It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery (2 page)

Unfortunately, some of the laws were a little fuzzy. Like the law about wishing for money—­granting that wish meant the money would have to be
taken
from someone else. To follow the Crafters’ basic principle of “Do no harm,” the Wishcrafter Laws also required that only wishes made with motives pure of heart would be granted. How that was actually determined was still a mystery to me.

Cherise pressed. “How do you enjoy working for As You Wish?”

The Goodwins were Curecrafters, healing witches, and were apparently quite nosy to boot. “It’s going well,” I said. “So far this week I’ve tracked down sold-­out tickets to tonight’s Boston Pops performance, created a gift basket for a basset hound recovering from surgery, searched online for an out-­of-­print romance novel, and now this.” I gestured to my costume. I didn’t mention anything about the Wishcrafting, and how I’d been able to use a spell to help a client get last-­minute tickets on a sold-­out flight to Paris so he could surprise his girlfriend with a weekend getaway.

As You Wish was both popular and highly successful. Most of the requests received were accomplished through hard work and sheer determination. However, sometimes… sometimes magic was needed to get the job done right. Often, because of the name of the shop, people simply made wishes—­which made our job a whole lot easier. Other times, seeking the help of other Crafters and
their
unique abilities gave us an edge.

But mortals, who were the majority of our clients, didn’t know about the magic. And though the average customer wouldn’t be surprised about something mystical happening in a place called the Enchanted Village, disclosing our family powers wasn’t a risk Aunt Ve was willing to take, especially after having an ancestor nearly burned at the stake.

“Well, you make a lovely tooth fairy,” Amanda said as a grandfather clock donged at the far end of the hallway.

It was nine. I had to hurry this along—­or I’d be late for the emergency village meeting that was due to start at nine thirty. Ve had insisted Harper and I attend. Our aunt was still introducing us around the village and was eager for us to get acclimated. She wanted nothing more than for us to put down solid roots among the other Crafters. Well, that and take over As You Wish when she retired.

“Do you mind if I tape this?” Cherise asked, holding up a small video camera. “For my son? He couldn’t be here tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We don’t allow videotaping of our services.” For good reason. Wishcrafters emitted a blinding glow, a white aura, on camera. Which explained, after all these years, why there weren’t any baby pictures of Harper and me, and why every picture we were in was always “overexposed.”

I was surprised Cherise had asked. Didn’t she know about the auras? I made a mental note to ask Ve how much Crafters knew about one another and their limitations. How secretive were Crafters with one another?

Cameras were definitely out. Not that I would even recognize myself right now, with all the costume makeup and glitter I was wearing. It took a lot of effort, and some amazing false eyelashes, to look fairylike.

“Dennis was welcome to be here tonight, Cherise.” Amanda’s cheeks flushed. “He declined. It’s his loss.”

“He’s stubborn,” Cherise said. “You know this.”

I tried to blend into the woodwork—­rather hard to do when one looked a lot like a giant glittery stick of pink cotton candy. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in the middle of a family dispute. Been there, done that.

Amanda must have sensed my unease. She said, “I’m sorry. My husband and I recently separated. I’m sure
you don’t need all the gory details. Suffice it to say that
he’s
the one who moved out.”

My heart ached for her. I was much better off without my ex, but it had taken me two years to realize that.

Cherise’s eyebrow rose. “He’s
very
stubborn.”

Amanda flashed her an irritated look. “Besides, if you recall, it’s his fault we had to contact As You Wish in the first place.”

As You Wish had received a frantic call from Cherise this morning, needing to hire someone to play the tooth fairy. Amanda’s daughter, five-­year-­old Laurel Grace, had lost her first tooth, and had been excited for the tooth fairy to come—­until her father told her there was no such thing.

Aunt Ve, who had taken the call, had somehow deemed that this was the perfect job for me to take on. I had my doubts. Especially when I saw the gossamer wings and the pink tights. Not to mention the dreadful tulle.

Cherise looked pained. She explained, “He wasn’t thinking. Once he realized what he’d said, he tried to convince Laurel Grace he’d been kidding, but the damage had been done.”

“Not the first time,” Amanda murmured.

“I just wish…,” Cherise began.

I sucked in a breath, waiting. My every nerve was on alert, standing on end, prickling, getting ready to react. Adrenaline surged, flowed.

“I just wish…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding.

Wringing her hands, Amanda said, “Five-­year-­olds shouldn’t have to grow up so soon. Darcy, we need you to convince her that sometimes grown-­ups can be wrong. The last thing we want her thinking is that magic doesn’t exist, especially when she doesn’t know about her Craft yet.”

“I’ll certainly do my best,” I said. “Shall we give it a try?”

Aunt Ve had gone over exactly what I should do. I ran over the instructions in my head as I slowly turned the doorknob to Laurel Grace’s bedroom. I held my breath and entered.

Moonbeams slipped through striped curtains, spreading muted light across the room. The walls were painted pastel pink and trimmed in creamy white. Touches of pale green were everywhere from the curtains to the overstuffed chair in the corner, to the duvet on the bed. Stuffed animals overflowed a toy chest, books were piled high on a corner bookshelf, and a dollhouse sat on a tiny table in the middle of the room, filled with delicate-­looking miniatures.

I turned my attention to the four-­poster bed. Tucked under a lightweight comforter, Laurel Grace slept on her side. I crept closer. Blond ringlets fell across a lace-­trimmed pillowcase. Her little face, slack with sleep, was angelic and peaceful.

I was aware of Amanda and Cherise lurking in the doorway as I carefully slid my hand under Laurel Grace’s pillow. I pulled out the little ribbon-­edged, tooth-­shaped pillow that had been delivered by courier earlier in the day for Laurel Grace to tuck her tooth into. I felt the lump of the tiny tooth under the fabric as I brought the keepsake over to Amanda and handed it to her.

I then walked back over to the bed, opened my purse, and pulled out a small satin pouch trimmed in white ostrich feathers. Laurel Grace’s name had been embroidered in pink on the bag. Inside, two one-­dollar gold pieces clinked together. I gently slid the pouch under the pillow.

I smiled in the twilight, thinking about how expensive that little tooth had been. Two dollars from the tooth fairy, fifty dollars for accessories, and one hundred dollars for a half hour of my time.

I bent my head close to Laurel Grace’s and whispered the words Aunt Ve had me memorize.

Laurel Grace’s eyelids squeezed into a wince—­I couldn’t blame her—­it was a horrible, horrible rhyme—­then popped open.

Filled with a warmth that came from being part of such a special moment, I suddenly had visions of being the area’s go-­to tooth fairy, spreading love and happiness and gold coins across the state—­heck, across all of New England. Even the tulle didn’t seem so uncomfortable anymore.

Laurel Grace stared at me for a second, probably taking in the tiara, the eyelashes, the wings, the makeup and glitter. I kept quiet, giving her a moment for it all to sink in.

Abruptly, she sat upright, looked me straight in the eyes, and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Long, shrieking cries that hurt my ears. “Stranger danger! Stran-­ger dan-­ger!”

Startled, I screamed back.

Amanda rushed into the room, saying, “Shhh, shhh.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or her daughter.

Clamping my lips closed, I backed away as Amanda sat on the bed and gathered Laurel Grace close. “Shhh.”

“Stranger danger! Stran-­ger dan-­ger!” Laurel Grace continued to howl.

“No, no,” I said, gathering my wits. “I’m not a stranger! I’m the tooth fairy.” Heaven help me, I even twirled. My skirt billowed out, raining sparkles on the carpet.

“No, you’re not.” Tears flowed from Laurel Grace’s eyes.

Ve had not prepared me for
this
scenario.

“Yes, I am,” I reassured, fluffing layers of tulle as though that would help my cause.

“She really is.” Cherise sat on the other side of the bed, rubbing Laurel Grace’s back.

“No, she’s not,” Laurel Grace insisted.

“Why isn’t she?” Amanda asked her daughter.

“She’s—­she’s…” I was waiting for the words “a fraud” to fall from her lips, and was shocked when she said, “She’s not blond!”

I held back a smile as I fingered my long dark hair, trying to think of what to do, what to say. I knelt by Laurel Grace’s bed and improvised as best I could. “Fairies are just like people.”
And Crafters,
I added silently. “We come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors.”

She gazed at me with big blue eyes as though I wasn’t even close to measuring up to her idea of a fairy. It was true I more resembled Esméralda from Disney’s
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
, which might be a tad bit confusing to a five-­year-­old looking for the Tinkerbell sort, so I tried really hard not to be offended when she started wailing again.

I saw Cherise’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what she was saying, and then her left eye blinked twice. Laurel Grace immediately quieted but still wore a tremulous pout.

Cherise had used a curing spell to calm the little girl.

Amanda quickly said, “Why don’t you look under your pillow, honey?”

I recognized a chance to escape when I saw one. “I should be going. Lots of stops to make tonight. Lots of teeth lost!” I backed out of the room as Laurel Grace pulled the satin pouch from beneath the pillow.

“How did she know my name, Mommy?” I heard from the safety of the hallway.

“Because she’s magical,” Amanda answered. “Do you believe now?”

“Maybe,” Laurel Grace whispered.

I had to smile at her noncommitment.

Cherise had followed me out. “Thank you, Darcy,” she said as we walked down the stairs. In the kitchen, she pressed a check into my hand. “I’ll let Velma know what a great job you did.”

I was ready to put this whole night behind me—­and hang up my wings for good. I tucked the check into my purse. “You’re welcome.”

Cherise rubbed her ears as if they were still ringing. “She’s tiny, but she has a pair of lungs that can rival an opera singer. Sometimes spells come in handy, don’t you think?”

I fidgeted, not sure what to say.

Before I could come up with a response, she added, “I just wish Dennis could be here right now. He’s really missing out on an important event in his daughter’s life.”

She stared expectantly at me.

She had me. As a Wishcrafter, I was obligated to grant the wish. However, if Cherise wasn’t pure of heart in her motives for making the wish, my spell wouldn’t work no matter how hard I tried to grant it.
Do no harm
.

My nerves tingled as I said softly, “Wish I might, wish I may, grant this wish without delay.” I winked my left eye twice, which would look merely like a twitch to a mortal, but other Crafters would know my spell had been cast. “You’re sneaky.”

“I know. Sorry about that.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “You just can’t trust anyone these days.”

T
en minutes later, my cell phone, tucked into the car’s cup holder, bayed like a bloodhound. The loud
arr-­oooo
told me the caller was my sister, Harper, the tone chosen because of Harper’s tendency to be all bark and no bite (most of the time). I answered.

“Where are you?” she asked in a tense whisper. “It’s like I’ve been fed to the wolves. Questions are coming at me left and right.”

Harper was being a bit melodramatic, especially since
she
was more of a wolf in sheep’s clothing than anyone.

I said, “I’m in the car. I was waylaid by a wish.”

“Did the wish come true?”

She was still skeptical about our talent and hadn’t cast any spells since arriving in the village.

“It did.”

A (justly) confused Dennis Goodwin had stormed into Amanda’s house as I was on my way out. He took one look at me and started grumbling. Obviously, he hadn’t been impressed with my glitter or my eyelashes, either. Like daughter, like father. He especially wasn’t pleased to learn he’d been
wished
there.

I gave Harper the shorthand version of my night, and ignored her laughter at Laurel Grace’s “stranger danger” reaction. “I’m almost to the village. Where are you
now?” I’d expected to hear noise from the village meeting in the background, but there was only silence.

“I ducked into the back alley. I’m surprised someone hasn’t followed me out. Vultures.”

“I thought they were wolves?”

“Close enough. I’m still being picked apart, torn limb from limb.”

I wasn’t worried in the least about her being alone in a dark alley. Sure, she was tiny, but she was mighty and quite a fighter. Always had been, ever since she was born prematurely, twenty-­three years ago. My chest tightened as it always did when I thought about Harper’s birth. And how it had also been the day of our mother’s death.

Besides, the Enchanted Village was about as scary as a baby duckling. Nothing bad ever happened here. That alleyway was as safe as safe could be.

“I’m still not sure this village is right for us. I sense some seriously bad juju at this meeting.”