That was the last time I was going to be vaping with Sebille.
“Let me just wash out this mug and I’ll be right down,” I told her as she started down the steps leading to Croakies’ back room.
Sebille flicked a hand dismissively and disappeared down the steps with thunderous steps. I’d never understand how someone whose natural state was teeny tiny with iridescent purple and green wings could be so heavy-footed.
Then again, it could have something to do with the pointy red shoes. They hadn’t had her size in the shiny monstrosities and Sebille had been “absolutely certain” she couldn’t go on with her life if she didn’t get them. She’d bought them anyway and stuffed the toes with cotton balls.
Thus the clomping aspect to her descent down my stairs. I’d personally witnessed the shoes taking a flyer more than once. I’d even been nearly clocked on the head by one once.
Shaking my head, I moved into the kitchen and ran water into the mug, adding some soap to the mix. Then I rinsed it out and placed it upside down in the drainer on my counter.
My head still ached, but it was much better than it had been before the tea. I splashed cold water onto my face and squinted around for a towel, finally remembering I’d put it into the laundry the night before.
Reaching blindly for the paper towels, I encountered an empty roll.
In desperation, I tugged my shirt up and dragged it over my face, leaving a large wet spot on the bottom.
Whatever.
I headed down to the first floor, suddenly anxious to discover the source of my magical headache. The sooner we figured out which artifact needed rescuing, the sooner I could get pain-free.
The door leading to the bookstore was at the bottom of the stairs. I stopped and peered through the glass, seeing an empty store and a Closed sign on the door. Just as Sebille had said.
I released breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. It had been a long day and, though I loved my job at the bookstore, I was relieved that my day job wouldn’t be interfering with my night job. for once
I locked the interior door and turned toward the large, open room behind the stairs. As usual, the light in the place flickered over the artifacts, a rainbow of colors that shifted and shuddered, depending on which artifacts held sway at the moment.
There was a light switch I could use to disrupt the natural light of the artifacts, but I’d never used it. I’d never felt the need to disrupt the artifacts’ natural energy. I liked that they lit the space around them with an energy all their own.
I found Sebille standing in front of an ancient, wood-framed standing mirror, hands on hips and shoulders stiff. I recognized the tiny figure who stared back at her from the age-marbled glass.
“Don’t be such a derk!” Sebille’s mother exclaimed in a voice amplified by magic. It was very strange to see the bug-sized woman’s lips moving and to hear a voice as big as her full-sized daughter’s. “You know we must do as the magic commands.”
Sebille leaned closer, her frame rigid. I couldn’t see her freckled face but I could picture it in my mind. In her rage, the Sprite’s features would be sharp, her skin giving off an iridescent glow that changed color depending on how mad she was. I was relieved to see it was only a mild pink, which meant she was irritated, but she wasn’t going to be tempted to send an atom-shattering blast of magic into the treasure mirror in her present mood.
“Sebille?” I said as I approached. I spoke more to distract her from getting any angrier than for any other reason. I gave her mother a smile and a finger wave. “Your Majesty.”
The Sprite’s wings fluttered with pleasure and her tiny form dipped on the air before surging back up to eye level in the mirror. “Hello, Naida. How is your headache?”
I wrapped an arm around Sebille. “Better, thanks to your daughter’s superhero level tea making abilities.”
The Sprite in the mirror smiled regally. “I am glad. I hope you can help him, Keeper. I really do. Now I have to go.” She shot straight up, out of view. The pond in the background sparkled for a beat before beginning to waver and then disappeared behind a silvery cloud of nothingness.
“He?” I asked my assistant.
Sebille dropped angrily onto a chair, her expression murderous. “Don’t ask.” She yelped and shot straight into the air, grabbing her buttocks and turning to glare at the chair. The red velvet and gilded wood furniture shifted back and forth as if wagging its tail and then settled into inactivity again.
I was pretty sure the gilded arms sparkled for a moment before returning to normal. “Casanova’s chair,” I told her, a laugh burbling in my throat.
“I’m aware of that, Naida!” She snapped, rubbing her bottom and glaring at the chair. “We should put that thing in the closet.”
I allowed my laugh to escape, shaking my head. “I have. Five times. It just keeps showing back up at the front of the shop.”
She sighed. “Sometimes, I hate magical artifacts.”
I gave her a wink. “Yeah, but magical artifacts luuurrrvvve you!”
She somehow missed the humor in my teasing. “In the questionable vernacular of my Sprite mother, don’t be such a derk, Naida!”
Shaking my head, I pointed to the mirror. “Did your mother have any insights for us?”
“Nothing very useful. She said the magical wave was mixed and vague. All she got from it was that it concerned a man.” She pinched bony shoulders toward her pointed ears. “Maybe one of the artifacts in the shop has gone rogue.”
I glanced around at the seemingly jumbled mess of things which looked harmless and innocent but which definitely weren’t either of those things. Nothing glowed or shimmied or just generally looked agitated. “If so, I’m not sensing it here. Are you?”
Sebille opened her mouth to reply but didn’t
