Moggies, Magic and Murder Page 3

  Catching my look, Violet added, “Oh, don’t be that way, Hattie. I can promise you that, once I’m done, the Angel Apothecary will never look better.”

  “It’s not that, Violet,” I said, even though it absolutely was that. “It’s just that Millie’s feeling a little under the weather right now. She hasn’t been herself in the last couple of days.”

  Violet shrugged as she left a pile of Sols and Lunes for her order on the table. “It happens, honey. If we need to delay it, just let me know. Do try to come though. No offense, but you’re starting to look like a Mainlander with that … mane.” Her look of pity wasn’t lost on me.

  I assured her that I’d make an effort to look more beautiful, and she left to work up some follicle magic on the next unsuspecting client.

  Artemus was waving me over. I walked over to him and gave him a hug. “Aside from dealing with psycho dwarves, how’s my favorite writer doing this morning?” I asked as bubbly as I could manage.

  “Much better now that said psycho dwarf has left the premises permanently,” Artemus admitted with a grin.

  “Your usual, Hattie?” Gabrielle asked. Her tone was cheery. As if she hadn’t just had a run in with the shortest witch from hell.

  Looking over Artemus’ shoulder, I said, “Better make the muffin to go. I’m actually here on business.”

  Artemus steered me towards a seat and asked, “What kind of business?”

  Ever the efficient host, Gabrielle had already set out my usual muffin and tea, in a take-out, recyclable cup in front of me and was looking at me intently. Some people found her unblinking stare unsettling at first until they realized that she knew of no other way to look.

  “Well, before we get into that, what was all THAT about?” I asked, pointing to the door.

  “Ms. Hagatha Jinx—“ Gabrielle began.

  “As in the wife of Aurel Nugget,” Artemus interjected smoothly. Gabrielle continued.

  “—demanded yesterday morning that I have an order of strawberry muffins ready for her this A.M. I calmly explained to her at the time, that due to a sudden and unexpected blight on the batch I have here, I was completely out of strawberries. She then told me that she did not have time for my excuses, as she was bound for Bonemark Isle today, and that she’d be in this morning to pick them up. Or else.”

  “Or else…what?” I asked.

  “That was never made clear,” Gabrielle said. “So I did my best to fulfill her wish…by giving her blueberry muffins.”

  “Are you serious? Going by the commotion I saw, I assumed you had put cyanide in her croissant.”

  After looking around to be sure no one was close enough to hear me (you never know who might be an Unawakened), I whispered, “So why the Lively Legs spell? To me, it looked as if you weren’t in the least bit bothered, until Artemus stepped in, that is.”

  “You have just answered your own question, Hattie,” Gabrielle said, rubbing a tender palm across her man’s cheek. “No one talks to Artemus in that manner.”

  Artemus brought up his own hand over hers and returned a misty-eyed gaze. I couldn’t blame him. Not so long ago, he’d been living in a dilapidated beach shack, surrounded by Strands addicts and attempting to write a bestselling book. Now he had a place to live, a woman who loved him and regular, healthy meals. Not to mention cakes. And, pastries. And scones. And freshly baked doughy bread. My envy for his good fortune in edibles was severely distracting. Rice cakes. Think rice cakes.

  “But back to the original question,” Gabrielle said as she put her hand down. “What business brings you here?”

  I explained the situation with the big order and Millie’s condition without going into too many details. Then I concluded with, “So if it’s alright with both of you, I could really use Artemus’ help on this.”

  I took another breath and added, “I’m willing to cut you in on twenty-five percent of the profits on this sale to compensate for your time and trouble.”

  Artemus’ oddly shaped eyes exchanged a glance with Gabrielle’s round ones. At Gabrielle’s nod, Artemus said, “Make it ten.”

  I made a face. “That wouldn’t be right.”

  “Taking more money than is our due would be even less right,” Gabrielle proclaimed. I wondered briefly if these two lovebirds had heard the whispered wisdom of Granny Chimera too.

  “After all you have done for both Gabrielle and myself, how I could take any more?” Artemus added, putting his hands together in a prayerful manner.

  I finally gave up and smiled. However hard either of their lives had been, neither of them ever thought twice about helping out a friend in need.

  “I have to say that I find Millie and Midnight’s condition…troubling,” Gabrielle added, wiping down the counter. “Going by both what I have seen and what my customers have told me, there are all sorts of inexplicable occurrences going on around Glessie right now.”

  “Like, say, your batch of strawberries going bad for no reason?” I suggested.

  Gabrielle raised an appreciative eyebrow. Artemus pursed his lips and said, “Interesting guess.”

  “Hattie does not guess, Artemus,” Gabrielle countered. “She deduces from the available evidence.”

  “I’m wondering if the Presences are aware of these strange imbalances.”

  “The who?” I asked Artemus.

  “Oh, that’s something we can talk about later. I imagine that you’ve much to do. How soon do I need to be at the shop?”

  “Sooner the better,” I said, grabbing my muffin as I got up. “As I explained, I’ve already got the ingredients we need to get started, just not enough of them to finish.”

  “So you’ll be needing to find a supplier,” Gabrielle deduced.

  “And run all my regular deliveries this morning on top of that,” I added. “Come to think of it, some of my regular stock needs replenishing too. So, really, it’d be a real help if someone could—“

  “Have no fear,” Artemus assured me. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  I smiled at him then Gabrielle. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, girl.”

  “Well do I know,” the ex-golem baker said with an almost regal smile.

  CHAPTER 3

  Out in the sunshine, I glanced at the sign hanging in Celestial Cakes window. The hidden word now read 'emet,' which was Yiddish for 'truth.' All danger had apparently left the premises with Hagatha’s ungainly reverse exit.

  I turned toward The Angel when my Fae Sight kicked in with an alarmingly bright light. I quickly shut it off and blinked my eyes rapidly trying to regain some semblance of vision.

  “Hattie, dear, are you all right?” an angelic voice asked. I felt a gentle hand rest on my shoulder.

  As my focus regained, I saw the preternaturally lovely face of Verdantia Eyebright. Though she looked like she was no older than thirty, she had a motherly way about her that made her green grocery one of the most popular in Glessie. Striking, stunning, stupefying…pick your adjective. Verdantia had an irresistible beauty.

  “Oh, you were looking at the world through different eyes, weren’t you?” she whispered gently. “Apologies if I startled you. I just had this…feeling I should walk this way back to the grocery.” Wait, did she know? How could Verdantia know about my sight? I pretended not to hear.

  “Just like you had a feeling that I needed a bouquet of red snapdragons when Governor Shields was in town?”

  Verdantia shrugged. “I have never believed that anyone should walk into their fate without at least being given a clue or two of what’s ahead. The snapdragons should have made that plain.”

  So, she HAD been trying to tell me I was in some kind of peril, sending Gideon over with that bloom as she did. “What else can you tell me about that?” I urged.

  “There’s no more to be said on that matter. What counts is that you’re safe. For now, at least,” Verdantia added rather cryptically. “But, I am thinking you have more pressing concerns at the moment?” This woman. How did she know so much?


  Jumping into her seemingly unlimited vat of knowledge, I asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could order alchemical substances in bulk, would you?”

  Verdantia smiled. “Ah, yes. I knew there was a reason I needed to walk this route today. Dilwyn Werelamb would be the one to ask. He gets his supplies from Ulrich Darkmoore on Phlange. Ulrich will have everything you need, and you can place your order and purchase directly through Dilwyn.”

  I chuckled in relief. Thank the Goddess’ for Verdantia and her connections.

  “However, one of the conditions of Ulrich’s supply deal is that any outside customers that Dilwyn sells to needs a letter from a trusted sponsor.”

  My face fell. Where would I find a referral like this at such short notice?

  Verdantia read my expression and gave me a kindly smile. “And it just so happens, I am considered a trusted patron in Ulrich’s eyes. Come by the grocery in half an hour, and I’ll have that letter ready for you to take to Dilwyn.”

  I couldn’t help it. I squealed in delight and gave Verdantia a big hug. “Thanks, V! You’re a lifesaver.”

  Her laughter was a soft tinkle as she patted my back gently. “What are good neighbors for?” She turned to walk away then, but pivoted at the last moment. "Hattie, please don't come down too hard on Jet. These have been troubling times for the Coven Isles just lately, so he's coping in the only way he knows how."

  I could only blink at the world's most beautiful green-grocer.

  "I'm sorry, what?" Great, she's turned up the cryptic Fae speech to one hundred and ten percent. Verdantia was a puzzle at the best of times, but, in this instance, her words simply made no sense. "What do you mean, Je--" She merely smiled and turned on her foot, taking her glowing radiance with her.

  Midnight’s eyes were glued to the ground as we flew over Glessie.

  “The world looks so different in daylight.”

  I glanced over my shoulder for a second. “Better or worse?”

  “Different,” Midnight insisted. “I leave that kind of judgment call to Fraidy, vengeful Unseelie and a few minor angel buddies of mine.”

  I rolled my eyes. Even sleep-deprived, my night-prowling gossip of a cat couldn’t help but name-dropa few of his esoteric contacts. I brought him on this little jaunt when I found him awake and restlessly pacing back at The Angel. The worry that had been nipping at my heels was starting to bite a bit further up my metaphorical leg. I hated seeing my darling cat this agitated. At this time of day, Midnight could usually be found in a patch of sunlight under the window in my bedroom, fully stretched and blowing some serious Z's. Even when Gloom sat on his head -- which she often did to better look out the window -- Midnight couldn’t be roused.

  That’s why I insisted he come with me to Dilwyn’s for a quick examination. The vet’s office had told me that he’d be at his farm for the rest of the day but were kind enough to call ahead for me.

  I glanced down at the farm as we approached. There was no shortage of animals down there that Mainlanders only knew as mythical creatures. A herd of golden sheep gave us a collective “baa” as we swooped in low, the sunlight bouncing off their brilliant wooly backs. In the crop fields, a pack of bridled Griffins flapped their wings furiously, pulling a plow that looked roughly the size of an old-fashioned carriage. A cranky chimera spat a blast of fire as it pulled at its leash, the flames close enough to us that we had to veer away from the peculiar goat-headed, lion-bodied creature. How Dilwyn managed this band of critters, his two wayward sons, AND the local vet’s office was a mystery this amateur detective had yet to solve.

  Werelamb came out of the barn and smiled up at us, all craggy features and earth-dolloped farm clothes. We came down for landing, and Dilwyn grabbed my exhausted kitty from the thatch.

  “And what’s my favorite kitty doing up this late, huh?” he asked in his gravelly tone.

  “Well, technically, you daylight walkers would call it early,” Midnight said, jumping from Dilwyn’s hands down to the dusty ground. “But either way, I really wish I knew the answer. This daylight thing's hurting my eyes.” Midnight squinted up at Dilwyn, all melodramatic posturing.

  “I’ve been giving him some all-natural sedatives to help with his sleep,” I explained as I dismounted the broom. “I gave him a double dose of my strongest concoction just this morning. All it did was give him a few hours of half-sleep.”

  "And I might have gotten more if it weren't for my sister sitting on my head," Midnight announced.

  Dilwyn frowned a little, his sunbaked face collecting a few more wrinkles around the mouth in the process. “This almost sounds like it might be slipping into magical territory.”

  "Trust me; it was anything butt magical. I mean, have you up-close seen Gloom's a--"

  “That's what I’m afraid of,” I replied directly to Dilwyn's last remark, cutting off my snarky cat.

  Dilwyn squatted on his haunches to give my sleep deprived kitty a fatherly rub. You could see the easy friendship these two unlikely characters shared. “Tell you what. I know that you probably have a lot of gossip you need to catch up on with my charges. So why don’t I give you a few minutes to chat with them first while Hattie and I attend to the other business?” Midnight bobbed his tired head.

  “I did promise the Golden Herd some tales of my night adventures.”

  With that, my insomniac cat trotted off to the fields, passing a post of double hitched pegassi on the way. The winged horses whinnied in dismay at my kitty’s trespassing. Guess my charismatic nightwalker wasn’t a welcome guest to all of Dilwyn's creatures.

  “So…the office told me that you needed some alchemical supplies in bulk and with no time to spare,” Dilwyn said, crossing his arms and measuring my competence at my attempts to pull off such a feat.

  “The sort of supplies you can only get with one of these,” I added, pulling out Verdantia’s authorization.

  He pulled some bifocals from his shirt pocket and gave the letter a perfunctory once-over. I’d tried reading it myself when I had got back to the shop, but I didn’t recognize the alphabet. The structure looked closer to a magical contract than a letter of permission. Maybe it was.

  Dilwyn finally nodded and looked up over his glasses. “Okay, we can do business. I guess you’ve got a list of things you need?”

  I pulled out the account of all the ingredients I needed and in what quantities. Another once-over and Dilwyn said, “I can sell all this to you for two thousand Sols.”

  I did my best not to flinch. Depending on the flow of customers, two thousand Sols was a week of profits.

  Guess I didn’t hide it well enough because Dilwyn said, “Of course, one of the great things about selling this stuff is I get to set the payment schedule if my customer doesn’t have it all right away.”

  “What kind of fees are we talking about?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

  “Let’s say fifty Sols a week until the debt is paid off.”

  I let my breath out in relief. “You’re serious?”

  “As serious as you are about getting the CIAS taken care of,” Dilwyn said, putting the glasses and papers away in his farm overalls pocket. “Do we have a deal?”

  I nodded, but asked, “How did you know that I was doing this for the Society? For all you know, I could be doing a favor for an independent—”

  Dilwyn laughed. “I know I come off as a bit of a country bumpkin, but I did live a full life before settling down on this farm, you know? I rubbed shoulders with all the big-wigs on Talisman at one time, and I used to be with those hoity-toity alchemists myself before—“

  A loud whinnying shriek from the fields stopped Dilwyn's historical ramblings in their tracks. The Griffins, tangling themselves in their harnesses, were in a state of panic. The plow they were so dutifully pulling previously, was beginning to cut crooked into the ground, as they tried to fly upward for safety. I could just make out a boy behind them; a boy with a wicked grin on his face. That smile evaporated when he saw Dilwyn
’s furious face.

  “Lye!” he yelled as he ran for the fields. I was right behind him, though I had no clue what good I could do.

  Dilwyn's wayward son ran off for the nearby woods while the Griffins continued their mad scramble in the air. I was fairly curious about how Dilwyn could detect that it was Lye and not Styx out there causing trouble. The twins were identical in every way, and yet their father had just identified one from more than one hundred feet away.

  Out of nowhere, a black streak jumped on the plow -- using it as a launch pad -- and landed on the back of the lowest griffin. Midnight dug his claws into the leather harness and was muttering something in a language I didn’t even know he could speak, let alone understand. I had to remember; this was a member of the Infiniti. An immortal clowder of magical kitties. My cats had seen more than was even believable, I imagined. Who knew how many dead languages they had grasped in their time? Gradually, the Griffins calmed down, untangled themselves from the snarled lines their panic had created and landed back on the ground, where they pawed the earth nervously.

  Dilwyn surveyed the damage this little episode had caused and shook his head. “Don’t know what you said, Midnight boy, but I’m grateful you said it.”

  “Hey, no worries, Dil,” Midnight said as he trotted over to us. I gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead. Even in his current condition, my kitty had done me and his siblings proud.

  “Looks like we’re going to need to start the plowing all over again,” Dilwyn added, giving the field a wistful glance. “At this rate, I’m never going to get those green beans planted.”

  “Are they for Verdantia’s—“ I started to ask.

  “Oh no, it’s for the pegassi. For them, it’s the equivalent of horse oats.”

  Dilwyn cast a baleful eye on the wood. “That boy of mine." He sighed. "Lye and Styx are good kids, believe me. They're just misguided. By a father who knows nothing about fathering. Although I try my level best, that's for sure. I just wish their mother was still alive so that she could calm them down.” I squeezed Werelamb's arm. He looked so tired right then.