Warning:Not effective on emotional baggage.
Chapter8
Better Safe Than Sorry
“Oh good. That will be Minodaura now. Right on time!” Minerva stood up so quickly at the sound of the shop bells that Zani almost forgot Maida’s great-aunt was one hundred and eight years old.
Minerva was verging on elderly, even for a witch, yet Minerva, like Zani’s aunt Minodaura, showed no signs of slowing down. When faced with retirement as the caretaker/curator of the Arcane Archives and proprietress of the Mudpuddle Bookshop and Cafe, Minerva did not for one moment consider taking to a rocking chair with her knitting. Instead, she opened “The Squeaky Wheel Fromagerie.” The same cheese shop and commissary that Will had tried to convince her was the “avant garde” talk of Primrose Court.
There wasn’t enough Roquefort in the south of France to convince Zani to stay in Primrose Court to babysit some relics in locked cases. She wasn’t even being given as much responsibility as the old woman had. It was a lame and pointless desk job. All paperwork and filing. What was she supposed to do with herself? Surely she would lose her mind. This was exactly the sort of safe and respectable job her relatives had dreamed of for her. It’s what Minodaura had pushed for from the moment she declared her interest in legendary artifacts.
And now her Aunt Minodaura was here? Had she come to gloat?
“Why is my aunt here?” Zani looked around the room. She had the vague feeling of being in trouble, and the awful sense of everyone else knowing something she did not. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Minerva and Zephyr exchange a wary glance.
“I think she was just eager to see you, dear.” Minerva patted her arm. “How long has it been since you’ve visited? I don’t think I’ve seen you on this continent once in the last decade. I’ll show her in.”
Zani flushed. “I came home for Solstice a few years ago. I spent the night,” she mumbled to nobody in particular.
“One whole night?” Zephyr raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his tea.
“I was in the middle of a raid.” Zani defended herself. “We’d gotten word about an Ordinary art gallery in London that was working with a shifter crime syndicate to transport stolen texts disguised as modern art.”
The texts, which included instructions on the manufacture of werewolves, were just one in a series of special ops she’d been proud to lend her expertise to.
“That was you? I recall reading about that gallery.” Will placed a hand on hers, staring at her with open admiration. “Thank goodness you stopped them. I’m sure it prevented a catastrophe.”
The mission had not ended ideally, however. Although they’d shut the ring down, there had been a cost. Too many Ordinary deaths and too many witnesses. She’d certainly put her Forgettable Fan to the test there. She grimaced at the memory. And then fought to suppress a yawn. Eventually, she was going to need some sleep. Everything was taking on a surreal quality. This felt like the longest day ever.
She could hear her Aunt Minodaura and Minerva out in the hallway, speaking in hushed, concerned tones.
“You know what?” Zephyr stood up. “I’m not doing much good here. How’s about the doctor and I make ourselves useful and go mind the shop?” He pulled a reluctant Dr. Dvita to his feet. “Come along, Tarquin and Will. We should let these ladies catch up.”
“I’d better head back to the cafe, too. Zing me if you need anything.” Rosie tapped her watch.
“Another hot coffee would be lovely,” Zani rolled her neck, trying to unkink it and summon what remnants of energy she had left. She glanced at Maida, exchanging a quick and reassuring look of solidarity. Maida shrugged. Whatever was going on here, she hadn’t been a part of it. It wasn’t a complete ambush.
Much to Zani’s surprise, Will made no motions to go.
“You know, I think I’d like to rest here with Zani a little longer.” Will leaned back against the broad chaise lounge. “We’ve both had a shock.” He patted the space beside him. “Sit here. I’m superb at neck rubs.”
Zani rolled her eyes.
“He actually is.” Maida grimaced. “It’s magical. You may as well take him up on it.”
“No, not magic Mayday,” Will argued. “I swear, ever since you’ve become enlightened about magic, you think it’s everywhere and responsible for everything. It’s because Ipay attentionto people. I can read where they’re holding tension. Maybe it’s from carrying so many folks through the void. But giving great massages? That’s an Ordinary type of talent.”
Self consciously, Zani moved to the chaise. She sat down stiffly beside Will. Once again, and only for an instant, her thoughts strayed to Cosimo. Where was he now? And did he have her stone?
Her stone.She chided herself for even thinking that. The amulet had only been in her possession for a few brief hours and she’d already thought of it as her own? Perhaps that was part of the bloodstone’s pull? It created inappropriate, unhealthy attachments.
Despite this awareness, she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room, return to the continent, and resume her search. Her desire felt almost like a feverish need, one that even she could recognize as unhealthy. Wasn’t this exactly what Cosimo meant when he’d cautioned her about handling the stone too closely? Perhaps she shouldn’t have brushed off his warnings. Even her wards had limits. As evidenced by the empty case on the side table.
“I’m also quite handy at charming elderly aunts,” Will whispered in her ear as he rolled out a knot in her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Zani. I’ve got your back.”
Zani glanced over her shoulder at Will but didn’t have a chance to respond before her great-aunt Minodaura stomped into the room, beaming.
“Zanfira Marinescu! Is what I hear true? It’s about time you came home and settled down!” Minodaura’s stentorian voice projected through the room, like someone giving a speech from the center of an amphitheater.
