Page 6 of Disenchanted

“Have I ever told you how charming you are when you’re sulking?” He smirked. “Fine, fine…I’ll stop by the Hedgehog House and see if there are any blackcurrant doughnuts left. Unlikely at this time, but…”

“Casimir,” Sage said. “Go. Back. To. Work.”

Feeling unfairly outstripped by height alone, she took an extra step to land on the same one as her colleague. Then another for good measure, giving her a rare height advantage. He seemed to appreciate the effort, as his tongue popped into his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“You are the single most bothersome human that has ever walked this planet,” Sage said, determined to remain unaffected.

“And I know just how bothersome you consider every human being ever to exist, so coming from you, I take that as an enormous accolade. I’d better do my very best to maintain it.” He grinned, and the flash of bright white was almost enough to send Sage stumbling back down a couple of stairs.

“Anything else to say before I throw you off this bridge?” she asked with a glower.

“Oh! Actually, yes,” he said with new sincerity, the arrival of a singular thought almost visible behind his dark brown eyes. It was a look of last-minute realization that plagued every single one of Sage’s working days and had done so for over a decade. “There’s been a delivery for you. It’s your favourite sort—disgustingly dusty and mothball-scented. Quite possibly haunted or damned.”

“On a Wednesday? That’s unusual. What is it?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. There was nothing on the incoming calendar, which is very unlike you. Any guesses?”

Sage frowned. “I wasn’t expecting anything else, but…”

She had placed so many requests over the past few months, in the run-up to their new exhibition opening, that even Sage had to admit she had somewhat lost track of what still needed to be catalogued.

Casimir shrugged. “Popped it in the back room. But on my usual shake inspection, it feels like—would you believe?—more books! And there I was thinking that we had completed our excessive and entirely unnecessary collection of every single thing ever written about this place.”

She could put up with most of Casimir’s jibes, but an insult to her book collection was a step too far. “Go!” She pointed, throwing an arm out in the direction of the museum. “I’ll be back within the hour, so don’t do anything stupid until then, if at all possible.”

Reluctantly and with a bored tut, Casimir sauntered back up the steps to cross the bridge and walk towards the museum. One hand remained in his pocket and the other waved down to the crowd below, as though they were his royal subjects.

“As you were, folks. Next time, I’d recommend my Magical Media Tour—it’s a little more current than these offerings. Oh, and don’t forget to stop by the heritage museum before you head home to complete your treasure map. Lord knows you deserve a prize for enduring the company of Sage Hemlock for an hour. If it were up to me, we’d hand out solid gold medals for your troubles, but alas, budget cuts…”

Sage took a final calming breath. Having long ago found herself with Casimir—her exact opposite in every way—as an unlikely colleague and even more unlikely best friend since their teenage years, she was well rehearsed in this practice. She returned to the group and took a quick glance at her notes to remind herself where she was in her script.

In her periphery, Sage sensed a young woman in a cream cardigan approaching shyly.

“Yes?” Sage snarled. She was behind schedule now, thanks to Cas.

“Your colleague…Is he running any more tours today? Or are we able to swap onto…?”

“No.” Sage scowled so emphatically that she was fairly sure the next time she looked in the mirror, she’d find a stone gargoyle looking back.

With aching feet and more spine-tingling, supernatural information about one small town than anyone could or probably should hope for, the tour was finally completed.

“I hope that our time together may serve as a reminder to if not believe entirely, then be open to the possibility that the most extraordinary of explanations may be hiding in plain sight. And often, magic may be the only possible answer.”

Sage gave a satisfied sigh with her final line as she received a timid smattering of applause. They had warmed up eventually, with only a handful of inane questions about the films, TV shows and famous bands that Port Sylvan had played host to. Despite Casimir’s best efforts and a conspiracy by the local seasonal displays to expose her secret, Sage would chalk the tour up as a success.

“Very enjoyable. Thanks for your time,” Mr. Williams said, slipping a folded five-pound note into the mini cauldron on her satchel. “Although, I do think it’s a bit much to call this ghost tour ‘historical.’ You’d be better to go for ‘fantastical.’ Or ‘weird and wondrous.’ Something fun like that.”

Sage glanced up at the man from underneath the wide brim of her hat. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, you’re off duty now. It’s all nonsense, isn’t it?” He winked, as though in on some joke. “Witches and magic, I mean.”

Sage swallowed against the ferocious flutter locked behind her ribs, roaring to escape. “Quite.”

4

Salt in the Sugar

As Sage passed beneath the street lamp at the corner of her lane, the orange bulb burst with a loud pop, and a shower of sparks toppled down onto the shoulders of her coat with a scorch and a sizzle. Smoke puffed from the ends of her damp red curls and she batted at them furiously. With a groan and a strained, patient breath, she carried on through the rain with a scowl etched deeply across her face. Misbehaving magic was getting on her last nerve today.