Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus: A Study In Mischief
A Lily Singer Adventures Novella
Copyright 2016 by Lydia Sherrer
All rights reserved.
Published by Chenoweth Press
Cover art by Tony Warne
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
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Chapter One: A Grand Kerfuffle
Chapter Two: Uneasy Allies
Chapter Three: Butting Heads
Chapter Four: Not So Bad After All
Epilogue
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus: Beginnings PREVIEW
Other books by Lydia Sherrer
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About the Author
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Chapter One
A Grand Kerfuffle
Lily Singer—archivist, wizard, and unapologetic bibliophile—was rather obsessive about keeping her environment in good order. She couldn’t stand for things to be dirty or out of place. It was rather ironic, then, that she hated cleaning.
Organizing, filing, and straightening were fine—she enjoyed bringing order out of chaos. But anything involving the removal of filth, especially decaying food, was disgusting. That didn’t stop her from doing it, of course, but it transformed what could have been a satisfying chore into a thorn in her side.
So it was with mixed feelings that she knelt in the middle of her friend’s living room floor, hands sheathed in latex gloves, distastefully picking through a six-inch drift of debris—a mix of food wrappers, old mail, cans, bottles, dirty laundry, shriveled apple cores, moldy banana peels, and other, less identifiable, items.
It was a shame real magic wasn’t as convenient and all-purpose as what you saw in the movies. There was no bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, no illogical waving of a wand to make things start cleaning themselves. No, magic was a powerful but dangerous tool, best understood as science that the mundanes—non-magical folk—hadn’t figured out how to explain yet. For simple things like cleaning, it was best to use elbow grease, lest you accidentally set your house on fire.
Her friend Sebastian Blackwell was a witch and extremely good at getting things done—that is, things he wanted done. He was notoriously apathetic when it came to any task he deemed unexciting. And cleaning was about the most unexciting activity imaginable.
This was understandable, since he spent most of his time making deals with fairies, escaping impossible situations, and charming the ladies in the process. It was fortunate he wasn’t a wizard himself, that is, born with magical abilities like Lily. Otherwise, he might have attempted to spell away the mess, consequences be damned. But, since he was just a mundane, working through artifacts and deals with magical folk to get things done, he’d obviously decided that ignoring the mess was the best solution. Perhaps he could have bribed his fae friends to make a dent in it—they preferred rum, she’d been told—but that would have been a waste of good alcohol.
Things had finally come to a head when he fell ill with food poisoning and needed Lily to play nursemaid for a few days. After having to wade through the mess to reach his bedroom, she’d made him promise, on pain of being eternally cut off from a supply of her cheese scones, that he would help her clean his apartment as soon as he’d recovered. Lily hadn’t felt the least bit guilty about taking advantage of him in his state of sickness, since she was certain his untidy lifestyle had caused it in the first place.
“Come on, Lil. Have mercy. Do I really have to do this?” Sebastian asked plaintively from the kitchen. He was standing, scrub brush in one hand, dish soap in the other, staring at the Bog of Eternal Stench—otherwise known as his kitchen sink.
“If you weren’t such an inattentive slob, you wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place,” Lily scolded, grimacing and turning her head away in disgust as she gingerly placed a mostly empty, molding carton of milk in her trash bag. “When was the last time you cleaned this place, anyway? Before the fall of Rome?”
“Hey, I like my apartment the way it is,” he protested. “I know where everything is—”
“Except the medicine and chicken broth,” Lily pointed out.
“—and I save massive amounts of my valuable time by not obsessing over every speck of dust.”
“Except when you get food poisoning from your own cooking and spend two days being sick in the bathroom.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have tried making that bacon donut burger,” he muttered to himself.
“Possibly the most unhealthy excuse for a meal I’ve ever heard of. It’s a wonder you haven’t had a heart attack.”
“For the love of catnip, can’t you two get along for one minute without bickering? You’re as bad as an old married couple,” came an annoyed meow from the direction of the bookcase. Perched on the highest shelf beside an untidy pile of comic books sat a long-haired grey cat with white-tipped nose, chin, paws, and tail.
Sir Edgar Allan Kipling—magical talking cat extraordinaire—had taken refuge in the place known to cats simply as “up.” He’d chosen this strategic position in anticipation, no doubt, of that monster which usually accompanied Lily’s bouts of cleaning frenzy: the vacuum. It was a rivalry that stretched back into the ages, and, despite his newfound “human” understanding, Sir Kipling obviously considered himself duty-bound to maintain it. Though, judging by their progress so far, it would be several days before that particular device came into play. “If I didn’t know any better,” the sardonic feline continued, “I’d have thought you two were sworn enemies.”
“Some days I wonder,” Lily muttered, though an upward twitch of her lips belied her words.
“Hey, what did he say?” Sebastian asked, sticking his head into the living room, a puzzled look on his face.
His puzzlement was expected, since Sir Kipling didn’t actually talk, not in English anyway. In one of Lily and Sebastian’s many adventures together, her then-normal feline had stuck his nose where it didn’t belong one too many times and ended up being blessed—or cursed, depending on which day you asked him—by an ancient and powerful being. It gave him human intelligence, but, unfortunately, Lily was the only one who could decipher his meows.
“He says we act like sworn enemies, not friends,” Lily summarized, holding up a pair of socks and trying to decide if they were salvageable.
Sebastian let out a barking laugh. “Ha! You should have seen us when we first met, Kip. Sparks flew as thick and fast as at a Fourth of July picnic.”
Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide a fond smile.
“Mmm, I can imagine,” Sir Kipling said, tail twitching. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
At Sebastian’s questioning look, Lily relayed her cat’s words, causing her friend’s face to light up with excitement. “It’s a fabulous story, let me tell you,” he began, casting about for somewhere to put down his brush and soap.
“Oh no you don’t!”
Lily gave him the stink eye, causing him to wilt. “I’ll tell the story. You get your butt over to the sink and start scrubbing.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“But—”
“One more complaint, and I’ll tell your great-aunt you still call her an old bat.”
Sebastian’s mouth snapped shut, and he drew himself up, attempting a dignified look. “You, madam, are the very definition of dastardly. I find myself with no recourse but to give in to your nefarious demands.”
“Uh-huh,” Lily said, unimpressed. “Now, less talking and more cleaning.”
With a dirty look over his shoulder, Sebastian returned to his task, though he kept an ear cocked to hear her story.
Lily, being more motivated than Sebastian to complete the task at hand, continued cleaning as she began her tale. “If I recall correctly, it was about a year and a half ago. I’d graduated from Agnes Scott the year before and was working as head librarian at McCain Library. At that point Madam Barrington was still the archivist, but she’d been training me to take over. We were continuing our magic lessons, of course—she was my mentor after all. I remember it was winter break, and most of the students had left for the holidays…
About a year and a half ago:
The freezing December wind bit into Lily’s exposed skin, making her shiver as she hurried toward the auction house door. Such discomfort was unusual in Atlanta, as the temperature rarely dropped below freezing and snow was a terrifying thing of myth and legend. Lily sighed in relief as she entered the warm refuge of the lobby. She’d broken out her only pair of gloves that morning and had even dug in the back of her closet for a hat and scarf. Cold weather was not her cup of tea.
Having braved the cold, Lily looked around for the front desk. She was there to retrieve a certain lot of items Madam Barrington had recently purchased in an estate auction. The deceased gentleman, from what Lily understood, had been an especially eccentric and reclusive wizard who had died suddenly with no close family. He’d been an acquaintance of her mentor, however, so Madam Barrington had acted promptly to ensure none of his small but respectable collection of spell books and artifacts found their way into mundane hands. The books were to be added to the Basement’s collection—that secret magical archive hidden beneath McCain Library, of which Madam Barrington was the caretaker. The rest of the items would be “well cared for,” as her mentor cryptically put it. Her mentor was often cryptic, not to mention vague, and even downright secretive. Over the five and a half years since Lily had begun studying magic, she’d learned that for every question Madam Barrington would answer, there were five she would not.
Finally spotting an employee rearranging a window display, Lily approached and was directed to the back of the building where the office manager greeted her.
“Ah, Miss Singer. We’ve been expecting you. Robert has your items in the back. If I could see your receipt, please?”
Lily dug in her purse and handed the piece of paper to the woman, who checked a few numbers on her computer and handed it back with a smile. “Thank you, Miss Singer. If you’ll wait here, I’ll have Robert bring it all out.”
The office manager disappeared through a door while Lily waited by the desk, looking around at the various antiques and collectables artfully arranged into every available space.
“Buy anything interesting?”
Lily nearly jumped out of her skin. The voice had come from directly behind, almost on top of her, yet she hadn’t heard a single whisper of cloth or tap of a shoe to warn of the person’s approach. She spun, suppressing her squeak of surprise.
The first thing she saw was a pair of chocolate-brown eyes, framed by dark curls of unruly hair and alight with amused mischief. The spark in the man’s eyes extended down to his round, boyish cheeks—currently lifted in an easy smile that showed not-so-pearly, nor perfectly straight, teeth. Far from detracting from his appearance, they added a delightful quirkiness to a face already gushing with charming personality. All of which prompted a self-conscious blush to rise in Lily’s cheeks as she stepped back, running into the desk behind her with a bump.
“I—excuse me. I didn’t—that is…” Lily babbled, looking down in embarrassment at her overreaction. Her gaze lit on the man’s lean chest, sheathed in a collared shirt, which, despite its rumpled state, still managed to give him an air of casual elegance. Noticing this, of course, made her blush even more furiously, and she looked to the side, desperately searching for a distraction.
“No, pardon me, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man apologized, his words as polite as could be. His tone, however, carried hints of laughter, which made Lily glance back up to give him a stern look, lips pursed in displeasure. Despite a shy and awkward personality, she had a stubborn streak as wide as an Atlanta interstate. She did not appreciate being mocked.
“Think nothing of it, sir,” Lily replied, drawing herself up in as dignified a manner as she could manage with cheeks still burning and back against a desk.
“If you insist, but it would be a shame. They say you should enjoy the little things in life.”
Lily stared at him, trying to puzzle out whether he’d just insulted her or not.
“But since you asked—and I make it a rule to humor beautiful women—I’ll let it pass this once,” he continued, flashing her a brilliant smile as he moved to the side and leaned against the desk in a languid, unconcerned fashion.
Thrown off by his brazen words, Lily’s mind worked furiously to come up with a sufficiently biting reply.
Her impromptu companion seemed to take her silence as an encouragement to keep talking. “So, get anything interesting at the auction? Most of it was exceedingly boring, of course, though that naughty pair of ivory statuettes from India caught my eye, if you know what I mean.” He winked conspiratorially at her.
“I most certainly do not,” Lily spluttered, her dislike for the man solidifying despite, or perhaps because of, his handsome charm. “I wasn’t even here for the auction. I’m just picking up some books and other items for my employer.”
“Books?” the man’s expression brightened. “Excellent choice. I love books. My house is one big library. Even the bed is made of bookshelves.”
“Is that so?” Lily attempted to remain polite but was not quite able to suppress her sarcasm. She knew a pickup line when she heard one, though this gentleman was a welcome change from the creeps she usually had to fend off. Not that she spent much time fending off men, of course. Mostly it was just the odd message on her online dating profile—her preferred arena, since it required no personal interactions.
“Absolutely,” the man enthused, oblivious to, or simply ignoring, her suppressive tone. “And—ah, speak of the devil, these must be them,” he said, straightening his lanky frame as he looked over Lily’s shoulder.
Lily turned to see an older man, probably Robert, approaching with a stack of three boxes. He deposited them on the desk, then had Lily sign a form acknowledging that she’d taken possession of the enclosed items. She thanked him and Robert turned a questioning eye on the young man who’d been bothering her.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Oh nothing, nothing at all. I was just looking around,” he said easily, his smile as innocent as a newborn babe.
“Of course, sir. Feel free to call one of us if you have questions about an item.”
“Thank you. I certainly will.”
“Ma’am,” Robert nodded to Lily, then turned and went about his business.
Testing the weight of the boxes, Lily decided to take the books first, by themselves, rather than risk dropping anything on her way out. They were heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn’t manage. Her oxford heels and calf-length pencil skirt didn’t make the task any easier, but one had to make sacrifices. Hefting the box, she turned toward the door but was blocked by the handsome, and increasingly annoying, gentleman.
“Let me carry that for you,” he said. “It’s the
least I can do after giving you such a fright.” His smile was simply warm this time, without any hint of mockery. Lily felt herself begin to thaw but then straightened her spine, stubbornly resisting the charm which oozed from every pore like a heady perfume.
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying it myself, thank you,” she said, attempting to sidestep him.
“Nonsense,” he protested, reaching out to grasp the box and attempting to lift it from her hands. But Lily was quite fed up with being importuned, and she pulled back. They struggled briefly, each seeking to gain possession of the box.
“Let go of my box!” she hissed, not wanting to attract any more attention.
“Be reasonable,” he said, easy smile never wavering, even as they struggled. “It’s slippery outside and you wouldn’t want to trip—oops!” With affected surprise, he executed a sort of stumbling twist, which threw them both off balance. Teetering backward, she let go of the box to catch herself and watched in horror as it fell to the floor with a smack, bursting its tape and spilling antique books out across the floor.
Only…they weren’t antique books. This odd fact slowly percolated through her outraged brain as she puffed herself up, preparing an angry tirade—the unfortunate byproduct of a seldom seen but no less fiery temper inherited from her mother.
“I am so sorry. I can’t believe my clumsiness, here let me…” the young man trailed off, having dived to the floor after the books and begun rummaging through them. He too picked up on the fact that something was distinctly amiss. Holding up a worn copy of a popular—but poorly written—vampire romance novel, he gave her a quizzical look. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall sparkling vampires being mentioned when this lot went up for bid.”
Hands on hips, Lily glared down at the pile of second-hand young adult novels, volumes of science fiction, fantasy, and romance scattered about the floor, her ire temporarily deflected by this new annoyance.
“What in the world is going on here?” she demanded of the room in general. Suspicion aroused, she moved to the desk and cut the tape holding the other two boxes. Reaching in, she pulled out a bubble-wrapped coffee cup from one and a pack of granola bars from the other.
“I do believe, madam, that you’ve been had,” the young man said, a look of consternation on his face.
Lily whirled on him. “This is your fault, I’m sure of it.”
“What? Don’t look at me. I haven’t touched these boxes. I only wanted to look—that is, I was only trying to be helpful, and—”
“I knew it! What did you do? Where are my things?”
Her increasingly loud cries had finally attracted attention, and several employees came at a run.
“What’s going on? Please, Miss Singer, lower your voice,” the office manager said, putting a calming hand on Lily’s arm.
Embarrassed, Lily shut her mouth. It was quite unlike her to get this agitated. She was usually calm and collected. But there was something about that young man which put her on edge. It was as if his very presence raised her blood pressure.
Being an introvert, she always found interpersonal interaction awkward and considered it easiest to hide behind the fortifying wall of professionalism. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was head librarian of McCain Library and there was work to be done.
Calmly, things were explained, items were examined, and alarmed looks were exchanged by the staff. Robert was sent to double-check the inventory, ensuring he hadn’t brought out the wrong boxes. Of course, the fact that the auction house had never sold a single young adult novel or coffee cup was a pretty clear indication the items had been swapped.
As they waited for Robert’s return, Lily felt a hand grasp her bicep and pull her toward a corner of the room. Glaring up at the young man’s face, she tried to ignore her quickening pulse.
“So, you know if they report this to the police you’ll never see your stuff again, right?” he muttered, keeping an eye on the rest of the room. His carefree charm had evaporated, replaced by a much more businesslike demeanor, though it did little to dampen the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Yeah, and you know why that is?” she demanded, wresting her arm from his grip and poking him hard in the chest. “Because this is your doing! I’m sure of it. Why else would you be hanging around, eager to get your hands on my box of books? Go on, confess.” Arms crossed, she glared at him.
Placing a hand on his chest, he gave her an indignant look that, once again, didn’t quite hide the twinkle in his eye. “Me? Steal? You wound me with your baseless accusations.”
Lily snorted, the unladylike noise gaining her a raised eyebrow from her companion.
“If you were as smart as you are beautiful,” he drawled, “you’d realize that, had I taken the books, I’d have no reason to bandy about here, attempting to steal your box of terrible teen fiction. I only wanted to look at them, nothing more.”
There it was again, that infuriating insult wrapped up in a compliment. But this time she refused to take the bait. “And if you were as honest as you are impertinent, you’d have asked politely to see them instead of trying to trick me. I don’t buy it. What are you up to?”
Instead of replying, the man glanced over at the gathered auction house employees as they whispered among themselves. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be evaluating them. Finally, he turned back to her. “I’ll make you a deal. You ask the auction house to give you a day before reporting this to the police, and I’ll help you find your things. And explain what I’m up to,” he added in response to her stubborn glare.
Lily shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “Not happening. I’m not working with you. You’re impolite and reckless. If that had been my box of books, you could have damaged some extremely valuable antiques. You’re going to tell me everything you know, right now, and then you’re going to leave and never bother me again.”
Sighing, the man drew closer, speaking in a voice so low Lily had to lean in to hear him. “Look, without my help, you’re never going to see that stuff again. It’s…special, right? Not something you’d want…normal people messing with? Well I’m guessing someone else knew it was ‘special,’ too, and used their ‘special’ powers to make it disappear. Being a rather special person myself”—he chuckled at his own joke—“I can help you find them.”
Narrowing her eyes, Lily considered his words, trying hard not to let her face show the surprise she felt. If she was not mistaken, this man was implying that he was a wizard. But he couldn’t be. Wizards could recognize each other. The telltales were faint, but any wizard could sense magic nearby if they were looking for it, and it took serious cloaking spells to hide that sort of aura. She hadn’t gotten a single whiff of magic off this man. And yet, there was something about him, something…different. It was a bit of a leap, but she decided to play along. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Madam Barrington how her artifacts had mysteriously disappeared. Looking for them herself seemed like a much better plan than reporting things to the police and going home empty-handed.
“Fine. But this isn’t a partnership. We’re doing this my way and you will do what I say,” she said, emphasizing the “I” with a forceful poke to his sternum. “And every word out of your mouth had better be the truth, or so help me I’ll find something very ‘special’ to do to you. Got it?” Another poke.
“Alright, alright. Jeez, lay off with the finger, will you?” the man complained, looking askance at her as he rubbed his chest. “How do you plan to convince them to let us investigate?”
“I don’t know,” Lily said, frowning. “Just ask, I suppose.”
Now it was the man’s turn to snort. “Good luck with that. No, we’ll tell them I’m a PI, and you’re retaining my services to investigate the issue and bring about a quiet resolution. Minimal fuss. No public record. They’ll jump at that.”
Lily’s eyebrow shot up. “And are you a private investigator?”
“Of a sort,” he said, a smug gri
n pulling at his lips.
“I see.” She was about to follow that with “no lying,” but then realized that, as “special” people, it was their job to lie to mundanes to keep them in happy ignorance, for their own protection as much as for wizards. “I suppose it can’t hurt. But what makes you think they’ll believe you?”
“Because I’m a professional,” he said, winking and tipping an imaginary hat. “Sebastian Blackwell, at your service.” Before she could comment, or even return the introduction, Robert emerged from the back room and all attention focused on him.
The older man, a nervous, haggard look on his face, confirmed that the items were indeed missing and not simply mislaid. At this point Sebastian jumped in, charm turned up to full blast. It took convincing, specifically some offhand comments about newspaper headlines and the fragility of professional reputations, but he was able to get the office manager to agree to their request as well as allow them to question the employees and inspect the storage space.
While Sebastian’s suave, unconcerned manner grated on her nerves—and she was still trying to keep her pulse from picking up every time he turned those handsome, chocolate-brown eyes on her—by the time the conversation was over, Lily had to give him some grudging respect. The man knew how to talk, there was no doubt about it. She suspected he regularly talked his way into, and out of, all sorts of mischief with that silver tongue of his. It was a skill she’d never seemed to grasp, and to this day she dreaded conversation unless it was about books or work.
She didn’t like Sebastian. They would never be friends, and she looked forward to the day when she would be free of his smug, self-satisfied voice. But at least he seemed competent enough that they might, just maybe, find the stolen artifacts.