Page 7 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love (Paranormal Romance #2)

Detective Dickhead

ANDROMEDA

She was about to toss the card in the trash when a rapid knocking interrupted her brooding. What else did he want? She stood up from the floor, ready to curse the detective black and blue if he didn’t leave her door alone.

But as the noise continued, she realized it wasn’t a knock. It sounded more like thumping.

She yanked the door open and… no one was there. Someone cleared their throat, the sound coming from the ground. Andromeda lowered her gaze.

A jackalope courier stood on her welcome mat, his fluffy, rabbit-like body groomed to perfection, antlers polished to a shine.

He wore a miniature postal uniform, complete with a tiny cap perched between his antlers.

Tucked beneath one fuzzy arm was a parchment envelope embossed with a seal that shimmered ominously.

Andromeda squealed. A jackalope! A real-life, giant-eared, cotton-tailed, floppy-footed jackalope.

He wiggled his nose at her from the front step.

“Jackalope Express for Miss Andromeda Swan,” he announced in a squeaky, professional voice.

“Special delivery from the Department of Magical Justice.” He extended the envelope with an air of self-importance.

“Gargoyles, you’re adorable!” Andromeda squealed, dropping to her knees. All thoughts of Malatesta and his infuriating dimples vanished. “Are you the cutest little delivery boy or what?”

The jackalope’s nose twitched with undisguised glee at her reaction. “Thank you, miss. We pride ourselves on professional presentation at Jackalope Express.”

Behind her, Quill made a disgusted noise. “Oh, for the love of worms. It’s a glorified postal rabbit. Can we get on with it?”

“Hush, Quill,” Andromeda scolded. “He’s not a rabbit. He’s a jackalope. With a uniform.” She reached for the envelope but paused. “Would you like something to drink or eat? Do we have any carrots, Quill?”

“How would I know? I don’t inventory your refrigerator,” the hedgehog sniffed.

“You’re such a ray of sunshine,” Andromeda muttered. “Hang on,” she told the jackalope, who waited patiently, whiskers twitching.

She darted to the kitchen, rummaged through the vegetable drawer, and returned with a fresh carrot. “Here you go. Sorry about my familiar. He was born without a joy gland.”

The jackalope accepted the vegetable with a small bow. “Most appreciated, miss. My route is long today.”

“I object to the baseless accusation that I lack joy,” Quill protested, waddling forward to peer at the furry postal bunny with suspicious little eyes. “I reserve my enthusiasm for things worthy of it. Like fine literature. Or properly brewed tea. Not hopping vermin who deliver bad news.”

Nox slunk into the room. “Jealous much, Quill?” He snickered. “No one’s ever offered you a carrot, uh?”

“I do not eat carrots,” Quill huffed.

The jackalope crunched on his snack, unfazed. “If you don’t mind, miss,” he said between bites, “I need your signature to confirm receipt.”

He produced a tiny pad and pen from his postal pouch. Andromeda signed, delighted by the miniature stylus between her fingers.

“Thank you, Miss Swan. Have a magical day.” With a wink and a final crunch of carrot, the jackalope hopped down the porch steps and disappeared around the corner with impressive speed.

Andromeda sat on the couch with the envelope, the DMJ seal glowing against the cream-colored paper. Her stomach twisted as she broke the wax, and the missive unfolded itself in her palms.

DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL JUSTICE

SUMMONS FOR HEARING

RE: Violation of Magical Communication Act, Section 12.3

DEFENDANT: Andromeda Swan

You are hereby summoned to appear before Judge Templeton at the Department of Magical Justice, TODAY at 3:30 PM to answer charges regarding the unauthorized use of curse-embedded electronic communication.

Failure to appear will result in a warrant for your arrest and immediate suspension of magical privileges.

“Today?” Andromeda yelped, nearly dropping the missive. “I have less than”—she checked her watch—“three hours! Shelly told me I’d have a few days!”

“Let me see that,” Quill demanded, scrambling up the cushion next to her.

“Hex, do I need a lawyer? What do I wear? What do I say?”

“Calm yourself.” Quill puffed his chest. “I am a certified member of the Board of Animagical Solicitors. Graduated with the highest honors.”

“I know, but Shelly said it’d be a fine at most. This seems more serious.”

“Regardless, I am qualified to represent you in court. And given the circumstances, you should be grateful. Most magical attorneys would charge exorbitant fees, but I’ll do it for free.”

“You are so magnanimous.”

“I only crave the satisfaction of seeing justice served,” Quill replied loftily. Then added, “And would also love a Mealworms ice cream from Enchanted Scoops on the way home.”

“You’re disgusting,” Nox commented.

Andromeda ignored the bickering familiars and rushed to her bedroom, flinging open the closet doors. Her usual wardrobe of comfortable jeans, graphic tees, and oversized sweaters was laughably unfit for court.

“Pick something conservative and respectful,” Quill suggested, having followed her into the bedroom. “Court is not the place for your ‘hacker chic’ aesthetic.”

Andromeda shot him a glare. “I wear comfortable clothes for sitting at a computer all day.”

If Quill had eyebrows, he’d be raising them now.

“Fine.” She dug deeper into her closet, past the everyday wear, to the section she labeled ‘grown-up.’ The stuff she wore when meeting corporate clients.

She settled on black tailored trousers and a cream-colored knitted sweater. After a quick shower, she emerged from the bathroom transformed. Her wild blonde waves were tamed into a sleek bun, her makeup understated but polished.

“Will I do?” She turned to Quill for inspection.

The hedgehog assessed her. “It’ll have to. Now, sit down. We have ninety-three minutes to prepare your defense.”

***

The DMJ loomed before Andromeda like a Victorian headmistress—all imposing columns and judgmental bricks.

She straightened her cream sweater, while Quill, packed in a magically enlarged compartment in her bag, gave an encouraging little sniff, which for him was basically a motivational speech.

With a deep breath that did nothing to calm her nerves, she pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the cool marble hallway.

“Remember,” Quill whispered, “Address the judge as ‘Your Honor.’ And no sarcasm.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Andromeda hissed as she followed the signs to Courtroom C.

The room was smaller than she’d expected. Three neat rows of wooden benches lined the back, thankfully empty. At the front, a raised dais with the judge’s bench presided over a table on either side, right for the prosecution and left for the defense.

While being the same size, the table on the right was dwarfed by the two men sitting behind it: Detective Cocky and an equally tall and dark wizard who Andromeda recognized as the Chief Inquisitor, Riley King—her roommate’s boss and Malatesta’s too.

Andromeda hoped the chief was here to keep his rabid dog on a tight leash and not to earn her a harsher punishment.

As if hearing her thoughts, Malatesta turned his head. Their eyes met across the courtroom, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile—smug enough to make her worry. He was up to something.

“All rise!” A disembodied voice boomed before Andromeda could decide whether to flip Malatesta off or just ignore him. “The Honorable Judge Templeton presiding.”

A side door opened and a woman with snow-white hair pulled back in a severe bun swept in.

At first glance, she could’ve passed for everyone’s favorite grandma—the one who bakes bone-chip cookies and hands out broomstick brownies.

But the glint of steel in her gaze gave her away as the type of grandmother who’d have you scrubbing cauldrons until your fingers fell off if you broke her rules.

“Be seated,” Judge Templeton commanded, settling into her high-backed chair and adjusting her black robes. She peered over half-moon glasses at the papers before her. “Andromeda Swan versus the Magical Commonwealth of Massachusetts for a violation of the Magical Communication Act, Section 12.3.”

Andromeda slid into her seat at the defense table, feeling alone without Sarah Michelle beside her.

But after keeping her best friend up for half of the night, she’d preferred not to drag her to court mid-shift.

And given that Sarah Michelle’s boss was present and on the opposing side, that had been the right call.

Judge Templeton’s piercing gaze fixed on Andromeda. “Miss Swan, you stand accused of sending a cursed electronic communication. How do you plead?”

Quill gave an imperceptible nod. They’d agreed it was better to show remorse, accept responsibility, and hope for leniency.

Andromeda stood up. “Guilty, Your Honor.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught Malatesta’s smirk widening into a dangerous grin. He sat like he owned the room. Like he’d already won.

Andromeda didn’t give him the satisfaction of a second glance. He could hex off.

“Very well.” Judge Templeton’s expression revealed nothing. “The court accepts your guilty plea. Normally, this type of misdemeanor would result in a simple fine.”

Andromeda allowed herself a small breath of relief.

“However,” the judge continued, shuffling papers, “the prosecution has requested a harsher punishment, citing the particular nature of your offense and its relevance to an ongoing investigation. Detective Malatesta, you have the floor.”

That broom-witted, ego-puffed, toad-brained bastard.

Andromeda glared at him as Malatesta unfolded himself from his chair with an offensive grace.

Before he spoke, he turned his head toward Andromeda, their eyes locked, and the jinxweasel had the gall to wink at her.

As if they were sharing some private joke, not litigating a proceeding that could upend her life.