Enchanted Again

He wasn’t Pred from next door. This one wasn’t as skinny, though he was still thin. His face was more wrinkled, with lines of bad humor. His head between his large triangular ears was black. “Go ahead,” the brownie said. “Let’s see some fun.” He went transparent.

Amber fumbled for the phone. “Never mind,” she panted into it. “False alarm. My… A friend came in.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked the dispatcher.

“Fine. Fine,” Amber said.

“We have a fix on your phone and will send a squad car by.”

The brownie opened and closed his hands, fingers stiff, mumbling something. Again her phone dropped.

“Changed the signal. They’ll go to the wrong address, blocks away from Mystic Circle,” he sneered.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Amber asked.

His features drew together and darkened with anger. His large triangular ears shook, probably with fury. She felt at a disadvantage in bed so she hopped out. “Who are—”

“I heard you the first time. Tiro. I gotta live with you.” He jumped from the bed, making gargley noises that might be brownie cursing.

“Tiro?” Amber asked.

“My name, human.” The brownie stalked over and walked around her. She turned in place to keep an eye on him. He opened his mouth and curled his tongue…like a cat using a sixth sense.

“The Mistweaver brownies were right. A wretched Cumulustre descendant. I thought your whole line had died out from stupidity four generations ago.”

Amber crossed her arms. The March night was cold since she kept the heat low. Her nightgown was flannel, but her feet were bare. “I beg your pardon,” she said in a voice as chilly as her feet.

She heard the grinding of his teeth, then he flung his head back. “And you look as stupid as all the rest. Smell like it, too. A curse breaker, right? And when you ‘help’ someone, you age? And your body is nearly a decade older than your true age?”

He knew her magic. He knew her family. What else did he know and what could she learn from him?

She sighed. “Yes.”

Tiro stomped to the middle of the room. “If you human women of the Cumulustre bloodline had learned your lesson, I wouldn’t be here. Bound to watch over you and serve you—those’re my ancient orders from the elf.” Stomp. “Can’t contact Cumulustre without permission. Those damn Mistweaver brownies won’t talk to him, either. Stuck.” A hard jump on her floor.

“Watch over me why?”

He shot a finger at her. “’Cause you’re a curse breaker and you age when you do magic. Cumulustre wants you watched until all of you are gone.”

Amber opened her mouth.

“Stop pestering me,” he snapped, whiskery eyebrows dipping.

She took a different angle. “So are you going to fall down and froth at the mouth?”

“No.” But he stomped again. “But you’re going to press your luck and break curses and age and die before your time, ‘helping others,’ like all of your ilk. Damn women.”

Now ice chilled her insides as well as the late winter air wrapping around her. She was afraid he was right.

“Never saw a curse you didn’t want to break. Have to help.” He barked a laugh and the puppies yipped louder, pushing against him. He rubbed each of their heads and didn’t move an inch when they bumped against him. “Stupid,” he repeated, staring with a considering eye. “You look softer than most. You’ll probably go fast.”

“I don’t think so.” She cleared her throat, knowing she shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t help herself. “You can’t help me with my gift?”

Tiro smiled with all his pointy teeth and Amber took a step back. He looked more than happy, positively gleeful. “Give me permission and I can contact Cumulustre and all your problems will be over.”

Grue slithered along her spine as if she’d stepped into a horror movie. One where you made a bad choice or a bad wish and suddenly you were running for your life or tortured or dead. She could hear her now-rapid pulse in her temples. “No, thank you. You can take the guest room.”

His lip curled. “I want your office. Ground floor, view of the gardens, round window.” He leered a bit. “Closer to the elemental energy balancer’s house and the best magic.”

“Huh?”

“Jin-des-farne Mist-wea-ver.” His so-precise enunciation was to intimidate.

Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. Tonight you move everything in my office to the room above it, place things exactly as they are below. If you can do that, you can have the office as your room. If I find anything out of place, you immediately move everything back to the room on the ground floor and you get a cubicle area in the basement.” She didn’t know the brownie’s magical powers, and from his widened eyes and a hint of respect, she thought the job might press him a little.

She kept her gaze steady and widened her own smile to show teeth, even though they weren’t as sharp as his. “And you do that without the rude thumping noises that woke the puppies and me.”

The dogs were drooling on his feet and he didn’t seem to notice.

Tiro clapped his hands. “Done!” He vanished, and the pups looked at the dark square of the hallway beyond her open door. Then their heads swiveled back to their baskets on the floor and her comforter on the bed. Baxt plopped onto his rump and scratched his ear, then hopped back onto the bed. Zor circled around where Tiro had stood, sniffing deeply. He ambled to the door, sniffed again, then joined Baxt on the bed. They stared at Amber with big brown eyes and thwapped their tails on the bed and her chest loosened. Tiro was not the new object of adoration.

Settling back into bed and turning the light off, she considered the information she’d gleaned. Jenni Weavers’s real name was Jindesfarne Mistweaver. Sounded magical to Amber.

The brownies that Amber had met that morning were now called “Mistweaver” brownies. Were they bound to Jenni like the unhappy Tiro was to Amber? So many questions.

But with every conversation Amber learned a little more. Jenni was an elemental energy balancer and Tiro wanted a room closest to Jenni’s house. Amber could draw deductions from that. The old elements—earth, air, fire, water—Jenni could equalize, which, in turn, probably made the magic better somehow. Amber had always liked the feel of Mystic Circle and Jenni’s magic might be the reason why.

As Amber let her eyelids drift shut, she listened for sounds. Nothing more than the dogs’ breathing, the hum of the furnace turning on. Nothing from Tiro. Was he a dream? Perhaps. Dream or not, would he still be here in the morning?

She didn’t know. She snuggled deeper into the pillow-top on her mattress. She’d learn more about magic from him, she was sure. A smile curved her lips.

Meanwhile he was moving all her bookcases and books and maps and charts and the huge desk and credenzas up to the second-story room at the end of the hall. She’d known after she’d furnished the office downstairs that she’d made a mistake and should have used the upstairs room that got more sunlight during the year. Now that was being fixed.

Perfect.

When sun glistened on the faint coating of mist on her windows, Amber woke again—a little late as the puppies weren’t bouncing around on her bed. She figured the brownie was taking care of them as she heard playful barks from the backyard. Stretching languorously, she wondered at her changed circumstances.

Brownies in her garden, then a very grumpy one in her house. Just how nasty could he be? He wasn’t happy to be here, that was for sure, but if he’d moved her office, she’d cut him a break until he went on his way.

She slid from bed and noticed her door was shut. She liked the wiggling warmth of the puppies’ bodies, but waking to dog breath wasn’t always great. And if the brownie decided to stay—and she’d surmised that the brownies at Jenni’s house were responsible for a lot of the changes next door in the past couple of months—she’d prefer nominal privacy from him. She considered herself an outgoing and laid-back person but Tiro had been sour.

After showering and dressing, she went to the door at the back of the house that had been an exercise room.

Tiro appeared before the closed door, now painted a rich vanilla color. Apparently what she’d thought was a part of his head was a skull cap…and he was twisting it in his hands.

He was nervous. Good. She’d need to keep the upper hand in this relationship.

Stepping by him, she turned the knob, swung the door open, entered the room…and stood in shock. It was no longer the drab gray that she’d been meaning to paint. It was creamy beige like her office. She hadn’t meant… But other than the fact that the room was slightly smaller than the one below, everything looked precisely as she’d left it. She stared for a good minute at the shelves against the walls, the U-shaped desk facing the windows, the credenzas stacked with her current open files.