Benedict
“There can be no community between you and me;
We are enemies.”
“What happened to the breakfast group?” he asked Suzy, the day manager, who was trying to calm down an elderly guest sat in an armchair. She rose from her crouched position, smoothing her hands over her navy pencil skirt.
“Davis, the new waiter, said someone jinxed the teacups,” Suzy whispered, so the guest wouldn’t hear. “When the guests took a sip, they transformed into butterflies.”
Benedict ran his hands through his hair. The residue of product reminded him it needed a cut. The top was getting a little heavy, and he prided himself on always being put together and in control.
“No one was harmed?” he asked, knowing exactly who would have pulled such a harmless yet startling prank.
“No.” Suzy shook her head. “But I can’t go too close to the terrace with the sun beating in.” A vampiric day manager might not be very practical, but she was the best he had on staff.
“It’s fine – they could use you in the lobby. Dealing with this mess and check-in will swamp them,” Benedict said, looking towards the breakfast room to see the waiters sweeping up some broken dishware. Hopefully no one had been injured in the rush to flee.
“Check the gardens. A few guests reported seeing piranhas in the fountain. No one has been bitten. They’re just frightened, and probably embarrassed,” Suzy explained.
Benedict let out a long exhale as she escorted the older guest to the lobby and began to soothe the frightened crowd. Of course Lucinda had jinxed the fountain; water was her familial element.
Before he’d even reached the terrace, a middle-aged woman had blocked his path, wagging a finger in his face.
“This is an outrage,” the guest barked, dragging her child behind her. “Our six-year-old son was playing by the fountain, and he would’ve had his hand bitten off if I hadn’t noticed the fish. You’re asking for a lawsuit!”
Benedict dismissed her legal threat; people said all types of things when angry or scared.
It also helped that the High Priestess of their coven dealt out the law in Foxford: a simple spell, and the disgruntled magless family would forget about their visit to their small town of Foxford.
However, he wouldn’t let it get that far.
Using spells on magless, those without magic, was frowned upon.
Though the coven and their leader did only what they had to, they didn’t need a member of the Order sent to inspect Foxford and its magical inhabitants for any odd uses of magic this close to the Autumn Festival.
“This is a terrible prank that will be dealt with immediately.” Benedict glanced around, feeling the stare of some new guests. “Please consider the rest of your stay complimentary, Mrs—?”
“Ladbrooke! Don’t try and buy me off,” Mrs Ladbrooke grumbled. “And to think we were to return for the Autumn Festival. Today is the last time I’ll step foot in Foxford, and I’ll make sure anyone else who reads Travel Digest feels the same.”
Benedict clenched his teeth, trying to contain his frustration.
Of course; she must be Mrs Ladbrooke, the travel writer he’d been expecting.
The small town of Foxford relied on tourism, and its Autumn Festival was the biggest celebration of the year.
The town had previously only had small inns, but as tourism increased every year, Benedict had decided to convert the Matherson family manor into a hotel after graduating university about four years ago.
“Is there any way I can help rectify the situation?” he asked, willing to do anything – within reason – to prevent any guest from leaving the Manor with a sour taste in their mouth because of some adolescent prank.
He hated the thought of something connected to the Manor tainting Foxford’s reputation.
“Yes, send someone to come and collect our bags,” she said, turning her nose up. “My family and I won’t stay another minute in a place that doesn’t put the safety of its guests first.”
“Again, I’m sorry for this experience.” Benedict motioned for Reid, the porter, who was passing with other guests’ bags.
Reid stopped. “Sir?”
“Reid is the best we have,” Benedict announced, trusting his staff to handle the guest. There was no point in giving the woman a platform, since she had refused to accept his apology.
“That’s not saying much,” Mrs Ladbrooke snapped.
Reid smiled despite the snub. He was wonderful with disgruntled customers, probably because he could control them with the mere sound of his voice. Not for the first time, Benedict was very glad to have hired a siren.
“I promise that you and your family will be smiling from ear to ear by the time you leave,” Reid said charmingly in his velvety voice. Mrs Ladbrooke’s scowl eased. “Lead the way.”
Without any hesitation, Mrs Ladbrooke obeyed, and Benedict reminded himself to give Reid a raise. He was sure he’d find a glowing review in next month’s Travel Digest.
The smell of pastries and bacon filled the breakfast room, and despite some broken glasses and spilt drinks on the white tablecloths, the mess was minimal.
Benedict sighed with relief; the clatter of rushing guests had made the event sound far worse than it was.
Most of the butterflies had left through the open doors to the terrace, where he found two toppled tables.
Benedict breathed in the fresh air as he followed the gravel path through the gardens and past a discarded game of croquet, appreciating the peaceful morning sun far more than the crowded lobby.
Hidden amongst a square of hedgerows sat the ornate fountain that predated the Manor.
People loved to get married by the embracing granite couple, and the hedges provided a natural division between the gardens and the rest of the manor.
Putting his cufflinks in his pockets and rolling up his sleeves, Benedict peered into the waters and let out a long exhale.
Snapping piranhas swam in the rippling depths.
He hesitated, his fingertips lingering on the edge of the fountain.
Lucinda would never pull a prank that could harm anyone.
Hawthornes were sickeningly good-natured, and though he enjoyed bringing out her dark side more than he cared to admit, she’d never crossed the line.
Swishing his hand in the water, he stifled a laugh as the fish transformed from jaw-snapping piranhas into beautiful silver and orange koi fish. When he removed his hand from the water, Lucinda’s spell reasserted itself and the koi disappeared.
“Lucinda, of all the days you might’ve chosen to get back at me,” he muttered, fidgeting with his M cufflinks as he lowered his sleeves.
He still remembered the smell of burning rubber when he’d melted her bike tyres the previous week.
He felt justified in his vandalism, considering she’d parked it behind his car while he was getting groceries in Duncan’s Market.
Tit for tat – this was how they’d worked for as long as he could remember.
He wasn’t sure they could stop trying to get under each other’s skin.
Back at the reception desk, Suzy nudged him as he finished checking in a new family. Benedict looked up from the computer to find his mum staring at him. Just when I thought this morning couldn’t get any more exhausting.
“Benedict, what the hell is going on?” Gwendoline – his mum and right hand to their High Priestess – stood by the revolving doors as visibly upset guests left with their bags.
Benedict’s jaw nearly dropped when he realised she was bare-faced, and her usually slick bob was a wavy mess.
She never left the house without her lipstick or hair out of place.
Someone must’ve called and woken her. Benedict was well able to handle whatever the Manor could throw at him, but whenever there was a crisis, Gwendoline sprang into action; she spent her life putting out the fires of others.
Ironic, since the Matherson bloodline was gifted with fire as their element.
Her scowl reminded him how similar they were: the same piercing blue eyes, dark eyebrows and angular features, on which was stamped the Matherson scowl.
People used to slander his family, though it was now considered magically incorrect, by saying that a Matherson’s hair exposed the darkness of the magic they conjured.
There was nothing darker than raven black.
Generations of his family had indeed used all types of magic, never believing one type was darker than another, because magic always came with a cost. During the war between the Order and magical folk, his ancestors had fled to Foxford, where some older practices of magic were restricted so Foxford could keep its neutrality.
Then again, he’d never particularly wanted to sacrifice an animal or resurrect the dead.
“Nothing – a misunderstanding,” he said, trying to reassure her.
Unfortunately, the lobby told another story.
Trying to look casual, he turned to gather his morning messages from the front desk, his black tie threatening to strangle him.
It had been his mother who taught him that those with tainted pasts must always look after their appearance, because they will always be judged more harshly.
“Piranhas in the fountain, butterfly teacups,” Suzy told Gwendoline.
Benedict glared at her, but she merely shrugged.
She’d seen him go through his awkward teenage years, so his moods hardly phased her now.
She’d worked for them for years – ever since she’d turned up in Foxford as a newly changed vampire with little to no memory of how she’d got there.
“Ben, please tell me this isn’t another damn prank!
I thought you and Lucinda had left this nonsense behind you.
You aren’t schoolchildren anymore. You’re both pillars of this town, and need I remind you that she is to inherit her mother’s position?
You don’t want to be at odds with the leader of our town in the coming months. ”
Coming months? He hadn’t heard anything to suggest Wilhelmina Hawthorne was thinking of retiring. Then again, since his mum and Wilhelmina had been best friends for years, it made sense the High Priestess would confide in her.
Benedict opened his mouth to speak, but she arched her dark brows, daring him to come up with excuses.
She was right; Lucinda and Benedict had spent most of their lives making each other miserable.
Despite being in his late twenties, when it came to Lucinda, Benedict knew he became irrational and irresponsible.
She was the bane of his existence, and today not only had she embarrassed him and disrupted his morning, but she’d diminished the hotel’s reputation and startled the guests.
That wouldn’t just harm him, as she’d probably intended, but the town she was set to lead.
He clenched his jaw to stop a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Lucinda was in trouble, and for once, she had no one to blame but herself.
Thankfully, it seemed that his own part in their latest antics was still unknown to his mother.
“Whatever is going on between the two of you, I want you to fix it now.” Gwendoline’s hiss snapped him out of his thoughts. “We’ve had to work too hard to claw our way back into the good graces of this town, and I won’t have meaningless, petty pranks damage our reputation.”
Benedict started to back away to the revolving door before his mum learnt that the breakfast china she’d only just imported was ruined.
“I’ll talk to Lucinda,” he promised, glancing around the lobby filled with complaining guests. He didn’t want to even guesstimate the cost of the complimentary stays. Hopefully they’d recoup the cost in the coming weeks, since they were booked solid between now and the Autumn Festival.
“Go now, or I’ll call a meeting with the coven and get to the bottom of this,” Gwendoline warned, narrowing her eyes. “I’m beginning to wonder what caused Lucinda to do such a thing. Perhaps she was provoked?”
“I’ll get right on that, and I can assure you that Lucinda and I will be on our best behaviour from now on,” he promised, crossing his fingers behind his back.
He clicked his fingers and found himself outside the town’s library, which had been converted to look something like a grand gothic cathedral.
The very woman he was looking for, wearing enough colours to stop traffic, was tending to the flowerpots lining the stone steps.
Completely unaware of the chaos ensuing across town, she watered flower after flower.
Benedict rubbed his jaw, astonished by how innocent she appeared. Just a good-natured, doe-eyed librarian watering the daisies – but there was a vengeful streak behind those gold-rimmed glasses, and his petrified guests testified to it.
Lucinda glanced in his direction as though she sensed he was close.
“You were probably waiting for me to appear, right?” he asked her, though she was too far away to hear him, and the trees surrounding the town square shielded him from sight.
Dried leaves crunched under his feet; he watched her tuck a strand of chocolate brown hair behind an elaborately pierced ear while she searched through her bag.
The jewellery glittered in the sunlight, and she wore her bright personality on the long sleeve of her yellow dress.
Lucinda couldn’t help but stand out; even in a crowd of people, he always seemed to focus on her.
It irritated him beyond belief, because he did everything in his power to blend in, to be accepted.
The darling of Foxford never had to worry about acceptance; she didn’t carry any shameful family past.
Benedict stepped off the curb across the street, readying himself to confront her about the piranha and butterfly incident. He’d almost crossed the road when an idea hit him.
If he confronted her, they’d undoubtedly argue, and the cycle would continue.
But if he didn’t… He smirked to himself as he watched her open the library door.
Ignoring her prank would probably drive her crazy.
She’d obsess over why he hadn’t confronted her, why he hadn’t retaliated and why he was ignoring her actions.
Benedict tucked his hands in his pockets, deciding to fix her mess before the coven of founding families heard about the chaos.
As overseers of the town, they made sure that nothing offset the delicate balance between the magless and the magical folk.
If word got back to them and the High Priestess, neither he nor Lucinda would escape the next coven meeting unscathed.
Besides, the idea of her spending each day wondering what he might be up to put a spring in his step.
Continue Reading Lucinda and Benedict’s Story…