Witchy Sour(3)

“That’s the million coin question,” X said. “Don’t forget, there was also a spell on the safe itself. If someone who had never touched the book tried to remove it from the safe, an alarm would sound both here, and at Ranger HQ. It never went off.”

“So that means someone found a way around the spell.”

“That, or it’s someone who has handled the book previously. Someone who understands the intricacies of the spell system, and someone smart enough to fool them.”

I sighed, not liking the list of names that were left for me to ponder. “I can’t think anymore.”

“I have to get going, but it’d be a shame not to finish this wine.” He held up the bottle, a hopeful look in his eye. “Will you help me polish it off?”

I held up my glass. “Can’t hurt.”

“It’s good for you. Loosens you up.”

I crooked an eyebrow in his direction. “You’re trying to loosen me up?”

“Not you—everyone. I mean, not everyone, I mean wine loosens everyone up.” Ranger X closed his mouth, and then started over. “Do you want me to top off your glass or not?”

I laughed, this unsure, awkward side of him was one I rarely saw. When he was around his team of Rangers, he was all boss, all the time. I liked this side for a change. “Come join me.”

Before he sat down on the couch, he bent over a never-used fireplace, muttered a few words, and a fire began to roar. “Ambiance,” he said briskly as he joined me on the couch.

We lounged next to each other, both of us sipping our wine in silence, pondering the maze of spells. To me, it looked all Beautiful Mind with a twist of chaos theory, and I was mostly glad there were people smarter than me to understand it.

The only thing I knew for certain, however, was that whoever had stolen the spellbook was somebody I knew. Somebody who knew me, knew my schedule, knew the security system.

That was a short list of people, and a list I didn’t like to consider under the circumstances.

Instead of running over that list of names, it was easier to close my eyes and snuggle up on Ranger X’s shoulder. He worked nicely as a pillow. I curled my legs under my body and told myself I was only resting my eyes.

The next thing I knew, my wine glass was lifted from my fingers, and a set of arms thick as tree trunks lifted me, cradled me, and carried me upstairs. I struggled to open my eyes through the haze, but sleep called louder than consciousness, and my body fell limp against Ranger X’s chest.

He deposited me as gently as he might a kitten on my bed, the fluffy comforter enveloping me as he tucked the edges in snug around my shoulders.

“Goodnight, Lily Locke,” he said, brushing strands of flyaway hair off my forehead. “Sleep tight.”

I might have mumbled something back, but already, I was well on my way to slumber.

When I woke in the morning, I found it impossible to remember if the brush of his lips against my forehead had been a sweet piece of reality, or nothing but a dream.



An orangish glow peered over the horizon and turned the sky a beautiful watercolor of cotton candy pink and Easter-egg purple. Taking a seat on one of the bar stools, I cupped a warm concoction both stronger and tastier than human coffee. Here on the Isle, it was known as a Caffeine Cup.

I woke early this morning, despite my late evening with Ranger X. The memories of last night had me humming as I awaited the arrival of the regulars. The bungalow, as I’d so fondly nicknamed the beach house and bar combination, served as my home, workshop, and storefront. It was a cute place with purple and pink paint, and large windows hugged by rickety white shutters.

I greedily stole the last few minutes of peaceful quiet for myself. The palm leaves rustled, the gentle lake waves lapped against the white sand shores, and the sky grew powder blue and free of clouds. The beautiful climate, one of sunshine and balmy temperatures, was controlled by a nifty little charm that allowed the islanders to live under tropical blue skies year round, despite our location in the middle of Lake Superior.

The relaxing morning sounds were shattered by two bubbly voices carrying across the open sand. With a smile, I hopped to my feet and turned up the fire under the teakettle. I waved at my cousins and set two more coffee cups out, along with a fancy beaker that looked like a chemistry set to brew my infamous new recipe.

“You’re all ready for us? What gets you up before noon?” My plump, sunny cousin named Poppy bounced up the stairs to the bar and gave me a squeeze. “That smells delicious.”

I grinned and placed a filter on top of the beaker. Dumping a finely mixed potion the consistency of coffee grounds into the contraption, I winked. “And that’s just the smell. Wait until you get a taste.”