Magic and Mayhem: Witchin' Impossible (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Hazed & Confused Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

THE DRIVE OUT TO EDEN’S ROAD
was intensely quiet. I hadn’t known how to respond to Ford’s revelation. Had he really not married or mated or whatever because of me?

“Nothing happened between us in high school,” I finally said.

“That’s not completely true.”

“I’m a witch.”

“Yep,” he said.

“You’re a bear Shifter.”

“You aren’t wrong about that either.”

“How is this possible?”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Do you think I know?”

“We come from two different worlds. It would never work.” It didn’t stop me from wanting to climb him like Mt. Everest and enjoy the view from the highest peak. But like Mt. Everest, the chance of me surviving the climb was slim. He was one big, boy…er…man.

“I have made my peace with being alone.”

My chest clenched. Why did I feel so guilty? It wasn’t my fault he thought I was his mate. Hell, I’d been an awkward nerdy witch during my teen years, better with math and science than witchcraft. I couldn’t have magicked a pimple away, let alone cast a love spell.

As we pulled up to the party, there were at least twenty cars lining the gravel road on both sides, three kegs sat in the open field, along with metal tubs full of ice and harder alcohol. I spotted Lily near an organized group. She jumped in the air with her hand up and gave me the “hurry up” wave.

I looked at the rowdy crowd and back to Ford. “I hope you brought your gun.”

When I got to Lily, she pointed at the spectacle at the center of the crowd. Tizzy was circling a beaver, and he was making all kinds of hissing and growling noises at her. She kept dancing around like a prize fighter, jumping and moving every time the beaver tried to whack her with his tail. A woman, wearing an inside out red sweater, faded blue jeans, smeared coral lipstick, and a frantic look on her face, kept yelling, “Leave her alone, Frank. It meant nothing. It was nothing. Just some harmless fun.”

Goddess, Tizzy. What the hell had my familiar done now?

Lily quickly said, “Tizzy was doing shots with Colleen, and for a five-pound animal she was holding her own, let me tell you. Then Tizzy told Colleen she was the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on, and that she’d always wanted to kiss a beaver, which I thought was funny at the time, but the next thing I knew, Colleen had shifted, and she and Tizzy were rolling around in the grass.”

“Then Frank showed up.”

Lily nodded. “Yep. Then Frank showed up.” Her eyes were haunted. “I tried to stop it, Haze. I really did, but you have no idea how hard it is to get between a squirrel and her beaver.” She giggled.

I think my BFF had been doing shots as well. “Tiz!” I shouted. The squirrel snapped her gaze to me, which gave Frank the Beaver the opening he needed. His flat tail whacked Tizzy upside her little squirrel head and threw her a couple feet.

“Hey!” I shouted. The crowd parted for me. I think they were just excited that someone else was joining the fight.

“Break it up,” I heard Ford say. “I’d hate to have to run you all downtown on a Friday night. Judge don’t arraign any cases until Monday. It’d be a shame to screw up your entire weekend.”

People backed up. But Frank, that little rodent would not be deterred. He lunged at Tizzy, who was still dazed from the smack.

“No,” I yelled. “Leave her alone.” I grabbed at his back, his fur slick and really hard to get any kind of hold on. He squirmed away from me, but not before I zapped his ass.

He shifted back to human, a sorry excuse for a man, naked and nursing a butt burn from my lightning bolt. “That really hurt, you stupid witch.” He stood up, posturing like he was going to do something about it, but suddenly backed down. “Keep that rat away from my girl,” he said then turned his venom on Lily. “Unless you all want to end up like Danny.” Before I could zap his stupid mouth, too, he hurried off after the rest of the group.

“What a douchenozzle.” I looked behind me, and a very imposing Ford stood with his arms crossed, and his eyes trained on the running man. I’m sure he was the cause of Frank’s change of heart about coming at me. I crawled over to Tiz and picked her up. “Speak to me, Tiz. Tell me you’re okay.” I shook her tiny chest.

She heaved a sigh, a large feral grin forming on her face. “I like beaver,” she said. “A whole lot.”

I rolled my eyes and looked at Lily then at Ford. “She’s fine.” Still, I cradled her in my arms just in case.

My drunken best friend shook her head, remorse in her bloodshot eyes. “Gosh, Haze. I really am sorry. It all just happened so fast.”

“She’s starved for company,” I admitted, effectively letting Lily off the hook. “I don’t know if a brick wall could have stopped her.”

“Hey, Ford,” Lily said shyly. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“We’re fine,” I said sourly. I turned to Ford. “Thanks for the backup, but I think we got it from here.”

“Do you want a ride back to the diner for your car?”

“Lily can take me.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Damn it. Why did he have to sound so mad at me all the time?

Oh, maybe because you rocked his world with a sloppy drunken kiss and he’s been alone ever since, stupid.

Again. How was this my fault?

I didn’t want to think about this or him right now. I wanted to think about Danny and the case. Frank’s threat made me think that maybe the douche-y beaver knew something he hadn’t reported to the police.

I heard Ford’s truck back down the road. I didn’t look back. I missed him already, and that wasn’t the kind of thing that was going to help in my investigation.

“I think it’s time we talked to a few of Danny’s friends.”

“What a sweet, sweet beaver,” Tizzy drunkenly crooned.

“Stop saying beaver,” I said.

“Beaver, beaver, beaver,” she sang.

“Oh dear Goddess.”

Lily put her hand on my arm. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.” She gestured to the partying Shifters. “At least until people are sober.”

A squeaky hiccup made me nod. I’d never get any real answers with a drunk familiar on my hands. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

Lily handed me the keys. “You drive.”

“I have beaver fever,” Tiz sang. “Baby, baby, baby, oh.”

“No more partying for you.”

“Spoil sport.”

“That’s me.” I stroked Tiz’s head fondly. “Special Agent Spoil Sport.” I had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Chapter Eight

“ACCORDING TO THE POLICE REPORT,
you were the last person to see Danny alive,” I said to Lisa Wells, a raccoon Shifter, and Danny’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. She blew smoke in my face. I waved it away. “Did he say anything that might give you the impression he was in danger?”

“Danny and me,” Lisa said. “We didn’t talk much about personal things. Mostly, he just liked to talk about cars.” She dabbed the glowing cigarette butt into an overflowing ashtray and blew out the last puff. “He really liked cars. He’d been working on an old Chevelle. He called her Sweet Beast. It really got him going, talking about that car.” Her eyes grew wistful. “I really miss him.”

She had cared for Danny. The revelation made me think of her more kindly. A lot of Shifters in this part of town lived in poverty. Who was I to judge? It was my job to find the killer. Or killers. It wasn’t my job to criticize the victim or his friends. “So he hadn’t fought with anyone leading up to his death?”

“Oh, sure.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Danny fought with all sorts. He got rousted by the police at least once a month. And Clayton Driver, the owner of Junkyard Dog, said Danny owed him money for parts. He tried to collect from me after, but like I told the fool, you can’t squeeze blood from a rock. Besides, it wasn’t like Danny and me were mated. He was fun and sweet. I think I loved him, but we never got the sign.”

“The sign?”

She tapped her nose. “The scent. The one that marks someone as your mate.”

A scent? Like Red Hots candy, maybe? Eep. “How much did he owe Clayton?”

“Five grand.” She sheeshed. “It might as well have been five million. Danny never had that kind of money.”

“Do you think Clayton would have killed Danny over the debt?”

“Clayton wants his money. You can’t collect from a dead guy.” She shook her head. “Besides, Clayton would have had him work off his debt before doing anything violent.”

“Anyone else, Lisa?”

“Not that I can think of.” She bit her lower lip. “I heard Danny say something about the Arete once.” Her eyes tilted up to meet my gaze. “He sounded real scared.”

“Who?”

She took another cigarette from her half-smoked pack and tapped the filter end on her coffee table. “I don’t know. When I asked, he clammed up about it. I knew not to ask again.” She waved her lighter. “I told the cops all this already. Can’t you just read the file?”

There had been nothing in the file about Clayton Driver or any person or group called the Arete. Why would Mitchell, the lead detective on the case, leave the interview out of his reports?

“The Arete—”

Lisa cut me off. “I have to go, Agent Kinsey. I clerk at Gabe’s Green Grocery, and my boss said he’d fired me if I was late again.”

I nodded. Jobs were scarce, especially in a small town. “If you think of anything else…” I handed her my card. “…you’ll call me?”

“Sure,” she said, taking the card and tucking it into her purse. “I…” She chewed her lower lip for a moment then turned her gaze to mine. “I’m glad someone’s looking into what happened to Danny. There’s more of us that care than don’t.” She shrugged. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“No one does,” I agreed. Though if I got a hold of the bastard who killed him, I might make an exception.

****

IT WAS UNSEASONABLY COOL
for late June, so I’d worn a jacket in the morning, but by the afternoon, it had warmed up quite a bit. I took it off when I parked just outside Junkyard Dog. A note fell out of the pocket. “Thank you. L.” I smiled. She used to leave me notes in my pockets when we were kids.

Stone age text messages.

I should have been the one thanking her. Lily had saved my bacon more times than I could count when we were girls.

Lily had known of Driver, though she hadn’t known Danny owed him money. The junkyard owner was a werecougar like Lily and Danny, and he had been a business friend of her father’s. She’d really wanted to come with me to talk to the man, but I convinced her to stay behind and take care of Tiz. The squirrel was struggling to recover from a whopping hangover. She hadn’t even remembered getting hit in the face by a beaver’s tail.

Junkyard Dog, ironic name since Driver was a cat Shifter, was down a rough gravel road on the county line. Half the property was over the line, which would have made it a nightmare for law enforcement, considering jurisdiction would always be in question. A perfect location for criminal activity.

The strong scent of dust and rust made my skin itch. Even in broad daylight, the place, with all the vehicle skeletons stacked up like bodies after a battle, gave me the creeps. There was a dilapidated trailer with a sign with the word “management” on the front. Just past that was a large building, about half the size of a basketball court. It had two large sliding doors, and one side was partially open.

The office was closed and the door locked. I yelled, “Hello. Is anyone here?” When I didn’t get an answer, I strolled to the big, metal building. “Hello,” I said again.

I could see a car up off the ground on a lift. A series of hooks and chains hung from the ceiling. Before I could see more, a tall man with short red hair appeared from the open door.

“What can I do for you, miss?” He wore dungarees and a stained blue t-shirt, and he held a large wrench in his right hand. “Are you looking for parts?”

“Are you Clayton Driver?”

“That would be me.” He nodded at me. “Who’s asking?”

I flipped out my badge. “Special Agent Kinsey, FBI. I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” His green eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Not yet,” I said. “I just have a few questions about Daniel Mason.”

He raised his left brow. “He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“Then I don’t know how I can help you, Agent Kinsey.”

“I heard he owed you money.”

“A lot of people owe me money.”

I was getting tired of this dance. “Did you kill Danny Mason?”

Driver squinted at me, his hand raising to shield his eyes from the sun. “Do I know you?” He walked toward me, his long stride closing the distance between us fast.

I put my hand on my holster but didn’t draw my weapon.

“You’re the witch. The one the Mason girl was always running around with.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I patted the Glock. “Did you kill Danny?”

Clayton Driver shook his head. He let his hand holding the wrench drop to his side. “Of course not, girl.” He took the few steps up to his office trailer. “Can I make an observation, Ms. Kinsey?”

“If it will shed some light on Danny’s death, then go right ahead.”

“You’re out of your depth on this.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Before he could step inside, I asked, “What can you tell me about Arete?”

Driver stopped cold, his fingers clenching on the door handle. He hopped down the three steps to the ground, dust kicking up around his heels. He closed the distance between us fast enough to startle me. “What do you know about the Arete?”

The
Arete? So it was a group. “Only the name.”

Relief eased the tension in his eyes. “If you were smart, you’d keep it that way.” He walked back up the steps. “Good day, Ms. Kinsey.” He stepped inside the trailer and closed the door behind him.

I shook my head. Driver hadn’t ordered me off is property, so I took it as permission to look around. The rows of cars set back farther than I’d first thought, and the junkyard reminded me of the Tardis, smaller looking on the outside and larger on the inside. I don’t know what I thought I would find.

My magic wasn’t all that strong, and with Danny gone for four months, I didn’t know if it would do me any good, but I tried my hand at a location spell.

“
What I seek is what I find.

Danny Mason on my mind.

Hot or cold, let me see.

Trace Danny, so mote it be.”

My hands began to glow a bright blue, which meant, I was cold. I held them out in front of me, surprised I’d managed the magic, and walked down one of the lanes. Blue still.

When I got the end, I cut around the back stack of cars and began walking up the next lane. The blue didn’t change. It remained the same for every row I passed through.

Useless, I thought, and started back to my car, but when I crossed the open lot, my hands began to burn. I looked down at them. Bright orange.

I was hot now. I resisted the urge to celebrate the minor victory. Instead, I followed my magic flames directly to the large barn behind the office. The interior was dark, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The car up on the hydraulic lift was a beat up old Chevy muscle car. Tires, hubcaps, side panels, bumps, and a variety of grills filled the large space. The walls featured shelves of carburetors, hoses, distributors, and other small car pieces. Basically, what I’d expect to see in a junkyard garage. There were tool boxes, an acetylene torch setup with a mask, and lots of other equipment I couldn’t name. An air compressor kicked in, and I stumbled in surprise.

My flaming hands were turning red now. Super hot. Danny had been here. A lot. I walked around the backside of the Chevy. It had a squared off end, and the model was a Chevelle. Could it be Danny’s “Sweet Beast”? The one his girlfriend Lisa had mentioned? The doors were off, but it was too high up for me to easily get inside. I would have tried levitating, but the last time I cast that particular spell, I’d ended up on the ceiling of my high school gym, and it had taken two hours to chant myself down. Talk about humiliating.

When Clayton Driver didn’t show up to boot me out, I decided to press my luck. The panel for the lift had two buttons. Up and down. Efficient.

I pushed the down. The level of screeching as the car lowered was jarring.

“Crap!” I hit the up button. The car reversed but the noise the lift made got even louder. “Noooo,” I whined quietly.

I hit the down button again. Where the hell was the off switch? I cowered behind a trash barrel near the welder as I waited to be caught. No one came through the doors. The noise stopped when the car reached the ground.

I breathed a sigh of relief and came out of hiding. The interior wasn’t nearly as rough as the exterior. It had a manual transmission. An eight-ball, fairly cliché, had been drilled and set as the shifter knob. The seats were worn leather, old and a little stretched, but not cracked or torn. A shiny object hanging from the rearview mirror caught my eye.

It was a flower charm and a glass prism hanging from a silver chain. Not just any flower. It was a lily, and it was the same charm Lily used to wear around her neck when we were teenagers. This had to be Danny’s fixer-upper. I opened the glove box. Fast food napkins, ibuprofen, motion sickness medicine, and lip balm littered the small cubby.

Shifters could get hurt, Danny and Boyd were proof they weren’t indestructible, but I’d never in my life known a Shifter to get a headache, let alone motion sickness. His girlfriend was a wereraccoon, so who else had Danny been spending time with? A human or a witch?

I put my hand on the dash and felt a rough patch. A closer look revealed a barely scratched in capital H, just like the one I’d seen on Boyd’s dresser. Who was this mysterious H? I snapped a quick picture with my phone then reached up to check the visor. At that moment, an arm stretched around me, and a ginormous hand clamped over my mouth.

I screamed, but it sounded more like a muffled grunt. My arms were held tight to my sides, but I swung my fingers backed and zapped my assailant, releasing the aroma of roasted cinnamon in the air.

“Ouch, crap.” Ford Baylor’s low baritone made my heart skitter. “Shhh.” He added. “Someone is coming.”

I nodded, and Ford lifted his hand from my face.

“What the hell, Ford!” I whispered harshly.

He glared at me and put his finger to his lips then pointed to the door. “Move,” he mouthed.

I slid out of the car, Ford’s large body moving after me with a lot more grace than I thought possible with his frame. He directed me to where some four-foot by eight-foot sheets of plywood rested against the back wall. We crawled behind just as the door to the building opened wide.

Maniacally, I had to suppress the urge to giggle as his breath ghosted my neck from behind. Goddess, when it came to this guy, I was in seriously deep bear doo-doo.

“Why is this car down?” I heard Clayton Driver say. “I swear to Goddess, Frank. I told you to leave the Chevelle alone.”

Frank? Was it Frank the jealous beaver from the night before?

“It was up when I last saw it,” Frank said. I recognized his voice. It was definitely the Frank who’d tried to beat Tiz with his tail.

The smell of snickerdoodles made it hard to concentrate on the words. I turned to look at Ford, my lips thin with irritation. He stared back at me, and my stomach quivered. His lip curled into a sexy-ass snarl as his light blue eyes undressed me…or at least that’s the way I saw it.

I was going to tell him to kiss off, but instead, my throat stopped working at the same time as my good sense. I leaned my face to his, our lips centimeters from touching, and he…sharply diverted his head away, and my lips brushed his stubbled jaw.