Magical Misfire Read Online Free Page B

salvaged from a ship that had been retired and used for scrap wood years ago, but my imagination slips its leash sometimes and I pictured the rest of the ship submerged in the yard, sunken in the dirt with only the tip of its front aboveground where it could be seen.
    The fountain was much less dramatic, which if I’m being honest, disappointed me. I’d imagined something fancy, like bathing sea nymphs carved in white marble, but it was nothing more than a large greenish-brown basin with a small pillar in the center where the water rose in a column and then spilled over.
    Bryn and I strode to it. He used his phone as a flashlight. The murky water churned, and it was too dark to see whether there were fish. He shrugged off his snug coat and handed it to me, then rolled up his puffy sleeve.
    “Give me the plastic bag.”
    “Hang on,” I said, dipping into my purse to retrieve a plastic bag that earlier had held eight truffles from La King’s Confectionery, a shop that had been around since the 1920s and that sported some hundred-year-old candy-making machinery in its kitchen. I held out the empty bag to Bryn.
    “What did you do with the rest of the candy?” he asked.
    “You had one, and Jenna and Lucy split one. Then I ate the leftovers.”
    “You ate six truffles on the fifteen-minute walk over here?”
    “If the walk took fifteen minutes, then yep. That’s why I taste good. I probably got ginger and cinnamon on my neck when I pushed my hair back.”
    “Tied up tight in that dress, your waist is so small I can practically circle it with my hands. I don’t see how there’s room for half a dozen truffles in there.”
    “Oh, Bryn,” I said patiently. “There’s always room for truffles.”
    He chuckled. “And you don’t feel sick?”
    “No way. This is the best I’ve felt all day. Chocolate fights depression, you know. And dark chocolate fights radical oxygen.” I cocked my head because that wasn’t quite right. Oxygen radicals? “It’s a, what do you call it? Antioxidant? Whatever that is. . . . Something good.”
    Bryn grinned. “It’s a miracle drug.”
    Bryn took the plastic bag.
    “You’re going to do a spell to lure the fish?”
    “That’s the plan,” Bryn said, raising his arm above the water. He whispered a few words and his magic hummed.
    A trickle of unease raised gooseflesh on my arms. Something wasn’t right. “Wait,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Maybe there are snakes in there. Or piranhas. You said it yourself, ghosts aren’t always trustworthy.”
    “What do you suggest?”
    I held out my arm. “Magic me instead. I’ll do the fishing.”
    He didn’t move.
    “Come on. It’s my messed-up magic that turned Jenna and Lucy small. I should be the one getting the fish for Sullied Sal.”
    “It’s all right,” he said, lowering a hand.
    “No,” I said, stopping him.
    “For God’s sake, get on with it!” Sal hissed.
    Bryn and I both spun around and found Sally standing a few feet from us. She glowed a faint pink color, her large bosoms jiggling as she snapped at us.
    “You’d have made a good model for the prow of a ship,” I murmured, giving the full-figured wooden woman a glance.
    “I was the inspiration for more than one. I had my share of sailors and sea captains. In my day, we had thirty ships a day in port, full of men anxious for company. Me and my girls were the most popular on the row.”
    I smiled politely.
    “You’d best hurry if you’re going to fish. On Dickens weekend, you won’t be the only ones visiting this tub,” she said.
    “Why?” Bryn asked, giving the fountain a sideways glance.
    “Here,” I said, plucking the bag from Bryn’s hands. We each shoved a hand underwater at the same time. A faint white glow appeared under the brackish water and then something stung me.
    “Ow!” I snapped, jerking my hand out. A pair of tiny merrows—sharp-teethed mermen—hung by their mouths from my hand. “What the Sam Houston?” I mumbled, staring