Chapter 10
TEN
Dave pointed toward the reading tables and told us to wait.
“ Nice place,” Ian commented, somehow looking in place among the stuffed, dusty rows of shelves.
“ It is. Always empty too. Dave gets really bored. It’s too bad this place isn’t in Olmeda or public. Bet he’d love to join the Christmas event.”
Ian smiled and ran a hand down my arm. “ I bet he would.”
I leaned into his touch and sighed happily. “ I wish Grandma could’ve met you.” Not the first time I’d told him this.
“ I know. At least I’ve met her spellbook, yes?”
I blushed at the memory of me formally introducing Ian to Grandma’s spellbook. Anyone else would’ve thought it stupid, but Ian had taken it very seriously. “ It was the right thing to do.”
In a world full of change and magical chaos, Grandma’s spellbook remained my rock. It was a source of joy and security, and while Grandma might be long gone, I knew she had left part of herself in those pages.
The rattling of wheels caught our attention. Dave pushed a library cart up to us with several volumes and folders stacked on top.
“ Here we go,” he said, patting the top of the pile. “ Olmeda -related cases for a thirty-year period at the end of the nineteenth century. It’s mostly lists that point to other cases, so let me know which one when you find what you’re looking for. If it’s not there, we can broaden the search.”
“ Thank you,” I told him sincerely.
He beamed at me, then pointed at a selection of tomes. “ These are some books on recorded paranormal illnesses. I wasn’t sure which way you wanted to go, so I brought ones that cover things in general. If you want to go into more detail, just let me know I’ll go into the back.”
Where they kept the more advanced stuff, available only to higher levels in the witch hierarchy, which I now belonged to thanks to the Tea Cauldron . I thanked him again.
“ As I said,” he continued happily, “just let me know if you need anything more in-depth. I’ll leave you to it.”
Ian and I decided to divide and conquer. He snapped a pair of gloves on and took the first folder of magical cases, and I took the first book on magical illnesses. If you ask me, I totally drew the short end of the stick. Checking out old magical delinquency was a lot more fun than reading long, meandering write-ups on sick paranormals and the possible causes, but we each had our specialty.
Still , I leaned over to peer over his arm. The papers in the folder were yellowed with age and handwritten in old cursive.
Mary Thomas, est. 1857, hexing neighbor. O-148
“ Name , birth year, accusation and…case number?” I guessed aloud.
Ian made a sound of assent.
The list of names and offenses continued steadily down the page, with the occasional paragraph of notes. The cases changed first letter often, which probably denoted the town they had been apprehended in.
“ That’s a lot of magical delinquency.” Seeing these lists, it was a wonder we’d remained a secret from the humans for this long.
“ It seems mostly nuisance items,” Ian said, turning to another page. “ Hexes , curses, stealing. Things we wouldn’t worry about now.”
“ They knew better about curses back then too,” I said.
“ But they still had to check.”
“ Good point.” I mulled on that for a moment. “ I suppose now most of that has moved on to the bounty hunters and the underground market.”
“ I’m sure there was a healthy underground market back then, too,” Ian said dryly.
“ Probably ,” I admitted, then went back to my boring book.
What felt like an eternity later, but had likely been about twenty minutes, Ian touched my arm.
“ I think I found something.”
Glad to have an excuse to stop my research, I inserted a bookmark and closed my book. “ Where ?”
He slid the paper over, and tapped the bottom of the page.
Philleas Leeman, est. 1845, magical poison. O-223
Below it, a note had been scribbled: Victim reports spell changed his magic. Forwarded to Montel headquarters.
I mentally clapped my hands. “ Perfect . Let’s get the file.”
“ I’ll get it.”
“ Spoilsport ,” I muttered after him. I didn’t bother opening my book again— I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and watching the back of Ian’s jeans as he walked to the counter was a much-needed restorative to my eyes.
A few minutes later, he was back with a large tome and a pair of gloves for me. I put them on and waited eagerly for him to open the book and flip the pages to case O -223.
According to the case notes, this Philleas Leeman , owner of a bookshop, was accused of using a dark magic spell on another bookshop owner, turning his victim’s magic from air to spirit. The victim, one George Ellis , presented two witnesses who told the Council under oath that Ellis had not been able to use spirit magic before his altercation with Leeman . A test with a special ward confirmed Ellis’s magic had changed element, at least temporarily.
Some digging into Leeman’s past uncovered the suspicious disappearance of his original bookstore cofounder, and the poisoning of an old rival. That was enough to condemn him to Council jail.
I flipped to the next page, but it showed another case.
“ There’s no mention of what happened to Ellis ,” I murmured. “ Did he get his powers back?”
“ The Council must’ve made a potion for him.”
“ You’re right. It doesn’t say what kind of spell Leeman used, either.”
“ He probably didn’t tell them. Hard to argue for one’s innocence if you explain how you did the crime.”
“ Good point.” I brought up the notes app on my phone. “ Maybe Leeman or Ellis still have family members living in Olmeda . They might know more about it.”
“ Family legend? Maybe even a spellbook?”
“ Exactly .”
“ Miss Avery ,” Dave called out, walking up to us with a folder in his hands, his face full of excitement. “ I think I found information on the dark coven you were looking for.”
“ Thank you, Dave ,” I said just as excited. Leeman might’ve been a member of the coven, and even if he wasn’t, I couldn’t ignore the fact the coven was linked to stories about personal magic going wrong.
Dave left us to delve into the folder, which I immediately did.
There were several detailed reports of dark magic incidents in Olmeda —some of which sounded more fiction than truth, since I had yet to meet a talking snake with a chicken head and human feet—culminating in the Council finding undisputed proof of dark magic use in the coven leader’s house.
The witch, Amanda Forsythe , had been brought to the Council for interrogation, but had refused to name the members of the coven or confess to any of the accusations leveled at her. Which was apparently quite irritating to whoever had written the report. Further investigation of the paranormal community in Olmeda had produced no new leads, so, with nothing else to go on, the Council had deemed Forsythe unrepentant and a menace to the paranormal community and thrown her into the brig. I suspected she hadn’t stayed there long—paranormal justice was harsh and swift, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they had offed her to make room for the next paranormal villain.
I shuddered at the thought.
“ No list of coven members,” Ian said, going over the report himself.
“ Very rude,” I agreed. “ And nothing on the list of charges mentions magic drastically changing.”
“ The wording is too broad. ‘ Producing potions with the intent to spread ill’ could be a magic-changing potion or poison.”
“ Let’s keep looking at the cases folder. Maybe we’ll find more records of similar things.”
Ian put the dark coven folder aside and focused on the original cases while I concentrated on the magical ailments tomes. I found no mentions of magic randomly turning upside down; the closest was notes about people whose power had been temporarily bound, as was often the case when apprehending paranormal criminals.
I closed the book. “ Nothing useful.”
“ Same here.”
“ Maybe Dave can dig up some information on the coven leader or the witch who got accused of messing with the other person’s magic.” I sent Ian a sly look. “ They keep a database of witches, you know.”
His expression gave nothing away. “ Smart of them. Useful for things like this.”
I grinned and went to the counter. Ian followed.
“ Did you find what you were looking for?” Dave asked, all smiles.
“ We found some information. Does the Council’s witch database reach far back?”
“ Of registered witches? Yes , although it’s only been partially digitized. For really old members I’d have to search in the archives. Might take a few days to find.”
“ Try these.” I showed him my phone. “ Philleas Leeman and Amanda Forsythe .”
Dave glanced at the screen, then busied himself at the computer behind the desk.
“ How’s the shop?” he asked as he typed away. “ I heard through the grapevine Doyle is happy with it.”
That perked me right up. “ She is?”
“ Yep . How much longer you got on the probational period? A month?”
I scrunched my nose. “ Two months.”
“ Almost here,” he said kindly. His attention flicked back to the monitor. “ Ah , here we are. Philleas Leeman . Died in 1905. Says here his only daughter moved to New York . You’ll have to ask the Council there for more information.”
Disappointing at first, but on deeper thought, it would help narrow the list of suspects. “ And Forsythe ?”
He busied himself on the computer again. After a couple of minutes, he shook his head. “ Sorry , no records on her. They must not be digitized yet. I’ll get you the paperwork to request them.”
As I filled out the form, a new thought came to me. “ What about George Ellis ?” I spelled it out for him. “ He was involved in a case concerning Leeman . Maybe there’s a mention of him somewhere?”
He looked it up. “ Nothing , sorry.”
Ah , well. The likelihood of his descendants going on a rampage on modern-day paranormals to avenge his altercation with Leeman was pretty low, anyway.
I finished filling the form and slid it over. Dave looked it over then set it on a metal tray labeled “requests.” “ I’ll get on these as soon as possible, but it might take a few days.”
“ That’s okay. Thank you.”
We said our goodbyes and went back upstairs to the lobby. For a moment, I debated checking in with Doyle , but if she truly was happy with how things were going, why ruin a good run by letting her know I was here because things were weird in Olmeda again?
We found a cozy café that also served lunch and settled in with a couple of sandwiches and sides of fries. As always, Ian got fussy over the fries, rearranging the side dishes until he had full reach of my portion. I watched in amusement, enjoying the effort he took in setting everything just right to calm his inner wolf.
“ What do you think?” I asked. “ Are either of the two cases related to Shane and Brimstone ?”
Ian took a big bite of his BLT and chewed thoughtfully. “ We should assume they do.”
“ Both ?”
“ Leeman might’ve been part of the coven.”
I tapped the table absentmindedly. “ That’s what I was thinking. His family moved away, though.”
“ Doesn’t mean they aren’t back and unregistered.”
“ Good point.” I dipped a fry in the ketchup and stuffed it into my mouth. “ I wonder if it’s related to Vicky .”
“ Oh ?”
“ During one of her ramblings, she said her great-grandma or something was connected to the dark dealings in Olmeda . Maybe someone else in the family figured out what happened to her and wants to take revenge on me?”
“ Then why not grab you and torture you?”
I choked on my second fry. “ What ?”
“ It’s a possibility.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with the thought, and I had an inkling the shop and I were about to get audited for our security measures. “ But if someone wants revenge on you without directly targeting you, they would go for me or Key or the dogs, not Shane and Brimstone .”
My phone pinged with a new message notification from the dark web magic marketplace.
Write me down for the Christmas event.
Was this my fate now, being accosted about the event every time I had a nice lunch with Ian ?
“ What is it?” he asked.
I showed him the message. “ Someone in the dark web marketplace wants in the Christmas event.”
“ Who ?”
“ Good question.” I checked the sender, it was hidden. “ I have no idea.”
Who is this? I typed back.
You know who.
Well , that wasn’t creepy at all.
Please make your request in person. I was halfway to pressing enter when the conversation poofed out of existence. Awesome . I looked up at Ian . “ They deleted the convo.”
“ Then they didn’t really mean it,” Ian said in a definitely amused voice.
Easy for him to say. He wouldn’t have to deal with some random Olmeda paranormal business owner showing up at the Tea Cauldron demanding his share of stickers.
“ Maybe whoever is behind the dark magic spell didn’t have the opportunity to reach you or Key , so they had to make do with Shane and Brimstone ,” I said, refocusing on our problem.
“ Maybe .” Ian took another bite of his sandwich.
“ I think it’s worth tracking down the coven leader’s family. See if they still live here. Leeman’s victim too.”
Ian nodded, then stole one of my fries.
I laughed and stole two of his.