Mystic Brews Collection 2: Mystic Brews Collections, #2

By Alyn Troy

Continuing the exciting, action packed witchy cozy mystery series with books 4-6 in the series.

A ghostly hound stalks the moors, Pierre's day in the spotlight fizzles, and a vacation in Italy goes off the rails!

 

Ghostly Hounds: April and her friends are called to a spooky mansion in the Dark Mire. A centuries-old murder has been simmering, waiting for someone to take the lid off the truth. A fortune is at stake, but forces neither April nor Punkin want to face are haunting the mire, looking for another victim.

 

French Press: French media visit Misty Valley for a puff piece on Pierre. Or so he believes. The press is really there to view the plans for development in Misty Valley for the upcoming Grand Prix. But Pierre's hope of fame and glory cools rapidly when he flips the press to reveal a murder.

 

Italian Roast: A family holiday isn't all that's brewing for April and her friends in the quiet seaside Italian resort.

April's human father is getting married, and the new in-laws are as mundane as possible. Amidst the wedding bells, a missing broach pulls April and her friends deep into a murder from the past.

 

This collection includes books 4 to 6 from the Mystic Brews cozy mystery series.

Coffee Grounds and Ghostly Hounds

A French Press of Murder

Italian Roast and Wedding Ghosts

 

If you like sassy heroines, quirky characters, and a side of spells with your cuppa joe, then you'll love Alyn Troy's otherworldly adventure. Buy Mystic Brews Collection 2 and explore the whodunnit fun today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mystic Brews Mysteries
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215281673

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

F reeze, scum!

I had the spell runes fixed firmly in my mind. Energy hummed within me making my arm tingle. My wand spit an emerald bolt at the male figure jogging away from me. The impact of magic on him sent sparks dancing along his back, down his arms, and around his torso. But he kept moving.

Jason pulled to a stop, turned around, and shook his head. Static energy crackled through his long hair.

Still too weak. And do you have to call me names each time?

Frustrated, I turned my head and stared out at the countryside below, trying to centre my thoughts. The ridge we were on was more of a gentle rise to a mostly flat area surrounded by trees and underbrush. A few paths led up here from various directions. I stood at the tallest point, a cliff face fifty feet down to a rocky floor. Rolling meadowland surrounded the ridge. Meadowland where sheep occasionally grazed under the watchful eye of Alun Jones’s farmhand, Jason Harper, who was now up here as the target for my spells.

I doubt you’ll see old Trimbolt’s treasure from up here, said Io, my mentor and uncle.

What’s a Trimbolt treasure? I wasn’t sure if I wanted the distraction, but the freeze spell wasn’t working well.

It’s an old wives’ tale.

Jason chuckled. Old man Trimbolt supposedly hid a treasure in the mire’s muck. Or that’s what Alun and his wife tell me. They warned me off of it. Said best to leave it there and not wake any evil that’s guarding it.

Why do treasures always come with something evil or deadly? I shook my head but kept staring at the section they called the mire. Low growth, a few stands of trees. Splashes of colour. From this distance of a league or so away, it looked pretty and serene.

I don’t want to get stuck in the mud or eaten by one of the nasties out there, so Hurricane and I stay on this side of the swamp.

Hurricane, his boxer, watched Jason, then dropped the front of his body, hindquarters raised.

Not now, buddy, Jason said and rubbed the dog’s head. Play time in a while.

Did you have to get the one with a dog to be your victim today? Punkin, my mocha-coloured tabby cat and snarky-talking familiar, complained yet again.

Gemma Yardley volunteered Dewi. She said we could use Yardley Manor, I called over my shoulder. Punkin sat on a warm rock in the sunlight. It was one of the few sunny days we’d had in Wales this fall.

Gemma would have that annoying fluff ball with her, Punkin groaned. He shivered, then stretched and shook himself. Whatever did I do to get cursed with that pompous Parisian of a pooch?

Io laughed. You honked in his carrier. Vivian Bentwhistle was very bent out of shape about the ordeal.

Nice pun, Jason said. Bentwhistle, bent…

Io grinned, then pointed to the clearing. Let us try again. Punkin can let a little more of your magic through.

I changed nothing from last time, the fuzzbutt grumped. It’s all her.

How long have you been a familiar? Io crossed his arms and stared at Punkin.

First time. He innocently licked a paw, then wiped his face with it. We stared at him, waiting. What? I’m a pwca, not a cat. Pwcas are not familiars… normally…

Just help Ebrel control her spell energy, Io said.

Jason glanced at me, bending forward as though he were about to run a race. Ready?

You won’t get away this time, miscreant, I growled in my best imitation of a cartoon superhero. I whipped my wand up and dropped into a stance like I was holding a sword. Neirin and Elain often duelled with blunt swords in their weapons hall. I tried to imitate Neirin’s stance.

Go ahead, Io said.

Jason jogged away. I pushed spell energy into my wand and formed the image of the spell in my mind.

She’s got the spell correct, Punkin said. Energy level is appropriate.

I followed Jason with my wand. Freeze.

This time I only muttered the phrase. I wanted to concentrate on the spell.

My wand spat, and the energy bolt flew out. I hiccuped. Just a small one. But it was enough. My energy bolt veered off target, into a tree off to the side. A second later, a small shape thudded to the ground.

What was that? Jason asked.

Sorry, I hiccuped.

That’s not a good idea, Io added.

I didn’t do it on purpose

Io pointed toward the tree. Let’s see what you hit.

A squirrel, Jason reached into the scrub under the tree and pulled out a fluffy-tailed reddish-furred tree rodent, frozen stiff.

Punkin chortled. Ebrel Dymestl, scourge of swanky tree rats.

Hush, you, or no espresso tonight.

Do you remember how to unwind the spell? Io asked.

Jason set the frozen squirrel on the ground in front of me.

I think so.

Do you still have to hiccup?

Not now, I said. My chest felt normal. I don’t normally get the hiccups.

Io raised an eyebrow and stared at me for a moment. Could be the wibbly wobblies. If you start hiccups, we’ll have to stop your lessons for a while.

What’s the wibbly wobblies?

Jason shook his head, also staring at me. Witch hormones. All young fae get them to some degree or another. Usually fades in a few months.

Months? So you mean this is like puberty with acne and such?

Io chuckled. Well, not that bad. The wobblies are a side effect of coming into your magical majority. However, puberty is an apt metaphor.

What happens with these wobblies?

Surges and spikes in your power, Io gave me a thin smile. Probably nothing to worry about. Still, we best be careful.

How can I be careful?

If you feel another hiccup coming on, abort the spell. Io suggested. Takes a bit of practise. Normally I would not teach the freeze spell this early in your training, but Elain and Rhodri insisted. You’re actually fortunate that Rhosyn taught it to me. Otherwise you’d be under the distracted eye of the lieutenant colonel himself.

I still giggled at how the British pronounced his title as lef-tenant instead of the American lew-tenant.

How do I abort a spell I’m casting?

I usually change the mental image of the runes to a flower, Io said. Don’t redraw a new glyph. Just flip to a flower.

How about a cup of coffee? I could easily envision a cup of espresso. I don’t think of flowers often.

Io nodded. Whatever works. practise a few times. Draw the glyph in your mind for the freeze spell, then drop it for the coffee.

I closed my eyes and did that. The fancy magical glyph formed inside a circle, all in glowing green energy. Once I had it outlined—it didn’t have any magic in it—I pushed it away and thought of the espresso I had made myself that morning.

I nodded, then tried again. Form the glyph. Replace it with coffee.

Got it, I said after a few more tries.

How can you get it that fast? Jason shook his head. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You make how many million cups a day? All of that latte art you do with the cream. Which one do you go for?

Funny guy… With Elain and Neirin out on a secret mission, I don’t have to make one for her. So I start the day with my most important cup. The one cup of espresso that means the most: my cup.

You could make your familiar one…

Shush, Fuzzbutt. I gave him a grumpy look. You don’t need coffee that early in the morning. I know you lick the cups when Nia and Mia clear the tables. You’d get drunk off those if I started you with a cup.

Do you feel up to fixing the squirrel? Io directed me to get back on track.

Poor little fellow. I bent down, wand at the ready.

Draw the counter glyph in your mind, Io instructed. He’s small, so you won’t need much energy to unlock him.

I sent the jot of magic down my wand. No hiccup this time.

The squirrel flopped and flipped, its little legs scrambling in the air. Once it landed, it looked up at me and chittered. It ran up my arm and onto my shoulders, rubbing its fuzzy face against my cheek.

Enough! Punkin growled. "Be gone, swanky rat! Only one fuzzball allowed in this arrangement.

Look out! a high-pitched voice squealed, and the stench of brimstone hit me. I flung myself out of the way. The squirrel launched itself from my shoulders. It ran one way while Punkin and I rolled the other direction.

All I saw was the underbelly of a mechanical beast. Four fat rubber tires bounded through the air above us. To the back end clung a frightened green face and smallish person. An orc child, perhaps?

The four-wheeled ATV hit the ground hard, flinging the green-skinned figure about. He held on with both hands, clutching the cargo rack between the rear wheels. He wore a three-piece suit and patent leather shoes. Definitely not outdoor attire for this mucky section of Wales.

Apologies, milady, milords, he squeaked again. The human driver of the ATV jammed his handlebars to the left. The beast slid around, spewing mud behind it. Fortunately, that was away from us. Hurricane darted to the side to avoid the worst of the splatter.

Fool! Jason spat, his guitar once again in hand.

Where’d that come from? I pointed at his acoustic guitar. He’d been empty-handed a moment before. Jason ignored me.

Same place you put your wand, Punkin said.

Io had his wand in hand, pointed toward the newcomers, but he held it low. More at the ground in front of them. My wand was still in hand. I knew better than to point it at anyone I wasn’t going to fling a spell at.

The driver tipped his floppy hat at us. Beggin’ yer pardons, y’all. Didn’t mean to give you a fright like that. Unlike the green-skinned fellow on the back, the driver was dressed for an excursion. Jeans and muddy cowboy boots. A flannel shirt and a bush hat tied under his chin. Wraparound aviator sunglasses completed his outfit.

You come blasting through here like that? You could have killed us, Jason growled. His fingers danced on the string, and spell energy gathered around him. Fool of an American. Think you own the world. You almost killed my dog.

Apologies! squeaked the green creature on the back of the ATV. Mr Chudderly is very sorry to have caused you any distress.

Enough, Eddie, the man held up a hand to silence him. Even in the subdued grey skies of middle Wales, the driver’s skin seemed to have a ruddy complexion. His red hair poked out from under the cap. The hat was something I’d expect to see on an African safari. His clothing sported T3 buttons and the signature L label. Limited edition of the top-end designer. A large watch sat on one wrist. A turquoise and silver bracelet of American Western style was on the other wrist.

My apologies, slim, the man said. His accent was definitely southern US. Probably Texas. The gnome that rented me this beast said it had one heck of a demon in it. He wasn’t wrong. It’s huge. Car-grade demon. Still trying to get it under control.

Did you rent from Gnarley? Io asked and held a hand up toward Jason to calm him.

I did. The man snapped his fingers and held his hand over his shoulder, angled back at the greenish creature behind him. Eddie has the paperwork.

Coming right up, Mr Chudderly.

Gobbos are great assistants. But Eddie takes his time. Slowest admin I’ve had.

Your files are most extensive. Eddie dug through his jacket pockets. Wild rides through the country wreak havoc on my filing system, Mr Chudderly. One moment, please. Eddie pulled a leather-bound briefcase from a pocket that was way too small to contain it. He took a moment and shuffled through it.

He’s like an adopted son to me, Chudderly said. Picked him up back in the 1800s when I was over here after we in the US of A broke away from old King what’s-his-name over here. gobbos are good clerks, but terrible ranchers. You should see him try to ride a horse, or lasso a calf.

Here it is, Eddie interrupted, ignoring Chudderly’s appraisal of his skills. Rental: one quad with high-performance demon.

I knew he looked familiar. G.R. Chudderly, of the Texas Chudderly empire?

At your service, little lady. He swiped his hat from his head, held it in front of his chest, and bent a bow over the handlebars.

"The G.R. Chudderly? Jason’s voice did a poor job of hiding his contempt. The same Chudderly who has been buying up woodlands in the south of the US and driving pixies from their enclaves?"

Mr Chudderly is exercising his rights as property owner to develop the land, Eddie the gobbo said.

Of course, they can return and rent a suite or purchase a condo. Chudderly grinned. His large smile seemed to glint, even without direct daylight. We improve the property, groom the trees and lands. Really improve the area. Best property anywhere. The best.

Their rent goes up a hundredfold over what they paid before, Jason said and strummed a chord. More spell energy danced along the strings.

Progress, young man, Chudderly said. Making the world a better place for all fae.

You mean for the rich, Jason snarled.

Stop it! I looked between Jason and Chudderly.

You look familiar, little lady, Chudderly stared at me for a few seconds. I know we’ve met.

I tried to stifle my groan. My father. I was visiting him two years ago when you two were working a deal in New York.

Chudderly looked puzzled, then snapped his fingers.

Storm’s daughter. You’re, uh…

April Storm, daughter of David Ignatius Storm III, Eddie said, sliding the rental contract back into his briefcase. He clicked the case closed and slid it into his jacket. The fabric didn’t bulge. From the tingle of magic I sensed, he must have slid it into the same magical storage we used for our wands and other items.

Are you here helping your father find property for investment? Chudderly suddenly had a defensive tone to his voice. We should set up a tee time for golf. Where is he staying?

Pops is still in New York, I said with my customer service smile plastered on my face.

Ah, then perhaps you and I should get a round in? Chudderly had a gigantic grin, one I’d seen often on my father’s business partners and opponents. The smile that said one should lock up their valuables and read every word of fine print to see how you were about to get railroaded.

I don’t have time to golf.

Pity, Chudderly said. His thumb flipped a small lever on the handlebars. A puff of brimstone stench told me the demon in the quad was active. We’re off. Got property to inspect.

He twisted the accelerator under his right hand and spun the quad ATV around. Punkin and I both scurried toward Io to avoid the rain of mud the quad kicked up. Io had thrown a large shield spell up, as had Jason, to avoid the earthy rooster tail from the quad.

Eddie the gobbo slammed his green hands onto the rack behind Chudderly. He barely had time to shrug an apology before the quad bike raced off again. It took Chudderly and his assistant right into a man clad in a British redcoat. One I expected came from the time of the American Revolutionary War. The man wearing it faded from existence as the quad hit him. The ghost’s eyes were on me.

Help me… his ghost voice drifted away as the quad slid through him.

CHAPTER 2

Y ou know Chudderly? Jason cast a side-eye glance my way. He hadn’t seen the ghost. Only I had.

Not personally, I said. He and my dad were working on a business deal when Jake died several years ago. I hung out at Dad’s penthouse for about a week until I could handle going back to my apartment. Kyle, my coffee mentor in New York, was the one who helped me pack up Jake’s stuff.

Sorry, Jason said as Jake phased in above Io.

Kyle’s cool. Jake said, nodding. I like him. He was always good for you to be around.

Did you see the ghost, Jake? The one Chudderly just drove through?

Jake shook his head.

Just got here. Who’s bugging you this time? His spirit reclined back in the air, legs crossed at the ankles and hands behind his head.

There was another ghost? Io glanced about. His hand slid toward the pocket where he kept his phone. Do we need to call the inspector?

Not unless he’s into looking for old-time redcoat army deaths…

Redcoat? Like from your American war for independence?

Yep. Fancy coat, big buttons with lace around them. Blue cuffs and collar.

Could be any of the general staff officers, Io said. Might need to ask Elain’s father or brother.

I shrugged. Macsen’s around the castle most nights. But Elain and Neirin are out. They have been gone for two weeks now.

Special mission?

Must be. She just said they’d be out. They don’t tell me what sneaky stuff they’re doing.

Thought you were part of the King’s Company now, Jason said. Aren’t you supposed to go sneak with them?

They’ve got other roles outside of the King’s Company. And I will not be much use when Rhodri calls us for a mission if I can’t get this freeze spell going right.

Perhaps one more try, then? Io motioned us back into place. With luck, we won’t have your American land baron come roaring through again.

Jason slung his guitar around on his back. It dissolved into nothingness, like it slid into an invisible envelope.

I wondered where that came from.

Jason just grinned at me.

Ready? Io’s stern command reminded me of my task.

I formed the glyph in my mind and waved at Jason to begin his jog again. Punkin’s energy meshed with my magic. His role was that of watcher. I didn’t need to push excess energy into him. That could come in handy for blasting energy at an undead pirate or a rampaging demon. Today, however, I was only trying to stop Jason, not knock him across the Atlantic and back into the US.

Ready. I had my wand in hand, pointing up. Jason started his jog away from me. I shoved energy into the mental glyph, lowered my wand, and traced Jason’s path.

"Freez— HIC!"

Magic erupted from me just as my breath spasmed in the hiccup. My wand sucked energy from me and from Punkin. The wave of magic flashed out and struck everyone—Punkin, Hurricane, Jason, and Io.

A bird, its wings spread, crashed into the ground near me.

Oh, fudge…

At least I could move. Io and Jason both stood still. Not moving.

Punkin, how do I…

Even my familiar was frozen. His fur was charged, sticking straight up. Hurricane, Jason’s boxer, had been trotting next to Jason. He stood stock still, one paw raised and forward, ready to step.

I poked Punkin. Nothing. No reaction. Same with Io and Jason. The one time I got the spell to work, the wobblies show up and take out my friends.

Okay, deep breaths. I tried not to panic. The glyph to unfreeze them like the squirrel was gone from my mind. I cursed. Not very ladylike. More like Barti Ddu’s sailors. The cold chill I got had blocked the glyph from my mind. Io had it in his notebook. Which was tucked into one of his magical pockets. I really didn’t want to frisk him to try to find it. I wasn’t even sure if I could find it.

I decided it was better to try on Punkin first. He’d probably be able to help me. And it wouldn’t take much energy to unbind him. I closed my eyes and drew the mental glyph I’d need to work the reverse of the spell. These new spell glyphs for the advanced spells were difficult to remember. Lots of squiggles and shapes. Like learning to read all over again, only in an alien language with weird symbols. Come to think of it, written languages were full of weird symbols until you understood them.

I touched Punkin with my wand and released the surge of magic. No hiccup, but he flew into the brush, near where Chudderly had driven off. I rushed over. He seemed unharmed, but his fur was stiff when I tapped it. That must not have been the correct glyph.

Oh, fiddle fish! How was I going to get this right?

This wasn’t good. I twisted my lip into a sideways pucker, thinking. Did I need to call Aunt Rose? She’d know how to unfreeze them, but she might also make me stop learning until I got over these wobblies or whatever it was.

How could I get my friends unstuck and keep learning?

I pulled out my phone and tapped a message to Elain, then hit send. I hoped she was where she could receive texts. I didn’t know what spying involved. Didn’t want to blow her cover wherever she was. Surely she’d have her phone silenced if stealth was important?

After a second, the display showed she had received it. Then a reply appeared.

Where are you?

Alun Jones’s farm, I sent. Io said we’re on the ridge overlooking the Tidal Poodle.

My Welsh was getting better, but place names still threw me for a loop, especially in written form. I tried to remember the Welsh for the marsh below.

A surge of magic cut across the hilltop, and Elain stood between Jason and Io.

How’d you get here so fast? I blinked and shook my head.

Neirin gave me a one-shot teleport gem. We hit too many dead ends, and I was ready to head back.

Welcome to Tidal Poodle. Can you help me get them unstuck?

It’s Tywull Pwdel. Dark Mire in English. She chuckled, then glanced at the others, still frozen. Oh, dear, what did you do?

Io said I might have the wobblies or something. I was trying the freeze spell.

Wow! That’s some case of the wobblies. You even caught the wildlife. She knelt by the bird and eased it into her hand. She drew her own wand and sent a small surge of magic into the bird. It flapped and almost fell out of her hand. With a chirp, the sparrow got its legs under him. One look at me and the bird cocked its head, chirped a grumpy tune, then took flight.

The good news is I can undo what you did, Elain said.

You mean you might not be able to sometimes?

Not always, she said and stepped toward Io. Another surge of magic, and he took a breath.

Thank you, he said, holding his gaze on her for a few seconds. His eyes darted back toward me.

Sorry, I muttered.

Wibbly wobblies, was all he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his notepad. His eyes slide to Elain. He gave her a smile, his cheeks reddening. He flipped his gaze to me. Let’s see if you can unfreeze everyone else. If so, we’ll call it a day and go find Rhosyn.

Do we have to? I mean…

She’ll need to monitor your magic at the café, Io said. The little shot of magic you put into the drinks could turn them into moonshine, or worse if you have a surge like that again.

He held out the pad with the glyph for unfreezing drawn on it.

Think of the others. Io waved toward Jason and Hurricane. And be careful of this part of the glyph. His finger traced down one side of it. You probably used a different element here. That could make a push spell.

Ugh. This is more complicated than I thought.

Io grinned. You’re a Dymestl. You’ll get it in no time.

You sure about that?

Of course. But the glance he shot toward Elain told me he wasn’t sure.

Okay, here goes. I closed my eyes and formed the glyph in my mind.

Good, now think of those you want to unlock. Io’s voice was just behind me. Don’t forget to include Punkin.

Does she have to unlock him? Elain teased.

Shush, both of you, I growled. I opened my eyes, pointed my wand toward Hurricane, and unleashed the spell.

Jason and Hurricane both took another step, then turned toward me.

What did you freeze the pwca for? What did I ever do to you? Punkin’s voice cut into the air. I’ll leave a hairball in your shoe for that.

Shush, Fuzzbutt, I said.

You were supposed to stop the surge, Io reminded him.

Hard to stop a surge that fast. She’s a Dymestl, all right. Only one of Her Grace’s relatives could unleash that much power with a hiccup.

Fat lot of good it does me. I slumped down on a small boulder that littered the ridge. How long do these wobblies last?

Several weeks, usually, Elain said. She and Io exchanged another glance.

That was good, though, Jason said. I’ve never learned the freeze spell. Could come in handy chasing rambunctious lambs. But that’s what I got Hurricane for. You did good getting two humans and a cat.

Pwca! Please!

You look like a cat, Fuzzbutt, I called.

Three fae at once is a lot for a single person to catch with one spell, Elain agreed. I’ve frozen two people in training, but when I tried three, all the targets toppled and got the giggles instead of freezing.

Who else can do that many? I asked. Surely it can’t be that difficult?

I’ve also been able to stop two in training, Io said. But not three. And don’t let Punkin’s small size and shape fool you. To catch a pwca, even one in cat form, with a spell like this is just as difficult as catching a tall fae. Same with pixies. Their small size comes with increased resistance to other’s magic.

That’s why I felt proud stopping two of my classmates, Elain said. To get three fae, a dog, and a bird, is at a powerful level. Perhaps at a coven’s ability.

Coven? Like witches gathered around a boiling kettle of green ooze?

Well, it doesn’t have to be green ooze, Io said. But three witches can gather together and combine their power.

Rhodri and Bernard took down a coven of sea hags a few centuries ago, remember? Elain reminded me of the story the lieutenant colonel told my first week here in Wales.

So, my family lineage is as powerful as a coven of witches working together, chanting ‘Bubble, bubble, rubber duckies in trouble’?

Rhosyn and Her Grace are, Io said. Your mum, not so much. And I’m somewhere in between. I’d have trouble freezing two of you and Jason’s dog. The bird would probably be one creature too many.

So what do I do now? I shook my head, then stared off across the swamp below. Only a dilapidated old manor house and its overgrown garden stood amidst the overgrown foliage and murky water. I don’t want my spells to go astray because of these wobblies.

We must tell Rhosyn, Io’s voice was quiet in the musty country air. I’m sorry, but we have to. If you keep casting in the middle of dealing with the wobblies, you could wreck all of Misty Valley.

You mean I might destroy Mystic Brews or hurt someone?

Exactly, Elain said. Jason nodded behind her.

Punkin walked over and smacked my ankle with a paw. Don’t blow up Mystic Brews. I need my espresso. But if that Pierre shows his smug, fluffy face, feel free to hiccup at him all you like.

CHAPTER 3

B ah! Elain grumped the next morning when she came down the stairs into Mystic Brews. Did you get any sleep last night?

Yes, why? I kept wiping down the espresso counter. Only Nia was out front this morning. Aunt Rose was training Mia, the other of our two sister pixie helpers, in baking. She had been for several months. If she kept that up, I’d have to pull in another pixie to help with the counter. Autumn was busy with tourists here in Wales.

Neirin! He’s got his violin out. Elain slumped at a table. Her ebony hair was curly this morning, almost to afro stage. A sure sign something distracted her. The straightening spell she used only took a moment to cast.

He gets like that when he’s dejected. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll be back to watching old cartoons on the telly. He’s got a large collection on disk.

Why is he dejected? Nia asked.

After two weeks of chasing dead ends with him, he had to come back and break out that infernal instrument. Sounds worse than cats in heat arguing with a bagpiper.

I heard it and cast a silent spell, Punkin said, jumping on the chair next to Elain. He knew she was a sucker for letting him lick the cream from the plate after she finished her morning scone.

What be wrong with bagpipes, milady? Red asked. He came up from the basement, his tool kit in hand. The red-haired Scotsman with the ruddy complexion was the town’s handyman.

Nothing wrong, Elain said. Pipes on their own are great when properly played. But would you want Punkin trying to play them?

Ack! No one be deserving that, Red agreed. Is your brother’s skill with the fiddle equal to Punkin’s with the pipes?

Worse, I’d say. She thanked Nia for the scone and hunk of clotted cream, then leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. You could have made the silent spell large enough to cover my room, too.

You’ve got wards in place, Punkin said. My magic won’t work in your side of the flat. Why didn’t you do your own spell?

Because he torments me! That violin is magical and cuts right through my spells. I swear he had it enchanted just to bother me. He must share his somber mood with me…

I giggled. That sounds like something Neirin would do. At least he likes me. I didn’t hear anything, and I slept fine.

Elain stuck her tongue out at my little barb. Since Neirin had unofficially adopted me as sister, we’d started playing at sibling rivalry in a good-natured way.

I finished the caramel tornado for her and added my usual jolt of magic to it, paying attention that the wobblies didn’t cause me to surge and turn it to vinegar. Elain tasted it and nodded her thanks, both of her elbows on the table, the teal ceramic cup in her hands.

No wobblies? Elain looked at me, her brown eyes peering over the rim of the cup.

Nothing so far, I said.

Wobblies? Red said. They’ll clear in no time. Every new witch gets the wobblies. He lifted the stack of used air filters. I’ll put these in the bin out back.

Have Nia fill your thermos before you leave, I suggested. Don’t need our fix-it man running low on caffeine today.

Already did, lass, he said and passed by Aunt Rose on her way through the swinging kitchen doors.

Here you go, cariad. She used the Welsh familiar term that I always translated into dearie. In her hands she held a bracelet made of silver with a single green gem set in it. Celtic-style glyphs decorated the silver band. Put it on your wrist, Ebrel.

And what is it? I held both wrists out. My smartwatch was on my left, the bracelet she’d given me a few months ago on my right.

Good. You’ve still got the warding charms I gave you. Wear it with those.

I glanced at the bracelet. Only one gem of the dozen had gone black. That had happened when I had to deal with von Underbeak, high minister to the Queen of the Fae.

You still haven’t said what it is.

It is a flux limiter. Normal ones won’t do. We’ve only got two powerful enough for my nieces.

Oh, I thought that might be coming, Elain said.

Aunt Rose peered over her magical specs at her. That was the only time I saw my roomie flinch. Evidently, the super spy who could fling knives at undead zombie pirates and help me take out big baddies withered under the glare of my aunty. But I would, too.

Wear it, Aunt Rose repeated. Your cousins each had to wear it when they were wobbly.

Io wore this? Technically, he was my uncle. But he seemed more like a cousin due to the long fae life spans.

He only had a mild case of the wobblies. Rose pointed at my wrist. Your other cousins, the crown princesses of the fae royal family, wore it. They both have great magical power, and their wobblies were uncontrollable.

Oh! Well, if a royal princess can wear it. I slid it on under the warding jewels. The new bracelet’s gem pulsed once and shifted to bright red.

I’m sure they complained the entire time, Elain added. No one likes a limiter.

What’s it do?

It stops your wobbly surges. You’ll only be able to pull in enough magic to give your foo-foo drinks a shot, and perhaps a little more. Aunt Rose tapped the gem on the bracelet. The more the colour of the gem changes, the closer you’ll be to finishing your time with the limiter. You’ll be able to remove it once it goes back to emerald green.

Red to green? Dark red like Fedimore’s car is bad? Right now it was close to the ’63 Buick Riviera he drove when he arrived several months ago. Aunt Rose gave a nod at my estimation. "Wait, you said I can remove it then?"

Elain nodded. It’s locked on now.

I tugged at the silver. It stuck fast. It spun, but it would not cross past my wrist onto my hand.

Why didn’t you tell me? I levelled my gaze at her, trying to do my best imitation of Aunt Rose’s no-nonsense tone. All I got in return was her chilly assassin gaze.

Elain chuckled and took another sip of her macchiato. You’ll have to work on the death glare. So far, only Rhosyn and Her Grace have been able to make me shiver with their stares of doom.

I’m stuck with this? How long?

My nieces took a few months to get past the worst of it, Aunt Rose said. Their mother and I made it for the eldest to wear after she turned half of the assembled nobles at a state dinner into goldfish.

I suppose I should meet them sometime. My cousins, I mean. Not the goldfish. I glanced down at my wrist. Perhaps when this thing comes loose again.

When I visited to retrieve the limiter last evening, my sister suggested the same. Aunt Rose glanced next to the table to where Punkin sat near Elain. She requires, however, that your familiar stay out of the palace.

Punkin snorted and shook himself. No worries there. I want to stay as far away as I am able from that woman. She is…

We know, I interrupted his tirade. You make me very uncomfortable when you call the Queen of the Fae evil.

Look at me! Punkin growled.

We prefer not to, a French accent declared. Gemma Yardley, with Pierre’s fluffy head peering from her oversized T3 handbag, strode in from the kitchen. Gemma’s familiar locked stares with Punkin.

Gemma eyed my new bracelet. Oh dear, you’ve got a limiter on. So sorry, Ebrel.

Pierre chuckled. You should put it on your familiar. Limiting him would be far more beneficial.

A muzzle would help you, Parisian poodle. Punkin jumped on the table, his back fur standing straight up.

I am a Pomeranian, you odiferous elf. Is there not a trash bin for you to root around in for your breakfast?

Quiet, both of you, Gemma barked. Pierre, did we not discuss this very issue? You must not instigate arguments with Lady Ebrel’s familiar.

What brings you out this early, Gemma? I started prepping a soy mocha latte. Your usual?

Yes, please. She tapped the till with her wand to pay. I’m meeting a dear friend here. She’s coming to town for negotiations and potential investment with the racing commission.

Not another land grabber? Elain’s voice was on the cold side.

Problem with real estate developers? I arched an eyebrow at her. Some of us have parents who dabble in property.

Elain blushed and looked my way. I’m not one who should be speaking ill of the landed, she muttered. Her parents’ home, Castle Raven, sat prominently above the village.

I winked at her.

If I remember correctly, Macsen and Rhian own about a third of the valley. Alun Jones leases grazing rights from them, right?

And your father develops properties. Elain blew some steam from her mug and took another sip.

Actually, Gemma slid into a seat at a corner table, Ace is more of an angel investor. She lets other investors do the legwork, then offers to slide into the deal with them. She’s usually happy with a ten- or twenty-percent share. That allows her time to shop and travel instead of doing the hard work of finding the deals.

That name sounded familiar. Ace? As in Ace Cuddle? Gemma nodded. Ah. My father brought her into a couple of deals. I didn’t get to meet her, but her name made Cynthia, my father’s fiancée, very nervous.

Gemma laughed.

Cudyll is her real surname, Gemma said. Welsh for hawk. But Americans had difficulty pronouncing the double L sound. She finally surrendered and let the American pronunciation stick.

Ah. I don’t believe Cynthia will be any happier with how he’d pronounce Cudyll. My father couldn’t pronounce the double-L in Ebrill, so mother named me Ebrel. Father pushed and got the American version of April on my birth certificate. How did you two meet?

I was in uni, studying the law. She was there auditing a few classes while she mourned her sister. We hit it off. If you see any ghosts that look like Ace’s sister, please let us know. She’s always talking about trying to locate her. But she’s never taken the time to book a seance.

I wonder, Elain waved toward the limiter bracelet on my wrist. Will that interfere with your ability to see ghosts?

Hmm… peace and quiet from the spirit world? That might be too much to ask for. I glanced at the clock over the till. We had a few minutes before the lock spell on the café’s front door expired. So I sent a mental nudge out to Jake.

Jake and a ghostly chicken appeared, hovering above the espresso machine. You summoned, oh mistress of the macchiato?

Still works.

What works? His chicken pecked at the carved wooden dragon Io had given me.

Stop that! I poked the chicken and gave it a zap of ghost-dispelling energy. That, too, worked.

Oh! Fancy bracelet! Jake pointed at the limiter. Did that dude with the boxer dog get wise and start getting you jewellery before you find someone else?

Jason is a friend, I said. He’s still backsliding into pixie issues, and then some. He has a lot of work to do before he’s in the potential dating pool. I then gave Jake a rundown of the limiter.

That explains it, then. Maybe it will keep you from popping me back to the ghost realm.

It worked on your chicken. I raised a finger toward him.

No need to try now. He floated out of my reach.

So, with this thing—I waved my wrist in the air—I won’t be able to pester Jason with the freeze spell?

No, Aunt Rose said. She still had her magic glasses on and gazed at Jake drifting absently about the café. Three more ghost chickens had popped in and rode his shoulders and head.

She sucked in a quick breath and arched an eyebrow. I followed her gaze, expecting one of Jake’s normal shenanigans. Was he doing something to Pierre or Punkin?

Instead of Jake, she was looking at the spirit of the man in old-style British army redcoat, the same one I saw out on the ridge above the mire. He floated in front of me, mouthing words, but I couldn’t hear them. Realising this, he stepped back, turned toward what would be the far end of the valley if we were outside, and waved me to follow him. The movement seemed to spread his spirit even more, making him look misty. Like he was fading away. He continued to drift toward the far wall, then made another turn and waved to follow once more. He evaporated with this last movement.

I shook my head. Who was that? Why does he want me to follow him?

Aunt Rose bit her lower lip for a second. Sir Nathan Trimbolt. He was killed by the ghostly hound of Tywull Pwdel. I believe he wants you to visit him in the mire.

Excellent. Perhaps he’ll tell us where Trimbolt’s treasure is, Punkin said.

CHAPTER 4

Iwanted to ask who Sir Nathan Trimbolt was, but the front door swung open. The morning regulars started trickling in, Ace Cuddle among them. The tall blonde made a beeline for Gemma as soon as she entered.

No Io? No pixie patrol today? Elain asked in a brief respite between the morning regulars.

Not this week. Io is off sketching morning light at some bridge. Says he’s got another big piece he wants to paint. The weather is actually decent this week.

Ah… She got a distant look, probably figuring out where she was going to hang another of his pieces.

You know, once you two get together, he’ll stop selling his work to you. He’ll want it out in the public art market.

Um, hmm… What about the pixies? She was good at changing the subject whenever I mentioned she and Io getting serious in their relationship.

The mayor is hosting too many dignitaries of the real-estate-developer kind. I gave in and let the topic shift. Mayor Yardley suspended the pixie patrol this week. He says we don’t need mundanes around. Especially not after we almost got run over by that Chudderly gent and his goblin Eddie. I passed the last espresso order over to Nia. She ran it out to Gemma’s friend at the table in the corner.

Why are they here now? Elain rubbed her temples, leaning forward on the table. Sorry, not thinking clearly yet.

When Her Grace’s minister arrives to announce the verdict on the race, development deals will need to be in place. I knew enough of the development side from hanging around my father. Dad always said once the project is announced, the deals better be inked. Just give yourself an escape clause if it falls through.

I doubt there will be much of a hiccup in the plans for the Dewsberry Memorial Grand Prix. Elain tapped her cup. Another please. I can still hear Neirin’s awful attempts at strangling his violin in my head.

What kind of drink? I waved Nia back to the espresso bar. She could handle the few orders before our next wave of guests. Mia was on a short break, then she’d be out front, too. I leaned on the back bar where the brewed coffee carafes stood, out of sight of the front door.

Oh, anything. I just need caffeine and sugar to keep going.

One caramel tornado coming right up, Nia said. Her hair highlights almost glowed in bright pixie strands of teal. Ebrel, if we’re going to have the Dewsberry Grand Prix, have you considered setting up a stand near the spectators? We could call it Mystic Brew’s Caramel Tornados.

I’m not sure… We’ll probably be swamped here in the café, I said. Let me guess. You want to run the stand?

She nodded, a smile growing on her face. Of course. I’ve already got several girls in mind to help. I could teach them how to pull shots on the espresso machine before the race gets here.

That is an excellent idea, a familiar voice said in an American accent. I turned and squealed. A second later, I pressed myself against the man’s chest, squeezing him tight.

What are you doing here, Uncle Logan?

Same thing I always do. His voice was deep, almost a bearish rumble. Looking for development deals I can convince your father to invest in.

Something about him seemed different. I stepped back and took a good look at him. Tall, rather thick. Muscular. Mid to late fifties, but he didn’t look a day over forty. And he had the aura around him. He was fae.

You’ve been keeping secrets. I put my hands on my hips and gave him my best Aunt Rose stare.

He chuckled. That I’m fae? Or that they charged me with watching over you once your mother hightailed it into the desert to get away from the spirits?

Both! So much is making sense now. I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs of memories. You were always around whenever my feeble attempts at magic got out of hand back then. And yet you didn’t tell me about this…

We kept hoping your mother would have a chat with you and come back to help you learn the basics of your heritage. Jazzy was too damaged emotionally, though, so I had the task of watching over you.

You could have said something.

He shook his head. Actually, no. Your aunt was most insistent that as long as you lived with your human father, we keep your nature quiet. He only knows of your British heritage. Not the fae side of that. All I could do was watch and make sure you didn’t harm yourself.

I pulled him over to Elain’s usual table.

Lady Elain. He gave her a polite nod.

I blew out an exasperated breath. Of course you two know each other. Here I was going to introduce you.

Elain raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t aware you’re related to Bleddyn.

Uncle Logan smiled. Not in the blood sense. I won her over as a young tike, and she’s called me Uncle Logan ever since.

He went on way too many camping trips with me and my father over the years And you were always around when I was little. You’d come out and play with me and my toys when Father was in deep negotiations. Saved my life many times while juggling all the real estate stuff with Pops.

I’m good at finding the deals for David, Logan said. Your father wouldn’t be David Ignatius Storm III if he couldn’t negotiate his own deals.

No wonder you were over so often. I crossed my arms. This is too much to absorb all at once.

Uncle Logan tapped the new bracelet on my wrist, revealed as the sleeve slid back. I wondered if you’d get this. Once I heard how high you scored on your crystals test…

With great power, Elain said in an ominous voice, comes the flux limiter while she gets past the wobblies.

She called you Bleddyn. Why? The double D in Welsh became a th sound. I pronounced his name as Bleth-in.

My name in Welsh, he said. It means young wolf. Males in my family get it often. I only go by it around other fae.

Bleddyn… Logan Lynn… Another shake, and my head still felt overwhelmed. I needed to find an anchor, to keep my worlds from tilting any more than they just had. I bet your last name is really Llyn.

Of course. He winked at me. Llyn is Welsh for lake. Why do you think I suggested going to Wolf Lake all the time?

I chuckled at the memories and the new connection his name made to the location. Because you and Father owned the resort there. You still take a latte?

Or whatever. Logan smiled. Lady Elain’s drink smells good.

Another caramel tornado coming up, Mr Llyn, Nia called. The milk steamer roared to life under her touch. Uncle Logan gave her a smile, then let his eyes drift over the far corner where Gemma and her friend sat. His eyes lit up, and a subtle smile tugged at his face.

Interested in Gemma? Or Miss Cudyll?

Logan grinned. The de Umples are too high maintenance for me. I’ve helped set up many deals with Acelina Cudyll. This is the closest she’s ever come to taking up my offer to have coffee together.

Nia brought out two caramel tornados, one for each of us. Logan pulled out his wand, waiting on the order tablet to pay. I pushed it back to him.

His money isn’t good here, I said. He’s like Elain. Family. I don’t charge family.

Diolch! He raised his ceramic mug in a toast. I seldom get to dust off my Welsh. Your American accent is slipping just a little. I can hear the strains of the old Cymru in your voice.

Cymru?

The old Britons, back when Rome was an empire, he said.

A few months ago, back in the States… I took a sip and gave Nia a smile. She was back at the espresso counter, taking care of the next order. Back in the States, I had no idea pixies existed… nor trolls, nor… I waved to include the valley. I thought I was coming to live with my batty old auntie and make espresso—a chance to finally succeed in the restaurant world.

And now you’ve discovered an entirely new world full of magic, and family, and a fresh life, Logan said with a sly grin. Welcome to the real world. It’s delightfully quirky.

His eyes slid toward the door. A tall gentleman stood there dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit. The buttons sported the elite T3 limited logo. A few gold chains dangled from his vest. He used one chain to pull a pocket watch out of one of the vest pockets. With a deft twist of his wrist, he tossed it open, glanced at the time, then flicked it closed again.

His pale complexion contrasted with stark black hair, a plain face that featured a solid square jaw, wide nose, and deep-set eyes. If I were into muscle-bound men who looked like they belonged in a Navy SEAL adventure movie, he’d be attractive.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sight of him.

Problem? I asked.

Donal McHayden. Logan’s voice was barely above a whisper. His look bordered on confused and interested.

"The McHayden? The recluse who never ventures from whichever property he hides at most of the time?"

Logan nodded. That’s him. Trying to get past his admins is an exercise in futility. I’d rather try to convince your aunt, either one of them, to challenge the entire British Royal Navy to a drinking contest.

I’m not sure Aunt Rose even drinks alcohol, I said.

Elain nodded. Oh, she does. She and Mum have a drink together most evenings now that we’ve got the teleport crystal installed. Well, only Rhosyn drinks the hard stuff. Mum keeps a bottle of your aunt’s favourite brandy on hand. Jonathan has put a standing order in with our monthly resupply. Who’s McHayden?

Elain moved her hand to the back of her neck, under her dark hair, and massaged her neck.

Sorry… I owe Neirin a sleepless day. That violin!

Logan raised an eyebrow but turned back to McHayden.

He’s probably the most notable land baron you’ve never heard of, I said. I’m surprised you haven’t, come to think of it.

He doesn’t hang around Her Grace’s court. Elain’s eyes stayed on him. Like she was cataloging every aspect of him for later retrieval. If he’s fae, he stays under our radar.

He is fae, and he stays under all radar, Logan added. Then he sucked in a breath as