Watching video footage all day is exhausting. I've no idea how the uniforms do it regularly, this is easily the most boring part of police work.
Except maybe the paperwork, but other than submitting my consulting bill at the end of each month, I don't have to do much of that.
Even if being at the station means I can help prove Ambrose's innocence, I’m glad when I walk into the shop again.
The familiar smell of wood and varnish greets me the moment I arrive and it feels like one of Grammie's warm hugs. The floor is littered with fresh wood shavings. It's clear what she's been doing today.
A pang of loss sweeps through me, confusing me a little. Wand making has never been my calling, even if I'm good at it, but I'm starting to find I'm missing it.
“Hi, Herb—” I freeze in my tracks as Herbert’s usual spot on the workbench is empty. “Herb?” If he's got up and walked off, then I'll eat my hat. If I have one, I don't think I've worn one since I was a kid, so if I do, it's going to be dusty and possibly full of mothballs. I wrinkle my nose. I'll need to magic it into something else if I'm going to eat it.
Confused, I make my way to our living quarters.
Murmurs come from the kitchen. I creep up, being careful not to step on the creaky floorboard, and peep through the kitchen door.
“What do you think? Am I making things up?” a man asks.
Warmth floods through when I recognise Ambrose’s soft timbre as he asks his question. Nobody answers, which is unusual. He doesn't normally talk to himself. That's a me thing. Curious, I peek around the corner and spot him sitting at the kitchen table with Herbert in front of him.
“She’s hard to read sometimes, don’t you think?” he muses while patting Herbert’s stone head. “Well, that’s easy for you to say. You’ve known her for much longer.”
I frown, trying to work out who he's talking about. And more importantly, why he isn't talking to me. I thought we were friends.
“You weren’t there. I know how it felt. If we'd had another moment, we might have...” Ambrose trails off, presumably as Herbert answers. I'm not sure why, but the gargoyle doesn't want me to hear what he's saying.
But who is Ambrose talking about? It's almost as if he had a moment with someone. So why don’t I know anything about it?
“I know I should ask but it’s scary. I really, really like her. So much that I’m talking to her cat statue.”
Wait.
What?
Her cat statue? So that means… he’s talking about me?
He really, really likes me?
It doesn't seem likely he's talking about Grammie.
My heartbeat quickens. What do I do now? He's talking to Herbert, not me. I'm supposed to be at the station and nowhere near.
What do I do now? To borrow Ambrose's words, I really, really like him too. But I don't want to mess things up.
Okay, first things first, I need to let Ambrose know I'm here without making him uncomfortable and thinking he has to talk to me about this before he's ready. There's a reason he's talking to our family gargoyle and not me, and I'm going to respect that.
I hurry back towards the shop and whip out my wand. I cast a quick spell to make the bell above the door ring even louder than normal. It's hearable from the kitchen normally, but Ambrose must have been too engrossed in his conversation with Herbert to hear it properly. This time, I'm going to make sure he does.
“Hello?” I call out into the empty shop to announce my arrival.
No one responds, but I don't think that means anything. I return to the kitchen door, making sure I step on each and every creaky floorboard in the process. I don't want to make him uncomfortable, and this seems like the best way to do it.
Maybe it's not the most ethical course of action to take, especially as eavesdropping is bad, but it's not like I set out to do it. Like a lot of things in my life, I discovered it by accident.
My heart pounds as I enter the kitchen. I smile broadly and wave at the mage still sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey, Ambrose.”
If I'm not mistaken, the hint of a blush rises to his cheeks.
“Hi.” He waves back awkwardly.
Hmm. Maybe that wasn't my best decision.
As I sit down next to him, I realise Herbert is turned in the opposite direction. Looks like Ambrose doesn’t want me to know he was talking to him. Except that doesn't offer any explanation for why he's been moved.
“There you are.” I reach across the table to give Herbert a little pat on the head. “I couldn’t find you in the shop.”
Rover is lying in front of the woodstove, as far away from Herbert as he can get while managing to stay in the same room as his owner. I don't blame him, I'd want to stay close to Ambrose too.
“Oh, umm… I think your Grammie put him here for company.” Ambrose coughs, probably in an attempt to cover up the lie.
I don't say anything to contradict it. We'll talk when he's ready. Or when I've run out of patience waiting. I'm not going to take any bet on which happens first.
“How was the station?” he asks.
“Weird without you,” I admit. “I talked to Dean. He’s letting me consult on the… your case.”
Rover gets up from his seat in front of the wood-burning stove and pushes his head under my hand, demanding scratches. I oblige him without thinking twice about it. I love that he wants my attention. He seems to have settled into the shop and flat surprisingly easily.
Something like relief crosses through Ambrose’s eyes. I'm not surprised. He's probably reached the same conclusion I have. If Dean's letting me work on the case, then it's likely he doesn't think Ambrose is guilty.
“That’s good. Did you find anything interesting?” He's fishing, but I don't mind. Everyone has to know that if I'm told something, then Ambrose knows it too. That's just the rules of best friends.
And couples.
Amy, don't go there.
“Not really." It's hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "I watched a lot of video footage but whoever killed your mother’s neighbour must’ve taken a different route. More statements came in throughout the day about a strange man in a trench coat.”
Rover leaves me and heads back to his spot, apparently done with his need for attention.
"Huh."
My heart breaks at the crestfallen expression on his face.
“How was your day?” I ask instead of prolonging talk of the impossible case.
“Uumm… Interesting.”
I chuckle. “Ah, a day with Grammie. That's the only way to describe it.”
“You said it, not me,” he mumbles, but I can tell from his tone that he’s agreeing affectionately.
“She’s nothing compared to my sister though. Topaz is… Well, there are no words to describe her.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Yeah, hopefully soon,” I lie. If it's up to me, Ambrose and Topaz will stay continents apart. Preferably more. I know my sister and we get along much better when there’s a good bit of distance between us.
My stomach rumbles and I get up from the table. “I’m hungry. Have you eaten yet?”
Ambrose shakes his head. “No, I haven’t—”
The doorbell tingles again and I frown. Didn’t I lock the door? I thought I did.
Worried, I cross the kitchen to go find out what's happening, but there's already someone heading up the stairs towards me.
I pull out my wand and think through all of the protective spells I know. I don't want to hurt anyone, but if they're invading my home, I don't really have a choice.
“Grammie?” I call, but I already know it isn't here. The person is moving too fast.
“Nope!” a familiar voice calls back.
I groan. Oh, no. I have to hide Ambrose before—
“Bonjour bonjour,” Topaz sings in an awful accent as she pushes past me and enters the kitchen. She plonks a suitcase bigger than herself down on the floor and grins. “C’est moi, Topaz.”
Why is she speaking French? Why do I hate the way she’s saying her name? Why am I already annoyed after literally five seconds of us being in the same room?
I follow her back into the kitchen, not seeing any other choice. I can't leave an unprepared Ambrose alone with her. That's just cruel.
“Amyyyyy,” she exclaims as she pulls me into a hug.
Rover lifts his head and growls softly. At least he has good taste.
Topaz delivers four dramatic kisses on my cheeks and claps her hands. “I’m so glad to see you. Oolalala, who is this handsome guy? Is this your new beau?”
Now it's my turn to blush.
Ambrose’s eyes shift back and forth as he looks between me and my older sister. He’s staying suspiciously quiet, like he’s waiting for me to answer the question. Typical Topaz, she always pokes the elephant in the room. I swear she has a sixth sense for how to make things awkward.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping to dart past her question. “I thought you loved your job.”
“I wasn’t feeling it so I came back home,” she said, shrugging dramatically.
“So you and Blake broke up again,” I conclude. Great. I don't just have to deal with Topaz. I have to deal with rebound Topaz. That's infinitely worse.
She sits down next to Ambrose, a little too close for my liking, and sighs. “Pretty much.”
“What did you do this time?” I ask, taking the seat opposite.
“Nothing. Besides, he’s supposed to support me unconditionally. That’s his job as my boyfriend and manager.”
“Not really.” I mutter. “Why do you even need a manager?”
“Crystal healing is a serious job. I need him to manage my schedule, you know how chaotic I am.”
She’s right about that but that doesn’t change the frivolous nature of crystal healing. I pretend to yawn. “Well… welcome home, I guess. I’d love to chat but I’ve had a long day at the police station. I’m pretty tired.”
“Police?” Topaz gasps. “You didn’t… You weren’t caught making unlicensed wands again, right?”
“What? No, no, I don’t do that. I’m a consultant with the PPD now.” I gesture to Ambrose. “This is Detective Ambrose, I work with him.”
My sister’s face lights up. “Really? That’s wonderful! Magnifique! You’ve always wanted to work for the paranormal police. I’m so proud of you.”
Despite everything, a warm smile rises to my lips. “Thank you.”
“So I guess I collected these for no reason then,” Topaz says as she hands me a velvety pouch from her purse.
Confused, I accept the bag and tip out the contents on the table. Colourful pieces of glass tumble onto the tablecloth, shimmering in the light. I immediately recognise the smooth sides and just holding them in my hand, I can feel the magic humming inside.
Sea glass.
“Thank you,” I say softly, a wave of affection flooding through me. Despite everything, she is my sister and I love her. When she proves she knows me well, everything is good.
Carefully, I brush the glass back into the pouch and pull the drawstrings closed. Topaz might act carefree and nonchalant but I should know better than to be fooled by her persona. Underneath her eccentric exterior, she is deeply empathetic.
I yawn for real this time and get up. “I’m really tired though and I need to get up early tomorrow.”
“Fine, I can take a hint.” She stretches as she rises from her chair and looks around. “Where’s Grammie? Never mind, I can make up the guest room myself.”
“Uummm… Actually, Ambrose is staying in the guest room.”
“I can sleep on the couch,” he quickly offers.
“Guest room? So you’re not Amy’s boyfriend then?” Topaz asks, sounding disappointed. “What is he doing here so late?”
“Long story for another time.” I push her towards the hallway, hoping to avoid explaining why he’s here. “Let’s get you tucked in on the couch.”
“Nooo, I hate the couch. I’ll sleep in your bed, it’s big enough for the two of us.”
I sigh but nod reluctantly. As much as I don’t want to give up my personal space, it’s better than kicking Ambrose out of the guest room.
“Let’s go then,” I grumble, grabbing Topaz’s luggage and pulling it behind me.
“Yay. Sleepover.”
Why is she so excited by that? We're not twelve anymore.
But at least if she's in my room I can be sure she isn't sneaking into Ambrose's room for a rebound.