky chance on their part, finding me at the library. I’d hoped it had been, but knew how unlikely that was.

  How had they known I was back so quickly? They must have had people watching this place. Were people watching the farm right now? Did they take notes on who spoke to me? Who smiled at me? Who might make me vulnerable?

  Had they watched me hug Fudge and Tiffy as they’d arrived back? How much had my desire to get back here and stay here put everyone at risk?