Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Page 4

  “Hey, they’re not minions. They’re business associates.”

  Ignoring him, she continued. “I’d already found most of the things on his ridiculous list by the time he finally called, told me to drop everything, and meet him at a mini self-storage north of Decatur, toward Clarkston…

  About a year and a half ago, after much ado about nothing:

  Lily pulled into the parking lot of Loc-tight Self Storage, a scowl still on her face. First that ridiculous witch had sent her to run errands. Then he said he didn’t need the items after all, which was even more irritating. His haphazard methods were getting on her nerves. If this lead didn’t turn up anything, she was going to call it quits before the foolhardy witch got them into trouble.

  Bundling up—she’d taken the liberty to buy a heavier pair of gloves and thicker scarf—she braved the cold and exited her vehicle, spotting Sebastian waiting for her by the entrance. Looking around as she walked, she surmised that this was not exactly a top-notch self-storage business. While there was a chain-link fence and gateposts, there was no gate. Perhaps the last time it was broken into, the thieves had taken the gate, too, for good measure.

  As she approached, she noticed a triangular stone hanging from a leather cord around Sebastian’s neck. It had an oddly symmetrical hole in the center of it, as if it had been carved. The only reason she noticed the necklace was that Sebastian had unbuttoned the top of his shirt, showing the necklace and a white undershirt beneath. While he wore a heavy coat, it, too, was open at the front, as if the cold barely bothered him at all. Lily scowled. It was distinctly unnatural and entirely unfair.

  “Took you long enough,” Sebastian said, grinning at her huddled, shivering form.

  She’d spent the whole drive over convincing herself not to berate him for, well, everything. So much for that resolution. “No thanks to you. I can’t even begin to list the—”

  “Then don’t,” he cut her off. “We have work to do.”

  He left her standing there, mouth opening and closing in silent outrage. Recovering, she hurried forward to catch up, determined to focus on the job at hand. The faster they found the artifacts, the faster she could be rid of him.

  Following behind Sebastian, she noticed he was making a beeline for a particular unit at the back, as if he knew exactly where to go. Her suspicion was rekindled, but if he’d been the one to steal the items in the first place, why would he lead her right to them? Still, she needed to be on her guard. Madam Barrington had always been quite emphatic that witches were not to be trusted.

  Focusing her energy through the amulet on her ward bracelet, Lily tapped the Source—the place from which all magic flowed—and put up her defenses, just in case this was some sort of trick. With heightened magical awareness, she proceeded forward, rounding the last line of storage units before the back end of the compound. As she did, she saw Sebastian kneeling by one of them, reaching for the padlock securing its door. But something about the padlock looked wrong, almost as if…

  “Get away! Don’t touch that!” She yelled, startling herself as much as Sebastian. Running as fast as her heels and pencil skirt would allow, she managed to get between Sebastian—who had backed up in confusion—and the padlock just as the booby trap spell went off. It hit her full force, causing her to stumble sideways into Sebastian’s arms.

  “Holy cow, what was that? Are you alright?” Sebastian’s voice was tight as he helped her regain her balance, strong hands checking her over for injury.

  “I’m quite alright, thank you, Mr. Blackwell.” Lily hurriedly pushed away, face on fire and shoulder smarting from where the spell had hit her. She brushed herself off with unnecessary vigor and straightened her already-straight coat in a futile attempt to forget the feeling of Sebastian’s hands. “I am well versed in the discipline of defensive magic and will be no worse for the wear.”

  “That’s a relief,” Sebastian replied, completely serious for once. “So what just happened?”

  Lily turned to examine the padlock more closely. “Well, it seems our amateur wizard-thief is even more foolish than I supposed. Whoever it is, they know enough to cast spells, but have no common sense when it comes to using them wisely. That was the magical equivalent of an improvised explosive device: shoddily put together with the crudest of parameters yet extremely destructive for all its simplicity. Without my defensive shield and personal ward it might have done serious harm.

  “What are we talking here,” Sebastian asked, “a couple bruises? Broken bones? Death?”

  “Definitely a concussion, possibly internal bleeding or ruptured organs. Whoever cast this booby trap either wants you dead or had no idea how powerful it was.”

  “That’s a comforting thought,” Sebastian said, mouth forming a grim line. He looked at her again, expression softening. “You sure you’re alright?”

  “Quite sure, Mr. Blackwell. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I can see that.”

  Lily eyed him suspiciously, not sure if he was teasing her or not. He held her gaze, returning it quite brazenly as he examined her with a curious look in his eyes as if he were trying to decide something. She looked away first.

  “Thank you.”

  The unexpected remark made her look back, eyes wide in surprise. “You’re w—welcome,” she stammered, responding out of ingrained politeness, as her brain still hadn’t gotten over the shock of his uncharacteristically gracious behavior.

  Much to her relief—it would be such a bother to have to re-think her whole opinion of him—that look of roguish self-satisfaction quickly returned, and he gave a flourishing bow in the direction of the door. “After you, my lady.”

  Shooting him a token glare, she turned and stared at the storage unit, struggling to decide if she should protest their illegal breaking and entering. If it had been any other circumstance—if they hadn’t just been assaulted by a dangerous spell, for instance—she would have insisted they call the police. She was an upstanding citizen, after all. She paid her taxes, drove the speed limit, and most definitely didn’t jaywalk. This went against everything she’d been taught…and yet when the law and magic collided, what was the right thing to do?

  Still unsure, she glanced back at Sebastian. “Do you have a key for the lock? Or were you just going to break it?”

  “And damage someone else’s property? What kind of uncouth savage do you think I am?” Sebastian did a very good impression of looking aghast, even as his eyes twinkled.

  Lily rolled her eyes, decision made. Being forced into such a moral compromise disturbed her greatly, but what else was one to do when rules got in the way of justice? She turned back to the storage unit to examine it more closely. The place where the spell had been anchored was fairly visible, but the marks were fading already, which meant it hadn’t been cast more than several hours ago. Just to be safe, she spent a few minutes examining the edges of the door and, with eyes closed and awareness reaching out, attempted to ascertain if there were any spells inside. Besides the fading spell on the padlock, however, she could detect no other trace of magic.

  “It’s safe,” she said, turning back to her companion as Sebastian pulled several long, slender pieces of metal out of his pocket. He crouched once more, inserting the lock picks into the padlock and fiddling with them for barely ten seconds before there was a click and the lock popped open. Lily’s jaw dropped.

  “How did you do that?” she asked, wavering between distaste and amazement. Lock-picking was a terribly scandalous thing to do. She wasn’t sure she approved.

  Sebastian looked proud of himself. “Psh, ninety percent of the locks out there are cheap and simple to pick. They’re more of a deterrent than an actual safety mechanism, since most people don’t bother learning how to pick. Cutting or bashing in locks is way easier, but I”—he stood erect, hand to his chest—“am a professional.”

  Looking down to hide her involuntary smile, she stepped back as Sebastian heaved at the roll-up door, sending
it clattering up into the ceiling and revealing a tiny storage space. The space was empty except for two small boxes, looking quite lonely on the dusty floor. Lily started toward them, but Sebastian put out a hand, stopping her.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” He asked, glaring around at the storage space suspiciously.

  She checked for magic again, just to be sure. “There are no more spells, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Hmm…this seems too easy.”

  “Maybe the thief assumed their first trap would take care of any intruders?” Lily suggested.

  “Usually if someone goes to the trouble of setting a trap, they’re smart enough to have a backup.” He looked annoyed at the lack of trip-wires or spikes hanging from the ceiling.

  Lily snorted. “Well, as we have seen multiple times, this particular person’s intelligence seems to be sorely lacking.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. Still, I’d prefer you stand back while I get the boxes.”

  “That’s completely unnecessary, I—”

  “Please,” he cut her off, speaking firmly.

  They glared at one another for a moment. Finally, with a huff of annoyance, Lily moved back, waiting with crossed arms and pursed lips.

  Stepping carefully, Sebastian entered the unit, looking around as if expecting a six-eyed monster to come bursting out of the wall. But he reached the boxes without incident and, after examining them carefully, picked them up.

  Nothing happened.

  “Well, that was anticlimactic,” he sighed, retreating from the storage unit and handing Lily the boxes to hold as he pulled down the roll-up door and replaced the padlock.

  Lily ignored him, being too busy opening the boxes. Inside were the missing artifacts, carefully packaged and wrapped. It looked as if the thief had snuck in, slit open the original boxes and swapped the contents, then taped them back up again.

  “The books are missing,” Lily said.

  “What?” Sebastian whirled. “What do you mean the books are missing?”

  “Just what I said, silly. The books aren’t here, only the artifacts.”

  He groaned, slapping his forehead. “I knew this was too easy.”

  “What do you want with those books anyway?” Lily asked, deciding this was as good a time as any to get to the bottom of things.

  “Not here,” Sebastian hissed, taking her by the shoulders and turning to frog-marching her toward the entrance. “You realize we just robbed someone, right? I mean, they robbed us first, but still, nobody watching us knows that.”

  Lily held her tongue until they were in the parking lot. “Where’s your car?” She asked, looking around and shivering in the cold wind that they’d previously been protected from in the lee of the storage units.

  “Back at the auction house,” he said, unconcerned.

  “What? You mean you walked here?”

  “Not exactly,” he said slowly, urging her to keep moving. When he refused to elaborate, Lily mentally threw up her hands and headed for her car.

  After carefully placing the boxes in her trunk, she took refuge in the relative warmth of the driver’s seat, while Sebastian climbed into the passenger seat. She thought about protesting, but it would have been terribly impolite to make him stand out in the cold while she was warm in her car. Satisfying, perhaps, but not polite.

  Just in case someone had spotted them, she went ahead and left the self-storage lot, driving a few streets down to park next to one of Atlanta’s many public parks—currently empty as everyone was at home, probably wrapped in blankets and huddled next to camp stoves in an attempt to survive the abnormally cold weather.

  “So,” she said, turning to Sebastian, “what do you want with my books?” She gave him a hard stare, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The inside of her car had never felt so small.

  “No poking.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her.

  She tried to look innocent but couldn’t quite pull it off like he did, so she gave up. “Fine, no poking.”

  “Good. I already told you, I’m a witch for hire. If someone needs, or thinks they need, ‘magic,’ they call me. Mostly it’s a bunch of superstitious idiots, but sometimes there are legitimate jobs. I got a call a few days ago asking me to retrieve a letter from the effects of a recently deceased wizard. They had no idea where the letter was, just that it wasn’t at his house. So I showed up at the estate auction and, ahem, surreptitiously searched all the items. Didn’t find it. Later, though, I remembered I hadn’t looked inside the books. You know how you stick random things in a book to mark your place?”

  “No, I do not,” Lily said, looking scandalized. “I use bookmarks, or I memorize the page number. There’s no telling what kind of smudges or dirt you might get on a book that way.”

  Sebastian gazed heavenward, a sigh of exasperation on his lips. “Alright, well most people do that, and I thought maybe the guy had stuck the letter in one of his books. So I came back to see if I could get a look at them.”

  There was a moment of silence while Lily digested all this. “Well, you certainly went to a lot of unnecessary trouble. If you’d explained all this at the start, I would have been more than happy to help. There was no reason to go sneaking about.”

  “Except that sneaking is much more fun,” he pointed out, lips twitching upward even as Lily’s flattened into a stern line.

  “Be that as it may, we’re still stuck, unless you can use your ‘witchy’ powers to find the books the same way you found the artifacts.” She couldn’t keep all of the sarcasm out of her voice but at least managed to sound halfway civil. Though, judging by Sebastian’s thoughtful expression, she needn’t have bothered. Insults rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.

  “Unfortunately, my, ah, ‘powers’ were rather put out and frostbitten after the first round of playing bloodhound. But not to worry,” he continued before she could ask how powers could get frostbite. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

  After a few minutes of silence, in which she forced herself not to fidget, Lily cleared her throat. “Any ideas yet?”

  “Oh plenty, just none of them good,” he replied, face screwed up in concentration.

  “Well, maybe this is silly, but…why don’t we just go check the house? I know your, um, boss said the letter wasn’t there, but how can he be sure? It might be a big house, and the letter could be magically hidden.”

  “What a brilliant idea!” Sebastian shot upright, the vigor of his motions bringing his head in contact with the car ceiling. “Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing his crown as he slouched back down and glared at the offending roof.

  Lily laughed, not even trying to hide it. Sebastian was annoying enough to make her contemplate bodily harm, but at least he was funny. She hadn’t laughed this much in a while. Being a head librarian, while enjoyable, was also stressful. She had an image to uphold and students to cow into acceptably disciplined behavior while within her domain.

  “So, do you have the address?” she asked.

  “Nope, but I know where it is.”

  “Fine, but I’m not letting you drive. Just tell me where to go.”

  Sebastian let his shoulders rise and fall in an unconcerned manner. “Your funeral.”

  “What?” Lily asked, completely nonplussed.

  “Look.” Sebastian pointed out the window.

  Lily looked and, to her horror, saw bits of white fluff falling from the sky. “It’s snowing! No! That can’t be. This is Georgia, it’s not supposed to snow here.”

  “Obviously the snow didn’t get your memo,” Sebastian commented dryly. “Can you drive in the snow? Looks like the roads are icing up.”

  “I’ll be fine, thanks,” she said through gritted teeth. This was not going to be fun.

  “You can say that again.” Sebastian had given up all pretense of cleaning, perching instead on a stool in the kitchen doorway as he listened to the story. “She almost killed us, twice. I’ve never seen someone drive so badly in the
snow before.”

  “Oh, like you’re an expert,” Lily said scathingly. “You’re just as southern as I am.”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t think anyone could drive worse than you and still be alive, so it’s safe to say that you’re the worst.”

  Knowing he spoke only to provoke a reaction, Lily ignored him and moved on with the story.

  “So we headed west—”

  “Northwest,” Sebastian corrected.

  “To Brookhaven—”

  “It was Buckhead, not Brookhaven.”

  “Fine!” Lily said, throwing up her hands. “You tell the story.”

  “Only if you insist.” He grinned at her scowling face, so she arched her left eyebrow in silent threat. Sebastian blanched. He knew not to push his luck.

  “Right, ahem,” he said, shifting his gaze to Sir Kipling. The feline, having become convinced the vacuum would not make an appearance that day, had relocated to the back of the sofa. “So, we headed northwest, I, holding on for dear life—I mean sitting calmly in my seat,” he changed tacks as Lily cleared her throat menacingly. “When we finally arrived…”

  About a year and a half ago, and, thankfully, still alive:

  By the time Lily pulled up to the correct street in the quiet Buckhead neighborhood, Sebastian couldn't have said which one of them was more frazzled. His hair stood on end from running his hands through it, which he did every time they safely rounded a curve or came to a stop without sliding out into the intersection. Every other moment, of course, his hands were busy gripping the door handle, dashboard, or any other available surface in white-knuckled terror.

  Throughout the trip Lily—who seemed to consider herself a capable driver under normal conditions—had rebuffed his helpful, timely advice. She claimed it was difficult to focus when your passenger was yelling panicked instructions at you. Though indignant at her description of his “side-seat drama,” he had to admit that circumstances were stacked against her. Nobody else in Atlanta knew how to drive on icy roads either, so the whole city was a mess of wrecks and sliding cars.