Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Confronting Old Foes
Declan
Leon wasn’t my favorite guy, but I could be polite for a few minutes, right? Although I’d always sucked at hiding my feelings, so maybe not.
Then again, Leon wasn’t trying to hide his feelings about me either.
It was Monday afternoon, and we were meeting in his creepy antique store–more of a cluttered thrift store, really, despite being called Arcana Antiques–to go over a few last-minute festival details.
What joy. But a week-long festival took a lot of coordination, and as the main PR person, I wanted to make sure we advertised all the events.
Even the last-minute ones, like the Sip and Stretch, that I was sure no one had told me about before Hazel had called me to say I was going to it.
“So what happened to Beer Bingo?” Just as I asked the question, my phone buzzed to announce a text.
Normally, I’d ignore it since I was in a meeting, but I welcomed the distraction.
Besides, what if the hex maker had been found, and I didn’t need to get the bottles from Leon anymore? I glanced at the screen.
I wanted to groan when I saw Josh’s name. Seriously, how many times did I have to tell him I wasn’t coming back for him to get the message?
Josh: You + Me = The Perfect Team. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Me: Bullshit. Stop bothering me. We’re over.
I set down my phone to find Leon frowning at me.
“If you aren’t going to pay attention, why am I wasting my time?”
“Sorry.” I glanced at my notes. Right. I remembered what we were talking about. “Beer bingo is gone?”
Leon rolled his eyes like I was asking ridiculous questions. “We decided it was too much like the poker night.”
Really? How? Those things usually appealed to two very different types of people.
“Besides, the school board changed their minds about us holding it in the school gymnasium. Some hogwash about the event not aligning with their image. So we don’t have a venue for it,” Leon continued.
I didn’t believe him. There had to be other places in town where we could hold a bingo game, but whatever. “So, Sip and Stretch instead?”
“Yes,” Leon snapped. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”
I tapped my pen on the notebook I’d brought for my meeting with him. I kind of wanted to shove it up his nose, but I didn’t. I’d hate to have to throw away a perfectly good pen.
Instead, I read through my notes again. I thought the other events were still going ahead as planned, but it didn’t hurt to check.
“Tonight is the panel discussion with the winners of the homebrew contest. Tomorrow, we have the brewery tour at Roy’s place.
Wednesday, there’s the Beer 101 class at The Den.
Thursday is now Sip and Stretch… and that’s out of town, right? ”
“At the Serenity Yoga Studio,” Leon said in a tone that suggested the answer should have been obvious.
“Right,” I said, ignoring his snippy attitude.
“Friday is the poker tournament.” I had that one highlighted in my phone because I was part of the catering team.
I couldn’t get it wrong. But would anyone even want to eat desserts if they were drinking beer and playing poker?
Meh. Maybe it didn’t matter. This would still be a good trial run to see if running a bakery was for me.
“And Saturday is the 5K and the end-of-festival wrap-up.”
“Yes, yes. I don’t know why we had to go through that all again,” Leon muttered.
“Because things changed, and we need to let people know so no one shows up at the school for bingo.”
Leon huffed. “Are we done now? I have to set up for the panel discussion.”
I checked the time on my phone. The panel wasn’t supposed to start for hours yet. I didn’t think it would take that long to put out some chairs, but what did I know?
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Although I have one last question…”
Leon pursed his lips.
“What happened to the growlers and the paperwork for the brewing contest?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Do you have them?”
Leon rolled his eyes. Again. He really was too old to do that as much as he did. “They’re in my recycling, although I don’t see why you’re asking about them. The winner has been chosen. It’s done.”
I was a little surprised he wasn’t keeping the application forms at least, in case the festival was audited, but that was his choice. “Can I have them?”
“I suppose if I say no, you’ll just go digging through my garbage when I set it out for collection.” He frowned down his nose at me like he could easily imagine me dumpster diving.
I didn’t say anything.
“Fine,” he said in a huff. “If you want my garbage, take it.”
As he led me to the back of his overcrowded smelly antique store, he talked about how happy Kettlebrook was with the festival—all thanks to his vision and efforts, obviously—and how he expected them to invest money in next year’s event.
“Which reminds me,” he said. “Why haven’t you coordinated with their marketing consultant yet?”
“They have a marketing consultant?” Oops. I should’ve known that, but I hadn’t paid much attention to their coverage of the festival, too busy with my own efforts.
“Of course,” Leon said. “Some big name from the city.”
“Who?”
“Joshua Parry… Or Murray? Something like that.”
My stomach fell. “Josh Barry?”
“Yeah. That could be it. A nice fellow. Very professional,” he said that like my efforts were amateur, but I was too shocked to respond.
Josh the Jackass was in town. How had I not known? Did he know I was here, too? Had he followed me?
Then I remembered his last text and wanted to roll my eyes like Leon. He probably was thinking about me because I was the one who used to do all the work when we took on projects together. He just wanted me back so he could do nothing and take all the credit like always. What a jerk.
Ten minutes later, I was still processing the news about Josh when I was shoved out of Leon’s antique store with a cardboard box full of growlers and contest applications. The raven—my raven—swooped down and landed on a bench in front of the store.
Yeah. I hadn’t quite figured out what to do about the whole familiar thing yet either.
She gave a little warble and fluttered her wings, like she knew I was in shock and was asking if I was okay.
Then again, if Elwood was right and she was my familiar—whatever that meant—maybe she was.
Because I’d always thought George was a regular old mouse, albeit an extremely well-behaved one.
But that little show George had put on with Eugene last night proved he was no ordinary rodent. He’d winked for pity’s sake. Winked!
Would the–my?–raven be the same way?
“Uh… hi,” I said to her.
She bobbed her head in greeting.
“So…”
She tilted her head and stared at me.
“I don’t know your name. Wait… am I supposed to name you?”
She shuffled down the bench in an excited dance, and I interpreted that as her saying yes.
Her talons scraped along the wood as she moved.
The sun glinted off her black feathers, making them appear in varying shades of purple and navy.
She was such a gorgeous bird. I stepped closer and rested the box on the back of the bench.
Remembering the first time I saw her, when she’d swooped in to grab a cookie, I said, “You like cookies, what about Cookie?”
She squawked. That was a definite no.
“Morrigan?”
Another squawk of protest.
“Okay, not that one either. I guess Morrigan is more associated with crows than ravens, isn’t she? Hmm… what do you think about Licorice?”
She didn’t shriek in horror. Since my magic was connected to food, I kind of liked the idea of her having a name that reflected that. And I couldn’t quite explain how I knew this, but I got the sense she approved, too.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Licorice.”
She hopped closer, and I brushed my finger over the crown of her head. Wow. I was petting an actual raven. My familiar. How wild was that? I still had no idea what having a familiar meant, but perhaps this was enough for now.
“I need to get these over to Elwood so he can analyze them,” I told her. “But we can hang out later, if you want…”
How did you hang out with a raven? I didn’t know. Would she watch TV with me? Or stare at me while I baked? Yeah. I had no idea. Or maybe I could ask her to shit on Josh the Jerk’s head, since apparently, he was in town. That could be fun.
I didn’t want to insult her by suggesting something like that.
Not yet, anyway. Not until I got to know her better and had a sense of her personality.
Because if she was anything like George, she’d definitely have a personality.
I hoped she wasn’t too prim and proper. I wasn’t a prim and proper kind of guy, and I really wanted the two of us to be friends.
Licorice fluffed her feathers, and I figured that meant she wanted to spend time with me, too.
“Cool. Good. That’s a plan.” I sounded like a weirdo, but whatever. It was just Licorice here, and we were getting to know one another, so I hoped it was okay. “I’ll see you later then.”
As I carried the box to the Mystic Menagerie, I poked at the contents with my magic.
I didn’t expect to sense anything, but I was also super curious.
And just like when I’d used my magic on Ivan’s bottle, the lingering residue of a hex scraped over me like the worst itch I’d ever experienced.
That could only mean one thing. Ivan’s submission wasn’t the only one to be tampered with.