Mind Over Magic by Lindsay Buroker

26

Morgen foundbacon as well as sausage in the freezer and fried up both for Amar while her vegetarian patties and hash browns sizzled in another pan. Sunlight streamed in the window, and she yawned loudly. If she hadn’t promised Amar a breakfast, she might have slept until noon. It had been well after midnight by the time they’d gotten home.

“Home?” she mused.

Grandma’s house was hardly that, not for her. It was just the kooky place that she needed to figure out how to take care of and what to do with, now that she’d decided not to sell it.

Lucky padded around the kitchen, sniffing and wagging. She’d already caught him with his front paws up on the counter as he contemplated how to steal sausage and bacon from a hot frying pan.

“I know you’re excited that I’m cooking meat, but it’s not for you.”

That earned her a pitiful whine. There were times when she was positive he understood more than the handful of words she’d taught him.

“If you go tell Amar breakfast is ready, maybe I’ll give you a piece of bacon.”

Lucky woofed but didn’t leave his frying-pan vigil. Well, he didn’t understand everything.

Morgen turned off the burners, pushed the pans far enough back that he wouldn’t be able to reach them, and went to knock on Amar’s door.

When he’d returned with her the night before, they’d found the sheriff’s vehicles gone and the search called off, so she’d been able to talk Amar into staying in the house, but he’d been noncommittal on whether he intended to remain on the property—or anywhere near Bellrock.

They’d survived their tangle with Calista and the Loup werewolf, and they’d disappeared before the authorities barged in, but it wasn’t as if they’d cleared Amar’s name or solved a crime. The fact that Calista had escaped made Morgen uneasy. All she could hope was that people were done scheming against her to get Grandma’s property. If she removed it from the market, told everyone that her family was keeping it, and went back to Seattle, would that be the end of it? Would the townsfolk be happy?

Except… what was she supposed to do with the house if she returned to Seattle? And for that matter, what was there for her back there? Not a job. Not a husband. Not an intriguing new part of herself that she’d been learning about these past few days.

Amar didn’t answer the door. She knocked again, but her stomach gradually sank as she realized he might already have left.

The idea of him disappearing without leaving a note or saying goodbye distressed her. After all, she’d promised to make him breakfast—actual meat sausages. If he hadn’t intended to stay, he should have let her know.

She opened the door to make sure he wasn’t lying abed, afflicted by grievous injuries that he hadn’t admitted to the night before, but it was empty. Empty, with little sign that he’d ever been in the room.

But then, he’d lost his belongings in the fire, so what would he have brought over? The thought of him having to walk away with nothing and start over in life saddened her.

A couple of soft bangs came from outside. Morgen hesitated, worried the deputies had come to question her—or search around the property again. After scant hours of sleep, she didn’t want to deal with them.

She walked around the bed to look out the window. There weren’t any cars out front besides hers. The bangs came from… the barn. Amar knelt on the roof-in-progress, attaching new ceiling joists.

“Hah. Not gone after all.” Morgen trotted down the stairs to tell him breakfast was ready.

But as she opened the front door, a familiar SUV drove up. Deputy Franklin’s.

Swearing, she lunged to the side of the porch to yell a warning up to Amar. But his hearing was better than hers, and he’d already disappeared into the barn or some other hiding spot.

Fortunately, Franklin looked more relieved than angry when he stepped out of his SUV and spotted her. Since she’d ignored all of his texts and calls the night before, eventually putting her phone in airplane mode, she had no idea what he thought of her disappearance—or if he’d been among the men who’d returned to the Arbuckle estate.

“I’m pleased to see you alive, ma’am,” he said. “When you didn’t return any of my messages last night, I feared the worst.”

“Sorry. I was trying not to make noise.”

“Because you were illegally trespassing?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Actually, I was invited in to sign some paperwork.” Admittedly after she’d illegally trespassed… “Eventually.”

“Did you? Sign it?”

“Despite a magical spell trying to compel me to do so… no. I’ve decided not to sell the property.”

His eyebrows twitched at the words magical spell, but all he said was, “That’s probably good since the potential buyer’s remains were found under a cairn behind his house. I’m waiting to hear back from the coroner, but it looks like he’s been there for weeks.”

“Weeks? His signature was on the paperwork.”

“It seems his former lover has been digitally masquerading as him, including running his business and collecting his payments, since her werewolf lover killed Arbuckle. This is according to the butler, who rushed out to greet us and was pleased that you and your werewolf lover—” his eyebrows went up again, “—had taken care of the odious one who supposedly didn’t treat her well.”

“We’re not lovers.”

“Ah.”

“If she wasn’t happy with the situation, why didn’t she quit after Arbuckle, uhm, disappeared?” Morgen assumed the butler had originally worked for him, not Calista, but she supposed she couldn’t know that.

“There aren’t that many jobs for butlers in the area. Also, Calista Aetos has a reputation for being someone you don’t want to cross.”

And Morgen had crossed her. Wonderful.

Wait, that surname sounded familiar.

“Aetos?” Morgen asked. “Is she related to Phoebe?”

“Her sister, yes.”

“I thought the sister was dead.”

But Phoebe hadn’t actually said that, had she?

“Just estranged, I gather. You’d have to ask Phoebe what happened. We’ll be trying to find Calista and charge her for Arbuckle’s murder. We’ll also keep looking for the person responsible for Christian’s murder.”

Morgen blinked. “You don’t think… ah.”

If he’d changed his mind about a werewolf doing that, she didn’t want to say anything to dissuade him.

“The butler mentioned that witches can sometimes control werewolves.” He removed his hat and pushed a hand through his mussed hair. “I miss when this was a sleepy town that everybody zipped past on the interstate without noticing.”

And before the werewolves moved in, she wagered. The witches had probably always been around—Grandma certainly had—but maybe they’d been less of a problem in the past.

“Is Amar Guerrero here?” Franklin asked. “I have questions for him.”

He spoke casually, but Morgen didn’t quite believe that the sheriff’s department had absolved Amar of guilt or would treat him fairly.

“As far as I know, he left town last night.” She was a horrible liar and gazed out toward the trees instead of meeting Franklin’s eyes. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Franklin paused. “I see.”

“Why did Calista—and her werewolf—kill Arbuckle?” Morgen asked to change the subject.

“The butler was a little vague. I think she fears reprisal. I have some calls out and am gathering more information, but I’ve already learned that a couple of months ago, Arbuckle’s lawyer advised him not to add Calista to his bank accounts or credit cards. She was apparently vying for that.”

“She was helping him make the magical powders that I believe he was selling, so she probably thought they should be equal partners.”

Franklin wiggled his fingers, as if he would neither agree nor disagree with that, or maybe with the idea of magical powders in general.

“Either way,” he said, “per his lawyer’s advice, he wouldn’t add her to his accounts. Shortly after…”

“Cairn?”

“Cairn.”

“So, she was with Arbuckle for his money and business while keeping a werewolf lover on the side?” Morgen asked.

“A werewolf something. He might have been a servant or employee or who knows what. Arbuckle actually had a relationship with the Loups that goes back a few years and paid them to do jobs here and there.”

Morgen remembered how well-dressed the werewolves in the parking lot had been. A far cry from the laboring Lobos at the construction site.

“We may never know exactly what happened. It’ll be best for our town if we can catch Calista, or, barring that, if she never comes back, but you’ll want to watch out if you’re going to stay in the area. Are you?” Franklin looked like he wanted her to say no.

Had she truly been that much trouble? Morgen didn’t think any of it had been her fault…

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said.

“Ah. Do you want us to have someone stay here to keep an eye out for you for a while?”

She resisted the urge to glance toward the barn.

“You can imagine how much we enjoy protecting people who don’t answer our calls, texts, or emails,” Franklin added.

“There were emails?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“Sorry. It was an eventful night.”

“No kidding.”

“I don’t need anyone to stay. I think that if I spend more time looking through my grandmother’s resources, I can figure out how to put some security in place around the house.”

“I’ll pretend you’re referring to her Brink’s manual and not anything that requires me to stretch my imagination overmuch.”

“Isn’t your imagination already stretched by the acknowledgment that witches and werewolves exist?”

“Stretched. Tied in knots. Something like that.” Franklin tipped his hat toward her. “Good day, ma’am. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope not to hear from you for a while.”

“Given my disinclination toward replying to voice mail, texts, and emails, that seems like a reasonable hope.”

“Good.”

Franklin climbed into his SUV and headed down the driveway. Before the vehicle had fully disappeared from view, Morgen noticed someone standing near the porch, half-hidden by the bushes. Had Amar been listening to everything?

“I’m not on Deputy Franklin’s favorite-persons list,” Morgen said.

“No?” Amar vaulted over the railing to land on the porch beside her.

He’d found clothing since losing his last set the night before, but she couldn’t help but wonder how many changes of jeans and vests he could have in his truck. Maybe she would offer to buy him a few new shirts. It would be unfortunate if he had to work on the barn naked.

“My opinion of you has improved since we met,” he said.

“I’m touched, but the first day we met, you threatened to rip my throat out while glaring at me with loathing in your eyes. I’d be distressed if we’d gone downhill from there.”

He only grunted. No apology for the threat—or the deer head and carcass.

Well, he’d risked his life helping her the night before. That counted for a lot.

“I was thinking of leaving right away,” he said.

“I know. Why didn’t you?”

“I told you I’d fix the barn. Also, Calista is still alive. And you’ve ruined a good thing for her.”

“The good thing where she murdered her boyfriend and was masquerading as him while enjoying his castle, his riches, and her werewolf lover?”

“A very good thing. She may be angry with you and seek revenge.”

Morgen sighed. “I know. I truly am going to try to figure out how to secure this place against vengeful witches, pyromaniacs, moss thieves, and anyone else who wanders too close.”

“But not lone wolves?”

“No. I don’t want them deterred from showing up when I make breakfast. I’m sure as hell not eating that sausage and bacon.”

“No? It smells good. If you have to eat your meat cooked, fried in bacon grease is the way to go.”

“Are you trying to disturb me?”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t want you to revoke your offer of a room before I finish with the barn. The rainy season is approaching.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” She hoped there wouldn’t be a reason for the deputies to keep coming up here so it wouldn’t be safe for him to do so. “Maybe we can figure out a way to officially clear your name.”

From Franklin’s words, Morgen hoped the sheriff’s department would stop looking for Amar, but she wasn’t positive that would be the case. That also wasn’t the same as being absolved of the crime.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, the spot where that witch’s brand now was. Would it be possible to remove it? Or would that witch continue to be able to control him from afar? Morgen shuddered at the idea.

“The clearing of a name,” Amar said, “is something done to those who are believed guilty but are in fact innocent. I killed the man.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not innocent. If we could force that witch into admitting that she controlled you…” Unfortunately, Morgen didn’t know the names of any of those three witches, where they lived, or anything about them. She also didn’t know what the difference was between the werewolf-control spell and the brand he’d received. Was the latter stronger? And longer lasting? Permanent?

“Do not try,” Amar said. “Those witches are dangerous, and you’re a neophyte.”

“Only until I learn more.” Which she intended to do. She wouldn’t remain helpless in this strange place full of werewolves and witches.

“That takes a long time. If you want to be given the time to learn, you have to leave them alone. Don’t make enemies—any more enemies.”

It wasn’t bad advice, but Morgen had no intention of letting Amar be blamed because of those witches. She would figure out how to help him get out of their clutches, one way or another.

“Does the determined set of your jaw mean you intend to defy me?” Amar asked.

“No.” Yes. “It means I’m concerned about my kitchen smelling of bacon all day. I need you to go in and devour your breakfast and take care of that.”

He gazed at her through slitted eyes. She decided it was unlikely that werewolves could read minds, but he might be good at guessing people’s thoughts. Maybe she smelled different when she lied.

Amar stepped closer to her, making her aware of his height, his wild hair, and the muscular arms his vests always left on display…

“I’ll even lick the pan,” he said in a rumbly voice.

“Lucky does that. You two share gastronomic habits.”

“Do tofu pans not move you to lick them?”

“Not usually. I am working on my saucier skills though, so that might change.”

“You’ll enjoy licking once you try it.” He lifted a hand, touched her cheek, and walked into the house.

Morgen raised her eyebrows, not certain whether that had simply been an acknowledgment that he didn’t loathe her anymore or… if he’d been flirting with her.

“My life has gotten very strange lately,” she murmured and followed him inside.

THE END

Thank you for picking up the first Witch in Wolf Wood adventure. I hope you enjoyed visiting Bellrock.

If you have time to leave a review, I would appreciate it! If you want to read more about Morgen and Amar, the series continues with Book 2, Spell Hound.