Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock (6 page)

“So what’s the warehouse theft job?” Maizie asked as Renoir stepped behind the counter.

“Somebody’s been breaking into warehouses and stealing expensive imported goods. I’m surprised no-one’s hit any of my father’s warehouses yet.   I’m supposed to scout for any foreign plant matter on the scenes of the crimes.”

“Huh. That sounds stupid.  I think he just hired you as an excuse so he can get close to you and violate your hot body.”

“Than why didn’t he make a move on me when he was alone in my apartment with me?”

“You got me there. He’s just a big dumb cop, who can figure out what goes through their thick skulls.”

The morning passed in a blur.   The store was so busy that they had to call Rosalind to bring them lunch from next door, which they gobbled behind the counter in between serving customers.   

At mid day, as Fiona browsed the counters, she felt an odd warning prickle at the back of her neck.

She turned and saw Maegera Windsong, a tall, slim witch with hair the color of a sun-kissed wheat field, accompanied by her mother, several friends, and an unhappy looking human who Fiona recalled was her personal assistant.  Bonnie.  Bonnie was in her twenties but still skinny like an adolescent who had never grown into her body, all knees and elbows. She had straight walnut-brown hair and big owl eyes behind round glasses.

Maegera’s friends wandered around the store, holding up Fiona’s wares and examining them with mingled fascination and disdain. Fiona felt her hackles rising as they giggled and whispered to each other; it was like being in middle school all over again.

She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned, exasperated, to see one of Maegera’s friends standing by the counter with a pout on her small, pretty face.  Celeste something or other.  “She says love spells are illegal,” Celeste complained to Fiona, with a glower in Maizie’s direction. “But you’ve got something under the counter, if I pay a little extra, right?”

“Love spells are extremely illegal. I could lose my license. I could go to prison,” Fiona said. “Any spell that compels another person to act against their will is illegal.”

“But you sell all these beauty charms,” Celeste protested.

“That’s different. They can temporarily enhance a person’s beauty, make them appear prettier than they are, make someone’s hair shinier and thicker, make bad skin clear up overnight, make thin lips plump and full.   But that’s something you’re doing to yourself. You’re not messing with another person’s mind.”

Celeste pouted harder. “I need to make sure that Gerard proposes to me.  What’s wrong with a little magical incentive?”

“Prison.  That’s what’s wrong with it,” Fiona said firmly.

“What about illusion spell?”

“I get that from a distributor, because it only grows in the south, and somebody bought up all of it this year. You can’t find any of it anywhere in the city.”

“Luckily, I don’t need illusions or a love spell to get Erik to propose to me. It’s already in the bag,” Maegera said loudly, with a significant glance at Fiona.

“Well, of course it is, dear.  He all but proposed to you before he left for the Troll Wars. And all those love letters he sent to you!   Now that he’s fulfilled his term of service, his patience will be rewarded,” Maegera’s mother Bitsy said, smiling broadly.

Bitsy turned to Fiona. “Do be a lamb and fetch your best concoction to make Maegera smell like roses, won’t you? Erik simply loves the smell of roses.”

Fiona felt as if all the blood had drained from her body.  As if in a trance, she moved to the back of the store. Did Erik love the smell of roses? She couldn’t remember now.

Maizie followed her back there, scowling. She grabbed a little metal scoop and shoveled several rose scented capsules into a tiny bag. “I’ll give it to her,” she said. “And don’t believe what she just said. Something stinks here.   Have you ever even heard Erik mention her?”

“No,” Fiona managed. “Not that he necessarily would mention his intended. To me.  You know, last night he asked me if I was going to the Crystal Ball. Made a big deal of it.   Would he ask me that if he was going to propose to someone else? I just – I don’t know. She’d be perfect for him. Her family’s very politically connected, her looks fit the part –“

“Listen, Erik’s an uptight cop with a stick up his ass, but he’s not cruel. Or clueless. He wouldn’t ask you to watch him propose to someone else.”

“Unless he has no idea how I feel about him,” Fiona said miserably. “Unless he was just asking as a friend.”

“Sweetheart, everybody knows how you feel about Erik Bloodstone.” Maizie rolled her eyes and rushed off to deliver the rose capsules.

“So, you’re marrying Erik Bloodstone! That deserves a congratulations!” Maizie said loudly as she handed the bag to Maegera’s mother. “I’m seeing him this afternoon. I’ll be sure to congratulate him on your good fortune!”

“Oh, no... the proposal is meant to be a surprise,” Maegera’s mother said hastily. “Erik’s been planning it for ages. His mother told me. It would simply ruin everything if he knew that word was getting out.”

“And those love letters!” Maizie continued as if she hadn’t heard. “I never figured Erik for a love letter kind of guy. I can’t wait to rib him about that!”

“Those love letters were very private,” Maegera’s mother said angrily.

“So private that you mentioned them loudly in  the middle of a crowded shop?” Maizie pretended to look puzzled.

Maegera’s mother fixed her with an ice cold stare, grabbed the bag of rose capsules, and slammed down a handful of coins. Without another word, she stalked out of the store. Maegera turned to her assistant,  Bonnie, who was reading a William Shakespeare book that she’d plucked from her frayed cloth purse.

Maegera pinched Bonnie’s arm viciously, and Bonnie cried out in pain.  “Pay attention!” Maegera said waspishly, and rushed off to follow her mother, with Bonnie and her friends trailing in her wake. “Pay attention to what?” Bonnie wailed, rubbing her arm.

“Erik is not going to marry that. No way.” Maizie shook her head.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone married for politics rather than love,” Fiona said unhappily. “Maybe he’s turned on by mean bitches.” Which unfortunately meant that he’d never be excited by her. She just didn’t have it in her.

Head whirling, Fiona ducked into the back room to do some compounding.   As she whipped up batches of various salves and scooped them into tiny ceramic pots,  she struggled to banish thoughts of Erik from her head.

Why was she even giving this a second thought when her crush on Erik was clearly hopeless?  

Because she wanted him so much. Because there was this little whisper of hope, so low that she could barely hear it, telling her that he really did have feelings for her. 

It was mid afternoon when Erik stopped by to pick her up. He wore his usual work clothing, jeans which perfectly accentuated the muscles of his thighs and his perfect round butt, a t-shirt which clung to the curved muscles of his biceps, with his wand at the ready in its sheath on his upper arm.

The sight of him standing in her doorway, which his thick, golden hair flowing like a river of honey, took her breath away, and she felt every beat of her heart in the cage of her ribs.

She’d worn an outfit that was flattering to her full figure, a peasant shirt with a low scooped neckline embroidered with flowers, and a red dirndl skirt that flowed over her generous hips. Not for any particular reason, of course, except that since she was temporarily working for the Twin River City Enforcement department, she wanted to present as personable an appearance as possible.

Right.

He leaned in for a kiss on her cheek, which she tried to assure herself lasted longer than it needed to.  She breathed in his masculine scent and the light woodsy tones of his cologne. Had he put that on just for her?  Behind his back, Renoir and Maizie both gave her the thumbs up. 

“Well, look who’s back,” Maizie said when Erik turned to greet them. “No, I haven’t been behaving myself, I’ll save you the trouble of asking.”

Erik smiled. “I was pleased to hear that you’d joined the Bodyguard’s Guild. At least you found a socially acceptable outlet for your temper.”

“Temper? What temper?” she smiled innocently. “Do take care of Fiona now, or I’ll barbecue your precious hair.”

“Ahhh, that’s the old Maizie that I know and barely tolerate. I will indeed guard Fiona with my life. So you work for Fiona?   You’re a bodyguard and...a store clerk?”

Maizie flashed a feral grin. “It’s a questionable neighborhood.  During the busy season, I just hang around and make sure that robbers know to give the store a wide berth if they don’t want to be fricasseed.”

 “Good to know. All right, Fiona, we’d better get going.  If you can’t behave,  Maizie,  at least try not to get arrested on my shift. See you all later.”

And he and Fiona headed out to his car.

She thought about mentioning Maegera’s visit, but bit her lip and refrained. Mostly, she had to admit to herself, it was out of fear. Fear of what he’d say. 

If he said something like “Oh, good, you’ve met my fiancee then!” she might actually burst into tears.

Erik was in a cheerful mood as they headed south.  In the daytime, the crumbling buildings looked harmless, with none of the palpable sense of menace that cloaked them after dark. Still, Fiona held her purse close, remembering the other night.

They chatted about work, about the troll wars, about the ridiculous requests of the women flocking to Fiona’s store…and before she knew it, all too quickly, they were at the warehouse. Time always flew when she was with Erik.

The Jimson & Sons warehouse held artwork and antiques imported from around the world, some of them quite valuable.  The business was located in a nondescript building of dull grey concrete, near the waterfront. There were multiple bays in the back of the building where trucks came to pick up cargo.

Erik grabbed an evidence bag from his back seat and then opened the door for Fiona to climb out.   “At night the doors are all shut, and there are protection wards on each door, and videocameras pointing at the doors. The crew pulled up in a stolen truck, all wearing masks and hats and overcoats.  So we have no idea what they look like. They have a magician with them who overcame the protection wards. The alarms were set off, but they moved fast.”

“No night watchman?”

“There are only two of them, who patrol the whole premises, but they claimed to be on other sides of the warehouse when the robberies occurred. It may be an inside job, but so far we haven’t uncovered any proof of that.”

She and Erik walked towards the back of the building.   “We’re starting at this scene first because it’s the freshest. We’ll visit the other scenes later.  They still did some clean-up here, repaired the damaged door, but at least any current plant matter may not have been tracked away.”

As they strolled up to the back door Erik asked, casually, “So, are you ordering a special gown for the Crystal Ball?”

“Since I am working, and there’s no chance on earth I’ll be claimed, I didn’t bother whipping up anything special.” Fiona let out a rueful laugh. “That probably came out more bitter than I intended. The truth is, there are those who are meant for marriage, and I’m not one of them. It’s fine. I know what I’m good at; I stick to that.”

Erik stopped dead, and looked down at her.

“Fiona, why are you always so hard on yourself?”

“Is it being hard on myself, or is it simply being realistic?”

“I know your mother is dreadful, and that’s being kind about it, but that’s just one person.”

“No, it’s not just one person. I’ve had it pointed out to me since I was a little girl. I’m fat. I don’t look like the other witches.   Most witches are either born thin or they will suffer agonies for the better part of  every day to maintain the body that everyone expects them to have. I’m not one of them.”

“That makes you strong and courageous. And smart.  It’s not easy to defy popular opinion.”

She shrugged. “It may make me all of those. It also makes me single forever.”

“I told you before, and I will tell you again.” Erik cupped the side of her face with his hand, and she felt that shameful heat sear through her again. “I’ve always found you beautiful.”   His gaze locked on hers as they stood in the doorway of the warehouse, in the long dark shadows.  And he bent down as if to claim her lips with a kiss…

And a shout came from inside the warehouse.

“Hey, warlock, where are you? You want to come look at the scene, or what?”

A look of frustration and regret flashed across Erik’s face.  Reluctantly, he stepped away from Fiona.  The foreman, a human, appeared in the doorway, and they followed him inside, past aisles of boxes.

Now Fiona didn’t know what to think.  He’d actually meant to kiss her! She was sure of it! Could this still be a pity kiss? Was he trying to make the homely girl feel good about herself? That didn’t seem like Erik. Did he know what effect he had on her?

The foreman pointed at one row of boxes where splintered wood still lay on the floor, and the top several boxes from a stack were missing.

Fiona knelt down. She pulled her wand from her purse; although she had natural power without it, like all witches, it helped her channel her power and greatly amplified it.

She examined some clumps of dirt that were clustered on the floor by the row that they were xamining. 

“I’m going to make all the plant matter in those dirt clumps grow large enough that I can examine it visually and, if necessary, take some of it back to my shop to identify it.  However, keep this in mind; whatever I find, it could have been tracked in by anyone.”

“That’s true, but it will give us a place to start. And if we visit several of the victimized warehouses that are owned by different people and employing different workers, and find the same plant matter at each site, then odds are pretty good that the plant matter came from the criminals.”

“True enough.”

She knelt down and pointed her wand, closed her eyes, and focused her mind. All thoughts of Erik and the warehouse fell away from her, and she pictured the green magic of the earth flowing through her,  coursing through her veins and then flowing from the wand.   She imagined flowers growing, cells frantically multiplying, splitting, multiplying again, leaves unfurling, blooms exploding open…