The Deadly Diadem: A Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mystery (Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mysteries Book 2), Tegan Maher [read this if .txt] 📗

“Fair enough,” he said, “because I’m pulling into your drive. I’ll see you in five.”

“I need to make a coffee to go.” No way was I going to be able to deal with a cursed Martha Hightower with no caffeine.

“I stopped and got you one,” he replied. “I remember what you’re like uncaffeinated, and I’m not placing the fate of a little old lady in your hands in that condition, especially now that I know how truly dangerous that could be.”

That was probably a good idea, and I was relieved that the only emotion I picked up in his tone was amusement. That was a huge step in the right direction. “See you in five, then.”

I ran a washrag over my face and wiped the eyeliner from the night before from under my eyes, then applied a fresh layer and decided that would have to do.

Four minutes later, I was in his cop car and reaching for the large cup he’d brought with him. I smiled when the caramel deliciousness hit my tongue.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Eli.

“Who are you calling?” he asked, his expression a little sour.

“Eli,” I replied, ready for war. Before coffee was not the time to rag on me about anything. “Is that a problem?”

Relief crossed his features. “No, not at all.”

My sluggish brain finally caught up and I realized he’d probably thought I was calling Luther. I decided to cut him a little slack and not call him on it even though it wouldn’t have been a terrible idea to place that call, too. Instead, I’d call Sybil. Better to go in locked and loaded than unprepared. I had no experience un-cursing somebody, and this was no time to practice.

“Hey,” I said when he picked up. “We have a code red.”

“Oh my god!” he explained. “You killed one of the twins? Both of them? How? It’s only seven-thirty. You shouldn’t even be out of bed yet. Do I need to stop and get lime?”

“No,” I said, exasperated even though it wasn’t a stretch that his mind went there.

“Code red as in we think we’ve found another artifact. Martha Hightower is at the Goodwill donating all her worldly possessions.”

“Oh. Phew. That was a close one. Don’t do that again—my heart can’t take it. Wait,” he said, catching on. “Martha Hightower, as in the one who puts a padlock on her gate at Halloween?”

“Yep,” I said. “Can you think of anything in the book that would do that?”

He was quiet for a minute, thinking. “Yeah, one thing, maybe. A beaded purse. It was meant for somebody with a stingy heart, which fits her to a T.”

“Wanna meet us there?” I asked.

“Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t miss that one for the world.”

I turned to James. “I’m sorry about this whole mess. I know it’s a lot for you to take in, and a trial by fire wouldn’t be my first choice to introduce you to magic.”

He huffed. “No, your first choice was not to introduce me to it at all.”

That irritated me, especially since things had gone so well the day before. “No, my first choice was to make sure we were serious before I shared a secret that I’m bound by law to keep except under quite specific and rare circumstances.”

That much was true. Telling a human about magic was a tricky prospect and did involve getting the council’s approval. There was no need to tell him I’d also been scared he wouldn’t accept me for who I was considering I’d been right. Luther was right—even now, after he’d had five years to wrap his head around the idea, he was making snarky comments about it before he could catch himself.

Before the conversation could deteriorate into an argument, I pulled up Sybil’s number and called her.

“I’ll meet you there,” she said when I explained, and the line went dead. Maybe she had to put on her face, too, though somehow I got the feeling she always looked great, even fresh out of bed.

Five minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of the Goodwill, and sure enough, there was a huge moving truck parked on the donation side. Two burly men were standing behind it, gazes straight ahead as Mrs. Hightower ranted at them.

James pulled up behind the truck, and as soon as we got out, we had no problem hearing what she was saying.

“Why aren’t you moving all that stuff out of the truck?” she asked, standing on her tippy toes in an attempt to look them in the eye. She was still a foot and a half too short, though. “I’m not paying you by the hour.” She slapped a blue-veined hand over her mouth. “Though I probably should. You’ve already worked two more hours than we contracted for.”

Yeah, she was cursed, all right. The old lady I knew would be having them working for free for not getting the work done in the window of time they’d agreed upon.

As we climbed out, Sybil strode around the corner. I looked for Luther, but she appeared to be alone, at least until a black cat slipped around the corner behind her. It stopped near the collection bay and hopped up onto the loading dock, then wrapped its tail around its legs.

I tilted my head at it, suspicious at first, then amused. Its green eyes glittered with amusement and intelligence, and I shook my head. I was grateful, though, because he wasn’t hiding it from me. Since we had no idea what would happen when we tried to break the curse, I was glad he was there. I was confident enough in my abilities to acknowledge that I might need help, and if I didn’t trust any other feeling I had about him, I did have utter faith in his power.

James gave Sybil a curt nod as we convened in front of the truck.

“I gave strict instructions