Hex on the Beach (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 1) (5 page)

“He doesn’t talk much,” Mimsey whispered, patting my knee. She nodded toward the back of the sorry excuse of a boat.

Somewhere between a glorified canoe and a flimsy dinghy, the contraption was just big enough to seat Mimsey, Trinket, and I through the center, while the captain sat at the back. I huddled against the wind, still dressed in my pencil skirt and white blouse, though my chignon had disintegrated into a straggly bun, and my appearance might be described as haggard at best.

“What’s your name?” I asked through chattering teeth.

The captain’s eyes barely flicked in my direction before he looked forward once more. His brown hair stood on end, the wind rippling through it as he increased the speed at which we flew across the water. He had a baby face, round and a bit pudgy. His cheeks were tinged a ruddy red.

“He won’t speak to you,” Trinket said, her voice as chilly as the night air. “Just leave him be.”

“Is he a witch, er—wizard?” I felt bad speaking about the man when he was right behind us.

“I suppose so. Nobody quite knows anything about his past, dear.” Mimsey gave a shrug. “He just showed up one day. Never said a word that I know of.”

“Do you have a name?” I asked, my voice soft as I looked at the captain. Then I realized why the silence seemed so heavy out here on the water—the distinct sound of a boat’s motor was missing. I filed that tidbit of information away to ask about later, along with a hundred other questions. For now, I sat, waiting to see if the captain would respond.

He heard me—I was certain he heard me. The man’s ears burned red, and his eyes twitched once more in my direction before refocusing on the now-choppy waves ahead.

“We call him Kenny,” Mimsey said.

“Is that his name?”

She shrugged. “Might be. He’s never told us anything different. Someone started calling him that, and it just kind of stuck.”

I had so many questions for him, but I suspected not many of them would be answered—at least not by him.
How did he get here?
Had he, like me, grown up in the non-magic world?

I was struck with the realization that magic had become real to me. I’d seen, beyond a shadow of a doubt, unexplainable things today. From the lion coming to life on my PowerPoint, to the vodka bottles nearly breaking my skull, to Jesse going from drenched to dry to losing his memory in a matter of moments, I was running out of reasons not to believe. If magic
wasn’t
the answer, then it was an elaborate stunt. And don’t even get me started on the whole “popping off a bus” trick.

Ironically, magic was a more reasonable explanation than a stunt. I didn’t have a single person in my life who knew me well enough, or cared enough, to plan a stunt. Not out of love, not for fun and games, not even out of spite. I lived such an isolated life—focused solely on work—that I hardly had
enemies
.

My jaw, locked tight to stave off the chattering, was aching from the tension. “How much longer? I’m going to die from cold.”

“Sorry, dear, use this.” Mimsey handed me a blanket that resembled a ragged beach towel.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I held it up, the flimsy material flapping in the wind.

“Put it over your shoulders.” Mimsey smiled. “It’ll help.”

Skeptical, I shrugged the flimsy material over my shoulders and pulled it tight around my neck. Relief from the biting breeze was immediate. Surprised, I smiled at Mimsey. “This blanket is incredible. It’s magic.”

Mimsey averted her eyes, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not
all
magic. It’s just
enhanced
.”

I bit my lip, holding back a laugh. “I meant it as a saying, but well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Almost there. Can you bring us right ’round to the beach?” Trinket asked.

Kenny didn’t respond, but he made a minor adjustment to the steering thingamajig, which I guessed pointed us toward an unseen beach.

“By the way, does this thing have a motor?” I asked, gripping the sides of the boat as Kenny continued to accelerate. We were flying so fast, I wondered if the bottom of the boat was even touching the water.

“No,” Mimsey said.

She didn’t bother to elaborate, and I didn’t have time to ask.

“Watch…” I gasped. “
Watch out!
”

Ahead, the waves grew in size, the white caps nearly overtaking our tiny boat with every swell. We pushed on ahead with no end in sight, each crash bigger than the last. Soon, I’d become so drenched by the spray that the blanket was worthless. My knuckles turned a sickly white as I grasped the edges of it so tightly I thought my fingers would fall right off.

“Sit down, dear,” Mimsey called above the roar of the great lake. “Just relax. This is normal.”

“We’re going to die,” I yelled, regret plaguing my body. I should have insisted I be allowed to say
hasta la vista
to my father before trekking across the country with two nutcases. And now I was about to meet my end while sitting next to two witches and a mute.

“Get a grip on yourself, woman,” Trinket commanded. “Sit down and relax.”

“But…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Instead, I raised my arm, my entire body trembling, and I pointed ahead, gasping. “There.”

Mere feet in front of us, a wave curled into a perfect tunnel. It loomed before us, the momentum carrying it forward just as Kenny cranked the throttle and urged us directly toward it. The steady roar of the angry water deafened me, sucking my screams straight from my lips.

As the wave grew higher, the pit in my stomach sank. Ten feet, twelve feet, sixteen now, easy. Bits of seaweed dotted the wall of water as the top, tipped in white, curled around our boat.

This was the end.

I had no clue how long the blackness lasted.

But I knew the darkness began when the wave hurled over our little boat, and I knew it ended when I opened my eyes some time later.

I opened one eye slowly, just to test. I had no gauge as to how long I’d been out, how I’d managed to stay alive, or how much water I’d ingested. Taking the tiniest peek imaginable, I tried to get a feel of my surroundings.

The glimpse through my lashes told me that wherever in the world I might be, it was bright outside. Sunlight streamed down and poked me hard in the eyeball. I shut my lid again, leaned my head back on a pillow—
whose pillow?—
and rested.

Outside somewhere, birds chirped lilting, happy songs that improved my mood immediately. The sound of gentle waves relaxed my tense shoulders, the aftermath of a tussle with the lake. A light sway nearly put me back to sleep, but as I didn’t feel dead and this place didn’t appear terrible, I forced myself to sit up.

Except sitting up wasn’t as easy as I expected. “
Whoaaa!
”

Rope ties encircled me, holding my body captive. The contraption jolted me to and fro as I tried to steady myself. I set my feet down, but they missed the ground, and I flopped in a heap, realizing too late that I wasn’t in a trap. Just a hammock. Which I should have guessed, thinking back to the gentle sway that’d lulled me to consciousness.

“What’re ya,
drunk
?” a deep voice growled. “First night on The Isle, and you can’t resist getting schnookered. What a load of dung.”

I sat up as an old man mumbled, the
click-clack
of his cane piercing my confused brain as he climbed a nearby staircase.

“Hi.” I pulled myself to my feet and laid a hand on the wildly swaying hammock, doing my best to steady it. “And who might you be?”

“You don’t ask the questions,
missy
.” The man stopped in his tracks, poking me on the shoulder with the end of his cane.

I reached up, more out of surprise than pain, and rubbed my shoulder where he’d clocked me. “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m a little confused.”

“Why ya confused?” The man watched me closely, scrunching his nose to push a pair of thick glasses higher onto his face. His hair, coarse and white, was so sturdy it didn’t move with the light breeze. The strands coming out of his ears looked just as thick, and a stray hair or two poked out of his nostrils.

“I—I, well, the last thing I remember is a wave crashing over me, then everything went black and, uh… I woke up here.” I gestured to the hammock, for the first time taking a moment to absorb the scenery around us.

A white-sand beach stretched in both directions until it curved out of sight. The sand glittered as fiercely as if it’d been ground from diamonds, the glint of the sun reminding me of a snow-covered prairie on a sunny Minnesotan winter day. Palm trees dotted the shoreline, popping up among grassy patches, while the aquamarine water licking the edges of The Isle was a blue so pure it looked like glass.

“This place is gorgeous,” I whispered.

“It’s all right,” the man said gruffly. “But ya didn’t come here to sightsee, did ya?”

“I don’t know what I came here for, to be honest.” I met his gaze, forcing myself not to look away. “I haven’t been told much of anything.”

“They didn’t tell ya nothing?” He looked appalled. “Don’t know how I’m supposed to do my job if they dump someone like
you
on my doorstep.”

“Someone like me?” I did my best to keep my voice even. Even if my dad hadn’t been around much, he’d taught me the power of good manners—something this man had
obviously
never learned.

“You’re oblivious. Slow. Clueless.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing of the staircase. “Some student you’ll make.”

“Student?” I arched an eyebrow and, for the first time, peered behind me.

The structure there certainly didn’t resemble a school. It was a beachy bungalow that looked more along the lines of a B and B on Fiji. The bungalow, for lack of a better word, looked like a gingerbread house. The outside walls boasted pinks and purples and yellows, meeting in corners that held up a slanting roof.

Unlike most beach houses, however, this one was
tall.
Two floors plus an attic tall, the roof towering over the neighboring palm trees. A wraparound porch surrounded the glorified hut, where the hammock on which I’d slept drifted in the easy breeze.

“Unfortunately I’m tasked with teaching you.” The man grunted. “Don’t worry, I’m not happy about it either.”

My stomach sank. I’d given up my entire life for
this?
A crotchety old man who claimed I was more or less stupid?

“You don’t have to teach me,” I said, stepping backward. “If you could just point me in the direction of Mimsey and Trinket, I’ll be out of your way. They were taking care of me up until now.”

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t. We must get moving. Times are a-changin’, and though I hate to admit it, we’ll need your skills.” The old man frowned. “Get on inside. It’s time for our first lesson.”

“Lesson in what?” I crossed my arms. “Listen,
sir
.
I’m trying to be polite, but I can’t help the fact that I’m clueless. I was whisked from my life yesterday, which happened to be
just fine,
thank you very much. Then two witches convinced me that magic was real before they nearly killed me en route to this place. I don’t know where I am, what I’m doing here, and I
haven’t
had any breakfast. Can I please get some answers?”

“No time—” The man blanched, looking at something over my shoulder.

I turned around. Mimsey was striding across the white sand, her face angry.

“Gus Christopher Shank,” she said, puffing heavy breaths as she made her way around the bungalow, “I
told
you the girl hadn’t been fed. I
told
you not to come before ten a.m., yet here you are, scaring her away at eight o’clock. What’s gotten into you?”

The man called Gus paled, stepping down from the stairs. “Just checking on her.”

Apparently I wasn’t the only person who thought Mimsey’s angry face was terrifying.

“I’m sorry about Gus, dear,” Mimsey said, trudging through the last few feet of sand. She stepped onto the bottom stair leading to the porch and, breathing heavily, sized me up. “Did you sleep well?”

“I was dead to the world,” I said, glancing around. “Though I’m not sure where in the world we are.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t explain more. It’s terrifying your first time, isn’t it? The wave, that is.” Mimsey gestured toward the now-calm, crystal-clear waters and climbed the rest of the stairs. “You get used to it.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I don’t think I want to get used to it.”

Mimsey patted my shoulder. “Good. I don’t think you’ll have to, since this is your home. We hope you won’t be leaving.”

“Do you live here?” I gestured to the building behind me.

“No, dear. You do. This is
your
home.”

“But—” I hesitated. “I didn’t bring any money.”

“We don’t need your money. It doesn’t even work here, those flimsy little dollars.” Mimsey let out a tinkering, pleasant laugh that lightened the mood. “This home belongs to the Mixologist. See, if you come around to the side…” Mimsey turned and hoofed back down the steps, pausing at the bottom and putting a hand on her hip as she looked over her shoulder. “Come on now, I want to show you something.”

I followed her, keeping to the opposite side of the staircase and avoiding Gus as best I could. Tailing Mimsey to the side of the bungalow, I was startled when she stopped abruptly and gestured up.

“This is yours, my dear.” Mimsey smiled. “Passed down over generations in your family.
Our
family, I suppose.”

Before me stretched a rickety-looking tiki bar tacked onto the side of the house. A crooked sign above the serving area read Magic & Mixology, while a row of circular bar stools sat before the counter.

“You can access it from outside or inside. The first level of the bungalow is a store,” Mimsey said. “We only put you to sleep in the hammock last night because fresh air tends to help a newcomer after the wave. The second floor is your living room and kitchen, and the attic is your bedroom. I changed the linens yesterday.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. “This is incredible.”

“You have a great location. Well, mostly great. The dock is right down the beach, so you get all the travelers stopping in for beverages. I live not far away—Trinket and I, we run a supply store just down the road. Just… don’t go north. That’s dangerous.” Mimsey looked uncomfortable even as she gave the warning.

“What’s that way?” I looked in the direction I assumed was north, seeing nothing but the curve of the island and a smattering of trees.

“Oh, The Forest. But let’s not talk about that now. I’m going to send the girls over later to give you a tour of The Isle. In the meantime, I’m afraid Gus is right—we really should get you started with your lessons. The first week is likely to be orientation mostly, and we need to get you up to speed.”

“Lessons for…? I know how to make drinks. I don’t understand why you plucked me out to be a bartender, but I can make all the normal cocktails: gin and tonic, whiskey sour, Sex on the Beach, you name it. But there’s nothing special about them.”

Mimsey smiled. “You didn’t notice it where you come from, dear, but here, we notice your skills. You have Mixology in your blood. Here on The Isle, you’ll focus on antidote potions, cures, and specialty spells.”

I gawked.

Mimsey ignored my reaction. “Gus is the most experienced instructor we have. If you can see through his cranky exterior, you’ll be able to pick up a lot of knowledge.”

“Okay,” I said, still getting used to this whole
magic is real
thing.

“How about you get started while I cook you some breakfast, then we can take a quick break to eat in an hour?” Mimsey raised her eyebrows. “Can you last that long?”

“Yes, no problem.” My stomach, still a bit queasy and seasick, needed time to settle anyway.

“Great, come this way. We’ll bring you inside.” Mimsey trekked toward the front of the house, her feet kicking up sand like an industrial excavator as we plowed forward.

Gus hadn’t moved from his perch. He leaned against the railing of the stairway leading up to the bungalow. “You got your undies unbunched?” Gus asked, looking at Mimsey, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m here as a favor, just tryin’ to help.”

“Gus, stop being a rude old
ass
.” Mimsey got up close and personal with the old man, shaking her finger in his face. “We have to keep Lily here—make her
want
to stay. You’re doing a terrible job.”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, trying to make peace. “Gus is just trying to be up-front with me. I appreciate that.”

Gus mumbled an agreement, his face showing surprise.

“Shall we get started?” I asked. “Breakfast is apparently in one hour. I have time to learn a few basics before then.”

Gus looked at Mimsey in shock. She raised an eyebrow, her expression saying she was quite pleased with my response.

“Go on.” Mimsey patted the instructor on the shoulder. “Better not waste time, or I’ll burn your toast. I know you don’t like burnt toast, Gussy.”

“Don’t call me nicknames.” Gus pounded his cane with exaggerated thumps as he climbed the staircase. “And don’t burn my damn toast.”

I smiled to myself, following the pair inside. Though Gus’s words came out tough, his whole attitude toward Mimsey was one of genuine affection. He brushed past her a hair closer than necessary. When he looked at her, his eyes belied a twinkle of life that contradicted his words, and when he reached the front of the bungalow, he held the door open for the spritely witch.

“Go on,” he said to me once Mimsey had entered. “I’m gonna die soon. Don’t got all day to hold this door.”

I scurried through.

“Don’t say that, you morbid old man,” Mimsey called over her shoulder. “I’m burning your toast if you threaten to go dyin’ on me one more time today.”

“Don’t you dare!” Gus shouted after her before turning his fuming eyes on me. “That woman, you watch out for her. She knows how to push your buttons.”

“I don’t
push buttons
, Gus,” Mimsey hollered from the kitchen. “I’m burning your eggs too.”

Gus shook his head, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “She’s bonkers.”

I couldn’t hide a smile, and instead of responding to the two feuding like cats and dogs, I took the time to absorb the lower level of my new home.

“Don’t touch nothin’,” Gus warned, seeing me scan the room.

“This is so… dangerous.” I turned in a slow circle, examining wall upon wall of glass containers. “One wrong move and…” I made a
kaplooey
motion with my hands.