Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock (12 page)

The weed was Hemofleur, which Maizie had been taking for her anemia. It was a particular subspecies that Fiona had developed herself, and which only grew in Fiona’s herb garden. If she told Erik what it was, he’d want a list of the customers who’d bought it from her…and the list wasn’t that large.

That was why Fiona had dropped the subtle hint to Maizie about leaving plant matter at the scene of the break-ins.

She hadn’t wanted to openly come out and tell Maizie she suspected her of involvement, in case she was called to testify about the case in court. But she had done her best to make herself clear.

And the next warehouse theft had been completely clean and free of any traceable plant matter – unlike any of the previous warehouse break-ins.    And of course, Maizie just had to break into Fiona’s father’s warehouse.  She’d done it on purpose, because she was angry on Fiona’s behalf about how her parents had treated her.

But why did Maizie suddenly need so much money? She made excellent money on her bodyguarding gigs.

Fiona shook her head and turned her attention to the herbs.

Erik stopped by around 11, but Fiona spotted him before he entered the store. She ducked back in the compounding room,  and listened while Konrad repeated the lie that she was gone for the day and he had no idea where she was.

She waited twenty minutes after he left and cautiously scanned the street before she walked next door to the Witches Brew. 

Mala was outside, sweeping the sidewalk around the tables.  Fiona hardly recognized her.   She was clean, her blond hair pulled back in a bun, wearing one of Rosalind’s t-shirts as a dress, and a pair of flip-flops that were too big for her. The shirt had the slogan “Too Hot For You” spelled out in rhinestones.   Fiona briefly considered chastising Rosalind, both for her poor taste and the inappropriateness, but realized Rosalind would just get confused and she might trip while she walked.

“Hey, Mala, you’ve got a new job. You’re my lookout.  That tall cop with blond hair who just stopped by the shop? If you see him coming…your job is to drop what you’re doing, run into the shop, and warn me. It’s worth ten bucks a day.”

“Twenty,” Mala said.

“Twenty! I bought you lunch yesterday!   Fine, you little thief.” Fiona fished a bill out of her purse and handed it to her.  “How is it at Rosalind’s house?”

“It’s awesome. Rosalind and her room-mates braided my hair and painted my nails.”  She held out blue tipped fingers.  “And I have my own mattress in the living room! And I had cake for breakfast!”

“You’re living the dream, kid. All right, remember – if you let him get by you, I get my $20 back.”

As she walked back to the store, Lillith pulled up in front of her store with Delphine in the front seat.   Delphine climbed out, with a small rucksack slung over her shoulder.  Lillith waved goodbye and drove off.

“Things heating up for you in Snobville?” Fiona asked.

“Mother’s been by Lillith’s house twice now demanding that they hand me over to her, and she threatened to get a lawyer, so her parents booted me out,” Delphine said,  following Fiona into the store. “Don’t send me home.  Mother will lock me in my room and feed me lettuce until she starves fifty pounds off me.”

“Taking 50 pounds off that delicious figure?  Now, that would be a crime.” Konrad walked up, and bowed deeply.

Delphine turned to look at him, and her eyes grew wide.

“Oh, lord,” Fiona muttered.

“In fact, in order to ensure that you maintain your beautiful and voluptuous form, I insist on taking you out to lunch immediately. My name is Konrad.”

“Delphine,” Fiona’s sister breathed. Konrad bent down and kissed her hand, and Fiona thought Delphine  might faint on the spot.

“Breathe, Delphine. In, out. Deep breaths.”

“I’ll bring your sister back shortly.  Safe and unharmed,” Konrad said to Fiona.

“See that you do!” Fiona tried to make her voice sound menacing, but Konrad ignored her completely, too busy staring into Delphine’s wide blue eyes to hear a word that she said.

Chapter Twelve

The dark clouds piling up on the horizon were as sullen and heavy as Fiona’s mood.   It was 8 a.m.,  and Fiona and Delphine stood outside of the Witches Brew drinking coffee and keeping a wary eye out for Desdemona.

“Werewolves are just dreamy, don’t you think?” Delphine twirled in a circle, her skirt flowing like a blue silk river. “And you know what?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not, I imagine.” Fiona muttered,  striving without success to tamp down on her crabbiness.

 A week had gone by, and dodging Erik had became a full time job.   Konrad and Delphine had apparently fallen into instant love, or lust, and spent all day long at the shop making googly eyes at each other and holding hands and saying nauseatingly sweet romantic things to each other.  Konrad took Delphine out for breakfast, lunch, and very late dinners, and insisted on walking her up to the doorway of Fiona’s apartment and kissing her good night for far too long before he left.

“He doesn’t think I’m too fat at all. He thinks I’m perfect just the way I am. Can you imagine that?”

Fiona felt a painful squeeze to her heart; no, she couldn’t imagine it, because the only person who’d ever said that to her had turned out to be a liar who actually liked his women bony and bitchy.

But looking at Delphine’s face, round and sweet and innocent, and wide-eyed with wonder that anyone would actually think she was beautiful,  eased her pain a little.

“He’s right. Just keep telling yourself that again and again,” she said fervently.

“He said that I could stay with him at his apartment if mother comes to look for me here. And he also said that he’d never let mother take me away, and he’ll always be there to keep me safe.”

“I’m a werewolf,” Mala, who’d been bussing the outdoor tables, announced.

“I know, and you’re an adorable one.” Delphine patted Mala’s head affectionately.

“I’m going to be a waitress, not a prostitute,” Mala added, and carried her tray of dirty dishes indoors. Delphine stared after her.

“That is one weird little kid. Cute, but weird,” Delphine shook her head in bemusement as they headed back to Fiona’s shop.

 “Welcome to the Graveyard.  If you see anything that seems too normal here, look out. It’s wearing a glamour and about to kill you.”

“Your life is never boring, I’ll say that for you.”

Despite the impending rain storm, the crowd of uptown customers was as thick as ever.  Fiona was counting down the days until the Crystal Ball; this particular crowd of customers was stepping on her last nerve like a heavy boot on a taut guitar string.

As they walked in the door, Fiona noticed quick movement behind the checkout counter.  “Renoir, what are you hiding from me?”

Renoir was stealthily stuffing something in the garbage can behind the counter. He squeaked with alarm when Fiona walked up behind him.

“Don’t DO that to me! I nearly peed myself!” he shrieked.

She reached into the garbage can and pulled out an envelope and a newspaper clipping. The envelope had no return address on it. 

The newspaper clipping came from the society pages of the Twin River City Tribune. It was a picture of Erik and Maegera sitting at a dinner table at the Palace Restaurant. 

Fiona went pale.

“Interesting,” was all she said. 

Maegera had a huge, smug smile on her face; Erik was looking down at his plate of food, and it was impossible to read his expression in the grainy photograph.

“I’m sorry, princess.  Men are pigs. I should know, I am one.  If I see that bitch, I’ll claw his pretty blue eyes out.”

Fiona shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she said sadly. “He never promised me anything.” Her heart sat like a lump of coal in her chest.

“I bet you a million bucks that bitch Maegera was the one who sent this clipping,” Renoir scowled.

“I’m sure it was. But what difference does it make?  He took her out on a date…after he was with me.” Fiona sighed.

“I could find out if Konrad knows any nice single werewolves,” Delphine offered.   Fiona gave a bitter laugh.  “My heart’s been chopped into cube steak. I’m not up for any new romances right now, but thank you.”

 “I’m going for a walk,” she told Renoir.   She’d had enough of rich witches for the morning; she needed some fresh air to clear her head. Of course, she was in the Graveyard, so she’d settle for some polluted air and the possibility of a mugging.

As she walked out of the store, she saw a beggar in a hooded sweatshirt shuffling towards her.  Probably needed a hangover cure, or something for the DTs, she thought.

But the beggar suddenly  tossed back the hood of the sweatshirt, and then he straightened and seemed to grow six inches taller before her eyes.  The filth melted from his face and the weedy brown dreadlocks turned into flowing locks of rippling gold.

“Hello, Erik.  That is one excellent glamor charm,” she said with grudging admiration. “You had me fooled.”

“Fiona, I don’t know why you’re avoiding me. You haven’t answered any of my phone calls or texts, and every time I stop by, you’re mysteriously away and not expected to return,” Erik said, exasperated.

“I’m busy. Really busy. I-“

“We have a good lead on two of the men involved in the warehouse thefts,” Erik interrupted her.  “They’ll be at the Wharf Rat tonight meeting up with a potential buyer.”

Men. He’d said men. So they hadn’t identified Maizie yet, Fiona thought with relief.

“You and I are going to use glamour disguises and pose as a couple, and we’re going to hang out at the Wharf Rat, where these particular suspects are known to congregate.  When we spot them, we’re going to plant a bug on them, which will give us the proof that we need to bust them.  If you don’t want to help me – I might as well turn the case over to the Enforcers Squad.”

Damn it. That again. Well, Maizie had skipped town, so she wouldn’t be arrested in whatever sweep Erik and the Enforcers had planned.   And she might as well get this stupid case wrapped up so she could get Erik out of her life for good. She’d never get him out of her thoughts, and her heart…but if she didn’t have to see him all the time,  the sharp ache might fade to a dull throb, at least.

Of course, Erik could use anyone as his partner that evening, and it would make more sense for him to use another Enforcer, but then again, nothing that Erik did made sense to her any more.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” she said coldly.

“I’ll pick you up at nine tonight.” And he turned and walked away before she had a chance to answer him.

She could tell he was angry at her.   How ridiculous was that? He expected that he should be able to have secret sex with her and then parade around town with Maegera?

“Hey, was that the cop?” Mala dashed up to her. “I was watching out for him, I swear!”

“It’s not your fault. He used a disguise,” Fiona sighed.

Mala glared after him. “Cops are sneaky!”

“That one is,” Fiona agreed.  She headed back into the shop, dreading this coming evening.   She prayed  that the bust wasn’t going to snare Maizie in its net, but if she knew Maizie,  Maizie would have been operating under a false identity and an excellent disguise, so with luck no trail would lead back to her.

At precisely 9 p.m., footsteps pounded up the stairway, and then the door shook as Erik rapped on it.

At least, it sounded like Erik. But when Fiona looked through the keyhole on the doorway, she saw a burly biker with a full beard and arms covered in crudely drawn, obscene tattoos.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“The man you’ve been ignoring for the past week and a half.” Erik’s voice was coming out of the biker’s mouth.

The Enforcers clearly had a very good budget for glamour disguises.  

With a sigh, she pulled the door open, and bit back the various retorts that leaped to her mind…like “I can’t imagine that you suffered too much, with Maegera to keep you company.”

“Your glamour, Madame,” Erik said, and he draped a leather cord around her neck. It had a little wooden amulet dangling from it.

She felt the same, but when she looked at herself in her mirrored vanity, she saw a voluptuous biker wench with flaming red hair, and  tattoos that matched those of Erik’s in number and in obscenity.

“God damn it, Erik, I have a penis growing out of a flower on my arm.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Erik barely suppressed a smile.

“Who designs these glamours?”

“Not me.” Erik went all wide-eyed and innocent.   Fiona replied with a snort of contempt, and slammed the door to her apartment shut with a bang before they walked down the stairs. 

“So what’s our cover?”

“Your name is Barb. I’m Scorpion.  We ride with a biker gang called Incubi, back east, but we’re here laying low because the law is on the lookout for us.”

Fiona shook her head.  “Those lousy pigs, always ruining everybody’s fun.” 

“Actually, I’ve heard that they’re not all bad,” Erik said quietly.  Fiona could have sworn that his voice was tinged with sadness.

Really? He was going to play the victim here?

She bit her lip and didn’t say a word.

Erik was driving a Harley that evening.  He grabbed the two helmets that were dangling off the handlebars and handed one to Fiona;  they put on their helmets and he slung his leg over the seat.  Fiona climbed up behind him, cursing his choice of transportation. Had he done this on purpose?  Probably. 

Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing up against the rock hard muscles of his back, feeling his warmth flowing through her, was torture.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Erik asked, hand on the ignition key.

“Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Fine,” he bit out, revved the engine, and pulled away from the curb.

 You want to know what’s wrong? I’m in love with you, and you’re breaking my heart, Fiona thought.

But was it really such a surprise?   Her fate had been made clear to her by her mother and her schoolmates her entire life, and look what happened to her when she’d briefly been foolish enough to believe she could really be loved.  Her heart had been flattened to pieces.