Chapter 4
“Looks like the protesters have taken up outside, Chief.” Officer Casswell stood at the station’s large picture window, coffee in hand. “Want me to go outside and shoo them away?”
Mason heard the amusement in her voice but chose to ignore it. He had more important things to worry about than his new employees laughing at him. Like the redheaded witch currently rolling her fingertip across an ink pad like she’d done it a hundred times before.
Which, based on her file, she probably had.
“Will you be fingerprinting Herman as well, Chief?” Adeline asked as she pressed her thumb onto the white card.
“Or I guess I should say tentacle printing. Is that a thing?” She leaned in closer, and once again he caught it...
the scent of sugar and vanilla. “And is this really necessary? I’m sure my fingerprints are already on file.
” She cocked her head and grinned up at him.
“Chief Dawson finally just stopped fingerprinting me. It’s not like I’m trying to hide my identity. ”
Mason forced himself not to close his eyes and count to ten.
Again. The woman was exasperating. She’d chatted nonstop the entire drive back to the station from the back seat...
about the squish-squids, about the marsh, about the building Ivan was going to erect out at the marsh, about whether or not werewolves felt compelled to howl at the moon.
And don’t even get him started on the cat.
The feline was even worse, if such a thing was possible.
The things that came out of its mouth were enough to make a sailor blush.
“What about me, Chief Scrumptious?” Princess Muffin Top called from inside the jail cell across the room where she’d voluntarily taken up residence on the cot as though she owned the place.
“You want my paw prints on paper? Maybe hang them up on your wall and drool over how curvy and big they are?” She licked her paw.
“Do you werewolves go in for that kind of thing?”
“Does she ever stop?” Mason muttered.
Adeline laughed. “Nope.”
“I agree with your stand, Adeline,” Beulah said from behind her desk, taking a sip of hot tea.
“The squish-squids must be protected. I don’t know what the council is thinking letting Ivan build on that site.
” Beulah waved a hand in the air. “Even if it is supposed to be a small structure. It’s still not right. ”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his receptionist that they don’t take sides in disputes like this, but he knew it would probably fall on deaf ears.
The front door opened, and the sound of the protesters flooded inside.
“Let Adeline go! Let Adeline go!” They’d been marching up and down the sidewalk for almost twenty minutes, their signs bobbing in the air while Adeline’s dark-haired friend yelled through her bullhorn about how Mason was being unfair to Adeline and to the defenseless squid attached to her forearm.
At least the reporter-photographer lady hadn’t come back after she’d gotten her shots of him loading Adeline into the back of his Tahoe.
He had no doubt it would be splashed across the front page the next time the paper came out.
“Excuse me, Chief,” a warbly voice said from the doorway. “But could I please use your restroom? At ninety-seven, my bladder isn’t what it used to be.”
Mason stared at the tiny, ancient witch clutching a protest sign that read “TENTACLES ARE NOT A CRIME!” He opened his mouth, closed it, then gestured toward the hallway.
“Hey, Mrs. Abernathy.” Officer Dixon appeared and offered the elderly witch his arm. “Grab hold, and I’ll show you where to go.”
Mason watched them shuffle away and shook his head.
One day in, and it was already clear he had zero control over anything.
His officers were amused. His secretary was taking sides.
And a ninety-seven-year-old witch was using his station as a rest stop.
He turned back to Adeline. “How did you manage to railroad the senior citizens into your protest?”
Adeline smiled up at him, and he found he couldn’t look away from those green eyes.
Bright and warm and entirely too amused for a woman in a police station with ink on her fingers and a squid on her arm.
He looked away. Bad girls had never been his thing.
Not that she was bad, exactly. She was just... a lot to process.
“They love helping me with my protests,” she said. “Gets them out of the care center and lets them get in their exercise at the same time.”
“I see Old Man Stanton out there,” Beulah said, standing up from her desk and slathering a fresh coat of lipstick across her lips. “Excuse me while I go say hello.” She adjusted her boobs, patted her gray hair, and headed for the front door. “Be right back, Chief.”
Mason watched her go, unsure if he should call her back or just accept that his authority meant absolutely nothing in this town.
“And I always make sure to give them treats before I have Miss Moody drop them back off at the care center,” Adeline said.
“What?” Mason blinked, turning back to her.
Adeline chuckled. “I said I make sure to give them treats before I have Miss Moody drop them back off.”
“Miss Moody?” he asked, then immediately regretted it. He didn’t want to get caught up in her drama. Of course, after what all he’d witnessed in the eight hours he’d been on duty, he had to ask himself if the whole town wasn’t unhinged.
“Miss Moody is the town’s only Uber driver and part-time reporter for the Moonlight Beacon. Her descendants are Gullah.”
“Gullah?” he mused.
“The Gullah people are from Daufuskie Island, off the coast of South Carolina. After the Civil War, they settled and started their own traditions, and they even have their own unique English-Creole language. Surely you saw her out there today? Taking pictures and asking questions.”
“Oh, I saw her. I just didn’t realize that was her name.”
Adeline nodded, and her red hair brushed against his forearm.
It had come loose from its messy bun somewhere between the marsh and the station.
“Yep. If you want to know anything going on in this town, Miss Moody is the witch to talk to. You’ll have to take a spin in her Isetta to get the info—because Miss Moody doesn’t spill her guts for free—but you’ll learn a lot. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mason said dryly. “Wait. She drives the red-and-white Isetta? And she is an Uber driver? How is that possible?”
Adeline smiled. “Did you notice the lack of cars at the marsh? Miss Moody took everyone.”
“How?” he asked.
Adeline smirked. “Her Isetta has spatial magic. It grows with the number of people needed to get inside the tiny car. Once, a few years ago, we got nine of us in the vehicle.”
His brow furrowed. “Seriously? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at that type of magic. I’ve just never seen it before.”
A tiny snore caught his attention, and he glanced down at the squid attached to the beguiling witch’s forearm.
The creature had fallen asleep, its small jelly-like body moving up and down, and its massive bubble eyes closed.
Now that it wasn’t staring at him with those accusing big eyes, Mason had to admit the thing was actually kind of cute. In a jelly-like blob way.
“Can I have a bowl of water, Cassie?” Adeline asked.
“Coming right up.” Officer Casswell set down her coffee and hurried to the back room, leaving Mason alone with Adeline. Well, alone if you didn’t count the cat, who had started singing “Jailhouse Rock” at the top of her lungs from the cell cot.
Mason pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that this was his life now. He’d chosen to leave the comfort of undercover work and mingle with the mostly “law abiding” crowd. A part of him worried he’d made the wrong decision.
Officer Dixon and Mrs. Abernathy shuffled back into the room, and the elderly witch clapped her hands in delight and started singing along with Princess Muffin Top.
The two of them belted out the chorus together while Dixon leaned against the wall and grinned like this was the most entertainment he’d had all week.
It probably was.
“I used to be so in love with that Elvis Presley,” Mrs. Abernathy said when the song finished. “Parents were appalled at his behavior, you know?”
“Because of the way he moved on stage?” Adeline mused. “I think I heard that somewhere.”
Mrs. Abernathy snorted. “Goodness no, child. Because he was only half supernatural.”
Mason opened his mouth, then closed it. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”
The elderly witch patted his arm on her way out. “You’ll do just fine here, dear.”
Officer Casswell came back with a bowl of water, and Adeline gently lowered the sleeping squid into it. Herman stirred, cracked open one massive eye, looked around, then went back to sleep.
“How does it not drown?” Mason asked. “Or dry out? It was out of the water for a long time.”
Adeline grinned up at him, and again his stomach did some sort of weird flip. “Magic, Chief. Surely you believe in magic?” She winked. “And it’s in their genetic makeup. They can survive out of water for short periods. The magic just extends it.”
Mason gave her a small smile he hadn’t intended to give and steered her toward the cell.
He had no idea how long he was supposed to keep her locked up.
If Ivan Johansson didn’t come in and press formal charges, he’d have to let her go.
What she’d done was annoying, sure, but was it really criminal?
Had she harmed anyone? She was just trying to protect the squish-squids.
He shook his head as though trying to clear it.
Of course it was criminal. She’d chained herself to private equipment, refused a lawful order, and threatened to hex a man in front of witnesses. What was he thinking?