Hex on the Beach (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 1) Read online

  My fingers reached reflexively for my necklace, twisting the heart charm on the end. It was the one thing I’d been given from my mom, the one thing I’d held onto day in and day out since I was a baby. Without it clasped around my neck, I’d always felt… off.

  I couldn’t describe the feeling, couldn’t put my finger on what went wrong when I removed the charm. But I’d once removed the necklace for my volleyball state championship. We lost miserably, and I sprained my ankle.

  Another time, I’d removed it for a job interview. I didn’t get an offer from the company.

  I’d taken it off for one blind date Ainsley had set me up on, and the entire evening was a disaster, ending with me acquiring sudden food poisoning and puking during the entire cab ride home.

  Call it a superstition, call it luck, call it what you may—I never took the necklace off anymore.

  Holding the chain lightly, I glanced down. Though the gold chain appeared thin and delicate, elegant in a less-is-more sort of way, I knew from experience that it was sturdy as an ox. It’d snagged on combs, doorways, sweaters, and I’d never once needed to have it repaired. The heart-shaped locket remained firmly around my neck, for better or for worse.

  “Ah, yes.” Mimsey gave me a sad smile as she studied the necklace.

  Sensing her genuine interest, I relaxed slightly, and I extended the chain as far as possible, leaning forward so she could see the charm on the end. It was just a locket—or rather, half of a locket.

  The golden heart was tiny, nearly too small to read the print. But instead of opening and closing like a normal locket, the charm sat open, the message displayed through a small glass panel. I didn’t need to look down to know what it said. I’d memorized the inscription long ago.

  Follow the Heart.

  It’d confused me for a long while now, and for years, I’d pondered the meaning. The Heart? Whose heart? For a while, I’d wondered if my mom had purchased the necklace in a clearance section at the Dollar Store. Maybe they’d goofed and written the wrong phrase. Maybe it’d been made in China and the meaning was lost in translation.

  “Follow the Heart,” Mimsey whispered. “It’s hers.”

  I glanced at the plump woman, her colorful outfit in stark contrast with the tears welling in her eyes.

  “Praise be, it’s you.” Mimsey clasped her hands on either side of my head, kissing my cheeks with effusive enthusiasm. “I’ve waited so long to meet you, darling. I didn’t have doubt before, not really… but this—it’s you.”

  I remained confused. “I thought you knew who I was before you arrived.”

  “I did, we did,” Mimsey said. “But until we saw the necklace, there was the smallest chance we could be wrong. For a minute when we first walked in, I thought we might’ve been mistaken. You’re so… unlike her.”

  “Unlike who?” I asked.

  “Your mother.” Mimsey shook her head. “You’re so…” She gestured to my pencil skirt, the stiff blouse, the bun now a bit in disarray. “Organized. Put together. You’ve got your life in order, so… so serious.”

  “She wasn’t like me?” I couldn’t help myself.

  “Whimsical would be a kind way to describe her,” Mimsey said through a watery smile, a few of her previously unshed tears sliding freely down her cheeks. “But you look like her, dear.”

  “What about the necklace?” I looked down.

  Jesse watched us, his jaw hanging open but no sound coming out. I should be speechless. How I managed to maintain any semblance of a conversation was beyond me.

  “It’s the Order of the Heart,” Mimsey said. “Look. I have the other half.”

  I hesitated, then leaned forward as Mimsey opened her palm. In her hand lay a gold covering in the shape of a heart. It looked to be the same size and shape as my open locket, as if it would fit snugly over the top.

  “May I?” Mimsey clasped my necklace with her other hand. “It’s a rite of passage.”

  “May you what?” I peered closer at the gold piece of jewelry in her palm. “What is a rite of passage?”

  “The Order of the Heart is an old witching tradition.” Trinket stepped forward from her place by the door. “It goes back hundreds of thousands of years, beginning with the first colony of witches and wizards, led by none other than Hecate.”

  “Hecate? She’s a myth.”

  Trinket shook her head. “Not a myth, though that’s what we like the normal folk to believe.”

  “It’s just easier if the humans don’t know we exist, dear.” Mimsey’s lips twitched. “They don’t understand.”

  “I’m not human?” My voice was a ghost of its former self.

  “You’re a witch!” Mimsey’s laugh tinkled throughout the bar, dancing off the rows of pint glasses and beer boots hanging from the ceiling racks. “That’s what we’ve been telling you.”

  “The Order…” I fingered my necklace, stepping back from Mimsey. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was telling you before you got all skittish,” Trinket said, her sour expression growing deeper. “If you’d just listen.”

  “I’m listening.” I perched on a bar stool, thinking it’d be better if I sat down during this explanation.

  “The first witch had a necklace. A locket in the shape of a heart, much like yours,” Trinket began. “Except she had both pieces; she’d been given it as a protective charm. The necklace kept her safe, and as long as she wore it, nobody could hurt her.”

  I swallowed, glancing at Jesse to see how he was taking the news. In short, he wasn’t. It appeared he’d begun pulling a draft beer then never stopped. The pint glass sat under the tap while beer overflowed all over the counter.

  I cleared my throat, gesturing to the ocean of Bud Light Jesse was creating. He leapt to attention, shutting off the tap and scurrying to grab a rag. He wiped up the mess while whistling and pretending not to listen. Judging by the fact that he ran the washcloth over the same place thirty times in a row, he was hanging onto every word.

  Trinket cleared her throat, giving Jesse a disapproving stare before continuing. “This witch had a child. A little girl. And when that baby was born…”

  Mimsey fanned herself, her face wet with tears. “This story makes me emotional every time.”

  “Get a grip, sister,” Trinket said, her voice clipped. “You’ve heard this story a million times.”

  Trinket, with her stoic face and stiff demeanor, was the exact opposite of her sibling. Whereas Mimsey resembled a cushy bean bag chair with a joyful smile and a warm embrace, Trinket was a dead ringer for a principal I’d had in elementary school—a severe woman who’d worn a gray bun so tight I had worried her brain cells would die an early death. She dressed in all black day in and day out and carried a cane around school that she used to knock students on the knees more than she used it to walk.

  Mimsey took a shuddering breath. With a dramatic flourish, she swallowed and waved a hand. “Go on then.”

  Trinket straightened her shoulders. “When her daughter was born, the first witch felt as if her heart had split in two—part of her heart remained inside her, and part of it would always be with her daughter. She felt raw, exposed, and though she wanted to protect her daughter every minute of every day, she soon realized that was impossible.”

  Mimsey’s gaze softened. “Most children want to grow wings and fly.”

  “As they should,” Trinket said, her voice dry. “All children grow up.”

  “I don’t understand what the necklace has to do with anything.”

  “The first witch decided to split her heart locket. She knew that if she broke her charm in half, the spell that protected her would be diminished. She’d no longer be invincible. For so long, she’d been the only witch alive. Never reproducing and kept safe by this spell.” Trinket stepped forward. “When she separated the locket, she broke the spell.”

  “She passed away?” I asked.

  “Not immediately.” Trinket shook her head. “She gave half to her daughter and ke
pt half for herself so that they’d always be linked. They’d both be partially protected, but neither would be invincible.”

  “Which is how our culture came to be.” Mimsey turned back to me. “May I?”

  I glanced down as Mimsey’s fingers brushed against my collarbone. Inhaling, I held my breath as she pressed her half of the heart to my necklace and paused before she snapped it into place. She looked up, and I gave a nod, not trusting myself to speak. My breath came in uneven bursts as I waited, watched, wondered.

  Mimsey’s fingers pressed tight, and there was a light clink as the two halves snapped into place. As Mimsey stepped backward, my fingers played with the charm, getting used to the feel of a full heart on the end of my necklace.

  To my surprise, the charm glowed warm, almost hot.

  “Do you feel it?” Mimsey whispered.

  I nodded. “What’s happening?” I didn’t want to pull my fingers from the charm. A warm sensation filled me from the inside out, starting deep in my soul and radiating to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes until even my scalp tingled with warmth.

  “The spell is locking into place,” Mimsey said. “That feeling will only last a few moments.”

  “If—and this is still a big if—I believe you two, then why didn’t you give this to me sooner?” I looked between the sisters.

  Mimsey sucked in a breath while Trinket glanced at the floor.

  “What is it?” I pressed.

  “The curse,” Mimsey whispered, her voice so soft I had to lean in to hear her.

  “What curse?”

  “We mustn’t speak of it here.” Trinket clasped her hands together. “We’ve done our job, sister. We’ve determined that she is, in fact, the next Mixologist. We’ve enacted her Protection. Now we must leave. Lily, are you coming with us?”

  “The way you’re asking, it doesn’t feel like I have a choice,” I said.

  “Without you, dear, our entire culture is endangered. Already, it’s begun,” Mimsey said. “It’s begun, dear.”

  “What’s begun?” I looked at Jesse, not sure I liked where this was headed.

  I was plenty happy with my non-dangerous marketing life, to be completely honest. Witches and nonsense—it was too much. I hadn’t had time to process anything, yet there I was, standing with two women who were certifiably bonkers and talking about witches as if such a thing actually existed. I really did need a vacation.

  “I think I’m staying right here,” I said. “I’ll look for a new job, wake up tomorrow, and realize all of this was a dream.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mimsey said. “Please, consider coming with us.”

  “Or don’t,” Trinket added. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll come with us whether you want to or not.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do I have a choice or not?”

  “You do,” Mimsey said as Trinket snapped, “You don’t.”

  “And how do you plan on making me come with you?” I crossed my arms, feeling a surge of confidence as I surveyed the two old ladies, one tall and slender, the other short and pudgy. Surely I could outrun these two women.

  Trinket, however, must have thought otherwise. She raised a hand, muttered something, and snapped her fingers. All at once, every single tap behind the bar turned on, flooding the counter, the floor, the drains with beer. All sorts of liquor bottles flew into the air, clanking into one another. I ducked, barely missing a bottle of vodka flying past my head. The bottle of liquor met a sharp ending as it crashed into the wall, the heavy glass cracking and depositing its contents on the floor.

  Trinket murmured something else, and a ribbon of fire shot up as the vodka hit the floor, surrounding the woman but somehow not burning her. I stood, my mouth agape, my heart racing, as Trinket stared back at me. With the flames dancing around her figure, she looked more like the devil than a witch.

  “Stop it, stop it!” Mimsey shouted, snapping her fingers. She spoke a few sentences too quickly for me to catch, waving her arms as if directing a world-famous orchestra.

  The taps shut off, the bottles returned to their shelves, and the flames disappeared just as quickly as they’d come. Even the counter was spotless, no sign of the war that’d just erupted.

  “Sorry about that, dear.” Mimsey shuffled over to Jesse, who was dripping with alcohol. His drenched clothes were the only remaining sign of the disaster flying through the bar seconds before. “Now, Trinket, we’re going to have to use a Memory Magnet on him. Do you know how much paperwork that is?”

  “Our niece wasn’t cooperating.” Trinket, though her voice remained firm, averted her eyes with a sheepish expression. “What should I have done?”

  “I’m not forcing Lily to come live with us,” Mimsey snarled.

  Even Trinket, with her stuffy, humorless personality, looked a bit terrified.

  Mimsey pointed in Trinket’s direction. “You have no right to threaten our sister’s daughter. How dare you?”

  To my complete and utter surprise, Trinket’s cheeks turned red. “I’m sorry.”

  “You better be.” Mimsey crossed her arms, huffing as she turned back to Jesse. She whispered another phrase, touched Jesse’s shoulder, and poof! Jesse was dry.

  I blinked. “How did you do that?”

  “Do you honestly not believe in magic yet?” Trinket asked. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “Trinket!” Mimsey positively roared. “Use your manners. The girl has spent twenty-six years thinking she’s human. It’s not going to happen in a second. We’re already lucky she didn’t throw us out.”

  “Magic?” I said weakly, still in shock.

  “Magic.” Mimsey turned to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Now, the choice is yours. We both desperately want you to return to The Isle with us, even if my sister doesn’t know how to show it.”

  I focused on inhaling and exhaling and trying to listen to the words I found impossible to believe.

  “Our people need your services. However, we will not threaten you. You must decide for yourself if you’d like to join us. To be part of the culture you were born into.” Mimsey’s eyes implored me to agree.

  “I was born here in St. Paul,” I said after a pause.

  Mimsey shook her head. “No, you were born on The Isle, darling.”

  “But my dad…” My back stiffened. “Wait a minute. My dad, does he know?”

  “Hmm, how to put this…” Mimsey began.

  “It’s complicated,” Trinket said, the shortness still prevalent in her words. “Now, your decision?”

  I twisted to look at Jesse and realized he wouldn’t be helping me anytime soon. His eyes darted between the three of us, his expression as dazed as if he’d been knocked on the head with a brick.

  “Let me take care of him,” Trinket said. With brisk steps, she strode across the room and removed a pencil from her purse. Or at least, something that resembled a pencil. When she reached Jesse, she grabbed his arm. “Hold still, boy. This won’t hurt.”

  “Stop!” I cried, leaping toward Jesse as Trinket lifted the pencil and pressed the eraser to the center of Jesse’s forehead.

  “It doesn’t hurt him, dear,” Mimsey said, grasping my waist and holding on with the full force of her plump body. Though I was younger and arguably more agile, I found myself stuck in place, running as if I had a bungee cord tied to my waist. “Hold still, dear. It doesn’t hurt!”

  “What does it do?” I stopped struggling, but Mimsey didn’t let go of me.

  Taking hold of my biceps instead of my waist, she held me steady, gesturing toward Jesse. “She’s just erasing any memories of magic.”

  Jesse’s eyes remained open, staring straight at me with a blank, unseeing gaze. My spine prickled with the eerie sensation of being watched. But Jesse didn’t move as he looked intently at a memory nobody else could see.

  “It’s literally an eraser?” I asked, looking around for another pencil. “I never knew a number two pencil was so powerful.”

  “No,
of course not, dear. It’s enchanted with a spell. We witches try to enchant things that don’t look out of place in human culture. Things like lipstick cases, necklaces—”

  “Pencils,” I finished. “Huh.”

  “We run a supply store on The Isle,” Mimsey said, hopefulness lacing her voice. “Would you like to come see it?”

  I gasped, ignoring her question as Jesse sagged against the bar. Trinket—thin, bony arms and all—somehow managed to drag him onto a stool.

  “Do witches have superhuman strength?” I asked. “Jesse is not a small guy.”

  “A bit.” Mimsey sounded distracted. “Trinket, are you finished? We can’t hang around all day. Someone will wander in for a drink soon enough. We should be off.”

  Trinket gave a nod.

  Mimsey straightened. “Well, then. Lily?”

  I opened my mouth, then I shut it. Then I opened it again. I closed it again as Chunk crawled out from one of Mimsey’s pockets. I’d completely forgotten about the guinea pig, what with bottles flying around, fire shooting up the walls, and my friend being knocked unconscious by a pencil.

  Mimsey stroked her pet’s fur absently. “We need an answer. I don’t know the next time we’ll be able to come back.”

  “I can’t get there on my own?” I asked.

  “Yes or no, are you coming with us?” Trinket asked, her voice flat. “There is no other way.”

  “But—” I hugged my body as I backed up against the counter.

  My mind raced. The scariest thought of all? I was considering going with them. I shivered, wondering what I’d done wrong for Karma to come after me. I’d lost my job, encountered two crazies, and gone off my own rocker—all in one day. I didn’t believe in things like witches and wizards. And even if I did, there was no way I was one of them.

  As much as I liked to believe I was an important, successful twenty-something, I still knew there wasn’t anything particularly special about me. I worked hard, did my job, and I got promoted. It wasn’t magic. Magic didn’t exist.

  So why were my instincts telling me these two women weren’t lying? Why am I listening to them when I don’t know them from the homeless guy down the street? I could blame it on the flying bottles trick, the snapping of their fingers and muttering of strange phrases. I could blame it on the eraser-dealie-bob or the whole necklace warming to the touch. Heck, I could blame the strange happenings of the PowerPoint on them. At least then something would make sense.