Chapter 11
I went straight home to grab Sashkatu and open the shop, but I had trouble finding the wily old guy. After several minutes of looking under beds, checking closets, and mucking around in the basement clutter, I decided to stop playing the game his way and start using my brain. I picked up my keys with a lot of jangling and opened the front door. Before I could shout “goodbye,” he showed his furry face. Although he was clearly put out at having been left behind earlier, he probably didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with his kindred. He gave me an ingratiating “meow,” but when I tried to pet him, he wriggled away from my hand.
The phone was ringing when we entered the shop. I turned off the alarm and picked up the receiver. Tilly was on the other end. She sounded more like her cheerful self, but I felt a pang of guilt. I should have called her earlier to find out how the second night with her houseguest had gone. She’d made my life a whole lot easier by offering to have Merlin stay with her.
“How are you? I asked.
“Better now that my Isenbale is a cat again. He’s grumpier than usual, but I can hardly blame him.”
Good news had been in such short supply lately that my spirits instantly lifted. “Merlin remembered how to undo the spell?”
“No, but it seems to have worn off. I think he’s having trouble with his abilities here like we are. In this case, though, I couldn’t be happier about it.”
“How is our legendary sorcerer doing?” I’d been so caught up in other matters that I’d relegated the time traveler to the fringes of my mind. If I hadn’t been trying to solve a murder, he would certainly have been front and center.
“Well, I found a way to keep him occupied and out of trouble.”
I hesitated to ask her how, a bit afraid she was going to tell me about amorous activities. It wasn’t a subject I was eager to discuss with her.
“I showed him the internet,” she went on when I didn’t respond, “and I haven’t been able to pry him away from the computer ever since. This morning I found him passed out, asleep on the keyboard.”
“Does he understand how to use it?” I asked.
“He already understands it better than I do, although that’s not exactly a high bar to reach.”
Despite Morgana and Bronwen’s feelings about the technology, my aunt had bought a computer and was willing to learn. Or maybe she’d bought it specifically to spite them. No family is without its inner turmoil and ours was no exception. Before we got off the phone, Tilly invited me to have dinner with them. She was going to order pizza, another first for Merlin. How could I say no?
* * *
Felines fed, I walked over to my aunt’s house. It was such a lovely summer evening it would have been a shame to take the car even though I was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. Since business had been slow, or more accurately, nonexistent, I’d spent the afternoon cleaning up the storeroom. I’d salvaged what little I could, tossed the rest, then mopped up the muck and glass. After order was restored, I’d made a list of products that had to be replaced. Too bad there wasn’t a sorcerer’s supermarket. That’s when I recalled Merlin’s offer to help restock my shelves, since he’d helped empty them. Fortunately it was summer and most of what I needed could be found growing in the wild. I could give him the list, and Tilly could ferry him around to find the items.
I arrived at Tilly’s house at the same moment as the pizza delivery boy. After doing a little riff on “After you, no, after you,” we wound up marching up her walkway together in a weird little wedding parody. While Tilly paid for the pizza, I went inside and found Merlin at the computer in the corner of the living room. He was so engrossed in what was on the screen that he didn’t seem to notice me. Peering over his shoulder I understood why. He was reading about the space race and watching the grainy video of Neil Armstrong taking humankind’s first step on the moon. I put my hand on his shoulder to let him know I was there. The poor man must have jumped three feet. When he spun around, his face had gone pale and his hand was pressed to his heart as if to keep it from popping out. My own heart took a dive to somewhere in the vicinity of my knees. I’d have to be more careful in the future. There was no telling what would happen to history if Merlin died in the twenty-first century. It was bad enough that he would return to his time babbling about computers, aircraft, and men on the moon. I apologized for scaring him, relieved to see the color return to his cheeks.
“Don’t worry”—Tilly passed by on her way to the kitchen, pizza box in hand—“his ticker is fine. I’ve startled him a number of times too. When he gets involved with the internet, he might as well be in outer space.”
I detected a note of disappointment, or maybe frustration, in her tone. Given her druthers, as Bronwen used to say, she would surely have preferred Merlin to be enthralled by her, not by electronics.
The heady smell of hot pizza must have reached Merlin’s nostrils, because he rose without urging and followed the aroma into the kitchen. Tilly put the pizza box in the center of the table that she’d already set with paper plates, cups and napkins. Soda, seltzer, and water were on the counter along with an ice bucket. “Help yourselves,” she said, holding the box top open. Merlin didn’t need to be asked twice. He picked up a slice oozing with melted cheese and for a moment held it suspended in midair as if he didn’t know what to do with it.
“Take a bite,” I said, “but be careful—it’s probably hot.” I took a slice myself and bit off the pointy end. Merlin watched me, then tried it himself. His eyes opened wide with delight, the cheese dripping from his mouth into his beard.
He didn’t say a word until he’d finished every last crumb of it. “What manner of comestible be this?” he asked, reaching for a second slice.
“Pizza,” Tilly said, “bread dough with tomato sauce and cheese.”
“Quite remarkable.” He didn’t speak again until he’d plowed through half the pie. “Never have I had a finer meal,” he proclaimed, patting his stomach and burping with satisfaction. “But now to business. How far be it to London?”
I looked across the table at Tilly, hoping for some guidance, but she shrugged her shoulders. I was on my own. “It’s far,” I said, wary of causing a real heart attack. “Very far.”
“You appear to be a smart young woman,” Merlin said, “yet your answer is of no use to me. How many days travel is it? I imagine the journey is somewhat faster in a car than on horseback.” He chuckled. “I much prefer the car. It is far kinder to the bones of an old man.”
“You can’t get there by horseback or car,” I said. If he wanted the truth, there was no good way to put it.
“Why is that?” he bristled as if he suspected I was still dodging the question.
“Because it’s across the ocean,” Tilly replied bluntly.
Merlin frowned. “Such a thing is not possible.”
I spent the next half hour trying to explain the New World to someone who believed the world was flat.
“That would explain a lot,” he murmured after I’d finished. “Then I take it New London is not the London I know just spruced up a bit?”
“No,” I said gently, hearing the pang of loss in his tone. “To reach London, England, it would take about six hours by plane, four or five days by boat.” And you probably wouldn’t recognize it at all, I added to myself.
He didn’t say anything for a minute. Maybe he was trying to reassess the enormity of his journey through time and space. When he spoke again, his voice sounded hollow and forlorn. “From what you have told me, were I to sail there or fly in one of those frightful contraptions, I would not find the home I knew or the people I loved.”
“I’m afraid not,” I said.
“Then by Jove,” he said, flinging off his sadness like a bothersome cloak, “I shall find a way back to my proper life. After all, I am Merlin!”
“That’s the spirit,” I said with all the enthusiasm I could muster, because I doubted even he could manage it.
“And until then,” he went on, “I intend to enjoy the miracles of this new world of yours and help you girls recover from the strange affliction that has befallen you.”
I didn’t point out that he too appeared to be suffering from the same “affliction.” Instead I wished him success, and while he was still in gung-ho mode, proposed my solution to restocking Abracadabra.
* * *
When I opened for business the next morning, I found a middle-aged woman asleep on my doorstep. She didn’t look homeless. Her chin-length brown hair was well cut, and she was dressed in a stylish capri set and matching sandals. She didn’t respond to my voice, so I gave her shoulder a gentle shake. When that failed to rouse her, I started worrying she might be dead. From there it was a hop, skip, and jump to imagining myself a suspect for another murder, a serial killer by accident of time and place. I really didn’t want to call 911 again. I was still trying to decide what to do when she sprang up, wild-eyed and disoriented. For a moment we stared at each other, mouths gaping, but unable to speak. I managed to help her into the shop and get her settled in a folding chair I’d found and set beside the counter. By then she’d gathered her wits about her well enough to explain that she’d driven all night from North Carolina to reach me. I was her last hope. I almost groaned when she said that, because on its best days, magick doesn’t come with a guarantee, and we hadn’t seen our best days for some time now.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, hoping it would be something simple, something within my current ability to accomplish.
“Where should I begin?” she said vaguely.
I hopped up to sit on the counter. “Let’s start with your name, since you already seem to know mine.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m Lilly, Lilly Gould. So pleased to meet you.” She started to extend her hand to me, but stopped when she realized we were too far apart.
“Nice to meet you too, Lilly. Why don’t you tell me what brought you all this way?”
“Right. Here’s the thing,” she began, “over the years I’ve dabbled a bit in witchcraft—you know? But this . . . this is far beyond my ability to deal with.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering if she was ever going to tell me.
“Well, everything was going great until I opened my big mouth,” she said, shaking her head. “You see, I was a widow for five years when I met Neal. He’s everything my husband wasn’t—kind, soft spoken, thoughtful, a real gentleman. I thought we’d be together for the rest of our days. But then I told his daughter the truth.”
“Which is . . . ?”
“That she’s a spoiled brat who’s milking her father dry. She’s thirty years old; she has a decent job, but she keeps asking Neal to buy her expensive things, things she doesn’t need and doesn’t want to spend her own money on. A three-hundred-dollar purse? No problem, sweetheart. A cruise to the Caribbean? Sure, honey. The poor man is incapable of telling her no. So I did it for him. At first I think he was actually relieved that I did it. But then she had a tantrum, stormed out of his house and now won’t take his calls. Needless to say, I’ve become a pariah.” Tears flooded Lilly’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks, leaving dark trails of mascara in their wake. She opened her handbag and pulled out a travel pack of tissues. “You have to help me get him back,” she pleaded, wiping her face. “It is possible, isn’t it?”
“I think you’ve got a good shot at it,” I said. Using a love spell or potion to make a stranger fall in love with you is wasted energy. I know from personal experience. Had it been possible, there would have been a number of boy bands camped out around my house when I was in my teens. On the other hand, using a spell to repair a relationship between two people who already loved each other was often successful. “I can tell you what to do, Lilly, but you’ll have to perform the ritual yourself.”
She was nodding so fast, she looked like a bobble-head on a bumpy road. “I brought a notepad,” she said, rummaging in her purse again.
“The Silver Ring Love Charm is a powerful spell,” I began once she was ready. “You’ll need a silver ring that’s never been worn, a white cloth, and a cup of white wine.” I spoke slowly enough for her to write it all down. “As you probably know, love spells should be performed under a full moon. You start by blessing the silver ring. Then you wrap the ring in the cloth and bury it underground. Pour the wine over the place where you’ve buried it and recite these words:
Blessed Goddess, fair and true,
this silver gift I offer you.
Bless this ring and let me see
my lover coming back to me.”
She seemed to be struggling, so I waited for her to catch up. “Leave the ring there for a month and dig it up under the next full moon. Then wear it until he returns to you.”
Lilly stopped writing and looked up at me. “That’s it?” She sounded disappointed.
“Yes, but you must believe in your heart and mind that it will work. There cannot be any doubt.” For her to have driven up to New Camel as she had, I suspected that wouldn’t be a problem.
After a moment’s consideration, I decided to give her a second spell to try in case the first one didn’t produce the desired result. I’d never before felt the need to do that, but my self-confidence had clearly hit an all-time low. I had to be careful about how I offered Lilly the extra spell, so I didn’t pass my doubts on to her. “I almost forgot,” I said, “we’re running a two-for-one deal on spells this week.” I hoped that hadn’t sounded as lame to her as it did to me.
“Wow, I’ve never come across a sale on magick before,” she said, quickly erasing that concern. Knowing that Lilly had two spells to try, gave me a certain peace of mind and I couldn’t put a price on that. I gave her the details of the Lemon Love Spell. I was glad she’d be going back home to North Carolina to perform the rituals. She probably stood a better chance of success some distance away from me.
The rest of the day passed quickly, the shop busier than it had been for the past few weeks. A lot of local customers came in for their beauty products and the chance to gossip about the investigation into Jim’s death. Every last one of them swore they knew Tilly and I were innocent. If called upon, they assured me, they’d be happy to provide sterling character references. Maybe recent events had made me paranoid, but I couldn’t help wondering what they said when they weren’t in my shop.