Mouse of Cards (Magic Market Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  MOUSE OF CARDS

  A COZY WITCH MYSTERY

  ERIN JOHNSON

  To my mom. Thanks for all your help with everything—I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you!

  CONTENTS

  Prequel Novella

  1. Night Job

  2. The Clinic

  3. Time to Face the Music

  4. A Case

  5. Magical Artifacts Museum

  6. Smashed

  7. Maverick

  8. Cursed

  9. Police Business

  10. Summoned

  11. Outed

  12. Protests

  13. Museum Director

  14. Cursed

  15. Museum Shop

  16. Mrs. Abernathy

  17. A Favor

  18. Peter's Place

  19. Will

  20. The Nightmarket

  21. Archives

  22. Opening Night

  23. Curses!

  24. Forced Out

  25. Negative Energies

  26. The Mouse

  27. Final Confrontation

  28. Trapped

  29. Complicated

  30. Broken

  31. The Secret

  32. Friends

  The Summit

  Pyramid

  The Harder They Fall

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Get the FREE Prequel Novella

  A magical academy. A suspicious death. Can an inexperienced cop expose the deadly secrets lurking behind bewitched classroom doors?

  Check out rookie officer Peter Flint’s first case with Daisy. Saved by the Spell is the prequel to the Magic Market paranormal cozy mystery series.

  Download Saved by the Spell to solve a mystical murder today!

  NIGHT JOB

  I eyed the trail of slime that now marred my velvet tablecloth with its sprinkling of gold stars and moons and grimaced. At least now I had the spending money to get it washed.

  I plunked my cheek into my hand and blinked at the nerdy guy who sat across my kitchen table from me. “So you came in tonight because your pet slug is feeling… sluggish?”

  He roughly rubbed his nose. “Snail, actually. And yes, he isn’t his usual peppy self. Can you tell me what’s wrong with him? Is he depressed?”

  The little brown creature inched across the table, heading on a suicide mission toward the edge. Luckily, it’d be next Tuesday before he reached it.

  I sighed through my nose. Goddess, I hoped Peter had a case for me soon. It’d been rough the last few weeks, having to go back to my day job as a pet psychic (night job, really). I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Nearly 4:00 a.m. and closing time.

  I’d already talked to a ferret with a hoarding problem, a goldfish who’d been terrorized by the neighbor’s cat through the window, and a bird who couldn’t stop molting because of a sunflower seed allergy. Talked being the operative word. I masqueraded as a pet “psychic” for cover.

  The truth was, I’d been cursed a few years ago and lost all my magical powers, along with the ability to shift, but gained the oh so lovely ability to speak with animals. If I’d admitted to that, it’d basically be advertising the fact that I was a shifter—or used to be—and on the magical island of Bijou Mer that was like wearing a flashing neon sign begging people to discriminate against you.

  Still, my powers had earned me a position as a police consultant. I’d helped crack a few cases, and word had spread around my little nook of the Darkmoon Night Market that I was apparently legit. Which meant lots more pet psychic business. Good, in that I had more merkles for putting food on the table, but bad in that I had to have endlessly inane conversations. Oh, from rising star lawyer to this—how the mighty had fallen.

  I reached out and tapped the snail’s spiral shell. It stopped its death march across the table and swiveled its eyes, at the ends of long stalks, to look at me. They both blinked, slightly out of sync. Rude.

  It was always a challenge, hiding my conversations with pets while right in front of their owners, but lucky for me snail language was basically a lot of blinking.

  I winked, then blinked back. Sorry. Hey, your owner wants to know why you haven’t been as peppy lately? You feeling okay?

  I glanced up at the clock—only five minutes till I could close up shop.

  It winked its left eye several times. Okay? I’m feeling better than ever.

  I winked my right eye several times. Really? How so?

  “You okay?” The guy leaned away from the table and curled his lip at me. “You look like you’re having a conniption.”

  I shot him a flat look and pressed my fingers to my temples. “My powers work in mysterious ways.” Don’t judge me. I turned back to the snail, who was winking and blinking away like mad.

  I’m flying over the weeds. I’m on a rainbow trip to a garden of plenty filled with untouched leaves and stalks that reach to heaven and—

  Okay. I think I knew what was going on here. I turned back to the snail’s owner and laced my fingers together under my chin. “Are you growing some ‘special’ plants at home?” I made air quotes, then tucked my hands innocently back under my chin.

  The guy paled and blinked rapidly behind his glasses.

  I cocked my head and plastered on a sickly sweet smile. “You alright? You look like you’re having a conniption.”

  His throat bobbed. “I uh—no—why would—”

  I nodded. “Thought so. I’m guessing your special little guy here got into your secret stash and ate some of the leaves. He appears to be on the trip of his little snail life.” I was fighting hard not to laugh. The situation was ludicrous.

  The guy slumped in his seat, pale. “You’re—you’re not going to turn me in, are you?” He dragged both hands through his dark hair, which left it sticking up at odd angles. “Oh snakes, they’re gonna take Squishy from me, aren’t they?” He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m an unfit snail father.”

  A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. Who? I wanted to ask him. Who would be coming to take away a grown man’s pet snail? And yes, technically growing a certain variety of magical plant was illegal, but really, who was I to judge? It was harmless… unless you were Squishy, apparently. Though even the extra-slow-moving snail would survive.

  I cleared my throat, and the guy lifted his face, expression contorted in a grimace. “Please don’t call the police!”

  I pressed my lips tight together to keep from snickering. Oh, I couldn’t wait to tell Will and Heidi about this one. Because yeah, I was sure the police would definitely get right on this urgent case of the high pet snail.

  I folded my arms and gave him a hard look. “I should. I really should. But if you promise to keep a better eye on Squishy and never let it happen again, I’ll let it go—this once.”

  I blinked in surprise as the guy lurched across the table and took one of my hands in both of his. “Oh. Thank the goddess.” He pressed his forehead to the table while Squishy continued to inch towards the edge, eyes blinking out of sync.

  Ooh! Look at all the pretty colors!

  I glanced up at the clock that partially hid the big crack that ran down the wall. 4:00 a.m. Sweet, sweet relief.

  I pried my hand out of the guy’s grip and he looked up. I gave him a tight-lipped smile and flipped my palm up. “Glad to have been of service. Tips are encouraged.”

  THE CLINIC

  Minutes later, I fished my keys out of my jeans pocket and gritted my teeth as I strained to work the lock closed. I’d complained to my landlady, who had the delightful nickname “the dragon,” about it half a dozen times. She seemed
to think the fact that I’d consistently been late on my rent (until recently when I started my police consulting gig) meant she could neglect fixing anything in my apartment.

  She was right—there wasn’t much I could do. Except continue to complain to her about it, and if she thought that was going to let up, she greatly underestimated how annoying I could be.

  The lock turned, and I rattled the door to double check it was secure. Peeling band posters and graffiti covered it. The optimist in me liked to think of it as an ever-changing work of public art. I curled my lip. Right.

  Cool rain pattered my head. I flipped the hood of my sweatshirt up and jogged into the wet, bustling street. I headed for my friend Will’s back alley vet clinic.

  Heidi, black hair wound around her head in a milkmaid’s braid, let me in. I tugged my hood back and looked around. The small lobby was empty, the flickering fluorescents overhead casting a sickly glow off the linoleum. Heidi grinned at me. “Busy night?” She moved back behind the tall counter and slipped on her jacket.

  I followed her and leaned my folded arms on the counter. “Unfortunately.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wish I could say the same. I got so bored.”

  I looked toward the swinging double doors that led to the exam room. “What’s Will doing?”

  She raised her brows and shot me a significant look. “No idea. He went out.”

  I frowned. “He left? When’s he coming back?”

  She shrugged and stuffed a stack of magazines with magically moving models on the covers into her purse. “He told me I could close up early.”

  I scoffed. “Okay, weird. Where’d he go?”

  Heidi shrugged her purse over her shoulder. She sported long pink spandex shorts and a highlighter-yellow crop top, with a furry short coat over it all. She was the only person I knew who could pull the look off.

  “He said he had to make a house call.”

  Her tone clearly expressed her doubt and I didn’t blame her. My friend had been one of the island’s top surgeons until he lost his temper at a fancy shindig and publicly shifted into a bear. He’d lost it all and been forced to use his skills on pets and shifters. I lifted a brow. Making house calls for pet surgery seemed unlikely… and unhygienic.

  I followed her out into the dark alley. She turned and locked the clinic’s nondescript metal door. A few rats scurried nearby, rattling some paper trash and an empty bottle.

  Rupert, we’ve been over this—I don’t want our children picking up bad habits.

  Oh, come on, Glenda! It’s street food—a delicacy!

  Yes, but if they learn to eat human food it could lead to risky behavior. I vote we stick with a diet of crickets and—

  Mom! He’s biting my tail!

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I’d assumed that when I’d been cursed a few years ago, the intention had been to end my powers and ability to shift and that this gift of speaking to animals had been an unintended side effect.

  But given the overwhelming amount of asinine chatter I had to listen to from rats, insects, spiders, and birds all day and all night, I was starting to wonder. Slow claps to the creator of that potion—if they’d intended this as the real curse, it was not only creative, but effective.

  “Headache?”

  I looked up at Heidi’s concerned face and softened. “Nah.” We started down the alley side by side. “Want to grab some dinner? My treat?” I’d intended to ask Will too, but since he was mysteriously absent, a little girl time would be fun.

  She groaned. “Totally! But I can’t this time, I’m sorry.” She shot me a pinched look. I could barely see her features in the darkness of the alley, but enough pale moonlight filtered through the clouds to highlight her cheeks and eyes.

  I waved it off. “No worries.” I waggled my brows at her. “You have a hot date?”

  She sucked on her lips. “Maybe.”

  I nodded. “Who’s the lucky guy this time?”

  “That bouncer from the Unicorn’s Horn.”

  I smirked. “Another bouncer, huh?” The girl had a type.

  She giggled and shrugged, the shoulders of her furry coat bouncing. We reached the end of the alley and stepped into the neon lights of the street. The narrow, crooked buildings that lined the alley had sheltered us from the rain but now it pelted our heads. Heidi drew her wand and cast a protective spell around the both of us.

  “You heading this way?” She tilted her head.

  “Other way.” I decided in that moment to grab a quick bite by myself and treat myself to a visit to the bridge.

  She bit her lip. “Sorry about the—” She lifted her eyes to the falling rain. She wouldn’t be able to shelter me from it with her spell if we parted ways, and without magic, I was at the mercy of the elements. But tonight, the rain didn’t bother me. The nights were starting to cool off, and instead of being muggy and oppressive, the rain actually felt refreshing.

  I waved it off, drew my headphones up around my ears, then pulled my hood forward. “I’m all good. Have fun tonight—and be safe.”

  She shot me a good-natured smile. “Always. You, too, Jolene.”

  She headed one way, and I ducked into the milling crowd, going the other.

  TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC

  I reached into my pocket and punched the play button on my Walkman. Gary Numan’s “Cars” blasted through my headphones. The upbeat, human 80s classic gave me a little extra pep in my step as I headed for the bridge.

  While the rest of Bijou Mer was probably nestled asleep in their beds, the Darkmoon Night Market District was at its peak. Neon signs flashed overhead, hung from the crooked stone buildings that leaned inward over the narrow cobblestone street. Steam rose from an iron sewer grate, and a mix of shoppers, revelers, and shady characters jostled together, some heads down, slinking through the shadows, others drunkenly belting out sea shanties.

  I passed by the bathhouse on the corner, the red lanterns still burning bright. I did some quick mental calculations. I’d had a bath just two days ago. I nodded to myself and continued on.

  Seeing as the entire island ran on magic, losing mine posed quite the inconvenience. I had no way of using the magical plumbing in my apartment or any of the kitchen appliances. Luckily, I had a human goods hookup who helped me figure out a few work-arounds and luxuries, like the Walkman I used to drown out the constant chatter of animals. But for most life basics I’d simply gone without for way too long.

  But now that I’d been working with Peter as a consultant for the police, I had decent money coming in on a semiregular basis and could afford to cover the staples. It felt good to be on a regular bathing schedule, to not be constantly starving, and to have dry socks now that I had new boots that weren’t riddled with holes. Plus, for the first time in a while I could get a comb through my long hair—bonus!

  I was still a long way from my life before the curse, when I had a thriving law career, casually bought designer clothes for fun, and lived on an upper tier of the island in a swanky loft. I took a deep breath and straightened my spine. And that was okay.

  I wasn’t going to pine for the past anymore. And I wasn’t going to selectively remember the good times—I’d also been a workaholic, had no real friends, and was willing to do less than upstanding things to get ahead.

  I wasn’t aiming to reclaim the past anymore. Just to create a better present for myself—starting with a visit to my favorite black market human goods dealer for some new tunes. That’s what the youth were calling them, right?

  I hurried on and shoved my hands in my pockets. The air held a briskness I’d missed over the warm, humid summer. Though, once winter came, that posed its own challenges in terms of, you know, not freezing to death. It took spells to heat my apartment… and I had no magic. I rolled my shoulders. I’d deal with that when I had to.

  For now, I’d worked a long night, had food in my pantry and clean hair—and I was going to treat myself. I swung by a pod of food carts and grabbed a gyro, which
I devoured as I walked, and soon came to the bridge.

  Bijou Mer was a maze of bridges and canals, but in the Darkmoon everyone knew the bridge meant the big one that spanned a long dry canal. A warren of businesses, some above board, others a little more… unofficial… crowded together under the bridge and under tarps strung over the stone-lined canal.

  Fog gathered under the bridge and covered the top of the canal. The red lanterns that seemed to be a requirement for bridge businesses lent the place an eerie glow. No wonder tourists and partiers tended to avoid this place—it was for locals, and maybe pirates, only.

  A few silhouettes of people moved in the fog, but I ignored the bridge and headed for the moss-covered stone steps that led down into the canal. I jogged down, my legs nearly disappearing below me in the mist, and entered a crowded alleyway between tents and tarps.

  An old woman with a hard look shoved past me, a basket slung over her arm full of paper bundles and glowing potions bottles. I turned sideways to let her pass, then edged down the path. People and businesses slowly emerged from the fog, the tarps overhead making it feel like a low tunnel, a hidden underground world. The only light came from the red silk and paper lanterns hung from tent poles.

  A thumping bass beat cut through the music of my headphones as I passed a makeshift nightclub that looked like it could hold about ten people, tops. A heavenly fried scent came from the next tent, where a few men hunched over a tall countertop while the cook turned skewers of meat and onions over a grill.

  I tugged my hood off—the tarps overhead did a good job of keeping the rain out—and wound my way through the warren of shops until I found Bixby’s. I pressed the stop button on my Walkman, which he’d sold me, and tugged my headphones down around my neck.

  My friend looked up as I ducked through the split curtain hung in the doorway and grinned. “Jolene.”

  I winked. “Hey, Bixby. How’s business?”

  The tiny shop was empty aside from the two of us. He leaned back in his rolling office chair behind his desk. It was littered, as always, with a mess of human electronics in various states of disassembly. The guy had an obsession with human goods, especially their technology. I didn’t share his interest, but I enjoyed benefiting from it.