“Are you coming in?” Ivan shouted as he paced across his wide front step. Back and forth. Back and forth. “I don’t have all day.”
“Good morning, Ivan,” Elwood said with a friendly smile. He didn’t sound the least bit perturbed or bothered by anything. But that was a bit of a lie, because I knew he was deeply concerned about the magic he’d found tainting Ivan’s beer.
I had a vague recollection of coming home more than a little tipsy last night to find him obsessively testing the contents of the growler. Elwood had a make-shift magical chemistry lab set up on the kitchen table. Amid the beakers and jars were crystals and stones and who knew what else. I’d stumbled through the door and received a sharp reprimand for causing too much disruption to the energy in the room. Apparently, using a tiny pipette to transfer droplets of beer to various herbs and powders was serious and exacting business.
And when I crawled out of my bedroom this morning feeling like death and smelling like I’d bathed in a barrel of beer, he’d still been at it. Thankfully, he’d stepped away from his experiments to make me the most magical hangover cure I’d ever tried. It was amazing. Seriously, he should sell that stuff; he’d make a fortune. Then he turned to me and told me we would be going to Ivan’s this morning.
Ivan looked like he’d had as little sleep as Elwood. He had deep bruise-like bags under his bloodshot eyes. His brown hair was greasy and sticking up in every direction, like he’d been running his hands through it incessantly. The grim frown pulling at his mouth only seemed to deepen as we got closer.
“Well?” The coyote shifter crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at us as soon as we stepped inside the door. “What have you found?”
“There was magical interference, but the spell is cloaked,” Elwood explained. “I can feel the magic, but none of its intricacies. That’s why I asked to come today. I want to see if I can find its source.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then I’ll look at the festival grounds.”
Ivan grunted as he turned toward the steps leading to the basement. “Brewtopia HQ is in the basement. I suppose you’ll want to start there.”
The basement was one massive room, and I gaped at the setup. This was a lot more involved than what I’d imagined when Elwood told me Ivan brewed beer in his basement. It was surprisingly bright with large windows and more fluorescent lights than I’d ever seen in a house. They hummed overhead as Ivan led us around the room, explaining what the various tools and equipment were.
Along one wall was a large sink and a long, wide workbench, all stainless steel. A range of tubes, thermometers, and hydrometers were all arranged on racks over the workbench. A huge vent hood stretched across the brew kettles along another wall. Each kettle had the names of his beers clearly labeled–Midnight Lager, Solstice Stout, and so on. And the rest of the space held carboys, a racking cane, bottling equipment, stirring paddles, kegs, and boxes of bottled beer. There was even a smallshelving unit with stacks of t-shirts sporting his Brewtopia logo, all neatly folded and arranged by size.
The logo was a bit bland–just the name in vintage lettering placed under a pint of foamy beer on an oval medallion. My graphic design prof, Professor Schmidt, wouldn’t have been impressed, but it got the idea across. At least it wasn’t a target like Malcolm’s. His Bull’s Eye Brewery logo matched his brand, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that guns and beer didn’t mix.
The space was extremely tidy and clean. I doubted anyone could have left an evil bag of bones in here without Ivan noticing, particularly since he was a shifter. With his heightened senses, he’d have sniffed out something like that right away.
Movement caught my eye at one of the windows. It was the raven. When our eyes met, the bird knocked at the window with its beak.
“Uh, Elwood?” I pointed at the window.
Elwood’s face lit up. “Oh, what a good girl. She must have found something.”
We all hurried upstairs and outside. The raven was waiting patiently by the window, fluttering its—her?—wings when we approached. Elwood saidshe, and it felt right to me, too.
“Why don’t you go see what she’s found?” Elwood said.
“Me?” I squeaked.
“Well, she’s your familiar. She’s going to want to show you first.”
I blinked at him. “She’s my what?”
Elwood huffed and shooed me toward the big black bird. My grandfather was right. I did have a lot to learn. But now, with Ivan scowling at me, wasn’t the time.
With my mind reeling, I stumbled toward the bird. A black bundle was tucked against the wall under the window close to her talons. Well, wasn’t the hex maker clever? They’d placed it where Ivan wouldn’t notice it. I doubted he’d have found it untilhe cut his grass and, since the grass had browned in the last heat wave, it might’ve stayed there for a long, long time.
“Yep,” I said. “I see it.”
“Thank her,” Elwood instructed.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “You did a good job in finding this for us. And I’m glad you didn’t touch it. It isn’t nice.”
She bobbed her head and cawed. Then she hopped a couple of times before jumping into the air and flying to a nearby fence to watch us.
Elwood hurried over and picked up the little bag.
“What are you doing?” I shouted, swatting it out of his hand.
