Something was fishy.
“Cassian, you better figure this out soon, son,” Griffin said from the hearth sofa as I returned from a chilly evening of street-side solicitation. Griffin was a big guy with a bald head and scruffy black beard who looked more suited for mercenary work than bartending. Frankly, I didn’t know why he worked there, because he seemed to hate it.
“I’m trying, Griffin. I don’t know what’s going on,” I said.
“I know what’s goin’ on. You got your head stuck in the clouds all the time thinking about your life back in Ladiall. Do you even want to be here?” Griffin asked.
The accusation twisted my insides. “My grandfather left me this inn for a reason. I willnotlet it fail,” I said.
“That didn’t answer my question,” Griffin said.
“Leave him alone, Griffin. Cassian’s trying his hardest,” Olive, the cook, said as she leaned against the kitchen doorway and swept a loose strand of brown hair away. Her kindness almost hurt worse that Griffin’s harsh words, because she needed the income more than anyone here to support her three children. I shot her a grateful smile. “It’s just the season. People avoid traveling in the winter.”
“It isnotthe season. There’s still plenty of traffic, and you know what travelers don’t like to do this time of year? Campoutside,” Griffin said. “Y’know, I never once questioned ol’ Fibbersnap’s judgment until you two arrived.” He pointed first at me, and then at Jasmine at the counter behind me.
Jasmine and I exchanged a frown, and I wondered if the remark made her feel as sick as it did me.
“I have work to do,” I said, turning to head for the office door.
“What work? There’s no one here!” Griffin shouted after me just as I shut the door.
I collapsed into the big cushioned seat behind the oak desk, trying not to look at the dark scorch mark along the edge. I wished Grandpa could give me advice, but if he were there, I would not be.
The door creaked open, and Jasmine stepped through with an uncertain smile, shutting it gently behind her. “Hey, Cass. Are you all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to do, Jaz. Griffin’s right. I’m running this place into the ground.”
“No you’re not. Whatever’s happening here is unusual.”
“It is,” I said with a heavy sigh. “It almost stinks of magic. Why else would people not stop here? Not even a nasty rumor would be enough to stop business.”
“You think it could be magic?” Jasmine asked.
“Maybe!” I said with a heavy shrug. “At this point, I’d be relieved. Magic, I can deal with. My incompetence, I cannot.”
Jasmine laughed. “Thatwouldbe a relief. Magic is at least something we can fix.”
I rubbed my chin. “Hm… It’s getting late, can you send Griffin and Olive home for me, please?”
“Sure, Cass,” she said, standing up. “See you later.”
“See you,” I said, already digging in the lower desk drawer for supplies.
The testing ring didn’t take long to set up. Testing for magic is a relatively simple thing to do, especially on an entire building.It just needed to be within the vicinity of the affected area. I drew a circle on the ground in chalk, sketching the markings of each type of magic within the circle, such as spells, hexes, or curses. I excluded potions because I was pretty sure buildings couldn’t drink potions.
I retraced the chalk outline with my forefinger while chanting the spell. The chalk line glowed bright white and then dimmed back to chalky gray. There was a disappointing moment where I thought nothing would happen until a marking lit up.
Despite the bad news glowing at my feet, I smiled. My incompetence wasn’t the only thing to blame. Fibbersnap Inn was cursed.
The bigger problem was that someone had cursed my inn. But who was it?
And why?
STERLING
“Help me, officer!”
A teary-eyed girl ran up to me on the busy cobblestone street, chin trembling, with her finger pointed behind her down the road. I crouched to her level and asked, “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
