Bell(e)s in the Woods - 11. Friday, April 25, 2025 (II)

~The Lawyer~

Dust's invitation to family dinner came as a surprise, but it wasn't unwelcome. After this week, we could all use a little peace and distraction. The food itself was great, Dust's uncles were wonderful people, but there was something very soothing about the relative silence of the murmuring TV while Dust and I lounged on the couch alone later.

“How are the Bells doing right now?”

The sudden question made me flinch. I turned to Dust, who looked like he was about to fall asleep or start crying. “The Bells?” came my delayed response. “Depends. Michael Bell is a complete mess. If you ask me, he has a real paranoia problem and needs professional help.”

“And there's nothing to his what's-his-name story?”

“There's probably something to it, but that guy has nothing to do with Kate.” I shrugged, and Dust hummed thoughtfully. “Susannah Bell just wants to see Phoebe and Uma behind bars for a very long time.”

“What are the chances of that?”

“Ask D.A. Cooper. Covens have a lot of freedom, but an illegal magical duel is a crime. Even being there is punishable, and Phoebe and Uma not only intervened, they violated their duties as mentors.”

“But that last point is a witch matter,” Dust interrupted, and I sighed.

“You know this particular coven better than I do, but you can be sure that Uma will lose all her rights as a White Witch and be given a magical muzzle. It doesn't matter that the novices are already of legal age. Magical training is taken very seriously, not only in a coven, but in general before the law. Magic is dangerous.”

“I know that...”

“Speaking of training, did I hear that right, you’re actually a nurse?”

Dust grimaced. “No. After high school, I ‘trained’ in magic for a year” – he drew quotation marks in the air – “and then I went to nursing school here, they have a three-year Diploma of Nursing. At the end of the second year, though, my mom died and I bailed."

I refrained from commenting that becoming a Special Inspector wasn't necessarily bailing for most people, and instead reached for his hand.

He lifted our hands and smiled, but didn't look at me. “Still fascinating.”

Since I wasn't wearing gloves, yes, in a way it was. Our constant and immediate mental-magical connection had helped my magic calm down. I couldn't really use it, and probably never would, but at least I could now touch Dust, who described our connection as “magical soulmates,” without gloves.

I didn't necessarily want to try that with Violet.

“Uma was one of my teachers at nursing school,” Dust suddenly picked up the thread again. “Very strict, but full of knowledge. She transferred to the MID a few years later, to the background team, but her experience is valuable. Many nurses who start there look up to her.” He sounded melancholic.

“I guess that's over now,” I muttered.

Sorrowfully, he nodded. “You know, until now, I would have believed it immediately if someone had told me that she was the Walburga.”

“Why do the witches keep it a secret anyway?”

“So that no one can specifically attack the coven and its secrets.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Silly question.”

Dust chuckled, but my face was hot with embarrassment. “Don't worry, lots of people think of all kinds of things, but not the most obvious. I've heard some exciting conspiracy theories.”

“I'm a lawyer. Asking questions and getting answers—”

“Sweetheart, you're a human being first and foremost.”

The gentleness with which Dust placed a hand on my cheek caught me completely off guard. Even more heat washed over me. I still found him outrageously attractive, but one of his casual remarks had made it clear to me that I actually had a kind of student status and, incidentally, triggered big-brother feelings in him, and that kept my hyper-romanticism in check. But this closeness from someone as kind-hearted as Dust still messed with everything inside me; I just wasn't used to it.

“A person with feelings and wishes,” Dust continued. He took his hand away and shook his head. “I’ve seen how Warren looks at you. And to be honest, I’ve noticed how he looks at me. He’s a cute guy and will surely be a good detective one day, but until he gets his hormones under control…”

“How does he look at you?” The question was probably naive, but I hadn't noticed anything like that.

“Like he wants to bang me before dinner.” Dust grimaced.

“Seriously?” I shuddered—the idea of Warren and Dust was somehow unpleasant—and Dust shrugged.

“Purely theoretically and purely optically, I wouldn’t say no, but first of all, I’ll never touch anyone I work with again, and secondly, he’s a bastard. I can understand Gianna’s anger, even if it is exaggerated.”

Now it was my turn to grimace. Being asexual isn't easy in this oversexualized society anyway, so hearing that you should still have sex because you love your partner was nothing new. I had done it and I had hated it, but I only realized how wrong it was now that my friends actually told me it was wrong.

“Warren is a bastard,” Dust repeated quietly and squeezed my hand, probably interpreting my face differently than I meant it. “You were honest, and that's good. Someday you'll find your Prince Charming who loves you just the way you are.”

“Fat, magically messed up, and useless in bed,” I replied, not half as dry as I intended, because emotion was constricting my throat.

Half sighing, half smiling amusedly, Dust shook his head. He wanted to say something, but his phone, which was lying on the table, rang.

I saw the name Vee on the display before Dust pressed it to his ear and listened after an interrupted greeting. I could see his confusion, he nodded almost imperceptibly to a few things and finally raised his brows – I reciprocated the expression questioningly.

“Are you up for a spontaneous house party?”

 

~The Detective~

With a sigh, I plugged the fairy lights into the socket and grimaced. The light was much too white for my taste, but Josy was hosting an all-white party at her house, so the decorations were her business. I was really only here to help out for a bit—well, and to see her outside of work—because the party was for her friends. Unfortunately, the food she had prepared smelled fantastic and my stomach was growling, but I would grab something on my way home and then switch off my brain so that I could at least be a little refreshed tomorrow to try to finalize this damn case.

“God, the lights are awful.”

Josy's words made me turn to her. My response died on my tongue because the sight of her was overwhelming. A white fine-knit dress hugged her curves and a waterfall neckline accentuated her cleavage. She looked like a goddess.

“Don't you think?”

“Uh...” I glanced at the string of lights. “Just the right white light...”

She sighed. “Why did I let myself be talked into this?”

“What, the lights?” I looked at her, confused.

“No, the party itself.” She grimaced. “I like having guests, it's not that, but this kind of party isn't really my thing, and Tiffy...” she hesitated, “got a little too involved.”

“Ah,” I said sympathetically, even though I had no idea who Tiffy was. I stood there feeling a little stupid, admiring Josy’s appearance and at the same time worrying about the discomfort on her face.

She moved so suddenly that I flinched, but she didn't seem to notice, because she approached me with a shy smile and brushed my upper arm with her fingertips—her nails were painted bluish-white. “You know, Violet, I've been thinking.”

“About what?” I had a feeling I should know what she meant.

“About us.”

“Oh.”

Was that pain flitting across her face? “I understand your hesitation about relationships in work environments, and that’s why…”

I swallowed as a series of horror scenarios flashed through my mind.

“I've been thinking about transferring to the hospital. The lab there is looking for staff,” she finally finished her sentence, and I frowned.

“Khalid just got back, and even with the three of you, you're having problems. The department needs you more than the hospital does.”

That elicited a small laugh from her, but it sounded sad. “All due respect to your loyalty, but I don't want to anymore. It has nothing to do with the department, but this, you and me,” she gestured between us, “is more important now."

I swallowed again; during my growing infatuation over the past few months, I had apparently failed to notice how much she reciprocated it. “You want to give up your job for the mere possibility?”

“I want to change jobs so that we can both get these stupid workplace doubts out of our heads and give the whole thing a real chance,” she corrected me quietly but vehemently. "It's a real obstacle, especially for you. And don't protest, Violet, I know you were making fun of Dust and that idiot we-won't-mention-by-name, but I saw you. I saw how critically you eyed Dust and that McAdams guy. You wouldn't have done that before. And I don't want anyone eyeing us so critically or questioning my work just because I'm working on one of your cases."

“I understand,” I quickly interjected as she took a breath, raising my hands in a reassuring gesture. “Really, Josy. I just don't want you to regret your decision if things don't work out between us.”

“That's pretty pessimistic,” she teased, but I could see in her eyes she was hurt.

“You know what I mean,” I replied gently and reached for her hand. Her skin was dry and cracked from constant disinfecting and wearing gloves, and hand cream didn't necessarily help, especially in such crappy weather as it was now.

She lowered her gaze to our hands and nodded slowly. “Does that mean we'll give it a try?”

I squeezed her hand. “That's what it means. Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow?”

A blush spread across her cheeks and she nodded with a smile, her eyes still downcast. “That sounds wonderful.”

I had just reached out with my other hand to pull her into a hug when the doorbell rang and we both flinched. Really great timing.

Of course, she rushed off immediately, and I sighed as I watched her go. That was basically my cue to leave, so I slowly followed her into the hallway, where three women were standing, peeling off their jackets and shoes, balancing bowls and pots.

“Hello, Violet!” Ismahan greeted me with a shy smile. She was the only one of the three I had met before. Her face literally beamed out from under her white hijab, and out of politeness, I took her pot from her.

“Hello, Ismahan, it's good to see you.”

“This is lamb stew, it just needs to be reheated.”

My stomach promptly growled and she grinned, but the chatter of the others suddenly turned serious, so I focused my attention on them.

“No, seriously,” one of the other women said – Nadja? Natalie? – “Tiffy is completely freaking out about the thing with Ben.”

“I guess Rita won't be coming then...” remarked the third dryly, and Josy grimaced.

“That was stupid of her.”

“I don't want to interrupt,” I threw in cautiously, thereby interrupting them very effectively, “but I'll take this to the kitchen and then get out of here, okay?”

“Yes, sure.” Josy nodded.

To my surprise, Ismahan looked disappointed, but instead of thinking about it, I decided to take the pot to the kitchen. I didn't know Josy's friends and didn't want to be dragged into this party from the left, where I had no business being. If we ever did become a couple and she officially introduced me, that would be different.

I put the pot on the stove and tried to avoid looking at the food Josy had prepared herself, but my stomach growled again at the smell. And then I flinched as angry shouting echoed through the house. “What the...?”

Back in the hallway, however, I found the four of them staring at a phone Nadja/Natalie was holding, looking frightened, embarrassed, and uncomfortable. The shouting was coming from the phone.

Josy took a step back and toward me. “Tiffy,” she whispered. "Rita is, or rather was, dating her brother Ben and cheated on him. It came out this morning."

“Oh, that sounds unpleasant,” I whispered back, and all four nodded.

“Rita is dead to me!” Tiffy screamed at that moment and continued to curse and accuse those present of knowing about it.

The shocked faces said enough.

Without a word, I pressed the pretty red hang-up button and got even more frightened looks.

“Violet!” Josy almost gasped. “You can't just cut Tiffy off.”

I shrugged. “You don't need a friend like that. This isn't high school anymore.”

Silence.

Then Ismahan's phone rang and a slightly frantic-sounding woman explained that neither she nor Rita would be coming because Rita had had a meltdown. Before anyone could say anything—anything meaningful, at least—the call ended.

Awkward silence again.

“Well, somehow the mood is ruined,” Nadja/Natalie said dryly.

“Yes, it's kind of awkward,” agreed the nameless friend. “I think we should call off the party.”

Ismahan seemed to want to protest, Josy's face turned into a horrified O, but the other two were already slipping back into their shoes.

“The party was just getting started,” I remarked cautiously and got a sidelong glance from the nameless friend.

“Maybe we should check on Rita,” said Nadja/Natalie, sounding strangely apologetic, her hand already on the doorknob.

Josy's protest fell on deaf ears as her so-called friends literally dragged Ismahan out behind them.

“What the hell was that?” Stunned, I stared after the three of them before closing the door and turning to Josy.

Speechless, Josy shook her head and shrugged helplessly. “I... I... I don't know.” A hand flew to her hair, ruffling the neat bun. Almost stumbling, she turned around, took a step, and let out a sound similar to a sob. “What am I going to do now? Especially with all this food?”

There were two bowls and a large pot on her shoe cabinet alone, which the other two had brought with them, and even my hungry stomach was not a bottomless pit.

Everything inside me tightened. She had planned the party, decorated everything, cooked and baked, and much of it at the request of this Tiffy, and now... I gently placed my hands on her shoulders, gave them a squeeze. “We could invite the others. Turn it into an after-work party.”

 

~The Cursebreaker~

We were the last ones, as Vee informed us when she opened the door; given the volume of the conversations and music, I had no reason to doubt her. “Come in and eat, food has to disappear.”

“We’ve already eaten,” Nathan protested, patting his belly, while I said, more as a joke than anything else:

“Show me the kitchen.”

Vee laughed. “That's exactly why you're here.”

We took off our jackets and shoes and were led into the large living room, which shone in white decor.

“Our cursebreaker!” Jonah exclaimed, raising his glass in greeting; Simon next to him rather wiggled his eyebrows.

“Our lawyer!” Gianna chimed in. Dressed head to toe in masculine attire today, they jumped up and hopped over to Nathan before planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, everyone!” I raised my hand.

Nico was the first to approach me and slap me on the shoulder; he looked terribly tired. “Hey, Dust, how's it going?”

“Oh my God, you have a Fat Nuggets?” Nathan squealed at that moment.

“I have Keekee too, but she's sitting in my bed,” Josy replied cheerfully.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pull Nathan to the couch, where Gianna had already made themself comfortable again. “At least...”

“At least what?” Nico raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“At least he's made friends. Friends who aren't afraid to touch him.”

Nico's brow rose higher and his grin disappeared. “As long as you don't tell us why we should be afraid...”

“That's his story to tell. But you don't need to worry,” I replied, raising my hands apologetically and Nico simply nodded. “How's your case with Massaro and Johnson going?” I asked instead.

“Don't ask.” Rolling his eyes, Nico raised his bottle of Coke to his lips. "Johnson's pretty chill, but Massaro is turning into a real ass on his old days. They're running from one dead end to the next, and I'm supposed to dig up the shit."

“Fraud cases always suck, don't they?”

“Absolutely.”

I nodded and shrugged, then nudged him. “Your package arrived today. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

The bottle paused in midair. “Don't mention that in public,” he whispered.

“Eh, the more drama you make about it, the more it stands out.” I shrugged again and he grimaced.

“Thanks a lot. Go get something to eat instead of getting on my nerves.”

I snorted and turned away, but since I had never been to Josy's house before, I had no idea where the kitchen was.

Harry must have read my mind, because he appeared next to me, holding an empty, dirty plate; I hadn't expected him to come. “Hey, Dust. Looking for food?”

“Only half-heartedly, I've already had dinner,” I replied and followed him as he set off with a small nod. “How's your mom?”

“She's stable. That's why my wife and dad kicked me out.” Harry chuckled. “For fresh air and pleasant company.”

“Well then. Get well soon,” I said and entered the kitchen, which was overflowing with food. I had no idea how many people the original party Vee had mentioned was supposed to include, but this was enough to feed an army.

“Yeah, well, the doctors are still cautious about their prognosis for recovery. The potato salad is great, I tell you, and the lamb stew is top notch!”

Since he didn’t seem to want to talk about his mom anymore, I picked up on the new thread. “I won’t say no to potato salad, but lamb…”

“I know, I know, but this is good, really. I'm not usually a fan either, but I tasted it before I knew it.” Harry grinned and winked at me before piling pasta salad onto his plate.

Everything looked good and delicious, but I wasn't hungry, and more out of politeness than anything else, I took a plate and spooned a little bit of this and that onto it. Just as I was about to fish a fork out of the cutlery collection, I heard a voice behind me:

“Hey Dust, mind helping me with a refill?”

When I turned around, Peggy was already holding out her plate to me. “No problem, what do you want?” I carefully put my own plate down.

“The couscous salad to start with.”

“Coming right up. I saw you published a new article?” I began.

Peggy, who wrote every now and then for Five Clovers, an online newspaper for magical matters, nodded, her grin wider than she was tall. “And guess who got in touch.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Hot.”

Turning to the bowl of baked meatballs she was pointing at, I sighed. “Eric is hot, but he's an asshole.” The aforementioned was a second-grade cousin like Nico and a pilot in the Air Force, but his enthusiasm for magic was greater than his actual magical power, and he meddled far too much in things that were none of his business. He was hot, though—a crush of my teenage years.

“He's always nice to me. Oh, and guess what? He sent me another article. Haven't read it all yet, but apparently your SI blew up a casino with his team.” Peggy was still grinning.

“My SI?” Critically, I raised a brow and she giggled.

“McAdams, Dust.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not my SI.” His stupid goodbye message was still the last one in our chat.

“But you don’t seem to mind that he’s rebuilding Vegas,” Peggy replied, taking her plate.

“A job's a job, and with battlemages, you have to expect collateral damage.” Unimpressed, I shrugged and ignored Peggy's now critical gaze.

Philosophizing about magic and eating, we returned to the living room.

Gianna and Simon were highly focused hunched over a phone; Nico, Nathan, and Harry were engaged in lively discussion. The mood was good, and I relaxed, chatting with Peggy long after the food on our plates had been finished.

Then, however, I had to go to the bathroom, and when I opened the door afterward, I almost ran into Gianna. “Oh, sorry.”

“Don't worry, I'm more stable than I look.” They grinned.

“Probably.” I grinned back.

“Tell me, what's the deal with your brother? Nathan won't spill the beans...”

Puzzled, I raised an eyebrow. “Why are you interested in my brother?”

Gianna wrinkled their nose amusedly. “I like naughty boys.”

“Um... Yes. No. You shouldn't say that to Quen with the innuendo.”

“Why?” Now it was Gianna who raised a brow.

“He's sensitive about that topic,” I replied cautiously, and of course Gianna rolled their eyes—they was the exact opposite in that regard.

“Another asexual delicate flower like Nathan?”

What could I say to that? Sighing, I shrugged. “I doubt it, even though I've never asked and don't intend to. That's his story to tell.”

Now Gianna pouted. “Okay, fine, and when can I meet him?”

The thought of Gianna ogling Quen and Quen responding with interest was so bizarre that I couldn't help but giggle. “Sometime in July. But nothing is set in stone yet, and my experience tells me not to rely on any given dates. He'll be out when he's standing in front of me.”

“That's a good attitude.” They nodded and raised one corner of their mouth. “You know, I'm glad he isn't going to run into my father in there.”

That was simply because Gianna's father was in a different prison, but I didn't really know how to respond, so I just nodded. But Gianna nodded back and then slipped past me into the guest bathroom, and I started to make my way back to the living room.

However, Vee emerged from an adjoining hallway and smiled wearily. “Well...?”

“You look like you belong in bed.”

“It's been a shitty week.”

“Tell me about it...”

We looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

“What happens now?” I asked after a short pause, and she sighed.

“Ask Cooper. He's not happy, but I don't see any point in wasting hours putting Uma in an interrogation room at the moment. We may be missing some details, but what we have is enough.” Sighing, Vee brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “I'm sorry this is upsetting you so much. I should have chosen my words more carefully a few times.”

“It's okay.” I shook my head weakly and gave her a smile. “My view of the coven is... was... probably naive. Bridget is one of my mom and Uncle Carl's favorite cousins and...” Memories and associated emotions made me pause. Bridget, the coven, my grandfather, and my lessons there in my youth...

To my surprise, Vee hugged me. “Oh, Dust, you have such a big, soft heart...”

Stunned, I patted her back. “Somehow that doesn't sound like a compliment.”

“It is. I deal with so many male assholes every day, you're a breath of fresh air.”

“Gay best friend?” My grin became a little forced and crooked, and so did hers, but she raised her fist and I gently bumped mine against it.

“Yeah. Now let's go save our personal lawyer.”

“Save?” I echoed, confused.

“Yup. Josy has chosen him as her gay best friend, but I'm not sure he's ready for that.”

“What about Gianna?”

Vee waved her hand dismissively. “Gianna is anything and everything. Our wild card.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why does that sound like you're putting us together as a fighting team?”

But Vee just laughed and nudged me into the living room. “Don't always think so negatively, Cursebreaker Percival.”

That was easier said than done. But the sight of this after-work party, a team, friends, was actually comforting.