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“Hey Crystal, it’s Charles. It’d be a good idea if you brought a rain slicker when you come by later, ‘kay?”
“Uh…” Crystal shifted the curtain above her bed and saw the morning sunlight brightening a clear blue sky outside. “Okayyy.”
“Peachy, see you then,” he said distractedly.
Crystal heard a sound like a clap and then a rumble through the line. “Was that – ?”
The call went silent abruptly.
“- thunder?” she finished lamely, before pulling her phone away from her ear to see ‘Call ended’ blinking on the screen. She tossed her cell onto the sheets and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Whatever,” she sighed to no one in particular.
***
The first sign of trouble to greet Crystal was the stacks of books crowding the hall in front of the Dead Boys Detective Agency office door. Most of them had been arranged neatly in tall towers, others in more haphazard piles. It might have been Edwin’s entire library.
The second sign was the sounds coming from the other side of the door – a continuous pitter-patter accompanied by muffled shouting.
“It should have worked!” That would be Edwin. In such a great mood, clearly.
“Mate, let’s just calm down a tick. Step into the hall and clear out heads, yeah?” And there was Charles.
The door swung open to reveal the boys, Edwin wearing an absolutely foul expression, their hair and clothes dripping wet. And, inexplicably, a downpour of rain in the room behind them, fat drops forming on the ceiling and splashing down onto every surface in the room.
“Brought my rain jacket,” she said helpfully by way of greeting, lifting it up. She stepped aside to let them by her.
“Hi, Crystal,” Charles said.
“You boys want to tell me why it’s raining inside the office?”
“Damnable defective enchantment,” Edwin explained with a scowl.
“Edwin was trying a new spell. Didn’t quite go as planned, did it?” Charles clarified.
“Yeah, no shit,” Crystal agreed. “What was the spell supposed to do?”
“I was attempting a charm that was meant to collect and hold liquids without a container,” Edwin said, bringing his open hands together in the shape of a sphere by way of illustration. “As you can see,” he said dryly, “I failed. Our attempt at a counter-spell failed as well. Hence,” he gestured toward the office.
Charles grimaced. “We have another counter-spell to try, but we need a third person. That’s where you come in,” he said, expression brightening, aiming a very optimistic smile at her.
“Yay,” she said sarcastically.
“Nothing complicated,” Edwin said. He was pulling a small bundle of frilly green stems out of his pocket and handing it to Charles. “You hold the pots, Charles will crush the herbs and I will recite the enchantment.” As if on cue, Charles reached into his backpack with his free hand, pulled out two small clay pots and offered them to Crystal.
Edwin took a step toward the threshold, small grimoire in hand.
“Wait,” Crystal said, “It has to be done in there?”
Edwin looked at her over his shoulder. “Yes,” he confirmed with exasperation.
Crystal sighed deeply. She placed the pots on top of a stack of books and pulled her raincoat on, adjusting the hood over her curls. “The things I put up with for you two.”
“Thanks, Crystal,” Charles said with sincerity as he followed Edwin into the storm.
The sound of the rain was somehow louder in the office, raindrops pelting against the canvas of Crystal’s hood. Her shoes sloshed through shallow puddles that had formed in the uneven places of the building’s old floors. Little rivulets snaked down the sides of the cabinets and windowpanes.
At the center of the office, Edwin and Charles turned around to face Crystal and then Edwin got blessedly to the point. He held the text open at his chest, hunching over it to keep it dry, and recited fluently, “Pluvia, hinc abi. Duas crateras continere. Herbas in oblatione. Desine.”
Charles crumpled the herbs and dropped some into each bowl in Crystal’s hands.
The deluge noticeably slowed.
“Look at that mate!” Charles crowed. “Knew you could – “
Crack! No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a sharp clap of thunder made the three jump. The rain resumed its downpour even louder and heavier than before, practically coming down in sheets.
Edwin cursed. “Perhaps we should have added henbane.”
Water was dripping down Crystal’s nose and getting inside her collar. She could feel it seeping, cold, into her socks, and could see, out of the corner of her eye, little drops collecting on the ends of her curls peeking from the side of her hood. Crystal blew a breath out her nose, turned and stomped back out to the hallway.
“Crystal,” Edwin called sharply from his place beside the desk. “It will just take a moment to adjust the spell and we can try again.”
“I’m a physic, Edwin, not your assistant magician. And I have things to do, like homework. And, you know, getting my whole life together. You don’t pay me to stand around and play – meteorologist.” She finished brushing water off her shoulders, pushed her hood off her head and crossed her arms.
“We don’t pay you at all,” Edwin replied, dark brows furrowed.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Well, we can’t exactly interview potential clients or work on cases until we get rid of this – this weather!” Edwin said, gesturing to the ceiling.
“Crystal,” Charles took a placating tone, trying to diffuse the tension.
“Maybe try an umbrella,” she replied snappishly and turned, stalking down the stairs and leaving the two ghost boys to their own luck.
***
“What. Even. Is that?”
The next afternoon, Crystal stood just beyond the doorframe of the office, blinking in surprise while Charles held the door open to welcome her. She had put on a longer raincoat, one that draped down to the tops of her rubber rain boots. Her hair had been carefully wrapped in a waterproof turban.
“What do you think of my idea, Crystal? Brills, innit?”
“I think you two are insane.”
“Edwin needed a dry place to work, and now he’s got one.” Behind him, the office looked like one of her parents’ absurdist art installations. Over a dozen open umbrellas had been tied to the ceiling, overlapping so liquid spilled off the sides into strategically placed drip pans. The arrangement looked reminiscent of a tiered water feature at the center of a fountain. In theory, one could walk underneath, from the front door through the office and work at the desk without getting wet.
Just then a drop hit the tip of Charles’ nose. “Well, still could use a bit of adjustment,” he said with a shrug and a grin, ever chipper.
A thought occurred to Crystal. “Why is the rain even getting you guys wet? Can’t you make yourselves all go-through-able?” She wiggled her fingers.
“Magic rain, obviously,” Edwin answered from behind the desk, his hair askew and bowtie off.
Obviously, she mouthed back at him.
“Now, if you’re finished asking pointless questions, Crystal, we could use your help.” He held her gaze for a beat, before adding, “Please.” When she approached the desk, he extended her a small glass bottle. “If you’ll take the flask of borage oil, Charles shall take the sawdust. And I have the candle and spellbook.”
Edwin gestured for them to take places, standing around a large blue bowl on the floor. “Removere aquam – “ he began, but was inturrupted by a sizzle as a drop hit the candle and the flame went out. “Blast,” he grumbled, returning to the desk to relight it.
Then – “Removere aquam, abiit in obliquum, nunc purgare viam!” he commanded. He nodded to Charles, who dumped the sawdust into the bowl and then both looked to Crystal, who took that as the sign to pour the oil next.
They waited hopefully.
The storm continued unabated.
Slowly – at first imperceptibly and then undenyably – the rain started to shift direction, slanting diagonally as if being blown by a strong wind. The drops, which had been mostly blocked by the umbrella mobile of Charles’ invention, now began to hit Crystal’s boots, then her jacket as the angle increased until it was pelting nearly sidways.
“I don’t think it worked, Edwin.” Crystal raised her eyebrows at him accusingly.
Edwin closed his eyes and slumped.
“How many spells have you tried since yesterday?”
“Twenty-seven!” he snapped.
Crystal pressed her palms to her eyes.
“Could be worse,” Charles offered. “Could be blood rain. Hey, Edwin, remember that one time – “
“Charles! Gross, stop!” Crystal cut him off.
Charles tilted his head and shrugged casually. “Just sayin’.”
“We have tried counter-enchantments, containment spells, wards – all of it! – and nothing has stopped this bloody rain! I am running out of ideas,” Edwin grit out.
“Move offices?” she suggested dryly.
Edwin gave her a murderous glare while Charles pressed his lips together to smother a smile.
“Or, hey – if the original spell started the rain, why don’t you just do it backwards? Dry it up or whatever. Have you tried that?”
“Oh?” Edwin said, eyes sharp and tone sharper, “I had no idea we had a master sorceress in our midst. I suppose I shall just stir the herbs counterclockwise, then? Perhaps I could try travelling back in time as well. That is not how magic works.”
Beside him, Charles glanced at Edwin fondly before shaking his head.
Crystal put up her hands. “It was just an idea.”
“Now, unless you have any more brilliant suggestions, there is an obscure passage in Hatfield’s Treatise. It is written in a cipher, but if I can just finish decoding the symbols…” He turned smartly and swept past her, back out to the hall and to the piles of his books.
Charles blew out a long breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Last time something like this happened, it took a while to get it sorted. Maybe you should come back tomorrow, Crystal.”
“Fine with me,” she said.
***
The next day the storm was no better, except Edwin and Charles had moved all the books in stacks up against one wall and had crammed three chairs into the hallway. A tarp had been hung up to block the frosted window of their front door, and a sandbag had been placed to block the threshold.
It was there they interviewed three clients, over the rain sounds and occasional thunderclap. All three were confused by the unconventional set-up, glancing occasionally toward the noise, though only one commented, “Is there… something wrong with your office?”
“Old, noisy pipes,” Edwin deadpanned. He seemed even more snappish than usual, his patience worn thin, Charles at one point touching his shoulder and admonishing him gently, “Mate.”
Crystal left with a headache.
***
When Crystal arrived outside the office on the fourth day, the first sign that The Inconvenient Downpour Debacle was over was the comforting quiet in the hallway.
The second sign was that when Crystal opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of the office returned to normal – no more art-installation umbrellas, no wet drops splashing down, everything dry with Edwin in his chair and Charles perched on the edge of the desk as usual.
She removed her rain jacket as she walked in.
Edwin rose from his chair as soon as he entered. “Ah, Crystal,” he said politely, picking up a pink box from the desk and presenting it to her. “Here.”
She looked at the box. She looked at Edwin. He lifted the box a little closer to her and she took it tentatively, like it might contain a small, dangerous animal. Or poison. Charles had gotten up to busy himself filing slips at their case board.
With another glance at Edwin, who was looking at her expectantly with a mild expression, she lifted the lid flap. Inside she found a half dozen large, chocolate chip cookies. She couldn’t help but inhale the heavenly smell of brown sugar, vanilla and rich chocolate. Then – “What are these for?” she asked suspiciously.
“It was Charles’ idea. For being such a valuable asset to the agency,” he said vaguely.
Crystal felt of the weight of the gift in her hands as her gaze flicked up toward the now-dry ceiling. Realization dawned. “Edwin… did you try the spell backwards like I suggested? And it worked?” She lifted her eyebrows at him, smug smile spreading across her face.
He pursed his lips, a long, silent moment hanging between them, before finally admitting flatly, “Yes.”
She hugged the box to her chest. “Are these… apology cookies?”
He rolled his eyes at her and turned back toward the desk. She hardly had time to take her first bite before Edwin shoved a short stack of dusty old hardcovers in her direction. She juggled the box, cookie hanging from her mouth, to accept the books.
“You seem to have good instincts for spellwork,” he said, steepling his fingers at his waist. “If you are going to study under my tutelage, I will need you to review these volumes. These will provide you a thorough foundation for charms, the simplest of enchantments.”
Crystal swallowed the bite of what was really a very tasty cookie. “You want to teach me magic?” she asked, touched.
“If you are amenable.”
Charles was giving her a wide grin and an encouraging nod from the game closet door.
“Yeah. Hell yeah,” she said.
Edwin smiled, pleased, dimples marking his cheeks.