Free Magic Gone Wild by Judi Fennell

din because Merlin had ducked his head beneath one wing and was making some weird, keening noise.
    “Um… yes.” She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “If that’s what you wish, I can.”
    He could have sworn she muttered, “I hope,” when he said, “I do,” but she puckered up and blew a kiss.
    The bells and whistles stopped. The weights stopped. The clock hands stopped. And the little bird flew backward from the floor onto its perch, which then zipped back inside, and the door slammed shut.
    “Ah, peace at last. Never a dull moment with you, is there, Van?” Merlin scratched his beak with a talon—that was painted teal blue.
    “I wouldn’t mind a dull moment, actually.” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Vana. I’ve got a real estate agent coming out this week, and I can’t have wacko clocks or talking birds,” he glared at Merlin, “or flying carpets or… jitterbugging willow trees.”
    “Now that would be something to see,” said Merlin. “They do look pretty when they waltz, though.”
    Zane glared at him again. “You know what I mean. I need Vana to keep her magic under wraps.”
    “Why do you have a real estate agent coming here?” She walked to the sink and started cleaning the dishes.
    Zane carried his over, then propped his hip against the counter. “I need to find out what the house is worth so I can put it on the market.”
    “Market?” A curtain of her hair shielded everything but her upturned nose.
    “It’s a building with products for sale,” said Merlin. “But that’s not important right now.”
    Vana flipped her hair back, her silver eyes sparking with surprise. Or maybe that was the glint of the late-afternoon sun through the bay window above the sink. “You mean you’re going to sell Peter’s house?”
    “Not Peter’s house, Vana. Mine. And, yes, I am.”
    “But why? This is your home.”
    “My home?” Zane reached for the dish towel and handed it to her because she was dripping suds on the floor. “This isn’t my home. It wasn’t even when I lived here. I have a life somewhere else and it’s not practical to keep the house. It makes more sense to sell it.”
    She twisted her hands in the towel with more force than mere drying merited. “Not to me it doesn’t.”
    “Uh, Van?” Merlin leaned toward her and spoke out of the side of his beak. “I don’t think you get a say in the matter.”
    She stopped mangling the dish towel. “But Peter wouldn’t want you to sell it.”
    “Peter’s not here.” Zane took the dish towel from her and spread it out over the back of the ladder-back chair.
    “But I can’t leave here, Zane.”
    That didn’t exactly strengthen her argument. He could lose the house, the legacy, and the cause of it in one shot.
    “Vana, while I get that you cared about him, I can’t keep the house.”
    “But the ch—the chores. I could help you with them. I could even fix the house up for you. You’d love it. I can make it look just like it did when Peter lived here. It was the most beautiful home in town. And the parties… ah, the parties. Everyone wanted to be invited, and there was music and dancing and food…”
    “And uninvited bears,” said Merlin. “You know they only wanted to come to see what Crazy Pete would do next, Van, right?”
    Vana’s exuberance deflated like a balloon.
    Zane glared at the bird and mouthed one word. “Barbecue.”
    Merlin gulped.
    Zane didn’t know why he cared, but he did. She looked so forlorn. He guessed that was understandable, though, given that this place had been more of a home to her than it’d ever been to him. “What was the house like back then, Vana?”
    “It was lovely. All the rooms were decorated just so, and the gardens… Peter had such lovely gardens, and I didn’t even have to use my magic on them. Nature has her own magic, you know. How else could there be such perfection in rose petals? Such symmetry in daffodils? Such perfume in