Chapter Nine
NINE
Ben sat at the front counter of his shop, frowning with concentration as he repotted an azalea. Its pink flowers trembled as he lowered it into its new, larger pot. This would likely be the last bloom of the year, and he hoped he could get it to bloom again next year. Mariel’s magic could bring it back, of course, but azaleas were fickle, and he liked the challenge of gardening the old-fashioned way.
The shop bell tinkled. He looked up to see Mariel, as if his thoughts had summoned her. He straightened, brushing off his hands. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you were on your honeymoon.”
She grinned, rosy-cheeked and looking blissful in the way only a newlywed could. “We’re heading out shortly. I just wanted to stop by and see if any plants need magic, since I won’t be back for a few weeks.”
She and Oz were going on an extended trip, starting in the demon plane, then heading to the elven plane for a few days before returning to Earth for a week in France. Mariel had never been out of the country other than the occasional visit to the demon plane, and it had been nice seeing her excitement grow in the months leading up to the wedding.
Ben looked around, trying to think if any plants had been struggling lately. “There’s a canna lily that could use some encouragement,” he said, pointing. “Nothing dire, it just hasn’t been thriving the way I hoped.”
As Mariel headed for the plant in question, the construction forewoman stuck her head around the corner. “Hey, boss. We’re about to start putting the stage in, so it’s gonna be loud.”
At the mention of the stage, Ben’s stomach dropped. Ever since last night when he’d told Eleonore he needed her to perform, she’d been giving him the silent treatment. She spent her time holed up in her room, glued to a spare tablet he’d borrowed from Themmie after realizing Eleonore didn’t want to return his phone and the knowledge it gave her access to. He heard her muttering periodically, a mixture of curses, exclamations over world events from the past half century, and the occasional snippet of Shakespeare.
He felt horrible about asking her to cover for his lie, but what else was he supposed to do? Gigi was counting on him, and the future of Glimmer Falls was counting on Gigi. Besides, Eleonore had finally agreed, even if she hadn’t looked that happy about it.
He’d get Eleonore something special to thank her, he decided. Maybe a top-shelf bottle of bourbon-spiked blood. Then she’d forgive him and they could be on friendly terms again—as friendly as terms could be when he was essentially her prison warden.
“Sounds good,” he told the forewoman. “Thanks for being willing to add it last minute.”
The woman grinned. “Not a problem. I’ve been looking for a new venue for my stand-up, anyway.”
Ben suppressed a wince. Having been to a few comedy shows around town, he knew the quality of that particular act was…questionable. But if it meant getting a stage put in before the café’s opening—and Gigi’s mayoral announcement—he’d offer her a headliner spot every night of the week.
When the builder left, Mariel popped her head around a shelf. “Why are you adding a stage now?” she asked. “I thought that was going to wait for the next stage of construction.”
“Uh…” Ben’s brain stalled out. “I thought—well, my sister likes the arts, you know? And it just…ah…it’s because…because…”
There were a lot of reasons he didn’t like lying. One of them was that he was generally terrible at it.
Mariel crossed her arms, adopting a determined expression. “Out with it,” she said.
Ben exhaled, shoulders slumping. Well, everyone would find out about Eleonore sooner or later, if they hadn’t already seen the viral video. And besides, it might be a relief to tell someone how colossally he’d complicated his life. “You’re not going to believe it.”
Mariel laughed and settled onto a stool next to the counter. “Ben, I once accidentally summoned a demon instead of a bag of flour. Trust me: whatever’s going on can’t be weirder than that.”
Ten minutes later, Mariel stared at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “I take it back,” she said. “That’s weirder.”
He winced. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t even know you could buy succubi on eBay. Surely that’s against their terms and conditions?”
Ben hadn’t considered that. Maybe he could contact customer service and arrange a return? Except then Eleonore would be stuck again with the witch who’d imprisoned her.
No, he couldn’t.
“I need to find a way to break the curse tying her to that plastic crystal,” he said. Then she’d be free to do whatever she liked, far away from Ben, his anxiety, and his terrible online shopping choices.
Mariel whipped out her phone. “Mind if I text the Scooby gang? Someone might have encountered this before.”
“The Scooby gang” was a relatively new term Themmie had chosen for the boisterous group chat that included the pixie, Mariel, Oz, Calladia, Astaroth, Ben, and Rani. Ben sat out about eighty percent of the group’s activities due to scheduling challenges, social anxiety, or the after-work urge to sink into his couch and stare at a blank wall, but he enjoyed the time he did spend with them.
“Sure,” he said, swallowing his embarrassment at having gotten himself into this situation to begin with. If there was one undeniable truth, it was that he needed help.
“Great,” she said, thumb tapping over the screen. Her eyes flicked up to him. “Curse aside, let’s also talk about this theatrical performance you’ve strong-armed Eleonore into giving.”
He frowned. “I didn’t strong-arm her.”
“You told her you wanted her to do it.”
He opened his mouth, about to argue that she could have refused outright if it mattered that much, then shut it, feeling another surge of guilt. She had refused, but he’d kept pushing. It was uncharacteristic behavior from him, and even though he’d been freaking out at the time, that didn’t excuse it.
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked. “The Glimmer Falls Gazette already published a gossip item naming me specifically. They said I was an active participant in a possible murder attempt. The only reason I’m not in jail right now is because it didn’t escalate further.”
In a supernatural town, traditional law and order had to take certain things into consideration. Witches were always cursing one another and engaging in duels, centaur jousting was a beloved sport that frequently put people in the hospital, and inappropriate summonings, orgies, and brawls were the norm. During one infamous town hall, Mayor Cynthia Cunnington had teleported a journalist to Antarctica. The main question in criminal issues was: “Is this reversible?” With magic users abounding everywhere, the answer was usually yes, but murder was its own category. Even if the town had had a necromancer in residence to reverse it, killing someone would always be illegal.
Mariel patted his hand. “I sympathize, but whether or not this performance goes forward, there’s one thing you absolutely have to do.”
He clung to her certainty like a life raft in a turbulent sea. “What?” he asked, praying she had the perfect answer to his dilemma.
“Be gentle with Eleonore,” Mariel said. “Apologize for putting her in this situation and then cook her dinner or something.”
Ben envisioned Eleonore’s fury-filled eyes and snapping fangs. “I don’t know if dinner will help. She’s practically feral, and I’m pretty sure she hates me right now.”
“She isn’t used to this time. And frankly, it sounds like she’s working through a lot of historical trauma. Wouldn’t you be freaked out and combative if you were plopped into a random point in the future with no friends or frame of reference?”
He’d been feeling guilty already, but at that, the feeling condensed into a thick ball in his chest, heavy and awful. Mariel was right. Eleonore might be semiferal, but she had ample reason to be.
The vampire succubus could be aggressive and frightening and had no compunctions about delivering threats, which was so far removed from Ben’s temperament that he hadn’t truly questioned the reason for the behavior. Some people were tougher and more assertive than others, right?
Maybe it wasn’t that simple, though.
Ben cleared his throat. “Do you think…she’s afraid?”
Mariel nodded, hazel eyes full of sympathy. “Some people lash out when they’re scared or cornered. Calladia, for one, if you consider all the fights she’s been in. Even me sometimes, though I’m less violent about it.” She made an embarrassed face. “I snapped at Oz a few times when he first showed up because I was freaking out, but at least I apologized afterwards.”
Ben rubbed his chest over the hard knot of guilt. He should have considered this earlier. He’d been operating in panic mode instead of thinking clearly. “Thanks, Mariel. I’m going to make her dinner and bring her some flowers.”
Mariel hugged him. “You can do this,” she said, patting his back. “And as someone who once had a semiferal surprise houseguest myself, you can always come to me for advice.”
“After your honeymoon,” he said. “You’re going to turn your phone off and enjoy that without any interruptions from me or anyone else.”
She grinned and saluted him. “Aye aye, boss.”
A few bouts of plant magic later, Mariel left with a flurry of waves and assurances that Ben would be fine and had this totally under control.
Did he have this under control? Not even remotely. But he at least had a place to start.
He turned his eyes to the racks of plants, trying to determine which would be the best apology gift for a secretly scared vampire succubus.