Aisling Bee’s Metaphysical Detective Agency

Of Enchanted Cups and Magical Goths

Almost every table in the bustling café was full, but Aisling managed to find a small one near the back.

“Better let me order for you this time,” she warned Behemoth. “Remember what happened last time we were here. You scared the waitress half to death.”

“Rude, I would call her,” he said. “Screaming just because a customer asks for the exclusively non-vegetarian options? Running away when asked for a simple wine list?”

“Yeah, well, even at a Halloween festival, wine-snob, magical cats are unexpected in a non-magical world.”

“Your kitty is so adorable!” A man with a distracted grin was holding two coffees and awkwardly balancing a third on top of one of them, while his partner wielded his phone to take a picture. “Wow,” he said as he typed into his phone. “Your sister is going to flip.”

Coffee-cup guy was really in danger of losing the cup now. His face was all steely concentration. Aisling pooled her intention and with a discreet flick of her finger, pushed it towards the cup to keep it from falling. In an instant, the cup sprouted what looked like paper legs, dropped to the floor, and scuttled under tables to who knows where.

The expression on coffee guy’s face was hard to read. His brain was processing something like “Ok, that happened, but there’s really no way it could have happened, so let’s just go back to our hotel room and have a lie down. Ok? All Good!”

His partner only looked up from his phone after the cup’s getaway. “What happened to Allan’s coffee? Did we forget it?”

“I think one of those fried frogs on a stick didn’t agree with me,” said coffee guy. “I’m going to head back to the hotel for a while.”

“Oh no! Didn’t I say those shady carts were food poisoning incubators? I was so right. They should be shut down!”

As they left, coffee guy peeked nervously about for any sign of a coffee cup scurrying after them and seemed only too relieved to walk out the door.

“Let me guess,” smirked Behemoth. “You didn’t intend to enchant a paper cup? Maybe it could break out into song like a cartoon movie?”

“Shut up,” said Aisling. She was furious with herself. Of course, even something as simple as keeping a paper cup from falling would backfire with her lousy magic. Also, where did it go anyway?

Seeing all the diners dressed in costume tucking into sandwiches and chatting over cake, made her miss her favorite ramen diner located just inside the spirit neighborhood of Nyx. It was run, of course, by a ramen spirit whose noodles were famous for being the embodiment of the perfection chefs have wasted lifetimes attempting to achieve. It was rumored that the ramen spirit was once a mortal chef whose devotion to creating the perfect noodle and richest broth, continued even after their death, where they finally achieved perfection and became the spirit of ramen itself.

“Put your paw down!” Behemoth, overcome by the smells of bacon and bread and sandwiches, had forgotten himself and raised a paw to get the attention of a waiter.

“What? I’m hungry!” he snapped. “Anyway, it worked. Here he comes, finally!”

After a little confusion with the extremely chipper waiter about whether she could order a plate of five bacon sandwiches for a cat, and if the vegan bacon was microwaved or fried, she could puzzle over the appearance of the sweets spirit in Little Sticks. Behemoth was right, spirits can’t leave Nyx. Everybody knew that.

“Hey,” she turned to the cat, still a tiny kitten, now tucking into a piled plate of sandwiches. “What’s the magical atmosphere of this place today?”

He munched thoughtfully on a large piece of floppy bacon. “Give me a moment please,”’ he said. “I can’t smell magic and eat at the same time.”

Aisling waited impatiently as he chewed with exaggerated care. She knew he was winding her up, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of complaining. Finally, wiping his whiskers with a paper napkin, he took a very regal pose, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, little pink nostrils flaring.

“Hmmm,” he said. “I should say this world has very low magic, but indications point to a highly localized confluence of several strong magical currents, with rising incidents of world boundary thinning and a high likelihood of spontaneous enchantment and necromancy.”

“Uh, huh,” Ashly gave him a skeptical look. “And you got all of that with a single sniff, did you?”

“Well,” he admitted, somewhat deflated. “I might have heard a magical weather alert this morning from the UMWS.” (United Magical Weather Service)

“So, what does it mean?”

“It means,” he said. “That Little Sticks is a hotbed of magical activity right now. It’s charged almost to the limit of this world.”

“Brilliant,” Aisling took a long swig of coffee. “Well, it better not get in the way of my vacation. No new cases, I swear!”

“You don’t think the unusually high magic will get us sucked into a case?” Behemoth had grown large enough now that he could rest his paws on the top of the table without standing in the chair.

“Watch it,” Aisling warned. “People aren’t used to a size-changing cat here.”

“No,” she continued. “I refuse to get stuck into anything for a long time. Our last case was disgraceful!”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “Weretigers are not something you see every day, even in Nyx.”

“It didn’t help that you fell for her,” she said, swiping a stray piece of bacon. “Imagine a familiar with a crush on a manifestation of evil.”

“She was beautiful and sophisticated I’ll have you know,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich. “It’s just too bad that she was also very, very wicked.”

“Yeah, but not very bright in the end. Who knew you only had to put a paper mask on the back of your head to totally confuse one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.”

“And that prince was a complete brat,” said Behemoth, waving a corner of toast for emphasis. “Honestly, letting her eat him would have been doing that world a favor!”

At that moment, a noisy girl entered the café wearing the most accessories Aisling had ever seen collected on one person. She wore two long knitted scarves, a button shirt with a great long shawl and knitted fingerless gloves. Her skirt looked to be made of two school uniforms stitched together, her tights were green, and she wore pink boots. Without asking, she plopped straight down in the chair opposite Aisling, then promptly cried, “Coffee!” and sprang up to attack the coffee pot on the counter in a whirlwind of scarves, flying locks and a stream of loud chatter on the sorry state of coffee at the shop across the street, the lack of soy milk, and her pleasant surprise at finding a mug without a crack in it. In general, a stream of consciousness directed at no one and everyone. Aisling decided this girl was what is commonly described as a ‘force of nature’. Or just incredibly annoying.

“Well, that’s as near the right color as I can get it!” the girl said, plopping, again uninvited, into the chair opposite Aisling. “Shame about the soy milk. I’ve got an intolerance to dairy you know. Trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere downwind if I’ve had dairy!” She barked a startlingly loud laugh, then promptly addressed Aisling. “Molly Puckett” she said with some formality. “And yes, that is my real last name. You are?”

For a moment, Aisling sat nonplussed. Like someone who was minding their own business, when suddenly attacked with a big, fluffy pillow full in the face. Behemoth was nowhere to be seen. Neither were the sandwiches. “Aisling. Aisling Bee.”

“Whoa, two of us with weird names? Cool!” said Molly. “So where are you coming from? I live here. You must be in for the festival, right? I don’t recognize you from school. Unless maybe you go to the Flowerdew Academy?”

“I’m from Canada,” said Aisling, fascinated by this girl’s ability to say so many words in a single breath. Also, through all of her dealings in dozens of worlds, she had discovered that no one, absolutely no one, asked any follow-up questions when she said she was from Canada. “My family’s here for the Halloween Festival.”

“Oh my God, you’re going to love it!” she gushed. “I mean some of it’s cheesy, but the reenactment of the witch burnings on Halloween is awesome.” Molly took a much needed breath.

“Wow, very cool,” said Aisling. She was getting tired of Molly already. Where had that cat got off to?

“Are you staying with a relative or something? I probably know them,” Molly said. “I know practically everybody in Little Sticks because my family has been here for ages. In fact, we’re related to one of the witches they burned, like, 400 years ago.”

 “It’s kind of strange to watch your great-great grandmother or whatever burned in effigy every year, but mostly it’s just a big party. So, who’s your connection?”

Aisling thought carefully. She didn’t really think she needed to bother with a cover story on vacation. “I don’t have relatives here. We just thought it would be fun.”

“Wait a second,” Molly smacked the table. “You’re not the Aisling Bee? The one Kitchenwitchin talks about on SpellCast?” Molly was fizzing with excitement. “I’ve totally heard of you! Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize your name!” She smacked her forehead for emphasis. “But wait, you’re a kid! How can a kid be such a well-known witch? Are your parents witches too? Oh my God!”

Aisling groaned. Seriously? She was really going to give it to Starwind now.

“That is a complicated question I’m not prepared to go into at this moment,” she said coldly. “And I’m not a kid.”

“Oh, wow, sorry,” said Molly. “Way to go Molly for stepping into it, yet again! I figured you were in on the jokes.”

“The only joke, “said Aisling. “Is that fraud Crescent Starwind you call Kitchenwitchin.” She knew she sounded petty and her attempt at a scowl probably looked stupid, or worse, cute.

Behemoth had materialized from somewhere, once again a sickeningly adorable little kitten, and leapt up on the table. To her surprise, he blinked large shining eyes at Molly and mewed. Molly clapped her hands and squealed. “She is sooooo cuuuute! Oh my God! What’s her name? Can I pet her?”

She stroked his fur so enthusiastically she nearly knocked him off the table. Aisling smirked at him. That will teach him to show off.

“His name’s Behemoth.”

“Doesn’t that mean, like, really big and scary? That is too funny! I love him!”

To his horror, Molly wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her chest. In his struggle to extricate himself, he managed to get hopelessly tangled up in her scarves.

“He loves my scarves,” laughed Molly. She tickled his nose with a scarf fringe, sending him into waves of sneezes. “Oh my God! His little sneezes are sooo cuute!”

Behemoth gave up. Yes, he could transform himself into the size of a bus and completely flatten this dreadful girl, but that’s generally frowned upon in the familiar community. Aisling flashed him a very unsympathetic grin.

It took a minute for Molly to extricate him from her voluminous scarves and another to wipe up the coffee she spilled while doing so. Behemoth retreated to the safety of Aisling’s lap, making sure to give her thigh a little dig of his claws for good measure.

“Wait a minute,” said Molly, suddenly remembering. “On SpellCast Kitchenwitchin said you’re some kind of private eye or something. She says you’re the worst detective ever, but I know she’s just joking. You are totally cool! Are you investigating something now? Can I help? Pleease, pleese, pleeeease, can I help? Say yes!”

Aisling made a mental note to really, really give it to Starwind . A proper, old-fashioned curse. Maybe curse her with explosive flatulence whenever she opens her lying mouth!

“We’re just here for the festival – really and truly,” she said.

Without warning, Molly snatched Aisling’s hand with a surprisingly firm grip. She didn’t seem to notice, or chose to ignore, Aisling’s struggle to tug herself from that grip.

“Wait! I can show you all of the cool stuff tourists don’t get to see,” Molly said. She scanned the room and lowered her voice to the loudest stage whisper imaginable. “My mom is like the local historian of Little Sticks’ witches and ghosts and stuff. The family’s been involved in all that weird stuff for donkey’s ages! She knows all the things the tourist board doesn't want to get out. Not family friendly and all.” She sat back and smiled triumphantly, like she had just offered an irresistible treat. “Besides, my sister would kill me if I met you and didn’t introduce you to her. We both listen to SpellCast religiously!”

“Brilliant,” sighed Aisling, managing to slip her hand from Molly’s sweaty grasp. She threw a dangerous scowl down to Behemoth, whose Cheshire grin was infuriating. “Um, we’ll be in touch,” she said, making a show of getting up. “Sorry, I don’t have a card on me.”

Molly laughed. “You are so weird! I so love you.”

She suddenly paused. “Hey! She’s here. My sister! She’s got to meet you.”

She jumped up, nearly taking the table over with her. “Millie!” her shout rang out like an air horn. “Millie! Over here! It’s Aisling Bee! From SpellCast!” She pointed frantically at Aisling, who was trying to slink away, but now saw she was stuck. Behemoth jumped to her shoulder, knocking her hat off to reveal her soft blue hair. Behemoth curled round her head and shoulders, making the ends of her hair stand out with static electricity. Pleased with his work, he hopped back down to the table and assumed an innocent expression. She tried to smooth down the flying hairs, but nothing doing. She desperately wished she knew how to vanish.

Molly waved over a girl, who looked the exact polar opposite to her. For one thing, she was dressed almost entirely in black. Black jeans, black boots, black hat, and a black t-shirt with a stylized pink skull printed on it. Her hair was almost the same shade of pink. What struck Aisling, was that the skull on her shirt looked like the one on her own hoodie.

It was clear that this girl was not happy to be introduced. Her face wore an anxious expression as she reluctantly allowed herself to be led by her sister.

“Millie, this is –,” Molly stopped when she clocked Aislings cropped blue hair. “Oh My god! Your hair is adorable! How do you get it to stick out like that? You look just like an anime witch!”

Aisling quickly put on her hat. Not just because her hair was unruly, but it also had a habit of changing colors when she was distracted. This girl was a big distraction.

“Aisling, this is my twin sister Millie,” she said, pulling Millie in front of her. “We’re not identical or anything, but fraternal. She’s a whole three minutes older!”

“Um, hello,” Aisling felt awkward for Millie, who clearly wanted to vanish. She got the feeling that Molly could be a trial for her too.

“Aisling is the Aisling Bee! Remember? She’s the one Kitchenwitchin said she totally hexed last year for being a complete -,” Molly’s eyes popped to round circles when she caught herself. A dark scowl descended on Aisling’s face. “I mean,” said Molly, trying to recover. “I mean it was like all in fun, right? Just being silly I bet.”

Millie suddenly looked very interested. “Did she really hex you?” asked Millie.

“Do I look hexed to you?” Aisling answered – irritated. “Starwind’s a complete fraud you know, and she plagiarized the spells in her book! Like she could hex anybody!”

Millie blushed deep crimson. “Sorry,” she said. And right then, Aisling saw that the tips of the pink hair Milly nervously wound around her finger bloomed purple, then black, then back to pink again. The air around her sort of bent a little, making the room behind her look a little out of focus. Aisling cast a look to Behemoth, who was sitting on the table, regal as a little statue, eyes closed and pink nostrils flaring.

Molly seemed oblivious to this. She whispered loudly into Millie’s ear. “She’s a real detective, and she's going to let us help her with a case!”

Millie didn’t seem to know what to say. The air around her went back to normal. Then she remembered why she was there in the first place.

“Mom  is looking for you. We promised to help her at the booth this afternoon.”

“Oh my god,” Molly slapped her forehead. “I totally forgot! I was just so excited to meet you,” she said to Aisling. “Don’t worry, we’ll become great friends, you know. Give me your cell and I’ll give you mine!”

When the chimes above the café door signaled their departure, Aisling slumped down in her chair. Behemoth fixed her with a look. “Did you notice the magic coming off that kid?” he said.

“I noticed her hair changing colors when she touched it,” Aisling said. “This isn’t a magical world, maybe she was just channeling residual magic from all of us Nyxians being in the neighborhood?”

“Maybe,” he said, stroking his whiskers. “But the magical atmosphere when she came in went off the charts. My nose has never encountered anything like that outside of Nyx.”

Aisling heaved a weary sigh.