Page 62 of Impractical Magic

“No, bunch sounds all wrong,” Delilah interrupted. “What’s the collective noun for magicians? An ensemble of magicians?”

Luna replied, “Maybe a troupe of magicians?”

“What about, like, a sorcery of magicians?”

“Ughhh,” Scarlett groaned, “will you two cut it out?”

“Ummm,” Luna said thoughtfully, “a spellcraft of magicians?”

Delilah shook her head. “Not quite.”

From behind her newspaper, Mama announced definitively, “A conjuration of magicians.”

“Boom!” said Luna. “That’s perfect.”

“Can we please move on?” Scarlett begged. “I saw a bunch of magicians—yeah, I said bunch, deal with it—at the coffee shop last night, all dressed in top hats and capes. And it was all very odd.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Magicians are always odd, Scarlett. It’s in their job description.”

“But what are they all doing here?”

“Maybe they’re here for the foliage,” Luna suggested, her tone hopeful. “Max did say he loves autumn.”

Scarlett wasn’t convinced. “It’s more than that. There’s something . . . off with them. I can feel it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Delilah scoffed.

Mama lowered her newspaper. “Now, girls, let’s not be hasty. Instinct is important, Scarlett. Just be careful not to let your imagination run away with you. But for now, how about that visit to Louise . . . ?”

***

Scarlett crossed Main Street, the crisp autumn air carrying the mingled scents of cinnamon, woodsmoke . . . and swimming pools?! A clear reminder that magic remained as drunk as ever. Her destination was on the far side of the green: Tout le Temps, Louise Demain’s enigmatic clock repair shop.

A towering grandfather clock stood sentinel beside the door, its intricate gears and pendulums gleaming in the morning sun. The shop’s display window was a chaotic jumble of old-world timekeeping devices—a sundial in weathered brass, an hourglass filled with sparkling sand, and a meticulously carved water clock bubbling merrily.

Scarlett entered the shop, the bell above the door announcing her presence. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and aged parchment, mingling with the metallic tang of old gears and springs. Flickering oil lamps provided the only light, casting even innocent objects in ominous shadow. The shop was a labyrinth of clocks, each one ticking and tocking in its own rhythm.

One massive clock dominated the entire side wall: an astronomical clock dating back to medieval times. The clock was a complex marvel of intricate dials, moving parts, and an elaborately carved housing. Its primary face displayed the hour, but surrounding it were smaller dials and displays, showing the positions of celestial bodies and the signs of the zodiac. Small wooden figures appeared and disappeared, marking the passing of time. Periodically, the clock would “ding” or “dong” without any clear motivation.

A customer stood at the counter. Scarlett recognized him as one of the Gilbert and Sullivan troupe staying at the inn. He held out a cracked smartwatch with a hopeful expression and called out. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Chapter 24: Timey-Wimey Gibberish

Louise Demain seemed to materialize from the shadows. Her violet eyes narrowed as she took in the customer and judged him wanting. Scarlett stood by the doorway waiting her turn.

“What eldritch abomination hast thou brought before me?” Her voice was a chilling contralto with just a hint of French accent along the edges. “Another pitiful millennial’s broken toy?”

“Um, yeah, well . . .” the actor stammered, “I thought you might be able to fix it?”

Louise let out a sharp, mean laugh. “Fix it? Why would I deign to mend such a trifling bauble?”

“You . . . run a clock repair store? And this is a—”

“This is the flotsam of a society consumed by its own hubris. This abomination of plastic and lithium shall endure long after the great cosmic beast has ground your name to dust in the eternal void. Begone from my sight, lest your insignificance offend me further. Go sing an elegy to Siri.”

The man turned and looked to Scarlett for help, but she could only shrug. You’re on your own, pal. He stormed out of the store. The bell tinkled a mocking goodbye.

“And you?” Louise’s voice dripped with condescension. “What worthless specks of dust have you dragged in for my inspection?”