Beached & Bewitched Page 7

  Kellen, the Magic Island Chief of Police, was built like a bull, with a broad, muscular chest, thick chestnut hair that reached to his shoulders, and blood-red eyes that caused my entire body to convulse in fear when they landed on me.

  “And you are…?” he demanded, crossing his bulging arms across his chest. A puff of steam escaped his nostrils, and I drew back until I bumped into Sebastian, who steadied me by the shoulders with reassuring hands.

  “This is Wren Winters,” he said, drawing me closer to him as Kellen bore down on us. “She’s new here on the island, and she just started at The Islander today. She’s going to be taking over as gossip columnist.”

  “The new gossip columnist who just happened to find the body of the former gossip columnist on her very first day on the job?” Kellen snorted again, and more steam spiraled from his nose. “I’ve come to discover, in my line of work, that there are no such things as coincidences.”

  He fiddled with a heavy-looking metal baton attached to his waistband, stroking it almost lovingly, and I shrank back even further, wishing with everything I had that I could just melt right into the wall.

  Percival, who had been talking to another officer in a hushed voice behind the couch as the second man bent over Cassandra, taking photographs, snapped his head up and narrowed his striking blue eyes at the police chief. “Surely you can’t think Wren had anything to do with this?”

  He crossed the room in two strides and came to stand beside me, placing a protective hand on my arm. “I’d be more than happy to vouch for her, Kellen. The whole idea is preposterous; Cassandra has been missing for two weeks now. We just assumed she’d had enough of the hate mail and quit.” His entire body seemed to wilt. “To think she’s been here the whole time, alone…”

  “What is this place, anyway?” Kellen asked, tearing his red gaze from me and glancing around at the musty couch and broken grandfather clock. “Some kind of storage unit?”

  “Probably at one time,” Percival said, still gripping me protectively on the arm. “But The Islander hasn’t made use of any of the lower basement rooms since we moved into these offices ten years ago. Just didn’t need the space.” He scratched his fingers idly along the blond stubble on his chin. “I can’t imagine why Cassandra would even be down here.”

  “Which leads us to coincidence number two.” Kellen swung his head back in my direction. “What were you doing in this room?”

  I immediately launched into an explanation of the exploding computer, my search for a replacement in the basement, and the terror I’d felt as the enormous locust taunted me about being his next meal. Though I tried to keep the hysteria in my voice to a minimum, Kellen’s skeptical expression was causing panic to swell within me. He didn’t believe me, that much was obvious. What would I do if he dragged me off to jail? And just what kind of horrors awaited me there?

  “I’ve got a preliminary cause of death, Chief,” the second officer called, straightening up from where he had been crouching beside Cassandra’s body. “A wand blast to the chest—the ignis spell, by the looks of it.” He beckoned Kellen over, and Percival, Sebastian, and I followed; by this point, Glinna had stopped sobbing and was slumped against the far wall, black streaks of mascara trailing down her cheeks.

  “What’s the ignis spell?” I whispered to Sebastian as we gazed down at Cassandra. Now that I was looking at her properly for the first time, I could see black scorch marks edging the hole in the center of her chest.

  “Fire,” he murmured back, sounding ill. “Someone blasted her with a ball of flames.” He clenched his hands in front of his body so tight that his knuckles were turning white. “It’s a useful spell for when you want to make s’mores or conjure up some warmth on a cold night, but directing it at someone?” He shuddered. “You only do that if you’re aiming to kill.”

  “And you have to be able to wield some pretty advanced magic to even cast this spell in the first place,” Percival chimed in, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Kellen. “So I guess that means our Wren here couldn’t possibly be a suspect, unless she somehow learned level five magic before she even picked up a wand.”

  Kellen grudgingly agreed, though he swept an appraising gaze over me once more before he placed a call to the Magic Island coroner’s office and dismissed us from the room so he could carry on the rest of his investigation in peace. As a teary-eyed Glinna fluttered ahead of us up the stairs and Sebastian rested a comforting hand on the small of her back, I walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Percival, who still looked shaken.

  “We’ll have to cover Cassandra’s death in the paper, of course,” he said quietly as we crossed the basement. “I don’t think any of our reporters are going to be thrilled to have to work this story, though. She was one of us.”

  His voice caught, and he balled his hands into fists at his sides. “One thing that you’ll learn about working at The Islander, Wren, is that at the end of the day, we’re a family. What happens to one happens to all.”

  The sincerity in his words touched me, and despite everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, my heart swelled with happiness. All of my life, I had felt like I was alone, forced to make my way in a world that was oftentimes cold and unforgiving, especially for those of us who had so little to call our own. And now, to be considered part of a family for the first time… it was practically overwhelming.

  Blinking back the wetness that had formed suddenly at the corners of my eyes, I felt another deep pang of sadness and anger as I pictured Cassandra’s lifeless face, peaceful in death. She hadn’t left The Islander willingly after all—she had been ripped from her life without warning or apology. And here I was, the new girl in town, inheriting what should still have been rightfully hers. The unfairness of it all tasted bitter on my tongue, and before I knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “I’ll do it.”

  Percival frowned at me. “Do what?”

  “I’ll cover Cassandra’s murder for the paper,” I said, my words tripping over themselves in my newfound excitement. “And I’m going to find out who killed her, too. I owe her that much.”

  Percival’s expression softened, and though his eyes were kind, when he opened his mouth, I could tell he was going to object. “Please,” I said, before he could shoot down my offer. “It would really mean a lot to me, and I promise you that I’ll do a good job.” I squared my shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “You can count on me, Percival. Just give me a chance.”

  Though I could see the doubt flickering across his face, he pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his broad chest, considering me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he nodded slowly. “Okay, Wren, the story is yours.” He opened the door to the newspaper offices and ushered me inside, then gave me a warm smile and added, “You know what I think?”

  I shook my head.

  “I think we could use a lot more people like you on this island.”

  Then he trudged away, leaving me to return to my dingy cubicle and scorched computer, my mind buzzing with the enormity of the task ahead of me. Just what had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 8

  The rest of the workday passed in a blur of panic as reality set in and I realized what my split-second burst of self-confidence was going to cost me. First of all, I had arrived on the island precisely thirty hours ago, and had no idea where to even begin my investigation into Cassandra’s death. Secondly, I was a complete stranger to the islanders, and getting them to talk to me, especially about a murder investigation, was going to be next to impossible.

  And third? That was a real doozy. See, there was still the small matter of a deranged killer being on the loose, and they would surely find out about my investigation sooner or later and hunt me down. I had a feeling that my complete lack of magical knowledge and ability wasn’t going to come in too handy when the murderer came knocking. At this point in my magical learning, the best I could do would be to throw a bucket of watermelon whiplash into their face and make a break for it.


  With these thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, I was completely exhausted by the time I trudged back to my dorm. Visions of immediately falling into bed and sleeping off my worries danced in my head, and I was just falling into a lovely stupor when I stuck the key in the door to my room and realized that it was already unlocked.

  I stopped dead, my hand on the doorknob, my heart skidding around my chest. Had the killer found me already? Had he or she put some kind of magical trace on me?

  Before I could formulate a plan, the door was yanked open from the inside and I toppled into the room, catching my balance just before I hit the ground. “Sorry about that!” a bright voice chirped as I steadied myself against the wardrobe. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”

  A petite girl about my age stood before me, grinning widely and wearing a Magic Island Academy sweatshirt rolled up to her elbows. She had long, straight auburn hair that fell to her waist, enormous green eyes that danced when they caught the light, and the kind of creamy skin only ever found on a Photoshopped makeup ad. She was gorgeous, the kind of woman who caused men to fall all over themselves.

  I was instantly wary of her.

  Before I could demand to know what she was doing in my room, I caught sight of the bunk bed that had appeared on top of mine—a bed that definitely hadn’t been there when I left the dorm with Glenn that morning. Half of the room was now wallpapered with pink and orange polka dots, academy banners hung from the ceilings, and posters of what looked like the same musical group, The Skulls, were plastered over nearly every available surface—as I drew closer, I realized that one of the band members was banging a drum stick against the ribcage of a dangling skeleton.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I did a little decorating,” she said, swinging her long hair over her shoulders before launching forward without warning and yanking me into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m just so excited to meet you, roomie! I’ve been dying to train at the academy since I was a little girl, and I can’t believe it’s finally happening. I’m Garnet, by the way. You must be Wren.” She pulled back, then squinted at my face. “I don’t recognize you. Did you grow up on the island?”

  “No.” I sat down heavily on my bed and tried not to look at the wallpaper, which was making me feel slightly dizzy. “I was born and raised in Oregon. I only found out about the island two days ago.”

  “Wow,” she breathed, looking at me in amazement as she plopped down beside me on the bed, crossed one slim leg over the other, and began fiddling with the silver bangles she wore on each wrist. “So you must have two human parents, huh? I bet you’re going to be the best in the class. I come from a long line of witches and wizards, so my magic is probably diluted a little bit.”

  Before I could ask what she meant, her eyes suddenly darkened and the corners of her full lips drooped. “Everyone thought I was a dud.” She lowered her voice as if we were sharing a secret, even though no one else was in the room. “My parents have been trying to coax my magic out for ages, but no matter what they did, I disappointed them. They were considering bringing me to Helga on the sly to see if she could whip up a potion for me, but trying to artificially evoke magic is against the law, under penalty of death.”

  Her eyes brightened again. “Luckily, two hours before my thirtieth birthday, I got run over by a magi-cab in the middle of downtown and didn’t even get a scratch. That’s when we knew.”

  I stared at her. I had so many questions, I didn’t even know where to begin. Finally, I settled on, “Who’s Helga?”

  “The most powerful potioneer on the island,” Garnet said in hushed, reverent tones. “She’s retired now, but she used to be First Potioneer for the IAMB itself. Last I heard, the waiting list for one of her original potions was three years. And that’s if she’ll agree to take you on as a client in the first place. She has to deem you worthy.”

  I nodded, filing this information away for future reference, then began studying Garnet’s face with renewed interest. “So you’ve lived on the island your whole life?”

  “Born and raised.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “My ancestors were one of the founding families, which is why it would have been such a scandal if I turned out to be a dud. I would have been the first of my name to be banished from the island.”

  “Banished?” I looked at her in shock. “But isn’t this the only home you’ve ever known?”

  Garnet’s eyes welled up, and she suddenly became very interested in her chipped nail polish. “The weeks leading up to my birthday were awful, Wren, you have no idea. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep… I would have been forced to live on the mainland permanently and assimilate into the human world, with only visiting privileges to the island. Can you imagine a more awful fate?” She shuddered.

  We spent the rest of the night talking, Garnet telling me all about life on Magic Island, and me answering the many questions she had about the human world. Despite my initial impression of her, I began to realize, as we chatted and laughed well past midnight, that we were going to get along swimmingly.

  After we finally said goodnight and Garnet drifted off to sleep, I lay in bed for a long while, a grin plastered on my face as I watched the moonlight streaming in through the curtains dance patterns across the ceiling. It felt good—really, really good—to finally have someone I could call a friend in this strange new world.

  Garnet treated me to a tasty breakfast at her favorite café before we headed off to the academy for our very first lesson. Even though my new friend was practically vibrating with excitement, I could feel my anxiety heightening with each step we took. When we finally arrived at the academy, a long, low, red-brick building that looked completely unremarkable, I had a hard time hiding my disappointment.

  “Where’s the castle?” I asked, craning my neck to look up and down the street, in case Garnet had gotten the address wrong. “I thought it would look more like Hogwarts.”

  Garnet furrowed her brow. “Hogwarts?”

  “Never mind.”

  We joined the groups of students wandering around the academy’s sprawling grounds, which, I had to admit, were breathtaking. Garnet and I found seats on an empty bench that overlooked a babbling brook filled with lily pads and speckled koi fish, and I watched a fat toad sun itself on the banks, its tongue lolling lazily out of its mouth.

  “What’s our first lesson?” I asked Garnet, and she consulted the schedule that had been slipped beneath our door sometime during the night.

  “Looks like basic spell casting.” She looked up at me, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “That must mean we’ll be getting our training wands today!”

  I opened my mouth, preparing to ask another slew of questions—by now, so many were rolling around in my brain that I could barely keep my thoughts straight—but I was interrupted by the deep gong of the academy’s cracked bell reverberating around the grounds. “Ready or not…” I whispered to myself as Garnet and I joined the throngs of students of all ages jostling for position by the front doors, which swung open of their own accord.

  The classroom was small but brightly lit, and Garnet and I sat down beside the only other student—a tall, thin, bespectacled boy in his late twenties who introduced himself as Hunter and told us that he, too, had just arrived from the human world. Excited to find someone else on the island who was just as clueless as I was, I tried engaging him in conversation, but he was too busy sneaking covert glances at Garnet, his cheeks burning red, to pay me all that much attention.

  Such was the story of my life.

  “I guess it’s just us,” I said, glancing at my watch, which I was unaccustomed to wearing. I’d had to hand over my cell phone after disembarking the ferry, and I felt thoroughly naked without it, though Glenn had explained that it would be of no use to me on the island, which didn’t tap in to any human networks. Just then, the door swung open, and a man dressed in black from head to toe stepped into the room, head down, and positioned himself in the very back corner.

  I raised qu
izzical eyebrows at Garnet, who was staring at the door, but she shrugged and said, “Must have been the wind,” before getting up and closing it again. Frowning, I glanced behind me at the man to make sure I hadn’t imagined his presence, then realized with a jolt that he was gazing directly at me. And for the first time, I could see his face properly.

  Holy. Hotness.

  I swear, I almost wet myself.

  His eyes were the kind of deep chocolate brown a girl could get lost in all too easily, his jaw was square and chiseled, and he had a deep scar running across his bronze cheek, as though someone had slashed him with a knife. He was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested and had powerful legs, and I could tell that, if he wanted, he could tear a man in half without a second thought. He was the opposite of Jason in every way. All of them good. Very, very good.

  Time seemed to stand still as we stared at each other, his expression inscrutable, and I was just about to poke Garnet and ask if she knew who he was when the classroom door opened again and a tall, middle-aged witch strode in briskly.

  “Welcome to the Magic Island Academy,” she said, smiling down at us from beneath a slightly crooked nose as she waved a hand behind her and a piece of chalk picked itself up and began scrawling across the blackboard. “I would like to congratulate the three of you on your official entrance into the magical world, and I hope—and have every confidence—that you will excel at your training and eventually be welcomed as full members into the Sparrow Coven.”

  The chalk stopped writing and dropped back onto the blackboard tray. “Lady Winthrop,” it had written, and, underneath that, “Basic Spell Casting.”

  Lady Winthrop waved her hand over her desk, and a small wooden box appeared out of nowhere. “Now,” she said, opening the box to reveal a stack of silver wands wrapped in blue bands, “as you may know, right now you are considered level zero witches and wizards, meaning that while your magical ability has presented itself before the deadline, you do not yet know how to wield it. The classes at the academy will prepare you to advance from level zero to level five, which is the highest status a witch or wizard can attain. Once you reach level five, you will be considered full members of the coven.”